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diff --git a/old/66619-0.txt b/old/66619-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 71e9cb2..0000000 --- a/old/66619-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,42443 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Oxford Book of English Verse; 1250-1900, -by Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch - -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 -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Oxford Book of English Verse; 1250-1900 - -Author: Various - -Editor: Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch - -Release Date: October 27, 2021 [eBook #66619] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at - http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - available at The Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OXFORD BOOK OF ENGLISH VERSE; -1250-1900 *** - - - - - The - Oxford Book - Of English Verse - - 1250-1900 - - - - - _Impression of 1931_ - _First edition, 1900_ - - - - - The - Oxford Book - Of English Verse - 1250-1900 - - Chosen & Edited by - Arthur Quiller-Couch - - Oxford - At the Clarendon Press - - - - - PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN - - TO - - THE PRESIDENT - - FELLOWS AND SCHOLARS - - OF - - TRINITY COLLEGE OXFORD - - A HOUSE OF LEARNING - - ANCIENT LIBERAL HUMANE - - AND MY MOST KINDLY NURSE - - - - -PREFACE - - -For this Anthology I have tried to range over the whole field of English -Verse from the beginning, or from the Thirteenth Century to this closing -year of the Nineteenth, and to choose the best. Nor have I sought in -these Islands only, but wheresoever the Muse has followed the tongue -which among living tongues she most delights to honour. To bring home -and render so great a spoil compendiously has been my capital -difficulty. It is for the reader to judge if I have so managed it as to -serve those who already love poetry and to implant that love in some -young minds not yet initiated. - -My scheme is simple. I have arranged the poets as nearly as possible in -order of birth, with such groupings of anonymous pieces as seemed -convenient. For convenience, too, as well as to avoid a dispute-royal, I -have gathered the most of the Ballads into the middle of the Seventeenth -Century; where they fill a languid interval between two winds of -inspiration--the Italian dying down with Milton and the French following -at the heels of the restored Royalists. For convenience, again, I have -set myself certain rules of spelling. In the very earliest poems -inflection and spelling are structural, and to modernize is to destroy. -But as old inflections fade into modern the old spelling becomes less -and less vital, and has been brought (not, I hope, too abruptly) into -line with that sanctioned by use and familiar. To do this seemed wiser -than to discourage many readers for the sake of diverting others by a -scent of antiquity which--to be essential--should breathe of something -rarer than an odd arrangement of type. But there are scholars whom I -cannot expect to agree with me; and to conciliate them I have excepted -Spenser and Milton from the rule. - -Glosses of archaic and otherwise difficult words are given at the foot -of the page: but the text has not been disfigured with reference-marks. -And rather than make the book unwieldy I have eschewed -notes--reluctantly when some obscure passage or allusion seemed to ask -for a timely word; with more equanimity when the temptation was to -criticize or ‘appreciate.’ For the function of the anthologist includes -criticizing in silence. - -Care has been taken with the texts. But I have sometimes thought it -consistent with the aim of the book to prefer the more beautiful to the -better attested reading. I have often excised weak or superfluous -stanzas when sure that excision would improve; and have not hesitated to -extract a few stanzas from a long poem when persuaded that they could -stand alone as a lyric. The apology for such experiments can only lie in -their success: but the risk is one which, in my judgement, the -anthologist ought to take. A few small corrections have been made, but -only when they were quite obvious. - -The numbers chosen are either lyrical or epigrammatic. Indeed I am -mistaken if a single epigram included fails to preserve at least some -faint thrill of the emotion through which it had to pass before the -Muse’s lips let it fall, with however exquisite deliberation. But the -lyrical spirit is volatile and notoriously hard to bind with -definitions; and seems to grow wilder with the years. With the -anthologist--as with the fisherman who knows the fish at the end of his -sea-line--the gift, if he have it, comes by sense, improved by practice. -The definition, if he be clever enough to frame one, comes by -after-thought. I don’t know that it helps, and am sure that it may -easily mislead. - -Having set my heart on choosing the best, I resolved not to be dissuaded -by common objections against anthologies--that they repeat one another -until the proverb δὶς ἢ τρὶς τὰ καλά loses all application--or perturbed -if my judgement should often agree with that of good critics. The best -is the best, though a hundred judges have declared it so; nor had it -been any feat to search out and insert the second-rate merely because it -happened to be recondite. To be sure, a man must come to such a task as -mine haunted by his youth and the favourites he loved in days when he -had much enthusiasm but little reading. - - A deeper import - Lurks in the legend told my infant years - Than lies upon that truth we live to learn. - -Few of my contemporaries can erase--or would wish to erase--the dye -their minds took from the late Mr. Palgrave’s _Golden Treasury_: and he -who has returned to it again and again with an affection born of -companionship on many journeys must remember not only what the _Golden -Treasury_ includes, but the moment when this or that poem appealed to -him, and even how it lies on the page. To Mr. Bullen’s _Lyrics from the -Elizabethan Song Books_ and his other treasuries I own a more advised -debt. Nor am I free of obligation to anthologies even more recent--to -Archbishop Trench’s _Household Book of Poetry_, Mr. Locker-Lampson’s -_Lyra Elegantiarum_, Mr. Miles’ _Poets and Poetry of the Century_, Mr. -Beeching’s _Paradise of English Poetry_, Mr. Henley’s _English Lyrics_, -Mrs. Sharp’s _Lyra Celtica_, Mr. Yeats’ _Book of Irish Verse_, and Mr. -Churton Collins’ _Treasury of Minor British Poetry_: though my rule has -been to consult these after making my own choice. Yet I can claim that -the help derived from them--though gratefully owned--bears but a -trifling proportion to the labour, special and desultory, which has gone -to the making of my book. - -For the anthologist’s is not quite the _dilettante_ business for which -it is too often and ignorantly derided. I say this, and immediately -repent; since my wish is that the reader should in his own pleasure -quite forget the editor’s labour, which too has been pleasant: that, -standing aside, I may believe this book has made the Muses’ access -easier when, in the right hour, they come to him to uplift or to -console-- - - ἄκλητος μὲν ἔγωγε μὲνοιμί κεν ἐς δὲ καλεύντων - θαρσήσας Μοίσαισι σὺν ἁμετέραισιν ἱκοίμαν - -My thanks are here tendered to those who have helped me with permission -to include recent poems: to Mr. A. C. Benson, Mr. Laurence Binyon, Mr. -Wilfrid Blunt, Mr. Robert Bridges, Mr. John Davidson, Mr. Austin Dobson, -Mr. Aubrey de Vere, Mr. Edmund Gosse, Mr. Bret Harte, Mr. W. E. Henley, -Mrs. Katharine Tynan Hinkson, Mr. W. D. Howells, Dr. Douglas Hyde, Mr. -Rudyard Kipling, Mr. Andrew Lang, Mr. Richard Le Gallienne, Mr. George -Meredith, Mrs. Meynell, Mr. T. Sturge Moore, Mr. Henry Newbolt, Mr. -Gilbert Parker, Mr. T. W. Rolleston, Mr. George Russell (‘A. E.’), Mrs. -Clement Shorter (Dora Sigerson), Mr. Swinburne, Mr. Francis Thompson, -Dr. Todhunter, Mr. William Watson, Mr. Watts-Dunton, Mrs. Woods, and Mr. -W. B. Yeats; to the Earl of Crewe for a poem by the late Lord Houghton; -to Lady Ferguson, Mrs. Allingham, Mrs. A. H. Clough, Mrs. -Locker-Lampson, Mrs. Coventry Patmore; to the Lady Betty Balfour and the -Lady Victoria Buxton for poems by the late Earl of Lytton and the Hon. -Roden Noel; to the executors of Messrs. Frederic Tennyson (Captain -Tennyson and Mr. W. C. A. Ker), Charles Tennyson Turner (Sir Franklin -Lushington), Edward FitzGerald (Mr. Aldis Wright), William Bell Scott -(Mrs. Sydney Morse and Miss Boyd of Penkill Castle, who has added to her -kindness by allowing me to include an unpublished ‘Sonet’ by her -sixteenth-century ancestor, Mark Alexander Boyd), William Philpot (Mr. -Hamlet S. Philpot), William Morris (Mr. S. C. Cockerell), William -Barnes, and R. L. Stevenson; to the Rev. H. C. Beeching for two poems -from his own works, and leave to use his redaction of _Quia Amore -Langueo_; to Messrs. Macmillan for confirming permission for the -extracts from FitzGerald, Christina Rossetti, and T. E. Brown, and -particularly for allowing me to insert the latest emendations in Lord -Tennyson’s non-copyright poems; to the proprietors of Mr. and Mrs. -Browning’s copyrights and to Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co. for a similar -favour, also for a copyright poem by Mrs. Browning; to Mr. George Allen -for extracts from Ruskin and the author of _Ionica_; to Messrs. G. Bell -& Sons for poems by Thomas Ashe; to Messrs. Chatto & Windus for poems by -Arthur O’Shaughnessy and Dr. George MacDonald, and for confirming Mr. -Bret Harte’s permission; to Mr. Elkin Mathews for a poem by Mr. Bliss -Carman; to Mr. John Lane for two poems by William Brighty Rands; to the -Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge for two extracts from -Christina Rossetti’s _Verses_; and to Mr. Bertram Dobell, who allows me -not only to select from James Thomson but to use a poem of Traherne’s, a -seventeenth-century singer rediscovered by him. To mention all who in -other ways have furthered me is not possible in this short Preface; -which, however, must not conclude without a word of special thanks to -Dr. W. Robertson Nicoll for many suggestions and some pains kindly -bestowed, and to Professor F. York Powell, whose help and wise counsel -have been as generously given as they were eagerly sought, adding me to -the number of those many who have found his learning to be his friends’ -good fortune. - - A.T.Q.C. - -_October 1900_ - - - - -CONTENTS - - -NUMBER PAGE - -1-7. Anonymous. XIII-XIV Century.....1-10 - -8. Robert Mannyng of Brunne. b. 1260, d. 1340......10 - -9. John Barbour. d. 1395.....10-11 - -10-12. Geoffrey Chaucer. b. ? 1340, d. 1400.....11-14 - -13. Thomas Hoccleve. b. 1368-9, d. ? 1450.....14-15 - -14. John Lydgate. b. ? 1370, d. ? 1450.....15 - -15. King James I of Scotland. b. 1394, d. 1437.....15 - -16-17. Robert Henryson. b. 1425, d. ? 1500.....16-25 - -18-21. William Dunbar. b. 1465, d. ? 1520.....25-33 - -22-29. Anonymous. XV-XVI Century.....33-57 - -30-31. John Skelton. b. ? 1460, d. 1529.....57-59 - -32-33. Stephen Hawes. d. 1523.....59-60 - -34-38. Sir Thomas Wyatt. b. 1503, d. 1542.....60-65 - -39-41. Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey b. 1516, d. 1547.....65-68 - -42. Nicholas Grimald. b. 1519, d. 1562.....68-69 - -43-44. Alexander Scott. b. ? 1520, d. 158-.....69-71 - -45. Robert Wever. _c._ 1550.....72 - -46. Richard Edwardes. b. 1523, d. 1566.....72-73 - -47. George Gascoigne. b. 1523, d. 1566.....74-75 - -48. Alexander Mongtomerie. b. ? 1540, d. ? 1610.....75-77 - -49. William Stevenson. b. 1530, d. 1575.....77-78 - -50-72. Anonymous. XVI-XVII Century.....79-99 - -73-74. Nicholas Breton. b. 1542, d. 1626.....100-102 - -75-78. Sir Walter Raleigh. b. 1552, d. 1618.....102-104 - -79-84. Edmund Spenser. b. 1552, d. 1599.....104-129 - -85-86. John Lyly. b. 1533, d. 1606.....129-130 - -87. Anthony Munday. b. 1553, d. 1633.....130 - -88-95. Sir Philip Sidney. b. 1554, d. 1586.....131-136 - -96. Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke. b. 1554, d. 1628.....136-137 - -97-100. Thomas Lodge. b. ? 1556, d. 1625.....137-141 - -101-102. George Peele. b. ? 1558, d. 1597.....141-143 - -103-105. Robert Greene. b. ? 1560, d. 1592.....143-145 - -106. Alexander Hume. b. 1560, d. 1609.....146-150 - -107. George Chapman. b. 1560, d. 1634.....150 - -108-109. Robert Southwell. b. 1561, d. 1595.....151-153 - -110. Henry Constable. b. ? 1562, d. ? 1613.....153 - -111-113. Samuel Daniel. b. 1562, d. 1619.....153-159 - -114. Mark Alexander Boyd. b. 1563, d. 1601.....160 - -115. Joshua Sylvester, b. 1563, d. 1618......160-161 - -116-120. Michael Drayton. b. 1563, d. 1631.....161-173 - -121. Christopher Marlowe. b. 1564, d. 1593.....173-174 - -122. Sir Walter Raleigh. b. 1552, d. 1618.....174-175 - -123-164. William Shakespeare. b. 1564, d. 1616.....175-200 - -165. Richard Rowlands. b. 1565, d. ? 1630.....200-201 - -166-167. Thomas Nashe. b. 1567, d. 1601.....201-203 - -168-176. Thomas Campion. b. ? 1567, d. 1619.....203-209 - -177. John Reynolds. XVI Century.....209-210 - -178-180. Sir Henry Wotton. b. 1568, d. 1639.....210-212 - -181. Sir John Davies. b. 1569, d. 1626.....212-213 - -182-183. Sir Robert Ayton. b. 1570, d. 1638.....213-215 - -184-194. Ben Jonson. b. 1573, d. 1637.....215-225 - -195-202. John Donne. b. 1573, d. 1631.....225-231 - -203. Richard Barnefield. b. 1574, d. 1627.....232 - -204. Thomas Dekker. b. 1575, d. 1641.....233 - -205-206. Thomas Heywood. b. ? 157-, d. 1650.....233-235 - -207-217. John Fletcher. b. 1579, d. 1625.....235-241 - -218-220. John Webster. d. ? 1630.....242-243 - -221. William Alexander, Earl of Stirling. b. ? 1580, -d. 1640.....243-244 - -222. Phineas Fletcher. b. 1580, d. 1650.....244 - -223. Sir John Beaumont. b. 1583, d. 1627.....245 - -224-232. William Drummond, of Hawthornden. b. 1585, -d. 1649.....245-250 - -233. Giles Fletcher. b. 158-, d. 1623.....250-252 - -234. Francis Beaumont. b. 1586, d. 1616.....252 - -235. John Ford. b. 1586, d. 1639.....253 - -236-239. George Wither. b. 1588, d. 1667.....253-260 - -240-246. William Browne, of Tavistock. b. 1588, d. 1643.....260-264 - -247-275. Robert Herrick. b. 1591, d. 1674.....264-284 - -276-277. Francis Quarles. b. 1592, d. 1644.....285 - -278-280. Henry King, Bishop of Chichester. b. 1592, -d. 1669.....286-290 - -281-286. George Herbert. b. 1593, d. 1632.....290-295 - -287-288. James Shirley. b. 1596, d. 1666.....295-296 - -289-295. Thomas Carew. b ? 1595, d. ? 1639.....297-301 - -296. Jasper Mayne. b. 1604, d. 1672.....301-302 - -297-298. William Habington. b. 1605, d. 1654.....302-304 - -299-300. Thomas Randolph. b. 1605, d. 1635.....305-308 - -301-303. Sir William Davenant. b. 1606, d. 1668.....308-309 - -304-306. Edmund Waller. b. 1606, d. 1687.....310-311 - -307-324. John Milton. b. 1608, d. 1674.....311-347 - -325-328. Sir John Suckling. b. 1609, d. 1642.....347-350 - -329. Sir Richard Fanshawe. b. 1608, d. 1666.....350 - -330-333. William Cartwright. b. 1611, d. 1643.....351-353 - -334. James Graham, Marquis of Montrose. b. 1612, -d. 1650.....353-354 - -335. Thomas Jordan. b. ? 1612, d. 1685.....354-355 - -336-342. Richard Crashaw. b. ? 1613, d. 1649.....355-370 - -343-348. Richard Lovelace. b. 1618, d. 1658.....370-374 - -349-353. Abraham Cowley. b. 1618, d. 1667.....374-380 - -354. Alexander Brome. b. 1620, d. 1666.....381 - -355-361. Andrew Marvell. b. 1621, d. 1678.....382-394 - -362-365. Henry Vaughan. b. 1621, d. 1695.....395-399 - -366. John Bunyan. b. 1628, d. 1688.....399 - -367-392. Anonymous: Ballads.....400-459 - -393. William Strode. b. 1602, d. 1645.....459 - -394. Thomas Stanley. b. 1625, d. 1678.....460 - -395. Thomas D’Urfey. b. 1653, d. 1723.....460-461 - -396. Charles Cotton. b. 1630, d. 1687.....461 - -397. Katherine Philips (‘Orinda’). b. 1631, d. 1664.....462 - -398-402. John Dryden. b. 1631, d. 1700.....462-471 - -403. Charles Webbe. c. 1678.....472 - -404-405. Sir George Etherege. b. 1635, d. 1691.....472-473 - -406. Thomas Traherne. b. ? 1637, d. 1674.....473-475 - -407. Thomas Flatman. b. 1637, d. 1688.....475-476 - -408. Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset. b. 1638, -d. 1706.....476-478 - -409-410. Sir Charles Sedley. b. 1639, d. 1701.....479-480 - -411-412. Aphra Behn. b. 1640, d. 1689.....480-481 - -413-416. John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. b. 1647, -d. 1680.....481-484 - -417-418. John Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire. -b. 1649, d. 1720.....485-486 - -419. Thomas Otway. b. 1652, d. 1685.....486 - -420. John Oldham. b. 1653, d. 1683.....487 - -421. John Cutts, Lord Cutts. b. 1661, d. 1707.....487 - -422-428. Matthew Prior. b. 1664, d. 1721.....488-493 - -429. William Walsh. b. 1663, d. 1708.....493 - -430. Lady Grisel Baillie. b. 1665, d. 1746.....494-495 - -431-432. William Congreve. b. 1670, d. 1729.....495-496 - -433. Joseph Addison. b. 1672, d. 1719.....496-497 - -434-435. Isaac Watts. b. 1674, d. 1748.....497-500 - -436. Thomas Parnell. b. 1679, d. 1718.....501 - -437. Allan Ramsay. b. 1686, d. 1758.....501-502 - -438. William Oldys. b. 1687, d. 1761.....503 - -439. John Gay. b. 1688, d. 1732.....503 - -440-442. Alexander Pope. b. 1688, d. 1744.....504-507 - -443. George Bubb Dodington, Lord Melcombe. -b. 1691, d. 1762.....508 - -444-445. Henry Carey. b. ? 1693, d. 1743.....509-511 - -446-447. William Broome. d. 1745.....511-512 - -448. James Thomson. b. 1700, d. 1748.....512 - -449. George Lyttelton, Lord Lyttelton. b. 1709, -d. 1773.....512-513 - -450-451. Samuel Johnson. b. 1709, d. 1784.....513-516 - -452. Richard Jago. b. 1715, d. 1781.....516 - -453-456. Thomas Gray. b. 1716, d. 1771.....516-528 - -457-460. William Collins. b. 1721, d. 1759.....528-533 - -461-463. Mark Akenside. b. 1721, d. 1770.....534-537 - -464. Tobias George Smollett. b. 1721, d. 1771.....538 - -465. Christopher Smart. b. 1722, d. 1770.....538-542 - -466. Jane Elliot. b. 1727, d. 1805.....542-543 - -467-468. Oliver Goldsmith. b. 1728, d. 1774.....543-544 - -469. Robert Cunninghame-Graham of Gartmore. -b. 1735, d. 1797.....544-545 - -470-471. William Cowper. b. 1731, d. 1800.....545-547 - -472. James Beattie. b. 1735, d. 1803.....548 - -473. Isobel Pagan. b. 1740, d. 1821.....548-549 - -474. Anna Lætitia Barbauld. b. 1743, d. 1825.....549-550 - -475. Fanny Greville. XVIII Century.....550-551 - -476. John Logan. b. 1748, d. 1788.....551-552 - -477. Lady Anne Lindsay. b. 1750, d. 1825.....552-553 - -478. Sir William Jones. b. 1746, d. 1794.....554 - -479. Thomas Chatterton. b. 1752, d. 1770.....554-556 - -480-482. George Crabbe. b. 1754, d. 1832.....556-557 - -483-492. William Blake. b. 1757, d. 1827.....558-566 - -493-506. Robert Burns. b. 1759, d. 1796.....566-577 - -507-508. Henry Rowe. b. 1750, d. 1819.....578-579 - -509. William Lisle Bowles. b. 1762, d. 1850.....579 - -510. Joanna Baillie. b. 1762, d. 1851.....580 - -511. Mary Lamb. b. 1765, d. 1847.....581 - -512. Carolina, Lady Nairne. b. 1766, d. 1845.....581-582 - -513-514. James Hogg. b. 1770, d. 1835.....582-594 - -515-541. William Wordsworth. b. 1770, d. 1850.....594-618 - -542-548. Sir Walter Scott. b. 1771, d. 1832.....619-628 - -549-555. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. b. 1772, d. 1834.....628-658 - -556. Robert Southey. b. 1774, d. 1843.....658-659 - -557-576. Walter Savage Landor. b. 1775, d. 1864.....659-667 - -577-579. Charles Lamb. b. 1775, d. 1834.....668-672 - -580-581. Thomas Campbell. b. 1777, d. 1844.....672-675 - -582-585. Thomas Moore. b. 1779, d. 1852.....675-678 - -586. Edward Thurlow, Lord Thurlow. b. 1781, -d. 1829.....678-679 - -587-588. Ebenezer Elliott. b. 1781, d. 1849.....679-681 - -589-591. Allan Cunningham. b. 1784, d. 1842.....681-683 - -592. Leigh Hunt. b. 1784, d. 1859.....683 - -593-595. Thomas Love Peacock. b. 1785, d. 1866.....684-687 - -596. Caroline Southey. b. 1787, d. 1854.....687-688 - -597-601. George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron. b. 1788, -d. 1824.....688-694 - -602. Sir Aubrey de Vere. b. 1788, d. 1846.....694-695 - -603-604. Charles Wolfe. b. 1791, d. 1823.....695-697 - -605-618. Percy Bysshe Shelley. b. 1792, d. 1822.....697-717 - -619. Hew Ainslie. b. 1792, d. 1878.....717 - -620. John Keble. b. 1792, d. 1866.....718-720 - -621. John Clare. b. 1793, d. 1864.....720 - -622. Felicia Dorothea Hemans. b. 1793, d. 1835.....721 - -623-637. John Keats. b. 1795, d. 1821.....721-744 - -638. Jeremiah Joseph Callanan. b. 1795, d. 1839.....745 - -639. William Sidney Walker. b. 1795, d. 1846.....746 - -640-642. George Darley. b. 1795, d. 1846.....746-749 - -643-646. Hartley Coleridge. b. 1796, d. 1849.....749-751 - -647-654. Thomas Hood. b. 1798, d. 1845.....752-762 - -655. William Thom. b. 1798, d. 1848.....762-764 - -656. Sir Henry Taylor. b. 1800, d. 1886.....764 - -657. Thomas Babington Macaulay, Lord Macaulay. -b. 1800, d. 1859.....765 - -658-659. William Barnes. b. 1801, d. 1886.....765-767 - -660. Winthrop Mackworth Praed. b. 1802, d. 1839.....767-768 - -661-662. Sara Coleridge. b. 1802, d. 1850.....768-770 - -663. Gerald Griffin. b. 1803, d. 1840.....770-772 - -664-665. James Clarence Mangan. b. 1803. d. 1849.....772-776 - -666-668. Thomas Lovell Beddoes. b. 1803, d. 1849.....777-778 - -669-672. Ralph Waldo Emerson. b. 1803, d. 1882.....779-785 - -673. Richard Henry Horne. b. 1803, d. 1884.....785-786 - -674-675. Robert Stephen Hawker. b. 1804, d. 1875.....786-787 - -676. Thomas Wade. b. 1805, d. 1875.....787 - -677. Francis Mahony. b. 1805, d. 1866.....788-790 - -678-687. Elizabeth Barrett Browning. b. 1806, d. 1861.....790-800 - -688. Frederick Tennyson. b. 1807, d. 1898.....800 - -689. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. b. 1807, d. 1882.....801-803 - -690. John Greenleaf Whittier. b. 1807, d. 1892.....804 - -691. Helen Selina, Lady Dufferin. b. 1807, d. 1867.....805-807 - -692. Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton. b. 1808, -d. 1876.....807-808 - -693. Charles Tennyson Turner. b. 1808, d. 1879.....808 - -694-696. Edgar Allan Poe. b. 1809, d. 1849.....809-814 - -697-698. Edward Fitzgerald. b. 1809, d. 1883.....814-818 - -699-709. Alfred Tennyson, Lord Tennyson. b. 1809, -d. 1892.....819-847 - -710. Richard Monckton Milnes, Lord Houghton. -b. 1809, d. 1885.....848 - -711. Henry Alford. b. 1810, d. 1871.....849 - -712-714. Sir Samuel Ferguson. b. 1810, d. 1886.....849-851 - -715-730. Robert Browning. b. 1812, d. 1889.....852-867 - -731. William Bell Scott. b. 1812, d. 1890.....867-872 - -732-733. Aubrey De Vere. b. 1814, d. 1902.....872-873 - -734. George Fox. b. 1815.....874 - -735-738. Emily Brontë. b. 1818, d. 1848.....875-879 - -739-740. Charles Kingsley. b. 1819, d. 1875.....879-880 - -741. Arthur Hugh Clough. b. 1819, d. 1861.....880-881 - -742-743. Walt Whitman. b. 1819, d. 1892.....881-882 - -744. John Ruskin. b. 1819, d. 1900.....882 - -745. Ebenezer Jones. b. 1820, d. 1860.....883 - -746. Frederick Locker-Lampson. b. 1821, d. 1895.....884 - -747-754. Matthew Arnold. b. 1822, d. 1888.....885-903 - -755-756. William Brighty Rands. b. 1823, d. 1880.....904-905 - -757. William Philpot. b. 1823, d. 1880.....906-907 - -758-759. William (Johnson) Cory. b. 1823, d. 1892.....907-908 - -760-764. Coventry Patmore. b. 1823, d. 1896.....908-913 - -765-768. Sydney Dobell. b. 1824, d. 1874.....913-921 - -769. William Allingham. b. 1824, d. 1889.....921-923 - -770. George MacDonald. b. 1824, d. 1905.....923 - -771. Dante Gabriel Rossetti. b. 1828, d. 1882.....923-928 - -772-776. George Meredith. b. 1828, d. 1909.....929-942 - -777-778. Alexander Smith. b. 1829, d. 1867.....942-945 - -779-789. Christina Georgina Rossetti. b. 1830, d. 1894.....946-954 - -790-793. Thomas Edward Brown. b. 1830, d. 1897.....955-956 - -794-795. Edward Robert Bulwer Lytton, Earl of Lytton. -b. 1831, d. 1892.....957-962 - -796-799. James Thomson. b. 1834, d. 1882.....963-964 - -800-802. William Morris. b. 1834, d. 1896.....965-967 - -803-804. Roden Berkeley Wriothesley Noel. b. 1834, -d. 1894.....967-969 - -805-806. Thomas Ashe. b. 1836, d. 1889.....969-970 - -807. Theodore Watts-Dunton. b. 1836, d. 1914.....970-972 - -808-811. Algernon Charles Swinburne. b. 1837, d. 1909.....972-991 - -812. William Dean Howells. b. 1837.....991 - -813. Bret Harte. b. 1839, d. 1902.....992 - -814-815. John Todhunter. b. 1839, d. 1916.....993-995 - -816-823. Wilfrid Scawen Blunt. b. 1840.....995-1002 - -824-826. Henry Austin Dobson. b. 1840.....1002-1004 - -827. Henry Clarence Kendall. b. 1841, d. 1882.....1004-1006 - -828-830. Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy. b. 1844, -d. 1881.....1006-1010 - -831. John Boyle O’Reilly. b. 1844, d. 1890.....1010 - -832-840. Robert Bridges. b. 1844.....1011-1018 - -841. Andrew Lang. b. 1844, d. 1912.....1018 - -842-844. William Ernest Henley. b. 1849, d. 1903.....1019-1022 - -845. Edmund Gosse. b. 1849.....1022-1023 - -846-848. Robert Louis Stevenson. b. 1850, d. 1894.....1023-1025 - -849. T. W. Rolleston. b. 1857.....1025-1026 - -850-851. John Davidson. b. 1857, d. 1909.....1026-1028 - -852-854. William Watson. b. 1858.....1028-1031 - -855-856. Henry Charles Beeching. b. 1859.....1031-1033 - -857. Bliss Carman. b. 1861.....1033-1034 - -858. Douglas Hyde. b. 1861.....1034-1035 - -859. Arthur Christopher Benson. b. 1862.....1035-1036 - -860. Henry Newbolt. b. 1862.....1036-1037 - -861. Gilbert Parker. b. 1862.....1038 - -862-864. William Butler Yeats. b. 1865.....1038-1039 - -865-867. Rudyard Kipling. b. 1865.....1040-1045 - -868-869. Richard Le Gallienne. b. 1866.....1045-1047 - -870-871. Laurence Binyon. b. 1869.....1047 - -872-873. ‘A. E.’ (George William Russell).....1048-1049 - -874. T. Sturge Moore. b. 1870.....1049 - -875. Francis Thompson, b. 1859, d. 1907.....1050-1052 - -876. Henry Cust. b. 1861, d. 1917.....1053 - -877. Katharine Tynan Hinkson. b. 1861.....1053-1054 - -878. Frances Bannerman.....1054-1055 - -879-880. Alice Meynell. b. 1850.....1055-1056 - -881. Dora Sigerson. d. 1918.....1056-1057 - -882. Margaret L. Woods. b. 1856.....1057 - -883. Anonymous.....1058 - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - -_1._ _Cuckoo Song_ - -c. 1250 - - Sumer is icumen in, - Lhude sing cuccu! - Groweth sed, and bloweth med, - And springth the wude nu-- - Sing cuccu! - - Awe bleteth after lomb, - Lhouth after calve cu; - Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth, - Murie sing cuccu! - - Cuccu, cuccu, well singes thu, cuccu: - Ne swike thu naver nu; - Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu, - Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu! - - lhude] loud. awe] ewe. lhouth] loweth. sterteth] leaps. swike] - cease. - - - - -ANONYMOUS - - -_2._ _Alison_ - -c. 1300 - - Bytuene Mershe ant Averil - When spray biginneth to spring, - The lutel foul hath hire wyl - On hyre kid to synge: - Ich libbe in love-longinge - For semlokest of alle thynge, - He may me blisse bringe, - Icham in hire bandoun. - An hendy hap ichabbe y-hent, - Ichot from hevene it is me sent, - From alle wymmen my love is lent - Ant lyht on Alisoun. - - On heu hire her is fayr ynoh, - Hire browe broune, hire eye blake; - With lossum chere he on me loh; - With middel smal ant wel y-make; - Bote he me wolle to hire take - For to buen hire owen make, - Long to lyven ichulle forsake - Ant feye fallen adoun. - An hendy hap, etc. - - Nihtes when I wende and wake, - For-thi myn wonges waxeth won; - - on hyre lud] in her language. ich libbe] I live. semlokest] - seemliest. he] she. bandoun] thraldom. hendy] gracious. y hent] - seized, enjoyed. ichot] I wot. lyht] alighted. hire her] her hair. - lossum] lovesome. loh] laughed. bote he] unless she. buen] be. - make] mate. feye] like to die. nihtes] at night. wende] turn. - for-thi] on that account. wonges waxeth won] cheeks grow wan. - - Levedi, al for thine sake - Longinge is y-lent me on. - In world his non so wyter mon - That al hire bountè telle con; - Hire swyre is whittore than the swon, - Ant feyrest may in toune. - An hendy hap, etc. - - Icham for wowyng al for-wake, - Wery so water in wore; - Lest eny reve me my make - Ichabbe y-yerned yore. - Betere is tholien whyle sore - Then mournen evermore. - Geynest under gore, - Herkne to my roun-- - An hendy hap, etc. - - _2._ levedi] lady. y-lent me on] arrived to me. so wyter mon] so - wise a man. swyre] neck. may] maid. for-wake] worn out with vigils. - so water in wore] as water in a weir. reve] rob. y-yerned yore] - long been distressed. tholien] to endure. geynest under gore] - comeliest under woman’s apparel. roun] tale, lay. - - -_3._ _Spring-tide_ - -c. 1300 - - Lenten ys come with love to toune, - With blosmen ant with briddes roune, - That al this blisse bryngeth; - Dayes-eyes in this dales, - Notes suete of nyhtegales, - Vch foul song singeth; - - _3._ to toune] in its turn. - - The threstlecoc him threteth oo, - Away is huere wynter wo, - When woderove springeth; - This foules singeth ferly fele, - Ant wlyteth on huere winter wele, - That al the wode ryngeth. - - The rose rayleth hire rode, - The leves on the lyhte wode - Waxen al with wille; - The mone mandeth hire bleo, - The lilie is lossom to seo, - The fenyl ant the fille; - Wowes this wilde drakes, - Miles murgeth huere makes; - Ase strem that striketh stille, - Mody meneth; so doth mo - (Ichot ycham on of tho) - For loue that likes ille. - - The mone mandeth hire lyht, - So doth the semly sonne bryht. - When briddes singeth breme; - Deowes donketh the dounes, - Deores with huere derne rounes - Domes forte deme; - - him threteth oo] is aye chiding them. huere] their. woderove] - woodruff. ferly fele] marvellous many. wlyteth] whistle, or look. - rayleth hire rode] clothes herself in red. mandeth hire bleo] sends - forth her light. lossom to seo] lovesome to see. fille] thyme. - wowes] woo. miles] males. murgeth] make merry. makes] mates. - striketh] flows, trickles. mody meneth] the moody man makes moan. - so doth mo] so do many. on of tho] one of them. breme] lustily. - deowes] dews. donketh] make dank. deores] dears, lovers. huere - derne rounes] their secret tales. domes forte deme] for to give - (decide) their decisions. - - Wormes woweth under cloude, - Wymmen waxeth wounder proude, - So wel hit wol hem seme, - Yef me shal wonte wille of on, - This wunne weole y wole forgon - Ant wyht in wode be fleme. - - _3._ cloude] clod. wunne weole] wealth of joy. y wole forgon] I - will forgo. wyht] wight. fleme] banished. - - -_4._ _Blow, Northern Wind_ - -c. 1300 - - Ichot a burde in boure bryht, - That fully semly is on syht, - Menskful maiden of myht; - Feir ant fre to fonde; - In al this wurhliche won - A burde of blod ant of bon - Never yete y nuste non - Lussomore in londe. - Blou northerne wynd! - Send thou me my suetyng! - Blou northerne wynd! blou, blou, blou! - - With lokkes lefliche ant longe, - With frount ant face feir to fonge, - With murthes monie mote heo monge, - That brid so breme in boure. - - _4._ Ichot] I know. burde] maiden. menskful] worshipful. feir] - fair. fonde] take, prove. wurhliche] noble. won] multitude. y - nuste] I knew not. lussomore in londe] lovelier on earth. suetyng] - sweetheart. lefliche] lovely. fonge] take between hands. murthes] - mirths, joys. mote heo monge] may she mingle. brid] bird. breme] - full of life. - - With lossom eye grete ant gode, - With browen blysfol under hode, - He that reste him on the Rode, - That leflych lyf honoure. - Blou northerne wynd, etc. - - Hire lure lumes liht, - Ase a launterne a nyht, - Hire bleo blykyeth so bryht, - So feyr heo is ant fyn. - A suetly swyre heo hath to holde. - With armes shuldre ase mon wolde, - Ant fingres feyre forte folde, - God wolde hue were myn! - Blou northerne wynd, etc. - - Heo is coral of godnesse, - Heo is rubie of ryhtfulnesse, - Heo is cristal of clannesse, - Ant baner of bealtè. - Heo is lilie of largesse, - Heo is parvenke of prouesse, - Heo is solsecle of suetnesse, - Ant lady of lealtè. - - For hire love y carke ant care, - For hire love y droupne ant dare, - For hire love my blisse is bare - Ant al ich waxe won, - - Rode] the Cross. lure] face. lumes] beams. bleo] colour. suetly - swyre] darling neck. forte] for to. hue, heo] she. clannesse] - cleanness, purity. parvenke] periwinkle. solsecle] sunflower. won] - wan. - - For hire love in slep y slake, - For hire love al nyht ich wake, - For hire love mournynge y make - More then eny mon. - Blou northerne wynd! - Send thou me my suetyng! - Blou northerne wynd! blou, blou, blou! - - -_5._ _This World’s Joy_ - -c. 1300 - - Wynter wakeneth al my care, - Nou this leves waxeth bare; - Ofte I sike ant mourne sare - When hit cometh in my thoht - Of this worldes joie, hou hit goth al to noht. - - Nou hit is, and nou hit nys, - Al so hit ner nere, ywys; - That moni mon seith, soth hit ys: - Al goth bote Godes wille: - Alle we shule deye, thah us like ylle. - - Al that gren me graueth grene, - Nou hit faleweth albydene: - Jesu, help that hit be sene - Ant shild us from helle! - For y not whider y shal, ne hou longe her duelle. - - _5._ this leves] these leaves. sike] sigh. nys] is not. also hit - ner nere] as though it had never been. soth] sooth. bote] but, - except. thah] though. faleweth] fadeth. albydene] altogether. y not - whider] I know not whither. her duelle] here dwell. - - -_6._ _A Hymn to the Virgin_ - -c. 1300 - - Of on that is so fayr and bright - _Velut maris stella_, - Brighter than the day is light, - _Parens et puella_: - Ic crie to the, thou see to me, - Levedy, preye thi Sone for me, - _Tam pia_, - That ic mote come to thee - _Maria_. - - Al this world was for-lore - _Eva peccatrice_, - Tyl our Lord was y-bore - _De te genetrice_. - With _ave_ it went away - Thuster nyth and comz the day - _Salutis_; - The welle springeth ut of the, - _Virtutis_. - - Levedy, flour of alle thing, - _Rosa sine spina_, - Thu bere Jhesu, hevene king, - _Gratia divina_: - Of alle thu ber’st the pris, - Levedy, quene of paradys - _Electa_: - Mayde milde, moder es - _Effecta_. - - on] one. levedy] lady. thuster] dark. pris] prize. - - - _7._ _Of a rose, a lovely rose,_ - _Of a rose is al myn song._ - -c. 1350 - - Lestenyt, lordynges, both elde and yinge, - How this rose began to sprynge; - Swych a rose to myn lykynge - In al this word ne knowe I non. - - The Aungil came fro hevene tour, - To grete Marye with gret honour, - And seyde sche xuld bere the flour - That xulde breke the fyndes bond. - - The flour sprong in heye Bedlem, - That is bothe bryht and schen: - The rose is Mary hevene qwyn, - Out of here bosum the blosme sprong. - - The ferste braunche is ful of myht, - That sprang on Cyrstemesse nyht, - The sterre schon over Bedlem bryht - That is bothe brod and long. - - The secunde braunche sprong to helle, - The fendys power doun to felle: - Therein myht non sowle dwelle; - Blyssid be the time the rose sprong! - - The thredde braunche is good and swote, - It sprang to hevene crop and rote, - Therein to dwellyn and ben our bote; - Every day it schewit in prystes hond. - - lestenyt] listen. word] world. xuld] should. schen] beautiful. - hevene qwyn] heaven’s queen. bote] salvation. - - Prey we to here with gret honour, - Che that bar the blyssid flowr, - Che be our helpe and our socour - And schyd us fro the fyndes bond. - - - - -ROBERT MANNYNG OF BRUNNE - -1260-1340 - - -_8._ _Praise of Women_ - - No thyng ys to man so dere - As wommanys love in gode manere. - A gode womman is mannys blys, - There her love right and stedfast ys. - There ys no solas under hevene - Of alle that a man may nevene - That shulde a man so moche glew - As a gode womman that loveth true. - Ne derer is none in Goddis hurde - Than a chaste womman with lovely worde. - - _8._ nevene] name. glew] gladden. hurde] flock. - - - - -JOHN BARBOUR - -d. 1395 - - -_9._ _Freedom_ - - A! Fredome is a noble thing! - Fredome mays man to haiff liking; - Fredome all solace to man giffis, - He levys at ese that frely levys! - A noble hart may haiff nane ese, - Na ellys nocht that may him plese, - - _9._ liking] liberty. na ellys nocht] nor aught else. - - Gyff fredome fail; for fre liking - Is yarnyt our all othir thing. - Na he that ay has levyt fre - May nocht knaw weill the propyrtè, - The angyr, na the wretchyt dome - That is couplyt to foule thyrldome. - Bot gyff he had assayit it, - Than all perquer he suld it wyt; - And suld think fredome mar to prise - Than all the gold in warld that is. - Thus contrar thingis evirmar - Discoweryngis off the tothir ar. - - _9._ yarnyt] yearned for. perquer] thoroughly, by heart. - - - - -GEOFFREY CHAUCER - -1340?-1400 - - -_10._ _The Love Unfeigned_ - - O YONGE fresshe folkes, he or she, - In which that love up groweth with your age, - Repeyreth hoom from worldly vanitee, - And of your herte up-casteth the visage - To thilke god that after his image - Yow made, and thinketh al nis but a fayre - This world, that passeth sone as floures fayre. - - And loveth him, the which that right for love - Upon a cros, our soules for to beye, - First starf, and roos, and sit in hevene a-bove; - For he nil falsen no wight, dar I seye, - That wol his herte al hoolly on him leye. - And sin he best to love is, and most meke, - What nedeth feyned loves for to seke? - - _10._ repeyreth] repair ye. starf] died. - - -_11._ _Balade_ - - Hyd, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere; - Ester, ley thou thy meknesse al a-doun; - Hyd, Jonathas, al thy frendly manere; - Penalopee, and Marcia Catoun, - Mak of your wyfhod no comparisoun; - Hyde ye your beautes, Isoude and Eleyne; - My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne. - - Thy faire body, lat hit nat appere, - Lavyne; and thou, Lucresse of Rome toun, - And Polixene, that boghten love so dere, - And Cleopatre, with al thy passioun, - Hyde ye your trouthe of love and your renoun; - And thou, Tisbe, that hast of love swich peyne; - My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne. - - Herro, Dido, Laudomia, alle y-fere, - And Phyllis, hanging for thy Demophoun, - And Canace, espyed by thy chere, - Ysiphile, betraysed with Jasoun, - Maketh of your trouthe neyther boost ne soun; - Nor Ypermistre or Adriane, ye tweyne; - My lady cometh, that al this may distevne. - - _11._ disteyne] bedim. y-fere] together. - - -_12._ _Merciles Beaute_ - -A TRIPLE ROUNDEL - - -1. CAPTIVITY - - Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly, - I may the beautè of hem not sustene, - So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene. - - And but your word wol helen hastily - My hertes wounde, whyl that hit is grene, - Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly, - I may the beautè of hem not sustene. - - Upon my trouthe I sey yow feithfully, - That ye ben of my lyf and deeth the quene; - For with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene. - Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly, - I may the beautè of hem not sustene, - So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene. - - -2. REJECTION - - So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced - Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne; - For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. - - Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced; - I sey yow sooth, me nedeth not to feyne; - So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced - Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne. - - Allas! that nature hath in yow compassed - So greet beautè, that no man may atteyne - To mercy, though he sterve for the peyne. - So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced - Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne; - For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne. - - -3. ESCAPE - - Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat, - I never thenk to ben in his prison lene; - Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene. - - halt] holdeth. - - He may answere, and seye this or that; - I do no fors, I speke right as I mene. - Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat, - I never thenk to ben in his prison lene. - - Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat, - And he is strike out of my bokes clene - For ever-mo; ther is non other mene. - Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat, - I never thenk to ben in his prison lene; - Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene. - - _12._ sclat] slate - - - - -THOMAS HOCCLEVE - -1368-9?-1450? - - -_13._ _Lament for Chaucer_ - - Allas! my worthi maister honorable, - This landes verray tresor and richesse! - Deth by thy deth hath harme irreparable - Unto us doon: hir vengeable duresse - Despoiled hath this land of the swetnesse - Of rethorik; for unto Tullius - Was never man so lyk amonges us. - - Also who was hier in philosophie - To Aristotle in our tonge but thou? - The steppes of Virgile in poesie - Thou folwedist eeke, men wot wel ynow. - That combre-worlde that the my maister slow-- - Wolde I slayn were!--Deth, was to hastyf - To renne on thee and reve the thi lyf ... - - _13._ hier] heir. combre-worlde] encumberer of earth. slow] slew. - - She myghte han taried hir vengeance a while - Til that sum man had egal to the be; - Nay, lat be that! sche knew wel that this yle - May never man forth brynge lyk to the, - And hir office needes do mot she: - God bad hir so, I truste as for the beste; - O maister, maister, God thi soule reste! - - - - -JOHN LYDGATE - -1370?-1450? - - -_14._ _Vox ultima Crucis_ - - Tarye no lenger; toward thyn heritage - Hast on thy weye, and be of ryght good chere. - Go eche day onward on thy pylgrymage; - Thynke howe short tyme thou hast abyden here. - Thy place is bygged above the sterres clere, - Noon erthly palys wrought in so statly wyse. - Come on, my frend, my brother most entere! - For the I offered my blood in sacryfice. - - _14._ bygged] built. palys] palace. - - - - -KING JAMES I OF SCOTLAND - -1394-1437 - - -_15._ _Spring Song of the Birds_ - - Worschippe ye that loveris bene this May, - For of your blisse the Kalendis are begonne, - And sing with us, Away, Winter, away! - Cum, Somer, cum, the suete sesoùn and sonne! - Awake for schame! that have your hevynnis wonne, - And amorously lift up your hedis all, - Thank Lufe that list you to his merci call! - - _15._ suete] sweet. Lufe] Love. - - - - -ROBERT HENRYSON - -1425-1500 - - -_16._ _Robin and Makyne_ - - Robin sat on gude green hill, - Kepand a flock of fe: - Mirry Makyne said him till - ‘Robin, thou rew on me: - I haif thee luvit, loud and still, - Thir yeiris twa or thre; - My dule in dern bot gif thou dill, - Doutless but dreid I de.’ - - Robin answerit ‘By the Rude - Na thing of luve I knaw, - But keipis my scheip undir yon wud: - Lo, quhair they raik on raw. - Quhat has marrit thee in thy mude, - Makyne, to me thou shaw; - Or quhat is luve, or to be lude? - Fain wad I leir that law.’ - - ‘At luvis lair gif thou will leir - Tak thair ane A B C; - Be heynd, courtass, and fair of feir, - Wyse, hardy, and free: - So that no danger do thee deir - Quhat dule in dern thou dre; - Preiss thee with pain at all poweir - Be patient and previe.’ - - kepand] keeping. fe] sheep, cattle. him till] to him. dule in dern] - sorrow in secret. dill] soothe. but dreid] without dread, i. e. - there is no fear or doubt. raik on raw] range in row. lude] loved. - leir] learn. lair] lore. heynd] gentle. feir] demeanour. deir] - daunt. dre] endure. preiss] endeavour. - - Robin answerit hir agane, - ‘I wat nocht quhat is lufe; - But I haif mervel in certaine - Quhat makis thee this wanrufe: - The weddir is fair, and I am fain; - My scheip gois haill aboif; - And we wald pley us in this plane, - They wald us baith reproif.’ - - ‘Robin, tak tent unto my tale, - And wirk all as I reid, - And thou sall haif my heart all haill, - Eik and my maiden-heid: - Sen God sendis bute for baill, - And for murnyng remeid, - In dern with thee bot gif I daill - Dowtles I am bot deid.’ - - ‘Makyne, to-morn this ilka tyde - And ye will meit me heir, - Peraventure my scheip may gang besyde, - Quhyle we haif liggit full neir; - But mawgre haif I, and I byde, - Fra they begin to steir; - Quhat lyis on heart I will nocht hyd; - Makyn, then mak gude cheir.’ - - ‘Robin, thou reivis me roiff and rest; - I luve bot thee allane.’ - ‘Makyne, adieu! the sone gois west, - The day is neir-hand gane.’ - - wanrufe] unrest. haill] healthy, whole. aboif] above, up yonder. - and] if. tak tent] give heed. reid] advise. bute for baill] remedy - for hurt. bot gif] but if, unless. daill] deal. mawgre haif I] I am - uneasy. reivis] robbest. roiff] quiet. - - ‘Robin, in dule I am so drest - That luve will be my bane.’ - ‘Ga luve, Makyne, quhair-evir thow list, - For lemman I luve nane.’ - - ‘Robin, I stand in sic a styll, - I sicht and that full sair.’ - ‘Makyne, I haif been here this quhyle; - At hame God gif I wair.’ - ‘My huny, Robin, talk ane quhyll, - Gif thow will do na mair.’ - ‘Makyn, sum uthir man begyle, - For hamewart I will fair.’ - - Robin on his wayis went - As light as leif of tre; - Makyne murnit in hir intent, - And trowd him nevir to se. - Robin brayd attour the bent: - Then Makyne cryit on hie, - ‘Now may thow sing, for I am schent! - Quhat alis lufe at me?’ - - Makyne went hame withowttin fail, - Full wery eftir cowth weip; - Then Robin in a ful fair daill - Assemblit all his scheip. - Be that sum part of Makynis aill - Out-throw his hairt cowd creip; - He fallowit hir fast thair till assaill, - And till her tuke gude keip. - - drest] beset. lemman] mistress. sicht] sigh. in hir intent] in her - inward thought. brayd] strode. bent] coarse grass. schent] - destroyed. alis] ails. be that] by the time that. till] to. tuke - keip] paid attention. - - ‘Abyd, abyd, thow fair Makyne, - A word for ony thing; - For all my luve, it sall be thyne, - Withowttin departing. - All haill thy hairt for till haif myne - Is all my cuvating; - My scheip to-morn, quhyle houris nyne, - Will neid of no keping.’ - - ‘Robin, thow hes hard soung and say, - In gestis and storeis auld, - The man that will nocht quhen he may - Sall haif nocht quhen he wald. - I pray to Jesu every day, - Mot eik thair cairis cauld - That first preissis with thee to play - Be firth, forrest, or fauld.’ - - ‘Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry, - The weddir is warme and fair, - And the grene woid rycht neir us by - To walk attour all quhair: - Thair ma na janglour us espy, - That is to lufe contrair; - Thairin, Makyne, baith ye and I, - Unsene we ma repair.’ - - ‘Robin, that warld is all away, - And quyt brocht till ane end: - And nevir agane thereto, perfay, - Sall it be as thow wend; - - hard] heard. gestis] romances. mot eik] may add to. be] by. - janglour] talebearer. wend] weened. - - For of my pane thow maid it play; - And all in vane I spend: - As thow hes done, sa sall I say, - “Murne on, I think to mend.”’ - - ‘Makyne, the howp of all my heill, - My hairt on thee is sett; - And evirmair to thee be leill - Quhill I may leif but lett; - Never to faill as utheris feill, - Quhat grace that evir I gett.’ - ‘Robin, with thee I will nocht deill; - Adieu! for thus we mett.’ - - Makyne went hame blyth anneuche - Attour the holttis hair; - Robin murnit, and Makyne leuche; - Scho sang, he sichit sair: - And so left him baith wo and wreuch, - In dolour and in cair, - Kepand his hird under a huche - Amangis the holttis hair. - - _16._ howp] hope. but lett] without hindrance. anneuche] enough. - holttis hair] grey woodlands. leuche] laughed. wreuch] peevish. - huche] heuch, cliff. - - -_17._ _The Bludy Serk_ - - This hinder yeir I hard be tald - Thair was a worthy King; - Dukis, Erlis, and Barronis bald, - He had at his bidding. - - _17._ hinder yeir] last year. - - The Lord was ancean and ald, - And sexty yeiris cowth ring; - He had a dochter fair to fald, - A lusty Lady ying. - - Off all fairheid scho bur the flour, - And eik hir faderis air; - Off lusty laitis and he honour, - Meik bot and debonair: - Scho wynnit in a bigly bour, - On fold wes nane so fair, - Princis luvit hir paramour - In cuntreis our allquhair. - - Thair dwelt a lyt besyde the King - A foull Gyand of ane; - Stollin he has the Lady ying, - Away with hir is gane, - And kest her in his dungering - Quhair licht scho micht se nane; - Hungir and cauld and grit thristing - Scho fand into hir waine. - - He wes the laithliest on to luk - That on the grund mycht gang: - His nailis wes lyk ane hellis cruk, - Thairwith fyve quarteris lang; - - ring] reign. fald] enfold. ying] young. fairheid] beauty. air] - heir. laitis] manners. bot and] and also. scho wynnit] she dwelt. - bigly] well-built. fold] earth. paramour] lovingly. our allquhair] - all the world over. a lyt besyde] a little, (i. e. close) beside. - of ane] as any. kest] cast. dungering] dungeon. into hir waine] in - her lodging. hellis cruk] hell-claw. - - Thair wes nane that he ourtuk, - In rycht or yit in wrang, - Bot all in schondir he thame schuk, - The Gyand wes so strang. - - He held the Lady day and nycht - Within his deip dungeoun, - He wald nocht gif of hir a sicht - For gold nor yit ransoun-- - Bot gif the King mycht get a knycht, - To fecht with his persoun, - To fecht with him beth day and nycht, - Quhill ane wer dungin doun. - - The King gart seik baith fer and neir, - Beth be se and land, - Off ony knycht gif he mycht heir - Wald fecht with that Gyand: - A worthy Prince, that had no peir, - Hes tane the deid on hand - For the luve of the Lady cleir, - And held full trew cunnand. - - That Prince come prowdly to the toun - Of that Gyand to heir, - And fawcht with him, his awin persoun, - And tuke him presoneir, - And kest him in his awin dungeoun - Allane withouten feir, - With hungir, cauld, and confusioun, - As full weill worthy weir. - - quhill] until. dungin doun] beaten down. his awin persoun] himself. - withouten feir] without companion. - - Syne brak the bour, had hame the bricht - Unto her fadir fre. - Sa evill wondit wes the Knycht - That he behuvit to de; - Unlusum was his likame dicht, - His sark was all bludy; - In all the world was thair a wicht - So peteouss for to se? - - The Lady murnyt and maid grit mane, - With all her mekill mycht-- - ‘I luvit nevir lufe bot ane, - That dulfully now is dicht; - God sen my lyfe were fra me tane - Or I had seen yone sicht, - Or ellis in begging evir to gane - Furth with yone curtass knycht.’ - - He said ‘Fair lady, now mone I - De, trestly ye me trow; - Take ye my serk that is bludy, - And hing it forrow yow; - First think on it, and syne on me, - Quhen men cumis yow to wow.’ - The Lady said ‘Be Mary fre, - Thairto I mak a vow.’ - - Quhen that scho lukit to the sark - Scho thocht on the persoun, - And prayit for him with all hir hart - That lowsit hir of bandoun, - - the bricht] the fair one. likame] body. lowsit hir of. bandoun] - loosed her from thraldom. - - Quhair scho was wont to sit full merk - Into that deip dungeoun; - And evir quhill scho wes in quert, - That was hir a lessoun. - - Sa weill the Lady luvit the Knycht - That no man wald scho tak: - Sa suld we do our God of micht - That did all for us mak; - Quhilk fullily to deid was dicht, - For sinfull manis sak, - Sa suld we do beth day and nycht, - With prayaris to him mak. - - This King is lyk the Trinitie, - Baith in hevin and heir; - The manis saule to the Lady, - The Gyand to Lucefeir, - The Knycht to Chryst, that deit on tre - And coft our synnis deir; - The pit to Hele with panis fell, - The Syn to the woweir. - - The Lady was wowd, but scho said nay - With men that wald hir wed; - Sa suld we wryth all sin away - That in our breist is bred. - I pray to Jesu Chryst verray, - For ws his blud that bled, - To be our help on domisday - Quhair lawis ar straitly led. - - quert] prison. coft] bought. straitly led] strictly carried out. - - The saule is Godis dochtir deir, - And eik his handewerk, - That was betrayit with Lucefeir, - Quha sittis in hell full merk: - Borrowit with Chrystis angell cleir, - Hend men, will ye nocht herk? - And for his lufe that bocht us deir - Think on the BLUDY SERK! - - _17._ hend] gentle. - - - - -WILLIAM DUNBAR - -1465-1520? - - -_18._ _To a Lady_ - - Sweet rois of vertew and of gentilness, - Delytsum lily of everie lustynes, - Richest in bontie and in bewtie clear, - And everie vertew that is wenit dear, - Except onlie that ye are mercyless. - - Into your garth this day I did persew; - There saw I flowris that fresche were of hew; - Baith quhyte and reid most lusty were to seyne, - And halesome herbis upon stalkis greene; - Yet leaf nor flowr find could I nane of rew. - - I doubt that Merche, with his cauld blastis keyne, - Has slain this gentil herb, that I of mene; - Quhois piteous death dois to my heart sic paine - That I would make to plant his root againe,-- - So confortand his levis unto me bene. - - _18._ rois] rose. wenit] weened, esteemed. garth] garden-close. to - seyne] to see. that I of mene] that I complain of, mourn for. - - -_19._ _In Honour of the City of London_ - - London, thou art of townes _A per se_. - 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 flour of Cities all. - - Gladdith anon, thou lusty Troynovaunt, - Citie that some tyme cleped was New Troy; - In all the erth, imperiall as thou stant, - Pryncesse of townes, of pleasure and of joy, - A richer restith under no Christen roy; - For manly power, with craftis naturall, - Fourmeth none fairer sith the flode of Noy: - London, thou art the flour of Cities all. - - Gemme of all joy, jasper of jocunditie, - Most myghty carbuncle of vertue and valour; - Strong Troy in vigour and in strenuytie; - Of royall cities rose and geraflour; - Empress of townes, exalt in honour; - In beawtie beryng the crone imperiall; - Swete paradise precelling in pleasure; - London, thou art the flour of Cities all. - - Above all ryvers thy Ryver hath renowne, - Whose beryall stremys, pleasaunt and preclare, - Under thy lusty wallys renneth down, - Where many a swan doth swymme with wyngis fair; - - gladdith] rejoice. Troynovaunt] Troja nova or Trinovantum. - fourmeth] appeareth. geraflour] gillyflower. - - Where many a barge doth saile and row with are; - Where many a ship doth rest with top-royall. - O, towne of townes! patrone and not compare, - London, thou art the flour of Cities all. - - Upon thy lusty Brigge of pylers white - Been merchauntis full royall to behold; - Upon thy stretis goeth many a semely knyght - In velvet gownes and in cheynes of gold. - By Julyus Cesar thy Tour founded of old - May be the hous of Mars victoryall, - Whose artillary with tonge may not be told: - London, thou art the flour 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: - London, thou art the flour of Cities all. - - Thy famous Maire, by pryncely governaunce, - With sword of justice thee ruleth prudently. - No Lord of Parys, Venyce, or Floraunce - In dignitye or honour goeth to hym nigh. - He is exampler, loode-ster, and guye; - Principall patrone and rose orygynalle, - Above all Maires as maister most worthy: - London, thou art the flour of Cities all. - - are] oar. small] slender. kellis] hoods, head-dresses. guye] guide. - - -_20._ _On the Nativity of Christ_ - - _Rorate coeli desuper_! - Hevins, distil your balmy schouris! - For now is risen the bricht day-ster, - Fro the rose Mary, flour of flouris: - The cleir Sone, quhom no cloud devouris, - Surmounting Phebus in the Est, - Is cumin of his hevinly touris: - _Et nobis Puer natus est_. - - Archangellis, angellis, and dompnationis, - Tronis, potestatis, and marteiris seir, - And all ye hevinly operationis, - Ster, planeit, firmament, and spheir, - Fire, erd, air, and water cleir, - To Him gife loving, most and lest, - That come in to so meik maneir; - _Et nobis Puer natus est_. - - Synnaris be glad, and penance do, - And thank your Maker hairtfully; - For he that ye micht nocht come to - To you is cumin full humbly - Your soulis with his blood to buy - And loose you of the fiendis arrest-- - And only of his own mercy; - _Pro nobis Puer natus est_. - - All clergy do to him inclyne, - And bow unto that bairn benyng, - And do your observance divyne - To him that is of kingis King: - - schouris] showers. cumin] come, entered. seir] various. erd] earth. - lest] least. synnaris] sinners. benyng] benign. - - Encense his altar, read and sing - In holy kirk, with mind degest, - Him honouring attour all thing - _Qui nobis Puer natus est_. - - Celestial foulis in the air, - Sing with your nottis upon hicht, - In firthis and in forrestis fair - Be myrthful now at all your mycht; - For passit is your dully nicht, - Aurora has the cloudis perst, - The Sone is risen with glaidsum licht, - _Et nobis Puer natus est_. - - Now spring up flouris fra the rute, - Revert you upward naturaly, - In honour of the blissit frute - That raiss up fro the rose Mary; - Lay out your levis lustily, - Fro deid take life now at the lest - In wirschip of that Prince worthy - _Qui nobis Puer natus est_. - - Sing, hevin imperial, most of hicht! - Regions of air mak armony! - All fish in flud and fowl of flicht - Be mirthful and mak melody! - All Gloria in excelsis cry! - Heaven, erd, se, man, bird, and best,-- - He that is crownit abone the sky - _Pro nobis Puer natus est_! - - attour] over, above. perst] pierced. raiss] rose. best] beast. - - -_21._ _Lament for the Makers_ - - I that in heill was and gladnèss - Am trublit now with great sickness - And feblit with infirmitie:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - Our plesance here is all vain glory, - This fals world is but transitory, - The flesh is bruckle, the Feynd is slee:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - The state of man does change and vary, - Now sound, now sick, now blyth, now sary, - Now dansand mirry, now like to die:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - No state in Erd here standis sicker; - As with the wynd wavis the wicker - So wannis this world’s vanitie:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - Unto the Death gois all Estatis, - Princis, Prelatis, and Potestatis, - Baith rich and poor of all degree:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - He takis the knichtis in to the field - Enarmit under helm and scheild; - Victor he is at all mellie:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - heill] health. bruckle] brittle, feeble. slee] sly. dansand] - dancing. sicker] sure. wicker] willow. wannis] wanes. mellie] - mellay. - - That strong unmerciful tyrand - Takis, on the motheris breast sowkand, - The babe full of benignitie:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - He takis the campion in the stour, - The captain closit in the tour, - The lady in bour full of bewtie:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - He spairis no lord for his piscence, - Na clerk for his intelligence; - His awful straik may no man flee:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - Art-magicianis and astrologgis, - Rethoris, logicianis, and theologgis, - Them helpis no conclusionis slee:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - In medecine the most practicianis, - Leechis, surrigianis, and physicianis, - Themself from Death may not supplee:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - I see that makaris amang the lave - Playis here their padyanis, syne gois to grave; - Sparit is nocht their facultie:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - He has done petuously devour - The noble Chaucer, of makaris flour, - The Monk of Bury, and Gower, all three:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me._ - - sowkand] sucking. campion] champion. stour] fight. piscence] - puissance. straik] stroke. supplee] save. makaris] poets. the lave] - the leave, the rest. padyanis] pageants. - - The good Sir Hew of Eglintoun, - Ettrick, Heriot, and Wintoun, - He has tane out of this cuntrie:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - That scorpion fell has done infeck - Maister John Clerk, and James Afflek, - Fra ballat-making and tragedie:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - Holland and Barbour he has berevit; - Alas! that he not with us levit - Sir Mungo Lockart of the Lee:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - Clerk of Tranent eke he has tane, - That made the anteris of Gawaine; - Sir Gilbert Hay endit has he:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - He has Blind Harry and Sandy Traill - Slain with his schour of mortal hail, - Quhilk Patrick Johnstoun might nought flee:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - He has reft Merseir his endite, - That did in luve so lively write, - So short, so quick, of sentence hie:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - He has tane Rowll of Aberdene, - And gentill Rowll of Corstorphine; - Two better fallowis did no man see:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - anteris] adventures. schour] shower. endite] inditing. fallowis] - fellows. - - In Dunfermline he has tane Broun - With Maister Robert Henrysoun; - Sir John the Ross enbrast has he:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - And he has now tane, last of a, - Good gentil Stobo and Quintin Shaw, - Of quhom all wichtis hes pitie:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - Good Maister Walter Kennedy - In point of Death lies verily; - Great ruth it were that so suld be:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - Sen he has all my brether tane, - He will naught let me live alane; - Of force I man his next prey be:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - Since for the Death remeid is none, - Best is that we for Death dispone, - After our death that live may we:-- - _Timor Mortis conturbat me_. - - _21._ wichtis] wights, persons. man] must. dispone] make - disposition. - - - - -ANONYMOUS - -15th Cent. - - -_22._ _May in the Green-Wood_ - - In somer when the shawes be sheyne, - And leves be large and long, - Hit is full merry in feyre foreste - To here the foulys song. - - _22._ sheyne] bright. - - To se the dere draw to the dale - And leve the hilles hee, - And shadow him in the leves grene - Under the green-wode tree. - - Hit befell on Whitsontide - Early in a May mornyng, - The Sonne up faire can shyne, - And the briddis mery can syng. - - ‘This is a mery mornyng,’ said Litulle Johne, - ‘Be Hym that dyed on tre; - A more mery man than I am one - Lyves not in Christiantè. - - ‘Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,’ - Litulle Johne can say, - ‘And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme - In a mornynge of May.’ - - -_23._ _Carol_ - -15th Cent. - - I sing of a maiden - That is makeles; - King of all kings - To her son she ches. - - He came al so still - There his mother was, - As dew in April - That falleth on the grass. - - _23._ makeles] matchless. ches] chose. - - He came al so still - To his mother’s bour, - As dew in April - That falleth on the flour. - - He came al so still - There 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 - Goddes mother be. - - -_24._ _Quia Amore Langueo_ - -15th Cent. (?) - - In a valley of this restles mind - I sought in mountain and in mead, - Trusting a true love for to find. - Upon an hill then took I heed; - A voice I heard (and near I yede) - In great dolour complaining tho: - See, dear soul, how my sides bleed - _Quia amore langueo_. - - Upon this hill I found a tree, - Under a tree a man sitting; - From head to foot wounded was he; - His hearte blood I saw bleeding: - A seemly man to be a king, - A gracious face to look unto. - I askèd why he had paining; - [He said,] _Quia amore langueo_. - - _24._ yede] went. - - I am true love that false was never; - My sister, man’s soul, I loved her thus. - Because we would in no wise dissever - I left my kingdom glorious. - I purveyed her a palace full precious; - She fled, I followed, I loved her so - That I suffered this pain piteous - _Quia amore langueo_. - - My fair love and my spouse bright! - I saved her from beating, and she hath me bet; - I clothed her in grace and heavenly light; - This bloody shirt she hath on me set; - For longing of love yet would I not let; - Sweete strokes are these: lo! - I have loved her ever as I her het - _Quia amore langueo_. - - I crowned her with bliss and she me with thorn; - I led her to chamber and she me to die; - I brought her to worship and she me to scorn; - I did her reverence and she me villany. - To love that loveth is no maistry; - Her hate made never my love her foe: - Ask me then no question why-- - _Quia amore langueo_. - - Look unto mine handes, man! - These gloves were given me when I her sought; - They be not white, but red and wan; - Embroidered with blood my spouse them brought. - They will not off; I loose hem nought: - - het] promised. - - I woo her with hem wherever she go. - These hands for her so friendly fought - _Quia amore langueo_. - - Marvel not, man, though I sit still. - See, love hath shod me wonder strait: - Buckled my feet, as was her will, - With sharpe nails (well thou may’st wait!) - In my love was never desait; - All my membres I have opened her to; - My body I made her herte’s bait - _Quia amore langueo_. - - In my side I have made her nest; - Look in, how weet a wound is here! - This is her chamber, here shall she rest, - That she and I may sleep in fere. - Here may she wash, if any filth were; - Here is seat for all her woe; - Come when she will, she shall have cheer - _Quia amore langueo_. - - I will abide till she be ready, - I will her sue if she say nay; - If she be retchless I will be greedy, - If she be dangerous I will her pray; - If she weep, then bide I ne may: - Mine arms ben spread to clip her me to. - Cry once, I come: now, soul, assay - _Quia amore langueo_. - - Fair love, let us go play: - Apples ben ripe in my gardayne. - - bait] resting-place. weet] wet. in fere] together. - - I shall thee clothe in a new array, - Thy meat shall be milk, honey and wine. - Fair love, let us go dine: - Thy sustenance is in my crippe, lo! - Tarry thou not, my fair spouse mine, - _Quia amore langueo_. - - If thou be foul, I shall thee make clean; - If thou be sick, I shall thee heal; - If thou mourn ought, I shall thee mene; - Why wilt thou not, fair love, with me deal? - Foundest thou ever love so leal? - What wilt thou, soul, that I shall do? - I may not unkindly thee appeal - _Quia amore langueo_. - - What shall I do now with my spouse - But abide her of my gentleness, - Till that she look out of her house - Of fleshly affection? love mine she is; - Her bed is made, her bolster is bliss, - Her chamber is chosen; is there none mo. - Look out on me at the window of kindeness - _Quia amore langueo_. - - My love is in her chamber: hold your peace! - Make ye no noise, but let her sleep. - My babe I would not were in disease, - I may not hear my dear child weep. - With my pap I shall her keep; - Ne marvel ye not though I tend her to: - This wound in my side had ne’er be so deep - But _Quia amore langueo_. - - crippe] scrip. mene] care for. - - Long thou for love never so high, - My love is more than thine may be. - Thou weepest, thou gladdest, I sit thee by: - Yet wouldst thou once, love, look unto me! - Should I always feede thee - With children meat? Nay, love, not so! - I will prove thy love with adversitè - _Quia amore langueo_. - - Wax not weary, mine own wife! - What mede is aye to live in comfort? - In tribulation I reign more rife - Ofter times than in disport. - In weal and in woe I am aye to support: - Mine own wife, go not me fro! - Thy mede is marked, when thou art mort: - _Quia amore langueo_. - - -_25._ _The Nut-Brown Maid_ - -15th Cent. - - _He._ _Be it right or wrong, these men among_ - _On women do complain;_ - _Affirming this, how that it is_ - _A labour spent in vain_ - _To love them wele; for never a dele_ - _They love a man again:_ - _For let a man do what he can_ - _Their favour to attain,_ - _Yet if a new to them pursue,_ - _Their first true lover than_ - _Laboureth for naught; for from her thought_ - _He is a banished man._ - - _25._ never a dele] never a bit. than] then. - - _She._ _I say not nay, but that all day_ - _It is both written and said_ - _That woman’s faith is, as who saith,_ - _All utterly decayd:_ - _But nevertheless, right good witnèss_ - _In this case might be laid_ - _That they love true and continue:_ - _Record the Nut-brown Maid,_ - _Which, when her love came her to prove,_ - _To her to make his moan,_ - _Would not depart; for in her heart_ - _She loved but him alone._ - - _He._ _Then between us let us discuss_ - _What was all the manere_ - _Between them two: we will also_ - _Tell all the pain in fere_ - _That she was in. Now I begin,_ - _So that ye me answere:_ - _Wherefore all ye that present be,_ - _I pray you, give an ear._ - _I am the Knight. I come by night,_ - _As secret as I can,_ - _Saying_, Alas! thus standeth the case, - I am a banished man. - - _She._ _And I your will for to fulfil_ - _In this will not refuse;_ - _Trusting to show, in wordes few,_ - _That men have an ill use--_ - _To their own shame--women to blame,_ - _And causeless them accuse._ - - in fere] in company together. - - _Therefore to you I answer now,_ - _All women to excuse--_ - Mine own heart dear, with you what cheer? - I pray you, tell anone; - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - _He._ It standeth so: a deed is do - Whereof great harm shall grow: - My destiny is for to die - A shameful death, I trow; - Or else to flee. The t’ one must be. - None other way I know - But to withdraw as an outlàw, - And take me to my bow. - Wherefore adieu, mine own heart true! - None other rede I can: - For I must to the green-wood go, - Alone, a banished man. - - _She._ O Lord, what is this worldis bliss, - That changeth as the moon! - My summer’s day in lusty May - Is darked before the noon. - I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay, - We dèpart not so soon. - Why say ye so? whither will ye go? - Alas! what have ye done? - All my welfàre to sorrow and care - Should change, if ye were gone: - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - rede I can] counsel I know. - - _He._ I can believe it shall you grieve, - And somewhat you distrain; - But afterward, your paines hard - Within a day or twain - Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take - Comfort to you again. - Why should ye ought? for, to make thought, - Your labour were in vain. - And thus I do; and pray you to, - As hartely as I can: - For I must to the green-wood go, - Alone, a banished man. - - _She._ Now, sith that ye have showed to me - The secret of your mind, - I shall be plain to you again, - Like as ye shall me find. - Sith it is so that ye will go, - I will not live behind. - Shall never be said the Nut-brown Maid - Was to her love unkind. - Make you readý, for so am I, - Although it were anone: - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - _He._ Yet I you rede to take good heed - What men will think and say: - Of young, of old, it shall be told - That ye be gone away - Your wanton will for to fulfil, - In green-wood you to play; - And that ye might for your delight - No longer make delay - Rather than ye should thus for me - Be called an ill womàn - Yet would I to the green-wood go, - Alone, a banished man. - - _She._ Though it be sung of old and young - That I should be to blame, - Theirs be the charge that speak so large - In hurting of my name: - For I will prove that faithful love - It is devoid of shame; - In your distress and heaviness - To part with you the same: - And sure all tho that do not so - True lovers are they none: - For in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - _He._ I counsel you, Remember how - It is no maiden’s law - Nothing to doubt, but to run out - To wood with an outlàw. - For ye must there in your hand bear - A bow readý to draw; - And as a thief thus must you live - Ever in dread and awe; - Whereby to you great harm might grow: - Yet had I liever than - That I had to the green-wood go, - Alone, a banished man. - - part with] share with. tho] those. - - _She._ I think not nay but as ye say; - It is no maiden’s lore; - But love may make me for your sake, - As I have said before, - To come on foot, to hunt and shoot, - To get us meat and store; - For so that I your company - May have, I ask no more. - From which to part it maketh my heart - As cold as any stone; - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - _He._ For an outlàw this is the law, - That men him take and bind: - Without pitie, hangèd to be, - And waver with the wind. - If I had need (as God forbede!) - What socours could ye find? - Forsooth I trow, you and your bow - For fear would draw behind. - And no mervail; for little avail - Were in your counsel than: - Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go, - Alone, a banished man. - - _She._ Right well know ye that women be - But feeble for to fight; - No womanhede it is, indeed, - To be bold as a knight: - Yet in such fear if that ye were - With enemies day and night, - I would withstand, with bow in hand, - To grieve them as I might, - And you to save; as women have - From death men many one: - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - _He._ Yet take good hede; for ever I drede - That ye could not sustain - The thorny ways, the deep vallèys, - The snow, the frost, the rain, - The cold, the heat; for dry or wete, - We must lodge on the plain; - And, us above, no other roof - But a brake bush or twain: - Which soon should grieve you, I believe; - And ye would gladly than - That I had to the green-wood go, - Alone, a banished man. - - _She._ Sith I have here been partynere - With you of joy and bliss, - I must alsò part of your woe - Endure, as reason is: - Yet I am sure of one pleasùre, - And shortly it is this-- - That where ye be, me seemeth, pardé, - I could not fare amiss. - Without more speech I you beseech - That we were shortly gone; - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - - _He._ If ye go thyder, ye must consider, - When ye have lust to dine, - There shall no meat be for to gete, - Nether bere, ale, ne wine, - Ne shetès clean, to lie between, - Made of thread and twine; - None other house, but leaves and boughs, - To cover your head and mine. - Lo, mine heart sweet, this ill diète - Should make you pale and wan: - Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go, - Alone, a banished man. - - _She._ Among the wild deer such an archère, - As men say that ye be, - Ne may not fail of good vitayle - Where is so great plentè: - And water clear of the rivere - Shall be full sweet to me; - With which in hele I shall right wele - Endure, as ye shall see; - And, or we go, a bed or two - I can provide anone; - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - _He._ Lo yet, before, ye must do more, - If ye will go with me: - As, cut your hair up by your ear, - Your kirtle by the knee; - With bow in hand for to withstand - Your enemies, if need be: - - hele] health. - - And this same night, before daylight, - To woodward will I flee. - If that ye will all this fulfil, - Do it shortly as ye can: - Else will I to the green-wood go, - Alone, a banished man. - - _She._ I shall as now do more for you - Than ’longeth to womanhede; - To short my hair, a bow to bear, - To shoot in time of need. - O my sweet mother! before all other - For you I have most drede! - But now, adieu! I must ensue - Where fortune doth me lead. - All this make ye: Now let us flee; - The day cometh fast upon: - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - _He._ Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go, - And I shall tell you why-- - Your appetite is to be light - Of love, I well espy: - For, right as ye have said to me, - In likewise hardily - Ye would answere whosoever it were, - In way of companý: - It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold; - And so is a womàn: - Wherefore I to the wood will go, - Alone, a banished man. - - - _She._ If ye take heed, it is no need - Such words to say to me; - For oft ye prayed, and long assayed, - Or I loved you, pardè: - And though that I of ancestry - A baron’s daughter be, - Yet have you proved how I you loved, - A squire of low degree; - And ever shall, whatso befall - To die therefore anone; - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - _He._ A baron’s child to be beguiled, - It were a cursèd deed! - To be felàw with an outlaw-- - Almighty God forbede! - Yet better were the poor squyere - Alone to forest yede - Than ye shall say another day - That by my cursèd rede - Ye were betrayed. Wherefore, good maid, - The best rede that I can, - Is, that I to the green-wood go, - Alone, a banished man. - - _She._ Whatever befall, I never shall - Of this thing be upbraid: - But if ye go, and leave me so, - Then have ye me betrayed. - Remember you wele, how that ye dele; - For if ye, as ye said, - - yede] went. - - Be so unkind to leave behind - Your love, the Nut-brown Maid, - Trust me trulý that I shall die - Soon after ye be gone: - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - _He._ If that ye went, ye should repent; - For in the forest now - I have purveyed me of a maid - Whom I love more than you: - Another more fair than ever ye were - I dare it well avow; - And of you both each should be wroth - With other, as I trow: - It were mine ease to live in peace; - So will I, if I can: - Wherefore I to the wood will go, - Alone, a banished man. - - _She._ Though in the wood I understood - Ye had a paramour, - All this may nought remove my thought, - But that I will be your’: - And she shall find me soft and kind - And courteis every hour; - Glad to fulfil all that she will - Command me, to my power: - For had ye, lo, an hundred mo, - Yet would I be that one: - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - - _He._ Mine own dear love, I see the prove - That ye be kind and true; - Of maid, of wife, in all my life, - The best that ever I knew. - Be merry and glad; be no more sad; - The case is changèd new; - For it were ruth that for your truth - Ye should have cause to rue. - Be not dismayed, whatsoever I said - To you when I began: - I will not to the green-wood go; - I am no banished man. - - _She._ These tidings be more glad to me - Than to be made a queen, - If I were sure they should endure; - But it is often seen - When men will break promise they speak - The wordis on the splene. - Ye shape some wile me to beguile, - And steal from me, I ween: - Then were the case worse than it was, - And I more wo-begone: - For, in my mind, of all mankind - I love but you alone. - - _He._ Ye shall not nede further to drede: - I will not disparàge - You (God defend), sith you descend - Of so great a linàge. - Now understand: to Westmoreland, - Which is my heritage, - - on the splene] that is, in haste. - - I will you bring; and with a ring, - By way of marriàge - I will you take, and lady make, - As shortly as I can: - Thus have you won an Earles son, - And not a banished man. - - _Here may ye see that women be_ - _In love meek, kind, and stable;_ - _Let never man reprove them than,_ - _Or call them variable;_ - _But rather pray God that we may_ - _To them be comfortable;_ - _Which sometime proveth such as He loveth,_ - _If they be charitable._ - _For sith men would that women should_ - _Be meek to them each one;_ - _Much more ought they to God obey,_ - _And serve but Him alone._ - - -_26._ _As ye came from the Holy Land_ - -16th Cent. - - As ye came from the holy land - Of Walsinghame, - Met you not with my true love - By the way as you came? - - How should I know your true love, - That have met many a one - As I came from the holy land, - That have come, that have gone? - - - She is neither white nor brown, - But as the heavens fair; - There is none hath her form divine - In the earth or the air. - - Such a one did I meet, good sir, - Such an angelic face, - Who like a nymph, like a queen, did appear - In her gait, in her grace. - - She hath left me here alone - All alone, as unknown, - Who sometime did me lead with herself, - And me loved as her own. - - What’s the cause that she leaves you alone - And a new way doth take, - That sometime did love you as her own, - And her joy did you make? - - I have loved her all my youth, - But now am old, as you see: - Love likes not the falling fruit, - Nor the withered tree. - - Know that Love is a careless child, - And forgets promise past: - He is blind, he is deaf when he list, - And in faith never fast. - - His desire is a dureless content, - And a trustless joy; - He is won with a world of despair, - And is lost with a toy. - - Of womenkind such indeed is the love, - Or the word love abusèd, - Under which many childish desires - And conceits are excusèd. - - But true love is a durable fire, - In the mind ever burning, - Never sick, never dead, never cold, - From itself never turning. - - -_27._ _The Lover in Winter Plaineth for the Spring_ - -16th Cent.(?) - - O western wind, when wilt thou blow - That the small rain down can rain? - Christ, that my love were in my arms - And I in my bed again! - - -_28._ _Balow_ - -16th Cent. - - Balow, my babe, lie still and sleep! - It grieves me sore to see thee weep. - Wouldst thou be quiet I’se be glad, - Thy mourning makes my sorrow sad: - Balow my boy, thy mother’s joy, - Thy father breeds me great annoy-- - Balow, la-low! - - When he began to court my love, - And with his sugred words me move, - His faynings false and flattering cheer - To me that time did not appear: - But now I see most cruellye - He cares ne for my babe nor me-- - Balow, la-low! - - Lie still, my darling, sleep awhile, - And when thou wak’st thou’le sweetly smile: - But smile not as thy father did, - To cozen maids: nay, God forbid! - But yet I fear thou wilt go near - Thy father’s heart and face to bear-- - Balow, la-low! - - I cannot choose but ever will - Be loving to thy father still; - Where’er he go, where’er he ride, - My love with him doth still abide; - In weal or woe, where’er he go, - My heart shall ne’er depart him fro-- - Balow, la-low! - - But do not, do not, pretty mine, - To faynings false thy heart incline! - Be loyal to thy lover true, - And never change her for a new: - If good or fair, of her have care - For women’s banning’s wondrous sare-- - Balow, la-low! - - Bairn, by thy face I will beware; - Like Sirens’ words, I’ll come not near; - My babe and I together will live; - He’ll comfort me when cares do grieve. - My babe and I right soft will lie, - And ne’er respect man’s crueltye-- - Balow, la-low! - - - Farewell, farewell, the falsest youth - That ever kist a woman’s mouth! - I wish all maids be warn’d by me - Never to trust man’s curtesye; - For if we do but chance to bow, - They’ll use us then they care not how-- - Balow, la-low! - - -_29._ _The Old Cloak_ - -16th Cent.(?) - - This winter’s weather it waxeth cold, - And frost it freezeth on every hill, - And Boreas blows his blast so bold - That all our cattle are like to spill. - Bell, my wife, she loves no strife; - She said unto me quietlye, - Rise up, and save cow Crumbock’s life! - Man, put thine old cloak about thee! - - _He._ O Bell my wife, why dost thou flyte? - Thou kens my cloak is very thin: - It is so bare and over worn, - A crickè thereon cannot renn. - Then I’ll no longer borrow nor lend; - For once I’ll new apparell’d be; - To-morrow I’ll to town and spend; - For I’ll have a new cloak about me. - - _She._ Cow Crumbock is a very good cow: - She has been always true to the pail; - She has helped us to butter and cheese, I trow, - And other things she will not fail. - - _29._ flyte] scold. - - I would be loth to see her pine. - Good husband, counsel take of me: - It is not for us to go so fine-- - Man, take thine old cloak about thee! - - _He._ My cloak it was a very good cloak, - It hath been always true to the wear; - But now it is not worth a groat: - I have had it four and forty year’. - Sometime it was of cloth in grain: - ’Tis now but a sigh clout, as you may see: - It will neither hold out wind nor rain; - And I’ll have a new cloak about me. - - _She._ It is four and forty years ago - Sine the one of us the other did ken; - And we have had, betwixt us two, - Of children either nine or ten: - We have brought them up to women and men: - In the fear of God I trow they be. - And why wilt thou thyself misken? - Man, take thine old cloak about thee! - - _He._ O Bell my wife, why dost thou flyte? - Now is now, and then was then: - Seek now all the world throughout, - Thou kens not clowns from gentlemen: - They are clad in black, green, yellow and blue, - So far above their own degree. - Once in my life I’ll take a view; - For I’ll have a new cloak about me. - - cloth in grain] scarlet cloth. sigh clout] a rag for straining. - - _She._ King Stephen was a worthy peer; - His breeches cost him but a crown; - He held them sixpence all too dear, - Therefore he called the tailor ‘lown.’ - He was a king and wore the crown, - And thou’se but of a low degree: - It’s pride that puts this country down: - Man, take thy old cloak about thee! - - _He._ Bell my wife, she loves not strife, - Yet she will lead me, if she can; - And to maintain an easy life - I oft must yield, though I’m good-man. - It’s not for a man with a woman to threap, - Unless he first give o’er the plea: - As we began, so will we keep, - And I’ll take my old cloak about me. - - _29._ threap] argue. - - - - -JOHN SKELTON - -1460?-1529 - - -_30._ _To Mistress Margery Wentworth_ - - With margerain gentle, - The flower of goodlihead, - Embroidered the mantle - Is of your maidenhead. - Plainly I cannot glose; - Ye be, as I divine, - The pretty primrose, - The goodly columbine. - - _30._ margerain] marjoram. - - Benign, courteous, and meek, - With wordes well devised; - In you, who list to seek, - Be virtues well comprised. - With margerain gentle, - The flower of goodlihead, - Embroidered the mantle - Is of your maidenhead. - - -_31._ _To Mistress Margaret Hussey_ - - Merry Margaret - As midsummer flower, - Gentle as falcon - Or hawk of the tower: - With solace and gladness, - Much mirth and no madness, - All good and no badness; - So joyously, - So maidenly, - So womanly - Her demeaning - In every thing, - Far, far passing - That I can indite, - Or suffice to write - Of Merry Margaret - As midsummer flower, - Gentle as falcon - Or hawk of the tower. - As patient and still - And as full of good will - As fair Isaphill, - Coliander, - Sweet pomander, - Good Cassander; - Steadfast of thought, - Well made, well wrought, - Far may be sought, - Ere that ye can find - So courteous, so kind - As merry Margaret, - This midsummer flower, - Gentle as falcon - Or hawk of the tower. - - _31._ Isaphill] Hypsipyle. coliander] coriander seed, an aromatic. - pomander] a ball of perfume. Cassander] Cassandra. - - - - -STEPHEN HAWES - -d. 1523 - - -_32._ _The True Knight_ - - For knighthood is not in the feats of warre, - As for to fight in quarrel right or wrong, - But in a cause which truth can not defarre: - He ought himself for to make sure and strong, - Justice to keep mixt with mercý among: - And no quarrell a knight ought to take - But for a truth, or for the common’s sake. - - _32._ defarre] undo. - - -_33._ _An Epitaph_ - - O mortal folk, you may behold and see - How I lie here, sometime a mighty knight; - The end of joy and all prosperitee - Is death at last, thorough his course and might: - After the day there cometh the dark night, - For though the daye be never so long, - At last the bells ringeth to evensong. - - - - -SIR THOMAS WYATT - -1503-1542 - - -_34._ _Forget not yet_ - -_The Lover Beseecheth his Mistress not to Forget his Steadfast Faith and -True Intent_ - - Forget not yet the tried intent - Of such a truth as I have meant; - My great travail so gladly spent, - Forget not yet! - - Forget not yet when first began - The weary life ye know, since whan - The suit, the service, none tell can; - Forget not yet! - - Forget not yet the great assays, - The cruel wrong, the scornful ways, - The painful patience in delays, - Forget not yet! - - Forget not! O, forget not this!-- - How long ago hath been, and is, - The mind that never meant amiss-- - Forget not yet! - - - Forget not then thine own approved, - The which so long hath thee so loved, - Whose steadfast faith yet never moved: - Forget not this! - - -_35._ _The Appeal_ - -_An Earnest Suit to his Unkind Mistress, not to Forsake him_ - - And wilt thou leave me thus! - Say nay, say nay, for shame! - --To save thee from the blame - Of all my grief and grame. - And wilt thou leave me thus? - Say nay! say nay! - - And wilt thou leave me thus, - That hath loved thee so long - In wealth and woe among: - And is thy heart so strong - As for to leave me thus? - Say nay! say nay! - - And wilt thou leave me thus, - That hath given thee my heart - Never for to depart - Neither for pain nor smart: - And wilt thou leave me thus? - Say nay! say nay! - - _35._ grame] sorrow. - - And wilt thou leave me thus, - And have no more pitye - Of him that loveth thee? - Alas, thy cruelty! - And wilt thou leave me thus? - Say nay! say nay! - - -_36._ _A Revocation_ - - What should I say? - --Since Faith is dead. - And Truth away - From you is fled? - Should I be led - With doubleness? - Nay! nay! mistress. - - I promised you, - And you promised me, - To be as true - As I would be. - But since I see - Your double heart, - Farewell my part! - - Thought for to take - ’Tis not my mind; - But to forsake - One so unkind; - And as I find - So will I trust. - Farewell, unjust! - - - Can ye say nay - But that you said - That I alway - Should be obeyed? - And--thus betrayed - Or that I wist! - Farewell, unkist! - - -_37._ _Vixi Puellis Nuper Idoneus ..._ - - They flee from me that sometime did me seek, - With naked foot stalking within my chamber: - Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek, - That now are wild, and do not once remember - That sometime they have put themselves in danger - To take bread at my hand; and now they range, - Busily seeking in continual change. - - Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise - Twenty times better; but once especial-- - In thin array: after a pleasant guise, - When her loose gown did from her shoulders fall, - And she me caught in her arms long and small, - And therewithal so sweetly did me kiss, - And softly said, ‘_Dear heart, how like you this?_’ - - It was no dream; for I lay broad awaking: - But all is turn’d now, through my gentleness, - Into a bitter fashion of forsaking; - And I have leave to go of her goodness; - And she also to use new-fangleness. - But since that I unkindly so am servèd, - ‘_How like you this?_’--what hath she now deservèd? - - -_38._ _To His Lute_ - - My lute, awake! perform the last - Labour that thou and I shall waste, - And end that I have now begun; - For when this song is said and past, - My lute, be still, for I have done. - - As to be heard where ear is none, - As lead to grave in marble stone, - My song may pierce her heart as soon: - Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan? - No, no, my lute! for I have done. - - The rocks do not so cruelly - Repulse the waves continually, - As she my suit and affectiòn; - So that I am past remedy: - Whereby my lute and I have done. - - Proud of the spoil that thou hast got - Of simple hearts thorough Love’s shot, - By whom, unkind, thou hast them won; - Think not he hath his bow forgot, - Although my lute and I have done. - - Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain, - That makest but game of earnest pain: - Trow not alone under the sun - Unquit to cause thy lover’s plain, - Although my lute and I have done. - - - May chance thee lie wither’d and old - The winter nights that are so cold, - Plaining in vain unto the moon: - Thy wishes then dare not be told: - Care then who list! for I have done. - - And then may chance thee to repent - The time that thou has lost and spent - To cause thy lover’s sigh and swoon: - Then shalt thou know beauty but lent, - And wish and want as I have done. - - Now cease, my lute! this is the last - Labour that thou and I shall waste, - And ended is that we begun: - Now is this song both sung and past-- - My lute, be still, for I have done. - - - - -HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY - -1516-47 - - -_39._ _Description of Spring_ - -_Wherein each thing renews, save only the Lover_ - - The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, - With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale: - The nightingale with feathers new she sings; - The turtle to her make hath told her tale. - Summer is come, for every spray now springs: - The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; - The buck in brake his winter coat he flings; - The fishes flete with new repairèd scale. - - _39._ make] mate. - - The adder all her slough away she slings; - The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale; - The busy bee her honey now she mings; - Winter is worn that was the flowers’ bale. - - And thus I see among these pleasant things - Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs. - - _39._ mings] mingles, mixes. - - -_40._ _Complaint of the Absence of Her Lover being upon the Sea_ - - O happy dames! that may embrace - The fruit of your delight, - Help to bewail the woful case - And eke the heavy plight - Of me, that wonted to rejoice - The fortune of my pleasant choice: - Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice. - - In ship, freight with rememberance - Of thoughts and pleasures past, - He sails that hath in governance - My life while it will last: - With scalding sighs, for lack of gale, - Furthering his hope, that is his sail, - Toward me, the swete port of his avail, - - Alas! how oft in dreams I see - Those eyes that were my food; - Which sometime so delighted me, - That yet they do me good: - Wherewith I wake with his return - Whose absent flame did make me burn: - But when I find the lack, Lord! how I mourn! - - When other lovers in arms across - Rejoice their chief delight, - Drownèd in tears, to mourn my loss - I stand the bitter night - In my window where I may see - Before the winds how the clouds flee: - Lo! what a mariner love hath made me! - - And in green waves when the salt flood - Doth rise by rage of wind, - A thousand fancies in that mood - Assail my restless mind. - Alas! now drencheth my sweet foe, - That with the spoil of my heart did go, - And left me; but alas! why did he so? - - And when the seas wax calm again - To chase fro me annoy, - My doubtful hope doth cause me plain; - So dread cuts off my joy. - Thus is my wealth mingled with woe - And of each thought a doubt doth grow; - --Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no. - - _40._ drencheth] i.e. is drenched or drowned. - - -_41._ _The Means to attain Happy Life_ - - Martial, the things that do attain - The happy life be these, I find:-- - The richesse left, not got with pain; - The fruitful ground, the quiet mind; - The equal friend; no grudge, no strife; - No charge of rule, nor governance; - Without disease, the healthful life; - The household of continuance; - - The mean diet, no delicate fare; - True wisdom join’d with simpleness; - The night dischargèd of all care, - Where wine the wit may not oppress. - - The faithful wife, without debate; - Such sleeps as may beguile the night: - Contented with thine own estate - Ne wish for death, ne fear his might. - - - - -NICHOLAS GRIMALD - -1519-62 - - -_42._ _A True Love_ - - What sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see, - What dear delight the blooms to bees, my true love is to me! - As fresh and lusty Ver foul Winter doth exceed-- - As morning bright, with scarlet sky, doth pass the evening’s weed-- - As mellow pears above the crabs esteemèd be-- - So doth my love surmount them all, whom yet I hap to see! - The oak shall olives bear, the lamb the lion fray, - The owl shall match the nightingale in tuning of her lay, - - _42._ fray] affright. - - Or I my love let slip out of mine entire heart, - So deep reposèd in my breast is she for her desart! - For many blessèd gifts, O happy, happy land! - Where Mars and Pallas strive to make their glory most to stand! - Yet, land, more is thy bliss that, in this cruel age, - A Venus’ imp thou hast brought forth, so steadfast and so sage. - Among the Muses Nine a tenth if Jove would make, - And to the Graces Three a fourth, her would Apollo take. - Let some for honour hunt, and hoard the massy gold: - With her so I may live and die, my weal cannot be told. - - - - -ALEXANDER SCOTT - -1520?-158- - - -_43._ _A Bequest of His Heart_ - - Hence, heart, with her that must depart, - And hald thee with thy soverane! - For I had liever want ane heart. - Nor have the heart that dois me pain. - Therefore, go, with thy luve remain, - And let me leif thus unmolest; - And see that thou come not again, - But bide with her thou luvis best. - - Sen she that I have servit lang - Is to depart so suddenly, - Address thee now, for thou sall gang - And bear thy lady company. - - _43._ hald] keep. sen] since. - - Fra she be gone, heartless am I, - For quhy? thou art with her possest. - Therefore, my heart, go hence in high, - And bide with her thou luvis best. - - Though this belappit body here - Be bound to servitude and thrall, - My faithful heart is free entier - And mind to serve my lady at all. - Would God that I were perigall - Under that redolent rose to rest! - Yet at the least, my heart, thou sall - Abide with her thou luvis best. - - Sen in your garth the lily quhyte - May not remain amang the laif, - Adieu the flower of whole delite! - Adieu the succour that may me saif! - Adieu the fragrant balme suaif, - And lamp of ladies lustiest! - My faithful heart she shall it haif - To bide with her it luvis best. - - Deploir, ye ladies cleir of hue, - Her absence, sen she must depart! - And, specially, ye luveris true - That wounded bene with Luvis dart. - For some of you sall want ane heart - As well as I; therefore at last - Do go with mine, with mind inwart, - And bide with her thou luvis best! - - belappit] downtrodden. perigall] made equal to, privileged. garth] - garden-close. laif] rest. with mind inwart] with inner mind, i.e. - in spirit. - - -_44._ _A Rondel of Love_ - - Lo, quhat it is to love - Learn ye that list to prove, - By me, I say, that no ways may - The ground of grief remove, - But still decay both nicht and day: - Lo, quhat it is to love! - - Love is ane fervent fire - Kindlit without desire, - Short pleasure, long displeasure, - Repentance is the hire; - Ane pure tressour without measour; - Love is ane fervent fire. - - To love and to be wise, - To rage with good advice; - Now thus, now than, so gois the game, - Incertain is the dice; - There is no man, I say, that can - Both love and to be wise. - - Flee always from the snare, - Learn at me to beware; - It is ane pain, and double trane - Of endless woe and care; - For to refrain that danger plain, - Flee always from the snare. - - - - -ROBERT WEVER - -c. 1550 - - -_45._ _In Youth is Pleasure_ - - In a harbour grene aslepe whereas I lay, - The byrdes sang swete in the middes of the day, - I dreamèd fast of mirth and play: - In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure. - - Methought I walked still to and fro, - And from her company I could not go-- - But when I waked it was not so: - In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure. - - Therefore my hart is surely pyght - Of her alone to have a sight - Which is my joy and hartes delight: - In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure. - - - - -RICHARD EDWARDES - -1523-66 - - -_46._ _Amantium Iræ_ - - In going to my naked bed as one that would have slept, - I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept; - She sighèd sore and sang full sweet, to bring the babe to rest, - That would not cease but crièd still, in sucking at her breast. - She was full weary of her watch, and grievèd with her child, - She rockèd it and rated it, till that on her it smiled. - Then did she say, Now have I found this proverb true to prove, - The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love. - - Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write, - In register for to remain of such a worthy wight: - As she proceeded thus in song unto her little brat, - Much matter utter’d she of weight, in place whereas she sat: - And provèd plain there was no beast, nor creature bearing life, - Could well be known to live in love without discord and strife: - Then kissèd she her little babe, and sware by God above, - The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love. - - She said that neither king nor prince nor lord could live aright, - Until their puissance they did prove, their manhood and their might. - When manhood shall be matched so that fear can take no place, - Then weary works make warriors each other to embrace, - And left their force that failèd them, which did consume the rout, - That might before have lived their time, their strength and nature out: - Then did she sing as one that thought no man could her reprove, - The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love. - - She said she saw no fish nor fowl, nor beast within her haunt, - That met a stranger in their kind, but could give it a taunt: - Since flesh might not endure, but rest must wrath succeed, - And force the fight to fall to play in pasture where they feed, - So noble nature can well end the work she hath begun, - And bridle well that will not cease her tragedy in some: - Thus in song she oft rehearsed, as did her well behove, - The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love. - - I marvel much pardy (quoth she) for to behold the rout, - To see man, woman, boy and beast, to toss the world about: - Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and some can smoothly smile, - And some embrace others in arm, and there think many a wile, - Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble and some stout, - Yet are they never friends in deed until they once fall out: - Thus ended she her song and said, before she did remove, - The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love. - - - - -GEORGE GASCOIGNE - -1525?-77 - - -_47._ _A Lover’s Lullaby_ - - Sing lullaby, as women do, - Wherewith they bring their babes to rest; - And lullaby can I sing too, - As womanly as can the best. - With lullaby they still the child; - And if I be not much beguiled, - Full many a wanton babe have I, - Which must be still’d with lullaby. - - First lullaby my youthful years, - It is now time to go to bed: - For crookèd age and hoary hairs - Have won the haven within my head. - With lullaby, then, youth be still; - With lullaby content thy will; - Since courage quails and comes behind, - Go sleep, and so beguile thy mind! - - Next lullaby my gazing eyes, - Which wonted were to glance apace; - For every glass may now suffice - To show the furrows in thy face. - With lullaby then wink awhile; - With lullaby your looks beguile; - Let no fair face, nor beauty bright, - Entice you eft with vain delight. - - And lullaby my wanton will; - Let reason’s rule now reign thy thought; - Since all too late I find by skill - How dear I have thy fancies bought; - With lullaby now take thine ease, - With lullaby thy doubts appease; - For trust to this, if thou be still, - My body shall obey thy will. - - Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes, - My will, my ware, and all that was: - I can no more delays devise; - But welcome pain, let pleasure pass. - With lullaby now take your leave; - With lullaby your dreams deceive; - And when you rise with waking eye, - Remember then this lullaby. - - - - -ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE - -1540?-1610? - - -_48._ _The Night is Near Gone_ - - Hey! now the day dawis; - The jolly cock crawis; - Now shroudis the shawis - Thro’ Nature anon. - The thissel-cock cryis - On lovers wha lyis: - Now skaillis the skyis; - The nicht is neir gone. - - The fieldis ouerflowis - With gowans that growis, - Quhair lilies like low is - As red as the rone. - - _48._ shroudis] dress themselves. shawis] woods. skaillis] clears. - gowans] daisies. low] flame. rone] rowan. - - The turtle that true is, - With notes that renewis, - Her pairty pursuis: - The nicht is neir gone. - - Now hairtis with hindis - Conform to their kindis, - Hie tursis their tyndis - On ground quhair they grone. - Now hurchonis, with hairis, - Aye passis in pairis; - Quhilk duly declaris - The nicht is neir gone. - - The season excellis - Through sweetness that smellis; - Now Cupid compellis - Our hairtis echone - On Venus wha waikis, - To muse on our maikis, - Syne sing for their saikis-- - ‘The nicht is neir gone!’ - - All courageous knichtis - Aganis the day dichtis - The breist-plate that bright is - To fight with their fone. - The stonèd steed stampis - Through courage, and crampis, - Syne on the land lampis: - The nicht is neir gone. - - pairty] partner, mate. tursis] carry. tyndis] antlers. grone] - groan, bell. hurchonis] hedgehogs, ‘urchins.’ maikis] mates. fone] - foes. stonèd steed] stallion. crampis] prances. lampis] gallops. - - The freikis on feildis - That wight wapins weildis - With shyning bright shieldis - At Titan in trone; - Stiff speiris in reistis - Ouer corseris crestis - Are broke on their breistis: - The nicht is neir gone. - - So hard are their hittis, - Some sweyis, some sittis, - And some perforce flittis - On ground quhile they grone. - Syne groomis that gay is - On blonkis that brayis - With swordis assayis:-- - The nicht is neir gone. - - _48._ freikis] men, warriors. wight wapins] stout weapons. at - Titan] over against Titan (the sun), or read ‘as.’ flittis] are - cast. blonkis] white palfreys. - - - - -WILLIAM STEVENSON - -1530?-1575 - - -_49._ _Jolly Good Ale and Old_ - - I cannot eat but little meat, - My stomach is not good; - But sure I think that I can drink - With him that wears a hood. - Though I go bare, take ye no care, - I nothing am a-cold; - I stuff my skin so full within - Of jolly good ale and old. - Back and side go bare, go bare; - Both foot and hand go cold; - But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, - Whether it be new or old. - - I love no roast but a nut-brown toast, - And a crab laid in the fire; - A little bread shall do me stead; - Much bread I not desire. - No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow, - Can hurt me if I wold; - I am so wrapp’d and thoroughly lapp’d - Of jolly good ale and old. - Back and side go bare, go bare, &c. - - And Tib, my wife, that as her life - Loveth well good ale to seek, - Full oft drinks she till ye may see - The tears run down her cheek: - Then doth she trowl to me the bowl - Even as a maltworm should, - And saith, ‘Sweetheart, I took my part - Of this jolly good ale and old.’ - Back and side go bare, go bare, &c. - - Now let them drink till they nod and wink, - Even as good fellows should do; - They shall not miss to have the bliss - Good ale doth bring men to; - And all poor souls that have scour’d bowls - Or have them lustily troll’d, - God save the lives of them and their wives, - Whether they be young or old. - Back and side go bare, go bare; - Both foot and hand go cold; - But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, - Whether it be new or old. - - - - -ANONYMOUS (SCOTTISH) - -16th Cent. - - -_50._ _When Flora had O’erfret the Firth_ - - Quhen Flora had o’erfret the firth - In May of every moneth queen; - Quhen merle and mavis singis with mirth - Sweet melling in the shawis sheen; - Quhen all luvaris rejoicit bene - And most desirous of their prey, - I heard a lusty luvar mene - --‘I luve, but I dare nocht assay!’ - - ‘Strong are the pains I daily prove, - But yet with patience I sustene, - I am so fetterit with the luve - Only of my lady sheen, - Quhilk for her beauty micht be queen, - Nature so craftily alway - Has done depaint that sweet serene: - --Quhom I luve I dare nocht assay. - - ‘She is so bricht of hyd and hue, - I luve but her alone, I ween; - Is none her luve that may eschew, - That blinkis of that dulce amene; - So comely cleir are her twa een - That she mae luvaris dois affray - Than ever of Greece did fair Helene: - --Quhom I luve I dare nocht assay!’ - - o’erfret] adorned. shawis] woods. sheen] beautiful. mene] mourn. - hyd] skin. blinkis] gets a glimpse. dulce amene] gentle and - pleasant one. mae] more. - - -_51._ _Lusty May_ - -16th Cent. - - O lusty May, with Flora queen! - The balmy dropis from Phoebus sheen - Preluciand beams before the day: - By that Diana growis green - Through gladness of this lusty May. - - Then Esperus, that is so bricht, - Til woful hairtis castis his light, - With bankis that bloomis on every brae; - And schouris are shed forth of their sicht - Through gladness of this lusty May. - - Birdis on bewis of every birth, - Rejoicing notis makand their mirth - Richt plesantly upon the spray, - With flourishingis o’er field and firth - Through gladness of this lusty May. - - All luvaris that are in care - To their ladies they do repair - In fresh morningis before the day, - And are in mirth ay mair and mair - Through gladness of this lusty May. - - _51._ sheen] bright. til] into. schouris] showers. bewis] boughs. - birth] kind. 52. wiss] wish. - - -_52._ _My Heart is High Above_ - -16th Cent. - - My heart is high above, my body is full of bliss, - For I am set in luve as well as I would wiss - I luve my lady pure and she luvis me again, - I am her serviture, she is my soverane; - She is my very heart, I am her howp and heill, - She is my joy invart, I am her luvar leal; - I am her bond and thrall, she is at my command; - I am perpetual her man, both foot and hand; - The thing that may her please my body sall fulfil; - Quhatever her disease, it does my body ill. - My bird, my bonny ane, my tender babe venust, - My luve, my life alane, my liking and my lust! - We interchange our hairtis in others armis soft, - Spriteless we twa depairtis, usand our luvis oft. - We mourn when licht day dawis, we plain the nicht is short, - We curse the cock that crawis, that hinderis our disport. - I glowffin up aghast, quhen I her miss on nicht, - And in my oxter fast I find the bowster richt; - Then languor on me lies like Morpheus the mair, - Quhilk causes me uprise and to my sweet repair. - And then is all the sorrow forth of remembrance - That ever I had a-forrow in luvis observance. - Thus never I do rest, so lusty a life I lead, - Quhen that I list to test the well of womanheid. - Luvaris in pain, I pray God send you sic remeid - As I have nicht and day, you to defend from deid! - Therefore be ever true unto your ladies free, - And they will on you rue as mine has done on me. - - heill] health. invart] inward. venust] delightful. glowffin] blink - on awaking. oxter] armpit. a-forrow] aforetime. - - - - -NUMBERS - -FROM - -ELIZABETHAN MISCELLANIES & SONG-BOOKS - -BY UNNAMED OR UNCERTAIN AUTHORS - - -_53._ _A Praise of His Lady_ - -Tottel’s Miscellany, 1557 - - Give place, you ladies, and begone! - Boast not yourselves at all! - For here at hand approacheth one - Whose face will stain you all. - - The virtue of her lively looks - Excels the precious stone; - I wish to have none other books - To read or look upon. - - In each of her two crystal eyes - Smileth a naked boy; - It would you all in heart suffice - To see that lamp of joy. - - I think Nature hath lost the mould - Where she her shape did take; - Or else I doubt if Nature could - So fair a creature make. - - She may be well compared - Unto the Phœnix kind, - Whose like was never seen or heard, - That any man can find. - - - In life she is Diana chaste, - In troth Penelopey; - In word and eke in deed steadfast. - --What will you more we say? - - If all the world were sought so far, - Who could find such a wight? - Her beauty twinkleth like a star - Within the frosty night. - - Her rosial colour comes and goes - With such a comely grace, - More ruddier, too, than doth the rose, - Within her lively face. - - At Bacchus’ feast none shall her meet, - Ne at no wanton play, - Nor gazing in an open street, - Nor gadding as a stray. - - The modest mirth that she doth use - Is mix’d with shamefastness; - All vice she doth wholly refuse, - And hateth idleness. - - O Lord! it is a world to see - How virtue can repair, - And deck in her such honesty, - Whom Nature made so fair. - - Truly she doth so far exceed - Our women nowadays, - As doth the jeliflower a weed; - And more a thousand ways. - - - How might I do to get a graff - Of this unspotted tree? - --For all the rest are plain but chaff, - Which seem good corn to be. - - This gift alone I shall her give; - When death doth what he can, - Her honest fame shall ever live - Within the mouth of man. - -? by _John Heywood_ - - -_54._ _To Her Sea-faring Lover_ - -Tottel’s Miscellany, 1557 - - Shall I thus ever long, and be no whit the neare? - And shall I still complain to thee, the which me will not hear? - Alas! say nay! say nay! and be no more so dumb, - But open thou thy manly mouth and say that thou wilt come: - Whereby my heart may think, although I see not thee, - That thou wilt come--thy word so sware--if thou a live man be. - The roaring hugy waves they threaten my poor ghost, - And toss thee up and down the seas in danger to be lost. - Shall they not make me fear that they have swallowed thee? - --But as thou art most sure alive, so wilt thou come to me. - Whereby I shall go see thy ship ride on the strand, - And think and say _Lo where he comes_ and _Sure here will he land:_ - - _54._ neare] nearer. - - And then I shall lift up to thee my little hand, - And thou shalt think thine heart in ease, in health to see me stand. - And if thou come indeed (as Christ thee send to do!) - Those arms which miss thee now shall then embrace [and hold] thee too: - Each vein to every joint the lively blood shall spread - Which now for want of thy glad sight doth show full pale and dead. - But if thou slip thy troth, and do not come at all, - As minutes in the clock do strike so call for death I shall: - To please both thy false heart and rid myself from woe, - That rather had to die in troth than live forsaken so! - - -_55._ _The Faithless Shepherdess_ - -William Byrd’s _Songs of -Sundry Natures_, 1589 - - While that the sun with his beams hot - Scorchèd the fruits in vale and mountain, - Philon the shepherd, late forgot, - Sitting beside a crystal fountain - In shadow of a green oak tree, - Upon his pipe this song play’d he: - Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love! - Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love! - Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. - - So long as I was in your sight - I was your heart, your soul, your treasure; - And evermore you sobb’d and sigh’d - Burning in flames beyond all measure: - --Three days endured your love to me, - And it was lost in other three! - Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love! - Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love! - Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. - - Another shepherd you did see, - To whom your heart was soon enchainèd; - Full soon your love was leapt from me, - Full soon my place he had obtainèd. - Soon came a third your love to win, - And we were out and he was in. - Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love! - Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love! - Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. - - Sure you have made me passing glad - That you your mind so soon removèd, - Before that I the leisure had - To choose you for my best belovèd: - For all my love was pass’d and done - Two days before it was begun. - Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love! - Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love! - Your mind is light, soon lost for new love. - - -_56._ _Crabbed Age and Youth_ - -_The Passionate Pilgrim_, 1599 - - Crabbèd Age and Youth - Cannot live together: - Youth is full of pleasance, - Age is full of care; - Youth like summer morn, - Age like winter weather; - Youth like summer brave, - Age like winter bare. - Youth is full of sport, - Age’s breath is short; - Youth is nimble, Age is lame; - Youth is hot and bold, - Age is weak and cold; - Youth is wild, and Age is tame. - Age, I do abhor thee; - Youth, I do adore thee; - O, my Love, my Love is young! - Age, I do defy thee: - O, sweet shepherd, hie thee! - For methinks thou stay’st too long. - -? by _William Shakespeare_ - - -_57._ _Phyllida’s Love-Call_ - -_England’s Helicon_, 1600 - - _Phyllida._ Corydon, arise, my Corydon! - Titan shineth clear. - _Corydon._ Who is it that calleth Corydon? - Who is it that I hear? - _Phyl._ Phyllida, thy true love, calleth thee, - Arise then, arise then, - Arise and keep thy flock with me! - _Cor._ Phyllida, my true love, is it she? - I come then, I come then, - I come and keep my flock with thee. - - _Phyl._ Here are cherries ripe for my Corydon; - Eat them for my sake. - _Cor._ Here’s my oaten pipe, my lovely one, - Sport for thee to make. - - _Phyl._ Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk, - To knit thee, to knit thee, - A pair of stockings white as milk. - _Cor._ Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat, - To make thee, to make thee, - A bonnet to withstand the heat. - - _Phyl._ I will gather flowers, my Corydon, - To set in thy cap. - _Cor._ I will gather pears, my lovely one, - To put in thy lap. - _Phyl._ I will buy my true love garters gay, - For Sundays, for Sundays, - To wear about his legs so tall. - _Cor._ I will buy my true love yellow say, - For Sundays, for Sundays, - To wear about her middle small. - - _Phyl._ When my Corydon sits on a hill - Making melody-- - _Cor._ When my lovely one goes to her wheel, - Singing cheerily-- - _Phyl._ Sure methinks my true love doth excel - For sweetness, for sweetness, - Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight. - _Cor._ And methinks my true love bears the bell - For clearness, for clearness, - Beyond the nymphs that be so bright. - - _Phyl._ Had my Corydon, my Corydon, - Been, alack! her swain-- - _Cor._ Had my lovely one, my lovely one, - Been in Ida plain-- - - say] _soie_, silk. - - _Phyl._ Cynthia Endymion had refused, - Preferring, preferring, - My Corydon to play withal. - _Cor._ The Queen of Love had been excused - Bequeathing, bequeathing, - My Phyllida the golden ball. - - _Phyl._ Yonder comes my mother, Corydon! - Whither shall I fly? - _Cor._ Under yonder beech, my lovely one, - While she passeth by. - _Phyl._ Say to her thy true love was not here; - Remember, remember, - To-morrow is another day. - _Cor._ Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear; - Farewell then, farewell then! - Heaven keep our loves alway! - - -_58._ _A Pedlar_ - -John Dowland’s _Second Book of -Songs or Airs_, 1600 - - 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 precious 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! - -_59._ _Hey nonny no!_ - -Christ Church MS. - - 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! - - -_60._ _Preparations_ - -Christ Church MS. - - 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 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 a king were coming, would we do; - And ’twere 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 the manger. - - -_61._ _The New Jerusalem_ - -_Song of Mary the Mother of -Christ_ (London: E. Alide), 1601 - - Hierusalem, my happy home, - When shall I come to thee? - When shall my sorrows have an end, - Thy joys when shall I see? - - O happy harbour of the Saints! - O sweet and pleasant soil! - In thee no sorrow may be found, - No grief, no care, no toil. - - There lust and lucre cannot dwell, - There envy bears no sway; - There is no hunger, heat, nor cold, - But pleasure every way. - - Thy walls are made of precious stones, - Thy bulwarks diamonds square; - Thy gates are of right orient pearl, - Exceeding rich and rare. - - Thy turrets and thy pinnacles - With carbuncles do shine; - Thy very streets are paved with gold, - Surpassing clear and fine. - - Ah, my sweet home, Hierusalem, - Would God I were in thee! - Would God my woes were at an end, - Thy joys that I might see! - - Thy gardens and thy gallant walks - Continually are green; - There grows such sweet and pleasant flowers - As nowhere else are seen. - - Quite through the streets, with silver sound, - The flood of Life doth flow; - Upon whose banks on every side - The wood of Life doth grow. - - There trees for evermore bear fruit, - And evermore do spring; - There evermore the angels sit, - And evermore do sing. - - Our Lady sings _Magnificat_ - With tones surpassing sweet; - And all the virgins bear their part, - Sitting about her feet. - - Hierusalem, my happy home, - Would God I were in thee! - Would God my woes were at an end, - Thy joys that I might see! - -_62._ _Icarus_ - -Robert Jones’s _Second Book of -Songs and Airs_, 1601 - - Love wing’d my Hopes and taught me how to fly - Far from base earth, but not to mount too high: - For true pleasure - Lives in measure, - Which if men forsake, - Blinded they into folly run and grief for pleasure take. - - But my vain Hopes, proud of their new-taught flight, - Enamour’d sought to woo the sun’s fair light, - Whose rich brightness - Moved their lightness - To aspire so high - That all scorch’d and consumed with fire now drown’d in woe they lie. - - And none but Love their woeful hap did rue, - For Love did know that their desires were true; - Though fate frownèd, - And now drownèd - They in sorrow dwell, - It was the purest light of heav’n for whose fair love they fell. - - -_63._ _Madrigal_ - -Davison’s _Poetical Rhapsody_, 1602 - - My Love in her attire doth show her wit, - It doth so well become her; - For every season she hath dressings fit, - For Winter, Spring, and Summer. - No beauty she doth miss - When all her robes are on: - But Beauty’s self she is - When all her robes are gone. - -_64._ _How can the Heart forget her?_ - -Davison’s _Poetical Rhapsody_, 1602 - - At her fair hands how have I grace entreated - With prayers oft repeated! - Yet still my love is thwarted: - Heart, let her go, for she’ll not be converted-- - Say, shall she go? - O no, no, no, no, no! - She is most fair, though she be marble-hearted. - - How often have my sighs declared my anguish, - Wherein I daily languish! - Yet still she doth procure it: - Heart, let her go, for I can not endure it-- - Say, shall she go? - O no, no, no, no, no! - She gave the wound, and she alone must cure it. - - But shall I still a true affection owe her, - Which prayers, sighs, tears do show her, - And shall she still disdain me? - Heart, let her go, if they no grace can gain me-- - Say, shall she go? - O no, no, no, no, no! - She made me hers, and hers she will retain me. - - But if the love that hath and still doth burn me - No love at length return me, - Out of my thoughts I’ll set her: - Heart, let her go, O heart I pray thee, let her! - Say, shall she go? - O no, no, no, no, no! - Fix’d in the heart, how can the heart forget her? - -? _F._ or _W. Davison_ - -_65._ _Tears_ - -John Dowland’s _Third and Last -Book of Songs or Airs_, 1603 - - 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. - - -_66._ _My Lady’s Tears_ - -John Dowland’s _Third and Last -Book of Songs or Airs_, 1603 - - I saw my Lady weep, - And Sorrow proud to be advancèd so - In those fair eyes where all perfections keep. - Her face was full of woe; - But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts - Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts. - - Sorrow was there made fair, - And Passion wise; Tears a delightful thing; - Silence beyond all speech, a wisdom rare: - She made her sighs to sing, - And all things with so sweet a sadness move - As made my heart at once both grieve, and love. - - O fairer than aught else - The world can show, leave off in time to grieve! - Enough, enough: your joyful look excels: - Tears kill the heart, believe. - O strive not to be excellent in woe, - Which only breeds your beauty’s overthrow. - - -_67._ _Sister, Awake!_ - -Thomas Bateson’s _First Set of -English Madrigals_, 1604 - - 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! - -_68._ _Devotion_ - -Captain Tobias Hume’s _The First -Part of Airs, &c._, 1605 - - Fain would I change that note - To which fond Love hath charm’d me - Long, long to sing by rote, - Fancying that that harm’d me: - Yet when this thought doth come, - ‘Love is the perfect sum - Of all delight,’ - I have no other choice - Either for pen or voice - To sing or write. - - O Love! they wrong thee much - That say thy sweet is bitter, - When thy rich fruit is such - As nothing can be sweeter. - Fair house of joy and bliss, - Where truest pleasure is, - I do adore thee: - I know thee what thou art, - I serve thee with my heart, - And fall before thee. - - -_69._ _Since First I saw your Face_ - -Thomas Ford’s _Music of -Sundry Kinds_, 1607 - - Since first I saw your face I resolved to honour and renown ye; - If now I be disdainèd I wish my heart had never known ye. - What? I that loved and you that liked, shall we begin to wrangle? - No, no, no, my heart is fast, and cannot disentangle. - - If I admire or praise you too much, that fault you may forgive me; - Or if my hands had stray’d but a touch, then justly might you leave me. - I ask’d you leave, you bade me love; is’t now a time to chide me? - No, no, no, I’ll love you still what fortune e’er betide me. - - The Sun, whose beams most glorious are, rejecteth no beholder, - And your sweet beauty past compare made my poor eyes the bolder: - Where beauty moves and wit delights and signs of kindness bind me, - There, O there! where’er I go I’ll leave my heart behind me! - - -_70._ _There is a Lady sweet and kind_ - -Thomas Ford’s _Music of -Sundry Kinds_, 1607 - - 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. - -_71._ _Love not me for comely grace_ - -John Wilbye’s _Second Set of Madrigals_, 1609 - - Love not me for comely grace, - For my pleasing eye or face, - Nor for any outward part, - No, nor for a 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! - - -_72._ _The Wakening_ - -John Attye’s _First Book of Airs_, 1622 - - On a time the amorous Silvy - Said to her shepherd, ‘Sweet, how do ye? - Kiss me this once and then God be with ye, - My sweetest dear! - Kiss me this once and then God be with ye, - For now the morning draweth near.’ - With that, her fairest bosom showing, - Op’ning her lips, rich perfumes blowing, - She said, ‘Now kiss me and be going, - My sweetest dear! - Kiss me this once and then be going, - For now the morning draweth near.’ - With that the shepherd waked from sleeping, - And spying where the day was peeping, - He said, ‘Now take my soul in keeping, - My sweetest dear! - Kiss me and take my soul in keeping, - Since I must go, now day is near.’ - - - - -NICHOLAS BRETON - -1542-1626 - - -_73._ _Phillida and Coridon_ - - In the merry month of May, - In a morn by break of day. - Forth I walk’d by the wood-side - When as May was in his pride: - There I spièd all alone - Phillida and Coridon. - Much ado there was, God wot! - He would love and she would not. - She said, Never man was true; - He said, None was false to you. - He said, He had loved her long; - She said, Love should have no wrong. - Coridon would kiss her then; - She said, Maids must kiss no men - Till they did for good and all; - Then she made the shepherd call - All the heavens to witness truth - Never loved a truer youth. - Thus with many a pretty oath, - Yea and nay, and faith and troth, - Such as silly shepherds use - When they will not Love abuse, - Love, which had been long deluded, - Was with kisses sweet concluded; - And Phillida, with garlands gay, - Was made the Lady of the May. - - - - -NICHOLAS BRETON? - - -_74._ _A Cradle Song_ - -_The Arbor of Amorous -Devices_, 1593-4 - - Come little babe, come silly soul, - Thy father’s shame, thy mother’s grief, - Born as I doubt to all our dole, - And to thyself unhappy chief: - Sing lullaby, and lap it warm, - Poor soul that thinks no creature harm. - - Thou little think’st and less dost know - The cause of this thy mother’s moan; - Thou want’st the wit to wail her woe, - And I myself am all alone: - Why dost thou weep? why dost thou wail? - And know’st not yet what thou dost ail. - - Come, little wretch--ah, silly heart! - Mine only joy, what can I more? - If there be any wrong thy smart, - That may the destinies implore: - ’Twas I, I say, against my will, - I wail the time, but be thou still. - - And dost thou smile? O, thy sweet face! - Would God Himself He might thee see!-- - No doubt thou wouldst soon purchase grace, - I know right well, for thee and me: - But come to mother, babe, and play, - For father false is fled away. - - Sweet boy, if it by fortune chance - Thy father home again to send, - If death do strike me with his lance, - Yet mayst thou me to him commend: - If any ask thy mother’s name, - Tell how by love she purchased blame. - - Then will his gentle heart soon yield: - I know him of a noble mind: - Although a lion in the field, - A lamb in town thou shalt him find: - Ask blessing, babe, be not afraid, - His sugar’d words hath me betray’d. - - Then mayst thou joy and be right glad; - Although in woe I seem to moan, - Thy father is no rascal lad, - A noble youth of blood and bone: - His glancing looks, if he once smile, - Right honest women may beguile. - - Come, little boy, and rock asleep; - Sing lullaby and be thou still; - I, that can do naught else but weep, - Will sit by thee and wail my fill: - God bless my babe, and lullaby - From this thy father’s quality. - - - - -SIR WALTER RALEIGH - -1552-1618 - - -_The Silent Lover_ - - -_75._ _i_ - - Passions are liken’d best to floods and streams: - The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb; - So, when affection yields discourse, it seems - The bottom is but shallow whence they come. - They that are rich in words, in words discover - That they are poor in that which makes a lover. - - -_76._ _ii_ - - Wrong not, sweet empress of my heart, - The merit of true passion, - With thinking that he feels no smart, - That sues for no compassion. - - Silence in love bewrays more woe - Than words, though ne’er so witty: - A beggar that is dumb, you know, - May challenge double pity. - - Then wrong not, dearest to my heart, - My true, though secret passion; - He smarteth most that hides his smart, - And sues for no compassion. - - -_77._ _His Pilgrimage_ - - Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, - My staff of faith to walk upon, - My scrip of joy, immortal diet, - My bottle of salvation, - My gown of glory, hope’s true gage; - And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage. - - Blood must be my body’s balmer; - No other balm will there be given; - Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer, - Travelleth towards the land of heaven; - Over the silver mountains, - Where spring the nectar fountains; - There will I kiss - The bowl of bliss; - And drink mine everlasting fill - Upon every milken hill. - My soul will be a-dry before; - But, after, it will thirst no more. - - -_78._ _The Conclusion_ - - 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 wander’d 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. - - - - -EDMUND SPENSER - -1552-1599 - - -_79._ _Whilst it is prime_ - - Fresh Spring, the herald of loves mighty king, - In whose cote-armour richly are displayd - All sorts of flowers, the which on earth do spring. - In goodly colours gloriously arrayd-- - Goe to my love, where she is carelesse layd, - Yet in her winters bowre not well awake; - Tell her the joyous time wil not be staid, - Unlesse she doe him by the forelock take; - Bid her therefore her selfe soone ready make, - To wayt on Love amongst his lovely crew; - Where every one, that misseth then her make, - Shall be by him amearst with penance dew. - Make hast, therefore, sweet love, whilest it is prime; - For none can call againe the passèd time. - - _79._ make] mate. - - -_80._ _A Ditty_ - -_In praise of Eliza, Queen of the Shepherds_ - - 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: - Bay leaves betweene, - And primroses greene, - Embellish the sweete Violet. - - Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face - Like Phœbe fayre? - Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace, - Can you well compare? - The Redde rose medled with the White yfere, - In either cheeke depeincten lively chere: - Her modest eye, - Her Majestie, - Where have you seene the like but there? - - I see Calliope speede her to the place, - Where my Goddesse shines; - And after her the other Muses trace - With their Violines. - Bene they not Bay braunches which they do beare, - All for Elisa in her hand to weare? - So sweetely they play, - And sing all the way, - That it a heaven is to heare. - - medled] mixed. yfere] together. - - Lo, how finely the Graces can it foote - To the Instrument: - They dauncen deffly, and singen soote, - In their meriment. - Wants not a fourth Grace to make the daunce even? - Let that rowme to my Lady be yeven. - She shal be a Grace, - To fyll the fourth place, - And reigne with the rest in heaven. - - Bring hether the Pincke and purple Cullambine, - With Gelliflowres; - Bring Coronations, and Sops-in-wine - Worne of Paramoures: - Strowe me the ground with Daffadowndillies, - And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and lovèd Lillies: - The pretie Pawnce, - And the Chevisaunce, - Shall match with the fayre flowre Delice. - - Now ryse up, Elisa, deckèd as thou art - In royall aray; - And now ye daintie Damsells may depart - Eche one her way. - I feare I have troubled your troupes to longe: - Let dame Elisa thanke you for her song: - And if you come hether - When Damsines I gether, - I will part them all you among. - - soote] sweet. coronations] carnations. sops-in-wine] striped pinks. - pawnce] pansy. chevisaunce] wallflower. flowre delice] iris. - - -_81._ _Prothalamion_ - - Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre - Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play - A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay - Hot Titans beames, which then did glyster fayre; - When I, (whom sullein care, - Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay - In Princes Court, and expectation vayne - Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away, - Like empty shaddowes, did afflict my brayne,) - Walkt forth to ease my payne - Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes; - Whose rutty Bancke, the which his River hemmes, - Was paynted all with variable flowers, - And all the meades adornd with daintie gemmes - Fit to decke maydens bowres, - And crowne their Paramours - Against the Brydale day, which is not long: - Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. - - There, in a Meadow, by the Rivers side, - A Flocke of Nymphes I chauncèd to espy, - All lovely Daughters of the Flood thereby, - With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde, - As each had bene a Bryde; - And each one had a little wicker basket, - Made of fine twigs, entraylèd curiously, - In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket, - And with fine Fingers cropt full feateously - The tender stalkes on hye. - Of every sort, which in that Meadow grew, - They gathered some; the Violet, pallid blew, - - The little Dazie, that at evening closes, - The virgin Lillie, and the Primrose trew, - With store of vermeil Roses, - To decke their Bridegromes posies - Against the Brydale day, which was not long: - Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. - - With that I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe - Come softly swimming downe along the Lee; - Two fairer Birds I yet did never see; - The snow, which doth the top of Pindus strew, - Did never whiter shew; - Nor Jove himselfe, when he a Swan would be, - For love of Leda, whiter did appeare; - Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he, - Yet not so white as these, nor nothing neare; - So purely white they were, - That even the gentle streame, the which them bare, - Seem’d foule to them, and bad his billowes spare - To wet their silken feathers, least they might - Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre, - And marre their beauties bright, - That shone as heavens light, - Against their Brydale day, which was not long: - Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. - Eftsoones the Nymphes, which now had Flowers their fill, - Ran all in haste to see that silver brood, - As they came floating on the Christal Flood; - Whom when they sawe, they stood amazèd still, - Their wondring eyes to fill; - Them seem’d they never saw a sight so fayre, - Of Fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme - Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre - Which through the Skie draw Venus silver Teeme; - For sure they did not seeme - To be begot of any earthly Seede, - But rather Angels, or of Angels breede; - Yet were they bred of Somers-heat, they say, - In sweetest Season, when each Flower and weede - The earth did fresh aray; - So fresh they seem’d as day, - Even as their Brydale day, which was not long: - Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. - - Then forth they all out of their baskets drew - Great store of Flowers, the honour of the field, - That to the sense did fragrant odours yield, - All which upon those goodly Birds they threw - And all the Waves did strew, - That like old Peneus Waters they did seeme, - When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore, - Scattred with Flowres, through Thessaly they streeme, - That they appeare, through Lillies plenteous store, - Like a Brydes Chamber flore. - Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two Garlands bound - Of freshest Flowres which in that Mead they found, - The which presenting all in trim Array, - Their snowie Foreheads therewithall they crownd, - Whil’st one did sing this Lay, - Prepared against that Day, - Against their Brydale day, which was not long: - Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. - - ‘Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament, - And heavens glorie, whom this happie hower - Doth leade unto your lovers blisfull bower, - Joy may you have, and gentle hearts content - Of your loves couplement; - And let faire Venus, that is Queene of love, - With her heart-quelling Sonne upon you smile, - Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove - All Loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile - For ever to assoile. - Let endlesse Peace your steadfast hearts accord, - And blessèd Plentie wait upon your bord; - And let your bed with pleasures chast abound, - That fruitfull issue may to you afford, - Which may your foes confound, - And make your joyes redound - Upon your Brydale day, which is not long: - Sweete Themmes! runne softlie, till I end my Song.’ - - So ended she; and all the rest around - To her redoubled that her undersong, - Which said their brydale daye should not be long: - And gentle Eccho from the neighbour ground - Their accents did resound. - So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along, - Adowne the Lee, that to them murmurde low, - As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong, - Yet did by signes his glad affection show, - Making his streame run slow. - And all the foule which in his flood did dwell - Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell - The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend - The lesser starres. So they, enrangèd well, - Did on those two attend, - And their best service lend - Against their wedding day, which was not long: - Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. - - - At length they all to mery London came, - To mery London, my most kyndly Nurse, - That to me gave this Lifes first native sourse, - Though from another place I take my name, - An house of auncient fame: - There when they came, whereas those bricky towres - The which on Themmes brode agèd backe doe ryde, - Where now the studious Lawyers have their bowers, - There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde, - Till they decayd through pride: - Next whereunto there standes a stately place, - Where oft I gaynèd giftes and goodly grace - Of that great Lord, which therein wont to dwell, - Whose want too well now feeles my freendles case; - But ah! here fits not well - Olde woes, but joyes, to tell - Against the Brydale daye, which is not long: - Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. - - Yet therein now doth lodge a noble Peer, - Great Englands glory, and the Worlds wide wonder, - Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine did thunder, - And Hercules two pillors standing neere - Did make to quake and feare: - Faire branch of Honor, flower of Chevalrie! - That fillest England with thy triumphes fame, - Joy have thou of thy noble victorie, - And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name - That promiseth the same; - That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes, - Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes; - And great Elisaes glorious name may ring - Through al the world, fil’d with thy wide Alarmes, - Which some brave muse may sing - To ages following, - Upon the Brydale day, which is not long: - Sweete Themmes! runne softly till I end my Song. - - From those high Towers this noble Lord issuing, - Like Radiant Hesper, when his golden hayre - In th’ Ocean billowes he hath bathèd fayre, - Descended to the Rivers open vewing, - With a great traine ensuing. - Above the rest were goodly to bee seene - Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature, - Beseeming well the bower of anie Queene, - With gifts of wit, and ornaments of nature, - Fit for so goodly stature, - That like the twins of Jove they seem’d in sight, - Which decke the Bauldricke of the Heavens bright; - They two, forth pacing to the Rivers side, - Received those two faire Brides, their Loves delight; - Which, at th’ appointed tyde, - Each one did make his Bryde - Against their Brydale day, which is not long: - Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song. - - -_82._ _Epithalamion_ - - Ye learnèd sisters, which have oftentimes - Beene to me ayding, others to adorne, - Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes, - That even the greatest did not greatly scorne - To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes, - But joyèd in theyr praise; - And when ye list your owne mishaps to mourne, - Which death, or love, or fortunes wreck did rayse, - Your string could soone to sadder tenor turne, - And teach the woods and waters to lament - Your dolefull dreriment: - Now lay those sorrowfull complaints aside; - And, having all your heads with girlands crownd, - Helpe me mine owne loves prayses to resound; - Ne let the same of any be envide: - So Orpheus did for his owne bride! - So I unto my selfe alone will sing; - The woods shall to me answer, and my Eccho ring. - - Early, before the worlds light-giving lampe - His golden beame upon the hils doth spred, - Having disperst the nights unchearefull dampe, - Doe ye awake; and, with fresh lusty-hed, - Go to the bowre of my belovèd love, - My truest turtle dove; - Bid her awake; for Hymen is awake, - And long since ready forth his maske to move, - With his bright Tead that flames with many a flake, - And many a bachelor to waite on him, - In theyr fresh garments trim. - Bid her awake therefore, and soone her dight, - For lo! the wishèd day is come at last, - That shall, for all the paynes and sorrowes past, - Pay to her usury of long delight: - And, whylest she doth her dight, - Doe ye to her of joy and solace sing, - That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring. - - Bring with you all the Nymphes that you can heare - Both of the rivers and the forrests greene, - - tead] torch. - - And of the sea that neighbours to her neare: - Al with gay girlands goodly wel beseene. - And let them also with them bring in hand - Another gay girland - For my fayre love, of lillyes and of roses, - Bound truelove wize, with a blew silke riband. - And let them make great store of bridale poses, - And let them eeke bring store of other flowers, - To deck the bridale bowers. - And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread, - For feare the stones her tender foot should wrong, - Be strewed with fragrant flowers all along, - And diapred lyke the discolored mead. - Which done, doe at her chamber dore awayt, - For she will waken strayt; - The whiles doe ye this song unto her sing, - The woods shall to you answer, and your Eccho ring. - - Ye Nymphes of Mulla, which with carefull heed - The silver scaly trouts doe tend full well, - And greedy pikes which use therein to feed; - (Those trouts and pikes all others doo excell;) - And ye likewise, which keepe the rushy lake, - Where none doo fishes take; - Bynd up the locks the which hang scatterd light, - And in his waters, which your mirror make, - Behold your faces as the christall bright, - That when you come whereas my love doth lie, - No blemish she may spie. - And eke, ye lightfoot mayds, which keepe the deere, - That on the hoary mountayne used to towre; - And the wylde wolves, which seeke them to devoure, - With your steele darts doo chace from comming neer; - Be also present heere, - - To helpe to decke her, and to help to sing, - That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring. - - Wake now, my love, awake! for it is time; - The Rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed, - All ready to her silver coche to clyme; - And Phœbus gins to shew his glorious hed. - Hark! how the cheerefull birds do chaunt theyr laies - And carroll of Loves praise. - The merry Larke hir mattins sings aloft; - The Thrush replyes; the Mavis descant playes; - The Ouzell shrills; the Ruddock warbles soft; - So goodly all agree, with sweet consent, - To this dayes merriment. - Ah! my deere love, why doe ye sleepe thus long? - When meeter were that ye should now awake, - T’ awayt the comming of your joyous make, - And hearken to the birds love-learnèd song, - The deawy leaves among! - Nor they of joy and pleasance to you sing, - That all the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring. - My love is now awake out of her dreames, - And her fayre eyes, like stars that dimmèd were - With darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beams - More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere. - Come now, ye damzels, daughters of delight, - Helpe quickly her to dight: - But first come ye fayre houres, which were begot - In Joves sweet paradice of Day and Night; - Which doe the seasons of the yeare allot, - And al, that ever in this world is fayre, - Doe make and still repayre: - - ruddock] redbreast. - - And ye three handmayds of the Cyprian Queene, - The which doe still adorne her beauties pride, - Helpe to addorne my beautifullest bride: - And, as ye her array, still throw betweene - Some graces to be seene; - And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing, - The whiles the woods shal answer, and your eccho ring. - - Now is my love all ready forth to come: - Let all the virgins therefore well awayt: - And ye fresh boyes, that tend upon her groome, - Prepare your selves; for he is comming strayt. - Set all your things in seemely good aray, - Fit for so joyfull day: - The joyfulst day that ever sunne did see. - Faire Sun! shew forth thy favourable ray, - And let thy lifull heat not fervent be, - For feare of burning her sunshyny face, - Her beauty to disgrace. - O fayrest Phœbus! father of the Muse! - If ever I did honour thee aright, - Or sing the thing that mote thy mind delight, - Doe not thy servants simple boone refuse; - But let this day, let this one day, be myne; - Let all the rest be thine. - Then I thy soverayne prayses loud wil sing, - That all the woods shal answer, and theyr eccho ring. - - Harke! how the Minstrils gin to shrill aloud - Their merry Musick that resounds from far, - The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling Croud, - That well agree withouten breach or jar. - - croud] violin. - - But, most of all, the Damzels doe delite - When they their tymbrels smyte, - And thereunto doe daunce and carrol sweet, - That all the sences they doe ravish quite; - The whyles the boyes run up and downe the street, - Crying aloud with strong confusèd noyce, - As if it were one voyce, - Hymen, iö Hymen, Hymen, they do shout; - That even to the heavens theyr shouting shrill - Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill; - To which the people standing all about, - As in approvance, doe thereto applaud, - And loud advaunce her laud; - And evermore they Hymen, Hymen sing, - That al the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring. - - Loe! where she comes along with portly pace, - Lyke Phœbe, from her chamber of the East, - Arysing forth to run her mighty race, - Clad all in white, that seemes a virgin best. - So well it her beseemes, that ye would weene - Some angell she had beene. - Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre, - Sprinckled with perle, and perling flowres atweene, - Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre; - And, being crownèd with a girland greene, - Seeme lyke some mayden Queene. - Her modest eyes, abashèd to behold - So many gazers as on her do stare, - Upon the lowly ground affixèd are; - Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold, - But blush to heare her prayses sung so loud, - So farre from being proud. - Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses sing, - That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring. - - Tell me, ye merchants daughters, did ye see - So fayre a creature in your towne before; - So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she, - Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store? - Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres shining bright, - Her forehead yvory white, - Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun hath rudded, - Her lips lyke cherryes charming men to byte, - Her brest like to a bowle of creame uncrudded, - Her paps lyke lyllies budded, - Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towre; - And all her body like a pallace fayre, - Ascending up, with many a stately stayre, - To honors seat and chastities sweet bowre. - Why stand ye still ye virgins in amaze, - Upon her so to gaze, - Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing, - To which the woods did answer, and your eccho ring? - - But if ye saw that which no eyes can see, - The inward beauty of her lively spright, - Garnisht with heavenly guifts of high degree, - Much more then would ye wonder at that sight, - And stand astonisht lyke to those which red - Medusaes mazeful hed. - There dwels sweet love, and constant chastity, - Unspotted fayth, and comely womanhood, - Regard of honour, and mild modesty; - There vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne, - And giveth lawes alone, - The which the base affections doe obay, - And yeeld theyr services unto her will; - Ne thought of thing uncomely ever may - Thereto approch to tempt her mind to ill. - Had ye once seene these her celestial threasures, - And unrevealèd pleasures, - Then would ye wonder, and her prayses sing, - That al the woods should answer, and your echo ring. - - Open the temple gates unto my love, - Open them wide that she may enter in, - And all the postes adorne as doth behove, - And all the pillours deck with girlands trim, - For to receyve this Saynt with honour dew, - That commeth in to you. - With trembling steps, and humble reverence, - She commeth in, before th’ Almighties view; - Of her ye virgins learne obedience, - When so ye come into those holy places, - To humble your proud faces: - Bring her up to th’ high altar, that she may - The sacred ceremonies there partake, - The which do endlesse matrimony make; - And let the roring Organs loudly play - The praises of the Lord in lively notes; - The whiles, with hollow throates, - The Choristers the joyous Antheme sing, - That al the woods may answere, and their eccho ring. - - Behold, whiles she before the altar stands, - Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes, - And blesseth her with his two happy hands, - How the red roses flush up in her cheekes, - And the pure snow, with goodly vermill stayne - Like crimsin dyde in grayne: - That even th’ Angels, which continually - About the sacred Altare doe remaine, - Forget their service and about her fly, - Ofte peeping in her face, that seems more fayre, - The more they on it stare. - But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground, - Are governèd with goodly modesty, - That suffers not one looke to glaunce awry, - Which may let in a little thought unsownd. - Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand, - The pledge of all our band! - Sing, ye sweet Angels, Alleluya sing, - That all the woods may answere, and your eccho ring. - - Now al is done: bring home the bride againe; - Bring home the triumph of our victory: - Bring home with you the glory of her gaine; - With joyance bring her and with jollity. - Never had man more joyfull day then this, - Whom heaven would heape with blis, - Make feast therefore now all this live-long day; - This day for ever to me holy is. - Poure out the wine without restraint or stay, - Poure not by cups, but by the belly full, - Poure out to all that wull, - And sprinkle all the postes and wals with wine, - That they may sweat, and drunken be withall. - Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall, - And Hymen also crowne with wreathes of vine; - And let the Graces daunce unto the rest, - For they can doo it best: - The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll sing, - To which the woods shall answer, and theyr eccho ring. - - - Ring ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne, - And leave your wonted labors for this day: - This day is holy; doe ye write it downe, - That ye for ever it remember may. - This day the sunne is in his chiefest hight, - With Barnaby the bright, - From whence declining daily by degrees, - He somewhat loseth of his heat and light, - When once the Crab behind his back he sees. - But for this time it ill ordainèd was, - To chose the longest day in all the yeare, - And shortest night, when longest fitter weare: - Yet never day so long, but late would passe. - Ring ye the bels, to make it weare away, - And bonefiers make all day; - And daunce about them, and about them sing, - That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring. - - Ah! when will this long weary day have end, - And lende me leave to come unto my love? - How slowly do the houres theyr numbers spend? - How slowly does sad Time his feathers move? - Hast thee, O fayrest Planet, to thy home, - Within the Westerne fome: - Thy tyrèd steedes long since have need of rest. - Long though it be, at last I see it gloome, - And the bright evening-star with golden creast - Appeare out of the East. - Fayre childe of beauty! glorious lampe of love! - That all the host of heaven in rankes doost lead, - And guydest lovers through the nights sad dread, - How chearefully thou lookest from above, - And seemst to laugh atweene thy twinkling light, - As joying in the sight - Of these glad many, which for joy doe sing, - That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring! - - Now ceasse, ye damsels, your delights fore-past; - Enough it is that all the day was youres: - Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast, - Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures. - The night is come, now soon her disaray, - And in her bed her lay; - Lay her in lillies and in violets, - And silken courteins over her display, - And odourd sheetes, and Arras coverlets. - Behold how goodly my faire love does ly, - In proud humility! - Like unto Maia, when as Jove her took - In Tempe, lying on the flowry gras, - Twixt sleepe and wake, after she weary was, - With bathing in the Acidalian brooke. - Now it is night, ye damsels may be gon, - And leave my love alone, - And leave likewise your former lay to sing: - The woods no more shall answere, nor your echo ring. - - Now welcome, night! thou night so long expected, - That long daies labour doest at last defray, - And all my cares, which cruell Love collected, - Hast sumd in one, and cancellèd for aye: - Spread thy broad wing over my love and me, - That no man may us see; - And in thy sable mantle us enwrap, - From feare of perrill and foule horror free. - Let no false treason seeke us to entrap, - Nor any dread disquiet once annoy - The safety of our joy; - But let the night be calme, and quietsome, - Without tempestuous storms or sad afray: - Lyke as when Jove with fayre Alcmena lay, - When he begot the great Tirynthian groome: - Or lyke as when he with thy selfe did lie - And begot Majesty. - And let the mayds and yong men cease to sing; - Ne let the woods them answer nor theyr eccho ring. - - Let no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares, - Be heard all night within, nor yet without: - Ne let false whispers, breeding hidden feares, - Breake gentle sleepe with misconceivèd dout. - Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadfull sights, - Make sudden sad affrights; - Ne let house-fyres, nor lightnings helpelesse harmes, - Ne let the Pouke, nor other evill sprights, - Ne let mischivous witches with theyr charmes, - Ne let hob Goblins, names whose sence we see not, - Fray us with things that be not: - Let not the shriech Oule nor the Storke be heard, - Nor the night Raven, that still deadly yels; - Nor damnèd ghosts, cald up with mighty spels, - Nor griesly vultures, make us once affeard: - Ne let th’ unpleasant Quyre of Frogs still croking - Make us to wish theyr choking. - Let none of these theyr drery accents sing; - Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring. - - But let stil Silence trew night-watches keepe, - That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne, - And tymely Sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe, - May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne; - The whiles an hundred little wingèd loves, - Like divers-fethered doves, - Shall fly and flutter round about your bed, - And in the secret darke, that none reproves, - Their prety stealthes shal worke, and snares shal spread - To filch away sweet snatches of delight, - Conceald through covert night. - Ye sonnes of Venus, play your sports at will! - For greedy pleasure, carelesse of your toyes, - Thinks more upon her paradise of joyes, - Then what ye do, albe it good or ill. - All night therefore attend your merry play, - For it will soone be day: - Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing; - Ne will the woods now answer, nor your Eccho ring. - - Who is the same, which at my window peepes? - Or whose is that faire face that shines so bright? - Is it not Cinthia, she that never sleepes, - But walkes about high heaven al the night? - O! fayrest goddesse, do thou not envy - My love with me to spy: - For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought, - And for a fleece of wooll, which privily - The Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought, - His pleasures with thee wrought. - Therefore to us be favorable now; - And sith of wemens labours thou hast charge, - And generation goodly dost enlarge, - Encline thy will t’effect our wishfull vow, - And the chast wombe informe with timely seed - That may our comfort breed: - Till which we cease our hopefull hap to sing; - Ne let the woods us answere, nor our Eccho ring. - - - And thou, great Juno! which with awful might - The lawes of wedlock still dost patronize; - And the religion of the faith first plight - With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize; - And eeke for comfort often callèd art - Of women in their smart; - Eternally bind thou this lovely band, - And all thy blessings unto us impart. - And thou, glad Genius! in whose gentle hand - The bridale bowre and geniall bed remaine, - Without blemish or staine; - And the sweet pleasures of theyr loves delight - With secret ayde doest succour and supply, - Till they bring forth the fruitfull progeny; - Send us the timely fruit of this same night. - And thou, fayre Hebe! and thou, Hymen free! - Grant that it may so be. - Til which we cease your further prayse to sing; - Ne any woods shall answer, nor your Eccho ring. - - And ye high heavens, the temple of the gods, - In which a thousand torches flaming bright - Doe burne, that to us wretched earthly clods - In dreadful darknesse lend desirèd light - And all ye powers which in the same remayne, - More then we men can fayne! - Poure out your blessing on us plentiously, - And happy influence upon us raine, - That we may raise a large posterity, - Which from the earth, which they may long possesse - With lasting happinesse, - Up to your haughty pallaces may mount; - And, for the guerdon of theyr glorious merit, - May heavenly tabernacles there inherit, - Of blessèd Saints for to increase the count. - So let us rest, sweet love, in hope of this, - And cease till then our tymely joyes to sing: - The woods no more us answer, nor our eccho ring! - - _Song! made in lieu of many ornaments._ - _With which my love should duly have been dect,_ - _Which cutting off through hasty accidents,_ - _Ye would not stay your dew time to expect_ - _But promist both to recompens;_ - _Be unto her a goodly ornament,_ - _And for short time an endlesse moniment._ - - -_83._ _From ‘Daphnaïda’_ - -_An Elegy_ - - SHE fell away in her first ages spring, - Whil’st yet her leafe was greene, and fresh her rinde, - And whil’st her braunch faire blossomes foorth did bring, - She fell away against all course of kinde. - For age to dye is right, but youth is wrong; - She fel away like fruit blowne downe with winde. - Weepe, Shepheard! weepe, to make my undersong. - - Yet fell she not as one enforst to dye, - Ne dyde with dread and grudging discontent, - But as one toyld with travaile downe doth lye, - So lay she downe, as if to sleepe she went, - And closde her eyes with carelesse quietnesse; - The whiles soft death away her spirit hent, - And soule assoyld from sinfull fleshlinesse. - - - How happie was I when I saw her leade - The Shepheards daughters dauncing in a rownd! - How trimly would she trace and softly tread - The tender grasse, with rosie garland crownd! - And when she list advance her heavenly voyce, - Both Nymphes and Muses nigh she made astownd, - And flocks and shepheards causèd to rejoyce. - - But now, ye Shepheard lasses! who shall lead - Your wandring troupes, or sing your virelayes? - Or who shall dight your bowres, sith she is dead - That was the Lady of your holy-dayes? - Let now your blisse be turnèd into bale, - And into plaints convert your joyous playes, - And with the same fill every hill and dale. - - For I will walke this wandring pilgrimage, - Throughout the world from one to other end, - And in affliction wast my better age: - My bread shall be the anguish of my mind, - My drink the teares which fro mine eyes do raine, - My bed the ground that hardest I may finde; - So will I wilfully increase my paine. - - Ne sleepe (the harbenger of wearie wights) - Shall ever lodge upon mine ey-lids more; - Ne shall with rest refresh my fainting sprights, - Nor failing force to former strength restore: - But I will wake and sorrow all the night - With Philumene, my fortune to deplore; - With Philumene, the partner of my plight. - - And ever as I see the starres to fall, - And under ground to goe to give them light - Which dwell in darknes, I to minde will call - How my fair Starre (that shinde on me so bright) - Fell sodainly and faded under ground; - Since whose departure, day is turnd to night, - And night without a Venus starre is found. - - And she, my love that was, my Saint that is, - When she beholds from her celestiall throne - (In which shee joyeth in eternall blis) - My bitter penance, will my case bemone, - And pitie me that living thus doo die; - For heavenly spirits have compassion - On mortall men, and rue their miserie. - - So when I have with sorowe satisfide - Th’ importune fates, which vengeance on me seeke, - And th’ heavens with long languor pacifide, - She, for pure pitie of my sufferance meeke, - Will send for me; for which I daylie long: - And will till then my painful penance eeke. - Weep, Shepheard! weep, to make my undersong! - - -_84._ _Easter_ - - MOST glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day, - Didst make Thy triumph over death and sin; - And, having harrowd hell, didst bring away - Captivity thence captive, us to win: - This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin; - And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dye, - Being with Thy deare blood clene washt from sin, - May live for ever in felicity! - And that Thy love we weighing worthily, - May likewise love Thee for the same againe; - And for Thy sake, that all lyke deare didst buy, - With love may one another entertayne! - So let us love, deare Love, lyke as we ought, - --Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught. - - - - -JOHN LYLY - -1553-1606 - - -_85._ _Cards and Kisses_ - - Cupid and my Campaspe play’d - At cards for kisses--Cupid paid: - He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows, - His mother’s doves, and team of sparrows; - Loses them too; then down he throws - The coral of his lips, the rose - Growing on’s cheek (but none knows how); - With these, the crystal of his brow, - And then the dimple of his chin: - All these did my Campaspe win. - At last he set her both his eyes-- - She won, and Cupid blind did rise. - O Love! has she done this for thee? - What shall, alas! become of me? - - -_86._ _Spring’s Welcome_ - - WHAT bird so sings, yet so does wail? - O ’tis the ravish’d 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 gate 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! - - - - -ANTHONY MUNDAY - -1553-1633 - - -_87._ _Beauty Bathing_ - - BEAUTY sat bathing by a spring, - Where fairest shades did hide her; - The winds blew calm, the birds did sing, - The cool streams ran beside her. - My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye - To see what was forbidden: - But better memory said Fie; - So vain desire was chidden-- - Hey nonny nonny O! - Hey nonny nonny! - - Into a slumber then I fell, - And fond imagination - Seemèd to see, but could not tell, - Her feature or her fashion: - But ev’n as babes in dreams do smile, - And sometimes fall a-weeping, - So I awaked as wise that while - As when I fell a-sleeping. - - - - -SIR PHILIP SIDNEY - -1554-86 - - -_88._ _The Bargain_ - - My true love hath my heart, and I have his, - But just exchange one for another given: - I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, - There never was a better bargain driven: - My true love hath my heart, and I have his. - - His heart in me keeps him and me 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: - My true love hath my heart, and I have his. - - -_89._ _Song_ - - Who hath his fancy pleasèd - With fruits of happy sight, - Let here his eyes be raisèd - On Nature’s sweetest light; - A light which doth dissever - And yet unite the eyes, - A light which, dying never, - Is cause the looker dies. - - She never dies, but lasteth - In life of lover’s heart; - He ever dies that wasteth - In love his chiefest part: - Thus is her life still guarded - In never-dying faith; - Thus is his death rewarded, - Since she lives in his death. - - - Look then, and die! The pleasure - Doth answer well the pain: - Small loss of mortal treasure, - Who may immortal gain! - Immortal be her graces, - Immortal is her mind; - They, fit for heavenly places-- - This, heaven in it doth bind. - - But eyes these beauties see not, - Nor sense that grace descries; - Yet eyes deprivèd be not - From sight of her fair eyes-- - Which, as of inward glory - They are the outward seal, - So may they live still sorry, - Which die not in that weal. - - But who hath fancies pleasèd - With fruits of happy sight, - Let here his eyes be raisèd - On Nature’s sweetest light! - - -_90._ _Voices at the Window_ - - _Who is it that, this dark night,_ - _Underneath my window plaineth?_ - It is one who from thy sight - Being, ah, exiled, disdaineth - Every other vulgar light. - - _Why, alas, and are you he?_ - _Be not yet those fancies changèd?_ - Dear, when you find change in me, - Though from me you be estrangèd, - Let my change to ruin be. - - - _Well, in absence this will die:_ - _Leave to see, and leave to wonder._ - Absence sure will help, if I - Can learn how myself to sunder - From what in my heart doth lie. - - _But time will these thoughts remove;_ - _Time doth work what no man knoweth._ - Time doth as the subject prove: - With time still the affection groweth - In the faithful turtle-dove. - - _What if you new beauties see?_ - _Will not they stir new affection?_ - I will think they pictures be - (Image-like, of saints’ perfection) - Poorly counterfeiting thee. - - _But your reason’s purest light_ - _Bids you leave such minds to nourish._ - Dear, do reason no such spite! - Never doth thy beauty flourish - More than in my reason’s sight. - - _90._ leave] cease. - - -_91._ _Philomela_ - - The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth - Unto her rested sense a perfect waking, - While late-bare Earth, proud of new clothing, springeth, - Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making; - And mournfully bewailing, - Her throat in tunes expresseth - What grief her breast oppresseth, - For Tereus’ force on her chaste will prevailing. - - - _O Philomela fair, O take some gladness_ - _That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness!_ - _Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;_ - _Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth._ - - Alas! she hath no other cause of anguish - But Tereus’ love, on her by strong hand wroken; - Wherein she suffering, all her spirits languish, - Full womanlike complains her will was broken - But I, who, daily craving, - Cannot have to content me, - Have more cause to lament me, - Since wanting is more woe than too much having. - - _O Philomela fair, O take some gladness_ - _That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness!_ - _Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;_ - _Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth._ - - -_92._ _The Highway_ - - Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be, - And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet, - Tempers her words to trampling horses’ feet - More oft than to a chamber-melody,-- - Now blessèd you bear onward blessèd me - To her, where I my heart, safe-left, shall meet; - My Muse and I must you of duty greet - With thanks and wishes, wishing thankfully; - Be you still fair, honour’d by public heed; - By no encroachment wrong’d, nor time forgot; - Nor blamed for blood, nor shamed for sinful deed; - And that you know I envy you no lot - Of highest wish, I wish you so much bliss, - Hundreds of years you Stella’s feet may kiss! - - -_93._ _His Lady’s Cruelty_ - - 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 languish’d grace - To me, that feel the like, thy state descries. - Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me, - Is constant love deem’d 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? - - -_94._ _Sleep_ - - Come, Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace, - The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, - The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release, - Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low; - With shield of proof shield me from out the prease - Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw: - O make in me those civil wars to cease; - I will good tribute pay, if thou do so. - Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed, - A chamber deaf to noise and blind of light, - A rosy garland and a weary head; - And if these things, as being thine by right, - Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me, - Livelier than elsewhere, Stella’s image see. - - _94._ prease] press. - - -_95._ _Splendidis longum valedico Nugis_ - - 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! - - - - -FULKE GREVILLE, LORD BROOKE - -1554-1628 - - -_96._ _Myra_ - - I, with whose colours Myra dress’d her head, - I, that ware posies of her own hand-making, - I, that mine own name in the chimneys read - By Myra finely wrought ere I was waking: - Must I look on, in hope time coming may - With change bring back my turn again to play? - - I, that on Sunday at the church-stile found - A garland sweet with true-love-knots in flowers, - Which I to wear about mine arms was bound - That each of us might know that all was ours: - Must I lead now an idle life in wishes, - And follow Cupid for his loaves and fishes? - - _96._ chimneys] _cheminées_, chimney-screens of tapestry work. - - I, that did wear the ring her mother left, - I, for whose love she gloried to be blamèd, - I, with whose eyes her eyes committed theft, - I, who did make her blush when I was namèd: - Must I lose ring, flowers, blush, theft, and go naked, - Watching with sighs till dead love be awakèd? - - Was it for this that I might Myra see - Washing the water with her beauty’s white? - Yet would she never write her love to me. - Thinks wit of change when thoughts are in delight? - Mad girls may safely love as they may leave; - No man can _print_ a kiss: lines may deceive. - - _96._ deceive] betray. - - - - -THOMAS LODGE - -1556?-1625 - - -_97._ _Rosalind’s Madrigal_ - - Love in my bosom like a bee - Doth suck his sweet: - Now with his wings he plays with me, - Now with his feet. - Within mine eyes he makes his nest, - His bed amidst my tender breast; - My kisses are his daily feast, - And yet he robs me of my rest: - Ah! wanton, will ye? - - And if I sleep, then percheth he - With pretty flight, - And makes his pillow of my knee - The livelong night. - Strike I my lute, he tunes the string; - He music plays if so I sing; - He lends me every lovely thing, - Yet cruel he my heart doth sting: - Whist, wanton, still ye! - - Else I with roses every day - Will whip you hence, - And bind you, when you long to play, - For your offence. - I’ll shut mine eyes to keep you in; - I’ll make you fast it for your sin; - I’ll count your power not worth a pin. - --Alas! what hereby shall I win - If he gainsay me? - - What if I beat the wanton boy - With many a rod? - He will repay me with annoy, - Because a god. - Then sit thou safely on my knee; - Then let thy bower my bosom be; - Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee; - O Cupid, so thou pity me, - Spare not, but play thee! - - -_98._ _Phillis_ I - - My Phillis hath the morning sun - At first to look upon her; - And Phillis hath morn-waking birds - Her risings still to honour. - My Phillis hath prime-feather’d flowers, - That smile when she treads on them; - And Phillis hath a gallant flock, - That leaps since she doth own them. - But Phillis hath too hard a heart, - Alas that she should have it! - It yields no mercy to desert, - Nor grace to those that crave it. - - -_99._ _Phillis_ 2 - - Love guards the roses of thy lips - And flies about them like a bee; - If I approach he forward skips, - And if I kiss he stingeth me. - - Love in thine eyes doth build his bower, - And sleeps within their pretty shine; - And if I look the boy will lower, - And from their orbs shoot shafts divine. - - Love works thy heart within his fire, - And in my tears doth firm the same; - And if I tempt it will retire, - And of my plaints doth make a game. - - Love, let me cull her choicest flowers; - And pity me, and calm her eye; - Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers - Then will I praise thy deity. - - But if thou do not, Love, I’ll truly serve her - In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her. - - -_100._ _Rosaline_ - - Like to the clear in highest sphere - Where all imperial glory shines, - Of selfsame colour is her hair - Whether unfolded or in twines: - Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! - Her eyes are sapphires set in snow, - Resembling heaven by every wink; - The gods do fear whenas they glow, - And I do tremble when I think - Heigh ho, would she were mine! - - Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud - That beautifies Aurora’s face, - Or like the silver crimson shroud - That Phœbus’ smiling looks doth grace. - Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! - Her lips are like two budded roses - Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh, - Within whose bounds she balm encloses - Apt to entice a deity: - Heigh ho, would she were mine! - - Her neck like to a stately tower - Where Love himself imprison’d lies, - To watch for glances every hour - From her divine and sacred eyes: - Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! - Her paps are centres of delight, - Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame, - Where Nature moulds the dew of light - To feed perfection with the same: - Heigh ho, would she were mine! - - - With orient pearl, with ruby red, - With marble white, with sapphire blue, - Her body every way is fed, - Yet soft to touch and sweet in view: - Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! - Nature herself her shape admires; - The gods are wounded in her sight; - And Love forsakes his heavenly fires - And at her eyes his brand doth light: - Heigh ho, would she were mine! - - Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan - The absence of fair Rosaline, - Since for a fair there’s fairer none, - Nor for her virtues so divine: - Heigh ho, fair Rosaline! - Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine! - - - - -GEORGE PEELE - -1558?-97 - - -_101._ _Fair and Fair_ - - _Œnone._ Fair and fair, and twice so fair, - As fair as any may be; - The fairest shepherd on our green, - A love for any lady. - - _Paris._ Fair and fair, and twice so fair, - As fair as any may be; - Thy love is fair for thee alone - And for no other lady. - - _Œnone._ My love is fair, my love is gay, - As fresh as bin the flowers in May - And of my love my roundelay, - My merry, merry, merry roundelay, - Concludes with Cupid’s curse,-- - ‘They that do change old love for new - Pray gods they change for worse!’ - _Ambo Simul._ They that do change old love for new, - Pray gods they change for worse! - - _Œnone._ Fair and fair, etc. - _Paris._ Fair and fair, etc. - Thy love is fair, etc. - _Œnone._ My love can pipe, my love can sing, - My love can many a pretty thing, - And of his lovely praises ring - My merry, merry, merry roundelays - Amen to Cupid’s curse,-- - ‘They that do change,’ etc. - _Paris._ They that do change, etc. - _Ambo._ Fair and fair, etc. - - -_102._ _A Farewell to Arms_ - -(TO QUEEN ELIZABETH) - - His golden locks Time hath to silver turn’d; - O Time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing! - His youth ’gainst time and age hath ever spurn’d, - But spurn’d in vain; youth waneth by increasing: - Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen; - Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green. - - His helmet now shall make a hive for bees; - And, lovers’ sonnets turn’d to holy psalms, - A man-at-arms must now serve on his knees, - And feed on prayers, which are Age his alms: - But though from court to cottage he depart, - His Saint is sure of his unspotted heart. - - - And when he saddest sits in homely cell, - He’ll teach his swains this carol for a song,-- - ‘Blest be the hearts that wish my sovereign well, - Curst be the souls that think her any wrong.’ - Goddess, allow this agèd man his right - To be your beadsman now that was your knight. - - - - -ROBERT GREENE - -1560-92 - - -_103._ _Samela_ - - Like to Diana in her summer weed, - Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye, - Goes fair Samela. - Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed - When wash’d by Arethusa faint they lie, - Is fair Samela. - As fair Aurora in her morning grey, - Deck’d with the ruddy glister of her love - Is fair Samela; - Like lovely Thetis on a calmèd day - Whenas her brightness Neptune’s fancy move, - Shines fair Samela. - - Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams, - Her teeth are pearl, the breasts are ivory - Of fair Samela; - Her cheeks like rose and lily yield forth gleams; - Her brows bright arches framed of ebony. - Thus fair Samela - Passeth fair Venus in her bravest hue, - And Juno in the show of majesty - (For she’s Samela!), - Pallas in wit,--all three, if you well view, - For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity, - Yield to Samela. - - -_104._ _Fawnia_ - - Ah! were she pitiful as she is fair, - Or but as mild as she is seeming so, - Then were my hopes greater than my despair, - Then all the world were heaven, nothing woe. - Ah! were her heart relenting as her hand, - That seems to melt even with the mildest touch, - Then knew I where to seat me in a land - Under wide heavens, but yet there is not such. - So as she shows she seems the budding rose, - Yet sweeter far than is an earthly flower; - Sovran of beauty, like the spray she grows; - Compass’d she is with thorns and canker’d flower. - Yet were she willing to be pluck’d and worn, - She would be gather’d, though she grew on thorn. - - Ah! when she sings, all music else be still, - For none must be comparèd to her note; - Ne’er breathed such glee from Philomela’s bill, - Nor from the morning-singer’s swelling throat. - Ah! when she riseth from her blissful bed - She comforts all the world as doth the sun, - And at her sight the night’s foul vapour’s fled; - When she is set the gladsome day is done. - O glorious sun, imagine me the west, - Shine in my arms, and set thou in my breast! - - -_105._ _Sephestia’s Lullaby_ - - Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; - When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee. - Mother’s wag, pretty boy, - Father’s sorrow, father’s joy; - When thy father first did see - Such a boy by him and me, - He was glad, I was woe; - Fortune changèd made him so, - When he left his pretty boy, - Last his sorrow, first his joy. - - Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; - When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee. - Streaming tears that never stint, - Like pearl-drops from a flint, - Fell by course from his eyes, - That one another’s place supplies; - Thus he grieved in every part, - Tears of blood fell from his heart, - When he left his pretty boy, - Father’s sorrow, father’s joy. - - Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; - When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee. - The wanton smiled, father wept, - Mother cried, baby leapt; - More he crow’d, more we cried, - Nature could not sorrow hide: - He must go, he must kiss - Child and mother, baby bliss, - For he left his pretty boy, - Father’s sorrow, father’s joy. - - Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, - When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee. - - - - -ALEXANDER HUME - -1560-1609 - - -_106._ _A Summer Day_ - - O perfect Light, which shaid away - The darkness from the light, - And set a ruler o’er the day, - Another o’er the night-- - - Thy glory, when the day forth flies, - More vively doth appear - Than at mid day unto our eyes - The shining sun is clear. - - The shadow of the earth anon - Removes and drawis by, - While in the East, when it is gone, - Appears a clearer sky. - - Which soon perceive the little larks, - The lapwing and the snipe, - And tune their songs, like Nature’s clerks, - O’er meadow, muir, and stripe. - - Our hemisphere is polisht clean, - And lighten’d more and more, - While everything is clearly seen - Which seemit dim before: - - Except the glistering astres bright, - Which all the night were clear, - Offuskit with a greater light - No longer do appear. - - shaid] parted. stripe] rill. offuskit] darkened. - - The golden globe incontinent - Sets up his shining head, - And o’er the earth and firmament - Displays his beams abread. - - For joy the birds with boulden throats - Against his visage sheen - Take up their kindly musick notes - In woods and gardens green. - - The dew upon the tender crops, - Like pearlis white and round, - Or like to melted silver drops, - Refreshis all the ground. - - The misty reek, the clouds of rain, - From tops of mountains skails, - Clear are the highest hills and plain, - The vapours take the vales. - - The ample heaven of fabrick sure - In cleanness does surpass - The crystal and the silver pure, - Or clearest polisht glass. - - The time so tranquil is and still - That nowhere shall ye find, - Save on a high and barren hill, - An air of peeping wind. - - All trees and simples, great and small, - That balmy leaf do bear, - Than they were painted on a wall - No more they move or steir. - - boulden] swollen. sheen] bright. skails] clears. simples] herbs. - - Calm is the deep and purple sea, - Yea, smoother than the sand; - The waves that weltering wont to be - Are stable like the land. - - So silent is the cessile air - That every cry and call - The hills and dales and forest fair - Again repeats them all. - - The flourishes and fragrant flowers, - Through Phoebus’ fostering heat, - Refresht with dew and silver showers - Cast up an odour sweet. - - The cloggit busy humming bees, - That never think to drone, - On flowers and flourishes of trees - Collect their liquor brown. - - The Sun, most like a speedy post - With ardent course ascends; - The beauty of the heavenly host - Up to our zenith tends. - - The burning beams down from his face - So fervently can beat, - That man and beast now seek a place - To save them from the heat. - - The herds beneath some leafy tree - Amidst the flowers they lie; - The stable ships upon the sea - Tend up their sails to dry. - - cessile] yielding, ceasing. flourishes] blossoms. - - With gilded eyes and open wings - The cock his courage shows; - With claps of joy his breast he dings, - And twenty times he crows. - - The dove with whistling wings so blue - The winds can fast collect; - Her purple pens turn many a hue - Against the sun direct. - - Now noon is went; gone is midday, - The heat doth slake at last; - The sun descends down West away, - For three of clock is past. - - The rayons of the sun we see - Diminish in their strength; - The shade of every tower and tree - Extendit is in length. - - Great is the calm, for everywhere - The wind is setting down; - The reek throws right up in the air - From every tower and town. - - The gloming comes; the day is spent; - The sun goes out of sight; - And painted is the occident - With purple sanguine bright. - - Our west horizon circular - From time the sun be set - Is all with rubies, as it were, - Or roses red o’erfret. - - - What pleasure were to walk and see, - Endlong a river clear, - The perfect form of every tree - Within the deep appear. - - O then it were a seemly thing, - While all is still and calm, - The praise of God to play and sing - With cornet and with shalm! - - All labourers draw home at even, - And can to other say, - Thanks to the gracious God of heaven, - Which sent this summer day. - - - - -GEORGE CHAPMAN - -1560-1634 - - -_107._ _Bridal Song_ - - O come, soft rest of cares! come, Night! - Come, naked Virtue’s only tire, - The reapèd harvest of the light - Bound up in sheaves of sacred fire. - Love calls to war: - Sighs his alarms, - Lips his swords are, - The field his arms. - - Come, Night, and lay thy velvet hand - On glorious Day’s outfacing face; - And all thy crownèd flames command - For torches to our nuptial grace. - Love calls to war: - Sighs his alarms, - Lips his swords are, - The field his arms. - - - - -ROBERT SOUTHWELL - -1561-95 - - -_108._ _Times go by Turns_ - - The loppèd tree in time may grow again, - Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower; - The sorest wight may find release of pain, - The driest soil suck in some moist’ning shower; - Times go by turns and chances change by course, - From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. - - The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow, - She draws her favours to the lowest ebb; - Her tides hath equal times to come and go, - Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web; - No joy so great but runneth to an end, - No hap so hard but may in fine amend. - - Not always fall of leaf nor ever spring, - No endless night yet not eternal day; - The saddest birds a season find to sing, - The roughest storm a calm may soon allay: - Thus with succeeding turns God tempereth all, - That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall. - - A chance may win that by mischance was lost; - The net that holds no great, takes little fish; - In some things all, in all things none are crost, - Few all they need, but none have all they wish; - Unmeddled joys here to no man befall: - Who least, hath some; who most, hath never all. - - unmeddled] unmixed. - - -_109._ _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 bred: - ‘Alas!’ quoth He, ‘but newly born - In fiery heats I fry, - 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 vanish’d out of sight - And swiftly shrunk away, - And straight I callèd unto mind - That it was Christmas Day. - - - - -HENRY CONSTABLE - -1562?-1613? - - -_110._ _On the Death of Sir Philip Sidney_ - - Give pardon, blessèd soul, to my bold cries, - If they, importune, interrupt thy song, - Which now with joyful notes thou sing’st among - The angel-quiristers of th’ heavenly skies. - Give pardon eke, sweet soul, to my slow eyes, - That since I saw thee now it is so long, - And yet the tears that unto thee belong - To thee as yet they did not sacrifice. - I did not know that thou wert dead before; - I did not feel the grief I did sustain; - The greater stroke astonisheth the more; - Astonishment takes from us sense of pain; - I stood amazed when others’ tears begun, - And now begin to weep when they have done. - - - - -SAMUEL DANIEL - -1562-1619 - - -_111._ _Love is a Sickness_ - - LOVE is a sickness full of woes, - All remedies refusing; - A plant that with most cutting grows, - Most barren with best using. - Why so? - More we enjoy it, more it dies; - If not enjoy’d, it sighing cries-- - Heigh ho! - - Love is a torment of the mind, - A tempest everlasting; - And Jove hath made it of a kind - Not well, nor full nor fasting. - Why so? - More we enjoy it, more it dies; - If not enjoy’d, it sighing cries-- - Heigh ho! - - -_112._ _Ulysses and the Siren_ - - _Siren._ Come, worthy Greek! Ulysses, come, - Possess these shores with me: - The winds and seas are troublesome, - And here we may be free. - Here may we sit and view their toil - That travail in the deep, - And joy the day in mirth the while, - And spend the night in sleep. - - _Ulysses._ Fair Nymph, if fame or honour were - To be attain’d with ease, - Then would I come and rest me there, - And leave such toils as these. - But here it dwells, and here must I - With danger seek it forth: - To spend the time luxuriously - Becomes not men of worth. - - _Siren._ Ulysses, O be not deceived - With that unreal name; - This honour is a thing conceived, - And rests on others’ fame: - Begotten only to molest - Our peace, and to beguile - The best thing of our life--our rest, - And give us up to toil. - - - _Ulysses._ Delicious Nymph, suppose there were - No honour nor report, - Yet manliness would scorn to wear - The time in idle sport: - For toil doth give a better touch - To make us feel our joy, - And ease finds tediousness as much - As labour yields annoy. - - _Siren._ Then pleasure likewise seems the shore - Whereto tends all your toil, - Which you forgo to make it more, - And perish oft the while. - Who may disport them diversely - Find never tedious day, - And ease may have variety - As well as action may. - - _Ulysses._ But natures of the noblest frame - These toils and dangers please; - And they take comfort in the same - As much as you in ease; - And with the thought of actions past - Are recreated still: - When Pleasure leaves a touch at last - To show that it was ill. - - _Siren._ That doth _Opinion_ only cause - That’s out of _Custom_ bred, - Which makes us many other laws - Than ever _Nature_ did. - No widows wail for our delights, - Our sports are without blood; - The world we see by warlike wights - Receives more hurt than good. - - - _Ulysses._ But yet the state of things require - These motions of unrest: - And these great Spirits of high desire - Seem born to turn them best: - To purge the mischiefs that increase - And all good order mar: - For oft we see a wicked peace - To be well changed for war. - - _Siren._ Well, well, Ulysses, then I see - I shall not have thee here: - And therefore I will come to thee, - And take my fortune there. - I must be won, that cannot win, - Yet lost were I not won; - For beauty hath created been - T’ undo, or be undone. - - -_113._ _Beauty, Time, and Love_ - - -SONNETS. I - - Fair is my Love and cruel as she’s fair; - Her brow-shades frown, although her eyes are sunny, - Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair, - And her disdains are gall, her favours honey: - A modest maid, deck’d with a blush of honour, - Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love; - The wonder of all eyes that look upon her, - Sacred on earth, design’d a Saint above. - Chastity and Beauty, which were deadly foes, - Live reconcilèd friends within her brow; - And had she Pity to conjoin with those, - Then who had heard the plaints I utter now? - For had she not been fair, and thus unkind, - My Muse had slept, and none had known my mind. - - -II - - My spotless love hovers with purest wings, - About the temple of the proudest frame, - Where blaze those lights, fairest of earthly things, - Which clear our clouded world with brightest flame. - My ambitious thoughts, confinèd in her face, - Affect no honour but what she can give; - My hopes do rest in limits of her grace; - I weigh no comfort unless she relieve. - For she, that can my heart imparadise, - Holds in her fairest hand what dearest is; - My Fortune’s wheel’s the circle of her eyes, - Whose rolling grace deign once a turn of bliss. - All my life’s sweet consists in her alone; - So much I love the most Unloving one. - - -III - - And yet I cannot reprehend the flight - Or blame th’ attempt presuming so to soar; - The mounting venture for a high delight - Did make the honour of the fall the more. - For who gets wealth, that puts not from the shore? - Danger hath honour, great designs their fame; - Glory doth follow, courage goes before; - And though th’ event oft answers not the same-- - Suffice that high attempts have never shame. - The mean observer, whom base safety keeps, - Lives without honour, dies without a name, - And in eternal darkness ever sleeps.-- - And therefore, _Delia_, ’tis to me no blot - To have attempted, tho’ attain’d thee not. - - -IV - - When men shall find thy flow’r, thy glory, pass, - And thou with careful brow, sitting alone, - Receivèd hast this message from thy glass, - That tells the truth and says that _All is gone_; - Fresh shalt thou see in me the wounds thou mad’st, - Though spent thy flame, in me the heat remaining: - I that have loved thee thus before thou fad’st-- - My faith shall wax, when thou art in thy waning. - The world shall find this miracle in me, - That fire can burn when all the matter’s spent: - Then what my faith hath been thyself shalt see, - And that thou wast unkind thou may’st repent.-- - Thou may’st repent that thou hast scorn’d my tears, - When Winter snows upon thy sable hairs. - - -V - - Beauty, sweet Love, is like the morning dew, - Whose short refresh upon the tender green - Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show, - And straight ’tis gone as it had never been. - Soon doth it fade that makes the fairest flourish, - Short is the glory of the blushing rose; - The hue which thou so carefully dost nourish, - Yet which at length thou must be forced to lose. - When thou, surcharged with burthen of thy years, - Shalt bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth; - And that, in Beauty’s Lease expired, appears - The Date of Age, the Calends of our Death-- - But ah, no more!--this must not be foretold, - For women grieve to think they must be old. - - -VI - - I must not grieve my Love, whose eyes would read - Lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile; - Flowers have time before they come to seed, - And she is young, and now must sport the while. - And sport, Sweet Maid, in season of these years, - And learn to gather flowers before they wither; - And where the sweetest blossom first appears, - Let Love and Youth conduct thy pleasures thither. - Lighten forth smiles to clear the clouded air, - And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise; - Pity and smiles do best become the fair; - Pity and smiles must only yield thee praise. - Make me to say when all my griefs are gone, - Happy the heart that sighed for such a one! - - -VII - - Let others sing of Knights and Paladines - In agèd accents and untimely words, - Paint shadows in imaginary lines, - Which well the reach of their high wit records: - But I must sing of thee, and those fair eyes - Authentic shall my verse in time to come; - When yet th’ unborn shall say, _Lo, where she lies!_ - _Whose beauty made him speak, that else was dumb!_ - These are the arcs, the trophies I erect, - That fortify thy name against old age; - And these thy sacred virtues must protect - Against the Dark, and Time’s consuming rage. - Though th’ error of my youth in them appear, - Suffice, they show I lived, and loved thee dear. - - - - -MARK ALEXANDER BOYD - -1563-1601 - - -_114._ _Sonet_ - - Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin, - Ourhailit with my feeble fantasie; - Like til a leaf that fallis from a tree, - Or til a reed ourblawin with the win. - - Twa gods guides me: the ane of tham is blin, - Yea and a bairn brocht up in vanitie; - The next a wife ingenrit of the sea, - And lichter nor a dauphin with her fin. - - Unhappy is the man for evermair - That tills the sand and sawis in the air; - But twice unhappier is he, I lairn, - That feidis in his hairt a mad desire, - And follows on a woman throw the fire, - Led by a blind and teachit by a bairn. - - - - -JOSHUA SYLVESTER - -1563-1618 - - -_115._ _Ubique_ - - Were I as base as is the lowly plain, - And you, my Love, as high as heaven above, - Yet should the thoughts of me, your humble swain, - Ascend to heaven in honour of my love. - Were I as high as heaven above the plain, - And you, my Love, as humble and as low - As are the deepest bottoms of the main, - Wheresoe’er you were, with you my love should go. - Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies, - My love should shine on you like to the Sun, - And look upon you with ten thousand eyes, - Till heaven wax’d blind, and till the world were done. - Wheresoe’er I am,--below, or else above you-- - Wheresoe’er you are, my heart shall truly love you. - - - - -MICHAEL DRAYTON - -1563-1631 - - -_116._ _To His Coy Love_ - - I pray thee, leave, love me no more, - Call home the heart you gave me! - I but in vain that saint adore - That can but will not save me. - These poor half-kisses kill me quite-- - Was ever man thus servèd? - Amidst an ocean of delight - For pleasure to be starvèd? - - Show me no more those snowy breasts - With azure riverets branchèd, - Where, whilst mine eye with plenty feasts, - Yet is my thirst not stanchèd; - O Tantalus, thy pains ne’er tell! - By me thou art prevented: - ’Tis nothing to be plagued in Hell, - But thus in Heaven tormented. - - Clip me no more in those dear arms, - Nor thy life’s comfort call me, - O these are but too powerful charms, - And do but more enthral me! - But see how patient I am grown - In all this coil about thee: - Come, nice thing, let my heart alone, - I cannot live without thee! - - -_117._ _The Parting_ - - Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part-- - Nay, I have done, you get no more of me; - And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, - That thus so cleanly I myself can free. - Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, - And when we meet at any time again, - Be it not seen in either of our brows - That we one jot of former love retain. - Now at the last gasp of Love’s latest breath, - When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies, - When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, - And Innocence is closing up his eyes, - --Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over, - From death to life thou might’st him yet recover. - - -_118._ _Sirena_ - - Near to the silver _Trent_ - SIRENA dwelleth; - She to whom Nature lent - All that excelleth; - By which the Muses late - And the neat Graces - Have for their greater state - Taken their places; - Twisting an anadem - Wherewith to crown her, - As it belong’d to them - Most to renown her. - _On thy bank,_ - _In a rank,_ - _Let thy swans sing her,_ - _And with their music_ - _Along let them bring her._ - - _Tagus_ and _Pactolus_ - Are to thee debtor, - Nor for their gold to us - Are they the better: - Henceforth of all the rest - Be thou the River - Which, as the daintiest, - Puts them down ever. - For as my precious one - O’er thee doth travel, - She to pearl paragon - Turneth thy gravel. - _On thy bank ..._ - - Our mournful Philomel, - That rarest tuner, - Henceforth in Aperil - Shall wake the sooner, - And to her shall complain - From the thick cover, - Redoubling every strain - Over and over: - For when my Love too long - Her chamber keepeth, - As though it suffer’d wrong, - The Morning weepeth. - _On thy bank ..._ - - - Oft have I seen the Sun, - To do her honour, - Fix himself at his noon - To look upon her; - And hath gilt every grove, - Every hill near her, - With his flames from above - Striving to cheer her: - And when she from his sight - Hath herself turnèd, - He, as it had been night, - In clouds hath mournèd. - _On thy bank ..._ - - The verdant meads are seen, - When she doth view them, - In fresh and gallant green - Straight to renew them; - And every little grass - Broad itself spreadeth, - Proud that this bonny lass - Upon it treadeth: - Nor flower is so sweet - In this large cincture, - But it upon her feet - Leaveth some tincture. - _On thy bank ..._ - - The fishes in the flood, - When she doth angle, - For the hook strive a-good - Them to entangle; - And leaping on the land, - From the clear water, - Their scales upon the sand - Lavishly scatter; - Therewith to pave the mould - Whereon she passes, - So herself to behold - As in her glasses. - _On thy bank ..._ - - When she looks out by night, - The stars stand gazing, - Like comets to our sight - Fearfully blazing; - As wond’ring at her eyes - With their much brightness, - Which so amaze the skies, - Dimming their lightness. - The raging tempests are calm - When she speaketh, - Such most delightsome balm - From her lips breaketh. - _On thy bank ..._ - - In all our _Brittany_ - There’s not a fairer, - Nor can you fit any - Should you compare her. - Angels her eyelids keep, - All hearts surprising; - Which look whilst she doth sleep - Like the sun’s rising: - She alone of her kind - Knoweth true measure, - And her unmatchèd mind - Is heaven’s treasure. - _On thy bank ..._ - - - Fair _Dove_ and _Darwen_ clear, - Boast ye your beauties, - To _Trent_ your mistress here - Yet pay your duties: - My Love was higher born - Tow’rds the full fountains, - Yet she doth moorland scorn - And the _Peak_ mountains; - Nor would she none should dream - Where she abideth, - Humble as is the stream - Which by her slideth. - _On thy bank ..._ - - Yet my poor rustic Muse - Nothing can move her, - Nor the means I can use, - Though her true lover: - Many a long winter’s night - Have I waked for her, - Yet this my piteous plight - Nothing can stir her. - All thy sands, silver _Trent_, - Down to the _Humber_, - The sighs that I have spent - Never can number. - _On thy bank,_ - _In a rank,_ - _Let thy swans sing her,_ - _And with their music_ - _Along let them bring her._ - - -_119._ _Agincourt_ - - Fair stood the wind for France - When we our sails advance, - Nor now to prove our chance - Longer will tarry; - But putting to the main, - At Caux, the mouth of Seine, - With all his martial train - Landed King Harry. - - And taking many a fort, - Furnish’d in warlike sort, - Marcheth tow’rds Agincourt - In happy hour; - Skirmishing day by day - With those that stopp’d his way, - Where the French gen’ral lay - With all his power. - - Which, in his height of pride, - King Henry to deride, - His ransom to provide - Unto him sending; - Which he neglects the while - As from a nation vile, - Yet with an angry smile - Their fall portending. - - And turning to his men, - Quoth our brave Henry then, - ‘Though they to one be ten - Be not amazèd: - Yet have we well begun; - Battles so bravely won - Have ever to the sun - By fame been raisèd. - - ‘And for myself (quoth he) - This my full rest shall be: - England ne’er mourn for me - Nor more esteem me: - Victor I will remain - Or on this earth lie slain, - Never shall she sustain - Loss to redeem me. - - ‘Poitiers and Cressy tell, - When most their pride did swell, - Under our swords they fell: - No less our skill is - Than when our grandsire great, - Claiming the regal seat, - By many a warlike feat - Lopp’d the French lilies.’ - - The Duke of York so dread - The eager vaward led; - With the main Henry sped - Among his henchmen. - Excester had the rear, - A braver man not there; - O Lord, how hot they were - On the false Frenchmen! - - They now to fight are gone, - Armour on armour shone, - Drum now to drum did groan, - To hear was wonder; - That with the cries they make - The very earth did shake: - Trumpet to trumpet spake, - Thunder to thunder. - - Well it thine age became, - O noble Erpingham, - Which didst the signal aim - To our hid forces! - When from a meadow by, - Like a storm suddenly - The English archery - Stuck the French horses. - - With Spanish yew so strong, - Arrows a cloth-yard long - That like to serpents stung, - Piercing the weather; - None from his fellow starts, - But playing manly parts, - And like true English hearts - Stuck close together. - - When down their bows they threw, - And forth their bilbos drew, - And on the French they flew, - Not one was tardy; - Arms were from shoulders sent, - Scalps to the teeth were rent, - Down the French peasants went-- - Our men were hardy. - - This while our noble king, - His broadsword brandishing, - - bilbos] swords, from Bilboa. - - Down the French host did ding - As to o’erwhelm it; - And many a deep wound lent, - His arms with blood besprent, - And many a cruel dent - Bruisèd his helmet. - - Gloster, that duke so good, - Next of the royal blood, - For famous England stood - With his brave brother; - Clarence, in steel so bright, - Though but a maiden knight, - Yet in that furious fight - Scarce such another. - - Warwick in blood did wade, - Oxford the foe invade, - And cruel slaughter made - Still as they ran up; - Suffolk his axe did ply, - Beaumont and Willoughby - Bare them right doughtily, - Ferrers and Fanhope. - - Upon Saint Crispin’s Day - Fought was this noble fray, - Which fame did not delay - To England to carry. - O when shall English men - With such acts fill a pen? - Or England breed again - Such a King Harry? - - -_120._ _To the Virginian Voyage_ - - You brave heroic minds - Worthy your country’s name, - That honour still pursue; - Go and subdue! - Whilst loitering hinds - Lurk here at home with shame. - - Britons, you stay too long: - Quickly aboard bestow you, - And with a merry gale - Swell your stretch’d sail - With vows as strong - As the winds that blow you. - - Your course securely steer, - West and by south forth keep! - Rocks, lee-shores, nor shoals - When Eolus scowls - You need not fear; - So absolute the deep. - - And cheerfully at sea - Success you still entice - To get the pearl and gold, - And ours to hold - _Virginia,_ - Earth’s only paradise. - - Where nature hath in store - Fowl, venison, and fish, - And the fruitfull’st soil - Without your toil - Three harvests more, - All greater than your wish. - - - And the ambitious vine - Crowns with his purple mass - The cedar reaching high - To kiss the sky, - The cypress, pine, - And useful sassafras. - - To whom the Golden Age - Still nature’s laws doth give, - No other cares attend, - But them to defend - From winter’s rage, - That long there doth not live. - - When as the luscious smell - Of that delicious land - Above the seas that flows - The clear wind throws, - Your hearts to swell - Approaching the dear strand; - - In kenning of the shore - (Thanks to God first given) - O you the happiest men, - Be frolic then! - Let cannons roar, - Frighting the wide heaven. - - And in regions far, - Such heroes bring ye forth - As those from whom we came; - And plant our name - Under that star - Not known unto our North. - - - And as there plenty grows - Of laurel everywhere-- - Apollo’s sacred tree-- - You it may see - A poet’s brows - To crown, that may sing there. - - Thy _Voyages_ attend, - Industrious Hakluyt, - Whose reading shall inflame - Men to seek fame, - And much commend - To after times thy wit. - - - - -CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE - -1564-93 - - -_121._ _The Passionate Shepherd to His Love_ - - Come live with me and be my Love, - And we will all the pleasures prove - That hills and valleys, dales and fields - Or woods or steepy mountain yields. - - And we will sit upon the rocks, - And see the shepherds feed their flocks - By shallow rivers, to whose falls - Melodious birds sing madrigals. - - And I will make thee beds of roses - And a thousand fragrant posies; - A cap of flowers, and a kirtle - Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle. - - - A gown made of the finest wool - Which from our pretty lambs we pull; - Fair-linèd slippers for the cold, - With buckles of the purest gold. - - A belt of straw and ivy-buds - With coral clasps and amber studs: - And if these pleasures may thee move, - Come live with me and be my Love. - - The shepherd swains shall dance and sing - For thy delight each May morning: - If these delights thy mind may move, - Then live with me and be my Love. - - -_122._ _Her Reply_ - -(WRITTEN BY SIR WALTER RALEIGH) - - If all the world and love were young, - And truth in every shepherd’s tongue, - These pretty pleasures might me move - To live with thee and be thy Love. - - But Time drives flocks from field to fold; - When rivers rage and rocks grow cold; - And Philomel becometh dumb; - The rest complains of cares to come. - - The flowers do fade, and wanton fields - To wayward Winter reckoning yields: - A honey tongue, a heart of gall, - Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall. - - - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, - Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, - Soon break, soon wither--soon forgotten, - In folly ripe, in reason rotten. - - Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, - Thy coral clasps and amber studs,-- - All these in me no means can move - To come to thee and be thy Love. - - But could youth last, and love still breed, - Had joys no date, nor age no need, - Then these delights my mind might move - To live with thee and be thy Love. - - - - -WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE - -1564-1616 - - -_123._ _Silvia_ - - Who is Silvia? What is she? - That all our swains commend her? - Holy, fair, and wise is she; - The heaven such grace did lend her, - That she might admirèd be. - - Is she kind as she is fair? - For beauty lives with kindness: - Love doth to her eyes repair, - To help him of his blindness; - And, being help’d, inhabits there. - - Then to Silvia let us sing, - That Silvia is excelling; - She excels each mortal thing - Upon the dull earth dwelling: - To her let us garlands bring. - - -_124._ _The Blossom_ - - On a day--alack the day!-- - Love, whose month is ever May, - Spied a blossom passing fair - Playing in the wanton air: - Through the velvet leaves the wind - All unseen ’gan passage find; - That the lover, sick to death, - Wish’d himself the heaven’s breath. - Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow; - Air, would I might triumph so! - But, alack, my hand is sworn - Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn: - Vow, alack, for youth unmeet; - Youth so apt to pluck a sweet! - Do not call it sin in me - That I am forsworn for thee; - Thou for whom e’en Jove would swear - Juno but an Ethiop were; - And deny himself for Jove, - Turning mortal for thy love. - - -_Spring and Winter_ - -_125._ _i_ - - When daisies pied and violets blue, - And lady-smocks all silver-white, - And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue - Do paint the meadows with delight, - The cuckoo then, on every tree, - Mocks married men; for thus sings he, - Cuckoo! - Cuckoo, cuckoo!--O word of fear, - Unpleasing to a married ear! - - When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, - And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks, - When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, - And maidens bleach their summer smocks - The cuckoo then, on every tree, - Mocks married men; for thus sings he, - Cuckoo! - Cuckoo, cuckoo!--O word of fear, - Unpleasing to a married ear! - - -_126._ _ii_ - - When icicles hang by the wall, - And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, - And Tom bears logs into the hall, - And milk comes frozen home in pail, - When blood is nipp’d, and ways be foul, - Then nightly sings the staring owl, - To-whit! - To-who!--a merry note. - While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. - - When all aloud the wind doth blow, - And coughing drowns the parson’s saw, - And birds sit brooding in the snow, - And Marian’s nose looks red and raw, - When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, - Then nightly sings the staring owl, - To-whit! - To-who!--a merry note, - While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. - - _126._ keel] skim. - - -_Fairy Land_ - -_127._ _i_ - - Over hill, over dale, - Thorough bush, thorough brier, - Over park, over pale, - Thorough flood, thorough fire, - I do wander everywhere. - Swifter than the moonè’s sphere; - And I serve the fairy queen, - To dew her orbs upon the green: - The cowslips tall her pensioners be; - In their gold coats spots you see; - Those be rubies, fairy favours, - In those freckles live their savours: - I must go seek some dew-drops here, - And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear. - - -_128._ _ii_ - - You spotted snakes with double tongue, - Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen; - Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong; - Come not near our fairy queen. - - Philomel, with melody, - Sing in our sweet lullaby; - Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! - Never harm, - Nor spell nor charm, - Come our lovely lady nigh; - So, good night, with lullaby. - - Weaving spiders, come not here; - Hence, you long-legg’d spinners, hence! - Beetles black, approach not near; - Worm nor snail, do no offence. - - Philomel, with melody, - Sing in our sweet lullaby; - Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! - Never harm. - Nor spell nor charm, - Come our lovely lady nigh; - So, good night, with lullaby. - - -_129._ _iii_ - - Come unto these yellow sands, - And then take hands: - Court’sied when you have, and kiss’d,-- - The wild waves whist,-- - Foot it featly here and there; - And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear. - Hark, hark! - Bow, wow, - The watch-dogs bark. - Bow, wow. - Hark, hark! I hear - The strain of strutting chanticleer - Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow! - - -_130._ _iv_ - - Where the bee sucks, there suck I: - In a cowslip’s bell I lie; - There I couch when owls do cry. - On the bat’s back I do fly - After summer merrily: - Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, - Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. - - -_131._ _v_ - - Full fathom five thy father lies; - Of his bones are coral made; - Those are pearls that were his eyes: - Nothing of him that doth fade, - But doth suffer a sea-change - Into something rich and strange. - Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: - Ding-dong. - Hark! now I hear them-- - Ding-dong, bell! - - -_132._ _Love_ - - Tell me where is Fancy bred, - Or in the heart or in the head? - How begot, how nourishèd? - Reply, reply. - It is engender’d in the eyes, - With gazing fed; and Fancy dies - In the cradle where it lies. - Let us all ring Fancy’s knell: - I’ll begin it,--Ding, dong, bell. - _All._ Ding, dong, bell. - - -_133._ _Sweet-and-Twenty_ - - O mistress mine, where are you roaming? - O, stay and hear! your true love’s coming, - That can sing both high and low: - Trip no further, pretty sweeting; - Journeys end in lovers meeting, - Every wise man’s son doth know. - - - What is love? ’tis not hereafter; - Present mirth hath present laughter; - What’s to come is still unsure: - In delay there lies no plenty; - Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty! - Youth’s a stuff will not endure. - - -_134._ _Dirge_ - - Come away, come away, death, - And in sad cypres let me be laid; - Fly away, fly away, breath; - I am slain by a fair cruel maid. - My shroud of white, stuck all with yew, - O prepare it! - My part of death, no one so true - Did share it. - - Not a flower, not a flower sweet, - On my black coffin let there be strown; - Not a friend, not a friend greet - My poor corse, where my bones shall be thrown: - A thousand thousand sighs to save, - Lay me, O, where - Sad true lover never find my grave - To weep there! - - _134._ cypres] crape. - - -_135._ _Under the Greenwood Tree_ - -_Amiens_ sings: - - Under the greenwood tree, - Who loves to lie with me, - And turn his merry note - Unto the sweet bird’s throat, - Come hither, come hither, come hither: - Here shall he see - No enemy - But winter and rough weather. - - Who doth ambition shun, - And loves to live i’ the sun, - Seeking the food he eats, - And pleased with what he gets, - Come hither, come hither, come hither: - Here shall he see - No enemy - But winter and rough weather. - -_Jaques_ replies: - - If it do come to pass - That any man turn ass, - Leaving his wealth and ease - A stubborn will to please, - Ducdamè, ducdamè, ducdamè: - Here shall he see - Gross fools as he, - An if he will come to me. - - -_136._ _Blow blow, thou Winter Wind_ - - Blow, blow, thou winter wind, - Thou art not so unkind - As man’s ingratitude; - Thy tooth is not so keen, - Because thou art not seen, - Although thy breath be rude. - Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly: - Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: - Then heigh ho, the holly! - This life is most jolly. - - Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, - That dost not bite so nigh - As benefits forgot: - Though thou the waters warp, - Thy sting is not so sharp - As friend remember’d not. - Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly: - Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: - Then heigh ho, the holly! - This life is most jolly. - - -_137._ _It was a Lover and his Lass_ - - It was a lover and his lass, - With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, - That o’er the green corn-field did pass, - In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, - When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; - Sweet lovers love the spring. - - Between the acres of the rye, - With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, - These pretty country folks would lie, - In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, - When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; - Sweet lovers love the spring. - - This carol they began that hour, - With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, - How that life was but a flower - In the 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 the spring time, the only pretty ring time, - When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; - Sweet lovers love the spring. - - -_138._ _Take, O take those Lips away_ - - Take, O take those lips away, - That so sweetly were forsworn; - And those eyes, the break of day, - Lights that do mislead the morn! - But my kisses bring again, - Bring again; - Seals of love, but seal’d in vain, - Seal’d in vain! - - -_139._ _Aubade_ - - Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings, - And Phœbus ’gins arise, - His steeds to water at those springs - On chaliced flowers that lies; - And winking Mary-buds begin - To ope their golden eyes: - With everything that pretty bin, - My lady sweet, arise! - Arise, arise! - - -_140._ _Fidele_ - - Fear no more the heat o’ the sun, - Nor the furious winter’s rages; - Thou thy worldly task hast done, - Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages - Golden lads and girls all must, - As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. - - Fear no more the frown o’ the great, - Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke; - Care no more to clothe and eat; - To thee the reed is as the oak: - The sceptre, learning, physic, must - All follow this, and come to dust. - - Fear no more the lightning-flash, - Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone; - Fear not slander, censure rash; - Thou hast finished joy and moan: - All lovers young, all lovers must - Consign to thee, and come to dust. - - No exerciser harm thee! - Nor no witchcraft charm thee! - Ghost unlaid forbear thee! - Nothing ill come near thee! - Quiet consummation have; - And renownèd be thy grave! - - -_141._ _Bridal Song_ - - Roses, their sharp spines being gone, - Not royal in their smells alone, - But in their hue; - Maiden pinks, of odour faint, - Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint, - And sweet thyme true; - - Primrose, firstborn child of Ver; - Merry springtime’s harbinger, - With her bells dim; - Oxlips in their cradles growing, - Marigolds on death-beds blowing, - Larks’-heels trim; - - All dear Nature’s children sweet - Lie ’fore bride and bridegroom’s feet, - Blessing their sense! - Not an angel of the air, - Bird melodious or bird fair, - Be absent hence! - - The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor - The boding raven, nor chough hoar, - Nor chattering pye, - May on our bride-house perch or sing, - Or with them any discord bring, - But from it fly! - -? or _John Fletcher_. - - -_142._ _Dirge of the Three Queens_ - - URNS and odours bring away! - Vapours, sighs, darken the day! - Our dole more deadly looks than dying; - Balms and gums and heavy cheers, - Sacred vials fill’d with tears, - And clamours through the wild air flying! - - Come, all sad and solemn shows, - That are quick-eyed Pleasure’s foes! - We convènt naught else but woes. - -? or _John Fletcher_. - - _142._ dole] lamentation. convent] summon. - - -_143._ _Orpheus_ - - Orpheus with his lute made trees - And the mountain tops that freeze - Bow themselves when he did sing: - To his music plants and flowers - Ever sprung; as sun and showers - There had made a lasting spring. - - Every thing that heard him play, - Even the billows of the sea, - Hung their heads and then lay by. - In sweet music is such art, - Killing care and grief of heart - Fall asleep, or hearing, die. - -? or _John Fletcher_. - - -_144._ _The Phœnix and the Turtle_ - - Let the bird of loudest lay - On the sole Arabian tree, - Herald sad and trumpet be, - To whose sound chaste wings obey. - - But thou shrieking harbinger, - Foul precurrer of the fiend, - Augur of the fever’s end, - To this troop come thou not near. - - From this session interdict - Every fowl of tyrant wing - Save the eagle, feather’d king: - Keep the obsequy so strict. - - Let the priest in surplice white - That defunctive music can, - Be the death-divining swan, - Lest the requiem lack his right. - - And thou, treble-dated crow, - That thy sable gender mak’st - With the breath thou giv’st and tak’st, - ’Mongst our mourners shalt thou go. - - Here the anthem doth commence:-- - Love and constancy is dead; - Phœnix and the turtle fled - In a mutual flame from hence. - - So they loved, as love in twain - Had the essence but in one; - Two distincts, division none; - Number there in love was slain. - - can] knows. - - Hearts remote, yet not asunder; - Distance, and no space was seen - ’Twixt the turtle and his queen: - But in them it were a wonder. - - So between them love did shine, - That the turtle saw his right - Flaming in the phœnix’ sight; - Either was the other’s mine. - - Property was thus appall’d, - That the self was not the same; - Single nature’s double name - Neither two nor one was call’d. - - Reason, in itself confounded, - Saw division grow together; - To themselves yet either neither; - Simple were so well compounded, - - That it cried, ‘How true a twain - Seemeth this concordant one! - Love hath reason, reason none - If what parts can so remain.’ - - Whereupon it made this threne - To the phœnix and the dove, - Co-supremes and stars of love, - As chorus to their tragic scene. - - -_THRENOS_ - - Beauty, truth, and rarity, - Grace in all simplicity, - Here enclosed in cinders lie. - - - Death is now the phœnix’ nest; - And the turtle’s loyal breast - To eternity doth rest, - - Leaving no posterity: - ’Twas not their infirmity, - It was married chastity. - - Truth may seem, but cannot be; - Beauty brag, but ’tis not she; - Truth and beauty buried be. - - To this urn let those repair - That are either true or fair; - For these dead birds sigh a prayer. - - -_Sonnets_ - - -_145._ _i_ - - Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day? - Thou art more lovely and more temperate: - Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, - And Summer’s lease hath all too short a date: - Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, - And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; - And every fair from fair sometime declines, - By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d: - But thy eternal Summer shall not fade - Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; - Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade, - When in eternal lines to time thou growest: - So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, - So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. - - -_146._ _ii_ - - When, in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes, - I all alone beweep my outcast state, - And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, - And look upon myself, and curse my fate, - Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, - Featured like him, like him with friends possest, - Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope, - With what I most enjoy contented least; - Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising-- - Haply I think on thee: and then my state, - Like to the Lark at break of day arising - From sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven’s gate; - For thy sweet love rememb’red such wealth brings - That then I scorn to change my state with Kings. - - -_147._ _iii_ - - When to the Sessions of sweet silent thought - I summon up remembrance of things past, - I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, - And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste: - Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow, - For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night, - And weep afresh love’s long-since-cancell’d woe, - And moan th’ expense of many a vanish’d sight: - Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, - And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er - The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan, - Which I new pay as if not paid before. - But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, - All losses are restored and sorrows end. - - -_148._ _iv_ - - Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts - Which I, by lacking, have supposèd dead; - And there reigns Love, and all Love’s loving parts, - And all those friends which I thought burièd. - How many a holy and obsequious tear - Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye, - As interest of the dead!--which now appear - But things removed that hidden in thee lie. - Thou art the grave where buried love doth live. - Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone. - Who all their parts of me to thee did give: - --That due of many now is thine alone: - Their images I loved I view in thee, - And thou, all they, hast all the all of me. - - -_149._ _v_ - - What is your substance, whereof are you made, - That millions of strange shadows on you tend? - Since every one hath, every one, one shade, - And you, but one, can every shadow lend. - Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit - Is poorly imitated after you; - On Helen’s cheek all art of beauty set, - And you in Grecian tires are painted new: - Speak of the spring and foison of the year, - The one doth shadow of your beauty show. - The other as your bounty doth appear; - And you in every blessèd shape we know. - In all external grace you have some part, - But you like none, none you, for constant heart. - - _149._ foison] plenty. - - -_150._ _vi_ - - O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem - By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! - The Rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem - For that sweet odour which doth in it live. - The Canker-blooms have full as deep a dye - As the perfumèd tincture of the Roses, - Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly - When summer’s breath their maskèd buds discloses: - But--for their virtue only is their show-- - They live unwoo’d and unrespected fade, - Die to themselves. Sweet Roses do not so; - Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made. - And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth, - When that shall vade, my verse distils your truth. - - -_151._ _vii_ - - Being your slave, what should I do but tend - Upon the hours and times of your desire? - I have no precious time at all to spend, - Nor services to do, till you require. - Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour - Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, - Nor think the bitterness of absence sour - When you have bid your servant once adieu; - Nor dare I question with my jealous thought - Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, - But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought - Save, where you are how happy you make those! - So true a fool is love, that in your Will, - Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. - - -_152._ _viii_ - - That time of year thou may’st in me behold - When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang - Upon those boughs which shake against the cold-- - Bare ruin’d choirs where late the sweet birds sang. - In me thou see’st the twilight of such day - As after Sunset fadeth in the West, - Which by and by black night doth take away, - Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest. - In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire - That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, - As the death-bed whereon it must expire, - Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by. - This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong - To love that well which thou must leave ere long. - - -_153._ _ix_ - - Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, - And like enough thou know’st thy estimate: - The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; - My bonds in thee are all determinate. - For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? - And for that riches where is my deserving? - The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting, - And so my patent back again is swerving. - Thyself thou gav’st, thy own worth then not knowing, - Or me, to whom thou gav’st it, else mistaking; - So thy great gift, upon misprision growing, - Comes home again, on better judgment making. - Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter - In sleep a King; but waking, no such matter. - - -_154._ _x_ - - Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now; - Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross. - Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow, - And do not drop in for an after loss: - Ah! do not, when my heart hath ’scaped this sorrow, - Come in the rearward of a conquered woe; - Give not a windy night a rainy morrow, - To linger out a purposed overthrow. - If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, - When other petty griefs have done their spite, - But in the onset come: so shall I taste - At first the very worst of fortune’s might; - And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, - Compared with loss of thee will not seem so! - - -_155._ _xi_ - - They that have power to hurt and will do none, - That do not do the thing they most do show, - Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, - Unmovèd, cold, and to temptation slow-- - They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces, - And husband nature’s riches from expense; - They are the Lords and owners of their faces, - Others, but stewards of their excellence. - The summer’s flower is to the summer sweet, - Though to itself it only live and die; - But if that flower with base infection meet, - The basest weed outbraves his dignity: - For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; - Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. - - -_156._ _xii_ - - How like a Winter hath my absence been - From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! - What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen, - What old December’s bareness everywhere! - And yet this time removed was summer’s time; - The teeming Autumn, big with rich increase, - Bearing the wanton burden of the prime - Like widow’d wombs after their Lord’s decease: - Yet this abundant issue seem’d to me - But hope of orphans and unfather’d fruit; - For Summer and his pleasures wait on thee, - And, thou away, the very birds are mute: - Or if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheer - That leaves look pale, dreading the Winter’s near. - - -_157._ _xiii_ - - From you have I been absent in the spring, - When proud-pied April, dress’d in all his trim, - Hath put a spirit of youth in everything, - That heavy Saturn laugh’d and leap’d with him. - Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell - Of different flowers in odour and in hue, - Could make me any summer’s story tell, - Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; - Nor did I wonder at the Lily’s white, - Nor praise the deep vermilion in the Rose; - They were but sweet, but figures of delight, - Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. - Yet seem’d it Winter still, and, you away, - As with your shadow I with these did play. - - -_158._ _xiv_ - - My love is strengthen’d, though more weak in seeming; - I love not less, though less the show appear: - That love is merchandised whose rich esteeming - The owner’s tongue doth publish everywhere. - Our love was new, and then but in the spring, - When I was wont to greet it with my lays; - As Philomel in summer’s front doth sing - And stops her pipe in growth of riper days: - Not that the summer is less pleasant now - Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, - But that wild music burthens every bough, - And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. - Therefore, like her, I sometime hold my tongue, - Because I would not dull you with my song. - - -_159._ _xv_ - - To me, fair friend, you never can be old; - For as you were when first your eye I eyed, - Such seems your beauty still. Three Winters cold - Have from the forests shook three Summers’ pride; - Three beauteous springs to yellow Autumn turn’d - In process of the seasons have I seen, - Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d, - Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green, - Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, - Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived; - So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand, - Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived: - For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred: - Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead. - - -_160._ _xvi_ - - When in the chronicle of wasted time - I see descriptions of the fairest wights, - And beauty making beautiful old rime - In praise of Ladies dead and lovely Knights; - Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best, - Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, - I see their antique pen would have exprest - Even such a beauty as you master now. - So all their praises are but prophecies - Of this our time, all you prefiguring; - And for they look’d but with divining eyes, - They had not skill enough your worth to sing: - For we, which now behold these present days, - Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise. - - -_161._ _xvii_ - - O never say that I was false of heart, - Though absence seem’d my flame to qualify! - As easy might I from myself depart, - As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie: - That is my home of love; if I have ranged, - Like him that travels I return again, - Just to the time, not with the time exchanged, - So that myself bring water for my stain. - Never believe, though in my nature reign’d - All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood, - That it could so prepost’rously be stain’d, - To leave for nothing all thy sum of good: - For nothing this wide Universe I call, - Save thou, my Rose; in it thou art my all. - - -_162._ _xviii_ - - Let me not to the marriage of true minds - Admit impediments. Love is not love - Which alters when it alteration finds, - Or bends with the remover to remove: - O, no! it is an ever-fixèd mark, - That looks on tempests and is never shaken; - It is the star to every wand’ring bark, - Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. - Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks - Within his bending sickle’s compass come; - Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, - But bears it out even to the edge of doom:-- - If this be error and upon me proved, - I never writ, nor no man ever loved. - - -_163._ _xix_ - - Th’ expense of Spirit in a waste of shame - Is lust in action; and till action, lust - Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame, - Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust; - Enjoy’d no sooner but despisèd straight; - Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had, - Past reason hated, as a swallow’d bait - On purpose laid to make the taker mad: - Mad in pursuit, and in possession so; - Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; - A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe; - Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream. - All this the world well knows; yet none knows well - To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell. - - -_164._ _xx_ - - Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth-- - My sinful earth these rebel powers array-- - Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth, - Painting thy outward walls so costly gay? - Why so large cost, having so short a lease, - Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend? - Shall worms, inheritors of this excess, - Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body’s end? - Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant’s loss, - And let that pine to aggravate thy store; - Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross; - Within be fed, without be rich no more: - So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men; - And Death once dead, there’s no more dying then. - - - - -RICHARD ROWLANDS - -1565-1630? - - -_165._ _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 thyself - Vouchsafing to be mine. - Sing lullaby, my little boy, - Sing lullaby, mine only joy! - - - - -THOMAS NASHE - -1567-1601 - - -_166._ _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! - - -_167._ _In Time of Pestilence_ - -1593 - - 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 CAMPION - -1567?-1619 - - -_168._ _Cherry-Ripe_ - - There is a garden in her face - Where roses and white lilies blow; - A heavenly paradise is that place, - Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow: - There cherries grow which none may buy - Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry. - - Those cherries fairly do enclose - Of orient pearl a double row, - Which when her lovely laughter shows, - They look like rose-buds fill’d with snow; - Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy - Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry. - - - Her eyes like angels watch them still; - Her brows like bended bows do stand, - Threat’ning with piercing frowns to kill - All that attempt with eye or hand - Those sacred cherries to come nigh, - Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry. - - -_169._ _Laura_ - - Rose-cheek’d _Laura_, come; - Sing thou smoothly with thy beauty’s - Silent music, either other - Sweetly gracing. - - Lovely forms do flow - From concent divinely framèd: - Heaven is music, and thy beauty’s - Birth is heavenly. - - These dull notes we sing - Discords need for helps to grace them; - Only beauty purely loving - Knows no discord; - - But still moves delight, - Like clear springs renew’d by flowing, - Ever perfect, ever in them- - selves eternal. - - -_Devotion_ - -_170._ _i_ - - 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. - - -_171._ _ii_ - - Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet! - Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet! - There, wrapt in cloud of sorrow, pity move, - And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love: - But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain, - Then burst with sighing in her sight, and ne’er return again! - - All that I sung still to her praise did tend; - Still she was first, still she my songs did end; - Yet she my love and music both doth fly, - The music that her echo is and beauty’s sympathy: - Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight! - It shall suffice that they were breathed and died for her delight. - - -_172._ _Vobiscum est Iope_ - - When thou must home to shades of underground, - And there arrived, a new admirèd guest, - The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round, - White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest, - To hear the stories of thy finish’d love - From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move; - - Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights, - Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make, - Of tourneys and great challenges of knights, - And all these triumphs for thy beauty’s sake: - When thou hast told these honours done to thee, - Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me! - - -_173._ _Hymn in Praise of Neptune_ - - Of Neptune’s empire let us sing, - At whose command the waves obey; - To whom the rivers tribute pay, - Down the high mountains sliding: - To whom the scaly nation yields - Homage for the crystal fields - Wherein they dwell: - And every sea-dog pays a gem - Yearly out of his wat’ry cell - To deck great Neptune’s diadem. - - The Tritons dancing in a ring - Before his palace gates do make - The water with their echoes quake, - Like the great thunder sounding: - The sea-nymphs chant their accents shrill, - And the sirens, taught to kill - With their sweet voice, - Make ev’ry echoing rock reply - Unto their gentle murmuring noise - The praise of Neptune’s empery. - - -_174._ _Winter Nights_ - - Now winter nights enlarge - The number of their hours, - And clouds their storms discharge - Upon the airy towers. - Let now the chimneys blaze - And cups o’erflow with wine; - Let well-tuned words amaze - With harmony divine. - Now yellow waxen lights - Shall wait on honey love, - While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights - Sleep’s leaden spells remove. - - This time doth well dispense - With lovers’ long discourse; - Much speech hath some defence - Though beauty no remorse. - All do not all things well; - Some measures comely tread, - Some knotted riddles tell, - Some poems smoothly read. - The summer hath his joys, - And winter his delights; - Though love and all his pleasures are but toys, - They shorten tedious nights. - - -_175._ _Integer Vitae_ - - 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. - - -_176._ _O come quickly!_ - - Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore, - Never tirèd pilgrim’s limbs affected slumber more, - Than my wearied sprite now longs to fly out of my troubled breast: - O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soul to rest! - - Ever blooming are the joys of heaven’s high Paradise, - Cold age deafs not there our ears nor vapour dims our eyes: - Glory there the sun outshines; whose beams the Blessèd only see: - O come quickly, glorious Lord, and raise my sprite to Thee! - - - - -JOHN REYNOLDS - -16th Cent. - - -_177._ _A Nosegay_ - - Say, crimson Rose and dainty Daffodil, - With Violet blue; - Since you have seen the beauty of my saint, - And eke her view; - Did not her sight (fair sight!) you lonely fill, - With sweet delight - Of goddess’ grace and angels’ sacred teint - In fine, most bright? - - Say, golden Primrose, sanguine Cowslip fair, - With Pink most fine; - Since you beheld the visage of my dear, - And eyes divine; - - _177._ teint] tint, hue. - - Did not her globy front, and glistering hair, - With cheeks most sweet, - So gloriously like damask flowers appear, - The gods to greet? - - Say, snow-white Lily, speckled Gillyflower, - With Daisy gay; - Since you have viewed the Queen of my desire, - In her array; - Did not her ivory paps, fair Venus’ bower, - With heavenly glee, - A Juno’s grace, conjure you to require - Her face to see? - - Say Rose, say Daffodil, and Violet blue, - With Primrose fair, - Since ye have seen my nymph’s sweet dainty face - And gesture rare, - Did not (bright Cowslip, blooming Pink) her view - (White Lily) shine-- - (Ah, Gillyflower, ah Daisy!) with a grace - Like stars divine? - - - - -SIR HENRY WOTTON - -1568-1639 - - -_178._ _Elizabeth of Bohemia_ - - You meaner beauties of the night, - That poorly satisfy our eyes - More by your number than your light, - You common people of the skies; - What are you when the moon shall rise? - - - You curious chanters of the wood, - That warble forth Dime Nature’s lays, - Thinking your passions understood - By your weak accents; what’s your praise - When Philomel her voice shall raise? - - You violets that first appear, - By your pure purple mantles known - Like the proud virgins of the year, - As if the spring were all your own; - What are you when the rose is blown? - - So, when my mistress shall be seen - In form and beauty of her mind, - By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, - Tell me, if she were not design’d - Th’ eclipse and glory of her kind. - - -_179._ _The Character of a Happy Life_ - - 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! - - Whose passions not his masters are; - Whose soul is still prepared for death, - Untied unto the world by care - Of public fame or private breath; - - Who envies none that chance doth raise, - Nor vice; who never understood - How deepest wounds are given by praise; - Nor rules of state, but rules of good; - Who hath his life from rumours freed; - Whose conscience is his strong retreat; - Whose state can neither flatterers feed, - Nor ruin make oppressors great; - - Who God doth late and early pray - More of His grace than gifts to lend; - And entertains the harmless day - With a religious 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. - - -_180._ _Upon the Death of Sir Albert Morton’s Wife_ - - He first deceased; she for a little tried - To live without him, liked it not, and died. - - - - -SIR JOHN DAVIES - -1569-1626 - - -_181._ _Man_ - - I know my soul hath power to know all things, - Yet she is blind and ignorant in all: - I know I’m 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 mock’d in everything; - And, to conclude, I know myself a Man-- - Which is a proud and yet a wretched thing. - - - - -SIR ROBERT AYTON - -1570-1638 - - -_182._ _To His Forsaken Mistress_ - - I do confess thou’rt smooth and fair, - And I might have gone near to love thee, - Had I not found the slightest prayer - That lips could move, had power to move thee; - But I can let thee now alone - As worthy to be loved by none. - - I do confess thou’rt sweet; yet find - Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets, - Thy favours are but like the wind - That kisseth everything it meets: - And since thou canst with more than one, - Thou’rt worthy to be kiss’d by none. - - The morning rose that untouch’d stands - Arm’d with her briers, how sweet she smells! - But pluck’d and strain’d through ruder hands, - Her sweets no longer with her dwells: - But scent and beauty both are gone, - And leaves fall from her, one by one. - - Such fate ere long will thee betide - When thou hast handled been awhile, - With sere flowers to be thrown aside; - And I shall sigh, while some will smile, - To see thy love to every one - Hath brought thee to be loved by none. - - -_183._ _To an Inconstant One_ - - I loved thee once; I’ll love no more-- - Thine be the grief as is the blame; - Thou art not what thou wast before, - What reason I should be the same? - He that can love unloved again, - Hath better store of love than brain: - God send me love my debts to pay, - While unthrifts fool their love away! - - Nothing could have my love o’erthrown - If thou hadst still continued mine; - Yea, if thou hadst remain’d thy own, - I might perchance have yet been thine. - But thou thy freedom didst recall - That it thou might elsewhere enthral: - And then how could I but disdain - A captive’s captive to remain? - - When new desires had conquer’d thee - And changed the object of thy will, - It had been lethargy in me, - Not constancy, to love thee still. - Yea, it had been a sin to go - And prostitute affection so: - Since we are taught no prayers to say - To such as must to others pray. - - - Yet do thou glory in thy choice-- - Thy choice of his good fortune boast; - I’ll neither grieve nor yet rejoice - To see him gain what I have lost: - The height of my disdain shall be - To laugh at him, to blush for thee; - To love thee still, but go no more - A-begging at a beggar’s door. - - - - -BEN JONSON - -1573-1637 - - -_184._ _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. - - -_185._ _To Celia_ - - Drink to me only with thine eyes, - And I will pledge with mine; - Or leave a kiss but in the cup - And I’ll not look for wine. - The thirst that from the soul doth rise - Doth ask a drink divine; - But might I of Jove’s nectar sup, - I would not change for thine. - - I sent thee late a rosy wreath, - Not so much honouring thee - As giving it a hope that there - It could not wither’d be; - But thou thereon didst only breathe, - And sent’st it back to me; - Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, - Not of itself but thee! - - -_186._ _Simplex Munditiis_ - - Still to be neat, still to be drest, - As you were going to a feast; - Still to be powder’d, still perfumed: - Lady, it is to be presumed, - Though art’s hid causes are not found, - All is not sweet, all is not sound. - - Give me a look, give me a face - That makes simplicity a grace; - Robes loosely flowing, hair as free: - Such sweet neglect more taketh me - Than all th’ adulteries of art; - They strike mine eyes, but not my heart. - - -_187._ _The Shadow_ - - Follow a shadow, it still flies you; - Seem to fly it, it will pursue: - So court a mistress, she denies you; - Let her alone, she will court you. - Say, are not women truly, then, - Styled but the shadows of us men? - - At morn and even, shades are longest; - At noon they are or short or none: - So men at weakest, they are strongest, - But grant us perfect, they’re not known. - Say, are not women truly, then, - Styled but the shadows of us men? - - -_188._ _The Triumph_ - - See the Chariot at hand here of Love, - Wherein my Lady rideth! - Each that draws is a swan or a dove, - And well the car Love guideth. - As she goes, all hearts do duty - Unto her beauty; - And enamour’d do wish, so they might - But enjoy such a sight, - That they still were to run by her side, - Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride. - - Do but look on her eyes, they do light - All that Love’s world compriseth! - Do but look on her hair, it is bright - As Love’s star when it riseth! - Do but mark, her forehead’s smoother - Than words that soothe her; - And from her arch’d brows such a grace - Sheds itself through the face, - As alone there triumphs to the life - All the gain, all the good, of the elements’ strife. - - Have you seen but a bright lily grow - Before rude hands have touch’d it? - Have you mark’d but the fall of the snow - Before the soil hath smutch’d it? - Have you felt the wool of beaver, - Or swan’s down ever? - O have smelt o’ the bud o’ the brier, - Or the nard in the fire? - Or have tasted the bag of the bee? - O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she! - - -_189._ _An Elegy_ - - Though beauty be the mark of praise, - And yours of whom I sing be such - As not the world can praise too much, - Yet ’tis your Virtue now I raise. - - A virtue, like allay so gone - Throughout your form as, though that move - And draw and conquer all men’s love, - This subjects you to love of one. - - Wherein you triumph yet--because - ’Tis of your flesh, and that you use - The noblest freedom, not to choose - Against or faith or honour’s laws. - - _189._ allay] alloy. - - But who should less expect from you? - In whom alone Love lives again: - By whom he is restored to men, - And kept and bred and brought up true. - - His falling temples you have rear’d, - The withered garlands ta’en away; - His altars kept from that decay - That envy wish’d, and nature fear’d: - - And on them burn so chaste a flame, - With so much loyalty’s expense, - As Love to acquit such excellence - Is gone himself into your name. - - And you are he--the deity - To whom all lovers are design’d - That would their better objects find - Among which faithful troop am I-- - - Who as an off’ring at your shrine - Have sung this hymn, and here entreat - One spark of your diviner heat - To light upon a love of mine. - - Which if it kindle not, but scant - Appear, and that to shortest view; - Yet give me leave to adore in you - What I in her am grieved to want! - - -_190._ _A Farewell to the World_ - - False world, good night! since thou hast brought - That hour upon my morn of age; - Henceforth I quit thee from my thought, - My part is ended on thy stage. - - - Yes, threaten, do. Alas! I fear - As little as I hope from thee: - I know thou canst not show nor bear - More hatred than thou hast to me. - - My tender, first, and simple years - Thou didst abuse and then betray; - Since stir’d’st up jealousies and fears, - When all the causes were away. - - Then in a soil hast planted me - Where breathe the basest of thy fools; - Where envious arts professèd be, - And pride and ignorance the schools; - - Where nothing is examined, weigh’d, - But as ’tis rumour’d, so believed; - Where every freedom is betray’d, - And every goodness tax’d or grieved. - - But what we’re born for, we must bear: - Our frail condition it is such - That what to all may happen here, - If ’t chance to me, I must not grutch. - - Else I my state should much mistake - To harbour a divided thought - From all my kind--that, for my sake, - There should a miracle be wrought. - - No, I do know that I was born - To age, misfortune, sickness, grief: - But I will bear these with that scorn - As shall not need thy false relief. - - - Nor for my peace will I go far, - As wanderers do, that still do roam; - But make my strengths, such as they are, - Here in my bosom, and at home. - - -_191._ _The Noble Balm_ - - High-spirited friend, - I send nor balms nor cor’sives to your wound: - Your fate hath found - A gentler and more agile hand to tend - The cure of that which is but corporal; - And doubtful days, which were named critical, - Have made their fairest flight - And now are out of sight. - Yet doth some wholesome physic for the mind - Wrapp’d in this paper lie, - Which in the taking if you misapply, - You are unkind. - - Your covetous hand, - Happy in that fair honour it hath gain’d, - Must now be rein’d. - True valour doth her own renown command - In one full action; nor have you now more - To do, than be a husband of that store. - Think but how dear you bought - This fame which you have caught: - Such thoughts will make you more in love with truth. - ’Tis wisdom, and that high, - For men to use their fortune reverently, - Even in youth. - - -_Epitaphs_ - -_i_ - -_192._ _On Elizabeth L. H._ - - Wouldst thou hear what Man can say - In a little? Reader, stay. - Underneath this stone doth lie - As much Beauty as could die: - Which in life did harbour give - To more Virtue than doth live. - If at all she had a fault, - Leave it buried in this vault. - One name was _Elizabeth_, - The other, let it sleep with death: - Fitter, where it died, to tell - Than that it lived at all. Farewell. - - -_ii_ - -_193._ _On Salathiel Pavy_ - -_A child of Queen Elizabeth’s Chapel_ - - Weep with me, all you that read - This little story; - And know, for whom a tear you shed - Death’s self is sorry. - ’Twas a child that so did thrive - In grace and feature, - As Heaven and Nature seem’d to strive - Which own’d the creature. - Years he number’d scarce thirteen - When Fates turn’d cruel, - Yet three fill’d zodiacs had he been - The stage’s jewel; - And did act (what now we moan) - Old men so duly, - As sooth the Parcae thought him one, - He play’d so truly. - So, by error, to his fate - They all consented; - But, viewing him since, alas, too late! - They have repented; - And have sought, to give new birth, - In baths to steep him; - But, being so much too good for earth, - Heaven vows to keep him. - - -_194._ _A Part of an Ode_ - -_to the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that noble pair, Sir Lucius -Cary and Sir H. Morison_ - - It is not growing like a tree - In bulk, doth make man better be; - Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, - To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere: - A lily of a day - Is fairer far in May, - Although it fall and die that night; - It was the plant and flower of light. - In small proportions we just beauties see; - And in short measures, life may perfect be. - - Call, noble _Lucius_, then for wine, - And let thy looks with gladness shine: - Accept this garland, plant it on thy head, - And think--nay, know--thy _Morison_’s not dead. - He leap’d the present age, - Possest with holy rage - To see that bright eternal Day - Of which we Priests and Poets say - Such truths as we expect for happy men; - And there he lives with memory--and Ben - - _Jonson_: who sung this of him, ere he went - Himself to rest, - Or tast a part of that full joy he meant - To have exprest - In this bright Asterism - Where it were friendship’s schism-- - Were not his _Lucius_ long with us to tarry-- - To separate these twy - Lights, the Dioscuri, - And keep the one half from his _Harry_. - But fate doth so alternate the design, - Whilst that in Heav’n, this light on earth must shine. - - And shine as you exalted are! - Two names of friendship, but one star: - Of hearts the union: and those not by chance - Made, or indenture, or leased out to advance - The profits for a time. - No pleasures vain did chime - Of rimes or riots at your feasts, - Orgies of drink or feign’d protests; - But simple love of greatness and of good, - That knits brave minds and manners more than blood. - - This made you first to know the _Why_ - _You liked_, then after, to apply - That liking, and approach so one the t’other - Till either grew a portion of the other: - Each stylèd by his end - The copy of his friend. - You lived to be the great surnames - And titles by which all made claims - Unto the Virtue--nothing perfect done - But as a _CARY_ or a _MORISON_. - - And such the force the fair example had - As they that saw - The good, and durst not practise it, were glad - That such a law - Was left yet to mankind, - Where they might read and find - Friendship indeed was written, not in words, - And with the heart, not pen, - Of two so early men, - Whose lines her rules were and records: - Who, ere the first down bloomed on the chin, - Had sow’d these fruits, and got the harvest in. - - - - -JOHN DONNE - -1573-1631 - - -_195._ _Daybreak_ - - Stay, O sweet, and do not rise! - The light that shines comes from thine eyes; - The day breaks not: it is my heart, - Because that you and I must part. - Stay! or else my joys will die - And perish in their infancy. - - -_196._ _Song_ - - Go and catch a falling star, - Get with child a mandrake root, - Tell me where all past years are, - Or who cleft the Devil’s foot; - Teach me to hear mermaids singing, - Or to keep off envy’s stinging, - And find - What wind - Serves to advance an honest mind. - - If thou be’st born to strange sights, - Things invisible to see, - Ride ten thousand days and nights - Till Age snow white hairs on thee; - Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me - All strange wonders that befell thee, - And swear - No where - Lives a woman true and fair. - - If thou find’st one, let me know; - Such a pilgrimage were sweet, - Yet do not; I would not go, - Though at next door we might meet. - Though she were true when you met her, - And last till you write your letter, - Yet she - Will be - False, ere I come, to two or three. - - -_197._ - - _That Time and Absence proves_ - _Rather helps than hurts to loves_ - - Absence, hear thou my protestation - Against thy strength, - Distance and length: - Do what thou canst for alteration, - For hearts of truest mettle - Absence doth join and Time doth settle. - - Who loves a mistress of such quality, - His mind hath found - Affection’s ground - Beyond time, place, and all mortality. - To hearts that cannot vary - Absence is present, Time doth tarry. - - My senses want their outward motion - Which now within - Reason doth win, - Redoubled by her secret notion: - Like rich men that take pleasure - In hiding more than handling treasure. - - By Absence this good means I gain, - That I can catch her - Where none can watch her, - In some close corner of my brain: - There I embrace and kiss her, - And so enjoy her and none miss her. - - -_198._ _The Ecstasy_ - - Where, like a pillow on a bed, - A pregnant bank swell’d up, to rest - The violet’s reclining head, - Sat we two, one another’s best. - - Our hands were firmly cèmented - By a fast balm which thence did spring; - Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread - Our eyes upon one double string. - - So to engraft our hands, as yet - Was all the means to make us one; - And pictures in our eyes to get - Was all our propagation. - - As ’twixt two equal armies Fate - Suspends uncertain victory, - Our souls--which to advance their state - Were gone out--hung ’twixt her and me. - - And whilst our souls negotiate there, - We like sepulchral statues lay; - All day the same our postures were, - And we said nothing, all the day. - - -_199._ _The Dream_ - - Dear love, for nothing less than thee - Would I have broke this happy dream, - It was a theme - For reason, much too strong for fantasy. - Therefore thou waked’st me wisely; yet - My dream thou brok’st not, but continued’st it. - Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice - To make dreams truths and fables histories; - Enter these arms, for since thou thought’st it best - Not to dream all my dream, let’s act the rest. - - As lightning, or a taper’s light, - Thine eyes, and not thy noise, waked me; - Yet I thought thee-- - For thou lov’st truth--an angel, at first sight; - But when I saw thou saw’st my heart, - And knew’st my thoughts beyond an angel’s art, - When thou knew’st what I dreamt, when thou knew’st when - Excess of joy would wake me, and cam’st then, - I must confess it could not choose but be - Profane to think thee anything but thee. - - Coming and staying show’d thee thee, - But rising makes me doubt that now - Thou art not thou. - That Love is weak where Fear’s as strong as he; - ’Tis not all spirit pure and brave - If mixture it of Fear, Shame, Honour have. - Perchance as torches, which must ready be, - Men light and put out, so thou deal’st with me. - Thou cam’st to kindle, go’st to come: then I - Will dream that hope again, but else would die. - - -_200._ _The Funeral_ - - Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm - Nor question much - That subtle wreath of hair about mine arm; - The mystery, the sign you must not touch, - For ’tis my outward soul, - Viceroy to that which, unto heav’n being gone, - Will leave this to control - And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution. - - For if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall - Through every part - Can tie those parts, and make me one of all; - Those hairs, which upward grew, and strength and art - Have from a better brain, - Can better do’t: except she meant that I - By this should know my pain, - As prisoners then are manacled, when they’re condemn’d to die. - - Whate’er she meant by ’t, bury it with me, - For since I am - Love’s martyr, it might breed idolatry - If into other hands these reliques came. - As ’twas humility - T’ afford to it all that a soul can do, - So ’tis some bravery - That, since you would have none of me, I bury some of you. - - -_201._ _A Hymn to God the Father_ - - Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun, - Which was my sin, though it were done before? - Wilt Thou forgive that sin through which I run, - And do run still, though still I do deplore? - When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done; - For I have more. - - - Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I have won - Others to sin, and made my sins their door? - Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun - A year or two, but wallow’d in a score? - When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done; - For I have more. - - I have a sin of fear, that when I’ve spun - My last thread, I shall perish on the shore; - But swear by Thyself that at my death Thy Son - Shall shine as He shines now and heretofore: - And having done that, Thou hast done; - I fear no more. - - -_202._ _Death_ - - Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee - Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so: - For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow - Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me. - From Rest and Sleep, which but thy picture be, - Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow; - And soonest our best men with thee do go-- - Rest of their bones and souls’ delivery! - Thou’rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, - And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell; - And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well - And better than thy stroke. Why swell’st thou then? - One short sleep past, we wake eternally, - And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die! - - - - -RICHARD BARNEFIELD - -1574-1627 - - -_203._ _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 - Lean’d her breast up-till a thorn, - And there sung the dolefull’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 lapp’d in lead; - All thy fellow birds do sing - Careless of thy sorrowing: - Even so, poor bird, like thee, - None alive will pity me. - - - - -THOMAS DEKKER - -1575-1641 - - -_204._ _Sweet Content_ - - Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers? - O sweet content! - Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplex’d? - O punishment! - Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vex’d - 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 nonny--hey nonny nonny! - - Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring? - O sweet content! - Swim’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 nonny--hey nonny nonny! - - - - -THOMAS HEYWOOD - -157?-1650 - - -_205._ _Matin Song_ - - 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 red-breast! - 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, linnet, and cocksparrow, - You pretty elves, among yourselves - Sing my fair Love good-morrow! - To give my Love good-morrow! - Sing, birds, in every furrow! - - _205._ stare] starling. - - -_206._ _The Message_ - - Ye little birds that sit and sing - Amidst the shady valleys, - And see how Phillis sweetly walks - Within her garden-alleys; - Go, pretty birds, about her bower; - Sing, pretty birds, she may not lower; - Ah me! methinks I see her frown! - Ye pretty wantons, warble. - - Go tell her through your chirping bills, - As you by me are bidden, - To her is only known my love, - Which from the world is hidden. - Go, pretty birds, and tell her so, - See that your notes strain not too low. - For still methinks I see her frown; - Ye pretty wantons, warble. - - Go tune your voices’ harmony - And sing, I am her lover; - Strain loud and sweet, that every note - With sweet content may move her: - And she that hath the sweetest voice, - Tell her I will not change my choice: - --Yet still methinks I see her frown! - Ye pretty wantons, warble. - - O fly! make haste! see, see, she falls - Into a pretty slumber! - Sing round about her rosy bed - That waking she may wonder: - Say to her, ’tis her lover true - That sendeth love to you, to you! - And when you hear her kind reply, - Return with pleasant warblings. - - - - -JOHN FLETCHER - -1579-1625 - - -_207._ _Sleep_ - - 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! - - -_208._ _Bridal Song_ - - Cynthia, to thy power and thee - We obey. - Joy to this great company! - And no day - Come to steal this night away - Till the rites of love are ended, - And the lusty bridegroom say, - Welcome, light, of all befriended! - - Pace out, you watery powers below; - Let your feet, - Like the galleys when they row, - Even beat; - Let your unknown measures, set - To the still winds, tell to all - That gods are come, immortal, great, - To honour this great nuptial! - - -_209._ _Aspatia’s Song_ - - Lay a garland on my herse - 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! - - -_210._ _Hymn to Pan_ - - Sing his praises that doth keep - Our flocks from harm, - Pan, the father of our sheep; - And arm in arm - Tread we softly in a round, - Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground - Fills the music with her sound. - - Pan, O great god Pan, to thee - Thus do we sing! - Thou who keep’st us chaste and free - As the young spring: - Ever be thy honour spoke - From that place the morn is broke - To that place day doth unyoke! - - -_211._ _Away, Delights_ - - Away, delights! go seek some other dwelling, - For I must die. - Farewell, false love! thy tongue is ever telling - Lie after lie. - For ever let me rest now from thy smarts; - Alas, for pity go - And fire their hearts - That have been hard to thee! Mine was not so. - - - Never again deluding love shall know me, - For I will die; - And all those griefs that think to overgrow me - Shall be as I: - For ever will I sleep, while poor maids cry-- - ‘Alas, for pity stay, - And let us die - With thee! Men cannot mock us in the clay.’ - - -_212._ _Love’s Emblems_ - - Now the lusty spring is seen; - Golden yellow, gaudy blue, - Daintily invite the view: - Everywhere on every green - Roses blushing as they blow, - And enticing men to pull, - Lilies whiter than the snow, - Woodbines of sweet honey full: - All love’s emblems, and all cry, - ‘Ladies, if not pluck’d, we die.’ - - Yet the lusty spring hath stay’d; - Blushing red and purest white - Daintily to love invite - Every woman, every maid: - Cherries kissing as they grow, - And inviting men to taste, - Apples even ripe below, - Winding gently to the waist: - All love’s emblems, and all cry, - ‘Ladies, if not pluck’d, we die.’ - - -_213._ _Hear, ye Ladies_ - - Hear, ye ladies that despise - What the mighty Love has done; - Fear examples and be wise: - Fair Callisto was a nun; - Leda, sailing on the stream - To deceive the hopes of man, - Love accounting but a dream, - Doted on a silver swan; - Danaë, in a brazen tower, - Where no love was, loved a shower. - - Hear, ye ladies that are coy, - What the mighty Love can do; - Fear the fierceness of the boy: - The chaste Moon he makes to woo; - Vesta, kindling holy fires, - Circled round about with spies, - Never dreaming loose desires, - Doting at the altar dies; - Ilion, in a short hour, higher - He can build, and once more fire. - - -_214._ _God Lyaeus_ - - God Lyaeus, ever young, - Ever honour’d, ever sung, - Stain’d with blood of lusty grapes, - In a thousand lusty shapes - Dance upon the mazer’s brim, - In the crimson liquor swim; - - _214._ mazer] a bowl of maple-wood. - - From thy plenteous hand divine - Let a river run with wine: - God of youth, let this day here - Enter neither care nor fear. - - -_215._ _Beauty Clear and Fair_ - - Beauty clear and fair, - Where the air - Rather like a perfume dwells; - Where the violet and the rose - Their blue veins and blush disclose, - And come to honour nothing else; - - Where to live near - And planted there - Is to live, and still live new; - Where to gain a favour is - More than light, perpetual bliss-- - Make me live by serving you! - - Dear, again back recall - To this light, - A stranger to himself and all! - Both the wonder and the story - Shall be yours, and eke the glory; - I am your servant, and your thrall. - - -_216._ _Melancholy_ - - Hence, all you vain delights, - As short as are the nights - Wherein you spend your folly! - There’s naught in this life sweet, - If men were wise to see’t, - But only melancholy-- - O sweetest melancholy! - Welcome, folded arms and fixèd eyes, - A sight that piercing mortifies, - A look that’s fasten’d to the ground, - A tongue chain’d up without a sound! - - Fountain-heads and pathless groves, - Places which pale passion loves! - Moonlight walks, when all the fowls - Are warmly housed, save bats and owls! - A midnight bell, a parting groan-- - These are the sounds we feed upon: - Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley, - Nothing’s so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. - - -_217._ _Weep no more_ - - Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan, - Sorrow calls no time that’s gone: - Violets pluck’d, the sweetest rain - Makes not fresh nor grow again. - Trim thy locks, look cheerfully; - Fate’s hid 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. - - - - -JOHN WEBSTER - -?-1630? - - -_218._ _A 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 robb’d) sustain no harm; - But keep the wolf far thence, that’s foe to men, - For with his nails he’ll dig them up again. - - _218._ dole] lamentation. - - -_219._ _The Shrouding of the Duchess of Malfi_ - - 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 disturb’d your mind; - Here your perfect peace is sign’d. - - 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. - - -_220._ _Vanitas Vanitatum_ - - 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. - - - - -WILLIAM ALEXANDER, EARL OF STIRLING - -1580?-1640 - - -_221._ _Aurora_ - - O happy Tithon! if thou know’st thy hap, - And valuest thy wealth, as I my want, - Then need’st thou not--which ah! I grieve to grant-- - Repine at Jove, lull’d in his leman’s lap: - That golden shower in which he did repose-- - One dewy drop it stains - Which thy Aurora rains - Upon the rural plains, - When from thy bed she passionately goes. - - Then, waken’d with the music of the merles, - She not remembers Memnon when she mourns: - That faithful flame which in her bosom burns - From crystal conduits throws those liquid pearls: - Sad from thy sight so soon to be removed, - She so her grief delates. - --O favour’d by the fates - Above the happiest states, - Who art of one so worthy well-beloved! - - - - -PHINEAS FLETCHER - -1580-1650 - - -_222._ _A Litany_ - - Drop, drop, slow tears, - And bathe those beauteous feet - Which brought from Heaven - The news and Prince of Peace: - Cease not, wet eyes, - His mercy to entreat; - To cry for vengeance - Sin doth never cease. - In your deep floods - Drown all my faults and fears; - Nor let His eye - See sin, but through my tears. - - - - -SIR JOHN BEAUMONT - -1583-1627 - - -_223._ _Of his Dear Son, Gervase_ - - Dear Lord, receive my son, whose winning love - To me was like a friendship, far above - The course of nature or his tender age; - Whose looks could all my bitter griefs assuage: - Let his pure soul, ordain’d seven years to be - In that frail body which was part of me, - Remain my pledge in Heaven, as sent to show - How to this port at every step I go. - - - - -WILLIAM DRUMMOND, OF HAWTHORNDEN - -1585-1649 - - -_224._ _Invocation_ - - Phœbus, arise! - And paint the sable skies - With azure, white, and red; - Rouse Memnon’s mother from her Tithon’s bed, - That she thy career may with roses spread; - The nightingales thy coming each-where sing; - Make an eternal spring! - Give life to this dark world which lieth dead; - Spread forth thy golden hair - In larger locks than thou wast wont before, - And emperor-like decore - With diadem of pearl thy temples fair: - Chase hence the ugly night - Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light. - This is that happy morn, - That day, long wishèd day - Of all my life so dark - (If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn - And fates not hope betray), - Which, only white, deserves - A diamond for ever should it mark: - This is the morn should bring into this grove - My Love, to hear and recompense my love. - Fair King, who all preserves, - But show thy blushing beams, - And thou two sweeter eyes - Shalt see than those which by Penèus’ streams - Did once thy heart surprise: - Nay, suns, which shine as clear - As thou when two thou did to Rome appear. - Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise: - If that ye, winds, would hear - A voice surpassing far Amphion’s lyre, - Your stormy chiding stay; - Let zephyr only breathe - And with her tresses play, - Kissing sometimes these purple ports of death. - - The winds all silent are; - And Phœbus in his chair - Ensaffroning sea and air - Makes vanish every star: - Night like a drunkard reels - Beyond the hills to shun his flaming wheels: - The fields with flowers are deck’d in every hue, - The clouds bespangle with bright gold their blue; - Here is the pleasant place-- - And everything, save Her, who all should grace. - - -_225._ _Madrigal_ - - Like the Idalian queen, - Her hair about her eyne, - With neck and breast’s ripe apples to be seen, - At first glance of the morn - In Cyprus’ gardens gathering those fair flow’rs - Which of her blood were born, - I saw, but fainting saw, my paramours. - The Graces naked danced about the place, - The winds and trees amazed - With silence on her gazed, - The flowers did smile, like those upon her face; - And as their aspen stalks those fingers band, - That she might read my case, - A hyacinth I wish’d me in her hand. - - _225._ paramours] = sing. paramour. band] bound. - - -_226._ _Spring Bereaved 1_ - - That zephyr every year - So soon was heard to sigh in forests here, - It was for her: that wrapp’d in gowns of green - Meads were so early seen, - That in the saddest months oft sung the merles, - It was for her; for her trees dropp’d forth pearls. - That proud and stately courts - Did envy those our shades and calm resorts, - It was for her; and she is gone, O woe! - Woods cut again do grow, - Bud doth the rose and daisy, winter done; - But we, once dead, no more do see the sun. - - -_227._ _Spring Bereaved 2_ - - Sweet Spring, thou turn’st with all thy goodly train, - Thy head with flames, thy mantle bright with flow’rs: - The zephyrs curl the green locks of the plain, - The clouds for joy in pearls weep down their show’rs. - Thou turn’st, sweet youth, but ah! my pleasant hours - And happy days with thee come not again; - The sad memorials only of my pain - Do with thee turn, which turn my sweets in sours. - Thou art the same which still thou wast before, - Delicious, wanton, amiable, fair; - But she, whose breath embalm’d thy wholesome air, - Is gone--nor gold nor gems her can restore. - Neglected virtue, seasons go and come, - While thine forgot lie closèd in a tomb. - - -_228._ _Spring Bereaved 3_ - - Alexis, here she stay’d; among these pines, - Sweet hermitress, she did alone repair; - Here did she spread the treasure of her hair, - More rich than that brought from the Colchian mines. - She set her by these muskèd eglantines, - --The happy place the print seems yet to bear: - Her voice did sweeten here thy sugar’d lines, - To which winds, trees, beasts, birds, did lend their ear. - Me here she first perceived, and here a morn - Of bright carnations did o’erspread her face; - Here did she sigh, here first my hopes were born, - And I first got a pledge of promised grace: - But ah! what served it to be happy so? - Sith passèd pleasures double but new woe? - - -_229._ _Her Passing_ - - The beauty and the life - Of life’s and beauty’s fairest paragon - --O tears! O grief!--hung at a feeble thread - To which pale Atropos had set her knife; - The soul with many a groan - Had left each outward part, - And now did take his last leave of the heart: - Naught else did want, save death, ev’n to be dead; - When the afflicted band about her bed, - Seeing so fair him come in lips, cheeks, eyes, - Cried, ‘_Ah! and can Death enter Paradise?_’ - - -_230._ _Inexorable_ - - My thoughts hold mortal strife; - I do detest my life, - And with lamenting cries - Peace to my soul to bring - Oft call that prince which here doth monarchise: - --But he, grim-grinning King, - Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise. - Late having deck’d with beauty’s rose his tomb, - Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come. - - -_231._ _Change should breed Change_ - - New doth the sun appear, - The mountains’ snows decay, - Crown’d with frail flowers forth comes the baby year. - My soul, time posts away; - And thou yet in that frost - Which flower and fruit hath lost, - As if all here immortal were, dost stay. - For shame! thy powers awake, - Look to that Heaven which never night makes black, - And there at that immortal sun’s bright rays, - Deck thee with flowers which fear not rage of days! - - -_232._ _Saint John Baptist_ - - The last and greatest Herald of Heaven’s King, - Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild, - Among that savage brood the woods forth bring, - Which he than man more harmless found and mild. - His food was locusts, and what young doth spring - With honey that from virgin hives distill’d; - Parch’d body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing - Made him appear, long since from earth exiled. - There burst he forth: ‘All ye, whose hopes rely - On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn; - Repent, repent, and from old errors turn!’ - --Who listen’d to his voice, obey’d his cry? - Only the echoes, which he made relent, - Rung from their marble caves ‘Repent! Repent!’ - - - - -GILES FLETCHER - -158?-1623 - - -_233._ _Wooing Song_ - - Love is the blossom where there blows - Every thing that lives or grows: - Love doth make the Heav’ns to move, - And the Sun doth burn in love: - Love the strong and weak doth yoke, - And makes the ivy climb the oak, - Under whose shadows lions wild, - Soften’d by love, grow tame and mild: - Love no med’cine can appease, - He burns the fishes in the seas: - Not all the skill his wounds can stench, - Not all the sea his fire can quench. - Love did make the bloody spear - Once a leavy coat to wear, - While in his leaves there shrouded lay - Sweet birds, for love that sing and play - And of all love’s joyful flame - I the bud and blossom am. - Only bend thy knee to me, - Thy wooing shall thy winning be - - See, see the flowers that below - Now as fresh as morning blow; - And of all the virgin rose - That as bright Aurora shows; - How they all unleavèd die, - Losing their virginity! - Like unto a summer shade, - But now born, and now they fade. - Every thing doth pass away; - There is danger in delay: - Come, come, gather then the rose, - Gather it, or it you lose! - All the sand of Tagus’ shore - Into my bosom casts his ore: - All the valleys’ swimming corn - To my house is yearly borne: - Every grape of every vine - Is gladly bruised to make me wine: - While ten thousand kings, as proud, - To carry up my train have bow’d, - And a world of ladies send me - In my chambers to attend me: - All the stars in Heav’n that shine, - And ten thousand more, are mine: - Only bend thy knee to me, - Thy wooing shall thy winning be! - - - - -FRANCIS BEAUMONT - -1586-1616 - - -_234._ _On the Tombs in Westminster Abbey_ - - Mortality, behold and fear! - What a change of flesh is here! - Think how many royal bones - Sleep within this heap of stones: - Here they lie had realms and lands, - Who now want strength to stir their hands: - Where from their pulpits seal’d with dust - They preach, ‘In greatness is no trust.’ - Here’s an acre sown indeed - With the richest, royall’st 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 ruin’d sides of kings; - Here’s a world of pomp and state, - Buried in dust, once dead by fate. - - - - -JOHN FORD - -1586-1639 - - -_235._ _Dawn_ - - Fly hence, shadows, that do keep - Watchful sorrows charm’d in sleep! - Tho’ the eyes be overtaken, - Yet the heart doth ever waken - Thoughts chain’d up in busy snares - Of continual woes and cares: - Love and griefs are so exprest - As they rather sigh than rest. - Fly hence, shadows, that do keep - Watchful sorrows charm’d in sleep! - - - - -GEORGE WITHER - -1588-1667 - - -_236._ _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’s left me, - _Falero, lero, loo_! - - Her hair like gold did glister, - Each eye was like a star, - She did surpass her sister, - Which pass’d all others far; - She would me honey call, - She’d--O she’d kiss me too! - But now, alas! she’s 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’s 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’s 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’s left me, - _Falero, lero, loo_! - - To maidens’ vows and swearing - Henceforth no credit give; - You may give them the hearing. - But never them believe; - They are as false as fair, - Unconstant, frail, untrue: - For mine, alas! hath left me, - _Falero, lero, loo_! - - -_237._ _The Lover’s Resolution_ - - Shall I, wasting in despair, - Die because a woman’s fair? - Or make pale my cheeks with care - ’Cause another’s rosy are? - Be she fairer than the day, - Or the flow’ry meads in May, - If she think not well of me, - What care I how fair she be? - - Shall my silly heart be pined - ’Cause I see a woman kind? - Or a well disposèd nature - Joinèd with a lovely feature? - Be she meeker, kinder, than - Turtle-dove or pelican, - If she be not so to me, - What care I how kind she be? - - Shall a woman’s virtues move - Me to perish for her love? - Or her well-deservings known - Make me quite forget my own? - Be she with that goodness blest - Which may merit name of Best, - If she be not such to me, - What care I how good she be? - - ’Cause her fortune seems too high, - Shall I play the fool and die? - She that bears a noble mind, - If not outward helps she find, - Thinks what with them he would do - That without them dares her woo; - And unless that mind I see, - What care I how great she be? - - Great, or good, or kind, or fair, - I will ne’er the more despair; - If she love me, this believe, - I will die ere she shall grieve; - If she slight me when I woo, - I can scorn and let her go; - For if she be not for me, - What care I for whom she be? - - -_238._ _The Choice_ - - Me so oft my fancy drew - Here and there, that I ne’er knew - Where to place desire before - So that range it might no more; - But as he that passeth by - Where, in all her jollity, - Flora’s riches in a row - Do in seemly order grow, - And a thousand flowers stand - Bending as to kiss his hand; - Out of which delightful store - One he may take and no more; - Long he pausing doubteth whether - Of those fair ones he should gather. - - First the Primrose courts his eyes, - Then the Cowslip he espies; - Next the Pansy seems to woo him, - Then Carnations bow unto him; - Which whilst that enamour’d swain - From the stalk intends to strain, - (As half-fearing to be seen) - Prettily her leaves between - Peeps the Violet, pale to see - That her virtues slighted be; - Which so much his liking wins - That to seize her he begins. - - Yet before he stoop’d so low - He his wanton eye did throw - On a stem that grew more high, - And the Rose did there espy. - Who, beside her previous scent, - To procure his eyes content - Did display her goodly breast, - Where he found at full exprest - All the good that Nature showers - On a thousand other flowers; - Wherewith he affected takes it, - His belovèd flower he makes it, - And without desire of more - Walks through all he saw before. - - So I wand’ring but erewhile - Through the garden of this Isle, - Saw rich beauties, I confess, - And in number numberless. - Yea, so differing lovely too, - That I had a world to do - Ere I could set up my rest, - Where to choose and choose the best. - Thus I fondly fear’d, till Fate - (Which I must confess in that - Did a greater favour to me - Than the world can malice do me) - Show’d to me that matchless flower. - Subject for this song of our; - Whose perfection having eyed, - Reason instantly espied - That Desire, which ranged abroad, - There would find a period: - And no marvel if it might, - For it there hath all delight, - And in her hath nature placed - What each several fair one graced. - - Let who list, for me, advance - The admirèd flowers of France, - Let who will praise and behold - The reservèd Marigold; - Let the sweet-breath’d Violet now - Unto whom she pleaseth bow; - And the fairest Lily spread - Where she will her golden head; - I have such a flower to wear - That for those I do not care. - - Let the young and happy swains - Playing on the Britain plains - Court unblamed their shepherdesses, - And with their gold curlèd tresses - Toy uncensured, until I - Grudge at their prosperity. - Let all times, both present, past, - And the age that shall be last, - Vaunt the beauties they bring forth. - I have found in one such worth, - That content I neither care - What the best before me were; - Nor desire to live and see - Who shall fair hereafter be; - For I know the hand of Nature - Will not make a fairer creature. - - -_239._ _A Widow’s Hymn_ - - How near me came the hand of Death, - When at my side he struck my dear, - And took away the precious breath - Which quicken’d my belovèd peer! - How helpless am I thereby made! - By day how grieved, by night how sad! - And now my life’s delight is gone, - --Alas! how am I left alone! - - The voice which I did more esteem - Than music in her sweetest key, - Those eyes which unto me did seem - More comfortable than the day; - Those now by me, as they have been, - Shall never more be heard or seen; - But what I once enjoy’d in them - Shall seem hereafter as a dream. - - _239._ peer] companion. - - Lord! keep me faithful to the trust - Which my dear spouse reposed in me: - To him now dead preserve me just - In all that should performèd be! - For though our being man and wife - Extendeth only to this life, - Yet neither life nor death should end - The being of a faithful friend. - - - - -WILLIAM BROWNE, OF TAVISTOCK - -1588-1643 - - -_240._ _A Welcome_ - - _Welcome, welcome! do I sing,_ - _Far more welcome than the spring;_ - _He that parteth from you never_ - _Shall enjoy a spring for ever._ - - He that to the voice is near - Breaking from your iv’ry pale, - Need not walk abroad to hear - The delightful nightingale. - _Welcome, welcome, then...._ - - He that looks still on your eyes, - Though the winter have begun - To benumb our arteries, - Shall not want the summer’s sun. - _Welcome, welcome, then...._ - - He that still may see your cheeks, - Where all rareness still reposes, - Is a fool if e’er he seeks - Other lilies, other roses. - _Welcome, welcome, then...._ - - - He to whom your soft lip yields, - And perceives your breath in kissing, - All the odours of the fields - Never, never shall be missing. - _Welcome, welcome, then...._ - - He that question would anew - What fair Eden was of old, - Let him rightly study you, - And a brief of that behold. - _Welcome, welcome, then...._ - - -_241._ _The Sirens’ Song_ - - Steer, hither steer your wingèd pines, - All beaten mariners! - Here lie Love’s undiscover’d mines, - A prey to passengers-- - Perfumes far sweeter than the best - Which make the Phœnix’ urn and nest. - Fear not your ships, - Nor any to oppose you save our lips; - But come on shore, - Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more. - - For swelling waves our panting breasts, - Where never storms arise, - Exchange, and be awhile our guests: - For stars gaze on our eyes. - The compass Love shall hourly sing, - And as he goes about the ring, - We will not miss - To tell each point he nameth with a kiss. - --Then come on shore, - Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more. - - -_242._ _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 - Water’d the root and kiss’d 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. - - -_243._ _Song_ - - For her gait, if she be walking; - Be she sitting, I desire her - For her state’s sake; and admire her - For her wit if she be talking; - Gait and state and wit approve her; - For which all and each I love her. - - Be she sullen, I commend her - For a modest. Be she merry, - For a kind one her prefer I. - Briefly, everything doth lend her - So much grace, and so approve her, - That for everything I love her. - - -_244._ _Memory_ - - So shuts the marigold her leaves - At the departure of the sun; - So from the honeysuckle sheaves - The bee goes when the day is done; - So sits the turtle when she is but one, - And so all woe, as I since she is gone. - - To some few birds kind Nature hath - Made all the summer as one day: - Which once enjoy’d, cold winter’s wrath - As night they sleeping pass away. - Those happy creatures are, that know not yet - The pain to be deprived or to forget. - - I oft have heard men say there be - Some that with confidence profess - The helpful Art of Memory: - But could they teach Forgetfulness, - I’d learn; and try what further art could do - To make me love her and forget her too. - - -_Epitaphs_ - - -_245._ _In Obitum M.S. Xº Maij, 1614_ - - May! Be thou never graced with birds that sing, - Nor Flora’s pride! - In thee all flowers and roses spring, - Mine only died. - - -_246._ _On the Countess Dowager of Pembroke_ - - Underneath this sable herse - Lies the subject of all verse: - Sidney’s sister, Pembroke’s mother: - Death, ere thou hast slain another - Fair and learn’d and good as she, - Time shall throw a dart at thee. - - - - -ROBERT HERRICK - -1591-1674 - - -_247._ _Corinna’s going a-Maying_ - - Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn - Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. - See how Aurora throws her fair - Fresh-quilted colours through the air: - Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see - The dew bespangling herb and tree! - Each flower has wept and bow’d toward the east - Above an hour since, yet you not drest; - Nay! not so much as out of bed? - When all the birds have matins said - And sung their thankful hymns, ’tis sin. - Nay, profanation, to keep in, - Whereas a thousand virgins on this day - Spring sooner than the lark, to fetch in May. - - Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen - To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green, - And sweet as Flora. Take no care - For jewels for your gown or hair: - Fear not; the leaves will strew - Gems in abundance upon you: - - - Besides, the childhood of the day has kept, - Against you come, some orient pearls unwept. - Come, and receive them while the light - Hangs on the dew-locks of the night: - And Titan on the eastern hill - Retires himself, or else stands still - Till you come forth! Wash, dress, be brief in praying: - Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying. - - Come, my Corinna, come; and coming, mark - How each field turns a street, each street a park, - Made green and trimm’d with trees! see how - Devotion gives each house a bough - Or branch! each porch, each door, ere this, - An ark, a tabernacle is, - Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove, - As if here were those cooler shades of love. - Can such delights be in the street - And open fields, and we not see’t? - Come, we’ll abroad: and let’s obey - The proclamation made for May, - And sin no more, as we have done, by staying; - But, my Corinna, come, let’s go a-Maying. - - There’s not a budding boy or girl this day - But is got up and gone to bring in May. - A deal of youth ere this is come - Back, and with white-thorn laden home. - Some have despatch’d their cakes and cream, - Before that we have left to dream: - And some have wept and woo’d, and plighted troth, - And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth: - - beads] prayers. - - Many a green-gown has been given, - Many a kiss, both odd and even: - Many a glance, too, has been sent - From out the eye, love’s firmament: - Many a jest told of the keys betraying - This night, and locks pick’d: yet we’re not a-Maying! - - Come, let us go, while we are in our prime, - And take the harmless folly of the time! - We shall grow old apace, and die - Before we know our liberty. - Our life is short, and our days run - As fast away as does the sun. - And, as a vapour or a drop of rain, - Once lost, can ne’er be found again, - So when or you or I are made - A fable, song, or fleeting shade, - All love, all liking, all delight - Lies drown’d with us in endless night. - Then, while time serves, and we are but decaying, - Come, my Corinna, come, let’s go a-Maying. - - _247._ green-gown] tumble on the grass. - - -_248._ _To the Virgins, to make much of Time_ - - Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, - Old Time is still a-flying: - And this same flower that smiles to-day - To-morrow will be dying. - - The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, - The higher he’s a-getting, - The sooner will his race be run, - And nearer he’s to setting. - - - That age is best which is the first, - When youth and blood are warmer; - But being spent, the worse, and worst - Times still succeed the former. - - Then be not coy, but use your time, - And while ye may, go marry: - For having lost but once your prime, - You may for ever tarry. - - -_249._ _To the Western Wind_ - - Sweet western wind, whose luck it is, - Made rival with the air, - To give Perenna’s lip a kiss, - And fan her wanton hair: - - Bring me but one, I’ll promise thee, - Instead of common showers, - Thy wings shall be embalm’d by me, - And all beset with flowers. - - -_250._ _To Electra_ - - I dare not ask a kiss, - I dare not beg a smile, - Lest having that, or this, - I might grow proud the while. - - No, no, the utmost share - Of my desire shall be - Only to kiss that air - That lately kissèd thee. - - -_251._ _To Violets_ - - Welcome, maids of honour! - You do bring - In the spring, - And wait upon her. - - She has virgins many, - Fresh and fair; - Yet you are - More sweet than any. - - You’re the maiden posies, - And so graced - To be placed - ’Fore damask roses. - - Yet, though thus respected, - By-and-by - Ye do lie, - Poor girls, neglected. - - -_252._ _To Daffodils_ - - Fair daffodils, we weep to see - You haste away so soon; - As yet the early-rising sun - Has not attain’d his noon. - Stay, stay - Until the hasting day - Has run - But to the evensong; - And, having pray’d together, we - Will go with you along. - - - We have short time to stay, as you, - We have as short a spring; - As quick a growth to meet decay, - As you, or anything. - We die - As your hours do, and dry - Away - Like to the summer’s rain; - Or as the pearls of morning’s dew, - Ne’er to be found again. - - -_253._ _To Blossoms_ - - Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, - Why do ye fall so fast? - Your date is not so past - But you may stay yet here awhile - To blush and gently smile, - And go at last. - - What! were ye born to be - An hour or half’s delight, - And so to bid good night? - ’Twas pity Nature brought you forth - Merely to show your worth - And lose you quite. - - But you are lovely leaves, where we - May read how soon things have - Their end, though ne’er so brave: - And after they have shown their pride - Like you awhile, they glide - Into the grave. - - -_254._ _The Primrose_ - - Ask me why I send you here - This sweet Infanta of the year? - Ask me why I send to you - This primrose, thus bepearl’d with dew? - I will whisper to your ears:-- - The sweets of love are mix’d with tears. - - Ask me why this flower does show - So yellow-green, and sickly too? - Ask me why the stalk is weak - And bending (yet it doth not break)? - I will answer:--These discover - What fainting hopes are in a lover. - - -_255._ _The Funeral Rites of the Rose_ - - The Rose was sick and smiling died; - And, being to be sanctified, - About the bed there sighing stood - The sweet and flowery sisterhood: - Some hung the head, while some did bring, - To wash her, water from the spring; - Some laid her forth, while others wept, - But all a solemn fast there kept: - The holy sisters, some among, - The sacred dirge and trental sung. - But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere, - As Heaven had spent all perfumes there. - At last, when prayers for the dead - And rites were all accomplishèd, - They, weeping, spread a lawny loom, - And closed her up as in a tomb. - - _255._ trental] services for the dead, of thirty masses. - - -_256._ _Cherry-Ripe_ - - Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, - Full and fair ones; come and buy. - If so be you ask me where - They do grow, I answer: There - Where my Julia’s lips do smile; - There’s the land, or cherry-isle, - Whose plantations fully show - All the year where cherries grow. - - -_257._ _A Meditation for his Mistress_ - - You are a tulip seen to-day, - But, dearest, of so short a stay - That where you grew scarce man can say. - - You are a lovely July-flower, - Yet one rude wind or ruffling shower - Will force you hence, and in an hour. - - You are a sparkling rose i’ th’ bud, - Yet lost ere that chaste flesh and blood - Can show where you or grew or stood. - - You are a full-spread, fair-set vine, - And can with tendrils love entwine, - Yet dried ere you distil your wine. - - You are like balm enclosèd well - In amber or some crystal shell, - Yet lost ere you transfuse your smell. - - - You are a dainty violet, - Yet withered ere you can be set - Within the virgin’s coronet. - - You are the queen all flowers among; - But die you must, fair maid, ere long, - As he, the maker of this song. - - -_258._ _Delight in Disorder_ - - A sweet disorder in the dress - Kindles in clothes a wantonness: - A lawn about the shoulders thrown - Into a fine distraction: - An erring lace, which here and there - Enthrals the crimson stomacher: - A cuff neglectful, and thereby - Ribbands to flow confusedly: - A winning wave, deserving note, - In the tempestuous petticoat: - A careless shoe-string, in whose tie - I see a wild civility: - Do more bewitch me than when art - Is too precise in every part. - - -_259._ _Upon Julia’s Clothes_ - - Whenas in silks my Julia goes, - Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows - The liquefaction of her clothes! - - Next, when I cast mine eyes and see - That brave vibration each way free, - --O how that glittering taketh me! - - -_260._ _The Bracelet: To Julia_ - - Why I tie about thy wrist, - Julia, this silken twist; - For what other reason is’t - But to show thee how, in part, - Thou my pretty captive art? - But thy bond-slave is my heart: - ’Tis but silk that bindeth thee, - Knap the thread and thou art free; - But ’tis otherwise with me: - --I am bound and fast bound, so - That from thee I cannot go; - If I could, I would not so. - - -_261._ _To Daisies, not to shut so soon_ - - Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night - Has not as yet begun - To make a seizure on the light, - Or to seal up the sun. - - No marigolds yet closèd are, - No shadows great appear; - Nor doth the early shepherd’s star - Shine like a spangle here. - - Stay but till my Julia close - Her life-begetting eye, - And let the whole world then dispose - Itself to live or die. - - -_262._ _The Night-piece: To Julia_ - - Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, - The shooting stars attend thee; - And the elves also, - Whose little eyes glow - Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee. - - No Will-o’-the-wisp mislight thee, - Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee; - But on, on thy way - Not making a stay, - Since ghost there’s none to affright thee. - - Let not the dark thee cumber: - What though the moon does slumber? - The stars of the night - Will lend thee their light - Like tapers clear without number. - - Then, Julia, let me woo thee, - Thus, thus to come unto me; - And when I shall meet - Thy silv’ry feet, - My soul I’ll pour into thee. - - -_263._ _To Music, to becalm his Fever_ - - Charm me asleep, and melt me so - With thy delicious numbers, - That, being ravish’d, hence I go - Away in easy slumbers. - Ease my sick head, - And make my bed, - Thou power that canst sever - From me this ill, - And quickly still, - Though thou not kill - My fever. - - Thou sweetly canst convert the same - From a consuming fire - Into a gentle licking flame, - And make it thus expire. - Then make me weep - My pains asleep; - And give me such reposes - That I, poor I, - May think thereby - I live and die - ’Mongst roses. - - Fall on me like the silent dew, - Or like those maiden showers - Which, by the peep of day, do strew - A baptism o’er the flowers. - Melt, melt my pains - With thy soft strains; - That, having ease me given, - With full delight - I leave this light, - And take my flight - For Heaven. - - -_264._ _To Dianeme_ - - Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes - Which starlike sparkle in their skies; - Nor be you proud that you can see - All hearts your captives, yours yet free; - Be you not proud of that rich hair - Which wantons with the love-sick air; - Whenas that ruby which you wear, - Sunk from the tip of your soft ear, - Will last to be a precious stone - When all your world of beauty’s gone. - - -_265._ _To Œnone_ - - What conscience, say, is it in thee, - When I a heart had one, - To take away that heart from me, - And to retain thy own? - - For shame or pity now incline - To play a loving part; - Either to send me kindly thine, - Or give me back my heart. - - Covet not both; but if thou dost - Resolve to part with neither, - Why, yet to show that thou art just, - Take me and mine together! - - -_266._ _To Anthea, who may command him Anything_ - - Bid me to live, and I will live - Thy Protestant to be; - Or bid me love, and I will give - A loving heart to thee. - - A heart as soft, a heart as kind, - A heart as sound and free - As in the whole world thou canst find, - That heart I’ll give to thee. - - Bid that heart stay, and it will stay - To honour thy decree: - Or bid it languish quite away, - And’t shall do so for thee. - - Bid me to weep, and I will weep - While I have eyes to see: - And, having none, yet will I keep - A heart to weep for thee. - - Bid me despair, and I’ll despair - Under that cypress-tree: - Or bid me die, and I will dare - E’en death to die for thee. - - Thou art my life, my love, my heart, - The very eyes of me: - And hast command of every part - To live and die for thee. - - -_267._ _To the Willow-tree_ - - Thou art to all lost love the best, - The only true plant found, - Wherewith young men and maids distrest, - And left of love, are crown’d. - - When once the lover’s rose is dead, - Or laid aside forlorn: - Then willow-garlands ’bout the head - Bedew’d with tears are worn. - - When with neglect, the lovers’ bane, - Poor maids rewarded be - For their love lost, their only gain - Is but a wreath from thee. - - And underneath thy cooling shade, - When weary of the light, - The love-spent youth and love-sick maid - Come to weep out the night. - - -_268._ _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 primrose 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 well-a-day! - For pity, sir, find out that bee - Which bore my love away. - - I’ll seek him in your bonnet brave, - I’ll seek him in your eyes; - Nay, now I think they’ve made his grave - I’ th’ bed of strawberries. - - I’ll 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 knows well who do love him, - And who with green turfs rear 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 ’tis decreed - That I shall never find him! - - -_269._ _Comfort to a Youth that had lost his Love_ - - What needs complaints, - When she a place - Has with the race - Of saints? - - In endless mirth - She thinks not on - What’s said or done - In Earth. - - - She sees no tears, - Or any tone - Of thy deep groan - She hears: - - Nor does she mind - Or think on’t now - That ever thou - Wast kind; - - But changed above, - She likes not there, - As she did here, - Thy love. - - Forbear therefore, - And lull asleep - Thy woes, and weep - No more. - - -_270._ _To Meadows_ - - Ye have been fresh and green, - Ye have been fill’d with flowers, - And ye the walks have been - Where maids have spent their hours. - - You have beheld how they - With wicker arks did come - To kiss and bear away - The richer cowslips home. - - You’ve heard them sweetly sing, - And seen them in a round: - Each virgin like a spring, - With honeysuckles crown’d. - - - But now we see none here - Whose silv’ry feet did tread - And with dishevell’d hair - Adorn’d this smoother mead. - - Like unthrifts, having spent - Your stock and needy grown, - You’re left here to lament - Your poor estates, alone. - - -_271._ _A Child’s 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 benison to fall - On our meat and on us all. Amen. - - _271._ paddocks] frogs. - - -_272._ _Epitaph_ - -_upon a Child that died_ - - Here she lies, a pretty bud, - Lately made of flesh and blood: - Who as soon fell fast asleep - As her little eyes did peep. - Give her strewings, but not stir - The earth that lightly covers her. - - -_273._ _Another_ - - Here a pretty baby lies - Sung asleep with lullabies: - Pray be silent and not stir - Th’ easy earth that covers her. - - -_274._ _His Winding-sheet_ - - Come thou, who art the wine and wit - Of all I’ve writ: - The grace, the glory, and the best - Piece of the rest. - Thou art of what I did intend - The all and end; - And what was made, was made to meet - Thee, thee, my sheet. - Come then and be to my chaste side - Both bed and bride: - We two, as reliques left, will have - One rest, one grave: - And hugging close, we will not fear - Lust entering here: - Where all desires are dead and cold - As is the mould; - And all affections are forgot, - Or trouble not. - Here, here, the slaves and prisoners be - From shackles free: - And weeping widows long oppress’d - Do here find rest. - The wrongèd client ends his laws - Here, and his cause. - Here those long suits of Chancery lie - Quiet, or die: - And all Star-Chamber bills do cease - Or hold their peace. - Here needs no Court for our Request - Where all are best, - All wise, all equal, and all just - Alike i’ th’ dust. - Nor need we here to fear the frown - Of court or crown: - Where fortune bears no sway o’er things, - There all are kings. - In this securer place we’ll keep - As lull’d asleep; - Or for a little time we’ll lie - As robes laid by; - To be another day re-worn, - Turn’d, but not torn: - Or like old testaments engross’d, - Lock’d up, not lost. - And for a while lie here conceal’d, - To be reveal’d - Next at the great Platonick year, - And then meet here. - - _274._ Platonick year] the perfect or cyclic year, when the sun, - moon, and five planets end their revolutions together and start - anew. See _Timæus_, p. 39. - - -_275._ _Litany to the Holy Spirit_ - - In the hour of my distress, - When temptations me oppress, - And when I my sins confess, - Sweet Spirit, comfort me! - - When I lie within my bed, - Sick in heart and sick in head, - And with doubts discomforted, - Sweet Spirit, comfort me! - - When the house doth sigh and weep, - And the world is drown’d in sleep, - Yet mine eyes the watch do keep, - Sweet Spirit, comfort me! - - - When the passing bell doth toll, - And the Furies in a shoal - Come to fright a parting soul, - Sweet Spirit, comfort me! - - When the tapers now burn blue, - And the comforters are few, - And that number more than true, - Sweet Spirit, comfort me! - - When the priest his last hath pray’d, - And I nod to what is said, - ’Cause my speech is now decay’d, - Sweet Spirit, comfort me! - - When, God knows, I’m toss’d about - Either with despair or doubt; - Yet before the glass be out, - Sweet Spirit, comfort me! - - When the tempter me pursu’th - With the sins of all my youth, - And half damns me with untruth, - Sweet Spirit, comfort me! - - When the flames and hellish cries - Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes, - And all terrors me surprise, - Sweet Spirit, comfort me! - - When the Judgment is reveal’d, - And that open’d which was seal’d, - When to Thee I have appeal’d, - Sweet Spirit, comfort me! - - - - -FRANCIS QUARLES - -1592-1644 - - -_276._ _A Divine Rapture_ - - E’en like two little bank-dividing brooks, - That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams, - And having ranged and search’d a thousand nooks, - Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames, - Where in a greater current they conjoin: - So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine. - - E’en so we met; and after long pursuit, - E’en so we joined; we both became entire; - No need for either to renew a suit, - For I was flax, and He was flames of fire: - Our firm-united souls did more than twine; - So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine. - - If all those glittering Monarchs, that command - The servile quarters of this earthly ball, - Should tender in exchange their shares of land, - I would not change my fortunes for them all: - Their wealth is but a counter to my coin: - The world’s but theirs; but my Belovèd’s mine. - - -_277._ _Epigram_ - -_Respice Finem_ - - My soul, sit thou a patient looker-on; - Judge not the play before the play is done: - Her plot hath many changes; every day - Speaks a new scene; the last act crowns the play. - - - - -HENRY KING, BISHOP OF CHICHESTER - -1592-1669 - - -_278._ _A Contemplation upon Flowers_ - - Brave flowers--that I could gallant it like you, - And be as little vain! - You come abroad, and make a harmless show, - And to your beds of earth again. - You are not proud: you know your birth: - For your embroider’d garments are from earth. - - You do obey your months and times, but I - Would have it ever Spring: - My fate would know no Winter, never die, - Nor think of such a thing. - O that I could my bed of earth but view - And smile, and look as cheerfully as you! - - O teach me to see Death and not to fear, - But rather to take truce! - How often have I seen you at a bier, - And there look fresh and spruce! - You fragrant flowers! then teach me, that my breath - Like yours may sweeten and perfume my death. - - -_279._ _A Renunciation_ - - We, that did nothing study but the way - To love each other, with which thoughts the day - Rose with delight to us and with them set, - Must learn the hateful art, how to forget. - We, that did nothing wish that Heaven could give - Beyond ourselves, nor did desire to live - Beyond that wish, all these now cancel must, - As if not writ in faith, but words and dust. - Yet witness those clear vows which lovers make, - Witness the chaste desires that never brake - Into unruly heats; witness that breast - Which in thy bosom anchor’d his whole rest-- - ’Tis no default in us: I dare acquite - Thy maiden faith, thy purpose fair and white - As thy pure self. Cross planets did envý - Us to each other, and Heaven did untie - Faster than vows could bind. Oh, that the stars, - When lovers meet, should stand opposed in wars! - - Since then some higher Destinies command, - Let us not strive, nor labour to withstand - What is past help. The longest date of grief - Can never yield a hope of our relief: - Fold back our arms; take home our fruitless loves, - That must new fortunes try, like turtle-doves - Dislodgèd from their haunts. We must in tears - Unwind a love knit up in many years. - In this last kiss I here surrender thee - Back to thyself.--So, thou again art free: - Thou in another, sad as that, resend - The truest heart that lover e’er did lend. - Now turn from each: so fare our sever’d hearts - As the divorced soul from her body parts. - - -_280._ _Exequy on his Wife_ - - Accept, thou shrine of my dead saint, - Instead of dirges this complaint; - And for sweet flowers to crown thy herse - Receive a strew of weeping verse - From thy grieved friend, whom thou might’st see - Quite melted into tears for thee. - Dear loss! since thy untimely fate, - My task hath been to meditate - On thee, on thee! Thou art the book, - The library whereon I look, - Tho’ almost blind. For thee, loved clay, - I languish out, not live, the day.... - Thou hast benighted me; thy set - This eve of blackness did beget, - Who wast my day (tho’ overcast - Before thou hadst thy noontide past): - And I remember must in tears - Thou scarce hadst seen so many years - As day tells hours. By thy clear sun - My love and fortune first did run; - But thou wilt never more appear - Folded within my hemisphere, - Since both thy light and motion, - Like a fled star, is fall’n and gone, - And ’twixt me and my soul’s dear wish - The earth now interposèd is.... - I could allow thee for a time - To darken me and my sad clime; - Were it a month, a year, or ten, - I would thy exile live till then, - And all that space my mirth adjourn-- - So thou wouldst promise to return, - And putting off thy ashy shroud - At length disperse this sorrow’s cloud. - But woe is me! the longest date - Too narrow is to calculate - These empty hopes: never shall I - Be so much blest as to descry - A glimpse of thee, till that day come - Which shall the earth to cinders doom, - And a fierce fever must calcine - The body of this world--like thine, - My little world! That fit of fire - Once off, our bodies shall aspire - To our souls’ bliss: then we shall rise - And view ourselves with clearer eyes - In that calm region where no night - Can hide us from each other’s sight. - Meantime thou hast her, earth: much good - May my harm do thee! Since it stood - With Heaven’s will I might not call - Her longer mine, I give thee all - My short-lived right and interest - In her whom living I loved best. - Be kind to her, and prithee look - Thou write into thy Doomsday book - Each parcel of this rarity - Which in thy casket shrined doth lie, - As thou wilt answer Him that lent-- - Not gave--thee my dear monument. - So close the ground, and ’bout her shade - Black curtains draw: my bride is laid. - 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 thy 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.... - ’Tis true--with shame and grief I yield-- - Thou, like the van, first took’st the field; - And gotten hast the victory - In thus adventuring to die - Before me, whose more years might crave - A just precedence in the grave. - But hark! my pulse, like a soft drum, - Beats my approach, tells thee I come; - And slow howe’er my marches be - I shall at last sit down by thee. - The thought of this bids me go on - And wait my dissolution - With hope and comfort. Dear--forgive - The crime--I am content to live - Divided, with but half a heart, - Till we shall meet and never part. - - - - -GEORGE HERBERT - -1593-1632 - - -_281._ _Virtue_ - - Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright! - The bridal of the earth and sky-- - 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 virtuous soul, - Like season’d timber, never gives; - But though the whole world turn to coal, - Then chiefly lives. - - -_282._ _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. - - Yet though my flowers be lost, they say - A heart can never come too late; - Teach it to sing Thy praise this day. - And then this day my life shall date. - - -_283._ _Discipline_ - - Throw away Thy rod, - Throw away Thy wrath; - O my God, - Take the gentle path! - - - For my heart’s desire - Unto Thine is bent: - I aspire - To a full consent. - - Not a word or look - I affect to own, - But by book, - And Thy Book alone. - - Though I fail, I weep; - Though I halt in pace, - Yet I creep - To the throne of grace. - - Then let wrath remove; - Love will do the deed: - For with love - Stony hearts will bleed. - - Love is swift of foot; - Love’s a man of war, - And can shoot, - And can hit from far. - - Who can ’scape his bow? - That which wrought on Thee, - Brought Thee low, - Needs must work on me. - - Throw away Thy rod; - Though man frailties hath, - Thou art God: - Throw away Thy wrath! - - -_284._ _A Dialogue_ - - _Man._ Sweetest Saviour, if my soul - Were but worth the having, - Quickly should I then control - Any thought of waving. - But when all my care and pains - Cannot give the name of gains - To Thy wretch so full of stains, - What delight or hope remains? - - _Saviour._ What, child, is the balance thine, - Thine the poise and measure? - If I say, ‘Thou shalt be Mine,’ - Finger not My treasure. - What the gains in having thee - Do amount to, only He - Who for man was sold can see - That transferr’d th’ accounts to Me. - - _Man._ But as I can see no merit - Leading to this favour, - So the way to fit me for it - Is beyond my savour. - As the reason, then, is Thine, - So the way is none of mine; - I disclaim the whole design; - Sin disclaims and I resign. - - _Saviour._ That is all: if that I could - Get without repining; - And My clay, My creature, would - Follow My resigning; - - savour] savoir, knowing. - - That as I did freely part - With My glory and desert, - Left all joys to feel all smart---- - - _Man._ Ah, no more! Thou break’st my heart! - - -_285._ _The Pulley_ - - When God at first made Man, - Having a glass of blessings standing by-- - Let us (said He) pour on him all we can; - Let the world’s riches, which dispersèd lie, - Contract into a span. - - So strength first made a way, - Then beauty flow’d, then wisdom, honour, pleasure: - When almost all was out, God made a stay, - Perceiving that, alone of all His treasure, - Rest in the bottom lay. - - For if I should (said He) - Bestow this jewel also on My creature, - He would adore My gifts instead of Me, - And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature; - So both should losers be. - - Yet let him keep the rest, - But keep them with repining restlessness; - Let him be rich and weary, that at least, - If goodness lead him not, yet weariness - May toss him to My breast. - - -_286._ _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 lack’d anything. - - ‘A guest,’ I answer’d, ‘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 marr’d 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. - - - - -JAMES SHIRLEY - -1596-1666 - - -_287._ _A Hymn_ - - Fly, my Soul! What hangs upon - Thy drooping wings, - And weighs them down - With love of gaudy mortal things? - - The Sun is now i’ the east: each shade - As he doth rise - Is shorter made, - That earth may lessen to our eyes. - - - O be not careless then and play - Until the Star of Peace - Hide all his beams in dark recess! - Poor pilgrims needs must lose their way, - When all the shadows do increase. - - -_288._ _Death the Leveller_ - - The glories of our blood and state - Are shadows, not substantial things; - There is no armour against Fate; - Death lays his icy hand on kings: - Sceptre and Crown - Must tumble down, - And in the dust be equal made - With the poor crookèd scythe and spade. - - Some men with swords may reap the field, - And plant fresh laurels where they kill: - But their strong nerves at last must yield; - They tame but one another still: - Early or late - They stoop to fate, - And must give up their murmuring breath - When they, pale captives, creep to death. - - The garlands wither on your brow; - Then boast no more your mighty deeds! - Upon Death’s purple altar now - See where the victor-victim bleeds. - Your heads must come - To the cold tomb: - Only the actions of the just - Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. - - - - -THOMAS CAREW - -1595?-1639? - - -_289._ _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 - 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 Phœnix builds her spicy nest; - For unto you at last she flies, - And in your fragrant bosom dies. - - -_290._ _Persuasions to Joy: a Song_ - - If the quick spirits in your eye - Now languish and anon must die; - If every sweet and every grace - Must fly from that forsaken face; - Then, Celia, let us reap our joys - Ere Time such goodly fruit destroys. - - Or if that golden fleece must grow. - For ever free from agèd snow; - If those bright suns must know no shade, - Nor your fresh beauties ever fade; - Then fear not, Celia, to bestow - What, still being gather’d, still must grow. - - Thus either Time his sickle brings - In vain, or else in vain his wings. - - -_291._ _To His Inconstant Mistress_ - - When thou, poor Excommunicate - From all the joys of Love, shalt see - The full reward and glorious fate - Which my strong faith shall purchase me, - Then curse thine own inconstancy! - - A fairer hand than thine shall cure - That heart which thy false oaths did wound; - And to my soul a soul more pure - Than thine shall by Love’s hand be bound, - And both with equal glory crown’d. - - Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain - To Love, as I did once to thee; - When all thy tears shall be as vain - As mine were then: for thou shalt be - Damn’d for thy false apostasy. - - -_292._ _The Unfading Beauty_ - - He that loves a rosy cheek, - Or a coral lip admires, - Or from star-like eyes doth seek - Fuel to maintain his fires: - As old Time makes these decay, - So his flames must waste away. - - But a smooth and steadfast mind, - Gentle thoughts and calm desires, - Hearts with equal love combined, - Kindle never-dying fires. - Where these are not, I despise - Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes. - - -_293._ _Ingrateful Beauty threatened_ - - Know, Celia, since thou art so proud, - ’Twas I that gave thee thy renown. - Thou hadst in the forgotten crowd - Of common beauties lived unknown, - Had not my verse extoll’d thy name, - And with it imp’d the wings of Fame. - - That killing power is none of thine; - I gave it to thy voice and eyes; - Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine; - Thou art my star, shin’st in my skies; - Then dart not from thy borrow’d sphere - Lightning on him that fix’d thee there. - - _293._ imp’d] grafted with new feathers. - - Tempt me with such affrights no more, - Lest what I made I uncreate; - Let fools thy mystic form adore, - I know thee in thy mortal state. - Wise poets, that wrapt Truth in tales, - Knew her themselves through all her veils. - - -_294._ _Epitaph_ - -_On the Lady Mary Villiers_ - - The Lady Mary Villiers lies - Under this stone; with weeping eyes - The parents that first gave her birth, - And their sad friends, laid her in earth. - If any of them, Reader, were - Known unto thee, shed a tear; - Or if thyself possess a gem - As dear to thee, as this to them, - Though a stranger to this place, - Bewail in theirs thine own hard case: - For thou perhaps at thy return - May’st find thy Darling in an urn. - - -_295._ _Another_ - - This little vault, this narrow room, - Of Love and Beauty is the tomb; - The dawning beam, that ’gan to clear - Our clouded sky, lies darkened here, - For ever set to us: by Death - Sent to enflame the World Beneath, - ’Twas but a bud, yet did contain - More sweetness than shall spring again; - A budding Star, that might have grown - Into a Sun when it had blown. - This hopeful Beauty did create - New life in Love’s declining state; - But now his empire ends, and we - From fire and wounding darts are free; - His brand, his bow, let no man fear: - The flames, the arrows, all lie here. - - - - -JASPER MAYNE - -1604-1672 - - -_296._ _Time_ - - Time is the feather’d thing, - And, whilst I praise - The sparklings of thy looks and call them rays, - Takes wing, - Leaving behind him as he flies - An unperceivèd dimness in thine eyes. - His minutes, whilst they’re told, - Do make us old; - And every sand of his fleet glass, - Increasing age as it doth pass, - Insensibly sows wrinkles there - Where flowers and roses do appear. - Whilst we do speak, our fire - Doth into ice expire, - Flames turn to frost; - And ere we can - Know how our crow turns swan, - Or how a silver snow - Springs there where jet did grow, - Our fading spring is in dull winter lost. - Since then the Night hath hurl’d - Darkness, Love’s shade, - Over its enemy the Day, and made - The world - Just such a blind and shapeless thing - As ’twas before light did from darkness spring, - Let us employ its treasure - And make shade pleasure: - Let’s number out the hours by blisses, - And count the minutes by our kisses; - Let the heavens new motions feel - And by our embraces wheel; - And whilst we try the way - By which Love doth convey - Soul unto soul, - And mingling so - Makes them such raptures know - As makes them entrancèd lie - In mutual ecstasy, - Let the harmonious spheres in music roll! - - - - -WILLIAM HABINGTON - -1605-1654 - - -_297._ _To Roses in the Bosom of Castara_ - - Ye blushing virgins happy are - In the chaste nunnery of her breasts-- - For he’d profane so chaste a fair, - Whoe’er should call them Cupid’s nests. - - Transplanted thus how bright ye grow! - How rich a perfume do ye yield! - In some close garden cowslips so - Are sweeter than i’ th’ open field. - - - In those white cloisters live secure - From the rude blasts of wanton breath!-- - Each hour more innocent and pure, - Till you shall wither into death. - - Then that which living gave you room, - Your glorious sepulchre shall be. - There wants no marble for a tomb - Whose breast hath marble been to me. - - -_298._ _Nox Nocti Indicat Scientiam_ - - When I survey the bright - Celestial sphere; - So rich with jewels hung, that Night - Doth like an Ethiop bride appear: - - My soul her wings doth spread - And heavenward flies, - Th’ Almighty’s mysteries to read - In the large volumes of the skies. - - For the bright firmament - Shoots forth no flame - So silent, but is eloquent - In speaking the Creator’s name. - - No unregarded star - Contracts its light - Into so small a character, - Removed far from our human sight, - - But if we steadfast look - We shall discern - In it, as in some holy book, - How man may heavenly knowledge learn. - - - It tells the conqueror - That far-stretch’d power, - Which his proud dangers traffic for, - Is but the triumph of an hour: - - That from the farthest North, - Some nation may, - Yet undiscover’d, issue forth, - And o’er his new-got conquest sway: - - Some nation yet shut in - With hills of ice - May be let out to scourge his sin, - Till they shall equal him in vice. - - And then they likewise shall - Their ruin have; - For as yourselves your empires fall, - And every kingdom hath a grave. - - Thus those celestial fires, - Though seeming mute, - The fallacy of our desires - And all the pride of life confute:-- - - For they have watch’d since first - The World had birth: - And found sin in itself accurst, - And nothing permanent on Earth. - - - - -THOMAS RANDOLPH - -1605-1635 - - -_299._ _A Devout Lover_ - - I have a mistress, for perfections rare - In every eye, but in my thoughts most fair. - Like tapers on the altar shine her eyes; - Her breath is the perfume of sacrifice; - And wheresoever my fancy would begin, - Still her perfection lets religion in. - We sit and talk, and kiss away the hours - As chastely as the morning dews kiss flowers: - I touch her, like my beads, with devout care, - And come unto my courtship as my prayer. - - -_300._ _An Ode to Master Anthony Stafford_ - -_to hasten Him into the Country_ - - Come, spur away, - I have no patience for a longer stay, - But must go down - And leave the chargeable noise of this great town: - I will the country see, - Where old simplicity, - Though hid in gray, - Doth look more gay - Than foppery in plush and scarlet clad. - Farewell, you city wits, that are - Almost at civil war-- - ’Tis time that I grow wise, when all the world grows mad. - - - More of my days - I will not spend to gain an idiot’s praise; - Or to make sport - For some slight Puisne of the Inns of Court. - Then, worthy Stafford, say, - How shall we spend the day? - With what delights - Shorten the nights? - When from this tumult we are got secure, - Where mirth with all her freedom goes, - Yet shall no finger lose; - Where every word is thought, and every thought is pure? - - There from the tree - We’ll cherries pluck, and pick the strawberry; - And every day - Go see the wholesome country girls make hay, - Whose brown hath lovelier grace - Than any painted face - That I do know - Hyde Park can show: - Where I had rather gain a kiss than meet - (Though some of them in greater state - Might court my love with plate) - The beauties of the Cheap, and wives of Lombard Street. - - But think upon - Some other pleasures: these to me are none. - Why do I prate - Of women, that are things against my fate! - I never mean to wed - That torture to my bed: - My Muse is she - My love shall be. - Let clowns get wealth and heirs: when I am gone - And that great bugbear, grisly Death, - Shall take this idle breath, - If I a poem leave, that poem is my son. - - Of this no more! - We’ll rather taste the bright Pomona’s store. - No fruit shall ’scape - Our palates, from the damson to the grape. - Then, full, we’ll seek a shade, - And hear what music’s made; - How Philomel - Her tale doth tell, - And how the other birds do fill the quire; - The thrush and blackbird lend their throats, - Warbling melodious notes; - We will all sports enjoy which others but desire. - - Ours is the sky, - Where at what fowl we please our hawk shall fly: - Nor will we spare - To hunt the crafty fox or timorous hare; - But let our hounds run loose - In any ground they’ll choose; - The buck shall fall, - The stag, and all. - Our pleasures must from their own warrants be, - For to my Muse, if not to me, - I’m sure all game is free: - Heaven, earth, are all but parts of her great royalty. - - And when we mean - To taste of Bacchus’ blessings now and then, - And drink by stealth - A cup or two to noble Barkley’s health, - I’ll take my pipe and try - The Phrygian melody; - Which he that hears, - Lets through his ears - A madness to distemper all the brain: - Then I another pipe will take - And Doric music make, - To civilize with graver notes our wits again. - - - - -SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT - -1606-1668 - - -_301._ _Aubade_ - - The lark now leaves his wat’ry nest, - And climbing shakes his dewy wings. - He takes this 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 thro’ your veils of lawn! - Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn! - - -_302._ _To a Mistress Dying_ - - _Lover._ Your beauty, ripe and calm and fresh - As eastern summers are, - Must now, forsaking time and flesh, - Add light to some small star. - - - _Philosopher._ Whilst she yet lives, were stars decay’d, - Their light by hers relief might find; - But Death will lead her to a shade - Where Love is cold and Beauty blind. - - _Lover._ Lovers, whose priests all poets are, - Think every mistress, when she dies, - Is changed at least into a star: - And who dares doubt the poets wise? - - _Philosopher._ But ask not bodies doom’d to die - To what abode they go; - Since Knowledge is but Sorrow’s spy, - It is not safe to know. - - -_303._ _Praise and Prayer_ - - Praise is devotion fit for mighty minds, - The diff’ring world’s agreeing sacrifice; - Where Heaven divided faiths united finds: - But Prayer in various discord upward flies. - - For Prayer the ocean is where diversely - Men steer their course, each to a sev’ral coast; - Where all our interests so discordant be - That half beg winds by which the rest are lost. - - By Penitence when we ourselves forsake, - ’Tis but in wise design on piteous Heaven; - In Praise we nobly give what God may take, - And are, without a beggar’s blush, forgiven. - - - - -EDMUND WALLER - -1606-1687 - - -_304._ _On a Girdle_ - - That which her slender waist confined - Shall now my joyful temples bind; - No monarch but would give his crown - His arms might do what this has done. - - It was my Heaven’s extremest sphere, - The pale which held that lovely deer: - My joy, my grief, my hope, my love, - Did all within this circle move. - - A narrow compass! and yet there - Dwelt all that’s good, and all that’s fair! - Give me but what this ribband bound, - Take all the rest the sun goes round! - - -_305._ _Go, lovely Rose_ - - Go, lovely Rose-- - Tell her that wastes her time and me, - That now she knows, - When I resemble her to thee, - How sweet and fair she seems to be. - - Tell her that’s young, - And shuns to have her graces spied, - That hadst thou sprung - In deserts where no men abide, - Thou must have uncommended died. - - Small is the worth - Of beauty from the light retired: - Bid her come forth, - Suffer herself to be desired, - And not blush so to be admired. - - - Then die--that she - The common fate of all things rare - May read in thee; - How small a part of time they share - That are so wondrous sweet and fair! - - -_306._ _Old Age_ - - The seas are quiet when the winds give o’er; - So calm are we when passions are no more. - For then we know how vain it was to boast - Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. - Clouds of affection from our younger eyes - Conceal that emptiness which age descries. - - The soul’s dark cottage, batter’d and decay’d, - Lets in new light through chinks that Time hath made: - Stronger by weakness, wiser men become - As they draw near to their eternal home. - Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view - That stand upon the threshold of the new. - - - -JOHN MILTON - -1608-1674 - - -_307._ _Hymn on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity_ - - It was the Winter wilde, - While the Heav’n-born-childe, - All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; - Nature in aw to him - Had doff’t her gawdy trim, - With her great Master so to sympathize: - It was no season then for her - To wanton with the Sun her lusty Paramour. - - - Only with speeches fair - She woo’s the gentle Air - To hide her guilty front with innocent Snow, - And on her naked shame, - Pollute with sinfull blame, - The Saintly Vail of Maiden white to throw, - Confounded, that her Makers eyes - Should look so neer upon her foul deformities. - - But he her fears to cease, - Sent down the meek-eyd Peace, - She crown’d with Olive green, came softly sliding - Down through the turning sphear - His ready Harbinger, - With Turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing, - And waving wide her mirtle wand, - She strikes a universall Peace through Sea and Land. - - No War, or Battails sound - Was heard the World around, - The idle spear and shield were high up hung; - The hookèd Chariot stood - Unstain’d with hostile blood, - The Trumpet spake not to the armèd throng, - And Kings sate still with awfull eye, - As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. - - But peacefull was the night - Wherin the Prince of light - His raign of peace upon the earth began: - The Windes with wonder whist, - Smoothly the waters kist, - Whispering new joyes to the milde Ocean, - Who now hath quite forgot to rave, - While Birds of Calm sit brooding on the charmèd wave. - - - The Stars with deep amaze - Stand fixt in stedfast gaze, - Bending one way their pretious influence, - And will not take their flight, - For all the morning light, - Or Lucifer that often warn’d them thence; - But in their glimmering Orbs did glow, - Untill their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. - - And though the shady gloom - Had given day her room, - The Sun himself with-held his wonted speed, - And hid his head for shame, - As his inferiour flame, - The new enlightn’d world no more should need; - He saw a greater Sun appear - Then his bright Throne, or burning Axletree could bear. - - The Shepherds on the Lawn, - Or ere the point of dawn, - Sate simply chatting in a rustick row; - Full little thought they than, - That the mighty Pan - Was kindly com to live with them below; - Perhaps their loves, or els their sheep, - Was all that did their silly thoughts so busie keep. - - When such musick sweet - Their hearts and ears did greet, - As never was by mortall finger strook, - Divinely-warbled voice - Answering the stringèd noise, - As all their souls in blisfull rapture took - The Air such pleasure loth to lose, - With thousand echo’s still prolongs each heav’nly close. - - - Nature that heard such sound - Beneath the hollow round - Of Cynthia’s seat, the Airy region thrilling, - Now was almost won - To think her part was don, - And that her raign had here its last fulfilling; - She knew such harmony alone - Could hold all Heav’n and Earth in happier union. - - At last surrounds their sight - A Globe of circular light, - That with long beams the shame-fac’t night array’d, - The helmèd Cherubim - And sworded Seraphim, - Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaid, - Harping in loud and solemn quire, - With unexpressive notes to Heav’ns new-born Heir. - - Such musick (as ’tis said) - Before was never made, - But when of old the sons of morning sung, - While the Creator Great - His constellations set, - And the well-ballanc’t world on hinges hung, - And cast the dark foundations deep, - And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep. - - Ring out ye Crystall sphears, - Once bless our human ears, - (If ye have power to touch our senses so) - And let your silver chime - Move in melodious time; - And let the Base of Heav’ns deep Organ blow - And with your ninefold harmony - Make up full consort to th’Angelike symphony. - - - For if such holy Song - Enwrap our fancy long, - Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold, - And speckl’d vanity - Will sicken soon and die, - And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould, - And Hell it self will pass away, - And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. - - Yea Truth, and Justice then - Will down return to men, - Th’enameld Arras of the Rain-bow wearing, - And Mercy set between, - Thron’d in Celestiall sheen, - With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing, - And Heav’n as at som festivall, - Will open wide the Gates of her high Palace Hall. - - But wisest Fate sayes no, - This must not yet be so, - The Babe lies yet in smiling Infancy, - That on the bitter cross - Must redeem our loss; - So both himself and us to glorifie: - Yet first to those ychain’d in sleep, - The wakefull trump of doom must thunder through the deep, - - With such a horrid clang - As on mount Sinai rang - While the red fire, and smouldring clouds out brake: - The agèd Earth agast - With terrour of that blast, - Shall from the surface to the center shake; - When at the worlds last session, - The dreadfull Judge in middle Air shall spread his throne. - - - And then at last our bliss - Full and perfect is, - But now begins; for from this happy day - Th’old Dragon under ground - In straiter limits bound, - Not half so far casts his usurpèd sway, - And wrath to see his Kingdom fail, - Swindges the scaly Horrour of his foulded tail. - - The Oracles are dumm, - No voice or hideous humm - Runs through the archèd roof in words deceiving. - Apollo from his shrine - Can no more divine, - With hollow shreik the steep of Delphos leaving. - No nightly trance, or breathèd spell, - Inspire’s the pale-ey’d Priest from the prophetic cell. - - The lonely mountains o’re, - And the resounding shore, - A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament; - From haunted spring, and dale - Edg’d with poplar pale, - The parting Genius is with sighing sent, - With flowre-inwov’n tresses torn - The Nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. - - In consecrated Earth, - And on the holy Hearth, - The Lars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint, - In Urns, and Altars round, - A drear, and dying sound - Affrights the Flamins at their service quaint; - And the chill Marble seems to sweat, - While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat. - - - Peor, and Baalim, - Forsake their Temples dim, - With that twise-batter’d god of Palestine, - And moonèd Ashtaroth, - Heav’ns Queen and Mother both, - Now sits not girt with Tapers holy shine, - The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn, - In vain the Tyrian Maids their wounded Thamuz mourn. - - And sullen Moloch fled, - Hath left in shadows dred, - His burning Idol all of blackest hue, - In vain with Cymbals ring, - They call the grisly king, - In dismall dance about the furnace blue; - The brutish gods of Nile as fast, - Isis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis hast. - - Nor is Osiris seen - In Memphian Grove, or Green, - Trampling the unshowr’d Grasse with lowings loud: - Nor can he be at rest - Within his sacred chest, - Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud, - In vain with Timbrel’d Anthems dark - The sable-stolèd Sorcerers bear his worshipt Ark. - - He feels from Juda’s Land - The dredded Infants hand, - The rayes of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; - Nor all the gods beside, - Longer dare abide, - Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine: - Our Babe to shew his Godhead true, - Can in his swadling bands controul the damnèd crew, - So when the Sun in bed, - Curtain’d with cloudy red, - Pillows his chin upon an Orient wave, - The flocking shadows pale, - Troop to th’infernall jail, - Each fetter’d Ghost slips to his severall grave, - And the yellow-skirted Fayes, - Fly after the Night-steeds, leaving their Moon-lov’d maze. - - But see the Virgin blest, - Hath laid her Babe to rest. - Time is our tedious Song should here have ending, - Heav’ns youngest teemèd Star, - Hath fixt her polisht Car, - Her sleeping Lord with Handmaid Lamp attending: - And all about the Courtly Stable, - Bright-harnest Angels sit in order serviceable. - - -_308._ _On Time_ - - Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race, - Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours, - Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace; - And glut thy self with what thy womb devours, - Which is no more then what is false and vain, - And meerly mortal dross; - So little is our loss, - So little is thy gain. - For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb’d, - And last of all, thy greedy self consum’d, - Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss - With an individual kiss; - And Joy shall overtake us as a flood, - When every thing that is sincerely good - And perfectly divine, - With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine - About the supreme Throne - Of him, t’whose happy-making sight alone, - When once our heav’nly-guided soul shall clime, - Then all this Earthy grosnes quit, - Attir’d with Stars, we shall for ever sit, - Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time. - - -_309._ _At a Solemn Musick_ - - Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav’ns joy, - Sphear-born harmonious Sisters, Voice, and Vers, - Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ - Dead things with inbreath’d sense able to pierce, - And to our high-rais’d phantasie present, - That undisturbèd Song of pure content, - Ay sung before the saphire-colour’d throne - To him that sits theron - With Saintly shout, and solemn Jubily, - Where the bright Seraphim in burning row - Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow, - And the Cherubick host in thousand quires - Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires, - With those just Spirits that wear victorious Palms, - Hymns devout and holy Psalms - Singing everlastingly; - That we on Earth with undiscording voice - May rightly answer that melodious noise; - As once we did, till disproportion’d sin - Jarr’d against natures chime, and with harsh din - Broke the fair musick that all creatures made - To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway’d - In perfect Diapason, whilst they stood - In first obedience, and their state of good. - O may we soon again renew that Song, - And keep in tune with Heav’n, till God ere long - To his celestial consort us unite, - To live with him, and sing in endles morn of light. - - -_310._ _L’Allegro_ - - Hence loathèd Melancholy - Of Cerberus and blackest midnight born, - In Stygian Cave forlorn - ’Mongst horrid shapes, and shreiks, and sights unholy. - Find out som uncouth cell, - Where brooding darknes spreads his jealous wings, - And the night-Raven sings; - There, under Ebon shades, and low-brow’d Rocks, - As ragged as thy Locks, - In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. - But com thou Goddes fair and free, - In Heav’n ycleap’d Euphrosyne, - And by men, heart-easing Mirth, - Whom lovely Venus, at a birth - With two sister Graces more - To Ivy-crownèd Bacchus bore; - Or whether (as som Sager sing) - The frolick Wind that breathes the Spring, - Zephir with Aurora playing, - As he met her once a Maying, - There on Beds of Violets blew, - And fresh-blown Roses washt in dew, - Fill’d her with thee a daughter fair, - So bucksom, blith, and debonair. - Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee - Jest and youthful Jollity, - Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, - Nods, and Becks, and Wreathèd Smiles, - Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek, - And love to live in dimple sleek; - Sport that wrincled Care derides, - And Laughter holding both his sides. - Com, and trip it as ye go - On the light fantastick toe, - And in thy right hand lead with thee, - The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty; - And if I give thee honour due, - Mirth, admit me of thy crue - To live with her, and live with thee, - In unreprovèd pleasures free; - To hear the Lark begin his flight, - And singing startle the dull night, - From his watch-towre in the skies, - Till the dappled dawn doth rise; - Then to com in spight of sorrow, - And at my window bid good morrow, - Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine, - Or the twisted Eglantine. - While the Cock with lively din, - Scatters the rear of darknes thin, - And to the stack, or the Barn dore, - Stoutly struts his Dames before, - Oft listening how the Hounds and horn - Chearly rouse the slumbring morn, - From the side of som Hoar Hill, - Through the high wood echoing shrill. - Som time walking not unseen - By Hedge-row Elms, on Hillocks green, - Right against the Eastern gate, - Wher the great Sun begins his state, - Rob’d in flames, and Amber light, - The clouds in thousand Liveries dight. - While the Plowman neer at hand, - Whistles ore the Furrow’d Land, - And the Milkmaid singeth blithe, - And the Mower whets his sithe, - And every Shepherd tells his tale - Under the Hawthorn in the dale. - Streit mine eye hath caught new pleasures - Whilst the Lantskip round it measures, - Russet Lawns, and Fallows Gray, - Where the nibling flocks do stray, - Mountains on whose barren brest - The labouring clouds do often rest: - Meadows trim with Daisies pide, - Shallow Brooks, and Rivers wide. - Towers, and Battlements it sees - Boosom’d high in tufted Trees, - Wher perhaps som beauty lies, - The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes. - Hard by, a Cottage chimney smokes, - From betwixt two agèd Okes, - Where Corydon and Thyrsis met, - Are at their savory dinner set - Of Hearbs, and other Country Messes, - Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses; - And then in haste her Bowre she leaves, - With Thestylis to bind the Sheaves; - Or if the earlier season lead - To the tann’d Haycock in the Mead, - Som times with secure delight - The up-land Hamlets will invite, - When the merry Bells ring round, - And the jocond rebecks sound - To many a youth, and many a maid, - Dancing in the Chequer’d shade; - And young and old com forth to play - On a Sunshine Holyday, - Till the live-long day-light fail, - Then to the Spicy Nut-brown Ale, - With stones told of many a feat, - How Faery Mab the junkets eat, - She was pincht, and pull’d she sed, - And he by Friars Lanthorn led - Tells how the drudging Goblin swet, - To ern his Cream-bowle duly set, - When in one night, ere glimps of morn, - His shadowy Flale hath thresh’d the Corn - That ten day-labourers could not end, - Then lies him down the Lubbar Fend, - And stretch’d out all the Chimney’s length, - Basks at the fire his hairy strength; - And Crop-full out of dores he flings, - Ere the first Cock his Mattin rings. - Thus don the Tales, to bed they creep, - By whispering Windes soon lull’d asleep. - Towred Cities please us then, - And the busie humm of men, - Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold, - In weeds of Peace high triumphs hold, - With store of Ladies, whose bright eies - Rain influence, and judge the prise - Of Wit, or Arms, while both contend - To win her Grace, whom all commend. - There let Hymen oft appear - In Saffron robe, with Taper clear, - And pomp, and feast, and revelry, - With mask, and antique Pageantry, - Such sights as youthfull Poets dream - On Summer eeves by haunted stream. - Then to the well-trod stage anon, - If Jonsons learnèd Sock be on, - Or sweetest Shakespear fancies childe, - Warble his native Wood-notes wilde, - And ever against eating Cares, - Lap me in soft Lydian Aires, - Married to immortal verse - Such as the meeting soul may pierce - In notes, with many a winding bout - Of linckèd sweetnes long drawn out, - With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, - The melting voice through mazes running; - Untwisting all the chains that ty - The hidden soul of harmony. - That Orpheus self may heave his head - From golden slumber on a bed - Of heapt Elysian flowres, and hear - Such streins as would have won the ear - Of Pluto, to have quite set free - His half regain’d Eurydice. - These delights, if thou canst give, - Mirth with thee, I mean to live. - - -_311._ _Il Penseroso_ - - Hence vain deluding joyes, - The brood of folly without father bred, - How little you bested, - Or fill the fixèd mind with all your toyes; - Dwell in som idle brain, - And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, - As thick and numberless - As the gay motes that people the Sun Beams, - Or likest hovering dreams - The fickle Pensioners of Morpheus train. - But hail thou Goddes, sage and holy, - Hail divinest Melancholy, - Whose Saintly visage is too bright - To hit the Sense of human sight; - And therfore to our weaker view, - Ore laid with black staid Wisdoms hue. - Black, but such as in esteem, - Prince Memnons sister might beseem, - Or that Starr’d Ethiope Queen that strove - To set her beauties praise above - The Sea Nymphs, and their powers offended. - Yet thou art higher far descended, - Thee bright-hair’d Vesta long of yore, - To solitary Saturn bore; - His daughter she (in Saturns raign, - Such mixture was not held a stain) - Oft in glimmering Bowres, and glades - He met her, and in secret shades - Of woody Ida’s inmost grove, - Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. - Com pensive Nun, devout and pure, - Sober, stedfast, and demure, - All in a robe of darkest grain, - Flowing with majestick train, - And sable stole of Cipres Lawn, - Over thy decent shoulders drawn. - Com, but keep thy wonted state, - With eev’n step, and musing gate, - And looks commercing with the skies, - Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes: - There held in holy passion still, - Forget thy self to Marble, till - With a sad Leaden downward cast, - Thou fix them on the earth as fast. - And joyn with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, - Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, - And hears the Muses in a ring, - Ay round about Joves Altar sing. - And adde to these retirèd Leasure, - That in trim Gardens takes his pleasure; - But first, and chiefest, with thee bring, - Him that yon soars on golden wing, - Guiding the fiery-wheelèd throne, - The Cherub Contemplation, - And the mute Silence hist along, - ’Less Philomel will daign a Song, - In her sweetest, saddest plight, - Smoothing the rugged brow of night, - While Cynthia checks her Dragon yoke, - Gently o’re th’accustom’d Oke; - Sweet Bird that shunn’st the noise of folly, - Most musicall, most melancholy! - Thee Chauntress oft 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 wandring Moon, - Riding neer her highest noon, - Like one that had bin led astray - Through the Heav’ns wide pathles way; - And oft, as if her head she bow’d, - Stooping through a fleecy cloud. - Oft on a Plat of rising ground, - I hear the far-off Curfeu sound - Over som wide-water’d 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 Belmans drousie charm, - To bless the dores from nightly harm: - Or let my Lamp at midnight hour, - Be seen in som high lonely Towr, - Where I may oft out-watch the Bear, - With thrice great Hermes, or unsphear - The spirit of Plato to unfold - What Worlds, or what vast Regions hold - The immortal mind that hath forsook - Her mansion in this fleshly nook: - And of those Dæmons that are found - In fire, air, flood, or under ground, - Whose power hath a true consent - With Planet, or with Element. - Som time let Gorgeous Tragedy - In Scepter’d Pall com sweeping by, - Presenting Thebs, or Pelops line, - Or the tale of Troy divine. - Or what (though rare) of later age, - Ennoblèd hath the Buskind stage. - But, O sad Virgin, that thy power - Might raise Musæeus from his bower - Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing - Such notes as warbled to the string, - Drew Iron tears down Pluto’s cheek, - And made Hell grant what Love did seek. - Or call up him that left half told - The story of Cambuscan bold, - Of Camball, and of Algarsife, - And who had Canace to wife, - That own’d the vertuous Ring and Glass, - And of the wondrous Hors of Brass, - On which the Tartar King did ride; - And if ought els, great Bards beside, - In sage and solemn tunes have sung, - Of Turneys and of Trophies hung; - Of Forests, and inchantments drear, - Where more is meant then meets the ear. - Thus night oft see me in thy pale career, - Till civil-suited Morn appeer, - Not trickt and frounc’t as she was wont, - With the Attick Boy to hunt, - But Cherchef’t in a comly Cloud, - While rocking Winds are Piping loud, - Or usher’d with a shower still, - When the gust hath blown his fill, - Ending on the russling Leaves, - With minute drops from off the Eaves. - And when the Sun begins to fling - His flaring beams, me Goddes bring - To archèd walks of twilight groves, - And shadows brown that Sylvan loves, - Of Pine, or monumental Oake, - Where the rude Ax with heavèd stroke, - Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, - Or fright them from their hallow’d haunt. - There in close covert by som Brook, - Where no profaner eye may look, - Hide me from Day’s garish eie, - While the Bee with Honied thie, - That at her flowry work doth sing, - And the Waters murmuring - With such consort as they keep, - Entice the dewy-feather’d Sleep; - And let som strange mysterious dream, - Wave at his Wings in Airy stream, - Of lively portrature display’d, - Softly on my eye-lids laid. - And as I wake, sweet musick breath - Above, about, or underneath, - Sent by som spirit to mortals good, - Or th’unseen Genius of the Wood. - But let my due feet never fail, - To walk the studious Cloysters pale, - And love the high embowèd Roof, - With antick Pillars massy proof, - And storied Windows richly dight, - Casting a dimm religious light. - There let the pealing Organ blow, - To the full voic’d Quire below, - In Service high, and Anthems cleer, - As may with sweetnes, through mine ear, - Dissolve me into extasies, - And bring all Heav’n before mine eyes. - And may at last my weary age - Find out the peacefull hermitage, - The Hairy Gown and Mossy Cell, - Where I may sit and rightly spell - Of every Star that Heav’n doth shew, - And every Herb that sips the dew; - Till old experience do attain - To somthing like Prophetic strain. - These pleasures Melancholy give, - And I with thee will choose to live. - - -_312._ _From ‘Arcades’_ - - O’re the smooth enameld green - Where no print of step hath been, - Follow me as I sing, - And touch the warbled string. - Under the shady roof - Of branching Elm Star-proof, - Follow me, - I will bring you where she sits - Clad in splendor as befits - Her deity. - Such a rural Queen - All Arcadia hath not seen. - - -_From ‘Comus’_ - - -_313._ _i_ - - The Star that bids the Shepherd fold, - Now the top of Heav’n doth hold, - And the gilded Car of Day, - His glowing Axle doth allay - In the steep Atlantick stream, - And the slope Sun his upward beam - Shoots against the dusky Pole, - Pacing toward the other gole - Of his Chamber in the East. - Mean while welcom Joy, and Feast, - Midnight shout, and revelry, - Tipsie dance, and Jollity. - Braid your Locks with rosie Twine - Dropping odours, dropping Wine. - Rigor now is gon to bed, - And Advice with scrupulous head, - Strict Age, and sowre Severity, - With their grave Saws in slumber ly. - We that are of purer fire - Imitate the Starry Quire, - Who in their nightly watchfull Sphears, - Lead in swift round the Months and Years. - The Sounds, and Seas with all their finny drove - Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move, - And on the Tawny Sands and Shelves, - Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves; - By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim, - The Wood-Nymphs deckt with Daisies trim, - Their merry wakes and pastimes keep: - What hath night to do with sleep? - Night hath better sweets to prove, - Venus now wakes, and wak’ns Love.... - Com, knit hands, and beat the ground, - In a light fantastick round. - - -_314._ _ii_ - -ECHO - - Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph that liv’st unseen - Within thy airy shell - By slow Meander’s margent green, - And in the violet imbroider’d vale - Where the love-lorn Nightingale - Nightly to thee her sad Song mourneth well. - Canst thou not tell me of a gentle Pair - That likest thy Narcissus are? - O if thou have - Hid them in som flowry Cave, - Tell me but where - Sweet Queen of Parly, Daughter of the Sphear! - So maist thou be translated to the skies, - And give resounding grace to all Heav’ns Harmonies? - - -_315. iii_ - -SABRINA - -_The Spirit sings:_ - - 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! - - Listen and appear to us, - In name of great Oceanus, - By the earth-shaking Neptune’s mace, - And Tethys grave majestick pace, - By hoary Nereus wrincled look, - And the Carpathian wisards hook, - By scaly Tritons winding shell, - And old sooth-saying Glaucus spell, - By Leucothea’s lovely hands, - And her son that rules the strands, - By Thetis tinsel-slipper’d feet, - And the Songs of Sirens sweet, - By dead Parthenope’s dear tomb, - And fair Ligea’s golden comb, - Wherwith she sits on diamond rocks - Sleeking her soft alluring locks, - 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! - -_Sabrina replies:_ - - 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. - - -_316._ _iv_ - -_The Spirit epiloguizes:_ - - To the Ocean now I fly, - And those happy climes that ly - Where day never shuts his eye, - Up in the broad fields of the sky: - There I suck the liquid ayr - All amidst the Gardens fair - Of Hesperus, and his daughters three - That sing about the golden tree: - Along the crispèd shades and bowres - Revels the spruce and jocond Spring, - The Graces, and the rosie-boosom’d Howres, - Thither all their bounties bring, - That there eternal Summer dwels, - And West winds, with musky wing - About the cedar’n alleys fling - Nard, and Cassia’s balmy smels. - Iris there with humid bow, - Waters the odorous banks that blow - Flowers of more mingled hew - Than her purfl’d scarf can shew, - And drenches with Elysian dew - (List mortals, if your ears be true) - Beds of Hyacinth, and roses - Where young Adonis oft reposes, - Waxing well of his deep wound - In slumber soft, and on the ground - Sadly sits th’ Assyrian Queen; - But far above in spangled sheen - Celestial Cupid her fam’d son advanc’t, - Holds his dear Psyche sweet intranc’t - After her wandring labours long, - Till free consent the gods among - Make her his eternal Bride, - And from her fair unspotted side - Two blissful twins are to be born, - Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn. - But now my task is smoothly don, - I can fly, or I can run - Quickly to the green earths end, - Where the bow’d welkin slow doth bend, - And from thence can soar as soon - To the corners of the Moon. - Mortals that would follow me, - Love vertue, she alone is free. - She can teach ye how to clime - Higher then the Spheary chime; - Or if Vertue feeble were, - Heav’n it self would stoop to her. - - -_317._ _Lycidas_ - -_A Lament for a friend drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish -Seas, 1637_ - - Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more - Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never-sear, - I com to pluck your Berries harsh and crude, - And with forc’d fingers rude, - Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. - Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, - Compels me to disturb your season due: - For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime - Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer: - Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew - Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. - He must not flote upon his watry bear - Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, - Without the meed of som melodious tear. - Begin, then, Sisters of the sacred well, - That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring, - Begin, and somwhat loudly sweep the string. - Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse, - So may som gentle Muse - With lucky words favour my destin’d Urn, - And as he passes turn, - And bid fair peace be to my sable shrowd. - For we were nurst upon the self-same hill, - Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill. - Together both, ere the high Lawns appear’d - Under the opening eye-lids of the morn, - We drove a field, and both together heard - What time the Gray-fly winds her sultry horn, - Batt’ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night, - Oft till the Star that rose, at Ev’ning, bright - Toward Heav’ns descent had slop’d his westering wheel. - Mean while the Rural ditties were not mute, - Temper’d to th’Oaten Flute; - Rough Satyrs danc’d, and Fauns with clov’n heel, - From the glad sound would not be absent long, - And old Damætas lov’d to hear our song - But O the heavy change, now thou art gon, - Now thou art gon, and never must return! - Thee Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves, - With wilde Thyme and the gadding Vine o’regrown, - And all their echoes mourn. - The Willows, and the Hazle Copses green, - Shall now no more be seen, - Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft layes. - As killing as the Canker to the Rose, - Or Taint-worm to the weanling Herds that graze, - Or Frost to Flowers, that their gay wardrop wear, - When first the White thorn blows; - Such, Lycidas, thy loss to Shepherds ear. - Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep - Clos’d o’re the head of your lov’d Lycidas? - For neither were ye playing on the steep, - Where your old Bards, the famous Druids ly, - Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, - Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream: - Ay me, I fondly dream! - Had ye bin there--for what could that have don? - What could the Muse her self that Orpheus bore, - The Muse her self, for her inchanting son - Whom Universal nature did lament, - When by the rout that made the hideous roar, - His goary visage down the stream was sent, - Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore. - Alas! what boots it with uncessant care - To tend the homely slighted Shepherds trade, - And strictly meditate the thankles Muse, - Were it not better don as others use, - To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, - Or with the tangles of Neæra’s hair? - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise - (That last infirmity of Noble mind) - To scorn delights, and live laborious dayes; - But the fair Guerdon when we hope to find, - And think to burst out into sudden blaze, - Comes the blind Fury with th’abhorrèd shears, - And slits the thin spun life. But not the praise, - Phœbus repli’d, and touch’d my trembling ears; - Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, - Nor in the glistering foil - Set off to th’world, nor in broad rumour lies, - But lives and spreds aloft by those pure eyes, - And perfet witnes of all judging Jove; - As he pronounces lastly on each deed, - Of so much fame in Heav’n expect thy meed. - O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour’d floud, - Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown’d with vocall reeds, - That strain I heard was of a higher mood: - But now my Oate proceeds, - And listens to the Herald of the Sea - That came in Neptune’s plea, - He ask’d the Waves, and ask’d the Fellon winds, - What hard mishap hath doom’d this gentle swain? - And question’d every gust of rugged wings - That blows from off each beakèd Promontory, - They knew not of his story, - And sage Hippotades their answer brings, - That not a blast was from his dungeon stray’d, - The Ayr was calm, and on the level brine, - Sleek Panope with all her sisters play’d. - It was that fatall and perfidious Bark - Built in th’eclipse, and rigg’d with curses dark, - That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. - Next Camus, reverend Sire, went footing slow, - His Mantle hairy, and his Bonnet sedge, - Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge - Like to that sanguine flower inscrib’d with woe. - Ah; Who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge? - Last came, and last did go, - The Pilot of the Galilean lake, - Two massy Keyes he bore of metals twain, - (The Golden opes, the Iron shuts amain) - He shook his Miter’d locks, and stern bespake, - How well could I have spar’d for thee, young swain, - Anow of such as for their bellies sake, - Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold? - Of other care they little reck’ning make, - Then how to scramble at the shearers feast, - And shove away the worthy bidden guest. - Blind mouthes! that scarce themselves know how to hold - A Sheep-hook, or have learn’d ought els the least - That to the faithfull Herdmans art belongs! - What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; - And when they list, their lean and flashy songs - Grate on their scrannel Pipes of wretched straw, - The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed, - But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, - Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: - Besides what the grim Woolf with privy paw - Daily devours apace, and nothing sed, - But that two-handed engine at the door, - Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more. - Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past, - That shrunk thy streams; Return Sicilian Muse, - And call the Vales, and bid them hither cast - Their Bels, and Flourets of a thousand hues. - Ye valleys low where the milde whispers use, - Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, - On whose fresh lap the swart Star sparely looks, - Throw hither all your quaint enameld eyes, - That on the green terf suck the honied showres, - And purple all the ground with vernal flowres. - Bring the rathe Primrose that forsaken dies. - The tufted Crow-toe, and pale Gessamine, - The white Pink, and the Pansie freakt with jeat, - The glowing Violet. - The Musk-rose, and the well attir’d Woodbine. - With Cowslips wan that hang the pensive hed, - And every flower that sad embroidery wears: - Bid Amaranthus all his beauty shed, - And Daffadillies fill their cups with tears, - To strew the Laureat Herse where Lycid lies. - For so to interpose a little ease, - Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. - Ay me! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding Seas - Wash far away, where ere thy bones are hurld, - Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, - Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide - Visit’st the bottom of the monstrous world; - Or whether thou to our moist vows deny’d, - Sleep’st by the fable of Bellerus old, - Where the great vision of the guarded Mount - Looks toward Namancos and Bayona’s hold; - Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth. - And, O ye Dolphins, waft the haples youth. - Weep no more, woful Shepherds weep no more, - For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, - Sunk though he be beneath the watry floar, - So sinks the day-star in the Ocean bed, - And yet anon repairs his drooping head, - And tricks his beams, and with new spangled Ore, - Flames in the forehead of the morning sky: - So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, - Through the dear might of him that walk’d the waves - Where other groves, and other streams along, - With Nectar pure his oozy Lock’s he laves, - And hears the unexpressive nuptiall Song, - In the blest Kingdoms meek of joy and love. - There entertain him all the Saints above, - In solemn troops, and sweet Societies - That sing, and singing in their glory move, - And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. - Now Lycidas the Shepherds weep no more; - Hence forth thou art the Genius of the shore, - In thy large recompense, and shalt be good - To all that wander in that perilous flood. - Thus sang the uncouth Swain to th’Okes and rills, - While the still morn went out with Sandals gray, - He touch’d the tender stops of various Quills, - With eager thought warbling his Dorick lay: - And now the Sun had stretch’d out all the hills, - And now was dropt into the Western bay; - At last he rose, and twitch’d his Mantle blew: - To morrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new. - - -_317._* _To the Lady Margaret Ley_ - - Daughter to that good Earl, once President - Of Englands Counsel, and her Treasury, - Who liv’d in both, unstain’d with gold or fee, - And left them both, more in himself content, - Till the sad breaking of that Parlament - Broke him, as that dishonest victory - At Chæronèa, fatal to liberty - Kil’d with report that Old man eloquent, - Though later born, then to have known the dayes - Wherin your Father flourisht, yet by you - Madam, me thinks I see him living yet; - So well your words his noble vertues praise, - That all both judge you to relate them true, - And to possess them, Honour’d Margaret. - - -_318._ _On His Blindness_ - - When I consider how my light is spent, - E’re half my days, in this dark world and wide, - And that one Talent which is death to hide, - Lodg’d with me useless, though my Soul more bent - To serve therewith my Maker, and present - My true account, least he returning chide, - Doth God exact day-labour, light deny’d, - I fondly ask; But patience to prevent - That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need - Either man’s work or his own gifts, who best - Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State - Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed - And post o’re Land and Ocean without rest: - They also serve who only stand and waite. - - -_319._ _To Mr. Lawrence_ - - Lawrence of vertuous Father vertuous Son, - Now that the Fields are dank, and ways are mire, - Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire - Help wast a sullen day; what may be won - From the hard Season gaining: time will run - On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire - The frozen earth; and cloth in fresh attire - The Lillie and Rose, that neither sow’d nor spun. - What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, - Of Attick tast, with Wine, whence we may rise - To hear the Lute well toucht, or artfull voice - Warble immortal Notes and Tuskan Ayre? - He who of those delights can judge, and spare - To interpose them oft, is not unwise. - - -_320._ _To Cyriack Skinner_ - - Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench - Of Brittish Themis, with no mean applause - Pronounc’t and in his volumes taught our Lawes, - Which others at their Barr so often wrench: - To day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench - In mirth, that after no repenting drawes; - Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause, - And what the Swede intend, and what the French. - To measure life, learn thou betimes, and know - Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; - For other things mild Heav’n a time ordains, - And disapproves that care, though wise in show, - That with superfluous burden loads the day, - And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. - - -_321._ _On His Deceased Wife_ - - Methought I saw my late espousèd Saint - Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, - Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave, - Rescu’d from death by force though pale and faint. - Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint, - Purification in the old Law did save, - And such, as yet once more I trust to have - Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, - Came vested all in white, pure as her mind: - Her face was vail’d, yet to my fancied sight, - Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin’d - So clear, as in no face with more delight. - But O as to embrace me she enclin’d - I wak’d, she fled, and day brought back my night. - - -_322._ _Light_ - - Hail holy light, ofspring of Heav’n first-born, - Or of th’ Eternal Coeternal beam - May I express thee unblam’d? since God is light, - And never but in unapproachèd light - Dwelt from Eternitie, dwelt then in thee, - Bright effluence of bright essence increate. - Or hear’st thou rather pure Ethereal stream, - Whose Fountain who shall tell? before the Sun, - Before the Heavens thou wert, and at the voice - Of God, as with a Mantle didst invest - The rising world of waters dark and deep, - Won from the void and formless infinite. - Thee I re-visit now with bolder wing, - Escap’t the Stygian Pool, though long detain’d - In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight - Through utter and through middle darkness borne - With other notes then to th’ Orphean Lyre - I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night, - Taught by the heav’nly Muse to venture down - The dark descent, and up to reascend, - Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe, - And feel thy sovran vital Lamp; but thou - Revisit’st not these eyes, that rowle in vain - To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn; - So thick a drop serene hath quencht thir Orbs, - Or dim suffusion veild. Yet not the more - Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt - Cleer Spring, or shadie Grove, or Sunnie Hill, - Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief - Thee _Sion_ and the flowrie Brooks beneath - That wash thy hallowd feet, and warbling flow, - Nightly I visit: nor somtimes forget - Those other two equal’d with me in Fate, - So were I equal’d with them in renown. - Blind Thamyris and blind Mæonides, - And Tiresias and Phineus Prophets old. - Then feed on thoughts, that voluntarie move - Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful Bird - Sings darkling, and in shadiest Covert hid - Tunes her nocturnal Note. Thus with the Year - Seasons return, but not to me returns - Day, or the sweet approach of Ev’n or Morn, - Or sight of vernal bloom, or Summers Rose, - Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; - But cloud in stead, and ever-during dark - Surrounds me, from the chearful waies of men - Cut off, and for the Book of knowledg fair - Presented with a Universal blanc - Of Natures works to mee expung’d and ras’d, - And wisdome at one entrance quite shut out. - So much the rather thou Celestial light - Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers - Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mist from thence - Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell - Of things invisible to mortal sight. - - -_From ‘Samson Agonistes’_ - - -_323._ _i_ - - Oh how comely it is and how reviving - To the Spirits of just men long opprest! - When God into the hands of thir deliverer - Puts invincible might - To quell the mighty of the Earth, th’ oppressour, - The brute and boist’rous force of violent men - Hardy and industrious to support - Tyrannic power, but raging to pursue - The righteous and all such as honour Truth; - He all thir Ammunition - And feats of War defeats - With plain Heroic magnitude of mind - And celestial vigour arm’d, - Thir Armories and Magazins contemns, - Renders them useless, while - With wingèd expedition - Swift as the lightning glance he executes - His errand on the wicked, who surpris’d - Lose thir defence distracted and amaz’d. - - -_324._ _ii_ - - All is best, though we oft doubt, - What th’ unsearchable dispose - Of highest wisdom brings about, - And ever best found in the close. - Oft he seems to hide his face, - But unexpectedly returns - And to his faithful Champion hath in place - Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns - And all that band them to resist - His uncontroulable intent. - His servants he with new acquist - Of true experience from this great event - With peace and consolation hath dismist, - And calm of mind all passion spent. - - - - -SIR JOHN SUCKLING - -1609-1642 - - -_325._ _A Doubt of Martyrdom_ - - O for some honest lover’s ghost, - Some kind unbodied post - Sent from the shades below! - I strangely long to know - Whether the noble chaplets wear - Those that their mistress’ scorn did bear - Or those that were used kindly. - - For whatsoe’er they tell us here - To make those sufferings dear, - ’Twill there, I fear, be found - That to the being crown’d - T’ have loved alone will not suffice, - Unless we also have been wise - And have our loves enjoy’d. - - What posture can we think him in - That, here unloved, again - Departs, and ’s thither gone - Where each sits by his own? - Or how can that Elysium be - Where I my mistress still must see - Circled in other’s arms? - - - For there the judges all are just, - And Sophonisba must - Be his whom she held dear, - Not his who loved her here. - The sweet Philoclea, since she died, - Lies by her Pirocles his side, - Not by Amphialus. - - Some bays, perchance, or myrtle bough - For difference crowns the brow - Of those kind souls that were - The noble martyrs here: - And if that be the only odds - (As who can tell?), ye kinder gods, - Give me the woman here! - - -_326._ _The Constant Lover_ - - Out upon it, I have loved - Three whole days together! - And am like to love three more, - If it prove fair weather. - - Time shall moult away his wings - Ere he shall discover - In the whole wide world again - Such a constant lover. - - But the spite on ’t is, no praise - Is due at all to me: - Love with me had made no stays, - Had it any been but she. - - Had it any been but she, - And that very face, - There had been at least ere this - A dozen dozen in her place. - - -_327._ _Why so Pale and Wan?_ - - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? - Prithee, why so pale? - Will, when looking well can’t move her, - Looking ill prevail? - Prithee, why so pale? - - Why so dull and mute, young sinner? - Prithee, why so mute? - Will, when speaking well can’t win her, - Saying nothing do’t? - Prithee, why so mute? - - Quit, quit for shame! This will not move; - This cannot take her. - If of herself she will not love, - Nothing can make her: - The devil take her! - - -_328._ _When, Dearest, I but think of Thee_ - - When, dearest, I but think of thee, - Methinks all things that lovely be - Are present, and my soul delighted: - For beauties that from worth arise - Are like the grace of deities, - Still present with us, tho’ unsighted. - - Thus while I sit and sigh the day - With all his borrow’d lights away, - Till night’s black wings do overtake me, - Thinking on thee, thy beauties then, - As sudden lights do sleepy men, - So they by their bright rays awake me. - - - Thus absence dies, and dying proves - No absence can subsist with loves - That do partake of fair perfection: - Since in the darkest night they may - By love’s quick motion find a way - To see each other by reflection. - - The waving sea can with each flood - Bathe some high promont that hath stood - Far from the main up in the river: - O think not then but love can do - As much! for that’s an ocean too, - Which flows not every day, but ever! - - - - -SIR RICHARD FANSHAWE - -1608-1666 - - -_329._ _A Rose_ - - Blown in the morning, thou shalt fade ere noon. - What boots a life which in such haste forsakes thee? - Thou’rt wondrous frolic, being to die so soon, - And passing proud a little colour makes thee. - If thee thy brittle beauty so deceives, - Know then the thing that swells thee is thy bane; - For the same beauty doth, in bloody leaves, - The sentence of thy early death contain. - Some clown’s coarse lungs will poison thy sweet flower, - If by the careless plough thou shalt be torn; - And many Herods lie in wait each hour - To murder thee as soon as thou art born-- - Nay, force thy bud to blow--their tyrant breath - Anticipating life, to hasten death! - - - - -WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT - -1611-1643 - - -_330._ _To Chloe_ - -_Who for his sake wished herself younger_ - - There are two births; the one when light - First strikes the new awaken’d sense; - The other when two souls unite, - And we must count our life from thence: - When you loved me and I loved you - Then both of us were born anew. - - Love then to us new souls did give - And in those souls did plant new powers; - Since when another life we live, - The breath we breathe is his, not ours: - Love makes those young whom age doth chill, - And whom he finds young keeps young still. - - -_331._ _Falsehood_ - - Still do the stars impart their light - To those that travel in the night; - Still time runs on, nor doth the hand - Or shadow on the dial stand; - The streams still glide and constant are: - Only thy mind - Untrue I find, - Which carelessly - Neglects to be - Like stream or shadow, hand or star. - - Fool that I am! I do recall - My words, and swear thou’rt like them all, - Thou seem’st like stars to nourish fire, - But O how cold is thy desire! - And like the hand upon the brass - Thou point’st at me - In mockery; - If I come nigh - Shade-like thou’lt fly, - And as the stream with murmur pass. - - -_332._ _On the Queen’s Return from the Low Countries_ - - Hallow the threshold, crown the posts anew! - The day shall have its due. - Twist all our victories into one bright wreath, - On which let honour breathe; - Then throw it round the temples of our Queen! - ’Tis she that must preserve those glories green. - - When greater tempests than on sea before - Received her on the shore; - When she was shot at ‘for the King’s own good’ - By legions hired to blood; - How bravely did she do, how bravely bear! - And show’d, though they durst rage, she durst not fear. - - Courage was cast about her like a dress - Of solemn comeliness: - A gathered mind and an untroubled face - Did give her dangers grace: - Thus, arm’d with innocence, secure they move - Whose highest ‘treason’ is but highest love. - - -_333._ _On a Virtuous Young Gentlewoman that died suddenly_ - - She who to Heaven more Heaven doth annex, - Whose lowest thought was above all our sex, - Accounted nothing death but t’ be reprieved, - And died as free from sickness as she lived. - Others are dragg’d away, or must be driven, - She only saw her time and stept to Heaven; - Where seraphims view all her glories o’er, - As one return’d that had been there before. - For while she did this lower world adorn, - Her body seem’d rather assumed than born; - So rarified, advanced, so pure and whole, - That body might have been another’s soul; - And equally a miracle it were - That she could die, or that she could live here. - - - - -JAMES GRAHAM, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE - -1612-1650 - - -_334._ _I’ll never love Thee more_ - - My dear and only Love, I pray - That little world of thee - Be govern’d by no other sway - Than purest monarchy; - For if confusion have a part - (Which virtuous souls abhor), - And hold a synod in thine heart, - I’ll never love thee more. - - Like Alexander I will reign, - And I will reign alone; - My thoughts did evermore disdain - A rival on my throne. - He either fears his fate too much, - Or his deserts are small, - That dares not put it to the touch, - To gain or lose it all. - - And in the empire of thine heart, - Where I should solely be, - If others do pretend a part - Or dare to vie with me, - Or if _Committees_ thou erect, - And go on such a score, - I’ll laugh and sing at thy neglect, - And never love thee more. - - But if thou wilt prove faithful then, - And constant of thy word, - I’ll make thee glorious by my pen - And famous by my sword; - I’ll serve thee in such noble ways - Was never heard before; - I’ll crown and deck thee all with bays, - And love thee more and more. - - - - -THOMAS JORDAN - -1612?-1685 - - -_335._ _Coronemus nos Rosis antequam marcescant_ - - Let us drink and be merry, dance, joke, and rejoice, - With claret and sherry, theorbo and voice! - The changeable world to our joy is unjust, - All treasure’s uncertain, - Then down with your dust! - In frolics dispose your pounds, shillings, and pence, - For we shall be nothing a hundred years hence. - - - We’ll sport and be free with Moll, Betty, and Dolly, - Have oysters and lobsters to cure melancholy: - Fish-dinners will make a man spring like a flea, - Dame Venus, love’s lady, - Was born of the sea; - With her and with Bacchus we’ll tickle the sense, - For we shall be past it a hundred years hence. - - Your most beautiful bride who with garlands is crown’d - And kills with each glance as she treads on the ground, - Whose lightness and brightness doth shine in such splendour - That none but the stars - Are thought fit to attend her, - Though now she be pleasant and sweet to the sense, - Will be damnable mouldy a hundred years hence. - - Then why should we turmoil in cares and in fears, - Turn all our tranquill’ty to sighs and to tears? - Let’s eat, drink, and play till the worms do corrupt us, - ’Tis certain, _Post mortem_ - _Nulla voluptas_. - For health, wealth and beauty, wit, learning and sense, - Must all come to nothing a hundred years hence. - - - - -RICHARD CRASHAW - -1613?-1649 - - -_336._ _Wishes to His Supposed Mistress_ - - Whoe’er she be-- - That not impossible She - That shall command my heart and me: - - Where’er she lie, - Lock’d up from mortal eye - In shady leaves of destiny: - - - Till that ripe birth - Of studied Fate stand forth, - And teach her fair steps to our earth: - - Till that divine - Idea take a shrine - Of crystal flesh, through which to shine: - - Meet you her, my Wishes, - Bespeak her to my blisses, - And be ye call’d my absent kisses. - - I wish her Beauty, - That owes not all its duty - To gaudy tire, or glist’ring shoe-tie: - - Something more than - Taffeta or tissue can, - Or rampant feather, or rich fan. - - A Face, that’s best - By its own beauty drest, - And can alone commend the rest. - - A Face, made up - Out of no other shop - Than what Nature’s white hand sets ope. - - A Cheek, where youth - And blood, with pen of truth, - Write what the reader sweetly ru’th. - - A Cheek, where grows - More than a morning rose, - Which to no box his being owes. - - - Lips, where all day - A lover’s kiss may play, - Yet carry nothing thence away. - - Looks, that oppress - Their richest tires, but dress - And clothe their simplest nakedness. - - Eyes, that displace - The neighbour diamond, and outface - That sunshine by their own sweet grace. - - Tresses, that wear - Jewels but to declare - How much themselves more precious are: - - Whose native ray - Can tame the wanton day - Of gems that in their bright shades play. - - Each ruby there, - Or pearl that dare appear, - Be its own blush, be its own tear. - - A well-tamed Heart, - For whose more noble smart - Love may be long choosing a dart. - - Eyes, that bestow - Full quivers on love’s bow, - Yet pay less arrows than they owe. - - Smiles, that can warm - The blood, yet teach a charm, - That chastity shall take no harm. - - - Blushes, that bin - The burnish of no sin, - Nor flames of aught too hot within. - - Joys, that confess - Virtue their mistress, - And have no other head to dress. - - Fears, fond and slight - As the coy bride’s, when night - First does the longing lover right. - - Days, that need borrow - No part of their good-morrow - From a fore-spent night of sorrow. - - Days, that in spite - Of darkness, by the light - Of a clear mind, are day all night. - - Nights, sweet as they, - Made short by lovers’ play, - Yet long by th’ absence of the day. - - Life, that dares send - A challenge to his end, - And when it comes, say, ‘Welcome, friend!’ - - Sydneian showers - Of sweet discourse, whose powers - Can crown old Winter’s head with flowers. - - Soft silken hours, - Open suns, shady bowers; - ’Bove all, nothing within that lowers. - - - Whate’er delight - Can make Day’s forehead bright, - Or give down to the wings of Night. - - I wish her store - Of worth may leave her poor - Of wishes; and I wish--no more. - - Now, if Time knows - That Her, whose radiant brows - Weave them a garland of my vows; - - Her, whose just bays - My future hopes can raise, - A trophy to her present praise; - - Her, that dares be - What these lines wish to see; - I seek no further, it is She. - - ’Tis She, and here, - Lo! I unclothe and clear - My Wishes’ cloudy character. - - May she enjoy it - Whose merit dare apply it, - But modesty dares still deny it! - - Such worth as this is - Shall fix my flying Wishes, - And determine them to kisses. - - Let her full glory, - My fancies, fly before ye; - Be ye my fictions--but her story. - - -_337._ _The Weeper_ - - Hail, sister springs, - Parents of silver-footed rills! - Ever bubbling things, - Thawing crystal, snowy hills! - Still spending, never spent; I mean - Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene. - - Heavens thy fair eyes be; - Heavens of ever-falling stars; - ’Tis seed-time still with thee, - And stars thou sow’st whose harvest dares - Promise the earth to countershine - Whatever makes Heaven’s forehead fine. - - Every morn from hence - A brisk cherub something sips - Whose soft influence - Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips; - Then to his music: and his song - Tastes of this breakfast all day long. - - When some new bright guest - Takes up among the stars a room, - And Heaven will make a feast, - Angels with their bottles come, - And draw from these full eyes of thine - Their Master’s water, their own wine. - - The dew no more will weep - The primrose’s pale cheek to deck; - The dew no more will sleep - Nuzzled in the lily’s neck: - Much rather would it tremble here, - And leave them both to be thy tear. - - - When sorrow would be seen - In her brightest majesty, - --For she is a Queen-- - Then is she drest by none but thee: - Then and only then she wears - Her richest pearls--I mean thy tears. - - Not in the evening’s eyes, - When they red with weeping are - For the Sun that dies, - Sits Sorrow with a face so fair. - Nowhere but here did ever meet - Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet. - - Does the night arise? - Still thy tears do fall and fall. - Does night lose her eyes? - Still the fountain weeps for all. - Let day and night do what they will, - Thou hast thy task, thou weepest still. - - Not _So long she lived_ - Will thy tomb report of thee; - But _So long she grieved_: - Thus must we date thy memory. - Others by days, by months, by years, - Measure their ages, thou by tears. - - Say, ye bright brothers, - The fugitive sons of those fair eyes - Your fruitful mothers, - What make you here? What hopes can ’tice - You to be born? What cause can borrow - You from those nests of noble sorrow? - - - Whither away so fast - For sure the sordid earth - Your sweetness cannot taste, - Nor does the dust deserve your birth. - Sweet, whither haste you then? O say, - Why you trip so fast away? - - _We go not to seek_ - _The darlings of Aurora’s bed,_ - _The rose’s modest cheek,_ - _Nor the violet’s humble head._ - _No such thing: we go to meet_ - _A worthier object--our Lord’s feet._ - - -_338._ _A Hymn to the Name and Honour of the Admirable Saint Teresa_ - - Love, thou art absolute, sole Lord - Of life and death. To prove the word, - We’ll now appeal to none of all - Those thy old soldiers, great and tall, - Ripe men of martyrdom, that could reach down - With strong arms their triumphant crown: - Such as could with lusty breath - Speak loud, unto the face of death, - Their great Lord’s glorious name; to none - Of those whose spacious bosoms spread a throne - For love at large to fill. Spare blood and sweat: - We’ll see Him take a private seat, - And make His mansion in the mild - And milky soul of a soft child. - - - Scarce has she learnt to lisp a name - Of martyr, yet she thinks it shame - Life should so long play with that breath - Which spent can buy so brave a death. - She never undertook to know - What death with love should have to do. - Nor has she e’er yet understood - Why, to show love, she should shed blood; - Yet, though she cannot tell you why, - She can love, and she can die. - Scarce has she blood enough to make - A guilty sword blush for her sake; - Yet has a heart dares hope to prove - How much less strong is death than love.... - - Since ’tis not to be had at home, - She’ll travel for a martyrdom. - No home for her, confesses she, - But where she may a martyr be. - She’ll to the Moors, and trade with them - For this unvalued diadem; - She offers them her dearest breath, - With Christ’s name in ’t, in change for death: - She’ll bargain with them, and will give - Them God, and teach them how to live - In Him; or, if they this deny, - For Him she’ll teach them how to die. - So shall she leave amongst them sown - Her Lord’s blood, or at least her own. - - Farewell then, all the world, adieu! - Teresa is no more for you. - Farewell all pleasures, sports, and joys, - Never till now esteemèd toys! - - - Farewell whatever dear may be-- - Mother’s arms, or father’s knee! - Farewell house, and farewell home! - She’s for the Moors and Martyrdom. - - Sweet, not so fast; lo! thy fair spouse, - Whom thou seek’st with so swift vows, - Calls thee back, and bids thee come - T’ embrace a milder martyrdom.... - - O how oft shalt thou complain - Of a sweet and subtle pain! - Of intolerable joys! - Of a death, in which who dies - Loves his death, and dies again, - And would for ever so be slain; - And lives and dies, and knows not why - To live, but that he still may die! - How kindly will thy gentle heart - Kiss the sweetly-killing dart! - And close in his embraces keep - Those delicious wounds, that weep - Balsam, to heal themselves with thus, - When these thy deaths, so numerous, - Shall all at once die into one, - And melt thy soul’s sweet mansion; - Like a soft lump of incense, hasted - By too hot a fire, and wasted - Into perfuming clouds, so fast - Shalt thou exhale to heaven at last - In a resolving sigh, and then,-- - O what? Ask not the tongues of men. - - Angels cannot tell; suffice, - Thyself shalt feel thine own full joys, - And hold them fast for ever there. - So soon as thou shalt first appear, - The moon of maiden stars, thy white - Mistress, attended by such bright - Souls as thy shining self, shall come, - And in her first ranks make thee room; - Where, ’mongst her snowy family, - Immortal welcomes wait for thee. - O what delight, when she shall stand - And teach thy lips heaven, with her hand, - On which thou now may’st to thy wishes - Heap up thy consecrated kisses! - What joy shall seize thy soul, when she, - Bending her blessèd eyes on thee, - Those second smiles of heaven, shall dart - Her mild rays through thy melting heart! - - Angels, thy old friends, there shall greet thee. - Glad at their own home now to meet thee. - All thy good works which went before, - And waited for thee at the door, - Shall own thee there; and all in one - Weave a constellation - Of crowns, with which the King, thy spouse, - Shall build up thy triumphant brows. - All thy old woes shall now smile on thee, - And thy pains sit bright upon thee: - All thy sorrows here shall shine, - And thy sufferings be divine. - Tears shall take comfort, and turn gems, - And wrongs repent to diadems. - Even thy deaths shall live, and new - Dress the soul which late they slew. - Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scars - As keep account of the Lamb’s wars. - - Those rare works, where thou shalt leave writ - Love’s noble history, with wit - Taught thee by none but Him, while here - They feed our souls, shall clothe thine there. - Each heavenly word by whose hid flame - Our hard hearts shall strike fire, the same - Shall flourish on thy brows, and be - Both fire to us and flame to thee; - Whose light shall live bright in thy face - By glory, in our hearts by grace. - Thou shalt look round about, and see - Thousands of crown’d souls throng to be - Themselves thy crown, sons of thy vows, - The virgin-births with which thy spouse - Made fruitful thy fair soul; go now, - And with them all about thee bow - To Him; put on, He’ll say, put on, - My rosy Love, that thy rich zone, - Sparkling with the sacred flames - Of thousand souls, whose happy names - Heaven keeps upon thy score: thy bright - Life brought them first to kiss the light - That kindled them to stars; and so - Thou with the Lamb, thy Lord, shalt go. - And, wheresoever He sets His white - Steps, walk with Him those ways of light, - Which who in death would live to see, - Must learn in life to die like thee. - - -_339._ _Upon the Book and Picture of the Seraphical Saint Teresa_ - - O thou undaunted daughter of desires! - By all thy dower of lights and fires; - By all the eagle in thee, all the dove; - By all thy lives and deaths of love; - By thy large draughts of intellectual day, - And by thy thirsts of love more large than they; - By all thy brim-fill’d bowls of fierce desire, - By thy last morning’s draught of liquid fire; - By the full kingdom of that final kiss - That seized thy parting soul, and seal’d thee His; - By all the Heav’n thou hast in Him - (Fair sister of the seraphim!); - By all of Him we have in thee; - Leave nothing of myself in me. - Let me so read thy life, that I - Unto all life of mine may die! - - -_340._ _Verses from the Shepherds’ Hymn_ - - We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest, - Young dawn of our eternal day; - We saw Thine eyes break from the East, - And chase the trembling shades away: - We saw Thee, and we blest the sight, - We saw Thee by Thine own sweet light. - - Poor world, said I, what wilt thou do - To entertain this starry stranger? - Is this the best thou canst bestow-- - A cold and not too cleanly manger? - Contend, the powers of heaven and earth, - To fit a bed for this huge birth. - - Proud world, said I, cease your contest, - And let the mighty babe alone; - The phœnix builds the phœnix’ nest, - Love’s architecture is His own. - The babe, whose birth embraves this morn, - Made His own bed ere He was born. - - I saw the curl’d drops, soft and slow, - Come hovering o’er the place’s head, - Off’ring their whitest sheets of snow, - To furnish the fair infant’s bed. - Forbear, said I, be not too bold; - Your fleece is white, but ’tis too cold. - - I saw th’ obsequious seraphim - Their rosy fleece of fire bestow, - For well they now can spare their wings, - Since Heaven itself lies here below. - Well done, said I; but are you sure - Your down, so warm, will pass for pure? - - No, no, your King’s not yet to seek - Where to repose His royal head; - See, see how soon His new-bloom’d cheek - ’Twixt mother’s breasts is gone to bed! - Sweet choice, said we; no way but so, - Not to lie cold, yet sleep in snow - - She sings Thy tears asleep, and dips - Her kisses in Thy weeping eye; - She spreads the red leaves of Thy lips, - That in their buds yet blushing lie. - She ’gainst those mother diamonds tries - The points of her young eagle’s eyes. - - Welcome--tho’ not to those gay flies, - Gilded i’ th’ beams of earthly kings, - Slippery souls in smiling eyes-- - But to poor shepherds, homespun things, - Whose wealth’s their flocks, whose wit’s to be - Well read in their simplicity. - - Yet, when young April’s husband show’rs - Shall bless the fruitful Maia’s bed, - We’ll bring the first-born of her flowers, - To kiss Thy feet and crown Thy head. - To Thee, dread Lamb! whose love must keep - The shepherds while they feed their sheep. - - To Thee, meek Majesty, soft King - Of simple graces and sweet loves! - Each of us his lamb will bring, - Each his pair of silver doves! - At last, in fire of Thy fair eyes, - Ourselves become our own best sacrifice! - - -_341._ _Christ Crucified_ - - Thy restless feet now cannot go - For us and our eternal good, - As they were ever wont. What though - They swim, alas! in their own flood? - - Thy hands to give Thou canst not lift, - Yet will Thy hand still giving be; - It gives, but O, itself’s the gift! - It gives tho’ bound, tho’ bound ’tis free! - - -_342._ _An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife_ - -_Who died and were buried together._ - - To these whom death again did wed - This grave’s the second marriage-bed. - For though the hand of Fate could force - ’Twixt soul and body a divorce, - It could not sever man and wife, - Because they both lived but one life. - Peace, good reader, do not weep; - Peace, the lovers are asleep. - They, sweet turtles, folded lie - In the last knot that love could tie. - Let them sleep, let them sleep on, - Till the stormy night be gone, - And the eternal morrow dawn; - Then the curtains will be drawn, - And they wake into a light - Whose day shall never die in night. - - - - -RICHARD LOVELACE - -1618-1658 - - -_343._ _To Lucasta, going to the Wars_ - - Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind, - That from the nunnery - Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind - To war and arms I fly. - - True, a new mistress now I chase, - The first foe in the field; - And with a stronger faith embrace - A sword, a horse, a shield. - - - Yet this inconstancy is such - As thou too shalt adore; - I could not love thee, Dear, so much, - Loved I not Honour more. - - -_344._ _To Lucasta, going beyond the Seas_ - - If to be absent were to be - Away from thee; - Or that when I am gone - You or I were alone; - Then, my Lucasta, might I crave - Pity from blustering wind or swallowing wave. - - But I’ll not sigh one blast or gale - To swell my sail, - Or pay a tear to ’suage - The foaming blue god’s rage; - For whether he will let me pass - Or no, I’m still as happy as I was. - - Though seas and land betwixt us both, - Our faith and troth, - Like separated souls, - All time and space controls: - Above the highest sphere we meet - Unseen, unknown; and greet as Angels greet. - - So then we do anticipate - Our after-fate, - And are alive i’ the skies, - If thus our lips and eyes - Can speak like spirits unconfined - In Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind. - - -_345._ _Gratiana Dancing_ - - She beat the happy pavèment-- - By such a star made firmament, - Which now no more the roof envìes! - But swells up high, with Atlas even, - Bearing the brighter nobler heaven, - And, in her, all the deities. - - Each step trod out a Lover’s thought, - And the ambitious hopes he brought - Chain’d to her brave feet with such arts, - Such sweet command and gentle awe, - As, when she ceased, we sighing saw - The floor lay paved with broken hearts. - - -_346._ _To Amarantha, that she would dishevel her Hair_ - - Amarantha sweet and fair, - Ah, braid no more that shining hair! - As my curious hand or eye - Hovering round thee, let it fly! - - Let it fly as unconfined - As its calm ravisher the wind, - Who hath left his darling, th’ East, - To wanton o’er that spicy nest. - - Every tress must be confest, - But neatly tangled at the best; - Like a clew of golden thread - Most excellently ravellèd. - - - Do not then wind up that light - In ribbands, and o’ercloud in night, - Like the Sun in’s early ray; - But shake your head, and scatter day! - - -_347._ _The 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 rear’d! - - 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. - - -_348._ _To Althea, from Prison_ - - When Love with unconfinèd wings - Hovers within my gates, - And my divine Althea brings - To whisper at the grates; - When I lie tangled in her hair - And fetter’d to her eye, - The birds that wanton in the air - Know no such liberty. - - When flowing cups run swiftly round - With no allaying Thames, - Our careless heads with roses bound, - Our hearts with loyal flames; - When thirsty grief in wine we steep, - When healths and draughts go free-- - Fishes that tipple in the deep - Know no such liberty. - - When, like committed linnets, I - With shriller throat shall sing - The sweetness, mercy, majesty, - And glories of my King; - When I shall voice aloud how good - He is, how great should be, - Enlargèd winds, that curl the flood, - Know no such liberty. - - Stone walls do not a prison make, - Nor iron bars a cage; - Minds innocent and quiet take - That for an hermitage; - If I have freedom in my love - And in my soul am free, - Angels alone, that soar above, - Enjoy such liberty. - - - - -ABRAHAM COWLEY - -1618-1667 - - -_Anacreontics_ - - -_349._ _1. Drinking_ - - The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, - And drinks and gapes for drink again; - The plants suck in the earth, and are - With constant drinking fresh and fair; - The sea itself (which one would think - Should have but little need of drink) - Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up, - So fill’d that they o’erflow the cup. - The busy Sun (and one would guess - By ’s drunken fiery face no less) - Drinks up the sea, and when he’s done, - The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun: - They drink and dance by their own light, - They drink and revel all the night: - Nothing in Nature’s sober found, - But an eternal health goes round. - Fill up the bowl, then, fill it high. - Fill all the glasses there--for why - Should every creature drink but I? - Why, man of morals, tell me why? - - -_350._ _2. The Epicure_ - - Underneath this myrtle shade, - On flowery beds supinely laid, - With odorous oils my head o’erflowing, - And around it roses growing, - What should I do but drink away - The heat and troubles of the day? - In this more than kingly state - Love himself on me shall wait. - Fill to me, Love! nay, fill it up! - And mingled cast into the cup - Wit and mirth and noble fires, - Vigorous health and gay desires. - The wheel of life no less will stay - In a smooth than rugged way: - Since it equally doth flee, - Let the motion pleasant be. - Why do we precious ointments shower?-- - Nobler wines why do we pour?-- - Beauteous flowers why do we spread - Upon the monuments of the dead? - Nothing they but dust can show, - Or bones that hasten to be so. - Crown me with roses while I live, - Now your wines and ointments give: - After death I nothing crave, - Let me alive my pleasures have: - All are Stoics in the grave. - - -_351._ _3. The Swallow_ - - Foolish prater, what dost thou - So early at my window do? - Cruel bird, thou’st ta’en away - A dream out of my arms to-day; - A dream that ne’er must equall’d be - By all that waking eyes may see. - Thou this damage to repair - Nothing half so sweet and fair, - Nothing half so good, canst bring, - Tho’ men say thou bring’st the Spring. - - -_352._ _On the Death of Mr. William Hervey_ - - It was a dismal and a fearful night: - Scarce could the Morn drive on th’ unwilling Light, - When Sleep, Death’s image, left my troubled breast - By something liker Death possest. - My eyes with tears did uncommanded flow, - And on my soul hung the dull weight - Of some intolerable fate. - What bell was that? Ah me! too much I know! - - My sweet companion and my gentle peer, - Why hast thou left me thus unkindly here, - Thy end for ever and my life to moan? - O, thou hast left me all alone! - Thy soul and body, when death’s agony - Besieged around thy noble heart, - Did not with more reluctance part - Than I, my dearest Friend, do part from thee. - - My dearest Friend, would I had died for thee! - Life and this world henceforth will tedious be: - Nor shall I know hereafter what to do - If once my griefs prove tedious too. - Silent and sad I walk about all day, - As sullen ghosts stalk speechless by - Where their hid treasures lie; - Alas! my treasure’s gone; why do I stay? - - Say, for you saw us, ye immortal lights, - How oft unwearied have we spent the nights, - Till the Ledæan stars, so famed for love, - Wonder’d at us from above! - We spent them not in toys, in lusts, or wine; - But search of deep Philosophy, - Wit, Eloquence, and Poetry-- - Arts which I loved, for they, my Friend, were thine. - - Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say - Have ye not seen us walking every day? - Was there a tree about which did not know - The love betwixt us two? - Henceforth, ye gentle trees, for ever fade; - Or your sad branches thicker join - And into darksome shades combine, - Dark as the grave wherein my Friend is laid! - - Large was his soul: as large a soul as e’er - Submitted to inform a body here; - High as the place ’twas shortly in Heaven to have, - But low and humble as his grave. - So high that all the virtues there did come, - As to their chiefest seat - Conspicuous and great; - So low, that for me too it made a room. - - Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught - As if for him Knowledge had rather sought; - Nor did more learning ever crowded lie - In such a short mortality. - Whene’er the skilful youth discoursed or writ, - Still did the notions throng - About his eloquent tongue; - Nor could his ink flow faster than his wit. - - His mirth was the pure spirits of various wit, - Yet never did his God or friends forget; - And when deep talk and wisdom came in view, - Retired, and gave to them their due. - For the rich help of books he always took, - Though his own searching mind before - Was so with notions written o’er, - As if wise Nature had made that her book. - - - With as much zeal, devotion, piety, - He always lived, as other saints do die. - Still with his soul severe account he kept, - Weeping all debts out ere he slept. - Then down in peace and innocence he lay, - Like the Sun’s laborious light, - Which still in water sets at night, - Unsullied with his journey of the day. - - But happy Thou, ta’en from this frantic age, - Where ignorance and hypocrisy does rage! - A fitter time for Heaven no soul e’er chose-- - The place now only free from those. - There ’mong the blest thou dost for ever shine; - And wheresoe’er thou casts thy view - Upon that white and radiant crew, - See’st not a soul clothed with more light than thine. - - -_353._ _The Wish_ - - Well then! I now do plainly see - This busy world and I shall ne’er agree. - The very honey of all earthly joy - Does of all meats the soonest cloy; - And they, methinks, deserve my pity - Who for it can endure the stings, - The crowd and buzz and murmurings, - Of this great hive, the city. - - Ah, yet, ere I descend to the grave - May I a small house and large garden have; - And a few friends, and many books, both true, - Both wise, and both delightful too! - And since love ne’er will from me flee, - A Mistress moderately fair, - And good as guardian angels are, - Only beloved and loving me. - - O fountains! when in you shall I - Myself eased of unpeaceful thoughts espy? - O fields! O woods! when, when shall I be made - The happy tenant of your shade? - Here’s the spring-head of Pleasure’s flood: - Here’s wealthy Nature’s treasury, - Where all the riches lie that she - Has coin’d and stamp’d for good. - - Pride and ambition here - Only in far-fetch’d metaphors appear; - Here nought but winds can hurtful murmurs scatter, - And nought but Echo flatter. - The gods, when they descended, hither - From heaven did always choose their way: - And therefore we may boldly say - That ’tis the way too thither. - - How happy here should I - And one dear She live, and embracing die! - She who is all the world, and can exclude - In deserts solitude. - I should have then this only fear: - Lest men, when they my pleasures see, - Should hither throng to live like me, - And so make a city here. - - - - -ALEXANDER BROME - -1620-1666 - - -_354._ _The Resolve_ - - Tell me not of a face that’s fair, - Nor lip and cheek that’s red, - Nor of the tresses of her hair, - Nor curls in order laid, - Nor of a rare seraphic voice - That like an angel sings; - Though if I were to take my choice - I would have all these things: - But if that thou wilt have me love, - And it must be a she, - The only argument can move - Is that she will love me. - - The glories of your ladies be - But metaphors of things, - And but resemble what we see - Each common object brings. - Roses out-red their lips and cheeks, - Lilies their whiteness stain; - What fool is he that shadows seeks - And may the substance gain? - Then if thou’lt have me love a lass, - Let it be one that’s kind: - Else I’m a servant to the glass - That’s with Canary lined. - - - - -ANDREW MARVELL - -1621-1678 - - -_355._ _An Horatian Ode_ - -_upon Cromwell’s Return from Ireland_ - - The forward youth that would appear - Must now forsake his Muses dear, - Nor in the shadows sing - His numbers languishing. - - ’Tis time to leave the books in dust, - And oil the unused armour’s rust, - Removing from the wall - The corslet of the hall. - - So restless Cromwell could not cease - In the inglorious arts of peace, - But through adventurous war - Urgèd his active star: - - And like the three-fork’d lightning, first - Breaking the clouds where it was nurst, - Did thorough his own side - His fiery way divide: - - For ’tis all one to courage high, - The emulous, or enemy; - And with such, to enclose - Is more than to oppose. - - Then burning through the air he went - And palaces and temples rent; - And Cæsar’s head at last - Did through his laurels blast. - - - ’Tis madness to resist or blame - The face of angry Heaven’s flame; - And if we would speak true, - Much to the man is due, - - Who, from his private gardens, where - He lived reservèd and austere - (As if his highest plot - To plant the bergamot), - - Could by industrious valour climb - To ruin the great work of time, - And cast the Kingdoms old - Into another mould; - - Though Justice against Fate complain, - And plead the ancient rights in vain-- - But those do hold or break - As men are strong or weak-- - - Nature, that hateth emptiness, - Allows of penetration less, - And therefore must make room - Where greater spirits come. - - What field of all the civil war - Where his were not the deepest scar? - And Hampton shows what part - He had of wiser art; - - Where, twining subtle fears with hope, - He wove a net of such a scope - That Charles himself might chase - To Caresbrooke’s narrow case; - That thence the Royal actor borne - The tragic scaffold might adorn: - While round the armèd bands - Did clap their bloody hands. - - He nothing common did or mean - Upon that memorable scene, - But with his keener eye - The axe’s edge did try; - - Nor call’d the gods, with vulgar spite, - To vindicate his helpless right; - But bow’d his comely head - Down, as upon a bed. - - This was that memorable hour - Which first assured the forcèd power: - So when they did design - The Capitol’s first line, - - A Bleeding Head, where they begun, - Did fright the architects to run; - And yet in that the State - Foresaw its happy fate! - - And now the Irish are ashamed - To see themselves in one year tamed: - So much one man can do - That does both act and know. - - They can affirm his praises best, - And have, though overcome, confest - How good he is, how just - And fit for highest trust. - - - Nor yet grown stiffer with command, - But still in the republic’s hand-- - How fit he is to sway - That can so well obey! - - He to the Commons’ feet presents - A Kingdom for his first year’s rents, - And, what he may, forbears - His fame, to make it theirs: - - And has his sword and spoils ungirt - To lay them at the public’s skirt. - So when the falcon high - Falls heavy from the sky, - - She, having kill’d, no more doth search - But on the next green bough to perch; - Where, when he first does lure, - The falconer has her sure. - - What may not then our Isle presume - While victory his crest does plume? - What may not others fear, - If thus he crowns each year? - - As Cæsar he, ere long, to Gaul, - To Italy an Hannibal, - And to all States not free - Shall climacteric be. - - The Pict no shelter now shall find - Within his particolour’d mind, - But, from this valour, sad - Shrink underneath the plaid; - Happy, if in the tufted brake - The English hunter him mistake, - Nor lay his hounds in near - The Caledonian deer. - - But thou, the war’s and fortune’s son, - March indefatigably on; - And for the last effect, - Still keep the sword erect: - - Besides the force it has to fright - The spirits of the shady night, - The same arts that did gain - A power, must it maintain. - - -_356._ _A Garden_ - -_Written after the Civil Wars_ - - See how the flowers, as at parade, - Under their colours stand display’d: - Each regiment in order grows, - That of the tulip, pink, and rose. - But when the vigilant patrol - Of stars walks round about the pole, - Their leaves, that to the stalks are curl’d, - Seem to their staves the ensigns furl’d. - Then in some flower’s belovèd hut - Each bee, as sentinel, is shut, - And sleeps so too; but if once stirr’d, - She runs you through, nor asks the word. - O thou, that dear and happy Isle, - The garden of the world erewhile, - Thou Paradise of the four seas - Which Heaven planted us to please, - But, to exclude the world, did guard - With wat’ry if not flaming sword; - What luckless apple did we taste - To make us mortal and thee waste! - Unhappy! shall we never more - That sweet militia restore, - When gardens only had their towers, - And all the garrisons were flowers; - When roses only arms might bear, - And men did rosy garlands wear? - - -_357._ _To His Coy Mistress_ - - Had we but world enough, and time, - This coyness, Lady, were no crime - We would sit down and think which way - To walk and pass our long love’s day. - Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side - Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide - Of Humber would complain. I would - Love you ten years before the Flood, - And you should, if you please, refuse - Till the conversion of the Jews. - My vegetable love should grow - Vaster than empires, and more slow; - An hundred years should go to praise - Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze; - Two hundred to adore each breast, - But thirty thousand to the rest; - An age at least to every part, - And the last age should show your heart. - For, Lady, you deserve this state, - Nor would I love at lower rate. - But at my back I always hear - Time’s winged chariot hurrying near; - And yonder all before us lie - Deserts of vast eternity. - Thy beauty shall no more be found, - Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound - My echoing song: then worms shall try - That long preserved virginity, - And your quaint honour turn to dust, - And into ashes all my lust: - The grave’s a fine and private place, - But none, I think, do there embrace. - Now therefore, while the youthful hue - Sits on thy skin like morning dew, - And while thy willing soul transpires - At every pore with instant fires, - Now let us sport us while we may, - And now, like amorous birds of prey, - Rather at once our time devour - Than languish in his slow-chapt power. - Let us roll all our strength and all - Our sweetness up into one ball, - And tear our pleasures with rough strife - Thorough the iron gates of life: - Thus, though we cannot make our sun - Stand still, yet we will make him run. - - slow-chapt] slow-jawed, slowly devouring. - -_358._ _The Picture of Little T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers_ - - See with what simplicity - This nymph begins her golden days! - In the green grass she loves to lie, - And there with her fair aspect tames - The wilder flowers, and gives them names; - But only with the roses plays, - And them does tell - What colour best becomes them, and what smell. - - Who can foretell for what high cause - This darling of the gods was born? - Yet this is she whose chaster laws - The wanton Love shall one day fear, - And, under her command severe, - See his bow broke and ensigns torn. - Happy who can - Appease this virtuous enemy of man! - - O then let me in time compound - And parley with those conquering eyes, - Ere they have tried their force to wound; - Ere with their glancing wheels they drive - In triumph over hearts that strive, - And them that yield but more despise: - Let me be laid, - Where I may see the glories from some shade. - - Meantime, whilst every verdant thing - Itself does at thy beauty charm, - Reform the errors of the Spring; - Make that the tulips may have share - Of sweetness, seeing they are fair, - And roses of their thorns disarm; - But most procure - That violets may a longer age endure. - - But O, young beauty of the woods, - Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers, - Gather the flowers, but spare the buds; - Lest Flora, angry at thy crime - To kill her infants in their prime, - Do quickly make th’ example yours; - And ere we see, - Nip in the blossom all our hopes and thee. - - -_359._ _Thoughts in a Garden_ - - How vainly men themselves amaze - To win the palm, the oak, or bays, - And their uncessant labours see - Crown’d from some single herb or tree, - Whose short and narrow-vergèd shade - Does prudently their toils upbraid; - While all the flowers and trees do close - To weave the garlands of repose! - - Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, - And Innocence thy sister dear? - Mistaken long, I sought you then - In busy companies of men: - Your sacred plants, if here below, - Only among the plants will grow: - Society is all but rude - To this delicious solitude. - - No white nor red was ever seen - So amorous as this lovely green. - Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, - Cut in these trees their mistress’ name: - Little, alas! they know or heed - How far these beauties hers exceed! - Fair trees! wheres’e’er your barks I wound, - No name shall but your own be found. - - When we have run our passions’ heat, - Love hither makes his best retreat: - The gods, that mortal beauty chase, - Still in a tree did end their race; - Apollo hunted Daphne so - Only that she might laurel grow; - And Pan did after Syrinx speed - Not as a nymph, but for a reed. - - What wondrous life in 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 and combs its silver wings, - And, till prepared for longer flight, - Waves in its plumes the various light. - - Such was that happy Garden-state - While man there walk’d 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. - - How well the skilful gard’ner drew - Of flowers and herbs this dial new! - Where, from above, the milder sun - Does through a fragrant zodiac run: - And, as it works, th’ industrious bee - Computes its time as well as we. - How could such sweet and wholesome hours - Be reckon’d, but with herbs and flowers! - - -_360._ _Bermudas_ - - Where the remote Bermudas ride - In the ocean’s bosom unespied, - From a small boat that row’d along - The listening woods 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. - O, 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. - - -_361._ _An Epitaph_ - - Enough; and leave the rest to Fame! - ’Tis to commend her, but to name. - Courtship which, living, she declined, - When dead, to offer were unkind: - Nor can the truest wit, or friend, - Without detracting, her commend. - - To say--she lived a virgin chaste - In this age loose and all unlaced; - Nor was, when vice is so allowed, - Of virtue or ashamed or proud; - That her soul was on Heaven so bent, - No minute but it came and went; - That, ready her last debt to pay, - She summ’d her life up every day; - Modest as morn, as mid-day bright, - Gentle as evening, cool as night: - --’Tis true; but all too weakly said. - ’Twas more significant, she’s dead. - - - - -HENRY VAUGHAN - -1621-1695 - - -_362._ _The Retreat_ - - Happy those early days, when I - Shin’d in my Angel-infancy! - Before I understood this place - Appointed for my second race, - Or taught my soul to fancy aught - But a white celestial thought: - When yet I had not walk’d above - A mile or two from my first Love, - And looking back--at that short space-- - Could see a glimpse of His bright face: - When on some gilded cloud, or flow’r, - My gazing soul would dwell an hour, - And in those weaker glories spy - Some shadows of eternity: - Before I taught my tongue to wound - My Conscience with a sinful sound, - Or had the black art to dispense - A several sin to ev’ry sense, - But felt through all this fleshly dress - Bright shoots of everlastingness. - - O how I long to travel back, - And tread again that ancient track! - That I might once more reach that plain - Where first I left my glorious train; - From whence th’ enlightned spirit sees - That shady City of Palm-trees. - But ah! my soul with too much stay - Is drunk, and staggers in the way! - Some men a forward motion love, - But I by backward steps would move; - And when this dust falls to the urn, - In that state I came, return. - - -_363._ _Peace_ - - My soul, there is a country - Far beyond the stars, - Where stands a wingèd sentry - All skilful in the wars: - There, above noise and danger, - Sweet Peace sits crown’d with smiles, - And One born in a manger - Commands the beauteous files. - He is thy gracious Friend, - And--O my soul, awake!-- - Did in pure love descend - To die here for thy sake. - If thou canst get but thither, - There grows the flower of Peace, - The Rose that cannot wither, - Thy fortress, and thy ease. - Leave then thy foolish ranges; - For none can thee secure - But One who never changes-- - Thy God, thy life, thy cure. - - -_364._ _The Timber_ - - Sure thou didst flourish once! and many springs, - Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, - Pass’d o’er thy head; many light hearts and wings, - Which now are dead, lodg’d in thy living bowers. - - - And still a new succession sings and flies; - Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot - Towards the old and still enduring skies, - While the low violet thrives at their root. - - But thou beneath the sad and heavy line - Of death, doth waste all senseless, cold, and dark; - Where not so much as dreams of light may shine, - Nor any thought of greenness, leaf, or bark. - - And yet--as if some deep hate and dissent, - Bred in thy growth betwixt high winds and thee, - Were still alive--thou dost great storms resent - Before they come, and know’st how near they be. - - Else all at rest thou liest, and the fierce breath - Of tempests can no more disturb thy ease; - But this thy strange resentment after death - Means only those who broke--in life--thy peace. - - -_365._ _Friends Departed_ - - They are all gone into the world of light! - And I alone sit ling’ring 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 show’d 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 fledg’d 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. - - If a star were confin’d into a tomb, - Her captive flames must needs burn there; - But when the hand that lock’d her up gives room, - She’ll shine through all the sphere. - - O Father of eternal life, and all - Created glories under Thee! - Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall - Into true liberty. - - - Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill - My perspective still as they pass: - Or else remove me hence unto that hill, - Where I shall need no glass. - - - - -JOHN BUNYAN - -1628-1688 - - -_366._ _The Shepherd Boy sings in the Valley of Humiliation_ - - He that is down needs fear no fall, - He that is low, no pride; - He that is humble ever shall - Have God to be his guide. - - I am content with what I have, - Little be it or much: - And, Lord, contentment still I crave, - Because Thou savest such. - - Fullness to such a burden is - That go on pilgrimage: - Here little, and hereafter bliss, - Is best from age to age. - - - - -BALLADS AND SONGS BY UNKNOWN AUTHORS - - -_367._ _Thomas the Rhymer_ - - True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank; - A ferlie he spied wi’ his e’e; - And there he saw a ladye bright - Come riding down by the Eildon Tree. - - Her skirt was o’ the grass-green silk, - Her mantle o’ the velvet fyne; - At ilka tett o’ her horse’s mane, - Hung fifty siller bells and nine. - - True Thomas he pu’d aff his cap, - And louted low down on his knee: - ‘Hail to thee, Mary, Queen of Heaven! - For thy peer on earth could never be.’ - - ‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she said, - ‘That name does not belang to me; - I’m but the Queen o’ fair Elfland, - That am hither come to visit thee. - - ‘Harp and carp, Thomas,’ she said; - ‘Harp and carp along wi’ me; - And if ye dare to kiss my lips, - Sure of your bodie I will be.’ - - ferlie] marvel. tett] tuft, lock. harp and carp] play and recite - (as a minstrel). - - ‘Betide me weal, betide me woe, - That weird shall never daunten me.’ - Syne he has kiss’d her rosy lips, - All underneath the Eildon Tree. - - ‘Now ye maun go wi’ me,’ she said, - ‘True Thomas, ye maun go wi’ me; - And ye maun serve me seven years, - Thro’ weal or woe as may chance to be.’ - - She’s mounted on her milk-white steed, - She’s ta’en true Thomas up behind; - And aye, whene’er her bridle rang, - The steed gaed swifter than the wind. - - O they rade on, and farther on, - The steed gaed swifter than the wind; - Until they reach’d a desert wide, - And living land was left behind. - - ‘Light down, light down now, true Thomas, - And lean your head upon my knee; - Abide ye there a little space, - And I will show you ferlies three. - - ‘O see ye not yon narrow road, - So thick beset wi’ thorns and briers? - That is the Path of Righteousness, - Though after it but few inquires. - - ‘And see ye not yon braid, braid road, - That lies across the lily leven? - That is the Path of Wickedness, - Though some call it the Road to Heaven. - - leven]? lawn. - - ‘And see ye not yon bonny road - That winds about the fernie brae? - That is the Road to fair Elfland, - Where thou and I this night maun gae. - - ‘But, Thomas, ye sall haud your tongue, - Whatever ye may hear or see; - For speak ye word in Elfyn-land, - Ye’ll ne’er win back to your ain countrie.’ - - O they rade on, and farther on, - And they waded rivers abune the knee; - And they saw neither sun nor moon, - But they heard the roaring of the sea. - - It was mirk, mirk night, there was nae starlight, - They waded thro’ red blude to the knee; - For a’ the blude that’s shed on the earth - Rins through the springs o’ that countrie. - - Syne they came to a garden green, - And she pu’d an apple frae a tree: - ‘Take this for thy wages, true Thomas; - It will give thee the tongue that can never lee.’ - - ‘My tongue is my ain,’ true Thomas he said; - ‘A gudely gift ye wad gie to me! - I neither dought to buy or sell - At fair or tryst where I might be. - - ‘I dought neither speak to prince or peer, - Nor ask of grace from fair ladye!’-- - ‘Now haud thy peace, Thomas,’ she said, - ‘For as I say, so must it be.’ - - dought] could. - - He has gotten a coat of the even cloth, - And a pair o’ shoon of the velvet green; - And till seven years were gane and past, - True Thomas on earth was never seen. - - -_368._ _Sir Patrick Spens_ - - -I. _The Sailing_ - - The king sits in Dunfermline town - Drinking the blude-red wine; - ‘O whare will I get a skeely skipper - To sail this new ship o’ mine?’ - - O up and spak an eldern knight, - Sat at the king’s right knee; - ‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor - That ever sail’d the sea.’ - - Our king has written a braid letter, - And seal’d it with his hand, - And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, - Was walking on the strand. - - ‘To Noroway, to Noroway, - To Noroway o’er the faem; - The king’s daughter o’ Noroway, - ’Tis thou must bring her hame.’ - - The first word that Sir Patrick read - So loud, loud laugh’d he; - The neist word that Sir Patrick read - The tear blinded his e’e. - - _368._ skeely] skilful. - - ‘O wha is this has done this deed - And tauld the king o’ me, - To send us out, at this time o’ year, - To sail upon the sea? - - ‘Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet, - Our ship must sail the faem; - The king’s daughter o’ Noroway, - ’Tis we must fetch her hame.’ - - They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn - Wi’ a’ the speed they may; - They hae landed in Noroway - Upon a Wodensday. - - -II. _The Return_ - - ‘Mak ready, mak ready, my merry men a’; - Our gude ship sails the morn.’ - ‘Now ever alack, my master dear, - I fear a deadly storm. - - ‘I saw the new moon late yestreen - Wi’ the auld moon in her arm; - And if we gang to sea, master, - I fear we’ll come to harm.’ - - They hadna sail’d a league, a league, - A league but barely three, - When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud, - And gurly grew the sea. - - The ankers brak, and the topmast lap, - It was sic a deadly storm: - And the waves cam owre the broken ship - Till a’ her sides were torn. - - lift] sky. lap] sprang. - - ‘Go fetch a web o’ the silken claith, - Another o’ the twine, - And wap them into our ship’s side, - And let nae the sea come in.’ - - They fetch’d a web o’ the silken claith, - Another o’ the twine, - And they wapp’d them round that gude ship’s side, - But still the sea came in. - - O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords - To wet their cork-heel’d shoon; - But lang or a’ the play was play’d - They wat their hats aboon. - - And mony was the feather bed - That flatter’d on the faem; - And mony was the gude lord’s son - That never mair cam hame. - - O lang, lang may the ladies sit, - Wi’ their fans into their hand, - Before they see Sir Patrick Spens - Come sailing to the strand! - - And lang, lang may the maidens sit - Wi’ their gowd kames in their hair, - A-waiting for their ain dear loves! - For them they’ll see nae mair. - - Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour, - ’Tis fifty fathoms deep; - And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, - Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet! - - flatter’d] tossed afloat. kames] combs. - - -_369._ _The Lass of Lochroyan_ - - ‘O wha will shoe my bonny foot? - And wha will glove my hand? - And wha will bind my middle jimp - Wi’ a lang, lang linen band? - - ‘O wha 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 mither 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.’ - - ‘And wha will build a bonny ship, - And set it on the sea? - For I will go to seek my love, - My ain love Gregory.’ - - Up then spak her father dear, - A wafu’ man was he; - ‘And I will build a bonny ship, - And set her on the sea. - - jimp] trim. kame] comb. haw bayberry]? a corruption for ‘braw - ivory’: or bayberry may = laurel-wood. - - ‘And I will build a bonny ship, - And set her on the sea, - And ye sal gae and seek your love, - Your ain love Gregory.’ - - Then he’s gart build a bonny ship, - And set it on the sea, - Wi’ four-and-twenty mariners, - To bear her company. - - O he’s gart build a bonny ship, - To sail on the salt sea; - The mast was o’ the beaten gold, - The sails o’ cramoisie. - - The sides were o’ the gude stout aik, - The deck o’ mountain pine, - The anchor o’ the silver shene, - The ropes o’ silken twine. - - She hadna sail’d but twenty leagues, - But twenty leagues and three, - When she met wi’ a rank reiver, - And a’ his companie. - - ‘Now are ye Queen of Heaven hie, - Come to pardon a’ our sin? - Or are ye Mary Magdalane, - Was born at Bethlam?’ - - ‘I’m no the Queen of Heaven hie, - Come to pardon ye your sin, - Nor am I Mary Magdalane, - Was born in Bethlam. - - cramoisie] crimson. reiver] robber. - - ‘But I’m the lass of Lochroyan, - That’s sailing on the sea - To see if I can find my love, - My ain love Gregory.’ - - ‘O see na ye yon bonny bower? - It’s a’ covered owre wi’ tin; - When thou hast sail’d it round about, - Lord Gregory is within.’ - - And when she saw the stately tower, - Shining both clear and bright, - Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave, - Built on a rock of height, - - Says, ‘Row the boat, my mariners, - And bring me to the land, - For yonder I see my love’s castle, - Close by the salt sea strand.’ - - She sail’d it round, and sail’d it round, - And loud and loud cried she, - ‘Now break, now break your fairy charms, - And set my true-love free.’ - - She’s ta’en her young son in her arms. - And to the door she’s gane, - And long she knock’d, and sair she ca’d. - But answer got she nane. - - ‘O open, open, Gregory! - O open! if ye be within; - For here’s the lass of Lochroyan, - Come far fra kith and kin. - - - ‘O open the door, Lord Gregory! - O open and let me in! - The wind blows loud and cauld, Gregory, - The rain drops fra my chin. - - ‘The shoe is frozen to my foot, - The glove unto my hand, - The wet drops fra my yellow hair, - Na langer dow I stand.’ - - O up then spak his ill mither, - --An ill death may she die! - ‘Ye’re no the lass of Lochroyan, - She’s far out-owre the sea. - - ‘Awa’, awa’, ye ill woman, - Ye’re no come here for gude; - Ye’re but some witch or wil’ warlock, - Or mermaid o’ the flood.’ - - ‘I am neither witch nor wil’ warlock, - Nor mermaid o’ the sea, - But I am Annie of Lochroyan, - O open the door to me!’ - - ‘Gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan, - As I trow thou binna she, - Now tell me of some love-tokens - That pass’d ’tween thee and me.’ - - ‘O dinna ye mind, love Gregory, - As we sat at the wine, - We changed the rings frae our fingers? - And I can shew thee thine. - - dow] can. - - ‘O yours was gude, and gude enough, - But ay the best was mine, - For yours was o’ the gude red gowd, - But mine o’ the diamond fine. - - ‘Yours was o’ the gude red gowd, - Mine o’ the diamond fine; - Mine was o’ the purest troth, - But thine was false within.’ - - ‘If ye be the lass of Lochroyan, - As I kenna thou be, - Tell me some mair o’ the love-tokens - Pass’d between thee and me.’ - - ‘And dinna ye mind, love Gregory! - As we sat on the hill, - Thou twin’d me o’ my maidenheid, - Right sair against my will? - - ‘Now open the door, love Gregory! - Open the door! I pray; - For thy young son is in my arms, - And will be dead ere day.’ - - ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye ill woman, - So loud I hear ye lie; - For Annie of the Lochroyan - Is far out-owre the sea.’ - - Fair Annie turn’d her round about: - ‘Weel, sine that it be sae, - May ne’er woman that has borne a son - Hae a heart sae fu’ o’ wae! - - - ‘Tak down, tak down that mast o’ gowd, - Set up a mast of tree; - It disna become a forsaken lady - To sail sae royallie.’ - - When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn, - And the sun began to peep, - Up then raise Lord Gregory, - And sair, sair did he weep. - - ‘O I hae dream’d a dream, mither, - I wish it may bring good! - That the bonny lass of Lochroyan - At my bower window stood. - - ‘O I hae dream’d a dream, mither, - The thought o’t gars me greet! - That fair Annie of Lochroyan - Lay dead at my bed-feet.’ - - ‘Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan - That ye mak a’ this mane, - She stood last night at your bower-door, - But I hae sent her hame.’ - - ‘O wae betide ye, ill woman, - An ill death may ye die! - That wadna open the door yoursell - Nor yet wad waken me.’ - - O he’s gane down to yon shore-side, - As fast as he could dree, - And there he saw fair Annie’s bark - A rowing owre the sea. - - - ‘O Annie, Annie,’ loud he cried, - ‘O Annie, O Annie, bide!’ - But ay the mair he cried ‘Annie,’ - The braider grew the tide. - - ‘O Annie, Annie, dear Annie, - Dear Annie, speak to me!’ - But ay the louder he gan call, - The louder roar’d the sea. - - The wind blew loud, the waves rose hie - And dash’d the boat on shore; - Fair Annie’s corpse was in the faem, - The babe rose never more. - - Lord Gregory tore his gowden locks - And made a wafu’ moan; - Fair Annie’s corpse lay at his feet, - His bonny son was gone. - - ‘O cherry, cherry was her cheek, - And gowden was her hair, - And coral, coral was her lips, - Nane might with her compare,’ - - Then first he kiss’d her pale, pale cheek, - And syne he kiss’d her chin, - And syne he kiss’d her wane, wane lips, - There was na breath within. - - ‘O wae betide my ill mither, - An ill death may she die! - She turn’d my true-love frae my door, - Who cam so far to me. - - - ‘O wae betide my ill mither, - An ill death may she die! - She has no been the deid o’ ane, - But she’s been the deid of three.’ - - Then he’s ta’en out a little dart, - Hung low down by his gore, - He thrust it through and through his heart, - And words spak never more. - - _369._ gore] skirt, waist. - - -_370._ _The Dowie Houms of Yarrow_ - - Late at een, drinkin’ the wine, - And ere they paid the lawin’, - They set a combat them between, - To fight it in the dawin’. - - ‘O stay at hame, my noble lord! - O stay at hame, my marrow! - My cruel brother will you betray, - On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’ - - ‘O fare ye weel, my lady gay! - O fare ye weel, my Sarah! - For I maun gae, tho’ I ne’er return - Frae the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’ - - She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair, - As she had done before, O; - She belted on his noble brand, - An’ he’s awa to Yarrow. - - _370._ lawin’] reckoning. marrow] mate, husband or wife. dowie] - doleful. houms] water-meads. - - O he’s gane up yon high, high hill-- - I wat he gaed wi’ sorrow-- - An’ in a den spied nine arm’d men, - I’ the dowie houms o’ Yarrow. - - ‘O are ye come to drink the wine, - As ye hae doon before, O? - Or are ye come to wield the brand, - On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow?’ - - ‘I am no come to drink the wine, - As I hae don before, O, - But I am come to wield the brand, - On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’ - - Four he hurt, an’ five he slew, - On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow, - Till that stubborn knight came him behind, - An’ ran his body thorrow. - - ‘Gae hame, gae hame, good brother John, - An’ tell your sister Sarah - To come an’ lift her noble lord, - Who’s sleepin’ sound on Yarrow.’ - - ‘Yestreen I dream’d a dolefu’ dream; - I ken’d there wad be sorrow; - I dream’d I pu’d the heather green, - On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’ - - She gaed up yon high, high hill-- - I wat she gaed wi’ sorrow-- - An’ in a den spied nine dead men, - On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow. - - - She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair, - As oft she did before, O; - She drank the red blood frae him ran, - On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow. - - ‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear, - For what needs a’ this sorrow? - I’ll wed you on a better lord - Than him you lost on Yarrow.’ - - ‘O haud your tongue, my father dear, - An’ dinna grieve your Sarah; - A better lord was never born - Than him I lost on Yarrow. - - ‘Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye, - For they hae bred our sorrow; - I wiss that they had a’ gane mad - Whan they cam first to Yarrow.’ - - -_371._ _Clerk Saunders_ - - Clerk Saunders and may Margaret - Walk’d owre yon garden green; - And deep and heavy was the love - That fell thir twa between. - - ‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders said, - ‘A bed for you and me!’ - ‘Fye na, fye na,’ said may Margaret, - ’Till anes we married be!’ - - ‘Then I’ll take the sword frae my scabbard - And slowly lift the pin; - And you may swear, and save your aith, - Ye ne’er let Clerk Saunders in. - - - ‘Take you a napkin in your hand, - And tie up baith your bonnie e’en, - And you may swear, and save your aith, - Ye saw me na since late yestreen.’ - - It was about the midnight hour, - When they asleep were laid, - When in and came her seven brothers, - Wi’ torches burning red: - - When in and came her seven brothers, - Wi’ torches burning bright: - They said, ‘We hae but one sister, - And behold her lying with a knight!’ - - Then out and spake the first o’ them, - ‘I bear the sword shall gar him die.’ - And out and spake the second o’ them, - ‘His father has nae mair but he.’ - - And out and spake the third o’ them, - ‘I wot that they are lovers dear.’ - And out and spake the fourth o’ them, - ‘They hae been in love this mony a year.’ - - Then out and spake the fifth o’ them, - ‘It were great sin true love to twain.’ - And out and spake the sixth o’ them, - ‘It were shame to slay a sleeping man.’ - - Then up and gat the seventh o’ them, - And never a word spake he; - But he has striped his bright brown brand - Out through Clerk Saunders’ fair bodye. - - striped] thrust. - - Clerk Saunders he started, and Margaret she turn’d - Into his arms as asleep she lay; - And sad and silent was the night - That was atween thir twae. - - And they lay still and sleepit sound - Until the day began to daw’; - And kindly she to him did say, - ‘It is time, true love, you were awa’.’ - - But he lay still, and sleepit sound, - Albeit the sun began to sheen; - She look’d atween her and the wa’, - And dull and drowsie were his e’en. - - Then in and came her father dear; - Said, ‘Let a’ your mourning be; - I’ll carry the dead corse to the clay, - And I’ll come back and comfort thee.’ - - ‘Comfort weel your seven sons, - For comforted I will never be: - I ween ’twas neither knave nor loon - Was in the bower last night wi’ me.’ - - The clinking bell gaed through the town, - To carry the dead corse to the clay; - And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret’s window, - I wot, an hour before the day. - - ‘Are ye sleeping, Marg’ret?’ he says, - ‘Or are ye waking presentlie? - Give me my faith and troth again, - I wot, true love, I gied to thee.’ - - - ‘Your faith and troth ye sail never get, - Nor our true love sail never twin, - Until ye come within my bower, - And kiss me cheik and chin.’ - - ‘My mouth it is full cold, Marg’ret; - It has the smell, now, of the ground; - And if I kiss thy comely mouth, - Thy days of life will not be lang. - - ‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight; - I wot the wild fowls are boding day; - Give me my faith and troth again, - And let me fare me on my way.’ - - ‘Thy faith and troth thou sallna get, - And our true love sail never twin, - Until ye tell what comes o’ women, - I wot, who die in strong traivelling?’ - - ‘Their beds are made in the heavens high, - Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee, - Weel set about wi’ gillyflowers; - I wot, sweet company for to see. - - ‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight; - I wot the wild fowls are boding day; - The psalms of heaven will soon be sung, - And I, ere now, will be miss’d away.’ - - Then she has taken a crystal wand, - And she has stroken her troth thereon; - She has given it him out at the shot-window, - Wi’ mony a sad sigh and heavy groan. - - twin] part in two. - - ‘I thank ye, Marg’ret; I thank ye, Marg’ret; - And ay I thank ye heartilie; - Gin ever the dead come for the quick, - Be sure, Marg’ret, I’ll come for thee.’ - - It’s hosen and shoon, and gown alone, - She climb’d the wall, and follow’d him, - Until she came to the green forest, - And there she lost the sight o’ him. - - ‘Is there ony room at your head, Saunders? - Is there ony room at your feet? - Or ony room at your side, Saunders, - Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?’ - - ‘There’s nae room at my head, Marg’ret, - There’s nae room at my feet; - My bed it is fu’ lowly now, - Amang the hungry worms I sleep. - - ‘Cauld mould is my covering now, - But and my winding-sheet; - The dew it falls nae sooner down - Than my resting-place is weet. - - ‘But plait a wand o’ bonny birk, - And lay it on my breast; - And shed a tear upon my grave, - And wish my saul gude rest.’ - - Then up and crew the red, red cock, - And up and crew the gray: - ‘’Tis time, ’tis time, my dear Marg’ret, - That you were going away. - - - ‘And fair Marg’ret, and rare Marg’ret, - And Marg’ret o’ veritie, - Gin e’er ye love another man, - Ne’er love him as ye did me.’ - - -_372._ _Fair Annie_ - - The reivers they stole Fair Annie, - As she walk’d by the sea; - But a noble knight was her ransom soon, - Wi’ gowd and white monie. - - 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; - 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. - - jimp] trim. - - ‘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. - - ‘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, 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 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 reach’d the second table, - The tears began to fa’. - - yett] gate. - - 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 chamber were laid. - - Fair Annie’s ta’en a harp in her hand, - To harp thir twa 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 great 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. - - - ‘What ails you, what ails you, my housekeeper, - That ye mak sic a mane? - 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 ane.’ - - ‘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. - - ‘Tak your husband, my sister dear; - You ne’er were wrang’d 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.’ - - tyne] lose. - - -_373._ _Edward, Edward_ - - ‘Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude, - Edward, Edward? - Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude, - And why sae sad gang ye, O?’ - ‘O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude, - Mither, mither; - O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude, - And I had nae mair but he, O.’ - - ‘Your hawk’s blude was never sae red, - Edward, Edward; - Your hawk’s blude was never sae red, - My dear son, I tell thee, O.’ - ‘O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed, - Mither, mither; - O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed, - That erst was sae fair and free, O.’ - - ‘Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair, - Edward, Edward; - Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair; - Some other dule ye dree, O.’ - ‘O I hae kill’d my father dear, - Mither, mither; - O I hae kill’d my father dear, - Alas, and wae is me, O!’ - - dule ye dree] grief you suffer. - - ‘And whatten penance will ye dree for that, - Edward, Edward? - Whatten penance will ye dree for that? - My dear son, now tell me, O.’ - ‘I’ll set my feet in yonder boat, - Mither, mither; - I’ll set my feet in yonder boat, - And I’ll fare over the sea, O.’ - - ‘And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’, - Edward, Edward? - And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’, - That were sae fair to see, O?’ - ‘I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’, - Mither, mither; - I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’, - For here never mair maun 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 gang owre the sea, O?’ - ‘The warld’s room: let them beg through life, - Mither, mither; - The warld’s room: let them beg through life; - For them never mair will I see, O.’ - - ‘And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear. - Edward, Edward? - And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear, - My dear son, now tell me, O?’ - ‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear, - Mither, mither; - The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear: - Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!’ - - -_374._ _Edom o’ Gordon_ - - It fell about the Martinmas, - When the wind blew shrill and cauld, - Said Edom o’ Gordon to his men, - ‘We maun draw to a hauld. - - ‘And what a hauld sall we draw to, - My merry men and me? - We will gae to the house o’ the Rodes, - To see that fair ladye.’ - - The lady stood on her castle wa’, - Beheld baith dale and down; - There she was ware of a host of men - Cam riding towards the town. - - ‘O see ye not, my merry men a’, - O see ye not what I see? - Methinks I see a host of men; - I marvel wha they be.’ - - She ween’d it had been her lovely lord, - As he cam riding hame; - It was the traitor, Edom o’ Gordon, - Wha reck’d nae sin nor shame. - - town] stead. - - She had nae sooner buskit hersell, - And putten on her gown, - But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men - Were round about the town. - - They had nae sooner supper set, - Nae sooner said the grace, - But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men - Were lighted about the place. - - The lady ran up to her tower-head, - Sae fast as she could hie, - To see if by her fair speeches - She could wi’ him agree. - - ‘Come doun to me, ye lady gay, - Come doun, come doun to me; - This night sall ye lig within mine arms, - To-morrow my bride sall be.’ - - ‘I winna come down, ye fals Gordon, - I winna come down to thee; - I winna forsake my ain dear lord, - That is sae far frae me.’ - - ‘Gie owre your house, ye lady fair, - Gie owre your house to me; - Or I sall brenn yoursel therein, - But and your babies three.’ - - ‘I winna gie owre, ye fals Gordon, - To nae sic traitor as yee; - And if ye brenn my ain dear babes, - My lord sail mak ye dree. - - buskit] attired. - - ‘Now reach my pistol, Glaud, my man, - And charge ye weel my gun; - For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher, - My babes, we been undone!’ - - She stood upon her castle wa’, - And let twa bullets flee: - She miss’d that bluidy butcher’s heart, - And only razed his knee. - - ‘Set fire to the house!’ quo’ fals Gordon, - All wud wi’ dule and ire: - ‘Fals lady, ye sail rue this deid - As ye brenn in the fire!’ - - Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man! - I paid ye weel your fee; - Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane, - Lets in the reek to me? - - ‘And e’en wae worth ye, Jock, my man! - I paid ye weel your hire; - Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane, - To me lets in the fire?’ - - ‘Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye, - Ye paid me weel my fee: - But now I’m Edom o’ Gordon’s man-- - Maun either do or die.’ - - O then bespake her little son, - Sat on the nurse’s knee: - Says, ‘Mither dear, gie owre this house, - For the reek it smithers me.’ - - wud] mad. grund-wa’] ground-wall. - - ‘I wad gie a’ my gowd, my bairn, - Sae wad I a’ my fee, - For ae blast o’ the western wind, - To blaw the reek frae thee.’ - - O then bespake her dochter dear-- - She was baith jimp and sma’: - ‘O row me in a pair o’ sheets, - And tow me owre the wa’!’ - - They row’d her in a pair o’ sheets, - And tow’d her owre the wa’; - But on the point o’ Gordon’s spear - She gat a deadly fa’. - - O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth, - And cherry were her cheiks, - And clear, clear was her yellow hair, - Whereon the red blood dreips. - - Then wi’ his spear he turn’d her owre; - O gin her face was wane! - He said, ‘Ye are the first that e’er - I wish’d alive again.’ - - He turn’d her owre and owre again; - O gin her skin was white! - ‘I might hae spared that bonnie face - To hae been some man’s delight. - - ‘Busk and boun, my merry men a’, - For ill dooms I do guess; - I canna look in that bonnie face - As it lies on the grass.’ - - jimp] slender, trim. row] roll, wrap. Busk and boun] trim up and - prepare to go. - - ‘Wha looks to freits, my master dear, - It’s freits will follow them; - Let it ne’er be said that Edom o’ Gordon - Was daunted by a dame.’ - - But when the lady saw the fire - Come flaming owre her head, - She wept, and kiss’d her children twain, - Says, ‘Bairns, we been but dead.’ - - The Gordon then his bugle blew, - And said, ‘Awa’, awa’! - This house o’ the Rodes is a’ in a flame; - I hauld it time to ga’.’ - - And this way lookit her ain dear lord, - As he cam owre the lea; - He saw his castle a’ in a lowe, - As far as he could see. - - Then sair, O sair, his mind misgave, - And all his heart was wae: - ‘Put on, put on, my wighty men, - Sae fast as ye can gae. - - ‘Put on, put on, my wighty men, - Sae fast as ye can drie! - For he that’s hindmost o’ the thrang - Sall ne’er get good o’ me.’ - - Then some they rade, and some they ran, - Out-owre the grass and bent; - But ere the foremost could win up, - Baith lady and babes were brent. - - freits] ill omens. lowe] flame. wighty] stout, doughty. - - And after the Gordon he is gane, - Sae fast as he might drie; - And soon i’ the Gordon’s foul heart’s blude - He’s wroken his dear ladye. - - wroken] avenged. - - -_375._ _The Queen’s Marie_ - - Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane, - Wi’ ribbons in her hair; - The King thought mair o’ Marie Hamilton - Than ony that were there. - - Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane - Wi’ ribbons on her breast; - The King thought mair o’ Marie Hamilton - Than he listen’d to the priest. - - Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane, - Wi’ gloves upon her hands; - The King thought mair o’ Marie Hamilton - Than the Queen and a’ her lands. - - She hadna been about the King’s court - A month, but barely one, - Till she was beloved by a’ the King’s court - And the King the only man. - - She hadna been about the King’s court - A month, but barely three, - Till frae the King’s court Marie Hamilton, - Marie Hamilton durstna be. - - - The King is to the Abbey gane, - To pu’ the Abbey tree, - To scale the babe frae Marie’s heart; - But the thing it wadna be. - - O she has row’d it in her apron, - And set it on the sea-- - ‘Gae sink ye or swim ye, bonny babe, - Ye’se get nae mair o’ me.’ - - Word is to the kitchen gane, - And word is to the ha’, - And word is to the noble room - Amang the ladies a’, - That Marie Hamilton’s brought to bed, - And the bonny babe’s miss’d and awa’. - - Scarcely had she lain down again, - And scarcely fa’en asleep, - When up and started our gude Queen - Just at her bed-feet; - Saying--‘Marie Hamilton, where’s your babe? - For I am sure I heard it greet.’ - - ‘O no, O no, my noble Queen! - Think no sic thing to be; - ’Twas but a stitch into my side, - And sair it troubles me!’ - - ‘Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton: - Get up and follow me; - For I am going to Edinburgh town, - A rich wedding for to see.’ - - row’d] rolled, wrapped. greet] cry. - - O slowly, slowly rase she up, - And slowly put she on; - And slowly rade she out the way - Wi’ mony a weary groan. - - The Queen was clad in scarlet, - Her merry maids all in green; - And every town that they cam to, - They took Marie for the Queen. - - ‘Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen, - Ride hooly now wi’ me! - For never, I am sure, a wearier burd - Rade in your companie.’-- - - But little wist Marie Hamilton, - When she rade on the brown, - That she was gaen to Edinburgh town, - And a’ to be put down. - - ‘Why weep ye so, ye burgess wives, - Why look ye so on me? - O I am going to Edinburgh town, - A rich wedding to see.’ - - When she gaed up the tolbooth stairs, - The corks frae her heels did flee; - And lang or e’er she cam down again, - She was condemn’d to die. - - When she cam to the Netherbow port, - She laugh’d loud laughters three; - But when she came to the gallows foot - The tears blinded her e’e. - - hooly] gently. - - ‘Yestreen the Queen had four Maries, - The night she’ll hae but three; - There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton, - And Marie Carmichael, and me. - - ‘O often have I dress’d my Queen - And put gowd upon her hair; - But now I’ve gotten for my reward - The gallows to be my share. - - ‘Often have I dress’d my Queen - And often made her bed; - But now I’ve gotten for my reward - The gallows tree to tread. - - ‘I charge ye all, ye mariners, - When ye sail owre the faem, - Let neither my father nor mother get wit - But that I’m coming hame. - - ‘I charge ye all, ye mariners, - That sail upon the sea, - That neither my father nor mother get wit - The dog’s death I’m to die. - - ‘For if my father and mother got wit, - And my bold brethren three, - O mickle wad be the gude red blude - This day wad be spilt for me! - - ‘O little did my mother ken, - The day she cradled me, - The lands I was to travel in - Or the death I was to die! - - -_376._ _Binnorie_ - - There were twa sisters sat in a bour; - _Binnorie, O Binnorie_! - There cam a knight to be their wooer, - _By the bonnie milldams o’ Binnorie_. - - He courted the eldest with glove and ring, - But he lo’ed the youngest abune a thing. - - The eldest she was vexèd sair, - And sair envied her sister fair. - - Upon a morning fair and clear, - She cried upon her sister dear: - - ‘O sister, sister, tak my hand, - And let’s go down to the river-strand.’ - - She’s ta’en her by the lily hand, - And led her down to the river-strand. - - The youngest stood upon a stane, - The eldest cam and push’d her in. - - ‘O sister, sister, reach your hand! - And ye sall be heir o’ half my land: - - ‘O sister, reach me but your glove! - And sweet William sall be your love.’ - - Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam, - Until she cam to the miller’s dam. - - Out then cam the miller’s son, - And saw the fair maid soummin’ in. - - ‘O father, father, draw your dam! - There’s either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.’ - - soummin’] swimming. - - The miller hasted and drew his dam, - And there he found a drown’d womàn. - - You couldna see her middle sma’, - Her gowden girdle was sae braw. - - You couldna see her lily feet, - Her gowden fringes were sae deep. - - All amang her yellow hair - A string o’ pearls was twisted rare. - - You couldna see her fingers sma’, - Wi’ diamond rings they were cover’d a’. - - And by there cam a harper fine, - That harpit to the king at dine. - - And when he look’d that lady on, - He sigh’d and made a heavy moan. - - He’s made a harp of her breast-bane, - Whose sound wad melt a heart of stane. - - He’s ta’en three locks o’ her yellow hair, - And wi’ them strung his harp sae rare. - - He went into her father’s hall, - And there was the court assembled all. - - He laid his harp upon a stane, - And straight it began to play by lane. - - ‘O yonder sits my father, the King, - And yonder sits my mother, the Queen; - ‘And yonder stands my brother Hugh, - And by him my William, sweet and true.’ - - But the last tune that the harp play’d then-- - _Binnorie, O Binnorie_! - Was, ‘Woe to my sister, false Helèn!’ - _By the bonnie milldams o’ Binnorie._ - - -_377._ _The Bonnie House o’ Airlie_ - - It fell on a day, and a bonnie simmer day, - When green grew aits and barley, - That there fell out a great dispute - Between Argyll and Airlie. - - Argyll has raised an hunder men, - An hunder harness’d rarely, - And he’s awa’ by the back of Dunkell, - To plunder the castle of Airlie. - - Lady Ogilvie looks o’er her bower-window, - And O but she looks warely! - And there she spied the great Argyll, - Come to plunder the bonnie house of Airlie. - - ‘Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilvie, - Come down and kiss me fairly:’ - ‘O I winna kiss the fause Argyll, - If he shouldna leave a standing stane in Airlie.’ - - He hath taken her by the left shoulder, - Says, ‘Dame, where lies thy dowry?’ - ‘O it’s east and west yon wan water side, - And it’s down by the banks of the Airlie.’ - - - They hae sought it up, they hae sought it down, - They hae sought it maist severely, - Till they fand it in the fair plum-tree - That shines on the bowling-green of Airlie. - - He hath taken her by the middle sae small, - And O but she grat sairly! - And laid her down by the bonnie burn-side, - Till they plunder’d the castle of Airlie. - - ‘Gif my gude lord war here this night, - As he is with King Charlie, - Neither you, nor ony ither Scottish lord, - Durst avow to the plundering of Airlie. - - ‘Gif my gude lord war now at hame, - As he is with his king, - There durst nae a Campbell in a’ Argyll - Set fit on Airlie green. - - ‘Ten bonnie sons I have borne unto him, - The eleventh ne’er saw his daddy; - But though I had an hunder mair, - I’d gie them a’ to King Charlie!’ - - -_378._ _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, - When word came to the carline wife - That her three sons were gane. - - They hadna been a week from her, - A week but barely three, - When 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 Martinmas, - 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. - - fashes] troubles. syke] marsh. sheugh] trench. - - Up then crew the red, red cock, - And up and crew the gray; - The eldest to the youngest said. - ‘’Tis time we were away.’ - - The cock he hadna craw’d but once, - And clapp’d 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 miss’d out o’ our place, - A sair pain we maun bide.’ - - ‘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.’ - - ‘Fare ye weel, my mother dear! - Fareweel to barn and byre! - And fare ye weel, the bonny lass - That kindles my mother’s fire!’ - - _378._ channerin’] fretting. - - -_379._ _The Three Ravens_ - - There were three ravens sat on a tree, - They were as black as they might be. - - The one of them said to his make, - ‘Where shall we our breakfast take?’ - - _379._ make] mate. - - ‘Down in yonder greene field - There lies a knight slain under his shield; - - ‘His hounds they lie down at his feet, - So well they can their master keep; - - ‘His hawks they flie so eagerly, - There ’s no fowl dare come him nigh.’ - - Down there comes a fallow doe - As great with young as she might goe. - - She lift up his bloudy head - And kist his wounds that were so red. - - She gat him up upon her back - And carried him to earthen lake. - - She buried him before the prime, - She was dead herself ere evensong time. - - God send every gentleman - Such hounds, such hawks, and such a leman. - - -_380._ _The Twa Corbies_ - -(SCOTTISH VERSION) - - As I was walking all alane - I heard twa corbies making a mane: - The tane unto the tither did say, - ‘Whar sall we gang and dine the day?’ - - _380._ corbies] ravens. - - ‘--In behint yon auld fail dyke - I wot there lies a new-slain knight; - And naebody kens that he lies there - But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair. - - ‘His hound is to the hunting gane, - His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, - His lady’s ta’en anither mate, - So we may mak our dinner sweet. - - ‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane, - And I’ll pike out his bonny blue e’en: - Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hair - We’ll theek our nest when it grows bare. - - ‘Mony a one for him maks mane, - But nane sall ken whar he is gane: - O’er his white banes, when they are bare, - The wind sall blaw for evermair.’ - - _380._ fail] turf. hause] neck. theek] thatch. - - -_381._ _A Lyke-Wake Dirge_ - - This ae nighte, this ae nighte, - --_Every nighte and alle_, - Fire and fleet and candle-lighte, - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - When thou from hence away art past, - --_Every nighte and alle_, - To Whinny-muir thou com’st at last; - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - _381._ fleet] house-room. - - 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 when thou may’st pass, - --_Every nighte and alle_, - To Brig o’ Dread thou com’st at last; - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - From Brig o’ Dread when 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 or 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 fleet and candle-lighte, - _And Christe receive thy saule_. - - -_382._ _The Seven Virgins._ - -A CAROL - - 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 - Nail’d 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 nursed 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.’ - - O the rose, the gentle rose, - And the fennel that grows so green! - God give us grace in every place - To pray for our king and queen. - - Furthermore for our enemies all - Our prayers they should be strong: - Amen, good Lord; your charity - Is the ending of my song. - - -_383._ _Two Rivers_ - - Says Tweed to Till-- - ‘What gars ye rin sae still?’ - Says Till to Tweed-- - ‘Though ye rin with speed - And I rin slaw, - For ae man that ye droon - I droon twa.’ - - -_384._ _Cradle Song_ - - O my deir hert, young Jesus sweit, - Prepare thy creddil in my spreit, - And I sall rock thee in my hert - And never mair from thee depart. - - But I sall praise thee evermoir - With sangis sweit unto thy gloir; - The knees of my hert sall I bow, - And sing that richt _Balulalow_! - - -_385._ _The Call_ - - My blood so red - For thee was shed, - Come home again, come home again; - My own sweet heart, come home again! - You’ve gone astray - Out of your way, - Come home again, come home again! - - -_386._ _The Bonny Earl of Murray_ - - Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands, - O where hae ye been? - They hae slain the Earl of Murray, - And hae laid him on the green. - - Now wae be to thee, Huntley! - And whairfore did ye sae! - I bade you bring him wi’ you. - But forbade you him to slay. - - - He was a braw gallant, - And he rid at the ring; - And the bonny Earl of Murray, - O he might hae been a king! - - He was a braw gallant, - And he play’d at the ba’; - And the bonny Earl of Murray - Was the flower amang them a’! - - He was a braw gallant, - And he play’d at the gluve; - And the bonny Earl of Murray, - O he was the Queen’s luve! - - O lang will his Lady - Look owre the Castle Downe, - Ere she see the Earl of Murray - Come sounding through the town! - - -_387._ _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 to succour me! - - O think na ye my heart was sair, - When my Love dropp’d and spak nae mair! - There did she swoon 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 sake that died for me. - - O Helen fair, beyond compare! - I’ll mak a garland o’ 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’d be blest, - Where thou lies low and taks thy rest, - On fair Kirconnell lea. - - I wish my grave were growing green, - A winding-sheet drawn owre my e’en, - 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, - For her sake that died for me. - - -_388._ _Waly, Waly_ - - O waly, waly, up the bank, - And waly, waly, doun the brae, - And waly, waly, yon burn-side, - Where I and my Love wont to gae! - I lean’d my back unto an aik, - I thocht it was a trustie tree; - But first it bow’d and syne it brak-- - Sae my true love did lichtlie me. - - O waly, waly, gin love be bonnie - A little time while it is new! - But when ’tis auld it waxeth cauld, - And fades awa’ like morning dew. - O wherefore should I busk my heid, - Or wherefore should I kame my hair? - For my true Love has me forsook, - And says he’ll never lo’e me mair. - - Now Arthur’s Seat sall be my bed, - The sheets sall ne’er be ’filed by me; - Saint Anton’s well sall be my drink; - Since my true Love has forsaken me. - Marti’mas wind, when wilt thou blaw, - And shake the green leaves aff the tree? - O gentle Death, when wilt thou come? - For of my life I am wearìe. - - ’Tis not the frost, that freezes fell, - Nor blawing snaw’s inclemencie, - ’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry; - But my Love’s heart grown cauld to me. - When we cam in by Glasgow toun, - We were a comely sicht to see; - My Love was clad in the black velvèt, - And I mysel in cramasie. - - But had I wist, before I kist, - That love had been sae ill to win, - I had lock’d my heart in a case o’ gowd. - And pinn’d it wi’ a siller pin. - And O! if my young babe were born, - And set upon the nurse’s knee; - And I mysel were dead and gane, - And the green grass growing over me! - - _388._ cramasie] crimson. - - -_389._ _Barbara Allen’s Cruelty_ - - In Scarlet town, where I was born, - There was a fair maid dwellin’, - Made every youth cry _Well-a-way_! - Her name was Barbara Allen. - - All in the merry month of May, - When green buds they were swellin’, - Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay, - For love of Barbara Allen. - - He sent his man in to her then, - To the town where she was dwellin’, - ‘O haste and come to my master dear, - If your name be Barbara Allen.’ - - So slowly, slowly rase she up, - And slowly she came nigh him, - And when she drew the curtain by-- - ‘Young man, I think you’re dyin’.’ - - - ‘O it’s I am sick and very very sick, - And it’s all for Barbara Allen.’ - ‘O the better for me ye’se never be, - Tho’ your heart’s blood were a-spillin’! - - ‘O dinna ye mind, young man,’ says she, - ‘When the red wine ye were fillin’, - That ye made the healths go round and round, - And slighted Barbara Allen?’ - - He turn’d his face unto the wall, - And death was with him dealin’: - ‘Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all, - And be kind to Barbara Allen!’ - - As she was walking o’er the fields, - She heard the dead-bell knellin’; - And every jow the dead-bell gave - Cried ‘Woe to Barbara Allen.’ - - ‘O mother, mother, make my bed, - O make it saft and narrow: - My love has died for me to-day, - I’ll die for him to-morrow. - - ‘Farewell,’ she said, ‘ye virgins all, - And shun the fault I fell in: - Henceforth take warning by the fall - Of cruel Barbara Allen.’ - - _389._ jow] beat, toll. - - -_390._ _Pipe and Can_ - - -I - - The Indian weed witherèd quite; - Green at morn, cut down at night; - Shows thy decay: all flesh is hay: - Thus think, then drink Tobacco. - - - And when the smoke ascends on high, - Think thou behold’st the vanity - Of worldly stuff, gone with a puff: - Thus think, then drink Tobacco. - - But when the pipe grows foul within, - Think of thy soul defiled with sin, - And that the fire doth it require: - Thus think, then drink Tobacco. - - The ashes, that are left behind, - May serve to put thee still in mind - That unto dust return thou must: - Thus think, then drink Tobacco. - - -II - - When as the chill Charokko blows, - And Winter tells a heavy tale; - When pyes and daws and rooks and crows - Sit cursing of the frosts and snows; - Then give me ale. - - Ale in a Saxon rumkin then, - Such as will make grimalkin prate; - Bids valour burgeon in tall men, - Quickens the poet’s wit and pen, - Despises fate. - - Ale, that the absent battle fights, - And frames the march of Swedish drum, - Disputes with princes, laws, and rights, - What’s done and past tells mortal wights, - And what’s to come. - - Charokko] Scirocco. - - Ale, that the plowman’s heart up-keeps - And equals it with tyrants’ thrones, - That wipes the eye that over-weeps, - And lulls in sure and dainty sleeps - Th’ o’er-wearied bones. - - Grandchild of Ceres, Bacchus’ daughter, - Wine’s emulous neighbour, though but stale, - Ennobling all the nymphs of water, - And filling each man’s heart with laughter-- - Ha! give me ale! - - -_391._ _Love will find out the Way_ - - Over the mountains - And over the waves, - Under the fountains - And under the graves; - Under floods that are deepest, - Which Neptune obey, - Over rocks that are steepest, - Love will find out the way. - - When there is no place - For the glow-worm to lie, - When there is no space - For receipt of a fly; - When the midge dares not venture - Lest herself fast she lay, - If Love come, he will enter - And will find out the way. - - - You may esteem him - A child for his might; - Or you may deem him - A coward for his flight; - But if she whom Love doth honour - Be conceal’d from the day-- - Set a thousand guards upon her, - Love will find out the way. - - Some think to lose him - By having him confined; - And some do suppose him, - Poor heart! to be blind; - But if ne’er so close ye wall him, - Do the best that ye may, - Blind Love, if so ye call him, - He will find out his way. - - You may train the eagle - To stoop to your fist; - Or you may inveigle - The Phœnix of the east; - The lioness, you may move her - To give over her prey; - But you’ll ne’er stop a lover-- - He will find out the way. - - If the earth it should part him, - He would gallop it o’er; - If the seas should o’erthwart him, - He would swim to the shore; - Should his Love become a swallow, - Through the air to stray, - Love will lend wings to follow, - And will find out the way. - - - There is no striving - To cross his intent; - There is no contriving - His plots to prevent; - But if once the message greet him - That his True Love doth stay, - If Death should come and meet him, - Love will find out the way! - - -_392._ _Phillada flouts Me_ - - O what a plague is love! - How shall I bear it? - She will inconstant prove, - I greatly fear it. - She so torments my mind - That my strength faileth, - And wavers with the wind - As a ship saileth. - Please her the best I may, - She loves still to gainsay; - Alack and well-a-day! - Phillada flouts me. - - At the fair yesterday - She did pass by me; - She look’d another way - And would not spy me: - I woo’d her for to dine, - But could not get her; - Will had her to the wine-- - He might entreat her. - With Daniel she did dance, - On me she look’d askance: - O thrice unhappy chance! - Phillada flouts me. - - Fair maid, be not so coy, - Do not disdain me! - I am my mother’s joy: - Sweet, entertain me! - She’ll give me, when she dies, - All that is fitting: - Her poultry and her bees, - And her goose sitting, - A pair of mattrass beds, - And a bag full of shreds; - And yet, for all this guedes, - Phillada flouts me! - - She hath a clout of mine - Wrought with blue Coventry, - Which she keeps for a sign - Of my fidelity: - But i’ faith, if she flinch - She shall not wear it; - To Tib, my t’other wench, - I mean to bear it. - And yet it grieves my heart - So soon from her to part: - Death strike me with his dart! - Phillada flouts me. - - Thou shalt eat crudded cream - All the year lasting, - - guedes] goods, property of any kind. - - And drink the crystal stream - Pleasant in tasting; - Whig and whey whilst thou lust, - And bramble-berries, - Pie-lid and pastry-crust, - Pears, plums, and cherries. - Thy raiment shall be thin, - Made of a weevil’s skin-- - Yet all’s not worth a pin! - Phillada flouts me. - - In the last month of May - I made her posies; - I heard her often say - That she loved roses. - Cowslips and gillyflowers - And the white lily - I brought to deck the bowers - For my sweet Philly. - But she did all disdain, - And threw them back again; - Therefore ’tis flat and plain - Phillada flouts me. - - Fair maiden, have a care, - And in time take me; - I can have those as fair - If you forsake me: - For Doll the dairy-maid - Laugh’d at me lately, - And wanton Winifred - Favours me greatly. - One throws milk on my clothes, - T’other plays with my nose; - What wanting signs are those? - Phillada flouts me. - - I cannot work nor sleep - At all in season: - Love wounds my heart so deep - Without all reason. - I ’gin to pine away - In my love’s shadow, - Like as a fat beast may, - Penn’d in a meadow. - I shall be dead, I fear, - Within this thousand year: - And all for that my dear - Phillada flouts me. - - - - -WILLIAM STRODE - -1602-1645 - - -_393._ _Chloris in the Snow_ - - I saw fair Chloris walk alone, - When feather’d rain came softly down, - As Jove descending from his Tower - To court her in a silver shower: - The wanton snow flew to her breast, - Like pretty birds into their nest, - But, overcome with whiteness there, - For grief it thaw’d into a tear: - Thence falling on her garments’ hem, - To deck her, froze into a gem. - - - - -THOMAS STANLEY - -1625-1678 - - -_394._ _The Relapse_ - - Turn away those cruel eyes, - The stars of my undoing! - Or death, in such a bright disguise, - May tempt a second wooing. - - Punish their blind and impious pride, - Who dare contemn thy glory; - It was my fall that deified - Thy name, and seal’d thy story. - - Yet no new sufferings can prepare - A higher praise to crown thee; - Though my first death proclaim thee fair, - My second will unthrone thee. - - Lovers will doubt thou canst entice - No other for thy fuel, - And if thou burn one victim twice, - Both think thee poor and cruel. - - - - -THOMAS D’URFEY - -1653-1723 - - -_395._ _Chloe Divine_ - - Chloe’s a Nymph in flowery groves, - A Nereid in the streams; - Saint-like she in the temple moves, - A woman in my dreams. - - Love steals artillery from her eyes, - The Graces point her charms; - Orpheus is rivalled in her voice, - And Venus in her arms. - - - Never so happily in one - Did heaven and earth combine: - And yet ’tis flesh and blood alone - That makes her so divine. - - - - -CHARLES COTTON - -1630-1687 - - -_396._ _To Cœlia_ - - When, Cœlia, must my old day set, - And my young morning rise - In beams of joy so bright as yet - Ne’er bless’d a lover’s eyes? - My state is more advanced than when - I first attempted thee: - I sued to be a servant then, - But now to be made free. - - I’ve served my time faithful and true, - Expecting to be placed - In happy freedom, as my due, - To all the joys thou hast: - Ill husbandry in love is such - A scandal to love’s power, - We ought not to misspend so much - As one poor short-lived hour. - - Yet think not, sweet, I’m weary grown. - That I pretend such haste; - Since none to surfeit e’er was known - Before he had a taste: - My infant love could humbly wait - When, young, it scarce knew how - To plead; but grown to man’s estate, - He is impatient now. - - - - -KATHERINE PHILIPS (‘ORINDA’) - -1631-1664 - - -_397._ _To One persuading a Lady to Marriage_ - - Forbear, bold youth; all’s heaven here, - And what you do aver - To others courtship may appear, - ’Tis sacrilege to her. - She is a public deity; - And were’t not very odd - She should dispose herself to be - A petty household god? - - First make the sun in private shine - And bid the world adieu, - That so he may his beams confine - In compliment to you: - But if of that you do despair, - Think how you did amiss - To strive to fix her beams which are - More bright and large than his. - - - - -JOHN DRYDEN - -1631-1700 - - -_398._ _Ode_ - - _To the Pious Memory of the accomplished young lady, Mrs. Anne - Killigrew, excellent in the two sister arts of Poesy and Painting_ - - Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, - Made in the last promotion of the blest; - Whose palms, new pluck’d from Paradise, - In spreading branches more sublimely rise, - Rich with immortal green above the rest: - Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star, - Thou roll’st above us, in thy wandering race, - Or, in procession fixt and regular, - Mov’d with the heaven’s majestic pace; - Or, called to more superior bliss, - Thou tread’st with seraphims the vast abyss: - Whatever happy region is thy place, - Cease thy celestial song a little space; - Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine, - Since Heaven’s eternal year is thine. - Hear, then, a mortal Muse thy praise rehearse, - In no ignoble verse; - But such as thy own voice did practise here, - When thy first-fruits of Poesy were given, - To make thyself a welcome inmate there; - While yet a young probationer, - And candidate of heaven. - - If by traduction came thy mind, - Our wonder is the less, to find - A soul so charming from a stock so good; - Thy father was transfus’d into thy blood: - So wert thou born into the tuneful strain, - An early, rich, and inexhausted vein. - But if thy pre-existing soul - Was form’d at first with myriads more, - It did through all the mighty poets roll - Who Greek or Latin laurels wore, - And was that Sappho last, which once it was before. - If so, then cease thy flight, O heaven-born mind! - Thou hast no dross to purge from thy rich ore: - Nor can thy soul a fairer mansion find, - Than was the beauteous frame she left behind: - Return, to fill or mend the quire of thy celestial kind. - - May we presume to say, that, at thy birth, - New joy was sprung in heaven as well as here on earth? - For sure the milder planets did combine - On thy auspicious horoscope to shine, - And even the most malicious were in trine. - Thy brother-angels at thy birth - Strung each his lyre, and tun’d it high, - That all the people of the sky - Might know a poetess was born on earth; - And then, if ever, mortal ears - Had heard the music of the spheres. - And if no clust’ring swarm of bees - On thy sweet mouth distill’d their golden dew, - ’Twas that such vulgar miraclès - Heaven had not leisure to renew: - For all the blest fraternity of love - Solemniz’d there thy birth, and kept thy holiday above. - - O gracious God! how far have we - Profan’d thy heavenly gift of Poesy! - Made prostitute and profligate the Muse, - Debas’d to each obscene and impious use, - Whose harmony was first ordain’d above, - For tongues of angels and for hymns of love! - O wretched we! why were we hurried down - This lubrique and adulterate age - (Nay, added fat pollutions of our own), - To increase the streaming ordures of the stage? - What can we say to excuse our second fall? - Let this thy Vestal, Heaven, atone for all! - Her Arethusian stream remains unsoil’d, - Unmixt with foreign filth, and undefil’d; - Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child. - - Art she had none, yet wanted none, - For Nature did that want supply: - So rich in treasures of her own, - She might our boasted stores defy: - Such noble vigour did her verse adorn, - That it seem’d borrowed, where ’twas only born. - Her morals, too, were in her bosom bred, - By great examples daily fed, - What in the best of books, her father’s life, she read. - And to be read herself she need not fear; - Each test, and every light, her Muse will bear, - Though Epictetus with his lamp were there. - Even love (for love sometimes her Muse exprest) - Was but a lambent flame which play’d about her breast, - Light as the vapours of a morning dream; - So cold herself, whilst she such warmth exprest, - ’Twas Cupid bathing in Diana’s stream.... - - Now all those charms, that blooming grace, - The well-proportion’d shape, and beauteous face, - Shall never more be seen by mortal eyes; - In earth the much-lamented virgin lies. - Not wit, nor piety could fate prevent; - Nor was the cruel destiny content - To finish all the murder at a blow, - To sweep at once her life and beauty too; - But, like a hardened felon, took a pride - To work more mischievously slow, - And plunder’d first, and then destroyed. - O double sacrilege on things divine, - To rob the relic, and deface the shrine! - But thus Orinda died: - Heaven, by the same disease, did both translate; - As equal were their souls, so equal was their fate. - - Meantime, her warlike brother on the seas - His waving streamers to the winds displays, - And vows for his return, with vain devotion, pays. - Ah, generous youth! that wish forbear, - The winds too soon will waft thee here! - Slack all thy sails, and fear to come, - Alas, thou know’st not, thou art wreck’d at home! - No more shalt thou behold thy sister’s face, - Thou hast already had her last embrace. - But look aloft, and if thou kenn’st from far, - Among the Pleiads a new kindl’d star, - If any sparkles than the rest more bright, - ’Tis she that shines in that propitious light. - - When in mid-air the golden trump shall sound, - To raise the nations under ground; - When, in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, - The judging God shall close the book of Fate, - And there the last assizes keep - For those who wake and those who sleep; - When rattling bones together fly - From the four corners of the sky; - When sinews o’er the skeletons are spread, - Those cloth’d with flesh, and life inspires the dead; - The sacred poets first shall hear the sound, - And foremost from the tomb shall bound, - For they are cover’d with the lightest ground; - And straight, with inborn vigour, on the wing, - Like mounting larks, to the new morning sing. - There thou, sweet Saint, before the quire shalt go, - As harbinger of Heaven, the way to show, - The way which thou so well hast learn’d below. - - -_399._ _A Song for St. Cecilia’s Day, 1687_ - - From harmony, from heavenly harmony, - This universal frame began: - When nature underneath a heap - Of jarring atoms lay, - And could not heave her head, - The tuneful voice was heard from high, - ‘Arise, ye more than dead!’ - Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry, - In order to their stations leap, - And Music’s power obey. - From harmony, from heavenly harmony, - This universal frame began: - From harmony to harmony - Through all the compass of the notes it ran, - The diapason closing full in Man. - - What passion cannot Music raise and quell? - When Jubal struck the chorded shell, - His listening brethren stood around, - And, wondering, on their faces fell - To worship that celestial sound: - Less than a God they thought there could not dwell - Within the hollow of that shell, - That spoke so sweetly, and so well. - What passion cannot Music raise and quell? - - - The trumpet’s loud clangour - Excites us to arms, - With shrill notes of anger, - And mortal alarms. - The double double double beat - Of the thundering drum - Cries Hark! the foes come; - Charge, charge, ’tis too late to retreat! - - The soft complaining flute, - In dying notes, discovers - The woes of hopeless lovers, - Whose dirge is whisper’d by the warbling lute. - - Sharp violins proclaim - Their jealous pangs and desperation, - Fury, frantic indignation, - Depth of pains, and height of passion. - For the fair, disdainful dame. - - But O, what art can teach, - What human voice can reach, - The sacred organ’s praise? - Notes inspiring holy love, - Notes that wing their heavenly ways - To mend the choirs above. - - Orpheus could lead the savage race; - And trees unrooted left their place, - Sequacious of the lyre; - But bright Cecilia rais’d the wonder higher: - When to her organ vocal breath was given, - An angel heard, and straight appear’d - Mistaking Earth for Heaven. - - -GRAND CHORUS. - - As from the power of sacred lays - The spheres began to move, - And sung the great Creator’s praise - To all the Blest above; - So when the last and dreadful hour - This crumbling pageant shall devour, - The trumpet shall be heard on high, - The dead shall live, the living die, - And Music shall untune the sky! - - -_400._ _Ah, how sweet it is to love!_ - - Ah, how sweet it is to love! - Ah, how gay is young Desire! - And what pleasing pains we prove - When we first approach Love’s fire! - Pains of love be sweeter far - Than all other pleasures are. - - Sighs which are from lovers blown - Do but gently heave the heart: - Ev’n the tears they shed alone - Cure, like trickling balm, their smart: - Lovers, when they lose their breath, - Bleed away in easy death. - - Love and Time with reverence use, - Treat them like a parting friend; - Nor the golden gifts refuse - Which in youth sincere they send: - For each year their price is more, - And they less simple than before. - - - Love, like spring-tides full and high, - Swells in every youthful vein; - But each tide does less supply, - Till they quite shrink in again: - If a flow in age appear, - ’Tis but rain, and runs not clear. - - -_401._ _Hidden Flame_ - - I feed a flame within, which so torments me - That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me: - ’Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it, - That I had rather die than once remove it. - - Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it; - My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it. - Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses, - But they fall silently, like dew on roses. - - Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel, - My heart’s the sacrifice, as ’tis the fuel; - And while I suffer this to give him quiet, - My faith rewards my love, though he deny it. - - On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me; - While I conceal my love no frown can fright me. - To be more happy I dare not aspire, - Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher. - - -_402._ _Song to a Fair Young Lady, going out of the Town in the Spring_ - - Ask not the cause why sullen Spring - So long delays her flowers to bear; - Why warbling birds forget to sing, - And winter storms invert the year: - Chloris is gone; and fate provides - To make it Spring where she resides. - - Chloris is gone, the cruel fair; - She cast not back a pitying eye: - But left her lover in despair - To sigh, to languish, and to die: - Ah! how can those fair eyes endure - To give the wounds they will not cure? - - Great God of Love, why hast thou made - A face that can all hearts command, - That all religions can invade, - And change the laws of every land? - Where thou hadst plac’d such power before, - Thou shouldst have made her mercy more. - - When Chloris to the temple comes, - Adoring crowds before her fall; - She can restore the dead from tombs - And every life but mine recall. - I only am by Love design’d - To be the victim for mankind. - - - - -CHARLES WEBBE - -c. 1678 - - -_403._ _Against Indifference_ - - More love or more disdain I crave, - Sweet, be not still indifferent: - O send me quickly to my grave, - Or else afford me more content! - Or love or hate me more or less, - For love abhors all lukewarmness. - - Give me a tempest if ’twill drive - Me to the place where I would be; - Or if you’ll have me still alive, - Confess you will be kind to me. - Give hopes of bliss or dig my grave: - More love or more disdain I crave. - - - - -SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE - -1635-1691 - - -_404._ _Song_ - - Ladies, though to your conquering eyes - Love owes his chiefest victories, - And borrows those bright arms from you - With which he does the world subdue, - Yet you yourselves are not above - The empire nor the griefs of love. - - Then rack not lovers with disdain, - Lest Love on you revenge their pain: - You are not free because you’re fair: - The Boy did not his Mother spare. - Beauty’s but an offensive dart: - It is no armour for the heart. - - -_405._ _To a Lady asking him how long he would love her_ - - It is not, Celia, in our power - To say how long our love will last; - It may be we within this hour - May lose those joys we now do taste; - The Blessèd, that immortal be, - From change in love are only free. - - Then since we mortal lovers are, - Ask not how long our love will last; - But while it does, let us take care - Each minute be with pleasure past: - Were it not madness to deny - To live because we’re sure to die? - - - - -THOMAS TRAHERNE - -1637?-1674 - - -_406._ _News_ - - News from a foreign country came - As if my treasure and my wealth lay there; - So much it did my heart inflame, - ’Twas wont to call my Soul into mine ear; - Which thither went to meet - The approaching sweet, - And on the threshold stood - To entertain the unknown Good. - It hover’d there - As if ’twould leave mine ear, - And was so eager to embrace - The joyful tidings as they came, - ’Twould almost leave its dwelling-place - To entertain that same. - - As if the tidings were the things, - My very joys themselves, my foreign treasure-- - Or else did bear them on their wings-- - With so much joy they came, with so much pleasure. - My Soul stood at that gate - To recreate - Itself with bliss, and to - Be pleased with speed. A fuller view - It fain would take, - Yet journeys back would make - Unto my heart; as if ’twould fain - Go out to meet, yet stay within - To fit a place to entertain - And bring the tidings in. - - What sacred instinct did inspire - My soul in childhood with a hope so strong? - What secret force moved my desire - To expect my joys beyond the seas, so young? - Felicity I knew - Was out of view, - And being here alone, - I saw that happiness was gone - From me! For this - I thirsted absent bliss, - And thought that sure beyond the seas, - Or else in something near at hand-- - I knew not yet--since naught did please - I knew--my Bliss did stand. - - - But little did the infant dream - That all the treasures of the world were by: - And that himself was so the cream - And crown of all which round about did lie. - Yet thus it was: the Gem, - The Diadem, - The ring enclosing all - That stood upon this earthly ball, - The Heavenly eye, - Much wider than the sky, - Wherein they all included were, - The glorious Soul, that was the King - Made to possess them, did appear - A small and little thing! - - - - -THOMAS FLATMAN - -1637-1688 - - -_407._ _The Sad Day_ - - O the sad day! - When friends shall shake their heads, and say - Of miserable me-- - ‘Hark, how he groans! - Look, how he pants for breath! - See how he struggles with the pangs of death!’ - When they shall say of these dear eyes-- - ‘How hollow, O how dim they be! - Mark how his breast doth rise and swell - Against his potent enemy!’ - When some old friend shall step to my bedside, - Touch my chill face, and thence shall gently slide. - But--when his next companions say - ‘How does he do? What hopes?’--shall turn away, - Answering only, with a lift-up hand-- - ‘Who can his fate withstand?’ - - Then shall a gasp or two do more - Than e’er my rhetoric could before: - Persuade the world to trouble me no more! - - - - -CHARLES SACKVILLE, EARL OF DORSET - -1638-1706 - - -_408._ _Song_ - -_Written at Sea, in the First Dutch War (1665), the night before an -Engagement._ - - To all you ladies now at land - We men at sea indite; - But first would have you understand - How hard it is to write: - The Muses now, and Neptune too, - We must implore to write to you-- - With a fa, la, la, la, la. - - For though the Muses should prove kind, - And fill our empty brain, - Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind - To wave the azure main, - Our paper, pen, and ink, and we, - Roll up and down our ships at sea-- - With a fa, la, la, la, la. - - - Then if we write not by each post, - Think not we are unkind; - Nor yet conclude our ships are lost - By Dutchmen or by wind: - Our tears we’ll send a speedier way, - The tide shall bring them twice a day-- - With a fa, la, la, la, la. - - The King with wonder and surprise - Will swear the seas grow bold, - Because the tides will higher rise - Than e’er they did of old: - But let him know it is our tears - Bring floods of grief to Whitehall stairs-- - With a fa, la, la, la, la. - - Should foggy Opdam chance to know - Our sad and dismal story, - The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe, - And quit their fort at Goree: - For what resistance can they find - From men who’ve left their hearts behind?-- - With a fa, la, la, la, la. - - Let wind and weather do its worst, - Be you to us but kind; - Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse, - No sorrow we shall find: - ’Tis then no matter how things go, - Or who’s our friend, or who’s our foe-- - With a fa, la, la, la, la. - - To pass our tedious hours away - We throw a merry main, - Or else at serious ombre play; - But why should we in vain - Each other’s ruin thus pursue? - We were undone when we left you-- - With a fa, la, la, la, la. - - But now our fears tempestuous grow - And cast our hopes away; - Whilst you, regardless of our woe, - Sit careless at a play: - Perhaps permit some happier man - To kiss your hand, or flirt your fan-- - With a fa, la, la, la, la. - - When any mournful tune you hear, - That dies in every note - As if it sigh’d with each man’s care - For being so remote, - Think then how often love we’ve made - To you, when all those tunes were play’d-- - With a fa, la, la, la, la. - - In justice you cannot refuse - To think of our distress, - When we for hopes of honour lose - Our certain happiness: - All those designs are but to prove - Ourselves more worthy of your love-- - With a fa, la, la, la, la. - - And now we’ve told you all our loves, - And likewise all our fears, - In hopes this declaration moves - Some pity for our tears: - Let’s hear of no inconstancy-- - We have too much of that at sea-- - With a fa, la, la, la, la. - - - - -SIR CHARLES SEDLEY - -1639-1701 - - -_409._ _To Chloris_ - - Ah, Chloris! that I now could sit - As unconcern’d as when - Your infant beauty could beget - No pleasure, nor no pain! - When I the dawn used to admire, - And praised the coming day, - I little thought the growing fire - Must take my rest away. - - Your charms in harmless childhood lay - Like metals in the mine; - Age from no face took more away - Than youth conceal’d in thine. - But as your charms insensibly - To their perfection prest, - Fond love as unperceived did fly, - And in my bosom rest. - - My passion with your beauty grew, - And Cupid at my heart, - Still as his mother favour’d you, - Threw a new flaming dart: - Each gloried in their wanton part; - To make a lover, he - Employ’d the utmost of his art-- - To make a beauty, she. - - -_410._ _To Celia_ - - Not, Celia, that I juster am - Or better than the rest! - For I would change each hour, like them, - Were not my heart at rest. - - - But I am tied to very thee - By every thought I have; - Thy face I only care to see, - Thy heart I only crave. - - All that in woman is adored - In thy dear self I find-- - For the whole sex can but afford - The handsome and the kind. - - Why then should I seek further store, - And still make love anew? - When change itself can give no more, - ’Tis easy to be true! - - - - -APHRA BEHN - -1640-1689 - - -_411._ _Song_ - - Love in fantastic triumph sate - Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow’d, - For whom fresh pains he did create - And strange tyrannic power he show’d: - From thy bright eyes he took his fires, - Which round about in sport he hurl’d; - But ’twas from mine he took desires - Enough t’ undo the amorous world. - - From me he took his sighs and tears, - From thee his pride and cruelty; - From me his languishments and fears, - And every killing dart from thee. - Thus thou and I the god have arm’d - And set him up a deity; - But my poor heart alone is harm’d, - Whilst thine the victor is, and free! - - -_412._ _The Libertine_ - - A thousand martyrs I have made, - All sacrificed to my desire, - A thousand beauties have betray’d - That languish in resistless fire: - The untamed heart to hand I brought, - And fix’d the wild and wand’ring thought. - - I never vow’d nor sigh’d in vain, - But both, tho’ false, were well received; - The fair are pleased to give us pain, - And what they wish is soon believed: - And tho’ I talk’d of wounds and smart, - Love’s pleasures only touch’d my heart. - - Alone the glory and the spoil - I always laughing bore away; - The triumphs without pain or toil, - Without the hell the heaven of joy; - And while I thus at random rove - Despise the fools that whine for love. - - - - -JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER - -1647-1680 - - -_413._ _Return_ - - Absent from thee, I languish still; - Then ask me not, When I return? - The straying fool ’twill plainly kill - To wish all day, all night to mourn. - - - Dear, from thine arms then let me fly, - That my fantastic mind may prove - The torments it deserves to try, - That tears my fix’d heart from my love. - - When, wearied with a world of woe, - To thy safe bosom I retire, - Where love, and peace, and truth does flow, - May I contented there expire! - - Lest, once more wandering from that heaven, - I fall on some base heart unblest; - Faithless to thee, false, unforgiven-- - And lose my everlasting rest. - - -_414._ _Love and Life_ - - All my past life is mine no more; - The flying hours are gone, - Like transitory dreams given o’er, - Whose images are kept in store - By memory alone. - - The time that is to come is not; - How can it then be mine? - The present moment’s all my lot; - And that, as fast as it is got, - Phillis, is only thine. - - Then talk not of inconstancy. - False hearts, and broken vows; - If I by miracle can be - This live-long minute true to thee, - ’Tis all that Heaven allows. - - -_415._ _Constancy_ - - I cannot change as others do, - Though you unjustly scorn; - Since that poor swain that sighs for you - For you alone was born. - No, Phillis, no; your heart to move - A surer way I’ll try; - And, to revenge my slighted love, - Will still love on and die. - - When kill’d with grief Amyntas lies, - And you to mind shall call - The sighs that now unpitied rise, - The tears that vainly fall-- - That welcome hour, that ends this smart, - Will then begin your pain; - For such a faithful tender heart - Can never break in vain. - - -_416._ _To His Mistress_ - -(_After Quarles_) - - Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why - Does that eclipsing hand of thine deny - The sunshine of the Sun’s enlivening eye? - - Without thy light what light remains in me? - Thou art my life; my way, my light’s in thee; - I live, I move, and by thy beams I see. - - Thou art my life--if thou but turn away - My life’s a thousand deaths. Thou art my way-- - Without thee, Love, I travel not but stray. - - - My light thou art--without thy glorious sight - My eyes are darken’d with eternal night. - My Love, thou art my way, my life, my light. - - Thou art my way; I wander if thou fly. - Thou art my light; if hid, how blind am I! - Thou art my life; if thou withdraw’st, I die. - - My eyes are dark and blind, I cannot see: - To whom or whither should my darkness flee, - But to that light?--and who’s that light but thee? - - If I have lost my path, dear lover, say, - Shall I still wander in a doubtful way? - Love, shall a lamb of Israel’s sheepfold stray? - - My path is lost, my wandering steps do stray; - I cannot go, nor can I safely stay; - Whom should I seek but thee, my path, my way? - - And yet thou turn’st thy face away and fly’st me! - And yet I sue for grace and thou deny’st me! - Speak, art thou angry, Love, or only try’st me? - - Thou art the pilgrim’s path, the blind man’s eye, - The dead man’s life. On thee my hopes rely: - If I but them remove, I surely die. - - Dissolve thy sunbeams, close thy wings and stay! - See, see how I am blind, and dead, and stray! - --O thou that art my life, my light, my way! - - Then work thy will! If passion bid me flee, - My reason shall obey, my wings shall be - Stretch’d out no farther than from me to thee! - - - - -JOHN SHEFFIELD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE - -1649-1720 - - -_417._ _The Reconcilement_ - - Come, let us now resolve at last - To live and love in quiet; - We’ll tie the knot so very fast - That Time shall ne’er untie it. - - The truest joys they seldom prove - Who free from quarrels live: - ’Tis the most tender part of love - Each other to forgive. - - When least I seem’d concern’d, I took - No pleasure nor no rest; - And when I feign’d an angry look, - Alas! I loved you best. - - Own but the same to me--you’ll find - How blest will be our fate. - O to be happy--to be kind-- - Sure never is too late! - - -_418._ _On One who died discovering her Kindness_ - - Some vex their souls with jealous pain, - While others sigh for cold disdain: - Love’s various slaves we daily see-- - Yet happy all compared with me! - - - Of all mankind I loved the best - A nymph so far above the rest - That we outshined the Blest above; - In beauty she, as I in love. - - And therefore They, who could not bear - To be outdone by mortals here, - Among themselves have placed her now, - And left me wretched here below. - - All other fate I could have borne, - And even endured her very scorn; - But oh! thus all at once to find - That dread account--both dead and kind! - What heart can hold? If yet I live, - ’Tis but to show how much I grieve. - - - - -THOMAS OTWAY - -1652-1685 - - -_419._ _The Enchantment_ - - I did but look and love awhile, - ’Twas but for one half-hour; - Then to resist I had no will, - And now I have no power. - - To sigh and wish is all my ease; - Sighs which do heat impart - Enough to melt the coldest ice, - Yet cannot warm your heart. - - O would your pity give my heart - One corner of your breast, - ’Twould learn of yours the winning art, - And quickly steal the rest. - - - - -JOHN OLDHAM - -1653-1683 - - -_420._ _A Quiet Soul_ - - Thy soul within such silent pomp did keep, - As if humanity were lull’d asleep; - So gentle was thy pilgrimage beneath, - Time’s unheard feet scarce make less noise, - Or the soft journey which a planet goes: - Life seem’d all calm as its last breath. - A still tranquillity so hush’d thy breast, - As if some Halcyon were its guest, - And there had built her nest; - It hardly now enjoys a greater rest. - - - - -JOHN CUTTS, LORD CUTTS - -1661-1707 - - -_421._ _Song_ - - Only tell her that I love: - Leave the rest to her and Fate: - Some kind planet from above - May perhaps her pity move: - Lovers on their stars must wait.-- - Only tell her that I love! - - Why, O why should I despair! - Mercy’s pictured in her eye: - If she once vouchsafe to hear, - Welcome Hope and farewell Fear! - She’s too good to let me die.-- - Why, O why should I despair? - - - - -MATTHEW PRIOR - -1664-1721 - - -_422._ _The Question to Lisetta_ - - What nymph should I admire or trust, - But Chloe beauteous, Chloe just? - What nymph should I desire to see, - But her who leaves the plain for me? - To whom should I compose the lay, - But her who listens when I play? - To whom in song repeat my cares, - But her who in my sorrow shares? - For whom should I the garland make, - But her who joys the gift to take, - And boasts she wears it for my sake? - In love am I not fully blest? - Lisetta, prithee tell the rest. - - -LISETTA’S REPLY - - Sure Chloe just, and Chloe fair, - Deserves to be your only care; - But, when you and she to-day - Far into the wood did stray, - And I happened to pass by, - Which way did you cast your eye? - But, when your cares to her you sing, - You dare not tell her whence they spring; - Does it not more afflict your heart, - That in those cares she bears a part? - When you the flowers for Chloe twine, - Why do you to her garland join - The meanest bud that falls from mine? - Simplest of swains! the world may see - Whom Chloe loves, and who loves me. - - -_423._ _To a Child of Quality, Five Years Old, 1704. The Author then -Forty_ - - Lords, knights, and squires, the numerous band - That wear the fair Miss Mary’s fetters, - Were summoned by her high command - To show their passions by their letters. - - My pen amongst the rest I took, - Lest those bright eyes, that cannot read, - Should dart their kindling fire, and look - The power they have to be obey’d. - - Nor quality, nor reputation, - Forbid me yet my flame to tell; - Dear Five-years-old befriends my passion, - And I may write till she can spell. - - For, while she makes her silkworms beds - With all the tender things I swear; - Whilst all the house my passion reads, - In papers round her baby’s hair; - - She may receive and own my flame; - For, though the strictest prudes should know it, - She’ll pass for a most virtuous dame, - And I for an unhappy poet. - - Then too, alas! when she shall tear - The rhymes some younger rival sends, - She’ll give me leave to write, I fear, - And we shall still continue friends. - - For, as our different ages move, - ’Tis so ordain’d (would Fate but mend it!), - That I shall be past making love - When she begins to comprehend it. - - -_424._ _Song_ - - The merchant, to secure his treasure, - Conveys it in a borrow’d name: - Euphelia serves to grace my measure; - But Chloe is my real flame. - - My softest verse, my darling lyre, - Upon Euphelia’s toilet lay; - When Chloe noted her desire - That I should sing, that I should play. - - My lyre I tune, my voice I raise; - But with my numbers mix my sighs: - And while I sing Euphelia’s praise, - I fix my soul on Chloe’s eyes. - - Fair Chloe blush’d: Euphelia frown’d: - I sung, and gazed: I play’d, and trembled: - And Venus to the Loves around - Remark’d, how ill we all dissembled. - - -_425._ _On My Birthday, July 21_ - - I, my dear, was born to-day-- - So all my jolly comrades say: - They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth, - And ask to celebrate my birth: - Little, alas! my comrades know - That I was born to pain and woe; - To thy denial, to thy scorn, - Better I had ne’er been born: - I wish to die, even whilst I say-- - ‘I, my dear, was born to-day.’ - - - I, my dear, was born to-day: - Shall I salute the rising ray, - Well-spring of all my joy and woe? - Clotilda, thou alone dost know. - Shall the wreath surround my hair? - Or shall the music please my ear? - Shall I my comrades’ mirth receive, - And bless my birth, and wish to live? - Then let me see great Venus chase - Imperious anger from thy face; - Then let me hear thee smiling say-- - ‘Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.’ - - -_426._ _The Lady who offers her Looking-Glass to Venus_ - - Venus, take my votive glass: - Since I am not what I was, - What from this day I shall be, - Venus, let me never see. - - -_427._ _A Letter_ - -_to Lady Margaret Cavendish Holles-Harley, when a Child_ - - My noble, lovely, little Peggy, - Let this my First Epistle beg ye, - At dawn of morn, and close of even, - To lift your heart and hands to Heaven. - In double duty say your prayer: - _Our Father_ first, then _Notre Père_. - - - And, dearest child, along the day, - In every thing you do and say, - Obey and please my lord and lady, - So God shall love and angels aid ye. - - If to these precepts you attend, - No second letter need I send, - And so I rest your constant friend. - - -_428._ _For my own Monument_ - - As doctors give physic by way of prevention, - Mat, alive and in health, of his tombstone took care; - For delays are unsafe, and his pious intention - May haply be never fulfill’d by his heir. - - Then take Mat’s word for it, the sculptor is paid; - That the figure is fine, pray believe your own eye; - Yet credit but lightly what more may be said, - For we flatter ourselves, and teach marble to lie. - - Yet counting as far as to fifty his years, - His virtues and vices were as other men’s are; - High hopes he conceived, and he smother’d great fears, - In a life parti-colour’d, half pleasure, half care. - - Nor to business a drudge, nor to faction a slave, - He strove to make interest and freedom agree; - In public employments industrious and grave, - And alone with his friends, Lord! how merry was he! - - Now in equipage stately, now humbly on foot, - Both fortunes he tried, but to neither would trust; - And whirl’d in the round as the wheel turn’d about, - He found riches had wings, and knew man was but dust. - - - This verse, little polish’d, tho’ mighty sincere, - Sets neither his titles nor merit to view; - It says that his relics collected lie here, - And no mortal yet knows too if this may be true. - - Fierce robbers there are that infest the highway, - So Mat may be kill’d, and his bones never found; - False witness at court, and fierce tempests at sea, - So Mat may yet chance to be hang’d or be drown’d. - - If his bones lie in earth, roll in sea, fly in air, - To Fate we must yield, and the thing is the same; - And if passing thou giv’st him a smile or a tear, - He cares not--yet, prithee, be kind to his fame. - - - - -WILLIAM WALSH - -1663-1708 - - -_429._ _Rivals_ - - Of all the torments, all the cares, - With which our lives are curst; - Of all the plagues a lover bears, - Sure rivals are the worst! - By partners in each other kind - Afflictions easier grow; - In love alone we hate to find - Companions of our woe. - - Sylvia, for all the pangs you see - Are labouring in my breast, - I beg not you would favour me, - Would you but slight the rest! - How great soe’er your rigours are, - With them alone I’ll cope; - I can endure my own despair, - But not another’s hope. - - - - -LADY GRISEL BAILLIE - -1665-1746 - - -_430._ _Werena my Hearts licht I wad dee_ - - There ance was a may, and she lo’ed na men; - She biggit her bonnie bow’r doun in yon glen; - But now she cries, Dool and a well-a-day! - Come doun the green gait and come here away! - - When bonnie young Johnnie cam owre the sea, - He said he saw naething sae lovely as me; - He hecht me baith rings and mony braw things-- - And werena my heart’s licht, I wad dee. - - He had a wee titty that lo’ed na me, - Because I was twice as bonnie as she; - She raised sic a pother ’twixt him and his mother - That werena my heart’s licht, I wad dee. - - The day it was set, and the bridal to be: - The wife took a dwam and lay doun to dee; - She maned and she graned out o’ dolour and pain, - Till he vow’d he never wad see me again. - - His kin was for ane of a higher degree, - Said--What had he do wi’ the likes of me? - Appose I was bonnie, I wasna for Johnnie-- - And werena my heart’s licht, I wad dee. - - They said I had neither cow nor calf, - Nor dribbles o’ drink rins thro’ the draff, - Nor pickles o’ meal rins thro’ the mill-e’e-- - And werena my heart’s licht, I wad dee. - - may] maid. biggit] built. gait] way, path. hecht] promised. titty] - sister. dwam] sudden illness. appose] suppose. pickles] small - quantities. - - His titty she was baith wylie and slee: - She spied me as I cam owre the lea; - And then she ran in and made a loud din-- - Believe your ain e’en, an ye trow not me. - - His bonnet stood ay fu’ round on his brow, - His auld ane look’d ay as well as some’s new: - But now he lets ’t wear ony gait it will hing, - And casts himsel dowie upon the corn bing. - - And now he gaes daund’ring about the dykes, - And a’ he dow do is to hund the tykes: - The live-lang nicht he ne’er steeks his e’e-- - And werena my heart’s licht, I wad dee. - - Were I but young for thee, as I hae been, - We should hae been gallopin’ doun in yon green, - And linkin’ it owre the lily-white lea-- - And wow, gin I were but young for thee! - - _430._ hing] hang. dowie] dejectedly. hund the tykes] direct the - dogs. steeks] closes. linkin’] tripping. - - - - -WILLIAM CONGREVE - -1670-1729. - - -_431._ _False though She be_ - - False though she be to me and love, - I’ll ne’er pursue revenge; - For still the charmer I approve, - Though I deplore her change. - - In hours of bliss we oft have met: - They could not always last; - And though the present I regret, - I’m grateful for the past. - - -_432._ _A Hue and Cry after Fair Amoret_ - - Fair Amoret is gone astray-- - Pursue and seek her, ev’ry lover; - I’ll tell the signs by which you may - The wand’ring Shepherdess discover. - - Coquette and coy at once her air, - Both studied, tho’ both seem neglected; - Careless she is, with artful care, - Affecting to seem unaffected. - - With skill her eyes dart ev’ry glance, - Yet change so soon you’d ne’er suspect them, - For she’d persuade they wound by chance, - Tho’ certain aim and art direct them. - - She likes herself, yet others hates - For that which in herself she prizes; - And, while she laughs at them, forgets - She is the thing that she despises. - - - - -JOSEPH ADDISON - -1672-1719 - - -_433._ _Hymn_ - - The spacious firmament on high, - With all the blue ethereal sky, - And spangled heavens, a shining frame, - Their great Original proclaim. - Th’ unwearied Sun from day to day - Does his Creator’s power display; - And publishes to every land - The work of an Almighty hand. - - - Soon as the evening shades prevail, - The Moon takes up the wondrous tale; - And nightly to the listening Earth - Repeats the story of her birth: - Whilst all the stars that round her burn, - And all the planets in their turn, - Confirm the tidings as they roll, - And spread the truth from pole to pole. - - What though in solemn silence all - Move round the dark terrestrial ball; - What though nor real voice nor sound - Amidst their radiant orbs be found? - In Reason’s ear they all rejoice, - And utter forth a glorious voice; - For ever singing as they shine, - ‘The Hand that made us is divine.’ - - - - -ISAAC WATTS - -1674-1748 - - -_434._ _The Day of Judgement_ - - When the fierce North-wind with his airy forces - Rears up the Baltic to a foaming fury; - And the red lightning with a storm of hail comes - Rushing amain down; - - How the poor sailors stand amazed and tremble, - While the hoarse thunder, like a bloody trumpet, - Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters - Quick to devour them. - - - Such shall the noise be, and the wild disorder - (If things eternal may be like these earthly), - Such the dire terror when the great Archangel - Shakes the creation; - - Tears the strong pillars of the vault of Heaven, - Breaks up old marble, the repose of princes, - Sees the graves open, and the bones arising, - Flames all around them. - - Hark, the shrill outcries of the guilty wretches! - Lively bright horror and amazing anguish - Stare thro’ their eyelids, while the living worm lies - Gnawing within them. - - Thoughts, like old vultures, prey upon their heart-strings, - And the smart twinges, when the eye beholds the - Lofty Judge frowning, and a flood of vengeance - Rolling afore him. - - Hopeless immortals! how they scream and shiver, - While devils push them to the pit wide-yawning - Hideous and gloomy, to receive them headlong - Down to the centre! - - Stop here, my fancy: (all away, ye horrid - Doleful ideas!) come, arise to Jesus, - How He sits God-like! and the saints around Him - Throned, yet adoring! - - O may I sit there when He comes triumphant, - Dooming the nations! then ascend to glory, - While our Hosannas all along the passage - Shout the Redeemer. - - -_435._ _A Cradle Hymn_ - - Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber, - Holy angels guard thy bed! - Heavenly blessings without number - Gently falling on thy head. - - Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, - House and home, thy friends provide; - All without thy care or payment: - All thy wants are well supplied. - - How much better thou’rt attended - Than the Son of God could be, - When from heaven He descended - And became a child like thee! - - Soft and easy is thy cradle: - Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, - When His birthplace was a stable - And His softest bed was hay. - - Blessèd babe! what glorious features-- - Spotless fair, divinely bright! - Must He dwell with brutal creatures? - How could angels bear the sight? - - Was there nothing but a manger - Cursèd sinners could afford - To receive the heavenly stranger? - Did they thus affront their Lord? - - - Soft, my child: I did not chide thee, - Though my song might sound too hard; - ’Tis thy mother sits beside thee, - And her arms shall be thy guard. - - Yet to read the shameful story - How the Jews abused their King, - How they served the Lord of Glory, - Makes me angry while I sing. - - See the kinder shepherds round Him, - Telling wonders from the sky! - Where they sought Him, there they found Him, - With His Virgin mother by. - - See the lovely babe a-dressing; - Lovely infant, how He smiled! - When He wept, the mother’s blessing - Soothed and hush’d the holy child. - - Lo, He slumbers in His manger, - Where the hornèd oxen fed: - Peace, my darling; here’s no danger, - Here’s no ox anear thy bed. - - ’Twas to save thee, child, from dying, - Save my dear from burning flame, - Bitter groans and endless crying, - That thy blest Redeemer came. - - May’st thou live to know and fear Him, - Trust and love Him all thy days; - Then go dwell for ever near Him, - See His face, and sing His praise! - - - - -THOMAS PARNELL - -1679-1718 - - -_436._ _Song_ - - When thy beauty appears - In its graces and airs - All bright as an angel new dropp’d from the sky, - At distance I gaze and am awed by my fears: - So strangely you dazzle my eye! - - But when without art - Your kind thoughts you impart, - When your love runs in blushes through every vein; - When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your heart, - Then I know you’re a woman again. - - There’s a passion and pride - In our sex (she replied), - And thus, might I gratify both, I would do: - Still an angel appear to each lover beside, - But still be a woman to you. - - - - -ALLAN RAMSAY - -1686-1758 - - -_437._ _Peggy_ - - My Peggy is a young thing, - Just enter’d in her teens, - Fair as the day, and sweet as May, - Fair as the day, and always gay; - My Peggy is a young thing, - And I’m not very auld, - Yet well I like to meet her at - The wawking of the fauld. - - My Peggy speaks sae sweetly - Whene’er we meet alane, - I wish nae mair to lay my care, - I wish nae mair of a’ that’s rare; - My Peggy speaks sae sweetly, - To a’ the lave I’m cauld, - But she gars a’ my spirits glow - At wawking of the fauld. - - My Peggy smiles sae kindly - Whene’er I whisper love, - That I look down on a’ the town, - That I look down upon a crown; - My Peggy smiles sae kindly, - It makes me blyth and bauld, - And naething gi’es me sic delight - As wawking of the fauld. - - My Peggy sings sae saftly - When on my pipe I play, - By a’ the rest it is confest, - By a’ the rest, that she sings best; - My Peggy sings sae saftly, - And in her sangs are tauld - With innocence the wale of sense, - At wawking of the fauld. - - wawking] watching. lave] rest. wale] choice, best. - - - - -WILLIAM OLDYS - -1687-1761 - - -_438._ _On a Fly drinking out of his Cup_ - - Busy, curious, thirsty fly! - Drink with me and drink as I: - Freely welcome to my cup, - Couldst thou sip and sip it up: - Make the most of life you may, - Life is short and wears away. - - Both alike are mine and thine - Hastening quick to their decline: - Thine’s a summer, mine’s no more, - Though repeated to threescore. - Threescore summers, when they’re gone, - Will appear as short as one! - - - - -JOHN GAY - -1688-1732 - - -_439._ _Song_ - - O ruddier than the cherry! - O sweeter than the berry! - O nymph more bright - Than moonshine night, - Like kidlings blithe and merry! - Ripe as the melting cluster! - No lily has such lustre; - Yet hard to tame - As raging flame, - And fierce as storms that bluster! - - - - -ALEXANDER POPE - -1688-1744 - - -_440._ _On a certain Lady at Court_ - - I know a thing that’s most uncommon; - (Envy, be silent and attend!) - I know a reasonable woman, - Handsome and witty, yet a friend. - - Not warp’d by passion, awed by rumour; - Not grave through pride, nor gay through folly; - An equal mixture of good-humour - And sensible soft melancholy. - - ‘Has she no faults then (Envy says), Sir?’ - Yes, she has one, I must aver: - When all the world conspires to praise her, - The woman’s deaf, and does not hear. - - -_441._ _Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady_ - - What beck’ning ghost, along the moonlight shade - Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade? - ’Tis she!--but why that bleeding bosom gored, - Why dimly gleams the visionary sword? - O, ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell, - Is it, in Heav’n, a crime to love too well? - To bear too tender or too firm a heart, - To act a lover’s or a Roman’s part? - Is there no bright reversion in the sky - For those who greatly think, or bravely die? - Why bade ye else, ye Pow’rs! her soul aspire - Above the vulgar flight of low desire? - Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes; - The glorious fault of angels and of gods; - Thence to their images on earth it flows, - And in the breasts of kings and heroes glows. - Most souls, ’tis true, but peep out once an age, - Dull sullen pris’ners 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. - From these perhaps (ere Nature bade her die) - Fate snatch’d her early to the pitying sky. - As into air the purer spirits flow, - And sep’rate from their kindred dregs below, - So flew the soul to its congenial place, - Nor left one virtue to redeem her race. - But thou, false guardian of a charge too good! - Thou, mean deserter of thy brother’s blood! - See on these ruby lips the trembling breath, - These cheeks now fading at the blast of Death: - Cold is that breast which warm’d the world before, - And those love-darting eyes must roll no more. - Thus, if eternal Justice rules the ball, - Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall; - On all the line a sudden vengeance waits, - And frequent herses shall besiege your gates. - There passengers shall stand, and pointing say - (While the long fun’rals blacken all the way), - ‘Lo! these were they whose souls the Furies steel’d - And cursed with hearts unknowing how to yield.’ - Thus unlamented pass the proud away, - The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day! - So perish all whose breast ne’er learn’d to glow - For others’ good, or melt at others’ woe! - What can atone (O ever-injured shade!) - Thy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid? - No friend’s complaint, no kind domestic tear - Pleased thy pale ghost, or graced thy mournful bier. - By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed, - By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed, - By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn’d, - By strangers honour’d, and by strangers mourn’d! - What tho’ no friends in sable weeds appear, - Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, - And bear about the mockery of woe - To midnight dances, and the public show? - What tho’ no weeping Loves thy ashes grace, - Nor polish’d marble emulate thy face? - What tho’ no sacred earth allow thee room, - Nor hallow’d dirge be mutter’d o’er thy tomb? - Yet shall thy grave with rising flow’rs be drest, - 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 reliques made. - So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name, - What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame. - How loved, how honour’d 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 gen’rous 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! - - -_442._ _The Dying Christian to his Soul_ - - Vital spark of heav’nly flame! - Quit, O quit this mortal frame: - Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying, - O the pain, the bliss of dying! - Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, - And let me languish into life. - - Hark! they whisper; angels say, - Sister Spirit, come away! - What is this absorbs me quite? - Steals my senses, shuts my sight, - Drowns my spirits, draws my breath? - Tell me, my soul, can this be death? - - The world recedes; it disappears! - Heav’n opens on my eyes! my ears - With sounds seraphic ring! - Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! - O Grave! where is thy victory? - O Death! where is thy sting? - - - - -GEORGE BUBB DODINGTON, LORD MELCOMBE - -1691?-1762 - - -_443._ _Shorten Sail_ - - Love thy country, wish it well, - Not with too intense a care; - ’Tis enough that, when it fell, - Thou its ruin didst not share. - - Envy’s censure, Flattery’s praise, - With unmoved indifference view: - Learn to tread Life’s dangerous maze - With unerring Virtue’s clue. - - Void of strong desire and fear, - Life’s wide ocean trust no more; - Strive thy little bark to steer - With the tide, but near the shore. - - Thus prepared, thy shorten’d sail - Shall, whene’er the winds increase, - Seizing each propitious gale, - Waft thee to the port of Peace. - - Keep thy conscience from offence - And tempestuous passions free, - So, when thou art call’d from hence, - Easy shall thy passage be. - - --Easy shall thy passage be, - Cheerful thy allotted stay, - Short the account ’twixt God and thee, - Hope shall meet thee on thy way. - - - - -HENRY CAREY - -1693?-1743 - - -_444._ _Sally in our Alley_ - - Of all the girls that are so smart - There’s none like pretty Sally; - She is the darling of my heart, - And she lives in our alley. - There is no lady in the land - Is half so sweet as Sally; - She is the darling of my heart, - And she lives in our alley. - - Her father he makes cabbage-nets, - And through the streets does cry ’em; - Her mother she sells laces long - To such as please to buy ’em: - But sure such folks could ne’er beget - So sweet a girl as Sally! - She is the darling of my heart, - And she lives in our alley. - - When she is by, I leave my work, - I love her so sincerely; - My master comes like any Turk, - And bangs me most severely: - But let him bang his bellyful, - I’ll bear it all for Sally; - She is the darling of my heart, - And she lives in our alley. - - Of all the days that’s in the week - I dearly love but one day-- - And that’s the day that comes betwixt - A Saturday and Monday; - For then I’m drest all in my best - To walk abroad with Sally; - She is the darling of my heart, - And she lives in our alley. - - My master carries me to church, - And often am I blamèd - Because I leave him in the lurch - As soon as text is namèd; - I leave the church in sermon-time - And slink away to Sally; - She is the darling of my heart, - And she lives in our alley. - - When Christmas comes about again, - O, then I shall have money; - I’ll hoard it up, and box it all, - I’ll give it to my honey: - I would it were ten thousand pound, - I’d give it all to Sally; - She is the darling of my heart, - And she lives in our alley. - - My master and the neighbours all - Make game of me and Sally, - And, but for her, I’d better be - A slave and row a galley; - But when my seven long years are out, - O, then I’ll marry Sally; - O, then we’ll wed, and then we’ll bed-- - But not in our alley! - - -_445._ _A Drinking-Song_ - - Bacchus must now his power resign-- - I am the only God of Wine! - It is not fit the wretch should be - In competition set with me, - Who can drink ten times more than he. - - Make a new world, ye powers divine! - Stock’d with nothing else but Wine: - Let Wine its only product be, - Let Wine be earth, and air, and sea-- - And let that Wine be all for me! - - - - -WILLIAM BROOME - -?-1745 - - -_446._ _The Rosebud_ - - Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose, - The beauties of thy leaves disclose! - --But thou, fair Nymph, thyself survey - In this sweet offspring of a day. - That miracle of face must fail, - Thy charms are sweet, but charms are frail: - Swift as the short-lived flower they fly, - At morn they bloom, at evening die: - Though Sickness yet a while forbears, - Yet Time destroys what Sickness spares: - Now Helen lives alone in fame, - And Cleopatra’s but a name: - Time must indent that heavenly brow, - And thou must be what they are now. - - -_447._ _Belinda’s Recovery from Sickness_ - - Thus when the silent grave becomes - Pregnant with life as fruitful wombs; - When the wide seas and spacious earth - Resign us to our second birth; - Our moulder’d frame rebuilt assumes - New beauty, and for ever blooms, - And, crown’d with youth’s immortal pride, - We angels rise, who mortals died. - - - - -JAMES THOMSON - -1700-1748 - - -_448._ _On the Death of a particular Friend_ - - As those we love decay, we die in part, - String after string is sever’d from the heart; - Till loosen’d life, at last but breathing clay, - Without one pang is glad to fall away. - - Unhappy he who latest feels the blow! - Whose eyes have wept o’er every friend laid low, - Dragg’d ling’ring on from partial death to death, - Till, dying, all he can resign is--breath. - - - - -GEORGE LYTTELTON, LORD LYTTELTON - -1709-1773 - - -_449._ _Tell me, my Heart if this be Love_ - - When Delia on the plain appears, - Awed by a thousand tender fears - I would approach, but dare not move: - Tell me, my heart, if this be love? - - - Whene’er she speaks, my ravish’d ear - No other voice than hers can hear, - No other wit but hers approve: - Tell me, my heart, if this be love? - - If she some other youth commend, - Though I was once his fondest friend, - His instant enemy I prove: - Tell me, my heart, if this be love? - - When she is absent, I no more - Delight in all that pleased before-- - The clearest spring, or shadiest grove: - Tell me, my heart, if this be love? - - When fond of power, of beauty vain, - Her nets she spread for every swain, - I strove to hate, but vainly strove: - Tell me, my heart, if this be love? - - - - -SAMUEL JOHNSON - -1709-1784 - - -_450._ _One-and-Twenty_ - - Long-expected one-and-twenty, - Ling’ring year, at length is flown: - Pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty, - Great *** ****, are now your own. - - Loosen’d from the minor’s tether, - Free to mortgage or to sell, - Wild as wind, and light as feather, - Bid the sons of thrift farewell. - - - Call the Betsies, Kates, and Jennies, - All the names that banish care; - Lavish of your grandsire’s guineas, - Show the spirit of an heir. - - All that prey on vice and folly - Joy to see their quarry fly: - There the gamester, light and jolly, - There the lender, grave and sly. - - Wealth, my lad, was made to wander, - Let it wander as it will; - Call the jockey, call the pander, - Bid them come and take their fill. - - When the bonny blade carouses, - Pockets full, and spirits high-- - What are acres? What are houses? - Only dirt, or wet or dry. - - Should the guardian friend or mother - Tell the woes of wilful waste, - Scorn their counsel, scorn their pother;-- - You can hang or drown at last! - - -_451._ _On the Death of Mr. Robert Levet, a Practiser in Physic_ - - Condemn’d to Hope’s delusive mine, - As on we toil from day to day, - By sudden blasts or slow decline - Our social comforts drop away. - - - Well tried through many a varying year, - See Levet to the grave descend, - Officious, innocent, sincere, - Of every friendless name the friend. - - Yet still he fills affection’s eye, - Obscurely wise and coarsely kind; - Nor, lettered Arrogance, deny - Thy praise to merit unrefined. - - When fainting nature call’d for aid, - And hov’ring death prepared the blow, - His vig’rous remedy display’d - The power of art without the show. - - In Misery’s darkest cavern known, - His useful care was ever nigh, - Where hopeless Anguish pour’d his groan, - And lonely Want retired to die. - - No summons mock’d by chill delay, - No petty gain disdain’d by pride; - The modest wants of every day - The toil of every day supplied. - - His virtues walk’d their narrow round, - Nor made a pause, nor left a void; - And sure th’ Eternal Master found - The single talent well employ’d. - - The busy day, the peaceful night, - Unfelt, uncounted, glided by; - His frame was firm--his powers were bright, - Though now his eightieth year was nigh. - - - Then with no fiery throbbing pain, - No cold gradations of decay, - Death broke at once the vital chain, - And freed his soul the nearest way. - - - - -RICHARD JAGO - -1715-1781 - - -_452._ _Absence_ - - With leaden foot Time creeps along - While Delia is away: - With her, nor plaintive was the song, - Nor tedious was the day. - - Ah, envious Pow’r! reverse my doom; - Now double thy career, - Strain ev’ry nerve, stretch ev’ry plume, - And rest them when she’s here! - - - - -THOMAS GRAY - -1716-1771 - - -_453._ _Elegy written in a Country Churchyard_ - - The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day, - The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea, - The plowman 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; - Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow’r - The moping owl does to the moon complain - Of such as, wand’ring near her secret bow’r, - Molest her ancient solitary reign. - - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree’s shade, - Where heaves the turf in many a mould’ring heap, - Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, - The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. - - The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn, - The swallow twitt’ring from the straw-built shed, - The cock’s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, - No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. - - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, - Or busy housewife ply her evening care: - No children run to lisp their sire’s return, - Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. - - Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, - Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke: - How jocund did they drive their team afield! - How bow’d the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! - - Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, - Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile - The short and simple annals of the poor. - - The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r, - And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave, - Awaits alike th’ inevitable hour: - The paths of glory lead but to the grave. - - - Nor you, ye Proud, impute to These the fault, - If Memory o’er their Tomb no Trophies raise, - Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault - The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. - - Can storied urn or animated bust - Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? - Can Honour’s voice provoke the silent dust, - Or Flatt’ry soothe the dull cold ear of death? - - Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid - Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; - Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway’d, - Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. - - But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page - Rich with the spoils of time did ne’er unroll; - Chill Penury repress’d their noble rage, - And froze the genial current of the soul. - - Full many a gem of purest ray serene - The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear: - Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, - And waste its sweetness on the desert air. - - Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast - The little tyrant of his fields withstood, - Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, - Some Cromwell guiltless of his country’s blood. - - Th’ applause of list’ning senates to command, - The threats of pain and ruin to despise, - To scatter plenty o’er a smiling land, - And read their history in a nation’s eyes, - Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone - Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined; - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne. - And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, - - The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, - To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, - Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride - With incense kindled at the Muse’s flame. - - Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife - Their sober wishes never learn’d to stray; - Along the cool sequester’d vale of life - They kept the noiseless tenor of their way. - - Yet ev’n these bones from insult to protect - Some frail memorial still erected nigh, - With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck’d, - Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. - - Their name, their years, spelt by th’ unletter’d muse, - The place of fame and elegy supply: - And many a holy text around she strews, - That teach the rustic moralist to die. - - For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, - This pleasing anxious being e’er resign’d, - Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, - Nor cast one longing ling’ring look behind? - - On some fond breast the parting soul relies, - Some pious drops the closing eye requires; - E’en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, - E’en in our Ashes live their wonted Fires. - - - For thee, who, mindful of th’ unhonour’d dead, - Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; - If chance, by lonely contemplation led, - Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, - - Haply some hoary-headed Swain may say, - ‘Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn - Brushing with hasty steps the dews away - To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. - - ‘There at the foot of yonder nodding beech - That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, - His listless length at noontide would he stretch, - And pore upon the brook that babbles by. - - ‘Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, - Mutt’ring his wayward fancies he would rove, - Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, - Or crazed with care, or cross’d in hopeless love. - - ‘One morn I miss’d him on the custom’d hill. - Along the heath and near his fav’rite tree; - Another came; nor yet beside the rill, - Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; - - ‘The next with dirges due in sad array - Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. - Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay - Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn:’ - - -_THE EPITAPH._ - - _Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth_ - _A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown._ - _Fair Science frown’d not on his humble birth,_ - _And Melancholy marked him for her own._ - - - _Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,_ - _Heav’n did a recompense as largely send:_ - _He gave to Mis’ry all he had, a tear,_ - _He gain’d from Heav’n (’twas all he wish’d) a friend._ - - _No farther seek his merits to disclose,_ - _Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,_ - _(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)_ - _The bosom of his Father and his God._ - - -_454._ _The Curse upon Edward_ - - Weave the warp, and weave the woof, - The winding-sheet of Edward’s race. - Give ample room, and verge enough - The characters of hell to trace. - Mark the year, and mark the night, - When Severn shall re-echo with affright - The shrieks of death, thro’ Berkley’s roofs that ring, - Shrieks of an agonizing King! - She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs, - That tear’st the bowels of thy mangled mate, - From thee be born, who o’er thy country hangs - The scourge of Heav’n. What terrors round him wait! - Amazement in his van, with Flight combined, - And Sorrow’s faded form, and Solitude behind. - - Mighty Victor, mighty Lord! - Low on his funeral couch he lies! - No pitying heart, no eye, afford - A tear to grace his obsequies. - Is the sable warrior fled? - Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead. - The swarm that in thy noon tide beam were born? - Gone to salute the rising morn. - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, - While proudly riding o’er the azure realm - In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; - Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; - Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind’s sway, - That, hush’d in grim repose, expects his evening prey, - - Fill high the sparkling bowl, - The rich repast prepare; - Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: - Close by the regal chair - Fell Thirst and Famine scowl - A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. - Heard ye the din of battle bray, - Lance to lance, and horse to horse? - Long years of havoc urge their destined course, - And thro’ the kindred squadrons mow their way. - Ye Towers of Julius, London’s lasting shame, - With many a foul and midnight murder fed, - Revere his consort’s faith, his father’s fame, - And spare the meek usurper’s holy head. - Above, below, the rose of snow, - Twined with her blushing foe, we spread: - The bristled boar in infant-gore - Wallows beneath the thorny shade. - Now, brothers, bending o’er th’ accursèd loom - Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. - - Edward, lo! to sudden fate - (Weave we the woof. The thread is spun) - Half of thy heart we consecrate. - (The web is wove. The work is done.) - - -_455._ _The Progress of Poesy_ - -A PINDARIC ODE - - Awake, Æolian lyre, awake, - And give to rapture all thy trembling strings, - From Helicon’s harmonious springs - A thousand rills their mazy progress take: - The laughing flowers, that round them blow, - Drink life and fragrance as they flow. - Now the rich stream of music winds along - Deep, majestic, smooth and strong, - Thro’ verdant vales, and Ceres’ golden reign: - Now rolling down the steep amain, - Headlong, impetuous, see it pour; - The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar. - - O Sovereign of the willing soul, - Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs, - Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares - And frantic Passions hear thy soft controul. - On Thracia’s hills the Lord of War - Has curb’d the fury of his car, - And dropp’d his thirsty lance at thy command. - Perching on the sceptred hand - Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather’d king - With ruffled plumes and flagging wing: - Quench’d in dark clouds of slumber lie - The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye. - - Thee the voice, the dance, obey, - Temper’d to thy warbled lay. - O’er Idalia’s velvet-green - The rosy-crownèd Loves are seen - On Cytherea’s day - With antic Sports, and blue-eyed Pleasures, - Frisking light in frolic measures; - Now pursuing, now retreating, - Now in circling troops they meet: - To brisk notes in cadence beating, - Glance their many-twinkling feet. - Slow melting strains their Queen’s approach declare: - Where’er she turns the Graces homage pay. - With arms sublime, that float upon the air, - In gliding state she wins her easy way: - O’er her warm cheek and rising bosom move - The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love. - - Man’s feeble race what ills await, - Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain, - Disease, and Sorrow’s weeping train, - And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fate! - The fond complaint, my song, disprove - And justify the laws of Jove. - Say, has he giv’n in vain the heav’nly Muse? - Night, and all her sickly dews, - Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry, - He gives to range the dreary sky: - Till down the eastern cliffs afar - Hyperion’s march they spy, and glitt’ring shafts of war. - - In climes beyond the solar road, - Where shaggy forms o’er ice-built mountains roam, - The Muse has broke the twilight gloom - To cheer the shiv’ring native’s dull abode. - And oft, beneath the od’rous shade - Of Chili’s boundless forests laid, - She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat - In loose numbers wildly sweet - Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves. - Her track, where’er the Goddess roves, - Glory pursue and generous Shame, - Th’ unconquerable Mind, and Freedom’s holy flame. - - Woods, that wave o’er Delphi’s steep, - Isles, that crown th’ Ægean deep, - Fields, that cool Ilissus laves, - Or where Mæander’s amber waves - In lingering lab’rinths creep, - How do your tuneful echoes languish, - Mute, but to the voice of anguish? - Where each old poetic mountain - Inspiration breathed around: - Ev’ry shade and hallow’d fountain - Murmur’d deep a solemn sound: - Till the sad Nine, in Greece’s evil hour, - Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains. - Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power, - And coward Vice, that revels in her chains. - When Latium had her lofty spirit lost, - They sought, O Albion! next thy sea-encircled coast. - - Far from the sun and summer gale, - In thy green lap was Nature’s darling laid, - What time, where lucid Avon stray’d, - To Him the mighty mother did unveil - Her awful face: the dauntless child - Stretch’d forth his little arms, and smiled. - This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear - Richly paint the vernal year: - Thine too these golden keys, immortal boy! - This can unlock the gates of joy; - Of horror that, and thrilling fears, - Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears. - - Nor second he, that rode sublime - Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstasy, - The secrets of th’ abyss to spy. - He pass’d the flaming bounds of place and time: - The living Throne, the sapphire-blaze, - Where Angels tremble while they gaze, - He saw; but blasted with excess of light, - Closed his eyes in endless night. - Behold, where Dryden’s less presumptuous car, - Wide o’er the fields of glory bear - Two coursers of ethereal race, - With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding pace. - - Hark, his hands the lyre explore! - Bright-eyed Fancy hovering o’er - Scatters from her pictured urn - Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. - But ah! ’tis heard no more---- - O Lyre divine! what daring Spirit - Wakes thee now? Tho’ he inherit - Nor the pride, nor ample pinion, - That the Theban eagle bear - Sailing with supreme dominion - Thro’ the azure deep of air: - Yet oft before his infant eyes would run - Such forms as glitter in the Muse’s ray, - With orient hues, unborrow’d of the Sun: - Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way - Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate, - Beneath the Good how far--but far above the Great. - - -_456._ _On a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes_ - - Twas on a lofty vase’s side, - Where China’s gayest art had dyed - The azure flowers that blow; - Demurest of the tabby kind, - The pensive Selima reclined, - Gazed on the lake below. - - Her conscious tail her joy declared; - The fair round face, the snowy beard, - The velvet of her paws, - Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, - Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes, - She saw; and purr’d applause. - - Still had she gazed; but ’midst the tide - Two angel forms were seen to glide, - The Genii of the stream: - Their scaly armour’s Tyrian hue - Thro’ richest purple to the view - Betray’d a golden gleam. - - The hapless Nymph with wonder saw: - A whisker first and then a claw, - With many an ardent wish, - She stretch’d in vain to reach the prize. - What female heart can gold despise? - What Cat’s averse to fish? - - - Presumptuous Maid! with looks intent - Again she stretch’d, again she bent, - Nor knew the gulf between. - (Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled.) - The slipp’ry verge her feet beguiled, - She tumbled headlong in. - - Eight times emerging from the flood - She mew’d to ev’ry wat’ry god, - Some speedy aid to send. - No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr’d: - Nor cruel _Tom_, nor _Susan_ heard. - A Fav’rite has no friend! - - From hence, ye Beauties, undeceived, - Know, one false step is ne’er retrieved, - And be with caution bold. - Not all that tempts your wand’ring eyes - And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; - Nor all that glisters, gold. - - - - -WILLIAM COLLINS - -1721-1759 - - -_457._ _Ode to Simplicity_ - - O thou, by Nature taught - To breathe her genuine thought - In numbers warmly pure and sweetly strong: - Who first on mountains wild, - In Fancy, loveliest child, - Thy babe and Pleasure’s, nursed the pow’rs of song! - - - Thou, who with hermit heart - Disdain’st the wealth of art, - And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall: - But com’st a decent maid, - In Attic robe array’d, - O chaste, unboastful nymph, to thee I call! - - By all the honey’d store - On Hybla’s thymy shore, - By all her blooms and mingled murmurs dear, - By her whose love-lorn woe, - In evening musings slow, - Soothed sweetly sad Electra’s poet’s ear: - - By old Cephisus deep, - Who spread his wavy sweep - In warbled wand’rings round thy green retreat; - On whose enamell’d side, - When holy Freedom died, - No equal haunt allured thy future feet! - - O sister meek of Truth, - To my admiring youth - Thy sober aid and native charms infuse! - The flow’rs that sweetest breathe, - Though beauty cull’d the wreath, - Still ask thy hand to range their order’d hues. - - While Rome could none esteem, - But virtue’s patriot theme, - You loved her hills, and led her laureate band; - But stay’d to sing alone - To one distinguish’d throne, - And turn’d thy face, and fled her alter’d land. - - - No more, in hall or bow’r, - The passions own thy pow’r. - Love, only Love her forceless numbers mean; - For thou hast left her shrine, - Nor olive more, nor vine, - Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene. - - Though taste, though genius bless - To some divine excess, - Faint’s the cold work till thou inspire the whole; - What each, what all supply, - May court, may charm our eye, - Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul! - - Of these let others ask, - To aid some mighty task, - I only seek to find thy temperate vale; - Where oft my reed might sound - To maids and shepherds round, - And all thy sons, O Nature, learn my tale. - - -_458._ _How sleep the Brave_ - - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest - By all their country’s wishes blest! - When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, - Returns to deck their hallow’d mould, - She there shall dress a sweeter sod - Than Fancy’s feet have ever trod. - - By fairy hands their knell is rung; - By forms unseen their dirge is sung; - There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, - To bless the turf that wraps their clay; - And Freedom shall awhile repair - To dwell, a weeping hermit, there! - - -_459._ _Ode to Evening_ - - If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, - May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear, - Like thy own solemn springs, - Thy springs and dying gales; - - O nymph reserved, while now the bright-hair’d sun - Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts, - With brede ethereal wove, - O’erhang his wavy bed: - - Now air is hush’d, save where the weak-eyed bat - With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, - Or where the beetle winds - His small but sullen horn, - - As oft he rises, ’midst the twilight path - Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum: - Now teach me, maid composed, - To breathe some soften’d strain, - - Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, - May not unseemly with its stillness suit, - As, musing slow, I hail - Thy genial loved return! - - For when thy folding-star arising shows - His paly circlet, at his warning lamp - The fragrant hours, and elves - Who slept in buds the day, - And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, - And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, - The pensive pleasures sweet, - Prepare thy shadowy car: - - Then lead, calm votaress, where some sheety lake - Cheers the lone heath, or some time-hallow’d pile, - Or upland fallows grey - Reflect its last cool gleam. - - Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain, - Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut - That from the mountain’s side - Views wilds and swelling floods, - - And hamlets brown, and dim-discover’d spires, - And hears their simple bell, and marks o’er all - Thy dewy fingers draw - The gradual dusky veil. - - While Spring shall pour his show’rs, as oft he wont, - And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve! - While Summer loves to sport - Beneath thy lingering light; - - While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, - Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air, - Affrights thy shrinking train, - And rudely rends thy robes: - - So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, - Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, rose-lipp’d Health - Thy gentlest influence own, - And hymn thy favourite name! - - -_460._ _Fidele_ - - To fair Fidele’s grassy tomb - Soft maids and village hinds shall bring - Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, - And rifle all the breathing Spring. - - No wailing ghost shall dare appear - To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; - But shepherd lads assemble here, - And melting virgins own their love. - - No wither’d witch shall here be seen, - No goblins lead their nightly crew; - The female fays shall haunt the green, - And dress thy grave with pearly dew. - - The redbreast oft at evening hours - Shall kindly lend his little aid, - With hoary moss, and gather’d flowers, - To deck the ground where thou art laid. - - When howling winds, and beating rain, - In tempests shake thy sylvan cell; - Or ’midst the chase, on every plain, - The tender thought on thee shall dwell; - - Each lonely scene shall thee restore, - For thee the tear be duly shed; - Beloved, till life can charm no more; - And mourn’d, till Pity’s self be dead. - - - - -MARK AKENSIDE - -1721-1770 - - -_461._ _Amoret_ - - If rightly tuneful bards decide, - If it be fix’d in Love’s decrees, - That Beauty ought not to be tried - But by its native power to please, - Then tell me, youths and lovers, tell-- - What fair can Amoret excel? - - Behold that bright unsullied smile, - And wisdom speaking in her mien: - Yet--she so artless all the while, - So little studious to be seen-- - We naught but instant gladness know, - Nor think to whom the gift we owe. - - But neither music, nor the powers - Of youth and mirth and frolic cheer, - Add half the sunshine to the hours, - Or make life’s prospect half so clear, - As memory brings it to the eye - From scenes where Amoret was by. - - This, sure, is Beauty’s happiest part; - This gives the most unbounded sway; - This shall enchant the subject heart - When rose and lily fade away; - And she be still, in spite of Time, - Sweet Amoret in all her prime. - - -_462._ _The Complaint_ - - Away! away! - Tempt me no more, insidious Love: - Thy soothing sway - Long did my youthful bosom prove: - At length thy treason is discerned, - At length some dear-bought caution earn’d: - Away! nor hope my riper age to move. - - I know, I see - Her merit. Needs it now be shown, - Alas! to me? - How often, to myself unknown, - The graceful, gentle, virtuous maid - Have I admired! How often said-- - What joy to call a heart like hers one’s own! - - But, flattering god, - O squanderer of content and ease - In thy abode - Will care’s rude lesson learn to please? - O say, deceiver, hast thou won - Proud Fortune to attend thy throne, - Or placed thy friends above her stern decrees? - - -_463._ _The Nightingale_ - - To-night retired, the queen of heaven - With young Endymion stays; - And now to Hesper it is given - Awhile to rule the vacant sky, - Till she shall to her lamp supply - A stream of brighter rays. - - - Propitious send thy golden ray, - Thou purest light above! - Let no false flame seduce to stray - Where gulf or steep lie hid for harm; - But lead where music’s healing charm - May soothe afflicted love. - - To them, by many a grateful song - In happier seasons vow’d, - These lawns, Olympia’s haunts, belong: - Oft by yon silver stream we walk’d, - Or fix’d, while Philomela talk’d, - Beneath yon copses stood. - - Nor seldom, where the beechen boughs - That roofless tower invade, - We came, while her enchanting Muse - The radiant moon above us held: - Till, by a clamorous owl compell’d, - She fled the solemn shade. - - But hark! I hear her liquid tone! - Now Hesper guide my feet! - Down the red marl with moss o’ergrown, - Through yon wild thicket next the plain, - Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane - Which leads to her retreat. - - See the green space: on either hand - Enlarged it spreads around: - See, in the midst she takes her stand, - Where one old oak his awful shade - Extends o’er half the level mead, - Enclosed in woods profound. - - - Hark! how through many a melting note - She now prolongs her lays: - How sweetly down the void they float! - The breeze their magic path attends; - The stars shine out; the forest bends; - The wakeful heifers graze. - - Whoe’er thou art whom chance may bring - To this sequester’d spot, - If then the plaintive Siren sing, - O softly tread beneath her bower - And think of Heaven’s disposing power, - Of man’s uncertain lot. - - O think, o’er all this mortal stage - What mournful scenes arise: - What ruin waits on kingly rage; - How often virtue dwells with woe; - How many griefs from knowledge flow; - How swiftly pleasure flies! - - O sacred bird! let me at eve, - Thus wandering all alone, - Thy tender counsel oft receive, - Bear witness to thy pensive airs, - And pity Nature’s common cares, - Till I forget my own. - - - - -TOBIAS GEORGE SMOLLETT - -1721-1771 - - -_464._ _To Leven Water_ - - Pure stream, in whose transparent wave - My youthful limbs I wont to lave; - No torrents stain thy limpid source, - No rocks impede thy dimpling course - Devolving from thy parent lake - A charming maze thy waters make - By bowers of birch and groves of pine - And edges flower’d with eglantine. - - Still on thy banks so gaily green - May numerous herds and flocks be seen, - And lasses chanting o’er the pail, - And shepherds piping in the dale, - And ancient faith that knows no guile, - And industry embrown’d with toil, - And hearts resolved and hands prepared - The blessings they enjoy to guard. - - - - -CHRISTOPHER SMART - -1722-1770 - - -_465._ _Song to David_ - - Sublime--invention ever young, - Of vast conception, tow’ring tongue - To God th’ eternal theme; - Notes from yon exaltations caught, - Unrivall’d royalty of thought - O’er meaner strains supreme. - - - His muse, bright angel of his verse, - Gives balm for all the thorns that pierce, - For all the pangs that rage; - Blest light still gaining on the gloom, - The more than Michal of his bloom, - Th’ Abishag of his age. - - He sang of God--the mighty source - Of all things--the stupendous force - On which all strength depends; - From whose right arm, beneath whose eyes, - All period, power, and enterprise - Commences, reigns, and ends. - - Tell them, I AM, Jehovah said - To Moses; while earth heard in dread, - And, smitten to the heart, - At once above, beneath, around, - All Nature, without voice or sound, - Replied, O LORD, THOU ART. - - The world, the clustering spheres, He made; - The glorious light, the soothing shade, - Dale, champaign, grove, and hill; - The multitudinous abyss, - Where Secrecy remains in bliss, - And Wisdom hides her skill. - - The pillars of the Lord are seven, - Which stand from earth to topmost heaven; - His Wisdom drew the plan; - His Word accomplished the design, - From brightest gem to deepest mine; - From Christ enthroned, to Man. - - - For Adoration all the ranks - Of Angels yield eternal thanks, - And David in the midst; - With God’s good poor, which, last and least - In man’s esteem, Thou to Thy feast, - O blessèd Bridegroom, bidd’st! - - For Adoration, David’s Psalms - Lift up the heart to deeds of alms; - And he, who kneels and chants, - Prevails his passions to control, - Finds meat and medicine to the soul, - Which for translation pants. - - For Adoration, in the dome - Of Christ, the sparrows find a home, - And on His olives perch: - The swallow also dwells with thee, - O man of God’s humility, - Within his Saviour’s church. - - Sweet is the dew that falls betimes, - And drops upon the leafy limes; - Sweet, Hermon’s fragrant air: - Sweet is the lily’s silver bell, - And sweet the wakeful tapers’ smell - That watch for early prayer. - - Sweet the young nurse, with love intense, - Which smiles o’er sleeping innocence; - Sweet, when the lost arrive: - Sweet the musician’s ardour beats, - While his vague mind’s in quest of sweets, - The choicest flowers to hive. - - - Strong is the horse upon his speed; - Strong in pursuit the rapid glede, - Which makes at once his game: - Strong the tall ostrich on the ground; - Strong through the turbulent profound - Shoots Xiphias to his aim. - - Strong is the lion--like a coal - His eyeball,--like a bastion’s mole - His chest against the foes: - Strong the gier-eagle on his sail; - Strong against tide th’ enormous whale - Emerges as he goes. - - But stronger still, in earth and air, - And in the sea, the man of prayer, - And far beneath the tide: - And in the seat to faith assigned, - Where ask is have, where seek is find, - Where knock is open wide. - - Precious the penitential tear; - And precious is the sigh sincere, - Acceptable to God: - And precious are the winning flowers, - In gladsome Israel’s feast of bowers - Bound on the hallow’d sod. - - Glorious the sun in mid career; - Glorious th’ assembled fires appear; - Glorious the comet’s train: - Glorious the trumpet and alarm; - Glorious the Almighty’s stretch’d-out arm; - Glorious th’ enraptured main: - - glede] kite. Xiphias] sword-fish. - - Glorious the northern lights astream; - Glorious the song, when God’s the theme; - Glorious the thunder’s roar: - Glorious Hosanna from the den; - Glorious the catholic Amen; - Glorious the martyr’s gore: - - Glorious--more glorious--is the crown - Of Him that brought salvation down, - By meekness call’d thy Son: - Thou that stupendous truth believed;-- - And now the matchless deed’s achieved, - Determined, dared, and done! - - - - -JANE ELLIOT - -1727-1805 - - -_466._ _A Lament for Flodden_ - - I’ve heard them lilting at our ewe-milking, - Lasses a’ lilting before dawn o’ 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. - Lasses are lonely 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, - 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. - - _466._ loaning] lane, field-track. wede] weeded. bughts] - sheep-folds. daffing] joking. leglin] milk-pail. hairst] harvest. - bandsters] binders. lyart] gray-haired. runkled] wrinkled. - fleeching] coaxing. - - At e’en, in the gloaming, nae swankies are roaming - ’Bout stacks wi’ the lasses at bogle to play; - But ilk ane sits eerie, 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, by 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. - - _466._ swankies] lusty lads. bogle] bogy, hide-and-seek. dool] - mourning. - - - - -OLIVER GOLDSMITH - -1728-1774 - - -_467._ _Woman_ - - When lovely woman stoops to folly, - And finds too late that men betray, - What charm can soothe her melancholy? - What art can wash her tears away? - - The only art her guilt to cover, - To hide her shame from ev’ry eye, - To give repentance to her lover, - And wring his bosom is--to die. - - -_468._ _Memory_ - - O memory, thou fond deceiver, - Still importunate and vain, - To former joys recurring ever, - And turning all the past to pain: - - Thou, like the world, th’ oppress’d oppressing, - Thy smiles increase the wretch’s woe: - And he who wants each other blessing - In thee must ever find a foe. - - - - -ROBERT CUNNINGHAME-GRAHAM OF GARTMORE - -1735-1797 - - -_469._ _If Doughty Deeds_ - - If doughty deeds my lady please, - Right soon I’ll mount my steed; - And strong his arm and fast his seat, - That bears frae me the meed. - I’ll wear thy colours in my cap, - Thy picture in my heart; - And he that bends not to thine eye - Shall rue it to his smart! - Then tell me how to woo thee, Love; - O tell me how to woo thee! - For thy dear sake nae care I’ll take, - Tho’ ne’er another trow me. - - If gay attire delight thine eye - I’ll dight me in array; - I’ll tend thy chamber door all night, - And squire thee all the day. - If sweetest sounds can win thine ear, - These sounds I’ll strive to catch; - Thy voice I’ll steal to woo thysel’, - That voice that nane can match. - Then tell me how to woo thee, Love ... - - But if fond love thy heart can gain, - I never broke a vow; - Nae maiden lays her skaith to me, - I never loved but you. - For you alone I ride the ring, - For you I wear the blue; - For you alone I strive to sing, - O tell me how to woo! - Then tell me how to woo thee, Love; - O tell me how to woo thee! - For thy dear sake nae care I’ll take - Tho’ ne’er another trow me. - - - - -WILLIAM COWPER - -1731-1800 - - -_470._ _To Mary Unwin_ - - Mary! I want a lyre with other strings, - Such aid from Heaven as some have feign’d they drew, - An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new - And undebased by praise of meaner things; - That ere through age or woe I shed my wings, - I may record thy worth with honour due, - In verse as musical as thou art true, - And that immortalizes whom it sings: - But thou hast little need. There is a Book - By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light, - On which the eyes of God not rarely look, - A chronicle of actions just and bright-- - There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine; - And since thou own’st that praise, I spare thee mine. - - -_471._ _My Mary_ - - The twentieth year is wellnigh past - Since first our sky was overcast; - Ah, would that this might be the last! - My Mary! - - Thy spirits have a fainter flow, - I see thee daily weaker grow; - ’Twas my distress that brought thee low, - My Mary! - - Thy needles, once a shining store, - For my sake restless heretofore, - Now rust disused, and shine no more; - My Mary! - - For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil - The same kind office for me still, - Thy sight now seconds not thy will, - My Mary! - - But well thou play’dst the housewife’s part, - And all thy threads with magic art - Have wound themselves about this heart, - My Mary! - - Thy indistinct expressions seem - Like language utter’d in a dream; - Yet me they charm, whate’er the theme, - My Mary! - - - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, - Are still more lovely in my sight - Than golden beams of orient light, - My Mary! - - For could I view nor them nor thee, - What sight worth seeing could I see? - The sun would rise in vain for me, - My Mary! - - Partakers of thy sad decline, - Thy hands their little force resign; - Yet, gently press’d, press gently mine, - My Mary! - - Such feebleness of limbs thou prov’st, - That now at every step thou mov’st - Upheld by two; yet still thou lov’st, - My Mary! - - And still to love, though press’d with ill, - In wintry age to feel no chill, - With me is to be lovely still, - My Mary! - - But ah! by constant heed I know - How oft the sadness that I show - Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe, - My Mary! - - And should my future lot be cast - With much resemblance of the past, - Thy worn-out heart will break at last-- - My Mary! - - - - -JAMES BEATTIE - -1735-1803 - - -_472._ _An Epitaph_ - - Like thee I once have stemm’d the sea of life, - Like thee have languish’d after empty joys, - Like thee have labour’d in the stormy strife, - Been grieved for trifles, and amused with toys. - - Forget my frailties; thou art also frail: - Forgive my lapses; for thyself may’st fall: - Nor read unmoved my artless tender tale-- - I was a friend, O man, to thee, to all. - - - - -ISOBEL PAGAN - -1740-1821 - - -_473._ _Ca’ the Yowes to the Knowes_ - - Ca’ the yowes to the knowes, - Ca’ them where the heather grows, - Ca’ them where the burnie rows, - My bonnie dearie. - - As I gaed down the water side, - There I met my shepherd lad; - He row’d me sweetly in his plaid, - And he ca’d me his dearie. - - ‘Will ye gang down the water side, - And see the waves sae sweetly glide - Beneath the hazels spreading wide? - The moon it shines fu’ clearly.’ - - _473._ yowes] ewes. knowes] knolls, little hills. rows] rolls. - row’d] rolled, wrapped. - - ‘I was bred up at nae sic school, - My shepherd lad, to play the fool, - And a’ the day to sit in dool, - And naebody to see me.’ - - ‘Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet, - Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet, - And in my arms ye’se lie and sleep, - And ye sall be my dearie.’ - - ‘If ye’ll but stand to what ye’ve said, - I’se gang wi’ you, my shepherd lad, - And ye may row me in your plaid, - And I sall be your dearie.’ - - ‘While waters wimple to the sea, - While day blinks in the lift sae hie, - Till clay-cauld death sail blin’ my e’e, - Ye aye sall be my dearie!’ - - _473._ dool] dule, sorrow. lift] sky. - - - - -ANNA LÆTITIA BARBAULD - -1743-1825 - - -_474._ _Life_ - - Life! I know not what thou art, - But know that thou and I must part; - And when, or how, or where we met, - I own to me’s a secret yet. - But this I know, when thou art fled, - Where’er they lay these limbs, this head, - No clod so valueless shall be - As all that then remains of me. - O whither, whither dost thou fly? - Where bend unseen thy trackless course? - And in this strange divorce, - Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I? - To the vast ocean of empyreal flame - From whence thy essence came - Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed - From matter’s base encumbering weed? - Or dost thou, hid from sight, - Wait, like some spell-bound knight, - Through blank oblivious years th’ appointed hour - To break thy trance and reassume thy power? - Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be? - O say, what art thou, when no more thou’rt thee? - - Life! we have been long together, - Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; - ’Tis hard to part when friends are dear; - Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear;-- - Then steal away, give little warning, - Choose thine own time; - Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime - Bid me Good-morning! - - - - -FANNY GREVILLE - -18th Cent. - - -_475._ _Prayer for Indifference_ - - I ask no kind return of love, - No tempting charm to please; - Far from the heart those gifts remove, - That sighs for peace and ease. - - Nor peace nor ease the heart can know, - That, like the needle true, - Turns at the touch of joy or woe, - But, turning, trembles too. - - Far as distress the soul can wound, - ’Tis pain in each degree: - ’Tis bliss but to a certain bound, - Beyond is agony. - - - - -JOHN LOGAN - -1748-1788 - - -_476._ _To the Cuckoo_ - - Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove! - Thou messenger of Spring! - Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat, - And woods thy welcome ring. - - What time the daisy decks the green, - Thy certain voice we hear: - Hast thou a star to guide thy path, - Or mark the rolling year? - - Delightful visitant! with thee - I hail the time of flowers, - And hear the sound of music sweet - From birds among the bowers. - - The schoolboy, wand’ring through the wood - To pull the primrose gay, - Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear, - And imitates thy lay. - - What time the pea puts on the bloom, - Thou fli’st thy vocal vale, - An annual guest in other lands, - Another Spring to hail. - - Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, - Thy sky is ever clear; - Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, - No Winter in thy year! - - O could I fly, I’d fly with thee! - We’d make, with joyful wing, - Our annual visit o’er the globe, - Companions of the Spring. - - - - -LADY ANNE LINDSAY - -1750-1825 - - -_477._ _Auld Robin Gray_ - - When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye 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 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 toil’d day and night, but their bread I couldna win; - Auld Rob maintain’d 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 urged me sair: my mother didna speak; - But she look’d in my face till my heart was like to break: - They gi’ed him my hand, tho’ my heart was in 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, and muckle did we say; - We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves 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 aye to be, - For auld Robin Gray he is kind unto me. - - - - -SIR WILLIAM JONES - -1746-1794 - - -_478._ _Epigram_ - - On parent knees, a naked new-born child, - Weeping thou sat’st while all around thee smiled: - So live, that sinking to thy life’s last sleep, - Calm thou may’st smile, whilst all around thee weep. - - - - -THOMAS CHATTERTON - -1752-1770 - - -_479._ _Song from Ælla_ - - 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 as the winter night, - White his rode 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. - - Sweet his tongue as the throstle’s note, - Quick in dance as thought can be, - Deft his tabor, cudgel stout; - O he lies by the willow-tree! - My love is dead, - Gone to his death-bed - All under the willow-tree. - - _479._ cryne] hair. rode] complexion. - - - Hark! the raven flaps his wing - In the brier’d dell below; - Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing - To the nightmares, as they go: - My love is dead, - Gone to his death-bed - All under the willow-tree. - - See! the white moon shines on high; - Whiter 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. - - Here upon my true-love’s grave - Shall the barren flowers be laid; - Not one holy saint to save - All the coldness of a maid: - My love is dead, - Gone to his death-bed - All under the willow-tree. - - With my hands I’ll dent the briers - Round his holy corse to gre: - Ouph 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. - - dent] fasten. gre] grow. ouph] elf. - - Come, with acorn-cup and thorn, - Drain my heartès blood away; - Life and all its good I scorn, - Dance by night, or feast by day: - My love is dead, - Gone to his death-bed - All under the willow-tree. - - - - -GEORGE CRABBE - -1754-1832 - - -_480._ _Meeting_ - - My Damon was the first to wake - The gentle flame that cannot die; - My Damon is the last to take - The faithful bosom’s softest sigh: - The life between is nothing worth, - O cast it from thy thought away! - Think of the day that gave it birth, - And this its sweet returning day. - - Buried be all that has been done, - Or say that naught is done amiss; - For who the dangerous path can shun - In such bewildering world as this? - But love can every fault forgive, - Or with a tender look reprove; - And now let naught in memory live - But that we meet, and that we love. - - -_481._ _Late Wisdom_ - - We’ve trod the maze of error round, - Long wandering in the winding glade; - And now the torch of truth is found, - It only shows us where we strayed: - By long experience taught, we know-- - Can rightly judge of friends and foes; - Can all the worth of these allow, - And all the faults discern in those. - - Now, ’tis our boast that we can quell - The wildest passions in their rage, - Can their destructive force repel, - And their impetuous wrath assuage.-- - Ah, Virtue! dost thou arm when now - This bold rebellious race are fled? - When all these tyrants rest, and thou - Art warring with the mighty dead? - - -_482._ _A Marriage Ring_ - - The ring, so worn as you behold, - So thin, so pale, is yet of gold: - The passion such it was to prove-- - Worn with life’s care, love yet was love. - - - - -WILLIAM BLAKE - -1757-1827 - - -_483._ _To the Muses_ - - Whether on Ida’s shady brow - Or in the chambers of the East, - The chambers of the Sun, that now - From ancient melody have ceased; - - Whether in heaven ye wander fair, - Or the green corners of the earth, - Or the blue regions of the air - Where the melodious winds have birth; - - Whether on crystal rocks ye rove, - Beneath the bosom of the sea, - Wandering in many a coral grove; - Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry; - - How have you left the ancient love - That bards of old enjoy’d in you! - The languid strings do scarcely move, - The sound is forced, the notes are few. - - -_484._ _To Spring_ - - O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down - Through the clear windows of the morning, turn - Thine angel eyes upon our western isle, - Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring! - - The hills tell one another, and the listening - Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turn’d - Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth - And let thy holy feet visit our clime! - - - Come o’er the eastern hills, and let our winds - Kiss thy perfumèd garments; let us taste - Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls - Upon our lovesick land that mourns for thee. - - O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour - Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put - Thy golden crown upon her languish’d head, - Whose modest tresses are bound up for thee. - - -_485._ _Song_ - - My silks and fine array, - My smiles and languish’d air, - By Love are driven away; - And mournful lean Despair - Brings me yew to deck my grave: - Such end true lovers have. - - His face is fair as heaven - When springing buds unfold: - O why to him was’t given, - Whose heart is wintry cold? - His breast is Love’s all-worshipp’d tomb, - Where all Love’s pilgrims come. - - Bring me an axe and spade, - Bring me a winding-sheet; - When I my grave have made, - Let winds and tempests beat: - Then down I’ll lie, as cold as clay: - True love doth pass away! - - -_486._ _Reeds of Innocence_ - - Piping down the valleys wild, - Piping songs of pleasant glee, - On a cloud I saw a child, - And he laughing said to me: - - ‘Pipe a song about a Lamb!’ - So I piped with merry cheer. - ‘Piper, pipe that song again;’ - So I piped: he wept to hear. - - ‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; - Sing thy songs of happy cheer!’ - So I sung the same again, - While he wept with joy to hear. - - ‘Piper, sit thee down and write - In a book that all may read.’ - So he vanish’d from my sight; - And I pluck’d a hollow reed, - - And I made a rural pen, - And I stain’d the water clear, - And I wrote my happy songs - Every child may joy to hear. - - -_487._ _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 at 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 - Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove. - - ‘For when our souls have learn’d 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. - - -_488._ _Hear the Voice_ - - Hear the voice of the Bard, - Who present, past, and future, sees; - Whose ears have heard - The Holy Word - That walk’d among the ancient trees; - - Calling the lapsèd soul, - And weeping in the evening dew; - That might control - The starry pole, - And fallen, fallen light renew! - - ‘O Earth, O Earth, return! - Arise from out the dewy grass! - Night is worn, - And the morn - Rises from the slumbrous mass. - - ‘Turn away no more; - Why wilt thou turn away? - The starry floor, - The watery shore, - Is given thee till the break of day.’ - - -_489._ _The Tiger_ - - Tiger, tiger, 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? - - Tiger, tiger, burning bright - In the forests of the night, - What immortal hand or eye - Dare frame thy fearful symmetry? - - -_490._ _Cradle Song_ - - Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, - Dreaming in the joys of night; - Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep - Little sorrows sit and weep. - - Sweet babe, in thy face - Soft desires I can trace, - Secret joys and secret smiles, - Little pretty infant wiles. - - As thy softest limbs I feel - Smiles as of the morning steal - O’er thy cheek, and o’er thy breast - Where thy little heart doth rest. - - O the cunning wiles that creep - In thy little heart asleep! - When thy little heart doth wake, - Then the dreadful night shall break. - - -_491._ _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 grove, - Where flocks have took delight: - Where lambs have nibbled, silent move - The feet of angels bright; - Unseen they pour blessing - And joy without ceasing - On each bud and blossom, - On each sleeping bosom. - - They look in every thoughtless nest - Where birds are cover’d 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 tigers 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, - Are 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, wash’d in life’s river, - My bright mane for ever - Shall shine like the gold - As I guard o’er the fold.’ - - -_492._ _Love’s Secret_ - - Never seek to tell thy love, - Love that never told can be; - For the gentle wind doth move - Silently, invisibly. - - I told my love, I told my love, - I told her all my heart, - Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears. - Ah! she did depart! - - Soon after she was gone from me, - A traveller came by, - Silently, invisibly: - He took her with a sigh. - - - - -ROBERT BURNS - -1759-1796 - - -_493._ _Mary Morison_ - - O Mary, at thy window be, - It is the wish’d, the trysted hour! - Those smiles and glances let me see, - That make the miser’s treasure poor: - How blythely wad I bide the stour - A weary slave frae sun to sun, - Could I the rich reward secure, - The lovely Mary Morison! - - Yestreen, when to the trembling string - The dance gaed thro’ the lighted ha’, - To thee my fancy took its wing, - I sat, but neither heard nor saw: - - _493._ stour] dust, turmoil. - - Tho’ this was fair, and that was braw, - And yon the toast of a’ the town, - I sigh’d, and said amang them a’, - ‘Ye are na Mary Morison.’ - - O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace, - Wha for thy sake wad gladly die? - Or canst thou break that heart of his, - Whase only faut is loving thee? - If love for love thou wiltna gie, - At least be pity to me shown; - A thought ungentle canna be - The thought o’ Mary Morison. - - -_494._ _Jean_ - - Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw, - I dearly like the west, - For there the bonnie lassie lives, - The lassie I lo’e best: - There wild woods grow, and rivers row, - And monie a hill between; - But day and night my fancy’s flight - Is ever wi’ my Jean. - - I see her in the dewy flowers, - I see her sweet and fair: - I hear her in the tunefu’ birds, - I hear her charm the air: - There’s not a bonnie flower that springs - By fountain, shaw, or green; - There’s not a bonnie bird that sings, - But minds me o’ my Jean. - - _494._ airts] points of the compass. row] roll. - - -_495._ _Auld Lang Syne_ - - Should auld acquaintance be forgot, - And never brought to min’? - Should auld acquaintance be forgot, - And days o’ lang syne? - - We twa hae rin about the braes, - And pu’d the gowans fine; - But we’ve wandered monie a weary fit - Sin’ auld lang syne. - - We twa hae paidl’t i’ the burn, - Frae mornin’ sun till dine; - But seas between us braid hae roar’d - Sin’ auld lang syne. - - And here’s a hand, my trusty fiere, - And gie’s a hand o’ thine; - And we’ll tak a right guid-willie waught - For auld lang syne. - - And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp, - And surely I’ll be mine; - And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet - For auld lang syne! - - For auld lang syne, my dear, - For auld lang syne, - We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet - For auld lang syne. - - gowans] daisies. fit] foot. dine] dinner-time. fiere] partner. - guid-willie waught] friendly draught. - - -_496._ _My Bonnie Mary_ - - Go fetch to me a pint ’o wine, - An’ fill it in a silver tassie, - That I may drink, before I go, - A service to my bonnie lassie. - The boat rocks at the pier o’ Leith, - Fu’ loud the wind blaws frae the ferry, - The ship rides by the Berwick-law, - And I maun leave my bonnie Mary. - - The trumpets sound, the banners fly, - The glittering spears are rankèd ready; - The shouts o’ war are heard afar, - The battle closes thick and bloody; - But it’s no the roar o’ sea or shore - Wad mak me langer wish to tarry; - Nor shout o’ war that’s heard afar-- - It’s leaving thee, my bonnie Mary! - - _496._ tassie] cup. - - -_497._ _John Anderson, my Jo_ - - John Anderson, my jo, John, - When we were first acquent, - Your locks were like the raven, - Your bonnie brow was brent; - But now your brow is beld, John, - Your locks are like the snow; - But blessings on your frosty pow, - John Anderson, my jo! - - _497._ jo] sweetheart. brent] smooth, unwrinkled. beld] bald. pow] - pate. - - John Anderson, my jo, John, - We clamb the hill thegither; - And monie a canty day, John, - We’ve had wi’ ane anither: - Now we maun totter down, John, - But hand in hand we’ll go, - And sleep thegither at the foot, - John Anderson, my jo. - - _497._ canty] cheerful. - - -_498._ _The Banks o’ Doon_ - - Ye flowery banks o’ bonnie Doon, - How can ye blume 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 wistna o’ my fate. - - Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon, - To see the woodbine twine; - And ilka bird sang o’ its luve, - And sae did I o’ mine. - - Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose - Upon a morn in June; - And sae I flourish’d on the morn, - And sae was pu’d or’ noon. - - _498._ or’] ere. - - - Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose - Upon its thorny tree; - But my fause luver staw my rose, - And left the thorn wi’ me. - - _498._ staw] stole. - - -_499._ _Ae Fond Kiss_ - - Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; - Ae fareweel, alas, for ever! - Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee, - Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee! - - Who shall say that Fortune grieves him - While the star of hope she leaves him? - Me, nae cheerfu’ twinkle lights me, - Dark despair around benights me. - - I’ll ne’er blame my partial fancy; - Naething could resist my Nancy; - But to see her was to love her, - Love but her, and love for ever. - - Had we never loved sae kindly, - Had we never loved sae blindly, - Never met--or never parted, - We had ne’er been broken-hearted. - - Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest! - Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest! - Thine be ilka joy and treasure, - Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure! - - Ae fond kiss, and then we sever! - Ae fareweel, alas, for ever! - Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee, - Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee! - - _499._ wage] stake, plight. - - -_500._ _Bonnie Lesley_ - - O saw ye bonnie Lesley - As she gaed o’er the Border? - She’s gane, like Alexander, - To spread her conquests farther. - - To see her is to love her, - And love but her for ever; - For Nature made her what she is, - And ne’er made sic anither! - - Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, - Thy subjects we, before thee: - Thou art divine, fair Lesley, - The hearts o’ men adore thee. - - The Deil he couldna scaith thee, - Or aught that wad belang thee; - He’d look into thy bonnie face - And say, ‘I canna wrang thee!’ - - The Powers aboon will tent thee, - Misfortune sha’na steer thee: - Thou’rt like themsel’ sae lovely, - That ill they’ll ne’er let near thee. - - Return again, fair Lesley, - Return to Caledonie! - That we may brag we hae a lass - There’s nane again sae bonnie! - - scaith] harm. tent] watch. steer] molest. - - -_501._ _Highland Mary_ - - Ye banks and braes and streams around - The castle o’ Montgomery, - Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, - Your waters never drumlie! - There simmer first unfauld her robes, - And there the langest tarry; - For there I took the last fareweel - O’ my sweet Highland Mary. - - How sweetly bloom’d the gay green birk, - How rich the hawthorn’s blossom, - As underneath their fragrant shade - I clasp’d her to my bosom! - The golden hours on angel wings - Flew o’er me and my dearie; - For dear to me as light and life - Was my sweet Highland Mary. - - Wi’ monie a vow and lock’d embrace - Our parting was fu’ tender; - And, pledging aft to meet again, - We tore oursels asunder; - But oh! fell Death’s untimely frost, - That nipt my flower sae early! - Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay, - That wraps my Highland Mary! - - O pale, pale now, those rosy lips - I aft hae kiss’d sae fondly! - And closed for aye the sparkling glance - That dwelt on me sae kindly! - - drumlie] miry. - - And mouldering now in silent dust - That heart that lo’ed me dearly! - But still within my bosom’s core - Shall live my Highland Mary. - - -_502._ _O were my Love yon Lilac fair_ - - O were my Love yon lilac fair, - Wi’ purple blossoms to the spring, - And I a bird to shelter there, - When wearied on my little wing; - How I wad mourn when it was torn - By autumn wild and winter rude! - But I wad sing on wanton wing - When youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d. - - O gin my Love were yon red rose - That grows upon the castle wa’, - And I mysel a drap o’ dew, - Into her bonnie breast to fa’; - O there, beyond expression blest, - I’d feast on beauty a’ the night; - Seal’d on her silk-saft faulds to rest, - Till fley’d awa’ by Phœbus’ light. - - -_503._ _A Red, Red Rose_ - - O my Luve’s like a red, red rose - That’s newly sprung in June: - O my Luve’s like the melodie - That’s sweetly play’d in tune! - - As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, - So deep in luve am I: - And I will luve thee still, my dear, - Till a’ the seas gang dry: - - Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, - And the rocks melt wi’ the sun; - I will luve thee still, my dear, - While the sands o’ life shall run. - - And fare thee weel, my only Luve, - And fare thee weel a while! - And I will come again, my Luve, - Tho’ it were ten thousand mile. - - -_504._ _Lament for Culloden_ - - The lovely lass o’ Inverness, - Nae joy nor pleasure can she see; - For e’en and morn she cries, ‘Alas!’ - And aye the saut tear blin’s her e’e: - ‘Drumossie moor, Drumossie day, - A waefu’ day it was to me! - For there I lost my father dear, - My father dear and brethren three. - - ‘Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay, - Their graves are growing green to see; - And by them lies the dearest lad - That ever blest a woman’s e’e! - Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord, - A bluidy man I trow thou be; - For monie a heart thou hast made sair, - That ne’er did wrang to thine or thee.’ - - -_505._ _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 men 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 turn’d him right and round about - Upon the Irish shore; - And gae his bridle-reins a shake, - With, Adieu for evermore, - My dear-- - With, 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’ folk 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. - - lee-lang] livelong. - - -_506._ _Hark! The Mavis_ - - _Ca’ the yowes to the knowes,_ - _Ca’ them where the heather grows,_ - _Ca’ them where the burnie rows,_ - _My bonnie dearie._ - - Hark! the mavis’ evening sang - Sounding Clouden’s woods amang. - Then a-faulding let us gang, - My bonnie dearie. - - We’ll gae down by Clouden side, - Through the hazels spreading wide, - O’er the waves that sweetly glide - To the moon sae clearly. - - Yonder Clouden’s silent towers, - Where at moonshine midnight hours - O’er the dewy bending flowers - Fairies dance sae cheery. - - Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear; - Thou’rt to Love and Heaven sae dear, - Nocht of ill may come thee near, - My bonnie dearie. - - Fair and lovely as thou art, - Thou hast stown my very heart; - I can die--but canna part, - My bonnie dearie. - - While waters wimple to the sea; - While day blinks in the lift sae hie; - Till clay-cauld death shall blin’ my e’e, - Ye shall be my dearie. - - _Ca’ the yowes to the knowes_ ... - - lift] sky. - - - - -HENRY ROWE - -1750-1819 - - -_507._ _Sun_ - - Angel, king of streaming morn; - Cherub, call’d by Heav’n to shine; - T’ orient tread the waste forlorn; - Guide ætherial, pow’r divine; - Thou, Lord of all within! - - Golden spirit, lamp of day, - Host, that dips in blood the plain, - Bids the crimson’d mead be gay, - Bids the green blood burst the vein; - Thou, Lord of all within! - - Soul, that wraps the globe in light; - Spirit, beckoning to arise; - Drives the frowning brow of night, - Glory bursting o’er the skies; - Thou, Lord of all within! - - -_508._ _Moon_ - - Thee too, modest tressèd maid, - When thy fallen stars appear; - When in lawn of fire array’d - Sov’reign of yon powder’d sphere; - To thee I chant at close of day, - Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray. - - Throned in sapphired ring supreme, - Pregnant with celestial juice, - On silver wing thy diamond stream - Gives what summer hours produce; - While view’d impearl’d earth’s rich inlay, - Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray. - - - Glad, pale Cynthian wine I sip, - Breathed the flow’ry leaves among; - Draughts delicious wet my lip; - Drown’d in nectar drunk my song; - While tuned to Philomel the lay, - Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray. - - Dew, that od’rous ointment yields, - Sweets, that western winds disclose, - Bathing spring’s more purpled fields, - Soft’s the band that winds the rose; - While o’er thy myrtled lawns I stray - Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray. - - - - -WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES - -1762-1850 - - -_509._ _Time and Grief_ - - O Time! who know’st a lenient hand to lay - Softest on sorrow’s wound, and slowly thence - (Lulling to sad repose the weary sense) - The faint pang stealest unperceived away; - On thee I rest my only hope at last, - And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear - That flows in vain o’er all my soul held dear, - I may look back on every sorrow past, - And meet life’s peaceful evening with a smile: - As some lone bird, at day’s departing hour, - Sings in the sunbeam, of the transient shower - Forgetful, though its wings are wet the while:-- - Yet ah! how much must this poor heart endure, - Which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a cure! - - - - -JOANNA BAILLIE - -1762-1851 - - -_510._ _The Outlaw’s Song_ - - The chough and crow to roost are gone, - The owl sits on the tree, - The hush’d wind wails with feeble moan, - Like infant charity. - The wild-fire dances on the fen, - The red star sheds its ray; - Uprouse ye then, my merry men! - It is our op’ning day. - - Both child and nurse are fast asleep, - And closed is every flower, - And winking tapers faintly peep - High from my lady’s bower; - Bewilder’d hinds with shorten’d ken - Shrink on their murky way; - Uprouse ye then, my merry men! - It is our op’ning day. - - Nor board nor garner own we now, - Nor roof nor latchèd door, - Nor kind mate, bound by holy vow - To bless a good man’s store; - Noon lulls us in a gloomy den, - And night is grown our day; - Uprouse ye then, my merry men! - And use it as ye may. - - - - -MARY LAMB - -1765-1847 - - -_511._ _A Child_ - - A child’s a plaything for an hour; - Its pretty tricks we try - For that or for a longer space-- - Then tire, and lay it by. - - But I knew one that to itself - All seasons could control; - That would have mock’d the sense of pain - Out of a grievèd soul. - - Thou straggler into loving arms, - Young climber-up of knees, - When I forget thy thousand ways - Then life and all shall cease. - - - - -CAROLINA, LADY NAIRNE - -1766-1845 - - -_512._ _The Land o’ the Leal_ - - I’m wearin’ awa’, John - Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John, - I’m wearin’ awa’ - To the land o’ the leal. - There’s nae sorrow there, John, - There’s neither cauld nor care, John, - The day is aye fair - In the land o’ the leal. - - Our bonnie bairn’s there, John, - She was baith gude and fair, John; - And O! we grudged her sair - To the land o’ the leal. - But sorrow’s sel’ wears past, John, - And joy’s a-coming fast, John, - The joy that’s aye to last - In the land o’ the leal. - - Sae dear’s the joy was bought, John, - Sae free the battle fought, John, - That sinfu’ man e’er brought - To the land o’ the leal. - O, dry your glistening e’e, John! - My saul langs to be free, John, - And angels beckon me - To the land o’ the leal. - - O, haud ye leal and true, John! - Your day it’s wearin’ through, John, - And I’ll welcome you - To the land o’ the leal. - Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John, - This warld’s cares are vain, John, - We’ll meet, and we’ll be fain, - In the land o’ the leal. - - - - -JAMES HOGG - -1770-1835 - - -_513._ _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 the 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. - - -_514._ _Kilmeny_ - - Bonnie Kilmeny gaed up the glen; - But it wasna to meet Duneira’s men, - Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see, - For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. - It was only to hear the yorlin sing, - And pu’ the cress-flower round the spring; - The scarlet hypp and the hindberrye, - And the nut that hung frae the hazel tree; - For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be. - But lang may her minny look o’er the wa’, - And lang may she seek i’ the green-wood shaw; - Lang the laird o’ Duneira blame, - And lang, lang greet or Kilmeny come hame! - - _514._ yorlin] the yellow-hammer. hindberrye] bramble. minny] - mother. greet] mourn. - - When many a day had come and fled, - When grief grew calm, and hope was dead, - When mess for Kilmeny’s soul had been sung, - When the bedesman had pray’d and the dead bell rung, - Late, late in gloamin’ when all was still, - When the fringe was red on the westlin hill, - The wood was sere, the moon i’ the wane, - The reek o’ the cot hung over the plain, - Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane; - When the ingle low’d wi’ an eiry leme, - Late, late in the gloamin’ Kilmeny came hame! - - ‘Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been? - Lang hae we sought baith holt and den; - By linn, by ford, and green-wood tree, - Yet you are halesome and fair to see. - Where gat you that joup o’ the lily scheen? - That bonnie snood of the birk sae green? - And these roses, the fairest that ever were seen? - Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?’ - - Kilmeny look’d up with a lovely grace, - But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny’s face; - As still was her look, and as still was her e’e, - As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea, - Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea. - For Kilmeny had been, she knew not where, - And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare; - Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew, - Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew. - But it seem’d as the harp of the sky had rung, - And the airs of heaven play’d round her tongue, - - westlin] western. its lane] alone, by itself. low’d] flamed. eiry - leme] eery gleam. linn] waterfall. joup] mantle. - - When she spake of the lovely forms she had seen, - And a land where sin had never been; - A land of love and a land of light, - Withouten sun, or moon, or night; - Where the river swa’d a living stream, - And the light a pure celestial beam; - The land of vision, it would seem, - A still, an everlasting dream. - - In yon green-wood there is a waik, - And in that waik there is a wene, - And in that wene there is a maike, - That neither has flesh, blood, nor bane; - And down in yon green-wood he walks his lane. - - In that green wene Kilmeny lay, - Her bosom happ’d wi’ flowerets gay; - But the air was soft and the silence deep, - And bonnie Kilmeny fell sound asleep. - She kenn’d nae mair, nor open’d her e’e, - Till waked by the hymns of a far countrye. - - She ‘waken’d on a couch of the silk sae slim, - All striped wi’ the bars of the rainbow’s rim; - And lovely beings round were rife, - Who erst had travell’d mortal life; - And aye they smiled and ’gan to speer, - ‘What spirit has brought this mortal here?’-- - - ‘Lang have I journey’d, the world wide,’ - A meek and reverend fere replied; - ‘Baith night and day I have watch’d the fair, - Eident a thousand years and mair. - - swa’d] swelled. waik] a row of deep damp grass. wene]? whin, a - furze-bush. maike] a mate, match, equal. his lane] alone, by - himself. happ’d] covered. speer] inquire. fere] fellow. eident] - unintermittently. - - Yes, I have watch’d o’er ilk degree, - Wherever blooms femenitye; - But sinless virgin, free of stain - In mind and body, fand I nane. - Never, since the banquet of time, - Found I a virgin in her prime. - Till late this bonnie maiden I saw - As spotless as the morning snaw: - Full twenty years she has lived as free - As the spirits that sojourn in this countrye: - I have brought her away frae the snares of men, - That sin or death she never may ken.’-- - - They clasp’d her waist and her hands sae fair, - They kiss’d her cheek and they kemed her hair, - And round came many a blooming fere, - Saying, ‘Bonnie Kilmeny, ye’re welcome here! - Women are freed of the littand scorn: - O blest be the day Kilmeny was born! - Now shall the land of the spirits see, - Now shall it ken what a woman may be! - Many a lang year, in sorrow and pain, - Many a lang year through the world we’ve gane, - Commission’d to watch fair womankind, - For it’s they who nurice the immortal mind. - We have watch’d their steps as the dawning shone, - And deep in the green-wood walks alone; - By lily bower and silken bed, - The viewless tears have o’er them shed; - Have soothed their ardent minds to sleep, - Or left the couch of love to weep. - - kemed] combed. - - We have seen! we have seen! but the time must come, - And the angels will weep at the day of doom! - - ‘O would the fairest of mortal kind - Aye keep the holy truths in mind, - That kindred spirits their motions see, - Who watch their ways with anxious e’e, - And grieve for the guilt of humanitye! - O, sweet to Heaven the maiden’s prayer, - And the sigh that heaves a bosom sae fair! - And dear to Heaven the words of truth, - And the praise of virtue frae beauty’s mouth! - And dear to the viewless forms of air, - The minds that kyth as the body fair! - - ‘O bonnie Kilmeny! free frae stain, - If ever you seek the world again, - That world of sin, of sorrow and fear, - O tell of the joys that are waiting here; - And tell of the signs you shall shortly see; - Of the times that are now, and the times that shall be.’-- - They lifted Kilmeny, they led her away, - And she walk’d in the light of a sunless day; - The sky was a dome of crystal bright, - The fountain of vision, and fountain of light: - The emerald fields were of dazzling glow, - And the flowers of everlasting blow. - Then deep in the stream her body they laid, - That her youth and beauty never might fade; - And they smiled on heaven, when they saw her lie - In the stream of life that wander’d bye. - And she heard a song, she heard it sung, - She kenn’d not where; but sae sweetly it rung, - - kyth] show, appear. - - It fell on the ear like a dream of the morn: - ‘O, blest be the day Kilmeny was born! - Now shall the land of the spirits see, - Now shall it ken what a woman may be! - The sun that shines on the world sae bright, - A borrow’d gleid frae the fountain of light; - And the moon that sleeks the sky sae dun, - Like a gouden bow, or a beamless sun, - Shall wear away, and be seen nae mair, - And the angels shall miss them travelling the air. - But lang, lang after baith night and day, - When the sun and the world have elyed away; - When the sinner has gane to his waesome doom, - Kilmeny shall smile in eternal bloom!’-- - - They bore her away, she wist not how, - For she felt not arm nor rest below; - But so swift they wain’d her through the light, - ’Twas like the motion of sound or sight; - They seem’d to split the gales of air, - And yet nor gale nor breeze was there. - Unnumber’d groves below them grew, - They came, they pass’d, and backward flew, - Like floods of blossoms gliding on, - In moment seen, in moment gone. - O, never vales to mortal view - Appear’d like those o’er which they flew! - That land to human spirits given, - The lowermost vales of the storied heaven; - From thence they can view the world below, - And heaven’s blue gates with sapphires glow, - More glory yet unmeet to know. - - gleid] spark, glow. elyed] vanished. - - They bore her far to a mountain green, - To see what mortal never had seen; - And they seated her high on a purple sward, - And bade her heed what she saw and heard, - And note the changes the spirits wrought, - For now she lived in the land of thought. - She look’d, and she saw nor sun nor skies, - But a crystal dome of a thousand dyes: - She look’d, and she saw nae land aright, - But an endless whirl of glory and light: - And radiant beings went and came, - Far swifter than wind, or the linkèd flame. - She hid her e’en frae the dazzling view; - She look’d again, and the scene was new. - - She saw a sun on a summer sky, - And clouds of amber sailing bye; - A lovely land beneath her lay, - And that land had glens and mountains gray; - And that land had valleys and hoary piles, - And marlèd seas, and a thousand isles. - Its fields were speckled, its forests green - And its lakes were all of the dazzling sheen, - Like magic mirrors, where slumbering lay - The sun and the sky and the cloudlet gray; - Which heaved and trembled, and gently swung, - On every shore they seem’d to be hung; - For there they were seen on their downward plain - A thousand times and a thousand again; - In winding lake and placid firth, - Little peaceful heavens in the bosom of earth. - - marlèd] variegated, parti-coloured. - - Kilmeny sigh’d and seem’d to grieve, - For she found her heart to that land did cleave; - She saw the corn wave on the vale, - She saw the deer run down the dale; - She saw the plaid and the broad claymore, - And the brows that the badge of freedom bore; - And she thought she had seen the land before. - - She saw a lady sit on a throne, - The fairest that ever the sun shone on! - A lion lick’d her hand of milk, - And she held him in a leish of silk; - And a leifu’ maiden stood at her knee, - With a silver wand and melting e’e; - Her sovereign shield till love stole in, - And poison’d all the fount within. - - Then a gruff untoward bedesman came, - And hundit the lion on his dame; - And the guardian maid wi’ the dauntless e’e, - She dropp’d a tear, and left her knee; - And she saw till the queen frae the lion fled, - Till the bonniest flower of the world lay dead; - A coffin was set on a distant plain, - And she saw the red blood fall like rain; - Then bonnie Kilmeny’s heart grew sair, - And she turn’d away, and could look nae mair. - - Then the gruff grim carle girn’d amain, - And they trampled him down, but he rose again; - And he baited the lion to deeds of weir, - Till he lapp’d the blood to the kingdom dear; - - leifu’] lone, wistful. girn’d] snarled. weir] war. - - And weening his head was danger-preef, - When crown’d with the rose and clover leaf, - He gowl’d at the carle, and chased him away - To feed wi’ the deer on the mountain gray. - He gowl’d at the carle, and geck’d at Heaven, - But his mark was set, and his arles given. - Kilmeny a while her e’en withdrew; - She look’d again, and the scene was new. - - She saw before her fair unfurl’d - One half of all the glowing world, - Where oceans roll’d, and rivers ran, - To bound the aims of sinful man. - She saw a people, fierce and fell, - Burst frae their bounds like fiends of hell; - Their lilies grew, and the eagle flew; - And she herkèd on her ravening crew, - Till the cities and towers were wrapp’d in a blaze, - And the thunder it roar’d o’er the lands and the seas. - The widows they wail’d, and the red blood ran, - And she threatened an end to the race of man; - She never lened, nor stood in awe, - Till caught by the lion’s deadly paw. - O, then the eagle swink’d for life, - And brainyell’d up a mortal strife; - But flew she north, or flew she south, - She met wi’ the gowl o’ the lion’s mouth. - - With a mooted wing and waefu’ maen, - The eagle sought her eiry again; - But lang may she cower in her bloody nest, - And lang, lang sleek her wounded breast, - - gowl’d] howled. geck’d] mocked. arles] money paid on striking a - bargain; fig. a beating. lened] crouched. swink’d] laboured. - brainyell’d] stirred, beat. mooted] moulted. - - Before she sey another flight, - To play with the norland lion’s might. - - But to sing the sights Kilmeny saw, - So far surpassing nature’s law, - The singer’s voice wad sink away, - And the string of his harp wad cease to play. - But she saw till the sorrows of man were bye, - And all was love and harmony; - Till the stars of heaven fell calmly away, - Like flakes of snaw on a winter day. - - Then Kilmeny begg’d again to see - The friends she had left in her own countrye; - To tell of the place where she had been, - And the glories that lay in the land unseen; - To warn the living maidens fair, - The loved of Heaven, the spirits’ care, - That all whose minds unmeled remain - Shall bloom in beauty when time is gane. - - With distant music, soft and deep, - They lull’d Kilmeny sound asleep; - And when she awaken’d, she lay her lane, - All happ’d with flowers, in the green-wood wene. - When seven lang years had come and fled, - When grief was calm, and hope was dead; - When scarce was remember’d Kilmeny’s name, - Late, late in a gloamin’ Kilmeny came hame! - And O, her beauty was fair to see, - But still and steadfast was her e’e! - Such beauty bard may never declare, - For there was no pride nor passion there; - - sey] essay. unmeled] unblemished. her lane] alone, by herself. - - And the soft desire of maiden’s e’en - In that mild face could never be seen. - Her seymar was the lily flower, - And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower; - And her voice like the distant melodye, - That floats along the twilight sea. - But she loved to raike the lanely glen, - And keepèd afar frae the haunts of men; - Her holy hymns unheard to sing, - To suck the flowers, and drink the spring. - But wherever her peaceful form appear’d, - The wild beasts of the hill were cheer’d; - The wolf play’d blythly round the field, - The lordly byson low’d and kneel’d; - The dun deer woo’d with manner bland, - And cower’d aneath her lily hand. - And when at even the woodlands rung, - When hymns of other worlds she sung - In ecstasy of sweet devotion, - O, then the glen was all in motion! - The wild beasts of the forest came, - Broke from their bughts and faulds the tame, - And goved around, charm’d and amazed; - Even the dull cattle croon’d and gazed, - And murmur’d and look’d with anxious pain - For something the mystery to explain. - The buzzard came with the throstle-cock; - The corby left her houf in the rock; - The blackbird alang wi’ the eagle flew; - The hind came tripping o’er the dew; - - seymar]=cymar, a slight covering. raike] range, wander. bughts] - milking-pens. goved] stared, gazed. corby] raven. houf] haunt. - - The wolf and the kid their raike began, - And the tod, and the lamb, and the leveret ran; - The hawk and the hern attour them hung, - And the merle and the mavis forhooy’d their young; - And all in a peaceful ring were hurl’d; - It was like an eve in a sinless world! - - When a month and a day had come and gane, - Kilmeny sought the green-wood wene; - There laid her down on the leaves sae green, - And Kilmeny on earth was never mair seen. - But O, the words that fell from her mouth - Were words of wonder, and words of truth! - But all the land were in fear and dread, - For they kendna whether she was living or dead. - It wasna her hame, and she couldna remain; - She left this world of sorrow and pain, - And return’d to the land of thought again. - - _514._ raike] ramble. tod] fox. attour] out over. forhooy’d] - neglected. - - - - -WILLIAM WORDSWORTH - -1770-1850 - - -_Lucy_ - - -_515._ _i_ - - Strange fits of passion have I known: - And I will dare to tell, - But in the lover’s ear alone, - What once to me befell. - - When she I loved look’d every day - Fresh as a rose in June, - I to her cottage bent my way, - Beneath an evening moon. - - Upon the moon I fix’d my eye, - All over the wide lea; - With quickening pace my horse drew nigh - Those paths so dear to me. - - And now we reach’d the orchard-plot; - And, as we climb’d the hill, - The sinking moon to Lucy’s cot - Came near and nearer still. - - In one of those sweet dreams I slept, - Kind Nature’s gentlest boon! - And all the while my eyes I kept - On the descending moon. - - My horse moved on; hoof after hoof - He raised, and never stopp’d: - When down behind the cottage roof, - At once, the bright moon dropp’d. - - What fond and wayward thoughts will slide - Into a lover’s head! - ‘O mercy!’ to myself I cried, - ‘If Lucy should be dead!’ - - -_516._ _ii_ - - She dwelt among the untrodden ways - Beside the springs of Dove, - A Maid whom there were none to praise - And very few to love: - - A violet by a mossy stone - Half hidden from the eye! - Fair as a star, when only one - Is shining in the sky. - - - She lived unknown, and few could know - When Lucy ceased to be; - But she is in her grave, and oh, - The difference to me! - - -_517._ _iii_ - - I traveled among unknown men, - In lands beyond the sea; - Nor, England! did I know till then - What love I bore to thee. - - ’Tis past, that melancholy dream! - Nor will I quit thy shore - A second time; for still I seem - To love thee more and more. - - Among thy mountains did I feel - The joy of my desire; - And she I cherish’d turn’d her wheel - Beside an English fire. - - Thy mornings show’d, thy nights conceal’d, - The bowers where Lucy play’d; - And thine too is the last green field - That Lucy’s eyes survey’d. - - -_518._ _iv_ - - Three years she grew in sun and shower; - Then Nature said, ‘A lovelier flower - On earth was never sown; - This child I to myself will take; - She shall be mine, and I will make - A lady of my own. - - - ‘Myself will to my darling be - Both law and impulse: and with me - The girl, in rock and plain, - In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, - Shall feel an overseeing power - To kindle or restrain. - - ‘She shall be sportive as the fawn - That wild with glee across the lawn - Or up the mountain springs; - And hers shall be the breathing balm, - And hers the silence and the calm - Of mute insensate things. - - ‘The floating clouds their state shall lend - To her; for her the willow bend; - Nor shall she fail to see - Even in the motions of the storm - Grace that shall mould the maiden’s form - By silent sympathy. - - ‘The stars of midnight shall be dear - To her; and she shall lean her ear - In many a secret place - Where rivulets dance their wayward round, - And beauty born of murmuring sound - Shall pass into her face. - - ‘And vital feelings of delight - Shall rear her form to stately height, - Her virgin bosom swell; - Such thoughts to Lucy I will give - While she and I together live - Here in this happy dell.’ - - - Thus Nature spake--The work was done-- - How soon my Lucy’s race was run! - She died, and left to me - This heath, this calm and quiet scene; - The memory of what has been, - And never more will be. - - -_519._ _v_ - - A slumber did my spirit seal; - I had no human fears: - She seem’d a thing that could not feel - The touch of earthly years. - - No motion has she now, no force; - She neither hears nor sees; - Roll’d round in earth’s diurnal course, - With rocks, and stones, and trees. - - -_520._ _Upon Westminster Bridge_ - - Earth has not anything to show more fair: - Dull would he be of soul who could pass by - A sight so touching in its majesty: - This City now doth like a garment wear - The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, - Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie - Open unto the fields, and to the sky; - All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. - Never did sun more beautifully steep - In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill; - Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! - The river glideth at his own sweet will: - Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; - And all that mighty heart is lying still! - - -_521._ _Evening on Calais Beach_ - - 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. - Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here, - If thou appear untouch’d by solemn thought, - Thy nature is not therefore less divine: - Thou liest in Abraham’s bosom all the year; - And worshipp’st at the Temple’s inner shrine, - God being with thee when we know it not. - - -_522._ _On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic, 1802_ - - Once did she hold the gorgeous East in fee; - And was the safeguard of the West: the worth - Of Venice did not fall below her birth, - Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty. - She was a maiden City, bright and free; - No guile seduced, no force could violate; - And, when she took unto herself a mate, - She must espouse the everlasting Sea. - And what if she had seen those glories fade, - Those titles vanish, and that strength decay; - Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid - When her long life hath reach’d its final day: - Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade - Of that which once was great is pass’d away. - - -_England, 1802_ - -_523._ _i_ - - O friend! I know not which way I must look - For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, - To think that now our life is only drest - For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, - Or groom!--We must run glittering like a brook - In the open sunshine, or we are unblest: - The wealthiest man among us is the best: - No grandeur now in nature or in book - Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, - This is idolatry; and these we adore: - Plain living and high thinking are no more: - The homely beauty of the good old cause - Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence, - And pure religion breathing household laws. - - -_524._ _ii_ - - Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour: - England hath need of thee: she is a fen - Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, - Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, - Have forfeited their ancient English dower - Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; - O raise us up, return to us again, - And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power! - Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart; - Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea: - Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, - So didst thou travel on life’s common way, - In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart - The lowliest duties on herself did lay. - - -_525._ _iii_ - - Great men have been among us; hands that penn’d - And tongues that utter’d wisdom--better none: - The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington, - Young Vane, and others who call’d Milton friend. - These moralists could act and comprehend: - They knew how genuine glory was put on; - Taught us how rightfully a nation shone - In splendour: what strength was, that would not bend - But in magnanimous meekness. France, ’tis strange, - Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then. - Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change! - No single volume paramount, no code, - No master spirit, no determined road; - But equally a want of books and men! - - -_526._ _iv_ - - It is not to be thought of that the flood - Of British freedom, which, to the open sea - Of the world’s praise, from dark antiquity - Hath flow’d, ‘with pomp of waters, unwithstood,’-- - Roused though it be full often to a mood - Which spurns the check of salutary bands,-- - That this most famous stream in bogs and sands - Should perish; and to evil and to good - Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung - Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: - We must be free or die, who speak the tongue - That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold - Which Milton held.--In everything we are sprung - Of Earth’s first blood, have titles manifold. - - -_527._ _v_ - - When I have borne in memory what has tamed - Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart - When men change swords for ledgers, and desert - The student’s bower for gold, some fears unnamed - I had, my Country--am I to be blamed? - Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art, - Verily, in the bottom of my heart, - Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. - For dearly must we prize thee; we who find - In thee a bulwark for the cause of men; - And I by my affection was beguiled: - What wonder if a Poet now and then, - Among the many movements of his mind, - Felt for thee as a lover or a child! - -_528._ _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? - - Whatever 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 listen'd, motionless and still; - And, as I mounted up the hill, - The music in my heart I bore, - Long after it was heard no more. - -_529._ _Perfect Woman_ - - She was a phantom of delight - When first she gleam’d upon my sight; - A lovely apparition, sent - To be a moment’s ornament; - Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; - Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair; - But all things else about her drawn - From May-time and the cheerful dawn; - A dancing shape, an image gay, - To haunt, to startle, and waylay. - - - I saw her upon nearer view, - A Spirit, yet a Woman too! - Her household motions light and free, - And steps of virgin liberty; - A countenance in which did meet - Sweet records, promises as sweet; - A creature not too bright or good - For human nature’s daily food; - For transient sorrows, simple wiles, - Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. - - And now I see with eye serene - The very pulse of the machine; - A being breathing thoughtful breath, - A traveller between life and death; - The reason firm, the temperate will, - Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; - A perfect Woman, nobly plann’d, - To warn, to comfort, and command; - And yet a Spirit still, and bright - With something of angelic light. - - -_530._ _Daffodils_ - - I wander’d lonely as a cloud - That floats on high o’er vales and hills, - When all at once I saw a crowd, - A host, of golden daffodils; - Beside the lake, beneath the trees, - Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. - - Continuous as the stars that shine - And twinkle on the Milky Way, - They stretch’d in never-ending line - Along the margin of a bay: - Ten thousand saw I at a glance, - Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. - - The waves beside them danced, but they - Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: - A poet could not but be gay, - In such a jocund company: - I gazed--and gazed--but little thought - What wealth the show to me had brought: - - For oft, when on my couch I lie - In vacant or in pensive mood, - They flash upon that inward eye - Which is the bliss of solitude; - And then my heart with pleasure fills, - And dances with the daffodils. - - -_531._ _Ode to Duty_ - - Stern Daughter of the Voice of God! - O Duty! if that name thou love, - Who art a light to guide, a rod - To check the erring and reprove; - Thou, who art victory and law - When empty terrors overawe; - From vain temptations dost set free; - And calm’st the weary strife of frail humanity! - - There are who ask not if thine eye - Be on them; who, in love and truth, - Where no misgiving is, rely - Upon the genial sense of youth: - Glad hearts! without reproach or blot; - Who do thy work, and know it not: - O, if through confidence misplaced - They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast. - - Serene will be our days and bright, - And happy will our nature be, - When love is an unerring light, - And joy its own security. - And they a blissful course may hold - Even now, who, not unwisely bold, - Live in the spirit of this creed; - Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need. - - I, loving freedom, and untried; - No sport of every random gust, - Yet being to myself a guide, - Too blindly have reposed my trust: - And oft, when in my heart was heard - Thy timely mandate, I deferr’d - The task, in smoother walks to stray; - But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. - - Through no disturbance of my soul, - Or strong compunction in me wrought, - I supplicate for thy control; - But in the quietness of thought. - Me this uncharter’d freedom tires; - I feel the weight of chance-desires; - My hopes no more must change their name, - I long for a repose that ever is the same. - - Yet not the less would I throughout - Still act according to the voice - Of my own wish; and feel past doubt - That my submissiveness was choice: - Not seeking in the school of pride - For ‘precepts over dignified,’ - Denial and restraint I prize - No farther than they breed a second Will more wise. - - Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear - The Godhead’s most benignant grace; - Nor know we anything so fair - As is the smile upon thy face: - Flowers laugh before thee on their beds, - And fragrance in thy footing treads; - Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong; - And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong. - - To humbler functions, awful Power! - I call thee: I myself commend - Unto thy guidance from this hour; - O, let my weakness have an end! - Give unto me, made lowly wise, - The spirit of self-sacrifice; - The confidence of reason give; - And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live! - - -_532._ _The Rainbow_ - - My heart leaps up when I behold - A rainbow in the sky: - So was it when my life began; - So is it now I am a man; - So be it when I shall grow old, - Or let me die! - The Child is father of the Man; - And I could wish my days to be - Bound each to each by natural piety. - - -_The Sonnet_ - - -_533._ _i_ - - Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room, - And hermits are contented with their cells, - And students with their pensive citadels; - Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom, - Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom, - High as the highest peak of Furness fells, - Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells: - In truth the prison unto which we doom - Ourselves no prison is: and hence for me, - In sundry moods, ’twas pastime to be bound - Within the Sonnet’s scanty plot of ground; - Pleased if some souls (for such there needs must be) - Who have felt the weight of too much liberty, - Should find brief solace there, as I have found. - - -_534._ _ii_ - - Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frown'd, - Mindless of its just honours; with this key - Shakespeare unlock'd his heart; the melody - Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound; - A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound; - With it Camöens sooth'd an exile's grief; - The Sonnet glitter'd a gay myrtle leaf - Amid the cypress with which Dante crown'd - His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp, - It cheer'd mild Spenser, call'd from Faery-land - To struggle through dark ways; and when a damp - Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand - The Thing became a trumpet; whence he blew - Soul-animating strains--alas, too few! - -_535._ _The World_ - - The world is too much with us; late and soon, - Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: - Little we see in Nature that is ours; - We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! - This sea that bares her bosom to the moon; - The winds that will be howling at all hours, - And are up-gather’d now like sleeping flowers; - For this, for everything, we are out of tune; - It moves us not.--Great God! I’d rather be - A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; - So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, - Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; - Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; - Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn. - - -_536._ _Ode_ - -_Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood_ - - There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, - The earth, and every common sight, - To me did seem - Apparell’d in celestial light, - The glory and the freshness of a dream, - It is not now as it hath been of yore;-- - Turn wheresoe’er I may, - By night or day, - The things which I have seen I now can see no more. - The rainbow comes and goes, - And lovely is the rose; - The moon doth with delight - Look round her when the heavens are bare; - Waters on a starry night - Are beautiful and fair; - The sunshine is a glorious birth; - But yet I know, where’er I go, - That there hath pass’d away a glory from the earth. - - Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, - And while the young lambs bound - As to the tabor’s sound, - To me alone there came a thought of grief: - A timely utterance gave that thought relief, - And I again am strong: - The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; - No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; - I hear the echoes through the mountains throng, - The winds come to me from the fields of sleep, - And all the earth is gay; - Land and sea - Give themselves up to jollity, - And with the heart of May - Doth every beast keep holiday;-- - Thou Child of Joy, - Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy! - - Ye blessèd creatures, I have heard the call - Ye to each other make; I see - The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; - My heart is at your festival, - My head hath its coronal, - The fullness of your bliss, I feel--I feel it all. - O evil day! if I were sullen - While Earth herself is adorning, - This sweet May-morning, - And the children are culling - On every side, - In a thousand valleys far and wide, - Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm, - And the babe leaps up on his mother’s arm:-- - I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! - --But there’s a tree, of many, one, - A single field which I have look’d upon, - Both of them speak of something that is gone: - The pansy at my feet - Doth the same tale repeat: - Whither is fled the visionary gleam? - Where is it now, the glory and the dream? - - Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: - The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star, - Hath had elsewhere its setting, - And cometh from afar: - Not in entire forgetfulness, - And not in utter nakedness, - But trailing clouds of glory do we come - From God, who is our home: - Heaven lies about us in our infancy! - Shades of the prison-house begin to close - Upon the growing Boy, - But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, - He sees it in his joy; - The Youth, who daily farther from the east - Must travel, still is Nature’s priest, - And by the vision splendid - Is on his way attended; - At length the Man perceives it die away, - And fade into the light of common day. - - Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; - Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, - And, even with something of a mother’s mind, - And no unworthy aim, - The homely nurse doth all she can - To make her foster-child, her inmate Man, - Forget the glories he hath known, - And that imperial palace whence he came. - - Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, - A six years’ darling of a pigmy size! - See, where ’mid work of his own hand he lies, - Fretted by sallies of his mother’s kisses, - With light upon him from his father’s eyes! - See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, - Some fragment from his dream of human life, - Shaped by himself with newly-learnèd art; - A wedding or a festival, - A mourning or a funeral; - And this hath now his heart, - And unto this he frames his song: - Then will he fit his tongue - To dialogues of business, love, or strife; - But it will not be long - Ere this be thrown aside, - And with new joy and pride - The little actor cons another part; - Filling from time to time his ‘humorous stage’ - With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, - That Life brings with her in her equipage; - As if his whole vocation - Were endless imitation. - - Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie - Thy soul’s immensity; - Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep - Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind, - That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep, - Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,-- - Mighty prophet! Seer blest! - On whom those truths do rest, - Which we are toiling all our lives to find, - In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave; - Thou, over whom thy Immortality - Broods like the Day, a master o’er a slave, - A presence which is not to be put by; - To whom the grave - Is but a lonely bed without the sense or sight - Of day or the warm light, - A place of thought where we in waiting lie; - Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might - Of heaven-born freedom on thy being’s height, - Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke - The years to bring the inevitable yoke, - Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? - Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, - And custom lie upon thee with a weight, - Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life! - O joy! that in our embers - Is something that doth live, - That nature yet remembers - What was so fugitive! - The thought of our past years in me doth breed - Perpetual benediction: not indeed - For that which is most worthy to be blest-- - Delight and liberty, the simple creed - Of childhood, whether busy or at rest, - With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:-- - Not for these I raise - The song of thanks and praise; - But for those obstinate questionings - Of sense and outward things, - Fallings from us, vanishings; - Blank misgivings of a Creature - Moving about in worlds not realized, - High instincts before which our mortal Nature - Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised: - But for those first affections, - Those shadowy recollections, - Which, be they what they may, - Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, - Are yet a master-light of all our seeing; - Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make - Our noisy years seem moments in the being - Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, - To perish never: - Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, - Nor Man nor Boy, - Nor all that is at enmity with joy, - Can utterly abolish or destroy! - Hence in a season of calm weather - Though inland far we be, - Our souls have sight of that immortal sea - Which brought us hither, - Can in a moment travel thither, - And see the children sport upon the shore, - And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. - - Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song! - And let the young lambs bound - As to the tabor’s sound! - We in thought will join your throng, - Ye that pipe and ye that play, - Ye that through your hearts to-day - Feel the gladness of the May! - What though the radiance which was once so bright - Be now for ever taken from my sight, - Though nothing can bring back the hour - Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; - We will grieve not, rather find - Strength in what remains behind; - In the primal sympathy - Which having been must ever be; - In the soothing thoughts that spring - Out of human suffering; - In the faith that looks through death, - In years that bring the philosophic mind. - - And O ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, - Forebode not any severing of our loves! - Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; - I only have relinquished one delight - To live beneath your more habitual sway. - I love the brooks which down their channels fret, - Even more than when I tripp’d lightly as they; - The innocent brightness of a new-born Day - Is lovely yet; - The clouds that gather round the setting sun - Do take a sober colouring from an eye - That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality; - Another race hath been, and other palms are won. - Thanks to the human heart by which we live, - Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, - To me the meanest flower that blows can give - Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. - - -_537._ _Desideria_ - - Surprised by joy--impatient as the Wind - I turned to share the transport--O! with whom - But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb, - That spot which no vicissitude can find? - Love, faithful love, recall'd thee to my mind-- - But how could I forget thee? Through what power, - Even for the least division of an hour, - Have I been so beguiled as to be blind - To my most grievous loss?--That thought's return - Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, - Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, - Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more; - That neither present time, nor years unborn - Could to my sight that heavenly face restore. - - -_538._ _Valedictory Sonnet to the River Duddon_ - - I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide, - As being pass’d away.--Vain sympathies! - For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes, - I see what was, and is, and will abide; - Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide; - The Form remains, the Function never dies; - While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, - We Men, who in our morn of youth defied - The elements, must vanish;--be it so! - Enough, if something from our hands have power - To live, and act, and serve the future hour; - And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, - Through love, through hope, and faith’s transcendent dower, - We feel that we are greater than we know. - - -_539._ _Mutability_ - - From low to high doth dissolution climb, - And sink from high to low, along a scale - Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail; - A musical but melancholy chime, - Which they can hear who meddle not with crime. - Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care. - Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear - The longest date do melt like frosty rime, - That in the morning whiten’d hill and plain - And is no more; drop like the tower sublime - Of yesterday, which royally did wear - His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain - Some casual shout that broke the silent air, - Or the unimaginable touch of Time. - - -_540._ _The Trosachs_ - - There’s not a nook within this solemn Pass - But were an apt confessional for one - Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone, - That Life is but a tale of morning grass - Wither’d at eve. From scenes of art which chase - That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes - Feed it ’mid Nature’s old felicities, - Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glass - Untouch’d, unbreathed upon. Thrice happy quest, - If from a golden perch of aspen spray - (October’s workmanship to rival May) - The pensive warbler of the ruddy breast - That moral sweeten by a heaven-taught lay, - Lulling the year, with all its cares, to rest! - - -_541._ _Speak!_ - - Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant - Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air - Of absence withers what was once so fair? - Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant? - Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant-- - Bound to thy service with unceasing care, - The mind’s least generous wish a mendicant - For naught but what thy happiness could spare. - Speak--though this soft warm heart, once free to hold - A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine, - Be left more desolate, more dreary cold - Than a forsaken bird’s-nest fill’d with snow - ’Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine-- - Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know! - - - - -SIR WALTER SCOTT - -1771-1832 - - -_542._ _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 glow-worm o’er grave and stone - Shall light thee steady; - The owl from the steeple sing - Welcome, proud lady!’ - - -_543._ _Brignall Banks_ - - O Brignall banks are wild and fair, - And Greta woods are green, - And you may gather garlands there, - Would grace a summer queen: - And as I rode by Dalton Hall, - Beneath the turrets high, - A Maiden on the castle wall - Was singing merrily:-- - - - ‘O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair, - And Greta woods are green! - I’d rather rove with Edmund there - Than reign our English Queen.’ - - ‘If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me - To leave both tower and town, - Thou first must guess what life lead we, - That dwell by dale and down: - And if thou canst that riddle read, - As read full well you may, - Then to the green-wood shalt thou speed - As blithe as Queen of May.’ - - Yet sung she, ‘Brignall banks are fair, - And Greta woods are green! - I’d rather rove with Edmund there - Than reign our English Queen. - - ‘I read you by your bugle horn - And by your palfrey good, - I read you for a Ranger sworn - To keep the King’s green-wood.’ - ‘A Ranger, Lady, winds his horn, - And ’tis at peep of light; - His blast is heard at merry morn, - And mine at dead of night.’ - - Yet sung she, ‘Brignall banks are fair, - And Greta woods are gay! - I would I were with Edmund there, - To reign his Queen of May! - - ‘With burnish’d brand and musketoon - So gallantly you come, - I read you for a bold Dragoon, - That lists the tuck of drum.’ - ‘I list no more the tuck of drum, - No more the trumpet hear; - But when the beetle sounds his hum, - My comrades take the spear. - - ‘And O! though Brignall banks be fair, - And Greta woods be gay, - Yet mickle must the maiden dare, - Would reign my Queen of May! - - ‘Maiden! a nameless life I lead, - A nameless death I’ll die; - The fiend whose lantern lights the mead - Were better mate than I! - And when I’m with my comrades met - Beneath the green-wood bough, - What once we were we all forget, - Nor think what we are now.’ - - _Chorus._ Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, - And Greta woods are green, - And you may gather flowers there - Would grace a summer queen. - - -_544._ _Lucy Ashton’s Song_ - - Look not thou on beauty’s charming; - Sit thou still when kings are arming; - Taste not when the wine-cup glistens; - Speak not when the people listens; - Stop thine ear against the singer; - From the red gold keep thy finger; - Vacant heart and hand and eye, - Easy live and quiet die. - - -_545._ _Answer_ - - Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife! - To all the sensual world proclaim, - One crowded hour of glorious life - Is worth an age without a name. - - -_546._ _The Rover’s Adieu_ - - 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 doublet of the Lincoln green-- - No more of me ye knew, - My Love! - No more of me ye 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 turn’d 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.’ - - -_Patriotism_ - - -_547._ _1. Innominatus_ - - Breathes there the man with soul so dead, - Who never to himself hath said, - ‘This is my own, my native land!’ - Whose heart hath ne’er within him burn’d - As home his footsteps he hath turn’d - From wandering on a foreign strand? - If such there breathe, go, mark him well; - For him no Minstrel raptures swell; - High though his titles, proud his name, - Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; - Despite those titles, power, and pelf, - The wretch, concentred all in self, - Living, shall forfeit fair renown, - And, doubly dying, shall go down - To the vile dust from whence he sprung, - Unwept, unhonour’d, and unsung. - - -_548._ _2. Nelson, Pitt, Fox_ - - To mute and to material things - New life revolving summer brings; - The genial call dead Nature hears, - And in her glory reappears. - But oh, my Country’s wintry state - What second spring shall renovate? - What powerful call shall bid arise - The buried warlike and the wise; - The mind that thought for Britain’s weal, - The hand that grasp’d the victor steel? - The vernal sun new life bestows - Even on the meanest flower that blows; - But vainly, vainly may he shine - Where glory weeps o’er NELSON’S shrine; - And vainly pierce the solemn gloom - That shrouds, O PITT, thy hallow’d tomb! - - Deep graved in every British heart, - O never let those names depart! - Say to your sons,--Lo, here his grave, - Who victor died on Gadite wave! - To him, as to the burning levin, - Short, bright, resistless course was given. - Where’er his country’s foes were found - Was heard the fated thunder’s sound, - Till burst the bolt on yonder shore, - Roll’d, blazed, destroy’d--and was no more. - - Nor mourn ye less his perish’d worth, - Who bade the conqueror go forth, - And launch’d that thunderbolt of war - On Egypt, Hafnia, Trafalgar; - Who, born to guide such high emprise, - For Britain’s weal was early wise; - Alas! to whom the Almighty gave, - For Britain’s sins, an early grave! - --His worth, who in his mightiest hour - A bauble held the pride of power, - Spurn’d at the sordid lust of pelf, - And served his Albion for herself; - Who, when the frantic crowd amain - Strain’d at subjection’s bursting rein, - O’er their wild mood full conquest gain’d, - The pride he would not crush, restrain’d, - Show’d their fierce zeal a worthier cause, - And brought the freeman’s arm to aid the freeman’s laws. - - Hadst thou but lived, though stripp’d of power, - A watchman on the lonely tower, - Thy thrilling trump had roused the land, - When fraud or danger were at hand; - By thee, as by the beacon-light, - Our pilots had kept course aright; - As some proud column, though alone, - Thy strength had propp’d the tottering throne. - Now is the stately column broke, - The beacon-light is quench’d in smoke, - The trumpet’s silver voice is still, - The warder silent on the hill! - - O think, how to his latest day, - When Death, just hovering, claim’d his prey. - With Palinure’s unalter’d mood - Firm at his dangerous post he stood; - Each call for needful rest repell’d, - With dying hand the rudder held, - Till in his fall with fateful sway - The steerage of the realm gave way. - Then--while on Britain’s thousand plains - One unpolluted church remains, - Whose peaceful bells ne’er sent around - The bloody tocsin’s maddening sound, - But still upon the hallow’d day - Convoke the swains to praise and pray; - While faith and civil peace are dear, - Grace this cold marble with a tear:-- - He who preserved them, PITT, lies here! - - Nor yet suppress the generous sigh, - Because his rival slumbers nigh; - Nor be thy _Requiescat_ dumb - Lest it be said o’er Fox’s tomb. - For talents mourn, untimely lost, - When best employ’d, and wanted most; - Mourn genius high, and lore profound, - And wit that loved to play, not wound; - And all the reasoning powers divine - To penetrate, resolve, combine; - And feelings keen, and fancy’s glow-- - They sleep with him who sleeps below: - And, if thou mourn’st they could not save - From error him who owns this grave, - Be every harsher thought suppress’d, - And sacred be the last long rest. - _Here_, where the end of earthly things - Lays heroes, patriots, bards, and kings; - Where stiff the hand, and still the tongue, - Of those who fought, and spoke, and sung; - _Here_, where the fretted vaults prolong - The distant notes of holy song, - As if some angel spoke agen, - ‘All peace on earth, good-will to men’; - If ever from an English heart, - O, _here_ let prejudice depart, - And, partial feeling cast aside, - Record that Fox a Briton died! - When Europe crouch’d to France’s yoke, - And Austria bent, and Prussia broke, - And the firm Russian’s purpose brave - Was bartered by a timorous slave-- - Even then dishonour’s peace he spurn’d, - The sullied olive-branch return’d, - Stood for his country’s glory fast, - And nail’d her colours to the mast! - Heaven, to reward his firmness, gave - A portion in this honour’d grave; - And ne’er held marble in its trust - Of two such wondrous men the dust. - - With more than mortal powers endow’d, - How high they soar’d above the crowd! - Theirs was no common party race, - Jostling by dark intrigue for place; - Like fabled gods, their mighty war - Shook realms and nations in its jar; - Beneath each banner proud to stand, - Look’d up the noblest of the land, - Till through the British world were known - The names of PITT and FOX alone. - Spells of such force no wizard grave - E’er framed in dark Thessalian cave, - Though his could drain the ocean dry, - And force the planets from the sky. - These spells are spent, and, spent with these, - The wine of life is on the lees. - Genius, and taste, and talent gone, - For ever tomb’d beneath the stone, - Where--taming thought to human pride!-- - The mighty chiefs sleep side by side. - Drop upon Fox’s grave the tear, - ’Twill trickle to his rival’s bier; - O’er PITT’s the mournful requiem sound, - And FOX’s shall the notes rebound. - The solemn echo seems to cry, - ‘Here let their discord with them die. - Speak not for those a separate doom - Whom fate made Brothers in the tomb; - But search the land of living men, - Where wilt thou find their like agen?’ - - - - -SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE - -1772-1834 - - -_549._ _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_ - - -PART I - -[Sidenote: An ancient Mariner meeteth three gallants bidden to a wedding -feast, and detaineth one.] - - 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 open’d 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. - -[Sidenote: The Wedding-Guest is spellbound by the eye of the old -seafaring man, and constrained to hear his tale.] - - 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 cheer’d, the harbour clear’d, - Merrily did we drop - Below the kirk, below the hill, - Below the lighthouse top. - -[Sidenote: The Mariner tells how the ship sailed southward with a good -wind and fair weather, till it reached the Line.] - - 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. - -[Sidenote: The Wedding Guest heareth the bridal music; but the Mariner -continueth his tale.] - - 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. - -[Sidenote: The ship drawn by a storm toward the South Pole.] - - ‘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 roar’d 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. - -[Sidenote: The land of ice, and of fearful sounds, where no living thing -was to be seen.] - - 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 crack’d and growl’d, and roar’d and howl’d, - Like noises in a swound! - -[Sidenote: Till a great sea-bird, called the Albatross, came through the -snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitality.] - - At length did cross an Albatross, - Thorough the fog it came; - As if it had been a Christian soul, - We hail’d 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 steer’d us through! - -[Sidenote: And lo! the Albatross proveth a bird of good omen, and -followeth the ship as it returned northward through fog and floating -ice.] - - And a good south wind sprung up behind; - The Albatross did follow, - And every day, for food or play, - Came to the mariners’ hollo! - - - In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, - It perch’d for vespers nine; - Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, - Glimmer’d the white moonshine.’ - -[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the pious bird of -good omen.] - - ‘God save thee, ancient Mariner, - From the fiends, that plague thee thus!-- - Why look’st thou so?’--‘With my crossbow - 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! - -[Sidenote: His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner for killing -the bird of good luck.] - - And I had done a hellish thing, - And it would work ’em woe: - For all averr’d I had kill’d the bird - That made the breeze to blow. - Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay, - That made the breeze to blow! - -[Sidenote: But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus -make themselves accomplices in the crime.] - - Nor dim nor red, like God’s own head, - The glorious Sun uprist: - Then all averr’d I had kill’d the bird - That brought the fog and mist. - ’Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, - That bring the fog and mist. - -[Sidenote: The fair breeze continues; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, -and sails northward, even till it reaches the Line.] - - The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, - The furrow follow’d free; - We were the first that ever burst - Into that silent sea. - -[Sidenote: The ship hath been suddenly becalmed.] - - 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. - -[Sidenote: And the Albatross begins to be avenged.] - - Water, water, everywhere, - And all the boards did shrink; - Water, water, everywhere, - 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. - -[Sidenote: A Spirit had followed them, one of the invisible inhabitants -of this planet, neither departed souls nor angels; concerning whom the -learned Jew, Josephus, and the Platonic Constantinopolitan, Michael -Psellus, may be consulted. They are very numerous, and there is no -climate or element without one or more.] - - And some in dreams assurèd were - Or the Spirit that plagued us so; - Nine fathom deep he had follow’d us - From the land of mist and snow. - - And every tongue, through utter drought, - Was wither’d at the root; - We could not speak, no more than if - We had been choked with soot. - -[Sidenote: The shipmates in their sore distress, would fain throw the -whole guilt on the ancient Mariner: in sign whereof they hang the dead -sea-bird round his neck.] - - 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 - -[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar -off.] - - ‘There passed a weary time. Each throat - Was parch’d, 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 seem’d a little speck, - And then it seem’d 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 near’d and near’d: - As if it dodged a water-sprite, - It plunged, and tack’d, and veer’d. - -[Sidenote: At its nearer approach, it seemeth him to be a ship; and at a -dear ransom he freeth his speech from the bonds of thirst.] - - 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 suck’d the blood, - And cried, A sail! a sail! - -[Sidenote: A flash of joy;] - - 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. - -[Sidenote: And horror follows. For can it be a ship that comes onward -without wind or tide?] - - 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 aflame, - The day was wellnigh done! - Almost upon the western wave - Rested the broad, bright Sun; - When that strange shape drove suddenly - Betwixt us and the Sun. - -[Sidenote: It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship.] - - And straight the Sun was fleck’d with bars - (Heaven’s Mother send us grace!), - As if through a dungeon-grate he peer’d - 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? - -[Sidenote: And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun. -The Spectre-Woman and her Death-mate, and no other, on board the -skeleton ship. Like vessel, like crew!] - - 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 Nightmare Life-in-Death was she, - Who thicks man’s blood with cold. - -[Sidenote: Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship’s crew, and -she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner.] - - 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. - -[Sidenote: No twilight within the courts of the Sun.] - - 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. - -[Sidenote: At the rising of the Moon,] - - We listen’d and look’d sideways up! - Fear at my heart, as at a cup, - My life-blood seem’d to sip! - The stars were dim, and thick the night, - The steersman’s face by his lamp gleam’d 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. - -[Sidenote: One after another,] - - One after one, by the star-dogg’d Moon, - Too quick for groan or sigh, - Each turn’d his face with a ghastly pang, - And cursed me with his eye. - -[Sidenote: His shipmates drop down dead.] - - Four times fifty living men - (And I heard nor sigh nor groan), - With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, - They dropp’d down one by one. - -[Sidenote: But Life-in-Death begins her work on the ancient Mariner.] - - The souls did from their bodies fly-- - They fled to bliss or woe! - And every soul, it pass’d me by - Like the whizz of my crossbow!’ - - -PART IV - -[Sidenote: The Wedding-Guest feareth that a spirit is talking to him.] - - ‘I fear thee, ancient Mariner! - I fear thy skinny hand! - And thou art long, and lank, and brown, - As is the ribb’d sea-sand. - -[Sidenote: But the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and -proceedeth to relate his horrible penance.] - - 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. - -[Sidenote: He despiseth the creatures of the calm.] - - The many men, so beautiful! - And they all dead did lie: - And a thousand thousand slimy things - Lived on; and so did I. - -[Sidenote: And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead.] - - I look’d upon the rotting sea, - And drew my eyes away; - I look’d upon the rotting deck, - And there the dead men lay. - - - I look’d 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; - But 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. - -[Sidenote: But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men.] - - The cold sweat melted from their limbs, - Nor rot nor reek did they: - The look with which they look’d on me - Had never pass’d 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. - -[Sidenote: In his loneliness and fixedness he yearneth towards the Moon, -and the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward; and everywhere -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.] - - The moving Moon went up the sky, - And nowhere did abide; - Softly she was going up, - And a star or two beside-- - - Her beams bemock’d 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. - -[Sidenote: By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God’s creatures of the -great calm.] - - Beyond the shadow of the ship, - I watch’d the water-snakes: - They moved in tracks of shining white, - And when they rear’d, the elfish light - Fell off in hoary flakes. - - Within the shadow of the ship - I watch’d their rich attire: - Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, - They coil’d and swam; and every track - Was a flash of golden fire. - -[Sidenote: Their beauty and their happiness.] - -[Sidenote: He blesseth them in his heart.] - - O happy living things! no tongue - Their beauty might declare: - A spring of love gush’d from my heart, - And I bless’d them unaware: - Sure my kind saint took pity on me, - And I bless’d them unaware. - -[Sidenote: The spell begins to break.] - - The selfsame moment I could pray; - And from my neck so free - The Albatross fell off, and sank - Like lead into the sea. - - -PART V - - ‘O 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. - -[Sidenote: By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed -with rain.] - - The silly buckets on the deck, - That had so long remain’d, - I dreamt that they were fill’d with dew; - And when I awoke, it rain’d. - - - 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. - -[Sidenote: He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in -the sky and the element.] - - 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 pour’d 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. - -[Sidenote: The bodies of the ship’s crew are inspired, and the ship -moves on;] - - 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 groan’d, they stirr’d, 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 steer’d, 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 pull’d at one rope, - But he said naught to me.’ - -[Sidenote: But not by the souls of the men, nor by demons of earth or -middle air, but by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the -invocation of the guardian saint.] - - ‘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 dawn’d--they dropp’d their arms, - And cluster’d round the mast; - Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, - And from their bodies pass’d. - - Around, around, flew each sweet sound, - Then darted to the Sun; - Slowly the sounds came back again, - Now mix’d, now one by one. - - Sometimes a-dropping from the sky - I heard the skylark sing; - Sometimes all little birds that are, - How they seem’d 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 quietly sail’d on, - Yet never a breeze did breathe: - Slowly and smoothly went the ship, - Moved onward from beneath. - -[Sidenote: The lonesome Spirit from the South Pole carries on the ship -as far as the Line, in obedience to the angelic troop, but still -requireth vengeance.] - - 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 fix’d 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. - -[Sidenote: The Polar Spirit’s fellow-demons, the invisible inhabitants -of the element, take part in his wrong; and two of them relate, one to -the other, that penance long and heavy for the ancient Mariner hath been -accorded to the Polar Spirit, who returneth southward.] - - How long in that same fit I lay, - I have not to declare; - But ere my living life return’d, - I heard, and in my soul discern’d - 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! how graciously - She looketh down on him.” - -[Sidenote: The Mariner hath been cast into a trance; for the angelic -power causeth the vessel to drive northward faster than human life could -endure.] - - _First Voice_: - - “But why drives on that ship so fast, - Without or 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.’ - -[Sidenote: The super-natural motion is retarded; the Mariner awakes, and -his penance begins anew.] - - 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 fix’d on me their stony eyes, - That in the Moon did glitter. - - The pang, the curse, with which they died. - Had never pass’d away: - I could not draw my eyes from theirs, - Nor turn them up to pray. - -[Sidenote: The curse is finally expiated.] - - And now this spell was snapt: once more - I viewed the ocean green, - And look’d 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 fann’d 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 sail’d softly too: - Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze-- - On me alone it blew. - -[Sidenote: And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country.] - - O dream of joy! is this indeed - The lighthouse 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 steep’d in silentness - The steady weathercock. - -[Sidenote: The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies,] - - And the bay was white with silent light - Till rising from the same, - Full many shapes, that shadows were, - In crimson colours came. - -[Sidenote: And appear in their own forms of light.] - - A little distance from the prow - Those crimson shadows were: - I turn’d my eyes upon the deck-- - O 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 O, 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 turn’d 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 - -[Sidenote: The Hermit of the Wood.] - - ‘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 near’d: I heard them talk, - “Why, this is strange, I trow! - Where are those lights so many and fair, - That signal made but now?” - -[Sidenote: Approacheth the ship with wonder.] - - “Strange, by my faith!” the Hermit said-- - “And they answer’d not our cheer! - The planks look warp’d! 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-fear’d.”--“Push on, push on!” - Said the Hermit cheerily. - - The boat came closer to the ship, - But I nor spake nor stirr’d; - The boat came close beneath the ship, - And straight a sound was heard. - -[Sidenote: The ship suddenly sinketh.] - - Under the water it rumbled on, - Still louder and more dread: - It reach’d the ship, it split the bay; - The ship went down like lead. - -[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot’s boat.] - - Stunn’d by that loud and dreadful sound, - Which sky and ocean smote, - Like one that hath been seven days drown’d - 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 shriek’d - And fell down in a fit; - The holy Hermit raised his eyes, - And pray’d where he did sit. - - - I took the oars: the Pilot’s boy, - Who now doth crazy go, - Laugh’d 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 stepp’d forth from the boat, - And scarcely he could stand. - -[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to -shrieve him; and the penance of life falls on him.] - - “O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!” - The Hermit cross’d his brow. - “Say quick,” quoth he, “I bid thee say-- - What manner of man art thou?” - - Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench’d - With a woful agony, - Which forced me to begin my tale; - And then it left me free. - -[Sidenote: And ever and anon throughout his future life an agony -constraineth him to travel from land to land;] - - 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! - -[Sidenote: And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all -things that God made and loveth.] - - 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 - Turn’d from the bridegroom’s door, - - He went like one that hath been stunn’d, - And is of sense forlorn: - A sadder and a wiser man - He rose the morrow morn. - - -_550._ _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 there were gardens bright with sinuous rills - Where blossom’d many an incense-bearing tree; - And here were forests ancient as the hills, - Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. - - But O, 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 reach’d 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 play’d, - 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. - - -_551._ _Love_ - - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, - Whatever stirs this mortal frame, - All are but ministers of Love, - And feed his sacred flame. - - Oft in my waking dreams do I - Live o’er again that happy hour, - When midway on the mount I lay, - Beside the ruin’d tower. - - The moonshine, stealing o’er the scene, - Had blended with the lights of eve; - And she was there, my hope, my joy, - My own dear Genevieve! - - She lean’d against the armèd man, - The statue of the armèd Knight; - She stood and listen’d to my lay, - Amid the lingering light. - - Few sorrows hath she of her own, - My hope! my joy! my Genevieve! - She loves me best whene’er I sing - The songs that make her grieve. - - I play’d a soft and doleful air; - I sang an old and moving story-- - An old rude song, that suited well - That ruin wild and hoary. - - She listen’d with a flitting blush, - With downcast eyes and modest grace; - For well she knew I could not choose - But gaze upon her face. - - I told her of the Knight that wore - Upon his shield a burning brand; - And that for ten long years he woo’d - The Lady of the Land. - - I told her how he pined: and ah! - The deep, the low, the pleading tone - With which I sang another’s love, - Interpreted my own. - - She listened with a flitting blush, - With downcast eyes, and modest grace; - And she forgave me, that I gazed - Too fondly on her face! - - But when I told the cruel scorn - That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, - And that he cross’d 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 look’d him in the face - An angel beautiful and bright; - And that he knew it was a Fiend, - This miserable Knight! - - And that, unknowing what he did, - He leap’d amid a murderous band, - And saved from outrage worse than death - The Lady of the Land;-- - - And how she wept and clasp’d his knees; - And how she tended him in vain-- - And ever strove to expiate - The scorn that crazed his brain;-- - - And that she nursed him in a cave; - And how his madness went away, - When on the yellow forest leaves - A dying man he lay;-- - - His dying words--but when I reach’d - That tenderest strain of all the ditty, - My faltering voice and pausing harp - Disturb’d her soul with pity! - - All impulses of soul and sense - Had thrill’d my guileless Genevieve; - The music and the doleful tale, - The rich and balmy eve; - - And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, - An undistinguishable throng, - And gentle wishes long subdued, - Subdued and cherish’d long! - - She wept with pity and delight, - She blush’d with love and virgin shame; - And like the murmur of a dream, - I heard her breathe my name. - - Her bosom heaved--she stepp’d aside, - As conscious of my look she stept-- - Then suddenly, with timorous eye - She fled to me and wept. - - She half enclosed me with her arms, - She press’d me with a meek embrace; - And bending back her head, look’d up, - And gazed upon my face. - - ’Twas partly love, and partly fear, - And partly ’twas a bashful art, - That I might rather feel, than see. - The swelling of her heart. - - I calm’d her fears, and she was calm, - And told her love with virgin pride; - And so I won my Genevieve, - My bright and beauteous Bride. - - -_552._ _Youth and Age_ - - Verse, a breeze ’mid blossoms straying, - Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee-- - Both were mine! Life went a-maying - With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, - When I was young: - When I was young?--Ah, woful When: - Ah! for the change ’twixt Now and Then! - This breathing house not built with hands, - This body that does me grievous wrong, - O’er aery cliffs and glittering sands, - How lightly then it flash’d along-- - Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore, - On winding lakes and rivers wide, - That ask no aid of sail or oar, - That fear no spite of wind or tide! - Naught cared this body for wind or weather - When Youth and I lived in ’t together. - - Flowers are lovely! Love is flower-like; - Friendship is a sheltering tree; - O the joys, that came down shower-like, - Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty, - Ere I was old! - Ere I was old? Ah, woful Ere, - Which tells me, Youth’s no longer here! - O Youth! for years so many and sweet, - ’Tis known that thou and I were one; - I’ll think it but a fond conceit-- - It cannot be that thou art gone! - Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll’d-- - And thou wert aye a masker bold! - What strange disguise hast now put on, - To make believe that thou art gone? - I see these locks in silvery slips, - This drooping gait, this alter’d size: - But springtide blossoms on thy lips, - And tears take sunshine from thine eyes! - Life is but thought: so think I will - That Youth and I are housemates still. - - Dewdrops are the gems of morning, - But the tears of mournful eve! - Where no hope is, life’s a warning - That only serves to make us grieve, - When we are old! - That only serves to make us grieve - With oft and tedious taking-leave, - Like some poor nigh-related guest - That may not rudely be dismist. - Yet hath outstay’d his welcome while, - And tells the jest without the smile. - - -_553._ _Time, Real and Imaginary_ - -AN ALLEGORY - - On the wide level of a mountain’s head - (I knew not where, but ’twas some faery place), - Their pinions, ostrich-like, for sails outspread, - Two lovely children run an endless race, - A sister and a brother! - This far outstripp’d the other; - Yet ever runs she with reverted face, - And looks and listens for the boy behind: - For he, alas! is blind! - O’er rough and smooth with even step he pass’d, - And knows not whether he be first or last. - - -_554._ _Work without Hope_ - - All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair-- - The bees are stirring--birds are on the wing-- - And Winter, slumbering in the open air, - Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! - And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, - Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. - - Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, - Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. - Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, - For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! - With lips unbrighten’d, wreathless brow, I stroll: - And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul? - Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve, - And Hope without an object cannot live. - - -_555._ _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 troll’d - 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 sparking dew-drops will not stay. - Sweet month of May, - We must away; - Far, far away! - To-day! to-day!’ - - - - -ROBERT SOUTHEY - -1774-1843 - - -_556._ _His Books_ - - My days among the Dead are past; - Around me I behold, - Where’er these casual eyes are cast, - The mighty minds of old: - My never-failing friends are they, - With whom I converse day by day. - - With them I take delight in weal - And seek relief in woe; - And while I understand and feel - How much to them I owe, - My cheeks have often been bedew’d - With tears of thoughtful gratitude. - - My thoughts are with the Dead; with them - I live in long-past years, - Their virtues love, their faults condemn, - Partake their hopes and fears; - And from their lessons seek and find - Instruction with an humble mind. - - My hopes are with the Dead; anon - My place with them will be, - And I with them shall travel on - Through all Futurity; - Yet leaving here a name, I trust, - That will not perish in the dust. - - - - -WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR - -1775-1864 - - -_557._ _The Maid’s Lament_ - - I loved him not; and yet now he is gone, - I feel I am alone. - I check’d him while he spoke; yet, could he speak, - Alas! I would not check. - For reasons not to love him once I sought, - And wearied all my thought - To vex myself and him; I now would give - My love, could he but live - Who lately lived for me, and when he found - ’Twas vain, in holy ground - He hid his face amid the shades of death. - I waste for him my breath - Who wasted his for me; but mine returns, - And this lorn bosom burns - With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, - And waking me to weep - Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years - Wept he as bitter tears. - ‘Merciful God!’ such was his latest prayer, - ‘These may she never share!’ - 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! - - -_558._ _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. - - -_559._ _Ianthe_ - - From you, Ianthe, little troubles pass - Like little ripples down a sunny river; - Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass, - Cut down, and up again as blithe as ever. - - -_560._ _Twenty Years hence_ - - Twenty years hence my eyes may grow, - If not quite dim, yet rather so; - Yet yours from others they shall know, - Twenty years hence. - - Twenty years hence, though it may hap - That I be call’d to take a nap - In a cool cell where thunder-clap - Was never heard, - - There breathe but o’er my arch of grass - A not too sadly sigh’d ‘Alas!’ - And I shall catch, ere you can pass, - That wingèd word. - - -_561._ _Verse_ - - Past ruin’d Ilion Helen lives, - Alcestis rises from the shades; - Verse calls them forth; ’tis verse that gives - Immortal youth to mortal maids. - - Soon shall Oblivion’s deepening veil - Hide all the peopled hills you see, - The gay, the proud, while lovers hail - These many summers you and me. - - -_562._ _Proud Word you never spoke_ - - Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak - Four not exempt from pride some future day. - Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek, - Over my open volume you will say, - ‘This man loved me’--then rise and trip away. - - -_563._ _Resignation_ - - Why, why repine, my pensive friend, - At pleasures slipp’d away? - Some the stern Fates will never lend, - And all refuse to stay. - - I see the rainbow in the sky, - The dew upon the grass; - I see them, and I ask not why - They glimmer or they pass. - - With folded arms I linger not - To call them back; ’twere vain: - In this, or in some other spot, - I know they’ll shine again. - - -_564._ _Mother, I cannot mind my Wheel_ - - Mother, I cannot mind my wheel; - My fingers ache, my lips are dry: - O, if you felt the pain I feel! - But O, who ever felt as I? - - No longer could I doubt him true-- - All other men may use deceit; - He always said my eyes were blue, - And often swore my lips were sweet. - - -_565._ _Autumn_ - - Mild is the parting year, and sweet - The odour of the falling spray; - Life passes on more rudely fleet, - And balmless is its closing day. - - I wait its close, I court its gloom, - But mourn that never must there fall - Or on my breast or on my tomb - The tear that would have soothed it all. - - -_566._ _Remain!_ - - Remain, ah not in youth alone! - --Tho’ youth, where you are, long will stay-- - But when my summer days are gone, - And my autumnal haste away. - ‘_Can I be always by your side?_’ - No; but the hours you can, you must, - Nor rise at Death’s approaching stride, - Nor go when dust is gone to dust. - - -_567._ _Absence_ - - Here, ever since you went abroad, - If there be change, no change I see: - I only walk our wonted road, - The road is only walk’d by me. - - Yes; I forgot; a change there is-- - Was it of _that_ you bade me tell? - I catch at times, at times I miss - The sight, the tone, I know so well. - - - Only two months since you stood here? - Two shortest months? Then tell me why - Voices are harsher than they were, - And tears are longer ere they dry. - - -_568._ _Of Clementina_ - - In Clementina’s artless mien - Lucilla asks me what I see, - And are the roses of sixteen - Enough for me? - - Lucilla asks, if that be all, - Have I not cull’d as sweet before: - Ah yes, Lucilla! and their fall - I still deplore. - - I now behold another scene, - Where Pleasure beams with Heaven’s own light, - More pure, more constant, more serene, - And not less bright. - - Faith, on whose breast the Loves repose, - Whose chain of flowers no force can sever, - And Modesty who, when she goes, - Is gone for ever. - - -_569._ _Ianthe’s Question_ - - ‘Do you remember me? or are you proud?’ - Lightly advancing thro’ her star-trimm’d crowd, - Ianthe said, and look’d into my eyes. - ‘A _yes_, a _yes_ to both: for Memory - Where you but once have been must ever be, - And at your voice Pride from his throne must rise.’ - - -_570._ _On Catullus_ - - Tell me not what too well I know - About the bard of Sirmio. - Yes, in Thalia’s son - Such stains there are--as when a Grace - Sprinkles another’s laughing face - With nectar, and runs on. - - -_571._ _Dirce_ - - Stand close around, ye Stygian set, - With Dirce in one boat convey’d! - Or Charon, seeing, may forget - That he is old and she a shade. - - -_572._ _Alciphron and Leucippe_ - - An ancient chestnut’s blossoms threw - Their heavy odour over two: - Leucippe, it is said, was one; - The other, then, was Alciphron. - ‘Come, come! why should we stand beneath - This hollow tree’s unwholesome breath?’ - Said Alciphron, ‘here’s not a blade - Of grass or moss, and scanty shade. - Come; it is just the hour to rove - In the lone dingle shepherds love; - There, straight and tall, the hazel twig - Divides the crookèd rock-held fig, - O’er the blue pebbles where the rill - In winter runs and may run still. - Come then, while fresh and calm the air, - And while the shepherds are not there.’ - - _Leucippe._ But I would rather go when they - Sit round about and sing and play. - Then why so hurry me? for you - Like play and song, and shepherds too. - - _Alciphron._ I like the shepherds very well, - And song and play, as you can tell. - But there is play, I sadly fear, - And song I would not have you hear. - - _Leucippe._ What can it be? What can it be? - - _Alciphron._ To you may none of them repeat - The play that you have play’d with me, - The song that made your bosom beat. - - _Leucippe._ Don’t keep your arm about my waist. - - _Alciphron._ Might you not stumble? - - _Leucippe._ Well then, do. - But why are we in all this haste? - - _Alciphron._ To sing. - - _Leucippe._ Alas! and not play too? - - -_573._ _Years_ - - Years, many parti-colour’d years, - Some have crept on, and some have flown - Since first before me fell those tears - I never could see fall alone. - - Years, not so many, are to come, - Years not so varied, when from you - One more will fall: when, carried home, - I see it not, nor hear Adieu. - - -_574._ _Separation_ - - There is a mountain and a wood between us, - Where the lone shepherd and late bird have seen us - Morning and noon and eventide repass. - Between us now the mountain and the wood - Seem standing darker than last year they stood, - And say we must not cross--alas! alas! - - -_575._ _Late Leaves_ - - The leaves are falling; so am I; - The few late flowers have moisture in the eye; - So have I too. - Scarcely on any bough is heard - Joyous, or even unjoyous, bird - The whole wood through. - - Winter may come: he brings but nigher - His circle (yearly narrowing) to the fire - Where old friends meet. - Let him; now heaven is overcast, - And spring and summer both are past, - And all things sweet. - - -_576._ _Finis_ - - I strove with none, for none was worth my strife. - Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art: - I warm’d both hands before the fire of life; - It sinks, and I am ready to depart. - - - - -CHARLES LAMB - -1775-1834 - - -_577._ _The Old Familiar Faces_ - - I have had playmates, I have had companions, - In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days-- - All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. - - I have been laughing, I have been carousing, - Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies-- - All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. - - I loved a Love once, fairest among women: - Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her-- - All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. - - I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man: - Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly; - Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces. - - Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood, - Earth seem’d a desert I was bound to traverse, - Seeking to find the old familiar faces. - - Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother, - Why wert not thou born in my father’s dwelling? - So might we talk of the old familiar faces-- - - How some they have died, and some they have left me, - And some are taken from me; all are departed-- - All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. - - -_578._ _Hester_ - - When maidens such as Hester die - Their place ye may not well supply, - Though ye among a thousand try - With vain endeavour. - - A month or more hath she been dead, - Yet cannot I by force be led - To think upon the wormy bed - And her together. - - A springy motion in her gait, - A rising step, did indicate - Of pride and joy no common rate, - That flush’d her spirit: - - I know not by what name beside - I shall it call: if ’twas not pride, - It was a joy to that allied, - She did inherit. - - Her parents held the Quaker rule, - Which doth the human feeling cool; - But she was train’d in Nature’s school; - Nature had blest her. - - A waking eye, a prying mind; - A heart that stirs, is hard to bind; - A hawk’s keen sight ye cannot blind; - Ye could not Hester. - - My sprightly neighbour! gone before - To that unknown and silent shore, - Shall we not meet, as heretofore, - Some summer morning-- - - When from thy cheerful eyes a ray - Hath struck a bliss upon the day, - A bliss that would not go away, - A sweet forewarning? - - -_579._ _On an Infant dying as soon as born_ - - I saw where in the shroud did lurk - A curious frame of Nature’s work; - A floweret crush’d in the bud, - A nameless piece of Babyhood, - Was in her cradle-coffin lying; - Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying: - So soon to exchange the imprisoning womb - For darker closets of the tomb! - She did but ope an eye, and put - A clear beam forth, then straight up shut - For the long dark: ne’er more to see - Through glasses of mortality. - Riddle of destiny, who can show - What thy short visit meant, or know - What thy errand here below? - Shall we say that Nature blind - Check’d her hand, and changed her mind, - Just when she had exactly wrought - A finish’d pattern without fault? - Could she flag, or could she tire, - Or lack’d she the Promethean fire - (With her nine moons’ long workings sicken’d) - That should thy little limbs have quicken’d? - Limbs so firm, they seem’d to assure - Life of health, and days mature: - Woman’s self in miniature! - Limbs so fair, they might supply - (Themselves now but cold imagery) - The sculptor to make Beauty by. - Or did the stern-eyed Fate descry - That babe or mother, one must die; - So in mercy left the stock - And cut the branch; to save the shock - Of young years widow’d, and the pain - When single state comes back again - To the lone man who, reft of wife, - Thenceforward drags a maimèd life? - The economy of Heaven is dark, - And wisest clerks have miss’d the mark, - Why human buds, like this, should fall, - More brief than fly ephemeral - That has his day; while shrivell’d crones - Stiffen with age to stocks and stones; - And crabbèd use the conscience sears - In sinners of an hundred years. - Mother’s prattle, mother’s kiss, - Baby fond, thou ne’er wilt miss: - Rites, which custom does impose, - Silver bells, and baby clothes; - Coral redder than those lips - Which pale death did late eclipse; - Music framed for infants’ glee, - Whistle never tuned for thee; - Though thou want’st not, thou shalt have them, - Loving hearts were they which gave them. - Let not one be missing; nurse, - See them laid upon the hearse - Of infant slain by doom perverse. - Why should kings and nobles have - Pictured trophies to their grave, - And we, churls, to thee deny - Thy pretty toys with thee to lie-- - A more harmless vanity? - - - - -THOMAS CAMPBELL - -1774-1844 - - -_580._ _Ye Mariners of England_ - - Ye Mariners of England - That guard our native seas! - Whose flag has braved a thousand years - The battle and the breeze! - Your glorious standard launch again - To match another foe; - And sweep through the deep, - While the stormy winds do blow! - While the battle rages loud and long - And the stormy winds do blow. - - The spirits of your fathers - Shall start from every wave-- - For the deck it was their field of fame, - And Ocean was their grave: - Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell - Your manly hearts shall glow, - As ye sweep through the deep, - While the stormy winds do blow! - While the battle rages loud and long - And the stormy winds do blow. - - Britannia needs no bulwarks, - No towers along the steep; - Her march is o’er the mountain-waves, - Her home is on the deep. - With thunders from her native oak - She quells the floods below, - As they roar on the shore, - When the stormy winds do blow! - When the battle rages loud and long, - And the stormy winds do blow. - - The meteor flag of England - Shall yet terrific burn; - Till danger’s troubled night depart - And the star of peace return. - Then, then, ye ocean-warriors! - Our song and feast shall flow - To the fame of your name, - When the storm has ceased to blow! - When the fiery fight is heard no more, - And the storm has ceased to blow. - - -_581._ _The Battle of the Baltic_ - - Of Nelson and the North - Sing the glorious day’s renown, - When to battle fierce came forth - All the might of Denmark's crown, - And her arms along the deep proudly shone; - By each gun the lighted brand - In a bold determined hand, - And the Prince of all the land - Led them on. - - 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. - - But the might of England flush'd - To anticipate the scene; - And her van the fleeter rush'd - O’er the deadly space between: - ‘Hearts of oak!’ our captains cried, when each gun - From its adamantine lips - Spread a death-shade round the ships, - Like the hurricane eclipse - Of the sun. - - Again! again! again! - And the havoc did not slack, - Till a feeble cheer the Dane - To our cheering sent us back;-- - Their shots along the deep slowly boom:-- - Then ceased--and all is wail, - As they strike the shattered sail, - Or in conflagration pale - Light the gloom. - - Out spoke the victor then - As he hail'd them o'er the wave: - ‘Ye are brothers! ye are men! - And we conquer but to save:-- - - So peace instead of death let us bring - But yield, proud foe, thy fleet, - With the crews, at England’s feet, - And make submission meet - To our King.’... - - Now joy, old England, raise! - For the tidings of thy might, - By the festal cities’ blaze, - Whilst the wine-cup shines in light! - And yet amidst that joy and uproar, - Let us think of them that sleep - Full many a fathom deep, - By thy wild and stormy steep, - Elsinore! - - - - -THOMAS MOORE - -1779-1852 - - -_582._ _The Young May Moon_ - - The young May moon is beaming, love, - The glow-worm’s lamp is gleaming, love; - How sweet to rove - Through Morna’s grove, - When the drowsy world is dreaming, love! - Then awake!--the heavens look bright, my dear, - ’Tis never too late for delight, my dear; - And the best of all ways - To lengthen our days - Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear! - - Now all the world is sleeping, love, - But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love, - And I, whose star - More glorious far - Is the eye from that casement peeping, love. - Then awake!--till rise of sun, my dear, - The Sage’s glass we’ll shun, my dear, - Or in watching the flight - Of bodies of light - He might happen to take thee for one, my dear! - - -_583._ _The Irish Peasant to His Mistress_ - - Through grief and through danger thy smile hath cheer’d my way, - Till hope seem’d to bud from each thorn that round me lay; - The darker our fortune, the brighter our pure love burn’d, - Till shame into glory, till fear into zeal was turn’d: - Yes, slave as I was, in thy arms my spirit felt free, - And bless’d even the sorrows that made me more dear to thee. - - Thy rival was honour’d, while thou wert wrong’d and scorn’d; - Thy crown was of briers, while gold her brows adorn’d; - She woo’d me to temples, whilst thou lay’st hid in caves; - Her friends were all masters, while thine, alas! were slaves; - Yet cold in the earth, at thy feet, I would rather be - Than wed what I loved not, or turn one thought from thee. - - They slander thee sorely, who say thy vows are frail-- - Hadst thou been a false one, thy cheek had look’d less pale! - They say, too, so long thou hast worn those lingering chains, - That deep in thy heart they have printed their servile stains: - O, foul is the slander!--no chain could that soul subdue-- - Where shineth thy spirit, there Liberty shineth too! - - -_584._ _The Light of Other Days_ - - Oft, in the stilly night, - Ere slumber’s chain has bound me, - Fond Memory brings the light - Of other days around me: - The smiles, the tears - Of boyhood’s years, - The words of love then spoken; - The eyes that shone, - Now dimm’d and gone, - The cheerful hearts now broken! - Thus, in the stilly night, - Ere slumber’s chain has bound me, - Sad Memory brings the light - Of other days around me. - - When I remember all - The friends, so link’d together, - I’ve seen around me fall - Like leaves in wintry weather, - I feel like one - Who treads alone - Some banquet-hall deserted, - Whose lights are fled, - Whose garlands dead, - And all but he departed! - Thus, in the stilly night, - Ere slumber’s chain has bound me. - Sad Memory brings the light - Of other days around me. - - -_585._ _At the Mid Hour of Night_ - - At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly - To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye; - And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air - To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there, - And tell me our love is remembered even in the sky. - - Then I sing the wild song it once was rapture to hear, - When our voices commingling breathed like one on the ear; - And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls, - I think, O my love! ’tis thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls - Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear. - - - - -EDWARD THURLOW, LORD THURLOW - -1781-1829 - - -_586._ _May_ - - May! queen of blossoms, - And fulfilling flowers, - With what pretty music - Shall we charm the hours? - Wilt thou have pipe and reed, - Blown in the open mead? - Or to the lute give heed - In the green bowers? - - Thou hast no need of us, - Or pipe or wire; - Thou hast the golden bee - Ripen’d with fire; - And many thousand more - Songsters, that thee adore, - Filling earth’s grassy floor - With new desire. - - Thou hast thy mighty herds, - Tame and free-livers; - Doubt not, thy music too - In the deep rivers; - And the whole plumy flight - Warbling the day and night-- - Up at the gates of light, - See, the lark quivers! - - -EBENEZER ELLIOTT - -1781-1849 - - -_587._ _Battle Song_ - - Day, like our souls, is fiercely dark; - What then? ’Tis day! - We sleep no more; the cock crows--hark! - To arms! away! - They come! they come! the knell is rung - Of us or them; - Wide o’er their march the pomp is flung - Of gold and gem. - What collar’d hound of lawless sway, - To famine dear-- - What pensioned slave of Attila, - Leads in the rear? - Come they from Scythian wilds afar, - Our blood to spill? - Wear they the livery of the Czar? - They do his will. - Nor tassell’d silk, nor epaulet, - Nor plume, nor torse-- - No splendour gilds, all sternly met, - Our foot and horse. - But, dark and still, we inly glow, - Condensed in ire! - Strike, tawdry slaves, and ye shall know - Our gloom is fire. - In vain your pomp, ye evil powers, - Insults the land; - Wrongs, vengeance, and the Cause are ours, - And God’s right hand! - Madmen! they trample into snakes - The wormy clod! - Like fire, beneath their feet awakes - The sword of God! - Behind, before, above, below, - They rouse the brave; - Where’er they go, they make a foe, - Or find a grave. - - -_588._ _Plaint_ - - Dark, deep, and cold the current flows - Unto the sea where no wind blows, - Seeking the land which no one knows. - - O’er its sad gloom still comes and goes - The mingled wail of friends and foes, - Borne to the land which no one knows. - - Why shrieks for help yon wretch, who goes - With millions, from a world of woes, - Unto the land which no one knows? - - Though myriads go with him who goes, - Alone he goes where no wind blows, - Unto the land which no one knows. - - For all must go where no wind blows, - And none can go for him who goes; - None, none return whence no one knows. - - Yet why should he who shrieking goes - With millions, from a world of woes, - Reunion seek with it or those? - - Alone with God, where no wind blows, - And Death, his shadow--doom’d, he goes. - That God is there the shadow shows. - - O shoreless Deep, where no wind blows! - And thou, O Land which no one knows! - That God is All, His shadow shows. - - - - -ALLAN CUNNINGHAM - -1784-1843 - - -_589._ _The Sun rises bright in France_ - - The sun rises bright in France, - And fair sets he; - But he has tint the blythe blink he had - In my ain countree. - - O, it’s nae my ain ruin - That saddens aye my e’e, - But the dear Marie I left behin’ - Wi’ sweet bairnies three. - - _589._ tint] lost. - - My lanely hearth burn’d bonnie, - And smiled my ain Marie; - I’ve left a’ my heart behin’ - In my ain countree. - - The bud comes back to summer, - And the blossom to the bee; - But I’ll win back, O never, - To my ain countree. - - O, I am leal to high Heaven, - Where soon I hope to be, - An’ there I’ll meet ye a’ soon - Frae my ain countree! - - -_590._ _Hame, Hame, Hame_ - - Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be-- - O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree! - - When the flower is i’ the bud and the leaf is on the tree, - The larks shall sing me hame in my ain countree; - Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be-- - O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree! - - The green leaf o’ loyaltie’s beginning for to fa’, - The bonnie White Rose it is withering an’ a’; - But I’ll water ’t wi’ the blude of usurping tyrannie, - An’ green it will graw in my ain countree. - - O, there’s nocht now frae ruin my country can save, - But the keys o’ kind heaven, to open the grave; - That a’ the noble martyrs wha died for loyaltie - May rise again an’ fight for their ain countree. - - The great now are gane, a’ wha ventured to save, - The new grass is springing on the tap o’ their grave; - But the sun through the mirk blinks blythe in my e’e, - ‘I’ll shine on ye yet in your ain countree.’ - - Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be-- - O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree! - - -_591._ _The Spring of the Year_ - - Gone were but the winter cold, - And gone were but the snow, - I could sleep in the wild woods - Where primroses blow. - - Cold’s the snow at my head, - And cold at my feet; - And the finger of death’s at my e’en, - Closing them to sleep. - - Let none tell my father - Or my mother so dear,-- - I’ll meet them both in heaven - At the spring of the year. - - - - -LEIGH HUNT - -1784-1859 - - -_592._ _Jenny kiss’d Me_ - - Jenny kiss’d me when we met, - Jumping from the chair she sat in; - Time, you thief, who love to get - Sweets into your list, put that in! - Say I’m weary, say I’m sad, - Say that health and wealth have miss’d me, - Say I’m growing old, but add, - Jenny kiss’d me. - - - - -THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK - -1785-1866 - - -_593._ _Love and Age_ - - I play’d with you ’mid cowslips blowing, - When I was six and you were four; - When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing, - Were pleasures soon to please no more. - Through groves and meads, o’er grass and heather, - With little playmates, to and fro, - We wander’d hand in hand together; - But that was sixty years ago. - - You grew a lovely roseate maiden, - And still our early love was strong; - Still with no care our days were laden, - They glided joyously along; - And I did love you very dearly, - How dearly words want power to show, - I thought your heart was touch’d as nearly; - But that was fifty years ago. - - Then other lovers came around you, - Your beauty grew from year to year, - And many a splendid circle found you - The centre of its glittering sphere. - I saw you then, first vows forsaking, - On rank and wealth your hand bestow; - O, then I thought my heart was breaking!-- - But that was forty years ago. - - And I lived on, to wed another: - No cause she gave me to repine; - And when I heard you were a mother, - I did not wish the children mine. - My own young flock, in fair progression, - Made up a pleasant Christmas row: - My joy in them was past expression; - But that was thirty years ago. - - You grew a matron plump and comely, - You dwelt in fashion’s brightest blaze; - My earthly lot was far more homely; - But I too had my festal days. - No merrier eyes have ever glisten’d - Around the hearth-stone’s wintry glow, - Than when my youngest child was christen’d; - But that was twenty years ago. - - Time pass’d. My eldest girl was married, - And I am now a grandsire gray; - One pet of four years old I’ve carried - Among the wild-flower’d meads to play. - In our old fields of childish pleasure, - Where now, as then, the cowslips blow, - She fills her basket’s ample measure; - And that is not ten years ago. - - But though first love’s impassion’d blindness - Has pass’d away in colder light, - I still have thought of you with kindness, - And shall do, till our last good-night. - The ever-rolling silent hours - Will bring a time we shall not know, - When our young days of gathering flowers - Will be an hundred years ago. - - -_594._ _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 press’d 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. - - -_595._ _Three 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 thou, 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. - - - - -CAROLINE SOUTHEY - -1787-1854 - - -_596._ _To Death_ - - Come not in terrors clad, to claim - An unresisting prey: - Come like an evening shadow, Death! - So stealthily, so silently! - And shut mine eyes, and steal my breath; - Then willingly, O willingly, - With thee I’ll go away! - - What need to clutch with iron grasp - What gentlest touch may take? - What need with aspect dark to scare, - So awfully, so terribly, - The weary soul would hardly care, - Call’d quietly, call’d tenderly, - From thy dread power to break? - - ’Tis not as when thou markest out - The young, the blest, the gay, - The loved, the loving--they who dream - So happily, so hopefully; - Then harsh thy kindest call may seem, - And shrinkingly, reluctantly, - The summon’d may obey. - - - But I have drunk enough of life-- - The cup assign’d to me - Dash’d with a little sweet at best, - So scantily, so scantily-- - To know full well that all the rest - More bitterly, more bitterly, - Drugg’d to the last will be. - - And I may live to pain some heart - That kindly cares for me: - To pain, but not to bless. O Death! - Come quietly--come lovingly-- - And shut mine eyes, and steal my breath; - Then willingly, O willingly, - I’ll go away with thee! - - - - -GEORGE GORDON BYRON, LORD BYRON - -1788-1824 - -_597._ _When we Two parted_ - - When we two parted - In silence and tears, - Half broken-hearted - To sever for years, - Pale grew thy cheek and cold, - Colder thy kiss; - Truly that hour foretold - Sorrow to this. - - The dew of the morning - Sunk chill on my brow-- - It felt like the warning - Of what I feel now. - Thy vows are all broken, - And light is thy fame; - I hear thy name spoken, - And share in its shame. - - They name thee before me, - A knell to mine ear; - A shudder comes o’er me-- - Why wert thou so dear? - They know not I knew thee, - Who knew thee too well: - Long, long shall I rue thee, - Too deeply to tell. - - In secret we met-- - In silence I grieve, - That thy heart could forget, - Thy spirit deceive. - If I should meet thee - After long years, - How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears. - - -_598._ _For Music_ - - There be none of Beauty’s daughters - With a magic like thee; - And like music on the waters - Is thy sweet voice to me: - When, as if its sound were causing - The charmèd ocean’s pausing, - The waves lie still and gleaming, - And the lull’d winds seem dreaming: - - And the midnight moon is weaving - Her bright chain o’er the deep; - Whose breast is gently heaving, - As an infant’s asleep: - So the spirit bows before thee, - To listen and adore thee; - With a full but soft emotion, - Like the swell of Summer’s ocean. - - -_599._ _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. - - -_600._ _She walks in Beauty_ - - She walks in beauty, like the night - Of cloudless climes and starry skies; - And all that’s best of dark and bright - Meet in her aspect and her eyes: - Thus mellow’d to that tender light - Which heaven to gaudy day denies. - - One shade the more, one ray the less, - Had half impair’d the nameless grace - Which waves in every raven tress, - Or softly lightens o’er her face; - Where thoughts serenely sweet express - How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. - - And on that cheek, and o’er that brow, - So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, - The smiles that win, the tints that glow, - But tell of days in goodness spent, - A mind at peace with all below, - A heart whose love is innocent! - - -_601._ _The Isles of Greece_ - - The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece - Where burning Sappho loved and sung, - Where grew the arts of war and peace, - Where Delos rose, and Phœbus sprung! - Eternal summer gilds them yet, - But all, except their sun, is set. - - The Scian and the Teian muse, - The hero’s harp, the lover’s lute, - Have found the fame your shores refuse: - Their place of birth alone is mute - To sounds which echo further west - Than your sires’ ‘Islands of the Blest.’ - - The mountains look on Marathon-- - And Marathon looks on the sea; - And musing there an hour alone, - I dream’d that Greece might still be free; - For standing on the Persians’ grave, - I could not deem myself a slave. - - A king sate on the rocky brow - Which looks o’er sea-born Salamis; - And ships, by thousands, lay below, - And men in nations;--all were his! - He counted them at break of day-- - And when the sun set, where were they? - - And where are they? and where art thou, - My country? On thy voiceless shore - The heroic lay is tuneless now-- - The heroic bosom beats no more! - And must thy lyre, so long divine, - Degenerate into hands like mine? - - ’Tis something in the dearth of fame, - Though link’d among a fetter’d race, - To feel at least a patriot’s shame, - Even as I sing, suffuse my face; - For what is left the poet here? - For Greeks a blush--for Greece a tear. - - Must _we_ but weep o’er days more blest? - Must _we_ but blush?--Our fathers bled. - Earth! render back from out thy breast - A remnant of our Spartan dead! - Of the three hundred grant but three, - To make a new Thermopylæ! - - What, silent still? and silent all? - Ah! no;--the voices of the dead - Sound like a distant torrent’s fall, - And answer, ‘Let one living head, - But one, arise,--we come, we come!’ - ’Tis but the living who are dumb. - - In vain--in vain: strike other chords; - Fill high the cup with Samian wine! - Leave battles to the Turkish hordes, - And shed the blood of Scio’s vine! - Hark! rising to the ignoble call-- - How answers each bold Bacchanal! - - You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet; - Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? - Of two such lessons, why forget - The nobler and the manlier one? - You have the letters Cadmus gave-- - Think ye he meant them for a slave? - - Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! - We will not think of themes like these! - It made Anacreon’s song divine: - He served--but served Polycrates-- - A tyrant; but our masters then - Were still, at least, our countrymen. - - The tyrant of the Chersonese - Was freedom’s best and bravest friend; - _That_ tyrant was Miltiades! - O that the present hour would lend - Another despot of the kind! - Such chains as his were sure to bind. - - Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! - On Suli’s rock, and Parga’s shore, - Exists the remnant of a line - Such as the Doric mothers bore; - And there, perhaps, some seed is sown, - The Heracleidan blood might own. - - Trust not for freedom to the Franks-- - They have a king who buys and sells; - In native swords and native ranks - The only hope of courage dwells: - But Turkish force and Latin fraud - Would break your shield, however broad. - - Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! - Our virgins dance beneath the shade-- - I see their glorious black eyes shine; - But gazing on each glowing maid, - My own the burning tear-drop laves, - To think such breasts must suckle slaves. - - Place me on Sunium’s marbled steep, - Where nothing, save the waves and I, - May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; - There, swan-like, let me sing and die: - A land of slaves shall ne’er be mine-- - Dash down yon cup of Samian wine! - - - - -SIR AUBREY DE VERE - -1788-1846 - - -_602._ _The Children Band_ - - All holy influences dwell within - The breast of Childhood: instincts fresh from God - Inspire it, ere the heart beneath the rod - Of grief hath bled, or caught the plague of sin. - How mighty was that fervour which could win - Its way to infant souls!--and was the sod - Of Palestine by infant Croises trod? - Like Joseph went they forth, or Benjamin, - In all their touching beauty to redeem? - And did their soft lips kiss the Sepulchre? - Alas! the lovely pageant as a dream - Faded! They sank not through ignoble fear; - They felt not Moslem steel. By mountain, stream, - In sands, in fens, they died--no mother near! - - - - -CHARLES WOLFE - -1791-1823 - - -_603._ _The Burial of Sir John Moore after Corunna_ - - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, - As his corse to the rampart we hurried; - Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot - O’er the grave where our hero we buried. - - We buried him darkly at dead of night, - The sods with our bayonets turning, - By the struggling moonbeam’s misty light - And the lanthorn dimly burning. - - No useless coffin enclosed his breast, - Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; - But he lay like a warrior taking his rest - With his martial cloak around him. - - Few and short were the prayers we said, - And we spoke not a word of sorrow; - But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, - And we bitterly thought of the morrow. - - We thought, as we hollow’d his narrow bed - And smoothed down his lonely pillow, - That the foe and the stranger would tread o’er his head, - And we far away on the billow! - - Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone, - And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him-- - But little he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on - In the grave where a Briton has laid him. - - But half of our heavy task was done - When the clock struck the hour for retiring; - And we heard the distant and random gun - That the foe was sullenly firing. - - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, - From the field of his fame fresh and gory; - We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, - But we left him alone with his glory. - - -_604._ _To Mary_ - - If I had thought thou couldst have died, - I might not weep for thee; - But I forgot, when by thy side, - That thou couldst mortal be: - It never through my mind had past - The time would e’er be o’er, - And I on thee should look my last, - And thou shouldst smile no more! - - And still upon that face I look, - And think ’twill smile again; - And still the thought I will not brook, - That I must look in vain. - But when I speak--thou dost not say - What thou ne’er left’st unsaid; - And now I feel, as well I may, - Sweet Mary, thou art dead! - - If thou wouldst stay, e’en as thou art, - All cold and all serene-- - I still might press thy silent heart, - And where thy smiles have been. - While e’en thy chill, bleak corse I have, - Thou seemest still mine own; - But there--I lay thee in thy grave, - And I am now alone! - - I do not think, where’er thou art, - Thou hast forgotten me; - And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart - In thinking too of thee: - Yet there was round thee such a dawn - Of light ne’er seen before, - As fancy never could have drawn, - And never can restore! - - - - -PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY - -1792-1822 - - -_605._ _Hymn of Pan_ - - From the forests and highlands - We come, we come; - From the river-girt islands, - Where loud waves are dumb, - Listening to my sweet pipings. - The wind in the reeds and the rushes, - The bees on the bells of thyme, - The birds on the myrtle bushes, - The cicale above in the lime, - And the lizards below in the grass, - Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was, - Listening to my sweet pipings. - - Liquid Peneus was flowing, - And all dark Tempe lay - In Pelion’s shadow, outgrowing - The light of the dying day, - Speeded by my sweet pipings. - The Sileni and Sylvans and Fauns, - And the Nymphs of the woods and waves, - To the edge of the moist river-lawns, - And the brink of the dewy caves, - And all that did then attend and follow, - Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo, - With envy of my sweet pipings. - - I sang of the dancing stars, - I sang of the dædal earth, - And of heaven, and the giant wars, - And love, and death, and birth. - And then I changed my pipings-- - Singing how down the vale of Mænalus - I pursued a maiden, and clasp’d a reed: - Gods and men, we are all deluded thus; - It breaks in our bosom, and then we bleed. - All wept--as I think both ye now would, - If envy or age had not frozen your blood-- - At the sorrow of my sweet pipings. - - -_606._ _The Invitation_ - - 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 kiss’d 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 - Strew’d flowers upon the barren way, - Making the wintry world appear - Like one on whom thou smilest, dear. - - Away, away, from men and towns, - To the wild wood and the downs-- - To the silent wilderness - Where the soul need not repress - Its music lest it should not find - An echo in another’s mind, - While the touch of Nature’s art - Harmonizes heart to heart. - I leave this notice on my door - For each accustomed visitor:-- - ‘I am gone into the fields - To take what this sweet hour yields. - Reflection, you may come to-morrow; - Sit by the fireside with Sorrow. - You with the unpaid bill, Despair,-- - You tiresome verse-reciter, Care,-- - I will pay you in the grave,-- - Death will listen to your stave. - Expectation too, be off! - To-day is for itself enough. - Hope, in pity, mock not Woe - With smiles, nor follow where I go; - Long having lived on your sweet food, - At length I find one moment’s good - After long pain: with all your love, - This you never told me of.’ - - 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 sandhills of the sea; - When the melting hoar-frost wets - The daisy-star that never sets, - And 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. - - -_607._ _Hellas_ - - The world’s great age begins anew, - The golden years return, - The earth doth like a snake renew - Her winter weeds outworn: - Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam - Like wrecks of a dissolving dream. - - A brighter Hellas rears its mountains - From waves serener far; - A new Peneus rolls his fountains - Against the morning star; - Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep - Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep. - - A loftier Argo cleaves the main, - Fraught with a later prize; - Another Orpheus sings again, - And loves, and weeps, and dies; - A new Ulysses leaves once more - Calypso for his native shore. - - O write no more the tale of Troy, - If earth Death’s scroll must be-- - Nor mix with Laian rage the joy - Which dawns upon the free, - Although a subtler Sphinx renew - Riddles of death Thebes never knew. - - Another Athens shall arise, - And to remoter time - Bequeath, like sunset to the skies, - The splendour of its prime; - And leave, if naught so bright may live, - All earth can take or Heaven can give. - - Saturn and Love their long repose - Shall burst, more bright and good - Than all who fell, than One who rose, - Than many unsubdued: - Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers, - But votive tears and symbol flowers. - - O cease! must hate and death return? - Cease! must men kill and die? - Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn - Of bitter prophecy! - The world is weary of the past-- - O might it die or rest at last! - - -_608._ _To a Skylark_ - - Hail to thee, blithe spirit! - Bird thou never wert-- - That from heaven or near it - Pourest thy full heart - In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. - - Higher still and higher - From the earth thou springest, - Like a cloud of fire; - The blue deep thou wingest, - And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. - - In the golden light’ning - Of the sunken sun, - O’er which clouds are bright’ning, - Thou dost float and run, - Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. - - The pale purple even - Melts around thy flight; - Like a star of heaven, - In the broad daylight - Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight-- - - Keen as are the arrows - Of that silver sphere - Whose intense lamp narrows - In the white dawn clear, - Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. - - All the earth and air - With thy voice is loud, - As, when night is bare, - From one lonely cloud - The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflow’d. - - What thou art we know not; - What is most like thee? - From rainbow clouds there flow not - Drops so bright to see, - As from thy presence showers a rain of melody:-- - - - Like a poet hidden - In the light of thought, - Singing hymns unbidden, - Till the world is wrought - To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not: - - Like a high-born maiden - In a palace tower, - Soothing her love-laden - Soul in secret hour - With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower: - - Like a glow-worm golden - In a dell of dew, - Scattering unbeholden - Its aërial hue - Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view: - - Like a rose embower’d - In its own green leaves, - By warm winds deflower’d, - Till the scent it gives - Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-wingèd thieves - - Sound of vernal showers - On the twinkling grass, - Rain-awaken’d flowers-- - All that ever was - Joyous and clear and fresh--thy music doth surpass. - - Teach us, sprite or bird, - What sweet thoughts are thine: - I have never heard - Praise of love or wine - That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine. - - - Chorus hymeneal, - Or triumphal chant, - Match’d with thine would be all - But an empty vaunt-- - A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. - - What objects are the fountains - Of thy happy strain? - What fields, or waves, or mountains? - What shapes of sky or plain? - What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? - - With thy clear keen joyance - Languor cannot be: - Shadow of annoyance - Never came near thee: - Thou lovest, but ne’er knew love’s sad satiety. - - Waking or asleep, - Thou of death must deem - Things more true and deep - Than we mortals dream, - Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream? - - We look before and after, - And pine for what is not: - Our sincerest laughter - With some pain is fraught; - Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought. - - Yet, if we could scorn - Hate and pride and fear, - If we were things born - Not to shed a tear, - I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. - - - Better than all measures - Of delightful sound, - Better than all treasures - That in books are found, - Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground! - - Teach me half the gladness - That thy brain must know; - Such harmonious madness - From my lips would flow, - The world should listen then, as I am listening now. - - -_609._ _The Moon_ - -I - - And, like a dying lady lean and pale, - Who totters forth, wrapp’d 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. - -II - - Art thou pale for weariness - Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth, - Wandering companionless - Among the stars that have a different birth, - And ever changing, like a joyless eye - That finds no object worth its constancy? - - -_610._ _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 Mænad, 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, - Lull’d by the coil of his crystàlline streams, - - Beside a pumice isle in Baiæ’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 gray 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 seem’d a vision--I would ne’er have striven - - As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need. - O! 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 bow’d - 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 wither’d leaves, to quicken a new birth; - And, by the incantation of this verse, - - Scatter, as from an unextinguish’d hearth - Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind! - Be through my lips to unawaken’d earth - - The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind, - If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? - - -_611._ _The Indian Serenade_ - - I arise from dreams of thee - In the first sweet sleep of night, - When the winds are breathing low, - And the stars are shining bright. - I arise from dreams of thee, - And a spirit in my feet - Hath led me--who knows how? - To thy chamber window, Sweet! - - The wandering airs they faint - On the dark, the silent stream-- - And the Champak’s odours [pine] - Like sweet thoughts in a dream; - The nightingale’s complaint, - It dies upon her heart, - As I must on thine, - O belovèd as thou art! - - O lift me from the grass! - I die! I faint! I fail! - Let thy love in kisses rain - On my lips and eyelids pale. - My cheek is cold and white, alas! - My heart beats loud and fast: - O press it to thine own again, - Where it will break at last! - - -_612._ _Night_ - - Swiftly walk over 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 sigh’d for thee; - When light rode high, and the dew was gone, - And noon lay heavy on flower and tree, - And the weary Day turn’d to her rest, - Lingering like an unloved guest, - I sigh’d for thee. - - Thy brother Death came, and cried, - ‘Wouldst thou me?’ - Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed, - Murmur’d like a noontide 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! - - -_613._ _From the Arabic_ - -AN IMITATION - - My faint spirit was sitting in the light - Of thy looks, my love; - It panted for thee like the hind at noon - For the brooks, my love. - Thy barb, whose hoofs outspeed the tempest’s flight, - Bore thee far from me; - My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon, - Did companion thee. - - Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed, - Or the death they bear, - The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove - With the wings of care; - In the battle, in the darkness, in the need, - Shall mine cling to thee, - Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love, - It may bring to thee. - - -_614._ _Lines_ - - When the lamp is shatter’d, - The light in the dust lies dead; - When the cloud is scatter’d, - The rainbow’s glory is shed: - When the lute is broken, - Sweet tones are remember’d 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 ruin’d 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 storms rock 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 naked to laughter, - When leaves fall and cold winds come. - - -_615._ _To---- _ - - One word is too often profaned - For me to profane it; - One feeling too falsely disdain’d - For thee to disdain it; - One hope is too like despair - For prudence to smother; - And pity from thee more dear - Than that from another. - - - I can give not what men call love: - But wilt thou accept not - The worship the heart lifts above - And the heavens reject not, - The desire of the moth for the star, - Of the night for the morrow, - The devotion to something afar - From the sphere of our sorrow? - - -_616._ _The Question_ - - I dream’d that, as I wander’d by the way, - Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring; - And gentle odours led my steps astray, - Mix’d 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 kiss’d it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream. - - There grew pied wind-flowers and violets; - Daisies, those pearl’d Arcturi of the earth, - The constellated flower that never sets; - Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, 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-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-colour’d May, - And cherry-blossoms, and white cups whose wine - Was the bright dew yet drain’d not by the day; - And wild roses, and ivy serpentine, - With its dark buds and leaves wandering astray; - And flowers, azure, black, and streak’d with gold, - Fairer than any waken’d eyes behold. - - And nearer to the river’s trembling edge - There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prank’d 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 imprison’d children of the Hours - Within my hand;--and then, elate and gay, - I hasten’d to the spot whence I had come, - That I might there present it--O! to whom? - - -_617._ _Remorse_ - - Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon, - Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even: - Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon, - And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven. - - Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries ‘Away!’ - Tempt not with one last tear thy friend’s ungentle mood: - Thy lover’s eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay: - Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude. - - Away, away! to thy sad and silent home; - Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth; - Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come, - And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth. - The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head, - The blooms of dewy Spring shall gleam beneath thy feet: - But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead, - Ere midnight’s frown and morning’s smile, ere thou and peace, may meet. - - The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose, - For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep; - Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows; - Whatever moves or toils or grieves hath its appointed sleep. - Thou in the grave shalt rest:--yet, till the phantoms flee, - Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile, - Thy remembrance and repentance and deep musings are not free - From the music of two voices, and the light of one sweet smile. - - -_618._ _Music, when Soft Voices die_ - - 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 heap’d for the belovèd’s bed; - And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone, - Love itself shall slumber on. - - - - -HEW AINSLIE - -1792-1878 - - -_619._ _Willie and Helen_ - - ‘Wharefore sou’d ye talk o’ love, - Unless it be to pain us? - Wharefore sou’d ye talk o’ love - Whan ye say the sea maun twain us?’ - - ‘It’s no because my love is light, - Nor for your angry deddy; - It’s a’ to buy ye pearlins bright, - An’ to busk ye like a leddy.’ - - ‘O Willy, I can caird an’ spin, - Se ne’er can want for cleedin’; - An’ gin I hae my Willy’s heart, - I hae a’ the pearls I’m heedin’. - - ‘Will it be time to praise this cheek - Whan years an’ tears has blench’d it? - Will it be time to talk o’ love - Whan cauld an’ care has quench’d it?’ - - He’s laid ae han’ about her waist-- - The ither’s held to heaven; - An’ his luik was like the luik o’ man - Wha’s heart in twa is riven. - - _619._ cleedin’] clothing. - - - - -JOHN KEBLE - -1792-1866 - - -_620._ _Burial of the Dead_ - - I thought to meet no more, so dreary seem’d - Death’s interposing veil, and thou so pure, - Thy place in Paradise - Beyond where I could soar: - - Friend of this worthless heart! but happier thoughts - Spring like unbidden violets from the sod, - Where patiently thou tak’st - Thy sweet and sure repose. - - The shadows fall more soothing: the soft air - Is full of cheering whispers like thine own; - While Memory, by thy grave, - Lives o’er thy funeral day; - - The deep knell dying down, the mourners’ pause, - Waiting their Saviour’s welcome at the gate.-- - Sure with the words of Heaven - Thy spirit met us there, - - And sought with us along th’ accustom’d way - The hallow’d porch, and entering in, beheld - The pageant of sad joy - So dear to Faith and Hope. - - O! hadst thou brought a strain from Paradise - To cheer us, happy soul, thou hadst not touch’d - The sacred springs of grief - More tenderly and true, - Than those deep-warbled anthems, high and low, - Low as the grave, high as th’ Eternal Throne, - Guiding through light and gloom - Our mourning fancies wild, - - Till gently, like soft golden clouds at eve - Around the western twilight, all subside - Into a placid faith, - That even with beaming eye - - Counts thy sad honours, coffin, bier, and pall; - So many relics of a frail love lost, - So many tokens dear - Of endless love begun. - - Listen! it is no dream: th’ Apostles’ trump - Gives earnest of th’ Archangel’s;--calmly now, - Our hearts yet beating high - To that victorious lay - - (Most like a warrior’s, to the martial dirge - Of a true comrade), in the grave we trust - Our treasure for awhile: - And if a tear steal down, - - If human anguish o’er the shaded brow - Pass shuddering, when the handful of pure earth - Touches the coffin-lid; - If at our brother’s name, - - Once and again the thought, ‘for ever gone,’ - Come o’er us like a cloud; yet, gentle spright, - Thou turnest not away, - Thou know’st us calm at heart. - - One look, and we have seen our last of thee, - Till we too sleep and our long sleep be o’er. - O cleanse us, ere we view - That countenance pure again, - - Thou, who canst change the heart, and raise the dead! - As Thou art by to soothe our parting hour, - Be ready when we meet, - With Thy dear pardoning words. - - - - -JOHN CLARE - -1793-1864 - - -_621._ _Written in Northampton County Asylum_ - - I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows? - My friends forsake me like a memory lost. - I am the self-consumer of my woes; - They rise and vanish, an oblivious host, - Shadows of life, whose very soul is lost. - And yet I am--I live--though I am toss’d - - Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, - Into the living sea of waking dream, - Where there is neither sense of life, nor joys, - But the huge shipwreck of my own esteem - And all that’s dear. Even those I loved the best - Are strange--nay, they are stranger than the rest. - - I long for scenes where man has never trod-- - For scenes where woman never smiled or wept-- - There to abide with my Creator, God, - And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, - Full of high thoughts, unborn. So let me lie,-- - The grass below; above, the vaulted sky. - - - - -FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS - -1793-1835 - - -_622._ _Dirge_ - - Calm on the bosom of thy God, - Fair spirit, rest thee now! - E’en while with ours thy footsteps trod, - His seal was on thy brow. - - Dust, to its narrow house beneath! - Soul, to its place on high! - They that have seen thy look in death - No more may fear to die. - - - - -JOHN KEATS - -1795-1821 - - -_623._ _Song of the Indian Maid_ - -FROM ‘ENDYMION’ - - O Sorrow! - Why dost borrow - The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?-- - To give maiden blushes - To the white rose bushes? - Or is it 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? - - _623._ sea-spry] sea-spray. - - - 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 would deceive her, - And so leave her, - But ah! she is so constant and so kind. - - Beneath my palm-trees, by the river side, - I sat a-weeping: in the whole world wide - There was no one to ask me why I wept,-- - And so I kept - Brimming the water-lily cups with tears - Cold as my fears. - Beneath my palm-trees, by the river side, - I sat a-weeping: what enamour’d bride, - Cheated by shadowy wooer from the clouds, - But hides and shrouds - Beneath dark palm-trees by a river side? - - And as I sat, over the light blue hills - There came a noise of revellers: the rills - Into the wide stream came of purple hue-- - ’Twas Bacchus and his crew! - The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills - From kissing cymbals made a merry din-- - ’Twas Bacchus and his kin! - Like to a moving vintage down they came, - Crown’d with green leaves, and faces all on flame; - All madly dancing through the pleasant valley, - To scare thee, Melancholy! - O then, O then, thou wast a simple name! - And I forgot thee, as the berried holly - By shepherds is forgotten, when in June - Tall chestnuts keep away the sun and moon:-- - I rush’d into the folly! - - Within his car, aloft, young Bacchus stood, - Trifling his ivy-dart, in dancing mood, - With sidelong laughing; - And little rills of crimson wine imbrued - His plump white arms and shoulders, enough white - For Venus’ pearly bite; - And near him rode Silenus on his ass, - Pelted with flowers as he on did pass - Tipsily quaffing. - - ‘Whence came ye, merry Damsels! whence came ye, - So many, and so many, and such glee? - Why have ye left your bowers desolate, - Your lutes, and gentler fate?’-- - ‘We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing, - A-conquering! - Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide, - We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide:-- - Come hither, lady fair, and joinèd be - To our wild minstrelsy!’ - - ‘Whence came ye, jolly Satyrs! whence came ye, - So many, and so many, and such glee? - Why have ye left your forest haunts, why left - Your nuts in oak-tree cleft?’-- - ‘For wine, for wine we left our kernel tree; - For wine we left our heath, and yellow brooms, - And cold mushrooms; - For wine we follow Bacchus through the earth; - Great god of breathless cups and chirping mirth! - Come hither, lady fair, and joinèd be - To our mad minstrelsy!’ - - Over wide streams and mountains great we went, - And, save when Bacchus kept his ivy tent, - Onward the tiger and the leopard pants, - With Asian elephants: - Onward these myriads--with song and dance, - With zebras striped, and sleek Arabians’ prance, - Web-footed alligators, crocodiles, - Bearing upon their scaly backs, in files, - Plump infant laughers mimicking the coil - Of seamen, and stout galley-rowers’ toil: - With toying oars and silken sails they glide, - Nor care for wind and tide. - - Mounted on panthers’ furs and lions’ manes, - From rear to van they scour about the plains; - A three days’ journey in a moment done; - And always, at the rising of the sun, - About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn, - On spleenful unicorn. - - I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown - Before the vine-wreath crown! - I saw parch’d Abyssinia rouse and sing - To the silver cymbals’ ring! - I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce - Old Tartary the fierce! - The kings of Ind their jewel-sceptres vail, - And from their treasures scatter pearlèd hail; - Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans, - And all his priesthood moans, - Before young Bacchus’ eye-wink turning pale. - Into these regions came I, following him, - Sick-hearted, weary--so I took a whim - To stray away into these forests drear, - Alone, without a peer: - And I have told thee all thou mayest hear. - - Young Stranger! - I’ve been a ranger - In search of pleasure throughout every clime; - Alas! ’tis not for me! - Bewitch’d I sure must be, - To lose in grieving all my maiden prime. - - 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. - - -_624._ _Ode to a Nightingale_ - - My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains - My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, - Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains - One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: - ’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, - But being too happy in thy happiness, - That thou, light-wingèd Dryad of the trees, - In some melodious plot - Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, - Singest of summer in full-throated ease. - - O for a draught of vintage! that hath been - Cool’d a long age in the deep-delvèd earth, - Tasting of Flora and the country-green, - Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! - O for a beaker full of the warm South! - Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, - With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, - And purple-stainèd mouth; - That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, - And with thee fade away into the forest dim: - - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget - What thou among the leaves hast never known, - The weariness, the fever, and the fret - Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; - Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs, - Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; - Where but to think is to be full of sorrow - And leaden-eyed despairs; - Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, - Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow. - - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, - Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, - But on the viewless wings of Poesy, - Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: - Already with thee! tender is the night, - And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, - Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays - But here there is no light, - Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown - Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. - - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, - Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, - But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet - Wherewith the seasonable month endows - The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; - White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; - Fast-fading violets cover’d up in leaves; - And mid-May’s eldest child, - The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, - The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. - - Darkling I listen; and for many a time - I have been half in love with easeful Death, - Call’d him soft names in many a musèd rhyme, - To take into the air my quiet breath; - Now more than ever seems it rich to die, - To cease upon the midnight with no pain, - While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad - In such an ecstasy! - Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain-- - To thy high requiem become a sod. - - Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! - No hungry generations tread thee down; - The voice I hear this passing night was heard - In ancient days by emperor and clown: - Perhaps the self-same song that found a path - Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, - She stood in tears amid the alien corn; - The same that ofttimes hath - Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam - Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. - - Forlorn! the very word is like a bell - To toll me back from thee to my sole self! - Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well - As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. - Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades - Past the near meadows, over the still stream, - Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep - In the next valley-glades: - Was it a vision, or a waking dream? - Fled is that music:--do I wake or sleep? - - -_625._ _Ode on a Grecian Urn_ - - Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness, - Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time, - Sylvan historian, who canst thus express - A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme: - What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape - Of deities or mortals, or of both, - In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? - What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? - What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? - What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy? - - Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard - Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; - Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d, - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone: - Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave - Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare; - Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, - Though winning near the goal--yet, do not grieve; - She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, - For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair! - - Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed - Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; - And, happy melodist, unwearièd, - For ever piping songs for ever new; - More happy love! more happy, happy love! - For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d, - For ever panting and for ever young; - All breathing human passion far above, - That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d, - A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. - - Who are these coming to the sacrifice? - To what green altar, O mysterious priest, - Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies, - And all her silken flanks with garlands drest? - What little town by river or sea-shore, - Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, - Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn? - And, little town, thy streets for evermore - Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell - Why thou art desolate, can e’er return. - - O Attic shape! fair attitude! with brede - Of marble men and maidens overwrought, - With forest branches and the trodden weed; - Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought - As doth eternity. Cold Pastoral! - When old age shall this generation waste, - Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe - Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st, - ‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,--that is all - Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’ - - -_626._ _Ode to Psyche_ - - O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung - By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear, - And pardon that thy secrets should be sung - Even into thine own soft-conchèd ear: - Surely I dream’d to-day, or did I see - The wingèd Psyche with awaken’d eyes? - I wander’d in a forest thoughtlessly, - And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise, - Saw two fair creatures, couchèd side by side - In deepest grass, beneath the whisp’ring roof - Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran - A brooklet, scarce espied: - ’Mid hush’d, cool-rooted flowers fragrant-eyed, - Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian - They lay calm-breathing on the bedded grass; - Their arms embracèd, and their pinions too; - Their lips touch’d not, but had not bade adieu, - As if disjoinèd by soft-handed slumber, - And ready still past kisses to outnumber - At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love: - The wingèd boy I knew; - But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove? - His Psyche true! - - O latest-born and loveliest vision far - Of all Olympus’ faded hierarchy! - Fairer than Phœbe’s sapphire-region’d star, - Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; - Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, - Nor altar heap’d with flowers; - Nor Virgin-choir to make delicious moan - Upon the midnight hours; - No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet - From chain-swung censer teeming; - No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat - Of pale-mouth’d prophet dreaming. - - O brightest! though too late for antique vows, - Too, too late for the fond believing lyre, - When holy were the haunted forest boughs, - Holy the air, the water, and the fire; - Yet even in these days so far retired - From happy pieties, thy lucent fans, - Fluttering among the faint Olympians, - I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspired. - So let me be thy choir, and make a moan - Upon the midnight hours; - Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet - From swingèd censer teeming: - Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat - Of pale-mouth’d prophet dreaming. - - Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane - In some untrodden region of my mind, - Where branchèd thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain, - Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind: - Far, far around shall those dark-cluster’d trees - Fledge the wild-ridgèd mountains steep by steep; - And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees, - The moss-lain Dryads shall be lull’d to sleep; - And in the midst of this wide quietness - A rosy sanctuary will I dress - With the wreath’d trellis of a working brain, - With buds, and bells, and stars without a name, - With all the gardener Fancy e’er could feign, - Who, breeding flowers, will never breed the same; - And there shall be for thee all soft delight - That shadowy thought can win, - A bright torch, and a casement ope at night, - To let the warm Love in! - - -_627._ _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 moss’d 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-brimm’d 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-reap’d 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 cider-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 barrèd 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 redbreast whistles from a garden-croft; - And gathering swallows twitter in the skies. - - -_628._ _Ode on Melancholy_ - - No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist - Wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine; - Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kist - By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine; - Make not your rosary of yew-berries, - Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be - Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl - A partner in your sorrow’s mysteries; - For shade to shade will come too drowsily, - And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul. - - But when the melancholy fit shall fall - Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud, - That fosters the droop-headed flowers all, - And hides the green hill in an April shroud; - Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose, - Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave, - Or on the wealth of globèd peonies; - Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows, - Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave, - And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes. - - She dwells with Beauty--Beauty that must die; - And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips - Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh, - Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips: - Ay, in the very temple of Delight - Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine, - Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue - Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine; - His soul shall taste the sadness of her might, - And be among her cloudy trophies hung. - - -_629._ _Fragment of an Ode to Maia_ - -(_Written on May-Day, 1818_) - - Mother of Hermes! and still youthful Maia! - May I sing to thee - As thou wast hymnèd on the shores of Baiæ? - Or may I woo thee - In earlier Sicilian? or thy smiles - Seek as they once were sought, in Grecian isles, - By bards who died content on pleasant sward, - Leaving great verse unto a little clan? - O give me their old vigour! and unheard - Save of the quiet primrose, and the span - Of heaven, and few ears, - Rounded by thee, my song should die away - Content as theirs, - Rich in the simple worship of a day. - - -_630._ _Bards of Passion and of Mirth_ - -_Written on the Blank Page before Beaumont and Fletcher’s Tragi-Comedy -‘The Fair Maid of the Inn’_ - - Bards of Passion and of Mirth, - Ye have left your souls on earth! - Have ye souls in heaven too, - Doubled-lived in regions new? - Yes, and those of heaven commune - With the spheres of sun and moon; - With the noise of fountains wondrous, - And the parle of voices thund’rous; - With the whisper of heaven’s trees - And one another, in soft ease - Seated on Elysian lawns - Browsed by none but Dian’s fawns; - Underneath large blue-bells tented, - Where the daisies are rose-scented, - And the rose herself has got - Perfume which on earth is not; - Where the nightingale doth sing - Not a senseless, trancèd thing, - But divine melodious truth; - Philosophic numbers smooth; - Tales and golden histories - Of heaven and its mysteries. - - Thus ye live on high, and then - On the earth ye live again; - And the souls ye left behind you - Teach us, here, the way to find you, - Where your other souls are joying, - Never slumber’d, never cloying. - Here, your earth-born souls still speak - To mortals, of their little week; - Of their sorrows and delights; - Of their passions and their spites; - Of their glory and their shame; - What doth strengthen and what maim. - Thus ye teach us, every day, - Wisdom, though fled far away. - - Bards of Passion and of Mirth, - Ye have left your souls on earth! - Ye have souls in heaven too, - Double-lived in regions new! - - -_631._ _Fancy_ - - Ever let the Fancy roam, - Pleasure never is at home: - At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, - Like to bubbles when rain pelteth; - Then let wingèd Fancy wander - Through the thought still spread beyond her: - Open wide the mind’s cage-door, - She’ll dart forth, and cloudward soar. - O sweet Fancy! let her loose; - Summer’s joys are spoilt by use, - And the enjoying of the Spring - Fades as does its blossoming: - Autumn’s red-lipp’d fruitage too, - Blushing through the mist and dew, - Cloys with tasting: What do then? - Sit thee by the ingle, when - The sear faggot blazes bright, - Spirit of a winter’s night; - When the soundless earth is muffled, - And the cakèd snow is shuffled - From the ploughboy’s heavy shoon; - When the Night doth meet the Noon - In a dark conspiracy - To banish Even from her sky. - Sit thee there, and send abroad, - With a mind self-overawed, - Fancy, high-commission’d:--send her! - She has vassals to attend her: - She will bring, in spite of frost, - Beauties that the earth hath lost; - She will bring thee, all together, - All delights of summer weather; - All the buds and bells of May, - From dewy sward or thorny spray; - All the heapèd Autumn’s wealth, - With a still, mysterious stealth: - She will mix these pleasures up - Like three fit wines in a cup, - And thou shalt quaff it:--thou shalt hear - Distant harvest-carols clear; - Rustle of the reapèd corn; - Sweet birds antheming the morn: - And, in the same moment--hark! - ’Tis the early April lark, - Or the rooks, with busy caw, - Foraging for sticks and straw. - Thou shalt, at one glance, behold - The daisy and the marigold; - White-plumed lilies, and the first - Hedge-grown primrose that hath burst; - Shaded hyacinth, alway - Sapphire queen of the mid-May; - And every leaf, and every flower - Pearlèd with the self-same shower. - Thou shalt see the fieldmouse peep - Meagre from its cellèd sleep; - And the snake all winter-thin - Cast on sunny bank its skin; - Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see - Hatching in the hawthorn-tree, - When the hen-bird’s wing doth rest - Quiet on her mossy nest; - Then the hurry and alarm - When the beehive casts its swarm; - Acorns ripe down-pattering - While the autumn breezes sing. - - O sweet Fancy! let her loose; - Every thing is spoilt by use: - Where’s the cheek that doth not fade, - Too much gazed at? Where’s the maid - Whose lip mature is ever new? - Where’s the eye, however blue, - Doth not weary? Where’s the face - One would meet in every place? - Where’s the voice, however soft, - One would hear so very oft? - At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth - Like to bubbles when rain pelteth. - Let, then, wingèd Fancy find - Thee a mistress to thy mind: - Dulcet-eyed as Ceres’ daughter, - Ere the God of Torment taught her - How to frown and how to chide; - With a waist and with a side - White as Hebe’s, when her zone - Slipt its golden clasp, and down - Fell her kirtle to her feet, - While she held the goblet sweet, - And Jove grew languid.--Break the mesh - Of the Fancy’s silken leash; - Quickly break her prison-string, - And such joys as these she’ll bring.-- - Let the wingèd Fancy roam, - Pleasure never is at home. - - -_632._ _Stanzas_ - - 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. - - -_633._ _La Belle Dame sans Merci_ - - ‘O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, - Alone and palely loitering? - The sedge is wither’d 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 lily on thy brow - With anguish moist and fever dew; - And on thy cheek 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 look’d 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 wept and sigh’d full sore; - And there I shut her wild, wild eyes - With kisses four. - - ‘And there she lullèd me asleep, - And there I dream’d--Ah! woe betide! - The latest dream I ever dream’d - On the cold hill’s side. - - ‘I saw pale kings and princes too, - Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; - Who cried--“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’s side. - - ‘And this is why I sojourn here - Alone and palely loitering, - Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake, - And no birds sing.’ - - -_634._ _On first looking into Chapman’s Homer_ - - Much have I travell’d 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-brow’d 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 - Look’d at each other with a wild surmise-- - Silent, upon a peak in Darien. - - -_635._ _When I have Fears that I may cease to be_ - - When I have fears that I may cease to be - Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain, - Before high-pilèd books, in charact’ry, - Hold like full garners the full-ripen’d grain; - When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face, - Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, - And feel that I may never live to trace - Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; - And when I feel, fair creature of an hour! - That I shall never look upon thee more, - Never have relish in the faery power - Of unreflecting love;--then on the shore - Of the wide world I stand alone, and think, - Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink. - - -_636._ _To Sleep_ - - O soft embalmer of the still midnight! - Shutting with careful fingers and benign - Our gloom-pleased eyes, embower’d from the light, - Enshaded in forgetfulness divine; - O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close, - In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes, - Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws - Around my bed its lulling charities; - Then save me, or the passèd day will shine - Upon my pillow, breeding many woes; - Save me from curious conscience, that still lords - Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; - Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards, - And seal the hushèd casket of my soul. - - -_637._ _Last Sonnet_ - - Bright Star, would I were steadfast 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 priest-like 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 steadfast, still unchangeable, - Pillow’d 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. - - - - -JEREMIAH JOSEPH CALLANAN - -1795-1839 - - -_638._ _The Outlaw of Loch Lene_ - -FROM THE IRISH - - 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 stretch’d forth her arms; her mantle she flung to the wind, - And swam o’er Loch Lene, her outlaw’d lover to find. - - O would that a freezing sleet-wing’d 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. - - - - -WILLIAM SIDNEY WALKER - -1795-1846 - - -_639._ - - Too solemn for day, too sweet for night, - Come not in darkness, come not in light; - But come in some twilight interim, - When the gloom is soft, and the light is dim. - - - - -GEORGE DARLEY - -1795-1846 - - -_640._ _Song_ - - Sweet in her green dell the flower of beauty slumbers, - Lull’d by the faint breezes sighing through her hair; - Sleeps she and hears not the melancholy numbers - Breathed to my sad lute ’mid the lonely air. - - Down from the high cliffs the rivulet is teeming - To wind round the willow banks that lure him from above: - O that in tears, from my rocky prison streaming, - I too could glide to the bower of my love! - - Ah! where the woodbines with sleepy arms have wound her, - Opes she her eyelids at the dream of my lay, - Listening, like the dove, while the fountains echo round her, - To her lost mate’s call in the forests far away. - - Come then, my bird! For the peace thou ever bearest, - Still Heaven’s messenger of comfort to me-- - Come--this fond bosom, O faithfullest and fairest, - Bleeds with its death-wound, its wound of love for thee! - - -_641._ _To Helene_ - -_On a Gift-ring carelessly lost_ - - I sent a ring--a little band - Of emerald and ruby stone, - And bade it, sparkling on thy hand, - Tell thee sweet tales of one - Whose constant memory - Was full of loveliness, and thee. - - A shell was graven on its gold,-- - ’Twas Cupid fix’d without his wings-- - To Helene once it would have told - More than was ever told by rings: - But now all’s past and gone, - Her love is buried with that stone. - - Thou shalt not see the tears that start - From eyes by thoughts like these beguiled; - Thou shalt not know the beating heart, - Ever a victim and a child: - Yet Helene, love, believe - The heart that never could deceive. - - I’ll hear thy voice of melody - In the sweet whispers of the air; - I’ll see the brightness of thine eye - In the blue evening’s dewy star; - In crystal streams thy purity; - And look on Heaven to look on thee. - - -_642._ _The Fallen Star_ - - A star is gone! a star is gone! - There is a blank in Heaven; - One of the cherub choir has done - His airy course this even. - - He sat upon the orb of fire - That hung for ages there, - And lent his music to the choir - That haunts the nightly air. - - But when his thousand years are pass’d, - With a cherubic sigh - He vanish’d with his car at last, - For even cherubs die! - - Hear how his angel-brothers mourn-- - The minstrels of the spheres-- - Each chiming sadly in his turn - And dropping splendid tears. - - The planetary sisters all - Join in the fatal song, - And weep this hapless brother’s fall, - Who sang with them so long. - - But deepest of the choral band - The Lunar Spirit sings, - And with a bass-according hand - Sweeps all her sullen strings. - - From the deep chambers of the dome - Where sleepless Uriel lies, - His rude harmonic thunders come - Mingled with mighty sighs. - - - The thousand car-borne cherubim, - The wandering eleven, - All join to chant the dirge of him - Who fell just now from Heaven. - - - - -HARTLEY COLERIDGE - -1796-1849 - - -_643._ _The Solitary-Hearted_ - - She was a queen of noble Nature’s crowning, - A smile of hers was like an act of grace; - She had no winsome looks, no pretty frowning, - Like daily beauties of the vulgar race: - But if she smiled, a light was on her face, - A clear, cool kindliness, a lunar beam - Of peaceful radiance, silvering o’er the stream - Of human thought with unabiding glory; - Not quite a waking truth, not quite a dream, - A visitation, bright and transitory. - - But she is changed,--hath felt the touch of sorrow, - No love hath she, no understanding friend; - O grief! when Heaven is forced of earth to borrow - What the poor niggard earth has not to lend; - But when the stalk is snapt, the rose must bend. - The tallest flower that skyward rears its head - Grows from the common ground, and there must shed - Its delicate petals. Cruel fate, too surely, - That they should find so base a bridal bed, - Who lived in virgin pride, so sweet and purely. - - She had a brother, and a tender father, - And she was loved, but not as others are - From whom we ask return of love,--but rather - As one might love a dream; a phantom fair - Of something exquisitely strange and rare, - Which all were glad to look on, men and maids, - Yet no one claim’d--as oft, in dewy glades, - The peering primrose, like a sudden gladness, - Gleams on the soul, yet unregarded fades;-- - The joy is ours, but all its own the sadness. - - ’Tis vain to say--her worst of grief is only - The common lot, which all the world have known; - To her ’tis more, because her heart is lonely, - And yet she hath no strength to stand alone,-- - Once she had playmates, fancies of her own, - And she did love them. They are past away - As Fairies vanish at the break of day; - And like a spectre of an age departed, - Or unsphered Angel wofully astray, - She glides along--the solitary-hearted. - - -_644._ _Song_ - - She is not fair to outward view - As many maidens be, - Her loveliness I never knew - Until she smiled on me; - O, then I saw her eye was bright, - A well of love, a spring of light! - - But now her looks are coy and cold, - To mine they ne’er reply, - And yet I cease not to behold - The love-light in her eye: - Her very frowns are fairer far - Than smiles of other maidens are. - - -_645._ _Early Death_ - - She pass’d away like morning dew - Before the sun was high; - So brief her time, she scarcely knew - The meaning of a sigh. - - As round the rose its soft perfume, - Sweet love around her floated; - Admired she grew--while mortal doom - Crept on, unfear’d, unnoted. - - Love was her guardian Angel here, - But Love to Death resign’d her; - Tho’ Love was kind, why should we fear - But holy Death is kinder? - - -_646._ _Friendship_ - - When we were idlers with the loitering rills, - The need of human love we little noted: - Our love was nature; and the peace that floated - On the white mist, and dwelt upon the hills, - To sweet accord subdued our wayward wills: - One soul was ours, one mind, one heart devoted, - That, wisely doting, ask’d not why it doted, - And ours the unknown joy, which knowing kills. - But now I find how dear thou wert to me; - That man is more than half of nature’s treasure, - Of that fair beauty which no eye can see, - Of that sweet music which no ear can measure; - And now the streams may sing for others’ pleasure, - The hills sleep on in their eternity. - - - - -THOMAS HOOD - -1798-1845 - - -_647._ _Autumn_ - - 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. - - Where are the songs of Summer?--With the sun, - Oping the dusky eyelids of the south, - Till shade and silence waken up as one, - And Morning sings with a warm odorous mouth. - Where are the merry birds?--Away, away, - On panting wings through the inclement skies, - Lest owls should prey - Undazzled at noonday, - And tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes. - - Where are the blooms of Summer?--In the west, - Blushing their last to the last sunny hours, - When the mild Eve by sudden Night is prest - Like tearful Proserpine, snatch’d from her flow’rs - To a most gloomy breast. - Where is the pride of Summer,--the green prime,-- - The many, many leaves all twinkling?--Three - On the moss’d elm; three on the naked lime - Trembling,--and one upon the old oak-tree! - Where is the Dryad’s immortality?-- - Gone into mournful cypress and dark yew, - Or wearing the long gloomy Winter through - In the smooth holly’s green eternity. - - - The squirrel gloats on his accomplished hoard, - The ants have brimm’d their garners with ripe grain, - And honey bees have stored - The sweets of Summer in their luscious cells; - The swallows all have wing’d 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 wither’d world looks drearily, - Like a dim picture of the drownèd past - In the hush’d mind’s mysterious far away, - Doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the last - Into that distance, gray upon the gray. - - O go and sit with her, and be o’ershaded - Under the languid downfall of her hair: - She wears a coronal of flowers faded - Upon her forehead, and a face of care;-- - There is enough of wither’d everywhere - To make her bower,--and enough of gloom; - There is enough of sadness to invite, - If only for the rose that died, whose doom - Is Beauty’s,--she that with the living bloom - Of conscious cheeks most beautifies the light: - There is enough of sorrowing, and quite - Enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear,-- - Enough of chilly droppings for her bowl; - Enough of fear and shadowy despair, - To frame her cloudy prison for the soul! - - -_648._ _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 hush’d--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 hyæna 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. - - -_649._ _Death_ - - It is not death, that sometime in a sigh - This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight; - That sometime these bright stars, that now reply - In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night; - That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite, - And all life’s ruddy springs forget to flow; - That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite - Be lapp’d in alien clay and laid below; - It is not death to know this--but to know - That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves - In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go - So duly and so oft--and when grass waves - Over the pass’d-away, there may be then - No resurrection in the minds of men. - - -_650._ _Fair Ines_ - - O saw ye not fair Ines? - She’s gone into the West, - To dazzle when the sun is down, - And rob the world of rest: - She took our daylight with her, - The smiles that we love best, - With morning blushes on her cheek, - And pearls upon her breast. - - O turn again, fair Ines, - Before the fall of night, - For fear the Moon should shine alone, - And stars unrivall’d bright; - And blessèd will the lover be - That walks beneath their light, - And breathes the love against thy cheek - I dare not even write! - - Would I had been, fair Ines, - That gallant cavalier, - Who rode so gaily by thy side, - And whisper’d thee so near! - Were there no bonny dames at home, - Or no true lovers here, - That he should cross the seas to win - The dearest of the dear? - - I saw thee, lovely Ines, - Descend along the shore, - With bands of noble gentlemen, - And banners waved before; - And gentle youth and maidens gay, - And snowy plumes they wore: - It would have been a beauteous dream,-- - If it had been no more! - - Alas, alas! fair Ines, - She went away with song, - With Music waiting on her steps, - And shoutings of the throng; - But some were sad, and felt no mirth, - But only Music’s wrong, - In sounds that sang Farewell, farewell, - To her you’ve loved so long. - - Farewell, farewell, fair Ines! - That vessel never bore - So fair a lady on its deck, - Nor danced so light before,-- - Alas for pleasure on the sea, - And sorrow on the shore! - The smile that bless’d one lover’s heart - Has broken many more! - - -_651._ _Time of Roses_ - - It was not in the Winter - Our loving lot was cast; - It was the time of roses-- - We pluck’d them as we pass’d! - - That churlish season never frown’d - On early lovers yet: - O no--the world was newly crown’d - 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 pluck’d them as we pass’d! - - -_652._ _Ruth_ - - She stood breast-high amid the corn, - Clasp’d by the golden light of morn, - Like the sweetheart of the sun, - Who many a glowing kiss had won. - - On her cheek an autumn flush, - Deeply ripen’d;--such a blush - In the midst of brown was born, - Like red poppies grown with corn. - - Round her eyes her tresses fell, - Which were blackest none could tell, - But long lashes veiled a light, - That had else been all too bright. - - And her hat, with shady brim, - Made her tressy forehead dim; - Thus she stood amid the stooks, - Praising God with sweetest looks:-- - - Sure, I said, Heav’n did not mean, - Where I reap thou shouldst but glean, - Lay thy sheaf adown and come, - Share my harvest and my home. - - -_653._ _The Death-bed_ - - We watch’d her breathing thro’ the night, - Her breathing soft and low, - As in her breast the wave of life - Kept heaving to and fro. - - So silently we seem’d to speak, - So slowly moved about, - As we had lent her half our powers - To eke her living out. - - Our very hopes belied our fears, - Our fears our hopes belied-- - We thought her dying when she slept, - And sleeping when she died. - - For when the morn came dim and sad, - And chill with early showers, - Her quiet eyelids closed--she had - Another morn than ours. - - -_654._ _The Bridge of Sighs_ - - One more Unfortunate, - Weary of breath, - Rashly importunate, - Gone to her death! - - Take her up tenderly, - Lift her with care; - Fashion’d so slenderly - Young, and so fair! - - - Look at her garments - Clinging like cerements; - Whilst the wave constantly - Drips from her clothing; - Take her up instantly, - Loving, not loathing. - - Touch her not scornfully; - Think of her mournfully, - Gently and humanly; - Not of the stains of her, - All that remains of her - Now is pure womanly. - - Make no deep scrutiny - Into her mutiny - Rash and undutiful: - Past all dishonour, - Death has left on her - Only the beautiful. - - Still, for all slips of hers, - One of Eve’s family-- - Wipe those poor lips of hers - Oozing so clammily. - - Loop up her tresses - Escaped from the comb, - Her fair auburn tresses; - Whilst wonderment guesses - Where was her home? - - Who was her father? - Who was her mother? - Had she a sister? - Had she a brother? - Or was there a dearer one - Still, and a nearer one - Yet, than all other? - - Alas! for the rarity - Of Christian charity - Under the sun! - O, it was pitiful! - Near a whole city full, - Home she had none. - - Sisterly, brotherly, - Fatherly, motherly - Feelings had changed: - Love, by harsh evidence, - Thrown from its eminence; - Even God’s providence - Seeming estranged. - - Where the lamps quiver - So far in the river, - With many a light - From window and casement, - From garret to basement, - She stood, with amazement, - Houseless by night. - - The bleak wind of March - Made her tremble and shiver; - But not the dark arch, - Or the black flowing river: - - - Mad from life’s history, - Glad to death’s mystery, - Swift to be hurl’d-- - Anywhere, anywhere - Out of the world! - - In she plunged boldly-- - No matter how coldly - The rough river ran-- - Over the brink of it, - Picture it--think of it, - Dissolute Man! - Lave in it, drink of it, - Then, if you can! - - Take her up tenderly, - Lift her with care; - Fashion’d so slenderly, - Young, and so fair! - - Ere her limbs frigidly - Stiffen too rigidly, - Decently, kindly, - Smooth and compose them; - And her eyes, close them, - Staring so blindly! - - Dreadfully staring - Thro’ muddy impurity, - As when with the daring - Last look of despairing - Fix’d on futurity. - - Perishing gloomily, - Spurr’d by contumely, - Cold inhumanity, - Burning insanity, - Into her rest.-- - Cross her hands humbly - As if praying dumbly, - Over her breast! - - Owning her weakness, - Her evil behaviour, - And leaving, with meekness, - Her sins to her Saviour! - - - - -WILLIAM THOM - -1798-1848 - - -_655._ _The Blind Boy’s Pranks_ - - Men grew sae cauld, maids sae unkind, - Love kentna whaur to stay: - Wi’ fient an arrow, bow, or string-- - Wi’ droopin’ heart an’ drizzled wing, - He faught his lonely way. - - ‘Is there nae mair in Garioch fair - Ae spotless hame for me? - Hae politics an’ corn an’ kye - Ilk bosom stappit? Fie, O fie! - I’ll swithe me o’er the sea.’ - - He launch’d a leaf o’ jessamine, - On whilk he daur’d to swim, - An’ pillow’d his head on a wee rosebud, - Syne laithfu’, lanely, Love ’gan scud - Down Ury’s waefu’ stream. - - _655._ kentna] knew not. wi’ fient an arrow] i. q. with deuce an - arrow. swithe] hie quickly. laithfu’] regretful. - - The birds sang bonnie as Love drew near, - But dowie when he gaed by; - Till lull’d wi’ the sough o’ monie a sang, - He sleepit fu’ soun’ and sail’d alang - ’Neath Heaven’s gowden sky. - - ’Twas just whaur creeping Ury greets - Its mountain cousin Don, - There wander’d forth a weelfaur’d dame, - Wha listless gazed on the bonnie stream, - As it flirted an’ play’d with a sunny beam - That flicker’d its bosom upon. - - Love happit his head, I trow, that time - The jessamine bark drew nigh, - The lassie espied the wee rosebud, - An’ aye her heart gae thud for thud, - An’ quiet it wadna lie. - - ‘O gin I but had yon wearie wee flower - That floats on the Ury sae fair!’-- - She lootit her hand for the silly rose-leaf, - But little wist she o’ the pawkie thief - That was lurkin’ an’ laughin’ there! - - Love glower’d when he saw her bonnie dark e’e, - An’ swore by Heaven’s grace - He ne’er had seen nor thought to see, - Since e’er he left the Paphian lea, - Sae lovely a dwallin’-place. - - dowie] dejectedly. weelfaur’d] well-favoured, comely. happit] - covered up. lootit] lowered. pawkie] sly. glower’d] stared. - - Syne first of a’ in her blythesome breast - He built a bower, I ween; - An’ what did the waefu’ devilick neist? - But kindled a gleam like the rosy east, - That sparkled frae baith her e’en. - - An’ then beneath ilk high e’e-bree - He placed a quiver there; - His bow? What but her shinin’ brow? - An’ O sic deadly strings he drew - Frae out her silken hair! - - Guid be our guard! Sic deeds waur deen - Roun’ a’ our countrie then; - An’ monie a hangin’ lug was seen - ’Mang farmers fat, an’ lawyers lean, - An’ herds o’ common men! - - _655._ e’e-bree] eyebrow. lug] ear. - - - - -SIR HENRY TAYLOR - -1800-1886 - - -_656._ _Elena’s Song_ - - Quoth tongue of neither maid nor wife - To heart of neither wife nor maid-- - Lead we not here a jolly life - Betwixt the shine and shade? - - Quoth heart of neither maid nor wife - To tongue of neither wife nor maid-- - Thou wagg’st, but I am worn with strife, - And feel like flowers that fade. - - - - -THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY, LORD MACAULAY - -1800-1859 - - -_657._ _A Jacobite’s Epitaph_ - - To my true king I offer’d free from stain - Courage and faith; vain faith, and courage vain. - For him I threw lands, honours, wealth, away, - And one dear hope, that was more prized than they. - For him I languished in a foreign clime, - Gray-hair’d with sorrow in my manhood’s prime; - Heard on Lavernia Scargill’s whispering trees, - And pined by Arno for my lovelier Tees; - Beheld each night my home in fever’d sleep, - Each morning started from the dream to weep; - Till God, who saw me tried too sorely, gave - The resting-place I ask’d, an early grave. - O thou, whom chance leads to this nameless stone, - From that proud country which was once mine own, - By those white cliffs I never more must see, - By that dear language which I spake like thee, - Forget all feuds, and shed one English tear - O’er English dust. A broken heart lies here. - - - - -WILLIAM BARNES - -1801-1886 - - -_658._ _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 turn’d about, - ‘Your tears put it out; - Mother, never mourn.’ - - -_659._ _The Wife a-lost_ - - Since I noo mwore do zee your feäce, - Up steärs or down below, - I’ll zit me in the lwonesome pleäce, - Where flat-bough’d beech do grow; - Below the beeches’ bough, my love, - Where you did never come, - An’ I don’t look to meet ye now, - As I do look at hwome. - - Since you noo mwore be at my zide, - In walks in zummer het, - I’ll goo alwone where mist do ride, - Droo trees a-drippèn wet; - Below the rain-wet bough, my love, - Where you did never come, - An’ I don’t grieve to miss ye now, - As I do grieve at hwome. - - Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard - Your vaïce do never sound, - I’ll eat the bit I can avword - A-vield upon the ground; - Below the darksome bough, my love, - Where you did never dine, - An’ I don’t grieve to miss ye now, - As I at hwome do pine. - - Since I do miss your vaïce an’ feäce - In praÿer at eventide, - I’ll praÿ wi’ woone sad vaïce vor greäce - To goo where you do bide; - Above the tree an’ bough, my love, - Where you be gone avore, - An’ be a-waitèn vor me now, - To come vor evermwore. - - - - -WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED - -1802-1839 - - -_660._ _Fairy Song_ - - He has conn’d the lesson now; - He has read the book of pain: - There are furrows on his brow; - I must make it smooth again. - - Lo! I knock the spurs away; - Lo! I loosen belt and brand; - Hark! I hear the courser neigh - For his stall in Fairy-land. - - Bring the cap, and bring the vest; - Buckle on his sandal shoon; - Fetch his memory from the chest - In the treasury of the moon. - - I have taught him to be wise - For a little maiden’s sake;-- - Lo! he opens his glad eyes. - Softly, slowly: Minstrel, wake! - - - - -SARA COLERIDGE - -1802-1850 - - -_661._ _O sleep my Babe_ - - Sleep, my babe, hear not the rippling wave, - Nor feel the breeze that round thee ling’ring strays - To drink thy balmy breath, - And sigh one long farewell. - - Soon shall it mourn above thy wat’ry bed, - And whisper to me, on the wave-beat shore, - Deep murm’ring in reproach, - Thy sad untimely fate. - - Ere those dear eyes had open’d on the light, - In vain to plead, thy coming life was sold, - O waken’d but to sleep, - Whence it can wake no more! - - A thousand and a thousand silken leaves - The tufted beech unfolds in early spring, - All clad in tenderest green, - All of the self-same shape: - - A thousand infant faces, soft and sweet, - Each year sends forth, yet every mother views - Her last not least beloved - Like its dear self alone. - - No musing mind hath ever yet foreshaped - The face to-morrow’s sun shall first reveal, - No heart hath e’er conceived - What love that face will bring. - - O sleep, my babe, nor heed how mourns the gale - To part with thy soft locks and fragrant breath, - As when it deeply sighs - O’er autumn’s latest bloom. - - -_662._ _The Child_ - - See yon blithe child that dances in our sight! - Can gloomy shadows fall from one so bright? - Fond mother, whence these fears? - While buoyantly he rushes o’er the lawn, - Dream not of clouds to stain his manhood’s dawn, - Nor dim that sight with tears. - - No cloud he spies in brightly glowing hours, - But feels as if the newly vested bowers - For him could never fade: - Too well we know that vernal pleasures fleet, - But having him, so gladsome, fair, and sweet, - Our loss is overpaid. - - Amid the balmiest flowers that earth can give - Some bitter drops distil, and all that live - A mingled portion share; - But, while he learns these truths which we lament, - Such fortitude as ours will sure be sent, - Such solace to his care. - - - - -GERALD GRIFFIN - -1803-1840 - - -_663._ _Eileen Aroon_ - - When like the early rose, - Eileen Aroon! - Beauty in childhood blows, - Eileen Aroon! - When, like a diadem, - Buds blush around the stem, - Which is the fairest gem?-- - Eileen Aroon! - - Is it the laughing eye, - Eileen Aroon! - Is it the timid sigh, - Eileen Aroon! - Is it the tender tone, - Soft as the string’d harp’s moan? - O, it is truth alone,-- - Eileen Aroon! - - When like the rising day, - Eileen Aroon! - Love sends his early ray, - Eileen Aroon! - What makes his dawning glow, - Changeless through joy or woe? - Only the constant know:-- - Eileen Aroon! - - I know a valley fair, - Eileen Aroon! - I knew a cottage there, - Eileen Aroon! - Far in that valley’s shade - I knew a gentle maid, - Flower of a hazel glade,-- - Eileen Aroon! - - Who in the song so sweet? - Eileen Aroon! - Who in the dance so fleet? - Eileen Aroon! - Dear were her charms to me, - Dearer her laughter free, - Dearest her constancy,-- - Eileen Aroon! - - Were she no longer true, - Eileen Aroon! - What should her lover do? - Eileen Aroon! - Fly with his broken chain - Far o’er the sounding main, - Never to love again,-- - Eileen Aroon! - - Youth must with time decay, - Eileen Aroon! - Beauty must fade away, - Eileen Aroon! - Castles are sack’d in war, - Chieftains are scatter’d far, - Truth is a fixèd star,-- - Eileen Aroon! - - - - -JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN - -1803-1840 - - -_664._ _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 thro’ dales, - Have I roam’d for your sake; - All yesterday I sail’d with sails - On river and on lake. - The Erne, at its highest flood, - I dash’d across unseen, - For there was lightning in my blood, - My Dark Rosaleen! - My own Rosaleen! - O, there was lightning in my blood, - Red lightning lighten’d thro’ 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 yet 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, - O, 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! - - O, 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 Judgement Hour must first be nigh, - Ere you can fade, ere you can die, - My Dark Rosaleen! - - -_665._ _The Nameless One_ - - Roll forth, my song, like the rushing river, - That sweeps along to the mighty sea; - God will inspire me while I deliver - My soul of thee! - - Tell thou the world, when my bones lie whitening - Amid the last homes of youth and eld, - That once there was one whose veins ran lightning - No eye beheld. - - Tell how his boyhood was one drear night-hour, - How shone for him, through his griefs and gloom, - No star of all heaven sends to light our - Path to the tomb. - - Roll on, my song, and to after ages - Tell how, disdaining all earth can give, - He would have taught men, from wisdom’s pages, - The way to live. - - And tell how trampled, derided, hated, - And worn by weakness, disease, and wrong, - He fled for shelter to God, who mated - His soul with song. - - --With song which alway, sublime or vapid, - Flow’d like a rill in the morning beam, - Perchance not deep, but intense and rapid-- - A mountain stream. - - Tell how this Nameless, condemn’d for years long - To herd with demons from hell beneath, - Saw things that made him, with groans and tears, long - For even death. - - Go on to tell how, with genius wasted, - Betray’d in friendship, befool’d in love, - With spirit shipwreck’d, and young hopes blasted, - He still, still strove; - - Till, spent with toil, dreeing death for others - (And some whose hands should have wrought for him, - If children live not for sires and mothers), - His mind grew dim; - - And he fell far through that pit abysmal, - The gulf and grave of Maginn and Burns, - And pawn’d his soul for the devil’s dismal - Stock of returns. - - But yet redeemed it in days of darkness, - And shapes and signs of the final wrath, - When death, in hideous and ghastly starkness, - Stood on his path. - - And tell how now, amid wreck and sorrow, - And want, and sickness, and houseless nights, - He bides in calmness the silent morrow, - That no ray lights. - - And lives he still, then? Yes! Old and hoary - At thirty-nine, from despair and woe, - He lives, enduring what future story - Will never know. - - Him grant a grave to, ye pitying noble, - Deep in your bosoms: there let him dwell! - He too, had tears for all souls in trouble, - Here and in hell. - - - - -THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES - -1803-1849 - - -_666._ _Wolfram’s Dirge_ - - If thou wilt ease thine heart - Of love and all its smart, - Then sleep, dear, sleep; - And not a sorrow - Hang any tear on your eyelashes; - Lie still and deep, - Sad soul, until the sea-wave washes - The rim of the sun to-morrow, - In eastern sky. - - But wilt thou cure thine heart - Of love and all its smart, - Then die, dear, die; - ’Tis deeper, sweeter, - Than on a rose-bank to lie dreaming - With folded eye; - And there alone, amid the beaming - Of Love’s stars, thou’lt meet her - In eastern sky. - - -_667._ _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 pearl 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. - - -_668._ _Song_ - - How many times do I love thee, dear? - Tell me how many thoughts there be - In the atmosphere - Of a new-fall’n year, - Whose white and sable hours appear - The latest flake of Eternity: - So many 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, - Unravell’d from the tumbling main, - And threading the eye of a yellow star: - So many times do I love again. - - - - -RALPH WALDO EMERSON - -1803-1882 - - -_669._ _Give All to Love_ - - Give all to love; - Obey thy heart; - Friends, kindred, days, - Estate, good fame, - Plans, credit, and the Muse-- - Nothing refuse. - - ’Tis a brave master; - Let it have scope: - Follow it utterly, - Hope beyond hope: - High and more high - It dives into noon, - With wing unspent, - Untold intent; - But it is a god, - Knows its own path, - And the outlets of the sky. - - It was never for the mean; - It requireth courage stout, - Souls above doubt, - Valour unbending: - Such ’twill reward;-- - They shall return - More than they were, - And ever ascending. - - Leave all for love; - Yet, hear me, yet, - One word more thy heart behoved, - One pulse more of firm endeavour-- - Keep thee to-day, - To-morrow, for ever, - Free as an Arab - Of thy beloved. - - Cling with life to the maid; - But when the surprise, - First vague shadow of surmise, - Flits across her bosom young, - Of a joy apart from thee, - Free be she, fancy-free; - Nor thou detain her vesture’s hem, - Nor the palest rose she flung - From her summer diadem. - - Though thou loved her as thyself, - As a self of purer clay; - Though her parting dims the day, - Stealing grace from all alive; - Heartily know, - When half-gods go - The gods arrive. - - -_670._ _Uriel_ - - It fell in the ancient periods - Which the brooding soul surveys, - Or ever the wild Time coin’d itself - Into calendar months and days. - - This was the lapse of Uriel, - Which in Paradise befell. - Once, among the Pleiads walking, - Sayd overheard the young gods talking; - And the treason, too long pent, - To his ears was evident. - The young deities discuss’d - Laws of form, and metre just, - Orb, quintessence, and sunbeams, - What subsisteth, and what seems. - One, with low tones that decide, - And doubt and reverend use defied, - With a look that solved the sphere, - And stirr’d the devils everywhere, - Gave his sentiment divine - Against the being of a line. - ‘Line in nature is not found; - Unit and universe are round; - In vain produced, all rays return; - Evil will bless, and ice will burn.’ - As Uriel spoke with piercing eye, - A shudder ran around the sky; - The stern old war-gods shook their heads; - The seraphs frown’d from myrtle-beds; - Seem’d to the holy festival - The rash word boded ill to all; - The balance-beam of Fate was bent; - The bounds of good and ill were rent; - Strong Hades could not keep his own, - But all slid to confusion. - - A sad self-knowledge withering fell - On the beauty of Uriel; - In heaven once eminent, the god - Withdrew that hour into his cloud; - Whether doom’d to long gyration - In the sea of generation, - Or by knowledge grown too bright - To hit the nerve of feebler sight. - Straightway a forgetting wind - Stole over the celestial kind, - And their lips the secret kept, - If in ashes the fire-seed slept. - But, now and then, truth-speaking things - Shamed the angels’ veiling wings; - And, shrilling from the solar course, - Or from fruit of chemic force, - Procession of a soul in matter, - Or the speeding change of water, - Or out of the good of evil born, - Came Uriel’s voice of cherub scorn, - And a blush tinged the upper sky, - And the gods shook, they knew not why. - - -_671._ _Bacchus_ - - Bring me wine, but wine which never grew - In the belly of the grape, - Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through - Under the Andes to the Cape, - Suffer’d no savour of the earth to ’scape. - - Let its grapes the morn salute - From a nocturnal root, - Which feels the acrid juice - Of Styx and Erebus; - And turns the woe of Night, - By its own craft, to a more rich delight. - - We buy ashes for bread; - We buy diluted wine; - Give me of the true, - Whose ample leaves and tendrils curl’d - Among the silver hills of heaven - Draw everlasting dew; - Wine of wine, - Blood of the world, - Form of forms, and mould of statures, - That I intoxicated, - And by the draught assimilated, - May float at pleasure through all natures; - The bird-language rightly spell, - And that which roses say so well: - - Wine that is shed - Like the torrents of the sun - Up the horizon walls, - Or like the Atlantic streams, which run - When the South Sea calls. - - Water and bread, - Food which needs no transmuting, - Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting, - Wine which is already man, - Food which teach and reason can. - - Wine which Music is,-- - Music and wine are one,-- - That I, drinking this, - Shall hear far Chaos talk with me; - Kings unborn shall walk with me; - And the poor grass shall plot and plan - What it will do when it is man. - Quicken’d so, will I unlock - Every crypt of every rock. - - I thank the joyful juice - For all I know; - Winds of remembering - Of the ancient being blow, - And seeming-solid walls of use - Open and flow. - - Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine; - Retrieve the loss of me and mine! - Vine for vine be antidote, - And the grape requite the lote! - Haste to cure the old despair; - Reason in Nature’s lotus drench’d-- - The memory of ages quench’d-- - Give them again to shine; - Let wine repair what this undid; - And where the infection slid, - A dazzling memory revive; - Refresh the faded tints, - Recut the agèd prints, - And write my old adventures with the pen - Which on the first day drew, - Upon the tablets blue, - The dancing Pleiads and eternal men. - - -_672._ _Brahma_ - - If the red slayer think he slays, - Or if the slain think he is slain, - They know not well the subtle ways - I keep, and pass, and turn again. - - - Far or forgot to me is near; - Shadow and sunlight are the same; - The vanish’d gods to me appear; - And one to me are shame and fame. - - They reckon ill who leave me out; - When me they fly, I am the wings; - I am the doubter and the doubt, - And I the hymn the Brahmin sings. - - The strong gods pine for my abode, - And pine in vain the sacred Seven; - But thou, meek lover of the good! - Find me, and turn thy back on heaven. - - - - -RICHARD HENRY HORNE - -1803-1884 - - -_673._ _The Plough_ - -A LANDSCAPE IN BERKSHIRE - - Above yon sombre swell of land - Thou see’st the dawn’s grave orange hue, - With one pale streak like yellow sand, - And over that a vein of blue. - - The air is cold above the woods; - All silent is the earth and sky, - Except with his own lonely moods - The blackbird holds a colloquy. - - Over the broad hill creeps a beam, - Like hope that gilds a good man’s brow; - And now ascends the nostril-stream - Of stalwart horses come to plough. - - - Ye rigid Ploughmen, bear in mind - Your labour is for future hours: - Advance--spare not--nor look behind-- - Plough deep and straight with all your powers! - - - - -ROBERT STEPHEN HAWKER - -1804-1875 - - -_674._ _King Arthur’s Waes-hael_ - - Waes-hael for knight and dame! - O merry be their dole! - Drink-hael! in Jesu’s name - We fill the tawny bowl; - But cover down the curving crest, - Mould of the Orient Lady’s breast. - - Waes-hael! yet lift no lid: - Drain ye the reeds for wine. - Drink-hael! the milk was hid - That soothed that Babe divine; - Hush’d, as this hollow channel flows, - He drew the balsam from the rose. - - Waes-hael! thus glow’d the breast - Where a God yearn’d to cling; - Drink-hael! so Jesu press’d - Life from its mystic spring; - Then hush and bend in reverent sign - And breathe the thrilling reeds for wine. - - Waes-hael! in shadowy scene - Lo! Christmas children we: - Drink-hael! behold we lean - At a far Mother’s knee; - To dream that thus her bosom smiled, - And learn the lip of Bethlehem’s Child. - - -_675._ _Are they not all Ministering Spirits?_ - - We see them not--we cannot hear - The music of their wing-- - Yet know we that they sojourn near, - The Angels of the spring! - - They glide along this lovely ground - When the first violet grows; - Their graceful hands have just unbound - The zone of yonder rose. - - I gather it for thy dear breast, - From stain and shadow free: - That which an Angel’s touch hath blest - Is meet, my love, for thee! - - - - -THOMAS WADE - -1805-1875 - - -_676._ _The Half-asleep_ - - O for the mighty wakening that aroused - The old-time Prophets to their missions high; - And to blind Homer’s inward sunlike eye - Show’d the heart’s universe where he caroused - Radiantly; the Fishers poor unhoused, - And sent them forth to preach divinity; - And made our Milton his great dark defy, - To the light of one immortal theme espoused! - But half asleep are those now most awake; - And save calm-thoughted Wordsworth, we have none - Who for eternity put time at stake, - And hold a constant course as doth the sun: - We yield but drops that no deep thirstings slake; - And feebly cease ere we have well begun. - - - - -FRANCIS MAHONY - -1805-1866 - - -_677._ _The Bells of Shandon_ - - With deep affection, - And recollection, - I often think of - Those 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 like thine; - For memory, dwelling - On each proud swelling - Of the belfry knelling - Its bold notes free, - Made the bells of Shandon - Sound far 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 Saint Sophia - The Turkman gets, - And loud in air - Calls men to prayer - From the tapering summits - Of tall minarets. - Such empty phantom - I freely grant them; - But there’s an anthem - More dear to me,-- - ’Tis the bells of Shandon, - That sound so grand on - The pleasant waters - Of the River Lee. - - - - -ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING - -1806-1861 - - -_678._ _Rosalind’s Scroll_ - - I left thee last, a child at heart, - A woman scarce in years: - I come to thee, a solemn corpse - Which neither feels nor fears. - I have no breath to use in sighs; - They laid the dead-weights on mine eyes - To seal them safe from tears. - - Look on me with thine own calm look: - I meet it calm as thou. - No look of thine can change this smile, - Or break thy sinful vow: - I tell thee that my poor scorn’d heart - Is of thine earth--thine earth--a part: - It cannot vex thee now. - - I have pray’d for thee with bursting sob - When passion’s course was free; - I have pray’d for thee with silent lips - In the anguish none could see; - They whisper’d oft, ‘She sleepeth soft’-- - But I only pray’d for thee. - - Go to! I pray for thee no more: - The corpse’s tongue is still; - Its folded fingers point to heaven, - But point there stiff and chill: - No farther wrong, no farther woe - Hath licence from the sin below - Its tranquil heart to thrill. - - I charge thee, by the living’s prayer, - And the dead’s silentness, - To wring from out thy soul a cry - Which God shall hear and bless! - Lest Heaven’s own palm droop in my hand, - And pale among the saints I stand, - A saint companionless. - - -_679._ _The Deserted Garden_ - - I mind me in the days departed, - How often underneath the sun - With childish bounds I used to run - To a garden long deserted. - - The beds and walks were vanish’d quite; - And wheresoe’er had struck the spade, - The greenest grasses Nature laid, - To sanctify her right. - - I call’d the place my wilderness, - For no one enter’d there but I. - The sheep look’d in, the grass to espy, - And pass’d it ne’ertheless. - - The trees were interwoven wild, - And spread their boughs enough about - To keep both sheep and shepherd out, - But not a happy child. - - Adventurous joy it was for me; - I crept beneath the boughs, and found - A circle smooth of mossy ground - Beneath a poplar-tree. - - Old garden rose-trees hedged it in; - Bedropt with roses waxen-white, - Well satisfied with dew and light, - And careless to be seen. - - Long years ago, it might befall, - When all the garden flowers were trim, - The grave old gardener prided him - On these the most of all. - - Some Lady, stately overmuch, - Here moving with a silken noise, - Has blush’d beside them at the voice - That liken’d her to such. - - Or these, to make a diadem, - She often may have pluck’d and twined; - Half-smiling as it came to mind, - That few would look at _them_. - - O, little thought that Lady proud, - A child would watch her fair white rose, - When buried lay her whiter brows, - And silk was changed for shroud!-- - - Nor thought that gardener (full of scorns - For men unlearn’d and simple phrase) - A child would bring it all its praise, - By creeping through the thorns! - - To me upon my low moss seat, - Though never a dream the roses sent - Of science or love’s compliment, - I ween they smelt as sweet. - - It did not move my grief to see - The trace of human step departed: - Because the garden was deserted, - The blither place for me! - - Friends, blame me not! a narrow ken - Hath childhood ’twixt the sun and sward; - We draw the moral afterward-- - We feel the gladness then. - - And gladdest hours for me did glide - In silence at the rose-tree wall: - A thrush made gladness musical - Upon the other side. - - Nor he nor I did e’er incline - To peck or pluck the blossoms white:-- - How should I know but that they might - Lead lives as glad as mine? - - To make my hermit-home complete, - I brought clear water from the spring - Praised in its own low murmuring, - And cresses glossy wet. - - And so, I thought, my likeness grew - (Without the melancholy tale) - To ‘gentle hermit of the dale,’ - And Angelina too. - - For oft I read within my nook - Such minstrel stories; till the breeze - Made sounds poetic in the trees, - And then I shut the book. - - If I shut this wherein I write, - I hear no more the wind athwart - Those trees, nor feel that childish heart - Delighting in delight. - - My childhood from my life is parted, - My footstep from the moss which drew - Its fairy circle round: anew - The garden is deserted. - - Another thrush may there rehearse - The madrigals which sweetest are; - No more for me!--myself afar - Do sing a sadder verse. - - Ah me! ah me! when erst I lay - In that child’s-nest so greenly wrought, - I laugh’d unto myself and thought, - ‘The time will pass away.’ - - And still I laugh’d, and did not fear - But that, whene’er was pass’d away - The childish time, some happier play - My womanhood would cheer. - - I knew the time would pass away; - And yet, beside the rose-tree wall, - Dear God, how seldom, if at all, - Did I look up to pray! - - The time is past: and now that grows - The cypress high among the trees, - And I behold white sepulchres - As well as the white rose,-- - - When wiser, meeker thoughts are given, - And I have learnt to lift my face, - Reminded how earth’s greenest place - The colour draws from heaven,-- - - It something saith for earthly pain, - But more for heavenly promise free, - That I who was, would shrink to be - That happy child again. - - -_680._ _Consolation_ - - All are not taken; there are left behind - Living Belovèds, tender looks to bring - And make the daylight still a happy thing, - And tender voices, to make soft the wind: - But if it were not so--if I could find - No love in all this world for comforting, - Nor any path but hollowly did ring - Where ‘dust to dust’ the love from life disjoin’d, - And if, before those sepulchres unmoving - I stood alone (as some forsaken lamb - Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth) - Crying ‘Where are ye, O my loved and loving?’-- - I know a voice would sound, ‘Daughter, I AM. - Can I suffice for Heaven and not for earth?’ - - -_681._ _Grief_ - - I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless; - That only men incredulous of despair, - Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air - Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access - Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness - In souls as countries lieth silent-bare - Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare - Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express - Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death-- - Most like a monumental statue set - In everlasting watch and moveless woe - Till itself crumble to the dust beneath. - Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet: - If it could weep, it could arise and go. - - -_Sonnets from the Portuguese_ - - -_682._ _i_ - - I thought once how Theocritus had sung - Of the sweet years, the dear and wish’d-for years, - Who each one in a gracious hand appears - To bear a gift for mortals old or young: - And, as I mused it in his antique tongue, - I saw in gradual vision through my tears - The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years-- - Those of my own life, who by turns had flung - A shadow across me. Straightway I was ’ware, - So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move - Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair; - And a voice said in mastery, while I strove, - ‘Guess now who holds thee?’--‘Death’ I said. But there - The silver answer rang--'Not Death, but Love.’ - - -_683._ _ii_ - - Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart! - Unlike our uses and our destinies. - Our ministering two angels look surprise - On one another, as they strike athwart - Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art - A guest for queens to social pageantries, - With gages from a hundred brighter eyes - Than tears even can make mine, to play thy part - Of chief musician. What hast thou to do - With looking from the lattice-lights at me-- - A poor, tired, wandering singer, singing through - The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree? - The chrism is on thine head--on mine the dew-- - And Death must dig the level where these agree. - - -_684._ _iii_ - - Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand - Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore - Alone upon the threshold of my door - Of individual life I shall command - The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand - Serenely in the sunshine as before, - Without the sense of that which I forbore-- - Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land - Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine - With pulses that beat double. What I do - And what I dream include thee, as the wine - Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue - God for myself, He hears that name of thine, - And sees within my eyes the tears of two. - - -_685._ _iv_ - - If thou must love me, let it be for naught - Except for love’s sake only. Do not say, - ‘I love her for her smile--her look--her way - Of speaking gently,--for a trick of thought - That falls in well with mine, and certes brought - A sense of pleasant ease on such a day-- - For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may - Be changed, or change for thee--and love, so wrought, - May be unwrought so. Neither love me for - Thine own dear pity’s wiping my cheeks dry: - A creature might forget to weep, who bore - Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby! - But love me for love’s sake, that evermore - Thou mayst love on, through love’s eternity. - - -_686._ _v_ - - When our two souls stand up erect and strong, - Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher, - Until the lengthening wings break into fire - At either curving point,--what bitter wrong - Can the earth do us, that we should not long - Be here contented? Think! In mounting higher, - The angels would press on us, and aspire - To drop some golden orb of perfect song - Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay - Rather on earth, Belovèd--where the unfit - Contrarious moods of men recoil away - And isolate pure spirits, and permit - A place to stand and love in for a day, - With darkness and the death-hour rounding it. - - -_687._ _A Musical Instrument_ - - What was he doing, the great god Pan, - Down in the reeds by the river? - Spreading ruin and scattering ban, - Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, - And breaking the golden lilies afloat - With the dragon-fly on the river. - - He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, - From the deep cool bed of the river; - The limpid water turbidly ran, - And the broken lilies a-dying lay, - And the dragon-fly had fled away, - Ere he brought it out of the river. - - High on the shore sat the great god Pan, - While turbidly flow’d the river; - And hack’d and hew’d as a great god can - With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed, - Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed - To prove it fresh from the river. - - He cut it short, did the great god Pan - (How tall it stood in the river!), - Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man, - Steadily from the outside ring, - And notch’d the poor dry empty thing - In holes, as he sat by the river. - - ‘This is the way’ laugh’d the great god Pan - (Laugh’d while he sat by the river), - ‘The only way, since gods began - To make sweet music, they could succeed.’ - Then dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed, - He blew in power by the river. - - - Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan! - Piercing sweet by the river! - Blinding sweet, O great god Pan! - The sun on the hill forgot to die, - And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly - Came back to dream on the river. - - Yet half a beast is the great god Pan, - To laugh as he sits by the river, - Making a poet out of a man: - The true gods sigh for the cost and pain-- - For the reed which grows nevermore again - As a reed with the reeds of the river. - - - - -FREDERICK TENNYSON - -1807-1898 - - -_688._ _The Holy Tide_ - - The days are sad, it is the Holy tide. - The Winter morn is short, the Night is long; - So let the lifeless Hours be glorified - With deathless thoughts and echo’d in sweet song: - And through the sunset of this purple cup - They will resume the roses of their prime, - And the old Dead will hear us and wake up, - Pass with dim smiles and make our hearts sublime! - - The days are sad, it is the Holy tide: - Be dusky mistletoes and hollies strown, - Sharp as the spear that pierced His sacred side, - Red as the drops upon His thorny crown; - No haggard Passion and no lawless Mirth - Fright off the solemn Muse,--tell sweet old tales, - Sing songs as we sit brooding o’er the hearth, - Till the lamp flickers, and the memory fails. - - - - -HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW - -1807-1882 - - -_689._ _My Lost Youth_ - - Often I think of the beautiful town - That is seated by the sea; - Often in thought go up and down - The pleasant streets of that dear old town, - And my youth comes back to me. - And a verse of a Lapland song - Is haunting my memory still: - ‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, - And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ - - I can see the shadowy lines of its trees, - And catch, in sudden gleams, - The sheen of the far-surrounding seas, - And islands that were the Hesperides - Of all my boyish dreams. - And the burden of that old song, - It murmurs and whispers still: - ‘A Boy’s will is the wind’s will, - And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ - - I remember the black wharves and the slips, - And the sea-tides tossing free; - And Spanish sailors with bearded lips, - And the beauty and mystery of the ships, - And the magic of the sea. - And the voice of that wayward song - Is singing and saying still: - ‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, - And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ - - - I remember the bulwarks by the shore, - And the fort upon the hill; - The sunrise gun with its hollow roar, - The drum-beat repeated o’er and o’er, - And the bugle wild and shrill. - And the music of that old song - Throbs in my memory still: - ‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, - And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ - - I remember the sea-fight far away, - How it thunder’d o’er the tide! - And the dead sea-captains, as they lay - In their graves o’erlooking the tranquil bay - Where they in battle died. - And the sound of that mournful song - Goes through me with a thrill: - ‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, - And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ - - I can see the breezy dome of groves, - The shadows of Deering’s woods; - And the friendships old and the early loves - Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves - In quiet neighbourhoods. - And the verse of that sweet old song, - It flutters and murmurs still: - ‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, - And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ - - I remember the gleams and glooms that dart - Across the schoolboy’s brain; - The song and the silence in the heart, - That in part are prophecies, and in part - Are longings wild and vain. - And the voice of that fitful song - Sings on, and is never still: - ‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, - And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ - - There are things of which I may not speak; - There are dreams that cannot die; - There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, - And bring a pallor into the cheek, - And a mist before the eye. - And the words of that fatal song - Come over me like a chill: - ‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, - And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ - - Strange to me now are the forms I meet - When I visit the dear old town; - But the native air is pure and sweet, - And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street, - As they balance up and down, - Are singing the beautiful song, - Are sighing and whispering still: - ‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, - And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ - - And Deering’s woods are fresh and fair, - And with joy that is almost pain - My heart goes back to wander there, - And among the dreams of the days that were - I find my lost youth again. - And the strange and beautiful song, - The groves are repeating it still: - ‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will, - And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ - - - - -JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER - -1807-1892 - - -_690._ _Vesta_ - - O Christ of God! whose life and death - Our own have reconciled, - Most quietly, most tenderly - Take home thy star-named child! - - Thy grace is in her patient eyes, - Thy words are on her tongue; - The very silence round her seems - As if the angels sung. - - Her smile is as a listening child’s - Who hears its mother’s call; - The lilies of Thy perfect peace - About her pillow fall. - - She leans from out our clinging arms - To rest herself in Thine; - Alone to Thee, dear Lord, can we - Our well-beloved resign. - - O, less for her than for ourselves - We bow our heads and pray; - Her setting star, like Bethlehem’s, - To Thee shall point the way! - - - - -HELEN SELINA, LADY DUFFERIN - -1807-1867 - - -_691._ _Lament of the Irish Emigrant_ - - I’m sittin’ on the stile, Mary, - Where we sat side by side - On a bright May mornin’ long ago, - When first you were my bride; - The corn was springin’ fresh and green, - And the lark sang loud and high-- - And the red was on your lip, Mary, - And the love-light in your eye. - - The place is little changed, Mary, - The day is bright as then, - The lark’s loud song is in my ear, - And the corn is green again; - But I miss the soft clasp of your hand, - And your breath warm on my cheek, - And I still keep list’ning for the words - You never more will speak. - - ’Tis but a step down yonder lane, - And the little church stands near, - The church where we were wed, Mary, - I see the spire from here. - But the graveyard lies between, Mary, - And my step might break your rest-- - For I’ve laid you, darling! down to sleep, - With your baby on your breast. - - - I’m very lonely now, Mary, - For the poor make no new friends, - But, O, they love the better still, - The few our Father sends! - And you were all _I_ had, Mary, - My blessin’ and my pride: - There’s nothin’ left to care for now, - Since my poor Mary died. - - Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary, - That still kept hoping on, - When the trust in God had left my soul, - And my arm’s young strength was gone: - There was comfort ever on your lip, - And the kind look on your brow-- - I bless you, Mary, for that same, - Though you cannot hear me now. - - I thank you for the patient smile - When your heart was fit to break, - When the hunger pain was gnawin’ there, - And you hid it, for my sake! - I bless you for the pleasant word, - When your heart was sad and sore-- - O, I’m thankful you are gone, Mary, - Where grief can’t reach you more! - - I’m biddin’ you a long farewell, - My Mary--kind and true! - But I’ll not forget you, darling! - In the land I’m goin’ to; - They say there’s bread and work for all, - And the sun shines always there-- - But I’ll not forget old Ireland, - Were it fifty times as fair! - - And often in those grand old woods - I’ll sit, and shut my eyes, - And my heart will travel back again - To the place where Mary lies; - And I’ll think I see the little stile - Where we sat side by side: - And the springin’ corn, and the bright May morn, - When first you were my bride. - - - - -CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH NORTON - -1808-1876 - - -_692._ _I do not love Thee_ - - I do not love thee!--no! I do not love thee! - And yet when thou art absent I am sad; - And envy even the bright blue sky above thee, - Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad. - - I do not love thee!--yet, I know not why, - Whate’er thou dost seems still well done, to me: - And often in my solitude I sigh - That those I do love are not more like thee! - - I do not love thee!--yet, when thou art gone, - I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear) - Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone - Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear. - - - I do not love thee!--yet thy speaking eyes, - With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue, - Between me and the midnight heaven arise, - Oftener than any eyes I ever knew. - - I know I do not love thee! yet, alas! - Others will scarcely trust my candid heart; - And oft I catch them smiling as they pass, - Because they see me gazing where thou art. - - - - -CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER - -1808-1879 - - -_693._ _Letty’s Globe_ - - When Letty had scarce pass’d her third glad year, - And her young artless words began to flow, - One day we gave the child a colour’d sphere - Of the wide earth, that she might mark and know, - By tint and outline, all its sea and land. - She patted all the world; old empires peep’d - Between her baby fingers; her soft hand - Was welcome at all frontiers. How she leap’d, - And laugh’d and prattled in her world-wide bliss; - But when we turn’d her sweet unlearnèd eye - On our own isle, she raised a joyous cry-- - ‘Oh! yes, I see it, Letty’s home is there!’ - And while she hid all England with a kiss, - Bright over Europe fell her golden hair. - - - - -EDGAR ALLAN POE - -1809-1849 - - -_694._ _To Helen_ - - Helen, thy beauty is to me - Like those Nicèan barks of yore - That gently, o’er a perfumed sea, - The weary way-worn wanderer bore - To his own native shore. - - On desperate seas long wont to roam, - Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, - Thy Naiad airs 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! - - -_695._ _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 wingèd 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 high-born kinsmen 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 one 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. - - -_696._ _For Annie_ - - Thank Heaven! the crisis-- - The danger is past, - And the lingering illness - Is over at last-- - And the fever called ‘Living’ - Is conquer’d at last. - - Sadly, I know - I am shorn of my strength, - And no muscle I move - As I lie at full length: - But no matter--I feel - I am better at length. - - And I rest so composedly - Now, in my bed, - That any beholder - Might fancy me dead-- - Might start at beholding me, - Thinking me dead. - - The moaning and groaning, - The sighing and sobbing, - Are quieted now, - With that horrible throbbing - At heart--ah, that horrible, - Horrible throbbing! - - The sickness--the nausea-- - The pitiless pain-- - Have ceased, with the fever - That madden’d my brain-- - With the fever called ‘Living’ - That burn’d in my brain. - - And O! of all tortures - That torture the worst - Has abated--the terrible - Torture of thirst - For the naphthaline river - Of Passion accurst-- - I have drunk of a water - That quenches all thirst. - - --Of a water that flows, - With a lullaby sound, - From a spring but a very few - Feet under ground-- - From a cavern not very far - Down under ground. - - And ah! let it never - Be foolishly said - That my room it is gloomy, - And narrow my bed; - For man never slept - In a different bed-- - And, to _sleep_, you must slumber - In just such a bed. - - My tantalized spirit - Here blandly reposes, - Forgetting, or never - Regretting its roses-- - Its old agitations - Of myrtles and roses: - - For now, while so quietly - Lying, it fancies - A holier odour - About it, of pansies-- - A rosemary odour, - Commingled with pansies-- - With rue and the beautiful - Puritan pansies. - - And so it lies happily, - Bathing in many - A dream of the truth - And the beauty of Annie-- - Drown’d in a bath - Of the tresses of Annie. - - She tenderly kiss’d me, - She fondly caress’d, - And then I fell gently - To sleep on her breast-- - Deeply to sleep - From the heaven of her breast. - - When the light was extinguish’d, - She cover’d me warm, - And she pray’d to the angels - To keep me from harm-- - To the queen of the angels - To shield me from harm. - - And I lie so composedly, - Now, in my bed - (Knowing her love), - That you fancy me dead-- - And I rest so contentedly, - Now, in my bed - (With her love at my breast), - That you fancy me dead-- - That you shudder to look at me, - Thinking me dead. - - But my heart it is brighter - Than all of the many - Stars in the sky, - For it sparkles with Annie-- - It glows with the light - Of the love of my Annie-- - With the thought of the light - Of the eyes of my Annie. - - - - -EDWARD FITZGERALD - -1809-1883 - - -_697._ _Old Song_ - - ’Tis a dull sight - To see the year dying, - When winter winds - Set the yellow wood sighing: - Sighing, O sighing! - - When such a time cometh - I do retire - Into an old room - Beside a bright fire: - O, pile a bright fire! - - And there I sit - Reading old things, - Of knights and lorn damsels, - While the wind sings-- - O, drearily sings! - - I never look out - Nor attend to the blast; - For all to be seen - Is the leaves falling fast: - Falling, falling! - - But close at the hearth, - Like a cricket, sit I, - Reading of summer - And chivalry-- - Gallant chivalry! - - Then with an old friend - I talk of our youth-- - How ’twas gladsome, but often - Foolish, forsooth: - But gladsome, gladsome! - - Or, to get merry, - We sing some old rhyme - That made the wood ring again - In summer time-- - Sweet summer time! - - Then go we smoking, - Silent and snug: - Naught passes between us, - Save a brown jug-- - Sometimes! - - And sometimes a tear - Will rise in each eye, - Seeing the two old friends - So merrily-- - So merrily! - - And ere to bed - Go we, go we, - Down on the ashes - We kneel on the knee, - Praying together! - - Thus, then, live I - Till, ’mid all the gloom, - By Heaven! the bold sun - Is with me in the room - Shining, shining! - - Then the clouds part, - Swallows soaring between; - The spring is alive, - And the meadows are green! - - I jump up like mad, - Break the old pipe in twain, - And away to the meadows, - The meadows again! - - -_698._ _From Omar Khayyám_ - - -I - - A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, - A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread--and Thou - Beside me singing in the Wilderness-- - O. Wilderness were Paradise enow! - - Some for the Glories of This World; and some - Sigh for the Prophet’s Paradise to come; - Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go, - Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum! - - Look to the blowing Rose about us--‘Lo, - Laughing,’ she says, ‘into the world I blow, - At once the silken tassel of my Purse - Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.’ - - And those who husbanded the Golden grain - And those who flung it to the winds like Rain - Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn’d - As, buried once, Men want dug up again. - - -II - - Think, in this batter’d Caravanserai - Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day, - How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp - Abode his destined Hour, and went his way. - - They say the Lion and the Lizard keep - The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep: - And Bahrám, that great Hunter--the wild Ass - Stamps o’er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep. - - I sometimes think that never blows so red - The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled; - That every Hyacinth the Garden wears - Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head. - - And this reviving Herb whose tender Green - Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean-- - Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows - From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen! - - Ah, my Belovèd, fill the Cup that clears - TO-DAY of past Regrets and Future Fears: - _To-morrow!_--Why, To-morrow I may be - Myself with Yesterday’s Sev’n thousand Years. - - For some we loved, the loveliest and the best - That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest, - Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, - And one by one crept silently to rest. - - And we, that now make merry in the Room - They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom, - Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth - Descend--ourselves to make a Couch--for whom? - - Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, - Before we too into the Dust descend; - Dust unto Dust, and under Dust to lie, - Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End! - - -III - - Ah, with the Grape my fading Life provide, - And wash my Body whence the Life has died, - And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf, - By some not unfrequented Garden-side.... - - Yon rising Moon that looks for us again-- - How oft hereafter will she wax and wane; - How oft hereafter rising look for us - Through this same Garden--and for _one_ in vain! - - And when like her, O Sákí, you shall pass - Among the Guests star-scatter’d on the Grass, - And in your joyous errand reach the spot - Where I made One--turn down an empty Glass! - - - - -ALFRED TENNYSON, LORD TENNYSON - -1809-1892 - - -_699._ _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 gable-wall. - The broken sheds look’d 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 seem’d to walk forlorn, - Till cold winds woke the gray-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 blacken’d waters slept, - And o’er it many, round and small, - The cluster’d 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 gray. - 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 creak’d; - The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse - Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek’d, - Or from the crevice peer’d about. - Old faces glimmer’d thro’ the doors, - Old footsteps trod the upper floors, - Old voices call’d 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, - O God, that I were dead!’ - - -_700.__The Lady of Shalott_ - - -PART I - - On either side the river lie - Long fields of barley and of rye, - That clothe the wold and meet the sky; - And thro’ the field the road runs by - To many-tower’d Camelot; - And up and down the people go, - Gazing where the lilies blow - Round an island there below, - The island of Shalott. - - Willows whiten, aspens quiver, - Little breezes dusk and shiver - Thro’ the wave that runs for ever - By the island in the river - Flowing down to Camelot. - Four gray walls, and four gray towers, - Overlook a space of flowers, - And the silent isle imbowers - The Lady of Shalott. - - By the margin, willow-veil’d, - Slide the heavy barges trail’d - By slow horses; and unhail’d - The shallop flitteth silken-sail’d - Skimming down to Camelot: - But who hath seen her wave her hand? - Or at the casement seen her stand? - Or is she known in all the land, - The Lady of Shalott? - - Only reapers, reaping early - In among the bearded barley, - Hear a song that echoes cheerly - From the river winding clearly, - Down to tower’d Camelot: - And by the moon the reaper weary, - Piling sheaves in uplands airy, - Listening, whispers ‘’Tis the fairy - Lady of Shalott.’ - - -PART II - - There she weaves by night and day - A magic web with colours gay. - She has heard a whisper say, - A curse is on her if she stay - To look down to Camelot. - She knows not what the curse may be, - And so she weaveth steadily, - And little other care hath she, - The Lady of Shalott. - - And moving thro’ a mirror clear - That hangs before her all the year, - Shadows of the world appear. - There she sees the highway near - Winding down to Camelot: - There the river eddy whirls, - And there the surly village-churls, - And the red cloaks of market girls, - Pass onward from Shalott. - - Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, - An abbot on an ambling pad, - Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, - Or long-hair’d page in crimson clad, - Goes by to tower’d Camelot; - And sometimes thro’ the mirror blue - The knights come riding two and two: - She hath no loyal knight and true, - The Lady of Shalott. - - But in her web she still delights - To weave the mirror’s magic sights, - For often thro’ the silent nights - A funeral, with plumes and lights, - And music, went to Camelot: - Or when the moon was overhead, - Came two young lovers lately wed; - ‘I am half sick of shadows,’ said - The Lady of Shalott. - - -PART III - - A bow-shot from her bower-eaves, - He rode between the barley-sheaves, - The sun came dazzling thro’ the leaves, - And flamed upon the brazen greaves - Of bold Sir Lancelot. - A red-cross knight for ever kneel’d - To a lady in his shield, - That sparkled on the yellow field, - Beside remote Shalott. - - The gemmy bridle glitter’d free, - Like to some branch of stars we see - Hung in the golden Galaxy. - The bridle bells rang merrily - As he rode down to Camelot; - And from his blazon’d baldric slung - A mighty silver bugle hung, - And as he rode his armour rung, - Beside remote Shalott. - - All in the blue unclouded weather - Thick-jewell’d shone the saddle-leather, - The helmet and the helmet-feather - Burn’d like one burning flame together, - As he rode down to Camelot. - As often thro’ the purple night, - Below the starry clusters bright, - Some bearded meteor, trailing light, - Moves over still Shalott. - - His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d; - On burnish’d hooves his war-horse trode; - From underneath his helmet flow’d - His coal-black curls as on he rode, - As he rode down to Camelot. - From the bank and from the river - He flash’d into the crystal mirror, - ‘Tirra lirra,’ by the river - Sang Sir Lancelot. - - She left the web, she left the loom, - She made three paces thro’ the room, - She saw the water-lily bloom, - She saw the helmet and the plume, - She look’d down to Camelot. - Out flew the web and floated wide; - The mirror crack’d from side to side; - ‘The curse is come upon me!’ cried - The Lady of Shalott. - - -PART IV - - In the stormy east-wind straining, - The pale yellow woods were waning, - The broad stream in his banks complaining, - Heavily the low sky raining - Over tower’d Camelot; - Down she came and found a boat - Beneath a willow left afloat, - And round about the prow she wrote - _The Lady of Shalott_. - - And down the river’s dim expanse-- - Like some bold seer in a trance, - Seeing all his own mischance-- - With a glassy countenance - Did she look to Camelot. - And at the closing of the day - She loosed the chain, and down she lay; - The broad stream bore her far away, - The Lady of Shalott. - - Lying, robed in snowy white - That loosely flew to left and right-- - The leaves upon her falling light-- - Thro’ the noises of the night - She floated down to Camelot; - And as the boat-head wound along - The willowy hills and fields among, - They heard her singing her last song, - The Lady of Shalott. - - Heard a carol, mournful, holy, - Chanted loudly, chanted lowly, - Till her blood was frozen slowly, - And her eyes were darkened wholly, - Turn’d to tower’d Camelot; - For ere she reach’d upon the tide - The first house by the water-side, - Singing in her song she died, - The Lady of Shalott. - - Under tower and balcony, - By garden-wall and gallery, - A gleaming shape she floated by, - Dead-pale between the houses high, - Silent into Camelot. - Out upon the wharfs they came, - Knight and burgher, lord and dame, - And round the prow they read her name, - _The Lady of Shalott_. - - Who is this? and what is here? - And in the lighted palace near - Died the sound of royal cheer; - And they cross’d themselves for fear, - All the knights at Camelot: - But Lancelot mused a little space; - He said, ‘She has a lovely face; - God in His mercy lend her grace, - The Lady of Shalott.’ - - -_701._ _The Miller’s Daughter_ - - It is the miller’s daughter, - And she is grown so dear, so dear, - That I would be the jewel - That trembles in her ear: - For hid in ringlets day and night, - I’d touch her neck so warm and white. - - And I would be the girdle - About her dainty dainty waist, - And her heart would beat against me, - In sorrow and in rest: - And I should know if it beat right, - I’d clasp it round so close and tight. - - And I would be the necklace, - And all day long to fall and rise - Upon her balmy bosom, - With her laughter or her sighs: - And I would lie so light, so light, - I scarce should be unclasp’d at night. - - -_702._ _Song of the Lotos-Eaters_ - - 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 tired eyelids upon tired eyes; - Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. - Here are cool mosses deep, - And thro’ the moss the ivies creep, - And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep, - And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep. - - Why are we weigh’d upon with heaviness, - And utterly consumed with sharp distress, - While all things else have rest from weariness? - All things have rest: why should we toil alone, - We only toil, who are the first of things, - And make perpetual moan, - Still from one sorrow to another thrown: - Nor ever fold our wings, - And cease from wanderings, - Nor steep our brows in slumber’s holy balm; - Nor harken what the inner spirit sings, - ‘There is no joy but calm!’-- - Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things? - - - Lo! in the middle of the wood, - The folded leaf is woo’d from out the bud - With winds upon the branch, and there - Grows green and broad, and takes no care, - Sun-steep’d at noon, and in the moon - Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow - Falls, and floats adown the air. - Lo! sweeten’d with the summer light, - The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow, - Drops in a silent autumn night. - All its allotted length of days, - The flower ripens in its place, - Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil, - Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil. - - Hateful is the dark-blue sky, - Vaulted o’er the dark-blue sea. - Death is the end of life; ah, why - Should life all labour be? - Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast, - And in a little while our lips are dumb. - Let us alone. What is it that will last? - All things are taken from us, and become - Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past. - Let us alone. What pleasure can we have - To war with evil? Is there any peace - In ever climbing up the climbing wave? - All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave - In silence; ripen, fall and cease: - Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease. - - How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream, - With half-shut eyes ever to seem - Falling asleep in a half-dream! - To dream and dream, like yonder amber light, - Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height; - To hear each other’s whisper’d speech; - Eating the Lotos day by day, - To watch the crisping ripples on the beach, - And tender curving lines of creamy spray; - To lend our hearts and spirits wholly - To the influence of mild-minded melancholy; - To muse and brood and live again in memory, - With those old faces of our infancy - Heap’d over with a mound of grass, - Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass! - - Dear is the memory of our wedded lives, - And dear the last embraces of our wives - And their warm tears: but all hath suffer’d change; - For surely now our household hearths are cold: - Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange: - And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy. - Or else the island princes over-bold - Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings - Before them of the ten years’ war in Troy, - And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things. - Is there confusion in the little isle? - Let what is broken so remain. - The Gods are hard to reconcile: - ’Tis hard to settle order once again. - There _is_ confusion worse than death, - Trouble on trouble, pain on pain, - Long labour unto agèd breath, - Sore task to hearts worn out with many wars - And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars. - But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly, - How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly) - With half-dropt eyelids still, - Beneath a heaven dark and holy, - To watch the long bright river drawing slowly - His waters from the purple hill-- - To hear the dewy echoes calling - From cave to cave thro’ the thick-twinèd vine-- - To watch the emerald-colour’d water falling - Thro’ many a wov’n acanthus-wreath divine! - Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine, - Only to hear were sweet, stretch’d out beneath the pine. - - The Lotos blooms below the barren peak: - The Lotos blows by every winding creek: - All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone: - Thro’ every hollow cave and alley lone - Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown. - We have had enough of action, and of motion we, - Roll’d to starboard, roll’d to larboard, when the surge was seething free, - Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea. - Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind, - In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined - On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind. - For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurl’d - Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curl’d - Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world: - Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands, - Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands, - Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands. - But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song - Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong, - Like a tale of little meaning tho’ the words are strong; - Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil, - Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil, - Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil; - Till they perish and they suffer--some, ’tis whisper’d--down in hell - Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell, - Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel. - Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore - Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar; - O rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more. - - -_703._ _St. Agnes’ Eve_ - - Deep on the convent-roof the snows - Are sparkling to the moon: - My breath to heaven like vapour goes: - May my soul follow soon! - The shadows of the convent-towers - Slant down the snowy sward, - Still creeping with the creeping hours - That lead me to my Lord: - Make Thou my spirit pure and clear - As are the frosty skies, - Or this first snowdrop of the year - That in my bosom lies. - - As these white robes are soil’d and dark, - To yonder shining ground; - As this pale taper’s earthly spark, - To yonder argent round; - So shows my soul before the Lamb, - My spirit before Thee; - So in mine earthly house I am, - To that I hope to be. - Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far, - Thro’ all yon starlight keen, - Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star, - In raiment white and clean. - - He lifts me to the golden doors; - The flashes come and go; - All heaven bursts her starry floors, - And strows her lights below, - And deepens on and up! the gates - Roll back, and far within - For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits, - To make me pure of sin. - The sabbaths of Eternity, - One sabbath deep and wide-- - A light upon the shining sea-- - The Bridegroom with his bride! - - -_704._ _Blow, Bugle, blow_ - - 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. - - -_705._ _Summer Night_ - - Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; - Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; - Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: - The firefly wakens: waken thou with me. - - Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost, - And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. - - Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars, - And all thy heart lies open unto me. - - Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves - A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. - - Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, - And slips into the bosom of the lake: - So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip - Into my bosom and be lost in me. - - -_706._ _Come down, O Maid_ - - Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height: - What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang). - In height and cold, the splendour of the hills? - But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease - To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine, - To sit a star upon the sparkling spire; - And come, for Love is of the valley, come, - For Love is of the valley, come thou down - And find him; by the happy threshold, he, - Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize, - Or red with spirted purple of the vats, - Or foxlike in the vine; nor cares to walk - With Death and Morning on the silver horns, - Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine, - Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice, - That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls - To roll the torrent out of dusky doors: - But follow; let the torrent dance thee down - To find him in the valley; let the wild - Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, and leave - The monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill - Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke, - That like a broken purpose waste in air: - So waste not thou; but come; for all the vales - Await thee; azure pillars of the hearth - Arise to thee; the children call, and I - Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, - Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet; - Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro’ the lawn, - The moan of doves in immemorial elms, - And murmuring of innumerable bees. - - -_707._ _From ‘In Memoriam’_ - -(ARTHUR HENRY HALLAM, MDCCCXXXIII) - - -I - - Fair ship, that from the Italian shore - Sailest the placid ocean-plains - With my lost Arthur’s loved remains, - Spread thy full wings, and waft him o’er. - - So draw him home to those that mourn - In vain; a favourable speed - Ruffle thy mirror’d mast, and lead - Thro’ prosperous floods his holy urn. - - All night no ruder air perplex - Thy sliding keel, till Phosphor, bright - As our pure love, thro’ early light - Shall glimmer on the dewy decks. - - Sphere all your lights around, above; - Sleep, gentle heavens, before the prow; - Sleep, gentle winds, as he sleeps now, - My friend, the brother of my love; - - My Arthur, whom I shall not see - Till all my widow’d race be run; - Dear as the mother to the son, - More than my brothers are to me. - - -II - - I hear the noise about thy keel; - I hear the bell struck in the night; - I see the cabin-window bright; - I see the sailor at the wheel. - - - Thou bring’st the sailor to his wife, - And travell’d men from foreign lands; - And letters unto trembling hands; - And, thy dark freight, a vanish’d life. - - So bring him: we have idle dreams: - This look of quiet flatters thus - Our home-bred fancies: O to us, - The fools of habit, sweeter seems - - To rest beneath the clover sod, - That takes the sunshine and the rains, - Or where the kneeling hamlet drains - The chalice of the grapes of God; - - Than if with thee the roaring wells - Should gulf him fathom-deep in brine; - And hands so often clasp’d in mine, - Should toss with tangle and with shells. - - -III - - Calm is the morn without a sound, - Calm as to suit a calmer grief, - And only thro’ the faded leaf - The chestnut pattering to the ground: - - Calm and deep peace on this high wold, - And on these dews that drench the furze, - And all the silvery gossamers - That twinkle into green and gold: - - Calm and still light on yon great plain - That sweeps with all its autumn bowers, - And crowded farms and lessening towers, - To mingle with the bounding main: - - - Calm and deep peace in this wide air, - These leaves that redden to the fall; - And in my heart, if calm at all, - If any calm, a calm despair: - - Calm on the seas, and silver sleep, - And waves that sway themselves in rest, - And dead calm in that noble breast - Which heaves but with the heaving deep. - - -IV - - To-night the winds begin to rise - And roar from yonder dropping day: - The last red leaf is whirl’d away, - The rooks are blown about the skies; - - The forest crack’d, the waters curl’d, - The cattle huddled on the lea; - And wildly dash’d on tower and tree - The sunbeam strikes along the world: - - And but for fancies, which aver - That all thy motions gently pass - Athwart a plane of molten glass, - I scarce could brook the strain and stir - - That makes the barren branches loud; - And but for fear it is not so, - The wild unrest that lives in woe - Would dote and pore on yonder cloud - - That rises upward always higher, - And onward drags a labouring breast, - And topples round the dreary west, - A looming bastion fringed with fire. - - -V - - Thou comest, much wept for: such a breeze - Compell’d thy canvas, and my prayer - Was as the whisper of an air - To breathe thee over lonely seas. - - For I in spirit saw thee move - Thro’ circles of the bounding sky, - Week after week: the days go by: - Come quick, thou bringest all I love. - - Henceforth, wherever thou mayst roam - My blessing, like a line of light, - Is on the waters day and night, - And like a beacon guards thee home. - - So may whatever tempest mars - Mid-ocean, spare thee, sacred bark; - And balmy drops in summer dark - Slide from the bosom of the stars. - - So kind an office hath been done, - Such precious relics brought by thee; - The dust of him I shall not see - Till all my widow’d race be run. - - -VI - - Now, sometimes in my sorrow shut, - Or breaking into song by fits, - Alone, alone, to where he sits, - The Shadow cloak’d from head to foot, - - Who keeps the keys of all the creeds, - I wander, often falling lame, - And looking back to whence I came, - Or on to where the pathway leads; - And crying, How changed from where it ran - Thro’ lands where not a leaf was dumb; - But all the lavish hills would hum - The murmur of a happy Pan: - - When each by turns was guide to each, - And Fancy light from Fancy caught, - And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought - Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech; - - And all we met was fair and good, - And all was good that Time could bring, - And all the secret of the Spring - Moved in the chambers of the blood; - - And many an old philosophy - On Argive heights divinely sang, - And round us all the thicket rang - To many a flute of Arcady. - - -VII - - How fares it with the happy dead? - For here the man is more and more; - But he forgets the days before - God shut the doorways of his head. - - The days have vanish’d, tone and tint, - And yet perhaps the hoarding sense - Gives out at times (he knows not whence) - A little flash, a mystic hint; - - And in the long harmonious years - (If Death so taste Lethean springs) - May some dim touch of earthly things - Surprise thee ranging with thy peers. - - - If such a dreamy touch should fall, - O turn thee round, resolve the doubt; - My guardian angel will speak out - In that high place, and tell thee all. - - -VIII - - The wish, that of the living whole - No life may fail beyond the grave, - Derives it not from what we have - The likest God within the soul? - - Are God and Nature then at strife, - That Nature lends such evil dreams? - So careful of the type she seems, - So careless of the single life; - - That I, considering everywhere - Her secret meaning in her deeds, - And finding that of fifty seeds - She often brings but one to bear, - - I falter where I firmly trod, - And falling with my weight of cares - Upon the great world’s altar-stairs - That slope thro’ darkness up to God, - - I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope, - And gather dust and chaff, and call - To what I feel is Lord of all, - And faintly trust the larger hope. - - -IX - - ‘So careful of the type?’ but no. - From scarpèd cliff and quarried stone - She cries, ‘A thousand types are gone - I care for nothing, all shall go. - - - Thou makest thine appeal to me: - I bring to life, I bring to death: - The spirit does but mean the breath: - I know no more.’ And he, shall he, - - Man, her last work, who seem’d so fair, - Such splendid purpose in his eyes, - Who roll’d the psalm to wintry skies, - Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer, - - Who trusted God was love indeed - And love Creation’s final law-- - Tho’ Nature, red in tooth and claw - With ravine, shriek’d against his creed-- - - Who loved, who suffer’d countless ills, - Who battled for the True, the Just, - Be blown about the desert dust, - Or seal’d within the iron hills? - - No more? A monster then, a dream, - A discord. Dragons of the prime, - That tare each other in their slime, - Were mellow music matched with him. - - O life as futile, then as frail! - O for thy voice to soothe and bless! - What hope of answer, or redress? - Behind the veil, behind the veil. - - -X - - Unwatch’d, the garden bough shall sway, - The tender blossom flutter down; - Unloved, that beech will gather brown, - This maple burn itself away; - Unloved, the sunflower, shining fair, - Ray round with flames her disk of seed, - And many a rose-carnation feed - With summer spice the humming air; - - Unloved, by many a sandy bar, - The brook shall babble down the plain, - At noon or when the lesser wain - Is twisting round the polar star; - - Uncared for, gird the windy grove, - And flood the haunts of hern and crake; - Or into silver arrows break - The sailing moon in creek and cove; - - Till from the garden and the wild - A fresh association blow, - And year by year the landscape grow - Familiar to the stranger’s child; - - As year by year the labourer tills - His wonted glebe, or lops the glades; - And year by year our memory fades - From all the circle of the hills. - - -XI - - Now fades the last long streak of snow, - Now burgeons every maze of quick - About the flowering squares, and thick - By ashen roots the violets blow. - - Now rings the woodland loud and long, - The distance takes a lovelier hue, - And drown’d in yonder living blue - The lark becomes a sightless song. - - - Now dance the lights on lawn and lea, - The flocks are whiter down the vale, - And milkier every milky sail - On winding stream or distant sea; - - Where now the seamew pipes, or dives - In yonder greening gleam, and fly - The happy birds, that change their sky - To build and brood; that live their lives - - From land to land; and in my breast - Spring wakens too; and my regret - Becomes an April violet, - And buds and blossoms like the rest. - - -XII - - Love is and was my Lord and King, - And in his presence I attend - To hear the tidings of my friend, - Which every hour his couriers bring. - - Love is and was my King and Lord, - And will be, tho’ as yet I keep - Within his court on earth, and sleep - Encompass’d by his faithful guard, - - And hear at times a sentinel - Who moves about from place to place, - And whispers to the worlds of space, - In the deep night, that all is well. - - -_708._ _Maud_ - - Come into the garden, Maud, - For the black bat, Night, has flown, - Come into the garden, Maud, - I am here at the gate alone; - And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, - And the musk of the roses blown. - - For a breeze of morning moves, - And the planet of Love is on high, - Beginning to faint in the light that she loves - On a bed of daffodil sky, - To faint in the light of the sun she loves, - To faint in his light, and to die. - - All night have the roses heard - The flute, violin, bassoon; - All night has the casement jessamine stirr’d - To the dancers dancing in tune; - Till a silence fell with the waking bird, - And a hush with the setting moon. - - I said to the lily, ‘There is but one - With whom she has heart to be gay. - When will the dancers leave her alone? - She is weary of dance and play.’ - Now half to the setting moon are gone, - And half to the rising day; - Low on the sand and loud on the stone - The last wheel echoes away. - - I said to the rose, ‘The brief night goes - In babble and revel and wine. - - - O young lord-lover, what sighs are those - For one that will never be thine? - But mine, but mine,’ so I sware to the rose, - ‘For ever and ever, mine.’ - - And the soul of the rose went into my blood, - As the music clash’d in the hall; - And long by the garden lake I stood, - For I heard your rivulet fall - From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood, - Our wood, that is dearer than all; - - From the meadow your walks have left so sweet - That whenever a March-wind sighs - He sets the jewel-print of your feet - In violets blue as your eyes, - To the woody hollows in which we meet - And the valleys of Paradise. - - The slender acacia would not shake - One long milk-bloom on the tree; - The white lake-blossom fell into the lake, - As the pimpernel dozed on the lea; - But the rose was awake all night for your sake, - Knowing your promise to me; - The lilies and roses were all awake, - They sigh’d for the dawn and thee. - - Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls, - Come hither, the dances are done, - In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls, - Queen lily and rose in one; - Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls. - To the flowers, and be their sun. - - - There has fallen a splendid tear - From the passion-flower at the gate. - She is coming, my dove, my dear; - She is coming, my life, my fate; - The red rose cries, ‘She is near, she is near;’ - And the white rose weeps, ‘She is late,’ - The larkspur listens, ‘I hear, I hear;’ - And the lily whispers, ‘I wait.’ - - She is coming, my own, my sweet; - Were it ever so airy a tread, - My heart would hear her and beat, - Were it earth in an earthy bed; - My dust would hear her and beat, - Had I lain for a century dead; - Would start and tremble under her feet, - And blossom in purple and red. - - -_709._ _O that ’twere possible_ - - O that ’twere possible - After long grief and pain - To find the arms of my true love - Round me once again!... - - A shadow flits before me, - Not thou, but like to thee: - Ah, Christ! that it were possible - For one short hour to see - The souls we loved, that they might tell us - What and where they be! - - - - -RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES, LORD HOUGHTON - -1809-1885 - - -_710._ _Shadows_ - - They seem’d, to those who saw them meet, - The casual friends of every day; - Her smile was undisturb’d and sweet, - His courtesy was free and gay. - - But yet if one the other’s name - In some unguarded moment heard, - The heart you thought so calm and tame - Would struggle like a captured bird: - - And letters of mere formal phrase - Were blister’d with repeated tears,-- - And this was not the work of days, - But had gone on for years and years! - - Alas, that love was not too strong - For maiden shame and manly pride! - Alas, that they delay’d so long - The goal of mutual bliss beside! - - Yet what no chance could then reveal, - And neither would be first to own, - Let fate and courage now conceal, - When truth could bring remorse alone. - - - - -HENRY ALFORD - -1810-1871 - - -_711._ _The Bride_ - - ‘Rise,’ said the Master, ‘come unto the feast.’ - She heard the call and rose with willing feet; - But thinking it not otherwise than meet - For such a bidding to put on her best, - She is gone from us for a few short hours - Into her bridal closet, there to wait - For the unfolding of the palace gate - That gives her entrance to the blissful bowers. - We have not seen her yet, though we have been - Full often to her chamber door, and oft - Have listen’d underneath the postern green, - And laid fresh flowers, and whisper’d short and soft. - But she hath made no answer, and the day - From the clear west is fading fast away. - - - - -SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON - -1810-1886 - - -_712._ _Cean Dubh Deelish_ - - Put your head, darling, darling, darling, - Your darling black head my heart above; - O mouth of honey, with thyme for fragrance, - Who, with heart in breast, could deny you love? - - O many and many a young girl for me is pining. - Letting her locks of gold to the cold wind free, - For me, the foremost of our gay young fellows; - But I’d leave a hundred, pure love, for thee! - - _712._ _Cean dubh deelish_] darling black head. - - Then put your head, darling, darling, darling, - Your darling black head my heart above; - O mouth of honey, with thyme for fragrance, - Who, with heart in breast, could deny you love? - - -_713._ _Cashel of Munster_ - -FROM THE IRISH - - I’d wed you without herds, without money or rich array. - And I’d wed you on a dewy morn at day-dawn gray; - My bitter woe it is, love, that we are not far away - In Cashel town, tho’ the bare deal board were our marriage-bed this day! - - O fair maid, remember the green hill-side, - Remember how I hunted about the valleys wide; - Time now has worn me; my locks are turn’d to gray; - The year is scarce and I am poor--but send me not, love, away! - - O deem not my blood is of base strain, my girl; - O think not my birth was as the birth of a churl; - Marry me and prove me, and say soon you will - That noble blood is written on my right side still. - - My purse holds no red gold, no coin of the silver white; - No herds are mine to drive through the long twilight; - But the pretty girl that would take me, all bare tho’ I be and lone, - O, I’d take her with me kindly to the county Tyrone! - - O my girl, I can see ’tis in trouble you are; - And O my girl, I see ’tis your people’s reproach you bear! - --_I am a girl in trouble for his sake with whom I fly,_ - _And, O, may no other maiden know such reproach as I!_ - - -_714._ _The Fair Hills of Ireland_ - -FROM THE IRISH - - A plenteous place is Ireland for hospitable cheer, - _Uileacan dubh O!_ - Where the wholesome fruit is bursting from the yellow barley ear; - _Uileacan dubh O!_ - There is honey in the trees where her misty vales expand, - And her forest paths in summer are by falling waters fann’d, - There is dew at high noontide there, and springs i’ the yellow sand, - On the fair hills of holy Ireland. - - Curl’d he is and ringleted, and plaited to the knee-- - _Uileacan dubh O!_ - Each captain who comes sailing across the Irish Sea; - _Uileacan dubh O!_ - And I will make my journey, if life and health but stand, - Unto that pleasant country, that fresh and fragrant strand, - And leave your boasted braveries, your wealth and high command, - For the fair hills of holy Ireland. - - Large and profitable are the stacks upon the ground, - _Uileacan dubh O!_ - The butter and the cream do wondrously abound; - _Uileacan dubh O!_ - The cresses on the water and the sorrels are at hand, - And the cuckoo’s calling daily his note of music bland, - And the bold thrush sings so bravely his song i’ the forests grand, - On the fair hills of holy Ireland. - - - - -ROBERT BROWNING - -1812-1889 - - -_715._ _Song from ‘Paracelsus’_ - - Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes - Of labdanum, and aloe-balls, - Smear’d with dull nard an Indian wipes - From out her hair: such balsam falls - Down sea-side mountain pedestals, - From tree-tops where tired winds are fain, - Spent with the vast and howling main, - To treasure half their island-gain. - - And strew faint sweetness from some old - Egyptian’s fine worm-eaten shroud - Which breaks to dust when once unroll’d; - Or shredded perfume, like a cloud - From closet long to quiet vow’d, - With moth’d and dropping arras hung, - Mouldering her lute and books among, - As when a queen, long dead, was young. - - -_716._ _The Wanderers_ - - Over the sea our galleys went, - With cleaving prows in order brave - To a speeding wind and a bounding wave-- - A gallant armament: - Each bark built out of a forest-tree - Left leafy and rough as first it grew, - And nail’d all over the gaping sides, - Within and without, with black bull-hides, - Seethed in fat and suppled in flame, - To bear the playful billows’ game; - So, each good ship was rude to see, - Rude and bare to the outward view. - But each upbore a stately tent - Where cedar pales in scented row - Kept out the flakes of the dancing brine, - And an awning droop’d the mast below, - In fold on fold of the purple fine, - That neither noontide nor star-shine - Nor moonlight cold which maketh mad, - Might pierce the regal tenement. - When the sun dawn’d, O, gay and glad - We set the sail and plied the oar; - But when the night-wind blew like breath, - For joy of one day’s voyage more, - We sang together on the wide sea, - Like men at peace on a peaceful shore; - Each sail was loosed to the wind so free, - Each helm made sure by the twilight star, - And in a sleep as calm as death, - We, the voyagers from afar, - Lay stretch’d along, each weary crew - In a circle round its wondrous tent - Whence gleam’d soft light and curl’d rich scent, - And with light and perfume, music too: - So the stars wheel’d round, and the darkness past, - And at morn we started beside the mast, - And still each ship was sailing fast! - - Now, one morn, land appear’d--a speck - Dim trembling betwixt sea and sky-- - ‘Avoid it,’ cried our pilot, ‘check - The shout, restrain the eager eye!’ - But the heaving sea was black behind - For many a night and many a day, - And land, though but a rock, drew nigh - So we broke the cedar pales away, - Let the purple awning flap in the wind, - And a statue bright was on every deck! - We shouted, every man of us, - And steer’d right into the harbour thus, - With pomp and pæan glorious. - - A hundred shapes of lucid stone! - All day we built its shrine for each, - A shrine of rock for every one, - Nor paused till in the westering sun - We sat together on the beach - To sing because our task was done; - When lo! what shouts and merry songs! - What laughter all the distance stirs! - A loaded raft with happy throngs - Of gentle islanders! - ‘Our isles are just at hand,’ they cried, - ‘Like cloudlets faint in even sleeping; - Our temple-gates are open’d wide, - Our olive-groves thick shade are keeping - For these majestic forms’--they cried. - O, then we awoke with sudden start - From our deep dream, and knew, too late, - How bare the rock, how desolate, - Which had received our precious freight: - Yet we call’d out--‘Depart! - Our gifts, once given, must here abide: - Our work is done; we have no heart - To mar our work,’--we cried. - - -_717._ _Thus the Mayne glideth_ - - Thus the Mayne glideth - Where my Love abideth; - Sleep’s no softer: it proceeds - On through lawns, on through meads, - On and on, whate’er befall. - Meandering and musical, - Though the niggard pasturage - Bears not on its shaven ledge - Aught but weeds and waving grasses - To view the river as it passes, - Save here and there a scanty patch - Of primroses too faint to catch - A weary bee.... And scarce it pushes - Its gentle way through strangling rushes - Where the glossy kingfisher - Flutters when noon-heats are near, - Glad the shelving banks to shun, - Red and steaming in the sun, - Where the shrew-mouse with pale throat - Burrows, and the speckled stoat; - Where the quick sandpipers flit - In and out the marl and grit - That seems to breed them, brown as they; - Naught disturbs its quiet way, - Save some lazy stork that springs, - Trailing it with legs and wings, - Whom the shy fox from the hill - Rouses, creep he ne’er so still. - - -_718._ _Pippa’s Song_ - - The year’s at the spring, - And day’s at the morn; - Morning’s at seven; - The hill-side’s dew-pearl’d; - The lark’s on the wing; - The snail’s on the thorn; - God’s in His heaven-- - All’s right with the world! - - -_719._ _You’ll love Me yet_ - - You’ll love me yet!--and I can tarry - Your love’s protracted growing: - June rear’d that bunch of flowers you carry, - From seeds of April’s sowing. - - I plant a heartful now: some seed - At least is sure to strike, - And yield--what you’ll not pluck indeed, - Not love, but, may be, like. - - You’ll look at least on love’s remains, - A grave’s one violet: - Your look?--that pays a thousand pains. - What’s death? You’ll love me yet! - - -_720._ _Porphyria’s Lover_ - - The rain set early in to-night, - The sullen wind was soon awake, - It tore the elm-tops down for spite, - And did its worst to vex the lake: - I listen’d with heart fit to break. - When glided in Porphyria; straight - She shut the cold out and the storm, - And kneel’d and made the cheerless grate - Blaze up, and all the cottage warm; - Which done, she rose, and from her form - Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl, - And laid her soil’d gloves by, untied - Her hat and let the damp hair fall, - And, last, she sat down by my side - And call’d me. When no voice replied, - She put my arm about her waist, - And made her smooth white shoulder bare, - And all her yellow hair displaced, - And, stooping, made my cheek lie there, - And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair, - Murmuring how she loved me--she - Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavour, - To set its struggling passion free - From pride, and vainer ties dissever, - And give herself to me for ever. - But passion sometimes would prevail, - Nor could to-night’s gay feast restrain - A sudden thought of one so pale - For love of her, and all in vain: - So, she was come through wind and rain. - Be sure I look’d up at her eyes - Happy and proud; at last I knew - Porphyria worshipp’d me; surprise - Made my heart swell, and still it grew - While I debated what to do. - That moment she was mine, mine, fair, - Perfectly pure and good: I found - A thing to do, and all her hair - In one long yellow string I wound - Three times her little throat around, - And strangled her. No pain felt she; - I am quite sure she felt no pain. - As a shut bud that holds a bee, - I warily oped her lids: again - Laugh’d the blue eyes without a stain. - And I untighten’d next the tress - About her neck; her cheek once more - Blush’d bright beneath my burning kiss: - I propp’d her head up as before, - Only, this time my shoulder bore - Her head, which droops upon it still: - The smiling rosy little head, - So glad it has its utmost will, - That all it scorn’d at once is fled, - And I, its love, am gain’d instead! - Porphyria’s love: she guess’d not how - Her darling one wish would be heard. - And thus we sit together now, - And all night long we have not stirr’d, - And yet God has not said a word! - - -_721._ _Song_ - - Nay but you, who do not love her, - Is she not pure gold, my mistress? - Holds earth aught--speak truth--above her? - Aught like this tress, see, and this tress, - And this last fairest tress of all, - So fair, see, ere I let it fall? - - - Because, you spend your lives in praising; - To praise, you search the wide world over: - Then why not witness, calmly gazing, - If earth holds aught--speak truth--above her? - Above this tress, and this, I touch - But cannot praise, I love so much! - - -_722._ _Earl Mertoun’s Song_ - - There’s a woman like a dewdrop, she’s so purer than the purest; - And her noble heart’s the noblest, yes, and her sure faith’s the surest: - And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of lustre - Hid i’ the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape cluster, - Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck’s rose-misted marble: - Then her voice’s music ... call it the well’s bubbling, the bird’s warble! - - And this woman says, ‘My days were sunless and my nights were moonless, - Parch’d the pleasant April herbage, and the lark’s heart’s outbreak tuneless, - If you loved me not!’ And I who (ah, for words of flame!) adore her, - Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palpably before her-- - I may enter at her portal soon, as now her lattice takes me, - And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers she makes me! - - -_723._ _In a Gondola_ - - The moth’s kiss, first! - Kiss me as if you made me believe - You were not sure, this eve, - How my face, your flower, had pursed - Its petals up; so, here and there - You brush it, till I grow aware - Who wants me, and wide ope I burst. - - The bee’s kiss, now! - Kiss me as if you enter’d gay - My heart at some noonday, - A bud that dares not disallow - The claim, so all is render’d up, - And passively its shatter’d cup - Over your head to sleep I bow. - - -_724._ _Meeting at Night_ - - The gray sea and the long black land; - And the yellow half-moon large and low; - And the startled little waves that leap - In fiery ringlets from their sleep, - As I gain the cove with pushing prow, - And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand. - - Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach; - Three fields to cross till a farm appears; - A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch - And blue spurt of a lighted match, - And a voice less loud, thro’ its joys and fears, - Than the two hearts beating each to each! - - -_725._ _Parting at Morning_ - - Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, - And the sun look’d over the mountain’s rim - And straight was a path of gold for him, - And the need of a world of men for me. - - -_726._ _The Lost Mistress_ - - All’s over, then: does truth sound bitter - As one at first believes? - Hark, ’tis the sparrows’ good-night twitter - About your cottage eaves! - - And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly, - I noticed that, to-day; - One day more bursts them open fully - --You know the red turns gray. - - To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest? - May I take your hand in mine? - Mere friends are we,--well, friends the merest - Keep much that I resign: - - For each glance of the eye so bright and black, - Though I keep with heart’s endeavour,-- - Your voice, when you wish the snowdrops back, - Though it stay in my soul for ever!-- - - Yet I will but say what mere friends say, - Or only a thought stronger; - I will hold your hand but as long as all may, - Or so very little longer! - - -_727._ _The Last Ride together_ - - I said--Then, dearest, since ’tis so, - Since now at length my fate I know, - Since nothing all my love avails, - Since all, my life seem’d meant for, fails, - Since this was written and needs must be-- - My whole heart rises up to bless - Your name in pride and thankfulness! - Take back the hope you gave,--I claim - Only a memory of the same, - --And this beside, if you will not blame; - Your leave for one more last ride with me. - - My mistress bent that brow of hers, - Those deep dark eyes where pride demurs - When pity would be softening through, - Fix’d me a breathing-while or two - With life or death in the balance: right! - The blood replenish’d me again; - My last thought was at least not vain: - I and my mistress, side by side - Shall be together, breathe and ride, - So, one day more am I deified. - Who knows but the world may end to-night? - - Hush! if you saw some western cloud - All billowy-bosom’d, over-bow’d - By many benedictions--sun’s - And moon’s and evening-star’s at once-- - And so, you, looking and loving best, - Conscious grew, your passion drew - Cloud, sunset, moonrise, star-shine too, - Down on you, near and yet more near, - Till flesh must fade for heaven was here!-- - Thus leant she and linger’d--joy and fear! - Thus lay she a moment on my breast. - - Then we began to ride. My soul - Smooth’d itself out, a long-cramp’d scroll - Freshening and fluttering in the wind. - Past hopes already lay behind. - What need to strive with a life awry? - Had I said that, had I done this, - So might I gain, so might I miss. - Might she have loved me? just as well - She might have hated, who can tell! - Where had I been now if the worst befell? - And here we are riding, she and I. - - Fail I alone, in words and deeds? - Why, all men strive and who succeeds? - We rode; it seem’d my spirit flew, - Saw other regions, cities new, - As the world rush’d by on either side. - I thought,--All labour, yet no less - Bear up beneath their unsuccess. - Look at the end of work, contrast - The petty done, the undone vast, - This present of theirs with the hopeful past! - I hoped she would love me; here we ride. - - What hand and brain went ever pair’d? - What heart alike conceived and dared? - What act proved all its thought had been? - What will but felt the fleshly screen? - We ride and I see her bosom heave. - There’s many a crown for who can reach. - Ten lines, a statesman’s life in each! - The flag stuck on a heap of bones, - A soldier’s doing! what atones? - They scratch his name on the Abbey-stones. - My riding is better, by their leave. - - What does it all mean, poet? Well, - Your brains beat into rhythm, you tell - What we felt only; you express’d - You hold things beautiful the best, - And pace them in rhyme so, side by side. - ’Tis something, nay ’tis much: but then, - Have you yourself what’s best for men? - Are you--poor, sick, old ere your time-- - Nearer one whit your own sublime - Than we who never have turn’d a rhyme? - Sing, riding’s a joy! For me, I ride. - - And you, great sculptor--so, you gave - A score of years to Art, her slave, - And that’s your Venus, whence we turn - To yonder girl that fords the burn! - You acquiesce, and shall I repine? - What, man of music, you grown gray - With notes and nothing else to say, - Is this your sole praise from a friend, - ‘Greatly his opera’s strains intend, - But in music we know how fashions end!’ - I gave my youth: but we ride, in fine. - - Who knows what’s fit for us? Had fate - Proposed bliss here should sublimate - My being--had I sign’d the bond-- - Still one must lead some life beyond, - Have a bliss to die with, dim-descried. - This foot once planted on the goal, - This glory-garland round my soul, - Could I descry such? Try and test! - I sink back shuddering from the quest. - Earth being so good, would heaven seem best? - Now, heaven and she are beyond this ride. - - And yet--she has not spoke so long! - What if heaven be that, fair and strong - At life’s best, with our eyes upturn’d - Whither life’s flower is first discern’d, - We, fix’d so, ever should so abide? - What if we still ride on, we two - With life for ever old yet new, - Changed not in kind but in degree, - The instant made eternity,-- - And heaven just prove that I and she - Ride, ride together, for ever ride? - - -_728._ _Misconceptions_ - - This is a spray the Bird clung to, - Making it blossom with pleasure, - Ere the high tree-top she sprung to, - Fit for her nest and her treasure. - O, what a hope beyond measure - Was the poor spray’s, which the flying feet hung to,-- - So to be singled out, built in, and sung to! - - - This is a heart the Queen leant on, - Thrill’d in a minute erratic, - Ere the true bosom she bent on, - Meet for love’s regal dalmatic. - O, what a fancy ecstatic - Was the poor heart’s, ere the wanderer went on-- - Love to be saved for it, proffer’d to, spent on! - - -_729._ _Home-thoughts, from Abroad_ - - O to be in England - Now that April’s there, - And whoever wakes in England - Sees, some morning, unaware, - That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf - Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf, - While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough - In England--now! - - And after April, when May follows, - And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows! - Hark, where my blossom’d pear-tree in the hedge - Leans to the field and scatters on the clover - Blossoms and dewdrops--at the bent spray’s edge-- - That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, - Lest you should think he never could recapture - The first fine careless rapture! - And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, - All will be gay when noontide wakes anew - The buttercups, the little children’s dower - --Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower! - - -_730._ _Home-thoughts, from the Sea_ - - Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away; - Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay; - Bluish ’mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay; - In the dimmest North-east distance dawn’d Gibraltar grand and gray; - ‘Here and here did England help me: how can I help England?’--say, - Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to God to praise and pray, - While Jove’s planet rises yonder, silent over Africa. - - - - -WILLIAM BELL SCOTT - -1812-1890 - - -_731._ _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; - - _731._ miminy] prim, demure. - - Elspie wore a scarlet gown, - Nort’s grey eyes were unco’ gleg. - 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 look’d and laugh’d, - Left their gear, and look’d and laugh’d; - They made as they would join the game, - But soon their mithers, wild and wud, - With whack and screech they stopp’d the same. - - gleg] bright, sharp. wud] mad. - - - Sae loud the tongues o’ randies grew, - The flytin’ 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 throng’d anon, - Gentle, semple, throng’d anon: - Souter and tailor, frowsy Nan, - The ancient widow young again, - Simpering behind her fan. - - Without a choice, against their will, - Doited, 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 doff’d 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; - - randies] viragoes. flytin’] scolding. skirlin’] shrieking. souter] - cobbler. doited] mazed. a-widdershin] the wrong way of the sun: or - E. to W. through N. - - There was Father Auld himsel’, - The Lombard frae the hostelry, - And the lawyer Peter Fell. - - All goodly men we singled out, - Waled 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 kisses seven, - Three times round with kisses seven, - Warp’d 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 laugh’d outright. - - Laugh’d as long as they had breath, - Laugh’d while they had sense or breath; - And close about us coil’d 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. - - waled] chose. cantrip] magic. - - 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 call’d his name, I call’d aloud, - Alas! I call’d on him aloud; - And then he fill’d his hand with stour, - 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! - - stour] dust. cramoisie] crimson. - - For I was born a crown’d king’s child, - Born and nursed a king’s child, - King o’ a land ayont the sea, - Where the Blackamoor kiss’d 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! - - ayont] beyond. glamourie] wizardry. - - - - -AUBREY DE VERE - -1814-1902 - - -_732._ _Serenade_ - - Softly, O midnight Hours! - Move softly o’er the bowers - Where lies in happy sleep a girl so fair! - For ye have power, men say, - Our hearts in sleep to sway, - And cage cold fancies in a moonlight snare. - Round ivory neck and arm - Enclasp a separate charm; - Hang o’er her poised, but breathe nor sigh nor prayer - Silently ye may smile, - But hold your breath the while, - And let the wind sweep back your cloudy hair! - Bend down your glittering urns, - Ere yet the dawn returns, - And star with dew the lawn her feet shall tread; - Upon the air rain balm, - Bid all the woods be calm, - Ambrosial dreams with healthful slumbers wed; - That so the Maiden may - With smiles your care repay, - When from her couch she lifts her golden head; - Waking with earliest birds, - Ere yet the misty herds - Leave warm ’mid the gray grass their dusky bed. - - -_733._ _Sorrow_ - - Count each affliction, whether light or grave, - God’s messenger sent down to thee; do thou - With courtesy receive him; rise and bow; - And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, crave - Permission first his heavenly feet to lave; - Then lay before him all thou hast; allow - No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow, - Or mar thy hospitality; no wave - Of mortal tumult to obliterate - The soul’s marmoreal calmness: Grief should be, - Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate; - Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free; - Strong to consume small troubles; to commend - Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to the end. - - - - -GEORGE FOX - -1815-? - - -_734._ _The County of Mayo_ - -FROM THE IRISH OF THOMAS LAVELLE - - On the deck of Patrick Lynch’s boat I sat in woful plight, - Through my sighing all the weary day and weeping all the night; - Were it not that full of sorrow from my people forth I go, - By the blessèd sun! ’tis royally I’d sing thy praise, Mayo! - - When I dwelt at home in plenty, and my gold did much abound, - In the company of fair young maids the Spanish ale went round-- - ’Tis a bitter change from those gay days that now I’m forced to go - And must leave my bones in Santa Cruz, far from my own Mayo. - - They are alter’d girls in Irrul now; ’tis proud they’re grown and high, - With their hair-bags and their top-knots, for I pass their buckles by-- - But it’s little now I heed their airs, for God will have it so, - That I must depart for foreign lands and leave my sweet Mayo. - - ’Tis my grief that Patrick Loughlin is not Earl of Irrul still, - And that Brian Duff no longer rules as Lord upon the hill: - And that Colonel Hugh McGrady should be lying dead and low, - And I sailing, sailing swiftly from the county of Mayo. - - - - -EMILY BRONTË - -1818-1848 - - -_735._ _My Lady’s Grave_ - - The linnet in the rocky dells, - The moor-lark in the air, - The bee among the heather bells - That hide my lady fair: - - The wild deer browse above her breast; - The wild birds raise their brood; - And they, her smiles of love caress’d, - Have left her solitude! - - I ween that when the grave’s dark wall - Did first her form retain, - They thought their hearts could ne’er recall - The light of joy again. - - They thought the tide of grief would flow - Uncheck’d through future years; - But where is all their anguish now, - And where are all their tears? - - Well, let them fight for honour’s breath, - Or pleasure’s shade pursue-- - The dweller in the land of death - Is changed and careless too. - - And if their eyes should watch and weep - Till sorrow’s source were dry, - She would not, in her tranquil sleep, - Return a single sigh! - - Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound: - And murmur, summer streams! - There is no need of other sound - To soothe my lady’s dreams. - - -_736._ _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, - Sever’d 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 lighten’d 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 perish’d, - And even Despair was powerless to destroy; - Then did I learn how existence could be cherish’d, - Strengthen’d and fed without the aid of joy. - - Then did I check the tears of useless passion-- - Wean’d 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? - - -_737._ _The Prisoner_ - - Still let my tyrants know, I am not doom’d to wear - Year after year in gloom and desolate despair; - A messenger of Hope comes every night to me, - And offers for short life, eternal liberty. - - He comes with Western winds, with evening’s wandering airs, - With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars: - Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire, - And visions rise, and change, that kill me with desire. - - Desire for nothing known in my maturer years, - When Joy grew mad with awe, at counting future tears: - When, if my spirit’s sky was full of flashes warm, - I knew not whence they came, from sun or thunder-storm. - - But first, a hush of peace--a soundless calm descends; - The struggle of distress and fierce impatience ends. - Mute music soothes my breast--unutter’d harmony - That I could never dream, till Earth was lost to me. - - Then dawns the Invisible; the Unseen its truth reveals; - My outward sense is gone, my inward essence feels; - Its wings are almost free--its home, its harbour found, - Measuring the gulf, it stoops, and dares the final bound. - - O dreadful is the check--intense the agony-- - When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see; - When the pulse begins to throb--the brain to think again-- - The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain. - - - Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less; - The more that anguish racks, the earlier it will bless; - And robed in fires of hell, or bright with heavenly shine, - If it but herald Death, the vision is divine. - - -_738._ _Last Lines_ - - No coward soul is mine, - No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere: - I see Heaven’s glories shine, - And faith shines equal, arming me from fear. - - O God within my breast, - Almighty, ever-present Deity! - Life--that in me has rest, - As I--undying Life--have power in Thee! - - Vain are the thousand creeds - That move men’s hearts: unutterably vain; - Worthless as wither’d weeds, - Or idlest froth amid the boundless main, - - To waken doubt in one - Holding so fast by Thine infinity; - So surely anchor’d on - The steadfast rock of immortality. - - With wide-embracing love - Thy Spirit animates eternal years, - Pervades and broods above, - Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears. - - Though earth and man were gone, - And suns and universes cease to be, - And Thou were left alone, - Every existence would exist in Thee. - - - There is not room for Death, - Nor atom that his might could render void: - Thou--Thou art Being and Breath, - And what Thou art may never be destroyed. - - - - -CHARLES KINGSLEY - -1819-1875 - - -_739._ _Airly Beacon_ - - Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon; - O the pleasant sight to see - Shires and towns from Airly Beacon, - While my love climb’d up to me! - - Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon; - O the happy hours we lay - Deep in fern on Airly Beacon, - Courting through the summer’s day! - - Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon; - O the weary haunt for me, - All alone on Airly Beacon, - With his baby on my knee! - - -_740._ _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 dark 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. - - ‘O 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 of Dee. - - They row’d 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. - - - - -ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH - -1819-1861 - - -_741._ _Say not the Struggle Naught availeth_ - - Say not the struggle naught availeth, - The labour and the wounds are vain, - The enemy faints not, nor faileth, - And as things have been they remain. - - If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars; - It may be, in yon smoke conceal’d, - Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers, - And, but for you, possess the field. - - - For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, - Seem here no painful inch to gain, - Far back, through creeks and inlets making, - Comes silent, flooding in, the main. - - And not by eastern windows only, - When daylight comes, comes in the light; - In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly! - But westward, look, the land is bright! - - - - -WALT WHITMAN - -1819-1892 - - -_742._ _The Imprisoned Soul_ - - At the last, tenderly, - From the walls of the powerful, fortress’d house, - From the clasp of the knitted locks--from the keep of the well-closed doors, - Let me be wafted. - - Let me glide noiselessly forth; - With the key of softness unlock the locks--with a whisper - Set ope the doors, O soul! - - Tenderly! be not impatient! - (Strong is your hold, O mortal flesh! - Strong is your hold, O love!) - - -_743._ _O Captain! My Captain!_ - - O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, - The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, - The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, - While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; - But O heart! heart! heart! - O the bleeding drops of red! - Where on the deck my Captain lies, - Fallen cold and dead. - - O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; - Rise up--for you the flag is flung--for you the bugle trills, - For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths--for you the shores crowding, - For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; - Here, Captain! dear father! - This arm beneath your head! - It is some dream that on the deck - You’ve fallen cold and dead. - - My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, - My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will; - The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, - From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; - Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells! - But I, with mournful tread, - Walk the deck my Captain lies, - Fallen cold and dead. - - - - -JOHN RUSKIN - -1819-1900 - - -_744._ _Trust Thou Thy Love_ - - Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet? - Trust thou thy Love: if she be mute, is she not pure? - Lay thou thy soul full in her hands, low at her feet; - Fail, Sun and Breath!--yet, for thy peace, She shall endure. - - - - -EBENEZER JONES - -1820-1860 - - -_745._ _When the World is burning_ - - When the world is burning, - Fired within, yet turning - Round with face unscathed; - Ere fierce flames, uprushing, - O’er all lands leap, crushing, - Till earth fall, fire-swathed; - Up amidst the meadows, - Gently through the shadows, - Gentle flames will glide, - Small, and blue, and golden. - Though by bard beholden, - When in calm dreams folden,-- - Calm his dreams will bide. - - Where the dance is sweeping, - Through the greensward peeping, - Shall the soft lights start; - Laughing maids, unstaying, - Deeming it trick-playing, - High their robes upswaying, - O’er the lights shall dart; - And the woodland haunter - Shall not cease to saunter - When, far down some glade, - Of the great world’s burning, - One soft flame upturning - Seems, to his discerning, - Crocus in the shade. - - - - -FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON - -1821-1895 - - -_746._ _At Her Window_ - - Beating Heart! we come again - Where my Love reposes: - This is Mabel’s window-pane; - These are Mabel’s roses. - - Is she nested? Does she kneel - In the twilight stilly, - Lily clad from throat to heel, - She, my virgin Lily? - - Soon the wan, the wistful stars, - Fading, will forsake her; - Elves of light, on beamy bars, - Whisper then, and wake her. - - Let this friendly pebble plead - At her flowery grating; - If she hear me will she heed? - _Mabel, I am waiting._ - - Mabel will be deck’d anon, - Zoned in bride’s apparel; - Happy zone! O hark to yon - Passion-shaken carol! - - Sing thy song, thou trancèd thrush, - Pipe thy best, thy clearest;-- - Hush, her lattice moves, O hush-- - _Dearest Mabel!--dearest ..._ - - - - -MATTHEW ARNOLD - -1822-1888 - - -_747._ _The Forsaken Merman_ - - Come, dear children, let us away; - Down and away below. - Now my brothers call from the bay; - Now the great winds shoreward blow; - Now the salt tides seaward flow; - Now the wild white horses play, - Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. - Children dear, let us away. - This way, this way! - - Call her once before you go. - Call once yet. - In a voice that she will know: - ‘Margaret! Margaret!’ - Children’s voices should be dear - (Call once more) to a mother’s ear; - Children’s voices, wild with pain. - Surely she will come again. - Call her once and come away. - This way, this way! - ‘Mother dear, we cannot stay.’ - The wild white horses foam and fret. - Margaret! Margaret! - - Come, dear children, come away down. - Call no more. - One last look at the white-wall’d town, - And the little grey church on the windy shore. - Then come down. - She will not come though you call all day. - Come away, come away. - Children dear, was it yesterday - We heard the sweet bells over the bay? - In the caverns where we lay, - Through the surf and through the swell, - The far-off sound of a silver bell? - Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, - Where the winds are all asleep; - Where the spent lights quiver and gleam; - Where the salt weed sways in the stream; - Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round, - Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground; - Where the sea-snakes coil and twine, - Dry their mail, and bask in the brine; - Where great whales come sailing by, - Sail and sail, with unshut eye, - Round the world for ever and aye? - When did music come this way? - Children dear, was it yesterday? - - Children dear, was it yesterday - (Call yet once) that she went away? - Once she sate with you and me, - On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, - And the youngest sate on her knee. - She comb’d its bright hair, and she tended it well, - When down swung the sound of the far-off bell. - She sigh’d, she look’d up through the clear green sea. - She said, ‘I must go, for my kinsfolk pray - In the little grey church on the shore to-day. - ’Twill be Easter-time in the world--ah me! - And I lose my poor soul, Merman, here with thee.’ - I said, ‘Go up, dear heart, through the waves. - Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves.’ - She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay. - Children dear, was it yesterday? - - Children dear, were we long alone? - ‘The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan. - Long prayers,’ I said, ‘in the world they say. - Come,’ I said, and we rose through the surf in the bay. - We went up the beach, by the sandy down - Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall’d town. - Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still, - To the little grey church on the windy hill. - From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, - But we stood without in the cold-blowing airs. - We climb’d on the graves, on the stones worn with rains, - And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes. - She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear: - ‘Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here. - Dear heart,’ I said, ‘we are long alone. - The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.’ - But, ah! she gave me never a look, - For her eyes were seal’d to the holy book. - Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door. - Come away, children, call no more. - Come away, come down, call no more. - - Down, down, down; - Down to the depths of the sea. - She sits at her wheel in the humming town, - Singing most joyfully. - Hark what she sings: ‘O joy, O joy, - For the humming street, and the child with its toy. - For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well. - For the wheel where I spun, - And the blessed light of the sun.’ - And so she sings her fill, - Singing most joyfully, - Till the shuttle falls from her hand, - And the whizzing wheel stands still. - She steals to the window, and looks at the sand; - And over the sand at the sea; - And her eyes are set in a stare; - And anon there breaks a sigh, - And anon there drops a tear, - From a sorrow-clouded eye, - And a heart sorrow-laden, - A long, long sigh - For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden, - And the gleam of her golden hair. - - Come away, away, children. - Come children, come down. - The hoarse wind blows colder; - Lights shine in the town. - She will start from her slumber - When gusts shake the door; - She will hear the winds howling, - Will hear the waves roar. - We shall see, while above us - The waves roar and whirl, - A ceiling of amber, - A pavement of pearl. - Singing, ‘Here came a mortal, - But faithless was she: - And alone dwell for ever - The kings of the sea.’ - - But, children, at midnight, - When soft the winds blow; - When clear falls the moonlight; - When spring-tides are low: - When sweet airs come seaward - From heaths starr’d with broom; - And high rocks throw mildly - On the blanch’d sands a gloom: - Up the still, glistening beaches, - Up the creeks we will hie; - Over banks of bright seaweed - The ebb-tide leaves dry. - We will gaze, from the sand-hills, - At the white, sleeping town; - At the church on the hill-side-- - And then come back down. - Singing, ‘There dwells a loved one, - But cruel is she. - She left lonely for ever - The kings of the sea.’ - - -_748._ _The Song of Callicles_ - - Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts, - Thick breaks the red flame. - All Etna heaves fiercely - Her forest-clothed frame. - - Not here, O Apollo! - Are haunts meet for thee. - But, where Helicon breaks down - In cliff to the sea. - - Where the moon-silver’d inlets - Send far their light voice - Up the still vale of Thisbe, - O speed, and rejoice! - - On the sward at the cliff-top, - Lie strewn the white flocks; - On the cliff-side, the pigeons - Roost deep in the rocks. - - In the moonlight the shepherds, - Soft lull’d by the rills, - Lie wrapt in their blankets, - Asleep on the hills. - - --What forms are these coming - So white through the gloom? - What garments out-glistening - The gold-flower’d broom? - - What sweet-breathing Presence - Out-perfumes the thyme? - What voices enrapture - The night’s balmy prime?-- - - ’Tis Apollo comes leading - His choir, The Nine. - --The Leader is fairest, - But all are divine. - - They are lost in the hollows. - They stream up again. - What seeks on this mountain - The glorified train?-- - - They bathe on this mountain, - In the spring by their road. - Then on to Olympus, - Their endless abode. - - --Whose praise do they mention - Of what is it told?-- - What will be for ever. - What was from of old. - - First hymn they the Father - Of all things: and then, - The rest of Immortals, - The action of men. - - The Day in his hotness, - The strife with the palm; - The Night in her silence, - The Stars in their calm. - - -_749._ _To Marguerite_ - - Yes: in the sea of life enisled, - With echoing straits between us thrown. - Dotting the shoreless watery wild, - We mortal millions live _alone_. - The islands feel the enclasping flow, - And then their endless bounds they know. - - But when the moon their hollows lights, - And they are swept by balms of spring, - And in their glens, on starry nights, - The nightingales divinely sing; - And lovely notes, from shore to shore, - Across the sounds and channels pour; - - O then a longing like despair - Is to their farthest caverns sent! - For surely once, they feel, we were - Parts of a single continent. - Now round us spreads the watery plain-- - O might our marges meet again! - - Who order’d that their longing’s fire - Should be, as soon as kindled, cool’d? - Who renders vain their deep desire?-- - A God, a God their severance ruled; - And bade betwixt their shores to be - The unplumb’d, salt, estranging sea. - - -_750._ _Requiescat_ - - Strew on her roses, roses, - And never a spray of yew. - In quiet she reposes: - Ah! would that I did too. - - Her mirth the world required: - She bathed it in smiles of glee. - But her heart was tired, tired, - And now they let her be. - - Her life was turning, turning, - In mazes of heat and sound. - But for peace her soul was yearning, - And now peace laps her round. - - Her cabin’d, ample Spirit, - It flutter’d and fail’d for breath. - To-night it doth inherit - The vasty hall of Death. - - -_751._ _The Scholar-Gipsy_ - - Go, for they call you, Shepherd, from the hill; - Go, Shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes: - No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed, - Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their throats, - Nor the cropp’d grasses shoot another head. - But when the fields are still, - And the tired men and dogs all gone to rest, - And only the white sheep are sometimes seen - Cross and recross the strips of moon-blanch’d green; - Come, Shepherd, and again begin the quest. - - Here, where the reaper was at work of late, - In this high field’s dark corner, where he leaves - His coat, his basket, and his earthen cruise, - And in the sun all morning binds the sheaves, - Then here, at noon, comes back his stores to use; - Here will I sit and wait, - While to my ear from uplands far away - The bleating of the folded flocks is borne, - With distant cries of reapers in the corn-- - All the live murmur of a summer’s day. - - Screen’d is this nook o’er the high, half-reap’d field, - And here till sundown, Shepherd, will I be. - Through the thick corn the scarlet poppies peep, - And round green roots and yellowing stalks I see - Pale blue convolvulus in tendrils creep: - And air-swept lindens yield - Their scent, and rustle down their perfumed showers - Of bloom on the bent grass where I am laid, - And bower me from the August sun with shade; - And the eye travels down to Oxford’s towers: - - - And near me on the grass lies Glanvil’s book-- - Come, let me read the oft-read tale again: - The story of that Oxford scholar poor, - Of pregnant parts and quick inventive brain, - Who, tired of knocking at Preferment’s door, - One summer morn forsook - His friends, and went to learn the Gipsy lore, - And roam’d the world with that wild brotherhood, - And came, as most men deem’d, to little good, - But came to Oxford and his friends no more. - - But once, years after, in the country lanes, - Two scholars, whom at college erst he knew, - Met him, and of his way of life inquired. - Whereat he answer’d that the Gipsy crew, - His mates, had arts to rule as they desired - The workings of men’s brains; - And they can bind them to what thoughts they will: - ‘And I,’ he said, ‘the secret of their art, - When fully learn’d, will to the world impart: - But it needs Heaven-sent moments for this skill!’ - - This said, he left them, and return’d no more, - But rumours hung about the country-side, - That the lost Scholar long was seen to stray, - Seen by rare glimpses, pensive and tongue-tied, - In hat of antique shape, and cloak of grey, - The same the Gipsies wore. - Shepherds had met him on the Hurst in spring; - At some lone alehouse in the Berkshire moors, - On the warm ingle-bench, the smock-frock’d boors - Had found him seated at their entering, - But, ’mid their drink and clatter, he would fly: - And I myself seem half to know thy looks, - And put the shepherds, Wanderer, on thy trace; - And boys who in lone wheatfields scare the rooks - I ask if thou hast pass’d their quiet place; - Or in my boat I lie - Moor’d to the cool bank in the summer heats, - ‘Mid wide grass meadows which the sunshine fills, - And watch the warm green-muffled Cumnor hills, - And wonder if thou haunt’st their shy retreats. - - For most, I know, thou lov’st retirèd ground. - Thee, at the ferry, Oxford riders blithe, - Returning home on summer nights, have met - Crossing the stripling Thames at Bablock-hithe, - Trailing in the cool stream thy fingers wet, - As the slow punt swings round: - And leaning backwards in a pensive dream, - And fostering in thy lap a heap of flowers - Pluck’d in shy fields and distant Wychwood bowers, - And thine eyes resting on the moonlit stream: - - And then they land, and thou art seen no more. - Maidens who from the distant hamlets come - To dance around the Fyfield elm in May, - Oft through the darkening fields have seen thee roam, - Or cross a stile into the public way. - Oft thou hast given them store - Of flowers--the frail-leaf’d, white anemone-- - Dark bluebells drench’d with dews of summer eves, - And purple orchises with spotted leaves-- - But none has words she can report of thee. - - And, above Godstow Bridge, when hay-time’s here - In June, and many a scythe in sunshine flames, - Men who through those wide fields of breezy grass - Where black-wing’d swallows haunt the glittering Thames, - To bathe in the abandon’d lasher pass, - Have often pass’d thee near - Sitting upon the river bank o’ergrown: - Mark’d thine outlandish garb, thy figure spare, - Thy dark vague eyes, and soft abstracted air; - But, when they came from bathing, thou wert gone. - - At some lone homestead in the Cumnor hills, - Where at her open door the housewife darns, - Thou hast been seen, or hanging on a gate - To watch the threshers in the mossy barns. - Children, who early range these slopes and late - For cresses from the rills, - Have known thee watching, all an April day, - The springing pastures and the feeding kine; - And mark’d thee, when the stars come out and shine, - Through the long dewy grass move slow away. - - In autumn, on the skirts of Bagley Wood, - Where most the Gipsies by the turf-edged way - Pitch their smoked tents, and every bush you see - With scarlet patches tagg’d and shreds of gray, - Above the forest-ground call’d Thessaly-- - The blackbird picking food - Sees thee, nor stops his meal, nor fears at all; - So often has he known thee past him stray - Rapt, twirling in thy hand a wither’d spray, - And waiting for the spark from Heaven to fall. - - And once, in winter, on the causeway chill - Where home through flooded fields foot-travellers go, - Have I not pass’d thee on the wooden bridge - Wrapt in thy cloak and battling with the snow, - Thy face towards Hinksey and its wintry ridge? - And thou hast climb’d the hill - And gain’d the white brow of the Cumnor range; - Turn’d once to watch, while thick the snowflakes fall, - The line of festal light in Christ Church hall-- - Then sought thy straw in some sequester’d grange. - - But what--I dream! Two hundred years are flown - Since first thy story ran through Oxford halls, - And the grave Glanvil did the tale inscribe - That thou wert wander’d from the studious walls - To learn strange arts, and join a Gipsy tribe: - And thou from earth art gone - Long since, and in some quiet churchyard laid; - Some country nook, where o’er thy unknown grave - Tall grasses and white flowering nettles wave-- - Under a dark red-fruited yew-tree’s shade. - - --No, no, thou hast not felt the lapse of hours. - For what wears out the life of mortal men? - ’Tis that from change to change their being rolls: - ’Tis that repeated shocks, again, again, - Exhaust the energy of strongest souls, - And numb the elastic powers. - Till having used our nerves with bliss and teen, - And tired upon a thousand schemes our wit, - To the just-pausing Genius we remit - Our worn-out life, and are--what we have been. - - Thou hast not lived, why shouldst thou perish, so? - Thou hadst _one_ aim, _one_ business, _one_ desire: - Else wert thou long since number’d with the dead-- - Else hadst thou spent, like other men, thy fire. - The generations of thy peers are fled, - And we ourselves shall go; - But thou possessest an immortal lot, - And we imagine thee exempt from age - And living as thou liv’st on Glanvil’s page, - Because thou hadst--what we, alas, have not! - - For early didst thou leave the world, with powers - Fresh, undiverted to the world without, - Firm to their mark, not spent on other things; - Free from the sick fatigue, the languid doubt, - Which much to have tried, in much been baffled, brings. - O Life unlike to ours! - Who fluctuate idly without term or scope, - Of whom each strives, nor knows for what he strives, - And each half lives a hundred different lives; - Who wait like thee, but not, like thee, in hope. - - Thou waitest for the spark from Heaven: and we, - Vague half-believers of our casual creeds, - Who never deeply felt, nor clearly will’d, - Whose insight never has borne fruit in deeds, - Whose weak resolves never have been fulfill’d; - For whom each year we see - Breeds new beginnings, disappointments new; - Who hesitate and falter life away, - And lose to-morrow the ground won to-day-- - Ah, do not we, Wanderer, await it too? - - Yes, we await it, but it still delays, - And then we suffer; and amongst us One, - Who most has suffer’d, takes dejectedly - His seat upon the intellectual throne; - And all his store of sad experience he - Lays bare of wretched days; - Tells us his misery’s birth and growth and signs, - And how the dying spark of hope was fed, - And how the breast was soothed, and how the head, - And all his hourly varied anodynes. - - This for our wisest: and we others pine, - And wish the long unhappy dream would end, - And waive all claim to bliss, and try to bear, - With close-lipp’d Patience for our only friend, - Sad Patience, too near neighbour to Despair: - But none has hope like thine. - Thou through the fields and through the woods dost stray, - Roaming the country-side, a truant boy, - Nursing thy project in unclouded joy, - And every doubt long blown by time away. - - O born in days when wits were fresh and clear, - And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames; - Before this strange disease of modern life, - With its sick hurry, its divided aims, - Its heads o’ertax’d, its palsied hearts, was rife-- - Fly hence, our contact fear! - Still fly, plunge deeper in the bowering wood! - Averse, as Dido did with gesture stern - From her false friend’s approach in Hades turn, - Wave us away, and keep thy solitude. - - Still nursing the unconquerable hope, - Still clutching the inviolable shade, - With a free onward impulse brushing through, - By night, the silver’d branches of the glade-- - Far on the forest-skirts, where none pursue. - On some mild pastoral slope - Emerge, and resting on the moonlit pales, - Freshen thy flowers, as in former years, - With dew, or listen with enchanted ears, - From the dark dingles, to the nightingales. - - But fly our paths, our feverish contact fly! - For strong the infection of our mental strife, - Which, though it gives no bliss, yet spoils for rest; - And we should win thee from thy own fair life, - Like us distracted, and like us unblest. - Soon, soon thy cheer would die, - Thy hopes grow timorous, and unfix’d thy powers, - And thy clear aims be cross and shifting made: - And then thy glad perennial youth would fade, - Fade, and grow old at last, and die like ours. - - Then fly our greetings, fly our speech and smiles! - --As some grave Tyrian trader, from the sea, - Descried at sunrise an emerging prow - Lifting the cool-hair’d creepers stealthily, - The fringes of a southward-facing brow - Among the Ægean isles; - And saw the merry Grecian coaster come, - Freighted with amber grapes, and Chian wine, - Green bursting figs, and tunnies steep’d in brine; - And knew the intruders on his ancient home, - The young light-hearted Masters of the waves; - And snatch’d his rudder, and shook out more sail, - And day and night held on indignantly - O’er the blue Midland waters with the gale, - Betwixt the Syrtes and soft Sicily, - To where the Atlantic raves - Outside the Western Straits, and unbent sails - There, where down cloudy cliffs, through sheets of foam, - Shy traffickers, the dark Iberians come; - And on the beach undid his corded bales. - - -_752._ _Philomela_ - - Hark! ah, the Nightingale! - The tawny-throated! - Hark! from that moonlit cedar what a burst! - What triumph! hark--what pain! - - O Wanderer from a Grecian shore, - Still, after many years, in distant lands, - Still nourishing in thy bewilder’d brain - That wild, unquench’d, deep-sunken, old-world pain-- - Say, will it never heal? - And can this fragrant lawn - With its cool trees, and night, - And the sweet, tranquil Thames, - And moonshine, and the dew, - To thy rack’d heart and brain - Afford no balm? - - Dost thou to-night behold - Here, through the moonlight on this English grass, - The unfriendly palace in the Thracian wild? - Dost thou again peruse - With hot cheeks and sear’d eyes - The too clear web, and thy dumb Sister’s shame? - Dost thou once more assay - Thy flight, and feel come over thee, - Poor Fugitive, the feathery change - Once more, and once more seem to make resound - With love and hate, triumph and agony, - Lone Daulis, and the high Cephissian vale? - Listen, Eugenia-- - How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves - Again--thou hearest! - Eternal Passion! - Eternal Pain! - - -_753._ _Shakespeare_ - - Others abide our question. Thou art free. - We ask and ask: Thou smilest and art still, - Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill - That to the stars uncrowns his majesty, - Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea, - Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place. - Spares but the cloudy border of his base - To the foil’d searching of mortality; - And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know, - Self-school’d, self-scann’d, self-honour’d, self-secure, - Didst walk on earth unguess’d at. Better so! - All pains the immortal spirit must endure, - All weakness that impairs, all griefs that bow, - Find their sole voice in that victorious brow. - - -_754._ _From the Hymn of Empedocles_ - - Is it so small a thing - To have enjoy’d the sun, - To have lived light in the spring, - To have loved, to have thought, to have done; - To have advanced true friends, and beat down baffling foes; - - That we must feign a bliss - Of doubtful future date, - And while we dream on this - Lose all our present state, - And relegate to worlds yet distant our repose? - - Not much, I know, you prize - What pleasures may be had, - Who look on life with eyes - Estranged, like mine, and sad: - And yet the village churl feels the truth more than you; - - Who’s loth to leave this life - Which to him little yields: - His hard-task’d sunburnt wife, - His often-labour’d fields; - The boors with whom he talk’d, the country spots he knew. - - But thou, because thou hear’st - Men scoff at Heaven and Fate; - Because the gods thou fear’st - Fail to make blest thy state, - Tremblest, and wilt not dare to trust the joys there are. - - I say, Fear not! life still - Leaves human effort scope. - But, since life teems with ill, - Nurse no extravagant hope. - Because thou must not dream, thou need’st not then despair. - - - - -WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS - -1823-1880 - - -_755._ _The Flowers_ - - When Love arose in heart and deed - To wake the world to greater joy, - ‘What can she give me now?’ said Greed, - Who thought to win some costly toy. - - He rose, he ran, he stoop’d, he clutch’d; - And soon the Flowers, that Love let fall, - In Greed’s hot grasp were fray’d and smutch’d, - And Greed said, ‘Flowers! Can this be all?’ - - He flung them down and went his way, - He cared no jot for thyme or rose; - But boys and girls came out to play, - And some took these and some took those-- - - Red, blue, and white, and green and gold; - And at their touch the dew return’d, - And all the bloom a thousandfold-- - So red, so ripe, the roses burn’d! - - -_756._ _The Thought_ - - Into the skies, one summer’s day, - I sent a little Thought away; - Up to where, in the blue round, - The sun sat shining without sound. - - Then my Thought came back to me.-- - Little Thought, what did you see - In the regions whence you come? - And when I spoke, my Thought was dumb. - - But she breathed of what was there, - In the pure bright upper air; - And, because my Thought so shone, - I knew she had been shone upon. - - Next, by night a Thought I sent - Up into the firmament; - When the eager stars were out, - And the still moon shone about. - - And my Thought went past the moon - In between the stars, but soon - Held her breath and durst not stir, - For the fear that covered her; - Then she thought, in this demur: - - ‘Dare I look beneath the shade, - Into where the worlds are made; - Where the suns and stars are wrought? - Shall I meet another Thought? - - ‘Will that other Thought have wings? - Shall I meet strange, heavenly things? - Thought of Thoughts, and Light of Lights, - Breath of Breaths, and Night of Nights?’ - - Then my Thought began to hark - In the illuminated dark, - Till the silence, over, under, - Made her heart beat more than thunder. - - And my Thought, came trembling back, - But with something on her track, - And with something at her side; - Nor till she has lived and died, - Lived and died, and lived again, - Will that awful thing seem plain. - - - - -WILLIAM PHILPOT - -1823-1889 - - -_757._ _Maritæ Suæ_ - - -I - - Of all the flowers rising now, - Thou only saw’st the head - Of that unopen’d drop of snow - I placed beside thy bed. - - In all the blooms that blow so fast, - Thou hast no further part, - Save those the hour I saw thee last, - I laid above thy heart. - - Two snowdrops for our boy and girl, - A primrose blown for me, - Wreathed with one often-play’d-with curl - From each bright head for thee. - - And so I graced thee for thy grave, - And made these tokens fast - With that old silver heart I gave, - My first gift--and my last. - - -II - - I dream’d, her babe upon her breast, - Here she might lie and calmly rest - Her happy eyes on that far hill - That backs the landscape fresh and still. - - I hoped her thoughts would thrid the boughs - Where careless birds on love carouse, - And gaze those apple-blossoms through - To revel in the boundless blue. - - But now her faculty of sight - Is elder sister to the light, - And travels free and unconfined - Through dense and rare, through form and mind. - - Or else her life to be complete - Hath found new channels full and meet-- - Then, O, what eyes are leaning o’er, - If fairer than they were before! - - - - -WILLIAM (JOHNSON) CORY - -1823-1892 - - -_758._ _Mimnermus in Church_ - - You promise heavens free from strife, - Pure truth, and perfect change of will; - But sweet, sweet is this human life, - So sweet, I fain would breathe it still; - Your chilly stars I can forgo, - This warm kind world is all I know. - - You say there is no substance here, - One great reality above: - Back from that void I shrink in fear, - And child-like hide myself in love: - Show me what angels feel. Till then - I cling, a mere weak man, to men. - - You bid me lift my mean desires - From faltering lips and fitful veins - To sexless souls, ideal quires, - Unwearied voices, wordless strains: - My mind with fonder welcome owns - One dear dead friend’s remember’d tones. - - Forsooth the present we must give - To that which cannot pass away; - All beauteous things for which we live - By laws of time and space decay. - But O, the very reason why - I clasp them, is because they die. - - -_759._ _Heraclitus_ - - They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, - They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed. - I wept as I remember’d how often you and I - Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky. - - And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, - A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest, - Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake; - For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take. - - - - -COVENTRY PATMORE - -1823-1896 - - -_760._ _The Married Lover_ - - Why, having won her, do I woo? - Because her spirit’s vestal grace - Provokes me always to pursue, - But, spirit-like, eludes embrace; - Because her womanhood is such - That, as on court-days subjects kiss - The Queen’s hand, yet so near a touch - Affirms no mean familiarness; - Nay, rather marks more fair the height - Which can with safety so neglect - To dread, as lower ladies might, - That grace could meet with disrespect; - Thus she with happy favour feeds - Allegiance from a love so high - That thence no false conceit proceeds - Of difference bridged, or state put by; - Because although in act and word - As lowly as a wife can be, - Her manners, when they call me lord, - Remind me ’tis by courtesy; - Not with her least consent of will, - Which would my proud affection hurt, - But by the noble style that still - Imputes an unattain’d desert; - Because her gay and lofty brows, - When all is won which hope can ask, - Reflect a light of hopeless snows - That bright in virgin ether bask; - Because, though free of the outer court - I am, this Temple keeps its shrine - Sacred to Heaven; because, in short, - She’s not and never can be mine. - - -_761._ ‘_If I were dead_’ - - ‘If I were dead, you’d sometimes say, Poor Child!’ - The dear lips quiver’d as they spake, - And the tears brake - From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled. - Poor Child, poor Child! - I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song. - It is not true that Love will do no wrong. - Poor Child! - And did you think, when you so cried and smiled, - How I, in lonely nights, should lie awake, - And of those words your full avengers make? - Poor Child, poor Child! - And now, unless it be - That sweet amends thrice told are come to thee, - O God, have Thou _no_ mercy upon me! - Poor Child! - - -_762._ _Departure_ - - It was not like your great and gracious ways! - Do you, that have naught other to lament, - Never, my Love, repent - Of how, that July afternoon, - You went, - With sudden, unintelligible phrase, - And frighten’d eye, - Upon your journey of so many days - Without a single kiss, or a good-bye? - I knew, indeed, that you were parting soon; - And so we sate, within the low sun’s rays, - You whispering to me, for your voice was weak, - Your harrowing praise. - Well, it was well - To hear you such things speak, - And I could tell - What made your eyes a growing gloom of love, - As a warm South-wind sombres a March grove. - And it was like your great and gracious ways - To turn your talk on daily things, my Dear, - Lifting the luminous, pathetic lash - To let the laughter flash, - Whilst I drew near, - Because you spoke so low that I could scarcely hear. - But all at once to leave me at the last, - More at the wonder than the loss aghast, - With huddled, unintelligible phrase, - And frighten’d eye, - And go your journey of all days - With not one kiss, or a good-bye, - And the only loveless look the look with which you pass’d: - ’Twas all unlike your great and gracious ways. - - -_763._ _The Toys_ - - My little Son, who look’d from thoughtful eyes - And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise, - Having my law the seventh time disobey’d, - I struck him, and dismissed - With hard words and unkiss’d, - --His Mother, who was patient, being dead. - Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep, - I visited his bed, - But found him slumbering deep, - With darkened eyelids, and their lashes yet - From his late sobbing wet. - And I, with moan, - Kissing away his tears, left others of my own; - For, on a table drawn beside his head, - He had put, within his reach, - A box of counters and a red-vein’d stone, - A piece of glass abraded by the beach, - And six or seven shells, - A bottle with bluebells, - And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art, - To comfort his sad heart. - So when that night I pray’d - To God, I wept, and said: - Ah, when at last we lie with trancèd breath, - Not vexing Thee in death, - And Thou rememberest of what toys - We made our joys, - How weakly understood - Thy great commanded good, - Then, fatherly not less - Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay, - Thou’lt leave Thy wrath, and say, - ‘I will be sorry for their childishness.’ - - -_764._ _A Farewell_ - - With all my will, but much against my heart, - We two now part. - My Very Dear, - Our solace is, the sad road lies so clear. - It needs no art, - With faint, averted feet - And many a tear, - In our opposèd paths to persevere. - Go thou to East, I West. - We will not say - There’s any hope, it is so far away. - But, O, my Best, - When the one darling of our widowhead, - The nursling Grief, - Is dead, - And no dews blur our eyes - To see the peach-bloom come in evening skies, - Perchance we may, - Where now this night is day, - And even through faith of still averted feet, - Making full circle of our banishment, - Amazèd meet; - The bitter journey to the bourne so sweet - Seasoning the termless feast of our content - With tears of recognition never dry. - - - - -SYDNEY DOBELL - -1824-1874 - - -_765._ _The Ballad of Keith of Ravelston_ - - The murmur of the mourning ghost - That keeps the shadowy kine, - ‘O 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; - O 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; - O 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; - O 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; - O Keith of Ravelston, - The sorrows of thy line! - - -_766._ _Return!_ - - Return, return! all night my lamp is burning, - All night, like it, my wide eyes watch and burn; - Like it, I fade and pale, when day returning - Bears witness that the absent can return, - Return, return. - - Like it, I lessen with a lengthening sadness, - Like it, I burn to waste and waste to burn, - Like it, I spend the golden oil of gladness - To feed the sorrowy signal for return, - Return, return. - - Like it, like it, whene’er the east wind sings, - I bend and shake; like it, I quake and yearn, - When Hope’s late butterflies, with whispering wings, - Fly in out of the dark, to fall and burn-- - Burn in the watchfire of return, - Return, return. - - Like it, the very flame whereby I pine - Consumes me to its nature. While I mourn - My soul becomes a better soul than mine, - And from its brightening beacon I discern - My starry love go forth from me, and shine - Across the seas a path for thy return, - Return, return. - - Return, return! all night I see it burn, - All night it prays like me, and lifts a twin - Of palmèd praying hands that meet and yearn-- - Yearn to the impleaded skies for thy return. - Day, like a golden fetter, locks them in, - And wans the light that withers, tho’ it burn - As warmly still for thy return; - Still thro’ the splendid load uplifts the thin - Pale, paler, palest patience that can learn - Naught but that votive sign for thy return-- - That single suppliant sign for thy return, - Return, return. - - Return, return! lest haply, love, or e’er - Thou touch the lamp the light have ceased to burn, - And thou, who thro’ the window didst discern - The wonted flame, shalt reach the topmost stair - To find no wide eyes watching there, - No wither’d welcome waiting thy return! - A passing ghost, a smoke-wreath in the air, - The flameless ashes, and the soulless urn, - Warm with the famish’d fire that lived to burn-- - Burn out its lingering life for thy return, - Its last of lingering life for thy return, - Its last of lingering life to light thy late return, - Return, return. - - -_767._ _A Chanted Calendar_ - - First came the primrose, - On the bank high, - Like a maiden looking forth - From the window of a tower - When the battle rolls below, - So look’d she, - And saw the storms go by. - Then came the wind-flower - In the valley left behind, - As a wounded maiden, pale - With purple streaks of woe, - When the battle has roll’d by - Wanders to and fro, - So totter’d she, - Dishevelled in the wind. - - Then came the daisies, - On the first of May, - Like a banner’d show’s advance - While the crowd runs by the way, - With ten thousand flowers about them they came trooping through the fields. - As a happy people come, - So came they, - As a happy people come - When the war has roll’d away, - With dance and tabor, pipe and drum. - And all make holiday. - - Then came the cowslip, - Like a dancer in the fair, - She spread her little mat of green, - And on it danced she. - With a fillet bound about her brow, - A fillet round her happy brow, - A golden fillet round her brow, - And rubies in her hair. - - -_768._ _Laus Deo_ - - In the hall the coffin waits, and the idle armourer stands. - At his belt the coffin nails, and the hammer in his hands. - The bed of state is hung with crape--the grand old bed where she was wed-- - And like an upright corpse she sitteth gazing dumbly at the bed. - Hour by hour her serving-men enter by the curtain’d door, - And with steps of muffled woe pass breathless o’er the silent floor, - And marshal mutely round, and look from each to each with eyelids red; - ‘Touch him not,’ she shriek’d and cried, ‘he is but newly dead!’ - ‘O my own dear mistress,’ the ancient Nurse did say, - ‘Seven long days and seven long nights you have watch’d him where he lay.’ - ‘Seven long days and seven long nights,‘the hoary Steward said; - ‘Seven long days and seven long nights,’ groan’d the Warrener gray; - ‘Seven,’ said the old Henchman, and bow’d his aged head; - ‘On your lives!’ she shriek’d and cried,‘he is but newly dead!’ - Then a father Priest they sought, - The Priest that taught her all she knew, - And they told him of her loss. - ‘For she is mild and sweet of will, - She loved him, and his words are peace, - And he shall heal her ill.’ - But her watch she did not cease. - He bless’d her where she sat distraught, - And show’d her holy cross,-- - The cross she kiss’d from year to year-- - But she neither saw nor heard; - And said he in her deaf ear - All he had been wont to teach, - All she had been fond to hear, - Missall’d prayer, and solemn speech, - But she answer’d not a word. - Only when he turn’d to speak with those who wept about the bed, - ‘On your lives!’ she shriek’d and cried, ‘he is but newly dead!’ - Then how sadly he turn’d from her, it were wonderful to tell, - And he stood beside the death-bed as by one who slumbers well, - And he lean’d o’er him who lay there, and in cautious whisper low, - ‘He is not dead, but sleepeth,’ said the Priest, and smooth’d his brow. - ‘Sleepeth?’ said she, looking up, and the sun rose in her face! - ‘He must be better than I thought, for the sleep is very sound.’ - ‘He is better,’ said the Priest, and call’d her maidens round. - With them came that ancient dame who nursed her when a child; - O Nurse!’ she sigh’d, ‘O Nurse!’ she cried, ‘O Nurse!’ and then she smiled, - And then she wept; with that they drew - About her, as of old; - Her dying eyes were sweet and blue, - Her trembling touch was cold; - But she said, ‘My maidens true, - No more weeping and well-away; - Let them kill the feast. - I would be happy in my soul. - “He is better,” saith the Priest; - He did but sleep the weary day, - And will waken whole. - Carry me to his dear side, - And let the halls be trim; - Whistly, whistly,’ said she, - ‘I am wan with watching and wail, - He must not wake to see me pale, - Let me sleep with him. - See you keep the tryst for me, - I would rest till he awake - And rise up like a bride. - But whistly, whistly!’ said she. - ‘Yet rejoice your Lord doth live; - And for His dear sake - Say _Laus, Domine_.’ - Silent they cast down their eyes, - And every breast a sob did rive, - She lifted her in wild surprise - And they dared not disobey. - ‘_Laus Deo_,’ said the Steward, hoary when her days were new; - ‘_Laus Deo_,’ said the Warrener, whiter than the warren snows; - ‘_Laus Deo_,’ the bald Henchman, who had nursed her on his knee. - The old Nurse moved her lips in vain, - And she stood among the train - Like a dead tree shaking dew. - Then the Priest he softly slept - Midway in the little band, - And he took the Lady’s hand. - ‘_Laus Deo_,’ he said aloud, - ‘_Laus Deo_,’ they said again, - Yet again, and yet again, - Humbly cross’d and lowly bow’d, - Till in wont and fear it rose - To the Sabbath strain. - - - But she neither turn’d her head - Nor ‘Whistly, whistly,’ said she. - Her hands were folded as in grace, - We laid her with her ancient race - And all the village wept. - - -WILLIAM ALLINGHAM - -1824-1889 - - -_769._ _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. - If any man so daring - As dig them up in spite, - He shall find their sharpest thorns - 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! - - - - -GEORGE MAC DONALD - -1824-1905 - - -_770._ _That Holy Thing_ - - They all were looking for a king - To slay their foes and lift them high: - Thou cam’st, a little baby thing - That made a woman cry. - - O Son of Man, to right my lot - Naught but Thy presence can avail; - Yet on the road Thy wheels are not, - Nor on the sea Thy sail! - - My how or when Thou wilt not heed, - But come down Thine own secret stair, - That Thou mayst answer all my need-- - Yea, every bygone prayer. - - - - -DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI - -1828-1882 - - -_771._ _The Blessèd Damozel_ - - The blessèd Damozel lean’d out - From the gold bar of Heaven: - Her blue grave eyes were deeper much - Than a deep water, even. - She had three lilies in her hand, - And the stars in her hair were seven. - - - Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, - No wrought flowers did adorn, - But a white rose of Mary’s gift - On the neck meetly worn; - And her hair, lying down her back, - Was yellow like ripe corn. - - Herseem’d she scarce had been a day - One of God’s choristers; - The wonder was not yet quite gone - From that still look of hers; - Albeit, to them she left, her day - Had counted as ten years. - - (To _one_ it is ten years of years: -... Yet now, here in this place, - Surely she lean’d o’er me,--her hair - Fell all about my face.... - Nothing: the Autumn-fall of leaves. - The whole year sets apace.) - - It was the terrace of God’s house - That she was standing on,-- - By God built over the sheer depth - In which Space is begun; - So high, that looking downward thence, - She scarce could see the sun. - - It lies from Heaven across the flood - Of ether, as a bridge. - Beneath, the tides of day and night - With flame and darkness ridge - The void, as low as where this earth - Spins like a fretful midge. - - - But in those tracts, with her, it was - The peace of utter light - And silence. For no breeze may stir - Along the steady flight - Of seraphim; no echo there, - Beyond all depth or height. - - Heard hardly, some of her new friends, - Playing at holy games, - Spake, gentle-mouth’d, among themselves, - Their virginal chaste names; - And the souls, mounting up to God, - Went by her like thin flames. - - And still she bow’d herself, and stoop’d - Into the vast waste calm; - Till her bosom’s pressure must have made - The bar she lean’d on warm, - And the lilies lay as if asleep - Along her bended arm. - - From the fixt lull of Heaven, she saw - Time, like a pulse, shake fierce - Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove, - In that steep gulf, to pierce - The swarm; and then she spoke, as when - The stars sang in their spheres. - - ‘I wish that he were come to me, - For he will come,’ she said. - ‘Have I not pray’d in solemn Heaven? - On earth, has he not pray’d? - Are not two prayers a perfect strength? - And shall I feel afraid? - - - ‘When round his head the aureole clings, - And he is clothed in white, - I’ll take his hand, and go with him - To the deep wells of light, - And we will step down as to a stream - And bathe there in God’s sight. - - ‘We two will stand beside that shrine, - Occult, withheld, untrod, - Whose lamps tremble continually - With prayer sent up to God; - And where each need, reveal’d, expects - Its patient period. - - ‘We two will lie i’ the shadow of - That living mystic tree - Within whose secret growth the Dove - Sometimes is felt to be, - While every leaf that His plumes touch - Saith His name audibly. - - ‘And I myself will teach to him,-- - I myself, lying so,-- - The songs I sing here; which his mouth - Shall pause in, hush’d and slow, - Finding some knowledge at each pause, - And some new thing to know.’ - - (Alas! to _her_ wise simple mind - These things were all but known - Before: they trembled on her sense,-- - Her voice had caught their tone. - Alas for lonely Heaven! Alas - For life wrung out alone! - - - Alas, and though the end were reach’d?... - Was _thy_ part understood - Or borne in trust? And for her sake - Shall this too be found good?-- - May the close lips that knew not prayer - Praise ever, though they would?) - - ‘We two,’ she said, ‘will seek the groves - Where the lady Mary is, - With her five handmaidens, whose names - Are five sweet symphonies:-- - Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, - Margaret and Rosalys. - - ‘Circle-wise sit they, with bound locks - And bosoms coverèd; - Into the fine cloth, white like flame, - Weaving the golden thread, - To fashion the birth-robes for them - Who are just born, being dead. - - ‘He shall fear, haply, and be dumb. - Then I will lay my cheek - To his, and tell about our love, - Not once abash’d or weak: - And the dear Mother will approve - My pride, and let me speak. - - ‘Herself shall bring us, hand in hand, - To Him round whom all souls - Kneel--the unnumber’d solemn heads - Bow’d with their aureoles: - And Angels, meeting us, shall sing - To their citherns and citoles. - - - ‘There will I ask of Christ the Lord - Thus much for him and me:-- - To have more blessing than on earth - In nowise; but to be - As then we were,--being as then - At peace. Yea, verily. - - ‘Yea, verily; when he is come - We will do thus and thus: - Till this my vigil seem quite strange - And almost fabulous; - We two will live at once, one life; - And peace shall be with us.’ - - She gazed, and listen’d, and then said, - Less sad of speech than mild,-- - ‘All this is when he comes.’ She ceased: - The light thrill’d past her, fill’d - With Angels, in strong level lapse. - Her eyes pray’d, and she smiled. - - (I saw her smile.) But soon their flight - Was vague ’mid the poised spheres. - And then she cast her arms along - The golden barriers, - And laid her face between her hands, - And wept. (I heard her tears.) - - - - -GEORGE MEREDITH - -1828-1909 - - -_772._ _Love in the Valley_ - - Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, - Couch’d with her arms behind her golden head, - Knees and tresses folded to slip and ripple idly, - Lies my young love sleeping in the shade. - Had I the heart to slide an arm beneath her, - Press her parting lips as her waist I gather slow, - Waking in amazement she could not but embrace me: - Then would she hold me and never let me go? - - * * * * * - - Shy as the squirrel and wayward as the swallow, - Swift as the swallow along the river’s light - Circleting the surface to meet his mirror’d winglets, - Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her flight. - Shy as the squirrel that leaps among the pine-tops, - Wayward as the swallow overhead at set of sun, - She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer, - Hard, but O the glory of the winning were she won! - - * * * * * - - When her mother tends her before the laughing mirror, - Tying up her laces, looping up her hair, - Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded, - More love should I have, and much less care. - When her mother tends her before the lighted mirror, - Loosening her laces, combing down her curls, - Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded, - I should miss but one for many boys and girls. - - * * * * * - - - Heartless she is as the shadow in the meadows - Flying to the hills on a blue and breezy noon. - No, she is athirst and drinking up her wonder: - Earth to her is young as the slip of the new moon. - Deals she an unkindness, ’tis but her rapid measure, - Even as in a dance; and her smile can heal no less: - Like the swinging May-cloud that pelts the flowers with hailstones - Off a sunny border, she was made to bruise and bless. - - * * * * * - - Lovely are the curves of the white owl sweeping - Wavy in the dusk lit by one large star. - Lone on the fir-branch, his rattle-note unvaried, - Brooding o’er the gloom, spins the brown evejar. - Darker grows the valley, more and more forgetting: - So were it with me if forgetting could be will’d. - Tell the grassy hollow that holds the bubbling well-spring, - Tell it to forget the source that keeps it fill’d. - - * * * * * - - Stepping down the hill with her fair companions, - Arm in arm, all against the raying West, - Boldly she sings, to the merry tune she marches, - Brave is her shape, and sweeter unpossess’d. - Sweeter, for she is what my heart first awaking - Whisper’d the world was; morning light is she. - Love that so desires would fain keep her changeless; - Fain would fling the net, and fain have her free. - - * * * * * - - Happy happy time, when the white star hovers - Low over dim fields fresh with bloomy dew, - Near the face of dawn, that draws athwart the darkness, - Threading it with colour, like yewberries the yew. - Thicker crowd the shades as the grave East deepens - Glowing, and with crimson a long cloud swells. - Maiden still the morn is; and strange she is, and secret; - Strange her eyes; her cheeks are cold as cold sea-shells. - - * * * * * - - Sunrays, leaning on our southern hills and lighting - Wild cloud-mountains that drag the hills along, - Oft ends the day of your shifting brilliant laughter - Chill as a dull face frowning on a song. - Ay, but shows the South-west a ripple-feather’d bosom - Blown to silver while the clouds are shaken and ascend - Scaling the mid-heavens as they stream, there comes a sunset - Rich, deep like love in beauty without end. - - * * * * * - - When at dawn she sighs, and like an infant to the window - Turns grave eyes craving light, released from dreams, - Beautiful she looks, like a white water-lily - Bursting out of bud in havens of the streams. - When from bed she rises clothed from neck to ankle - In her long nightgown sweet as boughs of May, - Beautiful she looks, like a tall garden-lily - Pure from the night, and splendid for the day. - - * * * * * - - Mother of the dews, dark eye-lash’d twilight, - Low-lidded twilight, o’er the valley’s brim, - Rounding on thy breast sings the dew-delighted skylark, - Clear as though the dewdrops had their voice in him. - Hidden where the rose-flush drinks the rayless planet, - Fountain-full he pours the spraying fountain-showers. - Let me hear her laughter, I would have her ever - Cool as dew in twilight, the lark above the flowers. - - * * * * * - - - All the girls are out with their baskets for the primrose; - Up lanes, woods through, they troop in joyful bands. - My sweet leads: she knows not why, but now she loiters, - Eyes the bent anemones, and hangs her hands. - Such a look will tell that the violets are peeping, - Coming the rose: and unaware a cry - Springs in her bosom for odours and for colour, - Covert and the nightingale; she knows not why. - - * * * * * - - Kerchief’d head and chin she darts between her tulips, - Streaming like a willow gray in arrowy rain: - Some bend beaten cheek to gravel, and their angel - She will be; she lifts them, and on she speeds again. - Black the driving raincloud breasts the iron gateway: - She is forth to cheer a neighbour lacking mirth. - So when sky and grass met rolling dumb for thunder - Saw I once a white dove, sole light of earth. - - * * * * * - - Prim little scholars are the flowers of her garden, - Train’d to stand in rows, and asking if they please. - I might love them well but for loving more the wild ones: - O my wild ones! they tell me more than these. - You, my wild one, you tell of honied field-rose, - Violet, blushing eglantine in life; and even as they, - They by the wayside are earnest of your goodness, - You are of life’s, on the banks that line the way. - - * * * * * - - Peering at her chamber the white crowns the red rose, - Jasmine winds the porch with stars two and three. - Parted is the window; she sleeps; the starry jasmine - Breathes a falling breath that carries thoughts of me. - Sweeter unpossessed, have I said of her my sweetest? - Not while she sleeps: while she sleeps the jasmine breathes, - Luring her to love; she sleeps; the starry jasmine - Bears me to her pillow under white rose-wreaths. - - * * * * * - - Yellow with birdfoot-trefoil are the grass-glades; - Yellow with cinquefoil of the dew-gray leaf; - Yellow with stonecrop; the moss-mounds are yellow; - Blue-neck’d the wheat sways, yellowing to the sheaf. - Green-yellow, bursts from the copse the laughing yaffle; - Sharp as a sickle is the edge of shade and shine: - Earth in her heart laughs looking at the heavens, - Thinking of the harvest: I look and think of mine. - - * * * * * - - This I may know: her dressing and undressing - Such a change of light shows as when the skies in sport - Shift from cloud to moonlight; or edging over thunder - Slips a ray of sun; or sweeping into port - White sails furl; or on the ocean borders - White sails lean along the waves leaping green. - Visions of her shower before me, but from eyesight - Guarded she would be like the sun were she seen. - - * * * * * - - Front door and back of the moss’d old farmhouse - Open with the morn, and in a breezy link - Freshly sparkles garden to stripe-shadow’d orchard, - Green across a rill where on sand the minnows wink. - Busy in the grass the early sun of summer - Swarms, and the blackbird’s mellow fluting notes - Call my darling up with round and roguish challenge: - Quaintest, richest carol of all the singing throats! - - * * * * * - - - Cool was the woodside; cool as her white dairy - Keeping sweet the cream-pan; and there the boys from school, - Cricketing below, rush’d brown and red with sunshine; - O the dark translucence of the deep-eyed cool! - Spying from the farm, herself she fetch’d a pitcher - Full of milk, and tilted for each in turn the beak. - Then a little fellow, mouth up and on tiptoe, - Said, ‘I will kiss you’: she laugh’d and lean’d her cheek. - - * * * * * - - Doves of the fir-wood walling high our red roof - Through the long noon coo, crooning through the coo. - Loose droop the leaves, and down the sleepy roadway - Sometimes pipes a chaffinch; loose droops the blue. - Cows flap a slow tail knee-deep in the river, - Breathless, given up to sun and gnat and fly. - Nowhere is she seen; and if I see her nowhere, - Lightning may come, straight rains and tiger sky. - - * * * * * - - O the golden sheaf, the rustling treasure-armful! - O the nutbrown tresses nodding interlaced! - O the treasure-tresses one another over - Nodding! O the girdle slack about the waist! - Slain are the poppies that shot their random scarlet - Quick amid the wheat-ears: wound about the waist, - Gathered, see these brides of Earth one blush of ripeness! - O the nutbrown tresses nodding interlaced! - - * * * * * - - Large and smoky red the sun’s cold disk drops, - Clipped by naked hills, on violet shaded snow: - Eastward large and still lights up a bower of moonrise, - Whence at her leisure steps the moon aglow. - Nightlong on black print-branches our beech-tree - Gazes in this whiteness: nightlong could I. - Here may life on death or death on life be painted. - Let me clasp her soul to know she cannot die! - - * * * * * - - Gossips count her faults; they scour a narrow chamber - Where there is no window, read not heaven or her. - ‘When she was a tiny,’ one agèd woman quavers, - Plucks at my heart and leads me by the ear. - Faults she had once as she learn’d to run and tumbled: - Faults of feature some see, beauty not complete. - Yet, good gossips, beauty that makes holy - Earth and air, may have faults from head to feet. - - Hither she comes; she comes to me; she lingers, - Deepens her brown eyebrows, while in new surprise - High rise the lashes in wonder of a stranger; - Yet am I the light and living of her eyes. - Something friends have told her fills her heart to brimming, - Nets her in her blushes, and wounds her, and tames.-- - Sure of her haven, O like a dove alighting, - Arms up, she dropp’d: our souls were in our names. - - * * * * * - - Soon will she lie like a white frost sunrise. - Yellow oats and brown wheat, barley pale as rye, - Long since your sheaves have yielded to the thresher, - Felt the girdle loosen’d, seen the tresses fly. - Soon will she lie like a blood-red sunset. - Swift with the to-morrow, green-wing’d Spring! - Sing from the South-west, bring her back the truants, - Nightingale and swallow, song and dipping wing. - - * * * * * - - - Soft new beech-leaves, up to beamy April - Spreading bough on bough a primrose mountain, you - Lucid in the moon, raise lilies to the skyfields, - Youngest green transfused in silver shining through: - Fairer than the lily, than the wild white cherry: - Fair as in image my seraph love appears - Borne to me by dreams when dawn is at my eyelids: - Fair as in the flesh she swims to me on tears. - - * * * * * - - Could I find a place to be alone with heaven, - I would speak my heart out: heaven is my need. - Every woodland tree is flushing like the dogwood, - Flashing like the whitebeam, swaying like the reed. - Flushing like the dogwood crimson in October; - Streaming like the flag-reed South-west blown; - Flashing as in gusts the sudden-lighted whitebeam: - All seem to know what is for heaven alone. - - -_773._ _Phœbus with Admetus_ - - When by Zeus relenting the mandate was revoked, - Sentencing to exile the bright Sun-God, - Mindful were the ploughmen of who the steer had yoked, - Who: and what a track show’d the upturn’d sod! - Mindful were the shepherds, as now the noon severe - Bent a burning eyebrow to brown evetide, - How the rustic flute drew the silver to the sphere, - Sister of his own, till her rays fell wide. - God! of whom music - And song and blood are pure, - The day is never darken’d - That had thee here obscure. - - - Chirping none, the scarlet cicalas crouch’d in ranks: - Slack the thistle-head piled its down-silk gray: - Scarce the stony lizard suck’d hollows in his flanks: - Thick on spots of umbrage our drowsed flocks lay. - Sudden bow’d the chestnuts beneath a wind unheard, - Lengthen’d ran the grasses, the sky grew slate: - Then amid a swift flight of wing’d seed white as curd, - Clear of limb a Youth smote the master’s gate. - God! of whom music - And song and blood are pure, - The day is never darken’d - That had thee here obscure. - - Water, first of singers, o’er rocky mount and mead, - First of earthly singers, the sun-loved rill, - Sang of him, and flooded the ripples on the reed, - Seeking whom to waken and what ear fill. - Water, sweetest soother to kiss a wound and cool, - Sweetest and divinest, the sky-born brook, - Chuckled, with a whimper, and made a mirror-pool - Round the guest we welcomed, the strange hand shook. - God! of whom music - And song and blood are pure, - The day is never darken’d - That had thee here obscure. - - Many swarms of wild bees descended on our fields: - Stately stood the wheatstalk with head bent high: - Big of heart we labour’d at storing mighty yields, - Wool and corn, and clusters to make men cry! - Hand-like rush’d the vintage; we strung the bellied skins - Plump, and at the sealing the Youth’s voice rose: - Maidens clung in circle, on little fists their chins; - Gentle beasties through push’d a cold long nose. - God! of whom music - And song and blood are pure, - The day is never darken’d - That had thee here obscure. - - Foot to fire in snowtime we trimm’d the slender shaft: - Often down the pit spied the lean wolf’s teeth - Grin against his will, trapp’d by masterstrokes of craft; - Helpless in his froth-wrath as green logs seethe! - Safe the tender lambs tugg’d the teats, and winter sped - Whirl’d before the crocus, the year’s new gold. - Hung the hooky beak up aloft, the arrowhead - Redden’d through his feathers for our dear fold. - God! of whom music - And song and blood are pure, - The day is never darkened - That had thee here obscure. - - Tales we drank of giants at war with gods above: - Rocks were they to look on, and earth climb’d air! - Tales of search for simples, and those who sought of love - Ease because the creature was all too fair. - Pleasant ran our thinking that while our work was good, - Sure as fruits for sweat would the praise come fast. - He that wrestled stoutest and tamed the billow-brood - Danced in rings with girls, like a sail-flapp’d mast. - God! of whom music - And song and blood are pure, - The day is never darken’d - That had thee here obscure. - - Lo, the herb of healing, when once the herb is known, - Shines in shady woods bright as new-sprung flame. - Ere the string was tighten’d we heard the mellow tone, - After he had taught how the sweet sounds came. - Stretch’d about his feet, labour done, ’twas as you see - Red pomegranates tumble and burst hard rind. - So began contention to give delight and be - Excellent in things aim’d to make life kind. - God! of whom music - And song and blood are pure, - The day is never darken’d - That had thee here obscure. - - You with shelly horns, rams! and, promontory goats, - You whose browsing beards dip in coldest dew! - Bulls, that walk the pastures in kingly-flashing coats! - Laurel, ivy, vine, wreathed for feasts not few! - You that build the shade-roof, and you that court the rays, - You that leap besprinkling the rock stream-rent: - He has been our fellow, the morning of our days; - Us he chose for housemates, and this way went. - God! of whom music - And song and blood are pure, - The day is never darken’d - That had thee here obscure. - - -_774._ _Tardy Spring_ - - Now the North wind ceases, - The warm South-west awakes; - Swift fly the fleeces, - Thick the blossom-flakes. - - Now hill to hill has made the stride, - And distance waves the without-end: - Now in the breast a door flings wide; - Our farthest smiles, our next is friend. - And song of England’s rush of flowers - Is this full breeze with mellow stops, - That spins the lark for shine, for showers; - He drinks his hurried flight, and drops. - The stir in memory seem these things, - Which out of moisten’d turf and clay, - Astrain for light push patient rings, - Or leap to find the waterway. - ’Tis equal to a wonder done, - Whatever simple lives renew - Their tricks beneath the father sun, - As though they caught a broken clue: - So hard was earth an eyewink back; - But now the common life has come, - The blotting cloud a dappled pack, - The grasses one vast underhum. - A City clothed in snow and soot, - With lamps for day in ghostly rows, - Breaks to the scene of hosts afoot, - The river that reflective flows: - And there did fog down crypts of street - Play spectre upon eye and mouth:-- - Their faces are a glass to greet - This magic of the whirl for South. - A burly joy each creature swells - With sound of its own hungry quest; - Earth has to fill her empty wells, - And speed the service of the nest; - The phantom of the snow-wreath melt, - That haunts the farmer’s look abroad, - Who sees what tomb a white night built, - Where flocks now bleat and sprouts the clod. - For iron Winter held her firm; - Across her sky he laid his hand; - And bird he starved, he stiffen’d worm; - A sightless heaven, a shaven land. - Her shivering Spring feign’d fast asleep. - The bitten buds dared not unfold: - We raced on roads and ice to keep - Thought of the girl we love from cold. - - But now the North wind ceases, - The warm South-west awakes, - The heavens are out in fleeces, - And earth’s green banner shakes. - - -_775._ _Love’s Grave_ - - Mark where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like, - Its skeleton shadow on the broad-back’d wave! - Here is a fitting spot to dig Love’s grave; - Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike, - And dart their hissing tongues high up the sand: - In hearing of the ocean, and in sight - Of those ribb’d wind-streaks running into white. - If I the death of Love had deeply plann’d, - I never could have made it half so sure, - As by the unblest kisses which upbraid - The full-waked sense; or failing that, degrade! - ’Tis morning: but no morning can restore - What we have forfeited. I see no sin: - The wrong is mix’d. In tragic life, God wot, - No villain need be! Passions spin the plot: - We are betray’d by what is false within. - - -_776._ _Lucifer in Starlight_ - - On a starr’d night Prince Lucifer uprose. - Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend - Above the rolling ball in cloud part screen’d, - Where sinners hugg’d their spectre of repose. - Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those. - And now upon his western wing he lean’d, - Now his huge bulk o’er Afric’s sands careen’d, - Now the black planet shadow’d Arctic snows. - Soaring through wider zones that prick’d his scars - With memory of the old revolt from Awe, - He reach’d a middle height, and at the stars, - Which are the brain of heaven, he look’d, and sank. - Around the ancient track march’d, rank on rank, - The army of unalterable law. - - - - -ALEXANDER SMITH - -1829-1867 - - -_777._ _Love_ - - The fierce exulting worlds, the motes in rays, - The churlish thistles, scented briers, - The wind-swept bluebells on the sunny braes, - Down to the central fires, - - Exist alike in Love. Love is a sea - Filling all the abysses dim - Of lornest space, in whose deeps regally - Suns and their bright broods swim. - - This mighty sea of Love, with wondrous tides, - Is sternly just to sun and grain; - ’Tis laving at this moment Saturn’s sides, - ’Tis in my blood and brain. - - - All things have something more than barren use; - There is a scent upon the brier, - A tremulous splendour in the autumn dews, - Cold morns are fringed with fire. - - The clodded earth goes up in sweet-breath’d flowers; - In music dies poor human speech, - And into beauty blow those hearts of ours - When Love is born in each. - - Daisies are white upon the churchyard sod, - Sweet tears the clouds lean down and give. - The world is very lovely. O my God, - I thank Thee that I live! - - -_778._ _Barbara_ - - On the Sabbath-day, - Through the churchyard old and gray, - Over the crisp and yellow leaves I held my rustling way; - And amid the words of mercy, falling on my soul like balms, - ’Mid the gorgeous storms of music--in the mellow organ-calms, - ’Mid the upward-streaming prayers, and the rich and solemn psalms, - I stood careless, Barbara. - - My heart was otherwhere, - While the organ shook the air, - And the priest, with outspread hands, bless’d the people with a prayer; - But when rising to go homeward, with a mild and saint-like shine - Gleam’d a face of airy beauty with its heavenly eyes on mine-- - Gleam’d and vanish’d in a moment--O that face was surely thine - Out of heaven, Barbara! - - O pallid, pallid face! - O earnest eyes of grace! - When last I saw thee, dearest, it was in another place. - You came running forth to meet me with my love-gift on your wrist: - The flutter of a long white dress, then all was lost in mist-- - A purple stain of agony was on the mouth I kiss’d, - That wild morning, Barbara. - - I searched, in my despair, - Sunny noon and midnight air; - I could not drive away the thought that you were lingering there. - O many and many a winter night I sat when you were gone, - My worn face buried in my hands, beside the fire alone-- - Within the dripping churchyard, the rain plashing on your stone, - You were sleeping, Barbara. - - ’Mong angels, do you think - Of the precious golden link - I clasp’d around your happy arm while sitting by yon brink? - Or when that night of gliding dance, of laughter and guitars, - Was emptied of its music, and we watch’d, through lattice-bars, - The silent midnight heaven creeping o’er us with its stars, - Till the day broke, Barbara? - - - In the years I’ve changed; - Wild and far my heart has ranged, - And many sins and errors now have been on me avenged; - But to you I have been faithful whatsoever good I lack’d: - I loved you, and above my life still hangs that love intact-- - Your love the trembling rainbow, I the reckless cataract. - Still I love you, Barbara. - - Yet, Love, I am unblest; - With many doubts opprest, - I wander like the desert wind without a place of rest. - Could I but win you for an hour from off that starry shore, - The hunger of my soul were still’d; for Death hath told you more - Than the melancholy world doth know--things deeper than all lore - You could teach me, Barbara. - - In vain, in vain, in vain! - You will never come again. - There droops upon the dreary hills a mournful fringe of rain; - The gloaming closes slowly round, loud winds are in the tree, - Round selfish shores for ever moans the hurt and wounded sea; - There is no rest upon the earth, peace is with Death and thee-- - Barbara! - - - - -CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI - -1830-1894 - - -_779._ _Bride Song_ - -FROM ‘THE PRINCE’S PROGRESS’ - - Too late for love, too late for joy, - Too late, too late! - You loiter’d on the road too long, - You trifled at the gate: - The enchanted dove upon her branch - Died without a mate; - The enchanted princess in her tower - Slept, died, behind the grate; - Her heart was starving all this while - You made it wait. - - Ten years ago, five years ago, - One year ago, - Even then you had arrived in time, - Though somewhat slow; - Then you had known her living face - Which now you cannot know: - The frozen fountain would have leap’d. - The buds gone on to blow, - The warm south wind would have awaked - To melt the snow. - - Is she fair now as she lies? - Once she was fair; - Meet queen for any kingly king, - With gold-dust on her hair. - Now there are poppies in her locks, - White poppies she must wear; - Must wear a veil to shroud her face - And the want graven there: - Or is the hunger fed at length, - Cast off the care? - - We never saw her with a smile - Or with a frown; - Her bed seem’d never soft to her, - Though toss’d of down; - She little heeded what she wore, - Kirtle, or wreath, or gown; - We think her white brows often ached - Beneath her crown, - Till silvery hairs show’d in her locks - That used to be so brown. - - We never heard her speak in haste: - Her tones were sweet, - And modulated just so much - As it was meet: - Her heart sat silent through the noise - And concourse of the street. - There was no hurry in her hands, - No hurry in her feet; - There was no bliss drew nigh to her, - That she might run to greet. - - You should have wept her yesterday, - Wasting upon her bed: - But wherefore should you weep to-day - That she is dead? - Lo, we who love weep not to-day, - But crown her royal head. - Let be these poppies that we strew, - Your roses are too red: - Let be these poppies, not for you - Cut down and spread. - - -_780._ _A Birthday_ - - My heart is like a singing bird - Whose nest is in a water’d shoot; - My heart is like an apple-tree - Whose boughs are bent with thick-set 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 daïs 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. - - -_781._ _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. - - -_782._ _Twice_ - - I took my heart in my hand - (O my love, O my love), - I said: Let me fall or stand, - Let me live or die, - But this once hear me speak - (O my love, O my love)-- - Yet a woman’s words are weak; - You should speak, not I. - - You took my heart in your hand - With a friendly smile, - With a critical eye you scann’d, - Then set it down, - And said, ‘It is still unripe, - Better wait awhile; - Wait while the skylarks pipe, - Till the corn grows brown.’ - - - As you set it down it broke-- - Broke, but I did not wince; - I smiled at the speech you spoke, - At your judgement I heard: - But I have not often smiled - Since then, nor question’d since, - Nor cared for cornflowers wild, - Nor sung with the singing bird. - - I take my heart in my hand, - O my God, O my God, - My broken heart in my hand: - Thou hast seen, judge Thou. - My hope was written on sand, - O my God, O my God: - Now let thy judgement stand-- - Yea, judge me now. - - This contemn’d of a man, - This marr’d one heedless day, - This heart take thou to scan - Both within and without: - Refine with fire its gold, - Purge Thou its dross away-- - Yea, hold it in Thy hold, - Whence none can pluck it out. - - I take my heart in my hand-- - I shall not die, but live-- - Before Thy face I stand; - I, for Thou callest such: - All that I have I bring, - All that I am I give, - Smile Thou and I shall sing, - But shall not question much. - - -_783._ _Uphill_ - - Does the road wind uphill 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 waiting at that 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. - - -_784._ _Passing Away_ - - Passing away, saith the World, passing away: - Chances, beauty and youth sapp’d day by day: - Thy life never continueth in one stay. - Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to gray - That hath won neither laurel nor bay? - I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May: - Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay - On my bosom for aye. - Then I answer’d: Yea. - - - Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away: - With its burden of fear and hope, of labour and play, - Hearken what the past doth witness and say: - Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array, - A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay. - At midnight, at cockcrow, at morning, one certain day, - Lo, the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay: - Watch thou and pray. - Then I answer’d: Yea. - - Passing away, saith my God, passing away: - Winter passeth after the long delay: - New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray, - Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven’s May. - Though I tarry, wait for me, trust me, watch and pray. - Arise, come away; night is past, and lo, it is day; - My love, my sister, my spouse, thou shalt hear me say-- - Then I answer’d: Yea. - - -_785._ _Marvel of Marvels_ - - Marvel of marvels, if I myself shall behold - With mine own eyes my King in His city of gold; - Where the least of lambs is spotless white in the fold, - Where the least and last of saints in spotless white is stoled, - Where the dimmest head beyond a moon is aureoled. - O saints, my belovèd, now mouldering to mould in the mould, - Shall I see you lift your heads, see your cerements unroll’d, - See with these very eyes? who now in darkness and cold - Tremble for the midnight cry, the rapture, the tale untold,-- - _The Bridegroom cometh, cometh, His Bride to enfold!_ - - Cold it is, my belovèd, since your funeral bell was toll’d: - Cold it is, O my King, how cold alone on the wold! - - -_786._ _Is it Well with the Child?_ - - Safe where I cannot die yet, - Safe where I hope to lie too, - Safe from the fume and the fret; - You, and you, - Whom I never forget. - Safe from the frost and the snow, - Safe from the storm and the sun, - Safe where the seeds wait to grow - One by one, - And to come back in blow. - - -_787._ _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 plann’d: - 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. - - -_788._ _Aloof_ - - The irresponsive silence of the land, - The irresponsive sounding of the sea, - Speak both one message of one sense to me:-- - Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand - Thou too aloof, bound with the flawless band - Of inner solitude; we bind not thee; - But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free? - What heart shall touch thy heart? What hand thy hand? - And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek, - And sometimes I remember days of old - When fellowship seem’d not so far to seek, - And all the world and I seem’d much less cold, - And at the rainbow’s foot lay surely gold, - And hope felt strong, and life itself not weak. - - -_789._ _Rest_ - - O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes; - Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth; - Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth - With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs. - She hath no questions, she hath no replies, - Hush’d in and curtain’d with a blessèd dearth - Of all that irk’d her from the hour of birth; - With stillness that is almost Paradise. - Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth her, - Silence more musical than any song; - Even her very heart has ceased to stir: - Until the morning of Eternity - Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be; - And when she wakes she will not think it long. - - - - -THOMAS EDWARD BROWN - -1830-1897 - - -_790._ _Dora_ - - She knelt upon her brother’s grave, - My little girl of six years old-- - He used to be so good and brave, - The sweetest lamb of all our fold; - He used to shout, he used to sing, - Of all our tribe the little king-- - And so unto the turf her ear she laid, - To hark if still in that dark place he play’d. - No sound! no sound! - Death’s silence was profound; - And horror crept - Into her aching heart, and Dora wept. - If this is as it ought to be, - My God, I leave it unto Thee. - - -_791._ _Jessie_ - - When Jessie comes with her soft breast, - And yields the golden keys, - Then is it as if God caress’d - Twin babes upon His knees-- - Twin babes that, each to other press’d, - Just feel the Father’s arms, wherewith they both are bless’d. - - But when I think if we must part, - And all this personal dream be fled-- - O then my heart! O then my useless heart! - Would God that thou wert dead-- - A clod insensible to joys and ills-- - A stone remote in some bleak gully of the hills! - - -_792._ _Salve!_ - - To live within a cave--it is most good; - But, if God make a day, - And some one come, and say, - ‘Lo! I have gather’d faggots in the wood!’ - E’en let him stay, - And light a fire, and fan a temporal mood! - - So sit till morning! when the light is grown - That he the path can read, - Then bid the man God-speed! - His morning is not thine: yet must thou own - They have a cheerful warmth--those ashes on the stone. - - -_793_. _My Garden_ - - A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot! - Rose plot, - Fringed pool, - Fern’d grot-- - The veriest school - Of peace; and yet the fool - Contends that God is not-- - Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool? - Nay, but I have a sign; - ’Tis very sure God walks in mine. - - - - -EDWARD ROBERT BULWER LYTTON, EARL OF LYTTON - -1831-1892 - - -_794._ _A Night in Italy_ - - Sweet are the rosy memories of the lips - That first kiss’d ours, albeit they kiss no more: - Sweet is the sight of sunset-sailing ships, - Altho’ they leave us on a lonely shore: - Sweet are familiar songs, tho’ Music dips - Her hollow shell in Thought’s forlornest wells: - And sweet, tho’ sad, the sound of midnight bells - When the oped casement with the night-rain drips. - - There is a pleasure which is born of pain: - The grave of all things hath its violet. - Else why, thro’ days which never come again, - Roams Hope with that strange longing, like Regret? - Why put the posy in the cold dead hand? - Why plant the rose above the lonely grave? - Why bring the corpse across the salt sea-wave? - Why deem the dead more near in native land? - - Thy name hath been a silence in my life - So long, it falters upon language now, - O more to me than sister or than wife, - Once ... and now--nothing! It is hard to know - That such things have been, and are not; and yet - Life loiters, keeps a pulse at even measure, - And goes upon its business and its pleasure, - And knows not all the depths of its regret.... - - Ah, could the memory cast her spots, as do - The snake’s brood theirs in spring! and be once more - Wholly renew’d, to dwell i’ the time that’s new, - With no reiterance of those pangs of yore. - Peace, peace! My wild song will go wandering - Too wantonly, down paths a private pain - Hath trodden bare. What was it jarr’d the strain? - Some crush’d illusion, left with crumpled wing - - Tangled in Music’s web of twinèd strings-- - That started that false note, and crack’d the tune - In its beginning. Ah, forgotten things - Stumble back strangely! and the ghost of June - Stands by December’s fire, cold, cold! and puts - The last spark out.--How could I sing aright - With those old airs haunting me all the night - And those old steps that sound when daylight shuts? - - For back she comes, and moves reproachfully, - The mistress of my moods, and looks bereft - (Cruel to the last!) as tho’ ’twere I, not she, - That did the wrong, and broke the spell, and left - Memory comfortless.--Away! away! - Phantoms, about whose brows the bindweed clings, - Hopeless regret! In thinking of these things - Some men have lost their minds, and others may. - - Yet, O for one deep draught in this dull hour! - One deep, deep draught of the departed time! - O for one brief strong pulse of ancient power, - To beat and breathe thro’ all the valves of rhyme! - Thou, Memory, with thy downward eyes, that art - The cup-bearer of gods, pour deep and long, - Brim all the vacant chalices of song - With health! Droop down thine urn. I hold my heart - One draught of what I shall not taste again - Save when my brain with thy dark wine is brimm’d,-- - One draught! and then straight onward, spite of pain, - And spite of all things changed, with gaze undimm’d, - Love’s footsteps thro’ the waning Past to explore - Undaunted; and to carve in the wan light - Of Hope’s last outposts, on Song’s utmost height, - The sad resemblance of an hour or more. - - Midnight, and love, and youth, and Italy! - Love in the land where love most lovely seems! - Land of my love, tho’ I be far from thee, - Lend, for love’s sake, the light of thy moonbeams, - The spirit of thy cypress-groves and all - Thy dark-eyed beauty for a little while - To my desire. Yet once more let her smile - Fall o’er me: o’er me let her long hair fall.... - - Under the blessèd darkness unreproved - We were alone, in that best hour of time - Which first reveal’d to us how much we loved, - ’Neath the thick starlight. The young night sublime - Hung trembling o’er us. At her feet I knelt, - And gazed up from her feet into her eyes. - Her face was bow’d: we breathed each other’s sighs: - We did not speak: not move: we look’d: we felt. - - The night said not a word. The breeze was dead. - The leaf lay without whispering on the tree, - As I lay at her feet. Droop’d was her head: - One hand in mine: and one still pensively - Went wandering through my hair. We were together. - How? Where? What matter? Somewhere in a dream, - Drifting, slow drifting down a wizard stream: - Whither? Together: then what matter whither? - - It was enough for me to clasp her hand: - To blend with her love-looks my own: no more. - Enough (with thoughts like ships that cannot land, - Blown by faint winds about a magic shore) - To realize, in each mysterious feeling, - The droop of the warm cheek so near my own: - The cool white arm about my shoulder thrown: - Those exquisite fair feet where I was kneeling. - - How little know they life’s divinest bliss, - That know not to possess and yet refrain! - Let the young Psyche roam, a fleeting kiss: - Grasp it--a few poor grains of dust remain. - See how those floating flowers, the butterflies, - Hover the garden thro’, and take no root! - Desire for ever hath a flying foot: - Free pleasure comes and goes beneath the skies. - - Close not thy hand upon the innocent joy - That trusts itself within thy reach. It may, - Or may not, linger. Thou canst but destroy - The wingèd wanderer. Let it go or stay. - Love thou the rose, yet leave it on its stem. - Think! Midas starved by turning all to gold. - Blessèd are those that spare, and that withhold; - Because the whole world shall be trusted them. - - The foolish Faun pursues the unwilling Nymph - That culls her flowers beside the precipice - Or dips her shining ankles in the lymph: - But, just when she must perish or be his, - Heaven puts an arm out. She is safe. The shore - Gains some new fountain; or the lilied lawn - A rarer sort of rose: but ah, poor Faun! - To thee she shall be changed for evermore. - - Chase not too close the fading rapture. Leave - To Love his long auroras, slowly seen. - Be ready to release as to receive. - Deem those the nearest, soul to soul, between - Whose lips yet lingers reverence on a sigh. - Judge what thy sense can reach not, most thine own, - If once thy soul hath seized it. The unknown - Is life to love, religion, poetry. - - The moon had set. There was not any light, - Save of the lonely legion’d watch-stars pale - In outer air, and what by fits made bright - Hot oleanders in a rosy vale - Searched by the lamping fly, whose little spark - Went in and out, like passion’s bashful hope. - Meanwhile the sleepy globe began to slope - A ponderous shoulder sunward thro’ the dark. - - And the night pass’d in beauty like a dream. - Aloof in those dark heavens paused Destiny, - With her last star descending in the gleam - Of the cold morrow, from the emptied sky. - The hour, the distance from her old self, all - The novelty and loneness of the place - Had left a lovely awe on that fair face, - And all the land grew strange and magical. - - As droops some billowy cloud to the crouch’d hill, - Heavy with all heaven’s tears, for all earth’s care, - She droop’d unto me, without force or will, - And sank upon my bosom, murmuring there - A woman’s inarticulate passionate words. - O moment of all moments upon earth! - O life’s supreme! How worth, how wildly worth, - Whole worlds of flame, to know this world affords. - - What even Eternity can not restore! - When all the ends of life take hands and meet - Round centres of sweet fire. Ah, never more, - Ah never, shall the bitter with the sweet - Be mingled so in the pale after-years! - One hour of life immortal spirits possess. - This drains the world, and leaves but weariness, - And parching passion, and perplexing tears. - - Sad is it, that we cannot even keep - That hour to sweeten life’s last toil: but Youth - Grasps all, and leaves us: and when we would weep, - We dare not let our tears fall, lest, in truth, - They fall upon our work which must be done. - And so we bind up our torn hearts from breaking: - Our eyes from weeping, and our brows from aching: - And follow the long pathway all alone. - - -_795._ _The Last Wish_ - - Since all that I can ever do for thee - Is to do nothing, this my prayer must be: - That thou mayst never guess nor ever see - The all-endured this nothing-done costs me. - - - - -JAMES THOMSON - -1834-1882 - - -_796._ _In the Train_ - - As we rush, as we rush in the Train, - The trees and the houses go wheeling back, - But the starry heavens above the plain - Come flying on our track. - - All the beautiful stars of the sky, - The silver doves of the forest of Night, - Over the dull earth swarm and fly, - Companions of our flight. - - We will rush ever on without fear; - Let the goal be far, the flight be fleet! - For we carry the Heavens with us, dear, - While the Earth slips from our feet! - - -_797._ _Sunday up the River_ - - My love o’er the water bends dreaming; - It glideth and glideth away: - She sees there her own beauty, gleaming - Through shadow and ripple and spray. - - O tell her, thou murmuring river, - As past her your light wavelets roll, - How steadfast that image for ever - Shines pure in pure depths of my soul. - - -_798._ _Gifts_ - - Give a man a horse he can ride, - Give a man a boat he can sail; - And his rank and wealth, his strength and health, - On sea nor shore shall fail. - - Give a man a pipe he can smoke, - Give a man a book he can read: - And his home is bright with a calm delight, - Though the room be poor indeed. - - Give a man a girl he can love, - As I, O my love, love thee; - And his heart is great with the pulse of Fate, - At home, on land, on sea. - - -_799._ _The Vine_ - - The wine of Love is music, - And the feast of Love is song: - And when Love sits down to the banquet, - Love sits long: - - Sits long and arises drunken, - But not with the feast and the wine; - He reeleth with his own heart, - That great, rich Vine. - - - - -WILLIAM MORRIS - -1834-1896 - - -_800._ _Summer Dawn_ - - Pray but one prayer for me ’twixt thy closed lips, - Think but one thought of me up in the stars. - The summer night waneth, the morning light slips - Faint and gray ’twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars, - That are patiently waiting there for the dawn: - Patient and colourless, though Heaven’s gold - Waits to float through them along with the sun. - Far out in the meadows, above the young corn, - The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold - The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun; - Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn - Round the lone house in the midst of the corn. - Speak but one word to me over the corn, - Over the tender, bow’d locks of the corn. - - -_801._ _Love is enough_ - - Love is enough: though the World be a-waning, - And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining, - Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover - The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder, - Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder, - And this day draw a veil over all deeds pass’d over, - Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter; - The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter - These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover. - - -_802._ _The Nymph’s Song to Hylas_ - - 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 pillar’d 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 place two fair streams are, - Drawn from the purple hills afar, - Drawn down unto the restless sea; - The hills whose flowers ne’er fed the bee, - The shore no ship has ever seen, - Still beaten 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, - That maketh me both deaf and blind, - Careless to win, unskill’d 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 kiss’d, once reft from me - Anigh the murmuring of the sea. - - - - -RODEN BERKELEY WRIOTHESLEY NOEL - -1834-1894 - - -_803._ _The Water-Nymph and the Boy_ - - I flung me round him, - I drew him under; - I clung, I drown’d him, - My own white wonder!... - - Father and mother, - Weeping and wild, - Came to the forest, - Calling the child, - Came from the palace, - Down to the pool, - Calling my darling, - My beautiful! - Under the water, - Cold and so pale! - Could it be love made - Beauty to fail? - - Ah me for mortals! - In a few moons, - If I had left him, - After some Junes - He would have faded, - Faded away, - He, the young monarch, whom - All would obey, - Fairer than day; - Alien to springtime, - Joyless and gray, - He would have faded, - Faded away, - Moving a mockery, - Scorn’d of the day! - Now I have taken him - All in his prime, - Saved from slow poisoning - Pitiless Time, - Fill’d with his happiness, - One with the prime, - Saved from the cruel - Dishonour of Time. - Laid him, my beautiful, - Laid him to rest, - Loving, adorable, - Softly to rest, - Here in my crystalline, - Here in my breast! - - -_804._ _The Old_ - - They are waiting on the shore - For the bark to take them home: - They will toil and grieve no more; - The hour for release hath come. - - All their long life lies behind - Like a dimly blending dream: - There is nothing left to bind - To the realms that only seem. - - They are waiting for the boat; - There is nothing left to do: - What was near them grows remote, - Happy silence falls like dew; - Now the shadowy bark is come, - And the weary may go home. - - By still water they would rest - In the shadow of the tree: - After battle sleep is best, - After noise, tranquillity. - - - - -THOMAS ASHE - -1836-1889 - - -_805._ _Meet We no Angels, Pansie?_ - - Came, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet, - In white, to find her lover; - The grass grew proud beneath her feet, - The green elm-leaves above her:-- - Meet we no angels, Pansie? - - She said, ‘We meet no angels now’; - And soft lights stream’d upon her; - And with white hand she touch’d a bough; - She did it that great honour:-- - What! meet no angels, Pansie? - - O sweet brown hat, brown hair, brown eyes, - Down-dropp’d brown eyes, so tender! - Then what said I? Gallant replies - Seem flattery, and offend her:-- - But--meet no angels, Pansie? - - -_806._ _To Two Bereaved_ - - You must be sad; for though it is to Heaven, - ’Tis hard to yield a little girl of seven. - Alas, for me ’tis hard my grief to rule, - Who only met her as she went to school; - Who never heard the little lips so sweet - Say even ‘Good-morning,’ though our eyes would meet - As whose would fain be friends! How must you sigh, - Sick for your loss, when even so sad am I, - Who never clasp’d the small hands any day! - Fair flowers thrive round the little grave, I pray. - - - - -THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON - -1836-1914 - - -_807._ _Wassail Chorus at the Mermaid Tavern_ - - Christmas knows a merry, merry place, - Where he goes with fondest face, - Brightest eye, brightest hair: - Tell the Mermaid where is that one place, - Where? - - _Raleigh._ - - ’Tis by Devon’s glorious halls, - Whence, dear Ben, I come again: - Bright of golden roofs and walls-- - El Dorado’s rare domain-- - Seem those halls when sunlight launches - Shafts of gold thro’ leafless branches, - Where the winter’s feathery mantle blanches - Field and farm and lane. - - CHORUS. Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c. - - _Drayton._ - - ’Tis where Avon’s wood-sprites weave - Through the boughs a lace of rime, - While the bells of Christmas Eve - Fling for Will the Stratford-chime - O’er the river-flags emboss’d - Rich with flowery runes of frost-- - O’er the meads where snowy tufts are toss’d-- - Strains of olden time. - - CHORUS. Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c. - - _Shakespeare’s Friend._ - - ’Tis, methinks, on any ground - Where our Shakespeare’s feet are set. - There smiles Christmas, holly-crown’d - With his blithest coronet: - Friendship’s face he loveth well: - ’Tis a countenance whose spell - Sheds a balm o’er every mead and dell - Where we used to fret. - - CHORUS. Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c. - - _Heywood._ - - More than all the pictures, Ben, - Winter weaves by wood or stream, - Christmas loves our London, when - Rise thy clouds of wassail-steam-- - Clouds like these, that, curling, take - Forms of faces gone, and wake - Many a lay from lips we loved, and make - London like a dream. - - CHORUS. Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c. - - _Ben Jonson._ - - Love’s old songs shall never die, - Yet the new shall suffer proof: - Love’s old drink of Yule brew I - Wassail for new love’s behoof. - Drink the drink I brew, and sing - Till the berried branches swing, - Till our song make all the Mermaid ring-- - Yea, from rush to roof. - - FINALE. - - Christmas loves this merry, merry place; - Christmas saith with fondest face, - Brightest eye, brightest hair: - ‘Ben, the drink tastes rare of sack and mace; - Rare!’ - - - - -ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE - -1837-1909 - - -_808._ _Chorus from ‘Atalanta’_ - - When the hounds of spring are on winter’s traces, - The mother of months in meadow or plain - Fills the shadows and windy places - With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain; - And the brown bright nightingale amorous - Is half assuaged for Itylus, - For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces. - The tongueless vigil, and all the pain. - - Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers, - Maiden most perfect, lady of light, - With a noise of winds and many rivers, - With a clamour of waters, and with might; - Bind on thy sandals, O thou most fleet, - Over the splendour and speed of thy feet; - For the faint east quickens, the wan west shivers, - Round the feet of the day and the feet of the night. - - Where shall we find her, how shall we sing to her, - Fold our hands round her knees, and cling? - O that man’s heart were as fire and could spring to her, - Fire, or the strength of the streams that spring! - For the stars and the winds are unto her - As raiment, as songs of the harp-player; - For the risen stars and the fallen cling to her, - And the southwest-wind and the west-wind sing. - - For winter’s rains and ruins are over, - And all the season of snows and sins; - The days dividing lover and lover, - The light that loses, the night that wins; - And time remember’d is grief forgotten, - And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, - And in green underwood and cover - Blossom by blossom the spring begins. - - The full streams feed on flower of rushes, - Ripe grasses trammel a travelling foot, - The faint fresh flame of the young year flushes - From leaf to flower and flower to fruit; - And fruit and leaf are as gold and fire, - And the oat is heard above the lyre, - And the hoofèd heel of a satyr crushes - The chestnut-husk at the chestnut-root. - - - And Pan by noon and Bacchus by night, - Fleeter of foot than the fleet-foot kid, - Follows with dancing and fills with delight - The Mænad and the Bassarid; - And soft as lips that laugh and hide - The laughing leaves of the trees divide, - And screen from seeing and leave in sight - The god pursuing, the maiden hid. - - The ivy falls with the Bacchanal’s hair - Over her eyebrows hiding her eyes; - The wild vine slipping down leaves bare - Her bright breast shortening into sighs; - The wild vine slips with the weight of its leaves, - But the berried ivy catches and cleaves - To the limbs that glitter, the feet that scare - The wolf that follows, the fawn that flies. - - -_809._ _Hertha_ - - I am that which began; - Out of me the years roll; - Out of me God and man; - I am equal and whole; - God changes, and man, and the form of them bodily; I am the soul. - - Before ever land was, - Before ever the sea, - Or soft hair of the grass, - Or fair limbs of the tree, - Or the flesh-colour’d fruit of my branches, I was, and thy soul was in me. - - First life on my sources - First drifted and swam; - Out of me are the forces - That save it or damn; - Out of me man and woman, and wild-beast and bird: before God was, I am. - - Beside or above me - Naught is there to go; - Love or unlove me, - Unknow me or know, - I am that which unloves me and loves; I am stricken, and I am the blow. - - I the mark that is miss’d - And the arrows that miss, - I the mouth that is kiss’d - And the breath in the kiss, - The search, and the sought, and the seeker, the soul and the body that is. - - I am that thing which blesses - My spirit elate; - That which caresses - With hands uncreate - My limbs unbegotten that measure the length of the measure of fate. - - But what thing dost thou now, - Looking Godward, to cry, - ‘I am I, thou art thou, - I am low, thou art high’? - I am thou, whom thou seekest to find him; find thou but thyself, thou art I. - - I the grain and the furrow, - The plough-cloven clod - And the ploughshare drawn thorough, - The germ and the sod, - The deed and the doer, the seed and the sower, the dust which is God. - - Hast thou known how I fashion’d thee, - Child, underground? - Fire that impassion’d thee, - Iron that bound, - Dim changes of water, what thing of all these hast thou known of or found? - - Canst thou say in thine heart - Thou hast seen with thine eyes - With what cunning of art - Thou wast wrought in what wise, - By what force of what stuff thou wast shapen, and shown on my breast to the skies? - - Who hath given, who hath sold it thee, - Knowledge of me? - Has the wilderness told it thee? - Hast thou learnt of the sea? - Hast thou communed in spirit with night? have the winds taken counsel with thee? - - Have I set such a star - To show light on thy brow - That thou sawest from afar - What I show to thee now? - Have ye spoken as brethren together, the sun and the mountains and thou? - - What is here, dost thou know it? - What was, hast thou known? - Prophet nor poet - Nor tripod nor throne - Nor spirit nor flesh can make answer, but only thy mother alone. - - Mother, not maker, - Born, and not made; - Though her children forsake her, - Allured or afraid, - Praying prayers to the God of their fashion, she stirs not for all that have pray’d. - - A creed is a rod, - And a crown is of night; - But this thing is God, - To be man with thy might, - To grow straight in the strength of thy spirit, and live out thy life as the light. - - I am in thee to save thee, - As my soul in thee saith; - Give thou as I gave thee, - Thy life-blood and breath, - Green leaves of thy labour, white flowers of thy thought, and red fruit of thy death. - - Be the ways of thy giving - As mine were to thee; - The free life of thy living, - Be the gift of it free; - Not as servant to lord, nor as master to slave, shalt thou give thee to me. - - O children of banishment, - Souls overcast, - Were the lights ye see vanish meant - Alway to last, - Ye would know not the sun overshining the shadows and stars overpast. - - I that saw where ye trod - The dim paths of the night - Set the shadow call’d God - In your skies to give light; - But the morning of manhood is risen, and the shadowless soul is in sight. - - The tree many-rooted - That swells to the sky - With frondage red-fruited, - The life-tree am I; - In the buds of your lives is the sap of my leaves: ye shall live and not die. - - But the Gods of your fashion - That take and that give, - In their pity and passion - That scourge and forgive, - They are worms that are bred in the bark that falls off; they shall die and not live. - - My own blood is what stanches - The wounds in my bark; - Stars caught in my branches - Make day of the dark, - And are worshipp’d as suns till the sunrise shall tread out their fires as a spark. - - Where dead ages hide under - The live roots of the tree, - In my darkness the thunder - Makes utterance of me; - In the clash of my boughs with each other ye hear the waves sound of the sea. - - That noise is of Time, - As his feathers are spread - And his feet set to climb - Through the boughs overhead, - And my foliage rings round him and rustles, and branches are bent with his tread. - - The storm-winds of ages - Blow through me and cease, - The war-wind that rages, - The spring-wind of peace, - Ere the breath of them roughen my tresses, ere one of my blossoms increase. - - All sounds of all changes, - All shadows and lights - On the world’s mountain-ranges - And stream-riven heights, - Whose tongue is the wind’s tongue and language of storm-clouds on earth-shaking nights; - - All forms of all faces, - All works of all hands - In unsearchable places - Of time-stricken lands, - All death and all life, and all reigns and all ruins, drop through me as sands. - - Though sore be my burden - And more than ye know, - And my growth have no guerdon - But only to grow, - Yet I fail not of growing for lightnings above me or deathworms below. - - These too have their part in me, - As I too in these; - Such fire is at heart in me, - Such sap is this tree’s, - Which hath in it all sounds and all secrets of infinite lands and of seas. - - In the spring-colour’d hours - When my mind was as May’s - There brake forth of me flowers - By centuries of days, - Strong blossoms with perfume of manhood, shot out from my spirit as rays. - - And the sound of them springing - And smell of their shoots - Were as warmth and sweet singing - And strength to my roots; - And the lives of my children made perfect with freedom of soul were my fruits. - - I bid you but be; - I have need not of prayer; - I have need of you free - As your mouths of mine air; - That my heart may be greater within me, beholding the fruits of me fair. - - More fair than strange fruit is - Of faiths ye espouse; - In me only the root is - That blooms in your boughs; - Behold now your God that ye made you, to feed him with faith of your vows. - - In the darkening and whitening - Abysses adored, - With dayspring and lightning - For lamp and for sword, - God thunders in heaven, and his angels are red with the wrath of the Lord. - - O my sons, O too dutiful - Toward Gods not of me, - Was not I enough beautiful? - Was it hard to be free? - For behold, I am with you, am in you and of you; look forth now and see. - - Lo, wing’d with world’s wonders, - With miracles shod, - With the fires of his thunders - For raiment and rod, - God trembles in heaven, and his angels are white with the terror of God. - - For his twilight is come on him, - His anguish is here; - And his spirits gaze dumb on him, - Grown gray from his fear; - And his hour taketh hold on him stricken, the last of his infinite year. - Thought made him and breaks him, - Truth slays and forgives; - But to you, as time takes him, - This new thing it gives, - Even love, the belovèd Republic, that feeds upon freedom and lives. - - For truth only is living, - Truth only is whole, - And the love of his giving - Man’s polestar and pole; - Man, pulse of my centre, and fruit of my body, and seed of my soul. - - One birth of my bosom; - One beam of mine eye; - One topmost blossom - That scales the sky; - Man, equal and one with me, man that is made of me, man that is I. - - -_810._ _Ave atque Vale_ - -(IN MEMORY OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE) - - Shall I strew on thee rose or rue or laurel, - Brother, on this that was the veil of thee? - Or quiet sea-flower moulded by the sea, - Or simplest growth of meadow-sweet or sorrel, - Such as the summer-sleepy Dryads weave, - Waked up by snow-soft sudden rains at eve? - Or wilt thou rather, as on earth before, - Half-faded fiery blossoms, pale with heat - And full of bitter summer, but more sweet - To thee than gleanings of a northern shore - Trod by no tropic feet? - - For always thee the fervid languid glories - Allured of heavier suns in mightier skies; - Thine ears knew all the wandering watery sighs - Where the sea sobs round Lesbian promontories, - The barren kiss of piteous wave to wave - That knows not where is that Leucadian grave - Which hides too deep the supreme head of song. - Ah, salt and sterile as her kisses were, - The wild sea winds her and the green gulfs bear - Hither and thither, and vex and work her wrong, - Blind gods that cannot spare. - - Thou sawest, in thine old singing season, brother, - Secrets and sorrows unbeheld of us: - Fierce loves, and lovely leaf-buds poisonous, - Bare to thy subtler eye, but for none other - Blowing by night in some unbreathed-in clime; - The hidden harvest of luxurious time, - Sin without shape, and pleasure without speech; - And where strange dreams in a tumultuous sleep - Make the shut eyes of stricken spirits weep; - And with each face thou sawest the shadow on each, - Seeing as men sow men reap. - - O sleepless heart and sombre soul unsleeping, - That were athirst for sleep and no more life - And no more love, for peace and no more strife! - Now the dim gods of death have in their keeping - Spirit and body and all the springs of song, - Is it well now where love can do no wrong, - Where stingless pleasure has no foam or fang - Behind the unopening closure of her lips? - Is it not well where soul from body slips - And flesh from bone divides without a pang - As dew from flower-bell drips? - - It is enough; the end and the beginning - Are one thing to thee, who art past the end. - O hand unclasp’d of unbeholden friend, - For thee no fruits to pluck, no palms for winning, - No triumph and no labour and no lust, - Only dead yew-leaves and a little dust. - O quiet eyes wherein the light saith naught, - Whereto the day is dumb, nor any night - With obscure finger silences your sight, - Nor in your speech the sudden soul speaks thought, - Sleep, and have sleep for light. - - Now all strange hours and all strange loves are over, - Dreams and desires and sombre songs and sweet, - Hast thou found place at the great knees and feet - Of some pale Titan-woman like a lover, - Such as thy vision here solicited, - Under the shadow of her fair vast head, - The deep division of prodigious breasts, - The solemn slope of mighty limbs asleep, - The weight of awful tresses that still keep - The savour and shade of old-world pine-forests - Where the wet hill-winds weep? - - Hast thou found any likeness for thy vision? - O gardener of strange flowers, what bud, what bloom, - Hast thou found sown, what gather’d in the gloom? - What of despair, of rapture, of derision, - What of life is there, what of ill or good? - Are the fruits gray like dust or bright like blood? - Does the dim ground grow any seed of ours, - The faint fields quicken any terrene root, - In low lands where the sun and moon are mute - And all the stars keep silence? Are there flowers - At all, or any fruit? - - Alas, but though my flying song flies after, - O sweet strange elder singer, thy more fleet - Singing, and footprints of thy fleeter feet, - Some dim derision of mysterious laughter - From the blind tongueless warders of the dead, - Some gainless glimpse of Proserpine’s veil’d head, - Some little sound of unregarded tears - Wept by effaced unprofitable eyes, - And from pale mouths some cadence of dead sighs-- - These only, these the hearkening spirit hears, - Sees only such things rise. - - Thou art far too far for wings of words to follow, - Far too far off for thought or any prayer. - What ails us with thee, who art wind and air? - What ails us gazing where all seen is hollow? - Yet with some fancy, yet with some desire, - Dreams pursue death as winds a flying fire, - Our dreams pursue our dead and do not find. - Still, and more swift than they, the thin flame flies, - The low light fails us in elusive skies, - Still the foil’d earnest ear is deaf, and blind - Are still the eluded eyes. - - - Not thee, O never thee, in all time’s changes, - Not thee, but this the sound of thy sad soul, - The shadow of thy swift spirit, this shut scroll - I lay my hand on, and not death estranges - My spirit from communion of thy song-- - These memories and these melodies that throng - Veil’d porches of a Muse funereal-- - These I salute, these touch, these clasp and fold - As though a hand were in my hand to hold, - Or through mine ears a mourning musical - Of many mourners roll’d. - - I among these, I also, in such station - As when the pyre was charr’d, and piled the sods. - And offering to the dead made, and their gods, - The old mourners had, standing to make libation, - I stand, and to the Gods and to the dead - Do reverence without prayer or praise, and shed - Offering to these unknown, the gods of gloom, - And what of honey and spice my seed-lands bear, - And what I may of fruits in this chill’d air, - And lay, Orestes-like, across the tomb - A curl of sever’d hair. - - But by no hand nor any treason stricken, - Not like the low-lying head of Him, the King, - The flame that made of Troy a ruinous thing, - Thou liest and on this dust no tears could quicken. - There fall no tears like theirs that all men hear - Fall tear by sweet imperishable tear - Down the opening leaves of holy poets’ pages. - Thee not Orestes, not Electra mourns; - But bending us-ward with memorial urns - The most high Muses that fulfil all ages - Weep, and our God’s heart yearns. - - For, sparing of his sacred strength, not often - Among us darkling here the lord of light - Makes manifest his music and his might - In hearts that open and in lips that soften - With the soft flame and heat of songs that shine. - Thy lips indeed he touch’d with bitter wine, - And nourish’d them indeed with bitter bread; - Yet surely from his hand thy soul’s food came, - The fire that scarr’d thy spirit at his flame - Was lighted, and thine hungering heart he fed - Who feeds our hearts with fame. - - Therefore he too now at thy soul’s sunsetting, - God of all suns and songs, he too bends down - To mix his laurel with thy cypress crown, - And save thy dust from blame and from forgetting. - Therefore he too, seeing all thou wert and art, - Compassionate, with sad and sacred heart, - Mourns thee of many his children the last dead, - And hallows with strange tears and alien sighs - Thine unmelodious mouth and sunless eyes, - And over thine irrevocable head - Sheds light from the under skies. - - And one weeps with him in the ways Lethean, - And stains with tears her changing bosom chill; - That obscure Venus of the hollow hill, - That thing transformed which was the Cytherean, - With lips that lost their Grecian laugh divine - Long since, and face no more call’d Erycine-- - A ghost, a bitter and luxurious god. - Thee also with fair flesh and singing spell - Did she, a sad and second prey, compel - Into the footless places once more trod, - And shadows hot from hell. - - And now no sacred staff shall break in blossom, - No choral salutation lure to light - A spirit sick with perfume and sweet night - And love’s tired eyes and hands and barren bosom. - There is no help for these things; none to mend, - And none to mar; not all our songs, O friend, - Will make death clear or make life durable. - Howbeit with rose and ivy and wild vine - And with wild notes about this dust of thine - At least I fill the place where white dreams dwell - And wreathe an unseen shrine. - - Sleep; and if life was bitter to thee, pardon, - If sweet, give thanks; thou hast no more to live; - And to give thanks is good, and to forgive. - Out of the mystic and the mournful garden - Where all day through thine hands in barren braid - Wove the sick flowers of secrecy and shade, - Green buds of sorrow and sin, and remnants gray, - Sweet-smelling, pale with poison, sanguine-hearted, - Passions that sprang from sleep and thoughts that started, - Shall death not bring us all as thee one day - Among the days departed? - - For thee, O now a silent soul, my brother, - Take at my hands this garland, and farewell. - Thin is the leaf, and chill the wintry smell, - And chill the solemn earth, a fatal mother, - With sadder than the Niobean womb, - And in the hollow of her breasts a tomb. - Content thee, howsoe’er, whose days are done; - There lies not any troublous thing before, - Nor sight nor sound to war against thee more, - For whom all winds are quiet as the sun, - All waters as the shore. - - -_811._ _Itylus_ - - Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow, - How can thine heart be full of the spring? - A thousand summers are over and dead. - What hast thou found in the spring to follow? - What hast thou found in thine heart to sing? - What wilt thou do when the summer is shed? - - O swallow, sister, O fair swift swallow, - Why wilt thou fly after spring to the south, - The soft south whither thine heart is set? - Shall not the grief of the old time follow? - Shall not the song thereof cleave to thy mouth? - Hast thou forgotten ere I forget? - - Sister, my sister, O fleet sweet swallow, - Thy way is long to the sun and the south; - But I, fulfill’d of my heart’s desire, - Shedding my song upon height, upon hollow, - From tawny body and sweet small mouth - Feed the heart of the night with fire. - - I the nightingale all spring through, - O swallow, sister, O changing swallow, - All spring through till the spring be done, - Clothed with the light of the night on the dew, - Sing, while the hours and the wild birds follow, - Take flight and follow and find the sun. - - Sister, my sister, O soft light swallow, - Though all things feast in the spring’s guest-chamber, - How hast thou heart to be glad thereof yet? - For where thou fliest I shall not follow, - Till life forget and death remember, - Till thou remember and I forget. - - Swallow, my sister, O singing swallow, - I know not how thou hast heart to sing. - Hast thou the heart? is it all past over? - Thy lord the summer is good to follow, - And fair the feet of thy lover the spring: - But what wilt thou say to the spring thy lover? - - O swallow, sister, O fleeting swallow, - My heart in me is a molten ember - And over my head the waves have met. - But thou wouldst tarry or I would follow - Could I forget or thou remember, - Couldst thou remember and I forget. - - O sweet stray sister, O shifting swallow, - The heart’s division divideth us. - Thy heart is light as a leaf of a tree; - But mine goes forth among sea-gulfs hollow - To the place of the slaying of Itylus, - The feast of Daulis, the Thracian sea. - - O swallow, sister, O rapid swallow, - I pray thee sing not a little space. - - - Are not the roofs and the lintels wet? - The woven web that was plain to follow, - The small slain body, the flower-like face, - Can I remember if thou forget? - - O sister, sister, thy first-begotten! - The hands that cling and the feet that follow, - The voice of the child’s blood crying yet, - _Who hath remember’d me? who hath forgotten?_ - Thou hast forgotten, O summer swallow, - But the world shall end when I forget. - - - - -WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS - -b. 1837 - - -_812._ _Earliest Spring_ - - Tossing his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles, - Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath, - Through all the moaning chimneys, and ’thwart all the hollows and angles - Round the shuddering house, threating of winter and death. - - But in my heart I feel the life of the wood and the meadow - Thrilling the pulses that own kindred with fibres that lift - Bud and blade to the sunward, within the inscrutable shadow, - Deep in the oak’s chill core, under the gathering drift. - - Nay, to earth’s life in mine some prescience, or dream, or desire - (How shall I name it aright?) comes for a moment and goes-- - Rapture of life ineffable, perfect--as if in the brier, - Leafless there by my door, trembled a sense of the rose. - - - - -BRET HARTE - -1839-1902 - - -_813._ _What the Bullet sang_ - - O joy of creation, - To be! - O rapture, to fly - And be free! - Be the battle lost or won, - Though its smoke shall hide the sun, - I shall find my love--the one - Born for me! - - I shall know him where he stands - All alone, - With the power in his hands - Not o’erthrown; - I shall know him by his face, - By his godlike front and grace; - I shall hold him for a space - All my own! - - It is he--O my love! - So bold! - It is I--all thy love - Foretold! - It is I--O love, what bliss! - Dost thou answer to my kiss? - O sweetheart! what is this - Lieth there so cold? - - - - -JOHN TODHUNTER - -1839-1916 - - -_814._ _Maureen_ - - O you plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes, - Girl of my choice, Maureen! - Will you drive me mad for the kisses your shy, sweet mouth denies, - Maureen? - - Like a walking ghost I am, and no words to woo, - White rose of the West, Maureen: - For it’s pale you are, and the fear that’s on you is over me too, - Maureen! - - Sure it’s one complaint that’s on us, asthore, this day, - Bride of my dreams, Maureen: - The smart of the bee that stung us his honey must cure, they say, - Maureen! - - I’ll coax the light to your eyes, and the rose to your face, - Mavourneen, my own Maureen! - When I feel the warmth of your breast, and your nest is my arm’s embrace, - Maureen! - - O where was the King o’ the World that day--only me? - My one true love, Maureen! - And you the Queen with me there, and your throne in my heart, machree, - Maureen! - - -_815._ _Aghadoe_ - - There’s a glade in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe, - There’s a green and silent glade in Aghadoe, - Where we met, my love and I, Love’s fair planet in the sky, - O’er that sweet and silent glade in Aghadoe. - - There’s a glen in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe, - There’s a deep and secret glen in Aghadoe, - Where I hid from the eyes of the red-coats and their spies, - That year the trouble came to Aghadoe. - - O, my curse on one black heart in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, - On Shaun Dhu, my mother’s son in Aghadoe! - When your throat fries in hell’s drouth, salt the flame be in your mouth, - For the treachery you did in Aghadoe! - - For they track’d me to that glen in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, - When the price was on his head in Aghadoe: - O’er the mountain, through the wood, as I stole to him with food, - Where in hiding lone he lay in Aghadoe. - - But they never took him living in Aghadoe, Aghadoe; - With the bullets in his heart in Aghadoe, - There he lay, the head, my breast keeps the warmth of where ’twould rest, - Gone, to win the traitor’s gold, from Aghadoe! - - I walk’d to Mallow town from Aghadoe, Aghadoe, - Brought his head from the gaol’s gate to Aghadoe; - Then I cover’d him with fern, and I piled on him the cairn, - Like an Irish King he sleeps in Aghadoe. - - - O, to creep into that cairn in Aghadoe, Aghadoe! - There to rest upon his breast in Aghadoe! - Sure your dog for you could die with no truer heart than I, - Your own love, cold on your cairn in Aghadoe. - - - - -WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT - -b. 1840 - - -_816._ _Song_ - - O fly not, Pleasure, pleasant-hearted Pleasure; - Fold me thy wings, I prithee, yet and stay: - For my heart no measure - Knows, nor other treasure - To buy a garland for my love to-day. - - And thou, too, Sorrow, tender-hearted Sorrow, - Thou gray-eyed mourner, fly not yet away: - For I fain would borrow - Thy sad weeds to-morrow, - To make a mourning for love’s yesterday. - - The voice of Pity, Time’s divine dear Pity, - Moved me to tears: I dared not say them nay, - But passed forth from the city, - Making thus my ditty - Of fair love lost for ever and a day. - -_817._ _The Desolate City_ - - Dark to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens. - Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars? - Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city. - A city taken by storm, where none are left but the slain. - - - Sadly I rose at dawn, undid the latch of my shutters, - Thinking to let in light, but I only let in love. - Birds in the boughs were awake; I listen’d to their chaunting; - Each one sang to his love; only I was alone. - - This, I said in my heart, is the hour of life and of pleasure. - Now each creature on earth has his joy, and lives in the sun, - Each in another’s eyes finds light, the light of compassion, - This is the moment of pity, this is the moment of love. - - Speak, O desolate city! Speak, O silence in sadness! - Where is she that I loved in my strength, that spoke to my soul? - Where are those passionate eyes that appeal’d to my eyes in passion? - Where is the mouth that kiss’d me, the breast I laid to my own? - - Speak, thou soul of my soul, for rage in my heart is kindled. - Tell me, where didst thou flee in the day of destruction and fear? - See, my arms still enfold thee, enfolding thus all heaven, - See, my desire is fulfill’d in thee, for it fills the earth. - - Thus in my grief I lamented. Then turn’d I from the window, - Turn’d to the stair, and the open door, and the empty street, - Crying aloud in my grief, for there was none to chide me, - None to mock my weakness, none to behold my tears. - - Groping I went, as blind. I sought her house, my belovèd’s. - There I stopp’d at the silent door, and listen’d and tried the latch. - Love, I cried, dost thou slumber? This is no hour for slumber, - This is the hour of love, and love I bring in my hand. - - - I knew the house, with its windows barr’d, and its leafless fig-tree, - Climbing round by the doorstep, the only one in the street; - I knew where my hope had climb’d to its goal and there encircled - All that those desolate walls once held, my belovèd’s heart. - - There in my grief she consoled me. She loved me when I loved not. - She put her hand in my hand, and set her lips to my lips. - She told me all her pain and show’d me all her trouble. - I, like a fool, scarce heard, hardly return’d her kiss. - - Love, thy eyes were like torches. They changed as I beheld them. - Love, thy lips were like gems, the seal thou settest on my life. - Love, if I loved not then, behold this hour thy vengeance; - This is the fruit of thy love and thee, the unwise grown wise. - - Weeping strangled my voice. I call’d out, but none answer’d; - Blindly the windows gazed back at me, dumbly the door; - She whom I love, who loved me, look’d not on my yearning, - Gave me no more her hands to kiss, show’d me no more her soul. - - Therefore the earth is dark to me, the sunlight blackness, - Therefore I go in tears and alone, by night and day; - Therefore I find no love in heaven, no light, no beauty, - A heaven taken by storm, where none are left but the slain! - - -_818._ _With Esther_ - - He who has once been happy is for aye - Out of destruction’s reach. His fortune then - Holds nothing secret; and Eternity, - Which is a mystery to other men, - Has like a woman given him its joy. - Time is his conquest. Life, if it should fret, - Has paid him tribute. He can bear to die, - He who has once been happy! When I set - The world before me and survey its range, - Its mean ambitions, its scant fantasies, - The shreds of pleasure which for lack of change - Men wrap around them and call happiness, - The poor delights which are the tale and sum - Of the world’s courage in its martyrdom; - - When I hear laughter from a tavern door, - When I see crowds agape and in the rain - Watching on tiptoe and with stifled roar - To see a rocket fired or a bull slain, - When misers handle gold, when orators - Touch strong men’s hearts with glory till they weep, - When cities deck their streets for barren wars - Which have laid waste their youth, and when I keep - Calmly the count of my own life and see - On what poor stuff my manhood’s dreams were fed - Till I too learn’d what dole of vanity - Will serve a human soul for daily bread, - --Then I remember that I once was young - And lived with Esther the world’s gods among. - - -_819._ _To Manon, on his Fortune in loving Her_ - - I did not choose thee, dearest. It was Love - That made the choice, not I. Mine eyes were blind - As a rude shepherd’s who to some lone grove - His offering brings and cares not at what shrine - He bends his knee. The gifts alone were mine; - The rest was Love’s. He took me by the hand, - And fired the sacrifice, and poured the wine, - And spoke the words I might not understand. - I was unwise in all but the dear chance - Which was my fortune, and the blind desire - Which led my foolish steps to Love’s abode, - And youth’s sublime unreason’d prescience - Which raised an altar and inscribed in fire - Its dedication _To the Unknown God_. - - -_820._ _St. Valentines Day_ - - To-day, all day, I rode upon the down, - With hounds and horsemen, a brave company - On this side in its glory lay the sea, - On that the Sussex weald, a sea of brown. - The wind was light, and brightly the sun shone, - And still we gallop’d on from gorse to gorse: - And once, when check’d, a thrush sang, and my horse - Prick’d his quick ears as to a sound unknown. - I knew the Spring was come. I knew it even - Better than all by this, that through my chase - In bush and stone and hill and sea and heaven - I seem’d to see and follow still your face. - Your face my quarry was. For it I rode, - My horse a thing of wings, myself a god. - - -_821._ _Gibraltar_ - - Seven weeks of sea, and twice seven days of storm - Upon the huge Atlantic, and once more - We ride into still water and the calm - Of a sweet evening, screen’d by either shore - Of Spain and Barbary. Our toils are o’er, - Our exile is accomplish’d. Once again - We look on Europe, mistress as of yore - Of the fair earth and of the hearts of men. - Ay, this is the famed rock which Hercules - And Goth and Moor bequeath’d us. At this door - England stands sentry. God! to hear the shrill - Sweet treble of her fifes upon the breeze, - And at the summons of the rock gun's roar - To see her red coats marching from the hill! - - -_822._ _Written at Florence_ - - O world, in very truth thou art too young; - When wilt thou learn to wear the garb of age? - World, with thy covering of yellow flowers, - Hast thou forgot what generations sprung - Out of thy loins and loved thee and are gone? - Hast thou no place in all their heritage - Where thou dost only weep, that I may come - Nor fear the mockery of thy yellow flowers? - O world, in very truth thou art too young. - The heroic wealth of passionate emprize - Built thee fair cities for thy naked plains: - How hast thou set thy summer growth among - The broken stones which were their palaces! - Hast thou forgot the darkness where _he_ lies - Who made thee beautiful, or have thy bees - Found out his grave to build their honeycombs? - - O world, in very truth thou art too young: - They gave thee love who measured out thy skies, - And, when they found for thee another star, - Who made a festival and straightway hung - The jewel on thy neck. O merry world, - Hast thou forgot the glory of those eyes - Which first look'd love in thine? Thou hast not furl'd - One banner of thy bridal car for them. - O world, in very truth thou art too young. - There was a voice which sang about thy spring, - Till winter froze the sweetness of his lips, - And lo, the worms had hardly left his tongue - Before thy nightingales were come again. - O world, what courage hast thou thus to sing? - Say, has thy merriment no secret pain, - No sudden weariness that thou art young? - - -_823._ _The Two Highwaymen_ - - I long have had a quarrel set with Time - Because he robb’d me. Every day of life - Was wrested from me after bitter strife: - I never yet could see the sun go down - But I was angry in my heart, nor hear - The leaves fall in the wind without a tear - Over the dying summer. I have known - No truce with Time nor Time’s accomplice, Death. - The fair world is the witness of a crime - Repeated every hour. For life and breath - Are sweet to all who live; and bitterly - The voices of these robbers of the heath - Sound in each ear and chill the passer-by. - --What have we done to thee, thou monstrous Time? - What have we done to Death that we must die? - - - - -HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON - -b. 1840 - - -_824._ _A Garden Song_ - - - Here in this sequester’d close - Bloom the hyacinth and rose, - Here beside the modest stock - Flaunts the flaring hollyhock; - Here, without a pang, one sees - Ranks, conditions, and degrees. - - All the seasons run their race - In this quiet resting-place; - Peach and apricot and fig - Here will ripen and grow big; - Here is store and overplus,— - More had not Alcinoüs! - - Here, in alleys cool and green, - Far ahead the thrush is seen; - Here along the southern wall - Keeps the bee his festival; - All is quiet else—afar - Sounds of toil and turmoil are. - - Here be shadows large and long; - Here be spaces meet for song; - Grant, O garden-god, that I, - Now that none profane is nigh,— - Now that mood and moment please,— - Find the fair Pierides! - - -_825._ _Urceus Exit_ - -_Triolet_ - - I intended an Ode, - And it turn’d to a Sonnet - It began _à la mode_, - I intended an Ode; - But Rose crossed the road - In her latest new bonnet; - I intended an Ode; - And it turn’d to a Sonnet. - - -_826._ _In After Days_ - -_Rondeau_ - - In after days when grasses high - O’er-top the stone where I shall lie, - Though ill or well the world adjust - My slender claim to honour’d dust, - I shall not question nor reply. - - I shall not see the morning sky; - I shall not hear the night-wind sigh; - I shall be mute, as all men must - In after days! - - But yet, now living, fain would I - That some one then should testify, - Saying--‘He held his pen in trust - To Art, not serving shame or lust.’ - Will none?--Then let my memory die - In after days! - - - - -HENRY CLARENCE KENDALL - -1841-1882 - - -_827._ _Mooni_ - - He that is by Mooni now - Sees the water-sapphires gleaming - Where the River Spirit, dreaming, - Sleeps by fall and fountain streaming - Under lute of leaf and bough!-- - Hears what stamp of Storm with stress is, - Psalms from unseen wildernesses - Deep amongst far hill-recesses-- - He that is by Mooni now. - - Yea, for him by Mooni’s marge - Sings the yellow-hair’d September, - With the face the gods remember, - When the ridge is burnt to ember, - And the dumb sea chains the barge! - Where the mount like molten brass is, - Down beneath fern-feather’d passes - Noonday dew in cool green grasses - Gleams on him by Mooni’s marge. - - Who that dwells by Mooni yet, - Feels in flowerful forest arches - Smiting wings and breath that parches - Where strong Summer’s path of march is, - And the suns in thunder set! - Housed beneath the gracious kirtle - Of the shadowy water-myrtle-- - Winds may kiss with heat and hurtle, - He is safe by Mooni yet! - - Days there were when he who sings - (Dumb so long through passion’s losses) - Stood where Mooni’s water crosses - Shining tracks of green-hair’d mosses, - Like a soul with radiant wings: - Then the psalm the wind rehearses-- - Then the song the stream disperses-- - Lent a beauty to his verses, - Who to-night of Mooni sings. - - Ah, the theme--the sad, gray theme! - Certain days are not above me, - Certain hearts have ceased to love me, - Certain fancies fail to move me, - Like the effluent morning dream. - Head whereon the white is stealing, - Heart whose hurts are past all healing, - Where is now the first, pure feeling? - Ah, the theme--the sad, gray theme! - - * * * * * - - Still to be by Mooni cool-- - Where the water-blossoms glister, - And by gleaming vale and vista - Sits the English April’s sister, - Soft and sweet and wonderful! - Just to rest beneath the burning - Outer world--its sneers and spurning-- - Ah, my heart--my heart is yearning - Still to be by Mooni cool! - - - - -ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR O’SHAUGHNESSY - -1844-1881 - - -_828._ _Ode_ - - We are the music-makers, - And we are the dreamers of dreams, - Wandering by lone sea-breakers, - And sitting by desolate streams; - World-losers and world-forsakers, - On whom the pale moon gleams: - Yet we are the movers and shakers - Of the world for ever, it seems. - - With wonderful deathless ditties - We build up the world’s great cities, - And out of a fabulous story - We fashion an empire’s glory: - One man with a dream, at pleasure, - Shall go forth and conquer a crown; - And three with a new song’s measure - Can trample an empire down. - - We, in the ages lying - In the buried past of the earth, - Built Nineveh with our sighing, - And Babel itself with our mirth; - And o’erthrew them with prophesying - To the old of the new world’s worth; - For each age is a dream that is dying, - Or one that is coming to birth. - - -_829._ _Song_ - - I made another garden, yea, - For my new Love: - I left the dead rose where it lay - And set the new above. - Why did my Summer not begin? - Why did my heart not haste? - My old Love came and walk’d therein, - And laid the garden waste. - - She enter’d with her weary smile, - Just as of old; - She look’d around a little while - And shiver’d with the cold: - Her passing touch was death to all, - Her passing look a blight; - She made the white rose-petals fall, - And turn’d the red rose white. - - Her pale robe clinging to the grass - Seem’d like a snake - That bit the grass and ground, alas! - And a sad trail did make. - She went up slowly to the gate, - And then, just as of yore, - She turn’d back at the last to wait - And say farewell once more. - - -_830._ _The Fountain of Tears_ - - If you go over desert and mountain, - Far into the country of Sorrow, - To-day and to-night and to-morrow, - And maybe for months and for years; - You shall come with a heart that is bursting - For trouble and toiling and thirsting. - You shall certainly come to the fountain - At length,--to the Fountain of Tears. - - Very peaceful the place is, and solely - For piteous lamenting and sighing, - And those who come living or dying - Alike from their hopes and their fears; - Full of cypress-like shadows the place is, - And statues that cover their faces: - But out of the gloom springs the holy - And beautiful Fountain of Tears. - - And it flows and it flows with a motion - So gentle and lovely and listless, - And murmurs a tune so resistless - To him who hath suffer’d and hears-- - You shall surely--without a word spoken, - Kneel down there and know your heart broken, - And yield to the long-curb’d emotion - That day by the Fountain of Tears. - - For it grows and it grows, as though leaping - Up higher the more one is thinking; - And ever its tunes go on sinking - More poignantly into the ears: - Yea, so blessèd and good seems that fountain, - Reach’d after dry desert and mountain, - You shall fall down at length in your weeping - And bathe your sad face in the tears. - - Then alas! while you lie there a season - And sob between living and dying, - And give up the land you were trying - To find ’mid your hopes and your fears; - --O the world shall come up and pass o’er you, - Strong men shall not stay to care for you, - Nor wonder indeed for what reason - Your way should seem harder than theirs. - - But perhaps, while you lie, never lifting - Your cheek from the wet leaves it presses, - Nor caring to raise your wet tresses - And look how the cold world appears-- - O perhaps the mere silences round you-- - All things in that place Grief hath found you-- - Yea, e’en to the clouds o’er you drifting, - May soothe you somewhat through your tears. - - You may feel, when a falling leaf brushes - Your face, as though some one had kiss’d you; - Or think at least some one who miss’d you - Had sent you a thought,--if that cheers; - Or a bird’s little song, faint and broken, - May pass for a tender word spoken: - --Enough, while around you there rushes - That life-drowning torrent of tears. - - And the tears shall flow faster and faster, - Brim over and baffle resistance, - And roll down blear’d roads to each distance - Of past desolation and years; - Till they cover the place of each sorrow, - And leave you no past and no morrow: - For what man is able to master - And stem the great Fountain of Tears? - - But the floods and the tears meet and gather; - The sound of them all grows like thunder: - --O into what bosom, I wonder, - Is pour’d the whole sorrow of years? - For Eternity only seems keeping - Account of the great human weeping: - May God, then, the Maker and Father-- - May He find a place for the tears! - - - - -JOHN BOYLE O’REILLY - -1844-1890 - - -_831._ _A White Rose_ - - The red rose whispers of passion, - And the white rose breathes of love; - O, the red rose is a falcon, - And the white rose is a dove. - - But I send you a cream-white rosebud - With a flush on its petal tips; - For the love that is purest and sweetest - Has a kiss of desire on the lips. - - - - -ROBERT BRIDGES - -b. 1844 - - -_832._ _My Delight and Thy Delight_ - - My delight and thy delight - Walking, like two angels white, - In the gardens of the night: - - My desire and thy desire - Twining to a tongue of fire, - Leaping live, and laughing higher: - - Thro’ the everlasting strife - In the mystery of life. - - Love, from whom the world begun, - Hath the secret of the sun. - - Love can tell, and love alone, - Whence the million stars were strewn, - Why each atom knows its own, - How, in spite of woe and death, - Gay is life, and sweet is breath: - - This he taught us, this we knew, - Happy in his science true, - Hand in hand as we stood - ’Neath the shadows of the wood, - Heart to heart as we lay - In the dawning of the day. - - -_833._ _Spirits_ - - 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 scatter’d 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? - - -_834._ _Nightingales_ - - Beautiful must be the mountains whence ye come, - And bright in the fruitful valleys the streams, wherefrom - Ye learn your song: - Where are those starry woods? O might I wander there, - Among the flowers, which in that heavenly air - Bloom the year long! - - Nay, barren are those mountains and spent the streams: - Our song is the voice of desire, that haunts our dreams, - A throe of the heart, - Whose pining visions dim, forbidden hopes profound, - No dying cadence nor long sigh can sound, - For all our art. - - Alone, aloud in the raptured ear of men - We pour our dark nocturnal secret; and then, - As night is withdrawn - From these sweet-springing meads and bursting boughs of May, - Dream, while the innumerable choir of day - Welcome the dawn. - - -_835._ _A Passer-by_ - - Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding, - Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West, - That fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding, - Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest? - Ah! soon, when Winter has all our vales opprest, - When skies are cold and misty, and hail is hurling, - Wilt thoù glìde on the blue Pacific, or rest - In a summer haven asleep, thy white sails furling. - - I there before thee, in the country that well thou knowest, - Already arrived am inhaling the odorous air: - I watch thee enter unerringly where thou goest, - And anchor queen of the strange shipping there, - Thy sails for awnings spread, thy masts bare: - Nor is aught from the foaming reef to the snow-capp’d grandest - Peak, that is over the feathery palms, more fair - Than thou, so upright, so stately and still thou standest. - - - And yet, O splendid ship, unhail’d and nameless, - I know not if, aiming a fancy, I rightly divine - That thou hast a purpose joyful, a courage blameless, - Thy port assured in a happier land than mine. - But for all I have given thee, beauty enough is thine, - As thou, aslant with trim tackle and shrouding, - From the proud nostril curve of a prow’s line - In the offing scatterest foam, thy white sails crowding. - - -_836._ _Absence_ - - When my love was away, - Full three days were not sped, - I caught my fancy astray - Thinking if she were dead, - - And I alone, alone: - It seem’d in my misery - In all the world was none - Ever so lone as I. - - I wept; but it did not shame - Nor comfort my heart: away - I rode as I might, and came - To my love at close of day. - - The sight of her still’d my fears, - My fairest-hearted love: - And yet in her eyes were tears: - Which when I questioned of, - - ‘O now thou art come,’ she cried, - ‘’Tis fled: but I thought to-day - I never could here abide, - If thou wert longer away.’ - - -_837._ _On a Dead Child_ - - Perfect little body, without fault or stain on thee, - With promise of strength and manhood full and fair! - Though cold and stark and bare, - The bloom and the charm of life doth awhile remain on thee. - - Thy mother’s treasure wert thou;--alas! no longer - To visit her heart with wondrous joy; to be - Thy father’s pride:--ah, he - Must gather his faith together, and his strength make stronger. - - To me, as I move thee now in the last duty, - Dost thou with a turn or gesture anon respond; - Startling my fancy fond - With a chance attitude of the head, a freak of beauty. - - Thy hand clasps, as ’twas wont, my finger, and holds it: - But the grasp is the clasp of Death, heartbreaking and stiff; - Yet feels to my hand as if - ’Twas still thy will, thy pleasure and trust that enfolds it. - - So I lay thee there, thy sunken eyelids closing,-- - Go lie thou there in thy coffin, thy last little bed!-- - Propping thy wise, sad head, - Thy firm, pale hands across thy chest disposing. - - So quiet! doth the change content thee?--Death, whither hath he taken thee? - To a world, do I think, that rights the disaster of this? - The vision of which I miss, - Who weep for the body, and wish but to warm thee and awaken thee? - - - Ah! little at best can all our hopes avail us - To lift this sorrow, or cheer us, when in the dark, - Unwilling, alone we embark, - And the things we have seen and have known and have heard of, fail us. - - -_838._ _Pater Filio_ - - Sense with keenest edge unusèd, - Yet unsteel’d by scathing fire; - Lovely feet as yet unbruisèd - On the ways of dark desire; - Sweetest hope that lookest smiling - O’er the wilderness defiling! - - Why such beauty, to be blighted - By the swarm of foul destruction? - Why such innocence delighted, - When sin stalks to thy seduction? - All the litanies e’er chaunted - Shall not keep thy faith undaunted. - - I have pray’d the sainted Morning - To unclasp her hands to hold thee; - From resignful Eve’s adorning - Stol’n a robe of peace to enfold thee; - With all charms of man’s contriving - Arm’d thee for thy lonely striving. - - Me too once unthinking Nature, - --Whence Love’s timeless mockery took me,-- - Fashion’d so divine a creature, - Yea, and like a beast forsook me. - I forgave, but tell the measure - Of her crime in thee, my treasure. - - -_839._ _Winter Nightfall_ - - The day begins to droop,-- - Its course is done: - But nothing tells the place - Of the setting sun. - - The hazy darkness deepens, - And up the lane - You may hear, but cannot see, - The homing wain. - - An engine pants and hums - In the farm hard by: - Its lowering smoke is lost - In the lowering sky. - - The soaking branches drip, - And all night through - The dropping will not cease - In the avenue. - - A tall man there in the house - Must keep his chair: - He knows he will never again - Breathe the spring air: - - His heart is worn with work; - He is giddy and sick - If he rise to go as far - As the nearest rick: - - He thinks of his morn of life, - His hale, strong years; - And braves as he may the night - Of darkness and tears. - - -_840._ _When Death to Either shall come_ - - When Death to either shall come,-- - I pray it be first to me,-- - Be happy as ever at home, - If so, as I wish, it be. - - Possess thy heart, my own; - And sing to the child on thy knee, - Or read to thyself alone - The songs that I made for thee. - - - - -ANDREW LANG - -1844-1912 - - -_841._ _The Odyssey_ - - As one that for a weary space has lain - Lull’d by the song of Circe and her wine - In gardens near the pale of Proserpine, - Where that Ææan isle forgets the main, - And only the low lutes of love complain, - And only shadows of wan lovers pine-- - As such an one were glad to know the brine - Salt on his lips, and the large air again-- - So gladly from the songs of modern speech - Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free - Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers, - And through the music of the languid hours - They hear like Ocean on a western beach - The surge and thunder of the Odyssey. - - - - -WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY - -1849-1903 - - -_842._ _Invictus_ - - Out of the night that covers me, - Black as the pit from pole to pole, - I thank whatever gods may be - For my unconquerable soul. - - In the fell clutch of circumstance - I have not winced nor cried aloud. - Under the bludgeonings of chance - My head is bloody, but unbow’d. - - Beyond this place of wrath and tears - Looms but the Horror of the shade, - And yet the menace of the years - Finds and shall find me unafraid. - - It matters not how strait the gate, - How charged with punishments the scroll, - I am the master of my fate: - I am the captain of my soul. - - -_843._ _Margaritæ Sorori_ - - A late lark twitters from the quiet skies: - And from the west, - Where the sun, his day’s work ended, - Lingers as in content, - There falls on the old, gray city - An influence luminous and serene, - A shining peace. - - - The smoke ascends - In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires - Shine and are changed. In the valley - Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun, - Closing his benediction, - Sinks, and the darkening air - Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night-- - Night with her train of stars - And her great gift of sleep. - - So be my passing! - My task accomplish’d and the long day done, - My wages taken, and in my heart - Some late lark singing, - Let me be gather’d to the quiet west, - The sundown splendid and serene, - Death. - - -_844._ _England, My England_ - - What have I done for you, - England, my England? - What is there I would not do, - England, my own? - With your glorious eyes austere, - As the Lord were walking near, - Whispering terrible things and dear - As the Song on your bugles blown, - England-- - Round the world on your bugles blown? - - - Where shall the watchful sun, - England, my England, - Match the master-work you’ve done, - England, my own? - When shall he rejoice agen - Such a breed of mighty men - As come forward, one to ten, - To the Song on your bugles blown, - England-- - Down the years on your bugles blown? - - Ever the faith endures, - England, my England:-- - ‘Take and break us: we are yours, - England, my own! - Life is good, and joy runs high - Between English earth and sky: - Death is death; but we shall die - To the Song on your bugles blown, - England-- - To the stars on your bugles blown!’ - - They call you proud and hard, - England, my England: - You with worlds to watch and ward, - England, my own! - You whose mail’d hand keeps the keys - Of such teeming destinies, - You could know nor dread nor ease - Were the Song on your bugles blown, - England, - Round the Pit on your bugles blown! - - - Mother of Ships whose might, - England, my England, - Is the fierce old Sea’s delight, - England, my own, - Chosen daughter of the Lord, - Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword, - There’s the menace of the Word - In the Song on your bugles blown, England-- - Out of heaven on your bugles blown! - - - - -EDMUND GOSSE - -b. 1849 - - -_845._ _Revelation_ - - Into the silver night - She brought with her pale hand - The topaz lanthorn-light, - And darted splendour o’er the land; - Around her in a band, - Ringstraked and pied, the great soft moths came flying, - And flapping with their mad wings, fann’d - The flickering flame, ascending, falling, dying. - - Behind the thorny pink - Close wall of blossom’d may, - I gazed thro’ one green chink - And saw no more than thousands may,-- - Saw sweetness, tender and gay,-- - Saw full rose lips as rounded as the cherry, - Saw braided locks more dark than bay, - And flashing eyes decorous, pure, and merry. - - - With food for furry friends - She pass’d, her lamp and she, - Till eaves and gable-ends - Hid all that saffron sheen from me: - Around my rosy tree - Once more the silver-starry night was shining, - With depths of heaven, dewy and free, - And crystals of a carven moon declining. - - Alas! for him who dwells - In frigid air of thought, - When warmer light dispels - The frozen calm his spirit sought; - By life too lately taught - He sees the ecstatic Human from him stealing; - Reels from the joy experience brought, - And dares not clutch what Love was half revealing. - - - - -ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON - -1850-1894 - - -_846._ _Romance_ - - I will make you brooches and toys for your delight - Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night. - I will make a palace fit for you and me, - Of green days in forests and blue days at sea. - - I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room, - Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom, - And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white - In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night. - - - And this shall be for music when no one else is near, - The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear! - That only I remember, that only you admire, - Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire. - - -_847._ _In the Highlands_ - - In the highlands, in the country places, - Where the old plain men have rosy faces, - And the young fair maidens - Quiet eyes; - Where essential silence cheers and blesses, - And for ever in the hill-recesses - _Her_ more lovely music - Broods and dies-- - - O to mount again where erst I haunted; - Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted, - And the low green meadows - Bright with sward; - And when even dies, the million-tinted, - And the night has come, and planets glinted, - Lo, the valley hollow - Lamp-bestarr’d! - - O to dream, O to awake and wander - There, and with delight to take and render, - Through the trance of silence, - Quiet breath! - Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses, - Only the mightier movement sounds and passes; - Only winds and rivers, - Life and death. - - -_848._ _Requiem_ - - Under the wide and starry sky - Dig the grave and let me lie: - Glad did I live and gladly die, - And I laid me down with a will. - - This be the verse you grave for me: - _Here he lies where he long’d to be;_ - _Home is the sailor, home from sea,_ - _And the hunter home from the hill._ - - - - -T. W. ROLLESTON - -b. 1857 - - -_849._ _The Dead at Clonmacnois_ - -FROM THE IRISH OF ANGUS O’GILLAN - - In a quiet water’d land, a land of roses, - Stands Saint Kieran’s city fair; - And the warriors of Erin in their famous generations - Slumber there. - - There beneath the dewy hillside sleep the noblest - Of the clan of Conn, - Each below his stone with name in branching Ogham - And the sacred knot thereon. - - There they laid to rest the seven Kings of Tara, - There the sons of Cairbrè sleep-- - Battle-banners of the Gael that in Kieran’s plain of crosses - Now their final hosting keep. - - And in Clonmacnois they laid the men of Teffia, - And right many a lord of Breagh; - Deep the sod above Clan Creidè and Clan Conaill, - Kind in hall and fierce in fray. - - - Many and many a son of Conn the Hundred-Fighter - In the red earth lies at rest; - Many a blue eye of Clan Colman the turf covers, - Many a swan-white breast. - - - - -JOHN DAVIDSON - -1857-1909 - - -_850._ _Song_ - - The boat is chafing at our long delay, - And we must leave too soon - The spicy sea-pinks and the inborne spray, - The tawny sands, the moon. - - Keep us, O Thetis, in our western flight! - Watch from thy pearly throne - Our vessel, plunging deeper into night - To reach a land unknown. - - -_851._ _The Last Rose_ - - ‘O which is the last rose?’ - A blossom of no name. - At midnight the snow came; - At daybreak a vast rose, - In darkness unfurl’d, - O’er-petall’d the world. - - Its odourless pallor - Blossom’d forlorn, - Till radiant valour - Established the morn-- - Till the night - Was undone - In her fight - With the sun. - - The brave orb in state rose, - And crimson he shone first; - While from the high vine - Of heaven the dawn burst, - Staining the great rose - From sky-line to sky-line. - - The red rose of morn - A white rose at noon turn’d; - But at sunset reborn - All red again soon burn’d. - Then the pale rose of noonday - Rebloom’d in the night, - And spectrally white - In the light - Of the moon lay. - - But the vast rose - Was scentless, - And this is the reason: - When the blast rose - Relentless, - And brought in due season - The snow rose, the last rose - Congeal’d in its breath, - Then came with it treason; - The traitor was Death. - - In lee-valleys crowded, - The sheep and the birds - Were frozen and shrouded - In flights and in herds. - In highways - And byways - The young and the old - Were tortured and madden’d - And kill’d by the cold. - But many were gladden’d - By the beautiful last rose, - The blossom of no name - That came when the snow came, - In darkness unfurl’d-- - The wonderful vast rose - That fill’d all the world. - - - - -WILLIAM WATSON - -b. 1858 - - -_852._ _Song_ - - April, April, - Laugh thy girlish laughter; - Then, the moment after, - Weep thy girlish tears! - April, that mine ears - Like a lover greetest, - If I tell thee, sweetest, - All my hopes and fears, - April, April, - Laugh thy golden laughter, - But, the moment after, - Weep thy golden tears! - - -_853._ _Ode in May_ - - Let me go forth, and share - The overflowing Sun - With one wise friend, or one - Better than wise, being fair, - Where the pewit wheels and dips - On heights of bracken and ling, - And Earth, unto her leaflet tips, - Tingles with the Spring. - - What is so sweet and dear - As a prosperous morn in May, - The confident prime of the day, - And the dauntless youth of the year, - When nothing that asks for bliss, - Asking aright, is denied, - And half of the world a bridegroom is, - And half of the world a bride? - - The Song of Mingling flows, - Grave, ceremonial, pure, - As once, from lips that endure, - The cosmic descant rose, - When the temporal lord of life, - Going his golden way, - Had taken a wondrous maid to wife - That long had said him nay. - - For of old the Sun, our sire, - Came wooing the mother of men, - Earth, that was virginal then, - Vestal fire to his fire. - Silent her bosom and coy, - But the strong god sued and press’d; - And born of their starry nuptial joy - Are all that drink of her breast. - - And the triumph of him that begot, - And the travail of her that bore, - Behold they are evermore - As warp and weft in our lot. - We are children of splendour and flame, - Of shuddering, also, and tears. - Magnificent out of the dust we came, - And abject from the Spheres. - - O bright irresistible lord! - We are fruit of Earth’s womb, each one, - And fruit of thy loins, O Sun, - Whence first was the seed outpour’d. - To thee as our Father we bow, - Forbidden thy Father to see, - Who is older and greater than thou, as thou - Art greater and older than we. - - Thou art but as a word of his speech; - Thou art but as a wave of his hand; - Thou art brief as a glitter of sand - ’Twixt tide and tide on his beach; - Thou art less than a spark of his fire, - Or a moment’s mood of his soul: - Thou art lost in the notes on the lips of his choir - That chant the chant of the Whole. - - -_854._ _The Great Misgiving_ - - ‘Not ours,’ say some, ‘the thought of death to dread; - Asking no heaven, we fear no fabled hell: - Life is a feast, and we have banqueted-- - Shall not the worms as well? - - - ‘The after-silence, when the feast is o’er, - And void the places where the minstrels stood, - Differs in nought from what hath been before, - And is nor ill nor good.’ - - Ah, but the Apparition--the dumb sign-- - The beckoning finger bidding me forgo - The fellowship, the converse, and the wine, - The songs, the festal glow! - - And ah, to know not, while with friends I sit, - And while the purple joy is pass’d about, - Whether ’tis ampler day divinelier lit - Or homeless night without; - - And whether, stepping forth, my soul shall see - New prospects, or fall sheer--a blinded thing! - _There_ is, O grave, thy hourly victory, - And there, O death, thy sting. - - - - -HENRY CHARLES BEECHING - -1859-1919 - - -_855._ _Prayers_ - - God who created me - Nimble and light of limb, - In three elements free, - To run, to ride, to swim: - Not when the sense is dim, - But now from the heart of joy, - I would remember Him: - Take the thanks of a boy. - - - Jesu, King and Lord, - Whose are my foes to fight, - Gird me with Thy sword - Swift and sharp and bright. - Thee would I serve if I might; - And conquer if I can, - From day-dawn till night, - Take the strength of a man. - - Spirit of Love and Truth, - Breathing in grosser clay, - The light and flame of youth, - Delight of men in the fray, - Wisdom in strength’s decay; - From pain, strife, wrong to be free, - This best gift I pray, - Take my spirit to Thee. - - -_856._ _Going down Hill on a Bicycle_ - -A BOY’S SONG - - With lifted feet, hands still, - I am poised, and down the hill - Dart, with heedful mind; - The air goes by in a wind. - - Swifter and yet more swift, - Till the heart with a mighty lift - Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry:-- - ‘O bird, see; see, bird, I fly. - - ‘Is this, is this your joy? - O bird, then I, though a boy, - For a golden moment share - Your feathery life in air!’ - - - Say, heart, is there aught like this - In a world that is full of bliss? - ’Tis more than skating, bound - Steel-shod to the level ground. - - Speed slackens now, I float - Awhile in my airy boat; - Till, when the wheels scarce crawl, - My feet to the treadles fall. - - Alas, that the longest hill - Must end in a vale; but still, - Who climbs with toil, wheresoe’er, - Shall find wings waiting there. - - - - -BLISS CARMAN - -b. 1861 - - -_857._ _Why_ - - For a name unknown, - Whose fame unblown - Sleeps in the hills - For ever and aye; - - For her who hears - The stir of the years - Go by on the wind - By night and day; - - And heeds no thing - Of the needs of spring, - Of autumn’s wonder - Or winter’s chill; - For one who sees - The great sun freeze, - As he wanders a-cold - From hill to hill; - - And all her heart - Is a woven part - Of the flurry and drift - Of whirling snow; - - For the sake of two - Sad eyes and true, - And the old, old love - So long ago. - - - - -DOUGLAS HYDE - -b. 1861 - - -_858._ _My Grief on the Sea_ - -FROM THE IRISH - - My grief on the sea, - How the waves of it roll! - For they heave between me - And the love of my soul! - - Abandon’d, forsaken, - To grief and to care, - Will the sea ever waken - Relief from despair? - - My grief and my trouble! - Would he and I were, - In the province of Leinster, - Or County of Clare! - - - Were I and my darling-- - O heart-bitter wound!-- - On board of the ship - For America bound. - - On a green bed of rushes - All last night I lay, - And I flung it abroad - With the heat of the day. - - And my Love came behind me, - He came from the South; - His breast to my bosom, - His mouth to my mouth. - - - - -ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON - -b. 1862 - - -_859._ _The Phœnix_ - - BY feathers green, across Casbeen - The pilgrims track the Phœnix flown, - By gems he strew’d in waste and wood, - And jewell’d plumes at random thrown. - - Till wandering far, by moon and star, - They stand beside the fruitful pyre, - Where breaking bright with sanguine light - The impulsive bird forgets his sire. - - Those ashes shine like ruby wine, - Like bag of Tyrian murex spilt, - The claw, the jowl of the flying fowl - Are with the glorious anguish gilt. - - - So rare the light, so rich the sight, - Those pilgrim men, on profit bent, - Drop hands and eyes and merchandise, - And are with gazing most content. - - - - -HENRY NEWBOLT - -b. 1862 - - -_860._ _He fell among Thieves_ - - ‘Ye have robb’d,’ said he, ‘ye have slaughtered and made an end, - Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead: - What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?’ - ‘Blood for our blood,’ they said. - - He laugh’d: ‘If one may settle the score for five, - I am ready; but let the reckoning stand till day: - I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive.’ - ‘You shall die at dawn,’ said they. - - He flung his empty revolver down the slope, - He climb’d alone to the Eastward edge of the trees: - All night long in a dream untroubled of hope - He brooded, clasping his knees. - - He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills - The ravine where the Yassîn river sullenly flows; - He did not see the starlight on the Laspur hills, - Or the far Afghan snows. - - He saw the April noon on his books aglow, - The wistaria trailing in at the window wide; - He heard his father’s voice from the terrace below - Calling him down to ride. - - - He saw the gray little church across the park, - The mounds that hid the loved and honour’d dead; - The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark, - The brasses black and red. - - He saw the School Close, sunny and green, - The runner beside him, the stand by the parapet wall, - The distant tape, and the crowd roaring between, - His own name over all. - - He saw the dark wainscot and timber’d roof, - The long tables, and the faces merry and keen; - The College Eight and their trainer dining aloof, - The Dons on the daïs serene. - - He watch’d the liner’s stem ploughing the foam, - He felt her trembling speed and the thrash of her screw; - He heard the passengers’ voices talking of home, - He saw the flag she flew. - - And now it was dawn. He rose strong on his feet, - And strode to his ruin’d camp below the wood; - He drank the breath of the morning cool and sweet: - His murderers round him stood. - - Light on the Laspur hills was broadening fast, - The blood-red snow-peaks chill’d to a dazzling white; - He turn’d, and saw the golden circle at last, - Cut by the Eastern height. - - ‘O glorious Life, Who dwellest in earth and sun, - I have lived, I praise and adore Thee.’ A sword swept. - Over the pass the voices one by one - Faded, and the hill slept. - - - - -GILBERT PARKER - -b. 1862 - - -_861._ _Reunited_ - - When you and I have play’d the little hour, - Have seen the tall subaltern Life to Death - Yield up his sword; and, smiling, draw the breath, - The first long breath of freedom; when the flower - Of Recompense hath flutter’d to our feet, - As to an actor’s; and, the curtain down, - We turn to face each other all alone-- - Alone, we two, who never yet did meet, - Alone, and absolute, and free: O then, - O then, most dear, how shall be told the tale? - Clasp’d hands, press’d lips, and so clasp’d hands again; - No words. But as the proud wind fills the sail, - My love to yours shall reach, then one deep moan - Of joy, and then our infinite Alone. - - - - -WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS - -b. 1865 - - -_862._ _Where My Books go_ - - - All the words that I utter, - And all the words that I write, - Must spread out their wings untiring, - And never rest in their flight, - Till they come where your sad, sad heart is, - And sing to you in the night, - Beyond where the waters are moving, - Storm-darken’d or starry bright. - - -_863._ _When You are Old_ - - When you are old and gray and full of sleep - And nodding by the fire, take down this book, - And slowly read, and dream of the soft look - Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep; - - How many loved your moments of glad grace, - And loved your beauty with love false or true; - But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, - And loved the sorrows of your changing face. - - And bending down beside the glowing bars, - Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled - And paced upon the mountains overhead, - And hid his face amid a crowd of stars. - - -_864._ _The Lake Isle of Innisfree_ - - I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, - And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made; - Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee, - And live alone in the bee-loud glade. - - And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, - Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings; - There midnight’s all a-glimmer, and noon a purple glow, - And evening full of the linnet’s wings. - - I will arise and go now, for always night and day - I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; - While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray, - I hear it in the deep heart’s core. - - - - -RUDYARD KIPLING - -b. 1865 - - -_865._ _A Dedication_ - - My new-cut ashlar takes the light - Where crimson-blank the windows flare; - By my own work, before the night, - Great Overseer, I make my prayer. - - If there be good in that I wrought, - Thy hand compell’d it, Master, Thine; - Where I have fail’d to meet Thy thought - I know, through Thee, the blame is mine. - - One instant’s toil to Thee denied - Stands all Eternity’s offence; - Of that I did with Thee to guide - To Thee, through Thee, be excellence. - - Who, lest all thought of Eden fade, - Bring’st Eden to the craftsman’s brain, - Godlike to muse o’er his own trade - And manlike stand with God again. - - The depth and dream of my desire, - The bitter paths wherein I stray, - Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire, - Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay. - - One stone the more swings to her place - In that dread Temple of Thy worth-- - It is enough that through Thy grace - I saw naught common on Thy earth. - - - Take not that vision from my ken; - O, whatsoe’er may spoil or speed, - Help me to need no aid from men, - That I may help such men as need! - - -_866._ _L’Envoi_ - - There’s a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield - And the ricks stand gray to the sun, - Singing:--‘Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover - And your English summer’s done.’ - You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind - And the thresh of the deep-sea rain; - You have heard the song--how long! how long! - Pull out on the trail again! - - Ha’ done with the Tents of Shem, dear lass, - We’ve seen the seasons through, - And it’s time to turn on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, - Pull out, pull out, on the Long Trail--the trail that is always new. - - It’s North you may run to the rime-ring’d sun, - Or South to the blind Horn’s hate; - Or East all the way into Mississippi Bay, - Or West to the Golden Gate; - Where the blindest bluffs hold good, dear lass, - And the wildest tales are true, - And the men bulk big on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, - And life runs large on the Long Trail--the trail that is always new. - - - The days are sick and cold, and the skies are gray and old, - And the twice-breathed airs blow damp; - And I’d sell my tired soul for the bucking beam-sea roll - Of a black Bilbao tramp; - With her load-line over her hatch, dear lass, - And a drunken Dago crew, - And her nose held down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, - From Cadiz Bar on the Long Trail--the trail that is always new. - - There be triple ways to take, of the eagle or the snake, - Or the way of a man with a maid; - But the sweetest way to me is a ship’s upon the sea - In the heel of the North-East Trade. - Can you hear the crash on her bows, dear lass, - And the drum of the racing screw, - As she ships it green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, - As she lifts and ’scends on the Long Trail--the trail that is always new? - - See the shaking funnels roar, with the Peter at the fore, - And the fenders grind and heave, - And the derricks clack and grate, as the tackle hooks the crate, - And the fall-rope whines through the sheave; - It’s ‘Gang-plank up and in,’ dear lass, - It’s ‘Hawsers warp her through!’ - And it’s ‘All clear aft’ on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, - We’re backing down on the Long Trail--the trail that is always new. - - - O the mutter overside, when the port-fog holds us tied, - And the sirens hoot their dread! - When foot by foot we creep o’er the hueless viewless deep - To the sob of the questing lead! - It’s down by the Lower Hope, dear lass, - With the Gunfleet Sands in view, - Till the Mouse swings green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, - And the Gull Light lifts on the Long Trail--the trail that is always new. - - O the blazing tropic night, when the wake’s a welt of light - That holds the hot sky tame, - And the steady fore-foot snores through the planet-powder’d floors - Where the scared whale flukes in flame! - Her plates are scarr’d by the sun, dear lass, - And her ropes are taut with the dew, - For we’re booming down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, - We’re sagging south on the Long Trail--the trail that is always new. - - Then home, get her home, where the drunken rollers comb, - And the shouting seas drive by, - And the engines stamp and ring, and the wet bows reel and swing, - And the Southern Cross rides high! - Yes, the old lost stars wheel back, dear lass, - That blaze in the velvet blue. - They’re all old friends on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, - They’re God’s own guides on the Long Trail--the trail that is always new. - - - Fly forward, O my heart, from the Foreland to the Start-- - We’re steaming all too slow, - And it’s twenty thousand mile to our little lazy isle - Where the trumpet-orchids blow! - You have heard the call of the off-shore wind - And the voice of the deep-sea rain; - You have heard the song--how long! how long! - Pull out on the trail again! - - The Lord knows what we may find, dear lass, - And the deuce knows what we may do-- - But we’re back once more on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail, - We’re down, hull down on the Long Trail--the trail that is always new. - - -_867._ _Recessional_ - -_June 22, 1897_ - - God of our fathers, known of old-- - Lord of our far-flung battle-line-- - Beneath whose awful Hand we hold - Dominion over palm and pine-- - Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, - Lest we forget, lest we forget! - - The tumult and the shouting dies-- - The captains and the kings depart-- - Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice, - An humble and a contrite heart. - Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, - Lest we forget, lest we forget! - - - Far-call’d our navies melt away-- - On dune and headland sinks the fire-- - Lo, all our pomp of yesterday - Is one with Nineveh and Tyre! - Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, - Lest we forget, lest we forget! - - If, drunk with sight of power, we loose - Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe-- - Such boasting as the Gentiles use - Or lesser breeds without the Law-- - Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, - Lest we forget, lest we forget! - - For heathen heart that puts her trust - In reeking tube and iron shard-- - All valiant dust that builds on dust, - And guarding calls not Thee to guard-- - For frantic boast and foolish word, - Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord! - - - - -RICHARD LE GALLIENNE - -b. 1866 - - -_868._ _Song_ - - She’s somewhere in the sunlight strong, - Her tears are in the falling rain, - She calls me in the wind’s soft song, - And with the flowers she comes again. - - Yon bird is but her messenger, - The moon is but her silver car; - Yea! sun and moon are sent by her, - And every wistful waiting star. - - -_869._ _The Second Crucifixion_ - - Loud mockers in the roaring street - Say Christ is crucified again: - Twice pierced His gospel-bearing feet, - Twice broken His great heart in vain. - - I hear, and to myself I smile, - For Christ talks with me all the while. - - No angel now to roll the stone - From off His unawaking sleep, - In vain shall Mary watch alone, - In vain the soldiers vigil keep. - - Yet while they deem my Lord is dead - My eyes are on His shining head. - - Ah! never more shall Mary hear - That voice exceeding sweet and low - Within the garden calling clear: - Her Lord is gone, and she must go. - - Yet all the while my Lord I meet - In every London lane and street. - - Poor Lazarus shall wait in vain, - And Bartimæus still go blind; - The healing hem shall ne’er again - Be touch’d by suffering humankind. - - Yet all the while I see them rest, - The poor and outcast, on His breast. - - - No more unto the stubborn heart - With gentle knocking shall He plead, - No more the mystic pity start, - For Christ twice dead is dead indeed. - - So in the street I hear men say, - Yet Christ is with me all the day. - - - - -LAURENCE BINYON - -b. 1869 - - -_870._ _Invocation to Youth_ - - Come then, as ever, like the wind at morning! - Joyous, O Youth, in the agèd world renew - Freshness to feel the eternities around it, - Rain, stars and clouds, light and the sacred dew. - The strong sun shines above thee: - That strength, that radiance bring! - If Winter come to Winter, - When shall men hope for Spring? - - -_871._ _O World, be Nobler_ - - O World, be nobler, for her sake! - If she but knew thee what thou art, - What wrongs are borne, what deeds are done - In thee, beneath thy daily sun, - Know’st thou not that her tender heart - For pain and very shame would break? - O World, be nobler, for her sake! - - - - -GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL (‘A. E.’) - -b. 1853 - - -_872._ _By the Margin of the Great Deep_ - - When the breath of twilight blows to flame the misty skies, - All its vaporous sapphire, violet glow and silver gleam, - With their magic flood me through the gateway of the eyes; - I am one with the twilight’s dream. - - When the trees and skies and fields are one in dusky mood, - Every heart of man is rapt within the mother’s breast: - Full of peace and sleep and dreams in the vasty quietude, - I am one with their hearts at rest. - - From our immemorial joys of hearth and home and love - Stray’d away along the margin of the unknown tide, - All its reach of soundless calm can thrill me far above - Word or touch from the lips beside. - - Aye, and deep and deep and deeper let me drink and draw - From the olden fountain more than light or peace or dream, - Such primæval being as o’erfills the heart with awe, - Growing one with its silent stream. - - -_873._ _The Great Breath_ - - Its edges foam’d with amethyst and rose, - Withers once more the old blue flower of day: - There where the ether like a diamond glows, - Its petals fade away. - - A shadowy tumult stirs the dusky air; - Sparkle the delicate dews, the distant snows; - The great deep thrills--for through it everywhere - The breath of Beauty blows. - - - I saw how all the trembling ages past, - Moulded to her by deep and deeper breath, - Near’d to the hour when Beauty breathes her last - And knows herself in death. - - - - -T. STURGE MOORE - -b. 1870 - - -_874._ _A Duet_ - - ‘Flowers nodding gaily, scent in air, - Flowers posied, flowers for the hair, - Sleepy flowers, flowers bold to stare----’ - ‘O pick me some!’ - - ‘Shells with lip, or tooth, or bleeding gum, - Tell-tale shells, and shells that whisper _Come_, - Shells that stammer, blush, and yet are dumb----’ - ‘O let me hear.’ - - ‘Eyes so black they draw one trembling near, - Brown eyes, caverns flooded with a tear, - Cloudless eyes, blue eyes so windy clear----’ - ‘O look at me!’ - - ‘Kisses sadly blown across the sea, - Darkling kisses, kisses fair and free, - Bob-a-cherry kisses ’neath a tree----’ - ‘O give me one!’ - - Thus sang a king and queen in Babylon. - - - - -FRANCIS THOMPSON - -1859-1907 - - -_875._ _The Poppy_ - - Summer set lip to earth’s bosom bare, - And left the flush’d print in a poppy there; - Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came, - And the fanning wind puff’d it to flapping flame. - - With burnt mouth red like a lion’s it drank - The blood of the sun as he slaughter’d sank, - And dipp’d its cup in the purpurate shine - When the eastern conduits ran with wine. - - Till it grew lethargied with fierce bliss, - And hot as a swinkèd gipsy is, - And drowsed in sleepy savageries, - With mouth wide a-pout for a sultry kiss. - - A child and man paced side by side, - Treading the skirts of eventide; - But between the clasp of his hand and hers - Lay, felt not, twenty wither’d years. - - She turn’d, with the rout of her dusk South hair, - And saw the sleeping gipsy there; - And snatch’d and snapp’d it in swift child’s whim, - With--‘Keep it, long as you live!’--to him. - - And his smile, as nymphs from their laving meres, - Trembled up from a bath of tears; - And joy, like a mew sea-rock’d apart, - Toss’d on the wave of his troubled heart. - - - For _he_ saw what she did not see, - That--as kindled by its own fervency-- - The verge shrivell’d inward smoulderingly: - - And suddenly ’twixt his hand and hers - He knew the twenty withered years-- - No flower, but twenty shrivelled years. - - ‘Was never such thing until this hour,’ - Low to his heart he said; ‘the flower - Of sleep brings wakening to me, - And of oblivion memory.’ - - ‘Was never this thing to me,’ he said, - ‘Though with bruisèd poppies my feet are red!’ - And again to his own heart very low: - ‘O child! I love, for I love and know; - - ‘But you, who love nor know at all - The diverse chambers in Love’s guest-hall, - Where some rise early, few sit long: - In how differing accents hear the throng - His great Pentecostal tongue; - - ‘Who know not love from amity, - Nor my reported self from me; - A fair fit gift is this, meseems, - You give--this withering flower of dreams. - - ‘O frankly fickle, and fickly true, - Do you know what the days will do to you? - To your Love and you what the days will do, - O frankly fickle, and fickly true? - - - ‘You have loved me, Fair, three lives--or days: - ’Twill pass with the passing of my face. - But where _I_ go, your face goes too, - To watch lest I play false to you. - - ‘I am but, my sweet, your foster-lover, - Knowing well when certain years are over - You vanish from me to another; - Yet I know, and love, like the foster-mother. - - ‘So, frankly fickle, and fickly true! - For my brief life-while I take from you - This token, fair and fit, meseems, - For me--this withering flower of dreams.’ - - * * * * * - - The sleep-flower sways in the wheat its head, - Heavy with dreams, as that with bread: - The goodly grain and the sun-flush’d sleeper - The reaper reaps, and Time the reaper. - - I hang ’mid men my needless head, - And my fruit is dreams, as theirs is bread: - The goodly men and the sun-hazed sleeper - Time shall reap, but after the reaper - The world shall glean of me, me the sleeper! - - Love! love! your flower of wither’d dream - In leavèd rhyme lies safe, I deem, - Shelter’d and shut in a nook of rhyme, - From the reaper man, and his reaper Time. - - Love! _I_ fall into the claws of Time: - But lasts within a leavèd rhyme - All that the world of me esteems-- - My wither’d dreams, my wither’d dreams. - - - - -HENRY CUST - -1861-1917 - - -_876._ _Non Nobis_ - - Not unto us, O Lord, - Not unto us the rapture of the day, - The peace of night, or love’s divine surprise, - High heart, high speech, high deeds ’mid honouring eyes; - For at Thy word - All these are taken away. - - Not unto us, O Lord: - To us thou givest the scorn, the scourge, the scar, - The ache of life, the loneliness of death, - The insufferable sufficiency of breath; - And with Thy sword - Thou piercest very far. - - Not unto us, O Lord: - Nay, Lord, but unto her be all things given-- - My light and life and earth and sky be blasted-- - But let not all that wealth of loss be wasted: - Let Hell afford - The pavement of her Heaven! - - - - -KATHARINE TYNAN HINKSON - -b. 1861 - - -_877._ _Sheep and Lambs_ - - All in the April morning, - April airs were abroad; - The sheep with their little lambs - Pass’d me by on the road. - - - The sheep with their little lambs - Pass’d me by on the road; - All in an April evening - I thought on the Lamb of God. - - The lambs were weary, and crying - With a weak human cry, - I thought on the Lamb of God - Going meekly to die. - - Up in the blue, blue mountains - Dewy pastures are sweet: - Rest for the little bodies, - Rest for the little feet. - - Rest for the Lamb of God - Up on the hill-top green, - Only a cross of shame - Two stark crosses between. - - All in the April evening, - April airs were abroad; - I saw the sheep with their lambs, - And thought on the Lamb of God. - - - - -FRANCES BANNERMAN - - -_878._ _An Upper Chamber_ - - I came into the City and none knew me; - None came forth, none shouted ‘He is here! - Not a hand with laurel would bestrew me, - All the way by which I drew anear-- - Night my banner, and my herald Fear. - - - But I knew where one so long had waited - In the low room at the stairway’s height, - Trembling lest my foot should be belated, - Singing, sighing for the long hours’ flight - Towards the moment of our dear delight. - - I came into the City when you hail’d me - Saviour, and again your chosen Lord:-- - Not one guessing what it was that fail’d me, - While along the way as they adored - Thousands, thousands, shouted in accord. - - But through all the joy I knew--I only-- - How the hostel of my heart lay bare and cold, - Silent of its music, and how lonely! - Never, though you crown me with your gold, - Shall I find that little chamber as of old! - - - - -ALICE MEYNELL - -b. 1850 - - -_879._ _Renouncement_ - - I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong, - I shun the love that lurks in all delight-- - The love of thee--and in the blue heaven’s height, - And in the dearest passage of a song. - Oh, just beyond the sweetest thoughts that throng - This breast, the thought of thee waits hidden yet bright; - But it must never, never come in sight; - I must stop short of thee the whole day long. - But when sleep comes to close each difficult day, - When night gives pause to the long watch I keep, - And all my bonds I needs must loose apart, - Must doff my will as raiment laid away,-- - With the first dream that comes with the first sleep - I run, I run, I am gather’d to thy heart. - - -_880._ _The Lady of the Lambs_ - - She walks--the lady of my delight-- - A shepherdess of sheep. - Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white; - She guards them from the steep. - She feeds them on the fragrant height - And folds them in for sleep. - - She roams maternal hills and bright, - Dark valleys safe and deep. - Her dreams are innocent at night; - The chastest stars may peep. - She walks--the lady of my delight-- - A shepherdess of sheep. - - She holds her little thoughts in sight, - Though gay they run and leap. - She is so circumspect and right; - She has her soul to keep. - She walks--the lady of my delight-- - A shepherdess of sheep. - - - - -DORA SIGERSON - -d. 1918 - - -_881._ _Ireland_ - - ’Twas the dream of a God, - And the mould of His hand, - That you shook ’neath His stroke, - That you trembled and broke - To this beautiful land. - - Here He loosed from His hold - A brown tumult of wings, - Till the wind on the sea - Bore the strange melody - Of an island that sings. - - He made you all fair, - You in purple and gold, - You in silver and green, - Till no eye that has seen - Without love can behold. - - I have left you behind - In the path of the past, - With the white breath of flowers, - With the best of God’s hours, - I have left you at last. - - - - -MARGARET L. WOODS - -b. 1856 - - -_882._ _Genius Loci_ - - Peace, Shepherd, peace! What boots it singing on? - Since long ago grace-giving Phœbus died, - And all the train that loved the stream-bright side - Of the poetic mount with him are gone - Beyond the shores of Styx and Acheron, - In unexplorèd realms of night to hide. - The clouds that strew their shadows far and wide - Are all of Heaven that visits Helicon. - Yet here, where never muse or god did haunt, - Still may some nameless power of Nature stray, - Pleased with the reedy stream’s continual chant - And purple pomp of these broad fields in May. - The shepherds meet him where he herds the kine, - And careless pass him by whose is the gift divine. - - - - -R. D. BLACKMORE - -1825-1900 - - -_883._ _Dominus Illuminatio Mea_ - - In the hour of death, after this life’s whim, - When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow dim, - And pain has exhausted every limb-- - The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him. - - When the will has forgotten the lifelong aim, - And the mind can only disgrace its fame, - And a man is uncertain of his own name-- - The power of the Lord shall fill this frame. - - When the last sigh is heaved, and the last tear shed, - And the coffin is waiting beside the bed, - And the widow and child forsake the dead-- - The angel of the Lord shall lift this head. - - For even the purest delight may pall, - And power must fail, and the pride must fall, - And the love of the dearest friends grow small-- - But the glory of the Lord is all in all. - -[Illustration] - - - - -INDEX OF AUTHORS AND FIRST LINES INDEX OF AUTHORS - -_The references are to the numbers of the poems_ - - -Addison, Joseph, 433. - -‘A.E.,’ 872, 873. - -Ainslie, Hew, 619. - -Akenside, Mark, 461-463. - -Alford, Henry, 711. - -Allingham, William, 769. - -Anonymous, 1-7, 22-29, 50-72, 367-392. - -Arnold, Matthew, 747-754. - -Ashe, Thomas, 805, 806. - -Ayton, Sir Robert, 182, 183. - - -Baillie, Joanna, 510. - -Baillie, Lady Grisel, 430. - -Bannerman, Frances, 878. - -Barbauld, Anna Lætitia, 474. - -Barbour, John, 9. - -Barnefield, Richard, 203. - -Barnes, William, 658, 659. - -Beattie, James, 472. - -Beaumont, Francis, 234. - -Beaumont, Sir John, 223. - -Beddoes, Thomas Lovell, 666-668. - -Beeching, Henry Charles, 855, 856. - -Behn, Aphra, 411, 412. - -Benson, Arthur Christopher, 859. - -Binyon, Laurence, 870, 871. - -Blackmore, R. D., 883. - -Blake, William, 483-492. - -Blunt, Wilfrid Scawen, 816-823. - -Bowles, William Lisle, 509. - -Boyd, Mark Alexander, 114. - -Breton, Nicholas, 73, 74 (?). - -Bridges, Robert, 832-840. - -Brome, Alexander, 354. - -Brooke, Lord, 96. - -Broome, William, 446, 447 - -Brontë, Emily, 735-738. - -Brown, Thomas Edward, 790-793. - -Browne, William, of Tavistock, 240-246. - -Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 678-687. - -Browning, Robert, 715-730. - -Buckinghamshire, Duke of, 417, 418. - -Bunyan, John, 366. - -Burns, Robert, 493-506. - -Byron, Lord, 597-601. - - -Callanan, Jeremiah Joseph, 638. - -Campbell, Thomas, 580, 581. - -Campion, Thomas, 168-176. - -Carew, Thomas, 289-295. - -Carey, Henry, 444, 445. - -Carman, Bliss, 857. - -Cartwright, William, 330-333. - -Chapman, George, 107. - -Chatterton, Thomas, 479. - -Chaucer, Geoffrey, 10-12. - -Clare, John, 621. - -Clough, Arthur Hugh, 741. - -Coleridge, Hartley, 643-646. - -Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, 549-555. - -Coleridge, Sara, 661, 662. - -Collins, William, 457-460. - -Congreve, William, 431, 432. - -Constable, Henry, 110. - -Cory, William (Johnson), 758-9. - -Cotton, Charles, 396. - -Cowley, Abraham, 349-353. - -Cowper, William, 470, 471. - -Crabbe, George, 480-482. - -Crashaw, Richard, 336-342. - -Cunningham, Allan, 589-591. - -Cunninghame-Graham, Robert, of Gartmore, 469. - -Cust, Henry, 876. - -Cutts, Lord, 421. - - -Daniel, Samuel, 111-113. - -Darley, George, 640-642. - -Davenant, Sir William, 301-303. - -Davidson, John, 850, 851. - -Davies, Sir John, 181. - -Davison, F. _or_ W. (?), 64. - -Dekker, Thomas, 204. - -De Vere, Aubrey, 732, 733. - -De Vere, Sir Aubrey, 602. - -Dobell, Sydney, 765-768. - -Dobson, Henry Austin, 824-826. - -Donne, John, 195-202. - -Dorset, Earl of, 408. - -Drayton, Michael, 116-120. - -Drummond, William, of Hawthornden, 224-232. - -Dryden, John, 398-402. - -Dufferin, Lady, 691. - -Dunbar, William, 18-21. - -D’Urfey, Thomas, 395. - - -Edwardes, Richard, 46. - -Elliott, Ebenezer, 587, 588. - -Elliot, Jane, 466. - -Emerson, Ralph Waldo, 669-672. - -Etherege, Sir George, 404, 405. - - -Fanshawe, Sir Richard, 329. - -Ferguson, Sir Samuel, 712-714. - -FitzGerald, Edward, 697, 698. - -Flatman, Thomas, 407. - -Fletcher, Giles, 233. - -Fletcher, John, 141-143 (?), 207-217. - -Fletcher, Phineas, 222. - -Ford, John, 235. - -Fox, George, 734. - - -Gascoigne, George, 47. - -Gay, John, 439. - -Goldsmith, Oliver, 467, 468. - -Gosse, Edmund, 845. - -Gray, Thomas, 453-456. - -Greene, Robert, 103-105. - -Greville, Fanny, 475. - -Griffin, Gerald, 663. - -Grimald, Nicholas, 42. - - -Habington, William, 297, 298. - -Harte, Bret, 813. - -Hawes, Stephen, 32, 33. - -Hawker, Robert Stephen, 674, 675. - -Hemans, Felicia Dorothea, 622. - -Henley, William Ernest, 842-844. - -Henryson, Robert, 16, 17. - -Herbert, George, 281-286. - -Herrick, Robert, 247-275. - -Heywood, John (?), 53. - -Heywood, Thomas, 205, 206. - -Hinkson, Katharine Tynan, 877. - -Hoccleve, Thomas, 13. - -Hood, Thomas, 647-654. - -Hogg, James, 513, 514. - -Horne, Richard Henry, 673. - -Houghton, Lord, 710. - -Howells, William Dean, 82. - -Hume, Alexander, 106. - -Hunt, Leigh, 592. - -Hyde, Douglas, 858. - - -Jago, Richard, 452. - -James I (King of Scotland), 15. - -Johnson, Samuel, 450, 451. - -Jones, Ebenezer, 745. - -Jones, Sir William, 478. - -Jonson, Ben, 184-194. - -Jordan, Thomas, 335. - - -Keats, John, 623-637. - -Keble, John, 620. - -Kendall, Henry Clarence, 827. - -King, Henry (Bishop of Chichester), 278-280. - -Kingsley, Charles, 739, 740. - -Kipling, Rudyard, 865-867. - - -Lamb, Charles, 577-579. - -Lamb, Mary, 511. - -Landor, Walter Savage, 557-576. - -Lang, Andrew, 841. - -Le Gallienne, Richard, 868, 869. - -Lindsay, Lady Anne, 477. - -Locker-Lampson, Frederick, 746. - -Lodge, Thomas, 97-100. - -Logan, John, 476. - -Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 689. - -Lovelace, Richard, 343-348. - -Lydgate, John, 14. - -Lyly, John, 85, 86. - -Lyttelton, Lord, 449. - -Lytton, Earl of, 794, 795. - - -Macaulay, Lord, 657. - -MacDonald, George, 770. - -Mahony, Francis, 677. - -Mangan, James Clarence, 664, 665. - -Mannyng, Robert, of Brunne, 8. - -Marlowe, Christopher, 121. - -Marvell, Andrew, 355-361. - -Mayne, Jasper, 296. - -Melcombe, Lord, 443. - -Meredith, George, 772-776. - -Meynell, Alice, 879, 880. - -Milton, John, 307-324. - -Montgomerie, Alexander, 48. - -Montrose, Marquis of, 334. - -Moore, Thomas, 582-585. - -Moore, T. Sturge, 874. - -Morris, William, 800-802. - -Munday, Anthony, 87. - - -Nairne, Carolina Lady, 512. - -Nashe, Thomas, 166, 167. - -Newbolt, Henry, 860. - -Noel, Roden Berkeley Wriothesley, 803, 804. - -Norton, Caroline Elizabeth Sarah, 692. - - -Oldham, John, 420. - -Oldys, William, 438. - -O’Reilly, John Boyle, 831. - -O’Shaughnessy, Arthur William Edgar, 828-830. - -Otway, Thomas, 419. - - -Pagan, Isobel, 473. - -Parker, Gilbert, 861. - -Parnell, Thomas, 436. - -Patmore, Coventry, 760-764. - -Peacock, Thomas Love, 593-595. - -Peele, George, 101, 102. - -Philips, Katherine (‘Orinda’), 397. - -Philpot, William, 757. - -Poe, Edgar Allan, 694-696. - -Pope, Alexander, 440-442. - -Praed, Winthrop Mackworth, 660. - -Prior, Matthew, 422-428. - - -Quarles, Francis, 276, 277. - - -Raleigh, Sir Walter, 75-78, 122. - -Ramsay, Allan, 437. - -Randolph, Thomas, 299, 300. - -Rands, William Brighty, 755, 756. - -Reynolds, John, 177. - -Rochester, Earl of, 413-416. - -Rolleston, T. W., 849. - -Rossetti, Christina Georgina, 779-789. - -Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 771 - -Rowe, Henry, 507, 508. - -Rowlands, Richard, 165. - -Ruskin, John, 744. - -Russell, George William, 872, 873. - - -Scott, Alexander, 43, 44. - -Scott, Sir Walter, 542-548. - -Scott, William Bell, 731. - -Sedley, Sir Charles, 409, 410. - -Shakespeare, William, 56 (?), 123-164. - -Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 605-618. - -Shirley, James, 287, 288. - -Sidney, Sir Philip, 88-95. - -Sigerson, Dora, 881. - -Skelton, John, 30, 31. - -Smart, Christopher, 465. - -Smith, Alexander, 777, 778. - -Smollett, Tobias George, 464. - -Southey, Caroline, 596. - -Southey, Robert, 556. - -Southwell, Robert, 108, 109. - -Spenser, Edmund, 79-84. - -Stanley, Thomas, 394. - -Stevenson, Robert Louis, 846-848. - -Stevenson, William, 49. - -Stirling, Earl of, 221. - -Strode, William, 393. - -Suckling, Sir John, 325-328. - -Surrey, Earl of, 39-41. - -Swinburne, Algernon Charles, 808-811. - -Sylvester, Joshua, 115. - - -Taylor, Sir Henry, 656. - -Tennyson, Frederick, 688. - -Tennyson, Lord, 699-709. - -Thom, William, 655. - -Thompson, Francis, 875. - -Thomson, James, 448. - -Thomson, James, 796-799. - -Thurlow, Lord, 586. - -Todhunter, John, 814, 815. - -Traherne, Thomas, 406. - -Turner, Charles Tennyson, 693. - - -Vaughan, Henry, 362-365. - - -Wade, Thomas, 676. - -Walker, William Sidney, 639. - -Waller, Edmund, 304-306. - -Walsh, William, 429. - -Watson, William, 852-854. - -Watts, Isaac, 434, 435. - -Watts-Dunton, Theodore, 807. - -Webbe, Charles, 403. - -Webster, John, 218-220. - -Wever, Robert, 45. - -Whitman, Walt, 742, 743. - -Whittier, John Greenleaf, 690. - -Wither, George, 236-239. - -Wolfe, Charles, 603, 604. - -Woods, Margaret L., 882. - -Wordsworth, William, 515-541. - -Wotton, Sir Henry, 178-180. - -Wyatt, Sir Thomas, 34-38. - - -Yeats, William Butler, 862-864. - - - - -INDEX OF FIRST LINES - - -No. - -A Book of Verses underneath the Bough, 698 - -A child’s a plaything for an hour, 511 - -A! Fredome is a noble thing!, 9 - -A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!, 793 - -A late lark twitters from the quiet skies, 843 - -A plenteous place is Ireland for hospitable cheer, 714 - -A rose, as fair as ever saw the North, 242 - -A slumber did my spirit seal, 519 - -A star is gone! a star is gone!, 642 - -A sunny shaft did I behold, 555 - -A sweet disorder in the dress, 258 - -A thousand martyrs I have made, 412 - -A weary lot is thine, fair maid, 546 - -Above yon sombre swell of land, 673 - -Absence, hear thou my protestation, 197 - -Absent from thee, I languish still, 413 - -Accept, thou shrine of my dead saint, 280 - -Adieu, farewell earth’s bliss!, 167 - -Ae fond kiss, and then we sever, 499 - -Ah, Chloris! that I now could sit, 406 - -Ah, how sweet it is to love!, 400 - -Ah! were she pitiful as she is fair, 104 - -Ah, what avails the sceptred race, 558 - -Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon, 739 - -Alexis, here she stay’d; among these pines, 228 - -All are not taken; there are left behind, 680 - -All holy influences dwell within, 602 - -All in the April morning, 877 - -All is best, though we oft doubt, 324 - -All my past life is mine no more, 414 - -All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair, 554 - -All’s over, then: does truth sound bitter, 726 - -All the flowers of the spring, 220 - -All the words that I utter, 862 - -All thoughts, all passions, all delights, 551 - -All under the leaves and the leaves of life, 382 - -Allas! my worthy maister honorable, 13 - -Amarantha sweet and fair, 346 - -An ancient chestnut’s blossoms threw, 572 - -And, like a dying lady lean and pale, 609 - -And wilt thou leave me thus?, 35 - -Angel, king of streaming morn, 507 - -Angel spirits of sleep, 833 - -April, April, 852 - -Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?, 204 - -As doctors give physic by way of prevention, 428 - -As I in hoary winter’s night, 109 - -As I was walking all alane, 380 - -As it fell upon a day, 203 - -As one that for a weary space has lain, 841 - -As those we love decay, we die in part, 448 - -As we rush, as we rush in the Train, 796 - -As ye came from the holy land, 26 - -Ask me no more where Jove bestows, 289 - -Ask me why I send you here, 254 - -Ask not the cause why sullen Spring, 402 - -At her fair hands how have I grace entreated, 64 - -At the last, tenderly, 742 - -At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly, 585 - -Awake, Æolian lyre, awake, 455 - -Away! Away!, 462 - -Away, delights! go seek some other dwelling, 211 - -Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon, 617 - - -Bacchus must now his power resign, 445 - -Balow, my babe, lie still and sleep!, 28 - -Bards of Passion and of Mirth, 630 - -Be it right or wrong, these men among, 25 - -Beating Heart! we come again, 746 - -Beautiful must be the mountains whence ye come, 834 - -Beauty clear and fair, 215 - -Beauty sat bathing by a spring, 87 - -Behold her, single in the field, 528 - -Being your slave, what should I do but tend, 151 - -Best and brightest, come away, 606 - -Bid me to live, and I will live, 266 - -Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav’ns joy, 309 - -Blow, blow, thou winter wind, 136 - -Blown in the morning, thou shalt fade ere noon, 329 - -Bonnie Kilmeny gaed up the glen, 514 - -Brave flowers--that I could gallant it like you, 278 - -Breathes there the man with soul so dead, 547 - -Bright Star, would I were steadfast as thou art, 637 - -Bring me wine, but wine which never grew, 671 - -Busy, curious, thirsty fly!, 438 - -By feathers green, across Casbeen, 859 - -Bytuene Mershe ant Averil, 2 - - -Ca’ the yowes to the knowes, 473, 506 - -Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren, 218 - -Calm on the bosom of thy God!, 622 - -Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre, 81 - -Came, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet, 805 - -Charm me asleep, and melt me so, 263 - -Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry, 256 - -Chloe’s a Nymph in flowery groves, 395 - -Christmas knows a merry, merry place, 807 - -Clerk Saunders and may Margaret, 371 - -Cold in the earth--and the deep snow piled above thee, 736 - -Come away, come away, death, 134 - -Come, dear children, let us away, 747 - -Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height, 706 - -Come into the garden, Maud, 708 - -Come, let us now resolve at last, 417 - -Come little babe, come silly soul, 74 - -Come live with me and be my Love, 121 - -Come not in terrors clad, to claim, 596 - -Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving, 207 - -Come, Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace, 94 - -Come, spur away, 300 - -Come then, as ever, like the wind at morning!, 870 - -Come thou, who art the wine and wit, 274 - -Come unto these yellow sands, 129 - -Come, worthy Greek! Ulysses, come, 112 - -Condemn’d to Hope’s delusive mine, 451 - -Corydon, arise, my Corydon!, 57 - -Count each affliction, whether light or grave, 733 - -Crabbèd Age and Youth, 56 - -Cupid and my Campaspe play’d, 85 - -Cynthia, to thy power and thee, 208 - -Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench, 320 - - -Dark, deep, and cold the current flows, 588 - -Dark to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens, 817 - -Daughter to that good Earl, once President, 317* - -Day, like our souls, is fiercely dark, 587 - -Dear Lord, receive my son, whose winning love, 223 - -Dear love, for nothing less than thee, 199 - -Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee, 202 - -Deep on the convent-roof the snows, 703 - -‘Do you remember me? or are you proud?’, 569 - -Does the road wind uphill all the way?, 783 - -Drink to me only with thine eyes, 185 - -Drop, drop, slow tears, 222 - - -Earth has not anything to show more fair, 520 - -E’en like two little bank-dividing brooks, 276 - -Enough; and leave the rest to Fame!, 361 - -Even such is Time, that takes in trust, 78 - -Ever let the Fancy roam, 631 - - -Fain would I change that note, 68 - -Fair Amoret is gone astray, 432 - -Fair and fair, and twice so fair, 101 - -Fair daffodils, we weep to see, 252 - -Fair is my Love and cruel as she’s fair, 113 - -Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, 253 - -Fair ship, that from the Italian shore, 707 - -Fair stood the wind for France, 119 - -False though she be to me and love, 431 - -False world, good night! since thou hast brough, 190 - -Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, 153 - -Fear no more the heat o’ the sun, 140 - -Fine knacks for ladies! cheap, choice, brave, and new, 58 - -First came the primrose, 767 - -Flowers nodding gaily, scent in air, 874 - -Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race, 308 - -Fly hence, shadows, that do keep, 235 - -Follow a shadow, it still flies you, 187 - -Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow!, 170 - -Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet!, 171 - -Foolish prater, what dost thou, 351 - -For a name unknown, 857 - -For her gait, if she be walking, 243 - -For knighthood is not in the feats of warre, 32 - -Forbear, bold youth; all’s heaven here, 397 - -Forget not yet the tried intent, 34 - -Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin, 114 - -Fresh Spring, the herald of loves mighty king, 79 - -From harmony, from heavenly harmony, 399 - -From low to high doth dissolution climb, 539 - -From the forests and highlands, 605 - -From you have I been absent in the spring, 157 - -From you, Ianthe, little troubles pass, 559 - -Full fathom five thy father lies, 131 - - -Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, 248 - -Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn, 247 - -Give a man a horse he can ride, 798 - -Give all to love, 669 - -Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, 77 - -Give pardon, blessèd soul, to my bold cries, 110 - -Give place, you ladies, and begone!, 53 - -Go and catch a falling star, 196 - -Go fetch to me a pint o’ wine, 496 - -Go, for they call you, Shepherd, from the hill, 751 - -Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand, 684 - -Go, lovely Rose, 305 - -God Lyæus, ever young, 214 - -God of our fathers, known of old, 867 - -God who created me, 855 - -Gone were but the winter cold, 591 - -Good-morrow to the day so fair, 268 - -Great men have been among us; hands that penn’d, 525 - - -Had we but world enough, and time, 357 - -Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove!, 476 - -Hail holy light, ofspring of Heav’n first-born, 322 - -Hail, sister springs, 337 - -Hail to thee, blithe spirit!, 608 - -Hallow the threshold, crown the posts anew!, 332 - -Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be, 590 - -Happy those early days, when I, 362 - -Hark! ah, the Nightingale, 752 - -Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings, 139 - -Hark! Now everything is still, 219 - -Hark! the mavis’ evening sang, 506 - -He first deceased; she for a little tried, 180 - -He has conn’d the lesson now, 660 - -He that is by Mooni now, 827 - -He that is down needs fear no fall, 366 - -He that loves a rosy cheek, 292 - -He who has once been happy is for aye, 818 - -Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes, 715 - -Hear the voice of the Bard, 488 - -Hear, ye ladies that despise, 213 - -Helen, thy beauty is to me, 694 - -Hence, all you vain delights, 216 - -Hence, heart, with her that must depart, 43 - -Hence loathed Melancholy, 310 - -Hence vain deluding joyes, 311 - -Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee, 262 - -Here a little child I stand, 271 - -Here a pretty baby lies, 273 - -Here, ever since you went abroad, 567 - -Here in this sequester’d close, 824 - -Here she lies, a pretty bud, 272 - -Hey nonny no!, 59 - -Hey! now the day dawis, 48 - -Hierusalem, my happy home, 61 - -High-spirited friend, 191 - -Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be, 92 - -His golden locks Time hath to silver turn’d, 102 - -How happy is he born and taught, 179 - -How like a Winter hath my absence been, 156 - -How many times do I love thee, dear?, 668 - -How near me came the hand of Death, 239 - -How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, 458 - -How vainly men themselves amaze, 359 - -Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber, 435 - -Hyd, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere, 11 - - -I am that which began, 809 - -I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows?, 621 - -I arise from dreams of thee, 611 - -I ask no kind return of love, 475 - -I came into the City and none knew me, 878 - -I cannot change as others do, 415 - -I cannot eat but little meat, 49 - -I dare not ask a kiss, 250 - -I did but look and love awhile, 419 - -I did not choose thee, dearest. It was Love, 819 - -I do confess thou’rt smooth and fair, 182 - -I do not love thee!--no! I do not love thee!, 692 - -I dream’d that, as I wander’d by the way, 616 - -I dug, beneath the cypress shade, 594 - -I feed a flame within, which so torments me, 401 - -I flung me round him, 803 - -I got me flowers to straw Thy way, 282 - -I have a mistress, for perfections rare, 299 - -I have had playmates, I have had companions, 577 - -I intended an Ode, 825 - -I know a little garden-close, 802 - -I know a thing that’s most uncommon, 440 - -I know my soul hath power to know all things, 181 - -I left thee last, a child at heart, 678 - -I long have had a quarrel set with Time, 823 - -I loved a lass, a fair one, 236 - -I loved him not; and yet now he is gone, 557 - -I loved thee once; I’ll love no more, 183 - -I made another garden, yea, 829 - -I mind me in the days departed, 679 - -I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong, 879 - -I, my dear, was born to-day, 425 - -I play’d with you ’mid cowslips blowing, 593 - -I pray thee, leave, love me no more, 116 - -I said--Then, dearest, since ’tis so, 727 - -I saw fair Chloris walk alone, 393 - -I saw my Lady weep, 66 - -I saw old Autumn in the misty morn, 647 - -I saw where in the shroud did lurk, 579 - -I sent a ring--a little band, 641 - -I sing of a maiden, 23 - -I strove with none, for none was worth my strife, 576 - -I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless, 681 - -I that in heill was and gladnèss, 21 - -I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide, 538 - -I thought once how Theocritus had sung, 682 - -I thought to meet no more, so dreary seem’d, 620 - -I took my heart in my hand, 782 - -I travell’d among unknown men, 517 - -I wander’d lonely as a cloud, 530 - -I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, 864 - -I will make you brooches and toys for your delight, 846 - -I wish I were where Helen lies, 387 - -I, with whose colours Myra dress’d her head, 96 - -Ichot a burde in boure bryht, 4 - -I’d a dream to-night, 658 - -I’d wed you without herds, without money or rich array, 713 - -I’m sittin’ on the stile, Mary, 691 - -I’m wearin’ awa’, John, 512 - -I’ve heard them lilting at our ewe-milking, 466 - -If all the world and love were young, 122 - -If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, 459 - -If doughty deeds my lady please, 469 - -If I had thought thou couldst have died, 604 - -‘If I were dead, you’d sometimes say, Poor Child!’, 761 - -If rightly tuneful bards decide, 461 - -If the quick spirits in your eye, 290 - -If the red slayer think he slays, 672 - -If there were dreams to sell, 667 - -If thou must love me, let it be for naught, 685 - -If thou wilt ease thine heart, 666 - -If to be absent were to be, 344 - -If you go over desert and mountain, 830 - -In a drear-nighted December, 632 - -In a harbour grene aslepe whereas I lay, 45 - -In a quiet water’d land, a land of roses, 849 - -In a valley of this restles mind, 24 - -In after days when grasses high, 826 - -In Clementina’s artless mien, 568 - -In going to my naked bed as one that would have slept, 46 - -In Scarlet town, where I was born, 389 - -In somer when the shawes be sheyne, 22 - -In the hall the coffin waits, and the idle armourer stands, 768 - -In the highlands, in the country places, 847 - -In the hour of death, after this life’s whim, 883 - -In the hour of my distress, 275 - -In the merry month of May, 73 - -In Xanadu did Kubla Khan, 550 - -Into the silver night, 845 - -Into the skies, one summer’s day, 756 - -Is it so small a thing, 754 - -It fell about the Martinmas, 374 - -It fell in the ancient periods, 670 - -It fell on a day, and a bonnie simmer day, 377 - -It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, 521 - -It is an ancient Mariner, 549 - -It is not, Celia, in our power, 405 - -It is not death, that sometime in a sigh, 649 - -It is not growing like a tree, 194 - -It is not to be thought of that the flood, 526 - -It is the miller’s daughter, 701 - -It was a dismal and a fearful night, 352 - -It was a lover and his lass, 137 - -It was a’ for our rightfu’ King, 505 - -It was many and many a year ago, 695 - -It was not in the Winter, 651 - -It was not like your great and gracious ways!, 762 - -It was the Winter wilde, 307 - -Its edges foam’d with amethyst and rose, 873 - - -Jenny kiss’d me when we met, 592 - -John Anderson, my jo, John, 497 - - -Know, Celia, since thou art so proud, 293 - - -Ladies, though to your conquering eyes, 404 - -Late at een, drinkin’ the wine, 370 - -Lawrence of vertuous Father vertuous Son, 319 - -Lay a garland on my herse, 209 - -Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust, 95 - -Lenten ys come with love to toune, 3 - -Lestenyt, lordynges, both elde and yinge, 7 - -Let me go forth, and share, 853 - -Let me not to the marriage of true minds, 162 - -Let the bird of loudest lay, 144 - -Let us drink and be merry, dance, joke, and rejoice, 335 - -Life! I know not what thou art, 474 - -Like the Idalian queen, 225 - -Like thee I once have stemm’d the sea of life, 472 - -Like to Diana in her summer weed, 103 - -Like to the clear in highest sphere, 100 - -Lo, quhat it is to love, 44 - -London, thou art of townes _A per se_, 19 - -Long-expected One-and-twenty, 450 - -Look not thou on beauty’s charming, 544 - -Lords, knights, and squires, the numerous band, 423 - -Loud mockers in the roaring street, 869 - -Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back, 286 - -Love guards the roses of thy lips, 99 - -Love in fantastic triumph sate, 411 - -Love in my bosom like a bee, 97 - -Love is a sickness full of woes, 111 - -Love is enough: though the World be a-waning, 801 - -Love is the blossom where there blows, 233 - -Love not me for comely grace, 71 - -Love, thou art absolute, sole Lord, 338 - -Love thy country, wish it well, 443 - -Love wing’d my Hopes and taught me how to fly, 62 - - -Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane, 375 - -Mark where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like, 775 - -Martial, the things that do attain, 41 - -Marvel of marvels, if I myself shall behold, 785 - -Mary! I want a lyre with other strings, 470 - -May! Be thou never graced with birds that sing, 245 - -May! queen of blossoms, 586 - -Me so oft my fancy drew, 238 - -Men grew sae cauld, maids sae unkind, 655 - -Merry Margaret, 31 - -Methought I saw my late espousèd Saint, 321 - -Mild is the parting year, and sweet, 565 - -Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour, 524 - -More love or more disdain I crave, 403 - -Mortality, behold and fear!, 234 - -Most glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day, 84 - -Mother, I cannot mind my wheel, 564 - -Mother of Hermes! and still youthful Maia!, 629 - -Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold, 634 - -Music, when soft voices die, 618 - -My blood so red, 385 - -My Damon was the first to wake, 480 - -My days among the Dead are past, 556 - -My dear and only Love, I pray, 334 - -My delight and thy delight, 832 - -My faint spirit was sitting in the light, 613 - -My grief on the sea, 858 - -My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains, 624 - -My heart is high above, my body is full of bliss, 52 - -My heart is like a singing bird, 780 - -My heart leaps up when I behold, 532 - -My little Son, who look’d from thoughtful eyes, 763 - -My Love in her attire doth show her wit, 63 - -My love is strengthen’d, though more weak in seeming, 158 - -My love o’er the water bends dreaming, 797 - -My lute, awake! perform the last, 38 - -My mother bore me in the southern wild, 487 - -My new-cut ashlar takes the light, 865 - -My noble, lovely, little Peggy, 427 - -My Peggy is a young thing, 437 - -My Phillis hath the morning sun, 98 - -My silks and fine array, 485 - -My soul, sit thou a patient looker-on, 277 - -My soul, there is a country, 363 - -My thoughts hold mortal strife, 230 - -My true love hath my heart, and I have his, 88 - - -Nay but you, who do not love her, 721 - -Near to the silver Trent, 118 - -Never seek to tell thy love, 492 - -Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore, 176 - -New doth the sun appear, 231 - -News from a foreign country came, 406 - -No coward soul is mine, 738 - -No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist, 628 - -No thyng ys to man so dere, 8 - -Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away, 730 - -Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, 603 - -Not, Celia, that I juster am, 410 - -‘Not ours,’ say some, ‘the thought of death to dread, 854 - -Not unto us, O Lord, 876 - -Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white, 705 - -Now the lusty spring is seen, 212 - -Now the North wind ceases, 774 - -Now winter nights enlarge, 174 - -Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room, 533 - - -O, Brignall banks are wild and fair, 543 - -O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, 743 - -O Christ of God! whose life and death, 690 - -O come, soft rest of cares! come, Night!, 107 - -O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes, 789 - -O fly, my Soul! What hangs upon, 287 - -O fly not, Pleasure, pleasant-hearted Pleasure, 816 - -O for some honest lover’s ghost, 325 - -O for the mighty wakening that aroused, 676 - -O friend! I know not which way I must look, 523 - -O goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung, 626 - -O happy dames! that may embrace, 40 - -O happy Tithon! if thou know’st thy hap, 221 - -O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem, 150 - -O, I hae come from far away, 731 - -O joy of creation, 813 - -O lusty May, with Flora queen!, 51 - -O many a day have I made good ale in the glen, 638 - -O Mary, at thy window be, 493 - -O Mary, go and call the cattle home, 740 - -O Memory, thou fond deceiver, 468 - -O mistress mine, where are you roaming?, 133 - -O mortal folk, you may behold and see, 33 - -O my Dark Rosaleen, 664 - -O my deir hert, young Jesus sweit, 384 - -O my Luve’s like a red, red rose, 503 - -O never say that I was false of heart, 161 - -O perfect Light, which shaid away, 106 - -O ruddier than the cherry!, 439 - -O saw ye bonnie Lesley, 500 - -O saw ye not fair Ines?, 650 - -O sing unto my roundelay, 479 - -O sleep, my babe, hear not the rippling wave, 661 - -O soft embalmer of the still midnight!, 636 - -O Sorrow!, 623 - -O that ’twere possible, 709 - -O the sad day!, 407 - -O thou, by Nature taught, 457 - -O thou that swing’st upon the waving hair, 347 - -O thou undaunted daughter of desires!, 339 - -O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down, 484 - -O Time! who know’st a lenient hand to lay, 509 - -O, to be in England, 729 - -O turn away those cruel eyes, 394 - -O waly, waly, up the bank, 388 - -O were my Love yon lilac fair, 502 - -O western wind, when wilt thou blow, 27 - -O wha will shoe my bonny foot?, 369 - -O what a plague is love!, 392 - -O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, 633 - -‘O which is the last rose?’, 851 - -O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being, 610 - -O world, be nobler, for her sake!, 871 - -O world, in very truth thou art too young, 822 - -O yonge fresshe folkes, he or she, 10 - -O, you plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes, 814 - -Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw, 494 - -Of all the flowers rising now, 757 - -Of all the girls that are so smart, 444 - -Of all the torments, all the cares, 429 - -Of Nelson and the North, 581 - -Of Neptune’s empire let us sing, 173 - -Of on that is so fayr and bright, 6 - -Oft, in the stilly night, 584 - -Often I think of the beautiful town, 689 - -Oh how comely it is and how reviving, 323 - -On a day--alack the day!, 124 - -On a starr’d night Prince Lucifer uprose, 776 - -On a time the amorous Silvy, 72 - -On either side the river lie, 700 - -On parent knees, a naked new-born child, 478 - -On the deck of Patrick Lynch’s boat I sat in woful plight, 734 - -On the Sabbath-day, 778 - -On the wide level of a mountain’s head, 553 - -Once did she hold the gorgeous East in fee, 522 - -One more Unfortunate, 654 - -One word is too often profaned, 615 - -Only tell her that I love, 421 - -O’re the smooth enameld green, 312 - -Orpheus with his lute made trees, 143 - -Others abide our question. Thou art free, 753 - -Out of the night that covers me, 842 - -Out upon it, I have loved, 326 - -Over hill, over dale, 127 - -Over the mountains, 391 - -Over the sea our galleys went, 716 - - -Pack, clouds, away! and welcome, day!, 205 - -Passing away, saith the World, passing away, 784 - -Passions are liken’d best to floods and streams, 75 - -Past ruin’d Ilion Helen lives, 561 - -Peace, Shepherd, peace! What boots it singing on?, 882 - -Perfect little body, without fault or stain on thee, 837 - -Phœbus, arise!, 224 - -Piping down the valleys wild, 486 - -Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth, 164 - -Praise is devotion fit for mighty minds, 303 - -Pray but one prayer for me ’twixt thy closed lips, 800 - -Proud Maisie is in the wood, 542 - -Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak, 562 - -Pure stream, in whose transparent wave, 464 - -Put your head, darling, darling, darling, 712 - - -Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, 184 - -Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose, 449 - -Quhen Flora had o’erfret the firth, 50 - -Quoth tongue of neither maid nor wife, 656 - - -Remain, ah not in youth alone!, 566 - -Remember me when I am gone away, 787 - -Return, return! all night my lamp is burning, 766 - -‘Rise,’ said the Master, ‘come unto the feast’, 711 - -Robin sat on gude green hill, 16 - -Roll forth, my song, like the rushing river, 665 - -Rorate coeli desuper!, 20 - -Rose-cheek’d Laura, come, 169 - -Roses, their sharp spines being gone, 141 - -Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, 725 - - -Sabrina fair, 315 - -Safe where I cannot die yet, 786 - -Say, crimson Rose and dainty Daffodil, 177 - -Say not the struggle naught availeth, 741 - -Says Tweed to Till, 383 - -Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frown’d, 534 - -Seamen three! What men be ye?, 595 - -Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!, 627 - -See how the flowers, as at parade, 356 - -See the Chariot at hand here of Love, 188 - -See where she sits upon the grassie greene, 80 - -See with what simplicity, 358 - -See yon blithe child that dances in our sight!, 662 - -Sense with keenest edge unusèd, 838 - -Seven weeks of sea, and twice seven days of storm, 821 - -Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?, 145 - -Shall I strew on thee rose or rue or laurel, 810 - -Shall I thus ever long, and be no whit the neare?, 54 - -Shall I, wasting in despair, 237 - -She beat the happy pavèment, 345 - -She dwelt among the untrodden ways, 516 - -She fell away in her first ages spring, 83 - -She is not fair to outward view, 644 - -She knelt upon her brother’s grave, 790 - -She pass’d away like morning dew, 645 - -She stood breast-high amid the corn, 652 - -She walks in beauty, like the night, 600 - -She walks--the lady of my delight, 880 - -She was a phantom of delight, 529 - -She was a queen of noble Nature’s crowning, 643 - -She who to Heaven more Heaven doth annex, 333 - -She’s somewhere in the sunlight strong, 868 - -Should auld acquaintance be forgot, 495 - -Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night, 261 - -Since all that I can ever do for thee, 795 - -Since first I saw your face I resolved to honour and renown ye, 69 - -Since I noo mwore do zee your feäce, 659 - -Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part, 117 - -Sing his praises that doth keep, 210 - -Sing lullaby, as women do, 47 - -Sister, awake! close not your eyes!, 67 - -Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, 490 - -So shuts the marigold her leaves, 244 - -So, we’ll go no more a-roving, 599 - -Softly, O midnight Hours!, 732 - -Some vex their souls with jealous pain, 418 - -Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife, 545 - -Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king, 166 - -Stand close around, ye Stygian set, 571 - -Stay, O sweet, and do not rise!, 195 - -Steer, hither steer your wingèd pines, 241 - -Stern Daughter of the voice of God!, 531 - -Still do the stars impart their light, 331 - -Still let my tyrants know, I am not doom’d to wear, 737 - -Still to be neat, still to be drest, 186 - -Strange fits of passion have I known, 515 - -Strew on her roses, roses, 750 - -Sublime--invention ever young, 465 - -Sumer is icumen in, 1 - -Summer set lip to earth’s bosom bare, 875 - -Sure thou didst flourish once! and many springs, 364 - -Surprised by joy--impatient as the Wind, 537 - -Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow, 811 - -Sweet are the rosy memories of the lips, 794 - -Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes, 264 - -Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 281 - -Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph that liv’st unseen, 314 - -Sweet in her green dell the flower of beauty slumbers, 640 - -Sweet rois of vertew and of gentilness, 18 - -Sweet Spring, thou turn’st with all thy goodly train, 227 - -Sweet western wind, whose luck it is, 249 - -Sweetest Saviour, if my soul, 284 - -Swiftly walk over the western wave, 612 - -Take, O take those lips away, 138 - -Tary no longer; toward thyn heritage, 14 - -Tell me not of a face that’s fair, 354 - -Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind, 343 - -Tell me not what too well I know, 570 - -Tell me where is Fancy bred, 132 - -Th’ expense of Spirit in a waste of shame, 163 - -Thank Heaven! the crisis, 696 - -That time of year thou may’st in me behold, 152 - -That which her slender waist confined, 304 - -That zephyr every year, 226 - -The beauty and the life, 229 - -The blessèd Damozel lean’d out, 771 - -The boat is chafing at our long delay, 850 - -The chough and crow to roost are gone, 510 - -The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 453 - -The day begins to droop, 839 - -The days are sad, it is the Holy tide, 688 - -The fierce exulting worlds, the motes in rays, 777 - -The forward youth that would appear, 355 - -The glories of our blood and state, 288 - -The gray sea and the long black land, 724 - -The Indian weed witherèd quite, 390 - -The irresponsive silence of the land, 788 - -The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!, 601 - -The king sits in Dunfermline town, 368 - -The Lady Mary Villiers lies, 294 - -The lark now leaves his wat’ry nest, 301 - -The last and greatest Herald of Heaven’s King, 232 - -The leaves are falling; so am I, 575 - -The linnet in the rocky dells, 735 - -The loppèd tree in time may grow again, 108 - -The lovely lass o’ Inverness, 504 - -The man of life upright, 175 - -The merchant, to secure his treasure, 424 - -The moth’s kiss, first!, 723 - -The murmur of the mourning ghost, 765 - -The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth, 91 - -The rain set early in to-night, 720 - -The red rose whispers of passion, 831 - -The reivers they stole Fair Annie, 372 - -The ring, so worn as you behold, 482 - -The Rose was sick and smiling died, 255 - -The seas are quiet when the winds give o’er, 306 - -The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings, 39 - -The spacious firmament on high, 433 - -The splendour falls on castle walls, 704 - -The Star that bids the Shepherd fold, 313 - -The sun descending in the west, 491 - -The sun rises bright in France, 589 - -The thirsty earth soaks up the rain, 349 - -The twentieth year is wellnigh past, 471 - -The wine of Love is music, 799 - -The world is too much with us; late and soon, 535 - -The world’s great age begins anew, 607 - -The year’s at the spring, 718 - -The young May moon is beaming, love, 582 - -Thee too, modest tressèd maid, 508 - -Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now, 154 - -There ance was a may, and she lo’ed na men, 430 - -There are two births; the one when light, 330 - -There be none of Beauty’s daughters, 598 - -There is a garden in her face, 168 - -There is a Lady sweet and kind, 70 - -There is a mountain and a wood between us, 574 - -There is a silence where hath been no sound, 648 - -There is sweet music here that softer falls, 702 - -There lived a wife at Usher’s well, 378 - -There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, 536 - -There were three ravens sat on a tree, 379 - -There were twa sisters sat in a bour, 376 - -There’s a glade in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe, 815 - -There’s a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield, 866 - -There’s a woman like a dew-drop, she’s so purer than the purest, 722 - -There’s not a nook within this silent Pass, 540 - -They are all gone into the world of light!, 365 - -They are waiting on the shore, 804 - -They flee from me that sometime did me seek, 37 - -They seem’d, to those who saw them meet, 710 - -They that have power to hurt and will do none, 155 - -They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, 759 - -They all were looking for a king, 770 - -This ae nighte, this ae nighte, 381 - -This hinder yeir I hard be tald, 17 - -This is a spray the Bird clung to, 728 - -This little vault, this narrow room, 295 - -This winter’s weather it waxeth cold, 29 - -Thou art to all lost love the best, 267 - -Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness, 625 - -Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies, 398 - -Though beauty be the mark of praise, 189 - -Three years she grew in sun and shower, 518 - -Through grief and through danger thy smile hath cheer’d my way, 583 - -Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts, 748 - -Throw away Thy rod, 283 - -Thus the Mayne glideth, 717 - -Thus when the silent grave becomes, 447 - -Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts, 148 - -Thy restless feet now cannot go, 341 - -Thy soul within such silent pomp did keep, 420 - -Tiger, tiger, burning bright, 489 - -Time is the feather’d thing, 296 - -’Tis a dull sight, 697 - -To all you ladies now at land, 408 - -To fair Fidele’s grassy tomb, 460 - -To live within a cave--it is most good, 792 - -To me, fair friend, you never can be old, 159 - -To mute and to material things, 548 - -To my true king I offer’d free from stain, 657 - -To the Ocean now I fly, 316 - -To these whom death again did wed, 342 - -To-day, all day, I rode upon the down, 820 - -To-night retired, the queen of heaven, 463 - -Too late for love, too late for joy, 779 - -Too solemn for day, too sweet for night, 639 - -Tossing his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles, 812 - -True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank, 367 - -Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet?, 744 - -’Twas on a lofty vase’s side, 456 - -’Twas the dream of a God, 881 - -Twenty years hence my eyes may grow, 560 - - -Under the greenwood tree, 135 - -Under the wide and starry sky, 848 - -Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward, 772 - -Underneath this myrtle shade, 350 - -Underneath this sable herse, 246 - -Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!, 683 - -Up the airy mountain, 769 - -Upon my lap my sovereign sits, 165 - -Urns and odours bring away!, 142 - -Venus, take my votive glass, 426 - -Verse, a breeze ’mid blossoms straying, 552 - -Vital spark of heav’nly flame!, 442 - - -Waes-hael for knight and dame!, 674 - -We are the music-makers, 828 - -We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest, 340 - -We see them not--we cannot hear, 675 - -We, that did nothing study but the way, 279 - -We watch’d her breathing thro’ the night, 653 - -We’ve trod the maze of error round, 481 - -Weave the warp, and weave the woof, 454 - -Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan, 217 - -Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, 105 - -Weep with me, all you that read, 193 - -Weep you no more, sad fountains, 65 - -Welcome, maids of honour!, 251 - -Welcome, welcome! do I sing, 240 - -Well then! I now do plainly see, 353 - -Were I as base as is the lowly plain, 115 - -Wharefore sou’d ye talk o’ love, 619 - -What beck’ning ghost, along the moonlight shade, 441 - -What bird so sings, yet so does wail?, 86 - -What conscience, say, is it in thee, 265 - -What have I done for you, 844 - -What is your substance, whereof are you made, 149 - -What needs complaints, 269 - -What nymph should I admire or trust, 422 - -What should I say?, 36 - -What sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see, 42 - -What was he doing, the great god Pan, 687 - -When by Zeus relenting the mandate was revoked, 773 - -When, Cœlia, must my old day set, 396 - -When daisies pied and violets blue, 125 - -When, dearest, I but think of thee, 328 - -When Death to either shall come, 840 - -When Delia on the plain appears, 449 - -When God at first made Man, 285 - -When I am dead, my dearest, 781 - -When I consider how my light is spent, 318 - -When I have borne in memory what has tamed, 527 - -When I have fears that I may cease to be, 635 - -When I survey the bright, 298 - -When icicles hang by the wall, 126 - -When, in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes, 146 - -When in the chronicle of wasted time, 160 - -When Jessie comes with her soft breast, 791 - -When Letty had scarce pass’d her third glad year, 693 - -When like the early rose, 663 - -When Love arose in heart and deed, 755 - -When Love with unconfinèd wings, 348 - -When lovely woman stoops to folly, 467 - -When maidens such as Hester die, 578 - -When my love was away, 836 - -When our two souls stand up erect and strong, 686 - -When the breath of twilight blows to flame the misty skies, 872 - -When the fierce North-wind with his airy forces, 434 - -When the hounds of spring are on winter’s traces, 808 - -When the lamp is shatter’d, 614 - -When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame, 477 - -When the world is burning, 745 - -When thou must home to shades of underground, 172 - -When thou, poor Excommunicate, 291 - -When thy beauty appears, 436 - -When to the Sessions of sweet silent thought, 147 - -When we two parted, 597 - -When we were idlers with the loitering rills, 646 - -When you and I have play’d the little hour, 861 - -When you are old and gray and full of sleep, 863 - -Whenas in silks my Julia goes, 259 - -Where, like a pillow on a bed, 198 - -Where the bee sucks, there suck I, 130 - -Where the pools are bright and deep, 513 - -Where the remote Bermudas ride, 360 - -Whether on Ida’s shady brow, 483 - -While that the sun with his beams hot, 55 - -Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding, 835 - -Who hath his fancy pleased, 89 - -Who is it that, this dark night, 90 - -Who is Silvia? What is she?, 123 - -Whoe’er she be, 336 - -Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm, 200 - -Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant, 541 - -Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude, 373 - -Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why, 416 - -Why, having won her, do I woo?, 760 - -Why I tie about thy wrist, 260 - -Why so pale and wan, fond lover?, 327 - -Why, why repine, my pensive friend, 563 - -Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun, 201 - -With all my will, but much against my heart, 764 - -With blackest moss the flower-plots, 699 - -With deep affection, 677 - -With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb’st the skies!, 93 - -With leaden foot Time creeps along, 452 - -With lifted feet, hands still, 856 - -With margerain gentle, 30 - -Worschippe ye that loveris bene this May, 15 - -Wouldst thou hear what Man can say, 192 - -Wrong not, sweet empress of my heart, 76 - -Wynter wakeneth al my care, 5 - - -Years, many parti-colour’d years, 573 - -Ye banks and braes and streams around, 501 - -Ye blushing virgins happy are, 297 - -Ye flowery banks o’ bonnie Doon, 498 - -Ye have been fresh and green, 270 - -‘Ye have robb’d,’ said he, ‘ye have slaughter’d and made an end, 860 - -Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands, 386 - -Ye learnèd sisters, which have oftentimes, 82 - -Ye little birds that sit and sing, 206 - -Ye Mariners of England, 580 - -Yes: in the sea of life enisled, 749 - -Yet if His Majesty, our sovereign lord, 60 - -Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more, 317 - -You are a tulip seen to-day, 257 - -You brave heroic minds, 120 - -You meaner beauties of the night, 178 - -You must be sad; for though it is to Heaven, 806 - -You promise heavens free from strife, 758 - -You spotted snakes with double tongue, 128 - -You’ll love me yet!--and I can tarry, 719 - -Your beauty, ripe and calm and fresh, 302 - -Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly, 12 - - -PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, OXFORD -BY JOHN JOHNSON, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OXFORD BOOK OF ENGLISH VERSE; -1250-1900 *** - -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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margin-left: 8em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} -.poem span.i12 {display: block; margin-left: 12em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - - -tr {vertical-align:top;} - -</style> - </head> -<body> - -<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Oxford Book of English Verse; 1250-1900, by Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Oxford Book of English Verse; 1250-1900</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Various</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Editor: Arthur Thomas Quiller-Couch</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 27, 2021 [eBook #66619]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images available at The Internet Archive)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OXFORD BOOK OF ENGLISH VERSE; 1250-1900 ***</div> -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="figcenter"> -<a href="images/cover.jpg"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" -height="550" alt="[Image of -the book's cover unavailable.]" /></a> -</p> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="" -style="border: 2px black solid;margin:auto auto;max-width:50%; -padding:1%;"> -<tr><td> - -<p class="c"><a href="#CONTENTS">Contents.</a><br /> -<a href="#INDEX_OF_AUTHORS">Index of Authors.</a><br /> -<a href="#INDEX_OF_FIRST_LINES">Index of First Lines.</a></p> -<p class="c">(etext transcriber's note)</p></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_i" id="page_i">{i}</a></span></p> - -<h1>The<br /> -Oxford Book<br /> -Of English Verse<br /><br /> -1250-1900 -</h1> - -<p class="c"><i>Impression of 1931</i><br /> -<i>First edition, 1900</i> -</p> - -<h1> -The<br /> -Oxford Book<br /> -Of English Verse<br /> -1250-1900<br /></h1> - -<p class="c">Chosen & Edited by<br /><br /> -<big>Arthur Quiller-Couch</big><br /><br /> - -Oxford<br /> -At the Clarendon Press -<br /><br /><small> -PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN</small> -<br /><br /><br /> -<br /> -TO -<br /><br /> -THE PRESIDENT<br /><br /> - -FELLOWS AND SCHOLARS<br /><br /> - -OF<br /><br /> - -TRINITY COLLEGE OXFORD<br /><br /> - -A HOUSE OF LEARNING<br /><br /> - -ANCIENT LIBERAL HUMANE<br /><br /> - -AND MY MOST KINDLY NURSE -</p> - -<h2>PREFACE</h2> - -<p>For this Anthology I have tried to range over the whole field of English -Verse from the beginning, or from the Thirteenth Century to this closing -year of the Nineteenth, and to choose the best. Nor have I sought in -these Islands only, but wheresoever the Muse has followed the tongue -which among living tongues she most delights to honour. To bring home -and render so great a spoil compendiously has been my capital -difficulty. It is for the reader to judge if I have so managed it as to -serve those who already love poetry and to implant that love in some -young minds not yet initiated.</p> - -<p>My scheme is simple. I have arranged the poets as nearly as possible in -order of birth, with such groupings of anonymous pieces as seemed -convenient. For convenience, too, as well as to avoid a dispute-royal, I -have gathered the most of the Ballads into the middle of the Seventeenth -Century; where they fill a languid interval between two winds of -inspiration—the Italian dying down with Milton and the French following -at the heels of the restored Royalists. For convenience, again, I have -set myself certain rules of spelling. In the very earliest poems -inflection and spelling are structural, and to modernize is to destroy. -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_viii" id="page_viii">{viii}</a></span>But as old inflections fade into modern the old spelling becomes less -and less vital, and has been brought (not, I hope, too abruptly) into -line with that sanctioned by use and familiar. To do this seemed wiser -than to discourage many readers for the sake of diverting others by a -scent of antiquity which—to be essential—should breathe of something -rarer than an odd arrangement of type. But there are scholars whom I -cannot expect to agree with me; and to conciliate them I have excepted -Spenser and Milton from the rule.</p> - -<p>Glosses of archaic and otherwise difficult words are given at the foot -of the page: but the text has not been disfigured with reference-marks. -And rather than make the book unwieldy I have eschewed -notes—reluctantly when some obscure passage or allusion seemed to ask -for a timely word; with more equanimity when the temptation was to -criticize or ‘appreciate.’ For the function of the anthologist includes -criticizing in silence.</p> - -<p>Care has been taken with the texts. But I have sometimes thought it -consistent with the aim of the book to prefer the more beautiful to the -better attested reading. I have often excised weak or superfluous -stanzas when sure that excision would improve; and have not hesitated to -extract a few stanzas from a long poem when persuaded that they could -stand alone as a lyric. The apology for such experiments can only lie in -their success: but the risk is one which, in my judgement, the -anthologist ought to take. A few small corrections have been made, but -only when they were quite obvious.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_ix" id="page_ix">{ix}</a></span></p> - -<p>The numbers chosen are either lyrical or epigrammatic. Indeed I am -mistaken if a single epigram included fails to preserve at least some -faint thrill of the emotion through which it had to pass before the -Muse’s lips let it fall, with however exquisite deliberation. But the -lyrical spirit is volatile and notoriously hard to bind with -definitions; and seems to grow wilder with the years. With the -anthologist—as with the fisherman who knows the fish at the end of his -sea-line—the gift, if he have it, comes by sense, improved by practice. -The definition, if he be clever enough to frame one, comes by -after-thought. I don’t know that it helps, and am sure that it may -easily mislead.</p> - -<p>Having set my heart on choosing the best, I resolved not to be dissuaded -by common objections against anthologies—that they repeat one another -until the proverb δὶς ἢ τρὶς τὰ καλά loses all application—or perturbed -if my judgement should often agree with that of good critics. The best -is the best, though a hundred judges have declared it so; nor had it -been any feat to search out and insert the second-rate merely because it -happened to be recondite. To be sure, a man must come to such a task as -mine haunted by his youth and the favourites he loved in days when he -had much enthusiasm but little reading.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i12"><span class="letra">A</span> DEEPER import<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lurks in the legend told my infant years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than lies upon that truth we live to learn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>Few of my contemporaries can erase—or would wish to erase—the dye -their minds took from the late Mr. Palgrav<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_x" id="page_x">{x}</a></span>e’s <i>Golden Treasury</i>: and he -who has returned to it again and again with an affection born of -companionship on many journeys must remember not only what the <i>Golden -Treasury</i> includes, but the moment when this or that poem appealed to -him, and even how it lies on the page. To Mr. Bullen’s <i>Lyrics from the -Elizabethan Song Books</i> and his other treasuries I own a more advised -debt. Nor am I free of obligation to anthologies even more recent—to -Archbishop Trench’s <i>Household Book of Poetry</i>, Mr. Locker-Lampson’s -<i>Lyra Elegantiarum</i>, Mr. Miles’ <i>Poets and Poetry of the Century</i>, Mr. -Beeching’s <i>Paradise of English Poetry</i>, Mr. Henley’s <i>English Lyrics</i>, -Mrs. Sharp’s <i>Lyra Celtica</i>, Mr. Yeats’ <i>Book of Irish Verse</i>, and Mr. -Churton Collins’ <i>Treasury of Minor British Poetry</i>: though my rule has -been to consult these after making my own choice. Yet I can claim that -the help derived from them—though gratefully owned—bears but a -trifling proportion to the labour, special and desultory, which has gone -to the making of my book.</p> - -<p>For the anthologist’s is not quite the <i>dilettante</i> business for which -it is too often and ignorantly derided. I say this, and immediately -repent; since my wish is that the reader should in his own pleasure -quite forget the editor’s labour, which too has been pleasant: that, -standing aside, I may believe this book has made the Muses’ access -easier when, in the right hour, they come to him to uplift or to -console—</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">ἄκλητος μὲν ἔγωγε μὲνοιμί κεν ἐς δὲ καλεύντων<br /></span> -<span class="i0">θαρσήσας Μοίσαισι σὺν ἁμετέραισιν ἱκοίμαν<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xi" id="page_xi">{xi}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p>My thanks are here tendered to those who have helped me with permission -to include recent poems: to Mr. A. C. Benson, Mr. Laurence Binyon, Mr. -Wilfrid Blunt, Mr. Robert Bridges, Mr. John Davidson, Mr. Austin Dobson, -Mr. Aubrey de Vere, Mr. Edmund Gosse, Mr. Bret Harte, Mr. W. E. Henley, -Mrs. Katharine Tynan Hinkson, Mr. W. D. Howells, Dr. Douglas Hyde, Mr. -Rudyard Kipling, Mr. Andrew Lang, Mr. Richard Le Gallienne, Mr. George -Meredith, Mrs. Meynell, Mr. T. Sturge Moore, Mr. Henry Newbolt, Mr. -Gilbert Parker, Mr. T. W. Rolleston, Mr. George Russell (‘A. E.’), Mrs. -Clement Shorter (Dora Sigerson), Mr. Swinburne, Mr. Francis Thompson, -Dr. Todhunter, Mr. William Watson, Mr. Watts-Dunton, Mrs. Woods, and Mr. -W. B. Yeats; to the Earl of Crewe for a poem by the late Lord Houghton; -to Lady Ferguson, Mrs. Allingham, Mrs. A. H. Clough, Mrs. -Locker-Lampson, Mrs. Coventry Patmore; to the Lady Betty Balfour and the -Lady Victoria Buxton for poems by the late Earl of Lytton and the Hon. -Roden Noel; to the executors of Messrs. Frederic Tennyson (Captain -Tennyson and Mr. W. C. A. Ker), Charles Tennyson Turner (Sir Franklin -Lushington), Edward FitzGerald (Mr. Aldis Wright), William Bell Scott -(Mrs. Sydney Morse and Miss Boyd of Penkill Castle, who has added to her -kindness by allowing me to include an unpublished ‘Sonet’ by her -sixteenth-century ancestor, Mark Alexander Boyd), William Philpot (Mr. -Hamlet S. Philpot), William Morris (Mr. S. C. Cockerell), William -Barnes, and R. L. Stevenson; to the Rev. H. C. Beeching for two poems<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xii" id="page_xii">{xii}</a></span> -from his own works, and leave to use his redaction of <i>Quia Amore -Langueo</i>; to Messrs. Macmillan for confirming permission for the -extracts from FitzGerald, Christina Rossetti, and T. E. Brown, and -particularly for allowing me to insert the latest emendations in Lord -Tennyson’s non-copyright poems; to the proprietors of Mr. and Mrs. -Browning’s copyrights and to Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co. for a similar -favour, also for a copyright poem by Mrs. Browning; to Mr. George Allen -for extracts from Ruskin and the author of <i>Ionica</i>; to Messrs. G. Bell -& Sons for poems by Thomas Ashe; to Messrs. Chatto & Windus for poems by -Arthur O’Shaughnessy and Dr. George MacDonald, and for confirming Mr. -Bret Harte’s permission; to Mr. Elkin Mathews for a poem by Mr. Bliss -Carman; to Mr. John Lane for two poems by William Brighty Rands; to the -Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge for two extracts from -Christina Rossetti’s <i>Verses</i>; and to Mr. Bertram Dobell, who allows me -not only to select from James Thomson but to use a poem of Traherne’s, a -seventeenth-century singer rediscovered by him. To mention all who in -other ways have furthered me is not possible in this short Preface; -which, however, must not conclude without a word of special thanks to -Dr. W. Robertson Nicoll for many suggestions and some pains kindly -bestowed, and to Professor F. York Powell, whose help and wise counsel -have been as generously given as they were eagerly sought, adding me to -the number of those many who have found his learning to be his friends’ -good fortune.</p> - -<p class="r"> -A.T.Q.C.<br /> -</p> - -<p><i>October 1900</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xiii" id="page_xiii">{xiii}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table cellpadding="1" cellspacing="0" summary="deprecated"> -<tr><td><small>NUMBER</small></td> <td> </td> -<td><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_1">1.</a>-<a href="#pm_7">7.</a></td><td class="pdd">Anonymous. XIII-XIV Century</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1">1-10</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_8">8.</a></td><td class="pdd">Robert Mannyng of Brunne. b. 1260, d. 1340.</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_10">10</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_9">9.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Barbour. d. 1395</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_10">10-11</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_10">10.</a>-<a href="#pm_12">12.</a></td><td class="pdd">Geoffrey Chaucer. b. ? 1340, d. 1400</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_11">11-14</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_13">13.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Hoccleve. b. 1368-9, d. ? 1450</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_14">14-15</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_14">14.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Lydgate. b. ? 1370, d. ? 1450</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_15">15</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_15">15.</a></td><td class="pdd">King James I of Scotland. b. 1394, d. 1437</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_15">15</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_16">16.</a>-<a href="#pm_17">17.</a></td><td class="pdd">Robert Henryson. b. 1425, d. ? 1500</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_16">16-25</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_18">18.</a>-<a href="#pm_21">21.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Dunbar. b. 1465, d. ? 1520</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_25">25-33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_22">22.</a>-<a href="#pm_29">29.</a></td><td class="pdd">Anonymous. XV-XVI Century</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_33">33-57</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_30">30.</a>-<a href="#pm_31">31.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Skelton. b. ? 1460, d. 1529</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_57">57-59</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_32">32.</a>-<a href="#pm_33">33.</a></td><td class="pdd">Stephen Hawes. d. 1523</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_59">59-60</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_34">34.</a>-<a href="#pm_38">38.</a></td><td class="pdd">Sir Thomas Wyatt. b. 1503, d. 1542</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_60">60-65</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_39">39.</a>-<a href="#pm_41">41.</a></td><td class="pdd">Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey b. 1516, d. 1547</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_65">65-68</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_42">42.</a></td><td class="pdd">Nicholas Grimald. b. 1519, d. 1562</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_68">68-69</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_43">43.</a>-<a href="#pm_44">44.</a></td><td class="pdd">Alexander Scott. b. ? 1520, d. 158-</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_69">69-71</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_45">45.</a></td><td class="pdd">Robert Wever. <i>c.</i> 1550</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_72">72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_46">46.</a></td><td class="pdd">Richard Edwardes. b. 1523, d. 1566</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_72">72-73</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_47">47.</a></td><td class="pdd">George Gascoigne. b. 1523, d. 1566</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_74">74-75</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_48">48.</a></td><td class="pdd">Alexander Mongtomerie. b. ? 1540, d. ? 1610</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_75">75-77</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_49">49.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Stevenson. b. 1530, d. 1575</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_77">77-78</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_50">50.</a>-<a href="#pm_72">72.</a></td><td class="pdd">Anonymous. XVI-XVII Century</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_79">79-99</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_73">73.</a>-<a href="#pm_74">74.</a></td><td class="pdd">Nicholas Breton. b. 1542, d. 1626</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_100">100-102</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_75">75.</a>-<a href="#pm_78">78.</a></td><td class="pdd">Sir Walter Raleigh. b. 1552, d. 1618</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_102">102-104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_79">79.</a>-<a href="#pm_84">84.</a></td><td class="pdd">Edmund Spenser. b. 1552, d. 1599</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_104">104-129</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_85">85.</a>-<a href="#pm_86">86.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Lyly. b. 1533, d. 1606</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_129">129-130</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_87">87.</a></td><td class="pdd">Anthony Munday. b. 1553, d. 1633</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_130">130</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_88">88.</a>-<a href="#pm_95">95.</a></td><td class="pdd">Sir Philip Sidney. b. 1554, d. 1586</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_131">131-136</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_96">96.</a></td><td class="pdd">Fulke Greville, Lord Brooke. b. 1554, d. 1628</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_136">136-137</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_97">97.</a>-<a href="#pm_100">100.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Lodge. b. ? 1556, d. 1625</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_137">137-141</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_101">101.</a>-<a href="#pm_102">102.</a></td><td class="pdd">George Peele. b. ? 1558, d. 1597</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_141">141-143</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_103">103.</a>-<a href="#pm_105">105.</a></td><td class="pdd">Robert Greene. b. ? 1560, d. 1592</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_143">143-145</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_106">106.</a></td><td class="pdd">Alexander Hume. b. 1560, d. 1609</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_146">146-150</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_107">107.</a></td><td class="pdd">George Chapman. b. 1560, d. 1634</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_150">150</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_108">108.</a>-<a href="#pm_109">109.</a></td><td class="pdd">Robert Southwell. b. 1561, d. 1595</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_151">151-153</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xiv" id="page_xiv">{xiv}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_110">110.</a></td><td class="pdd">Henry Constable. b. ? 1562, d. ? 1613</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_153">153</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_111">111.</a>-<a href="#pm_113">113.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Samuel Daniel. b. 1562, d. 1619</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_153">153-159</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_114">114.</a></td><td class="pdd">Mark Alexander Boyd. b. 1563, d. 1601</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_160">160</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_115">115.</a></td><td class="pdd">Joshua Sylvester, b. 1563, d. 1618.</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_160">160-161</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_116">116.</a>-<a href="#pm_120">120.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Michael Drayton. b. 1563, d. 1631</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_161">161-173</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_121">121.</a></td><td class="pdd">Christopher Marlowe. b. 1564, d. 1593</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_173">173-174</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_122">122.</a></td><td class="pdd">Sir Walter Raleigh. b. 1552, d. 1618</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_174">174-175</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_123">123.</a>-<a href="#pm_164">164.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Shakespeare. b. 1564, d. 1616</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_175">175-200</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_165">165.</a></td><td class="pdd">Richard Rowlands. b. 1565, d. ? 1630</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_200">200-201</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_166">166.</a>-<a href="#pm_167">167.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Nashe. b. 1567, d. 1601</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_201">201-203</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_168">168.</a>-<a href="#pm_176">176.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Campion. b. ? 1567, d. 1619</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_203">203-209</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_177">177.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Reynolds. XVI Century</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_209">209-210</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_178">178.</a>-<a href="#pm_180">180.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Sir Henry Wotton. b. 1568, d. 1639</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_210">210-212</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_181">181.</a></td><td class="pdd">Sir John Davies. b. 1569, d. 1626</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_212">212-213</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_182">182.</a>-<a href="#pm_183">183.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Sir Robert Ayton. b. 1570, d. 1638</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_213">213-215</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_184">184.</a>-<a href="#pm_194">194.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Ben Jonson. b. 1573, d. 1637</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_215">215-225</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_195">195.</a>-<a href="#pm_202">202.</a></td><td class="pdd"> John Donne. b. 1573, d. 1631</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_225">225-231</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_203">203.</a></td><td class="pdd">Richard Barnefield. b. 1574, d. 1627</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_232">232</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_204">204.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Dekker. b. 1575, d. 1641</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_233">233</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_205">205.</a>-<a href="#pm_206">206.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Heywood. b. ? 157-, d. 1650</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_233">233-235</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_207">207.</a>-<a href="#pm_217">217.</a></td><td class="pdd"> John Fletcher. b. 1579, d. 1625</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_235">235-241</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_218">218.</a>-<a href="#pm_220">220.</a></td><td class="pdd"> John Webster. d. ? 1630</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_242">242-243</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_221">221.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Alexander, Earl of Stirling. b. ? 1580, d. 1640</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_243">243-244</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_222">222.</a></td><td class="pdd">Phineas Fletcher. b. 1580, d. 1650</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_244">244</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_223">223.</a></td><td class="pdd">Sir John Beaumont. b. 1583, d. 1627</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_245">245</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_224">224.</a>-<a href="#pm_232">232.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Drummond, of Hawthornden. b. 1585, d. 1649</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_245">245-250</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_233">233.</a></td><td class="pdd">Giles Fletcher. b. 158-, d. 1623</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_250">250-252</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_234">234.</a></td><td class="pdd">Francis Beaumont. b. 1586, d. 1616</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_252">252</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_235">235.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Ford. b. 1586, d. 1639</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_253">253</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_236">236.</a>-<a href="#pm_239">239.</a></td><td class="pdd"> George Wither. b. 1588, d. 1667</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_253">253-260</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_240">240.</a>-<a href="#pm_246">246.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Browne, of Tavistock. b. 1588, d. 1643</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_260">260-264</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_247">247.</a>-<a href="#pm_275">275.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Robert Herrick. b. 1591, d. 1674</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_264">264-284</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_276">276.</a>-<a href="#pm_277">277.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Francis Quarles. b. 1592, d. 1644</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_285">285</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_278">278.</a>-<a href="#pm_280">280.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Henry King, Bishop of Chichester. b. 1592, d. 1669</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_286">286-290</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_281">281.</a>-<a href="#pm_286">286.</a></td><td class="pdd"> George Herbert. b. 1593, d. 1632</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_290">290-295</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_287">287.</a>-<a href="#pm_288">288.</a></td><td class="pdd"> James Shirley. b. 1596, d. 1666</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_295">295-296</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_289">289.</a>-<a href="#pm_295">295.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Carew. b ? 1595, d. ? 1639</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_297">297-301</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_296">296.</a></td><td class="pdd">Jasper Mayne. b. 1604, d. 1672</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_301">301-302</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_297">297.</a>-<a href="#pm_298">298.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Habington. b. 1605, d. 1654</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_302">302-304</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_299">299.</a>-<a href="#pm_300">300.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Randolph. b. 1605, d. 1635</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_305">305-308</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_301">301.</a>-<a href="#pm_303">303.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Sir William Davenant. b. 1606, d. 1668</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_308">308-309</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xv" id="page_xv">{xv}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_304">304.</a>-<a href="#pm_306">306.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Edmund Waller. b. 1606, d. 1687</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_310">310-311</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_307">307.</a>-<a href="#pm_324">324.</a></td><td class="pdd"> John Milton. b. 1608, d. 1674</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_311">311-347</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_325">325.</a>-<a href="#pm_328">328.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Sir John Suckling. b. 1609, d. 1642</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_347">347-350</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_329">329.</a></td><td class="pdd">Sir Richard Fanshawe. b. 1608, d. 1666</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_350">350</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_330">330.</a>-<a href="#pm_333">333.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Cartwright. b. 1611, d. 1643</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_351">351-353</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_334">334.</a></td><td class="pdd">James Graham, Marquis of Montrose. b. 1612, d. 1650</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_353">353-354</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_335">335.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Jordan. b. ? 1612, d. 1685</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_354">354-355</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_336">336.</a>-<a href="#pm_342">342.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Richard Crashaw. b. ? 1613, d. 1649</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_355">355-370</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_343">343.</a>-<a href="#pm_348">348.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Richard Lovelace. b. 1618, d. 1658</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_370">370-374</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_349">349.</a>-<a href="#pm_353">353.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Abraham Cowley. b. 1618, d. 1667</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_374">374-380</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_354">354.</a></td><td class="pdd">Alexander Brome. b. 1620, d. 1666</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_381">381</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_355">355.</a>-<a href="#pm_361">361.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Andrew Marvell. b. 1621, d. 1678</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_382">382-394</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_362">362.</a>-<a href="#pm_365">365.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Henry Vaughan. b. 1621, d. 1695</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_395">395-399</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_366">366.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Bunyan. b. 1628, d. 1688</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_399">399</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_367">367.</a>-<a href="#pm_392">392.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Anonymous: Ballads</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_400">400-459</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_393">393.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Strode. b. 1602, d. 1645</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_459">459</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_394">394.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Stanley. b. 1625, d. 1678</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_460">460</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_395">395.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas D’Urfey. b. 1653, d. 1723</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_460">460-461</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_396">396.</a></td><td class="pdd">Charles Cotton. b. 1630, d. 1687</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_461">461</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_397">397.</a></td><td class="pdd">Katherine Philips (‘Orinda’). b. 1631, d. 1664</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_462">462</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_398">398.</a>-<a href="#pm_402">402.</a></td><td class="pdd"> John Dryden. b. 1631, d. 1700</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_462">462-471</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_403">403.</a></td><td class="pdd">Charles Webbe. c. 1678</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_472">472</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_404">404.</a>-<a href="#pm_405">405.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Sir George Etherege. b. 1635, d. 1691</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_472">472-473</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_406">406.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Traherne. b. ? 1637, d. 1674</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_473">473-475</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_407">407.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Flatman. b. 1637, d. 1688</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_475">475-476</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_408">408.</a></td><td class="pdd">Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset. b. 1638, d. 1706</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_476">476-478</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_409">409.</a>-<a href="#pm_410">410.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Sir Charles Sedley. b. 1639, d. 1701</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_479">479-480</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_411">411.</a>-<a href="#pm_412">412.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Aphra Behn. b. 1640, d. 1689</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_480">480-481</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_413">413.</a>-<a href="#pm_416">416.</a></td><td class="pdd"> John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester. b. 1647, d. 1680</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_481">481-484</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_417">417.</a>-<a href="#pm_418">418.</a></td><td class="pdd"> John Sheffield, Duke of Buckinghamshire. b. 1649, d. 1720</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_485">485-486</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_419">419.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Otway. b. 1652, d. 1685</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_486">486</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_420">420.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Oldham. b. 1653, d. 1683</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_487">487</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_421">421.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Cutts, Lord Cutts. b. 1661, d. 1707</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_487">487</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_422">422.</a>-<a href="#pm_428">428.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Matthew Prior. b. 1664, d. 1721</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_488">488-493</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_429">429.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Walsh. b. 1663, d. 1708</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_493">493</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_430">430.</a></td><td class="pdd">Lady Grisel Baillie. b. 1665, d. 1746</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_494">494-495</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_431">431.</a>-<a href="#pm_432">432.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Congreve. b. 1670, d. 1729</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_495">495-496</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_433">433.</a></td><td class="pdd">Joseph Addison. b. 1672, d. 1719</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_496">496-497</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_434">434.</a>-<a href="#pm_435">435.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Isaac Watts. b. 1674, d. 1748</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_497">497-500</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_436">436.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Parnell. b. 1679, d. 1718</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_501">501</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xvi" id="page_xvi">{xvi}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_437">437.</a></td><td class="pdd">Allan Ramsay. b. 1686, d. 1758</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_501">501-502</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_438">438.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Oldys. b. 1687, d. 1761</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_503">503</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_439">439.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Gay. b. 1688, d. 1732</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_503">503</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_440">440.</a>-<a href="#pm_442">442.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Alexander Pope. b. 1688, d. 1744</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_504">504-507</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_443">443.</a></td><td class="pdd">George Bubb Dodington, Lord Melcombe. b. 1691, d. 1762</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_508">508</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_444">444.</a>-<a href="#pm_445">445.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Henry Carey. b. ? 1693, d. 1743</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_509">509-511</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_446">446.</a>-<a href="#pm_447">447.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Broome. d. 1745</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_511">511-512</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_448">448.</a></td><td class="pdd">James Thomson. b. 1700, d. 1748</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_512">512</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_449">449.</a></td><td class="pdd">George Lyttelton, Lord Lyttelton. b. 1709, d. 1773</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_512">512-513</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_450">450.</a>-<a href="#pm_451">451.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Samuel Johnson. b. 1709, d. 1784</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_513">513-516</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_452">452.</a></td><td class="pdd">Richard Jago. b. 1715, d. 1781</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_516">516</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_453">453.</a>-<a href="#pm_456">456.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Gray. b. 1716, d. 1771</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_516">516-528</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_457">457.</a>-<a href="#pm_460">460.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Collins. b. 1721, d. 1759</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_528">528-533</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_461">461.</a>-<a href="#pm_463">463.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Mark Akenside. b. 1721, d. 1770</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_534">534-537</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_464">464.</a></td><td class="pdd">Tobias George Smollett. b. 1721, d. 1771</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_538">538</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_465">465.</a></td><td class="pdd">Christopher Smart. b. 1722, d. 1770</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_538">538-542</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_466">466.</a></td><td class="pdd">Jane Elliot. b. 1727, d. 1805</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_542">542-543</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_467">467.</a>-<a href="#pm_468">468.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Oliver Goldsmith. b. 1728, d. 1774</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_543">543-544</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_469">469.</a></td><td class="pdd">Robert Cunninghame-Graham of Gartmore. b. 1735, d. 1797</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_544">544-545</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_470">470.</a>-<a href="#pm_471">471.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Cowper. b. 1731, d. 1800</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_545">545-547</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_472">472.</a></td><td class="pdd">James Beattie. b. 1735, d. 1803</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_548">548</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_473">473.</a></td><td class="pdd">Isobel Pagan. b. 1740, d. 1821</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_548">548-549</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_474">474.</a></td><td class="pdd">Anna Lætitia Barbauld. b. 1743, d. 1825</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_549">549-550</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_475">475.</a></td><td class="pdd">Fanny Greville. XVIII Century</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_550">550-551</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_476">476.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Logan. b. 1748, d. 1788</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_551">551-552</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_477">477.</a></td><td class="pdd">Lady Anne Lindsay. b. 1750, d. 1825</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_552">552-553</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_478">478.</a></td><td class="pdd">Sir William Jones. b. 1746, d. 1794</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_554">554</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_479">479.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Chatterton. b. 1752, d. 1770</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_554">554-556</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_480">480.</a>-<a href="#pm_482">482.</a></td><td class="pdd"> George Crabbe. b. 1754, d. 1832</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_556">556-557</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_483">483.</a>-<a href="#pm_492">492.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Blake. b. 1757, d. 1827</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_558">558-566</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_493">493.</a>-<a href="#pm_506">506.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Robert Burns. b. 1759, d. 1796</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_566">566-577</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_507">507.</a>-<a href="#pm_508">508.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Henry Rowe. b. 1750, d. 1819</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_578">578-579</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_509">509.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Lisle Bowles. b. 1762, d. 1850</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_579">579</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_510">510.</a></td><td class="pdd">Joanna Baillie. b. 1762, d. 1851</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_580">580</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_511">511.</a></td><td class="pdd">Mary Lamb. b. 1765, d. 1847</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_581">581</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_512">512.</a></td><td class="pdd">Carolina, Lady Nairne. b. 1766, d. 1845</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_581">581-582</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_513">513.</a>-<a href="#pm_514">514.</a></td><td class="pdd"> James Hogg. b. 1770, d. 1835</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_582">582-594</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_515">515.</a>-<a href="#pm_541">541.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Wordsworth. b. 1770, d. 1850</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_594">594-618</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_542">542.</a>-<a href="#pm_548">548.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Sir Walter Scott. b. 1771, d. 1832</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_619">619-628</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_549">549.</a>-<a href="#pm_555">555.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Samuel Taylor Coleridge. b. 1772, d. 1834</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_628">628-658</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_556">556.</a></td><td class="pdd">Robert Southey. b. 1774, d. 1843</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_658">658-659</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xvii" id="page_xvii">{xvii}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_557">557.</a>-<a href="#pm_576">576.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Walter Savage Landor. b. 1775, d. 1864</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_659">659-667</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_577">577.</a>-<a href="#pm_579">579.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Charles Lamb. b. 1775, d. 1834</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_668">668-672</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_580">580.</a>-<a href="#pm_581">581.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Campbell. b. 1777, d. 1844</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_672">672-675</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_582">582.</a>-<a href="#pm_585">585.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Moore. b. 1779, d. 1852</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_675">675-678</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_586">586.</a></td><td class="pdd">Edward Thurlow, Lord Thurlow. b. 1781, d. 1829</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_678">678-679</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_587">587.</a>-<a href="#pm_588">588.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Ebenezer Elliott. b. 1781, d. 1849</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_679">679-681</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_589">589.</a>-<a href="#pm_591">591.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Allan Cunningham. b. 1784, d. 1842</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_681">681-683</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_592">592.</a></td><td class="pdd">Leigh Hunt. b. 1784, d. 1859</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_683">683</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_593">593.</a>-<a href="#pm_595">595.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Love Peacock. b. 1785, d. 1866</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_684">684-687</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_596">596.</a></td><td class="pdd">Caroline Southey. b. 1787, d. 1854</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_687">687-688</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_597">597.</a>-<a href="#pm_601">601.</a></td><td class="pdd"> George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron. b. 1788, d. 1824</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_688">688-694</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_602">602.</a></td><td class="pdd">Sir Aubrey de Vere. b. 1788, d. 1846</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_694">694-695</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_603">603.</a>-<a href="#pm_604">604.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Charles Wolfe. b. 1791, d. 1823</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_695">695-697</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_605">605.</a>-<a href="#pm_618">618.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Percy Bysshe Shelley. b. 1792, d. 1822</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_697">697-717</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_619">619.</a></td><td class="pdd">Hew Ainslie. b. 1792, d. 1878</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_717">717</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_620">620.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Keble. b. 1792, d. 1866</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_718">718-720</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_621">621.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Clare. b. 1793, d. 1864</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_720">720</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_622">622.</a></td><td class="pdd">Felicia Dorothea Hemans. b. 1793, d. 1835</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_721">721</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_623">623.</a>-<a href="#pm_637">637.</a></td><td class="pdd"> John Keats. b. 1795, d. 1821</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_721">721-744</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_638">638.</a></td><td class="pdd">Jeremiah Joseph Callanan. b. 1795, d. 1839</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_745">745</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_639">639.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Sidney Walker. b. 1795, d. 1846</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_746">746</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_640">640.</a>-<a href="#pm_642">642.</a></td><td class="pdd"> George Darley. b. 1795, d. 1846</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_746">746-749</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_643">643.</a>-<a href="#pm_646">646.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Hartley Coleridge. b. 1796, d. 1849</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_749">749-751</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_647">647.</a>-<a href="#pm_654">654.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Hood. b. 1798, d. 1845</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_752">752-762</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_655">655.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Thom. b. 1798, d. 1848</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_762">762-764</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_656">656.</a></td><td class="pdd">Sir Henry Taylor. b. 1800, d. 1886</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_764">764</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_657">657.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Babington Macaulay, Lord Macaulay. b. 1800, d. 1859</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_765">765</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_658">658.</a>-<a href="#pm_659">659.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Barnes. b. 1801, d. 1886</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_765">765-767</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_660">660.</a></td><td class="pdd">Winthrop Mackworth Praed. b. 1802, d. 1839</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_767">767-768</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_661">661.</a>-<a href="#pm_662">662.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Sara Coleridge. b. 1802, d. 1850</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_768">768-770</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_663">663.</a></td><td class="pdd">Gerald Griffin. b. 1803, d. 1840</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_770">770-772</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_664">664.</a>-<a href="#pm_665">665.</a></td><td class="pdd"> James Clarence Mangan. b. 1803. d. 1849</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_772">772-776</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_666">666.</a>-<a href="#pm_668">668.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Lovell Beddoes. b. 1803, d. 1849</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_777">777-778</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_669">669.</a>-<a href="#pm_672">672.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Ralph Waldo Emerson. b. 1803, d. 1882</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_779">779-785</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_673">673.</a></td><td class="pdd">Richard Henry Horne. b. 1803, d. 1884</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_785">785-786</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_674">674.</a>-<a href="#pm_675">675.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Robert Stephen Hawker. b. 1804, d. 1875</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_786">786-787</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_676">676.</a></td><td class="pdd">Thomas Wade. b. 1805, d. 1875</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_787">787</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_677">677.</a></td><td class="pdd">Francis Mahony. b. 1805, d. 1866</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_788">788-790</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_678">678.</a>-<a href="#pm_687">687.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Elizabeth Barrett Browning. b. 1806, d. 1861</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_790">790-800</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_688">688.</a></td><td class="pdd">Frederick Tennyson. b. 1807, d. 1898</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_800">800</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_689">689.</a></td><td class="pdd">Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. b. 1807, d. 1882</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_801">801-803</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xviii" id="page_xviii">{xviii}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_690">690.</a></td><td class="pdd"> John Greenleaf Whittier. b. 1807, d. 1892</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_804">804</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_691">691.</a></td><td class="pdd">Helen Selina, Lady Dufferin. b. 1807, d. 1867</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_805">805-807</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_692">692.</a></td><td class="pdd">Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton. b. 1808, d. 1876</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_807">807-808</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_693">693.</a></td><td class="pdd">Charles Tennyson Turner. b. 1808, d. 1879</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_808">808</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_694">694.</a>-<a href="#pm_696">696.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Edgar Allan Poe. b. 1809, d. 1849</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_809">809-814</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_697">697.</a>-<a href="#pm_698">698.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Edward Fitzgerald. b. 1809, d. 1883</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_814">814-818</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_699">699.</a>-<a href="#pm_709">709.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Alfred Tennyson, Lord Tennyson. b. 1809, d. 1892</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_819">819-847</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_710">710.</a></td><td class="pdd">Richard Monckton Milnes, Lord Houghton. b. 1809, d. 1885</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_848">848</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_711">711.</a></td><td class="pdd">Henry Alford. b. 1810, d. 1871</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_849">849</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_712">712.</a>-<a href="#pm_714">714.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Sir Samuel Ferguson. b. 1810, d. 1886</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_849">849-851</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_715">715.</a>-<a href="#pm_730">730.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Robert Browning. b. 1812, d. 1889</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_852">852-867</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_731">731.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Bell Scott. b. 1812, d. 1890</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_867">867-872</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_732">732.</a>-<a href="#pm_733">733.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Aubrey De Vere. b. 1814, d. 1902</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_872">872-873</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_734">734.</a></td><td class="pdd">George Fox. b. 1815</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_874">874</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_735">735.</a>-<a href="#pm_738">738.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Emily Brontë. b. 1818, d. 1848</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_875">875-879</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_739">739.</a>-<a href="#pm_740">740.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Charles Kingsley. b. 1819, d. 1875</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_879">879-880</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_741">741.</a></td><td class="pdd">Arthur Hugh Clough. b. 1819, d. 1861</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_880">880-881</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_742">742.</a>-<a href="#pm_743">743.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Walt Whitman. b. 1819, d. 1892</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_881">881-882</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_744">744.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Ruskin. b. 1819, d. 1900</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_882">882</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_745">745.</a></td><td class="pdd">Ebenezer Jones. b. 1820, d. 1860</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_883">883</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_746">746.</a></td><td class="pdd">Frederick Locker-Lampson. b. 1821, d. 1895</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_884">884</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_747">747.</a>-<a href="#pm_754">754.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Matthew Arnold. b. 1822, d. 1888</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_885">885-903</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_755">755.</a>-<a href="#pm_756">756.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Brighty Rands. b. 1823, d. 1880</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_904">904-905</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_757">757.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Philpot. b. 1823, d. 1880</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_906">906-907</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_758">758.</a>-<a href="#pm_759">759.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William (Johnson) Cory. b. 1823, d. 1892</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_907">907-908</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_760">760.</a>-<a href="#pm_764">764.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Coventry Patmore. b. 1823, d. 1896</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_908">908-913</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_765">765.</a>-<a href="#pm_768">768.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Sydney Dobell. b. 1824, d. 1874</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_913">913-921</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_769">769.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Allingham. b. 1824, d. 1889</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_921">921-923</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_770">770.</a></td><td class="pdd">George MacDonald. b. 1824, d. 1905</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_923">923</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_771">771.</a></td><td class="pdd">Dante Gabriel Rossetti. b. 1828, d. 1882</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_923">923-928</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_772">772.</a>-<a href="#pm_776">776.</a></td><td class="pdd"> George Meredith. b. 1828, d. 1909</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_929">929-942</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_777">777.</a>-<a href="#pm_778">778.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Alexander Smith. b. 1829, d. 1867</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_942">942-945</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_779">779.</a>-<a href="#pm_789">789.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Christina Georgina Rossetti. b. 1830, d. 1894</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_946">946-954</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_790">790.</a>-<a href="#pm_793">793.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Edward Brown. b. 1830, d. 1897</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_955">955-956</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_794">794.</a>-<a href="#pm_795">795.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Edward Robert Bulwer Lytton, Earl of Lytton. b. 1831, d. 1892</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_957">957-962</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_796">796.</a>-<a href="#pm_799">799.</a></td><td class="pdd"> James Thomson. b. 1834, d. 1882</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_963">963-964</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_800">800.</a>-<a href="#pm_802">802.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Morris. b. 1834, d. 1896</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_965">965-967</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_803">803.</a>-<a href="#pm_804">804.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Roden Berkeley Wriothesley Noel. b. 1834, d. 1894</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_967">967-969</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_805">805.</a>-<a href="#pm_806">806.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Thomas Ashe. b. 1836, d. 1889</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_969">969-970</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xix" id="page_xix">{xix}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_807">807.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Theodore Watts-Dunton. b. 1836, d. 1914</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_970">970-972</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_808">808.</a>-<a href="#pm_811">811.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Algernon Charles Swinburne. b. 1837, d. 1909</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_972">972-991</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_812">812.</a></td><td class="pdd">William Dean Howells. b. 1837</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_991">991</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_813">813.</a></td><td class="pdd">Bret Harte. b. 1839, d. 1902</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_992">992</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_814">814.</a>-<a href="#pm_815">815.</a></td><td class="pdd"> John Todhunter. b. 1839, d. 1916</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_993">993-995</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_816">816.</a>-<a href="#pm_823">823.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Wilfrid Scawen Blunt. b. 1840</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_995">995-1002</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_824">824.</a>-<a href="#pm_826">826.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Henry Austin Dobson. b. 1840</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1002">1002-1004</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_827">827.</a></td><td class="pdd">Henry Clarence Kendall. b. 1841, d. 1882</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1004">1004-1006</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_828">828.</a>-<a href="#pm_830">830.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Arthur William Edgar O’Shaughnessy. b. 1844, d. 1881</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1006">1006-1010</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_831">831.</a></td><td class="pdd">John Boyle O’Reilly. b. 1844, d. 1890</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1010">1010</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_832">832.</a>-<a href="#pm_840">840.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Robert Bridges. b. 1844</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1011">1011-1018</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_841">841.</a></td><td class="pdd">Andrew Lang. b. 1844, d. 1912</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1018">1018</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_842">842.</a>-<a href="#pm_844">844.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Ernest Henley. b. 1849, d. 1903</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1019">1019-1022</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_845">845.</a></td><td class="pdd">Edmund Gosse. b. 1849</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1022">1022-1023</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_846">846.</a>-<a href="#pm_848">848.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Robert Louis Stevenson. b. 1850, d. 1894</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1023">1023-1025</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_849">849.</a></td><td class="pdd">T. W. Rolleston. b. 1857</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1025">1025-1026</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_850">850.</a>-<a href="#pm_851">851.</a></td><td class="pdd"> John Davidson. b. 1857, d. 1909</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1026">1026-1028</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_852">852.</a>-<a href="#pm_854">854.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Watson. b. 1858</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1028">1028-1031</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_855">855.</a>-<a href="#pm_856">856.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Henry Charles Beeching. b. 1859</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1031">1031-1033</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_857">857.</a></td><td class="pdd">Bliss Carman. b. 1861</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1033">1033-1034</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_858">858.</a></td><td class="pdd">Douglas Hyde. b. 1861</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1034">1034-1035</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_859">859.</a></td><td class="pdd">Arthur Christopher Benson. b. 1862</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1035">1035-1036</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_860">860.</a></td><td class="pdd">Henry Newbolt. b. 1862</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1036">1036-1037</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_861">861.</a></td><td class="pdd">Gilbert Parker. b. 1862</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1038">1038</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_862">862.</a>-<a href="#pm_864">864.</a></td><td class="pdd"> William Butler Yeats. b. 1865</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1038">1038-1039</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_865">865.</a>-<a href="#pm_867">867.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Rudyard Kipling. b. 1865</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1040">1040-1045</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_868">868.</a>-<a href="#pm_869">869.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Richard Le Gallienne. b. 1866</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1045">1045-1047</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_870">870.</a>-<a href="#pm_871">871.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Laurence Binyon. b. 1869</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1047">1047</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_872">872.</a>-<a href="#pm_873">873.</a></td><td class="pdd"> ‘A. E.’ (George William Russell)</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1048">1048-1049</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_874">874.</a></td><td class="pdd">T. Sturge Moore. b. 1870</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1049">1049</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_875">875.</a></td><td class="pdd">Francis Thompson, b. 1859, d. 1907</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1050">1050-1052</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_876">876.</a></td><td class="pdd">Henry Cust. b. 1861, d. 1917</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1053">1053</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_877">877.</a></td><td class="pdd">Katharine Tynan Hinkson. b. 1861</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1053">1053-1054</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_878">878.</a></td><td class="pdd">Frances Bannerman</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1054">1054-1055</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_879">879.</a>-<a href="#pm_880">880.</a></td><td class="pdd"> Alice Meynell. b. 1850</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1055">1055-1056</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_881">881.</a></td><td class="pdd">Dora Sigerson. d. 1918</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1056">1056-1057</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_882">882.</a></td><td class="pdd">Margaret L. Woods. b. 1856</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1057">1057</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><a href="#pm_883">883.</a></td><td class="pdd">Anonymous</td><td valign="bottom"><a href="#page_1058">1058</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_xx" id="page_xx">{xx}</a></span> </p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1" id="page_1">{1}</a></span> </p> - -<div class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/bar.png" width="350" alt=" title=" /> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_1" id="pm_1">1.</a></p> - -<h3>Cuckoo Song</h3> - -<p class="dtt">c. 1250<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>UMER is icumen in,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lhude sing cuccu!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Groweth sed, and bloweth med,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And springth the wude nu—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Sing cuccu!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Awe bleteth after lomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lhouth after calve cu;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Murie sing cuccu!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cuccu, cuccu, well singes thu, cuccu:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ne swike thu naver nu;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>lhude] loud. awe] ewe. lhouth] loweth. sterteth] leaps. swike] -cease.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_2" id="page_2">{2}</a></span></p> - -<h2>ANONYMOUS</h2> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_2" id="pm_2">2.</a></p> - -<h3>Alison</h3> - -<p class="dtt">c. 1300<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>YTUENE Mershe ant Averil<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When spray biginneth to spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lutel foul hath hire wyl<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On hyre kid to synge:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ich libbe in love-longinge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For semlokest of alle thynge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He may me blisse bringe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Icham in hire bandoun.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An hendy hap ichabbe y-hent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ichot from hevene it is me sent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From alle wymmen my love is lent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ant lyht on Alisoun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On heu hire her is fayr ynoh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hire browe broune, hire eye blake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lossum chere he on me loh;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With middel smal ant wel y-make;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bote he me wolle to hire take<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For to buen hire owen make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long to lyven ichulle forsake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ant feye fallen adoun.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An hendy hap, etc.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nihtes when I wende and wake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For-thi myn wonges waxeth won;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>on hyre lud] in her language. ich libbe] I live. semlokest] -seemliest. he] she. bandoun] thraldom. hendy] gracious. y hent] -seized, enjoyed. ichot] I wot. lyht] alighted. hire her] her hair. -lossum] lovesome. loh] laughed. bote he] unless she. buen] be. -make] mate. feye] like to die. nihtes] at night. wende] turn. -for-thi] on that account. wonges waxeth won] cheeks grow wan.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_3" id="page_3">{3}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>EVEDI, al for thine sake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Longinge is y-lent me on.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In world his non so wyter mon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That al hire bountè telle con;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hire swyre is whittore than the swon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ant feyrest may in toune.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An hendy hap, etc.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Icham for wowyng al for-wake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wery so water in wore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest eny reve me my make<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ichabbe y-yerned yore.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Betere is tholien whyle sore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then mournen evermore.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Geynest under gore,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Herkne to my roun—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An hendy hap, etc.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>2.</i> levedi] lady. y-lent me on] arrived to me. so wyter mon] so -wise a man. swyre] neck. may] maid. for-wake] worn out with vigils. -so water in wore] as water in a weir. reve] rob. y-yerned yore] -long been distressed. tholien] to endure. geynest under gore] -comeliest under woman’s apparel. roun] tale, lay.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_3" id="pm_3">3.</a></p> - -<h3>Spring-tide</h3> - -<p class="dtt">c. 1300<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ENTEN ys come with love to toune,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With blosmen ant with briddes roune,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That al this blisse bryngeth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dayes-eyes in this dales,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Notes suete of nyhtegales,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Vch foul song singeth;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>3.</i> to toune] in its turn.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_4" id="page_4">{4}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE threstlecoc him threteth oo,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Away is huere wynter wo,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When woderove springeth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This foules singeth ferly fele,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ant wlyteth on huere winter wele,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That al the wode ryngeth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rose rayleth hire rode,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leves on the lyhte wode<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Waxen al with wille;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mone mandeth hire bleo,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lilie is lossom to seo,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fenyl ant the fille;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wowes this wilde drakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Miles murgeth huere makes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ase strem that striketh stille,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mody meneth; so doth mo<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Ichot ycham on of tho)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For loue that likes ille.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The mone mandeth hire lyht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So doth the semly sonne bryht.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When briddes singeth breme;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deowes donketh the dounes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deores with huere derne rounes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Domes forte deme;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>him threteth oo] is aye chiding them. huere] their. woderove] -woodruff. ferly fele] marvellous many. wlyteth] whistle, or look. -rayleth hire rode] clothes herself in red. mandeth hire bleo] sends -forth her light. lossom to seo] lovesome to see. fille] thyme. -wowes] woo. miles] males. murgeth] make merry. makes] mates. -striketh] flows, trickles. mody meneth] the moody man makes moan. -so doth mo] so do many. on of tho] one of them. breme] lustily. -deowes] dews. donketh] make dank. deores] dears, lovers. huere -derne rounes] their secret tales. domes forte deme] for to give -(decide) their decisions.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_5" id="page_5">{5}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ORMES woweth under cloude,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wymmen waxeth wounder proude,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So wel hit wol hem seme,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yef me shal wonte wille of on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This wunne weole y wole forgon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ant wyht in wode be fleme.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>3.</i> cloude] clod. wunne weole] wealth of joy. y wole forgon] I -will forgo. wyht] wight. fleme] banished.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_4" id="pm_4">4.</a></p> - -<h3>Blow, Northern Wind</h3> - -<p class="dtt">c. 1300<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>CHOT a burde in boure bryht,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That fully semly is on syht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Menskful maiden of myht;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feir ant fre to fonde;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In al this wurhliche won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A burde of blod ant of bon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never yete y nuste non<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lussomore in londe.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Blou northerne wynd!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Send thou me my suetyng!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Blou northerne wynd! blou, blou, blou!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With lokkes lefliche ant longe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With frount ant face feir to fonge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With murthes monie mote heo monge,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That brid so breme in boure.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>4.</i> Ichot] I know. burde] maiden. menskful] worshipful. feir] -fair. fonde] take, prove. wurhliche] noble. won] multitude. y -nuste] I knew not. lussomore in londe] lovelier on earth. suetyng] -sweetheart. lefliche] lovely. fonge] take between hands. murthes] -mirths, joys. mote heo monge] may she mingle. brid] bird. breme] -full of life.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_6" id="page_6">{6}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH lossom eye grete ant gode,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With browen blysfol under hode,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He that reste him on the Rode,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That leflych lyf honoure.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Blou northerne wynd, etc.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hire lure lumes liht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ase a launterne a nyht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hire bleo blykyeth so bryht,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So feyr heo is ant fyn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A suetly swyre heo hath to holde.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With armes shuldre ase mon wolde,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ant fingres feyre forte folde,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God wolde hue were myn!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Blou northerne wynd, etc.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heo is coral of godnesse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heo is rubie of ryhtfulnesse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heo is cristal of clannesse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ant baner of bealtè.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heo is lilie of largesse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heo is parvenke of prouesse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heo is solsecle of suetnesse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ant lady of lealtè.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For hire love y carke ant care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For hire love y droupne ant dare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For hire love my blisse is bare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ant al ich waxe won,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>Rode] the Cross. lure] face. lumes] beams. bleo] colour. suetly -swyre] darling neck. forte] for to. hue, heo] she. clannesse] -cleanness, purity. parvenke] periwinkle. solsecle] sunflower. won] -wan.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_7" id="page_7">{7}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OR hire love in slep y slake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For hire love al nyht ich wake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For hire love mournynge y make<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More then eny mon.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Blou northerne wynd!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Send thou me my suetyng!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Blou northerne wynd! blou, blou, blou!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_5" id="pm_5">5.</a></p> - -<h3>This World’s Joy</h3> - -<p class="dtt">c. 1300<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>YNTER wakeneth al my care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nou this leves waxeth bare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ofte I sike ant mourne sare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When hit cometh in my thoht<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of this worldes joie, hou hit goth al to noht.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nou hit is, and nou hit nys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Al so hit ner nere, ywys;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That moni mon seith, soth hit ys:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Al goth bote Godes wille:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alle we shule deye, thah us like ylle.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Al that gren me graueth grene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nou hit faleweth albydene:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jesu, help that hit be sene<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ant shild us from helle!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For y not whider y shal, ne hou longe her duelle.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>5.</i> this leves] these leaves. sike] sigh. nys] is not. also hit -ner nere] as though it had never been. soth] sooth. bote] but, -except. thah] though. faleweth] fadeth. albydene] altogether. y not -whider] I know not whither. her duelle] here dwell.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_8" id="page_8">{8}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_6" id="pm_6">6.</a></p> - -<h3>A Hymn to the Virgin</h3> - -<p class="dtt">c. 1300<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>F on that is so fayr and bright<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Velut maris stella</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brighter than the day is light,<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Parens et puella</i>:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ic crie to the, thou see to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Levedy, preye thi Sone for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Tam pia</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ic mote come to thee<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Maria</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Al this world was for-lore<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Eva peccatrice</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tyl our Lord was y-bore<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>De te genetrice</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With <i>ave</i> it went away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thuster nyth and comz the day<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Salutis</i>;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The welle springeth ut of the,<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Virtutis</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Levedy, flour of alle thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Rosa sine spina</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thu bere Jhesu, hevene king,<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Gratia divina</i>:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of alle thu ber’st the pris,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Levedy, quene of paradys<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Electa</i>:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mayde milde, moder es<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Effecta</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>on] one. levedy] lady. thuster] dark. pris] prize.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_9" id="page_9">{9}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_7" id="pm_7">7.</a></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>7.</i> <i>Of a rose, a lovely rose,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Of a rose is al myn song.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dtt">c. 1350<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ESTENYT, lordynges, both elde and yinge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How this rose began to sprynge;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swych a rose to myn lykynge<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In al this word ne knowe I non.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Aungil came fro hevene tour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To grete Marye with gret honour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And seyde sche xuld bere the flour<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That xulde breke the fyndes bond.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The flour sprong in heye Bedlem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is bothe bryht and schen:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rose is Mary hevene qwyn,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Out of here bosum the blosme sprong.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The ferste braunche is ful of myht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sprang on Cyrstemesse nyht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sterre schon over Bedlem bryht<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That is bothe brod and long.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The secunde braunche sprong to helle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fendys power doun to felle:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therein myht non sowle dwelle;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Blyssid be the time the rose sprong!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The thredde braunche is good and swote,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It sprang to hevene crop and rote,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therein to dwellyn and ben our bote;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Every day it schewit in prystes hond.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>lestenyt] listen. word] world. xuld] should. schen] beautiful. -hevene qwyn] heaven’s queen. bote] salvation.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_10" id="page_10">{10}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>REY we to here with gret honour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Che that bar the blyssid flowr,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Che be our helpe and our socour<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And schyd us fro the fyndes bond.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_MANNYNG_OF_BRUNNE" id="ROBERT_MANNYNG_OF_BRUNNE"></a>ROBERT MANNYNG OF BRUNNE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1260-1340<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_8" id="pm_8">8.</a></p> - -<h3>Praise of Women</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>O thyng ys to man so dere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As wommanys love in gode manere.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A gode womman is mannys blys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There her love right and stedfast ys.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There ys no solas under hevene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of alle that a man may nevene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shulde a man so moche glew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a gode womman that loveth true.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne derer is none in Goddis hurde<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than a chaste womman with lovely worde.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>8.</i> nevene] name. glew] gladden. hurde] flock.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_BARBOUR" id="JOHN_BARBOUR"></a>JOHN BARBOUR</h2> - -<p class="dtt">d. 1395<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_9" id="pm_9">9.</a></p> - -<h3>Freedom</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A! Fredome is a noble thing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fredome mays man to haiff liking;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fredome all solace to man giffis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He levys at ese that frely levys!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A noble hart may haiff nane ese,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Na ellys nocht that may him plese,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>9.</i> liking] liberty. na ellys nocht] nor aught else.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_11" id="page_11">{11}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>YFF fredome fail; for fre liking<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is yarnyt our all othir thing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Na he that ay has levyt fre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May nocht knaw weill the propyrtè,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The angyr, na the wretchyt dome<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is couplyt to foule thyrldome.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bot gyff he had assayit it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than all perquer he suld it wyt;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And suld think fredome mar to prise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than all the gold in warld that is.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus contrar thingis evirmar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Discoweryngis off the tothir ar.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>9.</i> yarnyt] yearned for. perquer] thoroughly, by heart.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="GEOFFREY_CHAUCER" id="GEOFFREY_CHAUCER"></a>GEOFFREY CHAUCER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1340?-1400<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_10" id="pm_10">10.</a></p> - -<h3>The Love Unfeigned</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">O yonge</span> fresshe folkes, he or she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In which that love up groweth with your age,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Repeyreth hoom from worldly vanitee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of your herte up-casteth the visage<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thilke god that after his image<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yow made, and thinketh al nis but a fayre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This world, that passeth sone as floures fayre.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And loveth him, the which that right for love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon a cros, our soules for to beye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First starf, and roos, and sit in hevene a-bove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For he nil falsen no wight, dar I seye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wol his herte al hoolly on him leye.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sin he best to love is, and most meke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What nedeth feyned loves for to seke?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>10.</i> repeyreth] repair ye. starf] died.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_12" id="page_12">{12}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_11" id="pm_11">11.</a></p> - -<h3>Balade</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>YD, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ester, ley thou thy meknesse al a-doun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hyd, Jonathas, al thy frendly manere;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Penalopee, and Marcia Catoun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mak of your wyfhod no comparisoun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hyde ye your beautes, Isoude and Eleyne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy faire body, lat hit nat appere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lavyne; and thou, Lucresse of Rome toun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Polixene, that boghten love so dere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Cleopatre, with al thy passioun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hyde ye your trouthe of love and your renoun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou, Tisbe, that hast of love swich peyne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Herro, Dido, Laudomia, alle y-fere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Phyllis, hanging for thy Demophoun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Canace, espyed by thy chere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ysiphile, betraysed with Jasoun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maketh of your trouthe neyther boost ne soun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor Ypermistre or Adriane, ye tweyne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My lady cometh, that al this may distevne.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>11.</i> disteyne] bedim. y-fere] together.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_12" id="pm_12">12.</a></p> - -<h3>Merciles Beaute<br /><br /> -<span class="smcap">A Triple Roundel</span></h3> - -<h4>1. CAPTIVITY</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>OUR eyen two wol slee me sodenly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I may the beautè of hem not sustene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_13" id="page_13">{13}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And but your word wol helen hastily<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My hertes wounde, whyl that hit is grene,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I may the beautè of hem not sustene.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon my trouthe I sey yow feithfully,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ye ben of my lyf and deeth the quene;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For with my deeth the trouthe shal be sene.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I may the beautè of hem not sustene,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So woundeth hit through-out my herte kene.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>2. REJECTION</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>O hath your beautè fro your herte chaced<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Giltles my deeth thus han ye me purchaced;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sey yow sooth, me nedeth not to feyne;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Allas! that nature hath in yow compassed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So greet beautè, that no man may atteyne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mercy, though he sterve for the peyne.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So hath your beautè fro your herte chaced<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pitee, that me ne availeth not to pleyne;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For Daunger halt your mercy in his cheyne.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>3. ESCAPE</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>IN I fro Love escaped am so fat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>halt] holdeth.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_14" id="page_14">{14}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>E may answere, and seye this or that;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I do no fors, I speke right as I mene.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I never thenk to ben in his prison lene.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love hath my name y-strike out of his sclat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he is strike out of my bokes clene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ever-mo; ther is non other mene.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sin I fro Love escaped am so fat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I never thenk to ben in his prison lene;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sin I am free, I counte him not a bene.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>12.</i> sclat] slate</p></div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_HOCCLEVE" id="THOMAS_HOCCLEVE"></a>THOMAS HOCCLEVE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1368-9?-1450?<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_13" id="pm_13">13.</a></p> - -<h3>Lament for Chaucer</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LLAS! my worthi maister honorable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This landes verray tresor and richesse!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deth by thy deth hath harme irreparable<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto us doon: hir vengeable duresse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Despoiled hath this land of the swetnesse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of rethorik; for unto Tullius<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was never man so lyk amonges us.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Also who was hier in philosophie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Aristotle in our tonge but thou?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The steppes of Virgile in poesie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou folwedist eeke, men wot wel ynow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That combre-worlde that the my maister slow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wolde I slayn were!—Deth, was to hastyf<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To renne on thee and reve the thi lyf ...<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>13.</i> hier] heir. combre-worlde] encumberer of earth. slow] slew.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_15" id="page_15">{15}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE myghte han taried hir vengeance a while<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Til that sum man had egal to the be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, lat be that! sche knew wel that this yle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May never man forth brynge lyk to the,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hir office needes do mot she:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God bad hir so, I truste as for the beste;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O maister, maister, God thi soule reste!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_LYDGATE" id="JOHN_LYDGATE"></a>JOHN LYDGATE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1370?-1450?<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_14" id="pm_14">14.</a></p> - -<h3>Vox ultima Crucis</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>ARYE no lenger; toward thyn heritage<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hast on thy weye, and be of ryght good chere.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go eche day onward on thy pylgrymage;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thynke howe short tyme thou hast abyden here.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy place is bygged above the sterres clere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Noon erthly palys wrought in so statly wyse.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come on, my frend, my brother most entere!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the I offered my blood in sacryfice.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>14.</i> bygged] built. palys] palace.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="KING_JAMES_I_OF_SCOTLAND" id="KING_JAMES_I_OF_SCOTLAND"></a>KING JAMES I OF SCOTLAND</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1394-1437<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_15" id="pm_15">15.</a></p> - -<h3>Spring Song of the Birds</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ORSCHIPPE ye that loveris bene this May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For of your blisse the Kalendis are begonne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sing with us, Away, Winter, away!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cum, Somer, cum, the suete sesoùn and sonne!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Awake for schame! that have your hevynnis wonne,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And amorously lift up your hedis all,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thank Lufe that list you to his merci call!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>15.</i> suete] sweet. Lufe] Love.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_16" id="page_16">{16}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_HENRYSON" id="ROBERT_HENRYSON"></a>ROBERT HENRYSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1425-1500<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_16" id="pm_16">16.</a></p> - -<h3>Robin and Makyne</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">R</span>OBIN sat on gude green hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kepand a flock of fe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mirry Makyne said him till<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Robin, thou rew on me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I haif thee luvit, loud and still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thir yeiris twa or thre;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My dule in dern bot gif thou dill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doutless but dreid I de.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Robin answerit ‘By the Rude<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Na thing of luve I knaw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But keipis my scheip undir yon wud:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lo, quhair they raik on raw.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quhat has marrit thee in thy mude,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Makyne, to me thou shaw;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or quhat is luve, or to be lude?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fain wad I leir that law.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘At luvis lair gif thou will leir<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tak thair ane A B C;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be heynd, courtass, and fair of feir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wyse, hardy, and free:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So that no danger do thee deir<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhat dule in dern thou dre;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Preiss thee with pain at all poweir<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be patient and previe.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>kepand] keeping. fe] sheep, cattle. him till] to him. dule in dern] -sorrow in secret. dill] soothe. but dreid] without dread, i. e. -there is no fear or doubt. raik on raw] range in row. lude] loved. -leir] learn. lair] lore. heynd] gentle. feir] demeanour. deir] -daunt. dre] endure. preiss] endeavour.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_17" id="page_17">{17}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">R</span>OBIN answerit hir agane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘I wat nocht quhat is lufe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I haif mervel in certaine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhat makis thee this wanrufe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The weddir is fair, and I am fain;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My scheip gois haill aboif;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we wald pley us in this plane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They wald us baith reproif.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Robin, tak tent unto my tale,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wirk all as I reid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou sall haif my heart all haill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Eik and my maiden-heid:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sen God sendis bute for baill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And for murnyng remeid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In dern with thee bot gif I daill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dowtles I am bot deid.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Makyne, to-morn this ilka tyde<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ye will meit me heir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peraventure my scheip may gang besyde,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhyle we haif liggit full neir;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But mawgre haif I, and I byde,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fra they begin to steir;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quhat lyis on heart I will nocht hyd;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Makyn, then mak gude cheir.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Robin, thou reivis me roiff and rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I luve bot thee allane.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Makyne, adieu! the sone gois west,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The day is neir-hand gane.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>wanrufe] unrest. haill] healthy, whole. aboif] above, up yonder. -and] if. tak tent] give heed. reid] advise. bute for baill] remedy -for hurt. bot gif] but if, unless. daill] deal. mawgre haif I] I am -uneasy. reivis] robbest. roiff] quiet.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_18" id="page_18">{18}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘R</span>OBIN, in dule I am so drest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That luve will be my bane.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Ga luve, Makyne, quhair-evir thow list,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For lemman I luve nane.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Robin, I stand in sic a styll,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I sicht and that full sair.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Makyne, I haif been here this quhyle;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At hame God gif I wair.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘My huny, Robin, talk ane quhyll,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gif thow will do na mair.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Makyn, sum uthir man begyle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For hamewart I will fair.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Robin on his wayis went<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As light as leif of tre;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makyne murnit in hir intent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And trowd him nevir to se.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Robin brayd attour the bent:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then Makyne cryit on hie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Now may thow sing, for I am schent!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhat alis lufe at me?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Makyne went hame withowttin fail,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full wery eftir cowth weip;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then Robin in a ful fair daill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Assemblit all his scheip.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be that sum part of Makynis aill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out-throw his hairt cowd creip;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He fallowit hir fast thair till assaill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And till her tuke gude keip.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>drest] beset. lemman] mistress. sicht] sigh. in hir intent] in her -inward thought. brayd] strode. bent] coarse grass. schent] -destroyed. alis] ails. be that] by the time that. till] to. tuke -keip] paid attention.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_19" id="page_19">{19}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘A</span>BYD, abyd, thow fair Makyne,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A word for ony thing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all my luve, it sall be thyne,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Withowttin departing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All haill thy hairt for till haif myne<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is all my cuvating;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My scheip to-morn, quhyle houris nyne,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will neid of no keping.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Robin, thow hes hard soung and say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In gestis and storeis auld,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The man that will nocht quhen he may<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sall haif nocht quhen he wald.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I pray to Jesu every day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mot eik thair cairis cauld<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That first preissis with thee to play<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be firth, forrest, or fauld.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The weddir is warme and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the grene woid rycht neir us by<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To walk attour all quhair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thair ma na janglour us espy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That is to lufe contrair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thairin, Makyne, baith ye and I,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unsene we ma repair.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Robin, that warld is all away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And quyt brocht till ane end:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nevir agane thereto, perfay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sall it be as thow wend;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>hard] heard. gestis] romances. mot eik] may add to. be] by. -janglour] talebearer. wend] weened.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_20" id="page_20">{20}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OR of my pane thow maid it play;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all in vane I spend:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As thow hes done, sa sall I say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">“Murne on, I think to mend.”<span class="lftspc">’</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Makyne, the howp of all my heill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My hairt on thee is sett;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And evirmair to thee be leill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhill I may leif but lett;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never to faill as utheris feill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhat grace that evir I gett.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Robin, with thee I will nocht deill;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Adieu! for thus we mett.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Makyne went hame blyth anneuche<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Attour the holttis hair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Robin murnit, and Makyne leuche;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scho sang, he sichit sair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so left him baith wo and wreuch,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In dolour and in cair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kepand his hird under a huche<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amangis the holttis hair.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>16.</i> howp] hope. but lett] without hindrance. anneuche] enough. -holttis hair] grey woodlands. leuche] laughed. wreuch] peevish. -huche] heuch, cliff.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_17" id="pm_17">17.</a></p> - -<h3>The Bludy Serk</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HIS hinder yeir I hard be tald<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thair was a worthy King;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dukis, Erlis, and Barronis bald,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He had at his bidding.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>17.</i> hinder yeir] last year.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_21" id="page_21">{21}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE Lord was ancean and ald,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sexty yeiris cowth ring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He had a dochter fair to fald,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A lusty Lady ying.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Off all fairheid scho bur the flour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And eik hir faderis air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Off lusty laitis and he honour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Meik bot and debonair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scho wynnit in a bigly bour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On fold wes nane so fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Princis luvit hir paramour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In cuntreis our allquhair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thair dwelt a lyt besyde the King<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A foull Gyand of ane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stollin he has the Lady ying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Away with hir is gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kest her in his dungering<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhair licht scho micht se nane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hungir and cauld and grit thristing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scho fand into hir waine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He wes the laithliest on to luk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That on the grund mycht gang:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His nailis wes lyk ane hellis cruk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thairwith fyve quarteris lang;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>ring] reign. fald] enfold. ying] young. fairheid] beauty. air] -heir. laitis] manners. bot and] and also. scho wynnit] she dwelt. -bigly] well-built. fold] earth. paramour] lovingly. our allquhair] -all the world over. a lyt besyde] a little, (i. e. close) beside. -of ane] as any. kest] cast. dungering] dungeon. into hir waine] in -her lodging. hellis cruk] hell-claw.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_22" id="page_22">{22}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HAIR wes nane that he ourtuk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In rycht or yit in wrang,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bot all in schondir he thame schuk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Gyand wes so strang.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He held the Lady day and nycht<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within his deip dungeoun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He wald nocht gif of hir a sicht<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For gold nor yit ransoun—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bot gif the King mycht get a knycht,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To fecht with his persoun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To fecht with him beth day and nycht,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhill ane wer dungin doun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The King gart seik baith fer and neir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beth be se and land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Off ony knycht gif he mycht heir<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wald fecht with that Gyand:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A worthy Prince, that had no peir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hes tane the deid on hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the luve of the Lady cleir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And held full trew cunnand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That Prince come prowdly to the toun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of that Gyand to heir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fawcht with him, his awin persoun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tuke him presoneir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kest him in his awin dungeoun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Allane withouten feir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With hungir, cauld, and confusioun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As full weill worthy weir.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>quhill] until. dungin doun] beaten down. his awin persoun] himself. -withouten feir] without companion.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_23" id="page_23">{23}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>YNE brak the bour, had hame the bricht<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unto her fadir fre.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sa evill wondit wes the Knycht<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That he behuvit to de;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unlusum was his likame dicht,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His sark was all bludy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In all the world was thair a wicht<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So peteouss for to se?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Lady murnyt and maid grit mane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With all her mekill mycht—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘I luvit nevir lufe bot ane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That dulfully now is dicht;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God sen my lyfe were fra me tane<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or I had seen yone sicht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or ellis in begging evir to gane<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Furth with yone curtass knycht.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He said ‘Fair lady, now mone I<br /></span> -<span class="i2">De, trestly ye me trow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take ye my serk that is bludy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hing it forrow yow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First think on it, and syne on me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhen men cumis yow to wow.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Lady said ‘Be Mary fre,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thairto I mak a vow.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Quhen that scho lukit to the sark<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scho thocht on the persoun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And prayit for him with all hir hart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That lowsit hir of bandoun,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>the bricht] the fair one. likame] body. lowsit hir of. bandoun] -loosed her from thraldom.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_24" id="page_24">{24}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Q</span>UHAIR scho was wont to sit full merk<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into that deip dungeoun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And evir quhill scho wes in quert,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That was hir a lessoun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sa weill the Lady luvit the Knycht<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That no man wald scho tak:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sa suld we do our God of micht<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That did all for us mak;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quhilk fullily to deid was dicht,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For sinfull manis sak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sa suld we do beth day and nycht,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With prayaris to him mak.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This King is lyk the Trinitie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Baith in hevin and heir;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The manis saule to the Lady,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Gyand to Lucefeir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Knycht to Chryst, that deit on tre<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And coft our synnis deir;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pit to Hele with panis fell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Syn to the woweir.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Lady was wowd, but scho said nay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With men that wald hir wed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sa suld we wryth all sin away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That in our breist is bred.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I pray to Jesu Chryst verray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For ws his blud that bled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be our help on domisday<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhair lawis ar straitly led.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>quert] prison. coft] bought. straitly led] strictly carried out.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_25" id="page_25">{25}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE saule is Godis dochtir deir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And eik his handewerk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That was betrayit with Lucefeir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quha sittis in hell full merk:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Borrowit with Chrystis angell cleir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hend men, will ye nocht herk?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for his lufe that bocht us deir<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Think on the <span class="smcap">Bludy Serk</span>!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>17.</i> hend] gentle.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_DUNBAR" id="WILLIAM_DUNBAR"></a>WILLIAM DUNBAR</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1465-1520?<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_18" id="pm_18">18.</a></p> - -<h3>To a Lady</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>WEET rois of vertew and of gentilness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Delytsum lily of everie lustynes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Richest in bontie and in bewtie clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And everie vertew that is wenit dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Except onlie that ye are mercyless.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into your garth this day I did persew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There saw I flowris that fresche were of hew;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Baith quhyte and reid most lusty were to seyne,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And halesome herbis upon stalkis greene;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet leaf nor flowr find could I nane of rew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I doubt that Merche, with his cauld blastis keyne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has slain this gentil herb, that I of mene;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Quhois piteous death dois to my heart sic paine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That I would make to plant his root againe,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So confortand his levis unto me bene.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>18.</i> rois] rose. wenit] weened, esteemed. garth] garden-close. to -seyne] to see. that I of mene] that I complain of, mourn for.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_26" id="page_26">{26}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_19" id="pm_19">19.</a></p> - -<h3>In Honour of the City of London</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ONDON, thou art of townes <i>A per se</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soveraign of cities, seemliest in sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of high renoun, riches and royaltie;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of lordis, barons, and many a goodly knyght;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of most delectable lusty ladies bright;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of famous prelatis, in habitis clericall;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of merchauntis full of substaunce and of myght:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">London, thou art the flour of Cities all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gladdith anon, thou lusty Troynovaunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Citie that some tyme cleped was New Troy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In all the erth, imperiall as thou stant,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pryncesse of townes, of pleasure and of joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A richer restith under no Christen roy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For manly power, with craftis naturall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fourmeth none fairer sith the flode of Noy:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">London, thou art the flour of Cities all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gemme of all joy, jasper of jocunditie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Most myghty carbuncle of vertue and valour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong Troy in vigour and in strenuytie;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of royall cities rose and geraflour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Empress of townes, exalt in honour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In beawtie beryng the crone imperiall;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swete paradise precelling in pleasure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">London, thou art the flour of Cities all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Above all ryvers thy Ryver hath renowne,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose beryall stremys, pleasaunt and preclare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under thy lusty wallys renneth down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where many a swan doth swymme with wyngis fair;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>gladdith] rejoice. Troynovaunt] Troja nova or Trinovantum. -fourmeth] appeareth. geraflour] gillyflower.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_27" id="page_27">{27}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">W</span>HERE many a barge doth saile and row with are;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where many a ship doth rest with top-royall.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O, towne of townes! patrone and not compare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">London, thou art the flour of Cities all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon thy lusty Brigge of pylers white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Been merchauntis full royall to behold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon thy stretis goeth many a semely knyght<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In velvet gownes and in cheynes of gold.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By Julyus Cesar thy Tour founded of old<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May be the hous of Mars victoryall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose artillary with tonge may not be told:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">London, thou art the flour of Cities all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Strong be thy wallis that about thee standis;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wise be the people that within thee dwellis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fresh is thy ryver with his lusty strandis;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blith be thy chirches, wele sownyng be thy bellis;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rich be thy merchauntis in substaunce that excellis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair be their wives, right lovesom, white and small;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clere be thy virgyns, lusty under kellis:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">London, thou art the flour of Cities all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy famous Maire, by pryncely governaunce,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With sword of justice thee ruleth prudently.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No Lord of Parys, Venyce, or Floraunce<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In dignitye or honour goeth to hym nigh.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He is exampler, loode-ster, and guye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Principall patrone and rose orygynalle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above all Maires as maister most worthy:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">London, thou art the flour of Cities all.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>are] oar. small] slender. kellis] hoods, head-dresses. guye] guide.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_28" id="page_28">{28}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_20" id="pm_20">20.</a></p> - -<h3>On the Nativity of Christ</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Rorate coeli desuper</i>!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hevins, distil your balmy schouris!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For now is risen the bricht day-ster,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fro the rose Mary, flour of flouris:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cleir Sone, quhom no cloud devouris,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surmounting Phebus in the Est,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is cumin of his hevinly touris:<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Et nobis Puer natus est</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Archangellis, angellis, and dompnationis,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tronis, potestatis, and marteiris seir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all ye hevinly operationis,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ster, planeit, firmament, and spheir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fire, erd, air, and water cleir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Him gife loving, most and lest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That come in to so meik maneir;<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Et nobis Puer natus est</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Synnaris be glad, and penance do,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thank your Maker hairtfully;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For he that ye micht nocht come to<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To you is cumin full humbly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your soulis with his blood to buy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And loose you of the fiendis arrest—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And only of his own mercy;<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Pro nobis Puer natus est</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All clergy do to him inclyne,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bow unto that bairn benyng,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And do your observance divyne<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To him that is of kingis King:<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>schouris] showers. cumin] come, entered. seir] various. erd] earth. -lest] least. synnaris] sinners. benyng] benign.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_29" id="page_29">{29}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">E</span>NCENSE his altar, read and sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In holy kirk, with mind degest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Him honouring attour all thing<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Qui nobis Puer natus est</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Celestial foulis in the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing with your nottis upon hicht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In firthis and in forrestis fair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be myrthful now at all your mycht;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For passit is your dully nicht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aurora has the cloudis perst,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Sone is risen with glaidsum licht,<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Et nobis Puer natus est</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now spring up flouris fra the rute,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Revert you upward naturaly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In honour of the blissit frute<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That raiss up fro the rose Mary;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lay out your levis lustily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fro deid take life now at the lest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In wirschip of that Prince worthy<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Qui nobis Puer natus est</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sing, hevin imperial, most of hicht!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Regions of air mak armony!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All fish in flud and fowl of flicht<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be mirthful and mak melody!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All Gloria in excelsis cry!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaven, erd, se, man, bird, and best,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He that is crownit abone the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Pro nobis Puer natus est</i>!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>attour] over, above. perst] pierced. raiss] rose. best] beast.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_30" id="page_30">{30}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_21" id="pm_21">21.</a></p> - -<h3>Lament for the Makers</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> THAT in heill was and gladnèss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Am trublit now with great sickness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feblit with infirmitie:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our plesance here is all vain glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This fals world is but transitory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flesh is bruckle, the Feynd is slee:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The state of man does change and vary,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now sound, now sick, now blyth, now sary,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now dansand mirry, now like to die:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No state in Erd here standis sicker;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As with the wynd wavis the wicker<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So wannis this world’s vanitie:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unto the Death gois all Estatis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Princis, Prelatis, and Potestatis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Baith rich and poor of all degree:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He takis the knichtis in to the field<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enarmit under helm and scheild;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Victor he is at all mellie:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>heill] health. bruckle] brittle, feeble. slee] sly. dansand] -dancing. sicker] sure. wicker] willow. wannis] wanes. mellie] -mellay.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_31" id="page_31">{31}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HAT strong unmerciful tyrand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Takis, on the motheris breast sowkand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The babe full of benignitie:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He takis the campion in the stour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The captain closit in the tour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lady in bour full of bewtie:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He spairis no lord for his piscence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Na clerk for his intelligence;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His awful straik may no man flee:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Art-magicianis and astrologgis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rethoris, logicianis, and theologgis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Them helpis no conclusionis slee:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In medecine the most practicianis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leechis, surrigianis, and physicianis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Themself from Death may not supplee:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see that makaris amang the lave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Playis here their padyanis, syne gois to grave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sparit is nocht their facultie:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He has done petuously devour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The noble Chaucer, of makaris flour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Monk of Bury, and Gower, all three:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>sowkand] sucking. campion] champion. stour] fight. piscence] -puissance. straik] stroke. supplee] save. makaris] poets. the lave] -the leave, the rest. padyanis] pageants.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_32" id="page_32">{32}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE good Sir Hew of Eglintoun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ettrick, Heriot, and Wintoun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He has tane out of this cuntrie:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That scorpion fell has done infeck<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maister John Clerk, and James Afflek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fra ballat-making and tragedie:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Holland and Barbour he has berevit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! that he not with us levit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sir Mungo Lockart of the Lee:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Clerk of Tranent eke he has tane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That made the anteris of Gawaine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sir Gilbert Hay endit has he:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He has Blind Harry and Sandy Traill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slain with his schour of mortal hail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quhilk Patrick Johnstoun might nought flee:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He has reft Merseir his endite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That did in luve so lively write,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So short, so quick, of sentence hie:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He has tane Rowll of Aberdene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gentill Rowll of Corstorphine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two better fallowis did no man see:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>anteris] adventures. schour] shower. endite] inditing. fallowis] -fellows.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_33" id="page_33">{33}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N Dunfermline he has tane Broun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Maister Robert Henrysoun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sir John the Ross enbrast has he:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And he has now tane, last of a,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good gentil Stobo and Quintin Shaw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of quhom all wichtis hes pitie:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Good Maister Walter Kennedy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In point of Death lies verily;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great ruth it were that so suld be:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sen he has all my brether tane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He will naught let me live alane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of force I man his next prey be:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since for the Death remeid is none,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Best is that we for Death dispone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After our death that live may we:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Timor Mortis conturbat me</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>21.</i> wichtis] wights, persons. man] must. dispone] make -disposition.</p></div> - -<h2>ANONYMOUS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">15th Cent.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_22" id="pm_22">22.</a></p> - -<h3>May in the Green-Wood</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -In somer when the shawes be sheyne,<br /> - And leves be large and long,<br /> -Hit is full merry in feyre foreste<br /> - To here the foulys song.</div></div></div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>22.</i> sheyne] bright.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_34" id="page_34">{34}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O se the dere draw to the dale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And leve the hilles hee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shadow him in the leves grene<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the green-wode tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hit befell on Whitsontide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Early in a May mornyng,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Sonne up faire can shyne,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the briddis mery can syng.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘This is a mery mornyng,’ said Litulle Johne,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Be Hym that dyed on tre;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A more mery man than I am one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lyves not in Christiantè.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Litulle Johne can say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In a mornynge of May.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_23" id="pm_23">23.</a></p> - -<h3>Carol</h3> - -<p class="dtt">15th Cent.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SING of a maiden<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That is makeles;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">King of all kings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To her son she ches.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He came al so still<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There his mother was,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As dew in April<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That falleth on the grass.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>23.</i> makeles] matchless. ches] chose.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_35" id="page_35">{35}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>E came al so still<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To his mother’s bour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As dew in April<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That falleth on the flour.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He came al so still<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There his mother lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As dew in April<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That falleth on the spray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mother and maiden<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was never none but she;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well may such a lady<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Goddes mother be.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_24" id="pm_24">24.</a></p> - -<h3>Quia Amore Langueo</h3> - -<p class="dtt">15th Cent. (?)<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N a valley of this restles mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sought in mountain and in mead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trusting a true love for to find.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon an hill then took I heed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A voice I heard (and near I yede)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In great dolour complaining tho:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, dear soul, how my sides bleed<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon this hill I found a tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under a tree a man sitting;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From head to foot wounded was he;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His hearte blood I saw bleeding:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A seemly man to be a king,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A gracious face to look unto.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I askèd why he had paining;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">[He said,] <i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>24.</i> yede] went.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_36" id="page_36">{36}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> AM true love that false was never;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My sister, man’s soul, I loved her thus.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because we would in no wise dissever<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I left my kingdom glorious.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I purveyed her a palace full precious;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She fled, I followed, I loved her so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I suffered this pain piteous<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My fair love and my spouse bright!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saved her from beating, and she hath me bet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I clothed her in grace and heavenly light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This bloody shirt she hath on me set;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For longing of love yet would I not let;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweete strokes are these: lo!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have loved her ever as I her het<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I crowned her with bliss and she me with thorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I led her to chamber and she me to die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I brought her to worship and she me to scorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did her reverence and she me villany.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To love that loveth is no maistry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her hate made never my love her foe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ask me then no question why—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look unto mine handes, man!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These gloves were given me when I her sought;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They be not white, but red and wan;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Embroidered with blood my spouse them brought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They will not off; I loose hem nought:<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>het] promised.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_37" id="page_37">{37}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> WOO her with hem wherever she go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These hands for her so friendly fought<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Marvel not, man, though I sit still.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, love hath shod me wonder strait:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Buckled my feet, as was her will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sharpe nails (well thou may’st wait!)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my love was never desait;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All my membres I have opened her to;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My body I made her herte’s bait<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In my side I have made her nest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look in, how weet a wound is here!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is her chamber, here shall she rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she and I may sleep in fere.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here may she wash, if any filth were;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here is seat for all her woe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come when she will, she shall have cheer<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I will abide till she be ready,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will her sue if she say nay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If she be retchless I will be greedy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If she be dangerous I will her pray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If she weep, then bide I ne may:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mine arms ben spread to clip her me to.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cry once, I come: now, soul, assay<br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair love, let us go play:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Apples ben ripe in my gardayne.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>bait] resting-place. weet] wet. in fere] together.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_38" id="page_38">{38}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SHALL thee clothe in a new array,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy meat shall be milk, honey and wine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair love, let us go dine:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy sustenance is in my crippe, lo!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tarry thou not, my fair spouse mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou be foul, I shall thee make clean;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou be sick, I shall thee heal;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou mourn ought, I shall thee mene;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why wilt thou not, fair love, with me deal?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Foundest thou ever love so leal?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What wilt thou, soul, that I shall do?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I may not unkindly thee appeal<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What shall I do now with my spouse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But abide her of my gentleness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till that she look out of her house<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of fleshly affection? love mine she is;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her bed is made, her bolster is bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her chamber is chosen; is there none mo.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look out on me at the window of kindeness<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My love is in her chamber: hold your peace!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make ye no noise, but let her sleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My babe I would not were in disease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I may not hear my dear child weep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With my pap I shall her keep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne marvel ye not though I tend her to:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This wound in my side had ne’er be so deep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But <i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>crippe] scrip. mene] care for.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_39" id="page_39">{39}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ONG thou for love never so high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love is more than thine may be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou weepest, thou gladdest, I sit thee by:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet wouldst thou once, love, look unto me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should I always feede thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With children meat? Nay, love, not so!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will prove thy love with adversitè<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wax not weary, mine own wife!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What mede is aye to live in comfort?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In tribulation I reign more rife<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ofter times than in disport.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In weal and in woe I am aye to support:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mine own wife, go not me fro!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy mede is marked, when thou art mort:<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Quia amore langueo</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_25" id="pm_25">25.</a></p> - -<h3>The Nut-Brown Maid</h3> - -<p class="dtt">15th Cent.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> <i>Be it right or wrong, these men among</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>On women do complain;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Affirming this, how that it is</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>A labour spent in vain</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>To love them wele; for never a dele</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>They love a man again:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>For let a man do what he can</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Their favour to attain,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Yet if a new to them pursue,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Their first true lover than</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Laboureth for naught; for from her thought</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>He is a banished man.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>25.</i> never a dele] never a bit. than] then.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_40" id="page_40">{40}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> <i>I say not nay, but that all day</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>It is both written and said</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>That woman’s faith is, as who saith,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>All utterly decayd:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>But nevertheless, right good witnèss</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>In this case might be laid</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>That they love true and continue:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Record the Nut-brown Maid,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Which, when her love came her to prove,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>To her to make his moan,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Would not depart; for in her heart</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>She loved but him alone.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> <i>Then between us let us discuss</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>What was all the manere</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Between them two: we will also</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Tell all the pain in fere</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>That she was in. Now I begin,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>So that ye me answere:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Wherefore all ye that present be,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>I pray you, give an ear.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>I am the Knight. I come by night,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>As secret as I can,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Saying</i>, Alas! thus standeth the case,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am a banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> <i>And I your will for to fulfil</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>In this will not refuse;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>Trusting to show, in wordes few,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>That men have an ill use—</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3"><i>To their own shame—women to blame,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>And causeless them accuse.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>in fere] in company together.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_41" id="page_41">{41}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3"><i>Therefore to you I answer now,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>All women to excuse—</i><br /></span> -<span class="i3">Mine own heart dear, with you what cheer?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I pray you, tell anone;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> It standeth so: a deed is do<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whereof great harm shall grow:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My destiny is for to die<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A shameful death, I trow;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Or else to flee. The t’ one must be.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">None other way I know<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But to withdraw as an outlàw,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And take me to my bow.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Wherefore adieu, mine own heart true!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">None other rede I can:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For I must to the green-wood go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, a banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> O Lord, what is this worldis bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That changeth as the moon!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My summer’s day in lusty May<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is darked before the noon.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I hear you say, farewell: Nay, nay,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">We dèpart not so soon.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Why say ye so? whither will ye go?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alas! what have ye done?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">All my welfàre to sorrow and care<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Should change, if ye were gone:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>rede I can] counsel I know.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_42" id="page_42">{42}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> I can believe it shall you grieve,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And somewhat you distrain;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But afterward, your paines hard<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Within a day or twain<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Shall soon aslake; and ye shall take<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Comfort to you again.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Why should ye ought? for, to make thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your labour were in vain.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And thus I do; and pray you to,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As hartely as I can:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For I must to the green-wood go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, a banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> Now, sith that ye have showed to me<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The secret of your mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I shall be plain to you again,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like as ye shall me find.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Sith it is so that ye will go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I will not live behind.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Shall never be said the Nut-brown Maid<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Was to her love unkind.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Make you readý, for so am I,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Although it were anone:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> Yet I you rede to take good heed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What men will think and say:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of young, of old, it shall be told<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That ye be gone away<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Your wanton will for to fulfil,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In green-wood you to play;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_43" id="page_43">{43}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i3">And that ye might for your delight<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No longer make delay<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Rather than ye should thus for me<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Be called an ill womàn<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Yet would I to the green-wood go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, a banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> Though it be sung of old and young<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That I should be to blame,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Theirs be the charge that speak so large<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In hurting of my name:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For I will prove that faithful love<br /></span> -<span class="i4">It is devoid of shame;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">In your distress and heaviness<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To part with you the same:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And sure all tho that do not so<br /></span> -<span class="i4">True lovers are they none:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> I counsel you, Remember how<br /></span> -<span class="i4">It is no maiden’s law<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Nothing to doubt, but to run out<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To wood with an outlàw.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For ye must there in your hand bear<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A bow readý to draw;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And as a thief thus must you live<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ever in dread and awe;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Whereby to you great harm might grow:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet had I liever than<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That I had to the green-wood go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, a banished man.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>part with] share with. tho] those.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_44" id="page_44">{44}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> I think not nay but as ye say;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">It is no maiden’s lore;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But love may make me for your sake,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As I have said before,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To come on foot, to hunt and shoot,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To get us meat and store;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For so that I your company<br /></span> -<span class="i4">May have, I ask no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">From which to part it maketh my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As cold as any stone;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> For an outlàw this is the law,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That men him take and bind:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Without pitie, hangèd to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And waver with the wind.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">If I had need (as God forbede!)<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What socours could ye find?<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Forsooth I trow, you and your bow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For fear would draw behind.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And no mervail; for little avail<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Were in your counsel than:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, a banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> Right well know ye that women be<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But feeble for to fight;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">No womanhede it is, indeed,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To be bold as a knight:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Yet in such fear if that ye were<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With enemies day and night,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_45" id="page_45">{45}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i3">I would withstand, with bow in hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To grieve them as I might,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And you to save; as women have<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From death men many one:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> Yet take good hede; for ever I drede<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That ye could not sustain<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The thorny ways, the deep vallèys,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The snow, the frost, the rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The cold, the heat; for dry or wete,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">We must lodge on the plain;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And, us above, no other roof<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But a brake bush or twain:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Which soon should grieve you, I believe;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And ye would gladly than<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That I had to the green-wood go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, a banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> Sith I have here been partynere<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With you of joy and bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I must alsò part of your woe<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Endure, as reason is:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Yet I am sure of one pleasùre,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And shortly it is this—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That where ye be, me seemeth, pardé,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I could not fare amiss.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Without more speech I you beseech<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That we were shortly gone;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_46" id="page_46">{46}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> If ye go thyder, ye must consider,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When ye have lust to dine,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">There shall no meat be for to gete,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nether bere, ale, ne wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Ne shetès clean, to lie between,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Made of thread and twine;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">None other house, but leaves and boughs,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To cover your head and mine.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Lo, mine heart sweet, this ill diète<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Should make you pale and wan:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Wherefore I’ll to the green-wood go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, a banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> Among the wild deer such an archère,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As men say that ye be,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Ne may not fail of good vitayle<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where is so great plentè:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And water clear of the rivere<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shall be full sweet to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With which in hele I shall right wele<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Endure, as ye shall see;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And, or we go, a bed or two<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I can provide anone;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> Lo yet, before, ye must do more,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">If ye will go with me:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">As, cut your hair up by your ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your kirtle by the knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With bow in hand for to withstand<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your enemies, if need be:<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>hele] health.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_47" id="page_47">{47}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3"><span class="letra">A</span>ND this same night, before daylight,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To woodward will I flee.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">If that ye will all this fulfil,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Do it shortly as ye can:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Else will I to the green-wood go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, a banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> I shall as now do more for you<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Than ’longeth to womanhede;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To short my hair, a bow to bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To shoot in time of need.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">O my sweet mother! before all other<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For you I have most drede!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But now, adieu! I must ensue<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where fortune doth me lead.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">All this make ye: Now let us flee;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The day cometh fast upon:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> Nay, nay, not so; ye shall not go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I shall tell you why—<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Your appetite is to be light<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of love, I well espy:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, right as ye have said to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In likewise hardily<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Ye would answere whosoever it were,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In way of companý:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">It is said of old, Soon hot, soon cold;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And so is a womàn:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Wherefore I to the wood will go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, a banished man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_48" id="page_48">{48}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> If ye take heed, it is no need<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Such words to say to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For oft ye prayed, and long assayed,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or I loved you, pardè:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And though that I of ancestry<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A baron’s daughter be,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Yet have you proved how I you loved,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A squire of low degree;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And ever shall, whatso befall<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To die therefore anone;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> A baron’s child to be beguiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">It were a cursèd deed!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To be felàw with an outlaw—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Almighty God forbede!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Yet better were the poor squyere<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone to forest yede<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Than ye shall say another day<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That by my cursèd rede<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Ye were betrayed. Wherefore, good maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The best rede that I can,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Is, that I to the green-wood go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, a banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> Whatever befall, I never shall<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of this thing be upbraid:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But if ye go, and leave me so,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then have ye me betrayed.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Remember you wele, how that ye dele;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For if ye, as ye said,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>yede] went.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_49" id="page_49">{49}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3"><span class="letra">B</span>E so unkind to leave behind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your love, the Nut-brown Maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Trust me trulý that I shall die<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Soon after ye be gone:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> If that ye went, ye should repent;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For in the forest now<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I have purveyed me of a maid<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whom I love more than you:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Another more fair than ever ye were<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I dare it well avow;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And of you both each should be wroth<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With other, as I trow:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">It were mine ease to live in peace;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So will I, if I can:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Wherefore I to the wood will go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, a banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> Though in the wood I understood<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ye had a paramour,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">All this may nought remove my thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But that I will be your’:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And she shall find me soft and kind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And courteis every hour;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Glad to fulfil all that she will<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Command me, to my power:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For had ye, lo, an hundred mo,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet would I be that one:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_50" id="page_50">{50}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> Mine own dear love, I see the prove<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That ye be kind and true;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Of maid, of wife, in all my life,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The best that ever I knew.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Be merry and glad; be no more sad;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The case is changèd new;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For it were ruth that for your truth<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ye should have cause to rue.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Be not dismayed, whatsoever I said<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To you when I began:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">I will not to the green-wood go;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am no banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> These tidings be more glad to me<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Than to be made a queen,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">If I were sure they should endure;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But it is often seen<br /></span> -<span class="i3">When men will break promise they speak<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The wordis on the splene.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Ye shape some wile me to beguile,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And steal from me, I ween:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Then were the case worse than it was,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I more wo-begone:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, in my mind, of all mankind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I love but you alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> Ye shall not nede further to drede:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I will not disparàge<br /></span> -<span class="i3">You (God defend), sith you descend<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of so great a linàge.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Now understand: to Westmoreland,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Which is my heritage,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>on the splene] that is, in haste.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_51" id="page_51">{51}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> WILL you bring; and with a ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By way of marriàge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will you take, and lady make,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As shortly as I can:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus have you won an Earles son,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And not a banished man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Here may ye see that women be</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>In love meek, kind, and stable;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Let never man reprove them than,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Or call them variable;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But rather pray God that we may</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>To them be comfortable;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Which sometime proveth such as He loveth,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>If they be charitable.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>For sith men would that women should</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Be meek to them each one;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Much more ought they to God obey,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And serve but Him alone.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_26" id="pm_26">26.</a></p> - -<h3>As ye came from the Holy Land</h3> - -<p class="dtt">16th Cent.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>S ye came from the holy land<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Walsinghame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Met you not with my true love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By the way as you came?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How should I know your true love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That have met many a one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I came from the holy land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That have come, that have gone?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_52" id="page_52">{52}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">She is neither white nor brown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But as the heavens fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is none hath her form divine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the earth or the air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such a one did I meet, good sir,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such an angelic face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who like a nymph, like a queen, did appear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In her gait, in her grace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She hath left me here alone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All alone, as unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who sometime did me lead with herself,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And me loved as her own.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What’s the cause that she leaves you alone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a new way doth take,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sometime did love you as her own,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And her joy did you make?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have loved her all my youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But now am old, as you see:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love likes not the falling fruit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor the withered tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Know that Love is a careless child,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And forgets promise past:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is blind, he is deaf when he list,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in faith never fast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His desire is a dureless content,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a trustless joy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is won with a world of despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And is lost with a toy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_53" id="page_53">{53}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of womenkind such indeed is the love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the word love abusèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under which many childish desires<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And conceits are excusèd.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But true love is a durable fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the mind ever burning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never sick, never dead, never cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From itself never turning.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_27" id="pm_27">27.</a></p> - -<h3>The Lover in Winter Plaineth for the Spring</h3> - -<p class="dtt">16th Cent.(?)<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> WESTERN wind, when wilt thou blow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That the small rain down can rain?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Christ, that my love were in my arms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I in my bed again!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_28" id="pm_28">28.</a></p> - -<h3>Balow</h3> - -<p class="dtt">16th Cent.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>ALOW, my babe, lie still and sleep!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It grieves me sore to see thee weep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wouldst thou be quiet I’se be glad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy mourning makes my sorrow sad:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Balow my boy, thy mother’s joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy father breeds me great annoy—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Balow, la-low!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When he began to court my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with his sugred words me move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His faynings false and flattering cheer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To me that time did not appear:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_54" id="page_54">{54}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now I see most cruellye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He cares ne for my babe nor me—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Balow, la-low!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lie still, my darling, sleep awhile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when thou wak’st thou’le sweetly smile:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But smile not as thy father did,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To cozen maids: nay, God forbid!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But yet I fear thou wilt go near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy father’s heart and face to bear—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Balow, la-low!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I cannot choose but ever will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be loving to thy father still;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’er he go, where’er he ride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love with him doth still abide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In weal or woe, where’er he go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart shall ne’er depart him fro—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Balow, la-low!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But do not, do not, pretty mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To faynings false thy heart incline!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be loyal to thy lover true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And never change her for a new:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If good or fair, of her have care<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For women’s banning’s wondrous sare—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Balow, la-low!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bairn, by thy face I will beware;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Sirens’ words, I’ll come not near;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My babe and I together will live;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He’ll comfort me when cares do grieve.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My babe and I right soft will lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ne’er respect man’s crueltye—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Balow, la-low!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_55" id="page_55">{55}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Farewell, farewell, the falsest youth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ever kist a woman’s mouth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wish all maids be warn’d by me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never to trust man’s curtesye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For if we do but chance to bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They’ll use us then they care not how—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Balow, la-low!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_29" id="pm_29">29.</a></p> - -<h3>The Old Cloak</h3> - -<p class="dtt">16th Cent.(?)<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3"><span class="letra">T</span>HIS winter’s weather it waxeth cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And frost it freezeth on every hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And Boreas blows his blast so bold<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That all our cattle are like to spill.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Bell, my wife, she loves no strife;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She said unto me quietlye,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Rise up, and save cow Crumbock’s life!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Man, put thine old cloak about thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> O Bell my wife, why dost thou flyte?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou kens my cloak is very thin:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">It is so bare and over worn,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A crickè thereon cannot renn.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Then I’ll no longer borrow nor lend;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For once I’ll new apparell’d be;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To-morrow I’ll to town and spend;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For I’ll have a new cloak about me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> Cow Crumbock is a very good cow:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She has been always true to the pail;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">She has helped us to butter and cheese, I trow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And other things she will not fail.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>29.</i> flyte] scold.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_56" id="page_56">{56}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3"><span class="letra">I</span> WOULD be loth to see her pine.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Good husband, counsel take of me:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">It is not for us to go so fine—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Man, take thine old cloak about thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> My cloak it was a very good cloak,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">It hath been always true to the wear;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But now it is not worth a groat:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I have had it four and forty year’.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Sometime it was of cloth in grain:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Tis now but a sigh clout, as you may see:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">It will neither hold out wind nor rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I’ll have a new cloak about me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> It is four and forty years ago<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sine the one of us the other did ken;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And we have had, betwixt us two,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of children either nine or ten:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">We have brought them up to women and men:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In the fear of God I trow they be.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And why wilt thou thyself misken?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Man, take thine old cloak about thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> O Bell my wife, why dost thou flyte?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Now is now, and then was then:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Seek now all the world throughout,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou kens not clowns from gentlemen:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">They are clad in black, green, yellow and blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So far above their own degree.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Once in my life I’ll take a view;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For I’ll have a new cloak about me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>cloth in grain] scarlet cloth. sigh clout] a rag for straining.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_57" id="page_57">{57}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>She.</i> King Stephen was a worthy peer;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His breeches cost him but a crown;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">He held them sixpence all too dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Therefore he called the tailor ‘lown.’<br /></span> -<span class="i3">He was a king and wore the crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And thou’se but of a low degree:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">It’s pride that puts this country down:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Man, take thy old cloak about thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>He.</i> Bell my wife, she loves not strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet she will lead me, if she can;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And to maintain an easy life<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I oft must yield, though I’m good-man.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">It’s not for a man with a woman to threap,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Unless he first give o’er the plea:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">As we began, so will we keep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I’ll take my old cloak about me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>29.</i> threap] argue.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_SKELTON" id="JOHN_SKELTON"></a>JOHN SKELTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1460?-1529<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_30" id="pm_30">30.</a></p> - -<h3>To Mistress Margery Wentworth</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH margerain gentle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flower of goodlihead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Embroidered the mantle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is of your maidenhead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plainly I cannot glose;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ye be, as I divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pretty primrose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The goodly columbine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>30.</i> margerain] marjoram.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_58" id="page_58">{58}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>ENIGN, courteous, and meek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With wordes well devised;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In you, who list to seek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be virtues well comprised.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With margerain gentle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flower of goodlihead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Embroidered the mantle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is of your maidenhead.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_31" id="pm_31">31.</a></p> - -<h3>To Mistress Margaret Hussey</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">M</span>ERRY Margaret<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As midsummer flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gentle as falcon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or hawk of the tower:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With solace and gladness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Much mirth and no madness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All good and no badness;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So joyously,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So maidenly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So womanly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her demeaning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In every thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far, far passing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I can indite,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or suffice to write<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Merry Margaret<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As midsummer flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gentle as falcon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or hawk of the tower.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_59" id="page_59">{59}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">As patient and still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as full of good will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As fair Isaphill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coliander,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet pomander,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good Cassander;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Steadfast of thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well made, well wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far may be sought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere that ye can find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So courteous, so kind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As merry Margaret,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This midsummer flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gentle as falcon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or hawk of the tower.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>31.</i> Isaphill] Hypsipyle. coliander] coriander seed, an aromatic. -pomander] a ball of perfume. Cassander] Cassandra.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="STEPHEN_HAWES" id="STEPHEN_HAWES"></a>STEPHEN HAWES</h2> - -<p class="dtt">d. 1523<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_32" id="pm_32">32.</a></p> - -<h3>The True Knight</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OR knighthood is not in the feats of warre,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As for to fight in quarrel right or wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in a cause which truth can not defarre:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He ought himself for to make sure and strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Justice to keep mixt with mercý among:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And no quarrell a knight ought to take<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But for a truth, or for the common’s sake.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>32.</i> defarre] undo.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_60" id="page_60">{60}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_33" id="pm_33">33.</a></p> - -<h3>An Epitaph</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> MORTAL folk, you may behold and see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How I lie here, sometime a mighty knight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The end of joy and all prosperitee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is death at last, thorough his course and might:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">After the day there cometh the dark night,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For though the daye be never so long,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At last the bells ringeth to evensong.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_THOMAS_WYATT" id="SIR_THOMAS_WYATT"></a>SIR THOMAS WYATT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1503-1542<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_34" id="pm_34">34.</a></p> - -<h3>Forget not yet</h3> - -<p class="c"><i>The Lover Beseecheth his Mistress not to Forget his Steadfast Faith and -True Intent</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>ORGET not yet the tried intent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of such a truth as I have meant;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My great travail so gladly spent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget not yet!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forget not yet when first began<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The weary life ye know, since whan<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The suit, the service, none tell can;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget not yet!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forget not yet the great assays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cruel wrong, the scornful ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The painful patience in delays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget not yet!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forget not! O, forget not this!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How long ago hath been, and is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mind that never meant amiss—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget not yet!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_61" id="page_61">{61}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Forget not then thine own approved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The which so long hath thee so loved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose steadfast faith yet never moved:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget not this!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_35" id="pm_35">35.</a></p> - -<h3>The Appeal</h3> - -<p class="c"><i>An Earnest Suit to his Unkind Mistress, not to Forsake him</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND wilt thou leave me thus!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say nay, say nay, for shame!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—To save thee from the blame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all my grief and grame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hath loved thee so long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In wealth and woe among:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And is thy heart so strong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As for to leave me thus?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hath given thee my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never for to depart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Neither for pain nor smart:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>35.</i> grame] sorrow.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_62" id="page_62">{62}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND wilt thou leave me thus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And have no more pitye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of him that loveth thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas, thy cruelty!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wilt thou leave me thus?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Say nay! say nay!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_36" id="pm_36">36.</a></p> - -<h3>A Revocation</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT should I say?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Since Faith is dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Truth away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From you is fled?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should I be led<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With doubleness?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nay! nay! mistress.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I promised you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you promised me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be as true<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I would be.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But since I see<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your double heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Farewell my part!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thought for to take<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis not my mind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But to forsake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One so unkind;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And as I find<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So will I trust.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Farewell, unjust!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_63" id="page_63">{63}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Can ye say nay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that you said<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I alway<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should be obeyed?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And—thus betrayed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or that I wist!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Farewell, unkist!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_37" id="pm_37">37.</a></p> - -<h3>Vixi Puellis Nuper Idoneus ...</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HEY flee from me that sometime did me seek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With naked foot stalking within my chamber:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once have I seen them gentle, tame, and meek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That now are wild, and do not once remember<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That sometime they have put themselves in danger<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To take bread at my hand; and now they range,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Busily seeking in continual change.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thanked be fortune, it hath been otherwise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Twenty times better; but once especial—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In thin array: after a pleasant guise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When her loose gown did from her shoulders fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she me caught in her arms long and small,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And therewithal so sweetly did me kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And softly said, ‘<i>Dear heart, how like you this?</i>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was no dream; for I lay broad awaking:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But all is turn’d now, through my gentleness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into a bitter fashion of forsaking;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I have leave to go of her goodness;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she also to use new-fangleness.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But since that I unkindly so am servèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘<i>How like you this?</i>’—what hath she now deservèd?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_64" id="page_64">{64}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_38" id="pm_38">38.</a></p> - -<h3>To His Lute</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y lute, awake! perform the last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Labour that thou and I shall waste,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And end that I have now begun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For when this song is said and past,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My lute, be still, for I have done.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As to be heard where ear is none,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As lead to grave in marble stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My song may pierce her heart as soon:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should we then sing, or sigh, or moan?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No, no, my lute! for I have done.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rocks do not so cruelly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Repulse the waves continually,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As she my suit and affectiòn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So that I am past remedy:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whereby my lute and I have done.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Proud of the spoil that thou hast got<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of simple hearts thorough Love’s shot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By whom, unkind, thou hast them won;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think not he hath his bow forgot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Although my lute and I have done.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That makest but game of earnest pain:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Trow not alone under the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unquit to cause thy lover’s plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Although my lute and I have done.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_65" id="page_65">{65}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">May chance thee lie wither’d and old<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The winter nights that are so cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Plaining in vain unto the moon:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy wishes then dare not be told:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Care then who list! for I have done.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then may chance thee to repent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The time that thou has lost and spent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To cause thy lover’s sigh and swoon:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then shalt thou know beauty but lent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wish and want as I have done.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now cease, my lute! this is the last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Labour that thou and I shall waste,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ended is that we begun:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now is this song both sung and past—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My lute, be still, for I have done.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_HOWARD_EARL_OF_SURREY" id="HENRY_HOWARD_EARL_OF_SURREY"></a>HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1516-47<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_39" id="pm_39">39.</a></p> - -<h3>Description of Spring</h3> - -<p class="c"><i>Wherein each thing renews, save only the Lover</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nightingale with feathers new she sings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The turtle to her make hath told her tale.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Summer is come, for every spray now springs:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hart hath hung his old head on the pale;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The buck in brake his winter coat he flings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fishes flete with new repairèd scale.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>39.</i> make] mate.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_66" id="page_66">{66}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE adder all her slough away she slings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The busy bee her honey now she mings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winter is worn that was the flowers’ bale.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thus I see among these pleasant things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>39.</i> mings] mingles, mixes.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_40" id="pm_40">40.</a></p> - -<h3>Complaint of the Absence of Her Lover being upon the Sea</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> HAPPY dames! that may embrace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fruit of your delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Help to bewail the woful case<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And eke the heavy plight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of me, that wonted to rejoice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fortune of my pleasant choice:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good ladies, help to fill my mourning voice.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In ship, freight with rememberance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of thoughts and pleasures past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sails that hath in governance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My life while it will last:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With scalding sighs, for lack of gale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Furthering his hope, that is his sail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Toward me, the swete port of his avail,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas! how oft in dreams I see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those eyes that were my food;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which sometime so delighted me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That yet they do me good:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_67" id="page_67">{67}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherewith I wake with his return<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose absent flame did make me burn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when I find the lack, Lord! how I mourn!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When other lovers in arms across<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rejoice their chief delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drownèd in tears, to mourn my loss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I stand the bitter night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my window where I may see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the winds how the clouds flee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! what a mariner love hath made me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in green waves when the salt flood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doth rise by rage of wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thousand fancies in that mood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Assail my restless mind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! now drencheth my sweet foe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That with the spoil of my heart did go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And left me; but alas! why did he so?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when the seas wax calm again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To chase fro me annoy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My doubtful hope doth cause me plain;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So dread cuts off my joy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus is my wealth mingled with woe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of each thought a doubt doth grow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Now he comes! Will he come? Alas! no, no.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>40.</i> drencheth] i.e. is drenched or drowned.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_41" id="pm_41">41.</a></p> - -<h3>The Means to attain Happy Life</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>ARTIAL, the things that do attain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The happy life be these, I find:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The richesse left, not got with pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fruitful ground, the quiet mind;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_68" id="page_68">{68}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The equal friend; no grudge, no strife;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No charge of rule, nor governance;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without disease, the healthful life;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The household of continuance;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The mean diet, no delicate fare;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">True wisdom join’d with simpleness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night dischargèd of all care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where wine the wit may not oppress.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The faithful wife, without debate;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such sleeps as may beguile the night:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Contented with thine own estate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ne wish for death, ne fear his might.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2>NICHOLAS GRIMALD</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1519-62<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_42" id="pm_42">42.</a></p> - -<h3>A True Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What dear delight the blooms to bees, my true love is to me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As fresh and lusty Ver foul Winter doth exceed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As morning bright, with scarlet sky, doth pass the evening’s weed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As mellow pears above the crabs esteemèd be—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So doth my love surmount them all, whom yet I hap to see!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The oak shall olives bear, the lamb the lion fray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The owl shall match the nightingale in tuning of her lay,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>42.</i> fray] affright.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_69" id="page_69">{69}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>R I my love let slip out of mine entire heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So deep reposèd in my breast is she for her desart!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For many blessèd gifts, O happy, happy land!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Mars and Pallas strive to make their glory most to stand!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, land, more is thy bliss that, in this cruel age,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Venus’ imp thou hast brought forth, so steadfast and so sage.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the Muses Nine a tenth if Jove would make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to the Graces Three a fourth, her would Apollo take.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let some for honour hunt, and hoard the massy gold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her so I may live and die, my weal cannot be told.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_SCOTT" id="ALEXANDER_SCOTT"></a>ALEXANDER SCOTT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1520?-158-<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_43" id="pm_43">43.</a></p> - -<h3>A Bequest of His Heart</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ENCE, heart, with her that must depart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hald thee with thy soverane!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I had liever want ane heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor have the heart that dois me pain.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Therefore, go, with thy luve remain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let me leif thus unmolest;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And see that thou come not again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But bide with her thou luvis best.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sen she that I have servit lang<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is to depart so suddenly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Address thee now, for thou sall gang<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bear thy lady company.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>43.</i> hald] keep. sen] since.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_70" id="page_70">{70}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">F</span>RA she be gone, heartless am I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For quhy? thou art with her possest.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Therefore, my heart, go hence in high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bide with her thou luvis best.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though this belappit body here<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be bound to servitude and thrall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My faithful heart is free entier<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And mind to serve my lady at all.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would God that I were perigall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under that redolent rose to rest!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet at the least, my heart, thou sall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Abide with her thou luvis best.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sen in your garth the lily quhyte<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May not remain amang the laif,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adieu the flower of whole delite!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Adieu the succour that may me saif!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Adieu the fragrant balme suaif,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lamp of ladies lustiest!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My faithful heart she shall it haif<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bide with her it luvis best.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deploir, ye ladies cleir of hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her absence, sen she must depart!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, specially, ye luveris true<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That wounded bene with Luvis dart.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For some of you sall want ane heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As well as I; therefore at last<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Do go with mine, with mind inwart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bide with her thou luvis best!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>belappit] downtrodden. perigall] made equal to, privileged. garth] -garden-close. laif] rest. with mind inwart] with inner mind, i.e. -in spirit.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_71" id="page_71">{71}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_44" id="pm_44">44.</a></p> - -<h3>A Rondel of Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>O, quhat it is to love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Learn ye that list to prove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By me, I say, that no ways may<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ground of grief remove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But still decay both nicht and day:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lo, quhat it is to love!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Love is ane fervent fire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kindlit without desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Short pleasure, long displeasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Repentance is the hire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ane pure tressour without measour;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love is ane fervent fire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">To love and to be wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To rage with good advice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now thus, now than, so gois the game,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Incertain is the dice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no man, I say, that can<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Both love and to be wise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Flee always from the snare,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Learn at me to beware;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is ane pain, and double trane<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of endless woe and care;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For to refrain that danger plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flee always from the snare.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_72" id="page_72">{72}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_WEVER" id="ROBERT_WEVER"></a>ROBERT WEVER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">c. 1550<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_45" id="pm_45">45.</a></p> - -<h3>In Youth is Pleasure</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N a harbour grene aslepe whereas I lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The byrdes sang swete in the middes of the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dreamèd fast of mirth and play:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Methought I walked still to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from her company I could not go—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when I waked it was not so:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Therefore my hart is surely pyght<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her alone to have a sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which is my joy and hartes delight:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In youth is pleasure, in youth is pleasure.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RICHARD_EDWARDES" id="RICHARD_EDWARDES"></a>RICHARD EDWARDES</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1523-66<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_46" id="pm_46">46.</a></p> - -<h3>Amantium Iræ</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N going to my naked bed as one that would have slept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard a wife sing to her child, that long before had wept;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She sighèd sore and sang full sweet, to bring the babe to rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That would not cease but crièd still, in sucking at her breast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was full weary of her watch, and grievèd with her child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She rockèd it and rated it, till that on her it smiled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then did she say, Now have I found this proverb true to prove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to write,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In register for to remain of such a worthy wight:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As she proceeded thus in song unto her little brat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Much matter utter’d she of weight, in place whereas she sat:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_73" id="page_73">{73}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And provèd plain there was no beast, nor creature bearing life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could well be known to live in love without discord and strife:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then kissèd she her little babe, and sware by God above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She said that neither king nor prince nor lord could live aright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until their puissance they did prove, their manhood and their might.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When manhood shall be matched so that fear can take no place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then weary works make warriors each other to embrace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And left their force that failèd them, which did consume the rout,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That might before have lived their time, their strength and nature out:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then did she sing as one that thought no man could her reprove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She said she saw no fish nor fowl, nor beast within her haunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That met a stranger in their kind, but could give it a taunt:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since flesh might not endure, but rest must wrath succeed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And force the fight to fall to play in pasture where they feed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So noble nature can well end the work she hath begun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bridle well that will not cease her tragedy in some:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus in song she oft rehearsed, as did her well behove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I marvel much pardy (quoth she) for to behold the rout,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see man, woman, boy and beast, to toss the world about:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and some can smoothly smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some embrace others in arm, and there think many a wile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble and some stout,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet are they never friends in deed until they once fall out:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus ended she her song and said, before she did remove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_74" id="page_74">{74}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_GASCOIGNE" id="GEORGE_GASCOIGNE"></a>GEORGE GASCOIGNE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1525?-77<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_47" id="pm_47">47.</a></p> - -<h3>A Lover’s Lullaby</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>ING lullaby, as women do,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherewith they bring their babes to rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lullaby can I sing too,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As womanly as can the best.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lullaby they still the child;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if I be not much beguiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full many a wanton babe have I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which must be still’d with lullaby.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">First lullaby my youthful years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It is now time to go to bed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For crookèd age and hoary hairs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have won the haven within my head.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lullaby, then, youth be still;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lullaby content thy will;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since courage quails and comes behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go sleep, and so beguile thy mind!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Next lullaby my gazing eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which wonted were to glance apace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For every glass may now suffice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To show the furrows in thy face.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lullaby then wink awhile;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lullaby your looks beguile;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let no fair face, nor beauty bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Entice you eft with vain delight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And lullaby my wanton will;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let reason’s rule now reign thy thought;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since all too late I find by skill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How dear I have thy fancies bought;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_75" id="page_75">{75}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lullaby now take thine ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lullaby thy doubts appease;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For trust to this, if thou be still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My body shall obey thy will.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My will, my ware, and all that was:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I can no more delays devise;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But welcome pain, let pleasure pass.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lullaby now take your leave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lullaby your dreams deceive;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when you rise with waking eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remember then this lullaby.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_MONTGOMERIE" id="ALEXANDER_MONTGOMERIE"></a>ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1540?-1610?<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_48" id="pm_48">48.</a></p> - -<h3>The Night is Near Gone</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>EY! now the day dawis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The jolly cock crawis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now shroudis the shawis<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thro’ Nature anon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thissel-cock cryis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On lovers wha lyis:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now skaillis the skyis;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The nicht is neir gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The fieldis ouerflowis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With gowans that growis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quhair lilies like low is<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As red as the rone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>48.</i> shroudis] dress themselves. shawis] woods. skaillis] clears. -gowans] daisies. low] flame. rone] rowan.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_76" id="page_76">{76}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE turtle that true is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With notes that renewis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her pairty pursuis:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The nicht is neir gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now hairtis with hindis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conform to their kindis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hie tursis their tyndis<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On ground quhair they grone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now hurchonis, with hairis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aye passis in pairis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quhilk duly declaris<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The nicht is neir gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The season excellis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through sweetness that smellis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now Cupid compellis<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our hairtis echone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On Venus wha waikis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To muse on our maikis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Syne sing for their saikis—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘The nicht is neir gone!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All courageous knichtis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aganis the day dichtis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The breist-plate that bright is<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To fight with their fone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stonèd steed stampis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through courage, and crampis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Syne on the land lampis:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The nicht is neir gone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>pairty] partner, mate. tursis] carry. tyndis] antlers. grone] -groan, bell. hurchonis] hedgehogs, ‘urchins.’ maikis] mates. fone] -foes. stonèd steed] stallion. crampis] prances. lampis] gallops.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_77" id="page_77">{77}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE freikis on feildis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wight wapins weildis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With shyning bright shieldis<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At Titan in trone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stiff speiris in reistis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ouer corseris crestis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are broke on their breistis:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The nicht is neir gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So hard are their hittis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some sweyis, some sittis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some perforce flittis<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On ground quhile they grone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Syne groomis that gay is<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On blonkis that brayis<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With swordis assayis:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The nicht is neir gone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>48.</i> freikis] men, warriors. wight wapins] stout weapons. at -Titan] over against Titan (the sun), or read ‘as.’ flittis] are -cast. blonkis] white palfreys.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_STEVENSON" id="WILLIAM_STEVENSON"></a>WILLIAM STEVENSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1530?-1575<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_49" id="pm_49">49.</a></p> - -<h3>Jolly Good Ale and Old</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> CANNOT eat but little meat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My stomach is not good;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But sure I think that I can drink<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With him that wears a hood.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though I go bare, take ye no care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I nothing am a-cold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I stuff my skin so full within<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of jolly good ale and old.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Back and side go bare, go bare;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Both foot and hand go cold;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_78" id="page_78">{78}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whether it be new or old.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I love no roast but a nut-brown toast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a crab laid in the fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little bread shall do me stead;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Much bread I not desire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No frost nor snow, no wind, I trow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Can hurt me if I wold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am so wrapp’d and thoroughly lapp’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of jolly good ale and old.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Back and side go bare, go bare, &c.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Tib, my wife, that as her life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loveth well good ale to seek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full oft drinks she till ye may see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tears run down her cheek:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then doth she trowl to me the bowl<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Even as a maltworm should,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And saith, ‘Sweetheart, I took my part<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of this jolly good ale and old.’<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Back and side go bare, go bare, &c.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now let them drink till they nod and wink,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Even as good fellows should do;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They shall not miss to have the bliss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Good ale doth bring men to;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all poor souls that have scour’d bowls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or have them lustily troll’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God save the lives of them and their wives,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whether they be young or old.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Back and side go bare, go bare;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Both foot and hand go cold;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But, belly, God send thee good ale enough,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whether it be new or old.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_79" id="page_79">{79}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ANONYMOUS_SCOTTISH" id="ANONYMOUS_SCOTTISH"></a>ANONYMOUS (SCOTTISH)</h2> - -<p class="dtt">16th Cent.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_50" id="pm_50">50.</a></p> - -<h3>When Flora had O’erfret the Firth</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Q</span>UHEN Flora had o’erfret the firth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In May of every moneth queen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quhen merle and mavis singis with mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet melling in the shawis sheen;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhen all luvaris rejoicit bene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And most desirous of their prey,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I heard a lusty luvar mene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—‘I luve, but I dare nocht assay!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Strong are the pains I daily prove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But yet with patience I sustene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am so fetterit with the luve<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only of my lady sheen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quhilk for her beauty micht be queen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nature so craftily alway<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has done depaint that sweet serene:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Quhom I luve I dare nocht assay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘She is so bricht of hyd and hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I luve but her alone, I ween;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is none her luve that may eschew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That blinkis of that dulce amene;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So comely cleir are her twa een<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she mae luvaris dois affray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than ever of Greece did fair Helene:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Quhom I luve I dare nocht assay!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>o’erfret] adorned. shawis] woods. sheen] beautiful. mene] mourn. -hyd] skin. blinkis] gets a glimpse. dulce amene] gentle and -pleasant one. mae] more.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_80" id="page_80">{80}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_51" id="pm_51">51.</a></p> - -<h3>Lusty May</h3> - -<p class="dtt">16th Cent.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> LUSTY May, with Flora queen!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The balmy dropis from Phoebus sheen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Preluciand beams before the day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By that Diana growis green<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through gladness of this lusty May.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then Esperus, that is so bricht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Til woful hairtis castis his light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With bankis that bloomis on every brae;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And schouris are shed forth of their sicht<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through gladness of this lusty May.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Birdis on bewis of every birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rejoicing notis makand their mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Richt plesantly upon the spray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With flourishingis o’er field and firth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through gladness of this lusty May.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All luvaris that are in care<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To their ladies they do repair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In fresh morningis before the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And are in mirth ay mair and mair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through gladness of this lusty May.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>51.</i> sheen] bright. til] into. schouris] showers. bewis] boughs. -birth] kind. 52. wiss] wish.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_52" id="pm_52">52.</a></p> - -<h3>My Heart is High Above</h3> - -<p class="dtt">16th Cent.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y heart is high above, my body is full of bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I am set in luve as well as I would wiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I luve my lady pure and she luvis me again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am her serviture, she is my soverane;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_81" id="page_81">{81}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is my very heart, I am her howp and heill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is my joy invart, I am her luvar leal;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am her bond and thrall, she is at my command;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am perpetual her man, both foot and hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thing that may her please my body sall fulfil;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quhatever her disease, it does my body ill.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My bird, my bonny ane, my tender babe venust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My luve, my life alane, my liking and my lust!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We interchange our hairtis in others armis soft,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spriteless we twa depairtis, usand our luvis oft.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We mourn when licht day dawis, we plain the nicht is short,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We curse the cock that crawis, that hinderis our disport.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I glowffin up aghast, quhen I her miss on nicht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in my oxter fast I find the bowster richt;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then languor on me lies like Morpheus the mair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quhilk causes me uprise and to my sweet repair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then is all the sorrow forth of remembrance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ever I had a-forrow in luvis observance.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus never I do rest, so lusty a life I lead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quhen that I list to test the well of womanheid.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Luvaris in pain, I pray God send you sic remeid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I have nicht and day, you to defend from deid!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therefore be ever true unto your ladies free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they will on you rue as mine has done on me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>heill] health. invart] inward. venust] delightful. glowffin] blink -on awaking. oxter] armpit. a-forrow] aforetime.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_82" id="page_82">{82}</a></span></p> - -<h3><a name="NUMBERS" id="NUMBERS"></a>NUMBERS<br /><br /> - -<small>FROM</small><br /><br /> - -ELIZABETHAN MISCELLANIES & SONG-BOOKS<br /><br /> -<small> -BY UNNAMED OR UNCERTAIN AUTHORS</small></h3> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_53" id="pm_53">53.</a></p> - -<h3>A Praise of His Lady</h3> - -<p class="dtt"><small>Tottel’s Miscellany, 1557</small><br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>IVE place, you ladies, and begone!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Boast not yourselves at all!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For here at hand approacheth one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose face will stain you all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The virtue of her lively looks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Excels the precious stone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wish to have none other books<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To read or look upon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In each of her two crystal eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Smileth a naked boy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It would you all in heart suffice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see that lamp of joy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I think Nature hath lost the mould<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where she her shape did take;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or else I doubt if Nature could<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So fair a creature make.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She may be well compared<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unto the Phœnix kind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose like was never seen or heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That any man can find.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_83" id="page_83">{83}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">In life she is Diana chaste,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In troth Penelopey;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In word and eke in deed steadfast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—What will you more we say?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If all the world were sought so far,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who could find such a wight?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her beauty twinkleth like a star<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within the frosty night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her rosial colour comes and goes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With such a comely grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More ruddier, too, than doth the rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within her lively face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At Bacchus’ feast none shall her meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ne at no wanton play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor gazing in an open street,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor gadding as a stray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The modest mirth that she doth use<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is mix’d with shamefastness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All vice she doth wholly refuse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hateth idleness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Lord! it is a world to see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How virtue can repair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And deck in her such honesty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whom Nature made so fair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Truly she doth so far exceed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our women nowadays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As doth the jeliflower a weed;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And more a thousand ways.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_84" id="page_84">{84}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">How might I do to get a graff<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of this unspotted tree?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—For all the rest are plain but chaff,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which seem good corn to be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This gift alone I shall her give;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When death doth what he can,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her honest fame shall ever live<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within the mouth of man.<br /></span> -<span class="i12"> -? by <i>John Heywood</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_54" id="pm_54">54.</a></p> - -<h3>To Her Sea-faring Lover</h3> - -<p class="dtt"><small> -Tottel’s Miscellany, 1557</small><br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">S</span>HALL I thus ever long, and be no whit the neare?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And shall I still complain to thee, the which me will not hear?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alas! say nay! say nay! and be no more so dumb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But open thou thy manly mouth and say that thou wilt come:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whereby my heart may think, although I see not thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thou wilt come—thy word so sware—if thou a live man be.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The roaring hugy waves they threaten my poor ghost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And toss thee up and down the seas in danger to be lost.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall they not make me fear that they have swallowed thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—But as thou art most sure alive, so wilt thou come to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whereby I shall go see thy ship ride on the strand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And think and say <i>Lo where he comes</i> and <i>Sure here will he land:</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>54.</i> neare] nearer.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_85" id="page_85">{85}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">A</span>ND then I shall lift up to thee my little hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou shalt think thine heart in ease, in health to see me stand.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And if thou come indeed (as Christ thee send to do!)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those arms which miss thee now shall then embrace [and hold] thee too:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each vein to every joint the lively blood shall spread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which now for want of thy glad sight doth show full pale and dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But if thou slip thy troth, and do not come at all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As minutes in the clock do strike so call for death I shall:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To please both thy false heart and rid myself from woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That rather had to die in troth than live forsaken so!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_55" id="pm_55">55.</a></p> - -<h3>The Faithless Shepherdess</h3> - -<p class="dtt"><small> -William Byrd’s <i>Songs of<br /> -Sundry Natures</i>, 1589</small><br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HILE that the sun with his beams hot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scorchèd the fruits in vale and mountain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Philon the shepherd, late forgot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sitting beside a crystal fountain<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In shadow of a green oak tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Upon his pipe this song play’d he:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So long as I was in your sight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I was your heart, your soul, your treasure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And evermore you sobb’d and sigh’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Burning in flames beyond all measure:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">—Three days endured your love to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And it was lost in other three!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_86" id="page_86">{86}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Another shepherd you did see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To whom your heart was soon enchainèd;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full soon your love was leapt from me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full soon my place he had obtainèd.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Soon came a third your love to win,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And we were out and he was in.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sure you have made me passing glad<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That you your mind so soon removèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before that I the leisure had<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To choose you for my best belovèd:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For all my love was pass’d and done<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Two days before it was begun.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_56" id="pm_56">56.</a></p> - -<h3>Crabbed Age and Youth</h3> - -<p class="dtt"><small> -<i>The Passionate Pilgrim</i>, 1599</small><br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>RABBÈD Age and Youth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cannot live together:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth is full of pleasance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Age is full of care;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth like summer morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Age like winter weather;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_87" id="page_87">{87}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth like summer brave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Age like winter bare.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth is full of sport,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Age’s breath is short;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth is nimble, Age is lame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth is hot and bold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Age is weak and cold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth is wild, and Age is tame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Age, I do abhor thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth, I do adore thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, my Love, my Love is young!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Age, I do defy thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, sweet shepherd, hie thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For methinks thou stay’st too long.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dtt"><small> -? by <i>William Shakespeare</i><br /></small> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_57" id="pm_57">57.</a></p> - -<h3>Phyllida’s Love-Call</h3> - -<p class="dtt"><small><i>England’s Helicon</i>, 1600</small></p> - -<pre> - <i>Phyllida.</i> Corydon, arise, my Corydon! - Titan shineth clear. - <i>Corydon.</i> Who is it that calleth Corydon? - Who is it that I hear? - <i>Phyl.</i> Phyllida, thy true love, calleth thee, - Arise then, arise then, - Arise and keep thy flock with me! - <i>Cor.</i> Phyllida, my true love, is it she? - I come then, I come then, - I come and keep my flock with thee. - - <i>Phyl.</i> Here are cherries ripe for my Corydon; - Eat them for my sake. - <i>Cor.</i> Here’s my oaten pipe, my lovely one, - Sport for thee to make. - - <i>Phyl.</i> Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk, - To knit thee, to knit thee, - A pair of stockings white as milk. - <i>Cor.</i> Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat, - To make thee, to make thee, - A bonnet to withstand the heat. - - <i>Phyl.</i> I will gather flowers, my Corydon, - To set in thy cap. - <i>Cor.</i> I will gather pears, my lovely one, - To put in thy lap. - <i>Phyl.</i> I will buy my true love garters gay, - For Sundays, for Sundays, - To wear about his legs so tall. - <i>Cor.</i> I will buy my true love yellow say, - For Sundays, for Sundays, - To wear about her middle small. - - <i>Phyl.</i> When my Corydon sits on a hill - Making melody— - <i>Cor.</i> When my lovely one goes to her wheel, - Singing cheerily— - <i>Phyl.</i> Sure methinks my true love doth excel - For sweetness, for sweetness, - Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight. - <i>Cor.</i> And methinks my true love bears the bell - For clearness, for clearness, - Beyond the nymphs that be so bright. - - <i>Phyl.</i> Had my Corydon, my Corydon, - Been, alack! her swain— - <i>Cor.</i> Had my lovely one, my lovely one, - Been in Ida plain— -</pre> - -<div class="blockquot"><p> say] <i>soie</i>, silk.</p> -</div> - -<pre> - <i>Phyl.</i> Cynthia Endymion had refused, - Preferring, preferring, - My Corydon to play withal. - <i>Cor.</i> The Queen of Love had been excused - Bequeathing, bequeathing, - My Phyllida the golden ball. - - <i>Phyl.</i> Yonder comes my mother, Corydon! - Whither shall I fly? - <i>Cor.</i> Under yonder beech, my lovely one, - While she passeth by. - <i>Phyl.</i> Say to her thy true love was not here; - Remember, remember, - To-morrow is another day. - <i>Cor.</i> Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear; - Farewell then, farewell then! - Heaven keep our loves alway! -</pre> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_58" id="pm_58">58.</a></p> - -<h3>A Pedlar</h3> - -<p class="dtt"><small> -John Dowland’s <i>Second Book of<br /> -Songs or Airs</i>, 1600</small><br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>INE knacks for ladies! cheap, choice, brave, and new,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Good pennyworths—but money cannot move:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I keep a fair but for the Fair to view—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A beggar may be liberal of love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">The heart is true.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My trifles come as treasures from my mind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is a precious jewel to be plain;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sometimes in shell the orient’st pearls we find:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Of me a grain!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_90" id="page_90">{90}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_59" id="pm_59">59.</a></p> - -<h3>Hey nonny no!</h3> - -<p class="dtt"><small> -Christ Church MS.<br /></small> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>EY nonny no!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Men are fools that wish to die!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is’t not fine to dance and sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the bells of death do ring?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is’t not fine to swim in wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turn upon the toe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sing hey nonny no!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the winds blow and the seas flow?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hey nonny no!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_60" id="pm_60">60.</a></p> - -<h3>Preparations</h3> - -<p class="dtt"><small> -Christ Church MS.<br /></small> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>ET if His Majesty, our sovereign lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should of his own accord<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Friendly himself invite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And say ‘I’ll be your guest to-morrow night,’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How should we stir ourselves, call and command<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All hands to work! ‘Let no man idle stand!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Set me fine Spanish tables in the hall;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See they be fitted all;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let there be room to eat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And order taken that there want no meat.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See every sconce and candlestick made bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That without tapers they may give a light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Look to the presence: are the carpets spread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dazie o’er the head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cushions in the chairs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the candles lighted on the stairs?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perfume the chambers, and in any case<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let each man give attendance in his place!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_91" id="page_91">{91}</a></span>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus, if a king were coming, would we do;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ’twere good reason too;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ’tis a duteous thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To show all honour to an earthly king,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And after all our travail and our cost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So he be pleased, to think no labour lost.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But at the coming of the King of Heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All’s set at six and seven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We wallow in our sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Christ cannot find a chamber in the inn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We entertain Him always like a stranger,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, as at first, still lodge Him in the manger.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_61" id="pm_61">61.</a></p> - -<h3>The New Jerusalem</h3> - -<p class="dtt"><small> -<i>Song of Mary the Mother of<br /> -Christ</i> (London: E. Alide), 1601<br /></small> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>IERUSALEM, my happy home,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When shall I come to thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When shall my sorrows have an end,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy joys when shall I see?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O happy harbour of the Saints!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O sweet and pleasant soil!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In thee no sorrow may be found,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No grief, no care, no toil.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There lust and lucre cannot dwell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There envy bears no sway;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no hunger, heat, nor cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But pleasure every way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy walls are made of precious stones,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy bulwarks diamonds square;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy gates are of right orient pearl,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Exceeding rich and rare.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_92" id="page_92">{92}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy turrets and thy pinnacles<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With carbuncles do shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy very streets are paved with gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Surpassing clear and fine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, my sweet home, Hierusalem,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would God I were in thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would God my woes were at an end,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy joys that I might see!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy gardens and thy gallant walks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Continually are green;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There grows such sweet and pleasant flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As nowhere else are seen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Quite through the streets, with silver sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flood of Life doth flow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon whose banks on every side<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wood of Life doth grow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There trees for evermore bear fruit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And evermore do spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There evermore the angels sit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And evermore do sing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our Lady sings <i>Magnificat</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2">With tones surpassing sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the virgins bear their part,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sitting about her feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hierusalem, my happy home,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would God I were in thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would God my woes were at an end,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy joys that I might see!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_93" id="page_93">{93}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_62" id="pm_62">62.</a></p> - -<h3>Icarus</h3> - -<p class="dtt"><small> -Robert Jones’s <i>Second Book of<br /> -Songs and Airs</i>, 1601<br /></small> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE wing’d my Hopes and taught me how to fly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far from base earth, but not to mount too high:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For true pleasure<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lives in measure,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Which if men forsake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blinded they into folly run and grief for pleasure take.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But my vain Hopes, proud of their new-taught flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enamour’d sought to woo the sun’s fair light,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Whose rich brightness<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Moved their lightness<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To aspire so high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all scorch’d and consumed with fire now drown’d in woe they lie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And none but Love their woeful hap did rue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Love did know that their desires were true;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Though fate frownèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And now drownèd<br /></span> -<span class="i6">They in sorrow dwell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was the purest light of heav’n for whose fair love they fell.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_63" id="pm_63">63.</a></p> - -<h3>Madrigal</h3> - -<p class="dttsml">Davison’s <i>Poetical Rhapsody</i>, 1602<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y Love in her attire doth show her wit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It doth so well become her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For every season she hath dressings fit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For Winter, Spring, and Summer.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No beauty she doth miss<br /></span> -<span class="i6">When all her robes are on:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But Beauty’s self she is<br /></span> -<span class="i6">When all her robes are gone.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_94" id="page_94">{94}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_64" id="pm_64">64.</a></p> - -<h3>How can the Heart forget her?</h3> - -<p class="dttsml">Davison’s <i>Poetical Rhapsody</i>, 1602<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>T her fair hands how have I grace entreated<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With prayers oft repeated!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet still my love is thwarted:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart, let her go, for she’ll not be converted—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Say, shall she go?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O no, no, no, no, no!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is most fair, though she be marble-hearted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How often have my sighs declared my anguish,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein I daily languish!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet still she doth procure it:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart, let her go, for I can not endure it—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Say, shall she go?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O no, no, no, no, no!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She gave the wound, and she alone must cure it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But shall I still a true affection owe her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which prayers, sighs, tears do show her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shall she still disdain me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart, let her go, if they no grace can gain me—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Say, shall she go?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O no, no, no, no, no!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She made me hers, and hers she will retain me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But if the love that hath and still doth burn me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No love at length return me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of my thoughts I’ll set her:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart, let her go, O heart I pray thee, let her!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Say, shall she go?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O no, no, no, no, no!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fix’d in the heart, how can the heart forget her?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml">? <i>F.</i> or <i>W. Davison</i><br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_95" id="page_95">{95}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_65" id="pm_65">65.</a></p> - -<h3>Tears</h3> - -<p class="dttsml">John Dowland’s <i>Third and Last<br /> -Book of Songs or Airs</i>, 1603<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>EEP you no more, sad fountains;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What need you flow so fast?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look how the snowy mountains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heaven’s sun doth gently waste!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But my Sun’s heavenly eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">View not your weeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That now lies sleeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Softly, now softly lies<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sleeping.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep is a reconciling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A rest that peace begets;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doth not the sun rise smiling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When fair at even he sets?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rest you then, rest, sad eyes!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Melt not in weeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">While she lies sleeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Softly, now softly lies<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sleeping.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_66" id="pm_66">66.</a></p> - -<h3>My Lady’s Tears</h3> - -<p class="dttsml">John Dowland’s <i>Third and Last<br /> -Book of Songs or Airs</i>, 1603<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SAW my Lady weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Sorrow proud to be advancèd so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In those fair eyes where all perfections keep.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her face was full of woe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_96" id="page_96">{96}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Sorrow was there made fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Passion wise; Tears a delightful thing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silence beyond all speech, a wisdom rare:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She made her sighs to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all things with so sweet a sadness move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As made my heart at once both grieve, and love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">O fairer than aught else<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world can show, leave off in time to grieve!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enough, enough: your joyful look excels:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tears kill the heart, believe.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O strive not to be excellent in woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which only breeds your beauty’s overthrow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_67" id="pm_67">67.</a></p> - -<h3>Sister, Awake!</h3> - -<p class="dttsml">Thomas Bateson’s <i>First Set of<br /> -English Madrigals</i>, 1604<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>ISTER, awake! close not your eyes!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The day her light discloses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the bright morning doth arise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of her bed of roses.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See the clear sun, the world’s bright eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In at our window peeping:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo, how he blusheth to espy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Us idle wenches sleeping!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Therefore awake! make haste, I say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let us, without staying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All in our gowns of green so gay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the Park a-maying!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_97" id="page_97">{97}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_68" id="pm_68">68.</a></p> - -<h3>Devotion</h3> - -<p class="dttsml">Captain Tobias Hume’s <i>The First<br /> -Part of Airs, &c.</i>, 1605<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AIN would I change that note<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To which fond Love hath charm’d me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long, long to sing by rote,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fancying that that harm’d me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet when this thought doth come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Love is the perfect sum<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of all delight,’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have no other choice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Either for pen or voice<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To sing or write.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Love! they wrong thee much<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That say thy sweet is bitter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thy rich fruit is such<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As nothing can be sweeter.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair house of joy and bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where truest pleasure is,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I do adore thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know thee what thou art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I serve thee with my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And fall before thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_69" id="pm_69">69.</a></p> - -<h3>Since First I saw your Face</h3> - -<p class="dttsml">Thomas Ford’s <i>Music of<br /> -Sundry Kinds</i>, 1607<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>INCE first I saw your face I resolved to honour and renown ye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If now I be disdainèd I wish my heart had never known ye.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What? I that loved and you that liked, shall we begin to wrangle?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No, no, no, my heart is fast, and cannot disentangle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_98" id="page_98">{98}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If I admire or praise you too much, that fault you may forgive me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if my hands had stray’d but a touch, then justly might you leave me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ask’d you leave, you bade me love; is’t now a time to chide me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No, no, no, I’ll love you still what fortune e’er betide me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Sun, whose beams most glorious are, rejecteth no beholder,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And your sweet beauty past compare made my poor eyes the bolder:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where beauty moves and wit delights and signs of kindness bind me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, O there! where’er I go I’ll leave my heart behind me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_70" id="pm_70">70.</a></p> - -<h3>There is a Lady sweet and kind</h3> - -<p class="dttsml">Thomas Ford’s <i>Music of<br /> -Sundry Kinds</i>, 1607<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE is a Lady sweet and kind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was never face so pleased my mind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did but see her passing by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet I love her till I die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her gesture, motion, and her smiles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her wit, her voice my heart beguiles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beguiles my heart, I know not why,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet I love her till I die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cupid is wingèd and doth range,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her country so my love doth change:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But change she earth, or change she sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet will I love her till I die.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_99" id="page_99">{99}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_71" id="pm_71">71.</a></p> - -<h3>Love not me for comely grace</h3> - -<p class="dttsml">John Wilbye’s <i>Second Set of Madrigals</i>, 1609<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE not me for comely grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For my pleasing eye or face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor for any outward part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No, nor for a constant heart:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For these may fail or turn to ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So thou and I shall sever:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Keep, therefore, a true woman’s eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love me still but know not why—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So hast thou the same reason still<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To doat upon me ever!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_72" id="pm_72">72.</a></p> - -<h3>The Wakening</h3> - -<p class="dttsml">John Attye’s <i>First Book of Airs</i>, 1622<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>N a time the amorous Silvy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said to her shepherd, ‘Sweet, how do ye?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss me this once and then God be with ye,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My sweetest dear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss me this once and then God be with ye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For now the morning draweth near.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With that, her fairest bosom showing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Op’ning her lips, rich perfumes blowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She said, ‘Now kiss me and be going,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My sweetest dear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss me this once and then be going,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For now the morning draweth near.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With that the shepherd waked from sleeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spying where the day was peeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He said, ‘Now take my soul in keeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My sweetest dear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss me and take my soul in keeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since I must go, now day is near.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_100" id="page_100">{100}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2>NICHOLAS BRETON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1542-1626<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_73" id="pm_73">73.</a></p> - -<h3>Phillida and Coridon</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N the merry month of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a morn by break of day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forth I walk’d by the wood-side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When as May was in his pride:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There I spièd all alone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Phillida and Coridon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Much ado there was, God wot!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He would love and she would not.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She said, Never man was true;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He said, None was false to you.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He said, He had loved her long;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She said, Love should have no wrong.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coridon would kiss her then;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She said, Maids must kiss no men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till they did for good and all;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then she made the shepherd call<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the heavens to witness truth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never loved a truer youth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus with many a pretty oath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea and nay, and faith and troth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such as silly shepherds use<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When they will not Love abuse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, which had been long deluded,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was with kisses sweet concluded;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Phillida, with garlands gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was made the Lady of the May.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_101" id="page_101">{101}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2>NICHOLAS BRETON?</h2> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_74" id="pm_74">74.</a></p> - -<h3>A Cradle Song</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>The Arbor of Amorous<br /> -Devices</i>, 1593-4<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME little babe, come silly soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy father’s shame, thy mother’s grief,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Born as I doubt to all our dole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to thyself unhappy chief:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sing lullaby, and lap it warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Poor soul that thinks no creature harm.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou little think’st and less dost know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cause of this thy mother’s moan;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou want’st the wit to wail her woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I myself am all alone:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Why dost thou weep? why dost thou wail?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And know’st not yet what thou dost ail.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, little wretch—ah, silly heart!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mine only joy, what can I more?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If there be any wrong thy smart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That may the destinies implore:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Twas I, I say, against my will,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I wail the time, but be thou still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And dost thou smile? O, thy sweet face!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would God Himself He might thee see!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No doubt thou wouldst soon purchase grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know right well, for thee and me:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But come to mother, babe, and play,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For father false is fled away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet boy, if it by fortune chance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy father home again to send,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_102" id="page_102">{102}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">If death do strike me with his lance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet mayst thou me to him commend:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">If any ask thy mother’s name,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tell how by love she purchased blame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then will his gentle heart soon yield:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know him of a noble mind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Although a lion in the field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lamb in town thou shalt him find:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ask blessing, babe, be not afraid,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His sugar’d words hath me betray’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then mayst thou joy and be right glad;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Although in woe I seem to moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy father is no rascal lad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A noble youth of blood and bone:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His glancing looks, if he once smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Right honest women may beguile.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, little boy, and rock asleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing lullaby and be thou still;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, that can do naught else but weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will sit by thee and wail my fill:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">God bless my babe, and lullaby<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From this thy father’s quality.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_WALTER_RALEIGH" id="SIR_WALTER_RALEIGH"></a>SIR WALTER RALEIGH</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1552-1618<br /> -</p> - -<h3><i>The Silent Lover</i></h3> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_75" id="pm_75">75.</a></p> - -<h4>i</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>ASSIONS are liken’d best to floods and streams:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, when affection yields discourse, it seems<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bottom is but shallow whence they come.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They that are rich in words, in words discover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That they are poor in that which makes a lover.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_103" id="page_103">{103}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_76" id="pm_76">76.</a></p> - -<h4>ii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>RONG not, sweet empress of my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The merit of true passion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With thinking that he feels no smart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That sues for no compassion.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Silence in love bewrays more woe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than words, though ne’er so witty:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A beggar that is dumb, you know,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May challenge double pity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then wrong not, dearest to my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My true, though secret passion;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He smarteth most that hides his smart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sues for no compassion.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_77" id="pm_77">77.</a></p> - -<h3>His Pilgrimage</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>IVE me my scallop-shell of quiet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My staff of faith to walk upon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My scrip of joy, immortal diet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My bottle of salvation,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My gown of glory, hope’s true gage;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Blood must be my body’s balmer;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No other balm will there be given;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst my soul, like quiet palmer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Travelleth towards the land of heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the silver mountains,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where spring the nectar fountains;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">There will I kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The bowl of bliss;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_104" id="page_104">{104}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">And drink mine everlasting fill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon every milken hill.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My soul will be a-dry before;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, after, it will thirst no more.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_78" id="pm_78">78.</a></p> - -<h3>The Conclusion</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">E</span>VEN such is Time, that takes in trust<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our youth, our joys, our all we have,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pays us but with earth and dust;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who in the dark and silent grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When we have wander’d all our ways,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shuts up the story of our days;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But from this earth, this grave, this dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My God shall raise me up, I trust.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EDMUND_SPENSER" id="EDMUND_SPENSER"></a>EDMUND SPENSER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1552-1599<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_79" id="pm_79">79.</a></p> - -<h3>Whilst it is prime</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>RESH Spring, the herald of loves mighty king,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In whose cote-armour richly are displayd<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All sorts of flowers, the which on earth do spring.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In goodly colours gloriously arrayd—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Goe to my love, where she is carelesse layd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet in her winters bowre not well awake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell her the joyous time wil not be staid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unlesse she doe him by the forelock take;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bid her therefore her selfe soone ready make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wayt on Love amongst his lovely crew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where every one, that misseth then her make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall be by him amearst with penance dew.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Make hast, therefore, sweet love, whilest it is prime;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For none can call againe the passèd time.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>79.</i> make] mate.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_105" id="page_105">{105}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_80" id="pm_80">80.</a></p> - -<h3>A Ditty</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>In praise of Eliza, Queen of the Shepherds</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>EE where she sits upon the grassie greene,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">(O seemely sight!)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yclad in Scarlot, like a mayden Queene,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And ermines white:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon her head a Cremosin coronet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Damaske roses and Daffadillies set:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Bay leaves betweene,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And primroses greene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Embellish the sweete Violet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tell me, have ye seene her angelick face<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Like Phœbe fayre?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her heavenly haveour, her princely grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Can you well compare?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Redde rose medled with the White yfere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In either cheeke depeincten lively chere:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Her modest eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Her Majestie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where have you seene the like but there?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see Calliope speede her to the place,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Where my Goddesse shines;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And after her the other Muses trace<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With their Violines.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bene they not Bay braunches which they do beare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All for Elisa in her hand to weare?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So sweetely they play,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And sing all the way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That it a heaven is to heare.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>medled] mixed. yfere] together.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_106" id="page_106">{106}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>O, how finely the Graces can it foote<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To the Instrument:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They dauncen deffly, and singen soote,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In their meriment.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wants not a fourth Grace to make the daunce even?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let that rowme to my Lady be yeven.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She shal be a Grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To fyll the fourth place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And reigne with the rest in heaven.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bring hether the Pincke and purple Cullambine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With Gelliflowres;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring Coronations, and Sops-in-wine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Worne of Paramoures:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strowe me the ground with Daffadowndillies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and lovèd Lillies:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The pretie Pawnce,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the Chevisaunce,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall match with the fayre flowre Delice.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now ryse up, Elisa, deckèd as thou art<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In royall aray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now ye daintie Damsells may depart<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Eche one her way.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I feare I have troubled your troupes to longe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let dame Elisa thanke you for her song:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And if you come hether<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When Damsines I gether,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will part them all you among.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>soote] sweet. coronations] carnations. sops-in-wine] striped pinks. -pawnce] pansy. chevisaunce] wallflower. flowre delice] iris.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_107" id="page_107">{107}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_81" id="pm_81">81.</a></p> - -<h3>Prothalamion</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>ALME was the day, and through the trembling ayre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweete-breathing Zephyrus did softly play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hot Titans beames, which then did glyster fayre;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I, (whom sullein care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through discontent of my long fruitlesse stay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Princes Court, and expectation vayne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of idle hopes, which still doe fly away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like empty shaddowes, did afflict my brayne,)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Walkt forth to ease my payne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the shoare of silver streaming Themmes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose rutty Bancke, the which his River hemmes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was paynted all with variable flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the meades adornd with daintie gemmes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fit to decke maydens bowres,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And crowne their Paramours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the Brydale day, which is not long:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There, in a Meadow, by the Rivers side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Flocke of Nymphes I chauncèd to espy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All lovely Daughters of the Flood thereby,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With goodly greenish locks, all loose untyde,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As each had bene a Bryde;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And each one had a little wicker basket,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made of fine twigs, entraylèd curiously,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with fine Fingers cropt full feateously<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tender stalkes on hye.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of every sort, which in that Meadow grew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They gathered some; the Violet, pallid blew,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_108" id="page_108">{108}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The little Dazie, that at evening closes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The virgin Lillie, and the Primrose trew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With store of vermeil Roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To decke their Bridegromes posies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the Brydale day, which was not long:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With that I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come softly swimming downe along the Lee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two fairer Birds I yet did never see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The snow, which doth the top of Pindus strew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did never whiter shew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor Jove himselfe, when he a Swan would be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For love of Leda, whiter did appeare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet not so white as these, nor nothing neare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So purely white they were,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That even the gentle streame, the which them bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seem’d foule to them, and bad his billowes spare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wet their silken feathers, least they might<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And marre their beauties bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shone as heavens light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against their Brydale day, which was not long:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eftsoones the Nymphes, which now had Flowers their fill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ran all in haste to see that silver brood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they came floating on the Christal Flood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom when they sawe, they stood amazèd still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their wondring eyes to fill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Them seem’d they never saw a sight so fayre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_109" id="page_109">{109}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which through the Skie draw Venus silver Teeme;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For sure they did not seeme<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be begot of any earthly Seede,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But rather Angels, or of Angels breede;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet were they bred of Somers-heat, they say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sweetest Season, when each Flower and weede<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth did fresh aray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fresh they seem’d as day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even as their Brydale day, which was not long:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then forth they all out of their baskets drew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great store of Flowers, the honour of the field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to the sense did fragrant odours yield,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All which upon those goodly Birds they threw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the Waves did strew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That like old Peneus Waters they did seeme,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When downe along by pleasant Tempes shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scattred with Flowres, through Thessaly they streeme,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That they appeare, through Lillies plenteous store,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a Brydes Chamber flore.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two of those Nymphes, meane while, two Garlands bound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of freshest Flowres which in that Mead they found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The which presenting all in trim Array,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their snowie Foreheads therewithall they crownd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whil’st one did sing this Lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prepared against that Day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against their Brydale day, which was not long:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Ye gentle Birdes! the worlds faire ornament,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heavens glorie, whom this happie hower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doth leade unto your lovers blisfull bower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joy may you have, and gentle hearts content<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_110" id="page_110">{110}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of your loves couplement;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let faire Venus, that is Queene of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her heart-quelling Sonne upon you smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose smile, they say, hath vertue to remove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All Loves dislike, and friendships faultie guile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ever to assoile.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let endlesse Peace your steadfast hearts accord,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blessèd Plentie wait upon your bord;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let your bed with pleasures chast abound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fruitfull issue may to you afford,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which may your foes confound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And make your joyes redound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon your Brydale day, which is not long:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweete Themmes! runne softlie, till I end my Song.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So ended she; and all the rest around<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her redoubled that her undersong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which said their brydale daye should not be long:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gentle Eccho from the neighbour ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their accents did resound.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So forth those joyous Birdes did passe along,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adowne the Lee, that to them murmurde low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As he would speake, but that he lackt a tong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet did by signes his glad affection show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Making his streame run slow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the foule which in his flood did dwell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gan flock about these twaine, that did excell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lesser starres. So they, enrangèd well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did on those two attend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And their best service lend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against their wedding day, which was not long:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_111" id="page_111">{111}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At length they all to mery London came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mery London, my most kyndly Nurse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to me gave this Lifes first native sourse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though from another place I take my name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An house of auncient fame:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There when they came, whereas those bricky towres<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The which on Themmes brode agèd backe doe ryde,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where now the studious Lawyers have their bowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There whylome wont the Templer Knights to byde,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till they decayd through pride:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Next whereunto there standes a stately place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where oft I gaynèd giftes and goodly grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that great Lord, which therein wont to dwell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose want too well now feeles my freendles case;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ah! here fits not well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Olde woes, but joyes, to tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the Brydale daye, which is not long:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet therein now doth lodge a noble Peer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great Englands glory, and the Worlds wide wonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose dreadfull name late through all Spaine did thunder,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Hercules two pillors standing neere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did make to quake and feare:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faire branch of Honor, flower of Chevalrie!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fillest England with thy triumphes fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joy have thou of thy noble victorie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And endlesse happinesse of thine owne name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That promiseth the same;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That through thy prowesse, and victorious armes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy country may be freed from forraine harmes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And great Elisaes glorious name may ring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through al the world, fil’d with thy wide Alarmes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_112" id="page_112">{112}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which some brave muse may sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To ages following,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the Brydale day, which is not long:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweete Themmes! runne softly till I end my Song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From those high Towers this noble Lord issuing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Radiant Hesper, when his golden hayre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In th’ Ocean billowes he hath bathèd fayre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Descended to the Rivers open vewing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a great traine ensuing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the rest were goodly to bee seene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two gentle Knights of lovely face and feature,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beseeming well the bower of anie Queene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With gifts of wit, and ornaments of nature,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fit for so goodly stature,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That like the twins of Jove they seem’d in sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which decke the Bauldricke of the Heavens bright;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They two, forth pacing to the Rivers side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Received those two faire Brides, their Loves delight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, at th’ appointed tyde,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each one did make his Bryde<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against their Brydale day, which is not long:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweete Themmes! runne softly, till I end my Song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_82" id="pm_82">82.</a></p> - -<h3>Epithalamion</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>E learnèd sisters, which have oftentimes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beene to me ayding, others to adorne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom ye thought worthy of your gracefull rymes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That even the greatest did not greatly scorne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To heare theyr names sung in your simple layes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But joyèd in theyr praise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when ye list your owne mishaps to mourne,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_113" id="page_113">{113}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which death, or love, or fortunes wreck did rayse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your string could soone to sadder tenor turne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And teach the woods and waters to lament<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your dolefull dreriment:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now lay those sorrowfull complaints aside;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, having all your heads with girlands crownd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Helpe me mine owne loves prayses to resound;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne let the same of any be envide:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So Orpheus did for his owne bride!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So I unto my selfe alone will sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woods shall to me answer, and my Eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Early, before the worlds light-giving lampe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His golden beame upon the hils doth spred,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Having disperst the nights unchearefull dampe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doe ye awake; and, with fresh lusty-hed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go to the bowre of my belovèd love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My truest turtle dove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bid her awake; for Hymen is awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And long since ready forth his maske to move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With his bright Tead that flames with many a flake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a bachelor to waite on him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In theyr fresh garments trim.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bid her awake therefore, and soone her dight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For lo! the wishèd day is come at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shall, for all the paynes and sorrowes past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pay to her usury of long delight:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, whylest she doth her dight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doe ye to her of joy and solace sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bring with you all the Nymphes that you can heare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both of the rivers and the forrests greene,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>tead] torch.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_114" id="page_114">{114}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND of the sea that neighbours to her neare:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Al with gay girlands goodly wel beseene.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let them also with them bring in hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another gay girland<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For my fayre love, of lillyes and of roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bound truelove wize, with a blew silke riband.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let them make great store of bridale poses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let them eeke bring store of other flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To deck the bridale bowers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let the ground whereas her foot shall tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For feare the stones her tender foot should wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be strewed with fragrant flowers all along,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And diapred lyke the discolored mead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which done, doe at her chamber dore awayt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For she will waken strayt;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whiles doe ye this song unto her sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woods shall to you answer, and your Eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye Nymphes of Mulla, which with carefull heed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The silver scaly trouts doe tend full well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And greedy pikes which use therein to feed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Those trouts and pikes all others doo excell;)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ye likewise, which keepe the rushy lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where none doo fishes take;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bynd up the locks the which hang scatterd light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in his waters, which your mirror make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold your faces as the christall bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That when you come whereas my love doth lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No blemish she may spie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eke, ye lightfoot mayds, which keepe the deere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That on the hoary mountayne used to towre;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wylde wolves, which seeke them to devoure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With your steele darts doo chace from comming neer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be also present heere,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_115" id="page_115">{115}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To helpe to decke her, and to help to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wake now, my love, awake! for it is time;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Rosy Morne long since left Tithones bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All ready to her silver coche to clyme;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Phœbus gins to shew his glorious hed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark! how the cheerefull birds do chaunt theyr laies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And carroll of Loves praise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The merry Larke hir mattins sings aloft;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Thrush replyes; the Mavis descant playes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Ouzell shrills; the Ruddock warbles soft;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So goodly all agree, with sweet consent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To this dayes merriment.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! my deere love, why doe ye sleepe thus long?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When meeter were that ye should now awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">T’ awayt the comming of your joyous make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hearken to the birds love-learnèd song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The deawy leaves among!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor they of joy and pleasance to you sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love is now awake out of her dreames,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her fayre eyes, like stars that dimmèd were<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More bright then Hesperus his head doth rere.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come now, ye damzels, daughters of delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Helpe quickly her to dight:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But first come ye fayre houres, which were begot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Joves sweet paradice of Day and Night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which doe the seasons of the yeare allot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And al, that ever in this world is fayre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doe make and still repayre:<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>ruddock] redbreast.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_116" id="page_116">{116}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND ye three handmayds of the Cyprian Queene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The which doe still adorne her beauties pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Helpe to addorne my beautifullest bride:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, as ye her array, still throw betweene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some graces to be seene;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, as ye use to Venus, to her sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whiles the woods shal answer, and your eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now is my love all ready forth to come:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let all the virgins therefore well awayt:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ye fresh boyes, that tend upon her groome,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prepare your selves; for he is comming strayt.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set all your things in seemely good aray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fit for so joyfull day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The joyfulst day that ever sunne did see.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faire Sun! shew forth thy favourable ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let thy lifull heat not fervent be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For feare of burning her sunshyny face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her beauty to disgrace.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O fayrest Phœbus! father of the Muse!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If ever I did honour thee aright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or sing the thing that mote thy mind delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doe not thy servants simple boone refuse;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But let this day, let this one day, be myne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let all the rest be thine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then I thy soverayne prayses loud wil sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the woods shal answer, and theyr eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Harke! how the Minstrils gin to shrill aloud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their merry Musick that resounds from far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pipe, the tabor, and the trembling Croud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That well agree withouten breach or jar.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>croud] violin.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_117" id="page_117">{117}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But, most of all, the Damzels doe delite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When they their tymbrels smyte,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thereunto doe daunce and carrol sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the sences they doe ravish quite;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whyles the boyes run up and downe the street,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crying aloud with strong confusèd noyce,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if it were one voyce,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hymen, iö Hymen, Hymen, they do shout;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That even to the heavens theyr shouting shrill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doth reach, and all the firmament doth fill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To which the people standing all about,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in approvance, doe thereto applaud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And loud advaunce her laud;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And evermore they Hymen, Hymen sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That al the woods them answer, and theyr eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Loe! where she comes along with portly pace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lyke Phœbe, from her chamber of the East,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arysing forth to run her mighty race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clad all in white, that seemes a virgin best.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So well it her beseemes, that ye would weene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some angell she had beene.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her long loose yellow locks lyke golden wyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sprinckled with perle, and perling flowres atweene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doe lyke a golden mantle her attyre;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, being crownèd with a girland greene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeme lyke some mayden Queene.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her modest eyes, abashèd to behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So many gazers as on her do stare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the lowly ground affixèd are;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne dare lift up her countenance too bold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But blush to heare her prayses sung so loud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So farre from being proud.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_118" id="page_118">{118}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nathlesse doe ye still loud her prayses sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tell me, ye merchants daughters, did ye see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fayre a creature in your towne before;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adornd with beautyes grace and vertues store?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres shining bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her forehead yvory white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun hath rudded,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her lips lyke cherryes charming men to byte,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her brest like to a bowle of creame uncrudded,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her paps lyke lyllies budded,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her snowie necke lyke to a marble towre;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all her body like a pallace fayre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ascending up, with many a stately stayre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To honors seat and chastities sweet bowre.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why stand ye still ye virgins in amaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon her so to gaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To which the woods did answer, and your eccho ring?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But if ye saw that which no eyes can see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The inward beauty of her lively spright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Garnisht with heavenly guifts of high degree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Much more then would ye wonder at that sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stand astonisht lyke to those which red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Medusaes mazeful hed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There dwels sweet love, and constant chastity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unspotted fayth, and comely womanhood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Regard of honour, and mild modesty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And giveth lawes alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The which the base affections doe obay,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_119" id="page_119">{119}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yeeld theyr services unto her will;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne thought of thing uncomely ever may<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thereto approch to tempt her mind to ill.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had ye once seene these her celestial threasures,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And unrevealèd pleasures,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then would ye wonder, and her prayses sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That al the woods should answer, and your echo ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Open the temple gates unto my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Open them wide that she may enter in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the postes adorne as doth behove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the pillours deck with girlands trim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For to receyve this Saynt with honour dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That commeth in to you.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With trembling steps, and humble reverence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She commeth in, before th’ Almighties view;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her ye virgins learne obedience,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When so ye come into those holy places,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To humble your proud faces:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring her up to th’ high altar, that she may<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sacred ceremonies there partake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The which do endlesse matrimony make;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let the roring Organs loudly play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The praises of the Lord in lively notes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whiles, with hollow throates,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Choristers the joyous Antheme sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That al the woods may answere, and their eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Behold, whiles she before the altar stands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hearing the holy priest that to her speakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blesseth her with his two happy hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the red roses flush up in her cheekes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the pure snow, with goodly vermill stayne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like crimsin dyde in grayne:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_120" id="page_120">{120}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That even th’ Angels, which continually<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the sacred Altare doe remaine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget their service and about her fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ofte peeping in her face, that seems more fayre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The more they on it stare.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are governèd with goodly modesty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That suffers not one looke to glaunce awry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which may let in a little thought unsownd.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why blush ye, love, to give to me your hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pledge of all our band!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing, ye sweet Angels, Alleluya sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the woods may answere, and your eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now al is done: bring home the bride againe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring home the triumph of our victory:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring home with you the glory of her gaine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With joyance bring her and with jollity.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never had man more joyfull day then this,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom heaven would heape with blis,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make feast therefore now all this live-long day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This day for ever to me holy is.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poure out the wine without restraint or stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poure not by cups, but by the belly full,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poure out to all that wull,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sprinkle all the postes and wals with wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That they may sweat, and drunken be withall.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crowne ye God Bacchus with a coronall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Hymen also crowne with wreathes of vine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let the Graces daunce unto the rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For they can doo it best:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whiles the maydens doe theyr carroll sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To which the woods shall answer, and theyr eccho ring.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_121" id="page_121">{121}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ring ye the bels, ye yong men of the towne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leave your wonted labors for this day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This day is holy; doe ye write it downe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ye for ever it remember may.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This day the sunne is in his chiefest hight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Barnaby the bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From whence declining daily by degrees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He somewhat loseth of his heat and light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When once the Crab behind his back he sees.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But for this time it ill ordainèd was,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To chose the longest day in all the yeare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shortest night, when longest fitter weare:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet never day so long, but late would passe.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ring ye the bels, to make it weare away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bonefiers make all day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And daunce about them, and about them sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! when will this long weary day have end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lende me leave to come unto my love?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How slowly do the houres theyr numbers spend?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How slowly does sad Time his feathers move?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hast thee, O fayrest Planet, to thy home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the Westerne fome:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy tyrèd steedes long since have need of rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long though it be, at last I see it gloome,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the bright evening-star with golden creast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Appeare out of the East.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fayre childe of beauty! glorious lampe of love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the host of heaven in rankes doost lead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And guydest lovers through the nights sad dread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How chearefully thou lookest from above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And seemst to laugh atweene thy twinkling light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As joying in the sight<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_122" id="page_122">{122}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of these glad many, which for joy doe sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the woods them answer, and their echo ring!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now ceasse, ye damsels, your delights fore-past;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enough it is that all the day was youres:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night is come, now soon her disaray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in her bed her lay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay her in lillies and in violets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And silken courteins over her display,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And odourd sheetes, and Arras coverlets.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold how goodly my faire love does ly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In proud humility!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like unto Maia, when as Jove her took<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Tempe, lying on the flowry gras,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twixt sleepe and wake, after she weary was,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With bathing in the Acidalian brooke.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now it is night, ye damsels may be gon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leave my love alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leave likewise your former lay to sing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woods no more shall answere, nor your echo ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now welcome, night! thou night so long expected,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That long daies labour doest at last defray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all my cares, which cruell Love collected,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hast sumd in one, and cancellèd for aye:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spread thy broad wing over my love and me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That no man may us see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in thy sable mantle us enwrap,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From feare of perrill and foule horror free.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let no false treason seeke us to entrap,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor any dread disquiet once annoy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The safety of our joy;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_123" id="page_123">{123}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But let the night be calme, and quietsome,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without tempestuous storms or sad afray:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lyke as when Jove with fayre Alcmena lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When he begot the great Tirynthian groome:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or lyke as when he with thy selfe did lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And begot Majesty.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let the mayds and yong men cease to sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne let the woods them answer nor theyr eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let no lamenting cryes, nor dolefull teares,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be heard all night within, nor yet without:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne let false whispers, breeding hidden feares,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breake gentle sleepe with misconceivèd dout.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let no deluding dreames, nor dreadfull sights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make sudden sad affrights;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne let house-fyres, nor lightnings helpelesse harmes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne let the Pouke, nor other evill sprights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne let mischivous witches with theyr charmes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne let hob Goblins, names whose sence we see not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fray us with things that be not:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let not the shriech Oule nor the Storke be heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor the night Raven, that still deadly yels;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor damnèd ghosts, cald up with mighty spels,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor griesly vultures, make us once affeard:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne let th’ unpleasant Quyre of Frogs still croking<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make us to wish theyr choking.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let none of these theyr drery accents sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne let the woods them answer, nor theyr eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But let stil Silence trew night-watches keepe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sacred Peace may in assurance rayne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tymely Sleep, when it is tyme to sleepe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May poure his limbs forth on your pleasant playne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whiles an hundred little wingèd loves,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_124" id="page_124">{124}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like divers-fethered doves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall fly and flutter round about your bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the secret darke, that none reproves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their prety stealthes shal worke, and snares shal spread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To filch away sweet snatches of delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conceald through covert night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye sonnes of Venus, play your sports at will!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For greedy pleasure, carelesse of your toyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thinks more upon her paradise of joyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then what ye do, albe it good or ill.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night therefore attend your merry play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For it will soone be day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now none doth hinder you, that say or sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne will the woods now answer, nor your Eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who is the same, which at my window peepes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or whose is that faire face that shines so bright?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it not Cinthia, she that never sleepes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But walkes about high heaven al the night?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O! fayrest goddesse, do thou not envy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love with me to spy:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For thou likewise didst love, though now unthought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for a fleece of wooll, which privily<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Latmian shepherd once unto thee brought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His pleasures with thee wrought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therefore to us be favorable now;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sith of wemens labours thou hast charge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And generation goodly dost enlarge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Encline thy will t’effect our wishfull vow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the chast wombe informe with timely seed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That may our comfort breed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till which we cease our hopefull hap to sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne let the woods us answere, nor our Eccho ring.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_125" id="page_125">{125}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thou, great Juno! which with awful might<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lawes of wedlock still dost patronize;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the religion of the faith first plight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sacred rites hast taught to solemnize;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eeke for comfort often callèd art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of women in their smart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eternally bind thou this lovely band,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all thy blessings unto us impart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou, glad Genius! in whose gentle hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bridale bowre and geniall bed remaine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without blemish or staine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sweet pleasures of theyr loves delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With secret ayde doest succour and supply,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till they bring forth the fruitfull progeny;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Send us the timely fruit of this same night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou, fayre Hebe! and thou, Hymen free!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grant that it may so be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Til which we cease your further prayse to sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne any woods shall answer, nor your Eccho ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And ye high heavens, the temple of the gods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In which a thousand torches flaming bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doe burne, that to us wretched earthly clods<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In dreadful darknesse lend desirèd light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all ye powers which in the same remayne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More then we men can fayne!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poure out your blessing on us plentiously,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And happy influence upon us raine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That we may raise a large posterity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which from the earth, which they may long possesse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lasting happinesse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up to your haughty pallaces may mount;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, for the guerdon of theyr glorious merit,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_126" id="page_126">{126}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">May heavenly tabernacles there inherit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of blessèd Saints for to increase the count.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So let us rest, sweet love, in hope of this,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cease till then our tymely joyes to sing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woods no more us answer, nor our eccho ring!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Song! made in lieu of many ornaments.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>With which my love should duly have been dect,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Which cutting off through hasty accidents,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Ye would not stay your dew time to expect</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>But promist both to recompens;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Be unto her a goodly ornament,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And for short time an endlesse moniment.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_83" id="pm_83">83.</a></p> - -<h3>From ‘Daphnaïda’</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>An Elegy</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">She</span> fell away in her first ages spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whil’st yet her leafe was greene, and fresh her rinde,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whil’st her braunch faire blossomes foorth did bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She fell away against all course of kinde.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For age to dye is right, but youth is wrong;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She fel away like fruit blowne downe with winde.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weepe, Shepheard! weepe, to make my undersong.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet fell she not as one enforst to dye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne dyde with dread and grudging discontent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But as one toyld with travaile downe doth lye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So lay she downe, as if to sleepe she went,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And closde her eyes with carelesse quietnesse;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whiles soft death away her spirit hent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And soule assoyld from sinfull fleshlinesse.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_127" id="page_127">{127}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How happie was I when I saw her leade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Shepheards daughters dauncing in a rownd!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How trimly would she trace and softly tread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tender grasse, with rosie garland crownd!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when she list advance her heavenly voyce,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both Nymphes and Muses nigh she made astownd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flocks and shepheards causèd to rejoyce.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now, ye Shepheard lasses! who shall lead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your wandring troupes, or sing your virelayes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or who shall dight your bowres, sith she is dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That was the Lady of your holy-dayes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let now your blisse be turnèd into bale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And into plaints convert your joyous playes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with the same fill every hill and dale.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For I will walke this wandring pilgrimage,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throughout the world from one to other end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in affliction wast my better age:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My bread shall be the anguish of my mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My drink the teares which fro mine eyes do raine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My bed the ground that hardest I may finde;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So will I wilfully increase my paine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ne sleepe (the harbenger of wearie wights)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall ever lodge upon mine ey-lids more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne shall with rest refresh my fainting sprights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor failing force to former strength restore:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I will wake and sorrow all the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Philumene, my fortune to deplore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Philumene, the partner of my plight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And ever as I see the starres to fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And under ground to goe to give them light<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_128" id="page_128">{128}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which dwell in darknes, I to minde will call<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How my fair Starre (that shinde on me so bright)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fell sodainly and faded under ground;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since whose departure, day is turnd to night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And night without a Venus starre is found.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she, my love that was, my Saint that is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When she beholds from her celestiall throne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(In which shee joyeth in eternall blis)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My bitter penance, will my case bemone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pitie me that living thus doo die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For heavenly spirits have compassion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On mortall men, and rue their miserie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So when I have with sorowe satisfide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Th’ importune fates, which vengeance on me seeke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And th’ heavens with long languor pacifide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She, for pure pitie of my sufferance meeke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will send for me; for which I daylie long:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And will till then my painful penance eeke.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weep, Shepheard! weep, to make my undersong!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_84" id="pm_84">84.</a></p> - -<h3>Easter</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Most</span> glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Didst make Thy triumph over death and sin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, having harrowd hell, didst bring away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Captivity thence captive, us to win:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Being with Thy deare blood clene washt from sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May live for ever in felicity!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_129" id="page_129">{129}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that Thy love we weighing worthily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May likewise love Thee for the same againe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for Thy sake, that all lyke deare didst buy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With love may one another entertayne!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So let us love, deare Love, lyke as we ought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_LYLY" id="JOHN_LYLY"></a>JOHN LYLY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1553-1606<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_85" id="pm_85">85.</a></p> - -<h3>Cards and Kisses</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>UPID and my Campaspe play’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At cards for kisses—Cupid paid:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His mother’s doves, and team of sparrows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loses them too; then down he throws<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The coral of his lips, the rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Growing on’s cheek (but none knows how);<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With these, the crystal of his brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then the dimple of his chin:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All these did my Campaspe win.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last he set her both his eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She won, and Cupid blind did rise.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Love! has she done this for thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What shall, alas! become of me?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_86" id="pm_86">86.</a></p> - -<h3>Spring’s Welcome</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">What</span> bird so sings, yet so does wail?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O ’tis the ravish’d nightingale.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Jug, jug, jug, jug, tereu!</i> she cries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still her woes at midnight rise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_130" id="page_130">{130}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brave prick-song! Who is’t now we hear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None but the lark so shrill and clear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now at heaven’s gate she claps her wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The morn not waking till she sings.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor robin redbreast tunes his note!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark how the jolly cuckoos sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Cuckoo!</i> to welcome in the spring!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Cuckoo!</i> to welcome in the spring!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ANTHONY_MUNDAY" id="ANTHONY_MUNDAY"></a>ANTHONY MUNDAY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1553-1633<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_87" id="pm_87">87.</a></p> - -<h3>Beauty Bathing</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Beauty</span> sat bathing by a spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where fairest shades did hide her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The winds blew calm, the birds did sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cool streams ran beside her.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see what was forbidden:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But better memory said Fie;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So vain desire was chidden—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Hey nonny nonny O!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Hey nonny nonny!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into a slumber then I fell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fond imagination<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seemèd to see, but could not tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her feature or her fashion:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ev’n as babes in dreams do smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sometimes fall a-weeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So I awaked as wise that while<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As when I fell a-sleeping.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_131" id="page_131">{131}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_PHILIP_SIDNEY" id="SIR_PHILIP_SIDNEY"></a>SIR PHILIP SIDNEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1554-86<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_88" id="pm_88">88.</a></p> - -<h3>The Bargain</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y true love hath my heart, and I have his,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But just exchange one for another given:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There never was a better bargain driven:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">My true love hath my heart, and I have his.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His heart in me keeps him and me in one,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He loves my heart, for once it was his own,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I cherish his because in me it bides:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">My true love hath my heart, and I have his.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_89" id="pm_89">89.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HO hath his fancy pleasèd<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With fruits of happy sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let here his eyes be raisèd<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On Nature’s sweetest light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A light which doth dissever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yet unite the eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A light which, dying never,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is cause the looker dies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She never dies, but lasteth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In life of lover’s heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He ever dies that wasteth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In love his chiefest part:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus is her life still guarded<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In never-dying faith;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus is his death rewarded,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since she lives in his death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_132" id="page_132">{132}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look then, and die! The pleasure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doth answer well the pain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Small loss of mortal treasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who may immortal gain!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Immortal be her graces,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Immortal is her mind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They, fit for heavenly places—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This, heaven in it doth bind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But eyes these beauties see not,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor sense that grace descries;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet eyes deprivèd be not<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From sight of her fair eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, as of inward glory<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They are the outward seal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So may they live still sorry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which die not in that weal.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But who hath fancies pleasèd<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With fruits of happy sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let here his eyes be raisèd<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On Nature’s sweetest light!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_90" id="pm_90">90.</a></p> - -<h3>Voices at the Window</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Who is it that, this dark night,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Underneath my window plaineth?</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is one who from thy sight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Being, ah, exiled, disdaineth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every other vulgar light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Why, alas, and are you he?</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Be not yet those fancies changèd?</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear, when you find change in me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though from me you be estrangèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let my change to ruin be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_133" id="page_133">{133}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Well, in absence this will die:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Leave to see, and leave to wonder.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Absence sure will help, if I<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Can learn how myself to sunder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From what in my heart doth lie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>But time will these thoughts remove;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Time doth work what no man knoweth.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time doth as the subject prove:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With time still the affection groweth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the faithful turtle-dove.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>What if you new beauties see?</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Will not they stir new affection?</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will think they pictures be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Image-like, of saints’ perfection)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poorly counterfeiting thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>But your reason’s purest light</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Bids you leave such minds to nourish.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear, do reason no such spite!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never doth thy beauty flourish<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than in my reason’s sight.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>90.</i> leave] cease.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_91" id="pm_91">91.</a></p> - -<h3>Philomela</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unto her rested sense a perfect waking,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While late-bare Earth, proud of new clothing, springeth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And mournfully bewailing,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her throat in tunes expresseth<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What grief her breast oppresseth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Tereus’ force on her chaste will prevailing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_134" id="page_134">{134}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>O Philomela fair, O take some gladness</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas! she hath no other cause of anguish<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But Tereus’ love, on her by strong hand wroken;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherein she suffering, all her spirits languish,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full womanlike complains her will was broken<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But I, who, daily craving,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Cannot have to content me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Have more cause to lament me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since wanting is more woe than too much having.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>O Philomela fair, O take some gladness</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_92" id="pm_92">92.</a></p> - -<h3>The Highway</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>IGHWAY, since you my chief Parnassus be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tempers her words to trampling horses’ feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More oft than to a chamber-melody,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now blessèd you bear onward blessèd me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her, where I my heart, safe-left, shall meet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Muse and I must you of duty greet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With thanks and wishes, wishing thankfully;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be you still fair, honour’d by public heed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By no encroachment wrong’d, nor time forgot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor blamed for blood, nor shamed for sinful deed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that you know I envy you no lot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of highest wish, I wish you so much bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hundreds of years you Stella’s feet may kiss!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_135" id="page_135">{135}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_93" id="pm_93">93.</a></p> - -<h3>His Lady’s Cruelty</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH how sad steps, O moon, thou climb’st the skies!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How silently, and with how wan a face!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What! may it be that even in heavenly place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I read it in thy looks; thy languish’d grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, even of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is constant love deem’d there but want of wit?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are beauties there as proud as here they be?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do they above love to be loved, and yet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Do they call ‘virtue’ there—ungratefulness?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_94" id="pm_94">94.</a></p> - -<h3>Sleep</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME, Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The poor man’s wealth, the prisoner’s release,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Th’ indifferent judge between the high and low;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With shield of proof shield me from out the prease<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O make in me those civil wars to cease;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will good tribute pay, if thou do so.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A chamber deaf to noise and blind of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A rosy garland and a weary head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if these things, as being thine by right,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Livelier than elsewhere, Stella’s image see.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>94.</i> prease] press.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_136" id="page_136">{136}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_95" id="pm_95">95.</a></p> - -<h3>Splendidis longum valedico Nugis</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>EAVE me, O Love, which reachest but to dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou, my mind, aspire to higher things!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grow rich in that which never taketh rust:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whatever fades, but fading pleasure brings.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Draw in thy beams, and humble all thy might<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To that sweet yoke where lasting freedoms be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which breaks the clouds and opens forth the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That doth both shine and give us sight to see.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O take fast hold! let that light be thy guide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this small course which birth draws out to death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And think how evil becometh him to slide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who seeketh Heaven, and comes of heavenly breath.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then farewell, world! thy uttermost I see:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Eternal Love, maintain thy life in me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FULKE_GREVILLE_LORD_BROOKE" id="FULKE_GREVILLE_LORD_BROOKE"></a>FULKE GREVILLE, LORD BROOKE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1554-1628<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_96" id="pm_96">96.</a></p> - -<h3>Myra</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I, with whose colours Myra dress’d her head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I, that ware posies of her own hand-making,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, that mine own name in the chimneys read<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By Myra finely wrought ere I was waking:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must I look on, in hope time coming may<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With change bring back my turn again to play?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I, that on Sunday at the church-stile found<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A garland sweet with true-love-knots in flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which I to wear about mine arms was bound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That each of us might know that all was ours:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must I lead now an idle life in wishes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And follow Cupid for his loaves and fishes?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>96.</i> chimneys] <i>cheminées</i>, chimney-screens of tapestry work.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_137" id="page_137">{137}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I, that did wear the ring her mother left,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I, for whose love she gloried to be blamèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I, with whose eyes her eyes committed theft,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I, who did make her blush when I was namèd:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must I lose ring, flowers, blush, theft, and go naked,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watching with sighs till dead love be awakèd?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was it for this that I might Myra see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Washing the water with her beauty’s white?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet would she never write her love to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thinks wit of change when thoughts are in delight?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mad girls may safely love as they may leave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No man can <i>print</i> a kiss: lines may deceive.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>96.</i> deceive] betray.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_LODGE" id="THOMAS_LODGE"></a>THOMAS LODGE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1556?-1625<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_97" id="pm_97">97.</a></p> - -<h3>Rosalind’s Madrigal</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE in my bosom like a bee<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Doth suck his sweet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now with his wings he plays with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Now with his feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within mine eyes he makes his nest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His bed amidst my tender breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My kisses are his daily feast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet he robs me of my rest:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ah! wanton, will ye?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And if I sleep, then percheth he<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With pretty flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And makes his pillow of my knee<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The livelong night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_138" id="page_138">{138}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He music plays if so I sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He lends me every lovely thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet cruel he my heart doth sting:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Whist, wanton, still ye!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Else I with roses every day<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Will whip you hence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bind you, when you long to play,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For your offence.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll shut mine eyes to keep you in;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll make you fast it for your sin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll count your power not worth a pin.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Alas! what hereby shall I win<br /></span> -<span class="i6">If he gainsay me?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What if I beat the wanton boy<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With many a rod?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He will repay me with annoy,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Because a god.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then sit thou safely on my knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then let thy bower my bosom be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Cupid, so thou pity me,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Spare not, but play thee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - - - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_98" id="pm_98">98.</a></p> - -<h3>Phillis I</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> - <span class="letra">M</span>Y Phillis hath the morning sun<br /> - At first to look upon her;<br /> - And Phillis hath morn-waking birds<br /> - Her risings still to honour.<br /> - My Phillis hath prime-feather’d flowers,<br /> - That smile when she treads on them;<br /> - And Phillis hath a gallant flock,<br /> - That leaps since she doth own them.<br /> - But Phillis hath too hard a heart,<br /> - Alas that she should have it!<br /> - It yields no mercy to desert,<br /> - Nor grace to those that crave it. -</div></div> -</div> - - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_99" id="pm_99">99.</a></p> - -<h3>Phillis 2</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> - <span class="letra">L</span>OVE guards the roses of thy lips<br /> - And flies about them like a bee;<br /> - If I approach he forward skips,<br /> - And if I kiss he stingeth me.<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> - Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,<br /> - And sleeps within their pretty shine;<br /> - And if I look the boy will lower,<br /> - And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> - Love works thy heart within his fire,<br /> - And in my tears doth firm the same;<br /> - And if I tempt it will retire,<br /> - And of my plaints doth make a game. -</div><div class="stanza"> - Love, let me cull her choicest flowers;<br /> - And pity me, and calm her eye;<br /> - Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers<br /> - Then will I praise thy deity.<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> - But if thou do not, Love, I’ll truly serve her<br /> - In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve her. -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_100" id="pm_100">100.</a></p> - -<h3>Rosaline</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>IKE to the clear in highest sphere<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where all imperial glory shines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of selfsame colour is her hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whether unfolded or in twines:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Resembling heaven by every wink;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gods do fear whenas they glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I do tremble when I think<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That beautifies Aurora’s face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or like the silver crimson shroud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That Phœbus’ smiling looks doth grace.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her lips are like two budded roses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within whose bounds she balm encloses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Apt to entice a deity:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her neck like to a stately tower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where Love himself imprison’d lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To watch for glances every hour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From her divine and sacred eyes:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her paps are centres of delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Nature moulds the dew of light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To feed perfection with the same:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_141" id="page_141">{141}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With orient pearl, with ruby red,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With marble white, with sapphire blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her body every way is fed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet soft to touch and sweet in view:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nature herself her shape admires;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gods are wounded in her sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Love forsakes his heavenly fires<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And at her eyes his brand doth light:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Heigh ho, would she were mine!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The absence of fair Rosaline,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since for a fair there’s fairer none,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor for her virtues so divine:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_142" id="page_142">{142}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_PEELE" id="GEORGE_PEELE"></a>GEORGE PEELE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1558?-97<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_101" id="pm_101">101.</a></p> - -<h3>Fair and Fair</h3> - -<pre> - <i>Œnone.</i> Fair and fair, and twice so fair, - As fair as any may be; - The fairest shepherd on our green, - A love for any lady. - - <i>Paris.</i> Fair and fair, and twice so fair, - As fair as any may be; - Thy love is fair for thee alone - And for no other lady. - - <i>Œnone.</i> My love is fair, my love is gay, - As fresh as bin the flowers in May - And of my love my roundelay, - My merry, merry, merry roundelay, - Concludes with Cupid’s curse,— - ‘They that do change old love for new - Pray gods they change for worse!’ - <i>Ambo Simul.</i> They that do change old love for new, - Pray gods they change for worse! - - <i>Œnone.</i> Fair and fair, etc. - <i>Paris.</i> Fair and fair, etc. - Thy love is fair, etc. - <i>Œnone.</i> My love can pipe, my love can sing, - My love can many a pretty thing, - And of his lovely praises ring - My merry, merry, merry roundelays - Amen to Cupid’s curse,— - ‘They that do change,’ etc. - <i>Paris.</i> They that do change, etc. - <i>Ambo.</i> Fair and fair, etc. -</pre> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_102" id="pm_102">102.</a></p> - -<h3>A Farewell to Arms</h3> - -<p class="c">(TO QUEEN ELIZABETH)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>IS golden locks Time hath to silver turn’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Time too swift, O swiftness never ceasing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His youth ’gainst time and age hath ever spurn’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But spurn’d in vain; youth waneth by increasing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty, strength, youth, are flowers but fading seen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Duty, faith, love, are roots, and ever green.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His helmet now shall make a hive for bees;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, lovers’ sonnets turn’d to holy psalms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A man-at-arms must now serve on his knees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And feed on prayers, which are Age his alms:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But though from court to cottage he depart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His Saint is sure of his unspotted heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_143" id="page_143">{143}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when he saddest sits in homely cell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He’ll teach his swains this carol for a song,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Blest be the hearts that wish my sovereign well,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Curst be the souls that think her any wrong.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Goddess, allow this agèd man his right<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be your beadsman now that was your knight.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_GREENE" id="ROBERT_GREENE"></a>ROBERT GREENE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1560-92<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_103" id="pm_103">103.</a></p> - -<h3>Samela</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>IKE to Diana in her summer weed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Goes fair Samela.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When wash’d by Arethusa faint they lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is fair Samela.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As fair Aurora in her morning grey,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deck’d with the ruddy glister of her love<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is fair Samela;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like lovely Thetis on a calmèd day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whenas her brightness Neptune’s fancy move,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shines fair Samela.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her teeth are pearl, the breasts are ivory<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of fair Samela;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her cheeks like rose and lily yield forth gleams;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her brows bright arches framed of ebony.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thus fair Samela<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Passeth fair Venus in her bravest hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Juno in the show of majesty<br /></span> -<span class="i4">(For she’s Samela!),<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_144" id="page_144">{144}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pallas in wit,—all three, if you well view,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For beauty, wit, and matchless dignity,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yield to Samela.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_104" id="pm_104">104.</a></p> - -<h3>Fawnia</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>H! were she pitiful as she is fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or but as mild as she is seeming so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then were my hopes greater than my despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then all the world were heaven, nothing woe.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! were her heart relenting as her hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That seems to melt even with the mildest touch,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then knew I where to seat me in a land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under wide heavens, but yet there is not such.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So as she shows she seems the budding rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet sweeter far than is an earthly flower;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sovran of beauty, like the spray she grows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Compass’d she is with thorns and canker’d flower.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet were she willing to be pluck’d and worn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She would be gather’d, though she grew on thorn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! when she sings, all music else be still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For none must be comparèd to her note;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne’er breathed such glee from Philomela’s bill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor from the morning-singer’s swelling throat.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! when she riseth from her blissful bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She comforts all the world as doth the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at her sight the night’s foul vapour’s fled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When she is set the gladsome day is done.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O glorious sun, imagine me the west,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shine in my arms, and set thou in my breast!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_145" id="page_145">{145}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_105" id="pm_105">105.</a></p> - -<h3>Sephestia’s Lullaby</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>EEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mother’s wag, pretty boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Father’s sorrow, father’s joy;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When thy father first did see<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Such a boy by him and me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He was glad, I was woe;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fortune changèd made him so,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When he left his pretty boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Last his sorrow, first his joy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Streaming tears that never stint,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like pearl-drops from a flint,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fell by course from his eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That one another’s place supplies;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thus he grieved in every part,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tears of blood fell from his heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When he left his pretty boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Father’s sorrow, father’s joy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The wanton smiled, father wept,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mother cried, baby leapt;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">More he crow’d, more we cried,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nature could not sorrow hide:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He must go, he must kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Child and mother, baby bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For he left his pretty boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Father’s sorrow, father’s joy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thou art old there’s grief enough for thee.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_146" id="page_146">{146}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_HUME" id="ALEXANDER_HUME"></a>ALEXANDER HUME</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1560-1609<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_106" id="pm_106">106.</a></p> - -<h3>A Summer Day</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> PERFECT Light, which shaid away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The darkness from the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And set a ruler o’er the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Another o’er the night—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy glory, when the day forth flies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More vively doth appear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than at mid day unto our eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shining sun is clear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shadow of the earth anon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Removes and drawis by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While in the East, when it is gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Appears a clearer sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Which soon perceive the little larks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lapwing and the snipe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tune their songs, like Nature’s clerks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er meadow, muir, and stripe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our hemisphere is polisht clean,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lighten’d more and more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While everything is clearly seen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which seemit dim before:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Except the glistering astres bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which all the night were clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Offuskit with a greater light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No longer do appear.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>shaid] parted. stripe] rill. offuskit] darkened.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_147" id="page_147">{147}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE golden globe incontinent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sets up his shining head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And o’er the earth and firmament<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Displays his beams abread.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For joy the birds with boulden throats<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against his visage sheen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take up their kindly musick notes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In woods and gardens green.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The dew upon the tender crops,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like pearlis white and round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or like to melted silver drops,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Refreshis all the ground.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The misty reek, the clouds of rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From tops of mountains skails,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clear are the highest hills and plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The vapours take the vales.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The ample heaven of fabrick sure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In cleanness does surpass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crystal and the silver pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or clearest polisht glass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The time so tranquil is and still<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That nowhere shall ye find,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save on a high and barren hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An air of peeping wind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All trees and simples, great and small,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That balmy leaf do bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than they were painted on a wall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No more they move or steir.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>boulden] swollen. sheen] bright. skails] clears. simples] herbs.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_148" id="page_148">{148}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>ALM is the deep and purple sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yea, smoother than the sand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waves that weltering wont to be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are stable like the land.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So silent is the cessile air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That every cry and call<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hills and dales and forest fair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Again repeats them all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The flourishes and fragrant flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through Phoebus’ fostering heat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Refresht with dew and silver showers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cast up an odour sweet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cloggit busy humming bees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That never think to drone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On flowers and flourishes of trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Collect their liquor brown.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Sun, most like a speedy post<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With ardent course ascends;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beauty of the heavenly host<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Up to our zenith tends.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The burning beams down from his face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So fervently can beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That man and beast now seek a place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To save them from the heat.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The herds beneath some leafy tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amidst the flowers they lie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stable ships upon the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tend up their sails to dry.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>cessile] yielding, ceasing. flourishes] blossoms.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_149" id="page_149">{149}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH gilded eyes and open wings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cock his courage shows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With claps of joy his breast he dings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And twenty times he crows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The dove with whistling wings so blue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The winds can fast collect;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her purple pens turn many a hue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against the sun direct.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now noon is went; gone is midday,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heat doth slake at last;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun descends down West away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For three of clock is past.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The rayons of the sun we see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Diminish in their strength;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shade of every tower and tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Extendit is in length.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Great is the calm, for everywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wind is setting down;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The reek throws right up in the air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From every tower and town.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The gloming comes; the day is spent;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sun goes out of sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And painted is the occident<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With purple sanguine bright.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our west horizon circular<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From time the sun be set<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is all with rubies, as it were,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or roses red o’erfret.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_150" id="page_150">{150}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What pleasure were to walk and see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Endlong a river clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The perfect form of every tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within the deep appear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O then it were a seemly thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While all is still and calm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The praise of God to play and sing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With cornet and with shalm!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All labourers draw home at even,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And can to other say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thanks to the gracious God of heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which sent this summer day.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_CHAPMAN" id="GEORGE_CHAPMAN"></a>GEORGE CHAPMAN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1560-1634<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_107" id="pm_107">107.</a></p> - -<h3>Bridal Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> COME, soft rest of cares! come, Night!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come, naked Virtue’s only tire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The reapèd harvest of the light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bound up in sheaves of sacred fire.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Love calls to war:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sighs his alarms,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lips his swords are,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The field his arms.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, Night, and lay thy velvet hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On glorious Day’s outfacing face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all thy crownèd flames command<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For torches to our nuptial grace.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Love calls to war:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sighs his alarms,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lips his swords are,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The field his arms.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_151" id="page_151">{151}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_SOUTHWELL" id="ROBERT_SOUTHWELL"></a>ROBERT SOUTHWELL</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1561-95<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_108" id="pm_108">108.</a></p> - -<h3>Times go by Turns</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE loppèd tree in time may grow again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sorest wight may find release of pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The driest soil suck in some moist’ning shower;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Times go by turns and chances change by course,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From foul to fair, from better hap to worse.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She draws her favours to the lowest ebb;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her tides hath equal times to come and go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No joy so great but runneth to an end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No hap so hard but may in fine amend.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not always fall of leaf nor ever spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No endless night yet not eternal day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The saddest birds a season find to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The roughest storm a calm may soon allay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus with succeeding turns God tempereth all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That man may hope to rise, yet fear to fall.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A chance may win that by mischance was lost;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The net that holds no great, takes little fish;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In some things all, in all things none are crost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Few all they need, but none have all they wish;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unmeddled joys here to no man befall:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who least, hath some; who most, hath never all.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>unmeddled] unmixed.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_152" id="page_152">{152}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_109" id="pm_109">109.</a></p> - -<h3>The Burning Babe</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>S I in hoary winter’s night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stood shivering in the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surprised I was with sudden heat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which made my heart to glow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lifting up a fearful eye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To view what fire was near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pretty babe all burning bright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Did in the air appear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, scorchèd with excessive heat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such floods of tears did shed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As though His floods should quench His flames,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which with His tears were bred:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Alas!’ quoth He, ‘but newly born<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In fiery heats I fry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet none approach to warm their hearts<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or feel my fire but I!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘My faultless breast the furnace is;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fuel, wounding thorns;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love is the fire, and sighs the smoke;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ashes, shames and scorns;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fuel Justice layeth on,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Mercy blows the coals,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The metal in this furnace wrought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are men’s defilèd souls:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For which, as now on fire I am<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To work them to their good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So will I melt into a bath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To wash them in my blood.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With this He vanish’d out of sight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And swiftly shrunk away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And straight I callèd unto mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That it was Christmas Day.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_153" id="page_153">{153}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_CONSTABLE" id="HENRY_CONSTABLE"></a>HENRY CONSTABLE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1562?-1613?<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_110" id="pm_110">110.</a></p> - -<h3>On the Death of Sir Philip Sidney</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>IVE pardon, blessèd soul, to my bold cries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If they, importune, interrupt thy song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which now with joyful notes thou sing’st among<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The angel-quiristers of th’ heavenly skies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give pardon eke, sweet soul, to my slow eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That since I saw thee now it is so long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet the tears that unto thee belong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thee as yet they did not sacrifice.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did not know that thou wert dead before;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I did not feel the grief I did sustain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The greater stroke astonisheth the more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Astonishment takes from us sense of pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I stood amazed when others’ tears begun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now begin to weep when they have done.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SAMUEL_DANIEL" id="SAMUEL_DANIEL"></a>SAMUEL DANIEL</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1562-1619<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_111" id="pm_111">111.</a></p> - -<h3>Love is a Sickness</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Love</span> is a sickness full of woes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All remedies refusing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A plant that with most cutting grows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Most barren with best using.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Why so?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More we enjoy it, more it dies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If not enjoy’d, it sighing cries—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Heigh ho!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love is a torment of the mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A tempest everlasting;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Jove hath made it of a kind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not well, nor full nor fasting.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Why so?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_154" id="page_154">{154}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">More we enjoy it, more it dies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If not enjoy’d, it sighing cries—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Heigh ho!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_112" id="pm_112">112.</a></p> - -<h3>Ulysses and the Siren</h3> - -<pre> - <i>Siren.</i> Come, worthy Greek! Ulysses, come, - Possess these shores with me: - The winds and seas are troublesome, - And here we may be free. - Here may we sit and view their toil - That travail in the deep, - And joy the day in mirth the while, - And spend the night in sleep. - - <i>Ulysses.</i> Fair Nymph, if fame or honour were - To be attain’d with ease, - Then would I come and rest me there, - And leave such toils as these. - But here it dwells, and here must I - With danger seek it forth: - To spend the time luxuriously - Becomes not men of worth. - - <i>Siren.</i> Ulysses, O be not deceived - With that unreal name; - This honour is a thing conceived, - And rests on others’ fame: - Begotten only to molest - Our peace, and to beguile - The best thing of our life—our rest, - And give us up to toil. - - <i>Ulysses.</i> Delicious Nymph, suppose there were - No honour nor report, - Yet manliness would scorn to wear - The time in idle sport: - For toil doth give a better touch - To make us feel our joy, - And ease finds tediousness as much - As labour yields annoy. - - <i>Siren.</i> Then pleasure likewise seems the shore - Whereto tends all your toil, - Which you forgo to make it more, - And perish oft the while. - Who may disport them diversely - Find never tedious day, - And ease may have variety - As well as action may. - - <i>Ulysses.</i> But natures of the noblest frame - These toils and dangers please; - And they take comfort in the same - As much as you in ease; - And with the thought of actions past - Are recreated still: - When Pleasure leaves a touch at last - To show that it was ill. - - <i>Siren.</i> That doth <i>Opinion</i> only cause - That’s out of <i>Custom</i> bred, - Which makes us many other laws - Than ever <i>Nature</i> did. - No widows wail for our delights, - Our sports are without blood; - The world we see by warlike wights - Receives more hurt than good. - - <i>Ulysses.</i> But yet the state of things require - These motions of unrest: - And these great Spirits of high desire - Seem born to turn them best: - To purge the mischiefs that increase - And all good order mar: - For oft we see a wicked peace - To be well changed for war. - - <i>Siren.</i> Well, well, Ulysses, then I see - I shall not have thee here: - And therefore I will come to thee, - And take my fortune there. - I must be won, that cannot win, - Yet lost were I not won; - For beauty hath created been - T’ undo, or be undone. -</pre> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_113" id="pm_113">113.</a></p> - -<h3>Beauty, Time, and Love</h3> - -<h4><span class="smcap">Sonnets. I</span></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AIR is my Love and cruel as she’s fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her brow-shades frown, although her eyes are sunny,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her smiles are lightning, though her pride despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her disdains are gall, her favours honey:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A modest maid, deck’d with a blush of honour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose feet do tread green paths of youth and love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wonder of all eyes that look upon her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sacred on earth, design’d a Saint above.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chastity and Beauty, which were deadly foes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Live reconcilèd friends within her brow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And had she Pity to conjoin with those,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then who had heard the plaints I utter now?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For had she not been fair, and thus unkind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Muse had slept, and none had known my mind.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_157" id="page_157">{157}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y spotless love hovers with purest wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the temple of the proudest frame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where blaze those lights, fairest of earthly things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which clear our clouded world with brightest flame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My ambitious thoughts, confinèd in her face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Affect no honour but what she can give;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My hopes do rest in limits of her grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I weigh no comfort unless she relieve.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For she, that can my heart imparadise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holds in her fairest hand what dearest is;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Fortune’s wheel’s the circle of her eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose rolling grace deign once a turn of bliss.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All my life’s sweet consists in her alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So much I love the most Unloving one.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND yet I cannot reprehend the flight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or blame th’ attempt presuming so to soar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mounting venture for a high delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did make the honour of the fall the more.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For who gets wealth, that puts not from the shore?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Danger hath honour, great designs their fame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glory doth follow, courage goes before;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though th’ event oft answers not the same—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suffice that high attempts have never shame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mean observer, whom base safety keeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lives without honour, dies without a name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in eternal darkness ever sleeps.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And therefore, <i>Delia</i>, ’tis to me no blot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To have attempted, tho’ attain’d thee not.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_158" id="page_158">{158}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN men shall find thy flow’r, thy glory, pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou with careful brow, sitting alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Receivèd hast this message from thy glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That tells the truth and says that <i>All is gone</i>;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fresh shalt thou see in me the wounds thou mad’st,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though spent thy flame, in me the heat remaining:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I that have loved thee thus before thou fad’st—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My faith shall wax, when thou art in thy waning.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world shall find this miracle in me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fire can burn when all the matter’s spent:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then what my faith hath been thyself shalt see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that thou wast unkind thou may’st repent.—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou may’st repent that thou hast scorn’d my tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Winter snows upon thy sable hairs.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>EAUTY, sweet Love, is like the morning dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose short refresh upon the tender green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cheers for a time, but till the sun doth show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And straight ’tis gone as it had never been.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soon doth it fade that makes the fairest flourish,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Short is the glory of the blushing rose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hue which thou so carefully dost nourish,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet which at length thou must be forced to lose.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thou, surcharged with burthen of thy years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shalt bend thy wrinkles homeward to the earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that, in Beauty’s Lease expired, appears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Date of Age, the Calends of our Death—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But ah, no more!—this must not be foretold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For women grieve to think they must be old.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_159" id="page_159">{159}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> MUST not grieve my Love, whose eyes would read<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lines of delight, whereon her youth might smile;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowers have time before they come to seed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she is young, and now must sport the while.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sport, Sweet Maid, in season of these years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And learn to gather flowers before they wither;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where the sweetest blossom first appears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let Love and Youth conduct thy pleasures thither.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lighten forth smiles to clear the clouded air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And calm the tempest which my sighs do raise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pity and smiles do best become the fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pity and smiles must only yield thee praise.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Make me to say when all my griefs are gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Happy the heart that sighed for such a one!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ET others sing of Knights and Paladines<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In agèd accents and untimely words,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Paint shadows in imaginary lines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which well the reach of their high wit records:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I must sing of thee, and those fair eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Authentic shall my verse in time to come;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When yet th’ unborn shall say, <i>Lo, where she lies!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Whose beauty made him speak, that else was dumb!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">These are the arcs, the trophies I erect,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fortify thy name against old age;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And these thy sacred virtues must protect<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the Dark, and Time’s consuming rage.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though th’ error of my youth in them appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Suffice, they show I lived, and loved thee dear.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_160" id="page_160">{160}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MARK_ALEXANDER_BOYD" id="MARK_ALEXANDER_BOYD"></a>MARK ALEXANDER BOYD</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1563-1601<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_114" id="pm_114">114.</a></p> - -<h3>Sonet</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>RA bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ourhailit with my feeble fantasie;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like til a leaf that fallis from a tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or til a reed ourblawin with the win.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Twa gods guides me: the ane of tham is blin,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yea and a bairn brocht up in vanitie;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The next a wife ingenrit of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lichter nor a dauphin with her fin.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unhappy is the man for evermair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That tills the sand and sawis in the air;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But twice unhappier is he, I lairn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That feidis in his hairt a mad desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And follows on a woman throw the fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Led by a blind and teachit by a bairn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOSHUA_SYLVESTER" id="JOSHUA_SYLVESTER"></a>JOSHUA SYLVESTER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1563-1618<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_115" id="pm_115">115.</a></p> - -<h3>Ubique</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ERE I as base as is the lowly plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you, my Love, as high as heaven above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet should the thoughts of me, your humble swain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ascend to heaven in honour of my love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were I as high as heaven above the plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you, my Love, as humble and as low<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As are the deepest bottoms of the main,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wheresoe’er you were, with you my love should go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_161" id="page_161">{161}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love should shine on you like to the Sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And look upon you with ten thousand eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till heaven wax’d blind, and till the world were done.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wheresoe’er I am,—below, or else above you—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wheresoe’er you are, my heart shall truly love you.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MICHAEL_DRAYTON" id="MICHAEL_DRAYTON"></a>MICHAEL DRAYTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1563-1631<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_116" id="pm_116">116.</a></p> - -<h3>To His Coy Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> PRAY thee, leave, love me no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Call home the heart you gave me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I but in vain that saint adore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That can but will not save me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These poor half-kisses kill me quite—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was ever man thus servèd?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amidst an ocean of delight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For pleasure to be starvèd?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Show me no more those snowy breasts<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With azure riverets branchèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, whilst mine eye with plenty feasts,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet is my thirst not stanchèd;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Tantalus, thy pains ne’er tell!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By me thou art prevented:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis nothing to be plagued in Hell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But thus in Heaven tormented.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Clip me no more in those dear arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor thy life’s comfort call me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O these are but too powerful charms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And do but more enthral me!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_162" id="page_162">{162}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But see how patient I am grown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In all this coil about thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, nice thing, let my heart alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I cannot live without thee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_117" id="pm_117">117.</a></p> - -<h3>The Parting</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>INCE there’s no help, come let us kiss and part—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thus so cleanly I myself can free.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when we meet at any time again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be it not seen in either of our brows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That we one jot of former love retain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now at the last gasp of Love’s latest breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Innocence is closing up his eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">—Now if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From death to life thou might’st him yet recover.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_118" id="pm_118">118.</a></p> - -<h3>Sirena</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>EAR to the silver <i>Trent</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Sirena</span> dwelleth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She to whom Nature lent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All that excelleth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By which the Muses late<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the neat Graces<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have for their greater state<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Taken their places;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twisting an anadem<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherewith to crown her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_163" id="page_163">{163}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">As it belong’d to them<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Most to renown her.<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>On thy bank,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>In a rank,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Let thy swans sing her,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>And with their music</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Along let them bring her.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Tagus</i> and <i>Pactolus</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are to thee debtor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor for their gold to us<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are they the better:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Henceforth of all the rest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be thou the River<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, as the daintiest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Puts them down ever.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For as my precious one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er thee doth travel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She to pearl paragon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Turneth thy gravel.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>On thy bank ...</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our mournful Philomel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That rarest tuner,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Henceforth in Aperil<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall wake the sooner,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to her shall complain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the thick cover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Redoubling every strain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over and over:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For when my Love too long<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her chamber keepeth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As though it suffer’d wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Morning weepeth.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_164" id="page_164">{164}</a></span> -<span class="i8"><i>On thy bank ...</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oft have I seen the Sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To do her honour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fix himself at his noon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To look upon her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hath gilt every grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Every hill near her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With his flames from above<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Striving to cheer her:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when she from his sight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath herself turnèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He, as it had been night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In clouds hath mournèd.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>On thy bank ...</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The verdant meads are seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When she doth view them,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In fresh and gallant green<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Straight to renew them;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every little grass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Broad itself spreadeth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Proud that this bonny lass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon it treadeth:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor flower is so sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In this large cincture,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But it upon her feet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leaveth some tincture.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>On thy bank ...</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The fishes in the flood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When she doth angle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the hook strive a-good<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Them to entangle;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leaping on the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the clear water,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_165" id="page_165">{165}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their scales upon the sand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lavishly scatter;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therewith to pave the mould<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whereon she passes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So herself to behold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As in her glasses.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>On thy bank ...</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When she looks out by night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stars stand gazing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like comets to our sight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fearfully blazing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As wond’ring at her eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With their much brightness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which so amaze the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dimming their lightness.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The raging tempests are calm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When she speaketh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such most delightsome balm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From her lips breaketh.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>On thy bank ...</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In all our <i>Brittany</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2">There’s not a fairer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor can you fit any<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should you compare her.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Angels her eyelids keep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All hearts surprising;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which look whilst she doth sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like the sun’s rising:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She alone of her kind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Knoweth true measure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her unmatchèd mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is heaven’s treasure.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_166" id="page_166">{166}</a></span> -<span class="i8"><i>On thy bank ...</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair <i>Dove</i> and <i>Darwen</i> clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Boast ye your beauties,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To <i>Trent</i> your mistress here<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet pay your duties:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Love was higher born<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tow’rds the full fountains,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet she doth moorland scorn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the <i>Peak</i> mountains;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor would she none should dream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where she abideth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Humble as is the stream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which by her slideth.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>On thy bank ...</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet my poor rustic Muse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nothing can move her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor the means I can use,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though her true lover:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many a long winter’s night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have I waked for her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet this my piteous plight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nothing can stir her.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All thy sands, silver <i>Trent</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down to the <i>Humber</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sighs that I have spent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never can number.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>On thy bank,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>In a rank,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Let thy swans sing her,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>And with their music</i><br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Along let them bring her.</i><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_167" id="page_167">{167}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_119" id="pm_119">119.</a></p> - -<h3>Agincourt</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AIR stood the wind for France<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When we our sails advance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor now to prove our chance<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Longer will tarry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But putting to the main,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At Caux, the mouth of Seine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all his martial train<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Landed King Harry.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And taking many a fort,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Furnish’d in warlike sort,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marcheth tow’rds Agincourt<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In happy hour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Skirmishing day by day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With those that stopp’d his way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the French gen’ral lay<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With all his power.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Which, in his height of pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">King Henry to deride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His ransom to provide<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Unto him sending;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which he neglects the while<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As from a nation vile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet with an angry smile<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Their fall portending.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And turning to his men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quoth our brave Henry then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Though they to one be ten<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Be not amazèd:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_168" id="page_168">{168}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet have we well begun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Battles so bravely won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have ever to the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i4">By fame been raisèd.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And for myself (quoth he)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This my full rest shall be:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">England ne’er mourn for me<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor more esteem me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Victor I will remain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or on this earth lie slain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never shall she sustain<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Loss to redeem me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Poitiers and Cressy tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When most their pride did swell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under our swords they fell:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No less our skill is<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than when our grandsire great,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Claiming the regal seat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By many a warlike feat<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lopp’d the French lilies.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Duke of York so dread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The eager vaward led;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the main Henry sped<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Among his henchmen.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Excester had the rear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A braver man not there;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Lord, how hot they were<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On the false Frenchmen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They now to fight are gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Armour on armour shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drum now to drum did groan,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To hear was wonder;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_169" id="page_169">{169}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That with the cries they make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The very earth did shake:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trumpet to trumpet spake,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thunder to thunder.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Well it thine age became,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O noble Erpingham,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which didst the signal aim<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To our hid forces!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When from a meadow by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a storm suddenly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The English archery<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Stuck the French horses.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With Spanish yew so strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arrows a cloth-yard long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That like to serpents stung,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Piercing the weather;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None from his fellow starts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But playing manly parts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like true English hearts<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Stuck close together.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When down their bows they threw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And forth their bilbos drew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the French they flew,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Not one was tardy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arms were from shoulders sent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scalps to the teeth were rent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the French peasants went—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our men were hardy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This while our noble king,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His broadsword brandishing,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>bilbos] swords, from Bilboa.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_170" id="page_170">{170}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>OWN the French host did ding<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As to o’erwhelm it;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a deep wound lent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His arms with blood besprent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a cruel dent<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bruisèd his helmet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Gloster, that duke so good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Next of the royal blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For famous England stood<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With his brave brother;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clarence, in steel so bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though but a maiden knight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet in that furious fight<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Scarce such another.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Warwick in blood did wade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oxford the foe invade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cruel slaughter made<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Still as they ran up;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suffolk his axe did ply,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beaumont and Willoughby<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bare them right doughtily,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ferrers and Fanhope.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon Saint Crispin’s Day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fought was this noble fray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which fame did not delay<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To England to carry.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O when shall English men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With such acts fill a pen?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or England breed again<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Such a King Harry?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_171" id="page_171">{171}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_120" id="pm_120">120.</a></p> - -<h3>To the Virginian Voyage</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU brave heroic minds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Worthy your country’s name,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That honour still pursue;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Go and subdue!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst loitering hinds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lurk here at home with shame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Britons, you stay too long:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quickly aboard bestow you,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And with a merry gale<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Swell your stretch’d sail<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With vows as strong<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the winds that blow you.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your course securely steer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">West and by south forth keep!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Rocks, lee-shores, nor shoals<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When Eolus scowls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You need not fear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So absolute the deep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And cheerfully at sea<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Success you still entice<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To get the pearl and gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And ours to hold<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Virginia,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Earth’s only paradise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where nature hath in store<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fowl, venison, and fish,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the fruitfull’st soil<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Without your toil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Three harvests more,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All greater than your wish.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_172" id="page_172">{172}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the ambitious vine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crowns with his purple mass<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The cedar reaching high<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To kiss the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cypress, pine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And useful sassafras.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To whom the Golden Age<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still nature’s laws doth give,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No other cares attend,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But them to defend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From winter’s rage,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That long there doth not live.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When as the luscious smell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of that delicious land<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Above the seas that flows<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The clear wind throws,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your hearts to swell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Approaching the dear strand;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In kenning of the shore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Thanks to God first given)<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O you the happiest men,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Be frolic then!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let cannons roar,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Frighting the wide heaven.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in regions far,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such heroes bring ye forth<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As those from whom we came;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And plant our name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under that star<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not known unto our North.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_173" id="page_173">{173}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as there plenty grows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of laurel everywhere—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Apollo’s sacred tree—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You it may see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A poet’s brows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To crown, that may sing there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy <i>Voyages</i> attend,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Industrious Hakluyt,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whose reading shall inflame<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Men to seek fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And much commend<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To after times thy wit.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHRISTOPHER_MARLOWE" id="CHRISTOPHER_MARLOWE"></a>CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1564-93<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_121" id="pm_121">121.</a></p> - -<h3>The Passionate Shepherd to His Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME live with me and be my Love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we will all the pleasures prove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hills and valleys, dales and fields<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or woods or steepy mountain yields.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And we will sit upon the rocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see the shepherds feed their flocks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By shallow rivers, to whose falls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Melodious birds sing madrigals.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I will make thee beds of roses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a thousand fragrant posies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A cap of flowers, and a kirtle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_174" id="page_174">{174}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A gown made of the finest wool<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which from our pretty lambs we pull;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair-linèd slippers for the cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With buckles of the purest gold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A belt of straw and ivy-buds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With coral clasps and amber studs:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if these pleasures may thee move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come live with me and be my Love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shepherd swains shall dance and sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For thy delight each May morning:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If these delights thy mind may move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then live with me and be my Love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_122" id="pm_122">122.</a></p> - -<h3>Her Reply</h3> - -<p class="c">(WRITTEN BY SIR WALTER RALEIGH)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F all the world and love were young,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And truth in every shepherd’s tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These pretty pleasures might me move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To live with thee and be thy Love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But Time drives flocks from field to fold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Philomel becometh dumb;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rest complains of cares to come.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The flowers do fade, and wanton fields<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wayward Winter reckoning yields:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A honey tongue, a heart of gall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is fancy’s spring, but sorrow’s fall.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_175" id="page_175">{175}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soon break, soon wither—soon forgotten,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In folly ripe, in reason rotten.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy coral clasps and amber studs,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All these in me no means can move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To come to thee and be thy Love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But could youth last, and love still breed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had joys no date, nor age no need,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then these delights my mind might move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To live with thee and be thy Love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_SHAKESPEARE" id="WILLIAM_SHAKESPEARE"></a>WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1564-1616<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_123" id="pm_123">123.</a></p> - -<h3>Silvia</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HO is Silvia? What is she?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That all our swains commend her?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holy, fair, and wise is she;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heaven such grace did lend her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she might admirèd be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is she kind as she is fair?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For beauty lives with kindness:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love doth to her eyes repair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To help him of his blindness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, being help’d, inhabits there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then to Silvia let us sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That Silvia is excelling;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She excels each mortal thing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the dull earth dwelling:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her let us garlands bring.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_176" id="page_176">{176}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_124" id="pm_124">124.</a></p> - -<h3>The Blossom</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>N a day—alack the day!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, whose month is ever May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spied a blossom passing fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Playing in the wanton air:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the velvet leaves the wind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All unseen ’gan passage find;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the lover, sick to death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wish’d himself the heaven’s breath.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Air, would I might triumph so!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, alack, my hand is sworn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne’er to pluck thee from thy thorn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth so apt to pluck a sweet!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do not call it sin in me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I am forsworn for thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou for whom e’en Jove would swear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Juno but an Ethiop were;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And deny himself for Jove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turning mortal for thy love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3><i>Spring and Winter</i></h3> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_125" id="pm_125">125.</a></p> - -<h4>i</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN daisies pied and violets blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lady-smocks all silver-white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Do paint the meadows with delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cuckoo then, on every tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mocks married men; for thus sings he,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">Cuckoo!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_177" id="page_177">{177}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cuckoo, cuckoo!—O word of fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unpleasing to a married ear!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And maidens bleach their summer smocks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cuckoo then, on every tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mocks married men; for thus sings he,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">Cuckoo!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cuckoo, cuckoo!—O word of fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unpleasing to a married ear!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_126" id="pm_126">126.</a></p> - -<h4>ii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN icicles hang by the wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Tom bears logs into the hall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And milk comes frozen home in pail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When blood is nipp’d, and ways be foul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then nightly sings the staring owl,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">To-whit!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-who!—a merry note.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When all aloud the wind doth blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And birds sit brooding in the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Marian’s nose looks red and raw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then nightly sings the staring owl,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">To-whit!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-who!—a merry note,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>126.</i> keel] skim.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_178" id="page_178">{178}</a></span></p> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Fairy Land</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_127" id="pm_127">127.</a></p> - -<h4>i</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">O</span>VER hill, over dale,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thorough bush, thorough brier,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over park, over pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thorough flood, thorough fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I do wander everywhere.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Swifter than the moonè’s sphere;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I serve the fairy queen,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To dew her orbs upon the green:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The cowslips tall her pensioners be;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In their gold coats spots you see;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Those be rubies, fairy favours,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In those freckles live their savours:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I must go seek some dew-drops here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_128" id="pm_128">128.</a></p> - -<h4>ii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU spotted snakes with double tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thorny hedgehogs, be not seen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Newts and blind-worms, do no wrong;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come not near our fairy queen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Philomel, with melody,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sing in our sweet lullaby;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Never harm,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Nor spell nor charm,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Come our lovely lady nigh;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So, good night, with lullaby.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Weaving spiders, come not here;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hence, you long-legg’d spinners, hence!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_179" id="page_179">{179}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beetles black, approach not near;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Worm nor snail, do no offence.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Philomel, with melody,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sing in our sweet lullaby;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lulla, lulla, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Never harm.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Nor spell nor charm,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Come our lovely lady nigh;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So, good night, with lullaby.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_129" id="pm_129">129.</a></p> - -<h4>iii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME unto these yellow sands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then take hands:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Court’sied when you have, and kiss’d,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wild waves whist,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Foot it featly here and there;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Hark, hark!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Bow, wow,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The watch-dogs bark.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Bow, wow.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Hark, hark! I hear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The strain of strutting chanticleer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_130" id="pm_130">130.</a></p> - -<h4>iv</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HERE the bee sucks, there suck I:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In a cowslip’s bell I lie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There I couch when owls do cry.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the bat’s back I do fly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After summer merrily:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_180" id="page_180">{180}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_131" id="pm_131">131.</a></p> - -<h4>v</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>ULL fathom five thy father lies;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of his bones are coral made;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those are pearls that were his eyes:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nothing of him that doth fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But doth suffer a sea-change<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into something rich and strange.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Ding-dong.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hark! now I hear them—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Ding-dong, bell!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_132" id="pm_132">132.</a></p> - -<h3>Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><span class="letra">T</span>ELL me where is Fancy bred,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Or in the heart or in the head?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">How begot, how nourishèd?<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Reply, reply.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">It is engender’d in the eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With gazing fed; and Fancy dies<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In the cradle where it lies.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Let us all ring Fancy’s knell:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">I’ll begin it,—Ding, dong, bell.<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>All.</i> Ding, dong, bell.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_133" id="pm_133">133.</a></p> - -<h3>Sweet-and-Twenty</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O, stay and hear! your true love’s coming,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That can sing both high and low:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trip no further, pretty sweeting;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Journeys end in lovers meeting,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Every wise man’s son doth know.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_181" id="page_181">{181}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is love? ’tis not hereafter;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Present mirth hath present laughter;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What’s to come is still unsure:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In delay there lies no plenty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Youth’s a stuff will not endure.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_134" id="pm_134">134.</a></p> - -<h3>Dirge</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME away, come away, death,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in sad cypres let me be laid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fly away, fly away, breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am slain by a fair cruel maid.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">O prepare it!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My part of death, no one so true<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Did share it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not a flower, not a flower sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On my black coffin let there be strown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a friend, not a friend greet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My poor corse, where my bones shall be thrown:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thousand thousand sighs to save,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Lay me, O, where<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sad true lover never find my grave<br /></span> -<span class="i8">To weep there!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>134.</i> cypres] crape.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_135" id="pm_135">135.</a></p> - -<h3>Under the Greenwood Tree</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Amiens</i> sings:<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>NDER the greenwood tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who loves to lie with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turn his merry note<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the sweet bird’s throat,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_182" id="page_182">{182}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come hither, come hither, come hither:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Here shall he see<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No enemy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But winter and rough weather.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Who doth ambition shun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And loves to live i’ the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seeking the food he eats,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pleased with what he gets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come hither, come hither, come hither:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Here shall he see<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No enemy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But winter and rough weather.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Jaques</i> replies:<br /> -</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">I</span>F it do come to pass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That any man turn ass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leaving his wealth and ease<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A stubborn will to please,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ducdamè, ducdamè, ducdamè:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Here shall he see<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gross fools as he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An if he will come to me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_136" id="pm_136">136.</a></p> - -<h3>Blow blow, thou Winter Wind</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>LOW, blow, thou winter wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art not so unkind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As man’s ingratitude;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy tooth is not so keen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because thou art not seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Although thy breath be rude.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_183" id="page_183">{183}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then heigh ho, the holly!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">This life is most jolly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That dost not bite so nigh<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As benefits forgot:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Though thou the waters warp,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy sting is not so sharp<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As friend remember’d not.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then heigh ho, the holly!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">This life is most jolly.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_137" id="pm_137">137.</a></p> - -<h3>It was a Lover and his Lass</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T was a lover and his lass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That o’er the green corn-field did pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet lovers love the spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Between the acres of the rye,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These pretty country folks would lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet lovers love the spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This carol they began that hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_184" id="page_184">{184}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">How that life was but a flower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet lovers love the spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And, therefore, take the present time<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For love is crownèd with the prime<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet lovers love the spring.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_138" id="pm_138">138.</a></p> - -<h3>Take, O take those Lips away</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>AKE, O take those lips away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That so sweetly were forsworn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And those eyes, the break of day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lights that do mislead the morn!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But my kisses bring again,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Bring again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seals of love, but seal’d in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Seal’d in vain!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_139" id="pm_139">139.</a></p> - -<h3>Aubade</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ARK! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Phœbus ’gins arise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His steeds to water at those springs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On chaliced flowers that lies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And winking Mary-buds begin<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To ope their golden eyes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With everything that pretty bin,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My lady sweet, arise!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Arise, arise!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_185" id="page_185">{185}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_140" id="pm_140">140.</a></p> - -<h3>Fidele</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>EAR no more the heat o’ the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor the furious winter’s rages;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou thy worldly task hast done,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Golden lads and girls all must,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fear no more the frown o’ the great,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Care no more to clothe and eat;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To thee the reed is as the oak:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sceptre, learning, physic, must<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All follow this, and come to dust.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fear no more the lightning-flash,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fear not slander, censure rash;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou hast finished joy and moan:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All lovers young, all lovers must<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Consign to thee, and come to dust.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No exerciser harm thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor no witchcraft charm thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ghost unlaid forbear thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing ill come near thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quiet consummation have;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And renownèd be thy grave!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_186" id="page_186">{186}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_141" id="pm_141">141.</a></p> - -<h3>Bridal Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">R</span>OSES, their sharp spines being gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not royal in their smells alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But in their hue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maiden pinks, of odour faint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sweet thyme true;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Primrose, firstborn child of Ver;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Merry springtime’s harbinger,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With her bells dim;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oxlips in their cradles growing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marigolds on death-beds blowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Larks’-heels trim;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All dear Nature’s children sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lie ’fore bride and bridegroom’s feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blessing their sense!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not an angel of the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bird melodious or bird fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be absent hence!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boding raven, nor chough hoar,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor chattering pye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May on our bride-house perch or sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or with them any discord bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But from it fly!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml">? or <i>John Fletcher</i>.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_187" id="page_187">{187}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_142" id="pm_142">142.</a></p> - -<h3>Dirge of the Three Queens</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Urns</span> and odours bring away!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Vapours, sighs, darken the day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our dole more deadly looks than dying;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Balms and gums and heavy cheers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sacred vials fill’d with tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And clamours through the wild air flying!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Come, all sad and solemn shows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That are quick-eyed Pleasure’s foes!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We convènt naught else but woes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml">? or <i>John Fletcher</i>.<br /> -</p> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>142.</i> dole] lamentation. convent] summon.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_143" id="pm_143">143.</a></p> - -<h3>Orpheus</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>RPHEUS with his lute made trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the mountain tops that freeze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bow themselves when he did sing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To his music plants and flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever sprung; as sun and showers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There had made a lasting spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Every thing that heard him play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even the billows of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hung their heads and then lay by.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sweet music is such art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Killing care and grief of heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fall asleep, or hearing, die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml">? or <i>John Fletcher</i>.<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_188" id="page_188">{188}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_144" id="pm_144">144.</a></p> - -<h3>The Phœnix and the Turtle</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ET the bird of loudest lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the sole Arabian tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Herald sad and trumpet be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To whose sound chaste wings obey.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But thou shrieking harbinger,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Foul precurrer of the fiend,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Augur of the fever’s end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To this troop come thou not near.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From this session interdict<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Every fowl of tyrant wing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save the eagle, feather’d king:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Keep the obsequy so strict.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let the priest in surplice white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That defunctive music can,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be the death-divining swan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest the requiem lack his right.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thou, treble-dated crow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That thy sable gender mak’st<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the breath thou giv’st and tak’st,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here the anthem doth commence:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love and constancy is dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Phœnix and the turtle fled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a mutual flame from hence.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So they loved, as love in twain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had the essence but in one;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two distincts, division none;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Number there in love was slain.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>can] knows.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_189" id="page_189">{189}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>EARTS remote, yet not asunder;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Distance, and no space was seen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Twixt the turtle and his queen:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in them it were a wonder.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So between them love did shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That the turtle saw his right<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flaming in the phœnix’ sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Either was the other’s mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Property was thus appall’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That the self was not the same;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Single nature’s double name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Neither two nor one was call’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Reason, in itself confounded,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saw division grow together;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To themselves yet either neither;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Simple were so well compounded,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That it cried, ‘How true a twain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seemeth this concordant one!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love hath reason, reason none<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If what parts can so remain.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whereupon it made this threne<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the phœnix and the dove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Co-supremes and stars of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As chorus to their tragic scene.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>THRENOS</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>EAUTY, truth, and rarity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grace in all simplicity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here enclosed in cinders lie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_190" id="page_190">{190}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Death is now the phœnix’ nest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the turtle’s loyal breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To eternity doth rest,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Leaving no posterity:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas not their infirmity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was married chastity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Truth may seem, but cannot be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty brag, but ’tis not she;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Truth and beauty buried be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To this urn let those repair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That are either true or fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For these dead birds sigh a prayer.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Sonnets</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_145" id="pm_145">145.</a></p> - -<h4>i</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HALL I compare thee to a Summer’s day?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art more lovely and more temperate:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Summer’s lease hath all too short a date:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every fair from fair sometime declines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thy eternal Summer shall not fade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in eternal lines to time thou growest:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_191" id="page_191">{191}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_146" id="pm_146">146.</a></p> - -<h4>ii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN, in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I all alone beweep my outcast state,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And look upon myself, and curse my fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Featured like him, like him with friends possest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With what I most enjoy contented least;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haply I think on thee: and then my state,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like to the Lark at break of day arising<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From sullen earth, sings hymns at Heaven’s gate;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For thy sweet love rememb’red such wealth brings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That then I scorn to change my state with Kings.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_147" id="pm_147">147.</a></p> - -<h4>iii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN to the Sessions of sweet silent thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I summon up remembrance of things past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with old woes new wail my dear time’s waste:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For precious friends hid in death’s dateless night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And weep afresh love’s long-since-cancell’d woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And moan th’ expense of many a vanish’d sight:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heavily from woe to woe tell o’er<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sad account of fore-bemoanèd moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which I new pay as if not paid before.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All losses are restored and sorrows end.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_192" id="page_192">{192}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_148" id="pm_148">148.</a></p> - -<h4>iv</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HY bosom is endearèd with all hearts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which I, by lacking, have supposèd dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there reigns Love, and all Love’s loving parts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all those friends which I thought burièd.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How many a holy and obsequious tear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath dear religious love stol’n from mine eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As interest of the dead!—which now appear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But things removed that hidden in thee lie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art the grave where buried love doth live.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who all their parts of me to thee did give:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—That due of many now is thine alone:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their images I loved I view in thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thou, all they, hast all the all of me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_149" id="pm_149">149.</a></p> - -<h4>v</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT is your substance, whereof are you made,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That millions of strange shadows on you tend?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since every one hath, every one, one shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you, but one, can every shadow lend.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is poorly imitated after you;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On Helen’s cheek all art of beauty set,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you in Grecian tires are painted new:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speak of the spring and foison of the year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The one doth shadow of your beauty show.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The other as your bounty doth appear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you in every blessèd shape we know.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In all external grace you have some part,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But you like none, none you, for constant heart.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>149.</i> foison] plenty.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_193" id="page_193">{193}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_150" id="pm_150">150.</a></p> - -<h4>vi</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> HOW much more doth beauty beauteous seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For that sweet odour which doth in it live.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Canker-blooms have full as deep a dye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the perfumèd tincture of the Roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When summer’s breath their maskèd buds discloses:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But—for their virtue only is their show—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They live unwoo’d and unrespected fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Die to themselves. Sweet Roses do not so;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When that shall vade, my verse distils your truth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_151" id="pm_151">151.</a></p> - -<h4>vii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>EING your slave, what should I do but tend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the hours and times of your desire?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have no precious time at all to spend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor services to do, till you require.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor think the bitterness of absence sour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When you have bid your servant once adieu;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor dare I question with my jealous thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save, where you are how happy you make those!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So true a fool is love, that in your Will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_194" id="page_194">{194}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_152" id="pm_152">152.</a></p> - -<h4>viii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HAT time of year thou may’st in me behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon those boughs which shake against the cold—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bare ruin’d choirs where late the sweet birds sang.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In me thou see’st the twilight of such day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As after Sunset fadeth in the West,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which by and by black night doth take away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the death-bed whereon it must expire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Consumed with that which it was nourish’d by.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To love that well which thou must leave ere long.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_153" id="pm_153">153.</a></p> - -<h4>ix</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AREWELL! thou art too dear for my possessing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like enough thou know’st thy estimate:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My bonds in thee are all determinate.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for that riches where is my deserving?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so my patent back again is swerving.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thyself thou gav’st, thy own worth then not knowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or me, to whom thou gav’st it, else mistaking;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comes home again, on better judgment making.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In sleep a King; but waking, no such matter.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_195" id="page_195">{195}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_154" id="pm_154">154.</a></p> - -<h4>x</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HEN hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And do not drop in for an after loss:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! do not, when my heart hath ’scaped this sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come in the rearward of a conquered woe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To linger out a purposed overthrow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When other petty griefs have done their spite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in the onset come: so shall I taste<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At first the very worst of fortune’s might;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Compared with loss of thee will not seem so!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_155" id="pm_155">155.</a></p> - -<h4>xi</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HEY that have power to hurt and will do none,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That do not do the thing they most do show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unmovèd, cold, and to temptation slow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They rightly do inherit heaven’s graces,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And husband nature’s riches from expense;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They are the Lords and owners of their faces,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Others, but stewards of their excellence.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The summer’s flower is to the summer sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though to itself it only live and die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But if that flower with base infection meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The basest weed outbraves his dignity:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_196" id="page_196">{196}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_156" id="pm_156">156.</a></p> - -<h4>xii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>OW like a Winter hath my absence been<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What old December’s bareness everywhere!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet this time removed was summer’s time;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The teeming Autumn, big with rich increase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bearing the wanton burden of the prime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like widow’d wombs after their Lord’s decease:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet this abundant issue seem’d to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But hope of orphans and unfather’d fruit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Summer and his pleasures wait on thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, thou away, the very birds are mute:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That leaves look pale, dreading the Winter’s near.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_157" id="pm_157">157.</a></p> - -<h4>xiii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>ROM you have I been absent in the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When proud-pied April, dress’d in all his trim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That heavy Saturn laugh’d and leap’d with him.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of different flowers in odour and in hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could make me any summer’s story tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor did I wonder at the Lily’s white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor praise the deep vermilion in the Rose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They were but sweet, but figures of delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet seem’d it Winter still, and, you away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As with your shadow I with these did play.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_197" id="page_197">{197}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_158" id="pm_158">158.</a></p> - -<h4>xiv</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y love is strengthen’d, though more weak in seeming;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I love not less, though less the show appear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That love is merchandised whose rich esteeming<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The owner’s tongue doth publish everywhere.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our love was new, and then but in the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I was wont to greet it with my lays;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Philomel in summer’s front doth sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stops her pipe in growth of riper days:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not that the summer is less pleasant now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But that wild music burthens every bough,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sweets grown common lose their dear delight.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Therefore, like her, I sometime hold my tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Because I would not dull you with my song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_159" id="pm_159">159.</a></p> - -<h4>xv</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O me, fair friend, you never can be old;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For as you were when first your eye I eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such seems your beauty still. Three Winters cold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have from the forests shook three Summers’ pride;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Three beauteous springs to yellow Autumn turn’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In process of the seasons have I seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Steal from his figure, and no pace perceived;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere you were born was beauty’s summer dead.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_198" id="page_198">{198}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_160" id="pm_160">160.</a></p> - -<h4>xvi</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN in the chronicle of wasted time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see descriptions of the fairest wights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And beauty making beautiful old rime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In praise of Ladies dead and lovely Knights;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty’s best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see their antique pen would have exprest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even such a beauty as you master now.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So all their praises are but prophecies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of this our time, all you prefiguring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for they look’d but with divining eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They had not skill enough your worth to sing:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For we, which now behold these present days,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_161" id="pm_161">161.</a></p> - -<h4>xvii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> NEVER say that I was false of heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though absence seem’d my flame to qualify!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As easy might I from myself depart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is my home of love; if I have ranged,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like him that travels I return again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So that myself bring water for my stain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never believe, though in my nature reign’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That it could so prepost’rously be stain’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To leave for nothing all thy sum of good:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For nothing this wide Universe I call,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save thou, my Rose; in it thou art my all.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_199" id="page_199">{199}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_162" id="pm_162">162.</a></p> - -<h4>xviii</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ET me not to the marriage of true minds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Admit impediments. Love is not love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which alters when it alteration finds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or bends with the remover to remove:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, no! it is an ever-fixèd mark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That looks on tempests and is never shaken;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is the star to every wand’ring bark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within his bending sickle’s compass come;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But bears it out even to the edge of doom:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If this be error and upon me proved,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I never writ, nor no man ever loved.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_163" id="pm_163">163.</a></p> - -<h4>xix</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>H’ expense of Spirit in a waste of shame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is lust in action; and till action, lust<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enjoy’d no sooner but despisèd straight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past reason hunted; and, no sooner had,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past reason hated, as a swallow’d bait<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On purpose laid to make the taker mad:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mad in pursuit, and in possession so;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All this the world well knows; yet none knows well<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_200" id="page_200">{200}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_164" id="pm_164">164.</a></p> - -<h4>xx</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>OOR soul, the centre of my sinful earth—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My sinful earth these rebel powers array—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why so large cost, having so short a lease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body’s end?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, soul, live thou upon thy servant’s loss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let that pine to aggravate thy store;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within be fed, without be rich no more:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Death once dead, there’s no more dying then.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RICHARD_ROWLANDS" id="RICHARD_ROWLANDS"></a>RICHARD ROWLANDS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1565-1630?<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_165" id="pm_165">165.</a></p> - -<h3>Lullaby</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>PON my lap my sovereign sits<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sucks upon my breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meantime his love maintains my life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gives my sense her rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sing lullaby, my little boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sing lullaby, mine only joy!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When thou hast taken thy repast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Repose, my babe, on me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So may thy mother and thy nurse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy cradle also be.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sing lullaby, my little boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sing lullaby, mine only joy!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_201" id="page_201">{201}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I grieve that duty doth not work<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that my wishing would;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because I would not be to thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in the best I should.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sing lullaby, my little boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sing lullaby, mine only joy!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet as I am, and as I may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I must and will be thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though all too little for thyself<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vouchsafing to be mine.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sing lullaby, my little boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sing lullaby, mine only joy!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_NASHE" id="THOMAS_NASHE"></a>THOMAS NASHE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1567-1601<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_166" id="pm_166">166.</a></p> - -<h3>Spring</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>PRING, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The palm and may make country houses gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In every street these tunes our ears do greet—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Spring, the sweet Spring!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_202" id="page_202">{202}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_167" id="pm_167">167.</a></p> - -<h3>In Time of Pestilence</h3> - -<p class="dtt">1593</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Adieu</span>, farewell earth’s bliss!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This world uncertain is:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fond are life’s lustful joys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death proves them all but toys.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None from his darts can fly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am sick, I must die—<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rich men, trust not in wealth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gold cannot buy you health;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Physic himself must fade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All things to end are made;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The plague full swift goes by;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am sick, I must die—<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beauty is but a flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which wrinkles will devour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brightness falls from the air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Queens have died young and fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dust hath closed Helen’s eye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am sick, I must die—<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Strength stoops unto the grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Worms feed on Hector brave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swords may not fight with fate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth still holds ope her gate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Come, come!</i> the bells do cry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am sick, I must die—<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_203" id="page_203">{203}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wit with his wantonness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tasteth death’s bitterness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hell’s executioner<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath no ears for to hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What vain art can reply;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am sick, I must die—<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Haste therefore each degree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To welcome destiny;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaven is our heritage,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth but a player’s stage.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mount we unto the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am sick, I must die—<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Lord, have mercy on us!</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_CAMPION" id="THOMAS_CAMPION"></a>THOMAS CAMPION</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1567?-1619<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_168" id="pm_168">168.</a></p> - -<h3>Cherry-Ripe</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE is a garden in her face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where roses and white lilies blow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A heavenly paradise is that place,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">There cherries grow which none may buy<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Those cherries fairly do enclose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of orient pearl a double row,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which when her lovely laughter shows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They look like rose-buds fill’d with snow;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet them nor peer nor prince can buy<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_204" id="page_204">{204}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her eyes like angels watch them still;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her brows like bended bows do stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Threat’ning with piercing frowns to kill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All that attempt with eye or hand<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Those sacred cherries to come nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Till ‘Cherry-ripe’ themselves do cry.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_169" id="pm_169">169.</a></p> - -<h3>Laura</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">R</span>OSE-cheek’d <i>Laura</i>, come;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing thou smoothly with thy beauty’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silent music, either other<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweetly gracing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Lovely forms do flow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From concent divinely framèd:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaven is music, and thy beauty’s<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Birth is heavenly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">These dull notes we sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Discords need for helps to grace them;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only beauty purely loving<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Knows no discord;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">But still moves delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like clear springs renew’d by flowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever perfect, ever in them-<br /></span> -<span class="i4">selves eternal.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Devotion</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_170" id="pm_170">170.</a></p> - -<h3>i</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OLLOW thy fair sun, unhappy shadow!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though thou be black as night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she made all of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_205" id="page_205">{205}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Follow her, whose light thy light depriveth!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though here thou liv’st disgraced,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she in heaven is placed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet follow her whose light the world reviveth!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Follow those pure beams, whose beauty burneth!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That so have scorchèd thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As thou still black must be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till her kind beams thy black to brightness turneth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Follow her, while yet her glory shineth!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There comes a luckless night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That will dim all her light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this the black unhappy shade divineth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Follow still, since so thy fates ordainèd!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sun must have his shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till both at once do fade,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun still proud, the shadow still disdainèd.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_171" id="pm_171">171.</a></p> - -<h3>ii</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OLLOW your saint, follow with accents sweet!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haste you, sad notes, fall at her flying feet!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, wrapt in cloud of sorrow, pity move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tell the ravisher of my soul I perish for her love:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But if she scorns my never-ceasing pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then burst with sighing in her sight, and ne’er return again!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All that I sung still to her praise did tend;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still she was first, still she my songs did end;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet she my love and music both doth fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The music that her echo is and beauty’s sympathy:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then let my notes pursue her scornful flight!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It shall suffice that they were breathed and died for her delight.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_206" id="page_206">{206}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_172" id="pm_172">172.</a></p> - -<h3>Vobiscum est Iope</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN thou must home to shades of underground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there arrived, a new admirèd guest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear the stories of thy finish’d love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of tourneys and great challenges of knights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all these triumphs for thy beauty’s sake:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thou hast told these honours done to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_173" id="pm_173">173.</a></p> - -<h3>Hymn in Praise of Neptune</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>F Neptune’s empire let us sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At whose command the waves obey;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To whom the rivers tribute pay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the high mountains sliding:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To whom the scaly nation yields<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Homage for the crystal fields<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wherein they dwell:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every sea-dog pays a gem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yearly out of his wat’ry cell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To deck great Neptune’s diadem.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Tritons dancing in a ring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before his palace gates do make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The water with their echoes quake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the great thunder sounding:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_207" id="page_207">{207}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sea-nymphs chant their accents shrill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sirens, taught to kill<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With their sweet voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make ev’ry echoing rock reply<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto their gentle murmuring noise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The praise of Neptune’s empery.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_174" id="pm_174">174.</a></p> - -<h3>Winter Nights</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><span class="letra">N</span>OW winter nights enlarge<br /></span> -<span class="i8">The number of their hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And clouds their storms discharge<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Upon the airy towers.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Let now the chimneys blaze<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And cups o’erflow with wine;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Let well-tuned words amaze<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With harmony divine.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Now yellow waxen lights<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Shall wait on honey love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Sleep’s leaden spells remove.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">This time doth well dispense<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With lovers’ long discourse;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Much speech hath some defence<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Though beauty no remorse.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">All do not all things well;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Some measures comely tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Some knotted riddles tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Some poems smoothly read.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The summer hath his joys,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And winter his delights;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though love and all his pleasures are but toys,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">They shorten tedious nights.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_208" id="page_208">{208}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_175" id="pm_175">175.</a></p> - -<h3>Integer Vitae</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE man of life upright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose guiltless heart is free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From all dishonest deeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or thought of vanity;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The man whose silent days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In harmless joys are spent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom hopes cannot delude,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor sorrow discontent;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That man needs neither towers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor armour for defence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor secret vaults to fly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From thunder’s violence:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He only can behold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With unaffrighted eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The horrors of the deep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And terrors of the skies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus, scorning all the cares<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That fate or fortune brings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He makes the heaven his book,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His wisdom heavenly things;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Good thoughts his only friends,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His wealth a well-spent age,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth his sober inn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And quiet pilgrimage.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_209" id="page_209">{209}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_176" id="pm_176">176.</a></p> - -<h3>O come quickly!</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>EVER weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never tirèd pilgrim’s limbs affected slumber more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than my wearied sprite now longs to fly out of my troubled breast:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soul to rest!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ever blooming are the joys of heaven’s high Paradise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cold age deafs not there our ears nor vapour dims our eyes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glory there the sun outshines; whose beams the Blessèd only see:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O come quickly, glorious Lord, and raise my sprite to Thee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_REYNOLDS" id="JOHN_REYNOLDS"></a>JOHN REYNOLDS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">16th Cent.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_177" id="pm_177">177.</a></p> - -<h3>A Nosegay</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>AY, crimson Rose and dainty Daffodil,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With Violet blue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since you have seen the beauty of my saint,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And eke her view;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did not her sight (fair sight!) you lonely fill,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With sweet delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of goddess’ grace and angels’ sacred teint<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In fine, most bright?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Say, golden Primrose, sanguine Cowslip fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With Pink most fine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since you beheld the visage of my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And eyes divine;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>177.</i> teint] tint, hue.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_210" id="page_210">{210}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>ID not her globy front, and glistering hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With cheeks most sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So gloriously like damask flowers appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The gods to greet?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Say, snow-white Lily, speckled Gillyflower,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With Daisy gay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since you have viewed the Queen of my desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In her array;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did not her ivory paps, fair Venus’ bower,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With heavenly glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Juno’s grace, conjure you to require<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Her face to see?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Say Rose, say Daffodil, and Violet blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With Primrose fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since ye have seen my nymph’s sweet dainty face<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And gesture rare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did not (bright Cowslip, blooming Pink) her view<br /></span> -<span class="i6">(White Lily) shine—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Ah, Gillyflower, ah Daisy!) with a grace<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Like stars divine?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_HENRY_WOTTON" id="SIR_HENRY_WOTTON"></a>SIR HENRY WOTTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1568-1639<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_178" id="pm_178">178.</a></p> - -<h3>Elizabeth of Bohemia</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU meaner beauties of the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That poorly satisfy our eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More by your number than your light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You common people of the skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What are you when the moon shall rise?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_211" id="page_211">{211}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You curious chanters of the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That warble forth Dime Nature’s lays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thinking your passions understood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By your weak accents; what’s your praise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Philomel her voice shall raise?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You violets that first appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By your pure purple mantles known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the proud virgins of the year,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As if the spring were all your own;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What are you when the rose is blown?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So, when my mistress shall be seen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In form and beauty of her mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By virtue first, then choice, a Queen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tell me, if she were not design’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Th’ eclipse and glory of her kind.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_179" id="pm_179">179.</a></p> - -<h3>The Character of a Happy Life</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>OW happy is he born and taught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That serveth not another’s will;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose armour is his honest thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And simple truth his utmost skill!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whose passions not his masters are;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose soul is still prepared for death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untied unto the world by care<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of public fame or private breath;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who envies none that chance doth raise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor vice; who never understood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How deepest wounds are given by praise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor rules of state, but rules of good;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_212" id="page_212">{212}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who hath his life from rumours freed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose conscience is his strong retreat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose state can neither flatterers feed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor ruin make oppressors great;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who God doth late and early pray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More of His grace than gifts to lend;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And entertains the harmless day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a religious book or friend;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">—This man is freed from servile bands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hope to rise or fear to fall:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lord of himself, though not of lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And having nothing, yet hath all.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_180" id="pm_180">180.</a></p> - -<h3>Upon the Death of Sir Albert Morton’s Wife</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>E first deceased; she for a little tried<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To live without him, liked it not, and died.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_JOHN_DAVIES" id="SIR_JOHN_DAVIES"></a>SIR JOHN DAVIES</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1569-1626<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_181" id="pm_181">181.</a></p> - -<h3>Man</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> KNOW my soul hath power to know all things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet she is blind and ignorant in all:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know I’m one of Nature’s little kings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_213" id="page_213">{213}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know my life’s a pain and but a span;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know my sense is mock’d in everything;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, to conclude, I know myself a Man—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which is a proud and yet a wretched thing.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_ROBERT_AYTON" id="SIR_ROBERT_AYTON"></a>SIR ROBERT AYTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1570-1638<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_182" id="pm_182">182.</a></p> - -<h3>To His Forsaken Mistress</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> DO confess thou’rt smooth and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I might have gone near to love thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had I not found the slightest prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That lips could move, had power to move thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I can let thee now alone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As worthy to be loved by none.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I do confess thou’rt sweet; yet find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy favours are but like the wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That kisseth everything it meets:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And since thou canst with more than one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou’rt worthy to be kiss’d by none.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The morning rose that untouch’d stands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Arm’d with her briers, how sweet she smells!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But pluck’d and strain’d through ruder hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her sweets no longer with her dwells:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But scent and beauty both are gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leaves fall from her, one by one.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such fate ere long will thee betide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When thou hast handled been awhile,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_214" id="page_214">{214}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sere flowers to be thrown aside;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I shall sigh, while some will smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see thy love to every one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath brought thee to be loved by none.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_183" id="pm_183">183.</a></p> - -<h3>To an Inconstant One</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> LOVED thee once; I’ll love no more—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thine be the grief as is the blame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art not what thou wast before,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What reason I should be the same?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He that can love unloved again,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hath better store of love than brain:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God send me love my debts to pay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While unthrifts fool their love away!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nothing could have my love o’erthrown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If thou hadst still continued mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea, if thou hadst remain’d thy own,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I might perchance have yet been thine.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But thou thy freedom didst recall<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That it thou might elsewhere enthral:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then how could I but disdain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A captive’s captive to remain?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When new desires had conquer’d thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And changed the object of thy will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It had been lethargy in me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not constancy, to love thee still.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yea, it had been a sin to go<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And prostitute affection so:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since we are taught no prayers to say<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To such as must to others pray.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_215" id="page_215">{215}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet do thou glory in thy choice—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy choice of his good fortune boast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll neither grieve nor yet rejoice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see him gain what I have lost:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The height of my disdain shall be<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To laugh at him, to blush for thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To love thee still, but go no more<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A-begging at a beggar’s door.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BEN_JONSON" id="BEN_JONSON"></a>BEN JONSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1573-1637<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_184" id="pm_184">184.</a></p> - -<h3>Hymn to Diana</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Q</span>UEEN and huntress, chaste and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now the sun is laid to sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seated in thy silver chair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">State in wonted manner keep:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hesperus entreats thy light,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Goddess excellently bright.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Earth, let not thy envious shade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dare itself to interpose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cynthia’s shining orb was made<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heaven to clear when day did close:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bless us then with wishèd sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Goddess excellently bright.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lay thy bow of pearl apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thy crystal-shining quiver;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give unto the flying hart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Space to breathe, how short soever:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou that mak’st a day of night—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Goddess excellently bright.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_216" id="page_216">{216}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_185" id="pm_185">185.</a></p> - -<h3>To Celia</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>RINK to me only with thine eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I will pledge with mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or leave a kiss but in the cup<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I’ll not look for wine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The thirst that from the soul doth rise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doth ask a drink divine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I would not change for thine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I sent thee late a rosy wreath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not so much honouring thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As giving it a hope that there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It could not wither’d be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thou thereon didst only breathe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sent’st it back to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since when it grows, and smells, I swear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not of itself but thee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_186" id="pm_186">186.</a></p> - -<h3>Simplex Munditiis</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>TILL to be neat, still to be drest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As you were going to a feast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still to be powder’d, still perfumed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lady, it is to be presumed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though art’s hid causes are not found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All is not sweet, all is not sound.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Give me a look, give me a face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That makes simplicity a grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Robes loosely flowing, hair as free:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such sweet neglect more taketh me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than all th’ adulteries of art;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_217" id="page_217">{217}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_187" id="pm_187">187.</a></p> - -<h3>The Shadow</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OLLOW a shadow, it still flies you;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seem to fly it, it will pursue:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So court a mistress, she denies you;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let her alone, she will court you.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Say, are not women truly, then,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Styled but the shadows of us men?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At morn and even, shades are longest;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At noon they are or short or none:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So men at weakest, they are strongest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But grant us perfect, they’re not known.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Say, are not women truly, then,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Styled but the shadows of us men?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_188" id="pm_188">188.</a></p> - -<h3>The Triumph</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>EE the Chariot at hand here of Love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherein my Lady rideth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each that draws is a swan or a dove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And well the car Love guideth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As she goes, all hearts do duty<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Unto her beauty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And enamour’d do wish, so they might<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But enjoy such a sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That they still were to run by her side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Do but look on her eyes, they do light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All that Love’s world compriseth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do but look on her hair, it is bright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As Love’s star when it riseth!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_218" id="page_218">{218}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do but mark, her forehead’s smoother<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Than words that soothe her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from her arch’d brows such a grace<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sheds itself through the face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As alone there triumphs to the life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the gain, all the good, of the elements’ strife.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Have you seen but a bright lily grow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before rude hands have touch’d it?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you mark’d but the fall of the snow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before the soil hath smutch’d it?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you felt the wool of beaver,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Or swan’s down ever?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O have smelt o’ the bud o’ the brier,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Or the nard in the fire?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or have tasted the bag of the bee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_189" id="pm_189">189.</a></p> - -<h3>An Elegy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HOUGH beauty be the mark of praise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yours of whom I sing be such<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As not the world can praise too much,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet ’tis your Virtue now I raise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A virtue, like allay so gone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Throughout your form as, though that move<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And draw and conquer all men’s love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This subjects you to love of one.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wherein you triumph yet—because<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis of your flesh, and that you use<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The noblest freedom, not to choose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against or faith or honour’s laws.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>189.</i> allay] alloy.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_219" id="page_219">{219}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>UT who should less expect from you?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In whom alone Love lives again:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By whom he is restored to men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kept and bred and brought up true.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His falling temples you have rear’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The withered garlands ta’en away;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His altars kept from that decay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That envy wish’d, and nature fear’d:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And on them burn so chaste a flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With so much loyalty’s expense,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As Love to acquit such excellence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is gone himself into your name.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And you are he—the deity<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To whom all lovers are design’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That would their better objects find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among which faithful troop am I—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who as an off’ring at your shrine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have sung this hymn, and here entreat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One spark of your diviner heat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To light upon a love of mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Which if it kindle not, but scant<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Appear, and that to shortest view;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet give me leave to adore in you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What I in her am grieved to want!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_190" id="pm_190">190.</a></p> - -<h3>A Farewell to the World</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>ALSE world, good night! since thou hast brought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That hour upon my morn of age;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Henceforth I quit thee from my thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My part is ended on thy stage.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_220" id="page_220">{220}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes, threaten, do. Alas! I fear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As little as I hope from thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know thou canst not show nor bear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More hatred than thou hast to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My tender, first, and simple years<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou didst abuse and then betray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since stir’d’st up jealousies and fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When all the causes were away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then in a soil hast planted me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where breathe the basest of thy fools;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where envious arts professèd be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pride and ignorance the schools;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where nothing is examined, weigh’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But as ’tis rumour’d, so believed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where every freedom is betray’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And every goodness tax’d or grieved.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But what we’re born for, we must bear:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our frail condition it is such<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That what to all may happen here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If ’t chance to me, I must not grutch.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Else I my state should much mistake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To harbour a divided thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From all my kind—that, for my sake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There should a miracle be wrought.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No, I do know that I was born<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To age, misfortune, sickness, grief:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I will bear these with that scorn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As shall not need thy false relief.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_221" id="page_221">{221}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor for my peace will I go far,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As wanderers do, that still do roam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But make my strengths, such as they are,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here in my bosom, and at home.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_191" id="pm_191">191.</a></p> - -<h3>The Noble Balm</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>IGH-spirited friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I send nor balms nor cor’sives to your wound:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Your fate hath found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A gentler and more agile hand to tend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cure of that which is but corporal;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And doubtful days, which were named critical,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Have made their fairest flight<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And now are out of sight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet doth some wholesome physic for the mind<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Wrapp’d in this paper lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which in the taking if you misapply,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">You are unkind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Your covetous hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happy in that fair honour it hath gain’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Must now be rein’d.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">True valour doth her own renown command<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In one full action; nor have you now more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To do, than be a husband of that store.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Think but how dear you bought<br /></span> -<span class="i6">This fame which you have caught:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such thoughts will make you more in love with truth.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">’Tis wisdom, and that high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For men to use their fortune reverently,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Even in youth.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_222" id="page_222">{222}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Epitaphs</i></p> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>i</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_192" id="pm_192">192.</a></p> - -<h3>On Elizabeth L. H.</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>OULDST thou hear what Man can say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a little? Reader, stay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Underneath this stone doth lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As much Beauty as could die:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which in life did harbour give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To more Virtue than doth live.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If at all she had a fault,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leave it buried in this vault.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One name was <i>Elizabeth</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The other, let it sleep with death:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fitter, where it died, to tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than that it lived at all. Farewell.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>ii</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_193" id="pm_193">193.</a></p> - -<h3>On Salathiel Pavy</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>A child of Queen Elizabeth’s Chapel</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>EEP with me, all you that read<br /></span> -<span class="i4">This little story;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And know, for whom a tear you shed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Death’s self is sorry.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas a child that so did thrive<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In grace and feature,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Heaven and Nature seem’d to strive<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Which own’d the creature.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Years he number’d scarce thirteen<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When Fates turn’d cruel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet three fill’d zodiacs had he been<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The stage’s jewel;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_223" id="page_223">{223}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And did act (what now we moan)<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Old men so duly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As sooth the Parcae thought him one,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He play’d so truly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, by error, to his fate<br /></span> -<span class="i4">They all consented;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, viewing him since, alas, too late!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">They have repented;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And have sought, to give new birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In baths to steep him;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, being so much too good for earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Heaven vows to keep him.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_194" id="pm_194">194.</a></p> - -<h3>A Part of an Ode</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>to the Immortal Memory and Friendship of that noble pair, Sir Lucius -Cary and Sir H. Morison</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">I</span>T is not growing like a tree<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In bulk, doth make man better be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">A lily of a day<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Is fairer far in May,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Although it fall and die that night;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">It was the plant and flower of light.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In small proportions we just beauties see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in short measures, life may perfect be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Call, noble <i>Lucius</i>, then for wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And let thy looks with gladness shine:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Accept this garland, plant it on thy head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And think—nay, know—thy <i>Morison</i>’s not dead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_224" id="page_224">{224}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i6">He leap’d the present age,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Possest with holy rage<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To see that bright eternal Day<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of which we Priests and Poets say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such truths as we expect for happy men;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there he lives with memory—and Ben<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Jonson</i>: who sung this of him, ere he went<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Himself to rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or tast a part of that full joy he meant<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To have exprest<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In this bright Asterism<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where it were friendship’s schism—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were not his <i>Lucius</i> long with us to tarry—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To separate these twy<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lights, the Dioscuri,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And keep the one half from his <i>Harry</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But fate doth so alternate the design,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst that in Heav’n, this light on earth must shine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">And shine as you exalted are!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Two names of friendship, but one star:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of hearts the union: and those not by chance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made, or indenture, or leased out to advance<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The profits for a time.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">No pleasures vain did chime<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of rimes or riots at your feasts,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Orgies of drink or feign’d protests;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But simple love of greatness and of good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That knits brave minds and manners more than blood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This made you first to know the <i>Why</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>You liked</i>, then after, to apply<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_225" id="page_225">{225}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That liking, and approach so one the t’other<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till either grew a portion of the other:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Each stylèd by his end<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The copy of his friend.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You lived to be the great surnames<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And titles by which all made claims<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the Virtue—nothing perfect done<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But as a <i>CARY</i> or a <i>MORISON</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And such the force the fair example had<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As they that saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The good, and durst not practise it, were glad<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That such a law<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Was left yet to mankind,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where they might read and find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Friendship indeed was written, not in words,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And with the heart, not pen,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of two so early men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lines her rules were and records:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, ere the first down bloomed on the chin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had sow’d these fruits, and got the harvest in.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_DONNE" id="JOHN_DONNE"></a>JOHN DONNE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1573-1631<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_195" id="pm_195">195.</a></p> - -<h3>Daybreak</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>TAY, O sweet, and do not rise!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The light that shines comes from thine eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The day breaks not: it is my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Because that you and I must part.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Stay! or else my joys will die<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And perish in their infancy.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_226" id="page_226">{226}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_196" id="pm_196">196.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>O and catch a falling star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Get with child a mandrake root,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me where all past years are,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or who cleft the Devil’s foot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teach me to hear mermaids singing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or to keep off envy’s stinging,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And find<br /></span> -<span class="i6">What wind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Serves to advance an honest mind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou be’st born to strange sights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Things invisible to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ride ten thousand days and nights<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till Age snow white hairs on thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All strange wonders that befell thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And swear<br /></span> -<span class="i6">No where<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lives a woman true and fair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou find’st one, let me know;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such a pilgrimage were sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet do not; I would not go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though at next door we might meet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though she were true when you met her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And last till you write your letter,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Yet she<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Will be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">False, ere I come, to two or three.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_227" id="page_227">{227}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_197" id="pm_197">197.</a></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>That Time and Absence proves</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Rather helps than hurts to loves</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>BSENCE, hear thou my protestation<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against thy strength,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Distance and length:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do what thou canst for alteration,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For hearts of truest mettle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Absence doth join and Time doth settle.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who loves a mistress of such quality,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His mind hath found<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Affection’s ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond time, place, and all mortality.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hearts that cannot vary<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Absence is present, Time doth tarry.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My senses want their outward motion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which now within<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reason doth win,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Redoubled by her secret notion:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like rich men that take pleasure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In hiding more than handling treasure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By Absence this good means I gain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I can catch her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where none can watch her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In some close corner of my brain:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There I embrace and kiss her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And so enjoy her and none miss her.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_228" id="page_228">{228}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_198" id="pm_198">198.</a></p> - -<h3>The Ecstasy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HERE, like a pillow on a bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A pregnant bank swell’d up, to rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The violet’s reclining head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sat we two, one another’s best.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our hands were firmly cèmented<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By a fast balm which thence did spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our eye-beams twisted, and did thread<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our eyes upon one double string.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So to engraft our hands, as yet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was all the means to make us one;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pictures in our eyes to get<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was all our propagation.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As ’twixt two equal armies Fate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Suspends uncertain victory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our souls—which to advance their state<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were gone out—hung ’twixt her and me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And whilst our souls negotiate there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We like sepulchral statues lay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All day the same our postures were,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And we said nothing, all the day.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_199" id="pm_199">199.</a></p> - -<h3>The Dream</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>EAR love, for nothing less than thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would I have broke this happy dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">It was a theme<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For reason, much too strong for fantasy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therefore thou waked’st me wisely; yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My dream thou brok’st not, but continued’st it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_229" id="page_229">{229}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art so true that thoughts of thee suffice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make dreams truths and fables histories;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enter these arms, for since thou thought’st it best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not to dream all my dream, let’s act the rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As lightning, or a taper’s light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine eyes, and not thy noise, waked me;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Yet I thought thee—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For thou lov’st truth—an angel, at first sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when I saw thou saw’st my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And knew’st my thoughts beyond an angel’s art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thou knew’st what I dreamt, when thou knew’st when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Excess of joy would wake me, and cam’st then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I must confess it could not choose but be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Profane to think thee anything but thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Coming and staying show’d thee thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But rising makes me doubt that now<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thou art not thou.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Love is weak where Fear’s as strong as he;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis not all spirit pure and brave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If mixture it of Fear, Shame, Honour have.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perchance as torches, which must ready be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Men light and put out, so thou deal’st with me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou cam’st to kindle, go’st to come: then I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will dream that hope again, but else would die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_200" id="pm_200">200.</a></p> - -<h3>The Funeral</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HOEVER comes to shroud me, do not harm<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Nor question much<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That subtle wreath of hair about mine arm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mystery, the sign you must not touch,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_230" id="page_230">{230}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i6">For ’tis my outward soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Viceroy to that which, unto heav’n being gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Will leave this to control<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For if the sinewy thread my brain lets fall<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Through every part<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can tie those parts, and make me one of all;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those hairs, which upward grew, and strength and art<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Have from a better brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can better do’t: except she meant that I<br /></span> -<span class="i6">By this should know my pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As prisoners then are manacled, when they’re condemn’d to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whate’er she meant by ’t, bury it with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For since I am<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s martyr, it might breed idolatry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If into other hands these reliques came.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As ’twas humility<br /></span> -<span class="i0">T’ afford to it all that a soul can do,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So ’tis some bravery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, since you would have none of me, I bury some of you.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_201" id="pm_201">201.</a></p> - -<h3>A Hymn to God the Father</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ILT Thou forgive that sin where I begun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which was my sin, though it were done before?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wilt Thou forgive that sin through which I run,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And do run still, though still I do deplore?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">For I have more.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_231" id="page_231">{231}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I have won<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Others to sin, and made my sins their door?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A year or two, but wallow’d in a score?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Thou hast done, Thou hast not done;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">For I have more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have a sin of fear, that when I’ve spun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My last thread, I shall perish on the shore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But swear by Thyself that at my death Thy Son<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall shine as He shines now and heretofore:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And having done that, Thou hast done;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">I fear no more.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_202" id="pm_202">202.</a></p> - -<h3>Death</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>EATH, be not proud, though some have callèd thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Die not, poor Death; nor yet canst thou kill me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Rest and Sleep, which but thy picture be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And soonest our best men with thee do go—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rest of their bones and souls’ delivery!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou’rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And better than thy stroke. Why swell’st thou then?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One short sleep past, we wake eternally,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt die!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_232" id="page_232">{232}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RICHARD_BARNEFIELD" id="RICHARD_BARNEFIELD"></a>RICHARD BARNEFIELD</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1574-1627<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_203" id="pm_203">203.</a></p> - -<h3>Philomel</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>S it fell upon a day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the merry month of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sitting in a pleasant shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which a grove of myrtles made,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beasts did leap and birds did sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trees did grow and plants did spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Everything did banish moan<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save the Nightingale alone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She, poor bird, as all forlorn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lean’d her breast up-till a thorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there sung the dolefull’st ditty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to hear it was great pity.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Fie, fie, fie!</i> now would she cry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Tereu, Tereu!</i> by and by;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to hear her so complain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce I could from tears refrain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For her griefs so lively shown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made me think upon mine own.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! thought I, thou mourn’st in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None takes pity on thy pain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Senseless trees they cannot hear thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">King Pandion he is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All thy friends are lapp’d in lead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All thy fellow birds do sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Careless of thy sorrowing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even so, poor bird, like thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None alive will pity me.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_233" id="page_233">{233}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_DEKKER" id="THOMAS_DEKKER"></a>THOMAS DEKKER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1575-1641<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_204" id="pm_204">204.</a></p> - -<h3>Sweet Content</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>RT thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O sweet content!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplex’d?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O punishment!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vex’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To add to golden numbers golden numbers?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Work apace, apace, apace, apace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Honest labour bears a lovely face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then hey nonny nonny—hey nonny nonny!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Canst drink the waters of the crispèd spring?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O sweet content!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swim’st thou in wealth, yet sink’st in thine own tears?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O punishment!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then he that patiently want’s burden bears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No burden bears, but is a king, a king!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Work apace, apace, apace, apace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Honest labour bears a lovely face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then hey nonny nonny—hey nonny nonny!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_HEYWOOD" id="THOMAS_HEYWOOD"></a>THOMAS HEYWOOD</h2> - -<p class="dtt">157?-1650<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_205" id="pm_205">205.</a></p> - -<h3>Matin Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>ACK, clouds, away! and welcome, day!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With night we banish sorrow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To give my Love good-morrow!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_234" id="page_234">{234}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wings from the wind to please her mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Notes from the lark I’ll borrow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bird, prune thy wing! nightingale, sing!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To give my Love good-morrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To give my Love good-morrow<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Notes from them all I’ll borrow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wake from thy nest, robin red-breast!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing, birds, in every furrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from each bill let music shrill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Give my fair Love good-morrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blackbird and thrush in every bush,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stare, linnet, and cocksparrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You pretty elves, among yourselves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing my fair Love good-morrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To give my Love good-morrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sing, birds, in every furrow!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>205.</i> stare] starling.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_206" id="pm_206">206.</a></p> - -<h3>The Message</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>E little birds that sit and sing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amidst the shady valleys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see how Phillis sweetly walks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within her garden-alleys;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go, pretty birds, about her bower;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing, pretty birds, she may not lower;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah me! methinks I see her frown!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ye pretty wantons, warble.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Go tell her through your chirping bills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As you by me are bidden,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her is only known my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which from the world is hidden.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_235" id="page_235">{235}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go, pretty birds, and tell her so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See that your notes strain not too low.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For still methinks I see her frown;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ye pretty wantons, warble.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Go tune your voices’ harmony<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sing, I am her lover;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strain loud and sweet, that every note<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With sweet content may move her:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she that hath the sweetest voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell her I will not change my choice:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Yet still methinks I see her frown!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ye pretty wantons, warble.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O fly! make haste! see, see, she falls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into a pretty slumber!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing round about her rosy bed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That waking she may wonder:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say to her, ’tis her lover true<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sendeth love to you, to you!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when you hear her kind reply,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Return with pleasant warblings.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_FLETCHER" id="JOHN_FLETCHER"></a>JOHN FLETCHER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1579-1625<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_207" id="pm_207">207.</a></p> - -<h3>Sleep</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lock me in delight awhile;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Let some pleasing dreams beguile<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All my fancies; that from thence<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I may feel an influence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All my powers of care bereaving!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_236" id="page_236">{236}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Though but a shadow, but a sliding,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Let me know some little joy!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">We that suffer long annoy<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Are contented with a thought<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Through an idle fancy wrought:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O let my joys have some abiding!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_208" id="pm_208">208.</a></p> - -<h3>Bridal Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>YNTHIA, to thy power and thee<br /></span> -<span class="i6">We obey.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joy to this great company!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And no day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come to steal this night away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till the rites of love are ended,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lusty bridegroom say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Welcome, light, of all befriended!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pace out, you watery powers below;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Let your feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the galleys when they row,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Even beat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let your unknown measures, set<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the still winds, tell to all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That gods are come, immortal, great,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To honour this great nuptial!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_209" id="pm_209">209.</a></p> - -<h3>Aspatia’s Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>AY a garland on my herse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the dismal yew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maidens, willow branches bear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Say, I died true.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_237" id="page_237">{237}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">My love was false, but I was firm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From my hour of birth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon my buried body lie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lightly, gentle earth!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_210" id="pm_210">210.</a></p> - -<h3>Hymn to Pan</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>ING his praises that doth keep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our flocks from harm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pan, the father of our sheep;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And arm in arm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tread we softly in a round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst the hollow neighbouring ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fills the music with her sound.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pan, O great god Pan, to thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus do we sing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou who keep’st us chaste and free<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the young spring:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever be thy honour spoke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From that place the morn is broke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To that place day doth unyoke!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_211" id="pm_211">211.</a></p> - -<h3>Away, Delights</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>WAY, delights! go seek some other dwelling,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For I must die.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Farewell, false love! thy tongue is ever telling<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lie after lie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ever let me rest now from thy smarts;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Alas, for pity go<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And fire their hearts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That have been hard to thee! Mine was not so.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_238" id="page_238">{238}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Never again deluding love shall know me,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For I will die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all those griefs that think to overgrow me<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Shall be as I:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ever will I sleep, while poor maids cry—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">‘Alas, for pity stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And let us die<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With thee! Men cannot mock us in the clay.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_212" id="pm_212">212.</a></p> - -<h3>Love’s Emblems</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OW the lusty spring is seen;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Golden yellow, gaudy blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Daintily invite the view:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Everywhere on every green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roses blushing as they blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And enticing men to pull,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lilies whiter than the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Woodbines of sweet honey full:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All love’s emblems, and all cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘Ladies, if not pluck’d, we die.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet the lusty spring hath stay’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blushing red and purest white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Daintily to love invite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every woman, every maid:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cherries kissing as they grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And inviting men to taste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Apples even ripe below,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Winding gently to the waist:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All love’s emblems, and all cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘Ladies, if not pluck’d, we die.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_239" id="page_239">{239}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_213" id="pm_213">213.</a></p> - -<h3>Hear, ye Ladies</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>EAR, ye ladies that despise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What the mighty Love has done;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fear examples and be wise:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair Callisto was a nun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leda, sailing on the stream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To deceive the hopes of man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love accounting but a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doted on a silver swan;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Danaë, in a brazen tower,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where no love was, loved a shower.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hear, ye ladies that are coy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What the mighty Love can do;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fear the fierceness of the boy:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The chaste Moon he makes to woo;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vesta, kindling holy fires,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Circled round about with spies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never dreaming loose desires,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doting at the altar dies;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ilion, in a short hour, higher<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He can build, and once more fire.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_214" id="pm_214">214.</a></p> - -<h3>God Lyaeus</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>OD Lyaeus, ever young,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever honour’d, ever sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stain’d with blood of lusty grapes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a thousand lusty shapes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dance upon the mazer’s brim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the crimson liquor swim;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>214.</i> mazer] a bowl of maple-wood.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_240" id="page_240">{240}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>ROM thy plenteous hand divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let a river run with wine:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God of youth, let this day here<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Enter neither care nor fear.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_215" id="pm_215">215.</a></p> - -<h3>Beauty Clear and Fair</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>EAUTY clear and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where the air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rather like a perfume dwells;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the violet and the rose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their blue veins and blush disclose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And come to honour nothing else;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Where to live near<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And planted there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is to live, and still live new;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where to gain a favour is<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More than light, perpetual bliss—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make me live by serving you!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear, again back recall<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To this light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A stranger to himself and all!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Both the wonder and the story<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall be yours, and eke the glory;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am your servant, and your thrall.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_216" id="pm_216">216.</a></p> - -<h3>Melancholy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ENCE, all you vain delights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As short as are the nights<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherein you spend your folly!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s naught in this life sweet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_241" id="page_241">{241}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">If men were wise to see’t,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But only melancholy—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O sweetest melancholy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Welcome, folded arms and fixèd eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sight that piercing mortifies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A look that’s fasten’d to the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A tongue chain’d up without a sound!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fountain-heads and pathless groves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Places which pale passion loves!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moonlight walks, when all the fowls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are warmly housed, save bats and owls!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A midnight bell, a parting groan—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These are the sounds we feed upon:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing’s so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_217" id="pm_217">217.</a></p> - -<h3>Weep no more</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>EEP no more, nor sigh, nor groan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sorrow calls no time that’s gone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Violets pluck’d, the sweetest rain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes not fresh nor grow again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trim thy locks, look cheerfully;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fate’s hid ends eyes cannot see.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joys as wingèd dreams fly fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why should sadness longer last?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grief is but a wound to woe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gentlest fair, mourn, mourn no moe.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_242" id="page_242">{242}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_WEBSTER" id="JOHN_WEBSTER"></a>JOHN WEBSTER</h2> - -<p class="dttsml">?-1630?<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_218" id="pm_218">218.</a></p> - -<h3>A Dirge</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>ALL for the robin-redbreast and the wren,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since o’er shady groves they hover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with leaves and flowers do cover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The friendless bodies of unburied men.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Call unto his funeral dole<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And (when gay tombs are robb’d) sustain no harm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But keep the wolf far thence, that’s foe to men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For with his nails he’ll dig them up again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>218.</i> dole] lamentation.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_219" id="pm_219">219.</a></p> - -<h3>The Shrouding of the Duchess of Malfi</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ARK! Now everything is still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The screech-owl and the whistler shrill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Call upon our dame aloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bid her quickly don her shroud!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Much you had of land and rent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your length in clay’s now competent:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A long war disturb’d your mind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here your perfect peace is sign’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of what is’t fools make such vain keeping?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sin their conception, their birth weeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their life a general mist of error,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their death a hideous storm of terror.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strew your hair with powders sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Don clean linen, bathe your feet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_243" id="page_243">{243}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And—the foul fiend more to check—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A crucifix let bless your neck:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis now full tide ’tween night and day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">End your groan and come away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_220" id="pm_220">220.</a></p> - -<h3>Vanitas Vanitatum</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL the flowers of the spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meet to perfume our burying;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These have but their growing prime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And man does flourish but his time:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Survey our progress from our birth—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We are set, we grow, we turn to earth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Courts adieu, and all delights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All bewitching appetites!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweetest breath and clearest eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like perfumes go out and die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And consequently this is done<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As shadows wait upon the sun.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vain the ambition of kings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who seek by trophies and dead things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To leave a living name behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And weave but nets to catch the wind.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_ALEXANDER_EARL_OF_STIRLING" id="WILLIAM_ALEXANDER_EARL_OF_STIRLING"></a>WILLIAM ALEXANDER, EARL OF STIRLING</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1580?-1640<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_221" id="pm_221">221.</a></p> - -<h3>Aurora</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> HAPPY Tithon! if thou know’st thy hap,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And valuest thy wealth, as I my want,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then need’st thou not—which ah! I grieve to grant—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Repine at Jove, lull’d in his leman’s lap:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_244" id="page_244">{244}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That golden shower in which he did repose—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">One dewy drop it stains<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Which thy Aurora rains<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Upon the rural plains,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When from thy bed she passionately goes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, waken’d with the music of the merles,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She not remembers Memnon when she mourns:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That faithful flame which in her bosom burns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From crystal conduits throws those liquid pearls:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sad from thy sight so soon to be removed,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">She so her grief delates.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">—O favour’d by the fates<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Above the happiest states,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who art of one so worthy well-beloved!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PHINEAS_FLETCHER" id="PHINEAS_FLETCHER"></a>PHINEAS FLETCHER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1580-1650<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_222" id="pm_222">222.</a></p> - -<h3>A Litany</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>ROP, drop, slow tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bathe those beauteous feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which brought from Heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The news and Prince of Peace:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cease not, wet eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His mercy to entreat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To cry for vengeance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sin doth never cease.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In your deep floods<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drown all my faults and fears;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor let His eye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">See sin, but through my tears.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_245" id="page_245">{245}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_JOHN_BEAUMONT" id="SIR_JOHN_BEAUMONT"></a>SIR JOHN BEAUMONT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1583-1627<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_223" id="pm_223">223.</a></p> - -<h3>Of his Dear Son, Gervase</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>EAR Lord, receive my son, whose winning love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To me was like a friendship, far above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The course of nature or his tender age;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose looks could all my bitter griefs assuage:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let his pure soul, ordain’d seven years to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that frail body which was part of me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remain my pledge in Heaven, as sent to show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How to this port at every step I go.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_DRUMMOND_OF_HAWTHORNDEN" id="WILLIAM_DRUMMOND_OF_HAWTHORNDEN"></a>WILLIAM DRUMMOND, OF HAWTHORNDEN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1585-1649<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_224" id="pm_224">224.</a></p> - -<h3>Invocation</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">P</span>HŒBUS, arise!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And paint the sable skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With azure, white, and red;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rouse Memnon’s mother from her Tithon’s bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she thy career may with roses spread;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nightingales thy coming each-where sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make an eternal spring!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give life to this dark world which lieth dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spread forth thy golden hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In larger locks than thou wast wont before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And emperor-like decore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With diadem of pearl thy temples fair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chase hence the ugly night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_246" id="page_246">{246}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is that happy morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That day, long wishèd day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all my life so dark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fates not hope betray),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, only white, deserves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A diamond for ever should it mark:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is the morn should bring into this grove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Love, to hear and recompense my love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair King, who all preserves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But show thy blushing beams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou two sweeter eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shalt see than those which by Penèus’ streams<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did once thy heart surprise:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, suns, which shine as clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As thou when two thou did to Rome appear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If that ye, winds, would hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A voice surpassing far Amphion’s lyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your stormy chiding stay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let zephyr only breathe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with her tresses play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kissing sometimes these purple ports of death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The winds all silent are;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Phœbus in his chair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ensaffroning sea and air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes vanish every star:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night like a drunkard reels<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the hills to shun his flaming wheels:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fields with flowers are deck’d in every hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The clouds bespangle with bright gold their blue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here is the pleasant place—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And everything, save Her, who all should grace.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_247" id="page_247">{247}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_225" id="pm_225">225.</a></p> - -<h3>Madrigal</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">L</span>IKE the Idalian queen,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her hair about her eyne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With neck and breast’s ripe apples to be seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At first glance of the morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Cyprus’ gardens gathering those fair flow’rs<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Which of her blood were born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw, but fainting saw, my paramours.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Graces naked danced about the place,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The winds and trees amazed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With silence on her gazed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flowers did smile, like those upon her face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as their aspen stalks those fingers band,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That she might read my case,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A hyacinth I wish’d me in her hand.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>225.</i> paramours] = sing. paramour. band] bound.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_226" id="pm_226">226.</a></p> - -<h3>Spring Bereaved 1</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">T</span>HAT zephyr every year<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So soon was heard to sigh in forests here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was for her: that wrapp’d in gowns of green<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Meads were so early seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That in the saddest months oft sung the merles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was for her; for her trees dropp’d forth pearls.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That proud and stately courts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did envy those our shades and calm resorts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was for her; and she is gone, O woe!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Woods cut again do grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bud doth the rose and daisy, winter done;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But we, once dead, no more do see the sun.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_248" id="page_248">{248}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_227" id="pm_227">227.</a></p> - -<h3>Spring Bereaved 2</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>WEET Spring, thou turn’st with all thy goodly train,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy head with flames, thy mantle bright with flow’rs:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The zephyrs curl the green locks of the plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The clouds for joy in pearls weep down their show’rs.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou turn’st, sweet youth, but ah! my pleasant hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And happy days with thee come not again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sad memorials only of my pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do with thee turn, which turn my sweets in sours.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art the same which still thou wast before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Delicious, wanton, amiable, fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But she, whose breath embalm’d thy wholesome air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is gone—nor gold nor gems her can restore.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Neglected virtue, seasons go and come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While thine forgot lie closèd in a tomb.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_228" id="pm_228">228.</a></p> - -<h3>Spring Bereaved 3</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LEXIS, here she stay’d; among these pines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet hermitress, she did alone repair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here did she spread the treasure of her hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More rich than that brought from the Colchian mines.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She set her by these muskèd eglantines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—The happy place the print seems yet to bear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her voice did sweeten here thy sugar’d lines,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To which winds, trees, beasts, birds, did lend their ear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me here she first perceived, and here a morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of bright carnations did o’erspread her face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here did she sigh, here first my hopes were born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I first got a pledge of promised grace:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But ah! what served it to be happy so?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sith passèd pleasures double but new woe?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_249" id="page_249">{249}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_229" id="pm_229">229.</a></p> - -<h3>Her Passing</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">T</span>HE beauty and the life<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of life’s and beauty’s fairest paragon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—O tears! O grief!—hung at a feeble thread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To which pale Atropos had set her knife;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The soul with many a groan<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Had left each outward part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now did take his last leave of the heart:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Naught else did want, save death, ev’n to be dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the afflicted band about her bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeing so fair him come in lips, cheeks, eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cried, ‘<i>Ah! and can Death enter Paradise?</i>’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_230" id="pm_230">230.</a></p> - -<h3>Inexorable</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">M</span>Y thoughts hold mortal strife;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I do detest my life,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And with lamenting cries<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Peace to my soul to bring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft call that prince which here doth monarchise:<br /></span> -<span class="i1">—But he, grim-grinning King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Late having deck’d with beauty’s rose his tomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_231" id="pm_231">231.</a></p> - -<h3>Change should breed Change</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">N</span>EW doth the sun appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The mountains’ snows decay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crown’d with frail flowers forth comes the baby year.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My soul, time posts away;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_250" id="page_250">{250}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">And thou yet in that frost<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Which flower and fruit hath lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if all here immortal were, dost stay.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For shame! thy powers awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look to that Heaven which never night makes black,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there at that immortal sun’s bright rays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deck thee with flowers which fear not rage of days!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_232" id="pm_232">232.</a></p> - -<h3>Saint John Baptist</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE last and greatest Herald of Heaven’s King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among that savage brood the woods forth bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which he than man more harmless found and mild.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His food was locusts, and what young doth spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With honey that from virgin hives distill’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Parch’d body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made him appear, long since from earth exiled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There burst he forth: ‘All ye, whose hopes rely<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Repent, repent, and from old errors turn!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Who listen’d to his voice, obey’d his cry?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only the echoes, which he made relent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rung from their marble caves ‘Repent! Repent!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GILES_FLETCHER" id="GILES_FLETCHER"></a>GILES FLETCHER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">158?-1623<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_233" id="pm_233">233.</a></p> - -<h3>Wooing Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE is the blossom where there blows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every thing that lives or grows:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love doth make the Heav’ns to move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Sun doth burn in love:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_251" id="page_251">{251}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love the strong and weak doth yoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And makes the ivy climb the oak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under whose shadows lions wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soften’d by love, grow tame and mild:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love no med’cine can appease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He burns the fishes in the seas:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not all the skill his wounds can stench,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not all the sea his fire can quench.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love did make the bloody spear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once a leavy coat to wear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While in his leaves there shrouded lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet birds, for love that sing and play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of all love’s joyful flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I the bud and blossom am.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Only bend thy knee to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy wooing shall thy winning be<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See, see the flowers that below<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now as fresh as morning blow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of all the virgin rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That as bright Aurora shows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How they all unleavèd die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Losing their virginity!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like unto a summer shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now born, and now they fade.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every thing doth pass away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is danger in delay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, come, gather then the rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gather it, or it you lose!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the sand of Tagus’ shore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into my bosom casts his ore:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the valleys’ swimming corn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To my house is yearly borne:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_252" id="page_252">{252}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every grape of every vine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is gladly bruised to make me wine:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While ten thousand kings, as proud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To carry up my train have bow’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a world of ladies send me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my chambers to attend me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the stars in Heav’n that shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ten thousand more, are mine:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Only bend thy knee to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy wooing shall thy winning be!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FRANCIS_BEAUMONT" id="FRANCIS_BEAUMONT"></a>FRANCIS BEAUMONT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1586-1616<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_234" id="pm_234">234.</a></p> - -<h3>On the Tombs in Westminster Abbey</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>ORTALITY, behold and fear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What a change of flesh is here!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think how many royal bones<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep within this heap of stones:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here they lie had realms and lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who now want strength to stir their hands:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where from their pulpits seal’d with dust<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They preach, ‘In greatness is no trust.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here’s an acre sown indeed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the richest, royall’st seed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the earth did e’er suck in<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since the first man died for sin:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here the bones of birth have cried—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Though gods they were, as men they died.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here are sands, ignoble things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dropt from the ruin’d sides of kings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here’s a world of pomp and state,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Buried in dust, once dead by fate.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_253" id="page_253">{253}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_FORD" id="JOHN_FORD"></a>JOHN FORD</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1586-1639<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_235" id="pm_235">235.</a></p> - -<h3>Dawn</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>LY hence, shadows, that do keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watchful sorrows charm’d in sleep!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tho’ the eyes be overtaken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet the heart doth ever waken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thoughts chain’d up in busy snares<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of continual woes and cares:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love and griefs are so exprest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they rather sigh than rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fly hence, shadows, that do keep<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Watchful sorrows charm’d in sleep!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_WITHER" id="GEORGE_WITHER"></a>GEORGE WITHER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1588-1667<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_236" id="pm_236">236.</a></p> - -<h3>I loved a Lass</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> LOVED a lass, a fair one,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As fair as e’er was seen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was indeed a rare one,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Another Sheba Queen:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, fool as then I was,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I thought she loved me too:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now, alas! she’s left me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Falero, lero, loo</i>!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her hair like gold did glister,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each eye was like a star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She did surpass her sister,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which pass’d all others far;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She would me honey call,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She’d—O she’d kiss me too!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now, alas! she’s left me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Falero, lero, loo</i>!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_254" id="page_254">{254}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Many a merry meeting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My love and I have had;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was my only sweeting,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She made my heart full glad;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tears stood in her eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like to the morning dew:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now, alas! she’s left me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Falero, lero, loo</i>!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her cheeks were like the cherry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her skin was white as snow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When she was blithe and merry<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She angel-like did show;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her waist exceeding small,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fives did fit her shoe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now, alas! she’s left me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Falero, lero, loo</i>!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In summer time or winter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She had her heart’s desire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I still did scorn to stint her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From sugar, sack, or fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world went round about,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No cares we ever knew:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now, alas! she’s left me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Falero, lero, loo</i>!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To maidens’ vows and swearing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Henceforth no credit give;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You may give them the hearing.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But never them believe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They are as false as fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unconstant, frail, untrue:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For mine, alas! hath left me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Falero, lero, loo</i>!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_255" id="page_255">{255}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_237" id="pm_237">237.</a></p> - -<h3>The Lover’s Resolution</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HALL I, wasting in despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Die because a woman’s fair?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or make pale my cheeks with care<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Cause another’s rosy are?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be she fairer than the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the flow’ry meads in May,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If she think not well of me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What care I how fair she be?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall my silly heart be pined<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Cause I see a woman kind?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or a well disposèd nature<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joinèd with a lovely feature?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be she meeker, kinder, than<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turtle-dove or pelican,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If she be not so to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What care I how kind she be?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall a woman’s virtues move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me to perish for her love?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or her well-deservings known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make me quite forget my own?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be she with that goodness blest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which may merit name of Best,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If she be not such to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What care I how good she be?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Cause her fortune seems too high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I play the fool and die?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She that bears a noble mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If not outward helps she find,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_256" id="page_256">{256}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thinks what with them he would do<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That without them dares her woo;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And unless that mind I see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What care I how great she be?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Great, or good, or kind, or fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will ne’er the more despair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If she love me, this believe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will die ere she shall grieve;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If she slight me when I woo,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I can scorn and let her go;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For if she be not for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What care I for whom she be?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_238" id="pm_238">238.</a></p> - -<h3>The Choice</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>E so oft my fancy drew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here and there, that I ne’er knew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where to place desire before<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So that range it might no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But as he that passeth by<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, in all her jollity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flora’s riches in a row<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do in seemly order grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a thousand flowers stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bending as to kiss his hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of which delightful store<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One he may take and no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long he pausing doubteth whether<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those fair ones he should gather.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">First the Primrose courts his eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the Cowslip he espies;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_257" id="page_257">{257}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Next the Pansy seems to woo him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then Carnations bow unto him;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which whilst that enamour’d swain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the stalk intends to strain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(As half-fearing to be seen)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prettily her leaves between<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peeps the Violet, pale to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That her virtues slighted be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which so much his liking wins<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to seize her he begins.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet before he stoop’d so low<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He his wanton eye did throw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On a stem that grew more high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Rose did there espy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, beside her previous scent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To procure his eyes content<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did display her goodly breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where he found at full exprest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the good that Nature showers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On a thousand other flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherewith he affected takes it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His belovèd flower he makes it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And without desire of more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Walks through all he saw before.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So I wand’ring but erewhile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the garden of this Isle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw rich beauties, I confess,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in number numberless.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea, so differing lovely too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I had a world to do<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere I could set up my rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where to choose and choose the best.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_258" id="page_258">{258}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus I fondly fear’d, till Fate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Which I must confess in that<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did a greater favour to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than the world can malice do me)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Show’d to me that matchless flower.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Subject for this song of our;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose perfection having eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reason instantly espied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Desire, which ranged abroad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There would find a period:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no marvel if it might,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For it there hath all delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in her hath nature placed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What each several fair one graced.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let who list, for me, advance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The admirèd flowers of France,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let who will praise and behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The reservèd Marigold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the sweet-breath’d Violet now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto whom she pleaseth bow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the fairest Lily spread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where she will her golden head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have such a flower to wear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That for those I do not care.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let the young and happy swains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Playing on the Britain plains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Court unblamed their shepherdesses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with their gold curlèd tresses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Toy uncensured, until I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grudge at their prosperity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_259" id="page_259">{259}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let all times, both present, past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the age that shall be last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vaunt the beauties they bring forth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have found in one such worth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That content I neither care<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What the best before me were;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor desire to live and see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who shall fair hereafter be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I know the hand of Nature<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will not make a fairer creature.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_239" id="pm_239">239.</a></p> - -<h3>A Widow’s Hymn</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>OW near me came the hand of Death,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When at my side he struck my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And took away the precious breath<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which quicken’d my belovèd peer!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">How helpless am I thereby made!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">By day how grieved, by night how sad!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now my life’s delight is gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Alas! how am I left alone!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The voice which I did more esteem<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than music in her sweetest key,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those eyes which unto me did seem<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More comfortable than the day;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Those now by me, as they have been,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shall never more be heard or seen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But what I once enjoy’d in them<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall seem hereafter as a dream.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>239.</i> peer] companion.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_260" id="page_260">{260}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ORD! keep me faithful to the trust<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which my dear spouse reposed in me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To him now dead preserve me just<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In all that should performèd be!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For though our being man and wife<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Extendeth only to this life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet neither life nor death should end<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The being of a faithful friend.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_BROWNE_OF_TAVISTOCK" id="WILLIAM_BROWNE_OF_TAVISTOCK"></a>WILLIAM BROWNE, OF TAVISTOCK</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1588-1643<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_240" id="pm_240">240.</a></p> - -<h3>A Welcome</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Welcome, welcome! do I sing,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Far more welcome than the spring;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>He that parteth from you never</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Shall enjoy a spring for ever.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He that to the voice is near<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breaking from your iv’ry pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Need not walk abroad to hear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The delightful nightingale.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Welcome, welcome, then....</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He that looks still on your eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though the winter have begun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To benumb our arteries,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Shall not want the summer’s sun.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Welcome, welcome, then....</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He that still may see your cheeks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where all rareness still reposes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is a fool if e’er he seeks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Other lilies, other roses.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Welcome, welcome, then....</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_261" id="page_261">{261}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">He to whom your soft lip yields,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And perceives your breath in kissing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the odours of the fields<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never, never shall be missing.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Welcome, welcome, then....</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He that question would anew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What fair Eden was of old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let him rightly study you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a brief of that behold.<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Welcome, welcome, then....</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_241" id="pm_241">241.</a></p> - -<h3>The Sirens’ Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>TEER, hither steer your wingèd pines,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All beaten mariners!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here lie Love’s undiscover’d mines,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A prey to passengers—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perfumes far sweeter than the best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which make the Phœnix’ urn and nest.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fear not your ships,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor any to oppose you save our lips;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But come on shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For swelling waves our panting breasts,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where never storms arise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Exchange, and be awhile our guests:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For stars gaze on our eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The compass Love shall hourly sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as he goes about the ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">We will not miss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To tell each point he nameth with a kiss.<br /></span> -<span class="i1">—Then come on shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_262" id="page_262">{262}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_242" id="pm_242">242.</a></p> - -<h3>The Rose</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> ROSE, as fair as ever saw the North,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grew in a little garden all alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sweeter flower did Nature ne’er put forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor fairer garden yet was never known:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The maidens danced about it morn and noon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And learnèd bards of it their ditties made;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Water’d the root and kiss’d her pretty shade.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But well-a-day!—the gardener careless grew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The maids and fairies both were kept away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in a drought the caterpillars threw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Themselves upon the bud and every spray.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God shield the stock! If heaven send no supplies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fairest blossom of the garden dies.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_243" id="pm_243">243.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OR her gait, if she be walking;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be she sitting, I desire her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For her state’s sake; and admire her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For her wit if she be talking;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gait and state and wit approve her;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For which all and each I love her.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Be she sullen, I commend her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a modest. Be she merry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a kind one her prefer I.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Briefly, everything doth lend her<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So much grace, and so approve her,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That for everything I love her.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_263" id="page_263">{263}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_244" id="pm_244">244.</a></p> - -<h3>Memory</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>O shuts the marigold her leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the departure of the sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So from the honeysuckle sheaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bee goes when the day is done;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So sits the turtle when she is but one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so all woe, as I since she is gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To some few birds kind Nature hath<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made all the summer as one day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which once enjoy’d, cold winter’s wrath<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As night they sleeping pass away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those happy creatures are, that know not yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pain to be deprived or to forget.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I oft have heard men say there be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some that with confidence profess<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The helpful Art of Memory:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But could they teach Forgetfulness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d learn; and try what further art could do<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make me love her and forget her too.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Epitaphs</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_245" id="pm_245">245.</a></p> - -<h3>In Obitum M.S. Xº Maij, 1614</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>AY! Be thou never graced with birds that sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Nor Flora’s pride!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In thee all flowers and roses spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Mine only died.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_264" id="page_264">{264}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_246" id="pm_246">246.</a></p> - -<h3>On the Countess Dowager of Pembroke</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>NDERNEATH this sable herse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lies the subject of all verse:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sidney’s sister, Pembroke’s mother:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death, ere thou hast slain another<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair and learn’d and good as she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time shall throw a dart at thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_HERRICK" id="ROBERT_HERRICK"></a>ROBERT HERRICK</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1591-1674<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_247" id="pm_247">247.</a></p> - -<h3>Corinna’s going a-Maying</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>ET up, get up for shame! The blooming morn<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">See how Aurora throws her fair<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fresh-quilted colours through the air:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The dew bespangling herb and tree!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each flower has wept and bow’d toward the east<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above an hour since, yet you not drest;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nay! not so much as out of bed?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When all the birds have matins said<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And sung their thankful hymns, ’tis sin.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nay, profanation, to keep in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whereas a thousand virgins on this day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spring sooner than the lark, to fetch in May.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And sweet as Flora. Take no care<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For jewels for your gown or hair:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fear not; the leaves will strew<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gems in abundance upon you:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_265" id="page_265">{265}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against you come, some orient pearls unwept.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Come, and receive them while the light<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hangs on the dew-locks of the night:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And Titan on the eastern hill<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Retires himself, or else stands still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till you come forth! Wash, dress, be brief in praying:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Few beads are best when once we go a-Maying.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, my Corinna, come; and coming, mark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How each field turns a street, each street a park,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Made green and trimm’d with trees! see how<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Devotion gives each house a bough<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or branch! each porch, each door, ere this,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">An ark, a tabernacle is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if here were those cooler shades of love.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Can such delights be in the street<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And open fields, and we not see’t?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Come, we’ll abroad: and let’s obey<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The proclamation made for May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sin no more, as we have done, by staying;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, my Corinna, come, let’s go a-Maying.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There’s not a budding boy or girl this day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But is got up and gone to bring in May.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A deal of youth ere this is come<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Back, and with white-thorn laden home.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some have despatch’d their cakes and cream,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Before that we have left to dream:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some have wept and woo’d, and plighted troth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>beads] prayers.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_266" id="page_266">{266}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">M</span>ANY a green-gown has been given,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Many a kiss, both odd and even:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Many a glance, too, has been sent<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From out the eye, love’s firmament:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many a jest told of the keys betraying<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This night, and locks pick’d: yet we’re not a-Maying!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come, let us go, while we are in our prime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And take the harmless folly of the time!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">We shall grow old apace, and die<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Before we know our liberty.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our life is short, and our days run<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As fast away as does the sun.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, as a vapour or a drop of rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once lost, can ne’er be found again,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So when or you or I are made<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A fable, song, or fleeting shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All love, all liking, all delight<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lies drown’d with us in endless night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, while time serves, and we are but decaying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come, my Corinna, come, let’s go a-Maying.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>247.</i> green-gown] tumble on the grass.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_248" id="pm_248">248.</a></p> - -<h3>To the Virgins, to make much of Time</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>ATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Old Time is still a-flying:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this same flower that smiles to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To-morrow will be dying.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The higher he’s a-getting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sooner will his race be run,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And nearer he’s to setting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_267" id="page_267">{267}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">That age is best which is the first,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When youth and blood are warmer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But being spent, the worse, and worst<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Times still succeed the former.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then be not coy, but use your time,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And while ye may, go marry:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For having lost but once your prime,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You may for ever tarry.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_249" id="pm_249">249.</a></p> - -<h3>To the Western Wind</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>WEET western wind, whose luck it is,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made rival with the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To give Perenna’s lip a kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fan her wanton hair:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bring me but one, I’ll promise thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Instead of common showers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy wings shall be embalm’d by me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all beset with flowers.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_250" id="pm_250">250.</a></p> - -<h3>To Electra</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> DARE not ask a kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I dare not beg a smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest having that, or this,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I might grow proud the while.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No, no, the utmost share<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of my desire shall be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only to kiss that air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That lately kissèd thee.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_268" id="page_268">{268}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_251" id="pm_251">251.</a></p> - -<h3>To Violets</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ELCOME, maids of honour!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You do bring<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wait upon her.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She has virgins many,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fresh and fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet you are<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More sweet than any.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You’re the maiden posies,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And so graced<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To be placed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Fore damask roses.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, though thus respected,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">By-and-by<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ye do lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor girls, neglected.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_252" id="pm_252">252.</a></p> - -<h3>To Daffodils</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AIR daffodils, we weep to see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You haste away so soon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As yet the early-rising sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has not attain’d his noon.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Stay, stay<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Until the hasting day<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Has run<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But to the evensong;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, having pray’d together, we<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Will go with you along.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_269" id="page_269">{269}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">We have short time to stay, as you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We have as short a spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As quick a growth to meet decay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As you, or anything.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">We die<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As your hours do, and dry<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Away<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like to the summer’s rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or as the pearls of morning’s dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ne’er to be found again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_253" id="pm_253">253.</a></p> - -<h3>To Blossoms</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AIR pledges of a fruitful tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Why do ye fall so fast?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your date is not so past<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But you may stay yet here awhile<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To blush and gently smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And go at last.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What! were ye born to be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An hour or half’s delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And so to bid good night?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas pity Nature brought you forth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Merely to show your worth<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And lose you quite.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But you are lovely leaves, where we<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May read how soon things have<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their end, though ne’er so brave:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And after they have shown their pride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like you awhile, they glide<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Into the grave.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_270" id="page_270">{270}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_254" id="pm_254">254.</a></p> - -<h3>The Primrose</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>SK me why I send you here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This sweet Infanta of the year?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ask me why I send to you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This primrose, thus bepearl’d with dew?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will whisper to your ears:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweets of love are mix’d with tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ask me why this flower does show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So yellow-green, and sickly too?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ask me why the stalk is weak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bending (yet it doth not break)?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will answer:—These discover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What fainting hopes are in a lover.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_255" id="pm_255">255.</a></p> - -<h3>The Funeral Rites of the Rose</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE Rose was sick and smiling died;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, being to be sanctified,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the bed there sighing stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweet and flowery sisterhood:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some hung the head, while some did bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wash her, water from the spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some laid her forth, while others wept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all a solemn fast there kept:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The holy sisters, some among,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sacred dirge and trental sung.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ah! what sweets smelt everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Heaven had spent all perfumes there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last, when prayers for the dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And rites were all accomplishèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They, weeping, spread a lawny loom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And closed her up as in a tomb.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>255.</i> trental] services for the dead, of thirty masses.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_271" id="page_271">{271}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_256" id="pm_256">256.</a></p> - -<h3>Cherry-Ripe</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>HERRY-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full and fair ones; come and buy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If so be you ask me where<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They do grow, I answer: There<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where my Julia’s lips do smile;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s the land, or cherry-isle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose plantations fully show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the year where cherries grow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_257" id="pm_257">257.</a></p> - -<h3>A Meditation for his Mistress</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU are a tulip seen to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, dearest, of so short a stay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That where you grew scarce man can say.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You are a lovely July-flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet one rude wind or ruffling shower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will force you hence, and in an hour.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You are a sparkling rose i’ th’ bud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet lost ere that chaste flesh and blood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can show where you or grew or stood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You are a full-spread, fair-set vine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And can with tendrils love entwine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet dried ere you distil your wine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You are like balm enclosèd well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In amber or some crystal shell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet lost ere you transfuse your smell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_272" id="page_272">{272}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">You are a dainty violet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet withered ere you can be set<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the virgin’s coronet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You are the queen all flowers among;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But die you must, fair maid, ere long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As he, the maker of this song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_258" id="pm_258">258.</a></p> - -<h3>Delight in Disorder</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> SWEET disorder in the dress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kindles in clothes a wantonness:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lawn about the shoulders thrown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into a fine distraction:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An erring lace, which here and there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enthrals the crimson stomacher:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A cuff neglectful, and thereby<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ribbands to flow confusedly:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A winning wave, deserving note,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the tempestuous petticoat:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A careless shoe-string, in whose tie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see a wild civility:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do more bewitch me than when art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is too precise in every part.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_259" id="pm_259">259.</a></p> - -<h3>Upon Julia’s Clothes</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HENAS in silks my Julia goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The liquefaction of her clothes!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Next, when I cast mine eyes and see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That brave vibration each way free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—O how that glittering taketh me!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_273" id="page_273">{273}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_260" id="pm_260">260.</a></p> - -<h3>The Bracelet: To Julia</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HY I tie about thy wrist,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Julia, this silken twist;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For what other reason is’t<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But to show thee how, in part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou my pretty captive art?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thy bond-slave is my heart:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis but silk that bindeth thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knap the thread and thou art free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ’tis otherwise with me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—I am bound and fast bound, so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That from thee I cannot go;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I could, I would not so.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_261" id="pm_261">261.</a></p> - -<h3>To Daisies, not to shut so soon</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HUT not so soon; the dull-eyed night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has not as yet begun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make a seizure on the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or to seal up the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No marigolds yet closèd are,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No shadows great appear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor doth the early shepherd’s star<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shine like a spangle here.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stay but till my Julia close<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her life-begetting eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let the whole world then dispose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Itself to live or die.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_274" id="page_274">{274}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_262" id="pm_262">262.</a></p> - -<h3>The Night-piece: To Julia</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ER eyes the glow-worm lend thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shooting stars attend thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the elves also,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whose little eyes glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No Will-o’-the-wisp mislight thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But on, on thy way<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Not making a stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since ghost there’s none to affright thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let not the dark thee cumber:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What though the moon does slumber?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The stars of the night<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Will lend thee their light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like tapers clear without number.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, Julia, let me woo thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus, thus to come unto me;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And when I shall meet<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy silv’ry feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul I’ll pour into thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_263" id="pm_263">263.</a></p> - -<h3>To Music, to becalm his Fever</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>HARM me asleep, and melt me so<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With thy delicious numbers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, being ravish’d, hence I go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Away in easy slumbers.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ease my sick head,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And make my bed,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_275" id="page_275">{275}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou power that canst sever<br /></span> -<span class="i6">From me this ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And quickly still,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Though thou not kill<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My fever.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou sweetly canst convert the same<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From a consuming fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into a gentle licking flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And make it thus expire.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then make me weep<br /></span> -<span class="i6">My pains asleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And give me such reposes<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That I, poor I,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">May think thereby<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I live and die<br /></span> -<span class="i8">’Mongst roses.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fall on me like the silent dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or like those maiden showers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, by the peep of day, do strew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A baptism o’er the flowers.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Melt, melt my pains<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With thy soft strains;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That, having ease me given,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With full delight<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I leave this light,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And take my flight<br /></span> -<span class="i8">For Heaven.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_276" id="page_276">{276}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_264" id="pm_264">264.</a></p> - -<h3>To Dianeme</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>WEET, be not proud of those two eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which starlike sparkle in their skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor be you proud that you can see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All hearts your captives, yours yet free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be you not proud of that rich hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which wantons with the love-sick air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whenas that ruby which you wear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sunk from the tip of your soft ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will last to be a precious stone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all your world of beauty’s gone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_265" id="pm_265">265.</a></p> - -<h3>To Œnone</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT conscience, say, is it in thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I a heart had one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To take away that heart from me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to retain thy own?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For shame or pity now incline<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To play a loving part;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Either to send me kindly thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or give me back my heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Covet not both; but if thou dost<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Resolve to part with neither,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why, yet to show that thou art just,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take me and mine together!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_277" id="page_277">{277}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_266" id="pm_266">266.</a></p> - -<h3>To Anthea, who may command him Anything</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>ID me to live, and I will live<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy Protestant to be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or bid me love, and I will give<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A loving heart to thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A heart as soft, a heart as kind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A heart as sound and free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in the whole world thou canst find,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That heart I’ll give to thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bid that heart stay, and it will stay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To honour thy decree:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or bid it languish quite away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And’t shall do so for thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bid me to weep, and I will weep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While I have eyes to see:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, having none, yet will I keep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A heart to weep for thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bid me despair, and I’ll despair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under that cypress-tree:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or bid me die, and I will dare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">E’en death to die for thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art my life, my love, my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The very eyes of me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hast command of every part<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To live and die for thee.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_278" id="page_278">{278}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_267" id="pm_267">267.</a></p> - -<h3>To the Willow-tree</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HOU art to all lost love the best,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The only true plant found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherewith young men and maids distrest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And left of love, are crown’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When once the lover’s rose is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or laid aside forlorn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then willow-garlands ’bout the head<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bedew’d with tears are worn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When with neglect, the lovers’ bane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Poor maids rewarded be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For their love lost, their only gain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is but a wreath from thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And underneath thy cooling shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When weary of the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The love-spent youth and love-sick maid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come to weep out the night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_268" id="pm_268">268.</a></p> - -<h3>The Mad Maid’s Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>OOD-morrow to the day so fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Good-morning, sir, to you;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good-morrow to mine own torn hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bedabbled with the dew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Good-morning to this primrose too,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Good-morrow to each maid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That will with flowers the tomb bestrew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherein my love is laid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_279" id="page_279">{279}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Ah! woe is me, woe, woe is me!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alack and well-a-day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For pity, sir, find out that bee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which bore my love away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ll seek him in your bonnet brave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll seek him in your eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, now I think they’ve made his grave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ th’ bed of strawberries.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ll seek him there; I know ere this<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cold, cold earth doth shake him;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I will go, or send a kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By you, sir, to awake him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pray hurt him not; though he be dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He knows well who do love him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And who with green turfs rear his head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And who do rudely move him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He’s soft and tender (pray take heed);<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With bands of cowslips bind him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bring him home—but ’tis decreed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I shall never find him!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_269" id="pm_269">269.</a></p> - -<h3>Comfort to a Youth that had lost his Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT needs complaints,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When she a place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has with the race<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of saints?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In endless mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She thinks not on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What’s said or done<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In Earth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_280" id="page_280">{280}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">She sees no tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or any tone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thy deep groan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She hears:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor does she mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or think on’t now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ever thou<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wast kind;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But changed above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She likes not there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As she did here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forbear therefore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lull asleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy woes, and weep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No more.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_270" id="pm_270">270.</a></p> - -<h3>To Meadows</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>E have been fresh and green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ye have been fill’d with flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ye the walks have been<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where maids have spent their hours.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You have beheld how they<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With wicker arks did come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To kiss and bear away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The richer cowslips home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You’ve heard them sweetly sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And seen them in a round:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each virgin like a spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With honeysuckles crown’d.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_281" id="page_281">{281}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">But now we see none here<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose silv’ry feet did tread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with dishevell’d hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Adorn’d this smoother mead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like unthrifts, having spent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your stock and needy grown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You’re left here to lament<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your poor estates, alone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_271" id="pm_271">271.</a></p> - -<h3>A Child’s Grace</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ERE a little child I stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaving up my either hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cold as paddocks though they be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here I lift them up to Thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a benison to fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On our meat and on us all. Amen.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>271.</i> paddocks] frogs.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_272" id="pm_272">272.</a></p> - -<h3>Epitaph</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>upon a Child that died</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ERE she lies, a pretty bud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lately made of flesh and blood:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who as soon fell fast asleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As her little eyes did peep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give her strewings, but not stir<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth that lightly covers her.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_273" id="pm_273">273.</a></p> - -<h3>Another</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ERE a pretty baby lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sung asleep with lullabies:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pray be silent and not stir<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Th’ easy earth that covers her.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_282" id="page_282">{282}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_274" id="pm_274">274.</a></p> - -<h3>His Winding-sheet</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME thou, who art the wine and wit<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of all I’ve writ:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grace, the glory, and the best<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Piece of the rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art of what I did intend<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The all and end;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what was made, was made to meet<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thee, thee, my sheet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come then and be to my chaste side<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Both bed and bride:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We two, as reliques left, will have<br /></span> -<span class="i6">One rest, one grave:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hugging close, we will not fear<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lust entering here:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where all desires are dead and cold<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As is the mould;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all affections are forgot,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Or trouble not.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here, here, the slaves and prisoners be<br /></span> -<span class="i6">From shackles free:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And weeping widows long oppress’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Do here find rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wrongèd client ends his laws<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Here, and his cause.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here those long suits of Chancery lie<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Quiet, or die:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all Star-Chamber bills do cease<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Or hold their peace.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here needs no Court for our Request<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Where all are best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All wise, all equal, and all just<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Alike i’ th’ dust.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_283" id="page_283">{283}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor need we here to fear the frown<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of court or crown:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where fortune bears no sway o’er things,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">There all are kings.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this securer place we’ll keep<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As lull’d asleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or for a little time we’ll lie<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As robes laid by;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be another day re-worn,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Turn’d, but not torn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or like old testaments engross’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lock’d up, not lost.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for a while lie here conceal’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To be reveal’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Next at the great Platonick year,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And then meet here.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>274.</i> Platonick year] the perfect or cyclic year, when the sun, -moon, and five planets end their revolutions together and start -anew. See <i>Timæus</i>, p. 39.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_275" id="pm_275">275.</a></p> - -<h3>Litany to the Holy Spirit</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N the hour of my distress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When temptations me oppress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when I my sins confess,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet Spirit, comfort me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When I lie within my bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sick in heart and sick in head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with doubts discomforted,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet Spirit, comfort me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the house doth sigh and weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the world is drown’d in sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet mine eyes the watch do keep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet Spirit, comfort me!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_284" id="page_284">{284}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">When the passing bell doth toll,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Furies in a shoal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come to fright a parting soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet Spirit, comfort me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the tapers now burn blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the comforters are few,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that number more than true,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet Spirit, comfort me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the priest his last hath pray’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I nod to what is said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Cause my speech is now decay’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet Spirit, comfort me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When, God knows, I’m toss’d about<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Either with despair or doubt;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet before the glass be out,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet Spirit, comfort me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the tempter me pursu’th<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the sins of all my youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And half damns me with untruth,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet Spirit, comfort me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the flames and hellish cries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fright mine ears and fright mine eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all terrors me surprise,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet Spirit, comfort me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the Judgment is reveal’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that open’d which was seal’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When to Thee I have appeal’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet Spirit, comfort me!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_285" id="page_285">{285}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FRANCIS_QUARLES" id="FRANCIS_QUARLES"></a>FRANCIS QUARLES</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1592-1644<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_276" id="pm_276">276.</a></p> - -<h3>A Divine Rapture</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">E’en like two little bank-dividing brooks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And having ranged and search’d a thousand nooks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where in a greater current they conjoin:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">E’en so we met; and after long pursuit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">E’en so we joined; we both became entire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No need for either to renew a suit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For I was flax, and He was flames of fire:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our firm-united souls did more than twine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So I my Best-belovèd’s am; so He is mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If all those glittering Monarchs, that command<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The servile quarters of this earthly ball,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should tender in exchange their shares of land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I would not change my fortunes for them all:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Their wealth is but a counter to my coin:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world’s but theirs; but my Belovèd’s mine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_277" id="pm_277">277.</a></p> - -<h3>Epigram</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Respice Finem</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y soul, sit thou a patient looker-on;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Judge not the play before the play is done:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her plot hath many changes; every day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speaks a new scene; the last act crowns the play.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_286" id="page_286">{286}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_KING_BISHOP_OF_CHICHESTER" id="HENRY_KING_BISHOP_OF_CHICHESTER"></a>HENRY KING, BISHOP OF CHICHESTER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1592-1669<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_278" id="pm_278">278.</a></p> - -<h3>A Contemplation upon Flowers</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>RAVE flowers—that I could gallant it like you,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And be as little vain!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You come abroad, and make a harmless show,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And to your beds of earth again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You are not proud: you know your birth:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For your embroider’d garments are from earth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You do obey your months and times, but I<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Would have it ever Spring:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My fate would know no Winter, never die,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Nor think of such a thing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O that I could my bed of earth but view<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And smile, and look as cheerfully as you!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O teach me to see Death and not to fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But rather to take truce!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How often have I seen you at a bier,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And there look fresh and spruce!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You fragrant flowers! then teach me, that my breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like yours may sweeten and perfume my death.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_279" id="pm_279">279.</a></p> - -<h3>A Renunciation</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>E, that did nothing study but the way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To love each other, with which thoughts the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rose with delight to us and with them set,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must learn the hateful art, how to forget.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We, that did nothing wish that Heaven could give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond ourselves, nor did desire to live<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_287" id="page_287">{287}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond that wish, all these now cancel must,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if not writ in faith, but words and dust.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet witness those clear vows which lovers make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Witness the chaste desires that never brake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into unruly heats; witness that breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which in thy bosom anchor’d his whole rest—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis no default in us: I dare acquite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy maiden faith, thy purpose fair and white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As thy pure self. Cross planets did envý<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Us to each other, and Heaven did untie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faster than vows could bind. Oh, that the stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When lovers meet, should stand opposed in wars!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since then some higher Destinies command,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us not strive, nor labour to withstand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is past help. The longest date of grief<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can never yield a hope of our relief:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fold back our arms; take home our fruitless loves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That must new fortunes try, like turtle-doves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dislodgèd from their haunts. We must in tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unwind a love knit up in many years.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this last kiss I here surrender thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Back to thyself.—So, thou again art free:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou in another, sad as that, resend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The truest heart that lover e’er did lend.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now turn from each: so fare our sever’d hearts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the divorced soul from her body parts.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_280" id="pm_280">280.</a></p> - -<h3>Exequy on his Wife</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>CCEPT, thou shrine of my dead saint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Instead of dirges this complaint;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for sweet flowers to crown thy herse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Receive a strew of weeping verse<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_288" id="page_288">{288}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">From thy grieved friend, whom thou might’st see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quite melted into tears for thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dear loss! since thy untimely fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My task hath been to meditate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On thee, on thee! Thou art the book,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The library whereon I look,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tho’ almost blind. For thee, loved clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I languish out, not live, the day....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast benighted me; thy set<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This eve of blackness did beget,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who wast my day (tho’ overcast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before thou hadst thy noontide past):<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I remember must in tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou scarce hadst seen so many years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As day tells hours. By thy clear sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love and fortune first did run;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thou wilt never more appear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Folded within my hemisphere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since both thy light and motion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a fled star, is fall’n and gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ’twixt me and my soul’s dear wish<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth now interposèd is....<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I could allow thee for a time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To darken me and my sad clime;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were it a month, a year, or ten,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would thy exile live till then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all that space my mirth adjourn—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So thou wouldst promise to return,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And putting off thy ashy shroud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At length disperse this sorrow’s cloud.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But woe is me! the longest date<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too narrow is to calculate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These empty hopes: never shall I<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_289" id="page_289">{289}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be so much blest as to descry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A glimpse of thee, till that day come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which shall the earth to cinders doom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a fierce fever must calcine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The body of this world—like thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My little world! That fit of fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once off, our bodies shall aspire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To our souls’ bliss: then we shall rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And view ourselves with clearer eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that calm region where no night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can hide us from each other’s sight.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Meantime thou hast her, earth: much good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May my harm do thee! Since it stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Heaven’s will I might not call<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her longer mine, I give thee all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My short-lived right and interest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In her whom living I loved best.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be kind to her, and prithee look<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou write into thy Doomsday book<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each parcel of this rarity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which in thy casket shrined doth lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As thou wilt answer Him that lent—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not gave—thee my dear monument.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So close the ground, and ’bout her shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Black curtains draw: my bride is laid.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sleep on, my Love, in thy cold bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never to be disquieted!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My last good-night! Thou wilt not wake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till I thy fate shall overtake:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till age, or grief, or sickness must<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marry my body to that dust<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It so much loves; and fill the room<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart keeps empty in thy tomb.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_290" id="page_290">{290}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stay for me there: I will not fail<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To meet thee in that hollow vale.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And think not much of my delay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am already on the way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And follow thee with all the speed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Desire can make, or sorrows breed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each minute is a short degree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every hour a step towards thee....<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis true—with shame and grief I yield—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, like the van, first took’st the field;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gotten hast the victory<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In thus adventuring to die<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before me, whose more years might crave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A just precedence in the grave.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But hark! my pulse, like a soft drum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beats my approach, tells thee I come;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And slow howe’er my marches be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall at last sit down by thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The thought of this bids me go on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wait my dissolution<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With hope and comfort. Dear—forgive<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crime—I am content to live<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Divided, with but half a heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till we shall meet and never part.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_HERBERT" id="GEORGE_HERBERT"></a>GEORGE HERBERT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1593-1632<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_281" id="pm_281">281.</a></p> - -<h3>Virtue</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>WEET day, so cool, so calm, so bright!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bridal of the earth and sky—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dew shall weep thy fall to-night;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For thou must die.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_291" id="page_291">{291}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Sweet rose, whose hue angry and brave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy root is ever in its grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And thou must die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A box where sweets compacted lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My music shows ye have your closes,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And all must die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only a sweet and virtuous soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like season’d timber, never gives;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But though the whole world turn to coal,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then chiefly lives.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_282" id="pm_282">282.</a></p> - -<h3>Easter</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> GOT me flowers to straw Thy way,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I got me boughs off many a tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Thou wast up by break of day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And brought’st Thy sweets along with Thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet though my flowers be lost, they say<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A heart can never come too late;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teach it to sing Thy praise this day.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then this day my life shall date.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_283" id="pm_283">283.</a></p> - -<h3>Discipline</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HROW away Thy rod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throw away Thy wrath;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O my God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take the gentle path!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_292" id="page_292">{292}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">For my heart’s desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto Thine is bent:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I aspire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a full consent.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not a word or look<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I affect to own,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But by book,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Thy Book alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though I fail, I weep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though I halt in pace,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet I creep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the throne of grace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then let wrath remove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love will do the deed:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For with love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stony hearts will bleed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love is swift of foot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s a man of war,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And can shoot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And can hit from far.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who can ’scape his bow?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That which wrought on Thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Brought Thee low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Needs must work on me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Throw away Thy rod;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though man frailties hath,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou art God:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throw away Thy wrath!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_293" id="page_293">{293}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_284" id="pm_284">284.</a></p> - -<h3>A Dialogue</h3> - -<pre> - <i>Man.</i> Sweetest Saviour, if my soul - Were but worth the having, - Quickly should I then control - Any thought of waving. - But when all my care and pains - Cannot give the name of gains - To Thy wretch so full of stains, - What delight or hope remains? - - <i>Saviour.</i> What, child, is the balance thine, - Thine the poise and measure? - If I say, ‘Thou shalt be Mine,’ - Finger not My treasure. - What the gains in having thee - Do amount to, only He - Who for man was sold can see - That transferr’d th’ accounts to Me. - - <i>Man.</i> But as I can see no merit - Leading to this favour, - So the way to fit me for it - Is beyond my savour. - As the reason, then, is Thine, - So the way is none of mine; - I disclaim the whole design; - Sin disclaims and I resign. - - <i>Saviour.</i> That is all: if that I could - Get without repining; - And My clay, My creature, would - Follow My resigning; -</pre> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>savour] savoir, knowing.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_294" id="page_294">{294}</a></span></p> - -<pre> - That as I did freely part - With My glory and desert, - Left all joys to feel all smart—— - - <i>Man.</i> Ah, no more! Thou break’st my heart! -</pre> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_285" id="pm_285">285.</a></p> - -<h3>The Pulley</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN God at first made Man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Having a glass of blessings standing by—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us (said He) pour on him all we can;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the world’s riches, which dispersèd lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Contract into a span.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">So strength first made a way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then beauty flow’d, then wisdom, honour, pleasure:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When almost all was out, God made a stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perceiving that, alone of all His treasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Rest in the bottom lay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">For if I should (said He)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bestow this jewel also on My creature,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He would adore My gifts instead of Me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So both should losers be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Yet let him keep the rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But keep them with repining restlessness;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let him be rich and weary, that at least,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If goodness lead him not, yet weariness<br /></span> -<span class="i6">May toss him to My breast.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_295" id="page_295">{295}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_286" id="pm_286">286.</a></p> - -<h3>Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Guilty of dust and sin.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack<br /></span> -<span class="i6">From my first entrance in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning<br /></span> -<span class="i6">If I lack’d anything.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘A guest,’ I answer’d, ‘worthy to be here:’<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Love said, ‘You shall be he.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I cannot look on Thee.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love took my hand and smiling did reply,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">‘Who made the eyes but I?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Truth, Lord; but I have marr’d them: let my shame<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Go where it doth deserve.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘Who bore the blame?’<br /></span> -<span class="i6">‘My dear, then I will serve.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat.’<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So I did sit and eat.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JAMES_SHIRLEY" id="JAMES_SHIRLEY"></a>JAMES SHIRLEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1596-1666<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_287" id="pm_287">287.</a></p> - -<h3>A Hymn</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>LY, my Soul! What hangs upon<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy drooping wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And weighs them down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With love of gaudy mortal things?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Sun is now i’ the east: each shade<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As he doth rise<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is shorter made,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That earth may lessen to our eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_296" id="page_296">{296}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">O be not careless then and play<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Until the Star of Peace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hide all his beams in dark recess!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor pilgrims needs must lose their way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all the shadows do increase.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_288" id="pm_288">288.</a></p> - -<h3>Death the Leveller</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE glories of our blood and state<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are shadows, not substantial things;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no armour against Fate;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Death lays his icy hand on kings:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sceptre and Crown<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Must tumble down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in the dust be equal made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the poor crookèd scythe and spade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some men with swords may reap the field,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And plant fresh laurels where they kill:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But their strong nerves at last must yield;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They tame but one another still:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Early or late<br /></span> -<span class="i4">They stoop to fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And must give up their murmuring breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When they, pale captives, creep to death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The garlands wither on your brow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then boast no more your mighty deeds!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon Death’s purple altar now<br /></span> -<span class="i2">See where the victor-victim bleeds.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your heads must come<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To the cold tomb:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only the actions of the just<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_297" id="page_297">{297}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_CAREW" id="THOMAS_CAREW"></a>THOMAS CAREW</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1595?-1639?<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_289" id="pm_289">289.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>SK me no more where Jove bestows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When June is past, the fading rose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For in your beauty’s orient deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These flowers, as in their causes, sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ask me no more whither do stray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The golden atoms of the day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For in pure love heaven did prepare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those powders to enrich your hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ask me no more whither doth haste<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nightingale when May is past;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For in your sweet dividing throat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She winters and keeps warm her note.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ask me no more where those stars ’light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That downwards fall in dead of night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For in your eyes they sit, and there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fixèd become as in their sphere.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ask me no more if east or west<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Phœnix builds her spicy nest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For unto you at last she flies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in your fragrant bosom dies.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_290" id="pm_290">290.</a></p> - -<h3>Persuasions to Joy: a Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F the quick spirits in your eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now languish and anon must die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If every sweet and every grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must fly from that forsaken face;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_298" id="page_298">{298}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then, Celia, let us reap our joys<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ere Time such goodly fruit destroys.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or if that golden fleece must grow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ever free from agèd snow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If those bright suns must know no shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor your fresh beauties ever fade;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then fear not, Celia, to bestow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What, still being gather’d, still must grow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus either Time his sickle brings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain, or else in vain his wings.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_291" id="pm_291">291.</a></p> - -<h3>To His Inconstant Mistress</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN thou, poor Excommunicate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From all the joys of Love, shalt see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The full reward and glorious fate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which my strong faith shall purchase me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then curse thine own inconstancy!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A fairer hand than thine shall cure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That heart which thy false oaths did wound;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to my soul a soul more pure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than thine shall by Love’s hand be bound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And both with equal glory crown’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then shalt thou weep, entreat, complain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To Love, as I did once to thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all thy tears shall be as vain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As mine were then: for thou shalt be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Damn’d for thy false apostasy.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_299" id="page_299">{299}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_292" id="pm_292">292.</a></p> - -<h3>The Unfading Beauty</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>E that loves a rosy cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or a coral lip admires,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or from star-like eyes doth seek<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fuel to maintain his fires:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As old Time makes these decay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So his flames must waste away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But a smooth and steadfast mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gentle thoughts and calm desires,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hearts with equal love combined,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kindle never-dying fires.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where these are not, I despise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_293" id="pm_293">293.</a></p> - -<h3>Ingrateful Beauty threatened</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">K</span>NOW, Celia, since thou art so proud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Twas I that gave thee thy renown.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hadst in the forgotten crowd<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of common beauties lived unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had not my verse extoll’d thy name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with it imp’d the wings of Fame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That killing power is none of thine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I gave it to thy voice and eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou art my star, shin’st in my skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then dart not from thy borrow’d sphere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lightning on him that fix’d thee there.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>293.</i> imp’d] grafted with new feathers.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_300" id="page_300">{300}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>EMPT me with such affrights no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lest what I made I uncreate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let fools thy mystic form adore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know thee in thy mortal state.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wise poets, that wrapt Truth in tales,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knew her themselves through all her veils.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_294" id="pm_294">294.</a></p> - -<h3>Epitaph</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>On the Lady Mary Villiers</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE Lady Mary Villiers lies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under this stone; with weeping eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The parents that first gave her birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And their sad friends, laid her in earth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If any of them, Reader, were<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Known unto thee, shed a tear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if thyself possess a gem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As dear to thee, as this to them,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though a stranger to this place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bewail in theirs thine own hard case:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For thou perhaps at thy return<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May’st find thy Darling in an urn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_295" id="pm_295">295.</a></p> - -<h3>Another</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HIS little vault, this narrow room,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Love and Beauty is the tomb;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dawning beam, that ’gan to clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our clouded sky, lies darkened here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ever set to us: by Death<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sent to enflame the World Beneath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Twas but a bud, yet did contain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More sweetness than shall spring again;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_301" id="page_301">{301}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A budding Star, that might have grown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into a Sun when it had blown.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This hopeful Beauty did create<br /></span> -<span class="i0">New life in Love’s declining state;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now his empire ends, and we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From fire and wounding darts are free;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His brand, his bow, let no man fear:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flames, the arrows, all lie here.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JASPER_MAYNE" id="JASPER_MAYNE"></a>JASPER MAYNE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1604-1672<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_296" id="pm_296">296.</a></p> - -<h3>Time</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">T</span>IME is the feather’d thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And, whilst I praise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sparklings of thy looks and call them rays,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Takes wing,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Leaving behind him as he flies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An unperceivèd dimness in thine eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His minutes, whilst they’re told,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Do make us old;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And every sand of his fleet glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Increasing age as it doth pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Insensibly sows wrinkles there<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where flowers and roses do appear.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whilst we do speak, our fire<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Doth into ice expire,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Flames turn to frost;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And ere we can<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Know how our crow turns swan,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or how a silver snow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Springs there where jet did grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our fading spring is in dull winter lost.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_302" id="page_302">{302}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">Since then the Night hath hurl’d<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Darkness, Love’s shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Over its enemy the Day, and made<br /></span> -<span class="i8">The world<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Just such a blind and shapeless thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As ’twas before light did from darkness spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Let us employ its treasure<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And make shade pleasure:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let’s number out the hours by blisses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And count the minutes by our kisses;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Let the heavens new motions feel<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And by our embraces wheel;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And whilst we try the way<br /></span> -<span class="i4">By which Love doth convey<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Soul unto soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And mingling so<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Makes them such raptures know<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As makes them entrancèd lie<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In mutual ecstasy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the harmonious spheres in music roll!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_HABINGTON" id="WILLIAM_HABINGTON"></a>WILLIAM HABINGTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1605-1654<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_297" id="pm_297">297.</a></p> - -<h3>To Roses in the Bosom of Castara</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>E blushing virgins happy are<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the chaste nunnery of her breasts—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For he’d profane so chaste a fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whoe’er should call them Cupid’s nests.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Transplanted thus how bright ye grow!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How rich a perfume do ye yield!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In some close garden cowslips so<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are sweeter than i’ th’ open field.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_303" id="page_303">{303}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">In those white cloisters live secure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the rude blasts of wanton breath!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each hour more innocent and pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till you shall wither into death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then that which living gave you room,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your glorious sepulchre shall be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There wants no marble for a tomb<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose breast hath marble been to me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_298" id="pm_298">298.</a></p> - -<h3>Nox Nocti Indicat Scientiam</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN I survey the bright<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Celestial sphere;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So rich with jewels hung, that Night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doth like an Ethiop bride appear:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">My soul her wings doth spread<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And heavenward flies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Th’ Almighty’s mysteries to read<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the large volumes of the skies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">For the bright firmament<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shoots forth no flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So silent, but is eloquent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In speaking the Creator’s name.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">No unregarded star<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Contracts its light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into so small a character,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Removed far from our human sight,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">But if we steadfast look<br /></span> -<span class="i4">We shall discern<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In it, as in some holy book,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How man may heavenly knowledge learn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_304" id="page_304">{304}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i2">It tells the conqueror<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That far-stretch’d power,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which his proud dangers traffic for,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is but the triumph of an hour:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">That from the farthest North,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some nation may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet undiscover’d, issue forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And o’er his new-got conquest sway:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Some nation yet shut in<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With hills of ice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May be let out to scourge his sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till they shall equal him in vice.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">And then they likewise shall<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Their ruin have;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For as yourselves your empires fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And every kingdom hath a grave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Thus those celestial fires,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Though seeming mute,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fallacy of our desires<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the pride of life confute:—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">For they have watch’d since first<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The World had birth:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And found sin in itself accurst,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And nothing permanent on Earth.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_305" id="page_305">{305}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_RANDOLPH" id="THOMAS_RANDOLPH"></a>THOMAS RANDOLPH</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1605-1635<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_299" id="pm_299">299.</a></p> - -<h3>A Devout Lover</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> HAVE a mistress, for perfections rare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In every eye, but in my thoughts most fair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like tapers on the altar shine her eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her breath is the perfume of sacrifice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wheresoever my fancy would begin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still her perfection lets religion in.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We sit and talk, and kiss away the hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As chastely as the morning dews kiss flowers:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I touch her, like my beads, with devout care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And come unto my courtship as my prayer.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_300" id="pm_300">300.</a></p> - -<h3>An Ode to Master Anthony Stafford</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>to hasten Him into the Country</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><span class="letra">C</span>OME, spur away,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">I have no patience for a longer stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But must go down<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And leave the chargeable noise of this great town:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I will the country see,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Where old simplicity,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Though hid in gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Doth look more gay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than foppery in plush and scarlet clad.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Farewell, you city wits, that are<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Almost at civil war—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis time that I grow wise, when all the world grows mad.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_306" id="page_306">{306}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i8">More of my days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I will not spend to gain an idiot’s praise;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Or to make sport<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For some slight Puisne of the Inns of Court.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then, worthy Stafford, say,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">How shall we spend the day?<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With what delights<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Shorten the nights?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When from this tumult we are got secure,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where mirth with all her freedom goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Yet shall no finger lose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where every word is thought, and every thought is pure?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">There from the tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We’ll cherries pluck, and pick the strawberry;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And every day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Go see the wholesome country girls make hay,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Whose brown hath lovelier grace<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Than any painted face<br /></span> -<span class="i8">That I do know<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Hyde Park can show:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where I had rather gain a kiss than meet<br /></span> -<span class="i4">(Though some of them in greater state<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Might court my love with plate)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beauties of the Cheap, and wives of Lombard Street.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">But think upon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some other pleasures: these to me are none.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Why do I prate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of women, that are things against my fate!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I never mean to wed<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That torture to my bed:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My Muse is she<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My love shall be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_307" id="page_307">{307}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let clowns get wealth and heirs: when I am gone<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And that great bugbear, grisly Death,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Shall take this idle breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I a poem leave, that poem is my son.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Of this no more!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We’ll rather taste the bright Pomona’s store.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">No fruit shall ’scape<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our palates, from the damson to the grape.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then, full, we’ll seek a shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And hear what music’s made;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">How Philomel<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Her tale doth tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And how the other birds do fill the quire;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The thrush and blackbird lend their throats,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Warbling melodious notes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We will all sports enjoy which others but desire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Ours is the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where at what fowl we please our hawk shall fly:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Nor will we spare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hunt the crafty fox or timorous hare;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But let our hounds run loose<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In any ground they’ll choose;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">The buck shall fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">The stag, and all.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our pleasures must from their own warrants be,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For to my Muse, if not to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I’m sure all game is free:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaven, earth, are all but parts of her great royalty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">And when we mean<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To taste of Bacchus’ blessings now and then,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And drink by stealth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A cup or two to noble Barkley’s health,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_308" id="page_308">{308}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i6">I’ll take my pipe and try<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Phrygian melody;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Which he that hears,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Lets through his ears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A madness to distemper all the brain:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then I another pipe will take<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And Doric music make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To civilize with graver notes our wits again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_WILLIAM_DAVENANT" id="SIR_WILLIAM_DAVENANT"></a>SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1606-1668<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_301" id="pm_301">301.</a></p> - -<h3>Aubade</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE lark now leaves his wat’ry nest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And climbing shakes his dewy wings.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He takes this window for the East,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to implore your light he sings—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awake, awake! the morn will never rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till she can dress her beauty at your eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The merchant bows unto the seaman’s star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ploughman from the sun his season takes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But still the lover wonders what they are<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who look for day before his mistress wakes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awake, awake! break thro’ your veils of lawn!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then draw your curtains, and begin the dawn!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_302" id="pm_302">302.</a></p> - -<h3>To a Mistress Dying</h3> - -<pre> - <i>Lover.</i> Your beauty, ripe and calm and fresh - As eastern summers are, - Must now, forsaking time and flesh, - Add light to some small star. - - <i>Philosopher.</i> Whilst she yet lives, were stars decay’d, - Their light by hers relief might find; - But Death will lead her to a shade - Where Love is cold and Beauty blind. - - <i>Lover.</i> Lovers, whose priests all poets are, - Think every mistress, when she dies, - Is changed at least into a star: - And who dares doubt the poets wise? - - <i>Philosopher.</i> But ask not bodies doom’d to die - To what abode they go; - Since Knowledge is but Sorrow’s spy, - It is not safe to know. -</pre> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_303" id="pm_303">303.</a></p> - -<h3>Praise and Prayer</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>RAISE is devotion fit for mighty minds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The diff’ring world’s agreeing sacrifice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Heaven divided faiths united finds:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But Prayer in various discord upward flies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For Prayer the ocean is where diversely<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Men steer their course, each to a sev’ral coast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where all our interests so discordant be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That half beg winds by which the rest are lost.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By Penitence when we ourselves forsake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis but in wise design on piteous Heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Praise we nobly give what God may take,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And are, without a beggar’s blush, forgiven.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_310" id="page_310">{310}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EDMUND_WALLER" id="EDMUND_WALLER"></a>EDMUND WALLER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1606-1687<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_304" id="pm_304">304.</a></p> - -<h3>On a Girdle</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HAT which her slender waist confined<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall now my joyful temples bind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No monarch but would give his crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His arms might do what this has done.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was my Heaven’s extremest sphere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pale which held that lovely deer:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did all within this circle move.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A narrow compass! and yet there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dwelt all that’s good, and all that’s fair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give me but what this ribband bound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take all the rest the sun goes round!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_305" id="pm_305">305.</a></p> - -<h3>Go, lovely Rose</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">G</span>O, lovely Rose—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell her that wastes her time and me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That now she knows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I resemble her to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How sweet and fair she seems to be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Tell her that’s young,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shuns to have her graces spied,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That hadst thou sprung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In deserts where no men abide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou must have uncommended died.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Small is the worth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of beauty from the light retired:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bid her come forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suffer herself to be desired,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And not blush so to be admired.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_311" id="page_311">{311}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i4">Then die—that she<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The common fate of all things rare<br /></span> -<span class="i4">May read in thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How small a part of time they share<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That are so wondrous sweet and fair!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_306" id="pm_306">306.</a></p> - -<h3>Old Age</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> - The seas are quiet when the winds give o’er;<br /> - So calm are we when passions are no more.<br /> - For then we know how vain it was to boast<br /> - Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost.<br /> - Clouds of affection from our younger eyes<br /> - Conceal that emptiness which age descries.<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> - The soul’s dark cottage, batter’d and decay’d,<br /> - Lets in new light through chinks that Time hath made:<br /> - Stronger by weakness, wiser men become<br /> - As they draw near to their eternal home.<br /> - Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view<br /> - That stand upon the threshold of the new.<br /> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_MILTON" id="JOHN_MILTON"></a>JOHN MILTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1608-1674<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_307" id="pm_307">307.</a></p> - -<h3>Hymn on the Morning of Christ’s Nativity</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T was the Winter wilde,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the Heav’n-born-childe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nature in aw to him<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had doff’t her gawdy trim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With her great Master so to sympathize:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was no season then for her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wanton with the Sun her lusty Paramour.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_312" id="page_312">{312}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Only with speeches fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She woo’s the gentle Air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hide her guilty front with innocent Snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on her naked shame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pollute with sinfull blame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Saintly Vail of Maiden white to throw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Confounded, that her Makers eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should look so neer upon her foul deformities.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But he her fears to cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sent down the meek-eyd Peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She crown’d with Olive green, came softly sliding<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down through the turning sphear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His ready Harbinger,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With Turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And waving wide her mirtle wand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She strikes a universall Peace through Sea and Land.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No War, or Battails sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was heard the World around,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The idle spear and shield were high up hung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hookèd Chariot stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unstain’d with hostile blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Trumpet spake not to the armèd throng,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Kings sate still with awfull eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But peacefull was the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherin the Prince of light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His raign of peace upon the earth began:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Windes with wonder whist,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smoothly the waters kist,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whispering new joyes to the milde Ocean,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who now hath quite forgot to rave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While Birds of Calm sit brooding on the charmèd wave.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_313" id="page_313">{313}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">The Stars with deep amaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stand fixt in stedfast gaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bending one way their pretious influence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And will not take their flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all the morning light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or Lucifer that often warn’d them thence;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in their glimmering Orbs did glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untill their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though the shady gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had given day her room,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Sun himself with-held his wonted speed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hid his head for shame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As his inferiour flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The new enlightn’d world no more should need;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He saw a greater Sun appear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then his bright Throne, or burning Axletree could bear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Shepherds on the Lawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or ere the point of dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sate simply chatting in a rustick row;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full little thought they than,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the mighty Pan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was kindly com to live with them below;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps their loves, or els their sheep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was all that did their silly thoughts so busie keep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When such musick sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their hearts and ears did greet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As never was by mortall finger strook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Divinely-warbled voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Answering the stringèd noise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As all their souls in blisfull rapture took<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Air such pleasure loth to lose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With thousand echo’s still prolongs each heav’nly close.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_314" id="page_314">{314}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Nature that heard such sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the hollow round<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Cynthia’s seat, the Airy region thrilling,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now was almost won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To think her part was don,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And that her raign had here its last fulfilling;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She knew such harmony alone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could hold all Heav’n and Earth in happier union.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At last surrounds their sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Globe of circular light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That with long beams the shame-fac’t night array’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The helmèd Cherubim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sworded Seraphim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are seen in glittering ranks with wings displaid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Harping in loud and solemn quire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With unexpressive notes to Heav’ns new-born Heir.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such musick (as ’tis said)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before was never made,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But when of old the sons of morning sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the Creator Great<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His constellations set,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the well-ballanc’t world on hinges hung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cast the dark foundations deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bid the weltring waves their oozy channel keep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ring out ye Crystall sphears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once bless our human ears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(If ye have power to touch our senses so)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let your silver chime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Move in melodious time;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let the Base of Heav’ns deep Organ blow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with your ninefold harmony<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make up full consort to th’Angelike symphony.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_315" id="page_315">{315}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">For if such holy Song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enwrap our fancy long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And speckl’d vanity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will sicken soon and die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Hell it self will pass away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yea Truth, and Justice then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will down return to men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Th’enameld Arras of the Rain-bow wearing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Mercy set between,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thron’d in Celestiall sheen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With radiant feet the tissued clouds down stearing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Heav’n as at som festivall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will open wide the Gates of her high Palace Hall.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But wisest Fate sayes no,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This must not yet be so,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Babe lies yet in smiling Infancy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That on the bitter cross<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must redeem our loss;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So both himself and us to glorifie:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet first to those ychain’d in sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wakefull trump of doom must thunder through the deep,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With such a horrid clang<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As on mount Sinai rang<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While the red fire, and smouldring clouds out brake:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The agèd Earth agast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With terrour of that blast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall from the surface to the center shake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When at the worlds last session,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dreadfull Judge in middle Air shall spread his throne.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_316" id="page_316">{316}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">And then at last our bliss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full and perfect is,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But now begins; for from this happy day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Th’old Dragon under ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In straiter limits bound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not half so far casts his usurpèd sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wrath to see his Kingdom fail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swindges the scaly Horrour of his foulded tail.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Oracles are dumm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No voice or hideous humm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Runs through the archèd roof in words deceiving.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Apollo from his shrine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can no more divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With hollow shreik the steep of Delphos leaving.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No nightly trance, or breathèd spell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inspire’s the pale-ey’d Priest from the prophetic cell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The lonely mountains o’re,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the resounding shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From haunted spring, and dale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Edg’d with poplar pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The parting Genius is with sighing sent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With flowre-inwov’n tresses torn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Nimphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In consecrated Earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the holy Hearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Urns, and Altars round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A drear, and dying sound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Affrights the Flamins at their service quaint;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the chill Marble seems to sweat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_317" id="page_317">{317}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Peor, and Baalim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forsake their Temples dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With that twise-batter’d god of Palestine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And moonèd Ashtaroth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heav’ns Queen and Mother both,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now sits not girt with Tapers holy shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain the Tyrian Maids their wounded Thamuz mourn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And sullen Moloch fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath left in shadows dred,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His burning Idol all of blackest hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain with Cymbals ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They call the grisly king,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In dismall dance about the furnace blue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brutish gods of Nile as fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Isis and Orus, and the Dog Anubis hast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor is Osiris seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Memphian Grove, or Green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Trampling the unshowr’d Grasse with lowings loud:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor can he be at rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within his sacred chest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain with Timbrel’d Anthems dark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sable-stolèd Sorcerers bear his worshipt Ark.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He feels from Juda’s Land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dredded Infants hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rayes of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor all the gods beside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Longer dare abide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our Babe to shew his Godhead true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can in his swadling bands controul the damnèd crew,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_318" id="page_318">{318}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">So when the Sun in bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Curtain’d with cloudy red,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pillows his chin upon an Orient wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flocking shadows pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Troop to th’infernall jail,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each fetter’d Ghost slips to his severall grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the yellow-skirted Fayes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fly after the Night-steeds, leaving their Moon-lov’d maze.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But see the Virgin blest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath laid her Babe to rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Time is our tedious Song should here have ending,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heav’ns youngest teemèd Star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath fixt her polisht Car,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her sleeping Lord with Handmaid Lamp attending:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all about the Courtly Stable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright-harnest Angels sit in order serviceable.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_308" id="pm_308">308.</a></p> - -<h3>On Time</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>LY envious Time, till thou run out thy race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose speed is but the heavy Plummets pace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And glut thy self with what thy womb devours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which is no more then what is false and vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And meerly mortal dross;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So little is our loss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So little is thy gain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For when as each thing bad thou hast entomb’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And last of all, thy greedy self consum’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With an individual kiss;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Joy shall overtake us as a flood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When every thing that is sincerely good<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_319" id="page_319">{319}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And perfectly divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Truth, and Peace, and Love shall ever shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the supreme Throne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of him, t’whose happy-making sight alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When once our heav’nly-guided soul shall clime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then all this Earthy grosnes quit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Attir’d with Stars, we shall for ever sit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee O Time.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_309" id="pm_309">309.</a></p> - -<h3>At a Solemn Musick</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>LEST pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav’ns joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sphear-born harmonious Sisters, Voice, and Vers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dead things with inbreath’d sense able to pierce,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to our high-rais’d phantasie present,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That undisturbèd Song of pure content,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay sung before the saphire-colour’d throne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To him that sits theron<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Saintly shout, and solemn Jubily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the bright Seraphim in burning row<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their loud up-lifted Angel trumpets blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Cherubick host in thousand quires<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Touch their immortal Harps of golden wires,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With those just Spirits that wear victorious Palms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hymns devout and holy Psalms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singing everlastingly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That we on Earth with undiscording voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May rightly answer that melodious noise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As once we did, till disproportion’d sin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jarr’d against natures chime, and with harsh din<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Broke the fair musick that all creatures made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To their great Lord, whose love their motion swa<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_320" id="page_320">{320}</a></span>y’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In perfect Diapason, whilst they stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In first obedience, and their state of good.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O may we soon again renew that Song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And keep in tune with Heav’n, till God ere long<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To his celestial consort us unite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To live with him, and sing in endles morn of light.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_310" id="pm_310">310.</a></p> - -<h3>L’Allegro</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ENCE loathèd Melancholy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Cerberus and blackest midnight born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Stygian Cave forlorn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Mongst horrid shapes, and shreiks, and sights unholy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Find out som uncouth cell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where brooding darknes spreads his jealous wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the night-Raven sings;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There, under Ebon shades, and low-brow’d Rocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As ragged as thy Locks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But com thou Goddes fair and free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Heav’n ycleap’d Euphrosyne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by men, heart-easing Mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom lovely Venus, at a birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With two sister Graces more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Ivy-crownèd Bacchus bore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or whether (as som Sager sing)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The frolick Wind that breathes the Spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Zephir with Aurora playing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As he met her once a Maying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There on Beds of Violets blew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fresh-blown Roses washt in dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fill’d her with thee a daughter fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So bucksom, blith, and debonair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_321" id="page_321">{321}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Haste thee nymph, and bring with thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jest and youthful Jollity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quips and Cranks, and wanton Wiles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nods, and Becks, and Wreathèd Smiles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such as hang on Hebe’s cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love to live in dimple sleek;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sport that wrincled Care derides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Laughter holding both his sides.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Com, and trip it as ye go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the light fantastick toe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in thy right hand lead with thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Mountain Nymph, sweet Liberty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if I give thee honour due,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mirth, admit me of thy crue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To live with her, and live with thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In unreprovèd pleasures free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear the Lark begin his flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And singing startle the dull night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From his watch-towre in the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the dappled dawn doth rise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then to com in spight of sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at my window bid good morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the Sweet-Briar, or the Vine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the twisted Eglantine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the Cock with lively din,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scatters the rear of darknes thin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to the stack, or the Barn dore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stoutly struts his Dames before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft listening how the Hounds and horn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chearly rouse the slumbring morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the side of som Hoar Hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the high wood echoing shrill.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Som time walking not unseen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_322" id="page_322">{322}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Hedge-row Elms, on Hillocks green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Right against the Eastern gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wher the great Sun begins his state,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rob’d in flames, and Amber light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The clouds in thousand Liveries dight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the Plowman neer at hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whistles ore the Furrow’d Land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Milkmaid singeth blithe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Mower whets his sithe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every Shepherd tells his tale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the Hawthorn in the dale.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Streit mine eye hath caught new pleasures<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst the Lantskip round it measures,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Russet Lawns, and Fallows Gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the nibling flocks do stray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mountains on whose barren brest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The labouring clouds do often rest:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meadows trim with Daisies pide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shallow Brooks, and Rivers wide.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Towers, and Battlements it sees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Boosom’d high in tufted Trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wher perhaps som beauty lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hard by, a Cottage chimney smokes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From betwixt two agèd Okes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Corydon and Thyrsis met,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are at their savory dinner set<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Hearbs, and other Country Messes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then in haste her Bowre she leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Thestylis to bind the Sheaves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if the earlier season lead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the tann’d Haycock in the Mead,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_323" id="page_323">{323}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Som times with secure delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The up-land Hamlets will invite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the merry Bells ring round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the jocond rebecks sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To many a youth, and many a maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dancing in the Chequer’d shade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And young and old com forth to play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On a Sunshine Holyday,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the live-long day-light fail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then to the Spicy Nut-brown Ale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With stones told of many a feat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How Faery Mab the junkets eat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was pincht, and pull’d she sed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he by Friars Lanthorn led<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tells how the drudging Goblin swet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To ern his Cream-bowle duly set,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in one night, ere glimps of morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His shadowy Flale hath thresh’d the Corn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ten day-labourers could not end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then lies him down the Lubbar Fend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stretch’d out all the Chimney’s length,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Basks at the fire his hairy strength;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Crop-full out of dores he flings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere the first Cock his Mattin rings.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus don the Tales, to bed they creep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By whispering Windes soon lull’d asleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Towred Cities please us then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the busie humm of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In weeds of Peace high triumphs hold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With store of Ladies, whose bright eies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rain influence, and judge the prise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Wit, or Arms, while both contend<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_324" id="page_324">{324}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To win her Grace, whom all commend.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There let Hymen oft appear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Saffron robe, with Taper clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pomp, and feast, and revelry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With mask, and antique Pageantry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such sights as youthfull Poets dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On Summer eeves by haunted stream.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then to the well-trod stage anon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If Jonsons learnèd Sock be on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or sweetest Shakespear fancies childe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warble his native Wood-notes wilde,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ever against eating Cares,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lap me in soft Lydian Aires,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Married to immortal verse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such as the meeting soul may pierce<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In notes, with many a winding bout<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of linckèd sweetnes long drawn out,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With wanton heed, and giddy cunning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The melting voice through mazes running;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untwisting all the chains that ty<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hidden soul of harmony.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Orpheus self may heave his head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From golden slumber on a bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heapt Elysian flowres, and hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such streins as would have won the ear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Pluto, to have quite set free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His half regain’d Eurydice.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These delights, if thou canst give,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mirth with thee, I mean to live.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_325" id="page_325">{325}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_311" id="pm_311">311.</a></p> - -<h3>Il Penseroso</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ENCE vain deluding joyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The brood of folly without father bred,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How little you bested,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or fill the fixèd mind with all your toyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dwell in som idle brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As thick and numberless<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the gay motes that people the Sun Beams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or likest hovering dreams<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fickle Pensioners of Morpheus train.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But hail thou Goddes, sage and holy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hail divinest Melancholy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose Saintly visage is too bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hit the Sense of human sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And therfore to our weaker view,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ore laid with black staid Wisdoms hue.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Black, but such as in esteem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prince Memnons sister might beseem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or that Starr’d Ethiope Queen that strove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To set her beauties praise above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Sea Nymphs, and their powers offended.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet thou art higher far descended,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee bright-hair’d Vesta long of yore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To solitary Saturn bore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His daughter she (in Saturns raign,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such mixture was not held a stain)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft in glimmering Bowres, and glades<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He met her, and in secret shades<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of woody Ida’s inmost grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Com pensive Nun, devout and pure,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_326" id="page_326">{326}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sober, stedfast, and demure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All in a robe of darkest grain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowing with majestick train,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sable stole of Cipres Lawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over thy decent shoulders drawn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Com, but keep thy wonted state,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With eev’n step, and musing gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And looks commercing with the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There held in holy passion still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget thy self to Marble, till<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a sad Leaden downward cast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou fix them on the earth as fast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And joyn with thee calm Peace, and Quiet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hears the Muses in a ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay round about Joves Altar sing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And adde to these retirèd Leasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That in trim Gardens takes his pleasure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But first, and chiefest, with thee bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Him that yon soars on golden wing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Guiding the fiery-wheelèd throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Cherub Contemplation,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the mute Silence hist along,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Less Philomel will daign a Song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In her sweetest, saddest plight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smoothing the rugged brow of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While Cynthia checks her Dragon yoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gently o’re th’accustom’d Oke;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet Bird that shunn’st the noise of folly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most musicall, most melancholy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee Chauntress oft the Woods among,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I woo to hear thy eeven-Song;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_327" id="page_327">{327}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And missing thee, I walk unseen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the dry smooth-shaven Green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To behold the wandring Moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Riding neer her highest noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like one that had bin led astray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the Heav’ns wide pathles way;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And oft, as if her head she bow’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stooping through a fleecy cloud.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft on a Plat of rising ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear the far-off Curfeu sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over som wide-water’d shoar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swinging slow with sullen roar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if the Ayr will not permit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Som still removèd place will fit.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where glowing Embers through the room<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teach light to counterfeit a gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far from all resort of mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save the Cricket on the hearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the Belmans drousie charm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bless the dores from nightly harm:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or let my Lamp at midnight hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be seen in som high lonely Towr,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I may oft out-watch the Bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With thrice great Hermes, or unsphear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spirit of Plato to unfold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What Worlds, or what vast Regions hold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The immortal mind that hath forsook<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her mansion in this fleshly nook:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of those Dæmons that are found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In fire, air, flood, or under ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose power hath a true consent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Planet, or with Element.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Som time let Gorgeous Tragedy<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_328" id="page_328">{328}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Scepter’d Pall com sweeping by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Presenting Thebs, or Pelops line,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the tale of Troy divine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or what (though rare) of later age,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ennoblèd hath the Buskind stage.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, O sad Virgin, that thy power<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Might raise Musæeus from his bower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such notes as warbled to the string,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drew Iron tears down Pluto’s cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And made Hell grant what Love did seek.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or call up him that left half told<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The story of Cambuscan bold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Camball, and of Algarsife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And who had Canace to wife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That own’d the vertuous Ring and Glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of the wondrous Hors of Brass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On which the Tartar King did ride;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if ought els, great Bards beside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sage and solemn tunes have sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Turneys and of Trophies hung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Forests, and inchantments drear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where more is meant then meets the ear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus night oft see me in thy pale career,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till civil-suited Morn appeer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not trickt and frounc’t as she was wont,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the Attick Boy to hunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Cherchef’t in a comly Cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While rocking Winds are Piping loud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or usher’d with a shower still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the gust hath blown his fill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ending on the russling Leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With minute drops from off the Eaves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_329" id="page_329">{329}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when the Sun begins to fling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His flaring beams, me Goddes bring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To archèd walks of twilight groves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shadows brown that Sylvan loves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Pine, or monumental Oake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the rude Ax with heavèd stroke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or fright them from their hallow’d haunt.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There in close covert by som Brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where no profaner eye may look,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hide me from Day’s garish eie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the Bee with Honied thie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That at her flowry work doth sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Waters murmuring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With such consort as they keep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Entice the dewy-feather’d Sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let som strange mysterious dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wave at his Wings in Airy stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of lively portrature display’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Softly on my eye-lids laid.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as I wake, sweet musick breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above, about, or underneath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sent by som spirit to mortals good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or th’unseen Genius of the Wood.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But let my due feet never fail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To walk the studious Cloysters pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love the high embowèd Roof,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With antick Pillars massy proof,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And storied Windows richly dight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Casting a dimm religious light.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There let the pealing Organ blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the full voic’d Quire below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Service high, and Anthems cleer,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_330" id="page_330">{330}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">As may with sweetnes, through mine ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dissolve me into extasies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bring all Heav’n before mine eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And may at last my weary age<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Find out the peacefull hermitage,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Hairy Gown and Mossy Cell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I may sit and rightly spell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of every Star that Heav’n doth shew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every Herb that sips the dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till old experience do attain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To somthing like Prophetic strain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These pleasures Melancholy give,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I with thee will choose to live.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_312" id="pm_312">312.</a></p> - -<h3>From ‘Arcades’</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O’re the smooth enameld green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where no print of step hath been,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Follow me as I sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And touch the warbled string.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the shady roof<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of branching Elm Star-proof,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Follow me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will bring you where she sits<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clad in splendor as befits<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her deity.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such a rural Queen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All Arcadia hath not seen.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><i>From ‘Comus’</i></h2> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_313" id="pm_313">313.</a></p> - -<h4>i</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE Star that bids the Shepherd fold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now the top of Heav’n doth hold,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_331" id="page_331">{331}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the gilded Car of Day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His glowing Axle doth allay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the steep Atlantick stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the slope Sun his upward beam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shoots against the dusky Pole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pacing toward the other gole<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of his Chamber in the East.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mean while welcom Joy, and Feast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Midnight shout, and revelry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tipsie dance, and Jollity.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Braid your Locks with rosie Twine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dropping odours, dropping Wine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rigor now is gon to bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Advice with scrupulous head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strict Age, and sowre Severity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With their grave Saws in slumber ly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We that are of purer fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Imitate the Starry Quire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who in their nightly watchfull Sphears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lead in swift round the Months and Years.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Sounds, and Seas with all their finny drove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the Tawny Sands and Shelves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Wood-Nymphs deckt with Daisies trim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their merry wakes and pastimes keep:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What hath night to do with sleep?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night hath better sweets to prove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Venus now wakes, and wak’ns Love....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Com, knit hands, and beat the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a light fantastick round.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_332" id="page_332">{332}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_314" id="pm_314">314.</a></p> - -<h3>ii<br /> -<span class="smcap">Echo</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">S</span>WEET Echo, sweetest Nymph that liv’st unseen<br /></span> -<span class="i12">Within thy airy shell<br /></span> -<span class="i10">By slow Meander’s margent green,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And in the violet imbroider’d vale<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Where the love-lorn Nightingale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nightly to thee her sad Song mourneth well.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Canst thou not tell me of a gentle Pair<br /></span> -<span class="i10">That likest thy Narcissus are?<br /></span> -<span class="i12">O if thou have<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Hid them in som flowry Cave,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">Tell me but where<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet Queen of Parly, Daughter of the Sphear!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So maist thou be translated to the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And give resounding grace to all Heav’ns Harmonies?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_315" id="pm_315">315.</a></p> - -<h3>iii<br /> -<span class="smcap">Sabrina</span></h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>The Spirit sings:</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>ABRINA fair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Listen where thou art sitting<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the glassie, cool, translucent wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In twisted braids of Lillies knitting<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Listen for dear honour’s sake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Goddess of the silver lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Listen and save!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Listen and appear to us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In name of great Oceanus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the earth-shaking Neptune’s mace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Tethys grave majestick pace,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_333" id="page_333">{333}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">By hoary Nereus wrincled look,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Carpathian wisards hook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By scaly Tritons winding shell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And old sooth-saying Glaucus spell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Leucothea’s lovely hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her son that rules the strands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Thetis tinsel-slipper’d feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Songs of Sirens sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By dead Parthenope’s dear tomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fair Ligea’s golden comb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherwith she sits on diamond rocks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleeking her soft alluring locks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By all the Nymphs that nightly dance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon thy streams with wily glance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rise, rise, and heave thy rosie head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From thy coral-pav’n bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bridle in thy headlong wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till thou our summons answered have.<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Listen and save!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><i>Sabrina replies:</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">B</span>Y the rushy-fringèd bank,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where grows the Willow and the Osier dank,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My sliding Chariot stayes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thick set with Agat, and the azurn sheen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Turkis blew, and Emrauld green<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That in the channell strayes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst from off the waters fleet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus I set my printless feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’re the Cowslips Velvet head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That bends not as I tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gentle swain at thy request<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am here.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_334" id="page_334">{334}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_316" id="pm_316">316.</a></p> - -<h3>iv<br /> -<i>The Spirit epiloguizes:</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O the Ocean now I fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And those happy climes that ly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where day never shuts his eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up in the broad fields of the sky:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There I suck the liquid ayr<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All amidst the Gardens fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Hesperus, and his daughters three<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sing about the golden tree:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the crispèd shades and bowres<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Revels the spruce and jocond Spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Graces, and the rosie-boosom’d Howres,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thither all their bounties bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That there eternal Summer dwels,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And West winds, with musky wing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the cedar’n alleys fling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nard, and Cassia’s balmy smels.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Iris there with humid bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waters the odorous banks that blow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowers of more mingled hew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than her purfl’d scarf can shew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drenches with Elysian dew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(List mortals, if your ears be true)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beds of Hyacinth, and roses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where young Adonis oft reposes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waxing well of his deep wound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In slumber soft, and on the ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sadly sits th’ Assyrian Queen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But far above in spangled sheen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Celestial Cupid her fam’d son advanc’t,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holds his dear Psyche sweet intran<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_335" id="page_335">{335}</a></span>c’t<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After her wandring labours long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till free consent the gods among<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make her his eternal Bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from her fair unspotted side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two blissful twins are to be born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Youth and Joy; so Jove hath sworn.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But now my task is smoothly don,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I can fly, or I can run<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quickly to the green earths end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the bow’d welkin slow doth bend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from thence can soar as soon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the corners of the Moon.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mortals that would follow me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love vertue, she alone is free.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She can teach ye how to clime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Higher then the Spheary chime;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if Vertue feeble were,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heav’n it self would stoop to her.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_317" id="pm_317">317.</a></p> - -<h3>Lycidas</h3> - -<p class="c"><i>A Lament for a friend drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish -Seas, 1637</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>ET once more, O ye Laurels, and once more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never-sear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I com to pluck your Berries harsh and crude,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with forc’d fingers rude,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Compels me to disturb your season due:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_336" id="page_336">{336}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He must not flote upon his watry bear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without the meed of som melodious tear.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Begin, then, Sisters of the sacred well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Begin, and somwhat loudly sweep the string.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hence with denial vain, and coy excuse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So may som gentle Muse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lucky words favour my destin’d Urn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as he passes turn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bid fair peace be to my sable shrowd.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For we were nurst upon the self-same hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Together both, ere the high Lawns appear’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the opening eye-lids of the morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We drove a field, and both together heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What time the Gray-fly winds her sultry horn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Batt’ning our flocks with the fresh dews of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft till the Star that rose, at Ev’ning, bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Toward Heav’ns descent had slop’d his westering wheel.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mean while the Rural ditties were not mute,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Temper’d to th’Oaten Flute;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rough Satyrs danc’d, and Fauns with clov’n heel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the glad sound would not be absent long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And old Damætas lov’d to hear our song<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But O the heavy change, now thou art gon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now thou art gon, and never must return!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With wilde Thyme and the gadding Vine o’regrown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all their echoes mourn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Willows, and the Hazle Copses green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall now no more be seen,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_337" id="page_337">{337}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft layes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As killing as the Canker to the Rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or Taint-worm to the weanling Herds that graze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or Frost to Flowers, that their gay wardrop wear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When first the White thorn blows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such, Lycidas, thy loss to Shepherds ear.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where were ye Nymphs when the remorseless deep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clos’d o’re the head of your lov’d Lycidas?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For neither were ye playing on the steep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where your old Bards, the famous Druids ly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay me, I fondly dream!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had ye bin there—for what could that have don?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What could the Muse her self that Orpheus bore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Muse her self, for her inchanting son<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom Universal nature did lament,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When by the rout that made the hideous roar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His goary visage down the stream was sent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alas! what boots it with uncessant care<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To tend the homely slighted Shepherds trade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And strictly meditate the thankles Muse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were it not better don as others use,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or with the tangles of Neæra’s hair?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(That last infirmity of Noble mind)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To scorn delights, and live laborious dayes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the fair Guerdon when we hope to find,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And think to burst out into sudden blaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comes the blind Fury with th’abhorrèd shears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And slits the thin spun life. But not the praise,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_338" id="page_338">{338}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Phœbus repli’d, and touch’d my trembling ears;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor in the glistering foil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set off to th’world, nor in broad rumour lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lives and spreds aloft by those pure eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And perfet witnes of all judging Jove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As he pronounces lastly on each deed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of so much fame in Heav’n expect thy meed.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour’d floud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown’d with vocall reeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That strain I heard was of a higher mood:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now my Oate proceeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And listens to the Herald of the Sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That came in Neptune’s plea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He ask’d the Waves, and ask’d the Fellon winds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What hard mishap hath doom’d this gentle swain?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And question’d every gust of rugged wings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That blows from off each beakèd Promontory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They knew not of his story,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sage Hippotades their answer brings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That not a blast was from his dungeon stray’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Ayr was calm, and on the level brine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleek Panope with all her sisters play’d.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was that fatall and perfidious Bark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Built in th’eclipse, and rigg’d with curses dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Next Camus, reverend Sire, went footing slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His Mantle hairy, and his Bonnet sedge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like to that sanguine flower inscrib’d with woe.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah; Who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Last came, and last did go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Pilot of the Galilean lake,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_339" id="page_339">{339}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two massy Keyes he bore of metals twain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(The Golden opes, the Iron shuts amain)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He shook his Miter’d locks, and stern bespake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How well could I have spar’d for thee, young swain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Anow of such as for their bellies sake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Creep and intrude, and climb into the fold?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of other care they little reck’ning make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then how to scramble at the shearers feast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shove away the worthy bidden guest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blind mouthes! that scarce themselves know how to hold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Sheep-hook, or have learn’d ought els the least<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to the faithfull Herdmans art belongs!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What recks it them? What need they? They are sped;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when they list, their lean and flashy songs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grate on their scrannel Pipes of wretched straw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hungry Sheep look up, and are not fed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Besides what the grim Woolf with privy paw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Daily devours apace, and nothing sed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But that two-handed engine at the door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Return Alpheus, the dread voice is past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shrunk thy streams; Return Sicilian Muse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And call the Vales, and bid them hither cast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their Bels, and Flourets of a thousand hues.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye valleys low where the milde whispers use,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of shades and wanton winds, and gushing brooks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On whose fresh lap the swart Star sparely looks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Throw hither all your quaint enameld eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That on the green terf suck the honied showres,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And purple all the ground with vernal flowres.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring the rathe Primrose that forsaken dies.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_340" id="page_340">{340}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tufted Crow-toe, and pale Gessamine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The white Pink, and the Pansie freakt with jeat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glowing Violet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Musk-rose, and the well attir’d Woodbine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Cowslips wan that hang the pensive hed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every flower that sad embroidery wears:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bid Amaranthus all his beauty shed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Daffadillies fill their cups with tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To strew the Laureat Herse where Lycid lies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For so to interpose a little ease,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay me! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding Seas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wash far away, where ere thy bones are hurld,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Visit’st the bottom of the monstrous world;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or whether thou to our moist vows deny’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep’st by the fable of Bellerus old,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the great vision of the guarded Mount<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Looks toward Namancos and Bayona’s hold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, O ye Dolphins, waft the haples youth.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weep no more, woful Shepherds weep no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sunk though he be beneath the watry floar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So sinks the day-star in the Ocean bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet anon repairs his drooping head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tricks his beams, and with new spangled Ore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the dear might of him that walk’d the waves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where other groves, and other streams along,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Nectar pure his oozy Lock’s he laves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hears the unexpressive nuptiall Song,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_341" id="page_341">{341}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the blest Kingdoms meek of joy and love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There entertain him all the Saints above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In solemn troops, and sweet Societies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sing, and singing in their glory move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now Lycidas the Shepherds weep no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hence forth thou art the Genius of the shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In thy large recompense, and shalt be good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To all that wander in that perilous flood.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus sang the uncouth Swain to th’Okes and rills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the still morn went out with Sandals gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He touch’d the tender stops of various Quills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With eager thought warbling his Dorick lay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now the Sun had stretch’d out all the hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now was dropt into the Western bay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last he rose, and twitch’d his Mantle blew:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To morrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><i><a name="pm_317ast" id="pm_317ast"></a>317*.</i></p> - -<h3><i>To the Lady Margaret Ley</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>AUGHTER to that good Earl, once President<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Englands Counsel, and her Treasury,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who liv’d in both, unstain’d with gold or fee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And left them both, more in himself content,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the sad breaking of that Parlament<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Broke him, as that dishonest victory<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At Chæronèa, fatal to liberty<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kil’d with report that Old man eloquent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though later born, then to have known the dayes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherin your Father flourisht, yet by you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Madam, me thinks I see him living yet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So well your words his noble vertues praise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That all both judge you to relate them true,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to possess them, Honour’d Margaret.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_342" id="page_342">{342}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_318" id="pm_318">318.</a></p> - -<h3>On His Blindness</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN I consider how my light is spent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">E’re half my days, in this dark world and wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And that one Talent which is death to hide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lodg’d with me useless, though my Soul more bent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To serve therewith my Maker, and present<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My true account, least he returning chide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doth God exact day-labour, light deny’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I fondly ask; But patience to prevent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Either man’s work or his own gifts, who best<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And post o’re Land and Ocean without rest:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They also serve who only stand and waite.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_319" id="pm_319">319.</a></p> - -<h3>To Mr. Lawrence</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>AWRENCE of vertuous Father vertuous Son,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now that the Fields are dank, and ways are mire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Help wast a sullen day; what may be won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the hard Season gaining: time will run<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The frozen earth; and cloth in fresh attire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lillie and Rose, that neither sow’d nor spun.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Attick tast, with Wine, whence we may rise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hear the Lute well toucht, or artfull voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warble immortal Notes and Tuskan Ayre?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He who of those delights can judge, and spare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To interpose them oft, is not unwise.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_343" id="page_343">{343}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_320" id="pm_320">320.</a></p> - -<h3>To Cyriack Skinner</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>YRIACK, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Brittish Themis, with no mean applause<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pronounc’t and in his volumes taught our Lawes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which others at their Barr so often wrench:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In mirth, that after no repenting drawes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And what the Swede intend, and what the French.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To measure life, learn thou betimes, and know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For other things mild Heav’n a time ordains,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And disapproves that care, though wise in show,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That with superfluous burden loads the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_321" id="pm_321">321.</a></p> - -<h3>On His Deceased Wife</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>ETHOUGHT I saw my late espousèd Saint<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rescu’d from death by force though pale and faint.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Purification in the old Law did save,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And such, as yet once more I trust to have<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her face was vail’d, yet to my fancied sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So clear, as in no face with more delight.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But O as to embrace me she enclin’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wak’d, she fled, and day brought back my night.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_344" id="page_344">{344}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_322" id="pm_322">322.</a></p> - -<h3>Light</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>AIL holy light, ofspring of Heav’n first-born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or of th’ Eternal Coeternal beam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May I express thee unblam’d? since God is light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And never but in unapproachèd light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dwelt from Eternitie, dwelt then in thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright effluence of bright essence increate.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or hear’st thou rather pure Ethereal stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose Fountain who shall tell? before the Sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before the Heavens thou wert, and at the voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of God, as with a Mantle didst invest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rising world of waters dark and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Won from the void and formless infinite.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee I re-visit now with bolder wing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Escap’t the Stygian Pool, though long detain’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through utter and through middle darkness borne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With other notes then to th’ Orphean Lyre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Taught by the heav’nly Muse to venture down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dark descent, and up to reascend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though hard and rare: thee I revisit safe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feel thy sovran vital Lamp; but thou<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Revisit’st not these eyes, that rowle in vain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So thick a drop serene hath quencht thir Orbs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or dim suffusion veild. Yet not the more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cleer Spring, or shadie Grove, or Sunnie Hill,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_345" id="page_345">{345}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smit with the love of sacred song; but chief<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee <i>Sion</i> and the flowrie Brooks beneath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wash thy hallowd feet, and warbling flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nightly I visit: nor somtimes forget<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those other two equal’d with me in Fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So were I equal’d with them in renown.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blind Thamyris and blind Mæonides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Tiresias and Phineus Prophets old.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then feed on thoughts, that voluntarie move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Harmonious numbers; as the wakeful Bird<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sings darkling, and in shadiest Covert hid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tunes her nocturnal Note. Thus with the Year<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seasons return, but not to me returns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Day, or the sweet approach of Ev’n or Morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or sight of vernal bloom, or Summers Rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But cloud in stead, and ever-during dark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surrounds me, from the chearful waies of men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cut off, and for the Book of knowledg fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Presented with a Universal blanc<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Natures works to mee expung’d and ras’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wisdome at one entrance quite shut out.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So much the rather thou Celestial light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mist from thence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of things invisible to mortal sight.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_346" id="page_346">{346}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>From ‘Samson Agonistes’</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_323" id="pm_323">323.</a></p> - -<h3>i</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>H how comely it is and how reviving<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the Spirits of just men long opprest!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When God into the hands of thir deliverer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Puts invincible might<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To quell the mighty of the Earth, th’ oppressour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brute and boist’rous force of violent men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hardy and industrious to support<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tyrannic power, but raging to pursue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The righteous and all such as honour Truth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He all thir Ammunition<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feats of War defeats<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With plain Heroic magnitude of mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And celestial vigour arm’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thir Armories and Magazins contemns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Renders them useless, while<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With wingèd expedition<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift as the lightning glance he executes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His errand on the wicked, who surpris’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lose thir defence distracted and amaz’d.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_324" id="pm_324">324.</a></p> - -<h3>ii</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL is best, though we oft doubt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What th’ unsearchable dispose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of highest wisdom brings about,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ever best found in the close.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft he seems to hide his face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But unexpectedly returns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to his faithful Champion hath in place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bore witness gloriously; whence Gaza mourns<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_347" id="page_347">{347}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all that band them to resist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His uncontroulable intent.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His servants he with new acquist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of true experience from this great event<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With peace and consolation hath dismist,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And calm of mind all passion spent.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_JOHN_SUCKLING" id="SIR_JOHN_SUCKLING"></a>SIR JOHN SUCKLING</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1609-1642<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_325" id="pm_325">325.</a></p> - -<h3>A Doubt of Martyrdom</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> FOR some honest lover’s ghost,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some kind unbodied post<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sent from the shades below!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I strangely long to know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether the noble chaplets wear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those that their mistress’ scorn did bear<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or those that were used kindly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For whatsoe’er they tell us here<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To make those sufferings dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Twill there, I fear, be found<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That to the being crown’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">T’ have loved alone will not suffice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unless we also have been wise<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And have our loves enjoy’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What posture can we think him in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That, here unloved, again<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Departs, and ’s thither gone<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where each sits by his own?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or how can that Elysium be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I my mistress still must see<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Circled in other’s arms?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_348" id="page_348">{348}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">For there the judges all are just,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Sophonisba must<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Be his whom she held dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Not his who loved her here.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweet Philoclea, since she died,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lies by her Pirocles his side,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Not by Amphialus.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some bays, perchance, or myrtle bough<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For difference crowns the brow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of those kind souls that were<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The noble martyrs here:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if that be the only odds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(As who can tell?), ye kinder gods,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Give me the woman here!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_326" id="pm_326">326.</a></p> - -<h3>The Constant Lover</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>UT upon it, I have loved<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Three whole days together!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And am like to love three more,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If it prove fair weather.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Time shall moult away his wings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere he shall discover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the whole wide world again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such a constant lover.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the spite on ’t is, no praise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is due at all to me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love with me had made no stays,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had it any been but she.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Had it any been but she,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And that very face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There had been at least ere this<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A dozen dozen in her place.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_349" id="page_349">{349}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_327" id="pm_327">327.</a></p> - -<h3>Why so Pale and Wan?</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HY so pale and wan, fond lover?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Prithee, why so pale?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will, when looking well can’t move her,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Looking ill prevail?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Prithee, why so pale?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why so dull and mute, young sinner?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Prithee, why so mute?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will, when speaking well can’t win her,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Saying nothing do’t?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Prithee, why so mute?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Quit, quit for shame! This will not move;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">This cannot take her.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If of herself she will not love,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Nothing can make her:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The devil take her!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_328" id="pm_328">328.</a></p> - -<h3>When, Dearest, I but think of Thee</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN, dearest, I but think of thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Methinks all things that lovely be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are present, and my soul delighted:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For beauties that from worth arise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are like the grace of deities,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still present with us, tho’ unsighted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus while I sit and sigh the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all his borrow’d lights away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till night’s black wings do overtake me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thinking on thee, thy beauties then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As sudden lights do sleepy men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So they by their bright rays awake me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_350" id="page_350">{350}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Thus absence dies, and dying proves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No absence can subsist with loves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That do partake of fair perfection:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since in the darkest night they may<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By love’s quick motion find a way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see each other by reflection.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The waving sea can with each flood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bathe some high promont that hath stood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far from the main up in the river:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O think not then but love can do<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As much! for that’s an ocean too,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which flows not every day, but ever!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_RICHARD_FANSHAWE" id="SIR_RICHARD_FANSHAWE"></a>SIR RICHARD FANSHAWE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1608-1666<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_329" id="pm_329">329.</a></p> - -<h3>A Rose</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>LOWN in the morning, thou shalt fade ere noon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What boots a life which in such haste forsakes thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou’rt wondrous frolic, being to die so soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And passing proud a little colour makes thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thee thy brittle beauty so deceives,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Know then the thing that swells thee is thy bane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the same beauty doth, in bloody leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sentence of thy early death contain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some clown’s coarse lungs will poison thy sweet flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If by the careless plough thou shalt be torn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many Herods lie in wait each hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To murder thee as soon as thou art born—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nay, force thy bud to blow—their tyrant breath<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Anticipating life, to hasten death!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_351" id="page_351">{351}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_CARTWRIGHT" id="WILLIAM_CARTWRIGHT"></a>WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1611-1643<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_330" id="pm_330">330.</a></p> - -<h3>To Chloe</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Who for his sake wished herself younger</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE are two births; the one when light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">First strikes the new awaken’d sense;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The other when two souls unite,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And we must count our life from thence:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When you loved me and I loved you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then both of us were born anew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love then to us new souls did give<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in those souls did plant new powers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since when another life we live,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The breath we breathe is his, not ours:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love makes those young whom age doth chill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whom he finds young keeps young still.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_331" id="pm_331">331.</a></p> - -<h3>Falsehood</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>TILL do the stars impart their light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To those that travel in the night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still time runs on, nor doth the hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or shadow on the dial stand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The streams still glide and constant are:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Only thy mind<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Untrue I find,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Which carelessly<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Neglects to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like stream or shadow, hand or star.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fool that I am! I do recall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My words, and swear thou’rt like them all,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_352" id="page_352">{352}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou seem’st like stars to nourish fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But O how cold is thy desire!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like the hand upon the brass<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thou point’st at me<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In mockery;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">If I come nigh<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Shade-like thou’lt fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as the stream with murmur pass.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_332" id="pm_332">332.</a></p> - -<h3>On the Queen’s Return from the Low Countries</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ALLOW the threshold, crown the posts anew!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The day shall have its due.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twist all our victories into one bright wreath,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On which let honour breathe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then throw it round the temples of our Queen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis she that must preserve those glories green.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When greater tempests than on sea before<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Received her on the shore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When she was shot at ‘for the King’s own good’<br /></span> -<span class="i4">By legions hired to blood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How bravely did she do, how bravely bear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And show’d, though they durst rage, she durst not fear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Courage was cast about her like a dress<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of solemn comeliness:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A gathered mind and an untroubled face<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Did give her dangers grace:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus, arm’d with innocence, secure they move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose highest ‘treason’ is but highest love.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_353" id="page_353">{353}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_333" id="pm_333">333.</a></p> - -<h3>On a Virtuous Young Gentlewoman that died suddenly</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE who to Heaven more Heaven doth annex,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lowest thought was above all our sex,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Accounted nothing death but t’ be reprieved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And died as free from sickness as she lived.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Others are dragg’d away, or must be driven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She only saw her time and stept to Heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where seraphims view all her glories o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As one return’d that had been there before.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For while she did this lower world adorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her body seem’d rather assumed than born;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So rarified, advanced, so pure and whole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That body might have been another’s soul;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And equally a miracle it were<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she could die, or that she could live here.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JAMES_GRAHAM_MARQUIS_OF_MONTROSE" id="JAMES_GRAHAM_MARQUIS_OF_MONTROSE"></a>JAMES GRAHAM, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1612-1650<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_334" id="pm_334">334.</a></p> - -<h3>I’ll never love Thee more</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y dear and only Love, I pray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That little world of thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be govern’d by no other sway<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than purest monarchy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For if confusion have a part<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Which virtuous souls abhor),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hold a synod in thine heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll never love thee more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like Alexander I will reign,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I will reign alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My thoughts did evermore disdain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A rival on my throne.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_354" id="page_354">{354}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">He either fears his fate too much,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or his deserts are small,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dares not put it to the touch,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To gain or lose it all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in the empire of thine heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where I should solely be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If others do pretend a part<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or dare to vie with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if <i>Committees</i> thou erect,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And go on such a score,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll laugh and sing at thy neglect,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And never love thee more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But if thou wilt prove faithful then,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And constant of thy word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll make thee glorious by my pen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And famous by my sword;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll serve thee in such noble ways<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was never heard before;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll crown and deck thee all with bays,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And love thee more and more.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_JORDAN" id="THOMAS_JORDAN"></a>THOMAS JORDAN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1612?-1685<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_335" id="pm_335">335.</a></p> - -<h3>Coronemus nos Rosis antequam marcescant</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ET us drink and be merry, dance, joke, and rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With claret and sherry, theorbo and voice!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The changeable world to our joy is unjust,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">All treasure’s uncertain,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then down with your dust!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In frolics dispose your pounds, shillings, and pence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For we shall be nothing a hundred years hence.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_355" id="page_355">{355}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">We’ll sport and be free with Moll, Betty, and Dolly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have oysters and lobsters to cure melancholy:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fish-dinners will make a man spring like a flea,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Dame Venus, love’s lady,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Was born of the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her and with Bacchus we’ll tickle the sense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For we shall be past it a hundred years hence.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your most beautiful bride who with garlands is crown’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kills with each glance as she treads on the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lightness and brightness doth shine in such splendour<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That none but the stars<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Are thought fit to attend her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though now she be pleasant and sweet to the sense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will be damnable mouldy a hundred years hence.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then why should we turmoil in cares and in fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turn all our tranquill’ty to sighs and to tears?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let’s eat, drink, and play till the worms do corrupt us,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">’Tis certain, <i>Post mortem</i><br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>Nulla voluptas</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For health, wealth and beauty, wit, learning and sense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must all come to nothing a hundred years hence.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RICHARD_CRASHAW" id="RICHARD_CRASHAW"></a>RICHARD CRASHAW</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1613?-1649<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_336" id="pm_336">336.</a></p> - -<h3>Wishes to His Supposed Mistress</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HOE’er she be—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That not impossible She<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shall command my heart and me:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where’er she lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lock’d up from mortal eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In shady leaves of destiny:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_356" id="page_356">{356}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Till that ripe birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of studied Fate stand forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And teach her fair steps to our earth:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till that divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Idea take a shrine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of crystal flesh, through which to shine:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Meet you her, my Wishes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bespeak her to my blisses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And be ye call’d my absent kisses.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wish her Beauty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That owes not all its duty<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To gaudy tire, or glist’ring shoe-tie:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Something more than<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Taffeta or tissue can,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or rampant feather, or rich fan.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A Face, that’s best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By its own beauty drest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And can alone commend the rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A Face, made up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of no other shop<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than what Nature’s white hand sets ope.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A Cheek, where youth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blood, with pen of truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Write what the reader sweetly ru’th.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A Cheek, where grows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than a morning rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which to no box his being owes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_357" id="page_357">{357}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Lips, where all day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lover’s kiss may play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet carry nothing thence away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Looks, that oppress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their richest tires, but dress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And clothe their simplest nakedness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Eyes, that displace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The neighbour diamond, and outface<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sunshine by their own sweet grace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tresses, that wear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jewels but to declare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How much themselves more precious are:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whose native ray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can tame the wanton day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of gems that in their bright shades play.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each ruby there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or pearl that dare appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be its own blush, be its own tear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A well-tamed Heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For whose more noble smart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love may be long choosing a dart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Eyes, that bestow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full quivers on love’s bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet pay less arrows than they owe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Smiles, that can warm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blood, yet teach a charm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That chastity shall take no harm.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_358" id="page_358">{358}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Blushes, that bin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The burnish of no sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor flames of aught too hot within.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Joys, that confess<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Virtue their mistress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And have no other head to dress.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fears, fond and slight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the coy bride’s, when night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First does the longing lover right.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Days, that need borrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No part of their good-morrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From a fore-spent night of sorrow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Days, that in spite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of darkness, by the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a clear mind, are day all night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nights, sweet as they,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made short by lovers’ play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet long by th’ absence of the day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life, that dares send<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A challenge to his end,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when it comes, say, ‘Welcome, friend!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sydneian showers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sweet discourse, whose powers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can crown old Winter’s head with flowers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soft silken hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Open suns, shady bowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Bove all, nothing within that lowers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_359" id="page_359">{359}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Whate’er delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can make Day’s forehead bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or give down to the wings of Night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wish her store<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of worth may leave her poor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of wishes; and I wish—no more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, if Time knows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Her, whose radiant brows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weave them a garland of my vows;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her, whose just bays<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My future hopes can raise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A trophy to her present praise;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her, that dares be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What these lines wish to see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I seek no further, it is She.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis She, and here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! I unclothe and clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Wishes’ cloudy character.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">May she enjoy it<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose merit dare apply it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But modesty dares still deny it!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such worth as this is<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall fix my flying Wishes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And determine them to kisses.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let her full glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My fancies, fly before ye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be ye my fictions—but her story.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_360" id="page_360">{360}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_337" id="pm_337">337.</a></p> - -<h3>The Weeper</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">H</span>AIL, sister springs,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Parents of silver-footed rills!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ever bubbling things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thawing crystal, snowy hills!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Still spending, never spent; I mean<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy fair eyes, sweet Magdalene.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Heavens thy fair eyes be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heavens of ever-falling stars;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis seed-time still with thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stars thou sow’st whose harvest dares<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Promise the earth to countershine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whatever makes Heaven’s forehead fine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Every morn from hence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A brisk cherub something sips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose soft influence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adds sweetness to his sweetest lips;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then to his music: and his song<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tastes of this breakfast all day long.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">When some new bright guest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Takes up among the stars a room,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Heaven will make a feast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Angels with their bottles come,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And draw from these full eyes of thine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Their Master’s water, their own wine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">The dew no more will weep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The primrose’s pale cheek to deck;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dew no more will sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nuzzled in the lily’s neck:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Much rather would it tremble here,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And leave them both to be thy tear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_361" id="page_361">{361}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i2">When sorrow would be seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In her brightest majesty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—For she is a Queen—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then is she drest by none but thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then and only then she wears<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her richest pearls—I mean thy tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Not in the evening’s eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When they red with weeping are<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the Sun that dies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sits Sorrow with a face so fair.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nowhere but here did ever meet<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Does the night arise?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still thy tears do fall and fall.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Does night lose her eyes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still the fountain weeps for all.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Let day and night do what they will,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou hast thy task, thou weepest still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Not <i>So long she lived</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will thy tomb report of thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But <i>So long she grieved</i>:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus must we date thy memory.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Others by days, by months, by years,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Measure their ages, thou by tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Say, ye bright brothers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fugitive sons of those fair eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your fruitful mothers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What make you here? What hopes can ’tice<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You to be born? What cause can borrow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You from those nests of noble sorrow?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_362" id="page_362">{362}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i2">Whither away so fast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For sure the sordid earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your sweetness cannot taste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor does the dust deserve your birth.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet, whither haste you then? O say,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Why you trip so fast away?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>We go not to seek</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>The darlings of Aurora’s bed,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The rose’s modest cheek,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Nor the violet’s humble head.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>No such thing: we go to meet</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>A worthier object—our Lord’s feet.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_338" id="pm_338">338.</a></p> - -<h3>A Hymn to the Name and Honour of the Admirable Saint Teresa</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE, thou art absolute, sole Lord<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of life and death. To prove the word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll now appeal to none of all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those thy old soldiers, great and tall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ripe men of martyrdom, that could reach down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With strong arms their triumphant crown:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such as could with lusty breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speak loud, unto the face of death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their great Lord’s glorious name; to none<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those whose spacious bosoms spread a throne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For love at large to fill. Spare blood and sweat:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll see Him take a private seat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And make His mansion in the mild<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And milky soul of a soft child.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_363" id="page_363">{363}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Scarce has she learnt to lisp a name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of martyr, yet she thinks it shame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life should so long play with that breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which spent can buy so brave a death.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She never undertook to know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What death with love should have to do.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor has she e’er yet understood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why, to show love, she should shed blood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, though she cannot tell you why,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She can love, and she can die.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce has she blood enough to make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A guilty sword blush for her sake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet has a heart dares hope to prove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How much less strong is death than love....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since ’tis not to be had at home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She’ll travel for a martyrdom.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No home for her, confesses she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But where she may a martyr be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She’ll to the Moors, and trade with them<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For this unvalued diadem;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She offers them her dearest breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Christ’s name in ’t, in change for death:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She’ll bargain with them, and will give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Them God, and teach them how to live<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Him; or, if they this deny,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Him she’ll teach them how to die.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So shall she leave amongst them sown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her Lord’s blood, or at least her own.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Farewell then, all the world, adieu!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teresa is no more for you.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Farewell all pleasures, sports, and joys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never till now esteemèd toys!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_364" id="page_364">{364}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Farewell whatever dear may be—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mother’s arms, or father’s knee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Farewell house, and farewell home!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She’s for the Moors and Martyrdom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet, not so fast; lo! thy fair spouse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom thou seek’st with so swift vows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calls thee back, and bids thee come<br /></span> -<span class="i0">T’ embrace a milder martyrdom....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O how oft shalt thou complain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a sweet and subtle pain!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of intolerable joys!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a death, in which who dies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loves his death, and dies again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And would for ever so be slain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lives and dies, and knows not why<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To live, but that he still may die!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How kindly will thy gentle heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss the sweetly-killing dart!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And close in his embraces keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those delicious wounds, that weep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Balsam, to heal themselves with thus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When these thy deaths, so numerous,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall all at once die into one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And melt thy soul’s sweet mansion;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a soft lump of incense, hasted<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By too hot a fire, and wasted<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into perfuming clouds, so fast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shalt thou exhale to heaven at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a resolving sigh, and then,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O what? Ask not the tongues of men.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Angels cannot tell; suffice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thyself shalt feel thine own full joys,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_365" id="page_365">{365}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hold them fast for ever there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So soon as thou shalt first appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon of maiden stars, thy white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mistress, attended by such bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Souls as thy shining self, shall come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in her first ranks make thee room;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, ’mongst her snowy family,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Immortal welcomes wait for thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O what delight, when she shall stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And teach thy lips heaven, with her hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On which thou now may’st to thy wishes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heap up thy consecrated kisses!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What joy shall seize thy soul, when she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bending her blessèd eyes on thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those second smiles of heaven, shall dart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her mild rays through thy melting heart!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Angels, thy old friends, there shall greet thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glad at their own home now to meet thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All thy good works which went before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And waited for thee at the door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall own thee there; and all in one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weave a constellation<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of crowns, with which the King, thy spouse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall build up thy triumphant brows.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All thy old woes shall now smile on thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thy pains sit bright upon thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All thy sorrows here shall shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thy sufferings be divine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tears shall take comfort, and turn gems,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wrongs repent to diadems.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even thy deaths shall live, and new<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dress the soul which late they slew.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_366" id="page_366">{366}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy wounds shall blush to such bright scars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As keep account of the Lamb’s wars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Those rare works, where thou shalt leave writ<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s noble history, with wit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Taught thee by none but Him, while here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They feed our souls, shall clothe thine there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each heavenly word by whose hid flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our hard hearts shall strike fire, the same<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall flourish on thy brows, and be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both fire to us and flame to thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose light shall live bright in thy face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By glory, in our hearts by grace.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou shalt look round about, and see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thousands of crown’d souls throng to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Themselves thy crown, sons of thy vows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The virgin-births with which thy spouse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made fruitful thy fair soul; go now,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with them all about thee bow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Him; put on, He’ll say, put on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My rosy Love, that thy rich zone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sparkling with the sacred flames<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thousand souls, whose happy names<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaven keeps upon thy score: thy bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life brought them first to kiss the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That kindled them to stars; and so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou with the Lamb, thy Lord, shalt go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, wheresoever He sets His white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Steps, walk with Him those ways of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which who in death would live to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must learn in life to die like thee.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_367" id="page_367">{367}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_339" id="pm_339">339.</a></p> - -<h3>Upon the Book and Picture of the Seraphical Saint Teresa</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> THOU undaunted daughter of desires!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By all thy dower of lights and fires;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By all the eagle in thee, all the dove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By all thy lives and deaths of love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By thy large draughts of intellectual day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by thy thirsts of love more large than they;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By all thy brim-fill’d bowls of fierce desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By thy last morning’s draught of liquid fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the full kingdom of that final kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That seized thy parting soul, and seal’d thee His;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By all the Heav’n thou hast in Him<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Fair sister of the seraphim!);<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By all of Him we have in thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leave nothing of myself in me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me so read thy life, that I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto all life of mine may die!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_340" id="pm_340">340.</a></p> - -<h3>Verses from the Shepherds’ Hymn</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>E saw Thee in Thy balmy nest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Young dawn of our eternal day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We saw Thine eyes break from the East,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And chase the trembling shades away:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We saw Thee, and we blest the sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We saw Thee by Thine own sweet light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Poor world, said I, what wilt thou do<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To entertain this starry stranger?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is this the best thou canst bestow—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A cold and not too cleanly manger?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_368" id="page_368">{368}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Contend, the powers of heaven and earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To fit a bed for this huge birth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Proud world, said I, cease your contest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let the mighty babe alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The phœnix builds the phœnix’ nest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love’s architecture is His own.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The babe, whose birth embraves this morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made His own bed ere He was born.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw the curl’d drops, soft and slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come hovering o’er the place’s head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Off’ring their whitest sheets of snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To furnish the fair infant’s bed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forbear, said I, be not too bold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your fleece is white, but ’tis too cold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw th’ obsequious seraphim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their rosy fleece of fire bestow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For well they now can spare their wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since Heaven itself lies here below.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well done, said I; but are you sure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your down, so warm, will pass for pure?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No, no, your King’s not yet to seek<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where to repose His royal head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, see how soon His new-bloom’d cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Twixt mother’s breasts is gone to bed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet choice, said we; no way but so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not to lie cold, yet sleep in snow<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She sings Thy tears asleep, and dips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her kisses in Thy weeping eye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She spreads the red leaves of Thy lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That in their buds yet blushing lie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_369" id="page_369">{369}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">She ’gainst those mother diamonds tries<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The points of her young eagle’s eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Welcome—tho’ not to those gay flies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gilded i’ th’ beams of earthly kings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slippery souls in smiling eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But to poor shepherds, homespun things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose wealth’s their flocks, whose wit’s to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well read in their simplicity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, when young April’s husband show’rs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall bless the fruitful Maia’s bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll bring the first-born of her flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To kiss Thy feet and crown Thy head.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Thee, dread Lamb! whose love must keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shepherds while they feed their sheep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To Thee, meek Majesty, soft King<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of simple graces and sweet loves!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each of us his lamb will bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each his pair of silver doves!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At last, in fire of Thy fair eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ourselves become our own best sacrifice!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_341" id="pm_341">341.</a></p> - -<h3>Christ Crucified</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HY restless feet now cannot go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For us and our eternal good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they were ever wont. What though<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They swim, alas! in their own flood?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy hands to give Thou canst not lift,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet will Thy hand still giving be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It gives, but O, itself’s the gift!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It gives tho’ bound, tho’ bound ’tis free!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_370" id="page_370">{370}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_342" id="pm_342">342.</a></p> - -<h3>An Epitaph upon Husband and Wife</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Who died and were buried together.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O these whom death again did wed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This grave’s the second marriage-bed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For though the hand of Fate could force<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twixt soul and body a divorce,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It could not sever man and wife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because they both lived but one life.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peace, good reader, do not weep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peace, the lovers are asleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They, sweet turtles, folded lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the last knot that love could tie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let them sleep, let them sleep on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the stormy night be gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the eternal morrow dawn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the curtains will be drawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they wake into a light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose day shall never die in night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RICHARD_LOVELACE" id="RICHARD_LOVELACE"></a>RICHARD LOVELACE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1618-1658<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_343" id="pm_343">343.</a></p> - -<h3>To Lucasta, going to the Wars</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>ELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That from the nunnery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To war and arms I fly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">True, a new mistress now I chase,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The first foe in the field;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with a stronger faith embrace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sword, a horse, a shield.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_371" id="page_371">{371}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Yet this inconstancy is such<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As thou too shalt adore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I could not love thee, Dear, so much,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loved I not Honour more.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_344" id="pm_344">344.</a></p> - -<h3>To Lucasta, going beyond the Seas</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">I</span>F to be absent were to be<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Away from thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Or that when I am gone<br /></span> -<span class="i6">You or I were alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then, my Lucasta, might I crave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pity from blustering wind or swallowing wave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">But I’ll not sigh one blast or gale<br /></span> -<span class="i8">To swell my sail,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Or pay a tear to ’suage<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The foaming blue god’s rage;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For whether he will let me pass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or no, I’m still as happy as I was.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Though seas and land betwixt us both,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Our faith and troth,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Like separated souls,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">All time and space controls:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Above the highest sphere we meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unseen, unknown; and greet as Angels greet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">So then we do anticipate<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Our after-fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And are alive i’ the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">If thus our lips and eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Can speak like spirits unconfined<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_372" id="page_372">{372}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_345" id="pm_345">345.</a></p> - -<h3>Gratiana Dancing</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE beat the happy pavèment—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By such a star made firmament,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which now no more the roof envìes!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But swells up high, with Atlas even,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bearing the brighter nobler heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, in her, all the deities.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each step trod out a Lover’s thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the ambitious hopes he brought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Chain’d to her brave feet with such arts,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Such sweet command and gentle awe,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As, when she ceased, we sighing saw<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The floor lay paved with broken hearts.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_346" id="pm_346">346.</a></p> - -<h3>To Amarantha, that she would dishevel her Hair</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>MARANTHA sweet and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, braid no more that shining hair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As my curious hand or eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hovering round thee, let it fly!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let it fly as unconfined<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As its calm ravisher the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who hath left his darling, th’ East,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wanton o’er that spicy nest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Every tress must be confest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But neatly tangled at the best;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a clew of golden thread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most excellently ravellèd.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_373" id="page_373">{373}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Do not then wind up that light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In ribbands, and o’ercloud in night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the Sun in’s early ray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But shake your head, and scatter day!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_347" id="pm_347">347.</a></p> - -<h3>The Grasshopper</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> THOU that swing’st upon the waving hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of some well-fillèd oaten beard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drunk every night with a delicious tear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dropt thee from heaven, where thou wert rear’d!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The joys of earth and air are thine entire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when thy poppy works, thou dost retire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To thy carved acorn-bed to lie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Up with the day, the Sun thou welcom’st then,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sport’st in the gilt plaits of his beams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all these merry days mak’st merry men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thyself, and melancholy streams.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_348" id="pm_348">348.</a></p> - -<h3>To Althea, from Prison</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN Love with unconfinèd wings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hovers within my gates,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my divine Althea brings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To whisper at the grates;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I lie tangled in her hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fetter’d to her eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The birds that wanton in the air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Know no such liberty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When flowing cups run swiftly round<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With no allaying Thames,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_374" id="page_374">{374}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our careless heads with roses bound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our hearts with loyal flames;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thirsty grief in wine we steep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When healths and draughts go free—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fishes that tipple in the deep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Know no such liberty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When, like committed linnets, I<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With shriller throat shall sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweetness, mercy, majesty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And glories of my King;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I shall voice aloud how good<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He is, how great should be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enlargèd winds, that curl the flood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Know no such liberty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stone walls do not a prison make,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor iron bars a cage;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Minds innocent and quiet take<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That for an hermitage;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I have freedom in my love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in my soul am free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Angels alone, that soar above,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Enjoy such liberty.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ABRAHAM_COWLEY" id="ABRAHAM_COWLEY"></a>ABRAHAM COWLEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1618-1667<br /> -</p> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Anacreontics</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_349" id="pm_349">349.</a></p> - -<h3>1. Drinking</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE thirsty earth soaks up the rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drinks and gapes for drink again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The plants suck in the earth, and are<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With constant drinking fresh and fair;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_375" id="page_375">{375}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sea itself (which one would think<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should have but little need of drink)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drinks twice ten thousand rivers up,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fill’d that they o’erflow the cup.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The busy Sun (and one would guess<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By ’s drunken fiery face no less)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drinks up the sea, and when he’s done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They drink and dance by their own light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They drink and revel all the night:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing in Nature’s sober found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But an eternal health goes round.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fill up the bowl, then, fill it high.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fill all the glasses there—for why<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should every creature drink but I?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why, man of morals, tell me why?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_350" id="pm_350">350.</a></p> - -<h3>2. The Epicure</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>NDERNEATH this myrtle shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On flowery beds supinely laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With odorous oils my head o’erflowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And around it roses growing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What should I do but drink away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heat and troubles of the day?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this more than kingly state<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love himself on me shall wait.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fill to me, Love! nay, fill it up!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mingled cast into the cup<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wit and mirth and noble fires,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vigorous health and gay desires.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wheel of life no less will stay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a smooth than rugged way:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_376" id="page_376">{376}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since it equally doth flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the motion pleasant be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why do we precious ointments shower?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nobler wines why do we pour?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauteous flowers why do we spread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the monuments of the dead?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing they but dust can show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or bones that hasten to be so.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crown me with roses while I live,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now your wines and ointments give:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After death I nothing crave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me alive my pleasures have:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All are Stoics in the grave.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_351" id="pm_351">351.</a></p> - -<h3>3. The Swallow</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OOLISH prater, what dost thou<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So early at my window do?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cruel bird, thou’st ta’en away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dream out of my arms to-day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dream that ne’er must equall’d be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By all that waking eyes may see.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou this damage to repair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing half so sweet and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing half so good, canst bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tho’ men say thou bring’st the Spring.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_352" id="pm_352">352.</a></p> - -<h3>On the Death of Mr. William Hervey</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T was a dismal and a fearful night:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce could the Morn drive on th’ unwilling Light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Sleep, Death’s image, left my troubled breast<br /></span> -<span class="i6">By something liker Death possest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_377" id="page_377">{377}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">My eyes with tears did uncommanded flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And on my soul hung the dull weight<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of some intolerable fate.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What bell was that? Ah me! too much I know!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My sweet companion and my gentle peer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why hast thou left me thus unkindly here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy end for ever and my life to moan?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O, thou hast left me all alone!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy soul and body, when death’s agony<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Besieged around thy noble heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Did not with more reluctance part<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than I, my dearest Friend, do part from thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My dearest Friend, would I had died for thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life and this world henceforth will tedious be:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor shall I know hereafter what to do<br /></span> -<span class="i6">If once my griefs prove tedious too.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silent and sad I walk about all day,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As sullen ghosts stalk speechless by<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Where their hid treasures lie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! my treasure’s gone; why do I stay?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Say, for you saw us, ye immortal lights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How oft unwearied have we spent the nights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the Ledæan stars, so famed for love,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Wonder’d at us from above!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We spent them not in toys, in lusts, or wine;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But search of deep Philosophy,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Wit, Eloquence, and Poetry—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arts which I loved, for they, my Friend, were thine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have ye not seen us walking every day?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_378" id="page_378">{378}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was there a tree about which did not know<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The love betwixt us two?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Henceforth, ye gentle trees, for ever fade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or your sad branches thicker join<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And into darksome shades combine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark as the grave wherein my Friend is laid!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Large was his soul: as large a soul as e’er<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Submitted to inform a body here;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High as the place ’twas shortly in Heaven to have,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But low and humble as his grave.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So high that all the virtues there did come,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As to their chiefest seat<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Conspicuous and great;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So low, that for me too it made a room.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if for him Knowledge had rather sought;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor did more learning ever crowded lie<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In such a short mortality.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whene’er the skilful youth discoursed or writ,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Still did the notions throng<br /></span> -<span class="i6">About his eloquent tongue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor could his ink flow faster than his wit.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His mirth was the pure spirits of various wit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet never did his God or friends forget;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when deep talk and wisdom came in view,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Retired, and gave to them their due.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the rich help of books he always took,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Though his own searching mind before<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Was so with notions written o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if wise Nature had made that her book.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_379" id="page_379">{379}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">With as much zeal, devotion, piety,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He always lived, as other saints do die.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still with his soul severe account he kept,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Weeping all debts out ere he slept.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then down in peace and innocence he lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Like the Sun’s laborious light,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Which still in water sets at night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unsullied with his journey of the day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But happy Thou, ta’en from this frantic age,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where ignorance and hypocrisy does rage!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A fitter time for Heaven no soul e’er chose—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The place now only free from those.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There ’mong the blest thou dost for ever shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And wheresoe’er thou casts thy view<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Upon that white and radiant crew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See’st not a soul clothed with more light than thine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_353" id="pm_353">353.</a></p> - -<h3>The Wish</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ELL then! I now do plainly see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This busy world and I shall ne’er agree.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The very honey of all earthly joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does of all meats the soonest cloy;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And they, methinks, deserve my pity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who for it can endure the stings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The crowd and buzz and murmurings,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of this great hive, the city.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, yet, ere I descend to the grave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May I a small house and large garden have;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a few friends, and many books, both true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both wise, and both delightful too!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_380" id="page_380">{380}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">And since love ne’er will from me flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Mistress moderately fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And good as guardian angels are,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Only beloved and loving me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O fountains! when in you shall I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Myself eased of unpeaceful thoughts espy?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O fields! O woods! when, when shall I be made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The happy tenant of your shade?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Here’s the spring-head of Pleasure’s flood:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here’s wealthy Nature’s treasury,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where all the riches lie that she<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Has coin’d and stamp’d for good.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pride and ambition here<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only in far-fetch’d metaphors appear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here nought but winds can hurtful murmurs scatter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nought but Echo flatter.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The gods, when they descended, hither<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From heaven did always choose their way:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And therefore we may boldly say<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That ’tis the way too thither.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How happy here should I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one dear She live, and embracing die!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She who is all the world, and can exclude<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In deserts solitude.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I should have then this only fear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest men, when they my pleasures see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should hither throng to live like me,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And so make a city here.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_381" id="page_381">{381}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_BROME" id="ALEXANDER_BROME"></a>ALEXANDER BROME</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1620-1666<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_354" id="pm_354">354.</a></p> - -<h3>The Resolve</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>ELL me not of a face that’s fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor lip and cheek that’s red,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor of the tresses of her hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor curls in order laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor of a rare seraphic voice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That like an angel sings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though if I were to take my choice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I would have all these things:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But if that thou wilt have me love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And it must be a she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The only argument can move<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is that she will love me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The glories of your ladies be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But metaphors of things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And but resemble what we see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each common object brings.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roses out-red their lips and cheeks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lilies their whiteness stain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What fool is he that shadows seeks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And may the substance gain?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then if thou’lt have me love a lass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let it be one that’s kind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Else I’m a servant to the glass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That’s with Canary lined.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_382" id="page_382">{382}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ANDREW_MARVELL" id="ANDREW_MARVELL"></a>ANDREW MARVELL</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1621-1678<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_355" id="pm_355">355.</a></p> - -<h3>An Horatian Ode</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>upon Cromwell’s Return from Ireland</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE forward youth that would appear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must now forsake his Muses dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor in the shadows sing<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His numbers languishing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis time to leave the books in dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And oil the unused armour’s rust,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Removing from the wall<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The corslet of the hall.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So restless Cromwell could not cease<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the inglorious arts of peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But through adventurous war<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Urgèd his active star:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And like the three-fork’d lightning, first<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breaking the clouds where it was nurst,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Did thorough his own side<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His fiery way divide:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For ’tis all one to courage high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The emulous, or enemy;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And with such, to enclose<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is more than to oppose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then burning through the air he went<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And palaces and temples rent;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And Cæsar’s head at last<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Did through his laurels blast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_383" id="page_383">{383}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">’Tis madness to resist or blame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The face of angry Heaven’s flame;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And if we would speak true,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Much to the man is due,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who, from his private gardens, where<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He lived reservèd and austere<br /></span> -<span class="i4">(As if his highest plot<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To plant the bergamot),<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Could by industrious valour climb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To ruin the great work of time,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And cast the Kingdoms old<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Into another mould;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though Justice against Fate complain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And plead the ancient rights in vain—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But those do hold or break<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As men are strong or weak—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nature, that hateth emptiness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Allows of penetration less,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And therefore must make room<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where greater spirits come.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What field of all the civil war<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where his were not the deepest scar?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And Hampton shows what part<br /></span> -<span class="i4">He had of wiser art;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where, twining subtle fears with hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He wove a net of such a scope<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That Charles himself might chase<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To Caresbrooke’s narrow case;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_384" id="page_384">{384}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thence the Royal actor borne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tragic scaffold might adorn:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">While round the armèd bands<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Did clap their bloody hands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He nothing common did or mean<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon that memorable scene,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But with his keener eye<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The axe’s edge did try;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor call’d the gods, with vulgar spite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To vindicate his helpless right;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But bow’d his comely head<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Down, as upon a bed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This was that memorable hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which first assured the forcèd power:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So when they did design<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The Capitol’s first line,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A Bleeding Head, where they begun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did fright the architects to run;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And yet in that the State<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Foresaw its happy fate!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now the Irish are ashamed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see themselves in one year tamed:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So much one man can do<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That does both act and know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They can affirm his praises best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And have, though overcome, confest<br /></span> -<span class="i4">How good he is, how just<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And fit for highest trust.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_385" id="page_385">{385}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Nor yet grown stiffer with command,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But still in the republic’s hand—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">How fit he is to sway<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That can so well obey!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He to the Commons’ feet presents<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Kingdom for his first year’s rents,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And, what he may, forbears<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His fame, to make it theirs:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And has his sword and spoils ungirt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To lay them at the public’s skirt.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So when the falcon high<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Falls heavy from the sky,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She, having kill’d, no more doth search<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But on the next green bough to perch;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where, when he first does lure,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The falconer has her sure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What may not then our Isle presume<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While victory his crest does plume?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What may not others fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">If thus he crowns each year?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As Cæsar he, ere long, to Gaul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Italy an Hannibal,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And to all States not free<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shall climacteric be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Pict no shelter now shall find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within his particolour’d mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But, from this valour, sad<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shrink underneath the plaid;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_386" id="page_386">{386}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happy, if in the tufted brake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The English hunter him mistake,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor lay his hounds in near<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The Caledonian deer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But thou, the war’s and fortune’s son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">March indefatigably on;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And for the last effect,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Still keep the sword erect:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Besides the force it has to fright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spirits of the shady night,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The same arts that did gain<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A power, must it maintain.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_356" id="pm_356">356.</a></p> - -<h3>A Garden</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Written after the Civil Wars</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>EE how the flowers, as at parade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under their colours stand display’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each regiment in order grows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That of the tulip, pink, and rose.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when the vigilant patrol<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of stars walks round about the pole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their leaves, that to the stalks are curl’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seem to their staves the ensigns furl’d.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then in some flower’s belovèd hut<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each bee, as sentinel, is shut,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sleeps so too; but if once stirr’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She runs you through, nor asks the word.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_387" id="page_387">{387}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">O thou, that dear and happy Isle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The garden of the world erewhile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou Paradise of the four seas<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which Heaven planted us to please,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, to exclude the world, did guard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With wat’ry if not flaming sword;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What luckless apple did we taste<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make us mortal and thee waste!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unhappy! shall we never more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sweet militia restore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When gardens only had their towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the garrisons were flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When roses only arms might bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And men did rosy garlands wear?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_357" id="pm_357">357.</a></p> - -<h3>To His Coy Mistress</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>AD we but world enough, and time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This coyness, Lady, were no crime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We would sit down and think which way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To walk and pass our long love’s day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Humber would complain. I would<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love you ten years before the Flood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you should, if you please, refuse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the conversion of the Jews.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My vegetable love should grow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vaster than empires, and more slow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An hundred years should go to praise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_388" id="page_388">{388}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two hundred to adore each breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thirty thousand to the rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An age at least to every part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the last age should show your heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, Lady, you deserve this state,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor would I love at lower rate.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But at my back I always hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time’s winged chariot hurrying near;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yonder all before us lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deserts of vast eternity.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy beauty shall no more be found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My echoing song: then worms shall try<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That long preserved virginity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And your quaint honour turn to dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And into ashes all my lust:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grave’s a fine and private place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But none, I think, do there embrace.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now therefore, while the youthful hue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sits on thy skin like morning dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And while thy willing soul transpires<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At every pore with instant fires,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now let us sport us while we may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now, like amorous birds of prey,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rather at once our time devour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than languish in his slow-chapt power.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us roll all our strength and all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our sweetness up into one ball,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tear our pleasures with rough strife<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thorough the iron gates of life:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus, though we cannot make our sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stand still, yet we will make him run.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>slow-chapt] slow-jawed, slowly devouring.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_389" id="page_389">{389}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_358" id="pm_358">358.</a></p> - -<h3>The Picture of Little T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><span class="letra">S</span>EE with what simplicity<br /></span> -<span class="i4">This nymph begins her golden days!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In the green grass she loves to lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And there with her fair aspect tames<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wilder flowers, and gives them names;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But only with the roses plays,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And them does tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What colour best becomes them, and what smell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Who can foretell for what high cause<br /></span> -<span class="i4">This darling of the gods was born?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Yet this is she whose chaster laws<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wanton Love shall one day fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, under her command severe,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">See his bow broke and ensigns torn.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Happy who can<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Appease this virtuous enemy of man!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">O then let me in time compound<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And parley with those conquering eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ere they have tried their force to wound;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere with their glancing wheels they drive<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In triumph over hearts that strive,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And them that yield but more despise:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Let me be laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I may see the glories from some shade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Meantime, whilst every verdant thing<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Itself does at thy beauty charm,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_390" id="page_390">{390}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i6">Reform the errors of the Spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Make that the tulips may have share<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of sweetness, seeing they are fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And roses of their thorns disarm;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">But most procure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That violets may a longer age endure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">But O, young beauty of the woods,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Gather the flowers, but spare the buds;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lest Flora, angry at thy crime<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To kill her infants in their prime,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Do quickly make th’ example yours;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And ere we see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nip in the blossom all our hopes and thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_359" id="pm_359">359.</a></p> - -<h3>Thoughts in a Garden</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>OW vainly men themselves amaze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To win the palm, the oak, or bays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And their uncessant labours see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crown’d from some single herb or tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose short and narrow-vergèd shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does prudently their toils upbraid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While all the flowers and trees do close<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To weave the garlands of repose!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Innocence thy sister dear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mistaken long, I sought you then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In busy companies of men:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_391" id="page_391">{391}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your sacred plants, if here below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only among the plants will grow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Society is all but rude<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To this delicious solitude.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No white nor red was ever seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So amorous as this lovely green.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fond lovers, cruel as their flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cut in these trees their mistress’ name:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little, alas! they know or heed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How far these beauties hers exceed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair trees! wheres’e’er your barks I wound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No name shall but your own be found.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When we have run our passions’ heat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love hither makes his best retreat:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gods, that mortal beauty chase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still in a tree did end their race;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Apollo hunted Daphne so<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only that she might laurel grow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Pan did after Syrinx speed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not as a nymph, but for a reed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What wondrous life in this I lead!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ripe apples drop about my head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The luscious clusters of the vine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon my mouth do crush their wine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nectarine and curious peach<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into my hands themselves do reach;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stumbling on melons, as I pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Meanwhile the mind from pleasure less<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Withdraws into its happiness;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_392" id="page_392">{392}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mind, that ocean where each kind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does straight its own resemblance find;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet it creates, transcending these,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far other worlds, and other seas;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Annihilating all that’s made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a green thought in a green shade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here at the fountain’s sliding foot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or at some fruit-tree’s mossy root,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Casting the body’s vest aside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul into the boughs does glide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, like a bird, it sits and sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then whets and combs its silver wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, till prepared for longer flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waves in its plumes the various light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such was that happy Garden-state<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While man there walk’d without a mate:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After a place so pure and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What other help could yet be meet!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ’twas beyond a mortal’s share<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wander solitary there:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two paradises ’twere in one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To live in Paradise alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How well the skilful gard’ner drew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of flowers and herbs this dial new!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, from above, the milder sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does through a fragrant zodiac run:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, as it works, th’ industrious bee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Computes its time as well as we.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How could such sweet and wholesome hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be reckon’d, but with herbs and flowers!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_393" id="page_393">{393}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_360" id="pm_360">360.</a></p> - -<h3>Bermudas</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HERE the remote Bermudas ride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the ocean’s bosom unespied,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From a small boat that row’d along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The listening woods received this song:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">‘What should we do but sing His praise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That led us through the watery maze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto an isle so long unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet far kinder than our own?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That lift the deep upon their backs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He lands us on a grassy stage,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Safe from the storms’ and prelates’ rage:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He gave us this eternal Spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which here enamels everything,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sends the fowls to us in care<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On daily visits through the air:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He hangs in shades the orange bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like golden lamps in a green night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And does in the pomegranates close<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jewels more rich than Ormus shows:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He makes the figs our mouths to meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And throws the melons at our feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But apples plants of such a price,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No tree could ever bear them twice.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With cedars chosen by His hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Lebanon He stores the land;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And makes the hollow seas that roar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Proclaim the ambergris on shore.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He cast (of which we rather boast)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Gospel’s pearl upon our coast;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_394" id="page_394">{394}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in these rocks for us did frame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A temple where to sound His name.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, let our voice His praise exalt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till it arrive at Heaven’s vault,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which thence (perhaps) rebounding may<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Echo beyond the Mexique bay!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus sung they in the English boat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A holy and a cheerful note:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the way, to guide their chime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With falling oars they kept the time.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_361" id="pm_361">361.</a></p> - -<h3>An Epitaph</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">E</span>NOUGH; and leave the rest to Fame!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis to commend her, but to name.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Courtship which, living, she declined,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When dead, to offer were unkind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor can the truest wit, or friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without detracting, her commend.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To say—she lived a virgin chaste<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this age loose and all unlaced;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor was, when vice is so allowed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of virtue or ashamed or proud;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That her soul was on Heaven so bent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No minute but it came and went;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, ready her last debt to pay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She summ’d her life up every day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Modest as morn, as mid-day bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gentle as evening, cool as night:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—’Tis true; but all too weakly said.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas more significant, she’s dead.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_395" id="page_395">{395}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_VAUGHAN" id="HENRY_VAUGHAN"></a>HENRY VAUGHAN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1621-1695<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_362" id="pm_362">362.</a></p> - -<h3>The Retreat</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>APPY those early days, when I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shin’d in my Angel-infancy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before I understood this place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Appointed for my second race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or taught my soul to fancy aught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a white celestial thought:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When yet I had not walk’d above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mile or two from my first Love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And looking back—at that short space—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could see a glimpse of His bright face:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When on some gilded cloud, or flow’r,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My gazing soul would dwell an hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in those weaker glories spy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some shadows of eternity:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before I taught my tongue to wound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Conscience with a sinful sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or had the black art to dispense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A several sin to ev’ry sense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But felt through all this fleshly dress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright shoots of everlastingness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">O how I long to travel back,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tread again that ancient track!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I might once more reach that plain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where first I left my glorious train;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From whence th’ enlightned spirit sees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shady City of Palm-trees.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ah! my soul with too much stay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is drunk, and staggers in the way!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_396" id="page_396">{396}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some men a forward motion love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I by backward steps would move;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when this dust falls to the urn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that state I came, return.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_363" id="pm_363">363.</a></p> - -<h3>Peace</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y soul, there is a country<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far beyond the stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where stands a wingèd sentry<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All skilful in the wars:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, above noise and danger,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet Peace sits crown’d with smiles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And One born in a manger<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Commands the beauteous files.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is thy gracious Friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And—O my soul, awake!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did in pure love descend<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To die here for thy sake.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou canst get but thither,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There grows the flower of Peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Rose that cannot wither,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy fortress, and thy ease.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leave then thy foolish ranges;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For none can thee secure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But One who never changes—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy God, thy life, thy cure.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_364" id="pm_364">364.</a></p> - -<h3>The Timber</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>URE thou didst flourish once! and many springs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pass’d o’er thy head; many light hearts and wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which now are dead, lodg’d in thy living bowers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_397" id="page_397">{397}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">And still a new succession sings and flies;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Towards the old and still enduring skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While the low violet thrives at their root.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But thou beneath the sad and heavy line<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of death, doth waste all senseless, cold, and dark;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where not so much as dreams of light may shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor any thought of greenness, leaf, or bark.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet—as if some deep hate and dissent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bred in thy growth betwixt high winds and thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were still alive—thou dost great storms resent<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before they come, and know’st how near they be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Else all at rest thou liest, and the fierce breath<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of tempests can no more disturb thy ease;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But this thy strange resentment after death<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Means only those who broke—in life—thy peace.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_365" id="pm_365">365.</a></p> - -<h3>Friends Departed</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HEY are all gone into the world of light!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I alone sit ling’ring here;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their very memory is fair and bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And my sad thoughts doth clear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like stars upon some gloomy grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest<br /></span> -<span class="i6">After the sun’s remove.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_398" id="page_398">{398}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">I see them walking in an air of glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whose light doth trample on my days:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My days, which are at best but dull and hoary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Mere glimmering and decays.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O holy Hope! and high Humility,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">High as the heavens above!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These are your walks, and you have show’d them me,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To kindle my cold love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the Just,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shining nowhere, but in the dark;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Could man outlook that mark!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He that hath found some fledg’d bird’s nest may know,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At first sight, if the bird be flown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But what fair well or grove he sings in now,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That is to him unknown.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet as Angels in some brighter dreams<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Call to the soul, when man doth sleep:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And into glory peep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If a star were confin’d into a tomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her captive flames must needs burn there;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when the hand that lock’d her up gives room,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">She’ll shine through all the sphere.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Father of eternal life, and all<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Created glories under Thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Into true liberty.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_399" id="page_399">{399}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My perspective still as they pass:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or else remove me hence unto that hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Where I shall need no glass.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_BUNYAN" id="JOHN_BUNYAN"></a>JOHN BUNYAN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1628-1688<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_366" id="pm_366">366.</a></p> - -<h3>The Shepherd Boy sings in the Valley of Humiliation</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>E that is down needs fear no fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He that is low, no pride;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He that is humble ever shall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have God to be his guide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I am content with what I have,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Little be it or much:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, Lord, contentment still I crave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Because Thou savest such.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fullness to such a burden is<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That go on pilgrimage:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here little, and hereafter bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is best from age to age.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_400" id="page_400">{400}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BALLADS_AND_SONGS_BY_UNKNOWN_AUTHORS" id="BALLADS_AND_SONGS_BY_UNKNOWN_AUTHORS"></a>BALLADS AND SONGS BY UNKNOWN AUTHORS</h2> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_367" id="pm_367">367.</a></p> - -<h3>Thomas the Rhymer</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>RUE Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A ferlie he spied wi’ his e’e;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there he saw a ladye bright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her skirt was o’ the grass-green silk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her mantle o’ the velvet fyne;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At ilka tett o’ her horse’s mane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hung fifty siller bells and nine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">True Thomas he pu’d aff his cap,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And louted low down on his knee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Hail to thee, Mary, Queen of Heaven!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For thy peer on earth could never be.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O no, O no, Thomas,’ she said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘That name does not belang to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’m but the Queen o’ fair Elfland,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That am hither come to visit thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Harp and carp, Thomas,’ she said;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Harp and carp along wi’ me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if ye dare to kiss my lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sure of your bodie I will be.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>ferlie] marvel. tett] tuft, lock. harp and carp] play and recite -(as a minstrel).</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_401" id="page_401">{401}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘B</span>ETIDE me weal, betide me woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That weird shall never daunten me.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Syne he has kiss’d her rosy lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All underneath the Eildon Tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Now ye maun go wi’ me,’ she said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘True Thomas, ye maun go wi’ me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ye maun serve me seven years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thro’ weal or woe as may chance to be.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She’s mounted on her milk-white steed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She’s ta’en true Thomas up behind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And aye, whene’er her bridle rang,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The steed gaed swifter than the wind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O they rade on, and farther on,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The steed gaed swifter than the wind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until they reach’d a desert wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And living land was left behind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Light down, light down now, true Thomas,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lean your head upon my knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Abide ye there a little space,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I will show you ferlies three.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O see ye not yon narrow road,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So thick beset wi’ thorns and briers?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is the Path of Righteousness,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Though after it but few inquires.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And see ye not yon braid, braid road,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That lies across the lily leven?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is the Path of Wickedness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though some call it the Road to Heaven.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>leven]? lawn.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_402" id="page_402">{402}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘A</span>ND see ye not yon bonny road<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That winds about the fernie brae?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That is the Road to fair Elfland,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where thou and I this night maun gae.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘But, Thomas, ye sall haud your tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whatever ye may hear or see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For speak ye word in Elfyn-land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ye’ll ne’er win back to your ain countrie.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O they rade on, and farther on,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And they waded rivers abune the knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they saw neither sun nor moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But they heard the roaring of the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was mirk, mirk night, there was nae starlight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They waded thro’ red blude to the knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a’ the blude that’s shed on the earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rins through the springs o’ that countrie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Syne they came to a garden green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she pu’d an apple frae a tree:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Take this for thy wages, true Thomas;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It will give thee the tongue that can never lee.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘My tongue is my ain,’ true Thomas he said;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘A gudely gift ye wad gie to me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I neither dought to buy or sell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At fair or tryst where I might be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I dought neither speak to prince or peer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor ask of grace from fair ladye!’—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Now haud thy peace, Thomas,’ she said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘For as I say, so must it be.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>dought] could.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_403" id="page_403">{403}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>E has gotten a coat of the even cloth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a pair o’ shoon of the velvet green;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And till seven years were gane and past,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">True Thomas on earth was never seen.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_368" id="pm_368">368.</a></p> - -<h3>Sir Patrick Spens</h3> - -<h4>I. <i>The Sailing</i></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE king sits in Dunfermline town<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drinking the blude-red wine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O whare will I get a skeely skipper<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sail this new ship o’ mine?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O up and spak an eldern knight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sat at the king’s right knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That ever sail’d the sea.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our king has written a braid letter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And seal’d it with his hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was walking on the strand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘To Noroway, to Noroway,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To Noroway o’er the faem;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The king’s daughter o’ Noroway,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis thou must bring her hame.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The first word that Sir Patrick read<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So loud, loud laugh’d he;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The neist word that Sir Patrick read<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tear blinded his e’e.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>368.</i> skeely] skilful.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_404" id="page_404">{404}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘O</span> WHA is this has done this deed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tauld the king o’ me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To send us out, at this time o’ year,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sail upon the sea?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our ship must sail the faem;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The king’s daughter o’ Noroway,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis we must fetch her hame.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ a’ the speed they may;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They hae landed in Noroway<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon a Wodensday.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II. <i>The Return</i></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘M</span>AK ready, mak ready, my merry men a’;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our gude ship sails the morn.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Now ever alack, my master dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I fear a deadly storm.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I saw the new moon late yestreen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ the auld moon in her arm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if we gang to sea, master,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I fear we’ll come to harm.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They hadna sail’d a league, a league,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A league but barely three,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gurly grew the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The ankers brak, and the topmast lap,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It was sic a deadly storm:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the waves cam owre the broken ship<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till a’ her sides were torn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>lift] sky. lap] sprang.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_405" id="page_405">{405}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘G</span>O fetch a web o’ the silken claith,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Another o’ the twine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wap them into our ship’s side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let nae the sea come in.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They fetch’d a web o’ the silken claith,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Another o’ the twine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they wapp’d them round that gude ship’s side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But still the sea came in.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To wet their cork-heel’d shoon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lang or a’ the play was play’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They wat their hats aboon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And mony was the feather bed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That flatter’d on the faem;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And mony was the gude lord’s son<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That never mair cam hame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O lang, lang may the ladies sit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ their fans into their hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before they see Sir Patrick Spens<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come sailing to the strand!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And lang, lang may the maidens sit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ their gowd kames in their hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A-waiting for their ain dear loves!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For them they’ll see nae mair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis fifty fathoms deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>flatter’d] tossed afloat. kames] combs.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_406" id="page_406">{406}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_369" id="pm_369">369.</a></p> - -<h3>The Lass of Lochroyan</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘O</span> WHA will shoe my bonny foot?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wha will glove my hand?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wha will bind my middle jimp<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ a lang, lang linen band?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O wha will kame my yellow hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a haw bayberry kame?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wha will be my babe’s father<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till Gregory come hame?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Thy father, he will shoe thy foot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy brother will glove thy hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy mither will bind thy middle jimp<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ a lang, lang linen band.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Thy sister will kame thy yellow hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Wi’ a haw bayberry kame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Almighty will be thy babe’s father<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till Gregory come hame.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And wha will build a bonny ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And set it on the sea?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I will go to seek my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">My ain love Gregory.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Up then spak her father dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A wafu’ man was he;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘And I will build a bonny ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And set her on the sea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>jimp] trim. kame] comb. haw bayberry]? a corruption for ‘braw -ivory’: or bayberry may = laurel-wood.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_407" id="page_407">{407}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘A</span>ND I will build a bonny ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And set her on the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ye sal gae and seek your love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your ain love Gregory.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then he’s gart build a bonny ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And set it on the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wi’ four-and-twenty mariners,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To bear her company.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O he’s gart build a bonny ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sail on the salt sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mast was o’ the beaten gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sails o’ cramoisie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sides were o’ the gude stout aik,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The deck o’ mountain pine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The anchor o’ the silver shene,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ropes o’ silken twine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She hadna sail’d but twenty leagues,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But twenty leagues and three,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When she met wi’ a rank reiver,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a’ his companie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Now are ye Queen of Heaven hie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come to pardon a’ our sin?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or are ye Mary Magdalane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was born at Bethlam?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I’m no the Queen of Heaven hie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come to pardon ye your sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor am I Mary Magdalane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was born in Bethlam.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>cramoisie] crimson. reiver] robber.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_408" id="page_408">{408}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘B</span>UT I’m the lass of Lochroyan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That’s sailing on the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see if I can find my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My ain love Gregory.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O see na ye yon bonny bower?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It’s a’ covered owre wi’ tin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thou hast sail’d it round about,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lord Gregory is within.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when she saw the stately tower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shining both clear and bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Built on a rock of height,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Says, ‘Row the boat, my mariners,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bring me to the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For yonder I see my love’s castle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Close by the salt sea strand.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She sail’d it round, and sail’d it round,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And loud and loud cried she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Now break, now break your fairy charms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And set my true-love free.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She’s ta’en her young son in her arms.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to the door she’s gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And long she knock’d, and sair she ca’d.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But answer got she nane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O open, open, Gregory!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O open! if ye be within;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For here’s the lass of Lochroyan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come far fra kith and kin.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_409" id="page_409">{409}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘O open the door, Lord Gregory!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O open and let me in!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind blows loud and cauld, Gregory,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rain drops fra my chin.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘The shoe is frozen to my foot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The glove unto my hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wet drops fra my yellow hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Na langer dow I stand.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O up then spak his ill mither,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—An ill death may she die!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Ye’re no the lass of Lochroyan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She’s far out-owre the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Awa’, awa’, ye ill woman,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ye’re no come here for gude;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye’re but some witch or wil’ warlock,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or mermaid o’ the flood.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I am neither witch nor wil’ warlock,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor mermaid o’ the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I am Annie of Lochroyan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O open the door to me!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I trow thou binna she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now tell me of some love-tokens<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That pass’d ’tween thee and me.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O dinna ye mind, love Gregory,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As we sat at the wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We changed the rings frae our fingers?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I can shew thee thine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>dow] can.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_410" id="page_410">{410}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘O</span> YOURS was gude, and gude enough,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But ay the best was mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For yours was o’ the gude red gowd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But mine o’ the diamond fine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Yours was o’ the gude red gowd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mine o’ the diamond fine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mine was o’ the purest troth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But thine was false within.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘If ye be the lass of Lochroyan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I kenna thou be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me some mair o’ the love-tokens<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pass’d between thee and me.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And dinna ye mind, love Gregory!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As we sat on the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou twin’d me o’ my maidenheid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Right sair against my will?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Now open the door, love Gregory!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Open the door! I pray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For thy young son is in my arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And will be dead ere day.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye ill woman,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So loud I hear ye lie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Annie of the Lochroyan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is far out-owre the sea.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair Annie turn’d her round about:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Weel, sine that it be sae,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May ne’er woman that has borne a son<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hae a heart sae fu’ o’ wae!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_411" id="page_411">{411}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘Tak down, tak down that mast o’ gowd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Set up a mast of tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It disna become a forsaken lady<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sail sae royallie.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the sun began to peep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up then raise Lord Gregory,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sair, sair did he weep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O I hae dream’d a dream, mither,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wish it may bring good!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the bonny lass of Lochroyan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At my bower window stood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O I hae dream’d a dream, mither,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The thought o’t gars me greet!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fair Annie of Lochroyan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lay dead at my bed-feet.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That ye mak a’ this mane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She stood last night at your bower-door,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I hae sent her hame.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O wae betide ye, ill woman,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An ill death may ye die!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wadna open the door yoursell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor yet wad waken me.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O he’s gane down to yon shore-side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As fast as he could dree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there he saw fair Annie’s bark<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A rowing owre the sea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_412" id="page_412">{412}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘O Annie, Annie,’ loud he cried,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘O Annie, O Annie, bide!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ay the mair he cried ‘Annie,’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The braider grew the tide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O Annie, Annie, dear Annie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dear Annie, speak to me!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ay the louder he gan call,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The louder roar’d the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wind blew loud, the waves rose hie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dash’d the boat on shore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair Annie’s corpse was in the faem,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The babe rose never more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lord Gregory tore his gowden locks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And made a wafu’ moan;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair Annie’s corpse lay at his feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His bonny son was gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O cherry, cherry was her cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gowden was her hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And coral, coral was her lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nane might with her compare,’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then first he kiss’d her pale, pale cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And syne he kiss’d her chin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And syne he kiss’d her wane, wane lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There was na breath within.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O wae betide my ill mither,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An ill death may she die!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She turn’d my true-love frae my door,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who cam so far to me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_413" id="page_413">{413}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘O wae betide my ill mither,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An ill death may she die!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She has no been the deid o’ ane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But she’s been the deid of three.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then he’s ta’en out a little dart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hung low down by his gore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He thrust it through and through his heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And words spak never more.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>369.</i> gore] skirt, waist.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_370" id="pm_370">370.</a></p> - -<h3>The Dowie Houms of Yarrow</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ATE at een, drinkin’ the wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ere they paid the lawin’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They set a combat them between,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To fight it in the dawin’.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O stay at hame, my noble lord!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O stay at hame, my marrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My cruel brother will you betray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O fare ye weel, my lady gay!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O fare ye weel, my Sarah!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I maun gae, tho’ I ne’er return<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Frae the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As she had done before, O;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She belted on his noble brand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An’ he’s awa to Yarrow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>370.</i> lawin’] reckoning. marrow] mate, husband or wife. dowie] -doleful. houms] water-meads.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_414" id="page_414">{414}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> HE’s gane up yon high, high hill—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wat he gaed wi’ sorrow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ in a den spied nine arm’d men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O are ye come to drink the wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As ye hae doon before, O?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or are ye come to wield the brand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I am no come to drink the wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I hae don before, O,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I am come to wield the brand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Four he hurt, an’ five he slew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till that stubborn knight came him behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An’ ran his body thorrow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Gae hame, gae hame, good brother John,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An’ tell your sister Sarah<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To come an’ lift her noble lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who’s sleepin’ sound on Yarrow.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Yestreen I dream’d a dolefu’ dream;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I ken’d there wad be sorrow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dream’d I pu’d the heather green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the dowie banks o’ Yarrow.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She gaed up yon high, high hill—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wat she gaed wi’ sorrow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ in a den spied nine dead men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_415" id="page_415">{415}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">She kiss’d his cheek, she kamed his hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As oft she did before, O;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She drank the red blood frae him ran,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the dowie houms o’ Yarrow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O haud your tongue, my douchter dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For what needs a’ this sorrow?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll wed you on a better lord<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than him you lost on Yarrow.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O haud your tongue, my father dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An’ dinna grieve your Sarah;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A better lord was never born<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than him I lost on Yarrow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Tak hame your ousen, tak hame your kye,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For they hae bred our sorrow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wiss that they had a’ gane mad<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whan they cam first to Yarrow.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_371" id="pm_371">371.</a></p> - -<h3>Clerk Saunders</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>LERK Saunders and may Margaret<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Walk’d owre yon garden green;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And deep and heavy was the love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That fell thir twa between.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘A bed, a bed,’ Clerk Saunders said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘A bed for you and me!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Fye na, fye na,’ said may Margaret,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Till anes we married be!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Then I’ll take the sword frae my scabbard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And slowly lift the pin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you may swear, and save your aith,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ye ne’er let Clerk Saunders in.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_416" id="page_416">{416}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘Take you a napkin in your hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tie up baith your bonnie e’en,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you may swear, and save your aith,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ye saw me na since late yestreen.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was about the midnight hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When they asleep were laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in and came her seven brothers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ torches burning red:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When in and came her seven brothers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ torches burning bright:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They said, ‘We hae but one sister,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And behold her lying with a knight!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then out and spake the first o’ them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘I bear the sword shall gar him die.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And out and spake the second o’ them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘His father has nae mair but he.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And out and spake the third o’ them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘I wot that they are lovers dear.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And out and spake the fourth o’ them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘They hae been in love this mony a year.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then out and spake the fifth o’ them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘It were great sin true love to twain.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And out and spake the sixth o’ them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘It were shame to slay a sleeping man.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then up and gat the seventh o’ them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And never a word spake he;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But he has striped his bright brown brand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out through Clerk Saunders’ fair bodye.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>striped] thrust.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_417" id="page_417">{417}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>LERK Saunders he started, and Margaret she turn’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into his arms as asleep she lay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sad and silent was the night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That was atween thir twae.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And they lay still and sleepit sound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Until the day began to daw’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kindly she to him did say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘It is time, true love, you were awa’.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But he lay still, and sleepit sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Albeit the sun began to sheen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She look’d atween her and the wa’,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dull and drowsie were his e’en.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then in and came her father dear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Said, ‘Let a’ your mourning be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll carry the dead corse to the clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I’ll come back and comfort thee.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Comfort weel your seven sons,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For comforted I will never be:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ween ’twas neither knave nor loon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was in the bower last night wi’ me.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The clinking bell gaed through the town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To carry the dead corse to the clay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret’s window,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wot, an hour before the day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Are ye sleeping, Marg’ret?’ he says,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Or are ye waking presentlie?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give me my faith and troth again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wot, true love, I gied to thee.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_418" id="page_418">{418}</a></span>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘Your faith and troth ye sail never get,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor our true love sail never twin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until ye come within my bower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And kiss me cheik and chin.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘My mouth it is full cold, Marg’ret;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It has the smell, now, of the ground;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if I kiss thy comely mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy days of life will not be lang.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wot the wild fowls are boding day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give me my faith and troth again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let me fare me on my way.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Thy faith and troth thou sallna get,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And our true love sail never twin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until ye tell what comes o’ women,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wot, who die in strong traivelling?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Their beds are made in the heavens high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down at the foot of our good Lord’s knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weel set about wi’ gillyflowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wot, sweet company for to see.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O cocks are crowing a merry midnight;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wot the wild fowls are boding day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The psalms of heaven will soon be sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I, ere now, will be miss’d away.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then she has taken a crystal wand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she has stroken her troth thereon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She has given it him out at the shot-window,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ mony a sad sigh and heavy groan.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>twin] part in two.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_419" id="page_419">{419}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘I</span> THANK ye, Marg’ret; I thank ye, Marg’ret;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ay I thank ye heartilie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gin ever the dead come for the quick,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be sure, Marg’ret, I’ll come for thee.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It’s hosen and shoon, and gown alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She climb’d the wall, and follow’d him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until she came to the green forest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And there she lost the sight o’ him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Is there ony room at your head, Saunders?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is there ony room at your feet?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or ony room at your side, Saunders,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘There’s nae room at my head, Marg’ret,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There’s nae room at my feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My bed it is fu’ lowly now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amang the hungry worms I sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Cauld mould is my covering now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But and my winding-sheet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dew it falls nae sooner down<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than my resting-place is weet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘But plait a wand o’ bonny birk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lay it on my breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shed a tear upon my grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wish my saul gude rest.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then up and crew the red, red cock,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And up and crew the gray:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tis time, ’tis time, my dear Marg’ret,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That you were going away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_420" id="page_420">{420}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘And fair Marg’ret, and rare Marg’ret,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Marg’ret o’ veritie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gin e’er ye love another man,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ne’er love him as ye did me.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_372" id="pm_372">372.</a></p> - -<h3>Fair Annie</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE reivers they stole Fair Annie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As she walk’d by the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a noble knight was her ransom soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ gowd and white monie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She bided in strangers’ land wi’ him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And none knew whence she cam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She lived in the castle wi’ her love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But never told her name.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘It’s narrow, narrow, mak your bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And learn to lie your lane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I’m gaun owre the sea, Fair Annie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A braw Bride to bring hame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wi’ her I will get gowd and gear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ you I ne’er gat nane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘But wha will bake my bridal bread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or brew my bridal ale?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wha will welcome my bright Bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I bring owre the dale?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘It’s I will bake your bridal bread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And brew your bridal ale;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I will welcome your bright Bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That you bring owre the dale.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_421" id="page_421">{421}</a></span>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘But she that welcomes my bright Bride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Maun gang like maiden fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And comely braid her hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Bind up, bind up your yellow hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tie it on your neck;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see you look as maiden-like<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the day that first we met.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O how can I gang maiden-like,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When maiden I am nane?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have I not borne six sons to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And am wi’ child again?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I’ll put cooks into my kitchen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And stewards in my hall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’ll have bakers for my bread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And brewers for my ale;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But you’re to welcome my bright Bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I bring owre the dale.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Three months and a day were gane and past,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair Annie she gat word<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That her love’s ship was come at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ his bright young Bride aboard.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She ’s ta’en her young son in her arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Anither in her hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she’s gane up to the highest tower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Looks over sea and land.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>jimp] trim.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_422" id="page_422">{422}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘C</span>OME doun, come doun, my mother dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come aff the castle wa’!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I fear if langer ye stand there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ye’ll let yoursell doun fa’.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She’s ta’en a cake o’ the best bread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A stoup o’ the best wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a’ the keys upon her arm,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to the yett is gane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To your castles and your towers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To your ha’s, but and your bowers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And welcome to your hame, fair lady!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For a’ that’s here is yours.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O whatna lady’s that, my lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That welcomes you and me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gin I be lang about this place,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her friend I mean to be.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair Annie served the lang tables<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ the white bread and the wine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ay she drank the wan water<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To keep her colour fine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she gaed by the first table,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And smiled upon them a’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ere she reach’d the second table,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tears began to fa’.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>yett] gate.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_423" id="page_423">{423}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE took a napkin lang and white,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hung it on a pin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was to wipe away the tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As she gaed out and in.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When bells were rung and mass was sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a’ men bound for bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bridegroom and the bonny Bride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In ae chamber were laid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair Annie’s ta’en a harp in her hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To harp thir twa asleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ay, as she harpit and she sang,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fu’ sairly did she weep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O gin my sons were seven rats,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rinnin’ on the castle wa’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I mysell a great grey cat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I soon wad worry them a’!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O gin my sons were seven hares,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rinnin’ owre yon lily lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I mysell a good greyhound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soon worried they a’ should be!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then out and spak the bonny young Bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In bride-bed where she lay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘That’s like my sister Annie,’ she says;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Wha is it doth sing and play?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I’ll put on my gown,’ said the new-come Bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘And my shoes upon my feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will see wha doth sae sadly sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And what is it gars her greet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_424" id="page_424">{424}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘What ails you, what ails you, my housekeeper,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That ye mak sic a mane?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has ony wine-barrel cast its girds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or is a’ your white bread gane?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘It isna because my wine is spilt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or that my white bread’s gane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But because I’ve lost my true love’s love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he’s wed to anither ane.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Noo tell me wha was your father?’ she says,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Noo tell me wha was your mother?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And had ye ony sister?’ she says,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘And had ye ever a brother?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘The Earl of Wemyss was my father,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Countess of Wemyss my mother,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young Elinor she was my sister dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Lord John he was my brother.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘If the Earl of Wemyss was your father,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wot sae was he mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it’s O my sister Annie!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your love ye sallna tyne.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Tak your husband, my sister dear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You ne’er were wrang’d for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond a kiss o’ his merry mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As we cam owre the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Seven ships, loaded weel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cam owre the sea wi’ me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ane o’ them will tak me hame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And six I’ll gie to thee.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>tyne] lose.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_425" id="page_425">{425}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_373" id="pm_373">373.</a></p> - -<h3>Edward, Edward</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘W</span>HY does your brand sae drop wi’ blude,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Edward, Edward?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And why sae sad gang ye, O?’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mither, mither;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O I hae kill’d my hawk sae gude,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I had nae mair but he, O.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Your hawk’s blude was never sae red,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Edward, Edward;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your hawk’s blude was never sae red,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My dear son, I tell thee, O.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mither, mither;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O I hae kill’d my red-roan steed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That erst was sae fair and free, O.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Edward, Edward;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some other dule ye dree, O.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O I hae kill’d my father dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mither, mither;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O I hae kill’d my father dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alas, and wae is me, O!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>dule ye dree] grief you suffer.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_426" id="page_426">{426}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘A</span>ND whatten penance will ye dree for that,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Edward, Edward?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whatten penance will ye dree for that?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My dear son, now tell me, O.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mither, mither;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I’ll fare over the sea, O.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Edward, Edward?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That were sae fair to see, O?’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mither, mither;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For here never mair maun I be, O.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Edward, Edward?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When ye gang owre the sea, O?’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘The warld’s room: let them beg through life,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mither, mither;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The warld’s room: let them beg through life;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For them never mair will I see, O.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Edward, Edward?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My dear son, now tell me, O?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_427" id="page_427">{427}</a></span>’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mither, mither;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_374" id="pm_374">374.</a></p> - -<h3>Edom o’ Gordon</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T fell about the Martinmas,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the wind blew shrill and cauld,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said Edom o’ Gordon to his men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘We maun draw to a hauld.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And what a hauld sall we draw to,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My merry men and me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We will gae to the house o’ the Rodes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see that fair ladye.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The lady stood on her castle wa’,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beheld baith dale and down;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There she was ware of a host of men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cam riding towards the town.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O see ye not, my merry men a’,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O see ye not what I see?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Methinks I see a host of men;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I marvel wha they be.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She ween’d it had been her lovely lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As he cam riding hame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was the traitor, Edom o’ Gordon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wha reck’d nae sin nor shame.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>town] stead.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_428" id="page_428">{428}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE had nae sooner buskit hersell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And putten on her gown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were round about the town.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They had nae sooner supper set,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nae sooner said the grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were lighted about the place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The lady ran up to her tower-head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sae fast as she could hie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see if by her fair speeches<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She could wi’ him agree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Come doun to me, ye lady gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come doun, come doun to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This night sall ye lig within mine arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To-morrow my bride sall be.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I winna come down, ye fals Gordon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I winna come down to thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I winna forsake my ain dear lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That is sae far frae me.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Gie owre your house, ye lady fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gie owre your house to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or I sall brenn yoursel therein,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But and your babies three.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I winna gie owre, ye fals Gordon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To nae sic traitor as yee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if ye brenn my ain dear babes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My lord sail mak ye dree.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>buskit] attired.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_429" id="page_429">{429}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘N</span>OW reach my pistol, Glaud, my man,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And charge ye weel my gun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My babes, we been undone!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She stood upon her castle wa’,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And let twa bullets flee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She miss’d that bluidy butcher’s heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And only razed his knee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Set fire to the house!’ quo’ fals Gordon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All wud wi’ dule and ire:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Fals lady, ye sail rue this deid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As ye brenn in the fire!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I paid ye weel your fee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lets in the reek to me?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And e’en wae worth ye, Jock, my man!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I paid ye weel your hire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why pu’ ye out the grund-wa’ stane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To me lets in the fire?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ye paid me weel my fee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now I’m Edom o’ Gordon’s man—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Maun either do or die.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O then bespake her little son,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sat on the nurse’s knee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Says, ‘Mither dear, gie owre this house,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the reek it smithers me.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>wud] mad. grund-wa’] ground-wall.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_430" id="page_430">{430}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘I</span> WAD gie a’ my gowd, my bairn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sae wad I a’ my fee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ae blast o’ the western wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To blaw the reek frae thee.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O then bespake her dochter dear—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She was baith jimp and sma’:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O row me in a pair o’ sheets,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tow me owre the wa’!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They row’d her in a pair o’ sheets,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tow’d her owre the wa’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But on the point o’ Gordon’s spear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She gat a deadly fa’.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And cherry were her cheiks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And clear, clear was her yellow hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whereon the red blood dreips.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then wi’ his spear he turn’d her owre;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O gin her face was wane!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He said, ‘Ye are the first that e’er<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I wish’d alive again.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He turn’d her owre and owre again;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O gin her skin was white!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘I might hae spared that bonnie face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hae been some man’s delight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Busk and boun, my merry men a’,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For ill dooms I do guess;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I canna look in that bonnie face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As it lies on the grass.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>jimp] slender, trim. row] roll, wrap. Busk and boun] trim up and -prepare to go.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_431" id="page_431">{431}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘W</span>HA looks to freits, my master dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It’s freits will follow them;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let it ne’er be said that Edom o’ Gordon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was daunted by a dame.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when the lady saw the fire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come flaming owre her head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She wept, and kiss’d her children twain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Says, ‘Bairns, we been but dead.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Gordon then his bugle blew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And said, ‘Awa’, awa’!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This house o’ the Rodes is a’ in a flame;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I hauld it time to ga’.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And this way lookit her ain dear lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As he cam owre the lea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He saw his castle a’ in a lowe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As far as he could see.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then sair, O sair, his mind misgave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all his heart was wae:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Put on, put on, my wighty men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sae fast as ye can gae.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Put on, put on, my wighty men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sae fast as ye can drie!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For he that’s hindmost o’ the thrang<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sall ne’er get good o’ me.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then some they rade, and some they ran,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out-owre the grass and bent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ere the foremost could win up,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Baith lady and babes were brent.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>freits] ill omens. lowe] flame. wighty] stout, doughty.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_432" id="page_432">{432}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND after the Gordon he is gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sae fast as he might drie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And soon i’ the Gordon’s foul heart’s blude<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He’s wroken his dear ladye.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>wroken] avenged.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_375" id="pm_375">375.</a></p> - -<h3>The Queen’s Marie</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>ARIE Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ ribbons in her hair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The King thought mair o’ Marie Hamilton<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than ony that were there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ ribbons on her breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The King thought mair o’ Marie Hamilton<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than he listen’d to the priest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ gloves upon her hands;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The King thought mair o’ Marie Hamilton<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than the Queen and a’ her lands.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She hadna been about the King’s court<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A month, but barely one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till she was beloved by a’ the King’s court<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the King the only man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She hadna been about the King’s court<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A month, but barely three,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till frae the King’s court Marie Hamilton,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Marie Hamilton durstna be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_433" id="page_433">{433}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">The King is to the Abbey gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To pu’ the Abbey tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To scale the babe frae Marie’s heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But the thing it wadna be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O she has row’d it in her apron,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And set it on the sea—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Gae sink ye or swim ye, bonny babe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ye’se get nae mair o’ me.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Word is to the kitchen gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And word is to the ha’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And word is to the noble room<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amang the ladies a’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Marie Hamilton’s brought to bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the bonny babe’s miss’d and awa’.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Scarcely had she lain down again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And scarcely fa’en asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When up and started our gude Queen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Just at her bed-feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saying—‘Marie Hamilton, where’s your babe?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For I am sure I heard it greet.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O no, O no, my noble Queen!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Think no sic thing to be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas but a stitch into my side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sair it troubles me!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Get up and follow me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I am going to Edinburgh town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A rich wedding for to see.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>row’d] rolled, wrapped. greet] cry.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_434" id="page_434">{434}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> SLOWLY, slowly rase she up,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And slowly put she on;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And slowly rade she out the way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ mony a weary groan.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Queen was clad in scarlet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her merry maids all in green;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every town that they cam to,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They took Marie for the Queen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Ride hooly, hooly, gentlemen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ride hooly now wi’ me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For never, I am sure, a wearier burd<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rade in your companie.’—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But little wist Marie Hamilton,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When she rade on the brown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That she was gaen to Edinburgh town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a’ to be put down.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Why weep ye so, ye burgess wives,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why look ye so on me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O I am going to Edinburgh town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A rich wedding to see.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When she gaed up the tolbooth stairs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The corks frae her heels did flee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lang or e’er she cam down again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She was condemn’d to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When she cam to the Netherbow port,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She laugh’d loud laughters three;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when she came to the gallows foot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tears blinded her e’e.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>hooly] gently.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_435" id="page_435">{435}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘Y</span>ESTREEN the Queen had four Maries,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The night she’ll hae but three;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was Marie Seaton, and Marie Beaton,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Marie Carmichael, and me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O often have I dress’d my Queen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And put gowd upon her hair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now I’ve gotten for my reward<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gallows to be my share.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Often have I dress’d my Queen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And often made her bed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now I’ve gotten for my reward<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gallows tree to tread.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I charge ye all, ye mariners,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When ye sail owre the faem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let neither my father nor mother get wit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that I’m coming hame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I charge ye all, ye mariners,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That sail upon the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That neither my father nor mother get wit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dog’s death I’m to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘For if my father and mother got wit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And my bold brethren three,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O mickle wad be the gude red blude<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This day wad be spilt for me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O little did my mother ken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The day she cradled me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lands I was to travel in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the death I was to die!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_436" id="page_436">{436}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_376" id="pm_376">376.</a></p> - -<h3>Binnorie</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE were twa sisters sat in a bour;<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Binnorie, O Binnorie</i>!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There cam a knight to be their wooer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>By the bonnie milldams o’ Binnorie</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He courted the eldest with glove and ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But he lo’ed the youngest abune a thing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The eldest she was vexèd sair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sair envied her sister fair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon a morning fair and clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She cried upon her sister dear:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O sister, sister, tak my hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let’s go down to the river-strand.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She’s ta’en her by the lily hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And led her down to the river-strand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The youngest stood upon a stane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The eldest cam and push’d her in.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O sister, sister, reach your hand!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ye sall be heir o’ half my land:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O sister, reach me but your glove!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sweet William sall be your love.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes she sank, sometimes she swam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until she cam to the miller’s dam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Out then cam the miller’s son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And saw the fair maid soummin’ in.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O father, father, draw your dam!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s either a mermaid or a milk-white swan.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>soummin’] swimming.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_437" id="page_437">{437}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE miller hasted and drew his dam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there he found a drown’d womàn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You couldna see her middle sma’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her gowden girdle was sae braw.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You couldna see her lily feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her gowden fringes were sae deep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All amang her yellow hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A string o’ pearls was twisted rare.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You couldna see her fingers sma’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wi’ diamond rings they were cover’d a’.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And by there cam a harper fine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That harpit to the king at dine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when he look’d that lady on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sigh’d and made a heavy moan.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He’s made a harp of her breast-bane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose sound wad melt a heart of stane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He’s ta’en three locks o’ her yellow hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wi’ them strung his harp sae rare.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He went into her father’s hall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there was the court assembled all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He laid his harp upon a stane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And straight it began to play by lane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O yonder sits my father, the King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yonder sits my mother, the Queen;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_438" id="page_438">{438}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘And yonder stands my brother Hugh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by him my William, sweet and true.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the last tune that the harp play’d then—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Binnorie, O Binnorie</i>!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was, ‘Woe to my sister, false Helèn!’<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>By the bonnie milldams o’ Binnorie.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_377" id="pm_377">377.</a></p> - -<h3>The Bonnie House o’ Airlie</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T fell on a day, and a bonnie simmer day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When green grew aits and barley,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That there fell out a great dispute<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Between Argyll and Airlie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Argyll has raised an hunder men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An hunder harness’d rarely,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he’s awa’ by the back of Dunkell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To plunder the castle of Airlie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lady Ogilvie looks o’er her bower-window,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And O but she looks warely!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there she spied the great Argyll,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come to plunder the bonnie house of Airlie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilvie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come down and kiss me fairly:’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O I winna kiss the fause Argyll,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If he shouldna leave a standing stane in Airlie.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He hath taken her by the left shoulder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Says, ‘Dame, where lies thy dowry?’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O it’s east and west yon wan water side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And it’s down by the banks of the Airlie.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_439" id="page_439">{439}</a></span>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">They hae sought it up, they hae sought it down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They hae sought it maist severely,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till they fand it in the fair plum-tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That shines on the bowling-green of Airlie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He hath taken her by the middle sae small,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And O but she grat sairly!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laid her down by the bonnie burn-side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till they plunder’d the castle of Airlie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Gif my gude lord war here this night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As he is with King Charlie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Neither you, nor ony ither Scottish lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Durst avow to the plundering of Airlie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Gif my gude lord war now at hame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As he is with his king,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There durst nae a Campbell in a’ Argyll<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Set fit on Airlie green.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Ten bonnie sons I have borne unto him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The eleventh ne’er saw his daddy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But though I had an hunder mair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’d gie them a’ to King Charlie!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_378" id="pm_378">378.</a></p> - -<h3>The Wife of Usher’s Well</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE lived a wife at Usher’s well,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a wealthy wife was she;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She had three stout and stalwart sons,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sent them o’er the sea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_440" id="page_440">{440}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">They hadna been a week from her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A week but barely ane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When word came to the carline wife<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That her three sons were gane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They hadna been a week from her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A week but barely three,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When word came to the carline wife<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That her sons she’d never see.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I wish the wind may never cease.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor fashes in the flood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till my three sons come hame to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In earthly flesh and blood!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It fell about the Martinmas,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When nights are lang and mirk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The carline wife’s three sons came hame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And their hats were o’ the birk.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It neither grew in syke nor ditch,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor yet in ony sheugh;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But at the gates o’ Paradise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That birk grew fair eneugh.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Blow up the fire, my maidens!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bring water from the well!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a’ my house shall feast this night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since my three sons are well.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And she has made to them a bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She’s made it large and wide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she’s ta’en her mantle her about,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sat down at the bedside.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>fashes] troubles. syke] marsh. sheugh] trench.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_441" id="page_441">{441}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>P then crew the red, red cock,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And up and crew the gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The eldest to the youngest said.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tis time we were away.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cock he hadna craw’d but once,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And clapp’d his wings at a’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the youngest to the eldest said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Brother, we must awa’.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The channerin’ worm doth chide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gin we be miss’d out o’ our place,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sair pain we maun bide.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Lie still, lie still but a little wee while,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lie still but if we may;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She’ll go mad ere it be day.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Fare ye weel, my mother dear!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fareweel to barn and byre!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fare ye weel, the bonny lass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That kindles my mother’s fire!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>378.</i> channerin’] fretting.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_379" id="pm_379">379.</a></p> - -<h3>The Three Ravens</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE were three ravens sat on a tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They were as black as they might be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The one of them said to his make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Where shall we our breakfast take?’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>379.</i> make] mate.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_442" id="page_442">{442}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘D</span>OWN in yonder greene field<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There lies a knight slain under his shield;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘His hounds they lie down at his feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So well they can their master keep;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘His hawks they flie so eagerly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There ’s no fowl dare come him nigh.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down there comes a fallow doe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As great with young as she might goe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She lift up his bloudy head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kist his wounds that were so red.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She gat him up upon her back<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And carried him to earthen lake.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She buried him before the prime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was dead herself ere evensong time.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">God send every gentleman<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such hounds, such hawks, and such a leman.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_380" id="pm_380">380.</a></p> - -<h3>The Twa Corbies</h3> - -<p class="c">(SCOTTISH VERSION)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>S I was walking all alane<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard twa corbies making a mane:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tane unto the tither did say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Whar sall we gang and dine the day?’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>380.</i> corbies] ravens.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_443" id="page_443">{443}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘—In behint yon auld fail dyke<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wot there lies a new-slain knight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And naebody kens that he lies there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘His hound is to the hunting gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His lady’s ta’en anither mate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So we may mak our dinner sweet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’ll pike out his bonny blue e’en:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll theek our nest when it grows bare.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Mony a one for him maks mane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But nane sall ken whar he is gane:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er his white banes, when they are bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind sall blaw for evermair.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>380.</i> fail] turf. hause] neck. theek] thatch.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_381" id="pm_381">381.</a></p> - -<h3>A Lyke-Wake Dirge</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HIS ae nighte, this ae nighte,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—<i>Every nighte and alle</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When thou from hence away art past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—<i>Every nighte and alle</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Whinny-muir thou com’st at last;<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>381.</i> fleet] house-room.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_444" id="page_444">{444}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F ever thou gavest hosen and shoon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—<i>Every nighte and alle</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit thee down and put them on;<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If hosen and shoon thou ne’er gav’st nane<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—<i>Every nighte and alle</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The whinnes sall prick thee to the bare bane;<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From Whinny-muir when thou may’st pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—<i>Every nighte and alle</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Brig o’ Dread thou com’st at last;<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From Brig o’ Dread when thou may’st pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—<i>Every nighte and alle</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Purgatory fire thou com’st at last;<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If ever thou gavest meat or drink,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—<i>Every nighte and alle</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fire sall never make thee shrink;<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If meat or drink thou ne’er gav’st nane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—<i>Every nighte and alle</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fire will burn thee to the bare bane;<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This ae nighte, this ae nighte,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—<i>Every nighte and alle</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fire and fleet and candle-lighte,<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And Christe receive thy saule</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_445" id="page_445">{445}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_382" id="pm_382">382.</a></p> - -<h3>The Seven Virgins.</h3> - -<p class="c">A CAROL</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL under the leaves and the leaves of life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I met with virgins seven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one of them was Mary mild,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our Lord’s mother of Heaven.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O what are you seeking, you seven fair maids.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All under the leaves of life?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come tell, come tell, what seek you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All under the leaves of life?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘We’re seeking for no leaves, Thomas,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But for a friend of thine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’re seeking for sweet Jesus Christ,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To be our guide and thine.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Go down, go down, to yonder town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sit in the gallery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there you’ll see sweet Jesus Christ<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nail’d to a big yew-tree.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So down they went to yonder town<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As fast as foot could fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a grievous bitter tear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the virgins’ eyes did fall.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O peace, Mother, O peace, Mother,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your weeping doth me grieve:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I must suffer this,’ He said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘For Adam and for Eve.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_446" id="page_446">{446}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘O Mother, take you John Evangelist<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All for to be your son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he will comfort you sometimes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mother, as I have done.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O come, thou John Evangelist,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou’rt welcome unto me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But more welcome my own dear Son,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whom I nursed on my knee.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then He laid His head on His right shoulder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seeing death it struck Him nigh—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘The Holy Ghost be with your soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I die, Mother dear, I die.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O the rose, the gentle rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the fennel that grows so green!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God give us grace in every place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To pray for our king and queen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Furthermore for our enemies all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our prayers they should be strong:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amen, good Lord; your charity<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is the ending of my song.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_383" id="pm_383">383.</a></p> - -<h3>Two Rivers</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>AYS Tweed to Till—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘What gars ye rin sae still?’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Says Till to Tweed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Though ye rin with speed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I rin slaw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ae man that ye droon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I droon twa.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_447" id="page_447">{447}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_384" id="pm_384">384.</a></p> - -<h3>Cradle Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> MY deir hert, young Jesus sweit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prepare thy creddil in my spreit,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I sall rock thee in my hert<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And never mair from thee depart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But I sall praise thee evermoir<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sangis sweit unto thy gloir;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The knees of my hert sall I bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sing that richt <i>Balulalow</i>!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_385" id="pm_385">385.</a></p> - -<h3>The Call</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">M</span>Y blood so red<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For thee was shed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come home again, come home again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My own sweet heart, come home again!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You’ve gone astray<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Out of your way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come home again, come home again!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_386" id="pm_386">386.</a></p> - -<h3>The Bonny Earl of Murray</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>E Highlands and ye Lawlands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O where hae ye been?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They hae slain the Earl of Murray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hae laid him on the green.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now wae be to thee, Huntley!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And whairfore did ye sae!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I bade you bring him wi’ you.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But forbade you him to slay.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_448" id="page_448">{448}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">He was a braw gallant,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he rid at the ring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the bonny Earl of Murray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O he might hae been a king!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He was a braw gallant,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he play’d at the ba’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the bonny Earl of Murray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was the flower amang them a’!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He was a braw gallant,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he play’d at the gluve;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the bonny Earl of Murray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O he was the Queen’s luve!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O lang will his Lady<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Look owre the Castle Downe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere she see the Earl of Murray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come sounding through the town!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_387" id="pm_387">387.</a></p> - -<h3>Helen of Kirconnell</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> WISH I were where Helen lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night and day on me she cries;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O that I were where Helen lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On fair Kirconnell lea!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Curst be the heart that thought the thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And curst the hand that fired the shot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in my arms burd Helen dropt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And died to succour me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O think na ye my heart was sair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When my Love dropp’d and spak nae mair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There did she swoon wi’ meikle care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On fair Kirconnell lea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_449" id="page_449">{449}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">As I went down the water side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None but my foe to be my guide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None but my foe to be my guide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On fair Kirconnell lea;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I lighted down my sword to draw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hackèd him in pieces sma’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hackèd him in pieces sma’,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For her sake that died for me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Helen fair, beyond compare!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll mak a garland o’ thy hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall bind my heart for evermair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Until the day I die!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O that I were where Helen lies!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night and day on me she cries;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of my bed she bids me rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Says, ‘Haste, and come to me!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I were with thee, I’d be blest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where thou lies low and taks thy rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On fair Kirconnell lea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wish my grave were growing green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A winding-sheet drawn owre my e’en,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I in Helen’s arms lying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On fair Kirconnell lea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wish I were where Helen lies!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night and day on me she cries;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I am weary of the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For her sake that died for me.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_450" id="page_450">{450}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_388" id="pm_388">388.</a></p> - -<h3>Waly, Waly</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> WALY, waly, up the bank,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And waly, waly, doun the brae,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And waly, waly, yon burn-side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where I and my Love wont to gae!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lean’d my back unto an aik,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I thocht it was a trustie tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But first it bow’d and syne it brak—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sae my true love did lichtlie me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O waly, waly, gin love be bonnie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A little time while it is new!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when ’tis auld it waxeth cauld,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fades awa’ like morning dew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O wherefore should I busk my heid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or wherefore should I kame my hair?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For my true Love has me forsook,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And says he’ll never lo’e me mair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now Arthur’s Seat sall be my bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sheets sall ne’er be ’filed by me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saint Anton’s well sall be my drink;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since my true Love has forsaken me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marti’mas wind, when wilt thou blaw,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shake the green leaves aff the tree?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O gentle Death, when wilt thou come?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For of my life I am wearìe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis not the frost, that freezes fell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor blawing snaw’s inclemencie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But my Love’s heart grown cauld to me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_451" id="page_451">{451}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When we cam in by Glasgow toun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We were a comely sicht to see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Love was clad in the black velvèt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I mysel in cramasie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But had I wist, before I kist,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That love had been sae ill to win,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I had lock’d my heart in a case o’ gowd.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pinn’d it wi’ a siller pin.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And O! if my young babe were born,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And set upon the nurse’s knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I mysel were dead and gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the green grass growing over me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>388.</i> cramasie] crimson.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_389" id="pm_389">389.</a></p> - -<h3>Barbara Allen’s Cruelty</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N Scarlet town, where I was born,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There was a fair maid dwellin’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made every youth cry <i>Well-a-way</i>!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her name was Barbara Allen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All in the merry month of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When green buds they were swellin’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young Jemmy Grove on his death-bed lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For love of Barbara Allen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He sent his man in to her then,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the town where she was dwellin’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O haste and come to my master dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If your name be Barbara Allen.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So slowly, slowly rase she up,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And slowly she came nigh him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when she drew the curtain by—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Young man, I think you’re dyin’.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_452" id="page_452">{452}</a></span>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘O it’s I am sick and very very sick,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And it’s all for Barbara Allen.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O the better for me ye’se never be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tho’ your heart’s blood were a-spillin’!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O dinna ye mind, young man,’ says she,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘When the red wine ye were fillin’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ye made the healths go round and round,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And slighted Barbara Allen?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He turn’d his face unto the wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And death was with him dealin’:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Adieu, adieu, my dear friends all,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And be kind to Barbara Allen!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As she was walking o’er the fields,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She heard the dead-bell knellin’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every jow the dead-bell gave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cried ‘Woe to Barbara Allen.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O mother, mother, make my bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O make it saft and narrow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love has died for me to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll die for him to-morrow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Farewell,’ she said, ‘ye virgins all,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shun the fault I fell in:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Henceforth take warning by the fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of cruel Barbara Allen.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>389.</i> jow] beat, toll.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_390" id="pm_390">390.</a></p> - -<h3>Pipe and Can</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE Indian weed witherèd quite;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green at morn, cut down at night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shows thy decay: all flesh is hay:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thus think, then drink Tobacco.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_453" id="page_453">{453}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">And when the smoke ascends on high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think thou behold’st the vanity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of worldly stuff, gone with a puff:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thus think, then drink Tobacco.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when the pipe grows foul within,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think of thy soul defiled with sin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that the fire doth it require:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thus think, then drink Tobacco.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The ashes, that are left behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May serve to put thee still in mind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That unto dust return thou must:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thus think, then drink Tobacco.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN as the chill Charokko blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Winter tells a heavy tale;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When pyes and daws and rooks and crows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit cursing of the frosts and snows;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Then give me ale.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ale in a Saxon rumkin then,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such as will make grimalkin prate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bids valour burgeon in tall men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quickens the poet’s wit and pen,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Despises fate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ale, that the absent battle fights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And frames the march of Swedish drum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Disputes with princes, laws, and rights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What’s done and past tells mortal wights,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And what’s to come.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>Charokko] Scirocco.</p></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_454" id="page_454">{454}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LE, that the plowman’s heart up-keeps<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And equals it with tyrants’ thrones,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wipes the eye that over-weeps,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lulls in sure and dainty sleeps<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Th’ o’er-wearied bones.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Grandchild of Ceres, Bacchus’ daughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wine’s emulous neighbour, though but stale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ennobling all the nymphs of water,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And filling each man’s heart with laughter—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Ha! give me ale!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_391" id="pm_391">391.</a></p> - -<h3>Love will find out the Way</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>VER the mountains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And over the waves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the fountains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And under the graves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under floods that are deepest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which Neptune obey,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over rocks that are steepest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love will find out the way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When there is no place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the glow-worm to lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When there is no space<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For receipt of a fly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the midge dares not venture<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lest herself fast she lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If Love come, he will enter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And will find out the way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_455" id="page_455">{455}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">You may esteem him<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A child for his might;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or you may deem him<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A coward for his flight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But if she whom Love doth honour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be conceal’d from the day—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set a thousand guards upon her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love will find out the way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some think to lose him<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By having him confined;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some do suppose him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Poor heart! to be blind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But if ne’er so close ye wall him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Do the best that ye may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blind Love, if so ye call him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He will find out his way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You may train the eagle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To stoop to your fist;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or you may inveigle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Phœnix of the east;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lioness, you may move her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To give over her prey;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But you’ll ne’er stop a lover—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He will find out the way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If the earth it should part him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He would gallop it o’er;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If the seas should o’erthwart him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He would swim to the shore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should his Love become a swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the air to stray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love will lend wings to follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And will find out the way.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_456" id="page_456">{456}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">There is no striving<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To cross his intent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no contriving<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His plots to prevent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But if once the message greet him<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That his True Love doth stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If Death should come and meet him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love will find out the way!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_392" id="pm_392">392.</a></p> - -<h3>Phillada flouts Me</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> WHAT a plague is love!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How shall I bear it?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She will inconstant prove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I greatly fear it.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She so torments my mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That my strength faileth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wavers with the wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As a ship saileth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Please her the best I may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She loves still to gainsay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alack and well-a-day!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Phillada flouts me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At the fair yesterday<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She did pass by me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She look’d another way<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And would not spy me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I woo’d her for to dine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But could not get her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will had her to the wine—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He might entreat her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_457" id="page_457">{457}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Daniel she did dance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On me she look’d askance:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O thrice unhappy chance!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Phillada flouts me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair maid, be not so coy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Do not disdain me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am my mother’s joy:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet, entertain me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She’ll give me, when she dies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All that is fitting:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her poultry and her bees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And her goose sitting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pair of mattrass beds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a bag full of shreds;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet, for all this guedes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Phillada flouts me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She hath a clout of mine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wrought with blue Coventry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which she keeps for a sign<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of my fidelity:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But i’ faith, if she flinch<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She shall not wear it;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Tib, my t’other wench,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I mean to bear it.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet it grieves my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So soon from her to part:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death strike me with his dart!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Phillada flouts me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou shalt eat crudded cream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All the year lasting,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>guedes] goods, property of any kind.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_458" id="page_458">{458}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND drink the crystal stream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pleasant in tasting;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whig and whey whilst thou lust,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bramble-berries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pie-lid and pastry-crust,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pears, plums, and cherries.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy raiment shall be thin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made of a weevil’s skin—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet all’s not worth a pin!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Phillada flouts me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the last month of May<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I made her posies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard her often say<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That she loved roses.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cowslips and gillyflowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the white lily<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I brought to deck the bowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For my sweet Philly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But she did all disdain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And threw them back again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therefore ’tis flat and plain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Phillada flouts me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair maiden, have a care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in time take me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I can have those as fair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If you forsake me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Doll the dairy-maid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laugh’d at me lately,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wanton Winifred<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Favours me greatly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_459" id="page_459">{459}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">One throws milk on my clothes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">T’other plays with my nose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What wanting signs are those?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Phillada flouts me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I cannot work nor sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At all in season:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love wounds my heart so deep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Without all reason.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ’gin to pine away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In my love’s shadow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like as a fat beast may,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Penn’d in a meadow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall be dead, I fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within this thousand year:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all for that my dear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Phillada flouts me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_STRODE" id="WILLIAM_STRODE"></a>WILLIAM STRODE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1602-1645<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_393" id="pm_393">393.</a></p> - -<h3>Chloris in the Snow</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SAW fair Chloris walk alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When feather’d rain came softly down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Jove descending from his Tower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To court her in a silver shower:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wanton snow flew to her breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like pretty birds into their nest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, overcome with whiteness there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For grief it thaw’d into a tear:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thence falling on her garments’ hem,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To deck her, froze into a gem.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_460" id="page_460">{460}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_STANLEY" id="THOMAS_STANLEY"></a>THOMAS STANLEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1625-1678<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_394" id="pm_394">394.</a></p> - -<h3>The Relapse</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>URN away those cruel eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stars of my undoing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or death, in such a bright disguise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May tempt a second wooing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Punish their blind and impious pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who dare contemn thy glory;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was my fall that deified<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy name, and seal’d thy story.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet no new sufferings can prepare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A higher praise to crown thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though my first death proclaim thee fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My second will unthrone thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lovers will doubt thou canst entice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No other for thy fuel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if thou burn one victim twice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Both think thee poor and cruel.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_DURFEY" id="THOMAS_DURFEY"></a>THOMAS D’URFEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1653-1723<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_395" id="pm_395">395.</a></p> - -<h3>Chloe Divine</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>HLOE’s a Nymph in flowery groves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A Nereid in the streams;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saint-like she in the temple moves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A woman in my dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love steals artillery from her eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Graces point her charms;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Orpheus is rivalled in her voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Venus in her arms.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_461" id="page_461">{461}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Never so happily in one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Did heaven and earth combine:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet ’tis flesh and blood alone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That makes her so divine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHARLES_COTTON" id="CHARLES_COTTON"></a>CHARLES COTTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1630-1687<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_396" id="pm_396">396.</a></p> - -<h3>To Cœlia</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN, Cœlia, must my old day set,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And my young morning rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In beams of joy so bright as yet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ne’er bless’d a lover’s eyes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My state is more advanced than when<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I first attempted thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sued to be a servant then,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But now to be made free.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ve served my time faithful and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Expecting to be placed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In happy freedom, as my due,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To all the joys thou hast:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ill husbandry in love is such<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A scandal to love’s power,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We ought not to misspend so much<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As one poor short-lived hour.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet think not, sweet, I’m weary grown.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I pretend such haste;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since none to surfeit e’er was known<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before he had a taste:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My infant love could humbly wait<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When, young, it scarce knew how<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To plead; but grown to man’s estate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He is impatient now.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_462" id="page_462">{462}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="KATHERINE_PHILIPS_ORINDA" id="KATHERINE_PHILIPS_ORINDA"></a>KATHERINE PHILIPS (‘ORINDA’)</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1631-1664<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_397" id="pm_397">397.</a></p> - -<h3>To One persuading a Lady to Marriage</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>ORBEAR, bold youth; all’s heaven here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And what you do aver<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To others courtship may appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis sacrilege to her.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is a public deity;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And were’t not very odd<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She should dispose herself to be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A petty household god?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">First make the sun in private shine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bid the world adieu,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That so he may his beams confine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In compliment to you:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But if of that you do despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Think how you did amiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To strive to fix her beams which are<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More bright and large than his.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_DRYDEN" id="JOHN_DRYDEN"></a>JOHN DRYDEN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1631-1700<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_398" id="pm_398">398.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode</h3> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>To the Pious Memory of the accomplished young lady, Mrs. Anne -Killigrew, excellent in the two sister arts of Poesy and Painting</i></p></div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HOU youngest virgin-daughter of the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made in the last promotion of the blest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose palms, new pluck’d from Paradise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In spreading branches more sublimely rise,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_463" id="page_463">{463}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rich with immortal green above the rest:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether, adopted to some neighbouring star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou roll’st above us, in thy wandering race,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or, in procession fixt and regular,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mov’d with the heaven’s majestic pace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or, called to more superior bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou tread’st with seraphims the vast abyss:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whatever happy region is thy place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cease thy celestial song a little space;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou wilt have time enough for hymns divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since Heaven’s eternal year is thine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hear, then, a mortal Muse thy praise rehearse,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">>In no ignoble verse;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But such as thy own voice did practise here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thy first-fruits of Poesy were given,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make thyself a welcome inmate there;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While yet a young probationer,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And candidate of heaven.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">If by traduction came thy mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our wonder is the less, to find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A soul so charming from a stock so good;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy father was transfus’d into thy blood:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So wert thou born into the tuneful strain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An early, rich, and inexhausted vein.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But if thy pre-existing soul<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was form’d at first with myriads more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It did through all the mighty poets roll<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who Greek or Latin laurels wore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And was that Sappho last, which once it was before.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If so, then cease thy flight, O heaven-born mind!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast no dross to purge from thy rich ore:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor can thy soul a fairer mansion find,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_464" id="page_464">{464}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than was the beauteous frame she left behind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Return, to fill or mend the quire of thy celestial kind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">May we presume to say, that, at thy birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">New joy was sprung in heaven as well as here on earth?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For sure the milder planets did combine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On thy auspicious horoscope to shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And even the most malicious were in trine.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thy brother-angels at thy birth<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Strung each his lyre, and tun’d it high,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That all the people of the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Might know a poetess was born on earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And then, if ever, mortal ears<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Had heard the music of the spheres.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And if no clust’ring swarm of bees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On thy sweet mouth distill’d their golden dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">’Twas that such vulgar miraclès<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Heaven had not leisure to renew:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For all the blest fraternity of love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Solemniz’d there thy birth, and kept thy holiday above.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">O gracious God! how far have we<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Profan’d thy heavenly gift of Poesy!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made prostitute and profligate the Muse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Debas’d to each obscene and impious use,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose harmony was first ordain’d above,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For tongues of angels and for hymns of love!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O wretched we! why were we hurried down<br /></span> -<span class="i3">This lubrique and adulterate age<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Nay, added fat pollutions of our own),<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To increase the streaming ordures of the stage?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What can we say to excuse our second fall?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let this thy Vestal, Heaven, atone for all!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her Arethusian stream remains unsoil’d,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_465" id="page_465">{465}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i3">Unmixt with foreign filth, and undefil’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Art she had none, yet wanted none,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For Nature did that want supply:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">So rich in treasures of her own,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She might our boasted stores defy:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such noble vigour did her verse adorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That it seem’d borrowed, where ’twas only born.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her morals, too, were in her bosom bred,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">By great examples daily fed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What in the best of books, her father’s life, she read.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to be read herself she need not fear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each test, and every light, her Muse will bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though Epictetus with his lamp were there.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Even love (for love sometimes her Muse exprest)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was but a lambent flame which play’d about her breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Light as the vapours of a morning dream;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So cold herself, whilst she such warmth exprest,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">’Twas Cupid bathing in Diana’s stream....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i3">Now all those charms, that blooming grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The well-proportion’d shape, and beauteous face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall never more be seen by mortal eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In earth the much-lamented virgin lies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not wit, nor piety could fate prevent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor was the cruel destiny content<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To finish all the murder at a blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sweep at once her life and beauty too;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, like a hardened felon, took a pride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To work more mischievously slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And plunder’d first, and then destroyed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O double sacrilege on things divine,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_466" id="page_466">{466}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i3">To rob the relic, and deface the shrine!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But thus Orinda died:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Heaven, by the same disease, did both translate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As equal were their souls, so equal was their fate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Meantime, her warlike brother on the seas<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His waving streamers to the winds displays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And vows for his return, with vain devotion, pays.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Ah, generous youth! that wish forbear,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The winds too soon will waft thee here!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Slack all thy sails, and fear to come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alas, thou know’st not, thou art wreck’d at home!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No more shalt thou behold thy sister’s face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou hast already had her last embrace.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But look aloft, and if thou kenn’st from far,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the Pleiads a new kindl’d star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If any sparkles than the rest more bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis she that shines in that propitious light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">When in mid-air the golden trump shall sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To raise the nations under ground;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When, in the Valley of Jehoshaphat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The judging God shall close the book of Fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And there the last assizes keep<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For those who wake and those who sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">When rattling bones together fly<br /></span> -<span class="i3">From the four corners of the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When sinews o’er the skeletons are spread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those cloth’d with flesh, and life inspires the dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sacred poets first shall hear the sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And foremost from the tomb shall bound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For they are cover’d with the lightest ground;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And straight, with inborn vigour, on the wing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_467" id="page_467">{467}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like mounting larks, to the new morning sing.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There thou, sweet Saint, before the quire shalt go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As harbinger of Heaven, the way to show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The way which thou so well hast learn’d below.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_399" id="pm_399">399.</a></p> - -<h3>A Song for St. Cecilia’s Day, 1687</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>ROM harmony, from heavenly harmony,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">This universal frame began:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When nature underneath a heap<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of jarring atoms lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And could not heave her head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tuneful voice was heard from high,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘Arise, ye more than dead!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then cold, and hot, and moist, and dry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In order to their stations leap,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And Music’s power obey.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From harmony, from heavenly harmony,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">This universal frame began:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From harmony to harmony<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through all the compass of the notes it ran,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The diapason closing full in Man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What passion cannot Music raise and quell?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When Jubal struck the chorded shell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His listening brethren stood around,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And, wondering, on their faces fell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To worship that celestial sound:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Less than a God they thought there could not dwell<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Within the hollow of that shell,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That spoke so sweetly, and so well.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What passion cannot Music raise and quell?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_468" id="page_468">{468}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i4">The trumpet’s loud clangour<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Excites us to arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With shrill notes of anger,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And mortal alarms.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The double double double beat<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of the thundering drum<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Cries Hark! the foes come;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Charge, charge, ’tis too late to retreat!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">The soft complaining flute,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In dying notes, discovers<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The woes of hopeless lovers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose dirge is whisper’d by the warbling lute.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Sharp violins proclaim<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their jealous pangs and desperation,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fury, frantic indignation,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Depth of pains, and height of passion.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For the fair, disdainful dame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">But O, what art can teach,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What human voice can reach,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The sacred organ’s praise?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Notes inspiring holy love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Notes that wing their heavenly ways<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To mend the choirs above.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Orpheus could lead the savage race;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And trees unrooted left their place,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sequacious of the lyre;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But bright Cecilia rais’d the wonder higher:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When to her organ vocal breath was given,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An angel heard, and straight appear’d<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mistaking Earth for Heaven.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_469" id="page_469">{469}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h4><span class="smcap">Grand Chorus.</span></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>S from the power of sacred lays<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The spheres began to move,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sung the great Creator’s praise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To all the Blest above;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So when the last and dreadful hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This crumbling pageant shall devour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trumpet shall be heard on high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dead shall live, the living die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Music shall untune the sky!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_400" id="pm_400">400.</a></p> - -<h3>Ah, how sweet it is to love!</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>H, how sweet it is to love!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah, how gay is young Desire!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what pleasing pains we prove<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When we first approach Love’s fire!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pains of love be sweeter far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than all other pleasures are.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sighs which are from lovers blown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Do but gently heave the heart:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ev’n the tears they shed alone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cure, like trickling balm, their smart:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lovers, when they lose their breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bleed away in easy death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love and Time with reverence use,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Treat them like a parting friend;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor the golden gifts refuse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which in youth sincere they send:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For each year their price is more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they less simple than before.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_470" id="page_470">{470}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Love, like spring-tides full and high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swells in every youthful vein;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But each tide does less supply,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till they quite shrink in again:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If a flow in age appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis but rain, and runs not clear.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_401" id="pm_401">401.</a></p> - -<h3>Hidden Flame</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> FEED a flame within, which so torments me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That it both pains my heart, and yet contents me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis such a pleasing smart, and I so love it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I had rather die than once remove it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My tongue does not betray, nor my eyes show it.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But they fall silently, like dew on roses.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart’s the sacrifice, as ’tis the fuel;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And while I suffer this to give him quiet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My faith rewards my love, though he deny it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On his eyes will I gaze, and there delight me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While I conceal my love no frown can fright me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be more happy I dare not aspire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_471" id="page_471">{471}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_402" id="pm_402">402.</a></p> - -<h3>Song to a Fair Young Lady, going out of the Town in the Spring</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>SK not the cause why sullen Spring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So long delays her flowers to bear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why warbling birds forget to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And winter storms invert the year:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chloris is gone; and fate provides<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make it Spring where she resides.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Chloris is gone, the cruel fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She cast not back a pitying eye:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But left her lover in despair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sigh, to languish, and to die:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! how can those fair eyes endure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To give the wounds they will not cure?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Great God of Love, why hast thou made<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A face that can all hearts command,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all religions can invade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And change the laws of every land?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where thou hadst plac’d such power before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou shouldst have made her mercy more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Chloris to the temple comes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Adoring crowds before her fall;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She can restore the dead from tombs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And every life but mine recall.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I only am by Love design’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be the victim for mankind.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_472" id="page_472">{472}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHARLES_WEBBE" id="CHARLES_WEBBE"></a>CHARLES WEBBE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">c. 1678<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_403" id="pm_403">403.</a></p> - -<h3>Against Indifference</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>ORE love or more disdain I crave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet, be not still indifferent:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O send me quickly to my grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or else afford me more content!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or love or hate me more or less,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For love abhors all lukewarmness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Give me a tempest if ’twill drive<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Me to the place where I would be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if you’ll have me still alive,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Confess you will be kind to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give hopes of bliss or dig my grave:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More love or more disdain I crave.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_GEORGE_ETHEREGE" id="SIR_GEORGE_ETHEREGE"></a>SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1635-1691<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_404" id="pm_404">404.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ADIES, though to your conquering eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love owes his chiefest victories,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And borrows those bright arms from you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With which he does the world subdue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet you yourselves are not above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The empire nor the griefs of love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then rack not lovers with disdain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest Love on you revenge their pain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You are not free because you’re fair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Boy did not his Mother spare.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty’s but an offensive dart:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is no armour for the heart.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_473" id="page_473">{473}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_405" id="pm_405">405.</a></p> - -<h3>To a Lady asking him how long he would love her</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T is not, Celia, in our power<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To say how long our love will last;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It may be we within this hour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May lose those joys we now do taste;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Blessèd, that immortal be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From change in love are only free.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then since we mortal lovers are,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ask not how long our love will last;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But while it does, let us take care<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each minute be with pleasure past:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were it not madness to deny<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To live because we’re sure to die?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_TRAHERNE" id="THOMAS_TRAHERNE"></a>THOMAS TRAHERNE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1637?-1674<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_406" id="pm_406">406.</a></p> - -<h3>News</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">N</span>EWS from a foreign country came<br /></span> -<span class="i5">As if my treasure and my wealth lay there;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So much it did my heart inflame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas wont to call my Soul into mine ear;<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Which thither went to meet<br /></span> -<span class="i7">The approaching sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">And on the threshold stood<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To entertain the unknown Good.<br /></span> -<span class="i7">It hover’d there<br /></span> -<span class="i5">As if ’twould leave mine ear,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_474" id="page_474">{474}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">And was so eager to embrace<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The joyful tidings as they came,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Twould almost leave its dwelling-place<br /></span> -<span class="i5">To entertain that same.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">As if the tidings were the things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My very joys themselves, my foreign treasure—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or else did bear them on their wings—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With so much joy they came, with so much pleasure.<br /></span> -<span class="i5">My Soul stood at that gate<br /></span> -<span class="i7">To recreate<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Itself with bliss, and to<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Be pleased with speed. A fuller view<br /></span> -<span class="i7">It fain would take,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Yet journeys back would make<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Unto my heart; as if ’twould fain<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Go out to meet, yet stay within<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To fit a place to entertain<br /></span> -<span class="i5">And bring the tidings in.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">What sacred instinct did inspire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul in childhood with a hope so strong?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What secret force moved my desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To expect my joys beyond the seas, so young?<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Felicity I knew<br /></span> -<span class="i7">Was out of view,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">And being here alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I saw that happiness was gone<br /></span> -<span class="i7">From me! For this<br /></span> -<span class="i5">I thirsted absent bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And thought that sure beyond the seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Or else in something near at hand—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I knew not yet—since naught did please<br /></span> -<span class="i5">I knew—my Bliss did stand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_475" id="page_475">{475}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i4">But little did the infant dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all the treasures of the world were by:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And that himself was so the cream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And crown of all which round about did lie.<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Yet thus it was: the Gem,<br /></span> -<span class="i7">The Diadem,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">The ring enclosing all<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That stood upon this earthly ball,<br /></span> -<span class="i7">The Heavenly eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Much wider than the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wherein they all included were,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The glorious Soul, that was the King<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Made to possess them, did appear<br /></span> -<span class="i5">A small and little thing!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_FLATMAN" id="THOMAS_FLATMAN"></a>THOMAS FLATMAN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1637-1688<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_407" id="pm_407">407.</a></p> - -<h3>The Sad Day</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> THE sad day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When friends shall shake their heads, and say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of miserable me—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Hark, how he groans!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look, how he pants for breath!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See how he struggles with the pangs of death!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When they shall say of these dear eyes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘How hollow, O how dim they be!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mark how his breast doth rise and swell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against his potent enemy!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When some old friend shall step to my bedside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Touch my chill face, and thence shall gently slide.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_476" id="page_476">{476}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But—when his next companions say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘How does he do? What hopes?’—shall turn away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Answering only, with a lift-up hand—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Who can his fate withstand?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then shall a gasp or two do more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than e’er my rhetoric could before:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Persuade the world to trouble me no more!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHARLES_SACKVILLE_EARL_OF_DORSET" id="CHARLES_SACKVILLE_EARL_OF_DORSET"></a>CHARLES SACKVILLE, EARL OF DORSET</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1638-1706<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_408" id="pm_408">408.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Written at Sea, in the First Dutch War (1665), the night before an -Engagement.</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O all you ladies now at land<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We men at sea indite;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But first would have you understand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How hard it is to write:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Muses now, and Neptune too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We must implore to write to you—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a fa, la, la, la, la.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For though the Muses should prove kind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fill our empty brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To wave the azure main,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our paper, pen, and ink, and we,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roll up and down our ships at sea—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a fa, la, la, la, la.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_477" id="page_477">{477}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Then if we write not by each post,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Think not we are unkind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor yet conclude our ships are lost<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By Dutchmen or by wind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our tears we’ll send a speedier way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tide shall bring them twice a day—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a fa, la, la, la, la.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The King with wonder and surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will swear the seas grow bold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because the tides will higher rise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than e’er they did of old:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But let him know it is our tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bring floods of grief to Whitehall stairs—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a fa, la, la, la, la.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Should foggy Opdam chance to know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our sad and dismal story,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And quit their fort at Goree:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For what resistance can they find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From men who’ve left their hearts behind?—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a fa, la, la, la, la.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let wind and weather do its worst,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be you to us but kind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No sorrow we shall find:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis then no matter how things go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or who’s our friend, or who’s our foe—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a fa, la, la, la, la.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To pass our tedious hours away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We throw a merry main,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or else at serious ombre play;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But why should we in vain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_478" id="page_478">{478}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each other’s ruin thus pursue?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We were undone when we left you—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a fa, la, la, la, la.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now our fears tempestuous grow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And cast our hopes away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst you, regardless of our woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sit careless at a play:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps permit some happier man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To kiss your hand, or flirt your fan—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a fa, la, la, la, la.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When any mournful tune you hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That dies in every note<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if it sigh’d with each man’s care<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For being so remote,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think then how often love we’ve made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To you, when all those tunes were play’d—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a fa, la, la, la, la.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In justice you cannot refuse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To think of our distress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When we for hopes of honour lose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our certain happiness:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All those designs are but to prove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ourselves more worthy of your love—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a fa, la, la, la, la.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now we’ve told you all our loves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And likewise all our fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In hopes this declaration moves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some pity for our tears:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let’s hear of no inconstancy—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We have too much of that at sea—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a fa, la, la, la, la.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_479" id="page_479">{479}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_CHARLES_SEDLEY" id="SIR_CHARLES_SEDLEY"></a>SIR CHARLES SEDLEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1639-1701<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_409" id="pm_409">409.</a></p> - -<h3>To Chloris</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>H, Chloris! that I now could sit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As unconcern’d as when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your infant beauty could beget<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No pleasure, nor no pain!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I the dawn used to admire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And praised the coming day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I little thought the growing fire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Must take my rest away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Your charms in harmless childhood lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like metals in the mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Age from no face took more away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than youth conceal’d in thine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But as your charms insensibly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To their perfection prest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fond love as unperceived did fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in my bosom rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My passion with your beauty grew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Cupid at my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still as his mother favour’d you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Threw a new flaming dart:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each gloried in their wanton part;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To make a lover, he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Employ’d the utmost of his art—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To make a beauty, she.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_410" id="pm_410">410.</a></p> - -<h3>To Celia</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OT, Celia, that I juster am<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or better than the rest!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I would change each hour, like them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were not my heart at rest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_480" id="page_480">{480}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">But I am tied to very thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By every thought I have;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy face I only care to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy heart I only crave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All that in woman is adored<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In thy dear self I find—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the whole sex can but afford<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The handsome and the kind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why then should I seek further store,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And still make love anew?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When change itself can give no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis easy to be true!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="APHRA_BEHN" id="APHRA_BEHN"></a>APHRA BEHN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1640-1689<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_411" id="pm_411">411.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE in fantastic triumph sate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whilst bleeding hearts around him flow’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For whom fresh pains he did create<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And strange tyrannic power he show’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From thy bright eyes he took his fires,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which round about in sport he hurl’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ’twas from mine he took desires<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Enough t’ undo the amorous world.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From me he took his sighs and tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From thee his pride and cruelty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From me his languishments and fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And every killing dart from thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus thou and I the god have arm’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And set him up a deity;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But my poor heart alone is harm’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whilst thine the victor is, and free!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_481" id="page_481">{481}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_412" id="pm_412">412.</a></p> - -<h3>The Libertine</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> THOUSAND martyrs I have made,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All sacrificed to my desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thousand beauties have betray’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That languish in resistless fire:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The untamed heart to hand I brought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fix’d the wild and wand’ring thought.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I never vow’d nor sigh’d in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But both, tho’ false, were well received;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fair are pleased to give us pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And what they wish is soon believed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tho’ I talk’d of wounds and smart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s pleasures only touch’d my heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alone the glory and the spoil<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I always laughing bore away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The triumphs without pain or toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Without the hell the heaven of joy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And while I thus at random rove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Despise the fools that whine for love.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_WILMOT_EARL_OF_ROCHESTER" id="JOHN_WILMOT_EARL_OF_ROCHESTER"></a>JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1647-1680<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_413" id="pm_413">413.</a></p> - -<h3>Return</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>BSENT from thee, I languish still;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then ask me not, When I return?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The straying fool ’twill plainly kill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To wish all day, all night to mourn.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_482" id="page_482">{482}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Dear, from thine arms then let me fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That my fantastic mind may prove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The torments it deserves to try,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That tears my fix’d heart from my love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When, wearied with a world of woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To thy safe bosom I retire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where love, and peace, and truth does flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May I contented there expire!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lest, once more wandering from that heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I fall on some base heart unblest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faithless to thee, false, unforgiven—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lose my everlasting rest.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_414" id="pm_414">414.</a></p> - -<h3>Love and Life</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL my past life is mine no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flying hours are gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like transitory dreams given o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose images are kept in store<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By memory alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The time that is to come is not;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How can it then be mine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The present moment’s all my lot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that, as fast as it is got,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Phillis, is only thine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then talk not of inconstancy.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">False hearts, and broken vows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I by miracle can be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This live-long minute true to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis all that Heaven allows.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_483" id="page_483">{483}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_415" id="pm_415">415.</a></p> - -<h3>Constancy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> CANNOT change as others do,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though you unjustly scorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since that poor swain that sighs for you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For you alone was born.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No, Phillis, no; your heart to move<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A surer way I’ll try;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, to revenge my slighted love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will still love on and die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When kill’d with grief Amyntas lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you to mind shall call<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sighs that now unpitied rise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tears that vainly fall—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That welcome hour, that ends this smart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will then begin your pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For such a faithful tender heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Can never break in vain.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_416" id="pm_416">416.</a></p> - -<h3>To His Mistress</h3> - -<p>(<i>After Quarles</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HY dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does that eclipsing hand of thine deny<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sunshine of the Sun’s enlivening eye?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Without thy light what light remains in me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art my life; my way, my light’s in thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I live, I move, and by thy beams I see.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art my life—if thou but turn away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My life’s a thousand deaths. Thou art my way—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without thee, Love, I travel not but stray.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_484" id="page_484">{484}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">My light thou art—without thy glorious sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My eyes are darken’d with eternal night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Love, thou art my way, my life, my light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art my way; I wander if thou fly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art my light; if hid, how blind am I!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art my life; if thou withdraw’st, I die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My eyes are dark and blind, I cannot see:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To whom or whither should my darkness flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But to that light?—and who’s that light but thee?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If I have lost my path, dear lover, say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I still wander in a doubtful way?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, shall a lamb of Israel’s sheepfold stray?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My path is lost, my wandering steps do stray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cannot go, nor can I safely stay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom should I seek but thee, my path, my way?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet thou turn’st thy face away and fly’st me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet I sue for grace and thou deny’st me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speak, art thou angry, Love, or only try’st me?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art the pilgrim’s path, the blind man’s eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dead man’s life. On thee my hopes rely:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I but them remove, I surely die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dissolve thy sunbeams, close thy wings and stay!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, see how I am blind, and dead, and stray!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—O thou that art my life, my light, my way!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then work thy will! If passion bid me flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My reason shall obey, my wings shall be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stretch’d out no farther than from me to thee!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_485" id="page_485">{485}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_SHEFFIELD_DUKE_OF_BUCKINGHAMSHIRE" id="JOHN_SHEFFIELD_DUKE_OF_BUCKINGHAMSHIRE"></a>JOHN SHEFFIELD, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1649-1720<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_417" id="pm_417">417.</a></p> - -<h3>The Reconcilement</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME, let us now resolve at last<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To live and love in quiet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll tie the knot so very fast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That Time shall ne’er untie it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The truest joys they seldom prove<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who free from quarrels live:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis the most tender part of love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each other to forgive.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When least I seem’d concern’d, I took<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No pleasure nor no rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when I feign’d an angry look,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alas! I loved you best.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Own but the same to me—you’ll find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How blest will be our fate.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O to be happy—to be kind—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sure never is too late!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_418" id="pm_418">418.</a></p> - -<h3>On One who died discovering her Kindness</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>OME vex their souls with jealous pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While others sigh for cold disdain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s various slaves we daily see—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet happy all compared with me!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_486" id="page_486">{486}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Of all mankind I loved the best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A nymph so far above the rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That we outshined the Blest above;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In beauty she, as I in love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And therefore They, who could not bear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be outdone by mortals here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among themselves have placed her now,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And left me wretched here below.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All other fate I could have borne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And even endured her very scorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But oh! thus all at once to find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That dread account—both dead and kind!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What heart can hold? If yet I live,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis but to show how much I grieve.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_OTWAY" id="THOMAS_OTWAY"></a>THOMAS OTWAY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1652-1685<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_419" id="pm_419">419.</a></p> - -<h3>The Enchantment</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> DID but look and love awhile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Twas but for one half-hour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then to resist I had no will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now I have no power.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To sigh and wish is all my ease;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sighs which do heat impart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enough to melt the coldest ice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet cannot warm your heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O would your pity give my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One corner of your breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twould learn of yours the winning art,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And quickly steal the rest.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_487" id="page_487">{487}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_OLDHAM" id="JOHN_OLDHAM"></a>JOHN OLDHAM</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1653-1683<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_420" id="pm_420">420.</a></p> - -<h3>A Quiet Soul</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HY soul within such silent pomp did keep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As if humanity were lull’d asleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So gentle was thy pilgrimage beneath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Time’s unheard feet scarce make less noise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the soft journey which a planet goes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life seem’d all calm as its last breath.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A still tranquillity so hush’d thy breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As if some Halcyon were its guest,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And there had built her nest;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It hardly now enjoys a greater rest.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_CUTTS_LORD_CUTTS" id="JOHN_CUTTS_LORD_CUTTS"></a>JOHN CUTTS, LORD CUTTS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1661-1707<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_421" id="pm_421">421.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>NLY tell her that I love:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leave the rest to her and Fate:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some kind planet from above<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May perhaps her pity move:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lovers on their stars must wait.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only tell her that I love!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why, O why should I despair!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mercy’s pictured in her eye:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If she once vouchsafe to hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Welcome Hope and farewell Fear!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She’s too good to let me die.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why, O why should I despair?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_488" id="page_488">{488}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MATTHEW_PRIOR" id="MATTHEW_PRIOR"></a>MATTHEW PRIOR</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1664-1721<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_422" id="pm_422">422.</a></p> - -<h3>The Question to Lisetta</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT nymph should I admire or trust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Chloe beauteous, Chloe just?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What nymph should I desire to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But her who leaves the plain for me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To whom should I compose the lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But her who listens when I play?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To whom in song repeat my cares,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But her who in my sorrow shares?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For whom should I the garland make,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But her who joys the gift to take,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And boasts she wears it for my sake?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In love am I not fully blest?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lisetta, prithee tell the rest.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c">LISETTA’S REPLY</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>URE Chloe just, and Chloe fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deserves to be your only care;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, when you and she to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far into the wood did stray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I happened to pass by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which way did you cast your eye?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, when your cares to her you sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You dare not tell her whence they spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does it not more afflict your heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That in those cares she bears a part?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When you the flowers for Chloe twine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why do you to her garland join<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The meanest bud that falls from mine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Simplest of swains! the world may see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom Chloe loves, and who loves me.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_489" id="page_489">{489}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_423" id="pm_423">423.</a></p> - -<h3>To a Child of Quality<br /> -Five Years Old, 1704. The Author then Forty</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ORDS, knights, and squires, the numerous band<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That wear the fair Miss Mary’s fetters,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were summoned by her high command<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To show their passions by their letters.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My pen amongst the rest I took,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lest those bright eyes, that cannot read,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should dart their kindling fire, and look<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The power they have to be obey’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor quality, nor reputation,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forbid me yet my flame to tell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear Five-years-old befriends my passion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I may write till she can spell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For, while she makes her silkworms beds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With all the tender things I swear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst all the house my passion reads,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In papers round her baby’s hair;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She may receive and own my flame;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For, though the strictest prudes should know it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She’ll pass for a most virtuous dame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I for an unhappy poet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then too, alas! when she shall tear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rhymes some younger rival sends,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She’ll give me leave to write, I fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And we shall still continue friends.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For, as our different ages move,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis so ordain’d (would Fate but mend it!),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I shall be past making love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When she begins to comprehend it.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_490" id="page_490">{490}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_424" id="pm_424">424.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE merchant, to secure his treasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Conveys it in a borrow’d name:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Euphelia serves to grace my measure;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But Chloe is my real flame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My softest verse, my darling lyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon Euphelia’s toilet lay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Chloe noted her desire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I should sing, that I should play.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My lyre I tune, my voice I raise;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But with my numbers mix my sighs:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And while I sing Euphelia’s praise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I fix my soul on Chloe’s eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair Chloe blush’d: Euphelia frown’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I sung, and gazed: I play’d, and trembled:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Venus to the Loves around<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Remark’d, how ill we all dissembled.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_425" id="pm_425">425.</a></p> - -<h3>On My Birthday, July 21</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I, my dear, was born to-day—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So all my jolly comrades say:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They bring me music, wreaths, and mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ask to celebrate my birth:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little, alas! my comrades know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I was born to pain and woe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thy denial, to thy scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better I had ne’er been born:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wish to die, even whilst I say—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘I, my dear, was born to-day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_491" id="page_491">{491}</a></span>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">I, my dear, was born to-day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I salute the rising ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well-spring of all my joy and woe?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clotilda, thou alone dost know.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall the wreath surround my hair?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or shall the music please my ear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I my comrades’ mirth receive,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bless my birth, and wish to live?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then let me see great Venus chase<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Imperious anger from thy face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then let me hear thee smiling say—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_426" id="pm_426">426.</a></p> - -<h3>The Lady who offers her Looking-Glass to Venus</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">V</span>ENUS, take my votive glass:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since I am not what I was,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What from this day I shall be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Venus, let me never see.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_427" id="pm_427">427.</a></p> - -<h3>A Letter</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>to Lady Margaret Cavendish Holles-Harley, when a Child</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y noble, lovely, little Peggy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let this my First Epistle beg ye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At dawn of morn, and close of even,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To lift your heart and hands to Heaven.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In double duty say your prayer:<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Our Father</i> first, then <i>Notre Père</i>.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_492" id="page_492">{492}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">And, dearest child, along the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In every thing you do and say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Obey and please my lord and lady,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So God shall love and angels aid ye.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If to these precepts you attend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No second letter need I send,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so I rest your constant friend.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_428" id="pm_428">428.</a></p> - -<h3>For my own Monument</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>S doctors give physic by way of prevention,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mat, alive and in health, of his tombstone took care;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For delays are unsafe, and his pious intention<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May haply be never fulfill’d by his heir.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then take Mat’s word for it, the sculptor is paid;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That the figure is fine, pray believe your own eye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet credit but lightly what more may be said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For we flatter ourselves, and teach marble to lie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet counting as far as to fifty his years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His virtues and vices were as other men’s are;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High hopes he conceived, and he smother’d great fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In a life parti-colour’d, half pleasure, half care.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor to business a drudge, nor to faction a slave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He strove to make interest and freedom agree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In public employments industrious and grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And alone with his friends, Lord! how merry was he!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now in equipage stately, now humbly on foot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Both fortunes he tried, but to neither would trust;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whirl’d in the round as the wheel turn’d about,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He found riches had wings, and knew man was but dust.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_493" id="page_493">{493}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">This verse, little polish’d, tho’ mighty sincere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sets neither his titles nor merit to view;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It says that his relics collected lie here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And no mortal yet knows too if this may be true.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fierce robbers there are that infest the highway,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So Mat may be kill’d, and his bones never found;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">False witness at court, and fierce tempests at sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So Mat may yet chance to be hang’d or be drown’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If his bones lie in earth, roll in sea, fly in air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To Fate we must yield, and the thing is the same;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if passing thou giv’st him a smile or a tear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He cares not—yet, prithee, be kind to his fame.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_WALSH" id="WILLIAM_WALSH"></a>WILLIAM WALSH</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1663-1708<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_429" id="pm_429">429.</a></p> - -<h3>Rivals</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>F all the torments, all the cares,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With which our lives are curst;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all the plagues a lover bears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sure rivals are the worst!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By partners in each other kind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Afflictions easier grow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In love alone we hate to find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Companions of our woe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sylvia, for all the pangs you see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are labouring in my breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I beg not you would favour me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would you but slight the rest!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How great soe’er your rigours are,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With them alone I’ll cope;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I can endure my own despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But not another’s hope.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_494" id="page_494">{494}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LADY_GRISEL_BAILLIE" id="LADY_GRISEL_BAILLIE"></a>LADY GRISEL BAILLIE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1665-1746<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_430" id="pm_430">430.</a></p> - -<h3>Werena my Hearts licht I wad dee</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE ance was a may, and she lo’ed na men;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She biggit her bonnie bow’r doun in yon glen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now she cries, Dool and a well-a-day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come doun the green gait and come here away!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When bonnie young Johnnie cam owre the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He said he saw naething sae lovely as me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He hecht me baith rings and mony braw things—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And werena my heart’s licht, I wad dee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He had a wee titty that lo’ed na me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because I was twice as bonnie as she;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She raised sic a pother ’twixt him and his mother<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That werena my heart’s licht, I wad dee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The day it was set, and the bridal to be:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wife took a dwam and lay doun to dee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She maned and she graned out o’ dolour and pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till he vow’d he never wad see me again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His kin was for ane of a higher degree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said—What had he do wi’ the likes of me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Appose I was bonnie, I wasna for Johnnie—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And werena my heart’s licht, I wad dee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They said I had neither cow nor calf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor dribbles o’ drink rins thro’ the draff,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor pickles o’ meal rins thro’ the mill-e’e—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And werena my heart’s licht, I wad dee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>may] maid. biggit] built. gait] way, path. hecht] promised. titty] -sister. dwam] sudden illness. appose] suppose. pickles] small -quantities.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_495" id="page_495">{495}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>IS titty she was baith wylie and slee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She spied me as I cam owre the lea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then she ran in and made a loud din—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Believe your ain e’en, an ye trow not me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His bonnet stood ay fu’ round on his brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His auld ane look’d ay as well as some’s new:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now he lets ’t wear ony gait it will hing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And casts himsel dowie upon the corn bing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now he gaes daund’ring about the dykes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a’ he dow do is to hund the tykes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The live-lang nicht he ne’er steeks his e’e—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And werena my heart’s licht, I wad dee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Were I but young for thee, as I hae been,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We should hae been gallopin’ doun in yon green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And linkin’ it owre the lily-white lea—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wow, gin I were but young for thee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>430.</i> hing] hang. dowie] dejectedly. hund the tykes] direct the -dogs. steeks] closes. linkin’] tripping.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_CONGREVE" id="WILLIAM_CONGREVE"></a>WILLIAM CONGREVE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1670-1729.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_431" id="pm_431">431.</a></p> - -<h3>False though She be</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>ALSE though she be to me and love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll ne’er pursue revenge;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For still the charmer I approve,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though I deplore her change.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In hours of bliss we oft have met:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They could not always last;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though the present I regret,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’m grateful for the past.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_496" id="page_496">{496}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_432" id="pm_432">432.</a></p> - -<h3>A Hue and Cry after Fair Amoret</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AIR Amoret is gone astray—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pursue and seek her, ev’ry lover;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll tell the signs by which you may<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wand’ring Shepherdess discover.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Coquette and coy at once her air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Both studied, tho’ both seem neglected;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Careless she is, with artful care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Affecting to seem unaffected.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With skill her eyes dart ev’ry glance,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet change so soon you’d ne’er suspect them,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For she’d persuade they wound by chance,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tho’ certain aim and art direct them.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She likes herself, yet others hates<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For that which in herself she prizes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, while she laughs at them, forgets<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She is the thing that she despises.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOSEPH_ADDISON" id="JOSEPH_ADDISON"></a>JOSEPH ADDISON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1672-1719<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_433" id="pm_433">433.</a></p> - -<h3>Hymn</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE spacious firmament on high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all the blue ethereal sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spangled heavens, a shining frame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their great Original proclaim.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Th’ unwearied Sun from day to day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does his Creator’s power display;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And publishes to every land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The work of an Almighty hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_497" id="page_497">{497}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Soon as the evening shades prevail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Moon takes up the wondrous tale;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nightly to the listening Earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Repeats the story of her birth:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst all the stars that round her burn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the planets in their turn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Confirm the tidings as they roll,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spread the truth from pole to pole.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What though in solemn silence all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Move round the dark terrestrial ball;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What though nor real voice nor sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amidst their radiant orbs be found?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Reason’s ear they all rejoice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And utter forth a glorious voice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ever singing as they shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘The Hand that made us is divine.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ISAAC_WATTS" id="ISAAC_WATTS"></a>ISAAC WATTS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1674-1748<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_434" id="pm_434">434.</a></p> - -<h3>The Day of Judgement</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN the fierce North-wind with his airy forces<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rears up the Baltic to a foaming fury;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the red lightning with a storm of hail comes<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Rushing amain down;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How the poor sailors stand amazed and tremble,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the hoarse thunder, like a bloody trumpet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roars a loud onset to the gaping waters<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Quick to devour them.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_498" id="page_498">{498}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Such shall the noise be, and the wild disorder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(If things eternal may be like these earthly),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such the dire terror when the great Archangel<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Shakes the creation;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tears the strong pillars of the vault of Heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breaks up old marble, the repose of princes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sees the graves open, and the bones arising,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Flames all around them.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark, the shrill outcries of the guilty wretches!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lively bright horror and amazing anguish<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stare thro’ their eyelids, while the living worm lies<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Gnawing within them.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thoughts, like old vultures, prey upon their heart-strings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the smart twinges, when the eye beholds the<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lofty Judge frowning, and a flood of vengeance<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Rolling afore him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hopeless immortals! how they scream and shiver,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While devils push them to the pit wide-yawning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hideous and gloomy, to receive them headlong<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Down to the centre!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stop here, my fancy: (all away, ye horrid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doleful ideas!) come, arise to Jesus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How He sits God-like! and the saints around Him<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Throned, yet adoring!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O may I sit there when He comes triumphant,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dooming the nations! then ascend to glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While our Hosannas all along the passage<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Shout the Redeemer.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_499" id="page_499">{499}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_435" id="pm_435">435.</a></p> - -<h3>A Cradle Hymn</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>USH! my dear, lie still and slumber,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Holy angels guard thy bed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heavenly blessings without number<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gently falling on thy head.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">House and home, thy friends provide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All without thy care or payment:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All thy wants are well supplied.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How much better thou’rt attended<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than the Son of God could be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When from heaven He descended<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And became a child like thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soft and easy is thy cradle:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When His birthplace was a stable<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And His softest bed was hay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Blessèd babe! what glorious features—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spotless fair, divinely bright!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must He dwell with brutal creatures?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How could angels bear the sight?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Was there nothing but a manger<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cursèd sinners could afford<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To receive the heavenly stranger?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Did they thus affront their Lord?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_500" id="page_500">{500}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Soft, my child: I did not chide thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though my song might sound too hard;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis thy mother sits beside thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And her arms shall be thy guard.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet to read the shameful story<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How the Jews abused their King,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How they served the Lord of Glory,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Makes me angry while I sing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See the kinder shepherds round Him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Telling wonders from the sky!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where they sought Him, there they found Him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With His Virgin mother by.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See the lovely babe a-dressing;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lovely infant, how He smiled!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When He wept, the mother’s blessing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soothed and hush’d the holy child.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo, He slumbers in His manger,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the hornèd oxen fed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peace, my darling; here’s no danger,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here’s no ox anear thy bed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twas to save thee, child, from dying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save my dear from burning flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bitter groans and endless crying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That thy blest Redeemer came.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">May’st thou live to know and fear Him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Trust and love Him all thy days;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then go dwell for ever near Him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">See His face, and sing His praise!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_501" id="page_501">{501}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_PARNELL" id="THOMAS_PARNELL"></a>THOMAS PARNELL</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1679-1718<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_436" id="pm_436">436.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN thy beauty appears<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In its graces and airs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All bright as an angel new dropp’d from the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At distance I gaze and am awed by my fears:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So strangely you dazzle my eye!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">But when without art<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your kind thoughts you impart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When your love runs in blushes through every vein;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then I know you’re a woman again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">There’s a passion and pride<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In our sex (she replied),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thus, might I gratify both, I would do:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still an angel appear to each lover beside,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But still be a woman to you.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ALLAN_RAMSAY" id="ALLAN_RAMSAY"></a>ALLAN RAMSAY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1686-1758<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_437" id="pm_437">437.</a></p> - -<h3>Peggy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">M</span>Y Peggy is a young thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Just enter’d in her teens,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair as the day, and sweet as May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair as the day, and always gay;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_502" id="page_502">{502}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Peggy is a young thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I’m not very auld,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet well I like to meet her at<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The wawking of the fauld.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">My Peggy speaks sae sweetly<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whene’er we meet alane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wish nae mair to lay my care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wish nae mair of a’ that’s rare;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Peggy speaks sae sweetly,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To a’ the lave I’m cauld,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But she gars a’ my spirits glow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At wawking of the fauld.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">My Peggy smiles sae kindly<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whene’er I whisper love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I look down on a’ the town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I look down upon a crown;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Peggy smiles sae kindly,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">It makes me blyth and bauld,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And naething gi’es me sic delight<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As wawking of the fauld.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">My Peggy sings sae saftly<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When on my pipe I play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By a’ the rest it is confest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By a’ the rest, that she sings best;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Peggy sings sae saftly,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And in her sangs are tauld<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With innocence the wale of sense,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At wawking of the fauld.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>wawking] watching. lave] rest. wale] choice, best.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_503" id="page_503">{503}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_OLDYS" id="WILLIAM_OLDYS"></a>WILLIAM OLDYS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1687-1761<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_438" id="pm_438">438.</a></p> - -<h3>On a Fly drinking out of his Cup</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>USY, curious, thirsty fly!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drink with me and drink as I:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Freely welcome to my cup,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Couldst thou sip and sip it up:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make the most of life you may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life is short and wears away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Both alike are mine and thine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hastening quick to their decline:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine’s a summer, mine’s no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though repeated to threescore.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Threescore summers, when they’re gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will appear as short as one!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_GAY" id="JOHN_GAY"></a>JOHN GAY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1688-1732<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_439" id="pm_439">439.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> RUDDIER than the cherry!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O sweeter than the berry!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O nymph more bright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than moonshine night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like kidlings blithe and merry!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ripe as the melting cluster!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No lily has such lustre;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet hard to tame<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As raging flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fierce as storms that bluster!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_504" id="page_504">{504}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_POPE" id="ALEXANDER_POPE"></a>ALEXANDER POPE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1688-1744<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_440" id="pm_440">440.</a></p> - -<h3>On a certain Lady at Court</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> KNOW a thing that’s most uncommon;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Envy, be silent and attend!)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know a reasonable woman,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Handsome and witty, yet a friend.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not warp’d by passion, awed by rumour;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not grave through pride, nor gay through folly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An equal mixture of good-humour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sensible soft melancholy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Has she no faults then (Envy says), Sir?’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yes, she has one, I must aver:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all the world conspires to praise her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The woman’s deaf, and does not hear.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_441" id="pm_441">441.</a></p> - -<h3>Elegy to the Memory of an Unfortunate Lady</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT beck’ning ghost, along the moonlight shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Invites my steps, and points to yonder glade?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis she!—but why that bleeding bosom gored,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why dimly gleams the visionary sword?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, ever beauteous, ever friendly! tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it, in Heav’n, a crime to love too well?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bear too tender or too firm a heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To act a lover’s or a Roman’s part?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is there no bright reversion in the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For those who greatly think, or bravely die?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_505" id="page_505">{505}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why bade ye else, ye Pow’rs! her soul aspire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the vulgar flight of low desire?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glorious fault of angels and of gods;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thence to their images on earth it flows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the breasts of kings and heroes glows.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most souls, ’tis true, but peep out once an age,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dull sullen pris’ners in the body’s cage:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim lights of life, that burn a length of years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Useless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Eastern kings a lazy state they keep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And close confined to their own palace, sleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From these perhaps (ere Nature bade her die)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fate snatch’d her early to the pitying sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As into air the purer spirits flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sep’rate from their kindred dregs below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So flew the soul to its congenial place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor left one virtue to redeem her race.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But thou, false guardian of a charge too good!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, mean deserter of thy brother’s blood!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See on these ruby lips the trembling breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These cheeks now fading at the blast of Death:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cold is that breast which warm’d the world before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And those love-darting eyes must roll no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus, if eternal Justice rules the ball,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus shall your wives, and thus your children fall;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On all the line a sudden vengeance waits,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And frequent herses shall besiege your gates.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There passengers shall stand, and pointing say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(While the long fun’rals blacken all the way),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Lo! these were they whose souls the Furies steel’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cursed with hearts unknowing how to yield.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus unlamented pass the proud away,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_506" id="page_506">{506}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gaze of fools, and pageant of a day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So perish all whose breast ne’er learn’d to glow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For others’ good, or melt at others’ woe!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What can atone (O ever-injured shade!)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No friend’s complaint, no kind domestic tear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pleased thy pale ghost, or graced thy mournful bier.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By foreign hands thy decent limbs composed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By foreign hands thy humble grave adorn’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By strangers honour’d, and by strangers mourn’d!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What tho’ no friends in sable weeds appear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bear about the mockery of woe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To midnight dances, and the public show?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What tho’ no weeping Loves thy ashes grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor polish’d marble emulate thy face?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What tho’ no sacred earth allow thee room,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor hallow’d dirge be mutter’d o’er thy tomb?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet shall thy grave with rising flow’rs be drest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There the first roses of the year shall blow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While angels with their silver wings o’ershade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ground now sacred by thy reliques made.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So peaceful rests, without a stone, a name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How loved, how honour’d once, avails thee not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To whom related, or by whom begot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A heap of dust alone remains of thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deaf the praised ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_507" id="page_507">{507}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ev’n he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall shortly want the gen’rous tear he pays;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then from his closing eyes thy form shall part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the last pang shall tear thee from his heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life’s idle business at one gasp be o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Muse forgot, and thou beloved no more!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_442" id="pm_442">442.</a></p> - -<h3>The Dying Christian to his Soul</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">V</span>ITAL spark of heav’nly flame!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quit, O quit this mortal frame:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O the pain, the bliss of dying!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let me languish into life.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Hark! they whisper; angels say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sister Spirit, come away!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What is this absorbs me quite?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Steals my senses, shuts my sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me, my soul, can this be death?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The world recedes; it disappears!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heav’n opens on my eyes! my ears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With sounds seraphic ring!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Grave! where is thy victory?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Death! where is thy sting?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_508" id="page_508">{508}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_BUBB_DODINGTON_LORD_MELCOMBE" id="GEORGE_BUBB_DODINGTON_LORD_MELCOMBE"></a>GEORGE BUBB DODINGTON, LORD MELCOMBE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1691?-1762<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_443" id="pm_443">443.</a></p> - -<h3>Shorten Sail</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE thy country, wish it well,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not with too intense a care;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis enough that, when it fell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou its ruin didst not share.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Envy’s censure, Flattery’s praise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With unmoved indifference view:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Learn to tread Life’s dangerous maze<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With unerring Virtue’s clue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Void of strong desire and fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life’s wide ocean trust no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strive thy little bark to steer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the tide, but near the shore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus prepared, thy shorten’d sail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall, whene’er the winds increase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seizing each propitious gale,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Waft thee to the port of Peace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Keep thy conscience from offence<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tempestuous passions free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, when thou art call’d from hence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Easy shall thy passage be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">—Easy shall thy passage be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cheerful thy allotted stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Short the account ’twixt God and thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hope shall meet thee on thy way.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_509" id="page_509">{509}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_CAREY" id="HENRY_CAREY"></a>HENRY CAREY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1693?-1743<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_444" id="pm_444">444.</a></p> - -<h3>Sally in our Alley</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>F all the girls that are so smart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There’s none like pretty Sally;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no lady in the land<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is half so sweet as Sally;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her father he makes cabbage-nets,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And through the streets does cry ’em;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her mother she sells laces long<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To such as please to buy ’em:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But sure such folks could ne’er beget<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So sweet a girl as Sally!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When she is by, I leave my work,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I love her so sincerely;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My master comes like any Turk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bangs me most severely:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But let him bang his bellyful,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll bear it all for Sally;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of all the days that’s in the week<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I dearly love but one day—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that’s the day that comes betwixt<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A Saturday and Monday;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_510" id="page_510">{510}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">For then I’m drest all in my best<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To walk abroad with Sally;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My master carries me to church,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And often am I blamèd<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because I leave him in the lurch<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As soon as text is namèd;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I leave the church in sermon-time<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And slink away to Sally;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When Christmas comes about again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O, then I shall have money;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll hoard it up, and box it all,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll give it to my honey:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would it were ten thousand pound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’d give it all to Sally;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is the darling of my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she lives in our alley.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My master and the neighbours all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Make game of me and Sally,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, but for her, I’d better be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A slave and row a galley;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when my seven long years are out,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O, then I’ll marry Sally;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, then we’ll wed, and then we’ll bed—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But not in our alley!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_511" id="page_511">{511}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_445" id="pm_445">445.</a></p> - -<h3>A Drinking-Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>ACCHUS must now his power resign—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am the only God of Wine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is not fit the wretch should be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In competition set with me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who can drink ten times more than he.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Make a new world, ye powers divine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stock’d with nothing else but Wine:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let Wine its only product be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let Wine be earth, and air, and sea—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let that Wine be all for me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_BROOME" id="WILLIAM_BROOME"></a>WILLIAM BROOME</h2> - -<p class="dttsml">?-1745<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_446" id="pm_446">446.</a></p> - -<h3>The Rosebud</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Q</span>UEEN of fragrance, lovely Rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beauties of thy leaves disclose!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—But thou, fair Nymph, thyself survey<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this sweet offspring of a day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That miracle of face must fail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy charms are sweet, but charms are frail:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift as the short-lived flower they fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At morn they bloom, at evening die:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though Sickness yet a while forbears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet Time destroys what Sickness spares:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now Helen lives alone in fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Cleopatra’s but a name:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time must indent that heavenly brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou must be what they are now.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_512" id="page_512">{512}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_447" id="pm_447">447.</a></p> - -<h3>Belinda’s Recovery from Sickness</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HUS when the silent grave becomes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pregnant with life as fruitful wombs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the wide seas and spacious earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Resign us to our second birth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our moulder’d frame rebuilt assumes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">New beauty, and for ever blooms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, crown’d with youth’s immortal pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We angels rise, who mortals died.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2>JAMES THOMSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1700-1748<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_448" id="pm_448">448.</a></p> - -<h3>On the Death of a particular Friend</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>S those we love decay, we die in part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">String after string is sever’d from the heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till loosen’d life, at last but breathing clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without one pang is glad to fall away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unhappy he who latest feels the blow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose eyes have wept o’er every friend laid low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dragg’d ling’ring on from partial death to death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till, dying, all he can resign is—breath.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_LYTTELTON_LORD_LYTTELTON" id="GEORGE_LYTTELTON_LORD_LYTTELTON"></a>GEORGE LYTTELTON, LORD LYTTELTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1709-1773<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_449" id="pm_449">449.</a></p> - -<h3>Tell me, my Heart if this be Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN Delia on the plain appears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awed by a thousand tender fears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would approach, but dare not move:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me, my heart, if this be love?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_513" id="page_513">{513}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Whene’er she speaks, my ravish’d ear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No other voice than hers can hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No other wit but hers approve:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me, my heart, if this be love?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If she some other youth commend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though I was once his fondest friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His instant enemy I prove:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me, my heart, if this be love?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When she is absent, I no more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Delight in all that pleased before—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The clearest spring, or shadiest grove:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me, my heart, if this be love?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When fond of power, of beauty vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her nets she spread for every swain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I strove to hate, but vainly strove:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell me, my heart, if this be love?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SAMUEL_JOHNSON" id="SAMUEL_JOHNSON"></a>SAMUEL JOHNSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1709-1784<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_450" id="pm_450">450.</a></p> - -<h3>One-and-Twenty</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ONG-expected one-and-twenty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ling’ring year, at length is flown:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Great *** ****, are now your own.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Loosen’d from the minor’s tether,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Free to mortgage or to sell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wild as wind, and light as feather,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bid the sons of thrift farewell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_514" id="page_514">{514}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Call the Betsies, Kates, and Jennies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All the names that banish care;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lavish of your grandsire’s guineas,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Show the spirit of an heir.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All that prey on vice and folly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Joy to see their quarry fly:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There the gamester, light and jolly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There the lender, grave and sly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wealth, my lad, was made to wander,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let it wander as it will;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Call the jockey, call the pander,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bid them come and take their fill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the bonny blade carouses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pockets full, and spirits high—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What are acres? What are houses?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only dirt, or wet or dry.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Should the guardian friend or mother<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tell the woes of wilful waste,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scorn their counsel, scorn their pother;—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You can hang or drown at last!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_451" id="pm_451">451.</a></p> - -<h3>On the Death of Mr. Robert Levet, a Practiser in Physic</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>ONDEMN’d to Hope’s delusive mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As on we toil from day to day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By sudden blasts or slow decline<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our social comforts drop away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_515" id="page_515">{515}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Well tried through many a varying year,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">See Levet to the grave descend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Officious, innocent, sincere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of every friendless name the friend.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet still he fills affection’s eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Obscurely wise and coarsely kind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor, lettered Arrogance, deny<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy praise to merit unrefined.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When fainting nature call’d for aid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hov’ring death prepared the blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His vig’rous remedy display’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The power of art without the show.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In Misery’s darkest cavern known,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His useful care was ever nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where hopeless Anguish pour’d his groan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lonely Want retired to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No summons mock’d by chill delay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No petty gain disdain’d by pride;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The modest wants of every day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The toil of every day supplied.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His virtues walk’d their narrow round,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor made a pause, nor left a void;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sure th’ Eternal Master found<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The single talent well employ’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The busy day, the peaceful night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unfelt, uncounted, glided by;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His frame was firm—his powers were bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though now his eightieth year was nigh.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_516" id="page_516">{516}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Then with no fiery throbbing pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No cold gradations of decay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death broke at once the vital chain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And freed his soul the nearest way.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RICHARD_JAGO" id="RICHARD_JAGO"></a>RICHARD JAGO</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1715-1781<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_452" id="pm_452">452.</a></p> - -<h3>Absence</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH leaden foot Time creeps along<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While Delia is away:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her, nor plaintive was the song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor tedious was the day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, envious Pow’r! reverse my doom;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now double thy career,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strain ev’ry nerve, stretch ev’ry plume,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And rest them when she’s here!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_GRAY" id="THOMAS_GRAY"></a>THOMAS GRAY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1716-1771<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_453" id="pm_453">453.</a></p> - -<h3>Elegy written in a Country Churchyard</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE Curfew tolls the knell of parting day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lowing herd wind slowly o’er the lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The plowman homeward plods his weary way,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And leaves the world to darkness and to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the air a solemn stillness holds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_517" id="page_517">{517}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow’r<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moping owl does to the moon complain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of such as, wand’ring near her secret bow’r,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Molest her ancient solitary reign.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree’s shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where heaves the turf in many a mould’ring heap,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The breezy call of incense-breathing Morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The swallow twitt’ring from the straw-built shed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cock’s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or busy housewife ply her evening care:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No children run to lisp their sire’s return,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How jocund did they drive their team afield!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How bow’d the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let not Ambition mock their useful toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The short and simple annals of the poor.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow’r,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all that beauty, all that wealth e’er gave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awaits alike th’ inevitable hour:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The paths of glory lead but to the grave.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_518" id="page_518">{518}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Nor you, ye Proud, impute to These the fault,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If Memory o’er their Tomb no Trophies raise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Can storied urn or animated bust<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can Honour’s voice provoke the silent dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or Flatt’ry soothe the dull cold ear of death?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rich with the spoils of time did ne’er unroll;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chill Penury repress’d their noble rage,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And froze the genial current of the soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Full many a gem of purest ray serene<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dark unfathom’d caves of ocean bear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And waste its sweetness on the desert air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The little tyrant of his fields withstood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some Cromwell guiltless of his country’s blood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Th’ applause of list’ning senates to command,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The threats of pain and ruin to despise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To scatter plenty o’er a smiling land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And read their history in a nation’s eyes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_519" id="page_519">{519}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their lot forbade: nor circumscribed alone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shut the gates of mercy on mankind,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With incense kindled at the Muse’s flame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far from the madding crowd’s ignoble strife<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their sober wishes never learn’d to stray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along the cool sequester’d vale of life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet ev’n these bones from insult to protect<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some frail memorial still erected nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Their name, their years, spelt by th’ unletter’d muse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The place of fame and elegy supply:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a holy text around she strews,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That teach the rustic moralist to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This pleasing anxious being e’er resign’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor cast one longing ling’ring look behind?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On some fond breast the parting soul relies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some pious drops the closing eye requires;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">E’en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">E’en in our Ashes live their wonted Fires.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_520" id="page_520">{520}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">For thee, who, mindful of th’ unhonour’d dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If chance, by lonely contemplation led,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Haply some hoary-headed Swain may say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brushing with hasty steps the dews away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘There at the foot of yonder nodding beech<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His listless length at noontide would he stretch,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pore upon the brook that babbles by.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mutt’ring his wayward fancies he would rove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or crazed with care, or cross’d in hopeless love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘One morn I miss’d him on the custom’d hill.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Along the heath and near his fav’rite tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another came; nor yet beside the rill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘The next with dirges due in sad array<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn:’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4><i>THE EPITAPH.</i></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>A Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Fair Science frown’d not on his humble birth,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And Melancholy marked him for her own.</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_521" id="page_521">{521}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0"><i>Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Heav’n did a recompense as largely send:</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>He gave to Mis’ry all he had, a tear,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>He gain’d from Heav’n (’twas all he wish’d) a friend.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>No farther seek his merits to disclose,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>The bosom of his Father and his God.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_454" id="pm_454">454.</a></p> - -<h3>The Curse upon Edward</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">W</span>EAVE the warp, and weave the woof,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The winding-sheet of Edward’s race.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Give ample room, and verge enough<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The characters of hell to trace.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mark the year, and mark the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Severn shall re-echo with affright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shrieks of death, thro’ Berkley’s roofs that ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shrieks of an agonizing King!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She-wolf of France, with unrelenting fangs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That tear’st the bowels of thy mangled mate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From thee be born, who o’er thy country hangs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The scourge of Heav’n. What terrors round him wait!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amazement in his van, with Flight combined,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Sorrow’s faded form, and Solitude behind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Mighty Victor, mighty Lord!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low on his funeral couch he lies!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No pitying heart, no eye, afford<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A tear to grace his obsequies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the sable warrior fled?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_522" id="page_522">{522}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swarm that in thy noon tide beam were born?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gone to salute the rising morn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While proudly riding o’er the azure realm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind’s sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That, hush’d in grim repose, expects his evening prey,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Fill high the sparkling bowl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rich repast prepare;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Close by the regal chair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fell Thirst and Famine scowl<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A baleful smile upon their baffled guest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heard ye the din of battle bray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lance to lance, and horse to horse?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long years of havoc urge their destined course,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thro’ the kindred squadrons mow their way.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ye Towers of Julius, London’s lasting shame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With many a foul and midnight murder fed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Revere his consort’s faith, his father’s fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spare the meek usurper’s holy head.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above, below, the rose of snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Twined with her blushing foe, we spread:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bristled boar in infant-gore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wallows beneath the thorny shade.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now, brothers, bending o’er th’ accursèd loom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Edward, lo! to sudden fate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Weave we the woof. The thread is spun)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Half of thy heart we consecrate.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(The web is wove. The work is done.)<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_523" id="page_523">{523}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_455" id="pm_455">455.</a></p> - -<h3>The Progress of Poesy</h3> - -<p class="c">A PINDARIC ODE</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">A</span>WAKE, Æolian lyre, awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And give to rapture all thy trembling strings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Helicon’s harmonious springs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A thousand rills their mazy progress take:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The laughing flowers, that round them blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drink life and fragrance as they flow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now the rich stream of music winds along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep, majestic, smooth and strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thro’ verdant vales, and Ceres’ golden reign:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now rolling down the steep amain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Headlong, impetuous, see it pour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rocks and nodding groves rebellow to the roar.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">O Sovereign of the willing soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And frantic Passions hear thy soft controul.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On Thracia’s hills the Lord of War<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has curb’d the fury of his car,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dropp’d his thirsty lance at thy command.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perching on the sceptred hand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather’d king<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With ruffled plumes and flagging wing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quench’d in dark clouds of slumber lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thee the voice, the dance, obey,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Temper’d to thy warbled lay.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er Idalia’s velvet-green<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rosy-crownèd Loves are seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_524" id="page_524">{524}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">On Cytherea’s day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With antic Sports, and blue-eyed Pleasures,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Frisking light in frolic measures;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now pursuing, now retreating,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now in circling troops they meet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To brisk notes in cadence beating,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Glance their many-twinkling feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slow melting strains their Queen’s approach declare:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where’er she turns the Graces homage pay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With arms sublime, that float upon the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In gliding state she wins her easy way:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er her warm cheek and rising bosom move<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Man’s feeble race what ills await,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Disease, and Sorrow’s weeping train,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fate!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fond complaint, my song, disprove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And justify the laws of Jove.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say, has he giv’n in vain the heav’nly Muse?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night, and all her sickly dews,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He gives to range the dreary sky:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till down the eastern cliffs afar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hyperion’s march they spy, and glitt’ring shafts of war.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">In climes beyond the solar road,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where shaggy forms o’er ice-built mountains roam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Muse has broke the twilight gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To cheer the shiv’ring native’s dull abode.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And oft, beneath the od’rous shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Chili’s boundless forests laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_525" id="page_525">{525}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In loose numbers wildly sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her track, where’er the Goddess roves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glory pursue and generous Shame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Th’ unconquerable Mind, and Freedom’s holy flame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Woods, that wave o’er Delphi’s steep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Isles, that crown th’ Ægean deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fields, that cool Ilissus laves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or where Mæander’s amber waves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In lingering lab’rinths creep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How do your tuneful echoes languish,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mute, but to the voice of anguish?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where each old poetic mountain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Inspiration breathed around:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ev’ry shade and hallow’d fountain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Murmur’d deep a solemn sound:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the sad Nine, in Greece’s evil hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And coward Vice, that revels in her chains.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Latium had her lofty spirit lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They sought, O Albion! next thy sea-encircled coast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Far from the sun and summer gale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In thy green lap was Nature’s darling laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What time, where lucid Avon stray’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To Him the mighty mother did unveil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her awful face: the dauntless child<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stretch’d forth his little arms, and smiled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Richly paint the vernal year:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine too these golden keys, immortal boy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This can unlock the gates of joy;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_526" id="page_526">{526}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of horror that, and thrilling fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Nor second he, that rode sublime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstasy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The secrets of th’ abyss to spy.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He pass’d the flaming bounds of place and time:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The living Throne, the sapphire-blaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Angels tremble while they gaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He saw; but blasted with excess of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Closed his eyes in endless night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold, where Dryden’s less presumptuous car,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide o’er the fields of glory bear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two coursers of ethereal race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding pace.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark, his hands the lyre explore!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright-eyed Fancy hovering o’er<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scatters from her pictured urn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ah! ’tis heard no more——<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Lyre divine! what daring Spirit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wakes thee now? Tho’ he inherit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor the pride, nor ample pinion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That the Theban eagle bear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sailing with supreme dominion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thro’ the azure deep of air:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet oft before his infant eyes would run<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such forms as glitter in the Muse’s ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With orient hues, unborrow’d of the Sun:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the Good how far—but far above the Great.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_527" id="page_527">{527}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_456" id="pm_456">456.</a></p> - -<h3>On a Favourite Cat, Drowned in a Tub of Gold Fishes</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>WAS on a lofty vase’s side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where China’s gayest art had dyed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The azure flowers that blow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Demurest of the tabby kind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pensive Selima reclined,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gazed on the lake below.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her conscious tail her joy declared;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fair round face, the snowy beard,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The velvet of her paws,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her coat, that with the tortoise vies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She saw; and purr’d applause.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still had she gazed; but ’midst the tide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two angel forms were seen to glide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Genii of the stream:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their scaly armour’s Tyrian hue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thro’ richest purple to the view<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Betray’d a golden gleam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The hapless Nymph with wonder saw:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A whisker first and then a claw,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With many an ardent wish,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She stretch’d in vain to reach the prize.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What female heart can gold despise?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What Cat’s averse to fish?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_528" id="page_528">{528}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Presumptuous Maid! with looks intent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Again she stretch’d, again she bent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor knew the gulf between.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled.)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The slipp’ry verge her feet beguiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She tumbled headlong in.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Eight times emerging from the flood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She mew’d to ev’ry wat’ry god,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some speedy aid to send.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor cruel <i>Tom</i>, nor <i>Susan</i> heard.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A Fav’rite has no friend!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From hence, ye Beauties, undeceived,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Know, one false step is ne’er retrieved,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And be with caution bold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not all that tempts your wand’ring eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heedless hearts, is lawful prize;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor all that glisters, gold.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_COLLINS" id="WILLIAM_COLLINS"></a>WILLIAM COLLINS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1721-1759<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_457" id="pm_457">457.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode to Simplicity</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">O</span> THOU, by Nature taught<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To breathe her genuine thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In numbers warmly pure and sweetly strong:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who first on mountains wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In Fancy, loveliest child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy babe and Pleasure’s, nursed the pow’rs of song!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_529" id="page_529">{529}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i4">Thou, who with hermit heart<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Disdain’st the wealth of art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But com’st a decent maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In Attic robe array’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O chaste, unboastful nymph, to thee I call!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">By all the honey’d store<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On Hybla’s thymy shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By all her blooms and mingled murmurs dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">By her whose love-lorn woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In evening musings slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soothed sweetly sad Electra’s poet’s ear:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">By old Cephisus deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who spread his wavy sweep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In warbled wand’rings round thy green retreat;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On whose enamell’d side,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When holy Freedom died,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No equal haunt allured thy future feet!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">O sister meek of Truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To my admiring youth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy sober aid and native charms infuse!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The flow’rs that sweetest breathe,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Though beauty cull’d the wreath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still ask thy hand to range their order’d hues.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">While Rome could none esteem,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But virtue’s patriot theme,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You loved her hills, and led her laureate band;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But stay’d to sing alone<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To one distinguish’d throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turn’d thy face, and fled her alter’d land.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_530" id="page_530">{530}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i4">No more, in hall or bow’r,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The passions own thy pow’r.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, only Love her forceless numbers mean;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For thou hast left her shrine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor olive more, nor vine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Though taste, though genius bless<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To some divine excess,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faint’s the cold work till thou inspire the whole;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What each, what all supply,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">May court, may charm our eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Of these let others ask,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To aid some mighty task,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I only seek to find thy temperate vale;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where oft my reed might sound<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To maids and shepherds round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all thy sons, O Nature, learn my tale.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_458" id="pm_458">458.</a></p> - -<h3>How sleep the Brave</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>OW sleep the brave, who sink to rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By all their country’s wishes blest!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Returns to deck their hallow’d mould,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She there shall dress a sweeter sod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than Fancy’s feet have ever trod.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By fairy hands their knell is rung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By forms unseen their dirge is sung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bless the turf that wraps their clay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Freedom shall awhile repair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To dwell, a weeping hermit, there!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_531" id="page_531">{531}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_459" id="pm_459">459.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode to Evening</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy modest ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like thy own solemn springs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy springs and dying gales;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O nymph reserved, while now the bright-hair’d sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With brede ethereal wove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’erhang his wavy bed:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now air is hush’d, save where the weak-eyed bat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or where the beetle winds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His small but sullen horn,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As oft he rises, ’midst the twilight path<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now teach me, maid composed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To breathe some soften’d strain,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May not unseemly with its stillness suit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As, musing slow, I hail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy genial loved return!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For when thy folding-star arising shows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His paly circlet, at his warning lamp<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fragrant hours, and elves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who slept in buds the day,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_532" id="page_532">{532}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The pensive pleasures sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Prepare thy shadowy car:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then lead, calm votaress, where some sheety lake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cheers the lone heath, or some time-hallow’d pile,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or upland fallows grey<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Reflect its last cool gleam.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That from the mountain’s side<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Views wilds and swelling floods,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And hamlets brown, and dim-discover’d spires,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hears their simple bell, and marks o’er all<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy dewy fingers draw<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The gradual dusky veil.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While Spring shall pour his show’rs, as oft he wont,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">While Summer loves to sport<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Beneath thy lingering light;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Affrights thy shrinking train,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And rudely rends thy robes:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So long, regardful of thy quiet rule,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, rose-lipp’d Health<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy gentlest influence own,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And hymn thy favourite name!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_533" id="page_533">{533}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_460" id="pm_460">460.</a></p> - -<h3>Fidele</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O fair Fidele’s grassy tomb<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soft maids and village hinds shall bring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each opening sweet of earliest bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And rifle all the breathing Spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No wailing ghost shall dare appear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To vex with shrieks this quiet grove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But shepherd lads assemble here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And melting virgins own their love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No wither’d witch shall here be seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No goblins lead their nightly crew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The female fays shall haunt the green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dress thy grave with pearly dew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The redbreast oft at evening hours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall kindly lend his little aid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With hoary moss, and gather’d flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To deck the ground where thou art laid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When howling winds, and beating rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In tempests shake thy sylvan cell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or ’midst the chase, on every plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tender thought on thee shall dwell;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each lonely scene shall thee restore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For thee the tear be duly shed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beloved, till life can charm no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And mourn’d, till Pity’s self be dead.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_534" id="page_534">{534}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MARK_AKENSIDE" id="MARK_AKENSIDE"></a>MARK AKENSIDE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1721-1770<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_461" id="pm_461">461.</a></p> - -<h3>Amoret</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F rightly tuneful bards decide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If it be fix’d in Love’s decrees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Beauty ought not to be tried<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But by its native power to please,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then tell me, youths and lovers, tell—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What fair can Amoret excel?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Behold that bright unsullied smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wisdom speaking in her mien:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet—she so artless all the while,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So little studious to be seen—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We naught but instant gladness know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor think to whom the gift we owe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But neither music, nor the powers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of youth and mirth and frolic cheer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Add half the sunshine to the hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or make life’s prospect half so clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As memory brings it to the eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From scenes where Amoret was by.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This, sure, is Beauty’s happiest part;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This gives the most unbounded sway;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This shall enchant the subject heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When rose and lily fade away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she be still, in spite of Time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet Amoret in all her prime.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_535" id="page_535">{535}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_462" id="pm_462">462.</a></p> - -<h3>The Complaint</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><span class="letra">A</span>WAY! away!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tempt me no more, insidious Love:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thy soothing sway<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long did my youthful bosom prove:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At length thy treason is discerned,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At length some dear-bought caution earn’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Away! nor hope my riper age to move.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">I know, I see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her merit. Needs it now be shown,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Alas! to me?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How often, to myself unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The graceful, gentle, virtuous maid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have I admired! How often said—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What joy to call a heart like hers one’s own!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">But, flattering god,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O squanderer of content and ease<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In thy abode<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will care’s rude lesson learn to please?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O say, deceiver, hast thou won<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Proud Fortune to attend thy throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or placed thy friends above her stern decrees?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_463" id="pm_463">463.</a></p> - -<h3>The Nightingale</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O-night retired, the queen of heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With young Endymion stays;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now to Hesper it is given<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awhile to rule the vacant sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till she shall to her lamp supply<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A stream of brighter rays.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_536" id="page_536">{536}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Propitious send thy golden ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou purest light above!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let no false flame seduce to stray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where gulf or steep lie hid for harm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lead where music’s healing charm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May soothe afflicted love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To them, by many a grateful song<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In happier seasons vow’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These lawns, Olympia’s haunts, belong:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft by yon silver stream we walk’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or fix’d, while Philomela talk’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath yon copses stood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor seldom, where the beechen boughs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That roofless tower invade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We came, while her enchanting Muse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The radiant moon above us held:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till, by a clamorous owl compell’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She fled the solemn shade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But hark! I hear her liquid tone!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now Hesper guide my feet!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the red marl with moss o’ergrown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through yon wild thicket next the plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose hawthorns choke the winding lane<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which leads to her retreat.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See the green space: on either hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Enlarged it spreads around:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, in the midst she takes her stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where one old oak his awful shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Extends o’er half the level mead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Enclosed in woods profound.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_537" id="page_537">{537}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Hark! how through many a melting note<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She now prolongs her lays:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How sweetly down the void they float!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The breeze their magic path attends;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars shine out; the forest bends;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wakeful heifers graze.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whoe’er thou art whom chance may bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To this sequester’d spot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If then the plaintive Siren sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O softly tread beneath her bower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And think of Heaven’s disposing power,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of man’s uncertain lot.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O think, o’er all this mortal stage<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What mournful scenes arise:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What ruin waits on kingly rage;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How often virtue dwells with woe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How many griefs from knowledge flow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How swiftly pleasure flies!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sacred bird! let me at eve,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus wandering all alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy tender counsel oft receive,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bear witness to thy pensive airs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pity Nature’s common cares,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till I forget my own.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_538" id="page_538">{538}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="TOBIAS_GEORGE_SMOLLETT" id="TOBIAS_GEORGE_SMOLLETT"></a>TOBIAS GEORGE SMOLLETT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1721-1771<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_464" id="pm_464">464.</a></p> - -<h3>To Leven Water</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>URE stream, in whose transparent wave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My youthful limbs I wont to lave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No torrents stain thy limpid source,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No rocks impede thy dimpling course<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Devolving from thy parent lake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A charming maze thy waters make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By bowers of birch and groves of pine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And edges flower’d with eglantine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still on thy banks so gaily green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May numerous herds and flocks be seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lasses chanting o’er the pail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shepherds piping in the dale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ancient faith that knows no guile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And industry embrown’d with toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hearts resolved and hands prepared<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blessings they enjoy to guard.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHRISTOPHER_SMART" id="CHRISTOPHER_SMART"></a>CHRISTOPHER SMART</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1722-1770<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_465" id="pm_465">465.</a></p> - -<h3>Song to David</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>UBLIME—invention ever young,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of vast conception, tow’ring tongue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To God th’ eternal theme;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Notes from yon exaltations caught,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unrivall’d royalty of thought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er meaner strains supreme.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_539" id="page_539">{539}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">His muse, bright angel of his verse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gives balm for all the thorns that pierce,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For all the pangs that rage;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blest light still gaining on the gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The more than Michal of his bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Th’ Abishag of his age.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He sang of God—the mighty source<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all things—the stupendous force<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On which all strength depends;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From whose right arm, beneath whose eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All period, power, and enterprise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Commences, reigns, and ends.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tell them, <span class="smcap">I am</span>, Jehovah said<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Moses; while earth heard in dread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, smitten to the heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At once above, beneath, around,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All Nature, without voice or sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Replied, <span class="smcap">O Lord, Thou art</span>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The world, the clustering spheres, He made;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glorious light, the soothing shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dale, champaign, grove, and hill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The multitudinous abyss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Secrecy remains in bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Wisdom hides her skill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The pillars of the Lord are seven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which stand from earth to topmost heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His Wisdom drew the plan;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His Word accomplished the design,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From brightest gem to deepest mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From Christ enthroned, to Man.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_540" id="page_540">{540}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">For Adoration all the ranks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Angels yield eternal thanks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And David in the midst;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With God’s good poor, which, last and least<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In man’s esteem, Thou to Thy feast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O blessèd Bridegroom, bidd’st!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For Adoration, David’s Psalms<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lift up the heart to deeds of alms;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he, who kneels and chants,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prevails his passions to control,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Finds meat and medicine to the soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which for translation pants.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For Adoration, in the dome<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Christ, the sparrows find a home,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And on His olives perch:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swallow also dwells with thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O man of God’s humility,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within his Saviour’s church.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet is the dew that falls betimes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drops upon the leafy limes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet, Hermon’s fragrant air:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet is the lily’s silver bell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sweet the wakeful tapers’ smell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That watch for early prayer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet the young nurse, with love intense,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which smiles o’er sleeping innocence;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet, when the lost arrive:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet the musician’s ardour beats,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While his vague mind’s in quest of sweets,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The choicest flowers to hive.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_541" id="page_541">{541}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Strong is the horse upon his speed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong in pursuit the rapid glede,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which makes at once his game:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong the tall ostrich on the ground;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong through the turbulent profound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shoots Xiphias to his aim.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Strong is the lion—like a coal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His eyeball,—like a bastion’s mole<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His chest against the foes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong the gier-eagle on his sail;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong against tide th’ enormous whale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Emerges as he goes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But stronger still, in earth and air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the sea, the man of prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And far beneath the tide:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the seat to faith assigned,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where ask is have, where seek is find,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where knock is open wide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Precious the penitential tear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And precious is the sigh sincere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Acceptable to God:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And precious are the winning flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In gladsome Israel’s feast of bowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bound on the hallow’d sod.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Glorious the sun in mid career;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glorious th’ assembled fires appear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Glorious the comet’s train:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glorious the trumpet and alarm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glorious the Almighty’s stretch’d-out arm;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Glorious th’ enraptured main:<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>glede] kite. Xiphias] sword-fish.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_542" id="page_542">{542}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>LORIOUS the northern lights astream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glorious the song, when God’s the theme;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Glorious the thunder’s roar:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glorious Hosanna from the den;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glorious the catholic Amen;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Glorious the martyr’s gore:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Glorious—more glorious—is the crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Him that brought salvation down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By meekness call’d thy Son:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou that stupendous truth believed;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now the matchless deed’s achieved,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Determined, dared, and done!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JANE_ELLIOT" id="JANE_ELLIOT"></a>JANE ELLIOT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1727-1805<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_466" id="pm_466">466.</a></p> - -<h3>A Lament for Flodden</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ve heard them lilting at our ewe-milking,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lasses a’ lilting before dawn o’ day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At bughts, in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorning.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lasses are lonely and dowie and wae;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nae daffing, nae gabbing, but sighing and sabbing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ilk ane lifts her leglin and hies her away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In hairst, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bandsters are lyart, and runkled, and gray:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>466.</i> loaning] lane, field-track. wede] weeded. bughts] -sheep-folds. daffing] joking. leglin] milk-pail. hairst] harvest. -bandsters] binders. lyart] gray-haired. runkled] wrinkled. -fleeching] coaxing.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_543" id="page_543">{543}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>T e’en, in the gloaming, nae swankies are roaming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Bout stacks wi’ the lasses at bogle to play;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ilk ane sits eerie, lamenting her dearie—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dool and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The English, for ance, by guile wan the day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the foremost,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The prime of our land, lie cauld in the clay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We’ll hear nae mair lilting at our ewe-milking;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Women and bairns are heartless and wae;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>466.</i> swankies] lusty lads. bogle] bogy, hide-and-seek. dool] -mourning.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="OLIVER_GOLDSMITH" id="OLIVER_GOLDSMITH"></a>OLIVER GOLDSMITH</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1728-1774<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_467" id="pm_467">467.</a></p> - -<h3>Woman</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN lovely woman stoops to folly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And finds too late that men betray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What charm can soothe her melancholy?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What art can wash her tears away?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The only art her guilt to cover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To hide her shame from ev’ry eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To give repentance to her lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wring his bosom is—to die.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_544" id="page_544">{544}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_468" id="pm_468">468.</a></p> - -<h3>Memory</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> MEMORY, thou fond deceiver,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still importunate and vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To former joys recurring ever,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And turning all the past to pain:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou, like the world, th’ oppress’d oppressing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy smiles increase the wretch’s woe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he who wants each other blessing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In thee must ever find a foe.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_CUNNINGHAME-GRAHAM_OF_GARTMORE" id="ROBERT_CUNNINGHAME-GRAHAM_OF_GARTMORE"></a>ROBERT CUNNINGHAME-GRAHAM OF GARTMORE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1735-1797<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_469" id="pm_469">469.</a></p> - -<h3>If Doughty Deeds</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F doughty deeds my lady please,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Right soon I’ll mount my steed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And strong his arm and fast his seat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That bears frae me the meed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll wear thy colours in my cap,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy picture in my heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he that bends not to thine eye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall rue it to his smart!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then tell me how to woo thee, Love;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O tell me how to woo thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For thy dear sake nae care I’ll take,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Tho’ ne’er another trow me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If gay attire delight thine eye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll dight me in array;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll tend thy chamber door all night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And squire thee all the day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_545" id="page_545">{545}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">If sweetest sounds can win thine ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These sounds I’ll strive to catch;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy voice I’ll steal to woo thysel’,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That voice that nane can match.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then tell me how to woo thee, Love ...<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But if fond love thy heart can gain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I never broke a vow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nae maiden lays her skaith to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I never loved but you.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For you alone I ride the ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For you I wear the blue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For you alone I strive to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O tell me how to woo!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then tell me how to woo thee, Love;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O tell me how to woo thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For thy dear sake nae care I’ll take<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Tho’ ne’er another trow me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_COWPER" id="WILLIAM_COWPER"></a>WILLIAM COWPER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1731-1800<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_470" id="pm_470">470.</a></p> - -<h3>To Mary Unwin</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>ARY! I want a lyre with other strings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such aid from Heaven as some have feign’d they drew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And undebased by praise of meaner things;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ere through age or woe I shed my wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I may record thy worth with honour due,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In verse as musical as thou art true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that immortalizes whom it sings:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thou hast little need. There is a Book<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_546" id="page_546">{546}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">On which the eyes of God not rarely look,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A chronicle of actions just and bright—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And since thou own’st that praise, I spare thee mine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_471" id="pm_471">471.</a></p> - -<h3>My Mary</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE twentieth year is wellnigh past<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since first our sky was overcast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, would that this might be the last!<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy spirits have a fainter flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see thee daily weaker grow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas my distress that brought thee low,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy needles, once a shining store,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For my sake restless heretofore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now rust disused, and shine no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The same kind office for me still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy sight now seconds not thy will,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But well thou play’dst the housewife’s part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all thy threads with magic art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have wound themselves about this heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy indistinct expressions seem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like language utter’d in a dream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet me they charm, whate’er the theme,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_547" id="page_547">{547}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Thy silver locks, once auburn bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are still more lovely in my sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than golden beams of orient light,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For could I view nor them nor thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What sight worth seeing could I see?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun would rise in vain for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Partakers of thy sad decline,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy hands their little force resign;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, gently press’d, press gently mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Such feebleness of limbs thou prov’st,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That now at every step thou mov’st<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upheld by two; yet still thou lov’st,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And still to love, though press’d with ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In wintry age to feel no chill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With me is to be lovely still,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But ah! by constant heed I know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How oft the sadness that I show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And should my future lot be cast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With much resemblance of the past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy worn-out heart will break at last—<br /></span> -<span class="i12">My Mary!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_548" id="page_548">{548}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JAMES_BEATTIE" id="JAMES_BEATTIE"></a>JAMES BEATTIE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1735-1803<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_472" id="pm_472">472.</a></p> - -<h3>An Epitaph</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>IKE thee I once have stemm’d the sea of life,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like thee have languish’d after empty joys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like thee have labour’d in the stormy strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Been grieved for trifles, and amused with toys.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forget my frailties; thou art also frail:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forgive my lapses; for thyself may’st fall:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor read unmoved my artless tender tale—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I was a friend, O man, to thee, to all.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ISOBEL_PAGAN" id="ISOBEL_PAGAN"></a>ISOBEL PAGAN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1740-1821<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_473" id="pm_473">473.</a></p> - -<h3>Ca’ the Yowes to the Knowes</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>A’ the yowes to the knowes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ca’ them where the heather grows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ca’ them where the burnie rows,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My bonnie dearie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As I gaed down the water side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There I met my shepherd lad;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He row’d me sweetly in his plaid,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And he ca’d me his dearie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Will ye gang down the water side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And see the waves sae sweetly glide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the hazels spreading wide?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The moon it shines fu’ clearly.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>473.</i> yowes] ewes. knowes] knolls, little hills. rows] rolls. -row’d] rolled, wrapped.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_549" id="page_549">{549}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘I</span> WAS bred up at nae sic school,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My shepherd lad, to play the fool,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a’ the day to sit in dool,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And naebody to see me.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Ye sall get gowns and ribbons meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cauf-leather shoon upon your feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in my arms ye’se lie and sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And ye sall be my dearie.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘If ye’ll but stand to what ye’ve said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’se gang wi’ you, my shepherd lad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ye may row me in your plaid,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I sall be your dearie.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘While waters wimple to the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While day blinks in the lift sae hie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till clay-cauld death sail blin’ my e’e,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ye aye sall be my dearie!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>473.</i> dool] dule, sorrow. lift] sky.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="ANNA_LAETITIA_BARBAULD" id="ANNA_LAETITIA_BARBAULD"></a>ANNA LÆTITIA BARBAULD</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1743-1825<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_474" id="pm_474">474.</a></p> - -<h3>Life</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>IFE! I know not what thou art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But know that thou and I must part;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when, or how, or where we met,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I own to me’s a secret yet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But this I know, when thou art fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’er they lay these limbs, this head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No clod so valueless shall be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As all that then remains of me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_550" id="page_550">{550}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">O whither, whither dost thou fly?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where bend unseen thy trackless course?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And in this strange divorce,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, tell where I must seek this compound I?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the vast ocean of empyreal flame<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From whence thy essence came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From matter’s base encumbering weed?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or dost thou, hid from sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wait, like some spell-bound knight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through blank oblivious years th’ appointed hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To break thy trance and reassume thy power?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O say, what art thou, when no more thou’rt thee?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Life! we have been long together,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through pleasant and through cloudy weather;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Tis hard to part when friends are dear;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Perhaps ’twill cost a sigh, a tear;—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then steal away, give little warning,<br /></span> -<span class="i7">Choose thine own time;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say not Good-night, but in some brighter clime<br /></span> -<span class="i7">Bid me Good-morning!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FANNY_GREVILLE" id="FANNY_GREVILLE"></a>FANNY GREVILLE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">18th Cent.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_475" id="pm_475">475.</a></p> - -<h3>Prayer for Indifference</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> ASK no kind return of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No tempting charm to please;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far from the heart those gifts remove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That sighs for peace and ease.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_551" id="page_551">{551}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor peace nor ease the heart can know,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That, like the needle true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turns at the touch of joy or woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, turning, trembles too.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Far as distress the soul can wound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis pain in each degree:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis bliss but to a certain bound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beyond is agony.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_LOGAN" id="JOHN_LOGAN"></a>JOHN LOGAN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1748-1788<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_476" id="pm_476">476.</a></p> - -<h3>To the Cuckoo</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>AIL, beauteous stranger of the grove!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou messenger of Spring!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And woods thy welcome ring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What time the daisy decks the green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy certain voice we hear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hast thou a star to guide thy path,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or mark the rolling year?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Delightful visitant! with thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I hail the time of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hear the sound of music sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From birds among the bowers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The schoolboy, wand’ring through the wood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To pull the primrose gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And imitates thy lay.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_552" id="page_552">{552}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What time the pea puts on the bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou fli’st thy vocal vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An annual guest in other lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Another Spring to hail.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy sky is ever clear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast no sorrow in thy song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No Winter in thy year!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O could I fly, I’d fly with thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We’d make, with joyful wing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our annual visit o’er the globe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Companions of the Spring.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LADY_ANNE_LINDSAY" id="LADY_ANNE_LINDSAY"></a>LADY ANNE LINDSAY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1750-1825<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_477" id="pm_477">477.</a></p> - -<h3>Auld Robin Gray</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a’ the warld to rest are gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waes o’ my heart fa’ in showers frae my e’e,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While my gudeman lies sound by me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Young Jamie lo’ed me weel, and sought me for his bride;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But saving a croun he had naething else beside:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the croun and the pund were baith for me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He hadna been awa’ a week but only twa,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When my father brak his arm, and the cow was stown awa’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My mother she fell sick,—and my Jamie at the sea—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And auld Robin Gray came a-courtin’ me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_553" id="page_553">{553}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I toil’d day and night, but their bread I couldna win;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Auld Rob maintain’d them baith, and wi’ tears in his e’e<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said, ‘Jennie, for their sakes, O, marry me!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My heart it said nay; I look’d for Jamie back;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a wrack;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His ship it was a wrack—Why didna Jamie dee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or why do I live to cry, Wae’s me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My father urged me sair: my mother didna speak;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But she look’d in my face till my heart was like to break:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They gi’ed him my hand, tho’ my heart was in the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hadna been a wife a week but only four,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When mournfu’ as I sat on the stane at the door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw my Jamie’s wraith,—for I couldna think it he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till he said, ‘I’m come hame to marry thee.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sair, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We took but ae kiss, and we tore ourselves away:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wish that I were dead, but I’m no like to dee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And why was I born to say, Wae’s me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I’ll do my best a gude wife aye to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For auld Robin Gray he is kind unto me.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_554" id="page_554">{554}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_WILLIAM_JONES" id="SIR_WILLIAM_JONES"></a>SIR WILLIAM JONES</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1746-1794<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_478" id="pm_478">478.</a></p> - -<h3>Epigram</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>N parent knees, a naked new-born child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weeping thou sat’st while all around thee smiled:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So live, that sinking to thy life’s last sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calm thou may’st smile, whilst all around thee weep.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_CHATTERTON" id="THOMAS_CHATTERTON"></a>THOMAS CHATTERTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1752-1770<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_479" id="pm_479">479.</a></p> - -<h3>Song from Ælla</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> SING unto my roundelay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O drop the briny tear with me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dance no more at holyday,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a running river be:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My love is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Gone to his death-bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All under the willow-tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Black his cryne as the winter night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White his rode as the summer snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red his face as the morning light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cold he lies in the grave below:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My love is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Gone to his death-bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All under the willow-tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet his tongue as the throstle’s note,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quick in dance as thought can be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deft his tabor, cudgel stout;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O he lies by the willow-tree!<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My love is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Gone to his death-bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All under the willow-tree.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>479.</i> cryne] hair. rode] complexion.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_555" id="page_555">{555}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark! the raven flaps his wing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the brier’d dell below;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the nightmares, as they go:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gone to his death-bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All under the willow-tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See! the white moon shines on high;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whiter is my true-love’s shroud:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whiter than the morning sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whiter than the evening cloud:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gone to his death-bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All under the willow-tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here upon my true-love’s grave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall the barren flowers be laid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not one holy saint to save<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the coldness of a maid:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gone to his death-bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All under the willow-tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With my hands I’ll dent the briers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round his holy corse to gre:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ouph and fairy, light your fires,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here my body still shall be:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My love is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gone to his death-bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All under the willow-tree.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>dent] fasten. gre] grow. ouph] elf.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_556" id="page_556">{556}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME, with acorn-cup and thorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drain my heartès blood away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life and all its good I scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dance by night, or feast by day:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My love is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Gone to his death-bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All under the willow-tree.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_CRABBE" id="GEORGE_CRABBE"></a>GEORGE CRABBE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1754-1832<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_480" id="pm_480">480.</a></p> - -<h3>Meeting</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y Damon was the first to wake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gentle flame that cannot die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Damon is the last to take<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The faithful bosom’s softest sigh:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The life between is nothing worth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O cast it from thy thought away!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think of the day that gave it birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And this its sweet returning day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Buried be all that has been done,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or say that naught is done amiss;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For who the dangerous path can shun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In such bewildering world as this?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But love can every fault forgive,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or with a tender look reprove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now let naught in memory live<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that we meet, and that we love.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_557" id="page_557">{557}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_481" id="pm_481">481.</a></p> - -<h3>Late Wisdom</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>E’ve trod the maze of error round,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long wandering in the winding glade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now the torch of truth is found,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It only shows us where we strayed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By long experience taught, we know—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Can rightly judge of friends and foes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can all the worth of these allow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the faults discern in those.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, ’tis our boast that we can quell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wildest passions in their rage,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can their destructive force repel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And their impetuous wrath assuage.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, Virtue! dost thou arm when now<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This bold rebellious race are fled?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all these tyrants rest, and thou<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Art warring with the mighty dead?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_482" id="pm_482">482.</a></p> - -<h3>A Marriage Ring</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE ring, so worn as you behold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So thin, so pale, is yet of gold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The passion such it was to prove—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Worn with life’s care, love yet was love.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_558" id="page_558">{558}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_BLAKE" id="WILLIAM_BLAKE"></a>WILLIAM BLAKE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1757-1827<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_483" id="pm_483">483.</a></p> - -<h3>To the Muses</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HETHER on Ida’s shady brow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or in the chambers of the East,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chambers of the Sun, that now<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From ancient melody have ceased;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whether in heaven ye wander fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the green corners of the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the blue regions of the air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the melodious winds have birth;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Whether on crystal rocks ye rove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the bosom of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wandering in many a coral grove;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How have you left the ancient love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That bards of old enjoy’d in you!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The languid strings do scarcely move,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sound is forced, the notes are few.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_484" id="pm_484">484.</a></p> - -<h3>To Spring</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> THOU with dewy locks, who lookest down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the clear windows of the morning, turn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The hills tell one another, and the listening<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turn’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let thy holy feet visit our clime!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_559" id="page_559">{559}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Come o’er the eastern hills, and let our winds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss thy perfumèd garments; let us taste<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon our lovesick land that mourns for thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy golden crown upon her languish’d head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose modest tresses are bound up for thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_485" id="pm_485">485.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y silks and fine array,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My smiles and languish’d air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Love are driven away;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And mournful lean Despair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brings me yew to deck my grave:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such end true lovers have.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His face is fair as heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When springing buds unfold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O why to him was’t given,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose heart is wintry cold?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His breast is Love’s all-worshipp’d tomb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where all Love’s pilgrims come.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bring me an axe and spade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bring me a winding-sheet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I my grave have made,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let winds and tempests beat:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then down I’ll lie, as cold as clay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">True love doth pass away!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_560" id="page_560">{560}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_486" id="pm_486">486.</a></p> - -<h3>Reeds of Innocence</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>IPING down the valleys wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Piping songs of pleasant glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On a cloud I saw a child,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he laughing said to me:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Pipe a song about a Lamb!’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So I piped with merry cheer.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Piper, pipe that song again;’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So I piped: he wept to hear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing thy songs of happy cheer!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So I sung the same again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While he wept with joy to hear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Piper, sit thee down and write<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In a book that all may read.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So he vanish’d from my sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I pluck’d a hollow reed,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I made a rural pen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I stain’d the water clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I wrote my happy songs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Every child may joy to hear.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_487" id="pm_487">487.</a></p> - -<h3>The Little Black Boy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y mother bore me in the southern wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I am black, but O, my soul is white!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White as an angel is the English child,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I am black, as if bereaved of light.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_561" id="page_561">{561}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">My mother taught me underneath a tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, sitting down before the heat of day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She took me on her lap and kissèd me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, pointing to the East, began to say:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Look at the rising sun: there God does live,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gives His light, and gives His heat away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Comfort in morning, joy in the noonday.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And we are put on earth a little space,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That we may learn to bear the beams of love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And these black bodies and this sunburnt face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are but a cloud, and like a shady grove.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘For when our souls have learn’d the heat to bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cloud will vanish, we shall hear His voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saying, “Come out from the grove, my love and care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And round my golden tent like lambs rejoice.”<span class="lftspc">’</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus did my mother say, and kissèd me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thus I say to little English boy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I from black and he from white cloud free,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And round the tent of God like lambs we joy,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ll shade him from the heat till he can bear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To lean in joy upon our Father’s knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then I’ll stand and stroke his silver hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And be like him, and he will then love me.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_562" id="page_562">{562}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_488" id="pm_488">488.</a></p> - -<h3>Hear the Voice</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>EAR the voice of the Bard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who present, past, and future, sees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose ears have heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Holy Word<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That walk’d among the ancient trees;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Calling the lapsèd soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And weeping in the evening dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That might control<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The starry pole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fallen, fallen light renew!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O Earth, O Earth, return!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arise from out the dewy grass!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night is worn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rises from the slumbrous mass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Turn away no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why wilt thou turn away?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The starry floor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The watery shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is given thee till the break of day.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_489" id="pm_489">489.</a></p> - -<h3>The Tiger</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>IGER, tiger, burning bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the forests of the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What immortal hand or eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could frame thy fearful symmetry?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_563" id="page_563">{563}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">In what distant deeps or skies<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burnt the fire of thine eyes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On what wings dare he aspire?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What the hand dare seize the fire?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And what shoulder and what art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could twist the sinews of thy heart?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, when thy heart began to beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What dread hand and what dread feet?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What the hammer? What the chain?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In what furnace was thy brain?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What the anvil? What dread grasp<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dare its deadly terrors clasp?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the stars threw down their spears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And watered heaven with their tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did He smile His work to see?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did He who made the lamb make thee?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tiger, tiger, burning bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the forests of the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What immortal hand or eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_490" id="pm_490">490.</a></p> - -<h3>Cradle Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>LEEP, sleep, beauty bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dreaming in the joys of night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little sorrows sit and weep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet babe, in thy face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft desires I can trace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Secret joys and secret smiles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little pretty infant wiles.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_564" id="page_564">{564}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As thy softest limbs I feel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smiles as of the morning steal<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er thy cheek, and o’er thy breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where thy little heart doth rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O the cunning wiles that creep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In thy little heart asleep!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When thy little heart doth wake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the dreadful night shall break.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_491" id="pm_491">491.</a></p> - -<h3>Night</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE sun descending in the west,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The evening star does shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The birds are silent in their nest.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I must seek for mine.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The moon, like a flower<br /></span> -<span class="i3">In heaven’s high bower,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">With silent delight<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Sits and smiles on the night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Farewell, green fields and happy grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where flocks have took delight:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where lambs have nibbled, silent move<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The feet of angels bright;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Unseen they pour blessing<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And joy without ceasing<br /></span> -<span class="i3">On each bud and blossom,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">On each sleeping bosom.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They look in every thoughtless nest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where birds are cover’d warm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They visit caves of every beast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To keep them all from harm:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_565" id="page_565">{565}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i3">If they see any weeping<br /></span> -<span class="i3">That should have been sleeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">They pour sleep on their head,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And sit down by their bed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When wolves and tigers howl for prey,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They pitying stand and weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeking to drive their thirst away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And keep them from the sheep.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">But, if they rush dreadful,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">The angels, most heedful,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Receive each mild spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">New worlds to inherit.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there the lion’s ruddy eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall flow with tears of gold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pitying the tender cries,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And walking round the fold:<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Saying, ‘Wrath by His meekness,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">And, by His health, sickness,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Are driven away<br /></span> -<span class="i3">From our immortal day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And now beside thee, bleating lamb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I can lie down and sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or think on Him who bore thy name,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Graze after thee, and weep.<br /></span> -<span class="i3">For, wash’d in life’s river,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My bright mane for ever<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Shall shine like the gold<br /></span> -<span class="i3">As I guard o’er the fold.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_566" id="page_566">{566}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_492" id="pm_492">492.</a></p> - -<h3>Love’s Secret</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>EVER seek to tell thy love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love that never told can be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the gentle wind doth move<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Silently, invisibly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I told my love, I told my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I told her all my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah! she did depart!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soon after she was gone from me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A traveller came by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silently, invisibly:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He took her with a sigh.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_BURNS" id="ROBERT_BURNS"></a>ROBERT BURNS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1759-1796<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_493" id="pm_493">493.</a></p> - -<h3>Mary Morison</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> MARY, at thy window be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It is the wish’d, the trysted hour!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those smiles and glances let me see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That make the miser’s treasure poor:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How blythely wad I bide the stour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A weary slave frae sun to sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could I the rich reward secure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lovely Mary Morison!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yestreen, when to the trembling string<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dance gaed thro’ the lighted ha’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thee my fancy took its wing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I sat, but neither heard nor saw:<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>493.</i> stour] dust, turmoil.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_567" id="page_567">{567}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HO’ this was fair, and that was braw,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yon the toast of a’ the town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sigh’d, and said amang them a’,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Ye are na Mary Morison.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wha for thy sake wad gladly die?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or canst thou break that heart of his,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whase only faut is loving thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If love for love thou wiltna gie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At least be pity to me shown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thought ungentle canna be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The thought o’ Mary Morison.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_494" id="pm_494">494.</a></p> - -<h3>Jean</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>F a’ the airts the wind can blaw,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I dearly like the west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For there the bonnie lassie lives,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lassie I lo’e best:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There wild woods grow, and rivers row,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And monie a hill between;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But day and night my fancy’s flight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is ever wi’ my Jean.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see her in the dewy flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I see her sweet and fair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear her in the tunefu’ birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I hear her charm the air:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s not a bonnie flower that springs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By fountain, shaw, or green;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s not a bonnie bird that sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But minds me o’ my Jean.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>494.</i> airts] points of the compass. row] roll.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_568" id="page_568">{568}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_495" id="pm_495">495.</a></p> - -<h3>Auld Lang Syne</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And never brought to min’?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should auld acquaintance be forgot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And days o’ lang syne?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We twa hae rin about the braes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pu’d the gowans fine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But we’ve wandered monie a weary fit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sin’ auld lang syne.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We twa hae paidl’t i’ the burn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Frae mornin’ sun till dine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But seas between us braid hae roar’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sin’ auld lang syne.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And here’s a hand, my trusty fiere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gie’s a hand o’ thine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we’ll tak a right guid-willie waught<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For auld lang syne.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And surely I’ll be mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For auld lang syne!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">For auld lang syne, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For auld lang syne,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">We’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For auld lang syne.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>gowans] daisies. fit] foot. dine] dinner-time. fiere] partner. -guid-willie waught] friendly draught.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_569" id="page_569">{569}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_496" id="pm_496">496.</a></p> - -<h3>My Bonnie Mary</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>O fetch to me a pint ’o wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An’ fill it in a silver tassie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I may drink, before I go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A service to my bonnie lassie.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boat rocks at the pier o’ Leith,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fu’ loud the wind blaws frae the ferry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ship rides by the Berwick-law,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I maun leave my bonnie Mary.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The trumpets sound, the banners fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The glittering spears are rankèd ready;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shouts o’ war are heard afar,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The battle closes thick and bloody;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But it’s no the roar o’ sea or shore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wad mak me langer wish to tarry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor shout o’ war that’s heard afar—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It’s leaving thee, my bonnie Mary!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>496.</i> tassie] cup.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_497" id="pm_497">497.</a></p> - -<h3>John Anderson, my Jo</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">J</span>OHN Anderson, my jo, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When we were first acquent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your locks were like the raven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your bonnie brow was brent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now your brow is beld, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your locks are like the snow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But blessings on your frosty pow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">John Anderson, my jo!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>497.</i> jo] sweetheart. brent] smooth, unwrinkled. beld] bald. pow] -pate.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_570" id="page_570">{570}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">J</span>OHN Anderson, my jo, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We clamb the hill thegither;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And monie a canty day, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We’ve had wi’ ane anither:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now we maun totter down, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But hand in hand we’ll go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sleep thegither at the foot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">John Anderson, my jo.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>497.</i> canty] cheerful.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_498" id="pm_498">498.</a></p> - -<h3>The Banks o’ Doon</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>E flowery banks o’ bonnie Doon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How can ye blume sae fair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How can ye chant, ye little birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I sae fu’ o’ care!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonnie bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That sings upon the bough;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou minds me o’ the happy days<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When my fause luve was true.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou’ll break my heart, thou bonnie bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That sings beside thy mate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For sae I sat, and sae I sang,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wistna o’ my fate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see the woodbine twine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ilka bird sang o’ its luve,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sae did I o’ mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon a morn in June;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sae I flourish’d on the morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sae was pu’d or’ noon.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>498.</i> or’] ere.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_571" id="page_571">{571}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wi’ lightsome heart I pu’d a rose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon its thorny tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But my fause luver staw my rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And left the thorn wi’ me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>498.</i> staw] stole.</p></div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_499" id="pm_499">499.</a></p> - -<h3>Ae Fond Kiss</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>E fond kiss, and then we sever;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who shall say that Fortune grieves him<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the star of hope she leaves him?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me, nae cheerfu’ twinkle lights me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dark despair around benights me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ll ne’er blame my partial fancy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Naething could resist my Nancy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But to see her was to love her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love but her, and love for ever.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Had we never loved sae kindly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had we never loved sae blindly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never met—or never parted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We had ne’er been broken-hearted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine be ilka joy and treasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ae fareweel, alas, for ever!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in heart-wrung tears I’ll pledge thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warring sighs and groans I’ll wage thee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>499.</i> wage] stake, plight.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_572" id="page_572">{572}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_500" id="pm_500">500.</a></p> - -<h3>Bonnie Lesley</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> SAW ye bonnie Lesley<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As she gaed o’er the Border?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She’s gane, like Alexander,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To spread her conquests farther.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To see her is to love her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And love but her for ever;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Nature made her what she is,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ne’er made sic anither!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art a queen, fair Lesley,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy subjects we, before thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art divine, fair Lesley,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hearts o’ men adore thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Deil he couldna scaith thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or aught that wad belang thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He’d look into thy bonnie face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And say, ‘I canna wrang thee!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Powers aboon will tent thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Misfortune sha’na steer thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou’rt like themsel’ sae lovely,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That ill they’ll ne’er let near thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Return again, fair Lesley,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Return to Caledonie!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That we may brag we hae a lass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There’s nane again sae bonnie!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>scaith] harm. tent] watch. steer] molest.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_573" id="page_573">{573}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_501" id="pm_501">501.</a></p> - -<h3>Highland Mary</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>E banks and braes and streams around<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The castle o’ Montgomery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your waters never drumlie!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There simmer first unfauld her robes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And there the langest tarry;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For there I took the last fareweel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’ my sweet Highland Mary.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How sweetly bloom’d the gay green birk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How rich the hawthorn’s blossom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As underneath their fragrant shade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I clasp’d her to my bosom!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The golden hours on angel wings<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flew o’er me and my dearie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For dear to me as light and life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was my sweet Highland Mary.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wi’ monie a vow and lock’d embrace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our parting was fu’ tender;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, pledging aft to meet again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We tore oursels asunder;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But oh! fell Death’s untimely frost,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That nipt my flower sae early!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now green’s the sod, and cauld’s the clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That wraps my Highland Mary!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O pale, pale now, those rosy lips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I aft hae kiss’d sae fondly!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And closed for aye the sparkling glance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That dwelt on me sae kindly!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>drumlie] miry.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_574" id="page_574">{574}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND mouldering now in silent dust<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That heart that lo’ed me dearly!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But still within my bosom’s core<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall live my Highland Mary.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_502" id="pm_502">502.</a></p> - -<h3>O were my Love yon Lilac fair</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> WERE my Love yon lilac fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ purple blossoms to the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I a bird to shelter there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When wearied on my little wing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How I wad mourn when it was torn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By autumn wild and winter rude!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I wad sing on wanton wing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When youthfu’ May its bloom renew’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O gin my Love were yon red rose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That grows upon the castle wa’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I mysel a drap o’ dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into her bonnie breast to fa’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O there, beyond expression blest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’d feast on beauty a’ the night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seal’d on her silk-saft faulds to rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till fley’d awa’ by Phœbus’ light.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_503" id="pm_503">503.</a></p> - -<h3>A Red, Red Rose</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -O my Luve’s like a red, red rose<br /> - That’s newly sprung in June:<br /> -O my Luve’s like the melodie<br /> - That’s sweetly play’d in tune!<br /> -As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,<br /> - So deep in luve am I:<br /> -And I will luve thee still, my dear,<br /> - Till a’ the seas gang dry:<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear,<br /> - And the rocks melt wi’ the sun;<br /> -I will luve thee still, my dear,<br /> - While the sands o’ life shall run.<br /> -And fare thee weel, my only Luve,<br /> - And fare thee weel a while!<br /> -And I will come again, my Luve,<br /> - Tho’ it were ten thousand mile. -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_575" id="page_575">{575}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_504" id="pm_504">504.</a></p> - -<h3>Lament for Culloden</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE lovely lass o’ Inverness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For e’en and morn she cries, ‘Alas!’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And aye the saut tear blin’s her e’e:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Drumossie moor, Drumossie day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A waefu’ day it was to me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For there I lost my father dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My father dear and brethren three.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their graves are growing green to see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by them lies the dearest lad<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That ever blest a woman’s e’e!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A bluidy man I trow thou be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For monie a heart thou hast made sair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That ne’er did wrang to thine or thee.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_576" id="page_576">{576}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_505" id="pm_505">505.</a></p> - -<h3>The Farewell</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T was a’ for our rightfu’ King<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We left fair Scotland’s strand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was a’ for our rightfu’ King<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We e’er saw Irish land,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My dear—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We e’er saw Irish land.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now a’ is done that men can do,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a’ is done in vain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love and native land, farewell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For I maun cross the main,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My dear—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For I maun cross the main.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He turn’d him right and round about<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the Irish shore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gae his bridle-reins a shake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With, Adieu for evermore,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My dear—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With, Adieu for evermore!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sodger frae the wars returns,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sailor frae the main;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I hae parted frae my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never to meet again,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My dear—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never to meet again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When day is gane, and night is come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a’ folk bound to sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I think on him that’s far awa’,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lee-lang night, and weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My dear—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lee-lang night, and weep.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>lee-lang] livelong.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_577" id="page_577">{577}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_506" id="pm_506">506.</a></p> - -<h3>Hark! The Mavis</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>Ca’ the yowes to the knowes,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Ca’ them where the heather grows,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Ca’ them where the burnie rows,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>My bonnie dearie.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hark! the mavis’ evening sang<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sounding Clouden’s woods amang.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then a-faulding let us gang,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My bonnie dearie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We’ll gae down by Clouden side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the hazels spreading wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the waves that sweetly glide<br /></span> -<span class="i3">To the moon sae clearly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yonder Clouden’s silent towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where at moonshine midnight hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the dewy bending flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Fairies dance sae cheery.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ghaist nor bogle shalt thou fear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou’rt to Love and Heaven sae dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nocht of ill may come thee near,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My bonnie dearie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fair and lovely as thou art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast stown my very heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I can die—but canna part,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">My bonnie dearie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">While waters wimple to the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While day blinks in the lift sae hie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till clay-cauld death shall blin’ my e’e,<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Ye shall be my dearie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>Ca’ the yowes to the knowes</i> ...<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>lift] sky.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_578" id="page_578">{578}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_ROWE" id="HENRY_ROWE"></a>HENRY ROWE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1750-1819<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_507" id="pm_507">507.</a></p> - -<h3>Sun</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>NGEL, king of streaming morn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cherub, call’d by Heav’n to shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">T’ orient tread the waste forlorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Guide ætherial, pow’r divine;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thou, Lord of all within!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Golden spirit, lamp of day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Host, that dips in blood the plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bids the crimson’d mead be gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bids the green blood burst the vein;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thou, Lord of all within!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soul, that wraps the globe in light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spirit, beckoning to arise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drives the frowning brow of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glory bursting o’er the skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i3">Thou, Lord of all within!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_508" id="pm_508">508.</a></p> - -<h3>Moon</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HEE too, modest tressèd maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When thy fallen stars appear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in lawn of fire array’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sov’reign of yon powder’d sphere;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thee I chant at close of day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Throned in sapphired ring supreme,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pregnant with celestial juice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On silver wing thy diamond stream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gives what summer hours produce;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While view’d impearl’d earth’s rich inlay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_579" id="page_579">{579}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Glad, pale Cynthian wine I sip,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breathed the flow’ry leaves among;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Draughts delicious wet my lip;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drown’d in nectar drunk my song;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While tuned to Philomel the lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dew, that od’rous ointment yields,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweets, that western winds disclose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bathing spring’s more purpled fields,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soft’s the band that winds the rose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While o’er thy myrtled lawns I stray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath, O maiden Moon! thy ray.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_LISLE_BOWLES" id="WILLIAM_LISLE_BOWLES"></a>WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1762-1850<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_509" id="pm_509">509.</a></p> - -<h3>Time and Grief</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> TIME! who know’st a lenient hand to lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Softest on sorrow’s wound, and slowly thence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Lulling to sad repose the weary sense)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The faint pang stealest unperceived away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On thee I rest my only hope at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That flows in vain o’er all my soul held dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I may look back on every sorrow past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And meet life’s peaceful evening with a smile:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As some lone bird, at day’s departing hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sings in the sunbeam, of the transient shower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forgetful, though its wings are wet the while:—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet ah! how much must this poor heart endure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a cure!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_580" id="page_580">{580}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOANNA_BAILLIE" id="JOANNA_BAILLIE"></a>JOANNA BAILLIE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1762-1851<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_510" id="pm_510">510.</a></p> - -<h3>The Outlaw’s Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE chough and crow to roost are gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The owl sits on the tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hush’d wind wails with feeble moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like infant charity.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wild-fire dances on the fen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The red star sheds its ray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Uprouse ye then, my merry men!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It is our op’ning day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Both child and nurse are fast asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And closed is every flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And winking tapers faintly peep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">High from my lady’s bower;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bewilder’d hinds with shorten’d ken<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shrink on their murky way;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Uprouse ye then, my merry men!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It is our op’ning day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor board nor garner own we now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor roof nor latchèd door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor kind mate, bound by holy vow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To bless a good man’s store;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Noon lulls us in a gloomy den,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And night is grown our day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Uprouse ye then, my merry men!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And use it as ye may.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_581" id="page_581">{581}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MARY_LAMB" id="MARY_LAMB"></a>MARY LAMB</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1765-1847<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_511" id="pm_511">511.</a></p> - -<h3>A Child</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> CHILD’s a plaything for an hour;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its pretty tricks we try<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For that or for a longer space—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then tire, and lay it by.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But I knew one that to itself<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All seasons could control;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That would have mock’d the sense of pain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of a grievèd soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou straggler into loving arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Young climber-up of knees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I forget thy thousand ways<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then life and all shall cease.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CAROLINA_LADY_NAIRNE" id="CAROLINA_LADY_NAIRNE"></a>CAROLINA, LADY NAIRNE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1766-1845<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_512" id="pm_512">512.</a></p> - -<h3>The Land o’ the Leal</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’m wearin’ awa’, John<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like snaw-wreaths in thaw, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’m wearin’ awa’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the land o’ the leal.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s nae sorrow there, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s neither cauld nor care, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The day is aye fair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the land o’ the leal.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our bonnie bairn’s there, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was baith gude and fair, John;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And O! we grudged her sair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the land o’ the leal.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_582" id="page_582">{582}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But sorrow’s sel’ wears past, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And joy’s a-coming fast, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The joy that’s aye to last<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the land o’ the leal.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sae dear’s the joy was bought, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sae free the battle fought, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sinfu’ man e’er brought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the land o’ the leal.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, dry your glistening e’e, John!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My saul langs to be free, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And angels beckon me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the land o’ the leal.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, haud ye leal and true, John!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your day it’s wearin’ through, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’ll welcome you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the land o’ the leal.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now fare-ye-weel, my ain John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This warld’s cares are vain, John,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll meet, and we’ll be fain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the land o’ the leal.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JAMES_HOGG" id="JAMES_HOGG"></a>JAMES HOGG</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1770-1835<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_513" id="pm_513">513.</a></p> - -<h3>A Boy’s Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HERE the pools are bright and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the grey trout lies asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up the river and over the lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That’s the way for Billy and me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the blackbird sings the latest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the hawthorn blooms the sweetest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the nestlings chirp and flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That’s the way for Billy and me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_583" id="page_583">{583}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Where the mowers mow the cleanest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the hay lies thick and greenest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There to track the homeward bee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That’s the way for Billy and me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the hazel bank is steepest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the shadow falls the deepest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the clustering nuts fall free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That’s the way for Billy and me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why the boys should drive away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little sweet maidens from the play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or love to banter and fight so well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That’s the thing I never could tell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But this I know, I love to play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the meadow, among the hay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up the water and over the lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That’s the way for Billy and me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_514" id="pm_514">514.</a></p> - -<h3>Kilmeny</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>ONNIE Kilmeny gaed up the glen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But it wasna to meet Duneira’s men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was only to hear the yorlin sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pu’ the cress-flower round the spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The scarlet hypp and the hindberrye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the nut that hung frae the hazel tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Kilmeny was pure as pure could be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lang may her minny look o’er the wa’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lang may she seek i’ the green-wood shaw;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lang the laird o’ Duneira blame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lang, lang greet or Kilmeny come hame!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>514.</i> yorlin] the yellow-hammer. hindberrye] bramble. minny] -mother. greet] mourn.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_584" id="page_584">{584}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN many a day had come and fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When grief grew calm, and hope was dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When mess for Kilmeny’s soul had been sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the bedesman had pray’d and the dead bell rung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Late, late in gloamin’ when all was still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the fringe was red on the westlin hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wood was sere, the moon i’ the wane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The reek o’ the cot hung over the plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a little wee cloud in the world its lane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the ingle low’d wi’ an eiry leme,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Late, late in the gloamin’ Kilmeny came hame!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lang hae we sought baith holt and den;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By linn, by ford, and green-wood tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet you are halesome and fair to see.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where gat you that joup o’ the lily scheen?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That bonnie snood of the birk sae green?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And these roses, the fairest that ever were seen?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you been?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Kilmeny look’d up with a lovely grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But nae smile was seen on Kilmeny’s face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As still was her look, and as still was her e’e,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the stillness that lay on the emerant lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the mist that sleeps on a waveless sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Kilmeny had been, she knew not where,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kilmeny had been where the cock never crew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the rain never fell, and the wind never blew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But it seem’d as the harp of the sky had rung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the airs of heaven play’d round her tongue,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>westlin] western. its lane] alone, by itself. low’d] flamed. eiry -leme] eery gleam. linn] waterfall. joup] mantle.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_585" id="page_585">{585}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN she spake of the lovely forms she had seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a land where sin had never been;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A land of love and a land of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Withouten sun, or moon, or night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the river swa’d a living stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the light a pure celestial beam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The land of vision, it would seem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A still, an everlasting dream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">In yon green-wood there is a waik,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in that waik there is a wene,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in that wene there is a maike,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That neither has flesh, blood, nor bane;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And down in yon green-wood he walks his lane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In that green wene Kilmeny lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her bosom happ’d wi’ flowerets gay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the air was soft and the silence deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bonnie Kilmeny fell sound asleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She kenn’d nae mair, nor open’d her e’e,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till waked by the hymns of a far countrye.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She ‘waken’d on a couch of the silk sae slim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All striped wi’ the bars of the rainbow’s rim;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lovely beings round were rife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who erst had travell’d mortal life;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And aye they smiled and ’gan to speer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘What spirit has brought this mortal here?’—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Lang have I journey’d, the world wide,’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A meek and reverend fere replied;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Baith night and day I have watch’d the fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eident a thousand years and mair.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>swa’d] swelled. waik] a row of deep damp grass. wene]? whin, a -furze-bush. maike] a mate, match, equal. his lane] alone, by -himself. happ’d] covered. speer] inquire. fere] fellow. eident] -unintermittently.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_586" id="page_586">{586}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>ES, I have watch’d o’er ilk degree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherever blooms femenitye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But sinless virgin, free of stain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In mind and body, fand I nane.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never, since the banquet of time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Found I a virgin in her prime.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till late this bonnie maiden I saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As spotless as the morning snaw:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full twenty years she has lived as free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the spirits that sojourn in this countrye:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have brought her away frae the snares of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sin or death she never may ken.’—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They clasp’d her waist and her hands sae fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They kiss’d her cheek and they kemed her hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round came many a blooming fere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saying, ‘Bonnie Kilmeny, ye’re welcome here!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Women are freed of the littand scorn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O blest be the day Kilmeny was born!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now shall the land of the spirits see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now shall it ken what a woman may be!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many a lang year, in sorrow and pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many a lang year through the world we’ve gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Commission’d to watch fair womankind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For it’s they who nurice the immortal mind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We have watch’d their steps as the dawning shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And deep in the green-wood walks alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By lily bower and silken bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The viewless tears have o’er them shed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have soothed their ardent minds to sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or left the couch of love to weep.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>kemed] combed.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_587" id="page_587">{587}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>E have seen! we have seen! but the time must come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the angels will weep at the day of doom!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O would the fairest of mortal kind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aye keep the holy truths in mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That kindred spirits their motions see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who watch their ways with anxious e’e,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And grieve for the guilt of humanitye!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, sweet to Heaven the maiden’s prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sigh that heaves a bosom sae fair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dear to Heaven the words of truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the praise of virtue frae beauty’s mouth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dear to the viewless forms of air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The minds that kyth as the body fair!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O bonnie Kilmeny! free frae stain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If ever you seek the world again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That world of sin, of sorrow and fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O tell of the joys that are waiting here;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tell of the signs you shall shortly see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the times that are now, and the times that shall be.’—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They lifted Kilmeny, they led her away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she walk’d in the light of a sunless day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sky was a dome of crystal bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fountain of vision, and fountain of light:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The emerald fields were of dazzling glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the flowers of everlasting blow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then deep in the stream her body they laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That her youth and beauty never might fade;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they smiled on heaven, when they saw her lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the stream of life that wander’d bye.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she heard a song, she heard it sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She kenn’d not where; but sae sweetly it rung,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>kyth] show, appear.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_588" id="page_588">{588}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T fell on the ear like a dream of the morn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O, blest be the day Kilmeny was born!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now shall the land of the spirits see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now shall it ken what a woman may be!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun that shines on the world sae bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A borrow’d gleid frae the fountain of light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the moon that sleeks the sky sae dun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a gouden bow, or a beamless sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall wear away, and be seen nae mair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the angels shall miss them travelling the air.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lang, lang after baith night and day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the sun and the world have elyed away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the sinner has gane to his waesome doom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kilmeny shall smile in eternal bloom!’—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They bore her away, she wist not how,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For she felt not arm nor rest below;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But so swift they wain’d her through the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas like the motion of sound or sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They seem’d to split the gales of air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet nor gale nor breeze was there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unnumber’d groves below them grew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They came, they pass’d, and backward flew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like floods of blossoms gliding on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In moment seen, in moment gone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, never vales to mortal view<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Appear’d like those o’er which they flew!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That land to human spirits given,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lowermost vales of the storied heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From thence they can view the world below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heaven’s blue gates with sapphires glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More glory yet unmeet to know.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>gleid] spark, glow. elyed] vanished.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_589" id="page_589">{589}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HEY bore her far to a mountain green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see what mortal never had seen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they seated her high on a purple sward,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bade her heed what she saw and heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And note the changes the spirits wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For now she lived in the land of thought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She look’d, and she saw nor sun nor skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a crystal dome of a thousand dyes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She look’d, and she saw nae land aright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But an endless whirl of glory and light:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And radiant beings went and came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far swifter than wind, or the linkèd flame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She hid her e’en frae the dazzling view;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She look’d again, and the scene was new.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She saw a sun on a summer sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And clouds of amber sailing bye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lovely land beneath her lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that land had glens and mountains gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that land had valleys and hoary piles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And marlèd seas, and a thousand isles.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its fields were speckled, its forests green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And its lakes were all of the dazzling sheen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like magic mirrors, where slumbering lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun and the sky and the cloudlet gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which heaved and trembled, and gently swung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On every shore they seem’d to be hung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For there they were seen on their downward plain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thousand times and a thousand again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In winding lake and placid firth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little peaceful heavens in the bosom of earth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>marlèd] variegated, parti-coloured.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_590" id="page_590">{590}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">K</span>ILMENY sigh’d and seem’d to grieve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For she found her heart to that land did cleave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She saw the corn wave on the vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She saw the deer run down the dale;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She saw the plaid and the broad claymore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the brows that the badge of freedom bore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she thought she had seen the land before.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She saw a lady sit on a throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fairest that ever the sun shone on!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lion lick’d her hand of milk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she held him in a leish of silk;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a leifu’ maiden stood at her knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a silver wand and melting e’e;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her sovereign shield till love stole in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And poison’d all the fount within.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then a gruff untoward bedesman came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hundit the lion on his dame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the guardian maid wi’ the dauntless e’e,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She dropp’d a tear, and left her knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she saw till the queen frae the lion fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the bonniest flower of the world lay dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A coffin was set on a distant plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she saw the red blood fall like rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then bonnie Kilmeny’s heart grew sair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she turn’d away, and could look nae mair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then the gruff grim carle girn’d amain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they trampled him down, but he rose again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he baited the lion to deeds of weir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till he lapp’d the blood to the kingdom dear;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>leifu’] lone, wistful. girn’d] snarled. weir] war.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_591" id="page_591">{591}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND weening his head was danger-preef,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When crown’d with the rose and clover leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He gowl’d at the carle, and chased him away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To feed wi’ the deer on the mountain gray.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He gowl’d at the carle, and geck’d at Heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But his mark was set, and his arles given.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kilmeny a while her e’en withdrew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She look’d again, and the scene was new.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She saw before her fair unfurl’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One half of all the glowing world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where oceans roll’d, and rivers ran,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bound the aims of sinful man.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She saw a people, fierce and fell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burst frae their bounds like fiends of hell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their lilies grew, and the eagle flew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she herkèd on her ravening crew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the cities and towers were wrapp’d in a blaze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thunder it roar’d o’er the lands and the seas.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The widows they wail’d, and the red blood ran,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she threatened an end to the race of man;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She never lened, nor stood in awe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till caught by the lion’s deadly paw.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, then the eagle swink’d for life,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And brainyell’d up a mortal strife;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But flew she north, or flew she south,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She met wi’ the gowl o’ the lion’s mouth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With a mooted wing and waefu’ maen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The eagle sought her eiry again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lang may she cower in her bloody nest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lang, lang sleek her wounded breast,<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>gowl’d] howled. geck’d] mocked. arles] money paid on striking a -bargain; fig. a beating. lened] crouched. swink’d] laboured. -brainyell’d] stirred, beat. mooted] moulted.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_592" id="page_592">{592}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>EFORE she sey another flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To play with the norland lion’s might.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But to sing the sights Kilmeny saw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So far surpassing nature’s law,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The singer’s voice wad sink away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the string of his harp wad cease to play.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But she saw till the sorrows of man were bye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all was love and harmony;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the stars of heaven fell calmly away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like flakes of snaw on a winter day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then Kilmeny begg’d again to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The friends she had left in her own countrye;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To tell of the place where she had been,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the glories that lay in the land unseen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To warn the living maidens fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The loved of Heaven, the spirits’ care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That all whose minds unmeled remain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall bloom in beauty when time is gane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With distant music, soft and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They lull’d Kilmeny sound asleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when she awaken’d, she lay her lane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All happ’d with flowers, in the green-wood wene.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When seven lang years had come and fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When grief was calm, and hope was dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When scarce was remember’d Kilmeny’s name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Late, late in a gloamin’ Kilmeny came hame!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And O, her beauty was fair to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But still and steadfast was her e’e!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such beauty bard may never declare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For there was no pride nor passion there;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>sey] essay. unmeled] unblemished. her lane] alone, by herself.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_593" id="page_593">{593}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND the soft desire of maiden’s e’en<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that mild face could never be seen.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her seymar was the lily flower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her cheek the moss-rose in the shower;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her voice like the distant melodye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That floats along the twilight sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But she loved to raike the lanely glen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And keepèd afar frae the haunts of men;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her holy hymns unheard to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To suck the flowers, and drink the spring.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But wherever her peaceful form appear’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wild beasts of the hill were cheer’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wolf play’d blythly round the field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lordly byson low’d and kneel’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dun deer woo’d with manner bland,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cower’d aneath her lily hand.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when at even the woodlands rung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When hymns of other worlds she sung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In ecstasy of sweet devotion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, then the glen was all in motion!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wild beasts of the forest came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Broke from their bughts and faulds the tame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And goved around, charm’d and amazed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even the dull cattle croon’d and gazed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And murmur’d and look’d with anxious pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For something the mystery to explain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The buzzard came with the throstle-cock;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The corby left her houf in the rock;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blackbird alang wi’ the eagle flew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hind came tripping o’er the dew;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>seymar]=cymar, a slight covering. raike] range, wander. bughts] -milking-pens. goved] stared, gazed. corby] raven. houf] haunt.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_594" id="page_594">{594}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE wolf and the kid their raike began,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the tod, and the lamb, and the leveret ran;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hawk and the hern attour them hung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the merle and the mavis forhooy’d their young;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all in a peaceful ring were hurl’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was like an eve in a sinless world!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When a month and a day had come and gane,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kilmeny sought the green-wood wene;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There laid her down on the leaves sae green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Kilmeny on earth was never mair seen.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But O, the words that fell from her mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were words of wonder, and words of truth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all the land were in fear and dread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For they kendna whether she was living or dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It wasna her hame, and she couldna remain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She left this world of sorrow and pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And return’d to the land of thought again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>514.</i> raike] ramble. tod] fox. attour] out over. forhooy’d] -neglected.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_WORDSWORTH" id="WILLIAM_WORDSWORTH"></a>WILLIAM WORDSWORTH</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1770-1850<br /> -</p> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Lucy</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_515" id="pm_515">515.</a></p> - -<h3>i</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>TRANGE fits of passion have I known:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I will dare to tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in the lover’s ear alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What once to me befell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When she I loved look’d every day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fresh as a rose in June,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I to her cottage bent my way,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath an evening moon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_595" id="page_595">{595}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon the moon I fix’d my eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All over the wide lea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With quickening pace my horse drew nigh<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those paths so dear to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now we reach’d the orchard-plot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, as we climb’d the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sinking moon to Lucy’s cot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came near and nearer still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In one of those sweet dreams I slept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kind Nature’s gentlest boon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the while my eyes I kept<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the descending moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My horse moved on; hoof after hoof<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He raised, and never stopp’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When down behind the cottage roof,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At once, the bright moon dropp’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What fond and wayward thoughts will slide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into a lover’s head!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O mercy!’ to myself I cried,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘If Lucy should be dead!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_516" id="pm_516">516.</a></p> - -<h3>ii</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE dwelt among the untrodden ways<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside the springs of Dove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Maid whom there were none to praise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And very few to love:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A violet by a mossy stone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Half hidden from the eye!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair as a star, when only one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is shining in the sky.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_596" id="page_596">{596}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">She lived unknown, and few could know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Lucy ceased to be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But she is in her grave, and oh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The difference to me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_517" id="pm_517">517.</a></p> - -<h3>iii</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> TRAVELED among unknown men,<br /></span> -<span class="i1">In lands beyond the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor, England! did I know till then<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What love I bore to thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis past, that melancholy dream!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor will I quit thy shore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A second time; for still I seem<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To love thee more and more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Among thy mountains did I feel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The joy of my desire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she I cherish’d turn’d her wheel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside an English fire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy mornings show’d, thy nights conceal’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bowers where Lucy play’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thine too is the last green field<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That Lucy’s eyes survey’d.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_518" id="pm_518">518.</a></p> - -<h3>iv</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HREE years she grew in sun and shower;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then Nature said, ‘A lovelier flower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On earth was never sown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This child I to myself will take;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She shall be mine, and I will make<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A lady of my own.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_597" id="page_597">{597}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘Myself will to my darling be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both law and impulse: and with me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The girl, in rock and plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall feel an overseeing power<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To kindle or restrain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘She shall be sportive as the fawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wild with glee across the lawn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or up the mountain springs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hers shall be the breathing balm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hers the silence and the calm<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of mute insensate things.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘The floating clouds their state shall lend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her; for her the willow bend;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor shall she fail to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even in the motions of the storm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grace that shall mould the maiden’s form<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By silent sympathy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘The stars of midnight shall be dear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her; and she shall lean her ear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In many a secret place<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where rivulets dance their wayward round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And beauty born of murmuring sound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall pass into her face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And vital feelings of delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall rear her form to stately height,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her virgin bosom swell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such thoughts to Lucy I will give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While she and I together live<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here in this happy dell.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_598" id="page_598">{598}</a></span>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Thus Nature spake—The work was done—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How soon my Lucy’s race was run!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She died, and left to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This heath, this calm and quiet scene;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The memory of what has been,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And never more will be.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_519" id="pm_519">519.</a></p> - -<h3>v</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> SLUMBER did my spirit seal;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I had no human fears:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She seem’d a thing that could not feel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The touch of earthly years.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No motion has she now, no force;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She neither hears nor sees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roll’d round in earth’s diurnal course,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With rocks, and stones, and trees.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_520" id="pm_520">520.</a></p> - -<h3>Upon Westminster Bridge</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">E</span>ARTH has not anything to show more fair:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dull would he be of soul who could pass by<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sight so touching in its majesty:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This City now doth like a garment wear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Open unto the fields, and to the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never did sun more beautifully steep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The river glideth at his own sweet will:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all that mighty heart is lying still!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_599" id="page_599">{599}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_521" id="pm_521">521.</a></p> - -<h3>Evening on Calais Beach</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T is a beauteous evening, calm and free,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The holy time is quiet as a Nun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breathless with adoration; the broad sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is sinking down in its tranquillity;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gentleness of heaven broods o’er the sea:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Listen! the mighty Being is awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And doth with his eternal motion make<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sound like thunder—everlastingly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear Child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If thou appear untouch’d by solemn thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy nature is not therefore less divine:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou liest in Abraham’s bosom all the year;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And worshipp’st at the Temple’s inner shrine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">God being with thee when we know it not.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_522" id="pm_522">522.</a></p> - -<h3>On the Extinction of the Venetian Republic, 1802</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>NCE did she hold the gorgeous East in fee;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And was the safeguard of the West: the worth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Venice did not fall below her birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She was a maiden City, bright and free;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No guile seduced, no force could violate;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, when she took unto herself a mate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She must espouse the everlasting Sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what if she had seen those glories fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those titles vanish, and that strength decay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When her long life hath reach’d its final day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Men are we, and must grieve when even the Shade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of that which once was great is pass’d away.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_600" id="page_600">{600}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>England, 1802</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_523" id="pm_523">523.</a></p> - -<h3>i</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> FRIEND! I know not which way I must look<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For comfort, being, as I am, opprest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To think that now our life is only drest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or groom!—We must run glittering like a brook<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the open sunshine, or we are unblest:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wealthiest man among us is the best:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No grandeur now in nature or in book<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This is idolatry; and these we adore:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Plain living and high thinking are no more:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The homely beauty of the good old cause<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pure religion breathing household laws.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_524" id="pm_524">524.</a></p> - -<h3>ii</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>ILTON! thou shouldst be living at this hour:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">England hath need of thee: she is a fen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have forfeited their ancient English dower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O raise us up, return to us again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So didst thou travel on life’s common way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lowliest duties on herself did lay.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_601" id="page_601">{601}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_525" id="pm_525">525.</a></p> - -<h3>iii</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>REAT men have been among us; hands that penn’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tongues that utter’d wisdom—better none:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The later Sidney, Marvel, Harrington,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young Vane, and others who call’d Milton friend.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These moralists could act and comprehend:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They knew how genuine glory was put on;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Taught us how rightfully a nation shone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In splendour: what strength was, that would not bend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in magnanimous meekness. France, ’tis strange,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath brought forth no such souls as we had then.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perpetual emptiness! unceasing change!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No single volume paramount, no code,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No master spirit, no determined road;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But equally a want of books and men!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_526" id="pm_526">526.</a></p> - -<h3>iv</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T is not to be thought of that the flood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of British freedom, which, to the open sea<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the world’s praise, from dark antiquity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath flow’d, ‘with pomp of waters, unwithstood,’—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roused though it be full often to a mood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which spurns the check of salutary bands,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That this most famous stream in bogs and sands<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should perish; and to evil and to good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Armoury of the invincible Knights of old:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We must be free or die, who speak the tongue<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That Shakespeare spake; the faith and morals hold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which Milton held.—In everything we are sprung<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Earth’s first blood, have titles manifold.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_602" id="page_602">{602}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_527" id="pm_527">527.</a></p> - -<h3>v</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -When I have borne in memory what has tamed<br /> - Great Nations, how ennobling thoughts depart<br /> - When men change swords for ledgers, and desert<br /> -The student’s bower for gold, some fears unnamed<br /> -I had, my Country—am I to be blamed?<br /> - Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art,<br /> - Verily, in the bottom of my heart,<br /> -Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.<br /> -For dearly must we prize thee; we who find<br /> - In thee a bulwark for the cause of men;<br /> - And I by my affection was beguiled:<br /> -What wonder if a Poet now and then,<br /> -Among the many movements of his mind,<br /> - Felt for thee as a lover or a child! -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_528" id="pm_528">528.</a></p> - -<h3>The Solitary Reaper</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -Behold her, single in the field,<br /> - Yon solitary Highland Lass!<br /> -Reaping and singing by herself;<br /> - Stop here, or gently pass!<br /> -Alone she cuts and binds the grain,<br /> -And sings a melancholy strain;<br /> -O listen! for the Vale profound<br /> -Is overflowing with the sound.<br /> -No Nightingale did ever chaunt<br /> - More welcome notes to weary bands<br /> -Of travellers in some shady haunt,<br /> - Among Arabian sands:<br /> -A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard<br /> -In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,<br /> -Breaking the silence of the seas<br /> -Among the farthest Hebrides.<br /> -Will no one tell me what she sings?—<br /> - Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow<br /> -For old, unhappy, far-off things,<br /> - And battles long ago:<br /> -Or is it some more humble lay,<br /> -Familiar matter of to-day?<br /> -Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,<br /> -That has been, and may be again?<br /> -Whatever the theme, the Maiden sang<br /> - As if her song could have no ending;<br /> -I saw her singing at her work,<br /> - And o'er the sickle bending;—<br /> -I listen'd, motionless and still;<br /> -And, as I mounted up the hill,<br /> -The music in my heart I bore,<br /> -Long after it was heard no more. -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_529" id="pm_529">529.</a></p> - -<h3>Perfect Woman</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE was a phantom of delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When first she gleam’d upon my sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lovely apparition, sent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To be a moment’s ornament;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all things else about her drawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From May-time and the cheerful dawn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dancing shape, an image gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To haunt, to startle, and waylay.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_604" id="page_604">{604}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">I saw her upon nearer view,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Spirit, yet a Woman too!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her household motions light and free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And steps of virgin liberty;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A countenance in which did meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet records, promises as sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A creature not too bright or good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For human nature’s daily food;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For transient sorrows, simple wiles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now I see with eye serene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The very pulse of the machine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A being breathing thoughtful breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A traveller between life and death;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The reason firm, the temperate will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A perfect Woman, nobly plann’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To warn, to comfort, and command;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet a Spirit still, and bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With something of angelic light.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_530" id="pm_530">530.</a></p> - -<h3>Daffodils</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> WANDER’d lonely as a cloud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That floats on high o’er vales and hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all at once I saw a crowd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A host, of golden daffodils;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beside the lake, beneath the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Continuous as the stars that shine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And twinkle on the Milky Way,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_605" id="page_605">{605}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">They stretch’d in never-ending line<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Along the margin of a bay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ten thousand saw I at a glance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The waves beside them danced, but they<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A poet could not but be gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In such a jocund company:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I gazed—and gazed—but little thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What wealth the show to me had brought:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For oft, when on my couch I lie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In vacant or in pensive mood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They flash upon that inward eye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which is the bliss of solitude;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then my heart with pleasure fills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dances with the daffodils.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_531" id="pm_531">531.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode to Duty</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>TERN Daughter of the Voice of God!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Duty! if that name thou love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who art a light to guide, a rod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To check the erring and reprove;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, who art victory and law<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When empty terrors overawe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From vain temptations dost set free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And calm’st the weary strife of frail humanity!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There are who ask not if thine eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be on them; who, in love and truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where no misgiving is, rely<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the genial sense of youth:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_606" id="page_606">{606}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glad hearts! without reproach or blot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who do thy work, and know it not:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, if through confidence misplaced<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them cast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Serene will be our days and bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And happy will our nature be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When love is an unerring light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And joy its own security.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they a blissful course may hold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even now, who, not unwisely bold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Live in the spirit of this creed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I, loving freedom, and untried;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No sport of every random gust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet being to myself a guide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too blindly have reposed my trust:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And oft, when in my heart was heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy timely mandate, I deferr’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The task, in smoother walks to stray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Through no disturbance of my soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or strong compunction in me wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I supplicate for thy control;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in the quietness of thought.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Me this uncharter’d freedom tires;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I feel the weight of chance-desires;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My hopes no more must change their name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I long for a repose that ever is the same.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet not the less would I throughout<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still act according to the voice<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_607" id="page_607">{607}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of my own wish; and feel past doubt<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That my submissiveness was choice:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not seeking in the school of pride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ‘precepts over dignified,’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Denial and restraint I prize<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No farther than they breed a second Will more wise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Stern Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Godhead’s most benignant grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor know we anything so fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As is the smile upon thy face:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowers laugh before thee on their beds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fragrance in thy footing treads;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou dost preserve the stars from wrong;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the most ancient heavens, through Thee, are fresh and strong.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To humbler functions, awful Power!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I call thee: I myself commend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto thy guidance from this hour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, let my weakness have an end!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give unto me, made lowly wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spirit of self-sacrifice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The confidence of reason give;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the light of truth thy bondman let me live!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_532" id="pm_532">532.</a></p> - -<h3>The Rainbow</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y heart leaps up when I behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A rainbow in the sky:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So was it when my life began;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So is it now I am a man;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So be it when I shall grow old,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Or let me die!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Child is father of the Man;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I could wish my days to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bound each to each by natural piety.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_608" id="page_608">{608}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>The Sonnet</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_533" id="pm_533">533.</a></p> - -<h3>i</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>UNS fret not at their convent’s narrow room,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hermits are contented with their cells,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And students with their pensive citadels;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit blithe and happy; bees that soar for bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">High as the highest peak of Furness fells,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In truth the prison unto which we doom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ourselves no prison is: and hence for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In sundry moods, ’twas pastime to be bound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within the Sonnet’s scanty plot of ground;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pleased if some souls (for such there needs must be)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who have felt the weight of too much liberty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should find brief solace there, as I have found.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_534" id="pm_534">534.</a></p> - -<h3>ii</h3> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frown'd,<br /> - Mindless of its just honours; with this key<br /> - Shakespeare unlock'd his heart; the melody<br /> -Of this small lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound;<br /> -A thousand times this pipe did Tasso sound;<br /> - With it Camöens sooth'd an exile's grief;<br /> - The Sonnet glitter'd a gay myrtle leaf<br /> -Amid the cypress with which Dante crown'd<br /> -His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp,<br /> - It cheer'd mild Spenser, call'd from Faery-land<br /> -To struggle through dark ways; and when a damp<br /> - Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand<br /> -The Thing became a trumpet; whence he blew<br /> -Soul-animating strains—alas, too few! -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_609" id="page_609">{609}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_535" id="pm_535">535.</a></p> - -<h3>The World</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE world is too much with us; late and soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Little we see in Nature that is ours;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This sea that bares her bosom to the moon;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The winds that will be howling at all hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And are up-gather’d now like sleeping flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For this, for everything, we are out of tune;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It moves us not.—Great God! I’d rather be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_536" id="pm_536">536.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood</i></p> - -<pre> - There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, - The earth, and every common sight, - To me did seem - Apparell’d in celestial light, - The glory and the freshness of a dream, - It is not now as it hath been of yore;— - Turn wheresoe’er I may, - By night or day, - The things which I have seen I now can see no more. - The rainbow comes and goes, - And lovely is the rose; - The moon doth with delight - Look round her when the heavens are bare; - Waters on a starry night - Are beautiful and fair; - The sunshine is a glorious birth; - But yet I know, where’er I go, - That there hath pass’d away a glory from the earth. - - Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, - And while the young lambs bound - As to the tabor’s sound, - To me alone there came a thought of grief: - A timely utterance gave that thought relief, - And I again am strong: - The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep; - No more shall grief of mine the season wrong; - I hear the echoes through the mountains throng, - The winds come to me from the fields of sleep, - And all the earth is gay; - Land and sea - Give themselves up to jollity, - And with the heart of May - Doth every beast keep holiday;— - Thou Child of Joy, - Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy Shepherd-boy! - - Ye blessèd creatures, I have heard the call - Ye to each other make; I see - The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee; - My heart is at your festival, - My head hath its coronal, - The fullness of your bliss, I feel—I feel it all. - O evil day! if I were sullen - While Earth herself is adorning, - This sweet May-morning, - And the children are culling - On every side, - In a thousand valleys far and wide, - Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm, - And the babe leaps up on his mother’s arm:— - I hear, I hear, with joy I hear! - —But there’s a tree, of many, one, - A single field which I have look’d upon, - Both of them speak of something that is gone: - The pansy at my feet - Doth the same tale repeat: - Whither is fled the visionary gleam? - Where is it now, the glory and the dream? - - Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: - The Soul that rises with us, our life’s Star, - Hath had elsewhere its setting, - And cometh from afar: - Not in entire forgetfulness, - And not in utter nakedness, - But trailing clouds of glory do we come - From God, who is our home: - Heaven lies about us in our infancy! - Shades of the prison-house begin to close - Upon the growing Boy, - But he beholds the light, and whence it flows, - He sees it in his joy; - The Youth, who daily farther from the east - Must travel, still is Nature’s priest, - And by the vision splendid - Is on his way attended; - At length the Man perceives it die away, - And fade into the light of common day. - - Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own; - Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, - And, even with something of a mother’s mind, - And no unworthy aim, - The homely nurse doth all she can - To make her foster-child, her inmate Man, - Forget the glories he hath known, - And that imperial palace whence he came. - - Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, - A six years’ darling of a pigmy size! - See, where ’mid work of his own hand he lies, - Fretted by sallies of his mother’s kisses, - With light upon him from his father’s eyes! - See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, - Some fragment from his dream of human life, - Shaped by himself with newly-learnèd art; - A wedding or a festival, - A mourning or a funeral; - And this hath now his heart, - And unto this he frames his song: - Then will he fit his tongue - To dialogues of business, love, or strife; - But it will not be long - Ere this be thrown aside, - And with new joy and pride - The little actor cons another part; - Filling from time to time his ‘humorous stage’ - With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, - That Life brings with her in her equipage; - As if his whole vocation - Were endless imitation. - - Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie - Thy soul’s immensity; - Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep - Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind, - That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep, - Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,— - Mighty prophet! Seer blest! - On whom those truths do rest, - Which we are toiling all our lives to find, - In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave; - Thou, over whom thy Immortality - Broods like the Day, a master o’er a slave, - A presence which is not to be put by; - To whom the grave - Is but a lonely bed without the sense or sight - Of day or the warm light, - A place of thought where we in waiting lie; - Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might - Of heaven-born freedom on thy being’s height, - Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke - The years to bring the inevitable yoke, - Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? - Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, - And custom lie upon thee with a weight, - Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life! - O joy! that in our embers - Is something that doth live, - That nature yet remembers - What was so fugitive! - The thought of our past years in me doth breed - Perpetual benediction: not indeed - For that which is most worthy to be blest— - Delight and liberty, the simple creed - Of childhood, whether busy or at rest, - With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast:— - Not for these I raise - The song of thanks and praise; - But for those obstinate questionings - Of sense and outward things, - Fallings from us, vanishings; - Blank misgivings of a Creature - Moving about in worlds not realized, - High instincts before which our mortal Nature - Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised: - But for those first affections, - Those shadowy recollections, - Which, be they what they may, - Are yet the fountain-light of all our day, - Are yet a master-light of all our seeing; - Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make - Our noisy years seem moments in the being - Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake, - To perish never: - Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, - Nor Man nor Boy, - Nor all that is at enmity with joy, - Can utterly abolish or destroy! - Hence in a season of calm weather - Though inland far we be, - Our souls have sight of that immortal sea - Which brought us hither, - Can in a moment travel thither, - And see the children sport upon the shore, - And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. - - Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a joyous song! - And let the young lambs bound - As to the tabor’s sound! - We in thought will join your throng, - Ye that pipe and ye that play, - Ye that through your hearts to-day - Feel the gladness of the May! - What though the radiance which was once so bright - Be now for ever taken from my sight, - Though nothing can bring back the hour - Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower; - We will grieve not, rather find - Strength in what remains behind; - In the primal sympathy - Which having been must ever be; - In the soothing thoughts that spring - Out of human suffering; - In the faith that looks through death, - In years that bring the philosophic mind. - - And O ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, - Forebode not any severing of our loves! - Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might; - I only have relinquished one delight - To live beneath your more habitual sway. - I love the brooks which down their channels fret, - Even more than when I tripp’d lightly as they; - The innocent brightness of a new-born Day - Is lovely yet; - The clouds that gather round the setting sun - Do take a sober colouring from an eye - That hath kept watch o’er man’s mortality; - Another race hath been, and other palms are won. - Thanks to the human heart by which we live, - Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, - To me the meanest flower that blows can give - Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. -</pre> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_537" id="pm_537">537.</a></p> - -<h3>Desideria</h3> -<pre> -Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind - I turned to share the transport—O! with whom - But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb, -That spot which no vicissitude can find? -Love, faithful love, recall'd thee to my mind— - But how could I forget thee? Through what power, - Even for the least division of an hour, -Have I been so beguiled as to be blind -To my most grievous loss?—That thought's return - Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore, -Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn, - Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more; -That neither present time, nor years unborn - Could to my sight that heavenly face restore. -</pre> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_617" id="page_617">{617}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_538" id="pm_538">538.</a></p> - -<h3>Valedictory Sonnet to the River Duddon</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> THOUGHT of Thee, my partner and my guide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As being pass’d away.—Vain sympathies!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see what was, and is, and will abide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Form remains, the Function never dies;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We Men, who in our morn of youth defied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The elements, must vanish;—be it so!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Enough, if something from our hands have power<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To live, and act, and serve the future hour;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through love, through hope, and faith’s transcendent dower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We feel that we are greater than we know.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_539" id="pm_539">539.</a></p> - -<h3>Mutability</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>ROM low to high doth dissolution climb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sink from high to low, along a scale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A musical but melancholy chime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which they can hear who meddle not with crime.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The longest date do melt like frosty rime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That in the morning whiten’d hill and plain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And is no more; drop like the tower sublime<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of yesterday, which royally did wear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some casual shout that broke the silent air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the unimaginable touch of Time.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_618" id="page_618">{618}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_540" id="pm_540">540.</a></p> - -<h3>The Trosachs</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE’s not a nook within this solemn Pass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But were an apt confessional for one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Life is but a tale of morning grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wither’d at eve. From scenes of art which chase<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feed it ’mid Nature’s old felicities,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untouch’d, unbreathed upon. Thrice happy quest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If from a golden perch of aspen spray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(October’s workmanship to rival May)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pensive warbler of the ruddy breast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That moral sweeten by a heaven-taught lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lulling the year, with all its cares, to rest!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_541" id="pm_541">541.</a></p> - -<h3>Speak!</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HY art thou silent! Is thy love a plant<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of absence withers what was once so fair?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bound to thy service with unceasing care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mind’s least generous wish a mendicant<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For naught but what thy happiness could spare.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speak—though this soft warm heart, once free to hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be left more desolate, more dreary cold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than a forsaken bird’s-nest fill’d with snow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_619" id="page_619">{619}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_WALTER_SCOTT" id="SIR_WALTER_SCOTT"></a>SIR WALTER SCOTT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1771-1832<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_542" id="pm_542">542.</a></p> - -<h3>Proud Maisie</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>ROUD Maisie is in the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Walking so early;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet Robin sits on the bush,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Singing so rarely.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Tell me, thou bonny bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When shall I marry me?’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—‘When six braw gentlemen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kirkward shall carry ye.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Who makes the bridal bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Birdie, say truly?’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—‘The grey-headed sexton<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That delves the grave duly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘The glow-worm o’er grave and stone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall light thee steady;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The owl from the steeple sing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Welcome, proud lady!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_543" id="pm_543">543.</a></p> - -<h3>Brignall Banks</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> BRIGNALL banks are wild and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Greta woods are green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you may gather garlands there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would grace a summer queen:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as I rode by Dalton Hall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the turrets high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Maiden on the castle wall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was singing merrily:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_620" id="page_620">{620}</a></span>—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘O, Brignall banks are fresh and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Greta woods are green!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d rather rove with Edmund there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than reign our English Queen.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘If, Maiden, thou wouldst wend with me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To leave both tower and town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou first must guess what life lead we,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That dwell by dale and down:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if thou canst that riddle read,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As read full well you may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then to the green-wood shalt thou speed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As blithe as Queen of May.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet sung she, ‘Brignall banks are fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Greta woods are green!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d rather rove with Edmund there<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than reign our English Queen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I read you by your bugle horn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And by your palfrey good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I read you for a Ranger sworn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To keep the King’s green-wood.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘A Ranger, Lady, winds his horn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ’tis at peep of light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His blast is heard at merry morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And mine at dead of night.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet sung she, ‘Brignall banks are fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Greta woods are gay!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would I were with Edmund there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To reign his Queen of May!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘With burnish’d brand and musketoon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So gallantly you come,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_621" id="page_621">{621}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">I read you for a bold Dragoon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That lists the tuck of drum.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘I list no more the tuck of drum,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No more the trumpet hear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when the beetle sounds his hum,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My comrades take the spear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And O! though Brignall banks be fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Greta woods be gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet mickle must the maiden dare,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would reign my Queen of May!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Maiden! a nameless life I lead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A nameless death I’ll die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fiend whose lantern lights the mead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were better mate than I!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when I’m with my comrades met<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath the green-wood bough,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What once we were we all forget,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor think what we are now.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<pre> -<i>Chorus.</i> Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair, - And Greta woods are green, - And you may gather flowers there - Would grace a summer queen. -</pre> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_544" id="pm_544">544.</a></p> - -<h3>Lucy Ashton’s Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OOK not thou on beauty’s charming;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit thou still when kings are arming;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Taste not when the wine-cup glistens;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speak not when the people listens;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stop thine ear against the singer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the red gold keep thy finger;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vacant heart and hand and eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Easy live and quiet die.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_622" id="page_622">{622}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_545" id="pm_545">545.</a></p> - -<h3>Answer</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>OUND, sound the clarion, fill the fife!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To all the sensual world proclaim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One crowded hour of glorious life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is worth an age without a name.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_546" id="pm_546">546.</a></p> - -<h3>The Rover’s Adieu</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> WEARY lot is thine, fair maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A weary lot is thine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And press the rue for wine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A lightsome eye, a soldier’s mien,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A feather of the blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A doublet of the Lincoln green—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No more of me ye knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">My Love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No more of me ye knew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘This morn is merry June, I trow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rose is budding fain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But she shall bloom in winter snow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere we two meet again.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—He turn’d his charger as he spake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the river shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He gave the bridle-reins a shake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Said ‘Adieu for evermore,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">My Love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And adieu for evermore.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_623" id="page_623">{623}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Patriotism</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_547" id="pm_547">547.</a></p> - -<h3>1. Innominatus</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>REATHES there the man with soul so dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who never to himself hath said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘This is my own, my native land!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose heart hath ne’er within him burn’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As home his footsteps he hath turn’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From wandering on a foreign strand?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If such there breathe, go, mark him well;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For him no Minstrel raptures swell;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High though his titles, proud his name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Boundless his wealth as wish can claim;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Despite those titles, power, and pelf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wretch, concentred all in self,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Living, shall forfeit fair renown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, doubly dying, shall go down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the vile dust from whence he sprung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unwept, unhonour’d, and unsung.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_548" id="pm_548">548.</a></p> - -<h3>2. Nelson, Pitt, Fox</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O mute and to material things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">New life revolving summer brings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The genial call dead Nature hears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in her glory reappears.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But oh, my Country’s wintry state<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What second spring shall renovate?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What powerful call shall bid arise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The buried warlike and the wise;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_624" id="page_624">{624}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mind that thought for Britain’s weal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hand that grasp’d the victor steel?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The vernal sun new life bestows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even on the meanest flower that blows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But vainly, vainly may he shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where glory weeps o’er <span class="smcap">Nelson’s</span> shrine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And vainly pierce the solemn gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shrouds, O <span class="smcap">Pitt</span>, thy hallow’d tomb!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Deep graved in every British heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O never let those names depart!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say to your sons,—Lo, here his grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who victor died on Gadite wave!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To him, as to the burning levin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Short, bright, resistless course was given.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’er his country’s foes were found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was heard the fated thunder’s sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till burst the bolt on yonder shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roll’d, blazed, destroy’d—and was no more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor mourn ye less his perish’d worth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who bade the conqueror go forth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And launch’d that thunderbolt of war<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On Egypt, Hafnia, Trafalgar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, born to guide such high emprise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Britain’s weal was early wise;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! to whom the Almighty gave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Britain’s sins, an early grave!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—His worth, who in his mightiest hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bauble held the pride of power,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spurn’d at the sordid lust of pelf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And served his Albion for herself;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who, when the frantic crowd amain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strain’d at subjection’s bursting rein,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_625" id="page_625">{625}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er their wild mood full conquest gain’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pride he would not crush, restrain’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Show’d their fierce zeal a worthier cause,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And brought the freeman’s arm to aid the freeman’s laws.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hadst thou but lived, though stripp’d of power,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A watchman on the lonely tower,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy thrilling trump had roused the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When fraud or danger were at hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By thee, as by the beacon-light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our pilots had kept course aright;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As some proud column, though alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy strength had propp’d the tottering throne.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now is the stately column broke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The beacon-light is quench’d in smoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trumpet’s silver voice is still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The warder silent on the hill!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O think, how to his latest day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Death, just hovering, claim’d his prey.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Palinure’s unalter’d mood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Firm at his dangerous post he stood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each call for needful rest repell’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With dying hand the rudder held,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till in his fall with fateful sway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The steerage of the realm gave way.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then—while on Britain’s thousand plains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One unpolluted church remains,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose peaceful bells ne’er sent around<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bloody tocsin’s maddening sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But still upon the hallow’d day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Convoke the swains to praise and pray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While faith and civil peace are dear,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_626" id="page_626">{626}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grace this cold marble with a tear:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He who preserved them, <span class="smcap">Pitt</span>, lies here!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor yet suppress the generous sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because his rival slumbers nigh;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor be thy <i>Requiescat</i> dumb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest it be said o’er Fox’s tomb.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For talents mourn, untimely lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When best employ’d, and wanted most;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mourn genius high, and lore profound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wit that loved to play, not wound;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the reasoning powers divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To penetrate, resolve, combine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feelings keen, and fancy’s glow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They sleep with him who sleeps below:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, if thou mourn’st they could not save<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From error him who owns this grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be every harsher thought suppress’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sacred be the last long rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Here</i>, where the end of earthly things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lays heroes, patriots, bards, and kings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where stiff the hand, and still the tongue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those who fought, and spoke, and sung;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Here</i>, where the fretted vaults prolong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The distant notes of holy song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if some angel spoke agen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘All peace on earth, good-will to men’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If ever from an English heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, <i>here</i> let prejudice depart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, partial feeling cast aside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Record that Fox a Briton died!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Europe crouch’d to France’s yoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Austria bent, and Prussia broke,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_627" id="page_627">{627}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the firm Russian’s purpose brave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was bartered by a timorous slave—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even then dishonour’s peace he spurn’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sullied olive-branch return’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stood for his country’s glory fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nail’d her colours to the mast!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaven, to reward his firmness, gave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A portion in this honour’d grave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ne’er held marble in its trust<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of two such wondrous men the dust.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With more than mortal powers endow’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How high they soar’d above the crowd!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Theirs was no common party race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Jostling by dark intrigue for place;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like fabled gods, their mighty war<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shook realms and nations in its jar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath each banner proud to stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look’d up the noblest of the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till through the British world were known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The names of <span class="smcap">Pitt</span> and <span class="smcap">Fox</span> alone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spells of such force no wizard grave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">E’er framed in dark Thessalian cave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though his could drain the ocean dry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And force the planets from the sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These spells are spent, and, spent with these,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wine of life is on the lees.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Genius, and taste, and talent gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ever tomb’d beneath the stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where—taming thought to human pride!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mighty chiefs sleep side by side.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drop upon Fox’s grave the tear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twill trickle to his rival’s bier;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_628" id="page_628">{628}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er <span class="smcap">Pitt’</span>s the mournful requiem sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And <span class="smcap">Fox</span>’s shall the notes rebound.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The solemn echo seems to cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Here let their discord with them die.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Speak not for those a separate doom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom fate made Brothers in the tomb;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But search the land of living men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where wilt thou find their like agen?’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SAMUEL_TAYLOR_COLERIDGE" id="SAMUEL_TAYLOR_COLERIDGE"></a>SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1772-1834<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_549" id="pm_549">549.</a></p> - -<h3>The Rime of the Ancient Mariner</h3> - -<h3><span class="smcap">Part I</span></h3> - -<div class="sidenote">An ancient Mariner meeteth three gallants bidden to a wedding -feast, and detaineth one.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T is an ancient Mariner,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he stoppeth one of three.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Bridegroom’s doors are open’d wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I am next of kin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The guests are met, the feast is set:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May’st hear the merry din.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He holds him with his skinny hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘There was a ship,’ quoth he.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eftsoons his hand dropt he.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">The Wedding-Guest is spellbound by the eye of the old -seafaring man, and constrained to hear his tale.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>E holds him with his glittering eye—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Wedding-Guest stood still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And listens like a three years’ child:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Mariner hath his will.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_629" id="page_629">{629}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He cannot choose but hear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thus spake on that ancient man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bright-eyed Mariner.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘The ship was cheer’d, the harbour clear’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Merrily did we drop<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the kirk, below the hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the lighthouse top.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The Mariner tells how the ship sailed southward with a good -wind and fair weather, till it reached the Line.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE Sun came up upon the left,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of the sea came he!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he shone bright, and on the right<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Went down into the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Higher and higher every day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till over the mast at noon——’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For he heard the loud bassoon.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The Wedding Guest heareth the bridal music; but the Mariner -continueth his tale.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE bride hath paced into the hall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red as a rose is she;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nodding their heads before her goes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The merry minstrelsy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet he cannot choose but hear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thus spake on that ancient man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bright-eyed Mariner.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The ship drawn by a storm toward the South Pole.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘A</span>ND now the Storm-blast came, and he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was tyrannous and strong:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He struck with his o’ertaking wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And chased us south along.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_630" id="page_630">{630}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">With sloping masts and dipping prow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As who pursued with yell and blow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still treads the shadow of his foe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And forward bends his head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ship drove fast, loud roar’d the blast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And southward aye we fled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now there came both mist and snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it grew wondrous cold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ice, mast-high, came floating by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As green as emerald.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">The land of ice, and of fearful sounds, where no living thing -was to be seen.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND through the drifts the snowy clifts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did send a dismal sheen:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ice was all between.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The ice was here, the ice was there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ice was all around:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It crack’d and growl’d, and roar’d and howl’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like noises in a swound!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">Till a great sea-bird, called the Albatross, came through the -snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitality.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>T length did cross an Albatross,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thorough the fog it came;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if it had been a Christian soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We hail’d it in God’s name.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It ate the food it ne’er had eat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round and round it flew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ice did split with a thunder-fit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The helmsman steer’d us through!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">And lo! the Albatross proveth a bird of good omen, and -followeth the ship as it returned northward through fog and floating -ice.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND a good south wind sprung up behind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Albatross did follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every day, for food or play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came to the mariners’ hollo!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_631" id="page_631">{631}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It perch’d for vespers nine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glimmer’d the white moonshine.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the pious bird of -good omen.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘G</span>OD save thee, ancient Mariner,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why look’st thou so?’—‘With my crossbow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shot the Albatross.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3 class="nonnit"><span class="smcap">Part II</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘T</span>HE Sun now rose upon the right:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of the sea came he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still hid in mist, and on the left<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Went down into the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the good south wind still blew behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But no sweet bird did follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor any day for food or play<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came to the mariners’ hollo!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner for killing -the bird of good luck.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND I had done a hellish thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it would work ’em woe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all averr’d I had kill’d the bird<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That made the breeze to blow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That made the breeze to blow!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus -make themselves accomplices in the crime.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OR dim nor red, like God’s own head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glorious Sun uprist:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then all averr’d I had kill’d the bird<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That brought the fog and mist.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That bring the fog and mist.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_632" id="page_632">{632}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">The fair breeze continues; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, -and sails northward, even till it reaches the Line.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The furrow follow’d free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We were the first that ever burst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into that silent sea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">The ship hath been suddenly becalmed.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>OWN dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas sad as sad could be;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we did speak only to break<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The silence of the sea!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All in a hot and copper sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bloody Sun, at noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Right up above the mast did stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No bigger than the Moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Day after day, day after day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We stuck, nor breath nor motion;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As idle as a painted ship<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon a painted ocean.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">And the Albatross begins to be avenged.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ATER, water, everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the boards did shrink;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Water, water, everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor any drop to drink.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The very deep did rot: O Christ!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ever this should be!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the slimy sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">About, about, in reel and rout<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The death-fires danced at night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The water, like a witch’s oils,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burnt green, and blue, and white.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_633" id="page_633">{633}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">A Spirit had followed them, one of the invisible inhabitants -of this planet, neither departed souls nor angels; concerning whom the -learned Jew, Josephus, and the Platonic Constantinopolitan, Michael -Psellus, may be consulted. They are very numerous, and there is no -climate or element without one or more.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND some in dreams assurèd were<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the Spirit that plagued us so;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nine fathom deep he had follow’d us<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the land of mist and snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And every tongue, through utter drought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was wither’d at the root;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We could not speak, no more than if<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We had been choked with soot.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The shipmates in their sore distress, would fain throw the -whole guilt on the ancient Mariner: in sign whereof they hang the dead -sea-bird round his neck.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>H! well a-day! what evil looks<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had I from old and young!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Instead of the cross, the Albatross<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About my neck was hung.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3 class="nonnit"><span class="smcap">Part III</span></h3> - -<div class="sidenotert">The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar -off.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘T</span>HERE passed a weary time. Each throat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was parch’d, and glazed each eye.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A weary time! a weary time!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How glazed each weary eye!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When looking westward, I beheld<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A something in the sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At first it seem’d a little speck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then it seem’d a mist;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It moved and moved, and took at last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A certain shape, I wist.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still it near’d and near’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if it dodged a water-sprite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It plunged, and tack’d, and veer’d.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_634" id="page_634">{634}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">At its nearer approach, it seemeth him to be a ship; and at a -dear ransom he freeth his speech from the bonds of thirst.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH throats unslaked, with black lips baked,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We could nor laugh nor wail;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through utter drought all dumb we stood!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I bit my arm, I suck’d the blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cried, A sail! a sail!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">A flash of joy;</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH throats unslaked, with black lips baked,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Agape they heard me call:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gramercy! they for joy did grin,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all at once their breath drew in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they were drinking all.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">And horror follows. For can it be a ship that comes onward -without wind or tide?</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>EE! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hither to work us weal—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without a breeze, without a tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She steadies with upright keel!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The western wave was all aflame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The day was wellnigh done!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Almost upon the western wave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rested the broad, bright Sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When that strange shape drove suddenly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Betwixt us and the Sun.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND straight the Sun was fleck’d with bars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Heaven’s Mother send us grace!),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if through a dungeon-grate he peer’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With broad and burning face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How fast she nears and nears!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like restless gossameres?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_635" id="page_635">{635}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun. -The Spectre-Woman and her Death-mate, and no other, on board the -skeleton ship. Like vessel, like crew!</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>RE those her ribs through which the Sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Did peer, as through a grate?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And is that Woman all her crew?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is that a Death? and are there two?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is Death that Woman’s mate?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her lips were red, her looks were free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her locks were yellow as gold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her skin was as white as leprosy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who thicks man’s blood with cold.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship’s crew, and -she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE naked hulk alongside came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the twain were casting dice;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“The game is done! I’ve won! I’ve won!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quoth she, and whistles thrice.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">No twilight within the courts of the Sun.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE Sun’s rim dips; the stars rush out:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At one stride comes the dark;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With far-heard whisper, o’er the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Off shot the spectre-bark.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">At the rising of the Moon,</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>E listen’d and look’d sideways up!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fear at my heart, as at a cup,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My life-blood seem’d to sip!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stars were dim, and thick the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The steersman’s face by his lamp gleam’d white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the sails the dew did drip—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till clomb above the eastern bar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hornèd Moon, with one bright star<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the nether tip.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">One after another,</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>NE after one, by the star-dogg’d Moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too quick for groan or sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each turn’d his face with a ghastly pang,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cursed me with his eye.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_636" id="page_636">{636}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">His shipmates drop down dead.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OUR times fifty living men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(And I heard nor sigh nor groan),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They dropp’d down one by one.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">But Life-in-Death begins her work on the ancient Mariner.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE souls did from their bodies fly—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They fled to bliss or woe!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every soul, it pass’d me by<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the whizz of my crossbow!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3 class="nonnit"><span class="smcap">Part IV</span></h3> - -<div class="sidenote">The Wedding-Guest feareth that a spirit is talking to him.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘I</span> FEAR thee, ancient Mariner!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I fear thy skinny hand!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou art long, and lank, and brown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As is the ribb’d sea-sand.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">But the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and -proceedeth to relate his horrible penance.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> FEAR thee and thy glittering eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thy skinny hand so brown.’—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This body dropt not down.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alone, alone, all, all alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone on a wide, wide sea!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And never a saint took pity on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul in agony.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He despiseth the creatures of the calm.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE many men, so beautiful!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they all dead did lie:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a thousand thousand slimy things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lived on; and so did I.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> LOOK’d upon the rotting sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drew my eyes away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I look’d upon the rotting deck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there the dead men lay.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_637" id="page_637">{637}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">I look’d to heaven, and tried to pray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But or ever a prayer had gusht,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wicked whisper came, and made<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart as dry as dust.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I closed my lids, and kept them close,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the balls like pulses beat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay like a load on my weary eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the dead were at my feet.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE cold sweat melted from their limbs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor rot nor reek did they:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The look with which they look’d on me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had never pass’d away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An orphan’s curse would drag to hell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A spirit from on high;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But oh! more horrible than that<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the curse in a dead man’s eye!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet I could not die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">In his loneliness and fixedness he yearneth towards the Moon, -and the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward; and everywhere -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.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE moving Moon went up the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nowhere did abide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Softly she was going up,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a star or two beside—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her beams bemock’d the sultry main,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like April hoar-frost spread;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But where the ship’s huge shadow lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The charmèd water burnt alway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A still and awful red.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_638" id="page_638">{638}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God’s creatures of the -great calm.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>EYOND the shadow of the ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I watch’d the water-snakes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They moved in tracks of shining white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when they rear’d, the elfish light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fell off in hoary flakes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Within the shadow of the ship<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I watch’d their rich attire:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They coil’d and swam; and every track<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was a flash of golden fire.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">Their beauty and their happiness.</div> - -<div class="sidenote">He blesseth them in his heart.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> HAPPY living things! no tongue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their beauty might declare:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A spring of love gush’d from my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I bless’d them unaware:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sure my kind saint took pity on me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I bless’d them unaware.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">The spell begins to break.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE selfsame moment I could pray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from my neck so free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Albatross fell off, and sank<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like lead into the sea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3 class="nonnit"><span class="smcap">Part V</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘O</span> SLEEP! it is a gentle thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beloved from pole to pole!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Mary Queen the praise be given!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That slid into my soul.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed -with rain.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE silly buckets on the deck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That had so long remain’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I dreamt that they were fill’d with dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when I awoke, it rain’d.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_639" id="page_639">{639}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">My lips were wet, my throat was cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My garments all were dank;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sure I had drunken in my dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still my body drank.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I moved, and could not feel my limbs:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I was so light—almost<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thought that I had died in sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And was a blessèd ghost.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in -the sky and the element.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND soon I heard a roaring wind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It did not come anear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But with its sound it shook the sails,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That were so thin and sere.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The upper air burst into life;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a hundred fire-flags sheen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To and fro they were hurried about!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And to and fro, and in and out,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wan stars danced between.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the coming wind did roar more loud.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sails did sigh like sedge;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the rain pour’d down from one black cloud;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Moon was at its edge.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The thick black cloud was cleft, and still<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Moon was at its side;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like waters shot from some high crag,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lightning fell with never a jag,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A river steep and wide.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The bodies of the ship’s crew are inspired, and the ship -moves on;</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE loud wind never reached the ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet now the ship moved on!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath the lightning and the Moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dead men gave a groan.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_640" id="page_640">{640}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">They groan’d, they stirr’d, they all uprose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It had been strange, even in a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To have seen those dead men rise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The helmsman steer’d, the ship moved on;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet never a breeze up-blew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mariners all ’gan work the ropes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where they were wont to do;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They raised their limbs like lifeless tools—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We were a ghastly crew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The body of my brother’s son<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stood by me, knee to knee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The body and I pull’d at one rope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But he said naught to me.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">But not by the souls of the men, nor by demons of earth or -middle air, but by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the -invocation of the guardian saint.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘I</span> FEAR thee, ancient Mariner!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas not those souls that fled in pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which to their corses came again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a troop of spirits blest:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For when it dawn’d—they dropp’d their arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cluster’d round the mast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from their bodies pass’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Around, around, flew each sweet sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then darted to the Sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slowly the sounds came back again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now mix’d, now one by one.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes a-dropping from the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard the skylark sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes all little birds that are,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How they seem’d to fill the sea and air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With their sweet jargoning!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_641" id="page_641">{641}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">And now ’twas like all instruments,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now like a lonely flute;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now it is an angel’s song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That makes the Heavens be mute.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It ceased; yet still the sails made on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A pleasant noise till noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A noise like of a hidden brook<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the leafy month of June,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to the sleeping woods all night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singeth a quiet tune.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till noon we quietly sail’d on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet never a breeze did breathe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slowly and smoothly went the ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moved onward from beneath.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The lonesome Spirit from the South Pole carries on the ship -as far as the Line, in obedience to the angelic troop, but still -requireth vengeance.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>NDER the keel nine fathom deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the land, of mist and snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Spirit slid: and it was he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That made the ship to go.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sails at noon left off their tune,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the ship stood still also.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Sun, right up above the mast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had fix’d her to the ocean:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in a minute she ’gan stir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a short uneasy motion—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Backwards and forwards half her length<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a short uneasy motion.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then like a pawing horse let go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She made a sudden bound:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It flung the blood into my head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I fell down in a swound.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_642" id="page_642">{642}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">The Polar Spirit’s fellow-demons, the invisible inhabitants -of the element, take part in his wrong; and two of them relate, one to -the other, that penance long and heavy for the ancient Mariner hath been -accorded to the Polar Spirit, who returneth southward.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>OW long in that same fit I lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have not to declare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But ere my living life return’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard, and in my soul discern’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two voices in the air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Is it he?” quoth one, “is this the man?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Him who died on cross,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With his cruel bow he laid full low<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The harmless Albatross.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Spirit who bideth by himself<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the land of mist and snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He loved the bird that loved the man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who shot him with his bow.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The other was a softer voice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As soft as honey-dew:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quoth he, “The man hath penance done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And penance more will do.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3 class="nonnit"><span class="smcap">Part VI</span></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>First Voice</i>:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘<span class="lftspc">“</span>But tell me, tell me! speak again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy soft response renewing—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What makes that ship drive on so fast?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is the Ocean doing?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>Second Voice</i>:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Still as a slave before his lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Ocean hath no blast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His great bright eye most silently<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up to the Moon is cast<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_643" id="page_643">{643}</a></span>—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">If he may know which way to go;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For she guides him smooth or grim.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, brother, see! how graciously<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She looketh down on him.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The Mariner hath been cast into a trance; for the angelic -power causeth the vessel to drive northward faster than human life could -endure.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>First Voice</i>:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“But why drives on that ship so fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without or wave or wind?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><i>Second Voice</i>:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“The air is cut away before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And closes from behind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or we shall be belated:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For slow and slow that ship will go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the Mariner’s trance is abated.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The super-natural motion is retarded; the Mariner awakes, and -his penance begins anew.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> WOKE, and we were sailing on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in a gentle weather:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas night, calm night, the Moon was high;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dead men stood together.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All stood together on the deck,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a charnel-dungeon fitter:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All fix’d on me their stony eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That in the Moon did glitter.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The pang, the curse, with which they died.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had never pass’d away:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I could not draw my eyes from theirs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor turn them up to pray.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The curse is finally expiated.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND now this spell was snapt: once more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I viewed the ocean green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And look’d far forth, yet little saw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of what had else been seen<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_644" id="page_644">{644}</a></span>—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Like one that on a lonesome road<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doth walk in fear and dread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And having once turned round, walks on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turns no more his head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because he knows a frightful fiend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doth close behind him tread.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But soon there breathed a wind on me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor sound nor motion made:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its path was not upon the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In ripple or in shade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It raised my hair, it fann’d my cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a meadow-gale of spring—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It mingled strangely with my fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet it felt like a welcoming.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet she sail’d softly too:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On me alone it blew.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> DREAM of joy! is this indeed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lighthouse top I see?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is this the hill? is this the kirk?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is this mine own countree?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We drifted o’er the harbour-bar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I with sobs did pray—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O let me be awake, my God!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or let me sleep alway.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The harbour-bay was clear as glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So smoothly it was strewn!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on the bay the moonlight lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the shadow of the Moon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_645" id="page_645">{645}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">The rock shone bright, the kirk no less<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That stands above the rock:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moonlight steep’d in silentness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The steady weathercock.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies,</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND the bay was white with silent light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till rising from the same,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full many shapes, that shadows were,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In crimson colours came.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">And appear in their own forms of light.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> LITTLE distance from the prow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those crimson shadows were:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I turn’d my eyes upon the deck—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Christ! what saw I there!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, by the holy rood!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A man all light, a seraph-man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On every corse there stood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This seraph-band, each waved his hand:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was a heavenly sight!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They stood as signals to the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each one a lovely light;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This seraph-band, each waved his hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No voice did they impart—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No voice; but O, the silence sank<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like music on my heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But soon I heard the dash of oars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard the Pilot’s cheer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My head was turn’d perforce away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I saw a boat appear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_646" id="page_646">{646}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">The Pilot and the Pilot’s boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I heard them coming fast:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dead men could not blast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw a third—I heard his voice:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is the Hermit good!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He singeth loud his godly hymns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That he makes in the wood.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He’ll shrieve my soul, he’ll wash away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Albatross’s blood.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h3 class="nonnit"><span class="smcap">Part VII</span></h3> - -<div class="sidenote">The Hermit of the Wood.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘T</span>HIS hermit good lives in that wood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which slopes down to the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How loudly his sweet voice he rears!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He loves to talk with marineres<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That come from a far countree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He hath a cushion plump.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is the moss that wholly hides<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rotted old oak-stump.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The skiff-boat near’d: I heard them talk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Why, this is strange, I trow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where are those lights so many and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That signal made but now?”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">Approacheth the ship with wonder.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Strange, by my faith!” the Hermit said—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“And they answer’d not our cheer!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The planks look warp’d! and see those sails,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How thin they are and sere!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I never saw aught like to them,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unless perchance it were<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_647" id="page_647">{647}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brown skeletons of leaves that lag<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My forest-brook along;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That eats the she-wolf’s young.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(The Pilot made reply)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am a-fear’d.”—“Push on, push on!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said the Hermit cheerily.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The boat came closer to the ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I nor spake nor stirr’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boat came close beneath the ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And straight a sound was heard.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The ship suddenly sinketh.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>NDER the water it rumbled on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still louder and more dread:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It reach’d the ship, it split the bay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ship went down like lead.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot’s boat.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>TUNN’d by that loud and dreadful sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which sky and ocean smote,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like one that hath been seven days drown’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My body lay afloat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But swift as dreams, myself I found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the Pilot’s boat.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boat spun round and round;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all was still, save that the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was telling of the sound.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I moved my lips—the Pilot shriek’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fell down in a fit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The holy Hermit raised his eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pray’d where he did sit.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_648" id="page_648">{648}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">I took the oars: the Pilot’s boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who now doth crazy go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laugh’d loud and long, and all the while<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His eyes went to and fro.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Ha! ha!” quoth he, “full plain I see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Devil knows how to row.”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now, all in my own countree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I stood on the firm land!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Hermit stepp’d forth from the boat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And scarcely he could stand.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to -shrieve him; and the penance of life falls on him.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!”<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Hermit cross’d his brow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">“Say quick,” quoth he, “I bid thee say—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What manner of man art thou?”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a woful agony,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which forced me to begin my tale;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then it left me free.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenote">And ever and anon throughout his future life an agony -constraineth him to travel from land to land;</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>INCE then, at an uncertain hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That agony returns:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And till my ghastly tale is told,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This heart within me burns.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I pass, like night, from land to land;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have strange power of speech;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That moment that his face I see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know the man that must hear me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To him my tale I teach.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What loud uproar bursts from that door!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wedding-guests are there:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in the garden-bower the bride<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bride-maids singing are:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_649" id="page_649">{649}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hark, the little vesper bell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which biddeth me to prayer!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone on a wide, wide sea:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So lonely ’twas, that God Himself<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce seemèd there to be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sweeter than the marriage-feast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis sweeter far to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To walk together to the kirk<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a goodly company!—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To walk together to the kirk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all together pray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While each to his great Father bends,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Old men, and babes, and loving friends,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And youths and maidens gay!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="sidenotert">And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all -things that God made and loveth.</div> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AREWELL, farewell! but this I tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He prayeth well, who loveth well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both man and bird and beast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He prayeth best, who loveth best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All things both great and small;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the dear God who loveth us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He made and loveth all.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Mariner, whose eye is bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose beard with age is hoar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turn’d from the bridegroom’s door,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He went like one that hath been stunn’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And is of sense forlorn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sadder and a wiser man<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He rose the morrow morn.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_650" id="page_650">{650}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_550" id="pm_550">550.</a></p> - -<h3>Kubla Khan</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">I</span>N Xanadu did Kubla Khan<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A stately pleasure-dome decree:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where Alph, the sacred river, ran<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through caverns measureless to man<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Down to a sunless sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So twice five miles of fertile ground<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With walls and towers were girdled round:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where blossom’d many an incense-bearing tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And here were forests ancient as the hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But O, that deep romantic chasm which slanted<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A savage place! as holy and enchanted<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By woman wailing for her demon-lover!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mighty fountain momently was forced;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ’mid these dancing rocks at once and ever<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It flung up momently the sacred river.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Five miles meandering with a mazy motion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then reach’d the caverns measureless to man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ancestral voices prophesying war!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_651" id="page_651">{651}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shadow of the dome of pleasure<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Floated midway on the waves;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where was heard the mingled measure<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From the fountain and the caves.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was a miracle of rare device,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">A damsel with a dulcimer<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In a vision once I saw:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It was an Abyssinian maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And on her dulcimer she play’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Singing of Mount Abora.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Could I revive within me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her symphony and song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To such a deep delight ’twould win me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That with music loud and long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would build that dome in air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sunny dome! those caves of ice!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all who heard should see them there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all should cry, Beware! Beware!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His flashing eyes, his floating hair!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weave a circle round him thrice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And close your eyes with holy dread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For he on honey-dew hath fed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drunk the milk of Paradise.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_551" id="pm_551">551.</a></p> - -<h3>Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL thoughts, all passions, all delights,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whatever stirs this mortal frame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All are but ministers of Love,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And feed his sacred flame.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_652" id="page_652">{652}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Oft in my waking dreams do I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Live o’er again that happy hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When midway on the mount I lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Beside the ruin’d tower.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The moonshine, stealing o’er the scene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had blended with the lights of eve;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she was there, my hope, my joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My own dear Genevieve!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She lean’d against the armèd man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The statue of the armèd Knight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She stood and listen’d to my lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Amid the lingering light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Few sorrows hath she of her own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My hope! my joy! my Genevieve!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She loves me best whene’er I sing<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The songs that make her grieve.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I play’d a soft and doleful air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sang an old and moving story—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An old rude song, that suited well<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That ruin wild and hoary.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She listen’d with a flitting blush,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With downcast eyes and modest grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For well she knew I could not choose<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But gaze upon her face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I told her of the Knight that wore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon his shield a burning brand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that for ten long years he woo’d<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The Lady of the Land.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_653" id="page_653">{653}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I told her how he pined: and ah!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The deep, the low, the pleading tone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With which I sang another’s love,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Interpreted my own.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She listened with a flitting blush,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With downcast eyes, and modest grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she forgave me, that I gazed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Too fondly on her face!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when I told the cruel scorn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that he cross’d the mountain-woods,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor rested day nor night;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That sometimes from the savage den,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sometimes from the darksome shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sometimes starting up at once<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In green and sunny glade—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There came and look’d him in the face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An angel beautiful and bright;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that he knew it was a Fiend,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">This miserable Knight!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And that, unknowing what he did,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He leap’d amid a murderous band,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And saved from outrage worse than death<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The Lady of the Land;—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And how she wept and clasp’d his knees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And how she tended him in vain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ever strove to expiate<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The scorn that crazed his brain;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_654" id="page_654">{654}</a></span>—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And that she nursed him in a cave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And how his madness went away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When on the yellow forest leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A dying man he lay;—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His dying words—but when I reach’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That tenderest strain of all the ditty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My faltering voice and pausing harp<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Disturb’d her soul with pity!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All impulses of soul and sense<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had thrill’d my guileless Genevieve;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The music and the doleful tale,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The rich and balmy eve;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An undistinguishable throng,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gentle wishes long subdued,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Subdued and cherish’d long!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She wept with pity and delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She blush’d with love and virgin shame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like the murmur of a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I heard her breathe my name.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her bosom heaved—she stepp’d aside,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As conscious of my look she stept—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then suddenly, with timorous eye<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She fled to me and wept.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She half enclosed me with her arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She press’d me with a meek embrace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bending back her head, look’d up,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And gazed upon my face.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_655" id="page_655">{655}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twas partly love, and partly fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And partly ’twas a bashful art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I might rather feel, than see.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The swelling of her heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I calm’d her fears, and she was calm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And told her love with virgin pride;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so I won my Genevieve,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My bright and beauteous Bride.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_552" id="pm_552">552.</a></p> - -<h3>Youth and Age</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">V</span>ERSE, a breeze ’mid blossoms straying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Both were mine! Life went a-maying<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">When I was young:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I was young?—Ah, woful When:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! for the change ’twixt Now and Then!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This breathing house not built with hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This body that does me grievous wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er aery cliffs and glittering sands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How lightly then it flash’d along—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On winding lakes and rivers wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ask no aid of sail or oar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fear no spite of wind or tide!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Naught cared this body for wind or weather<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Youth and I lived in ’t together.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Flowers are lovely! Love is flower-like;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Friendship is a sheltering tree;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_656" id="page_656">{656}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">O the joys, that came down shower-like,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Ere I was old!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere I was old? Ah, woful Ere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which tells me, Youth’s no longer here!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Youth! for years so many and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis known that thou and I were one;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll think it but a fond conceit—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It cannot be that thou art gone!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll’d—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou wert aye a masker bold!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What strange disguise hast now put on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make believe that thou art gone?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see these locks in silvery slips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This drooping gait, this alter’d size:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But springtide blossoms on thy lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tears take sunshine from thine eyes!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life is but thought: so think I will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Youth and I are housemates still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dewdrops are the gems of morning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the tears of mournful eve!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where no hope is, life’s a warning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That only serves to make us grieve,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">When we are old!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That only serves to make us grieve<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With oft and tedious taking-leave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some poor nigh-related guest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That may not rudely be dismist.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet hath outstay’d his welcome while,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tells the jest without the smile.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_657" id="page_657">{657}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_553" id="pm_553">553.</a></p> - -<h3>Time, Real and Imaginary</h3> - -<p class="c">AN ALLEGORY</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>N the wide level of a mountain’s head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(I knew not where, but ’twas some faery place),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their pinions, ostrich-like, for sails outspread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two lovely children run an endless race,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">A sister and a brother!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">This far outstripp’d the other;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet ever runs she with reverted face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And looks and listens for the boy behind:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For he, alas! is blind!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er rough and smooth with even step he pass’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And knows not whether he be first or last.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_554" id="pm_554">554.</a></p> - -<h3>Work without Hope</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Winter, slumbering in the open air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lips unbrighten’d, wreathless brow, I stroll:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Hope without an object cannot live.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_658" id="page_658">{658}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_555" id="pm_555">555.</a></p> - -<h3>Glycine’s Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> SUNNY shaft did I behold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From sky to earth it slanted:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And poised therein a bird so bold—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet bird, thou wert enchanted!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He sank, he rose, he twinkled, he troll’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within that shaft of sunny mist;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His eyes of fire, his beak of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All else of amethyst!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thus he sang: ‘Adieu! adieu!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s dreams prove seldom true.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blossoms, they make no delay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sparking dew-drops will not stay.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet month of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">We must away;<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Far, far away!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To-day! to-day!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_SOUTHEY" id="ROBERT_SOUTHEY"></a>ROBERT SOUTHEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1774-1843<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_556" id="pm_556">556.</a></p> - -<h3>His Books</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y days among the Dead are past;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Around me I behold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’er these casual eyes are cast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mighty minds of old:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My never-failing friends are they,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With whom I converse day by day.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_659" id="page_659">{659}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With them I take delight in weal<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And seek relief in woe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And while I understand and feel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How much to them I owe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My cheeks have often been bedew’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With tears of thoughtful gratitude.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My thoughts are with the Dead; with them<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I live in long-past years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their virtues love, their faults condemn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Partake their hopes and fears;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from their lessons seek and find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Instruction with an humble mind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My hopes are with the Dead; anon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My place with them will be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I with them shall travel on<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through all Futurity;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet leaving here a name, I trust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That will not perish in the dust.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WALTER_SAVAGE_LANDOR" id="WALTER_SAVAGE_LANDOR"></a>WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1775-1864<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_557" id="pm_557">557.</a></p> - -<h3>The Maid’s Lament</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> LOVED him not; and yet now he is gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I feel I am alone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I check’d him while he spoke; yet, could he speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alas! I would not check.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For reasons not to love him once I sought,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And wearied all my thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_660" id="page_660">{660}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To vex myself and him; I now would give<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My love, could he but live<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who lately lived for me, and when he found<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Twas vain, in holy ground<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He hid his face amid the shades of death.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I waste for him my breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who wasted his for me; but mine returns,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And this lorn bosom burns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And waking me to weep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wept he as bitter tears.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Merciful God!’ such was his latest prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘These may she never share!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Than daisies in the mould,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His name and life’s brief date.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe’er you be,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And, O, pray too for me!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_558" id="pm_558">558.</a></p> - -<h3>Rose Aylmer</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>H, what avails the sceptred race!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah, what the form divine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What every virtue, every grace!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rose Aylmer, all were thine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May weep, but never see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A night of memories and sighs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I consecrate to thee.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_661" id="page_661">{661}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_559" id="pm_559">559.</a></p> - -<h3>Ianthe</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>ROM you, Ianthe, little troubles pass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like little ripples down a sunny river;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your pleasures spring like daisies in the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cut down, and up again as blithe as ever.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_560" id="pm_560">560.</a></p> - -<h3>Twenty Years hence</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>WENTY years hence my eyes may grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If not quite dim, yet rather so;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet yours from others they shall know,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Twenty years hence.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Twenty years hence, though it may hap<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I be call’d to take a nap<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a cool cell where thunder-clap<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Was never heard,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There breathe but o’er my arch of grass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A not too sadly sigh’d ‘Alas!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I shall catch, ere you can pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">That wingèd word.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_561" id="pm_561">561.</a></p> - -<h3>Verse</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>AST ruin’d Ilion Helen lives,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alcestis rises from the shades;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Verse calls them forth; ’tis verse that gives<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Immortal youth to mortal maids.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soon shall Oblivion’s deepening veil<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hide all the peopled hills you see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gay, the proud, while lovers hail<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These many summers you and me.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_662" id="page_662">{662}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_562" id="pm_562">562.</a></p> - -<h3>Proud Word you never spoke</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>ROUD word you never spoke, but you will speak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Four not exempt from pride some future day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over my open volume you will say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘This man loved me’—then rise and trip away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_563" id="pm_563">563.</a></p> - -<h3>Resignation</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HY, why repine, my pensive friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At pleasures slipp’d away?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some the stern Fates will never lend,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all refuse to stay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I see the rainbow in the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dew upon the grass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see them, and I ask not why<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They glimmer or they pass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With folded arms I linger not<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To call them back; ’twere vain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In this, or in some other spot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know they’ll shine again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_564" id="pm_564">564.</a></p> - -<h3>Mother, I cannot mind my Wheel</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>OTHER, I cannot mind my wheel;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My fingers ache, my lips are dry:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, if you felt the pain I feel!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But O, who ever felt as I?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No longer could I doubt him true—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All other men may use deceit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He always said my eyes were blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And often swore my lips were sweet.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_663" id="page_663">{663}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_565" id="pm_565">565.</a></p> - -<h3>Autumn</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>ILD is the parting year, and sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The odour of the falling spray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life passes on more rudely fleet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And balmless is its closing day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wait its close, I court its gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But mourn that never must there fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or on my breast or on my tomb<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tear that would have soothed it all.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_566" id="pm_566">566.</a></p> - -<h3>Remain!</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">R</span>EMAIN, ah not in youth alone!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Tho’ youth, where you are, long will stay—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when my summer days are gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And my autumnal haste away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘<i>Can I be always by your side?</i>’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No; but the hours you can, you must,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor rise at Death’s approaching stride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor go when dust is gone to dust.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_567" id="pm_567">567.</a></p> - -<h3>Absence</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ERE, ever since you went abroad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If there be change, no change I see:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I only walk our wonted road,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The road is only walk’d by me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes; I forgot; a change there is—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was it of <i>that</i> you bade me tell?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I catch at times, at times I miss<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sight, the tone, I know so well.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_664" id="page_664">{664}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Only two months since you stood here?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two shortest months? Then tell me why<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Voices are harsher than they were,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And tears are longer ere they dry.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_568" id="pm_568">568.</a></p> - -<h3>Of Clementina</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N Clementina’s artless mien<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lucilla asks me what I see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And are the roses of sixteen<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Enough for me?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lucilla asks, if that be all,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have I not cull’d as sweet before:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah yes, Lucilla! and their fall<br /></span> -<span class="i8">I still deplore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I now behold another scene,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where Pleasure beams with Heaven’s own light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More pure, more constant, more serene,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And not less bright.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Faith, on whose breast the Loves repose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose chain of flowers no force can sever,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Modesty who, when she goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Is gone for ever.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_569" id="pm_569">569.</a></p> - -<h3>Ianthe’s Question</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘D</span>O you remember me? or are you proud?’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lightly advancing thro’ her star-trimm’d crowd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ianthe said, and look’d into my eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘A <i>yes</i>, a <i>yes</i> to both: for Memory<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where you but once have been must ever be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And at your voice Pride from his throne must rise.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_665" id="page_665">{665}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_570" id="pm_570">570.</a></p> - -<h3>On Catullus</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>ELL me not what too well I know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the bard of Sirmio.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yes, in Thalia’s son<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such stains there are—as when a Grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sprinkles another’s laughing face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With nectar, and runs on.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_571" id="pm_571">571.</a></p> - -<h3>Dirce</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>TAND close around, ye Stygian set,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With Dirce in one boat convey’d!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or Charon, seeing, may forget<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That he is old and she a shade.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_572" id="pm_572">572.</a></p> - -<h3>Alciphron and Leucippe</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>N ancient chestnut’s blossoms threw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their heavy odour over two:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leucippe, it is said, was one;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The other, then, was Alciphron.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Come, come! why should we stand beneath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This hollow tree’s unwholesome breath?’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said Alciphron, ‘here’s not a blade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of grass or moss, and scanty shade.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come; it is just the hour to rove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the lone dingle shepherds love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, straight and tall, the hazel twig<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Divides the crookèd rock-held fig,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the blue pebbles where the rill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In winter runs and may run still.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come then, while fresh and calm the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And while the shepherds are not there.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"> -<a name="page_666" id="page_666">{666}</a></span><br /></p> - -<pre> -<i>Leucippe.</i> But I would rather go when they - Sit round about and sing and play. - Then why so hurry me? for you - Like play and song, and shepherds too. - - <i>Alciphron.</i> I like the shepherds very well, - And song and play, as you can tell. - But there is play, I sadly fear, - And song I would not have you hear. - - <i>Leucippe.</i> What can it be? What can it be? - - <i>Alciphron.</i> To you may none of them repeat - The play that you have play’d with me, - The song that made your bosom beat. - - <i>Leucippe.</i> Don’t keep your arm about my waist. - - <i>Alciphron.</i> Might you not stumble? - - <i>Leucippe.</i> Well then, do. - But why are we in all this haste? - - <i>Alciphron.</i> To sing. - - <i>Leucippe.</i> Alas! and not play too? -</pre> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_573" id="pm_573">573.</a></p> - -<h3>Years</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>EARS, many parti-colour’d years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some have crept on, and some have flown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since first before me fell those tears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I never could see fall alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Years, not so many, are to come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Years not so varied, when from you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One more will fall: when, carried home,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I see it not, nor hear Adieu.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_667" id="page_667">{667}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_574" id="pm_574">574.</a></p> - -<h3>Separation</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE is a mountain and a wood between us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the lone shepherd and late bird have seen us<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Morning and noon and eventide repass.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between us now the mountain and the wood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seem standing darker than last year they stood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And say we must not cross—alas! alas!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_575" id="pm_575">575.</a></p> - -<h3>Late Leaves</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE leaves are falling; so am I;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The few late flowers have moisture in the eye;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So have I too.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarcely on any bough is heard<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joyous, or even unjoyous, bird<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The whole wood through.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Winter may come: he brings but nigher<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His circle (yearly narrowing) to the fire<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where old friends meet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let him; now heaven is overcast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spring and summer both are past,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all things sweet.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_576" id="pm_576">576.</a></p> - -<h3>Finis</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I warm’d both hands before the fire of life;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It sinks, and I am ready to depart.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_668" id="page_668">{668}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHARLES_LAMB" id="CHARLES_LAMB"></a>CHARLES LAMB</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1775-1834<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_577" id="pm_577">577.</a></p> - -<h3>The Old Familiar Faces</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> HAVE had playmates, I have had companions,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have been laughing, I have been carousing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I loved a Love once, fairest among women:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth seem’d a desert I was bound to traverse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeking to find the old familiar faces.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why wert not thou born in my father’s dwelling?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So might we talk of the old familiar faces—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How some they have died, and some they have left me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And some are taken from me; all are departed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_669" id="page_669">{669}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_578" id="pm_578">578.</a></p> - -<h3>Hester</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN maidens such as Hester die<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their place ye may not well supply,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though ye among a thousand try<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With vain endeavour.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A month or more hath she been dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet cannot I by force be led<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To think upon the wormy bed<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And her together.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A springy motion in her gait,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A rising step, did indicate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of pride and joy no common rate,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That flush’d her spirit:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know not by what name beside<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall it call: if ’twas not pride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was a joy to that allied,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">She did inherit.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her parents held the Quaker rule,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which doth the human feeling cool;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But she was train’d in Nature’s school;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Nature had blest her.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A waking eye, a prying mind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A heart that stirs, is hard to bind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A hawk’s keen sight ye cannot blind;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ye could not Hester.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My sprightly neighbour! gone before<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To that unknown and silent shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall we not meet, as heretofore,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Some summer morning<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_670" id="page_670">{670}</a></span>—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When from thy cheerful eyes a ray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath struck a bliss upon the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bliss that would not go away,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">A sweet forewarning?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_579" id="pm_579">579.</a></p> - -<h3>On an Infant dying as soon as born</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SAW where in the shroud did lurk<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A curious frame of Nature’s work;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A floweret crush’d in the bud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A nameless piece of Babyhood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was in her cradle-coffin lying;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So soon to exchange the imprisoning womb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For darker closets of the tomb!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She did but ope an eye, and put<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A clear beam forth, then straight up shut<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the long dark: ne’er more to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through glasses of mortality.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Riddle of destiny, who can show<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What thy short visit meant, or know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What thy errand here below?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall we say that Nature blind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Check’d her hand, and changed her mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just when she had exactly wrought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A finish’d pattern without fault?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could she flag, or could she tire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or lack’d she the Promethean fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(With her nine moons’ long workings sicken’d)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That should thy little limbs have quicken’d?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Limbs so firm, they seem’d to assure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life of health, and days mature:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Woman’s self in miniature!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_671" id="page_671">{671}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Limbs so fair, they might supply<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Themselves now but cold imagery)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sculptor to make Beauty by.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or did the stern-eyed Fate descry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That babe or mother, one must die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So in mercy left the stock<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cut the branch; to save the shock<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of young years widow’d, and the pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When single state comes back again<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the lone man who, reft of wife,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thenceforward drags a maimèd life?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The economy of Heaven is dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wisest clerks have miss’d the mark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why human buds, like this, should fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More brief than fly ephemeral<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That has his day; while shrivell’d crones<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stiffen with age to stocks and stones;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And crabbèd use the conscience sears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sinners of an hundred years.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mother’s prattle, mother’s kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Baby fond, thou ne’er wilt miss:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rites, which custom does impose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silver bells, and baby clothes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Coral redder than those lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which pale death did late eclipse;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Music framed for infants’ glee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whistle never tuned for thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though thou want’st not, thou shalt have them,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loving hearts were they which gave them.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let not one be missing; nurse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See them laid upon the hearse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of infant slain by doom perverse.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why should kings and nobles have<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_672" id="page_672">{672}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pictured trophies to their grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we, churls, to thee deny<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy pretty toys with thee to lie—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A more harmless vanity?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_CAMPBELL" id="THOMAS_CAMPBELL"></a>THOMAS CAMPBELL</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1774-1844<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_580" id="pm_580">580.</a></p> - -<h3>Ye Mariners of England</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>E Mariners of England<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That guard our native seas!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose flag has braved a thousand years<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The battle and the breeze!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your glorious standard launch again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To match another foe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sweep through the deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While the stormy winds do blow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the battle rages loud and long<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the stormy winds do blow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The spirits of your fathers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall start from every wave—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the deck it was their field of fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Ocean was their grave:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your manly hearts shall glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As ye sweep through the deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While the stormy winds do blow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the battle rages loud and long<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the stormy winds do blow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_673" id="page_673">{673}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Britannia needs no bulwarks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No towers along the steep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her march is o’er the mountain-waves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her home is on the deep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With thunders from her native oak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She quells the floods below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As they roar on the shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the stormy winds do blow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the battle rages loud and long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the stormy winds do blow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The meteor flag of England<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall yet terrific burn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till danger’s troubled night depart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the star of peace return.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our song and feast shall flow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the fame of your name,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the storm has ceased to blow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the fiery fight is heard no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the storm has ceased to blow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_581" id="pm_581">581.</a></p> - -<h3>The Battle of the Baltic</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -Of Nelson and the North<br /> -Sing the glorious day's renown,<br /> -When to battle fierce came forth<br /> -All the might of Denmark's crown,<br /> -And her arms along the deep proudly shone;<br /> -By each gun the lighted brand<br /> -In a bold determined hand,<br /> -And the Prince of all the land<br /> -Led them on.<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -Like leviathans afloat<br /> -Lay their bulwarks on the brine,<br /> -While the sign of battle flew<br /> -On the lofty British line:<br /> -It was ten of April morn by the chime:<br /> -As they drifted on their path<br /> -There was silence deep as death,<br /> -And the boldest held his breath<br /> -For a time.<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -But the might of England flush'd<br /> -To anticipate the scene;<br /> -And her van the fleeter rush'd<br /> -O'er the deadly space between:<br /> -‘Hearts of oak!’ our captains cried, when each gun<br /> -From its adamantine lips<br /> -Spread a death-shade round the ships,<br /> -Like the hurricane eclipse<br /> -Of the sun.<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -Again! again! again!<br /> -And the havoc did not slack,<br /> -Till a feeble cheer the Dane<br /> -To our cheering sent us back;—<br /> -Their shots along the deep slowly boom:—<br /> -Then ceased—and all is wail,<br /> -As they strike the shattered sail,<br /> -Or in conflagration pale<br /> -Light the gloom.<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -Out spoke the victor then<br /> -As he hail’d them o’er the wave:<br /> -‘Ye are brothers! ye are men!<br /> -And we conquer but to save:—<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -So peace instead of death let us bring<br /> -But yield, proud foe, thy fleet,<br /> -With the crews, at England’s feet,<br /> -And make submission meet<br /> -To our King.’...<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -Now joy, old England, raise!<br /> -For the tidings of thy might,<br /> -By the festal cities' blaze,<br /> -Whilst the wine-cup shines in light!<br /> -And yet amidst that joy and uproar,<br /> -Let us think of them that sleep<br /> -Full many a fathom deep,<br /> -By thy wild and stormy steep,<br /> -Elsinore! -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_675" id="page_675">{675}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_MOORE" id="THOMAS_MOORE"></a>THOMAS MOORE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1779-1852<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_582" id="pm_582">582.</a></p> - -<h3>The Young May Moon</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE young May moon is beaming, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glow-worm’s lamp is gleaming, love;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">How sweet to rove<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Through Morna’s grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the drowsy world is dreaming, love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then awake!—the heavens look bright, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis never too late for delight, my dear;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the best of all ways<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To lengthen our days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now all the world is sleeping, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the Sage, his star-watch keeping, love,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_676" id="page_676">{676}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I, whose star<br /></span> -<span class="i4">More glorious far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the eye from that casement peeping, love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then awake!—till rise of sun, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Sage’s glass we’ll shun, my dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or in watching the flight<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of bodies of light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He might happen to take thee for one, my dear!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_583" id="pm_583">583.</a></p> - -<h3>The Irish Peasant to His Mistress</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HROUGH grief and through danger thy smile hath cheer’d my way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till hope seem’d to bud from each thorn that round me lay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The darker our fortune, the brighter our pure love burn’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till shame into glory, till fear into zeal was turn’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, slave as I was, in thy arms my spirit felt free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bless’d even the sorrows that made me more dear to thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy rival was honour’d, while thou wert wrong’d and scorn’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy crown was of briers, while gold her brows adorn’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She woo’d me to temples, whilst thou lay’st hid in caves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her friends were all masters, while thine, alas! were slaves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet cold in the earth, at thy feet, I would rather be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than wed what I loved not, or turn one thought from thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They slander thee sorely, who say thy vows are frail—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hadst thou been a false one, thy cheek had look’d less pale!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They say, too, so long thou hast worn those lingering chains,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That deep in thy heart they have printed their servile stains:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, foul is the slander!—no chain could that soul subdue—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where shineth thy spirit, there Liberty shineth too!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_677" id="page_677">{677}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_584" id="pm_584">584.</a></p> - -<h3>The Light of Other Days</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>FT, in the stilly night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fond Memory brings the light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of other days around me:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The smiles, the tears<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of boyhood’s years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The words of love then spoken;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The eyes that shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Now dimm’d and gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cheerful hearts now broken!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus, in the stilly night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sad Memory brings the light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of other days around me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When I remember all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The friends, so link’d together,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ve seen around me fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like leaves in wintry weather,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I feel like one<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who treads alone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some banquet-hall deserted,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whose lights are fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whose garlands dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all but he departed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus, in the stilly night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere slumber’s chain has bound me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sad Memory brings the light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of other days around me.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_678" id="page_678">{678}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_585" id="pm_585">585.</a></p> - -<h3>At the Mid Hour of Night</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>T the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in thine eye;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions of air<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to me there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tell me our love is remembered even in the sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then I sing the wild song it once was rapture to hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When our voices commingling breathed like one on the ear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison rolls,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I think, O my love! ’tis thy voice from the Kingdom of Souls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faintly answering still the notes that once were so dear.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EDWARD_THURLOW_LORD_THURLOW" id="EDWARD_THURLOW_LORD_THURLOW"></a>EDWARD THURLOW, LORD THURLOW</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1781-1829<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_586" id="pm_586">586.</a></p> - -<h3>May</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>AY! queen of blossoms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fulfilling flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With what pretty music<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall we charm the hours?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wilt thou have pipe and reed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blown in the open mead?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or to the lute give heed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the green bowers?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou hast no need of us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or pipe or wire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou hast the golden bee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ripen’d with fire;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_679" id="page_679">{679}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many thousand more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Songsters, that thee adore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Filling earth’s grassy floor<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With new desire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou hast thy mighty herds,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tame and free-livers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doubt not, thy music too<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the deep rivers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the whole plumy flight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warbling the day and night—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up at the gates of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">See, the lark quivers!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EBENEZER_ELLIOTT" id="EBENEZER_ELLIOTT"></a>EBENEZER ELLIOTT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1781-1849<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_587" id="pm_587">587.</a></p> - -<h3>Battle Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>AY, like our souls, is fiercely dark;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What then? ’Tis day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We sleep no more; the cock crows—hark!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To arms! away!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They come! they come! the knell is rung<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of us or them;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wide o’er their march the pomp is flung<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of gold and gem.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What collar’d hound of lawless sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To famine dear—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What pensioned slave of Attila,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Leads in the rear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come they from Scythian wilds afar,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our blood to spill?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wear they the livery of the Czar?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">They do his will.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_680" id="page_680">{680}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor tassell’d silk, nor epaulet,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor plume, nor torse—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No splendour gilds, all sternly met,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our foot and horse.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, dark and still, we inly glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Condensed in ire!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strike, tawdry slaves, and ye shall know<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our gloom is fire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain your pomp, ye evil powers,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Insults the land;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wrongs, vengeance, and the Cause are ours,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And God’s right hand!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Madmen! they trample into snakes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The wormy clod!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like fire, beneath their feet awakes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The sword of God!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behind, before, above, below,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">They rouse the brave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’er they go, they make a foe,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or find a grave.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_588" id="pm_588">588.</a></p> - -<h3>Plaint</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>ARK, deep, and cold the current flows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the sea where no wind blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeking the land which no one knows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O’er its sad gloom still comes and goes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mingled wail of friends and foes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Borne to the land which no one knows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why shrieks for help yon wretch, who goes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With millions, from a world of woes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the land which no one knows?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_681" id="page_681">{681}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though myriads go with him who goes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone he goes where no wind blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the land which no one knows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For all must go where no wind blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And none can go for him who goes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">None, none return whence no one knows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet why should he who shrieking goes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With millions, from a world of woes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reunion seek with it or those?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alone with God, where no wind blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Death, his shadow—doom’d, he goes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That God is there the shadow shows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O shoreless Deep, where no wind blows!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou, O Land which no one knows!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That God is All, His shadow shows.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ALLAN_CUNNINGHAM" id="ALLAN_CUNNINGHAM"></a>ALLAN CUNNINGHAM</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1784-1843<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_589" id="pm_589">589.</a></p> - -<h3>The Sun rises bright in France</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE sun rises bright in France,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fair sets he;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But he has tint the blythe blink he had<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In my ain countree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, it’s nae my ain ruin<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That saddens aye my e’e,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the dear Marie I left behin’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ sweet bairnies three.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>589.</i> tint] lost.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_682" id="page_682">{682}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y lanely hearth burn’d bonnie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And smiled my ain Marie;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ve left a’ my heart behin’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In my ain countree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The bud comes back to summer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the blossom to the bee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I’ll win back, O never,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To my ain countree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, I am leal to high Heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where soon I hope to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ there I’ll meet ye a’ soon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Frae my ain countree!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_590" id="pm_590">590.</a></p> - -<h3>Hame, Hame, Hame</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>AME, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the flower is i’ the bud and the leaf is on the tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The larks shall sing me hame in my ain countree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The green leaf o’ loyaltie’s beginning for to fa’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bonnie White Rose it is withering an’ a’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I’ll water ’t wi’ the blude of usurping tyrannie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ green it will graw in my ain countree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, there’s nocht now frae ruin my country can save,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the keys o’ kind heaven, to open the grave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That a’ the noble martyrs wha died for loyaltie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May rise again an’ fight for their ain countree.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_683" id="page_683">{683}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The great now are gane, a’ wha ventured to save,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The new grass is springing on the tap o’ their grave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the sun through the mirk blinks blythe in my e’e,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘I’ll shine on ye yet in your ain countree.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_591" id="pm_591">591.</a></p> - -<h3>The Spring of the Year</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>ONE were but the winter cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gone were but the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I could sleep in the wild woods<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where primroses blow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cold’s the snow at my head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And cold at my feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the finger of death’s at my e’en,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Closing them to sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let none tell my father<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or my mother so dear,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll meet them both in heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the spring of the year.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LEIGH_HUNT" id="LEIGH_HUNT"></a>LEIGH HUNT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1784-1859<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_592" id="pm_592">592.</a></p> - -<h3>Jenny kiss’d Me</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">J</span>ENNY kiss’d me when we met,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Jumping from the chair she sat in;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time, you thief, who love to get<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweets into your list, put that in!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say I’m weary, say I’m sad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Say that health and wealth have miss’d me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say I’m growing old, but add,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Jenny kiss’d me.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_684" id="page_684">{684}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_LOVE_PEACOCK" id="THOMAS_LOVE_PEACOCK"></a>THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1785-1866<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_593" id="pm_593">593.</a></p> - -<h3>Love and Age</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> PLAY’d with you ’mid cowslips blowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I was six and you were four;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were pleasures soon to please no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through groves and meads, o’er grass and heather,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With little playmates, to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We wander’d hand in hand together;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that was sixty years ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You grew a lovely roseate maiden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And still our early love was strong;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still with no care our days were laden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They glided joyously along;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I did love you very dearly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How dearly words want power to show,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thought your heart was touch’d as nearly;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that was fifty years ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then other lovers came around you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your beauty grew from year to year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a splendid circle found you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The centre of its glittering sphere.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw you then, first vows forsaking,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On rank and wealth your hand bestow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, then I thought my heart was breaking!—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that was forty years ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I lived on, to wed another:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No cause she gave me to repine;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_685" id="page_685">{685}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when I heard you were a mother,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I did not wish the children mine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My own young flock, in fair progression,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made up a pleasant Christmas row:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My joy in them was past expression;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that was thirty years ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You grew a matron plump and comely,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You dwelt in fashion’s brightest blaze;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My earthly lot was far more homely;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I too had my festal days.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No merrier eyes have ever glisten’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Around the hearth-stone’s wintry glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than when my youngest child was christen’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But that was twenty years ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Time pass’d. My eldest girl was married,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I am now a grandsire gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One pet of four years old I’ve carried<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the wild-flower’d meads to play.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In our old fields of childish pleasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where now, as then, the cowslips blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She fills her basket’s ample measure;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And that is not ten years ago.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But though first love’s impassion’d blindness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has pass’d away in colder light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I still have thought of you with kindness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shall do, till our last good-night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ever-rolling silent hours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will bring a time we shall not know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When our young days of gathering flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will be an hundred years ago.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_686" id="page_686">{686}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_594" id="pm_594">594.</a></p> - -<h3>The Grave of Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> DUG, beneath the cypress shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What well might seem an elfin’s grave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every pledge in earth I laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That erst thy false affection gave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I press’d them down the sod beneath;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I placed one mossy stone above;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And twined the rose’s fading wreath<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Around the sepulchre of love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Frail as thy love, the flowers were dead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere yet the evening sun was set:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But years shall see the cypress spread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Immutable as my regret.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_595" id="pm_595">595.</a></p> - -<h3>Three Men of Gotham</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>EAMEN three! What men be ye?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gotham’s three wise men we be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whither in your bowl so free?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To rake the moon from out the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And our ballast is old wine.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And your ballast is old wine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who art thou, so fast adrift?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am he they call Old Care.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here on board we will thee lift.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No: I may not enter there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wherefore so? ’Tis Jove’s decree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a bowl Care may not be.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a bowl Care may not be.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_687" id="page_687">{687}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fear ye not the waves that roll?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No: in charmèd bowl we swim.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What the charm that floats the bowl?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Water may not pass the brim.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And our ballast is old wine.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And your ballast is old wine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CAROLINE_SOUTHEY" id="CAROLINE_SOUTHEY"></a>CAROLINE SOUTHEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1787-1854<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_596" id="pm_596">596.</a></p> - -<h3>To Death</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME not in terrors clad, to claim<br /></span> -<span class="i4">An unresisting prey:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come like an evening shadow, Death!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So stealthily, so silently!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shut mine eyes, and steal my breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then willingly, O willingly,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With thee I’ll go away!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What need to clutch with iron grasp<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What gentlest touch may take?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What need with aspect dark to scare,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So awfully, so terribly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The weary soul would hardly care,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Call’d quietly, call’d tenderly,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From thy dread power to break?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis not as when thou markest out<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The young, the blest, the gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The loved, the loving—they who dream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So happily, so hopefully;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then harsh thy kindest call may seem,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shrinkingly, reluctantly,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The summon’d may obey.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_688" id="page_688">{688}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">But I have drunk enough of life—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The cup assign’d to me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dash’d with a little sweet at best,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So scantily, so scantily—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To know full well that all the rest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More bitterly, more bitterly,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Drugg’d to the last will be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I may live to pain some heart<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That kindly cares for me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To pain, but not to bless. O Death!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come quietly—come lovingly—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And shut mine eyes, and steal my breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then willingly, O willingly,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I’ll go away with thee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_GORDON_BYRON_LORD_BYRON" id="GEORGE_GORDON_BYRON_LORD_BYRON"></a>GEORGE GORDON BYRON, LORD BYRON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1788-1824<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_597" id="pm_597">597.</a></p> - -<h3>When we Two parted</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN we two parted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In silence and tears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Half broken-hearted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sever for years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale grew thy cheek and cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Colder thy kiss;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Truly that hour foretold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sorrow to this.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The dew of the morning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sunk chill on my brow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It felt like the warning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of what I feel now.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_689" id="page_689">{689}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy vows are all broken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And light is thy fame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear thy name spoken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And share in its shame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They name thee before me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A knell to mine ear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shudder comes o’er me—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why wert thou so dear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They know not I knew thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who knew thee too well:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long, long shall I rue thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too deeply to tell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In secret we met—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In silence I grieve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thy heart could forget,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy spirit deceive.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I should meet thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">After long years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How should I greet thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With silence and tears.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_598" id="pm_598">598.</a></p> - -<h3>For Music</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE be none of Beauty’s daughters<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a magic like thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like music on the waters<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is thy sweet voice to me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, as if its sound were causing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The charmèd ocean’s pausing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The waves lie still and gleaming,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lull’d winds seem dreaming:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_690" id="page_690">{690}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the midnight moon is weaving<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her bright chain o’er the deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose breast is gently heaving,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As an infant’s asleep:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So the spirit bows before thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To listen and adore thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a full but soft emotion,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the swell of Summer’s ocean.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_599" id="pm_599">599.</a></p> - -<h3>We’ll go no more a-roving</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>O, we’ll go no more a-roving<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So late into the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though the heart be still as loving,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the moon be still as bright.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the sword outwears its sheath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the soul wears out the breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the heart must pause to breathe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And love itself have rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though the night was made for loving,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the day returns too soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet we’ll go no more a-roving<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By the light of the moon.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_600" id="pm_600">600.</a></p> - -<h3>She walks in Beauty</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE walks in beauty, like the night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of cloudless climes and starry skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all that’s best of dark and bright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Meet in her aspect and her eyes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus mellow’d to that tender light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which heaven to gaudy day denies.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_691" id="page_691">{691}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One shade the more, one ray the less,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had half impair’d the nameless grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which waves in every raven tress,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or softly lightens o’er her face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where thoughts serenely sweet express<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The smiles that win, the tints that glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But tell of days in goodness spent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mind at peace with all below,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A heart whose love is innocent!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_601" id="pm_601">601.</a></p> - -<h3>The Isles of Greece</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE isles of Greece! the isles of Greece<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where burning Sappho loved and sung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where grew the arts of war and peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where Delos rose, and Phœbus sprung!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eternal summer gilds them yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all, except their sun, is set.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Scian and the Teian muse,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hero’s harp, the lover’s lute,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have found the fame your shores refuse:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their place of birth alone is mute<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sounds which echo further west<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than your sires’ ‘Islands of the Blest.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The mountains look on Marathon—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Marathon looks on the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And musing there an hour alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I dream’d that Greece might still be free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For standing on the Persians’ grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I could not deem myself a slave.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_692" id="page_692">{692}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A king sate on the rocky brow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which looks o’er sea-born Salamis;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ships, by thousands, lay below,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And men in nations;—all were his!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He counted them at break of day—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when the sun set, where were they?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And where are they? and where art thou,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My country? On thy voiceless shore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heroic lay is tuneless now—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heroic bosom beats no more!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And must thy lyre, so long divine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Degenerate into hands like mine?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis something in the dearth of fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though link’d among a fetter’d race,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To feel at least a patriot’s shame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Even as I sing, suffuse my face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For what is left the poet here?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Greeks a blush—for Greece a tear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Must <i>we</i> but weep o’er days more blest?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Must <i>we</i> but blush?—Our fathers bled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth! render back from out thy breast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A remnant of our Spartan dead!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the three hundred grant but three,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make a new Thermopylæ!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What, silent still? and silent all?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah! no;—the voices of the dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sound like a distant torrent’s fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And answer, ‘Let one living head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But one, arise,—we come, we come!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis but the living who are dumb.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_693" id="page_693">{693}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In vain—in vain: strike other chords;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fill high the cup with Samian wine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leave battles to the Turkish hordes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shed the blood of Scio’s vine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark! rising to the ignoble call—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How answers each bold Bacchanal!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of two such lessons, why forget<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The nobler and the manlier one?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You have the letters Cadmus gave—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think ye he meant them for a slave?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We will not think of themes like these!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It made Anacreon’s song divine:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He served—but served Polycrates—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A tyrant; but our masters then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were still, at least, our countrymen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tyrant of the Chersonese<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was freedom’s best and bravest friend;<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>That</i> tyrant was Miltiades!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O that the present hour would lend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another despot of the kind!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such chains as his were sure to bind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On Suli’s rock, and Parga’s shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Exists the remnant of a line<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such as the Doric mothers bore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there, perhaps, some seed is sown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Heracleidan blood might own.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_694" id="page_694">{694}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Trust not for freedom to the Franks—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They have a king who buys and sells;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In native swords and native ranks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The only hope of courage dwells:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Turkish force and Latin fraud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would break your shield, however broad.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fill high the bowl with Samian wine!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our virgins dance beneath the shade—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see their glorious black eyes shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But gazing on each glowing maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My own the burning tear-drop laves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To think such breasts must suckle slaves.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Place me on Sunium’s marbled steep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where nothing, save the waves and I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There, swan-like, let me sing and die:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A land of slaves shall ne’er be mine—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_AUBREY_DE_VERE" id="SIR_AUBREY_DE_VERE"></a>SIR AUBREY DE VERE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1788-1846<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_602" id="pm_602">602.</a></p> - -<h3>The Children Band</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL holy influences dwell within<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The breast of Childhood: instincts fresh from God<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Inspire it, ere the heart beneath the rod<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of grief hath bled, or caught the plague of sin.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How mighty was that fervour which could win<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its way to infant souls!—and was the sod<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Palestine by infant Croises trod?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Joseph went they forth, or Benjamin,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_695" id="page_695">{695}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In all their touching beauty to redeem?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And did their soft lips kiss the Sepulchre?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas! the lovely pageant as a dream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faded! They sank not through ignoble fear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They felt not Moslem steel. By mountain, stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sands, in fens, they died—no mother near!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHARLES_WOLFE" id="CHARLES_WOLFE"></a>CHARLES WOLFE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1791-1823<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_603" id="pm_603">603.</a></p> - -<h3>The Burial of Sir John Moore after Corunna</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OT a drum was heard, not a funeral note,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As his corse to the rampart we hurried;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er the grave where our hero we buried.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We buried him darkly at dead of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sods with our bayonets turning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the struggling moonbeam’s misty light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the lanthorn dimly burning.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No useless coffin enclosed his breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But he lay like a warrior taking his rest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With his martial cloak around him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Few and short were the prayers we said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And we spoke not a word of sorrow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And we bitterly thought of the morrow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_696" id="page_696">{696}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We thought, as we hollow’d his narrow bed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And smoothed down his lonely pillow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the foe and the stranger would tread o’er his head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And we far away on the billow!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But little he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the grave where a Briton has laid him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But half of our heavy task was done<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the clock struck the hour for retiring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we heard the distant and random gun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That the foe was sullenly firing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Slowly and sadly we laid him down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the field of his fame fresh and gory;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But we left him alone with his glory.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_604" id="pm_604">604.</a></p> - -<h3>To Mary</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F I had thought thou couldst have died,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I might not weep for thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I forgot, when by thy side,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That thou couldst mortal be:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It never through my mind had past<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The time would e’er be o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I on thee should look my last,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And thou shouldst smile no more!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And still upon that face I look,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And think ’twill smile again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still the thought I will not brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That I must look in vain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_697" id="page_697">{697}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when I speak—thou dost not say<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What thou ne’er left’st unsaid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now I feel, as well I may,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet Mary, thou art dead!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If thou wouldst stay, e’en as thou art,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All cold and all serene—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I still might press thy silent heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And where thy smiles have been.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While e’en thy chill, bleak corse I have,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou seemest still mine own;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But there—I lay thee in thy grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And I am now alone!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I do not think, where’er thou art,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou hast forgotten me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In thinking too of thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet there was round thee such a dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of light ne’er seen before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As fancy never could have drawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And never can restore!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="PERCY_BYSSHE_SHELLEY" id="PERCY_BYSSHE_SHELLEY"></a>PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1792-1822<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_605" id="pm_605">605.</a></p> - -<h3>Hymn of Pan</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">F</span>ROM the forests and highlands<br /></span> -<span class="i4">We come, we come;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the river-girt islands,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where loud waves are dumb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listening to my sweet pipings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_698" id="page_698">{698}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wind in the reeds and the rushes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The bees on the bells of thyme,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The birds on the myrtle bushes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The cicale above in the lime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lizards below in the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Listening to my sweet pipings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Liquid Peneus was flowing,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all dark Tempe lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In Pelion’s shadow, outgrowing<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The light of the dying day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Speeded by my sweet pipings.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The Sileni and Sylvans and Fauns,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And the Nymphs of the woods and waves,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To the edge of the moist river-lawns,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And the brink of the dewy caves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all that did then attend and follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were silent with love, as you now, Apollo,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With envy of my sweet pipings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">I sang of the dancing stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I sang of the dædal earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And of heaven, and the giant wars,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And love, and death, and birth.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then I changed my pipings—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Singing how down the vale of Mænalus<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I pursued a maiden, and clasp’d a reed:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gods and men, we are all deluded thus;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">It breaks in our bosom, and then we bleed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All wept—as I think both ye now would,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If envy or age had not frozen your blood—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_699" id="page_699">{699}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_606" id="pm_606">606.</a></p> - -<h3>The Invitation</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>EST and brightest, come away!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fairer far than this fair Day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which, like thee to those in sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the rough Year just awake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In its cradle on the brake.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The brightest hour of unborn Spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the winter wandering,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hoar February born.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bending from heaven, in azure mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It kiss’d the forehead of the Earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And smiled upon the silent sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bade the frozen streams be free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And waked to music all their fountains;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And breathed upon the frozen mountains;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like a prophetess of May<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strew’d flowers upon the barren way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Making the wintry world appear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Away, away, from men and towns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the wild wood and the downs—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the silent wilderness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the soul need not repress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its music lest it should not find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An echo in another’s mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the touch of Nature’s art<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Harmonizes heart to heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I leave this notice on my door<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For each accustomed visitor:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_700" id="page_700">{700}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘I am gone into the fields<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To take what this sweet hour yields.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reflection, you may come to-morrow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit by the fireside with Sorrow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You with the unpaid bill, Despair,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You tiresome verse-reciter, Care,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will pay you in the grave,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death will listen to your stave.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Expectation too, be off!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-day is for itself enough.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hope, in pity, mock not Woe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With smiles, nor follow where I go;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long having lived on your sweet food,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At length I find one moment’s good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After long pain: with all your love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This you never told me of.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Radiant Sister of the Day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awake! arise! and come away!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the wild woods and the plains;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the pools where winter rains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Image all their roof of leaves;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the pine its garland weaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sapless green and ivy dun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round stems that never kiss the sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the lawns and pastures be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sandhills of the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the melting hoar-frost wets<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The daisy-star that never sets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wind-flowers, and violets<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which yet join not scent to hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crown the pale year weak and new;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the night is left behind<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_701" id="page_701">{701}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the deep east, dun and blind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the blue noon is over us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the multitudinous<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Billows murmur at our feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the earth and ocean meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all things seem only one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the universal sun.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_607" id="pm_607">607.</a></p> - -<h3>Hellas</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE world’s great age begins anew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The golden years return,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth doth like a snake renew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her winter weeds outworn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A brighter Hellas rears its mountains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From waves serener far;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A new Peneus rolls his fountains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Against the morning star;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A loftier Argo cleaves the main,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fraught with a later prize;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Another Orpheus sings again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And loves, and weeps, and dies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A new Ulysses leaves once more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calypso for his native shore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O write no more the tale of Troy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If earth Death’s scroll must be—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor mix with Laian rage the joy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which dawns upon the free,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_702" id="page_702">{702}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Although a subtler Sphinx renew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Riddles of death Thebes never knew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Another Athens shall arise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to remoter time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bequeath, like sunset to the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The splendour of its prime;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leave, if naught so bright may live,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All earth can take or Heaven can give.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Saturn and Love their long repose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall burst, more bright and good<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than all who fell, than One who rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than many unsubdued:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But votive tears and symbol flowers.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O cease! must hate and death return?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cease! must men kill and die?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cease! drain not to its dregs the urn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of bitter prophecy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world is weary of the past—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O might it die or rest at last!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_608" id="pm_608">608.</a></p> - -<h3>To a Skylark</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><span class="letra">H</span>AIL to thee, blithe spirit!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Bird thou never wert—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That from heaven or near it<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Pourest thy full heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_703" id="page_703">{703}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Higher still and higher<br /></span> -<span class="i8">From the earth thou springest,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Like a cloud of fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">The blue deep thou wingest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">In the golden light’ning<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Of the sunken sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O’er which clouds are bright’ning,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Thou dost float and run,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">The pale purple even<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Melts around thy flight;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Like a star of heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In the broad daylight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Keen as are the arrows<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Of that silver sphere<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Whose intense lamp narrows<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In the white dawn clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">All the earth and air<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With thy voice is loud,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As, when night is bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">From one lonely cloud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflow’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">What thou art we know not;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">What is most like thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">From rainbow clouds there flow not<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Drops so bright to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As from thy presence showers a rain of melody:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_704" id="page_704">{704}</a></span>—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i6">Like a poet hidden<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In the light of thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Singing hymns unbidden,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Till the world is wrought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Like a high-born maiden<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In a palace tower,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Soothing her love-laden<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Soul in secret hour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Like a glow-worm golden<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In a dell of dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Scattering unbeholden<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Its aërial hue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Like a rose embower’d<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In its own green leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">By warm winds deflower’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Till the scent it gives<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-wingèd thieves<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Sound of vernal showers<br /></span> -<span class="i8">On the twinkling grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Rain-awaken’d flowers—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">All that ever was<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Joyous and clear and fresh—thy music doth surpass.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Teach us, sprite or bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">What sweet thoughts are thine:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I have never heard<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Praise of love or wine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_705" id="page_705">{705}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i6">Chorus hymeneal,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Or triumphal chant,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Match’d with thine would be all<br /></span> -<span class="i8">But an empty vaunt—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">What objects are the fountains<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Of thy happy strain?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">What fields, or waves, or mountains?<br /></span> -<span class="i8">What shapes of sky or plain?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">With thy clear keen joyance<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Languor cannot be:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Shadow of annoyance<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Never came near thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou lovest, but ne’er knew love’s sad satiety.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Waking or asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Thou of death must deem<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Things more true and deep<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Than we mortals dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">We look before and after,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And pine for what is not:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Our sincerest laughter<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With some pain is fraught;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Yet, if we could scorn<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Hate and pride and fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">If we were things born<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Not to shed a tear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_706" id="page_706">{706}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i6">Better than all measures<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Of delightful sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Better than all treasures<br /></span> -<span class="i8">That in books are found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Teach me half the gladness<br /></span> -<span class="i8">That thy brain must know;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Such harmonious madness<br /></span> -<span class="i8">From my lips would flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world should listen then, as I am listening now.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_609" id="pm_609">609.</a></p> - -<h3>The Moon</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND, like a dying lady lean and pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who totters forth, wrapp’d in a gauzy veil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of her chamber, led by the insane<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feeble wanderings of her fading brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moon arose up in the murky east<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A white and shapeless mass.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">A</span>RT thou pale for weariness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wandering companionless<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the stars that have a different birth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ever changing, like a joyless eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That finds no object worth its constancy?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_707" id="page_707">{707}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_610" id="pm_610">610.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode to the West Wind</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> WILD West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou from whose unseen presence the leaves dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are driven like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pestilence-stricken multitudes! O thou<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wingèd seeds, where they lie cold and low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each like a corpse within its grave, until<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Her clarion o’er the dreaming earth, and fill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With living hues and odours plain and hill;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Destroyer and preserver; hear, O hear!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HOU on whose stream, ’mid the steep sky’s commotion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loose clouds like earth’s decaying leaves are shed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shook from the ‘tangled boughs of heaven and ocean,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Angels of rain and lightning! there are spread<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the blue surface of thine airy surge,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like the bright hair uplifted from the head<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of some fierce Mænad, even from the dim verge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the horizon to the zenith’s height,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_708" id="page_708">{708}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the dying year, to which this closing night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Vaulted with all thy congregated might<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Black rain, and fire, and hail, will burst: O hear!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HOU who didst waken from his summer dreams<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lull’d by the coil of his crystàlline streams,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Beside a pumice isle in Baiæ’s bay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And saw in sleep old palaces and towers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quivering within the wave’s intenser day,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All overgrown with azure moss, and flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For whose path the Atlantic’s level powers<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sapless foliage of the ocean, know<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tremble and despoil themselves: O hear!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_709" id="page_709">{709}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">The impulse of thy strength, only less free<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than thou, O uncontrollable! if even<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I were as in my boyhood, and could be<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce seem’d a vision—I would ne’er have striven<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A heavy weight of hours has chained and bow’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One too like thee—tameless, and swift, and proud.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>AKE me thy lyre, even as the forest is:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What if my leaves are falling like its own?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tumult of thy mighty harmonies<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Will take from both a deep autumnal tone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My spirit! Be thou me, impetuous one!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Drive my dead thoughts over the universe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like wither’d leaves, to quicken a new birth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, by the incantation of this verse,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Scatter, as from an unextinguish’d hearth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be through my lips to unawaken’d earth<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_710" id="page_710">{710}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_611" id="pm_611">611.</a></p> - -<h3>The Indian Serenade</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> ARISE from dreams of thee<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the first sweet sleep of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the winds are breathing low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the stars are shining bright.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I arise from dreams of thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a spirit in my feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath led me—who knows how?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To thy chamber window, Sweet!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wandering airs they faint<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the dark, the silent stream—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Champak’s odours [pine]<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like sweet thoughts in a dream;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nightingale’s complaint,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It dies upon her heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I must on thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O belovèd as thou art!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O lift me from the grass!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I die! I faint! I fail!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let thy love in kisses rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On my lips and eyelids pale.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My cheek is cold and white, alas!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart beats loud and fast:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O press it to thine own again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where it will break at last!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_612" id="pm_612">612.</a></p> - -<h3>Night</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>WIFTLY walk over the western wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Spirit of Night!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of the misty eastern cave,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where, all the long and lone daylight,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_711" id="page_711">{711}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which make thee terrible and dear,—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Swift be thy flight!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wrap thy form in a mantle grey,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Star-inwrought!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss her until she be wearied out.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then wander o’er city and sea and land,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Touching all with thine opiate wand—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Come, long-sought!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When I arose and saw the dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I sigh’d for thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When light rode high, and the dew was gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the weary Day turn’d to her rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lingering like an unloved guest,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I sigh’d for thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy brother Death came, and cried,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">‘Wouldst thou me?’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Murmur’d like a noontide bee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Shall I nestle near thy side?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wouldst thou me?’—And I replied,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">‘No, not thee!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Death will come when thou art dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Soon, too soon—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep will come when thou art fled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of neither would I ask the boon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I ask of thee, belovèd Night—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swift be thine approaching flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Come soon, soon!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_712" id="page_712">{712}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_613" id="pm_613">613.</a></p> - -<h3>From the Arabic</h3> - -<p class="c">AN IMITATION</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y faint spirit was sitting in the light<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of thy looks, my love;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It panted for thee like the hind at noon<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For the brooks, my love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy barb, whose hoofs outspeed the tempest’s flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Bore thee far from me;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart, for my weak feet were weary soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Did companion thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! fleeter far than fleetest storm or steed,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Or the death they bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heart which tender thought clothes like a dove<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With the wings of care;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the battle, in the darkness, in the need,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Shall mine cling to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor claim one smile for all the comfort, love,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">It may bring to thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_614" id="pm_614">614.</a></p> - -<h3>Lines</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN the lamp is shatter’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The light in the dust lies dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the cloud is scatter’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rainbow’s glory is shed:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the lute is broken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet tones are remember’d not<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the lips have spoken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loved accents are soon forgot.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">As music and splendour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Survive not the lamp and the lute,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heart’s echoes render<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No song when the spirit is mute<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_713" id="page_713">{713}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No song but sad dirges,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the wind through a ruin’d cell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the mournful surges<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ring the dead seaman’s knell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">When hearts have once mingled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love first leaves the well-built nest;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The weak one is singled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To endure what it once possest.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O Love, who bewailest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The frailty of all things here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why choose you the frailest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For your cradle, your home, and your bier?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Its passions will rock thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the storms rock the ravens on high:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bright reason will mock thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the sun from a wintry sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From thy nest every rafter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will rot, and thine eagle home<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leave thee naked to laughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When leaves fall and cold winds come.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_615" id="pm_615">615.</a></p> - -<h3>To—— </h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>NE word is too often profaned<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For me to profane it;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One feeling too falsely disdain’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For thee to disdain it;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One hope is too like despair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For prudence to smother;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pity from thee more dear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than that from another.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_714" id="page_714">{714}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">I can give not what men call love:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But wilt thou accept not<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The worship the heart lifts above<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the heavens reject not,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The desire of the moth for the star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the night for the morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The devotion to something afar<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the sphere of our sorrow?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_616" id="pm_616">616.</a></p> - -<h3>The Question</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> DREAM’d that, as I wander’d by the way,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gentle odours led my steps astray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mix’d with a sound of waters murmuring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its green arms round the bosom of the stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But kiss’d it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There grew pied wind-flowers and violets;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Daisies, those pearl’d Arcturi of the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The constellated flower that never sets;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its mother’s face with heaven-collected tears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the low wind, its playmate’s voice, it hears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Green cowbind and the moonlight-colour’d May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cherry-blossoms, and white cups whose wine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was the bright dew yet drain’d not by the day;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_715" id="page_715">{715}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With its dark buds and leaves wandering astray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flowers, azure, black, and streak’d with gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fairer than any waken’d eyes behold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And nearer to the river’s trembling edge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There grew broad flag-flowers, purple prank’d with white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And starry river-buds among the sedge,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With moonlight beams of their own watery light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Methought that of these visionary flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I made a nosegay, bound in such a way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the same hues which in their natural bowers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were mingled or opposed, the like array<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kept these imprison’d children of the Hours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Within my hand;—and then, elate and gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hasten’d to the spot whence I had come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I might there present it—O! to whom?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_617" id="pm_617">617.</a></p> - -<h3>Remorse</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>WAY! the moor is dark beneath the moon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rapid clouds have drunk the last pale beam of even:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Away! the gathering winds will call the darkness soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And profoundest midnight shroud the serene lights of heaven.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pause not! the time is past! Every voice cries ‘Away!’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tempt not with one last tear thy friend’s ungentle mood:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy lover’s eye, so glazed and cold, dares not entreat thy stay:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_716" id="page_716">{716}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Away, away! to thy sad and silent home;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pour bitter tears on its desolated hearth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watch the dim shades as like ghosts they go and come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And complicate strange webs of melancholy mirth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leaves of wasted autumn woods shall float around thine head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blooms of dewy Spring shall gleam beneath thy feet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thy soul or this world must fade in the frost that binds the dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere midnight’s frown and morning’s smile, ere thou and peace, may meet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The cloud shadows of midnight possess their own repose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the weary winds are silent, or the moon is in the deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some respite to its turbulence unresting ocean knows;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whatever moves or toils or grieves hath its appointed sleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou in the grave shalt rest:—yet, till the phantoms flee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which that house and heath and garden made dear to thee erewhile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy remembrance and repentance and deep musings are not free<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the music of two voices, and the light of one sweet smile.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_618" id="pm_618">618.</a></p> - -<h3>Music, when Soft Voices die</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>USIC, when soft voices die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vibrates in the memory;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Odours, when sweet violets sicken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Live within the sense they quicken.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_717" id="page_717">{717}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are heap’d for the belovèd’s bed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love itself shall slumber on.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HEW_AINSLIE" id="HEW_AINSLIE"></a>HEW AINSLIE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1792-1878<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_619" id="pm_619">619.</a></p> - -<h3>Willie and Helen</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘W</span>HAREFORE sou’d ye talk o’ love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unless it be to pain us?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wharefore sou’d ye talk o’ love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whan ye say the sea maun twain us?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘It’s no because my love is light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor for your angry deddy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s a’ to buy ye pearlins bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An’ to busk ye like a leddy.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O Willy, I can caird an’ spin,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Se ne’er can want for cleedin’;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ gin I hae my Willy’s heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I hae a’ the pearls I’m heedin’.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Will it be time to praise this cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whan years an’ tears has blench’d it?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will it be time to talk o’ love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whan cauld an’ care has quench’d it?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He’s laid ae han’ about her waist—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ither’s held to heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ his luik was like the luik o’ man<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wha’s heart in twa is riven.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>619.</i> cleedin’] clothing.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_718" id="page_718">{718}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_KEBLE" id="JOHN_KEBLE"></a>JOHN KEBLE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1792-1866<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_620" id="pm_620">620.</a></p> - -<h3>Burial of the Dead</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> THOUGHT to meet no more, so dreary seem’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death’s interposing veil, and thou so pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thy place in Paradise<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Beyond where I could soar:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Friend of this worthless heart! but happier thoughts<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spring like unbidden violets from the sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Where patiently thou tak’st<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thy sweet and sure repose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The shadows fall more soothing: the soft air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is full of cheering whispers like thine own;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">While Memory, by thy grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lives o’er thy funeral day;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The deep knell dying down, the mourners’ pause,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waiting their Saviour’s welcome at the gate.—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sure with the words of Heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thy spirit met us there,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And sought with us along th’ accustom’d way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hallow’d porch, and entering in, beheld<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The pageant of sad joy<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So dear to Faith and Hope.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O! hadst thou brought a strain from Paradise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To cheer us, happy soul, thou hadst not touch’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The sacred springs of grief<br /></span> -<span class="i6">More tenderly and true,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_719" id="page_719">{719}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than those deep-warbled anthems, high and low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low as the grave, high as th’ Eternal Throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Guiding through light and gloom<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Our mourning fancies wild,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till gently, like soft golden clouds at eve<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around the western twilight, all subside<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Into a placid faith,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That even with beaming eye<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Counts thy sad honours, coffin, bier, and pall;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So many relics of a frail love lost,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">So many tokens dear<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of endless love begun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Listen! it is no dream: th’ Apostles’ trump<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gives earnest of th’ Archangel’s;—calmly now,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Our hearts yet beating high<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To that victorious lay<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">(Most like a warrior’s, to the martial dirge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a true comrade), in the grave we trust<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Our treasure for awhile:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And if a tear steal down,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If human anguish o’er the shaded brow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pass shuddering, when the handful of pure earth<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Touches the coffin-lid;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">If at our brother’s name,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Once and again the thought, ‘for ever gone,’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come o’er us like a cloud; yet, gentle spright,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thou turnest not away,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thou know’st us calm at heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_720" id="page_720">{720}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One look, and we have seen our last of thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till we too sleep and our long sleep be o’er.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O cleanse us, ere we view<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That countenance pure again,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou, who canst change the heart, and raise the dead!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Thou art by to soothe our parting hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Be ready when we meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With Thy dear pardoning words.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_CLARE" id="JOHN_CLARE"></a>JOHN CLARE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1793-1864<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_621" id="pm_621">621.</a></p> - -<h3>Written in Northampton County Asylum</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> AM! yet what I am who cares, or knows?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My friends forsake me like a memory lost.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am the self-consumer of my woes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They rise and vanish, an oblivious host,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shadows of life, whose very soul is lost.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet I am—I live—though I am toss’d<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Into the nothingness of scorn and noise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the living sea of waking dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where there is neither sense of life, nor joys,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But the huge shipwreck of my own esteem<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all that’s dear. Even those I loved the best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are strange—nay, they are stranger than the rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I long for scenes where man has never trod—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For scenes where woman never smiled or wept—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There to abide with my Creator, God,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full of high thoughts, unborn. So let me lie,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grass below; above, the vaulted sky.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_721" id="page_721">{721}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FELICIA_DOROTHEA_HEMANS" id="FELICIA_DOROTHEA_HEMANS"></a>FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1793-1835<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_622" id="pm_622">622.</a></p> - -<h3>Dirge</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>ALM on the bosom of thy God,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair spirit, rest thee now!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">E’en while with ours thy footsteps trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His seal was on thy brow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dust, to its narrow house beneath!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soul, to its place on high!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They that have seen thy look in death<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No more may fear to die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_KEATS" id="JOHN_KEATS"></a>JOHN KEATS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1795-1821<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_623" id="pm_623">623.</a></p> - -<h3>Song of the Indian Maid</h3> - -<p class="c">FROM ‘ENDYMION’</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">O</span> SORROW!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Why dost borrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The natural hue of health, from vermeil lips?—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To give maiden blushes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To the white rose bushes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or is it thy dewy hand the daisy tips?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">O Sorrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Why dost borrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lustrous passion from a falcon-eye?—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To give the glow-worm light?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or, on a moonless night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To tinge, on siren shores, the salt sea-spry?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>623.</i> sea-spry] sea-spray.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_722" id="page_722">{722}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">O Sorrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Why dost borrow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mellow ditties from a mourning tongue?—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To give at evening pale<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Unto the nightingale,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That thou mayst listen the cold dews among?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">O Sorrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Why dost borrow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heart’s lightness from the merriment of May?—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A lover would not tread<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A cowslip on the head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though he should dance from eve till peep of day—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor any drooping flower<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Held sacred for thy bower,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherever he may sport himself and play.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">To Sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I bade good morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thought to leave her far away behind;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But cheerly, cheerly,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She loves me dearly;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She is so constant to me, and so kind:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I would deceive her,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And so leave her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But ah! she is so constant and so kind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beneath my palm-trees, by the river side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sat a-weeping: in the whole world wide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was no one to ask me why I wept,—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And so I kept<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brimming the water-lily cups with tears<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Cold as my fears.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_723" id="page_723">{723}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath my palm-trees, by the river side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sat a-weeping: what enamour’d bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cheated by shadowy wooer from the clouds,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But hides and shrouds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath dark palm-trees by a river side?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And as I sat, over the light blue hills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There came a noise of revellers: the rills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the wide stream came of purple hue—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Twas Bacchus and his crew!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earnest trumpet spake, and silver thrills<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From kissing cymbals made a merry din—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Twas Bacchus and his kin!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like to a moving vintage down they came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crown’d with green leaves, and faces all on flame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All madly dancing through the pleasant valley,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To scare thee, Melancholy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O then, O then, thou wast a simple name!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I forgot thee, as the berried holly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By shepherds is forgotten, when in June<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tall chestnuts keep away the sun and moon:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I rush’d into the folly!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Within his car, aloft, young Bacchus stood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trifling his ivy-dart, in dancing mood,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With sidelong laughing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And little rills of crimson wine imbrued<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His plump white arms and shoulders, enough white<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For Venus’ pearly bite;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And near him rode Silenus on his ass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pelted with flowers as he on did pass<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tipsily quaffing.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_724" id="page_724">{724}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Whence came ye, merry Damsels! whence came ye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So many, and so many, and such glee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why have ye left your bowers desolate,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your lutes, and gentler fate?’—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘We follow Bacchus! Bacchus on the wing,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A-conquering!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bacchus, young Bacchus! good or ill betide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We dance before him thorough kingdoms wide:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come hither, lady fair, and joinèd be<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To our wild minstrelsy!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Whence came ye, jolly Satyrs! whence came ye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So many, and so many, and such glee?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why have ye left your forest haunts, why left<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your nuts in oak-tree cleft?’—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘For wine, for wine we left our kernel tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For wine we left our heath, and yellow brooms,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And cold mushrooms;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For wine we follow Bacchus through the earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great god of breathless cups and chirping mirth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come hither, lady fair, and joinèd be<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To our mad minstrelsy!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over wide streams and mountains great we went,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, save when Bacchus kept his ivy tent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Onward the tiger and the leopard pants,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With Asian elephants:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Onward these myriads—with song and dance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With zebras striped, and sleek Arabians’ prance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Web-footed alligators, crocodiles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bearing upon their scaly backs, in files,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plump infant laughers mimicking the coil<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of seamen, and stout galley-rowers’ toil:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_725" id="page_725">{725}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">With toying oars and silken sails they glide,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor care for wind and tide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mounted on panthers’ furs and lions’ manes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From rear to van they scour about the plains;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A three days’ journey in a moment done;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And always, at the rising of the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the wilds they hunt with spear and horn,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On spleenful unicorn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw Osirian Egypt kneel adown<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Before the vine-wreath crown!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw parch’d Abyssinia rouse and sing<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To the silver cymbals’ ring!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw the whelming vintage hotly pierce<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Old Tartary the fierce!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The kings of Ind their jewel-sceptres vail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from their treasures scatter pearlèd hail;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great Brahma from his mystic heaven groans,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all his priesthood moans,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before young Bacchus’ eye-wink turning pale.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into these regions came I, following him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sick-hearted, weary—so I took a whim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To stray away into these forests drear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, without a peer:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I have told thee all thou mayest hear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Young Stranger!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I’ve been a ranger<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In search of pleasure throughout every clime;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alas! ’tis not for me!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bewitch’d I sure must be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To lose in grieving all my maiden prime.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_726" id="page_726">{726}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Come then, Sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweetest Sorrow!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like an own babe I nurse thee on my breast:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I thought to leave thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And deceive thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But now of all the world I love thee best.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">There is not one,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No, no, not one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But thee to comfort a poor lonely maid;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou art her mother,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And her brother,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her playmate, and her wooer in the shade.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_624" id="pm_624">624.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode to a Nightingale</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But being too happy in thy happiness,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That thou, light-wingèd Dryad of the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In some melodious plot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Singest of summer in full-throated ease.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O for a draught of vintage! that hath been<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cool’d a long age in the deep-delvèd earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tasting of Flora and the country-green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_727" id="page_727">{727}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">O for a beaker full of the warm South!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And purple-stainèd mouth;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And with thee fade away into the forest dim:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What thou among the leaves hast never known,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The weariness, the fever, and the fret<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last grey hairs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where but to think is to be full of sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And leaden-eyed despairs;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Away! away! for I will fly to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But on the viewless wings of Poesy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Already with thee! tender is the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays<br /></span> -<span class="i8">But here there is no light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_728" id="page_728">{728}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, in embalmèd darkness, guess each sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wherewith the seasonable month endows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fast-fading violets cover’d up in leaves;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And mid-May’s eldest child,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Darkling I listen; and for many a time<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I have been half in love with easeful Death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Call’d him soft names in many a musèd rhyme,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To take into the air my quiet breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now more than ever seems it rich to die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To cease upon the midnight with no pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In such an ecstasy!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To thy high requiem become a sod.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No hungry generations tread thee down;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The voice I hear this passing night was heard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In ancient days by emperor and clown:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perhaps the self-same song that found a path<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She stood in tears amid the alien corn;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">The same that ofttimes hath<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forlorn! the very word is like a bell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To toll me back from thee to my sole self!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_729" id="page_729">{729}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Past the near meadows, over the still stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In the next valley-glades:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was it a vision, or a waking dream?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fled is that music:—do I wake or sleep?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_625" id="pm_625">625.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode on a Grecian Urn</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HOU still unravish’d bride of quietness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sylvan historian, who canst thus express<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of deities or mortals, or of both,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_730" id="page_730">{730}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, happy melodist, unwearièd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For ever piping songs for ever new;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More happy love! more happy, happy love!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For ever panting and for ever young;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All breathing human passion far above,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who are these coming to the sacrifice?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To what green altar, O mysterious priest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What little town by river or sea-shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is emptied of its folk, this pious morn?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, little town, thy streets for evermore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will silent be; and not a soul, to tell<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Attic shape! fair attitude! with brede<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of marble men and maidens overwrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With forest branches and the trodden weed;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou, silent form! dost tease us out of thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As doth eternity. Cold Pastoral!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When old age shall this generation waste,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_731" id="page_731">{731}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_626" id="pm_626">626.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode to Psyche</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> GODDESS! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pardon that thy secrets should be sung<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Even into thine own soft-conchèd ear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surely I dream’d to-day, or did I see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wingèd Psyche with awaken’d eyes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wander’d in a forest thoughtlessly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, on the sudden, fainting with surprise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw two fair creatures, couchèd side by side<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In deepest grass, beneath the whisp’ring roof<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of leaves and trembled blossoms, where there ran<br /></span> -<span class="i10">A brooklet, scarce espied:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid hush’d, cool-rooted flowers fragrant-eyed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blue, silver-white, and budded Tyrian<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They lay calm-breathing on the bedded grass;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their arms embracèd, and their pinions too;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their lips touch’d not, but had not bade adieu,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if disjoinèd by soft-handed slumber,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ready still past kisses to outnumber<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At tender eye-dawn of aurorean love:<br /></span> -<span class="i10">The wingèd boy I knew;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But who wast thou, O happy, happy dove?<br /></span> -<span class="i10">His Psyche true!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O latest-born and loveliest vision far<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all Olympus’ faded hierarchy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fairer than Phœbe’s sapphire-region’d star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none,<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Nor altar heap’d with flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor Virgin-choir to make delicious moan<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Upon the midnight hours;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_732" id="page_732">{732}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From chain-swung censer teeming;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of pale-mouth’d prophet dreaming.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O brightest! though too late for antique vows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too, too late for the fond believing lyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When holy were the haunted forest boughs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Holy the air, the water, and the fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet even in these days so far retired<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From happy pieties, thy lucent fans,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fluttering among the faint Olympians,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see, and sing, by my own eyes inspired.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So let me be thy choir, and make a moan<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Upon the midnight hours;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy voice, thy lute, thy pipe, thy incense sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From swingèd censer teeming:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy shrine, thy grove, thy oracle, thy heat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of pale-mouth’d prophet dreaming.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes, I will be thy priest, and build a fane<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In some untrodden region of my mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where branchèd thoughts, new grown with pleasant pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Instead of pines shall murmur in the wind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far, far around shall those dark-cluster’d trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fledge the wild-ridgèd mountains steep by steep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there by zephyrs, streams, and birds, and bees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moss-lain Dryads shall be lull’d to sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the midst of this wide quietness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A rosy sanctuary will I dress<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the wreath’d trellis of a working brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With buds, and bells, and stars without a name,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all the gardener Fancy e’er could feign,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who, breeding flowers, will never breed the same;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_733" id="page_733">{733}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there shall be for thee all soft delight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That shadowy thought can win,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bright torch, and a casement ope at night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To let the warm Love in!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_627" id="pm_627">627.</a></p> - -<h3>To Autumn</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>EASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conspiring with him how to load and bless<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still more, later flowers for the bees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until they think warm days will never cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Spares the next swath and all its twinèd flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Steady thy laden head across a brook;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or by a cider-press, with patient look,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_734" id="page_734">{734}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While barrèd clouds bloom the soft-dying day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the river sallows, borne aloft<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_628" id="pm_628">628.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode on Melancholy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>O, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wolf’s-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kist<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make not your rosary of yew-berries,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor let the beetle, nor the death-moth be<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Your mournful Psyche, nor the downy owl<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A partner in your sorrow’s mysteries;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For shade to shade will come too drowsily,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when the melancholy fit shall fall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fosters the droop-headed flowers all,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hides the green hill in an April shroud;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or on the wealth of globèd peonies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_735" id="page_735">{735}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bidding adieu; and aching Pleasure nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Turning to poison while the bee-mouth sips:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay, in the very temple of Delight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Veil’d Melancholy has her sovran shrine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Though seen of none save him whose strenuous tongue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can burst Joy’s grape against his palate fine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His soul shall taste the sadness of her might,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And be among her cloudy trophies hung.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_629" id="pm_629">629.</a></p> - -<h3>Fragment of an Ode to Maia</h3> - -<p class="c">(<i>Written on May-Day, 1818</i>)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>OTHER of Hermes! and still youthful Maia!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">May I sing to thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As thou wast hymnèd on the shores of Baiæ?<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Or may I woo thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In earlier Sicilian? or thy smiles<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seek as they once were sought, in Grecian isles,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By bards who died content on pleasant sward,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leaving great verse unto a little clan?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O give me their old vigour! and unheard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save of the quiet primrose, and the span<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Of heaven, and few ears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rounded by thee, my song should die away<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Content as theirs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rich in the simple worship of a day.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_736" id="page_736">{736}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_630" id="pm_630">630.</a></p> - -<h3>Bards of Passion and of Mirth</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Written on the Blank Page before Beaumont and Fletcher’s Tragi-Comedy -‘The Fair Maid of the Inn’</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">B</span>ARDS of Passion and of Mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye have left your souls on earth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have ye souls in heaven too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doubled-lived in regions new?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, and those of heaven commune<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the spheres of sun and moon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the noise of fountains wondrous,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the parle of voices thund’rous;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the whisper of heaven’s trees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one another, in soft ease<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seated on Elysian lawns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Browsed by none but Dian’s fawns;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Underneath large blue-bells tented,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the daisies are rose-scented,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the rose herself has got<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perfume which on earth is not;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the nightingale doth sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a senseless, trancèd thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But divine melodious truth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Philosophic numbers smooth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tales and golden histories<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heaven and its mysteries.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Thus ye live on high, and then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the earth ye live again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the souls ye left behind you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Teach us, here, the way to find you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where your other souls are joying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never slumber’d, never cloying.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_737" id="page_737">{737}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here, your earth-born souls still speak<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mortals, of their little week;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of their sorrows and delights;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of their passions and their spites;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of their glory and their shame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What doth strengthen and what maim.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus ye teach us, every day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wisdom, though fled far away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Bards of Passion and of Mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye have left your souls on earth!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye have souls in heaven too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Double-lived in regions new!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_631" id="pm_631">631.</a></p> - -<h3>Fancy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">E</span>VER let the Fancy roam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pleasure never is at home:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like to bubbles when rain pelteth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then let wingèd Fancy wander<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the thought still spread beyond her:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Open wide the mind’s cage-door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She’ll dart forth, and cloudward soar.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O sweet Fancy! let her loose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Summer’s joys are spoilt by use,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the enjoying of the Spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fades as does its blossoming:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Autumn’s red-lipp’d fruitage too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blushing through the mist and dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloys with tasting: What do then?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit thee by the ingle, when<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sear faggot blazes bright,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_738" id="page_738">{738}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spirit of a winter’s night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the soundless earth is muffled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the cakèd snow is shuffled<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the ploughboy’s heavy shoon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the Night doth meet the Noon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a dark conspiracy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To banish Even from her sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sit thee there, and send abroad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a mind self-overawed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fancy, high-commission’d:—send her!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She has vassals to attend her:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She will bring, in spite of frost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauties that the earth hath lost;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She will bring thee, all together,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All delights of summer weather;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the buds and bells of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From dewy sward or thorny spray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the heapèd Autumn’s wealth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a still, mysterious stealth:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She will mix these pleasures up<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like three fit wines in a cup,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou shalt quaff it:—thou shalt hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Distant harvest-carols clear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rustle of the reapèd corn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet birds antheming the morn:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, in the same moment—hark!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis the early April lark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the rooks, with busy caw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Foraging for sticks and straw.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou shalt, at one glance, behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The daisy and the marigold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White-plumed lilies, and the first<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hedge-grown primrose that hath burst;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_739" id="page_739">{739}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shaded hyacinth, alway<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sapphire queen of the mid-May;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every leaf, and every flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pearlèd with the self-same shower.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou shalt see the fieldmouse peep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meagre from its cellèd sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the snake all winter-thin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cast on sunny bank its skin;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hatching in the hawthorn-tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the hen-bird’s wing doth rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quiet on her mossy nest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the hurry and alarm<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the beehive casts its swarm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Acorns ripe down-pattering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the autumn breezes sing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">O sweet Fancy! let her loose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every thing is spoilt by use:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’s the cheek that doth not fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too much gazed at? Where’s the maid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lip mature is ever new?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’s the eye, however blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doth not weary? Where’s the face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One would meet in every place?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’s the voice, however soft,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One would hear so very oft?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like to bubbles when rain pelteth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let, then, wingèd Fancy find<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee a mistress to thy mind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dulcet-eyed as Ceres’ daughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere the God of Torment taught her<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_740" id="page_740">{740}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">How to frown and how to chide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a waist and with a side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White as Hebe’s, when her zone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slipt its golden clasp, and down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fell her kirtle to her feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While she held the goblet sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Jove grew languid.—Break the mesh<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the Fancy’s silken leash;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quickly break her prison-string,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And such joys as these she’ll bring.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the wingèd Fancy roam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pleasure never is at home.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_632" id="pm_632">632.</a></p> - -<h3>Stanzas</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N a drear-nighted December,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too happy, happy tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy branches ne’er remember<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their green felicity:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The north cannot undo them,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a sleety whistle through them;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor frozen thawings glue them<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From budding at the prime.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In a drear-nighted December,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too happy, happy brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy bubblings ne’er remember<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Apollo’s summer look;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But with a sweet forgetting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They stay their crystal fretting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never, never petting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About the frozen time.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_741" id="page_741">{741}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! would ’twere so with many<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A gentle girl and boy!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But were there ever any<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Writhed not at passèd joy?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To know the change and feel it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When there is none to heal it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor numbèd sense to steal it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was never said in rhyme.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_633" id="pm_633">633.</a></p> - -<h3>La Belle Dame sans Merci</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘O</span> WHAT can ail thee, knight-at-arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone and palely loitering?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sedge is wither’d from the lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And no birds sing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So haggard and so woe-begone?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The squirrel’s granary is full,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the harvest’s done.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I see a lily on thy brow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With anguish moist and fever dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And on thy cheek a fading rose<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fast withereth too.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I met a lady in the meads,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full beautiful—a faery’s child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her hair was long, her foot was light,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And her eyes were wild.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I made a garland for her head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She look’d at me as she did love,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And made sweet moan.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_742" id="page_742">{742}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I set her on my pacing steed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And nothing else saw all day long,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For sideways would she lean, and sing<br /></span> -<span class="i6">A faery’s song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘She found me roots of relish sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And honey wild and manna dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sure in language strange she said,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">“I love thee true!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘She took me to her elfin grot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And there she wept and sigh’d full sore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there I shut her wild, wild eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With kisses four.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And there she lullèd me asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The latest dream I ever dream’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">On the cold hill’s side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I saw pale kings and princes too,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who cried—“La belle Dame sans Merci<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hath thee in thrall!”<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I saw their starved lips in the gloam<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With horrid warning gapèd wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I awoke and found me here<br /></span> -<span class="i6">On the cold hill’s side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And this is why I sojourn here<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alone and palely loitering,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And no birds sing.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_743" id="page_743">{743}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_634" id="pm_634">634.</a></p> - -<h3>On first looking into Chapman’s Homer</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>UCH have I travell’d in the realms of gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Round many western islands have I been<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft of one wide expanse had I been told<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That deep-brow’d Homer ruled as his demesne:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet did I never breathe its pure serene<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then felt I like some watcher of the skies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When a new planet swims into his ken;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He stared at the Pacific—and all his men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look’d at each other with a wild surmise—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Silent, upon a peak in Darien.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_635" id="pm_635">635.</a></p> - -<h3>When I have Fears that I may cease to be</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN I have fears that I may cease to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before high-pilèd books, in charact’ry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hold like full garners the full-ripen’d grain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And feel that I may never live to trace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when I feel, fair creature of an hour!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I shall never look upon thee more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never have relish in the faery power<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of unreflecting love;—then on the shore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the wide world I stand alone, and think,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_744" id="page_744">{744}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_636" id="pm_636">636.</a></p> - -<h3>To Sleep</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> SOFT embalmer of the still midnight!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shutting with careful fingers and benign<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our gloom-pleased eyes, embower’d from the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Enshaded in forgetfulness divine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Around my bed its lulling charities;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then save me, or the passèd day will shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon my pillow, breeding many woes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save me from curious conscience, that still lords<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And seal the hushèd casket of my soul.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_637" id="pm_637">637.</a></p> - -<h3>Last Sonnet</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>RIGHT Star, would I were steadfast as thou art—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And watching, with eternal lids apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like Nature’s patient sleepless Eremite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moving waters at their priest-like task<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of pure ablution round earth’s human shores,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of snow upon the mountains and the moors—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No—yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pillow’d upon my fair love’s ripening breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To feel for ever its soft fall and swell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awake for ever in a sweet unrest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And so live ever—or else swoon to death.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_745" id="page_745">{745}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JEREMIAH_JOSEPH_CALLANAN" id="JEREMIAH_JOSEPH_CALLANAN"></a>JEREMIAH JOSEPH CALLANAN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1795-1839<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_638" id="pm_638">638.</a></p> - -<h3>The Outlaw of Loch Lene</h3> - -<p class="c">FROM THE IRISH</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> MANY a day have I made good ale in the glen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That came not of stream or malt, like the brewing of men:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My bed was the ground; my roof, the green-wood above;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wealth that I sought, one far kind glance from my Love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas! on that night when the horses I drove from the field,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I was not near from terror my angel to shield!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She stretch’d forth her arms; her mantle she flung to the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And swam o’er Loch Lene, her outlaw’d lover to find.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O would that a freezing sleet-wing’d tempest did sweep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I and my love were alone, far off on the deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d ask not a ship, or a bark, or a pinnace, to save—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her hand round my waist, I’d fear not the wind or the wave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis down by the lake where the wild tree fringes its sides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The maid of my heart, my fair one of Heaven resides:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I think, as at eve she wanders its mazes among,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The birds go to sleep by the sweet wild twist of her song.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_746" id="page_746">{746}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_SIDNEY_WALKER" id="WILLIAM_SIDNEY_WALKER"></a>WILLIAM SIDNEY WALKER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1795-1846<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_639" id="pm_639">639.</a></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>OO solemn for day, too sweet for night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come not in darkness, come not in light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But come in some twilight interim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the gloom is soft, and the light is dim.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_DARLEY" id="GEORGE_DARLEY"></a>GEORGE DARLEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1795-1846<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_640" id="pm_640">640.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>WEET in her green dell the flower of beauty slumbers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lull’d by the faint breezes sighing through her hair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleeps she and hears not the melancholy numbers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breathed to my sad lute ’mid the lonely air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down from the high cliffs the rivulet is teeming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To wind round the willow banks that lure him from above:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O that in tears, from my rocky prison streaming,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I too could glide to the bower of my love!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! where the woodbines with sleepy arms have wound her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Opes she her eyelids at the dream of my lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listening, like the dove, while the fountains echo round her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To her lost mate’s call in the forests far away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come then, my bird! For the peace thou ever bearest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still Heaven’s messenger of comfort to me—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come—this fond bosom, O faithfullest and fairest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bleeds with its death-wound, its wound of love for thee!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_747" id="page_747">{747}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_641" id="pm_641">641.</a></p> - -<h3>To Helene</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>On a Gift-ring carelessly lost</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SENT a ring—a little band<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of emerald and ruby stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bade it, sparkling on thy hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tell thee sweet tales of one<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whose constant memory<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Was full of loveliness, and thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A shell was graven on its gold,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Twas Cupid fix’d without his wings—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To Helene once it would have told<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More than was ever told by rings:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But now all’s past and gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her love is buried with that stone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou shalt not see the tears that start<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From eyes by thoughts like these beguiled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou shalt not know the beating heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ever a victim and a child:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet Helene, love, believe<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The heart that never could deceive.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ll hear thy voice of melody<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the sweet whispers of the air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll see the brightness of thine eye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the blue evening’s dewy star;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In crystal streams thy purity;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And look on Heaven to look on thee.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_748" id="page_748">{748}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_642" id="pm_642">642.</a></p> - -<h3>The Fallen Star</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> STAR is gone! a star is gone!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is a blank in Heaven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One of the cherub choir has done<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His airy course this even.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He sat upon the orb of fire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That hung for ages there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lent his music to the choir<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That haunts the nightly air.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when his thousand years are pass’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a cherubic sigh<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He vanish’d with his car at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For even cherubs die!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hear how his angel-brothers mourn—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The minstrels of the spheres—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each chiming sadly in his turn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And dropping splendid tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The planetary sisters all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Join in the fatal song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And weep this hapless brother’s fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who sang with them so long.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But deepest of the choral band<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Lunar Spirit sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with a bass-according hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweeps all her sullen strings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From the deep chambers of the dome<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where sleepless Uriel lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His rude harmonic thunders come<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mingled with mighty sighs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_749" id="page_749">{749}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">The thousand car-borne cherubim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wandering eleven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All join to chant the dirge of him<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who fell just now from Heaven.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HARTLEY_COLERIDGE" id="HARTLEY_COLERIDGE"></a>HARTLEY COLERIDGE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1796-1849<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_643" id="pm_643">643.</a></p> - -<h3>The Solitary-Hearted</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE was a queen of noble Nature’s crowning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A smile of hers was like an act of grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She had no winsome looks, no pretty frowning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like daily beauties of the vulgar race:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But if she smiled, a light was on her face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A clear, cool kindliness, a lunar beam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of peaceful radiance, silvering o’er the stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of human thought with unabiding glory;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not quite a waking truth, not quite a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A visitation, bright and transitory.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But she is changed,—hath felt the touch of sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No love hath she, no understanding friend;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O grief! when Heaven is forced of earth to borrow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What the poor niggard earth has not to lend;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when the stalk is snapt, the rose must bend.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tallest flower that skyward rears its head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grows from the common ground, and there must shed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its delicate petals. Cruel fate, too surely,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That they should find so base a bridal bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who lived in virgin pride, so sweet and purely.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She had a brother, and a tender father,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she was loved, but not as others are<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_750" id="page_750">{750}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">From whom we ask return of love,—but rather<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As one might love a dream; a phantom fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of something exquisitely strange and rare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which all were glad to look on, men and maids,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet no one claim’d—as oft, in dewy glades,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The peering primrose, like a sudden gladness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleams on the soul, yet unregarded fades;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The joy is ours, but all its own the sadness.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis vain to say—her worst of grief is only<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The common lot, which all the world have known;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To her ’tis more, because her heart is lonely,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet she hath no strength to stand alone,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once she had playmates, fancies of her own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she did love them. They are past away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Fairies vanish at the break of day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like a spectre of an age departed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or unsphered Angel wofully astray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She glides along—the solitary-hearted.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_644" id="pm_644">644.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE is not fair to outward view<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As many maidens be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her loveliness I never knew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Until she smiled on me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, then I saw her eye was bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A well of love, a spring of light!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now her looks are coy and cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mine they ne’er reply,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet I cease not to behold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The love-light in her eye:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her very frowns are fairer far<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than smiles of other maidens are.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_751" id="page_751">{751}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_645" id="pm_645">645.</a></p> - -<h3>Early Death</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE pass’d away like morning dew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before the sun was high;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So brief her time, she scarcely knew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The meaning of a sigh.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As round the rose its soft perfume,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet love around her floated;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Admired she grew—while mortal doom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crept on, unfear’d, unnoted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love was her guardian Angel here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But Love to Death resign’d her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tho’ Love was kind, why should we fear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But holy Death is kinder?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_646" id="pm_646">646.</a></p> - -<h3>Friendship</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN we were idlers with the loitering rills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The need of human love we little noted:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our love was nature; and the peace that floated<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the white mist, and dwelt upon the hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sweet accord subdued our wayward wills:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One soul was ours, one mind, one heart devoted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That, wisely doting, ask’d not why it doted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ours the unknown joy, which knowing kills.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now I find how dear thou wert to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That man is more than half of nature’s treasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that fair beauty which no eye can see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of that sweet music which no ear can measure;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now the streams may sing for others’ pleasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hills sleep on in their eternity.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_752" id="page_752">{752}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_HOOD" id="THOMAS_HOOD"></a>THOMAS HOOD</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1798-1845<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_647" id="pm_647">647.</a></p> - -<h3>Autumn</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SAW old Autumn in the misty morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stand shadowless like Silence, listening<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To silence, for no lonely bird would sing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into his hollow ear from woods forlorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor lowly hedge nor solitary thorn;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shaking his languid locks all dewy bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With tangled gossamer that fell by night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pearling his coronet of golden corn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where are the songs of Summer?—With the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oping the dusky eyelids of the south,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till shade and silence waken up as one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Morning sings with a warm odorous mouth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where are the merry birds?—Away, away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On panting wings through the inclement skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lest owls should prey<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Undazzled at noonday,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tear with horny beak their lustrous eyes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where are the blooms of Summer?—In the west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blushing their last to the last sunny hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the mild Eve by sudden Night is prest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like tearful Proserpine, snatch’d from her flow’rs<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To a most gloomy breast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where is the pride of Summer,—the green prime,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The many, many leaves all twinkling?—Three<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the moss’d elm; three on the naked lime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trembling,—and one upon the old oak-tree!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where is the Dryad’s immortality?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gone into mournful cypress and dark yew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or wearing the long gloomy Winter through<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the smooth holly’s green eternity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_753" id="page_753">{753}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">The squirrel gloats on his accomplished hoard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ants have brimm’d their garners with ripe grain,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And honey bees have stored<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sweets of Summer in their luscious cells;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swallows all have wing’d across the main;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But here the Autumn melancholy dwells,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And sighs her tearful spells<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amongst the sunless shadows of the plain.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Alone, alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Upon a mossy stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She sits and reckons up the dead and gone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the last leaves for a love-rosary,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst all the wither’d world looks drearily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a dim picture of the drownèd past<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the hush’d mind’s mysterious far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doubtful what ghostly thing will steal the last<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into that distance, gray upon the gray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O go and sit with her, and be o’ershaded<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the languid downfall of her hair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She wears a coronal of flowers faded<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon her forehead, and a face of care;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is enough of wither’d everywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make her bower,—and enough of gloom;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is enough of sadness to invite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If only for the rose that died, whose doom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is Beauty’s,—she that with the living bloom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of conscious cheeks most beautifies the light:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is enough of sorrowing, and quite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enough of bitter fruits the earth doth bear,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enough of chilly droppings for her bowl;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enough of fear and shadowy despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To frame her cloudy prison for the soul!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_754" id="page_754">{754}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_648" id="pm_648">648.</a></p> - -<h3>Silence</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE is a silence where hath been no sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is a silence where no sound may be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the cold grave—under the deep, deep sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or in wide desert where no life is found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which hath been mute, and still must sleep profound;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No voice is hush’d—no life treads silently,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But clouds and cloudy shadows wander free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That never spoke, over the idle ground:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in green ruins, in the desolate walls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of antique palaces, where Man hath been,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though the dun fox or wild hyæna calls,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And owls, that flit continually between,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shriek to the echo, and the low winds moan—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There the true Silence is, self-conscious and alone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_649" id="pm_649">649.</a></p> - -<h3>Death</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T is not death, that sometime in a sigh<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This eloquent breath shall take its speechless flight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sometime these bright stars, that now reply<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In sunlight to the sun, shall set in night;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That this warm conscious flesh shall perish quite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all life’s ruddy springs forget to flow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That thoughts shall cease, and the immortal sprite<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be lapp’d in alien clay and laid below;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is not death to know this—but to know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That pious thoughts, which visit at new graves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In tender pilgrimage, will cease to go<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So duly and so oft—and when grass waves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the pass’d-away, there may be then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No resurrection in the minds of men.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_755" id="page_755">{755}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_650" id="pm_650">650.</a></p> - -<h3>Fair Ines</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> SAW ye not fair Ines?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She’s gone into the West,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To dazzle when the sun is down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And rob the world of rest:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She took our daylight with her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The smiles that we love best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With morning blushes on her cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pearls upon her breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O turn again, fair Ines,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Before the fall of night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For fear the Moon should shine alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And stars unrivall’d bright;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blessèd will the lover be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That walks beneath their light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And breathes the love against thy cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I dare not even write!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Would I had been, fair Ines,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That gallant cavalier,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who rode so gaily by thy side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And whisper’d thee so near!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were there no bonny dames at home,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or no true lovers here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That he should cross the seas to win<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dearest of the dear?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I saw thee, lovely Ines,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Descend along the shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With bands of noble gentlemen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And banners waved before;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_756" id="page_756">{756}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gentle youth and maidens gay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And snowy plumes they wore:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It would have been a beauteous dream,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If it had been no more!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas, alas! fair Ines,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She went away with song,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Music waiting on her steps,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shoutings of the throng;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But some were sad, and felt no mirth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But only Music’s wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In sounds that sang Farewell, farewell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To her you’ve loved so long.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Farewell, farewell, fair Ines!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That vessel never bore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fair a lady on its deck,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor danced so light before,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas for pleasure on the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sorrow on the shore!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The smile that bless’d one lover’s heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has broken many more!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_651" id="pm_651">651.</a></p> - -<h3>Time of Roses</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T was not in the Winter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our loving lot was cast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was the time of roses—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We pluck’d them as we pass’d!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That churlish season never frown’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On early lovers yet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O no—the world was newly crown’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With flowers when first we met!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_757" id="page_757">{757}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">’Twas twilight, and I bade you go,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But still you held me fast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It was the time of roses—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We pluck’d them as we pass’d!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_652" id="pm_652">652.</a></p> - -<h3>Ruth</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE stood breast-high amid the corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clasp’d by the golden light of morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the sweetheart of the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who many a glowing kiss had won.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On her cheek an autumn flush,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deeply ripen’d;—such a blush<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the midst of brown was born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like red poppies grown with corn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Round her eyes her tresses fell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which were blackest none could tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But long lashes veiled a light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That had else been all too bright.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And her hat, with shady brim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made her tressy forehead dim;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus she stood amid the stooks,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Praising God with sweetest looks:—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sure, I said, Heav’n did not mean,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I reap thou shouldst but glean,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay thy sheaf adown and come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Share my harvest and my home.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_758" id="page_758">{758}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_653" id="pm_653">653.</a></p> - -<h3>The Death-bed</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>E watch’d her breathing thro’ the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her breathing soft and low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As in her breast the wave of life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kept heaving to and fro.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So silently we seem’d to speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So slowly moved about,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As we had lent her half our powers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To eke her living out.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Our very hopes belied our fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our fears our hopes belied—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We thought her dying when she slept,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sleeping when she died.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For when the morn came dim and sad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And chill with early showers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her quiet eyelids closed—she had<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Another morn than ours.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_654" id="pm_654">654.</a></p> - -<h3>The Bridge of Sighs</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>NE more Unfortunate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weary of breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rashly importunate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gone to her death!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Take her up tenderly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lift her with care;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fashion’d so slenderly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Young, and so fair!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_759" id="page_759">{759}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Look at her garments<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clinging like cerements;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst the wave constantly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drips from her clothing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take her up instantly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loving, not loathing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Touch her not scornfully;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Think of her mournfully,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gently and humanly;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not of the stains of her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that remains of her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now is pure womanly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Make no deep scrutiny<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into her mutiny<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rash and undutiful:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past all dishonour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death has left on her<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only the beautiful.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still, for all slips of hers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One of Eve’s family—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wipe those poor lips of hers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oozing so clammily.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Loop up her tresses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Escaped from the comb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her fair auburn tresses;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst wonderment guesses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where was her home?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who was her father?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who was her mother?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_760" id="page_760">{760}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had she a sister?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had she a brother?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or was there a dearer one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still, and a nearer one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet, than all other?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas! for the rarity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Christian charity<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the sun!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, it was pitiful!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Near a whole city full,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Home she had none.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sisterly, brotherly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fatherly, motherly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feelings had changed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, by harsh evidence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thrown from its eminence;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even God’s providence<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seeming estranged.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the lamps quiver<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So far in the river,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With many a light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From window and casement,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From garret to basement,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She stood, with amazement,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Houseless by night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The bleak wind of March<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made her tremble and shiver;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But not the dark arch,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the black flowing river:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_761" id="page_761">{761}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Mad from life’s history,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glad to death’s mystery,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swift to be hurl’d—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Anywhere, anywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of the world!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In she plunged boldly—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No matter how coldly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The rough river ran—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the brink of it,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Picture it—think of it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dissolute Man!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lave in it, drink of it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then, if you can!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Take her up tenderly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lift her with care;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fashion’d so slenderly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Young, and so fair!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ere her limbs frigidly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stiffen too rigidly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Decently, kindly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smooth and compose them;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her eyes, close them,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Staring so blindly!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dreadfully staring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thro’ muddy impurity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As when with the daring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Last look of despairing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fix’d on futurity.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Perishing gloomily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spurr’d by contumely,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_762" id="page_762">{762}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cold inhumanity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burning insanity,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into her rest.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cross her hands humbly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As if praying dumbly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over her breast!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Owning her weakness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her evil behaviour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leaving, with meekness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her sins to her Saviour!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_THOM" id="WILLIAM_THOM"></a>WILLIAM THOM</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1798-1848<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_655" id="pm_655">655.</a></p> - -<h3>The Blind Boy’s Pranks</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>EN grew sae cauld, maids sae unkind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love kentna whaur to stay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wi’ fient an arrow, bow, or string—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wi’ droopin’ heart an’ drizzled wing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He faught his lonely way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Is there nae mair in Garioch fair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ae spotless hame for me?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hae politics an’ corn an’ kye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ilk bosom stappit? Fie, O fie!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll swithe me o’er the sea.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He launch’d a leaf o’ jessamine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On whilk he daur’d to swim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ pillow’d his head on a wee rosebud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Syne laithfu’, lanely, Love ’gan scud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down Ury’s waefu’ stream.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>655.</i> kentna] knew not. wi’ fient an arrow] i. q. with deuce an -arrow. swithe] hie quickly. laithfu’] regretful.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_763" id="page_763">{763}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE birds sang bonnie as Love drew near,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But dowie when he gaed by;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till lull’d wi’ the sough o’ monie a sang,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sleepit fu’ soun’ and sail’d alang<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Neath Heaven’s gowden sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Twas just whaur creeping Ury greets<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its mountain cousin Don,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There wander’d forth a weelfaur’d dame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wha listless gazed on the bonnie stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As it flirted an’ play’d with a sunny beam<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That flicker’d its bosom upon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love happit his head, I trow, that time<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The jessamine bark drew nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lassie espied the wee rosebud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ aye her heart gae thud for thud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An’ quiet it wadna lie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O gin I but had yon wearie wee flower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That floats on the Ury sae fair!’—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She lootit her hand for the silly rose-leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But little wist she o’ the pawkie thief<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That was lurkin’ an’ laughin’ there!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love glower’d when he saw her bonnie dark e’e,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An’ swore by Heaven’s grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He ne’er had seen nor thought to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since e’er he left the Paphian lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sae lovely a dwallin’-place.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>dowie] dejectedly. weelfaur’d] well-favoured, comely. happit] -covered up. lootit] lowered. pawkie] sly. glower’d] stared.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_764" id="page_764">{764}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>YNE first of a’ in her blythesome breast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He built a bower, I ween;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ what did the waefu’ devilick neist?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But kindled a gleam like the rosy east,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That sparkled frae baith her e’en.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An’ then beneath ilk high e’e-bree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He placed a quiver there;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His bow? What but her shinin’ brow?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ O sic deadly strings he drew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Frae out her silken hair!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Guid be our guard! Sic deeds waur deen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Roun’ a’ our countrie then;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ monie a hangin’ lug was seen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mang farmers fat, an’ lawyers lean,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An’ herds o’ common men!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>655.</i> e’e-bree] eyebrow. lug] ear.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_HENRY_TAYLOR" id="SIR_HENRY_TAYLOR"></a>SIR HENRY TAYLOR</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1800-1886<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_656" id="pm_656">656.</a></p> - -<h3>Elena’s Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Q</span>UOTH tongue of neither maid nor wife<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To heart of neither wife nor maid—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lead we not here a jolly life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Betwixt the shine and shade?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Quoth heart of neither maid nor wife<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To tongue of neither wife nor maid—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou wagg’st, but I am worn with strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And feel like flowers that fade.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_765" id="page_765">{765}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_BABINGTON_MACAULAY_LORD_MACAULAY" id="THOMAS_BABINGTON_MACAULAY_LORD_MACAULAY"></a>THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY, LORD MACAULAY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1800-1859<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_657" id="pm_657">657.</a></p> - -<h3>A Jacobite’s Epitaph</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O my true king I offer’d free from stain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Courage and faith; vain faith, and courage vain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For him I threw lands, honours, wealth, away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one dear hope, that was more prized than they.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For him I languished in a foreign clime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gray-hair’d with sorrow in my manhood’s prime;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heard on Lavernia Scargill’s whispering trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pined by Arno for my lovelier Tees;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beheld each night my home in fever’d sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each morning started from the dream to weep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till God, who saw me tried too sorely, gave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The resting-place I ask’d, an early grave.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O thou, whom chance leads to this nameless stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From that proud country which was once mine own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By those white cliffs I never more must see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By that dear language which I spake like thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forget all feuds, and shed one English tear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er English dust. A broken heart lies here.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_BARNES" id="WILLIAM_BARNES"></a>WILLIAM BARNES</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1801-1886<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_658" id="pm_658">658.</a></p> - -<h3>Mater Dolorosa</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’d a dream to-night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I fell asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O! the touching sight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Makes me still to weep:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_766" id="page_766">{766}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of my little lad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gone to leave me sad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay, the child I had,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But was not to keep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As in heaven high,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I my child did seek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There in train came by<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Children fair and meek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each in lily white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a lamp alight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each was clear to sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But they did not speak.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, a little sad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Came my child in turn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the lamp he had,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O it did not burn!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He, to clear my doubt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Said, half turn’d about,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Your tears put it out;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Mother, never mourn.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_659" id="pm_659">659.</a></p> - -<h3>The Wife a-lost</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>INCE I noo mwore do zee your feäce,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Up steärs or down below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll zit me in the lwonesome pleäce,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where flat-bough’d beech do grow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the beeches’ bough, my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where you did never come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ I don’t look to meet ye now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I do look at hwome.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_767" id="page_767">{767}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since you noo mwore be at my zide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In walks in zummer het,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll goo alwone where mist do ride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Droo trees a-drippèn wet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the rain-wet bough, my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where you did never come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ I don’t grieve to miss ye now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I do grieve at hwome.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since now bezide my dinner-bwoard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your vaïce do never sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll eat the bit I can avword<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A-vield upon the ground;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the darksome bough, my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where you did never dine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ I don’t grieve to miss ye now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I at hwome do pine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Since I do miss your vaïce an’ feäce<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In praÿer at eventide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll praÿ wi’ woone sad vaïce vor greäce<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To goo where you do bide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above the tree an’ bough, my love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where you be gone avore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An’ be a-waitèn vor me now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To come vor evermwore.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WINTHROP_MACKWORTH_PRAED" id="WINTHROP_MACKWORTH_PRAED"></a>WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1802-1839<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_660" id="pm_660">660.</a></p> - -<h3>Fairy Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>E has conn’d the lesson now;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He has read the book of pain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There are furrows on his brow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I must make it smooth again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_768" id="page_768">{768}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo! I knock the spurs away;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lo! I loosen belt and brand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark! I hear the courser neigh<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For his stall in Fairy-land.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Bring the cap, and bring the vest;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Buckle on his sandal shoon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fetch his memory from the chest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the treasury of the moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have taught him to be wise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For a little maiden’s sake;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! he opens his glad eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Softly, slowly: Minstrel, wake!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SARA_COLERIDGE" id="SARA_COLERIDGE"></a>SARA COLERIDGE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1802-1850<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_661" id="pm_661">661.</a></p> - -<h3>O sleep my Babe</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>LEEP, my babe, hear not the rippling wave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor feel the breeze that round thee ling’ring strays<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To drink thy balmy breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And sigh one long farewell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soon shall it mourn above thy wat’ry bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whisper to me, on the wave-beat shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Deep murm’ring in reproach,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy sad untimely fate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ere those dear eyes had open’d on the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain to plead, thy coming life was sold,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O waken’d but to sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whence it can wake no more!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_769" id="page_769">{769}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A thousand and a thousand silken leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tufted beech unfolds in early spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All clad in tenderest green,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All of the self-same shape:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A thousand infant faces, soft and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each year sends forth, yet every mother views<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her last not least beloved<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like its dear self alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No musing mind hath ever yet foreshaped<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The face to-morrow’s sun shall first reveal,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No heart hath e’er conceived<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What love that face will bring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sleep, my babe, nor heed how mourns the gale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To part with thy soft locks and fragrant breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As when it deeply sighs<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O’er autumn’s latest bloom.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_662" id="pm_662">662.</a></p> - -<h3>The Child</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>EE yon blithe child that dances in our sight!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can gloomy shadows fall from one so bright?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Fond mother, whence these fears?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While buoyantly he rushes o’er the lawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dream not of clouds to stain his manhood’s dawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Nor dim that sight with tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No cloud he spies in brightly glowing hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But feels as if the newly vested bowers<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For him could never fade:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Too well we know that vernal pleasures fleet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But having him, so gladsome, fair, and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Our loss is overpaid.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_770" id="page_770">{770}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Amid the balmiest flowers that earth can give<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some bitter drops distil, and all that live<br /></span> -<span class="i6">A mingled portion share;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, while he learns these truths which we lament,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such fortitude as ours will sure be sent,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Such solace to his care.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GERALD_GRIFFIN" id="GERALD_GRIFFIN"></a>GERALD GRIFFIN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1803-1840<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_663" id="pm_663">663.</a></p> - -<h3>Eileen Aroon</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN like the early rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty in childhood blows,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, like a diadem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Buds blush around the stem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which is the fairest gem?—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is it the laughing eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it the timid sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is it the tender tone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft as the string’d harp’s moan?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, it is truth alone,—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When like the rising day,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love sends his early ray,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_771" id="page_771">{771}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">What makes his dawning glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Changeless through joy or woe?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only the constant know:—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I know a valley fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew a cottage there,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far in that valley’s shade<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew a gentle maid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flower of a hazel glade,—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who in the song so sweet?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who in the dance so fleet?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear were her charms to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dearer her laughter free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dearest her constancy,—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Were she no longer true,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What should her lover do?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fly with his broken chain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far o’er the sounding main,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never to love again,—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Youth must with time decay,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_772" id="page_772">{772}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beauty must fade away,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Castles are sack’d in war,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chieftains are scatter’d far,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Truth is a fixèd star,—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Eileen Aroon!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JAMES_CLARENCE_MANGAN" id="JAMES_CLARENCE_MANGAN"></a>JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1803-1840<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_664" id="pm_664">664.</a></p> - -<h3>Dark Rosaleen</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> MY Dark Rosaleen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Do not sigh, do not weep!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The priests are on the ocean green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They march along the deep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s wine from the royal Pope,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the ocean green;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Spanish ale shall give you hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My own Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall glad your heart, shall give you hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall give you health, and help, and hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over hills, and thro’ dales,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have I roam’d for your sake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All yesterday I sail’d with sails<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On river and on lake.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Erne, at its highest flood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I dash’d across unseen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For there was lightning in my blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_773" id="page_773">{773}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">My own Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, there was lightning in my blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red lightning lighten’d thro’ my blood.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All day long, in unrest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To and fro, do I move.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The very soul within my breast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is wasted for you, love!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heart in my bosom faints<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To think of you, my Queen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My life of life, my saint of saints,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My own Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear your sweet and sad complaints,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My life, my love, my saint of saints,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Woe and pain, pain and woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are my lot, night and noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see your bright face clouded so,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like to the mournful moon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But yet will I rear your throne<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Again in golden sheen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis you shall reign, shall reign alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My own Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis you shall have the golden throne,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis you shall reign, and reign alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over dews, over sands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will I fly, for your weal:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your holy delicate white hands<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall girdle me with steel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_774" id="page_774">{774}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">At home, in your emerald bowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From morning’s dawn till e’en,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You’ll pray for me, my flower of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My fond Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You’ll think of me through daylight hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My virgin flower, my flower of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I could scale the blue air,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I could plough the high hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, I could kneel all night in prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To heal your many ills!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one beamy smile from you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would float like light between<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My toils and me, my own, my true,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My fond Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would give me life and soul anew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A second life, a soul anew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, the Erne shall run red,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With redundance of blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The earth shall rock beneath our tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And flames wrap hill and wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gun-peal and slogan-cry<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wake many a glen serene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere you shall fade, ere you shall die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My own Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Judgement Hour must first be nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere you can fade, ere you can die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Dark Rosaleen!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_775" id="page_775">{775}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_665" id="pm_665">665.</a></p> - -<h3>The Nameless One</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">R</span>OLL forth, my song, like the rushing river,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That sweeps along to the mighty sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God will inspire me while I deliver<br /></span> -<span class="i8">My soul of thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tell thou the world, when my bones lie whitening<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Amid the last homes of youth and eld,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That once there was one whose veins ran lightning<br /></span> -<span class="i8">No eye beheld.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tell how his boyhood was one drear night-hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How shone for him, through his griefs and gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No star of all heaven sends to light our<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Path to the tomb.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Roll on, my song, and to after ages<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tell how, disdaining all earth can give,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He would have taught men, from wisdom’s pages,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">The way to live.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And tell how trampled, derided, hated,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And worn by weakness, disease, and wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He fled for shelter to God, who mated<br /></span> -<span class="i8">His soul with song.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">—With song which alway, sublime or vapid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flow’d like a rill in the morning beam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perchance not deep, but intense and rapid—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">A mountain stream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tell how this Nameless, condemn’d for years long<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To herd with demons from hell beneath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw things that made him, with groans and tears, long<br /></span> -<span class="i8">For even death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_776" id="page_776">{776}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Go on to tell how, with genius wasted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Betray’d in friendship, befool’d in love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With spirit shipwreck’d, and young hopes blasted,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">He still, still strove;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till, spent with toil, dreeing death for others<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(And some whose hands should have wrought for him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If children live not for sires and mothers),<br /></span> -<span class="i8">His mind grew dim;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And he fell far through that pit abysmal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The gulf and grave of Maginn and Burns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pawn’d his soul for the devil’s dismal<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Stock of returns.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But yet redeemed it in days of darkness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shapes and signs of the final wrath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When death, in hideous and ghastly starkness,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Stood on his path.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And tell how now, amid wreck and sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And want, and sickness, and houseless nights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He bides in calmness the silent morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">That no ray lights.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And lives he still, then? Yes! Old and hoary<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At thirty-nine, from despair and woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He lives, enduring what future story<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Will never know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Him grant a grave to, ye pitying noble,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deep in your bosoms: there let him dwell!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He too, had tears for all souls in trouble,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Here and in hell.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_777" id="page_777">{777}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_LOVELL_BEDDOES" id="THOMAS_LOVELL_BEDDOES"></a>THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1803-1849<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_666" id="pm_666">666.</a></p> - -<h3>Wolfram’s Dirge</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F thou wilt ease thine heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of love and all its smart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then sleep, dear, sleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And not a sorrow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hang any tear on your eyelashes;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lie still and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sad soul, until the sea-wave washes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rim of the sun to-morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In eastern sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But wilt thou cure thine heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of love and all its smart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then die, dear, die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis deeper, sweeter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than on a rose-bank to lie dreaming<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With folded eye;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And there alone, amid the beaming<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Love’s stars, thou’lt meet her<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In eastern sky.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_667" id="pm_667">667.</a></p> - -<h3>Dream-Pedlary</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F there were dreams to sell,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What would you buy?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some cost a passing bell;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some a light sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That shakes from Life’s fresh crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only a rose-leaf down.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_778" id="page_778">{778}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">If there were dreams to sell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Merry and sad to tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the crier rang the bell,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What would you buy?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A cottage lone and still,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With bowers nigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shadowy, my woes to still,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Until I die.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such pearl from Life’s fresh crown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fain would I shake me down.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were dreams to have at will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This would best heal my ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">This would I buy.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_668" id="pm_668">668.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>OW many times do I love thee, dear?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tell me how many thoughts there be<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In the atmosphere<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of a new-fall’n year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose white and sable hours appear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The latest flake of Eternity:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So many times do I love thee, dear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How many times do I love again?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tell me how many beads there are<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In a silver chain<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of evening rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unravell’d from the tumbling main,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And threading the eye of a yellow star:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So many times do I love again.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_779" id="page_779">{779}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RALPH_WALDO_EMERSON" id="RALPH_WALDO_EMERSON"></a>RALPH WALDO EMERSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1803-1882<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_669" id="pm_669">669.</a></p> - -<h3>Give All to Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>IVE all to love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Obey thy heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Friends, kindred, days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Estate, good fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plans, credit, and the Muse—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing refuse.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis a brave master;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let it have scope:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Follow it utterly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hope beyond hope:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High and more high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It dives into noon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With wing unspent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Untold intent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But it is a god,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knows its own path,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the outlets of the sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was never for the mean;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It requireth courage stout,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Souls above doubt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Valour unbending:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such ’twill reward;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They shall return<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than they were,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And ever ascending.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Leave all for love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, hear me, yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One word more thy heart behoved,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One pulse more of firm endeavour<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_780" id="page_780">{780}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Keep thee to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-morrow, for ever,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Free as an Arab<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of thy beloved.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cling with life to the maid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when the surprise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">First vague shadow of surmise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flits across her bosom young,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of a joy apart from thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Free be she, fancy-free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor thou detain her vesture’s hem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor the palest rose she flung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From her summer diadem.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Though thou loved her as thyself,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a self of purer clay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though her parting dims the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stealing grace from all alive;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heartily know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When half-gods go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gods arrive.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_670" id="pm_670">670.</a></p> - -<h3>Uriel</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T fell in the ancient periods<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which the brooding soul surveys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or ever the wild Time coin’d itself<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into calendar months and days.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This was the lapse of Uriel,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which in Paradise befell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once, among the Pleiads walking,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sayd overheard the young gods talking;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_781" id="page_781">{781}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the treason, too long pent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To his ears was evident.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The young deities discuss’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laws of form, and metre just,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Orb, quintessence, and sunbeams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What subsisteth, and what seems.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One, with low tones that decide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And doubt and reverend use defied,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a look that solved the sphere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stirr’d the devils everywhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gave his sentiment divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Against the being of a line.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Line in nature is not found;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unit and universe are round;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain produced, all rays return;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Evil will bless, and ice will burn.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As Uriel spoke with piercing eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shudder ran around the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stern old war-gods shook their heads;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The seraphs frown’d from myrtle-beds;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seem’d to the holy festival<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rash word boded ill to all;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The balance-beam of Fate was bent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bounds of good and ill were rent;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong Hades could not keep his own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all slid to confusion.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A sad self-knowledge withering fell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the beauty of Uriel;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In heaven once eminent, the god<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Withdrew that hour into his cloud;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether doom’d to long gyration<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the sea of generation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_782" id="page_782">{782}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or by knowledge grown too bright<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hit the nerve of feebler sight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Straightway a forgetting wind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stole over the celestial kind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And their lips the secret kept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If in ashes the fire-seed slept.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, now and then, truth-speaking things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shamed the angels’ veiling wings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, shrilling from the solar course,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or from fruit of chemic force,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Procession of a soul in matter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the speeding change of water,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or out of the good of evil born,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came Uriel’s voice of cherub scorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a blush tinged the upper sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the gods shook, they knew not why.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_671" id="pm_671">671.</a></p> - -<h3>Bacchus</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>RING me wine, but wine which never grew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the belly of the grape,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or grew on vine whose tap-roots, reaching through<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the Andes to the Cape,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suffer’d no savour of the earth to ’scape.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let its grapes the morn salute<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From a nocturnal root,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which feels the acrid juice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Styx and Erebus;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And turns the woe of Night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By its own craft, to a more rich delight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We buy ashes for bread;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We buy diluted wine;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_783" id="page_783">{783}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give me of the true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose ample leaves and tendrils curl’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the silver hills of heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Draw everlasting dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wine of wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blood of the world,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Form of forms, and mould of statures,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I intoxicated,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by the draught assimilated,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May float at pleasure through all natures;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bird-language rightly spell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that which roses say so well:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wine that is shed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the torrents of the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up the horizon walls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or like the Atlantic streams, which run<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the South Sea calls.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Water and bread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Food which needs no transmuting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rainbow-flowering, wisdom-fruiting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wine which is already man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Food which teach and reason can.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Wine which Music is,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Music and wine are one,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I, drinking this,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall hear far Chaos talk with me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kings unborn shall walk with me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the poor grass shall plot and plan<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What it will do when it is man.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Quicken’d so, will I unlock<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every crypt of every rock.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_784" id="page_784">{784}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I thank the joyful juice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all I know;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winds of remembering<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the ancient being blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And seeming-solid walls of use<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Open and flow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Pour, Bacchus! the remembering wine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Retrieve the loss of me and mine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vine for vine be antidote,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the grape requite the lote!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haste to cure the old despair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reason in Nature’s lotus drench’d—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The memory of ages quench’d—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give them again to shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let wine repair what this undid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where the infection slid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dazzling memory revive;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Refresh the faded tints,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Recut the agèd prints,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And write my old adventures with the pen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which on the first day drew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the tablets blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dancing Pleiads and eternal men.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_672" id="pm_672">672.</a></p> - -<h3>Brahma</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F the red slayer think he slays,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or if the slain think he is slain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They know not well the subtle ways<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I keep, and pass, and turn again.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_785" id="page_785">{785}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Far or forgot to me is near;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shadow and sunlight are the same;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The vanish’d gods to me appear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And one to me are shame and fame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They reckon ill who leave me out;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When me they fly, I am the wings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am the doubter and the doubt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I the hymn the Brahmin sings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The strong gods pine for my abode,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pine in vain the sacred Seven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thou, meek lover of the good!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Find me, and turn thy back on heaven.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RICHARD_HENRY_HORNE" id="RICHARD_HENRY_HORNE"></a>RICHARD HENRY HORNE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1803-1884<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_673" id="pm_673">673.</a></p> - -<h3>The Plough</h3> - -<p class="c">A LANDSCAPE IN BERKSHIRE</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>BOVE yon sombre swell of land<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou see’st the dawn’s grave orange hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With one pale streak like yellow sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And over that a vein of blue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The air is cold above the woods;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All silent is the earth and sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Except with his own lonely moods<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blackbird holds a colloquy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Over the broad hill creeps a beam,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like hope that gilds a good man’s brow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now ascends the nostril-stream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of stalwart horses come to plough.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_786" id="page_786">{786}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Ye rigid Ploughmen, bear in mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your labour is for future hours:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Advance—spare not—nor look behind—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Plough deep and straight with all your powers!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_STEPHEN_HAWKER" id="ROBERT_STEPHEN_HAWKER"></a>ROBERT STEPHEN HAWKER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1804-1875<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_674" id="pm_674">674.</a></p> - -<h3>King Arthur’s Waes-hael</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>AES-hael for knight and dame!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O merry be their dole!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drink-hael! in Jesu’s name<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We fill the tawny bowl;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But cover down the curving crest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mould of the Orient Lady’s breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Waes-hael! yet lift no lid:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drain ye the reeds for wine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drink-hael! the milk was hid<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That soothed that Babe divine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hush’d, as this hollow channel flows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He drew the balsam from the rose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Waes-hael! thus glow’d the breast<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where a God yearn’d to cling;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drink-hael! so Jesu press’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life from its mystic spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then hush and bend in reverent sign<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And breathe the thrilling reeds for wine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Waes-hael! in shadowy scene<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lo! Christmas children we:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drink-hael! behold we lean<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At a far Mother’s knee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To dream that thus her bosom smiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And learn the lip of Bethlehem’s Child.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_787" id="page_787">{787}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_675" id="pm_675">675.</a></p> - -<h3>Are they not all Ministering Spirits?</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>E see them not—we cannot hear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The music of their wing—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet know we that they sojourn near,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Angels of the spring!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They glide along this lovely ground<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the first violet grows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their graceful hands have just unbound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The zone of yonder rose.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I gather it for thy dear breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From stain and shadow free:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That which an Angel’s touch hath blest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is meet, my love, for thee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_WADE" id="THOMAS_WADE"></a>THOMAS WADE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1805-1875<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_676" id="pm_676">676.</a></p> - -<h3>The Half-asleep</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> FOR the mighty wakening that aroused<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The old-time Prophets to their missions high;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to blind Homer’s inward sunlike eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Show’d the heart’s universe where he caroused<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Radiantly; the Fishers poor unhoused,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sent them forth to preach divinity;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And made our Milton his great dark defy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the light of one immortal theme espoused!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But half asleep are those now most awake;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And save calm-thoughted Wordsworth, we have none<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who for eternity put time at stake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And hold a constant course as doth the sun:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We yield but drops that no deep thirstings slake;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And feebly cease ere we have well begun.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_788" id="page_788">{788}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FRANCIS_MAHONY" id="FRANCIS_MAHONY"></a>FRANCIS MAHONY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1805-1866<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_677" id="pm_677">677.</a></p> - -<h3>The Bells of Shandon</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH deep affection,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And recollection,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I often think of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those Shandon bells,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose sounds so wild would,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the days of childhood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fling around my cradle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their magic spells.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On this I ponder<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where’er I wander,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thus grow fonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet Cork, of thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With thy bells of Shandon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sound so grand on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pleasant waters<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the River Lee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ve heard bells chiming<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full many a clime in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tolling sublime in<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cathedral shrine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While at a glib rate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brass tongues would vibrate—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all their music<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spoke naught like thine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For memory, dwelling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On each proud swelling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the belfry knelling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its bold notes free,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_789" id="page_789">{789}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made the bells of Shandon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sound far more grand on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pleasant waters<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the River Lee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ve heard bells tolling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Old Adrian’s Mole in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their thunder rolling<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the Vatican,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cymbals glorious<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Swinging uproarious<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the gorgeous turrets<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Notre Dame;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thy sounds were sweeter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than the dome of Peter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flings o’er the Tiber,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pealing solemnly—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, the bells of Shandon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sound far more grand on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pleasant waters<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the River Lee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There’s a bell in Moscow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While on tower and kiosk O!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Saint Sophia<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Turkman gets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And loud in air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calls men to prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the tapering summits<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of tall minarets.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such empty phantom<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I freely grant them;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But there’s an anthem<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More dear to me,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_790" id="page_790">{790}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis the bells of Shandon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sound so grand on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pleasant waters<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the River Lee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ELIZABETH_BARRETT_BROWNING" id="ELIZABETH_BARRETT_BROWNING"></a>ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1806-1861<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_678" id="pm_678">678.</a></p> - -<h3>Rosalind’s Scroll</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> LEFT thee last, a child at heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A woman scarce in years:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I come to thee, a solemn corpse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which neither feels nor fears.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have no breath to use in sighs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They laid the dead-weights on mine eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To seal them safe from tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look on me with thine own calm look:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I meet it calm as thou.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No look of thine can change this smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or break thy sinful vow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I tell thee that my poor scorn’d heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is of thine earth—thine earth—a part:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It cannot vex thee now.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have pray’d for thee with bursting sob<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When passion’s course was free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have pray’d for thee with silent lips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the anguish none could see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They whisper’d oft, ‘She sleepeth soft’—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I only pray’d for thee.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_791" id="page_791">{791}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Go to! I pray for thee no more:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The corpse’s tongue is still;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its folded fingers point to heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But point there stiff and chill:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No farther wrong, no farther woe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath licence from the sin below<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its tranquil heart to thrill.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I charge thee, by the living’s prayer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the dead’s silentness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To wring from out thy soul a cry<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which God shall hear and bless!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest Heaven’s own palm droop in my hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pale among the saints I stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A saint companionless.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_679" id="pm_679">679.</a></p> - -<h3>The Deserted Garden</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> MIND me in the days departed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How often underneath the sun<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With childish bounds I used to run<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To a garden long deserted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The beds and walks were vanish’d quite;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wheresoe’er had struck the spade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The greenest grasses Nature laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sanctify her right.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I call’d the place my wilderness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For no one enter’d there but I.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sheep look’d in, the grass to espy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pass’d it ne’ertheless.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_792" id="page_792">{792}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The trees were interwoven wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spread their boughs enough about<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To keep both sheep and shepherd out,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But not a happy child.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Adventurous joy it was for me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I crept beneath the boughs, and found<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A circle smooth of mossy ground<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath a poplar-tree.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Old garden rose-trees hedged it in;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bedropt with roses waxen-white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well satisfied with dew and light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And careless to be seen.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Long years ago, it might befall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When all the garden flowers were trim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grave old gardener prided him<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On these the most of all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some Lady, stately overmuch,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here moving with a silken noise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has blush’d beside them at the voice<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That liken’d her to such.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or these, to make a diadem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She often may have pluck’d and twined;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Half-smiling as it came to mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That few would look at <i>them</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, little thought that Lady proud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A child would watch her fair white rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When buried lay her whiter brows,<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_793" id="page_793">{793}</a></span><span class="i2">And silk was changed for shroud!—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor thought that gardener (full of scorns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For men unlearn’d and simple phrase)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A child would bring it all its praise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By creeping through the thorns!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To me upon my low moss seat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though never a dream the roses sent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of science or love’s compliment,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I ween they smelt as sweet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It did not move my grief to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The trace of human step departed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because the garden was deserted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blither place for me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Friends, blame me not! a narrow ken<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath childhood ’twixt the sun and sward;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We draw the moral afterward—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We feel the gladness then.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And gladdest hours for me did glide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In silence at the rose-tree wall:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thrush made gladness musical<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Upon the other side.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nor he nor I did e’er incline<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To peck or pluck the blossoms white:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How should I know but that they might<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lead lives as glad as mine?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To make my hermit-home complete,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I brought clear water from the spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Praised in its own low murmuring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And cresses glossy wet.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_794" id="page_794">{794}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And so, I thought, my likeness grew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Without the melancholy tale)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To ‘gentle hermit of the dale,’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Angelina too.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For oft I read within my nook<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such minstrel stories; till the breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made sounds poetic in the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then I shut the book.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If I shut this wherein I write,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear no more the wind athwart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those trees, nor feel that childish heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Delighting in delight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My childhood from my life is parted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My footstep from the moss which drew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its fairy circle round: anew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The garden is deserted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Another thrush may there rehearse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The madrigals which sweetest are;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No more for me!—myself afar<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Do sing a sadder verse.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah me! ah me! when erst I lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that child’s-nest so greenly wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I laugh’d unto myself and thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘The time will pass away.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And still I laugh’d, and did not fear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But that, whene’er was pass’d away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The childish time, some happier play<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My womanhood would cheer.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_795" id="page_795">{795}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I knew the time would pass away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet, beside the rose-tree wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dear God, how seldom, if at all,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Did I look up to pray!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The time is past: and now that grows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cypress high among the trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I behold white sepulchres<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As well as the white rose,—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When wiser, meeker thoughts are given,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I have learnt to lift my face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reminded how earth’s greenest place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The colour draws from heaven,—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It something saith for earthly pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But more for heavenly promise free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I who was, would shrink to be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That happy child again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_680" id="pm_680">680.</a></p> - -<h3>Consolation</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL are not taken; there are left behind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Living Belovèds, tender looks to bring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And make the daylight still a happy thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tender voices, to make soft the wind:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But if it were not so—if I could find<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No love in all this world for comforting,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor any path but hollowly did ring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where ‘dust to dust’ the love from life disjoin’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if, before those sepulchres unmoving<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I stood alone (as some forsaken lamb<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crying ‘Where are ye, O my loved and loving?’—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know a voice would sound, ‘Daughter, I AM.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can I suffice for Heaven and not for earth?’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_796" id="page_796">{796}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_681" id="pm_681">681.</a></p> - -<h3>Grief</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> TELL you, hopeless grief is passionless;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That only men incredulous of despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beat upward to God’s throne in loud access<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of shrieking and reproach. Full desertness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In souls as countries lieth silent-bare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the blanching, vertical eye-glare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the absolute Heavens. Deep-hearted man, express<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grief for thy Dead in silence like to death—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Most like a monumental statue set<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In everlasting watch and moveless woe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till itself crumble to the dust beneath.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If it could weep, it could arise and go.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Sonnets from the Portuguese</i></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_682" id="pm_682">682.</a></p> - -<h3>i</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -I thought once how Theocritus had sung<br /> - Of the sweet years, the dear and wish’d-for years,<br /> - Who each one in a gracious hand appears<br /> -To bear a gift for mortals old or young:<br /> -And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,<br /> - I saw in gradual vision through my tears<br /> - The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years—<br /> -Those of my own life, who by turns had flung<br /> -A shadow across me. Straightway I was ’ware,<br /> - So weeping, how a mystic Shape did move<br /> -Behind me, and drew me backward by the hair;<br /> - And a voice said in mastery, while I strove,<br /> -‘Guess now who holds thee?’—‘Death’ I said. But there<br /> - The silver answer rang—‘Not Death, but Love.’ -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_797" id="page_797">{797}</a></span></p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_683" id="pm_683">683.</a></p> - -<h3>ii</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>NLIKE are we, unlike, O princely Heart!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unlike our uses and our destinies.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our ministering two angels look surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On one another, as they strike athwart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A guest for queens to social pageantries,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With gages from a hundred brighter eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than tears even can make mine, to play thy part<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of chief musician. What hast thou to do<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With looking from the lattice-lights at me—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A poor, tired, wandering singer, singing through<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chrism is on thine head—on mine the dew—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Death must dig the level where these agree.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_684" id="pm_684">684.</a></p> - -<h3>iii</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>O from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alone upon the threshold of my door<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of individual life I shall command<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Serenely in the sunshine as before,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Without the sense of that which I forbore—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With pulses that beat double. What I do<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what I dream include thee, as the wine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Must taste of its own grapes. And when I sue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God for myself, He hears that name of thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sees within my eyes the tears of two.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_798" id="page_798">{798}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_685" id="pm_685">685.</a></p> - -<h3>iv</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F thou must love me, let it be for naught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Except for love’s sake only. Do not say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘I love her for her smile—her look—her way<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of speaking gently,—for a trick of thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That falls in well with mine, and certes brought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sense of pleasant ease on such a day—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be changed, or change for thee—and love, so wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May be unwrought so. Neither love me for<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thine own dear pity’s wiping my cheeks dry:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A creature might forget to weep, who bore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But love me for love’s sake, that evermore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou mayst love on, through love’s eternity.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_686" id="pm_686">686.</a></p> - -<h3>v</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN our two souls stand up erect and strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Until the lengthening wings break into fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At either curving point,—what bitter wrong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can the earth do us, that we should not long<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be here contented? Think! In mounting higher,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The angels would press on us, and aspire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To drop some golden orb of perfect song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rather on earth, Belovèd—where the unfit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Contrarious moods of men recoil away<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And isolate pure spirits, and permit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A place to stand and love in for a day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_799" id="page_799">{799}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_687" id="pm_687">687.</a></p> - -<h3>A Musical Instrument</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT was he doing, the great god Pan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down in the reeds by the river?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spreading ruin and scattering ban,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And breaking the golden lilies afloat<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the dragon-fly on the river.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He tore out a reed, the great god Pan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the deep cool bed of the river;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The limpid water turbidly ran,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the broken lilies a-dying lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the dragon-fly had fled away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ere he brought it out of the river.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">High on the shore sat the great god Pan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While turbidly flow’d the river;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hack’d and hew’d as a great god can<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To prove it fresh from the river.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He cut it short, did the great god Pan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(How tall it stood in the river!),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then drew the pith, like the heart of a man,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Steadily from the outside ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And notch’d the poor dry empty thing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In holes, as he sat by the river.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘This is the way’ laugh’d the great god Pan<br /></span> -<span class="i1">(Laugh’d while he sat by the river),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘The only way, since gods began<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To make sweet music, they could succeed.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He blew in power by the river.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_800" id="page_800">{800}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Piercing sweet by the river!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blinding sweet, O great god Pan!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun on the hill forgot to die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Came back to dream on the river.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet half a beast is the great god Pan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To laugh as he sits by the river,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Making a poet out of a man:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The true gods sigh for the cost and pain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the reed which grows nevermore again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As a reed with the reeds of the river.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FREDERICK_TENNYSON" id="FREDERICK_TENNYSON"></a>FREDERICK TENNYSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1807-1898<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_688" id="pm_688">688.</a></p> - -<h3>The Holy Tide</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE days are sad, it is the Holy tide.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Winter morn is short, the Night is long;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So let the lifeless Hours be glorified<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With deathless thoughts and echo’d in sweet song:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And through the sunset of this purple cup<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They will resume the roses of their prime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the old Dead will hear us and wake up,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pass with dim smiles and make our hearts sublime!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The days are sad, it is the Holy tide:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be dusky mistletoes and hollies strown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sharp as the spear that pierced His sacred side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Red as the drops upon His thorny crown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No haggard Passion and no lawless Mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fright off the solemn Muse,—tell sweet old tales,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing songs as we sit brooding o’er the hearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till the lamp flickers, and the memory fails.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_801" id="page_801">{801}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_WADSWORTH_LONGFELLOW" id="HENRY_WADSWORTH_LONGFELLOW"></a>HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1807-1882<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_689" id="pm_689">689.</a></p> - -<h3>My Lost Youth</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>FTEN I think of the beautiful town<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That is seated by the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Often in thought go up and down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pleasant streets of that dear old town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And my youth comes back to me.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And a verse of a Lapland song<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is haunting my memory still:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I can see the shadowy lines of its trees,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And catch, in sudden gleams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sheen of the far-surrounding seas,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And islands that were the Hesperides<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all my boyish dreams.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the burden of that old song,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">It murmurs and whispers still:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘A Boy’s will is the wind’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I remember the black wharves and the slips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the sea-tides tossing free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Spanish sailors with bearded lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the beauty and mystery of the ships,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the magic of the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the voice of that wayward song<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is singing and saying still:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_802" id="page_802">{802}</a></span>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">I remember the bulwarks by the shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the fort upon the hill;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sunrise gun with its hollow roar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The drum-beat repeated o’er and o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the bugle wild and shrill.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the music of that old song<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Throbs in my memory still:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I remember the sea-fight far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How it thunder’d o’er the tide!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the dead sea-captains, as they lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In their graves o’erlooking the tranquil bay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where they in battle died.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the sound of that mournful song<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Goes through me with a thrill:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I can see the breezy dome of groves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shadows of Deering’s woods;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the friendships old and the early loves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come back with a Sabbath sound, as of doves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In quiet neighbourhoods.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the verse of that sweet old song,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">It flutters and murmurs still:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I remember the gleams and glooms that dart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Across the schoolboy’s brain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The song and the silence in the heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That in part are prophecies, and in part<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are longings wild and vain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_803" id="page_803">{803}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the voice of that fitful song<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sings on, and is never still:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There are things of which I may not speak;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There are dreams that cannot die;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bring a pallor into the cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a mist before the eye.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the words of that fatal song<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Come over me like a chill:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Strange to me now are the forms I meet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I visit the dear old town;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the native air is pure and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As they balance up and down,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Are singing the beautiful song,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Are sighing and whispering still:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And Deering’s woods are fresh and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And with joy that is almost pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart goes back to wander there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And among the dreams of the days that were<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I find my lost youth again.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the strange and beautiful song,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The groves are repeating it still:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_804" id="page_804">{804}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_GREENLEAF_WHITTIER" id="JOHN_GREENLEAF_WHITTIER"></a>JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1807-1892<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_690" id="pm_690">690.</a></p> - -<h3>Vesta</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> CHRIST of God! whose life and death<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our own have reconciled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Most quietly, most tenderly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take home thy star-named child!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy grace is in her patient eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy words are on her tongue;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The very silence round her seems<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As if the angels sung.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her smile is as a listening child’s<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who hears its mother’s call;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lilies of Thy perfect peace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About her pillow fall.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She leans from out our clinging arms<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To rest herself in Thine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone to Thee, dear Lord, can we<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our well-beloved resign.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, less for her than for ourselves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We bow our heads and pray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her setting star, like Bethlehem’s,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To Thee shall point the way!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_805" id="page_805">{805}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HELEN_SELINA_LADY_DUFFERIN" id="HELEN_SELINA_LADY_DUFFERIN"></a>HELEN SELINA, LADY DUFFERIN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1807-1867<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_691" id="pm_691">691.</a></p> - -<h3>Lament of the Irish Emigrant</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’m sittin’ on the stile, Mary,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where we sat side by side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On a bright May mornin’ long ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When first you were my bride;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The corn was springin’ fresh and green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the lark sang loud and high—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the red was on your lip, Mary,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the love-light in your eye.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The place is little changed, Mary,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The day is bright as then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lark’s loud song is in my ear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the corn is green again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I miss the soft clasp of your hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And your breath warm on my cheek,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I still keep list’ning for the words<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You never more will speak.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis but a step down yonder lane,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the little church stands near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The church where we were wed, Mary,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I see the spire from here.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the graveyard lies between, Mary,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And my step might break your rest—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For I’ve laid you, darling! down to sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With your baby on your breast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_806" id="page_806">{806}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">I’m very lonely now, Mary,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the poor make no new friends,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, O, they love the better still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The few our Father sends!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you were all <i>I</i> had, Mary,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My blessin’ and my pride:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s nothin’ left to care for now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since my poor Mary died.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yours was the good, brave heart, Mary,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That still kept hoping on,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the trust in God had left my soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And my arm’s young strength was gone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was comfort ever on your lip,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the kind look on your brow—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I bless you, Mary, for that same,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though you cannot hear me now.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I thank you for the patient smile<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When your heart was fit to break,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the hunger pain was gnawin’ there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And you hid it, for my sake!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I bless you for the pleasant word,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When your heart was sad and sore—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, I’m thankful you are gone, Mary,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where grief can’t reach you more!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’m biddin’ you a long farewell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My Mary—kind and true!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I’ll not forget you, darling!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the land I’m goin’ to;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_807" id="page_807">{807}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">They say there’s bread and work for all,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the sun shines always there—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I’ll not forget old Ireland,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were it fifty times as fair!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And often in those grand old woods<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I’ll sit, and shut my eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my heart will travel back again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the place where Mary lies;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’ll think I see the little stile<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where we sat side by side:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the springin’ corn, and the bright May morn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When first you were my bride.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CAROLINE_ELIZABETH_SARAH_NORTON" id="CAROLINE_ELIZABETH_SARAH_NORTON"></a>CAROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH NORTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1808-1876<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_692" id="pm_692">692.</a></p> - -<h3>I do not love Thee</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">I</span> DO not love thee!—no! I do not love thee!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet when thou art absent I am sad;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And envy even the bright blue sky above thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose quiet stars may see thee and be glad.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">I do not love thee!—yet, I know not why,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whate’er thou dost seems still well done, to me:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And often in my solitude I sigh<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That those I do love are not more like thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">I do not love thee!—yet, when thou art gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hate the sound (though those who speak be dear)<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which breaks the lingering echo of the tone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy voice of music leaves upon my ear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_808" id="page_808">{808}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i2">I do not love thee!—yet thy speaking eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With their deep, bright, and most expressive blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Between me and the midnight heaven arise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oftener than any eyes I ever knew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">I know I do not love thee! yet, alas!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Others will scarcely trust my candid heart;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And oft I catch them smiling as they pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because they see me gazing where thou art.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHARLES_TENNYSON_TURNER" id="CHARLES_TENNYSON_TURNER"></a>CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1808-1879<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_693" id="pm_693">693.</a></p> - -<h3>Letty’s Globe</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN Letty had scarce pass’d her third glad year,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And her young artless words began to flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One day we gave the child a colour’d sphere<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the wide earth, that she might mark and know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By tint and outline, all its sea and land.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She patted all the world; old empires peep’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between her baby fingers; her soft hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was welcome at all frontiers. How she leap’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laugh’d and prattled in her world-wide bliss;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when we turn’d her sweet unlearnèd eye<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On our own isle, she raised a joyous cry—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Oh! yes, I see it, Letty’s home is there!’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And while she hid all England with a kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright over Europe fell her golden hair.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_809" id="page_809">{809}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EDGAR_ALLAN_POE" id="EDGAR_ALLAN_POE"></a>EDGAR ALLAN POE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1809-1849<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_694" id="pm_694">694.</a></p> - -<h3>To Helen</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ELEN, thy beauty is to me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like those Nicèan barks of yore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The weary way-worn wanderer bore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To his own native shore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On desperate seas long wont to roam,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy Naiad airs have brought me home<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the glory that was Greece,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the grandeur that was Rome.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo, in yon brilliant window-niche<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How statue-like I see thee stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The agate lamp within thy hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah! Psyche, from the regions which<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are holy land!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_695" id="pm_695">695.</a></p> - -<h3>Annabel Lee</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T was many and many a year ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In a kingdom by the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That a maiden there lived whom you may know<br /></span> -<span class="i4">By the name of Annabel Lee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this maiden she lived with no other thought<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Than to love and be loved by me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I was a child and she was a child<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In this kingdom by the sea:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But we loved with a love that was more than love—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I and my Annabel Lee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a love that the wingèd seraphs of heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Coveted her and me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_810" id="page_810">{810}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And this was the reason that, long ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In this kingdom by the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My beautiful Annabel Lee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So that her high-born kinsmen came<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And bore her away from me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To shut her up in a sepulchre<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In this kingdom by the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The angels, not half so happy in heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Went envying her and me—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In this kingdom by the sea)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the wind came out of the cloud one night,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But our love it was stronger by far than the love<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of those who were older than we—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of many far wiser than we—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And neither the angels in heaven above,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor the demons down under the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can ever dissever my soul from the soul<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of my darling—my darling—my life and my bride,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In the sepulchre there by the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In her tomb by the sounding sea.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_811" id="page_811">{811}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_696" id="pm_696">696.</a></p> - -<h3>For Annie</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HANK Heaven! the crisis—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The danger is past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lingering illness<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is over at last—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the fever called ‘Living’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is conquer’d at last.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sadly, I know<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am shorn of my strength,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no muscle I move<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I lie at full length:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But no matter—I feel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am better at length.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I rest so composedly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now, in my bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That any beholder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Might fancy me dead—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Might start at beholding me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thinking me dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The moaning and groaning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sighing and sobbing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are quieted now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With that horrible throbbing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At heart—ah, that horrible,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Horrible throbbing!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sickness—the nausea—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The pitiless pain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have ceased, with the fever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That madden’d my brain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the fever called ‘Living’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That burn’d in my brain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_812" id="page_812">{812}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And O! of all tortures<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That torture the worst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has abated—the terrible<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Torture of thirst<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the naphthaline river<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Passion accurst—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have drunk of a water<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That quenches all thirst.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">—Of a water that flows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a lullaby sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From a spring but a very few<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feet under ground—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From a cavern not very far<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down under ground.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And ah! let it never<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be foolishly said<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That my room it is gloomy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And narrow my bed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For man never slept<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In a different bed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, to <i>sleep</i>, you must slumber<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In just such a bed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My tantalized spirit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here blandly reposes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Forgetting, or never<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Regretting its roses—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its old agitations<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of myrtles and roses:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For now, while so quietly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lying, it fancies<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_813" id="page_813">{813}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A holier odour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About it, of pansies—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A rosemary odour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Commingled with pansies—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With rue and the beautiful<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Puritan pansies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And so it lies happily,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bathing in many<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A dream of the truth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the beauty of Annie—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drown’d in a bath<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the tresses of Annie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She tenderly kiss’d me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She fondly caress’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then I fell gently<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To sleep on her breast—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deeply to sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the heaven of her breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the light was extinguish’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She cover’d me warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And she pray’d to the angels<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To keep me from harm—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the queen of the angels<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To shield me from harm.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I lie so composedly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now, in my bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Knowing her love),<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That you fancy me dead<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_814" id="page_814">{814}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I rest so contentedly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now, in my bed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(With her love at my breast),<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That you fancy me dead—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That you shudder to look at me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thinking me dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But my heart it is brighter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than all of the many<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stars in the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For it sparkles with Annie—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It glows with the light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the love of my Annie—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the thought of the light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the eyes of my Annie.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EDWARD_FITZGERALD" id="EDWARD_FITZGERALD"></a>EDWARD FITZGERALD</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1809-1883<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_697" id="pm_697">697.</a></p> - -<h3>Old Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">’T</span>IS a dull sight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see the year dying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When winter winds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Set the yellow wood sighing:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sighing, O sighing!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When such a time cometh<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I do retire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into an old room<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside a bright fire:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O, pile a bright fire!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_815" id="page_815">{815}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And there I sit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reading old things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of knights and lorn damsels,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While the wind sings—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O, drearily sings!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I never look out<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor attend to the blast;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For all to be seen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is the leaves falling fast:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Falling, falling!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But close at the hearth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like a cricket, sit I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reading of summer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And chivalry—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gallant chivalry!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then with an old friend<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I talk of our youth—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How ’twas gladsome, but often<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Foolish, forsooth:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But gladsome, gladsome!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or, to get merry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We sing some old rhyme<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That made the wood ring again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In summer time—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet summer time!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then go we smoking,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Silent and snug:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Naught passes between us,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save a brown jug—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sometimes!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_816" id="page_816">{816}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And sometimes a tear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will rise in each eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeing the two old friends<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So merrily—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So merrily!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And ere to bed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Go we, go we,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down on the ashes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We kneel on the knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Praying together!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus, then, live I<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till, ’mid all the gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By Heaven! the bold sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is with me in the room<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shining, shining!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then the clouds part,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swallows soaring between;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spring is alive,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the meadows are green!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I jump up like mad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Break the old pipe in twain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And away to the meadows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The meadows again!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_698" id="pm_698">698.</a></p> - -<h3>From Omar Khayyám</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> BOOK of Verses underneath the Bough,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beside me singing in the Wilderness—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O. Wilderness were Paradise enow!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_817" id="page_817">{817}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Some for the Glories of This World; and some<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sigh for the Prophet’s Paradise to come;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah, take the Cash, and let the Credit go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor heed the rumble of a distant Drum!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Look to the blowing Rose about us—‘Lo,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laughing,’ she says, ‘into the world I blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At once the silken tassel of my Purse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tear, and its Treasure on the Garden throw.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And those who husbanded the Golden grain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And those who flung it to the winds like Rain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As, buried once, Men want dug up again.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HINK, in this batter’d Caravanserai<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose Portals are alternate Night and Day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How Sultán after Sultán with his Pomp<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Abode his destined Hour, and went his way.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They say the Lion and the Lizard keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank deep:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Bahrám, that great Hunter—the wild Ass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stamps o’er his Head, but cannot break his Sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I sometimes think that never blows so red<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Rose as where some buried Cæsar bled;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That every Hyacinth the Garden wears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dropt in her Lap from some once lovely Head.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And this reviving Herb whose tender Green<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fledges the River-Lip on which we lean—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah, lean upon it lightly! for who knows<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From what once lovely Lip it springs unseen!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_818" id="page_818">{818}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, my Belovèd, fill the Cup that clears<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">To-day</span> of past Regrets and Future Fears:<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>To-morrow!</i>—Why, To-morrow I may be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Myself with Yesterday’s Sev’n thousand Years.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For some we loved, the loveliest and the best<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And one by one crept silently to rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And we, that now make merry in the Room<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Descend—ourselves to make a Couch—for whom?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before we too into the Dust descend;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dust unto Dust, and under Dust to lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and—sans End!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>H, with the Grape my fading Life provide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wash my Body whence the Life has died,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lay me, shrouded in the living Leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By some not unfrequented Garden-side....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yon rising Moon that looks for us again—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How oft hereafter rising look for us<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through this same Garden—and for <i>one</i> in vain!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when like her, O Sákí, you shall pass<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Among the Guests star-scatter’d on the Grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in your joyous errand reach the spot<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I made One—turn down an empty Glass!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_819" id="page_819">{819}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ALFRED_TENNYSON_LORD_TENNYSON" id="ALFRED_TENNYSON_LORD_TENNYSON"></a>ALFRED TENNYSON, LORD TENNYSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1809-1892<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_699" id="pm_699">699.</a></p> - -<h3>Mariana</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH blackest moss the flower-plots<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were thickly crusted, one and all:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rusted nails fell from the knots<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That held the pear to the gable-wall.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The broken sheds look’d sad and strange:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unlifted was the clinking latch;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weeded and worn the ancient thatch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon the lonely moated grange.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She only said, ‘My life is dreary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">He cometh not,’ she said;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She said, ‘I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I would that I were dead!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her tears fell with the dews at even;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her tears fell ere the dews were dried;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She could not look on the sweet heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Either at morn or eventide.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After the flitting of the bats,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When thickest dark did trance the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She drew her casement-curtain by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And glanced athwart the glooming flats.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She only said, ‘The night is dreary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">He cometh not,’ she said;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She said, ‘I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I would that I were dead!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Upon the middle of the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Waking she heard the night-fowl crow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cock sung out an hour ere light:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the dark fen the oxen’s low<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_820" id="page_820">{820}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came to her: without hope of change,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In sleep she seem’d to walk forlorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">About the lonely moated grange.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She only said, ‘The day is dreary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">He cometh not,’ she said;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She said, ‘I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I would that I were dead!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">About a stone-cast from the wall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A sluice with blacken’d waters slept,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And o’er it many, round and small,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cluster’d marish-mosses crept.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hard by a poplar shook alway,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All silver-green with gnarlèd bark:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For leagues no other tree did mark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The level waste, the rounding gray.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She only said, ‘My life is dreary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">He cometh not,’ she said;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She said, ‘I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I would that I were dead!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And ever when the moon was low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the shrill winds were up and away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the white curtain, to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She saw the gusty shadow sway.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when the moon was very low,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wild winds bound within their cell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shadow of the poplar fell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon her bed, across her brow.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She only said, ‘The night is dreary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">He cometh not,’ she said;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She said, ‘I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I would that I were dead!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_821" id="page_821">{821}</a></span>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All day within the dreamy house,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The doors upon their hinges creak’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or from the crevice peer’d about.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Old faces glimmer’d thro’ the doors,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Old footsteps trod the upper floors,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Old voices call’d her from without.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She only said, ‘My life is dreary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">He cometh not,’ she said;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She said, ‘I am aweary, aweary,’<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I would that I were dead!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sparrow’s chirrup on the roof,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The slow clock ticking, and the sound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which to the wooing wind aloof<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The poplar made, did all confound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her sense; but most she loathed the hour<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the thick-moted sunbeam lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Athwart the chambers, and the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was sloping toward his western bower.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then, said she, ‘I am very dreary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">He will not come,’ she said;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She wept, ‘I am aweary, aweary,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O God, that I were dead!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_700" id="pm_700">700.</a></p> - -<h3><i>The Lady of Shalott</i></h3> - -<h4><span class="smcap">Part I</span></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>N either side the river lie<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long fields of barley and of rye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That clothe the wold and meet the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thro’ the field the road runs by<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To many-tower’d Camelot;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_822" id="page_822">{822}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And up and down the people go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gazing where the lilies blow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round an island there below,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The island of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Willows whiten, aspens quiver,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little breezes dusk and shiver<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thro’ the wave that runs for ever<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the island in the river<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Flowing down to Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Four gray walls, and four gray towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Overlook a space of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the silent isle imbowers<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By the margin, willow-veil’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slide the heavy barges trail’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By slow horses; and unhail’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shallop flitteth silken-sail’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Skimming down to Camelot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But who hath seen her wave her hand?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or at the casement seen her stand?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or is she known in all the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Lady of Shalott?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Only reapers, reaping early<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In among the bearded barley,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hear a song that echoes cheerly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the river winding clearly,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Down to tower’d Camelot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by the moon the reaper weary,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Piling sheaves in uplands airy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Listening, whispers ‘<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tis the fairy<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lady of Shalott.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_823" id="page_823">{823}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h4 class="nonnit"><span class="smcap">Part II</span></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE she weaves by night and day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A magic web with colours gay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She has heard a whisper say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A curse is on her if she stay<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To look down to Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She knows not what the curse may be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so she weaveth steadily,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And little other care hath she,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And moving thro’ a mirror clear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hangs before her all the year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shadows of the world appear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There she sees the highway near<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Winding down to Camelot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There the river eddy whirls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there the surly village-churls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the red cloaks of market girls,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Pass onward from Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An abbot on an ambling pad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or long-hair’d page in crimson clad,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Goes by to tower’d Camelot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And sometimes thro’ the mirror blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The knights come riding two and two:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She hath no loyal knight and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But in her web she still delights<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To weave the mirror’s magic sights,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_824" id="page_824">{824}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">For often thro’ the silent nights<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A funeral, with plumes and lights,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And music, went to Camelot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or when the moon was overhead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Came two young lovers lately wed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘I am half sick of shadows,’ said<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4 class="nonnit"><span class="smcap">Part III</span></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> BOW-shot from her bower-eaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He rode between the barley-sheaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun came dazzling thro’ the leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flamed upon the brazen greaves<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of bold Sir Lancelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A red-cross knight for ever kneel’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a lady in his shield,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sparkled on the yellow field,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Beside remote Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The gemmy bridle glitter’d free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like to some branch of stars we see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hung in the golden Galaxy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bridle bells rang merrily<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As he rode down to Camelot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from his blazon’d baldric slung<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A mighty silver bugle hung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as he rode his armour rung,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Beside remote Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All in the blue unclouded weather<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thick-jewell’d shone the saddle-leather,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The helmet and the helmet-feather<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burn’d like one burning flame together,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As he rode down to Camelot.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_825" id="page_825">{825}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">As often thro’ the purple night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Below the starry clusters bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some bearded meteor, trailing light,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Moves over still Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On burnish’d hooves his war-horse trode;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From underneath his helmet flow’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His coal-black curls as on he rode,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As he rode down to Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the bank and from the river<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He flash’d into the crystal mirror,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Tirra lirra,’ by the river<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sang Sir Lancelot.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She left the web, she left the loom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She made three paces thro’ the room,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She saw the water-lily bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She saw the helmet and the plume,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">She look’d down to Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out flew the web and floated wide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mirror crack’d from side to side;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘The curse is come upon me!’ cried<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4 class="nonnit"><span class="smcap">Part IV</span></h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N the stormy east-wind straining,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pale yellow woods were waning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The broad stream in his banks complaining,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heavily the low sky raining<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Over tower’d Camelot;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_826" id="page_826">{826}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down she came and found a boat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath a willow left afloat,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round about the prow she wrote<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>The Lady of Shalott</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And down the river’s dim expanse—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like some bold seer in a trance,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seeing all his own mischance—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a glassy countenance<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Did she look to Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at the closing of the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She loosed the chain, and down she lay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The broad stream bore her far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lying, robed in snowy white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That loosely flew to left and right—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leaves upon her falling light—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thro’ the noises of the night<br /></span> -<span class="i6">She floated down to Camelot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And as the boat-head wound along<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The willowy hills and fields among,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They heard her singing her last song,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Lady of Shalott.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heard a carol, mournful, holy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chanted loudly, chanted lowly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till her blood was frozen slowly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her eyes were darkened wholly,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Turn’d to tower’d Camelot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For ere she reach’d upon the tide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The first house by the water-side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singing in her song she died,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Lady of Shalott.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_827" id="page_827">{827}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Under tower and balcony,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By garden-wall and gallery,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A gleaming shape she floated by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dead-pale between the houses high,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Silent into Camelot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out upon the wharfs they came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knight and burgher, lord and dame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And round the prow they read her name,<br /></span> -<span class="i6"><i>The Lady of Shalott</i>.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who is this? and what is here?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the lighted palace near<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Died the sound of royal cheer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they cross’d themselves for fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">All the knights at Camelot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Lancelot mused a little space;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He said, ‘She has a lovely face;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God in His mercy lend her grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Lady of Shalott.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_701" id="pm_701">701.</a></p> - -<h3>The Miller’s Daughter</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T is the miller’s daughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And she is grown so dear, so dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I would be the jewel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That trembles in her ear:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For hid in ringlets day and night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d touch her neck so warm and white.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I would be the girdle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About her dainty dainty waist,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her heart would beat against me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In sorrow and in rest:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I should know if it beat right,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’d clasp it round so close and tight.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_828" id="page_828">{828}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I would be the necklace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all day long to fall and rise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon her balmy bosom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With her laughter or her sighs:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I would lie so light, so light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I scarce should be unclasp’d at night.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_702" id="pm_702">702.</a></p> - -<h3>Song of the Lotos-Eaters</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE is sweet music here that softer falls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than petals from blown roses on the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or night-dews on still waters between walls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than tired eyelids upon tired eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here are cool mosses deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thro’ the moss the ivies creep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why are we weigh’d upon with heaviness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And utterly consumed with sharp distress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While all things else have rest from weariness?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All things have rest: why should we toil alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We only toil, who are the first of things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And make perpetual moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still from one sorrow to another thrown:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor ever fold our wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cease from wanderings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor steep our brows in slumber’s holy balm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor harken what the inner spirit sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘There is no joy but calm!’—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_829" id="page_829">{829}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Lo! in the middle of the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The folded leaf is woo’d from out the bud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With winds upon the branch, and there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grows green and broad, and takes no care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sun-steep’d at noon, and in the moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Falls, and floats adown the air.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! sweeten’d with the summer light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drops in a silent autumn night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All its allotted length of days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flower ripens in its place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hateful is the dark-blue sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vaulted o’er the dark-blue sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death is the end of life; ah, why<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should life all labour be?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in a little while our lips are dumb.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us alone. What is it that will last?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All things are taken from us, and become<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us alone. What pleasure can we have<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To war with evil? Is there any peace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In ever climbing up the climbing wave?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In silence; ripen, fall and cease:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With half-shut eyes ever to seem<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_830" id="page_830">{830}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Falling asleep in a half-dream!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To dream and dream, like yonder amber light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear each other’s whisper’d speech;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eating the Lotos day by day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And tender curving lines of creamy spray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To lend our hearts and spirits wholly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To muse and brood and live again in memory,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With those old faces of our infancy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heap’d over with a mound of grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Dear is the memory of our wedded lives,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dear the last embraces of our wives<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And their warm tears: but all hath suffer’d change;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For surely now our household hearths are cold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or else the island princes over-bold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before them of the ten years’ war in Troy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is there confusion in the little isle?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let what is broken so remain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Gods are hard to reconcile:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis hard to settle order once again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There <i>is</i> confusion worse than death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trouble on trouble, pain on pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long labour unto agèd breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sore task to hearts worn out with many wars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_831" id="page_831">{831}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With half-dropt eyelids still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath a heaven dark and holy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To watch the long bright river drawing slowly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His waters from the purple hill—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear the dewy echoes calling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From cave to cave thro’ the thick-twinèd vine—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To watch the emerald-colour’d water falling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thro’ many a wov’n acanthus-wreath divine!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only to hear were sweet, stretch’d out beneath the pine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Lotos blooms below the barren peak:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Lotos blows by every winding creek:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thro’ every hollow cave and alley lone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We have had enough of action, and of motion we,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roll’d to starboard, roll’d to larboard, when the surge was seething free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurl’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curl’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_832" id="page_832">{832}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a tale of little meaning tho’ the words are strong;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till they perish and they suffer—some, ’tis whisper’d—down in hell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_703" id="pm_703">703.</a></p> - -<h3>St. Agnes’ Eve</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>EEP on the convent-roof the snows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are sparkling to the moon:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My breath to heaven like vapour goes:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May my soul follow soon!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shadows of the convent-towers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Slant down the snowy sward,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still creeping with the creeping hours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That lead me to my Lord:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Make Thou my spirit pure and clear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As are the frosty skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or this first snowdrop of the year<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That in my bosom lies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As these white robes are soil’d and dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To yonder shining ground;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_833" id="page_833">{833}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">As this pale taper’s earthly spark,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To yonder argent round;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So shows my soul before the Lamb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My spirit before Thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So in mine earthly house I am,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To that I hope to be.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Break up the heavens, O Lord! and far,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thro’ all yon starlight keen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Draw me, thy bride, a glittering star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In raiment white and clean.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He lifts me to the golden doors;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flashes come and go;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All heaven bursts her starry floors,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And strows her lights below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And deepens on and up! the gates<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Roll back, and far within<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For me the Heavenly Bridegroom waits,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To make me pure of sin.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sabbaths of Eternity,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One sabbath deep and wide—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A light upon the shining sea—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Bridegroom with his bride!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_704" id="pm_704">704.</a></p> - -<h3>Blow, Bugle, blow</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">T</span>HE splendour falls on castle walls<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And snowy summits old in story:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The long light shakes across the lakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And the wild cataract leaps in glory.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_834" id="page_834">{834}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i4">O hark, O hear! how thin and clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And thinner, clearer, farther going!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O sweet and far from cliff and scar<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">O love, they die in yon rich sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">They faint on hill or field or river:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our echoes roll from soul to soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And grow for ever and for ever.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_705" id="pm_705">705.</a></p> - -<h3>Summer Night</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OW sleeps the crimson petal, now the white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The firefly wakens: waken thou with me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all thy heart lies open unto me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Now folds the lily all her sweetness up,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And slips into the bosom of the lake:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into my bosom and be lost in me.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_835" id="page_835">{835}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_706" id="pm_706">706.</a></p> - -<h3>Come down, O Maid</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME down, O maid, from yonder mountain height:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang).<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In height and cold, the splendour of the hills?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sit a star upon the sparkling spire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And come, for Love is of the valley, come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Love is of the valley, come thou down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And find him; by the happy threshold, he,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or red with spirted purple of the vats,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or foxlike in the vine; nor cares to walk<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Death and Morning on the silver horns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To roll the torrent out of dusky doors:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But follow; let the torrent dance thee down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To find him in the valley; let the wild<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, and leave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That like a broken purpose waste in air:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So waste not thou; but come; for all the vales<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Await thee; azure pillars of the hearth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arise to thee; the children call, and I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro’ the lawn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The moan of doves in immemorial elms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And murmuring of innumerable bees.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_836" id="page_836">{836}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_707" id="pm_707">707.</a></p> - -<h3>From ‘In Memoriam’</h3> - -<p class="c">(ARTHUR HENRY HALLAM, MDCCCXXXIII)</p> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>AIR ship, that from the Italian shore<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sailest the placid ocean-plains<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With my lost Arthur’s loved remains,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spread thy full wings, and waft him o’er.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So draw him home to those that mourn<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In vain; a favourable speed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ruffle thy mirror’d mast, and lead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thro’ prosperous floods his holy urn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All night no ruder air perplex<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy sliding keel, till Phosphor, bright<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As our pure love, thro’ early light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall glimmer on the dewy decks.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sphere all your lights around, above;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sleep, gentle heavens, before the prow;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sleep, gentle winds, as he sleeps now,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My friend, the brother of my love;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My Arthur, whom I shall not see<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Till all my widow’d race be run;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dear as the mother to the son,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More than my brothers are to me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> HEAR the noise about thy keel;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I hear the bell struck in the night;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I see the cabin-window bright;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I see the sailor at the wheel.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_837" id="page_837">{837}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Thou bring’st the sailor to his wife,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And travell’d men from foreign lands;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And letters unto trembling hands;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, thy dark freight, a vanish’d life.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So bring him: we have idle dreams:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">This look of quiet flatters thus<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our home-bred fancies: O to us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fools of habit, sweeter seems<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To rest beneath the clover sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That takes the sunshine and the rains,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or where the kneeling hamlet drains<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chalice of the grapes of God;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Than if with thee the roaring wells<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Should gulf him fathom-deep in brine;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And hands so often clasp’d in mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Should toss with tangle and with shells.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>III</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>ALM is the morn without a sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Calm as to suit a calmer grief,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And only thro’ the faded leaf<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The chestnut pattering to the ground:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Calm and deep peace on this high wold,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And on these dews that drench the furze,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all the silvery gossamers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That twinkle into green and gold:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Calm and still light on yon great plain<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That sweeps with all its autumn bowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And crowded farms and lessening towers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mingle with the bounding main:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_838" id="page_838">{838}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Calm and deep peace in this wide air,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">These leaves that redden to the fall;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And in my heart, if calm at all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If any calm, a calm despair:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And waves that sway themselves in rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And dead calm in that noble breast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which heaves but with the heaving deep.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IV</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O-night the winds begin to rise<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And roar from yonder dropping day:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The last red leaf is whirl’d away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rooks are blown about the skies;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The forest crack’d, the waters curl’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The cattle huddled on the lea;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And wildly dash’d on tower and tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sunbeam strikes along the world:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And but for fancies, which aver<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That all thy motions gently pass<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Athwart a plane of molten glass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I scarce could brook the strain and stir<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That makes the barren branches loud;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And but for fear it is not so,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The wild unrest that lives in woe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would dote and pore on yonder cloud<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That rises upward always higher,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And onward drags a labouring breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And topples round the dreary west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A looming bastion fringed with fire.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_839" id="page_839">{839}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h4>V</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HOU comest, much wept for: such a breeze<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Compell’d thy canvas, and my prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Was as the whisper of an air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To breathe thee over lonely seas.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For I in spirit saw thee move<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thro’ circles of the bounding sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Week after week: the days go by:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come quick, thou bringest all I love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Henceforth, wherever thou mayst roam<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My blessing, like a line of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is on the waters day and night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like a beacon guards thee home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So may whatever tempest mars<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mid-ocean, spare thee, sacred bark;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And balmy drops in summer dark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slide from the bosom of the stars.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So kind an office hath been done,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Such precious relics brought by thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The dust of him I shall not see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till all my widow’d race be run.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OW, sometimes in my sorrow shut,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or breaking into song by fits,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Alone, alone, to where he sits,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Shadow cloak’d from head to foot,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who keeps the keys of all the creeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I wander, often falling lame,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And looking back to whence I came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or on to where the pathway leads;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_840" id="page_840">{840}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And crying, How changed from where it ran<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thro’ lands where not a leaf was dumb;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But all the lavish hills would hum<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The murmur of a happy Pan:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When each by turns was guide to each,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And Fancy light from Fancy caught,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And Thought leapt out to wed with Thought<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere Thought could wed itself with Speech;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And all we met was fair and good,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all was good that Time could bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all the secret of the Spring<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moved in the chambers of the blood;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And many an old philosophy<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On Argive heights divinely sang,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And round us all the thicket rang<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To many a flute of Arcady.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>OW fares it with the happy dead?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For here the man is more and more;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But he forgets the days before<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God shut the doorways of his head.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The days have vanish’d, tone and tint,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And yet perhaps the hoarding sense<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Gives out at times (he knows not whence)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A little flash, a mystic hint;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in the long harmonious years<br /></span> -<span class="i4">(If Death so taste Lethean springs)<br /></span> -<span class="i4">May some dim touch of earthly things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surprise thee ranging with thy peers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_841" id="page_841">{841}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">If such a dreamy touch should fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O turn thee round, resolve the doubt;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My guardian angel will speak out<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In that high place, and tell thee all.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>VIII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE wish, that of the living whole<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No life may fail beyond the grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Derives it not from what we have<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The likest God within the soul?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Are God and Nature then at strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That Nature lends such evil dreams?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So careful of the type she seems,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So careless of the single life;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">That I, considering everywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Her secret meaning in her deeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And finding that of fifty seeds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She often brings but one to bear,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I falter where I firmly trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And falling with my weight of cares<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Upon the great world’s altar-stairs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That slope thro’ darkness up to God,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I stretch lame hands of faith, and grope,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And gather dust and chaff, and call<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To what I feel is Lord of all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And faintly trust the larger hope.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>IX</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘S</span>O careful of the type?’ but no.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From scarpèd cliff and quarried stone<br /></span> -<span class="i4">She cries, ‘A thousand types are gone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I care for nothing, all shall go.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_842" id="page_842">{842}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Thou makest thine appeal to me:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I bring to life, I bring to death:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The spirit does but mean the breath:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I know no more.’ And he, shall he,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Man, her last work, who seem’d so fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Such splendid purpose in his eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who roll’d the psalm to wintry skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who built him fanes of fruitless prayer,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who trusted God was love indeed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And love Creation’s final law—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tho’ Nature, red in tooth and claw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With ravine, shriek’d against his creed—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who loved, who suffer’d countless ills,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who battled for the True, the Just,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Be blown about the desert dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or seal’d within the iron hills?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No more? A monster then, a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A discord. Dragons of the prime,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That tare each other in their slime,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were mellow music matched with him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O life as futile, then as frail!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O for thy voice to soothe and bless!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What hope of answer, or redress?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behind the veil, behind the veil.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>X</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>NWATCH’d, the garden bough shall sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The tender blossom flutter down;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Unloved, that beech will gather brown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This maple burn itself away;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_843" id="page_843">{843}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unloved, the sunflower, shining fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ray round with flames her disk of seed,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And many a rose-carnation feed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With summer spice the humming air;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Unloved, by many a sandy bar,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The brook shall babble down the plain,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At noon or when the lesser wain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is twisting round the polar star;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Uncared for, gird the windy grove,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And flood the haunts of hern and crake;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or into silver arrows break<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sailing moon in creek and cove;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till from the garden and the wild<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A fresh association blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And year by year the landscape grow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Familiar to the stranger’s child;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As year by year the labourer tills<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His wonted glebe, or lops the glades;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And year by year our memory fades<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From all the circle of the hills.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XI</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OW fades the last long streak of snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Now burgeons every maze of quick<br /></span> -<span class="i4">About the flowering squares, and thick<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By ashen roots the violets blow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now rings the woodland loud and long,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The distance takes a lovelier hue,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And drown’d in yonder living blue<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lark becomes a sightless song.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_844" id="page_844">{844}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Now dance the lights on lawn and lea,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The flocks are whiter down the vale,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And milkier every milky sail<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On winding stream or distant sea;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where now the seamew pipes, or dives<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In yonder greening gleam, and fly<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The happy birds, that change their sky<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To build and brood; that live their lives<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From land to land; and in my breast<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Spring wakens too; and my regret<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Becomes an April violet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And buds and blossoms like the rest.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>XII</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE is and was my Lord and King,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And in his presence I attend<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To hear the tidings of my friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which every hour his couriers bring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love is and was my King and Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And will be, tho’ as yet I keep<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Within his court on earth, and sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Encompass’d by his faithful guard,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And hear at times a sentinel<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who moves about from place to place,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And whispers to the worlds of space,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the deep night, that all is well.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_845" id="page_845">{845}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_708" id="pm_708">708.</a></p> - -<h3>Maud</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME into the garden, Maud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the black bat, Night, has flown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come into the garden, Maud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am here at the gate alone;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the musk of the roses blown.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For a breeze of morning moves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the planet of Love is on high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beginning to faint in the light that she loves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On a bed of daffodil sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To faint in the light of the sun she loves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To faint in his light, and to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All night have the roses heard<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flute, violin, bassoon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night has the casement jessamine stirr’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the dancers dancing in tune;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till a silence fell with the waking bird,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a hush with the setting moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I said to the lily, ‘There is but one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With whom she has heart to be gay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When will the dancers leave her alone?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She is weary of dance and play.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now half to the setting moon are gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And half to the rising day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low on the sand and loud on the stone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The last wheel echoes away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I said to the rose, ‘The brief night goes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In babble and revel and wine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_846" id="page_846">{846}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">O young lord-lover, what sighs are those<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For one that will never be thine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But mine, but mine,’ so I sware to the rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘For ever and ever, mine.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the soul of the rose went into my blood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the music clash’d in the hall;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And long by the garden lake I stood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For I heard your rivulet fall<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the lake to the meadow and on to the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our wood, that is dearer than all;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From the meadow your walks have left so sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That whenever a March-wind sighs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sets the jewel-print of your feet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In violets blue as your eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the woody hollows in which we meet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the valleys of Paradise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The slender acacia would not shake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One long milk-bloom on the tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The white lake-blossom fell into the lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the pimpernel dozed on the lea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the rose was awake all night for your sake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Knowing your promise to me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lilies and roses were all awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They sigh’d for the dawn and thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Queen rose of the rosebud garden of girls,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come hither, the dances are done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In gloss of satin and glimmer of pearls,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Queen lily and rose in one;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine out, little head, sunning over with curls.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the flowers, and be their sun.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_847" id="page_847">{847}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">There has fallen a splendid tear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the passion-flower at the gate.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is coming, my dove, my dear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She is coming, my life, my fate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The red rose cries, ‘She is near, she is near;’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the white rose weeps, ‘She is late,’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The larkspur listens, ‘I hear, I hear;’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the lily whispers, ‘I wait.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She is coming, my own, my sweet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were it ever so airy a tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart would hear her and beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were it earth in an earthy bed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My dust would hear her and beat,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had I lain for a century dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would start and tremble under her feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And blossom in purple and red.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_709" id="pm_709">709.</a></p> - -<h3>O that ’twere possible</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> THAT ’twere possible<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After long grief and pain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To find the arms of my true love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round me once again!...<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A shadow flits before me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not thou, but like to thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, Christ! that it were possible<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For one short hour to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The souls we loved, that they might tell us<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What and where they be!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_848" id="page_848">{848}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RICHARD_MONCKTON_MILNES_LORD_HOUGHTON" id="RICHARD_MONCKTON_MILNES_LORD_HOUGHTON"></a>RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES, LORD HOUGHTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1809-1885<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_710" id="pm_710">710.</a></p> - -<h3>Shadows</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HEY seem’d, to those who saw them meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The casual friends of every day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her smile was undisturb’d and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His courtesy was free and gay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But yet if one the other’s name<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In some unguarded moment heard,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The heart you thought so calm and tame<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would struggle like a captured bird:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And letters of mere formal phrase<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were blister’d with repeated tears,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this was not the work of days,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But had gone on for years and years!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas, that love was not too strong<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For maiden shame and manly pride!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas, that they delay’d so long<br /></span> -<span class="i1">The goal of mutual bliss beside!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet what no chance could then reveal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And neither would be first to own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let fate and courage now conceal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When truth could bring remorse alone.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_849" id="page_849">{849}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_ALFORD" id="HENRY_ALFORD"></a>HENRY ALFORD</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1810-1871<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_711" id="pm_711">711.</a></p> - -<h3>The Bride</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘R</span>ISE,’ said the Master, ‘come unto the feast.’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She heard the call and rose with willing feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But thinking it not otherwise than meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For such a bidding to put on her best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is gone from us for a few short hours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into her bridal closet, there to wait<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the unfolding of the palace gate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That gives her entrance to the blissful bowers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We have not seen her yet, though we have been<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full often to her chamber door, and oft<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have listen’d underneath the postern green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laid fresh flowers, and whisper’d short and soft.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But she hath made no answer, and the day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the clear west is fading fast away.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SIR_SAMUEL_FERGUSON" id="SIR_SAMUEL_FERGUSON"></a>SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1810-1886<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_712" id="pm_712">712.</a></p> - -<h3>Cean Dubh Deelish</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>UT your head, darling, darling, darling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your darling black head my heart above;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O mouth of honey, with thyme for fragrance,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who, with heart in breast, could deny you love?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O many and many a young girl for me is pining.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Letting her locks of gold to the cold wind free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For me, the foremost of our gay young fellows;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But I’d leave a hundred, pure love, for thee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_713" id="pm_713">713.</a></p> - -<h3>Cashel of Munster</h3> - -<p class="c">FROM THE IRISH</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’d wed you without herds, without money or rich array.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’d wed you on a dewy morn at day-dawn gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My bitter woe it is, love, that we are not far away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Cashel town, tho’ the bare deal board were our marriage-bed this day!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O fair maid, remember the green hill-side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remember how I hunted about the valleys wide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time now has worn me; my locks are turn’d to gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The year is scarce and I am poor—but send me not, love, away!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O deem not my blood is of base strain, my girl;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O think not my birth was as the birth of a churl;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Marry me and prove me, and say soon you will<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That noble blood is written on my right side still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My purse holds no red gold, no coin of the silver white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No herds are mine to drive through the long twilight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the pretty girl that would take me, all bare tho’ I be and lone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, I’d take her with me kindly to the county Tyrone!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O my girl, I can see ’tis in trouble you are;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And O my girl, I see ’tis your people’s reproach you bear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—<i>I am a girl in trouble for his sake with whom I fly,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>And, O, may no other maiden know such reproach as I!</i><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_851" id="page_851">{851}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_714" id="pm_714">714.</a></p> - -<h3>The Fair Hills of Ireland</h3> - -<p class="c">FROM THE IRISH</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> PLENTEOUS place is Ireland for hospitable cheer,<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Uileacan dubh O!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the wholesome fruit is bursting from the yellow barley ear;<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Uileacan dubh O!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is honey in the trees where her misty vales expand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her forest paths in summer are by falling waters fann’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is dew at high noontide there, and springs i’ the yellow sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">On the fair hills of holy Ireland.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Curl’d he is and ringleted, and plaited to the knee—<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Uileacan dubh O!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each captain who comes sailing across the Irish Sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Uileacan dubh O!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I will make my journey, if life and health but stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto that pleasant country, that fresh and fragrant strand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And leave your boasted braveries, your wealth and high command,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">For the fair hills of holy Ireland.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Large and profitable are the stacks upon the ground,<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Uileacan dubh O!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The butter and the cream do wondrously abound;<br /></span> -<span class="i8"><i>Uileacan dubh O!</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cresses on the water and the sorrels are at hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the cuckoo’s calling daily his note of music bland,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the bold thrush sings so bravely his song i’ the forests grand,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">On the fair hills of holy Ireland.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_852" id="page_852">{852}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_BROWNING" id="ROBERT_BROWNING"></a>ROBERT BROWNING</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1812-1889<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_715" id="pm_715">715.</a></p> - -<h3>Song from ‘Paracelsus’</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>EAP cassia, sandal-buds and stripes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of labdanum, and aloe-balls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smear’d with dull nard an Indian wipes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From out her hair: such balsam falls<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down sea-side mountain pedestals,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From tree-tops where tired winds are fain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spent with the vast and howling main,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To treasure half their island-gain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And strew faint sweetness from some old<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Egyptian’s fine worm-eaten shroud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which breaks to dust when once unroll’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or shredded perfume, like a cloud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From closet long to quiet vow’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With moth’d and dropping arras hung,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mouldering her lute and books among,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As when a queen, long dead, was young.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_716" id="pm_716">716.</a></p> - -<h3>The Wanderers</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>VER the sea our galleys went,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With cleaving prows in order brave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To a speeding wind and a bounding wave—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A gallant armament:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each bark built out of a forest-tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Left leafy and rough as first it grew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nail’d all over the gaping sides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within and without, with black bull-hides,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seethed in fat and suppled in flame,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_853" id="page_853">{853}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">To bear the playful billows’ game;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, each good ship was rude to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rude and bare to the outward view.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But each upbore a stately tent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where cedar pales in scented row<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kept out the flakes of the dancing brine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And an awning droop’d the mast below,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In fold on fold of the purple fine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That neither noontide nor star-shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor moonlight cold which maketh mad,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Might pierce the regal tenement.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the sun dawn’d, O, gay and glad<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We set the sail and plied the oar;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when the night-wind blew like breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For joy of one day’s voyage more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We sang together on the wide sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like men at peace on a peaceful shore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each sail was loosed to the wind so free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each helm made sure by the twilight star,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in a sleep as calm as death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We, the voyagers from afar,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lay stretch’d along, each weary crew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a circle round its wondrous tent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence gleam’d soft light and curl’d rich scent,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And with light and perfume, music too:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So the stars wheel’d round, and the darkness past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And at morn we started beside the mast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still each ship was sailing fast!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, one morn, land appear’d—a speck<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim trembling betwixt sea and sky—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Avoid it,’ cried our pilot, ‘check<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The shout, restrain the eager eye!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_854" id="page_854">{854}</a></span>’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the heaving sea was black behind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For many a night and many a day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And land, though but a rock, drew nigh<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So we broke the cedar pales away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the purple awning flap in the wind,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a statue bright was on every deck!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We shouted, every man of us,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And steer’d right into the harbour thus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With pomp and pæan glorious.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A hundred shapes of lucid stone!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All day we built its shrine for each,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shrine of rock for every one,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor paused till in the westering sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We sat together on the beach<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sing because our task was done;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When lo! what shouts and merry songs!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What laughter all the distance stirs!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A loaded raft with happy throngs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of gentle islanders!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Our isles are just at hand,’ they cried,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Like cloudlets faint in even sleeping;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our temple-gates are open’d wide,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our olive-groves thick shade are keeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For these majestic forms’—they cried.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, then we awoke with sudden start<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From our deep dream, and knew, too late,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How bare the rock, how desolate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which had received our precious freight:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet we call’d out—‘Depart!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our gifts, once given, must here abide:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our work is done; we have no heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To mar our work,’—we cried.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_855" id="page_855">{855}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_717" id="pm_717">717.</a></p> - -<h3>Thus the Mayne glideth</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HUS the Mayne glideth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where my Love abideth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleep’s no softer: it proceeds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On through lawns, on through meads,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On and on, whate’er befall.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meandering and musical,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though the niggard pasturage<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bears not on its shaven ledge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aught but weeds and waving grasses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To view the river as it passes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save here and there a scanty patch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of primroses too faint to catch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A weary bee.... And scarce it pushes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its gentle way through strangling rushes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the glossy kingfisher<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flutters when noon-heats are near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glad the shelving banks to shun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Red and steaming in the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the shrew-mouse with pale throat<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burrows, and the speckled stoat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the quick sandpipers flit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In and out the marl and grit<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That seems to breed them, brown as they;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Naught disturbs its quiet way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save some lazy stork that springs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trailing it with legs and wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whom the shy fox from the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rouses, creep he ne’er so still.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_856" id="page_856">{856}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_718" id="pm_718">718.</a></p> - -<h3>Pippa’s Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE year’s at the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And day’s at the morn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Morning’s at seven;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hill-side’s dew-pearl’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The lark’s on the wing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The snail’s on the thorn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s in His heaven—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All’s right with the world!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_719" id="pm_719">719.</a></p> - -<h3>You’ll love Me yet</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU’ll love me yet!—and I can tarry<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your love’s protracted growing:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">June rear’d that bunch of flowers you carry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From seeds of April’s sowing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I plant a heartful now: some seed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At least is sure to strike,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yield—what you’ll not pluck indeed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not love, but, may be, like.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You’ll look at least on love’s remains,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A grave’s one violet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your look?—that pays a thousand pains.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What’s death? You’ll love me yet!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_720" id="pm_720">720.</a></p> - -<h3>Porphyria’s Lover</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE rain set early in to-night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sullen wind was soon awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It tore the elm-tops down for spite,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And did its worst to vex the lake:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_857" id="page_857">{857}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">I listen’d with heart fit to break.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When glided in Porphyria; straight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She shut the cold out and the storm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kneel’d and made the cheerless grate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blaze up, and all the cottage warm;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which done, she rose, and from her form<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Withdrew the dripping cloak and shawl,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laid her soil’d gloves by, untied<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her hat and let the damp hair fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, last, she sat down by my side<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And call’d me. When no voice replied,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She put my arm about her waist,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And made her smooth white shoulder bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all her yellow hair displaced,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, stooping, made my cheek lie there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And spread, o’er all, her yellow hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Murmuring how she loved me—she<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too weak, for all her heart’s endeavour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To set its struggling passion free<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From pride, and vainer ties dissever,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And give herself to me for ever.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But passion sometimes would prevail,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor could to-night’s gay feast restrain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sudden thought of one so pale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For love of her, and all in vain:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So, she was come through wind and rain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be sure I look’d up at her eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Happy and proud; at last I knew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Porphyria worshipp’d me; surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Made my heart swell, and still it grew<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While I debated what to do.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That moment she was mine, mine, fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Perfectly pure and good: I found<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_858" id="page_858">{858}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">A thing to do, and all her hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In one long yellow string I wound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Three times her little throat around,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And strangled her. No pain felt she;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am quite sure she felt no pain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a shut bud that holds a bee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I warily oped her lids: again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laugh’d the blue eyes without a stain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I untighten’d next the tress<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About her neck; her cheek once more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blush’d bright beneath my burning kiss:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I propp’d her head up as before,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only, this time my shoulder bore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her head, which droops upon it still:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The smiling rosy little head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So glad it has its utmost will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That all it scorn’d at once is fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I, its love, am gain’d instead!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Porphyria’s love: she guess’d not how<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her darling one wish would be heard.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thus we sit together now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all night long we have not stirr’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yet God has not said a word!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_721" id="pm_721">721.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>AY but you, who do not love her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is she not pure gold, my mistress?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holds earth aught—speak truth—above her?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Aught like this tress, see, and this tress,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this last fairest tress of all,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So fair, see, ere I let it fall?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_859" id="page_859">{859}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Because, you spend your lives in praising;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To praise, you search the wide world over:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then why not witness, calmly gazing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If earth holds aught—speak truth—above her?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Above this tress, and this, I touch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But cannot praise, I love so much!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_722" id="pm_722">722.</a></p> - -<h3>Earl Mertoun’s Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE’s a woman like a dewdrop, she’s so purer than the purest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her noble heart’s the noblest, yes, and her sure faith’s the surest:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of lustre<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hid i’ the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape cluster,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck’s rose-misted marble:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then her voice’s music ... call it the well’s bubbling, the bird’s warble!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And this woman says, ‘My days were sunless and my nights were moonless,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Parch’d the pleasant April herbage, and the lark’s heart’s outbreak tuneless,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If you loved me not!’ And I who (ah, for words of flame!) adore her,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palpably before her—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I may enter at her portal soon, as now her lattice takes me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers she makes me!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_860" id="page_860">{860}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_723" id="pm_723">723.</a></p> - -<h3>In a Gondola</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE moth’s kiss, first!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss me as if you made me believe<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You were not sure, this eve,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How my face, your flower, had pursed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its petals up; so, here and there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You brush it, till I grow aware<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who wants me, and wide ope I burst.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The bee’s kiss, now!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kiss me as if you enter’d gay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart at some noonday,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bud that dares not disallow<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The claim, so all is render’d up,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And passively its shatter’d cup<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over your head to sleep I bow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_724" id="pm_724">724.</a></p> - -<h3>Meeting at Night</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE gray sea and the long black land;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the yellow half-moon large and low;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the startled little waves that leap<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In fiery ringlets from their sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I gain the cove with pushing prow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Three fields to cross till a farm appears;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blue spurt of a lighted match,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a voice less loud, thro’ its joys and fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than the two hearts beating each to each!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_861" id="page_861">{861}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_725" id="pm_725">725.</a></p> - -<h3>Parting at Morning</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">R</span>OUND the cape of a sudden came the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sun look’d over the mountain’s rim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And straight was a path of gold for him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the need of a world of men for me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_726" id="pm_726">726.</a></p> - -<h3>The Lost Mistress</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL’s over, then: does truth sound bitter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As one at first believes?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark, ’tis the sparrows’ good-night twitter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">About your cottage eaves!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I noticed that, to-day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One day more bursts them open fully<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—You know the red turns gray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May I take your hand in mine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mere friends are we,—well, friends the merest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Keep much that I resign:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For each glance of the eye so bright and black,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though I keep with heart’s endeavour,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your voice, when you wish the snowdrops back,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though it stay in my soul for ever!—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet I will but say what mere friends say,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or only a thought stronger;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will hold your hand but as long as all may,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or so very little longer!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_862" id="page_862">{862}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_727" id="pm_727">727.</a></p> - -<h3>The Last Ride together</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> SAID—Then, dearest, since ’tis so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since now at length my fate I know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since nothing all my love avails,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Since all, my life seem’d meant for, fails,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since this was written and needs must be—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My whole heart rises up to bless<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your name in pride and thankfulness!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Take back the hope you gave,—I claim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only a memory of the same,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—And this beside, if you will not blame;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your leave for one more last ride with me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My mistress bent that brow of hers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those deep dark eyes where pride demurs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When pity would be softening through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fix’d me a breathing-while or two<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With life or death in the balance: right!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blood replenish’d me again;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My last thought was at least not vain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I and my mistress, side by side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall be together, breathe and ride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So, one day more am I deified.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who knows but the world may end to-night?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hush! if you saw some western cloud<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All billowy-bosom’d, over-bow’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By many benedictions—sun’s<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And moon’s and evening-star’s at once—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And so, you, looking and loving best,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Conscious grew, your passion drew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloud, sunset, moonrise, star-shine too,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_863" id="page_863">{863}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down on you, near and yet more near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till flesh must fade for heaven was here!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus leant she and linger’d—joy and fear!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus lay she a moment on my breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then we began to ride. My soul<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smooth’d itself out, a long-cramp’d scroll<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Freshening and fluttering in the wind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Past hopes already lay behind.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What need to strive with a life awry?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had I said that, had I done this,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So might I gain, so might I miss.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Might she have loved me? just as well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She might have hated, who can tell!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where had I been now if the worst befell?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And here we are riding, she and I.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Fail I alone, in words and deeds?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why, all men strive and who succeeds?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We rode; it seem’d my spirit flew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw other regions, cities new,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the world rush’d by on either side.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thought,—All labour, yet no less<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bear up beneath their unsuccess.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Look at the end of work, contrast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The petty done, the undone vast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This present of theirs with the hopeful past!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I hoped she would love me; here we ride.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What hand and brain went ever pair’d?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What heart alike conceived and dared?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What act proved all its thought had been?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What will but felt the fleshly screen?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We ride and I see her bosom heave.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_864" id="page_864">{864}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s many a crown for who can reach.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ten lines, a statesman’s life in each!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flag stuck on a heap of bones,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A soldier’s doing! what atones?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They scratch his name on the Abbey-stones.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My riding is better, by their leave.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What does it all mean, poet? Well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your brains beat into rhythm, you tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What we felt only; you express’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You hold things beautiful the best,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And pace them in rhyme so, side by side.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis something, nay ’tis much: but then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have you yourself what’s best for men?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are you—poor, sick, old ere your time—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nearer one whit your own sublime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than we who never have turn’d a rhyme?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing, riding’s a joy! For me, I ride.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And you, great sculptor—so, you gave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A score of years to Art, her slave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that’s your Venus, whence we turn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To yonder girl that fords the burn!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You acquiesce, and shall I repine?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What, man of music, you grown gray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With notes and nothing else to say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is this your sole praise from a friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Greatly his opera’s strains intend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But in music we know how fashions end!’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I gave my youth: but we ride, in fine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who knows what’s fit for us? Had fate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Proposed bliss here should sublimate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My being—had I sign’d the bond—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still one must lead some life beyond,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_865" id="page_865">{865}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have a bliss to die with, dim-descried.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This foot once planted on the goal,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This glory-garland round my soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could I descry such? Try and test!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sink back shuddering from the quest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth being so good, would heaven seem best?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now, heaven and she are beyond this ride.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And yet—she has not spoke so long!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What if heaven be that, fair and strong<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At life’s best, with our eyes upturn’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whither life’s flower is first discern’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We, fix’d so, ever should so abide?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What if we still ride on, we two<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With life for ever old yet new,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Changed not in kind but in degree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The instant made eternity,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And heaven just prove that I and she<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ride, ride together, for ever ride?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_728" id="pm_728">728.</a></p> - -<h3>Misconceptions</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">T</span>HIS is a spray the Bird clung to,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Making it blossom with pleasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ere the high tree-top she sprung to,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Fit for her nest and her treasure.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O, what a hope beyond measure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was the poor spray’s, which the flying feet hung to,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So to be singled out, built in, and sung to!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_866" id="page_866">{866}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i4">This is a heart the Queen leant on,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Thrill’d in a minute erratic,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ere the true bosom she bent on,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Meet for love’s regal dalmatic.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O, what a fancy ecstatic<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was the poor heart’s, ere the wanderer went on—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love to be saved for it, proffer’d to, spent on!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_729" id="pm_729">729.</a></p> - -<h3>Home-thoughts, from Abroad</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> TO be in England<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now that April’s there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And whoever wakes in England<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sees, some morning, unaware,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In England—now!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And after April, when May follows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark, where my blossom’d pear-tree in the hedge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leans to the field and scatters on the clover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray’s edge—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest you should think he never could recapture<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The first fine careless rapture!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All will be gay when noontide wakes anew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The buttercups, the little children’s dower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_867" id="page_867">{867}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_730" id="pm_730">730.</a></p> - -<h3>Home-thoughts, from the Sea</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OBLY, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bluish ’mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the dimmest North-east distance dawn’d Gibraltar grand and gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Here and here did England help me: how can I help England?’—say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to God to praise and pray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While Jove’s planet rises yonder, silent over Africa.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_BELL_SCOTT" id="WILLIAM_BELL_SCOTT"></a>WILLIAM BELL SCOTT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1812-1890<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_731" id="pm_731">731.</a></p> - -<h3>The Witch’s Ballad</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> I hae come from far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From a warm land far away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A southern land across the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sailor-lads about the mast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Merry and canny, and kind to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I hae been to yon town<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To try my luck in yon town;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nort, and Mysie, Elspie too.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Right braw we were to pass the gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wi’ gowden clasps on girdles blue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mysie smiled wi’ miminy mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Innocent mouth, miminy mouth;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p><i>731.</i> miminy] prim, demure.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_868" id="page_868">{868}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">E</span>LSPIE wore a scarlet gown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nort’s grey eyes were unco’ gleg.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Castile comb was like a crown.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We walk’d abreast all up the street,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the market up the street;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our hair with marigolds was wound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our bodices with love-knots laced,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our merchandise with tansy bound.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nort had chickens, I had cocks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gamesome cocks, loud-crowing cocks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mysie ducks, and Elspie drakes,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a wee groat or a pound;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We lost nae time wi’ gives and takes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">—Lost nae time, for well we knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In our sleeves full well we knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the gloaming came that night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Duck nor drake, nor hen nor cock<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Would be found by candle-light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And when our chaffering all was done,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All was paid for, sold and done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We drew a glove on ilka hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We sweetly curtsied, each to each,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And deftly danced a saraband.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The market-lassies look’d and laugh’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Left their gear, and look’d and laugh’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They made as they would join the game,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But soon their mithers, wild and wud,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With whack and screech they stopp’d the same.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>gleg] bright, sharp. wud] mad.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_869" id="page_869">{869}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sae loud the tongues o’ randies grew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The flytin’ and the skirlin’ grew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At all the windows in the place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wi’ spoons or knives, wi’ needle or awl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was thrust out every hand and face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And down each stair they throng’d anon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gentle, semple, throng’d anon:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Souter and tailor, frowsy Nan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ancient widow young again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Simpering behind her fan.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Without a choice, against their will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Doited, dazed, against their will,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The market lassie and her mither,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The farmer and his husbandman,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hand in hand dance a’ thegither.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Slow at first, but faster soon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still increasing, wild and fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hoods and mantles, hats and hose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blindly doff’d and cast away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Left them naked, heads and toes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They would have torn us limb from limb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dainty limb from dainty limb;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But never one of them could win<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the line that I had drawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With bleeding thumb a-widdershin.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But there was Jeff the provost’s son,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Jeff the provost’s only son;<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>randies] viragoes. flytin’] scolding. skirlin’] shrieking. souter] -cobbler. doited] mazed. a-widdershin] the wrong way of the sun: or -E. to W. through N.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_870" id="page_870">{870}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE was Father Auld himsel’,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Lombard frae the hostelry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lawyer Peter Fell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All goodly men we singled out,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Waled them well, and singled out,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drew them by the left hand in;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mysie the priest, and Elspie won<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Lombard, Nort the lawyer carle,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I mysel’ the provost’s son.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then, with cantrip kisses seven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Three times round with kisses seven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warp’d and woven there spun we<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arms and legs and flaming hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a whirlwind on the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like a wind that sucks the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over and in and on the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Good sooth it was a mad delight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And every man of all the four<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shut his eyes and laugh’d outright.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Laugh’d as long as they had breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laugh’d while they had sense or breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And close about us coil’d a mist<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of gnats and midges, wasps and flies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the whirlwind shaft it rist.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Drawn up I was right off my feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the mist and off my feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, dancing on each chimney-top,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw a thousand darling imps<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Keeping time with skip and hop.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>waled] chose. cantrip] magic.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_871" id="page_871">{871}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>ND on the provost’s brave ridge-tile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the provost’s grand ridge-tile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Blackamoor first to master me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw, I saw that winsome smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The mouth that did my heart beguile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spoke the great Word over me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the land beyond the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I call’d his name, I call’d aloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alas! I call’d on him aloud;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then he fill’d his hand with stour,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And threw it towards me in the air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My mouse flew out, I lost my pow’r!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My lusty strength, my power were gone;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Power was gone, and all was gone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He will not let me love him more!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of bell and whip and horse’s tail<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He cares not if I find a store.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But I am proud if he is fierce!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am as proud as he is fierce;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll turn about and backward go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I meet again that Blackamoor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he’ll help us then, for he shall know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I seek another paramour.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And we’ll gang once more to yon town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wi’ better luck to yon town;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll walk in silk and cramoisie,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I shall wed the provost’s son<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My lady of the town I’ll be!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>stour] dust. cramoisie] crimson.</p></div><p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_872" id="page_872">{872}</a></span></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OR I was born a crown’d king’s child,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Born and nursed a king’s child,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">King o’ a land ayont the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the Blackamoor kiss’d me first,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And taught me art and glamourie.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Each one in her wame shall hide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her hairy mouse, her wary mouse.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fed on madwort and agramie,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wear amber beads between her breasts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And blind-worm’s skin about her knee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Lombard shall be Elspie’s man,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Elspie’s gowden husband-man;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nort shall take the lawyer’s hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The priest shall swear another vow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ll dance again the saraband!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<div class="blockquot"><p>ayont] beyond. glamourie] wizardry.</p></div> - -<h2><a name="AUBREY_DE_VERE" id="AUBREY_DE_VERE"></a>AUBREY DE VERE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1814-1902<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_732" id="pm_732">732.</a></p> - -<h3>Serenade</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>OFTLY, O midnight Hours!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Move softly o’er the bowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where lies in happy sleep a girl so fair!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For ye have power, men say,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Our hearts in sleep to sway,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And cage cold fancies in a moonlight snare.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Round ivory neck and arm<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Enclasp a separate charm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hang o’er her poised, but breathe nor sigh nor prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Silently ye may smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But hold your breath the while,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And let the wind sweep back your cloudy hair!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_873" id="page_873">{873}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bend down your glittering urns,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ere yet the dawn returns,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And star with dew the lawn her feet shall tread;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Upon the air rain balm,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bid all the woods be calm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ambrosial dreams with healthful slumbers wed;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That so the Maiden may<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With smiles your care repay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When from her couch she lifts her golden head;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Waking with earliest birds,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ere yet the misty herds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leave warm ’mid the gray grass their dusky bed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_733" id="pm_733">733.</a></p> - -<h3>Sorrow</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OUNT each affliction, whether light or grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God’s messenger sent down to thee; do thou<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With courtesy receive him; rise and bow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, ere his shadow pass thy threshold, crave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Permission first his heavenly feet to lave;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then lay before him all thou hast; allow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or mar thy hospitality; no wave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of mortal tumult to obliterate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The soul’s marmoreal calmness: Grief should be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Confirming, cleansing, raising, making free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong to consume small troubles; to commend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to the end.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_874" id="page_874">{874}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_FOX" id="GEORGE_FOX"></a>GEORGE FOX</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1815-?<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_734" id="pm_734">734.</a></p> - -<h3>The County of Mayo</h3> - -<p class="c">FROM THE IRISH OF THOMAS LAVELLE</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>N the deck of Patrick Lynch’s boat I sat in woful plight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through my sighing all the weary day and weeping all the night;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were it not that full of sorrow from my people forth I go,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the blessèd sun! ’tis royally I’d sing thy praise, Mayo!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When I dwelt at home in plenty, and my gold did much abound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the company of fair young maids the Spanish ale went round—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis a bitter change from those gay days that now I’m forced to go<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And must leave my bones in Santa Cruz, far from my own Mayo.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They are alter’d girls in Irrul now; ’tis proud they’re grown and high,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With their hair-bags and their top-knots, for I pass their buckles by—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But it’s little now I heed their airs, for God will have it so,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I must depart for foreign lands and leave my sweet Mayo.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis my grief that Patrick Loughlin is not Earl of Irrul still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that Brian Duff no longer rules as Lord upon the hill:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And that Colonel Hugh McGrady should be lying dead and low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I sailing, sailing swiftly from the county of Mayo.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_875" id="page_875">{875}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EMILY_BRONTE" id="EMILY_BRONTE"></a>EMILY BRONTË</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1818-1848<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_735" id="pm_735">735.</a></p> - -<h3>My Lady’s Grave</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE linnet in the rocky dells,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moor-lark in the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bee among the heather bells<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That hide my lady fair:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The wild deer browse above her breast;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wild birds raise their brood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And they, her smiles of love caress’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have left her solitude!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I ween that when the grave’s dark wall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Did first her form retain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They thought their hearts could ne’er recall<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The light of joy again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They thought the tide of grief would flow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Uncheck’d through future years;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But where is all their anguish now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And where are all their tears?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Well, let them fight for honour’s breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or pleasure’s shade pursue—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dweller in the land of death<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is changed and careless too.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And if their eyes should watch and weep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till sorrow’s source were dry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She would not, in her tranquil sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Return a single sigh!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And murmur, summer streams!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no need of other sound<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To soothe my lady’s dreams.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_876" id="page_876">{876}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_736" id="pm_736">736.</a></p> - -<h3>Remembrance</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OLD in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sever’d at last by Time’s all-severing wave?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over the mountains, on that northern shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover<br /></span> -<span class="i1">Thy noble heart for ever, ever more?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cold in the earth—and fifteen wild Decembers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From those brown hills have melted into spring:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">After such years of change and suffering!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While the world’s tide is bearing me along;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Other desires and other hopes beset me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee wrong!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No later light has lighten’d up my heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No second morn has ever shone for me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All my life’s bliss from thy dear life was given,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All my life’s bliss is in the grave with thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when the days of golden dreams had perish’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And even Despair was powerless to destroy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then did I learn how existence could be cherish’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strengthen’d and fed without the aid of joy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then did I check the tears of useless passion—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wean’d my young soul from yearning after thine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down to that tomb already more than mine.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_877" id="page_877">{877}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">And, even yet, I dare not let it languish,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dare not indulge in memory’s rapturous pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How could I seek the empty world again?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_737" id="pm_737">737.</a></p> - -<h3>The Prisoner</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>TILL let my tyrants know, I am not doom’d to wear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Year after year in gloom and desolate despair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A messenger of Hope comes every night to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And offers for short life, eternal liberty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He comes with Western winds, with evening’s wandering airs,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With that clear dusk of heaven that brings the thickest stars:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winds take a pensive tone, and stars a tender fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And visions rise, and change, that kill me with desire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Desire for nothing known in my maturer years,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Joy grew mad with awe, at counting future tears:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When, if my spirit’s sky was full of flashes warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew not whence they came, from sun or thunder-storm.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But first, a hush of peace—a soundless calm descends;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The struggle of distress and fierce impatience ends.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mute music soothes my breast—unutter’d harmony<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That I could never dream, till Earth was lost to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then dawns the Invisible; the Unseen its truth reveals;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My outward sense is gone, my inward essence feels;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its wings are almost free—its home, its harbour found,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Measuring the gulf, it stoops, and dares the final bound.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O dreadful is the check—intense the agony—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the pulse begins to throb—the brain to think again—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The soul to feel the flesh, and the flesh to feel the chain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_878" id="page_878">{878}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Yet I would lose no sting, would wish no torture less;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The more that anguish racks, the earlier it will bless;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And robed in fires of hell, or bright with heavenly shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If it but herald Death, the vision is divine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_738" id="pm_738">738.</a></p> - -<h3>Last Lines</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">N</span>O coward soul is mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No trembler in the world’s storm-troubled sphere:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I see Heaven’s glories shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And faith shines equal, arming me from fear.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">O God within my breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Almighty, ever-present Deity!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life—that in me has rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I—undying Life—have power in Thee!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Vain are the thousand creeds<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That move men’s hearts: unutterably vain;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Worthless as wither’d weeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or idlest froth amid the boundless main,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">To waken doubt in one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holding so fast by Thine infinity;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So surely anchor’d on<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The steadfast rock of immortality.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">With wide-embracing love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy Spirit animates eternal years,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pervades and broods above,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Though earth and man were gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And suns and universes cease to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Thou were left alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every existence would exist in Thee.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_879" id="page_879">{879}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i2">There is not room for Death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor atom that his might could render void:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou—Thou art Being and Breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And what Thou art may never be destroyed.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHARLES_KINGSLEY" id="CHARLES_KINGSLEY"></a>CHARLES KINGSLEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1819-1875<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_739" id="pm_739">739.</a></p> - -<h3>Airly Beacon</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>IRLY Beacon, Airly Beacon;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O the pleasant sight to see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shires and towns from Airly Beacon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While my love climb’d up to me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O the happy hours we lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep in fern on Airly Beacon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Courting through the summer’s day!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O the weary haunt for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All alone on Airly Beacon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With his baby on my knee!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_740" id="pm_740">740.</a></p> - -<h3>The Sands of Dee</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘O</span> MARY, go and call the cattle home,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And call the cattle home,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And call the cattle home,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Across the sands of Dee.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The western wind was wild and dark with foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all alone went she.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_880" id="page_880">{880}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">The western tide crept up along the sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And o’er and o’er the sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And round and round the sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As far as eye could see.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rolling mist came down and hid the land:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And never home came she.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O is it weed, or fish, or floating hair—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A tress of golden hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A drownèd maiden’s hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Above the nets at sea?’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was never salmon yet that shone so fair<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Among the stakes of Dee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They row’d her in across the rolling foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The cruel crawling foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The cruel hungry foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To her grave beside the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Across the sands of Dee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ARTHUR_HUGH_CLOUGH" id="ARTHUR_HUGH_CLOUGH"></a>ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1819-1861<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_741" id="pm_741">741.</a></p> - -<h3>Say not the Struggle Naught availeth</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>AY not the struggle naught availeth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The labour and the wounds are vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The enemy faints not, nor faileth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And as things have been they remain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It may be, in yon smoke conceal’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your comrades chase e’en now the fliers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And, but for you, possess the field.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_881" id="page_881">{881}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">For while the tired waves, vainly breaking,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seem here no painful inch to gain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far back, through creeks and inlets making,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Comes silent, flooding in, the main.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And not by eastern windows only,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When daylight comes, comes in the light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But westward, look, the land is bright!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WALT_WHITMAN" id="WALT_WHITMAN"></a>WALT WHITMAN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1819-1892<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_742" id="pm_742">742.</a></p> - -<h3>The Imprisoned Soul</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>T the last, tenderly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the walls of the powerful, fortress’d house,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the clasp of the knitted locks—from the keep of the well-closed doors,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me be wafted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let me glide noiselessly forth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the key of softness unlock the locks—with a whisper<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set ope the doors, O soul!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tenderly! be not impatient!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Strong is your hold, O mortal flesh!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong is your hold, O love!)<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_743" id="pm_743">743.</a></p> - -<h3>O Captain! My Captain!</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_882" id="page_882">{882}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i6">But O heart! heart! heart!<br /></span> -<span class="i7">O the bleeding drops of red!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Where on the deck my Captain lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Fallen cold and dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores crowding,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Here, Captain! dear father!<br /></span> -<span class="i7">This arm beneath your head!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">It is some dream that on the deck<br /></span> -<span class="i10">You’ve fallen cold and dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Exult, O shores! and ring, O bells!<br /></span> -<span class="i7">But I, with mournful tread,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Walk the deck my Captain lies,<br /></span> -<span class="i10">Fallen cold and dead.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_RUSKIN" id="JOHN_RUSKIN"></a>JOHN RUSKIN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1819-1900<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_744" id="pm_744">744.</a></p> - -<h3>Trust Thou Thy Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>RUST thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trust thou thy Love: if she be mute, is she not pure?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay thou thy soul full in her hands, low at her feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fail, Sun and Breath!—yet, for thy peace, She shall endure.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_883" id="page_883">{883}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EBENEZER_JONES" id="EBENEZER_JONES"></a>EBENEZER JONES</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1820-1860<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_745" id="pm_745">745.</a></p> - -<h3>When the World is burning</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN the world is burning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fired within, yet turning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Round with face unscathed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere fierce flames, uprushing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er all lands leap, crushing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till earth fall, fire-swathed;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up amidst the meadows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gently through the shadows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gentle flames will glide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Small, and blue, and golden.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though by bard beholden,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When in calm dreams folden,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calm his dreams will bide.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the dance is sweeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the greensward peeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall the soft lights start;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laughing maids, unstaying,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deeming it trick-playing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High their robes upswaying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er the lights shall dart;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the woodland haunter<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall not cease to saunter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When, far down some glade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the great world’s burning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One soft flame upturning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seems, to his discerning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crocus in the shade.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_884" id="page_884">{884}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FREDERICK_LOCKER-LAMPSON" id="FREDERICK_LOCKER-LAMPSON"></a>FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1821-1895<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_746" id="pm_746">746.</a></p> - -<h3>At Her Window</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>EATING Heart! we come again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where my Love reposes:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This is Mabel’s window-pane;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These are Mabel’s roses.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is she nested? Does she kneel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the twilight stilly,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lily clad from throat to heel,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She, my virgin Lily?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Soon the wan, the wistful stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fading, will forsake her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Elves of light, on beamy bars,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whisper then, and wake her.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Let this friendly pebble plead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At her flowery grating;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If she hear me will she heed?<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Mabel, I am waiting.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Mabel will be deck’d anon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Zoned in bride’s apparel;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happy zone! O hark to yon<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Passion-shaken carol!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sing thy song, thou trancèd thrush,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pipe thy best, thy clearest;—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hush, her lattice moves, O hush—<br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>Dearest Mabel!—dearest ...</i><br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_885" id="page_885">{885}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MATTHEW_ARNOLD" id="MATTHEW_ARNOLD"></a>MATTHEW ARNOLD</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1822-1888<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_747" id="pm_747">747.</a></p> - -<h3>The Forsaken Merman</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">C</span>OME, dear children, let us away;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down and away below.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now my brothers call from the bay;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now the great winds shoreward blow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now the salt tides seaward flow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now the wild white horses play,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Champ and chafe and toss in the spray.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Children dear, let us away.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">This way, this way!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Call her once before you go.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Call once yet.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In a voice that she will know:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘Margaret! Margaret!’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Children’s voices should be dear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Call once more) to a mother’s ear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Children’s voices, wild with pain.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Surely she will come again.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Call her once and come away.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">This way, this way!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Mother dear, we cannot stay.’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wild white horses foam and fret.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Margaret! Margaret!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Come, dear children, come away down.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Call no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One last look at the white-wall’d town,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the little grey church on the windy shore.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then come down.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She will not come though you call all day.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Come away, come away.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_886" id="page_886">{886}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Children dear, was it yesterday<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We heard the sweet bells over the bay?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the caverns where we lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the surf and through the swell,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The far-off sound of a silver bell?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the winds are all asleep;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the spent lights quiver and gleam;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the salt weed sways in the stream;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the sea-snakes coil and twine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dry their mail, and bask in the brine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where great whales come sailing by,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sail and sail, with unshut eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Round the world for ever and aye?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When did music come this way?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Children dear, was it yesterday?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Children dear, was it yesterday<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(Call yet once) that she went away?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once she sate with you and me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the youngest sate on her knee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She comb’d its bright hair, and she tended it well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When down swung the sound of the far-off bell.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She sigh’d, she look’d up through the clear green sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She said, ‘I must go, for my kinsfolk pray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the little grey church on the shore to-day.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twill be Easter-time in the world—ah me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I lose my poor soul, Merman, here with thee.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I said, ‘Go up, dear heart, through the waves.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_887" id="page_887">{887}</a></span>’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Children dear, was it yesterday?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Children dear, were we long alone?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long prayers,’ I said, ‘in the world they say.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Come,’ I said, and we rose through the surf in the bay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We went up the beach, by the sandy down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall’d town.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the little grey church on the windy hill.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But we stood without in the cold-blowing airs.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We climb’d on the graves, on the stones worn with rains,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded panes.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dear heart,’ I said, ‘we are long alone.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, ah! she gave me never a look,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For her eyes were seal’d to the holy book.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come away, children, call no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come away, come down, call no more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">Down, down, down;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down to the depths of the sea.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She sits at her wheel in the humming town,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Singing most joyfully.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark what she sings: ‘O joy, O joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the humming street, and the child with its toy.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the wheel where I spun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the blessed light of the sun.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_888" id="page_888">{888}</a></span>’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And so she sings her fill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Singing most joyfully,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till the shuttle falls from her hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the whizzing wheel stands still.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She steals to the window, and looks at the sand;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And over the sand at the sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And her eyes are set in a stare;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And anon there breaks a sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And anon there drops a tear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From a sorrow-clouded eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a heart sorrow-laden,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A long, long sigh<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the gleam of her golden hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Come away, away, children.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come children, come down.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hoarse wind blows colder;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lights shine in the town.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She will start from her slumber<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When gusts shake the door;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She will hear the winds howling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will hear the waves roar.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We shall see, while above us<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The waves roar and whirl,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A ceiling of amber,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A pavement of pearl.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Singing, ‘Here came a mortal,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But faithless was she:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And alone dwell for ever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The kings of the sea.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">But, children, at midnight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When soft the winds blow;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_889" id="page_889">{889}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">When clear falls the moonlight;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When spring-tides are low:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When sweet airs come seaward<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From heaths starr’d with broom;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And high rocks throw mildly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the blanch’d sands a gloom:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Up the still, glistening beaches,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Up the creeks we will hie;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over banks of bright seaweed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ebb-tide leaves dry.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We will gaze, from the sand-hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the white, sleeping town;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At the church on the hill-side—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And then come back down.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Singing, ‘There dwells a loved one,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But cruel is she.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She left lonely for ever<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The kings of the sea.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_748" id="pm_748">748.</a></p> - -<h3>The Song of Callicles</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HROUGH the black, rushing smoke-bursts,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thick breaks the red flame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All Etna heaves fiercely<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her forest-clothed frame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not here, O Apollo!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are haunts meet for thee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, where Helicon breaks down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In cliff to the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where the moon-silver’d inlets<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Send far their light voice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up the still vale of Thisbe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O speed, and rejoice!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_890" id="page_890">{890}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On the sward at the cliff-top,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lie strewn the white flocks;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the cliff-side, the pigeons<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Roost deep in the rocks.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the moonlight the shepherds,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft lull’d by the rills,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lie wrapt in their blankets,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Asleep on the hills.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">—What forms are these coming<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So white through the gloom?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What garments out-glistening<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gold-flower’d broom?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What sweet-breathing Presence<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out-perfumes the thyme?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What voices enrapture<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The night’s balmy prime?—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis Apollo comes leading<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His choir, The Nine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—The Leader is fairest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all are divine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They are lost in the hollows.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They stream up again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What seeks on this mountain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The glorified train?—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They bathe on this mountain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the spring by their road.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then on to Olympus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their endless abode.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_891" id="page_891">{891}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">—Whose praise do they mention<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of what is it told?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What will be for ever.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What was from of old.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">First hymn they the Father<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all things: and then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rest of Immortals,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The action of men.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Day in his hotness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The strife with the palm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Night in her silence,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Stars in their calm.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_749" id="pm_749">749.</a></p> - -<h3>To Marguerite</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>ES: in the sea of life enisled,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With echoing straits between us thrown.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dotting the shoreless watery wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We mortal millions live <i>alone</i>.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The islands feel the enclasping flow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then their endless bounds they know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when the moon their hollows lights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And they are swept by balms of spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in their glens, on starry nights,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The nightingales divinely sing;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lovely notes, from shore to shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the sounds and channels pour;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O then a longing like despair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is to their farthest caverns sent!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_892" id="page_892">{892}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">For surely once, they feel, we were<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Parts of a single continent.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now round us spreads the watery plain—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O might our marges meet again!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who order’d that their longing’s fire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Should be, as soon as kindled, cool’d?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who renders vain their deep desire?—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A God, a God their severance ruled;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bade betwixt their shores to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The unplumb’d, salt, estranging sea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_750" id="pm_750">750.</a></p> - -<h3>Requiescat</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>TREW on her roses, roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And never a spray of yew.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In quiet she reposes:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah! would that I did too.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her mirth the world required:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She bathed it in smiles of glee.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But her heart was tired, tired,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now they let her be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her life was turning, turning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In mazes of heat and sound.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But for peace her soul was yearning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now peace laps her round.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her cabin’d, ample Spirit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It flutter’d and fail’d for breath.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To-night it doth inherit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The vasty hall of Death.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_893" id="page_893">{893}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_751" id="pm_751">751.</a></p> - -<h3>The Scholar-Gipsy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>O, for they call you, Shepherd, from the hill;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Go, Shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their throats,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor the cropp’d grasses shoot another head.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But when the fields are still,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the tired men and dogs all gone to rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And only the white sheep are sometimes seen<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Cross and recross the strips of moon-blanch’d green;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come, Shepherd, and again begin the quest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here, where the reaper was at work of late,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In this high field’s dark corner, where he leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His coat, his basket, and his earthen cruise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And in the sun all morning binds the sheaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then here, at noon, comes back his stores to use;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Here will I sit and wait,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While to my ear from uplands far away<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The bleating of the folded flocks is borne,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With distant cries of reapers in the corn—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All the live murmur of a summer’s day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Screen’d is this nook o’er the high, half-reap’d field,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And here till sundown, Shepherd, will I be.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Through the thick corn the scarlet poppies peep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And round green roots and yellowing stalks I see<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Pale blue convolvulus in tendrils creep:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And air-swept lindens yield<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their scent, and rustle down their perfumed showers<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of bloom on the bent grass where I am laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And bower me from the August sun with shade;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the eye travels down to Oxford’s towers:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_894" id="page_894">{894}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">And near me on the grass lies Glanvil’s book—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come, let me read the oft-read tale again:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The story of that Oxford scholar poor,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of pregnant parts and quick inventive brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who, tired of knocking at Preferment’s door,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">One summer morn forsook<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His friends, and went to learn the Gipsy lore,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And roam’d the world with that wild brotherhood,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And came, as most men deem’d, to little good,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But came to Oxford and his friends no more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But once, years after, in the country lanes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two scholars, whom at college erst he knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Met him, and of his way of life inquired.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whereat he answer’d that the Gipsy crew,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">His mates, had arts to rule as they desired<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The workings of men’s brains;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And they can bind them to what thoughts they will:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘And I,’ he said, ‘the secret of their art,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When fully learn’d, will to the world impart:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But it needs Heaven-sent moments for this skill!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This said, he left them, and return’d no more,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But rumours hung about the country-side,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That the lost Scholar long was seen to stray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seen by rare glimpses, pensive and tongue-tied,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In hat of antique shape, and cloak of grey,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The same the Gipsies wore.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shepherds had met him on the Hurst in spring;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At some lone alehouse in the Berkshire moors,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">On the warm ingle-bench, the smock-frock’d boors<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had found him seated at their entering,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_895" id="page_895">{895}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, ’mid their drink and clatter, he would fly:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I myself seem half to know thy looks,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And put the shepherds, Wanderer, on thy trace;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And boys who in lone wheatfields scare the rooks<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I ask if thou hast pass’d their quiet place;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Or in my boat I lie<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Moor’d to the cool bank in the summer heats,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘Mid wide grass meadows which the sunshine fills,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And watch the warm green-muffled Cumnor hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wonder if thou haunt’st their shy retreats.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For most, I know, thou lov’st retirèd ground.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thee, at the ferry, Oxford riders blithe,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Returning home on summer nights, have met<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Crossing the stripling Thames at Bablock-hithe,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Trailing in the cool stream thy fingers wet,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As the slow punt swings round:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And leaning backwards in a pensive dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And fostering in thy lap a heap of flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Pluck’d in shy fields and distant Wychwood bowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thine eyes resting on the moonlit stream:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And then they land, and thou art seen no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Maidens who from the distant hamlets come<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To dance around the Fyfield elm in May,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Oft through the darkening fields have seen thee roam,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or cross a stile into the public way.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Oft thou hast given them store<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of flowers—the frail-leaf’d, white anemone—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dark bluebells drench’d with dews of summer eves,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And purple orchises with spotted leaves—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But none has words she can report of thee.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_896" id="page_896">{896}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And, above Godstow Bridge, when hay-time’s here<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In June, and many a scythe in sunshine flames,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Men who through those wide fields of breezy grass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where black-wing’d swallows haunt the glittering Thames,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To bathe in the abandon’d lasher pass,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Have often pass’d thee near<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sitting upon the river bank o’ergrown:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Mark’d thine outlandish garb, thy figure spare,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy dark vague eyes, and soft abstracted air;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, when they came from bathing, thou wert gone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">At some lone homestead in the Cumnor hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where at her open door the housewife darns,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thou hast been seen, or hanging on a gate<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To watch the threshers in the mossy barns.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Children, who early range these slopes and late<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For cresses from the rills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have known thee watching, all an April day,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The springing pastures and the feeding kine;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And mark’d thee, when the stars come out and shine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the long dewy grass move slow away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In autumn, on the skirts of Bagley Wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where most the Gipsies by the turf-edged way<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Pitch their smoked tents, and every bush you see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With scarlet patches tagg’d and shreds of gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Above the forest-ground call’d Thessaly—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The blackbird picking food<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sees thee, nor stops his meal, nor fears at all;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So often has he known thee past him stray<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Rapt, twirling in thy hand a wither’d spray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And waiting for the spark from Heaven to fall.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_897" id="page_897">{897}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And once, in winter, on the causeway chill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where home through flooded fields foot-travellers go,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Have I not pass’d thee on the wooden bridge<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wrapt in thy cloak and battling with the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy face towards Hinksey and its wintry ridge?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And thou hast climb’d the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gain’d the white brow of the Cumnor range;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Turn’d once to watch, while thick the snowflakes fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The line of festal light in Christ Church hall—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then sought thy straw in some sequester’d grange.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But what—I dream! Two hundred years are flown<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since first thy story ran through Oxford halls,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the grave Glanvil did the tale inscribe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That thou wert wander’d from the studious walls<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To learn strange arts, and join a Gipsy tribe:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And thou from earth art gone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Long since, and in some quiet churchyard laid;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some country nook, where o’er thy unknown grave<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Tall grasses and white flowering nettles wave—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under a dark red-fruited yew-tree’s shade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">—No, no, thou hast not felt the lapse of hours.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For what wears out the life of mortal men?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">’Tis that from change to change their being rolls:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis that repeated shocks, again, again,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Exhaust the energy of strongest souls,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And numb the elastic powers.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till having used our nerves with bliss and teen,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And tired upon a thousand schemes our wit,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To the just-pausing Genius we remit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our worn-out life, and are—what we have been.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_898" id="page_898">{898}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou hast not lived, why shouldst thou perish, so?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou hadst <i>one</i> aim, <i>one</i> business, <i>one</i> desire:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Else wert thou long since number’d with the dead—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Else hadst thou spent, like other men, thy fire.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The generations of thy peers are fled,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And we ourselves shall go;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But thou possessest an immortal lot,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And we imagine thee exempt from age<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And living as thou liv’st on Glanvil’s page,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Because thou hadst—what we, alas, have not!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For early didst thou leave the world, with powers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fresh, undiverted to the world without,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Firm to their mark, not spent on other things;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Free from the sick fatigue, the languid doubt,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Which much to have tried, in much been baffled, brings.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O Life unlike to ours!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who fluctuate idly without term or scope,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of whom each strives, nor knows for what he strives,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And each half lives a hundred different lives;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who wait like thee, but not, like thee, in hope.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou waitest for the spark from Heaven: and we,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Vague half-believers of our casual creeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who never deeply felt, nor clearly will’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose insight never has borne fruit in deeds,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whose weak resolves never have been fulfill’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For whom each year we see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breeds new beginnings, disappointments new;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who hesitate and falter life away,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And lose to-morrow the ground won to-day—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah, do not we, Wanderer, await it too?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_899" id="page_899">{899}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yes, we await it, but it still delays,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then we suffer; and amongst us One,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who most has suffer’d, takes dejectedly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His seat upon the intellectual throne;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And all his store of sad experience he<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lays bare of wretched days;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tells us his misery’s birth and growth and signs,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And how the dying spark of hope was fed,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And how the breast was soothed, and how the head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all his hourly varied anodynes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This for our wisest: and we others pine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wish the long unhappy dream would end,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And waive all claim to bliss, and try to bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With close-lipp’d Patience for our only friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sad Patience, too near neighbour to Despair:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But none has hope like thine.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou through the fields and through the woods dost stray,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Roaming the country-side, a truant boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nursing thy project in unclouded joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And every doubt long blown by time away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O born in days when wits were fresh and clear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Before this strange disease of modern life,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With its sick hurry, its divided aims,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Its heads o’ertax’d, its palsied hearts, was rife—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Fly hence, our contact fear!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still fly, plunge deeper in the bowering wood!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Averse, as Dido did with gesture stern<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From her false friend’s approach in Hades turn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wave us away, and keep thy solitude.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_900" id="page_900">{900}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Still nursing the unconquerable hope,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still clutching the inviolable shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With a free onward impulse brushing through,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By night, the silver’d branches of the glade—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Far on the forest-skirts, where none pursue.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">On some mild pastoral slope<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Emerge, and resting on the moonlit pales,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Freshen thy flowers, as in former years,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With dew, or listen with enchanted ears,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the dark dingles, to the nightingales.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But fly our paths, our feverish contact fly!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For strong the infection of our mental strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Which, though it gives no bliss, yet spoils for rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And we should win thee from thy own fair life,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Like us distracted, and like us unblest.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Soon, soon thy cheer would die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy hopes grow timorous, and unfix’d thy powers,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And thy clear aims be cross and shifting made:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And then thy glad perennial youth would fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fade, and grow old at last, and die like ours.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then fly our greetings, fly our speech and smiles!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—As some grave Tyrian trader, from the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Descried at sunrise an emerging prow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lifting the cool-hair’d creepers stealthily,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The fringes of a southward-facing brow<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Among the Ægean isles;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And saw the merry Grecian coaster come,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Freighted with amber grapes, and Chian wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Green bursting figs, and tunnies steep’d in brine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And knew the intruders on his ancient home,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_901" id="page_901">{901}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The young light-hearted Masters of the waves;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And snatch’d his rudder, and shook out more sail,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And day and night held on indignantly<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er the blue Midland waters with the gale,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Betwixt the Syrtes and soft Sicily,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To where the Atlantic raves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Outside the Western Straits, and unbent sails<br /></span> -<span class="i4">There, where down cloudy cliffs, through sheets of foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shy traffickers, the dark Iberians come;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And on the beach undid his corded bales.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_752" id="pm_752">752.</a></p> - -<h3>Philomela</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>ARK! ah, the Nightingale!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The tawny-throated!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hark! from that moonlit cedar what a burst!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What triumph! hark—what pain!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Wanderer from a Grecian shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still, after many years, in distant lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still nourishing in thy bewilder’d brain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That wild, unquench’d, deep-sunken, old-world pain—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Say, will it never heal?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And can this fragrant lawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With its cool trees, and night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sweet, tranquil Thames,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And moonshine, and the dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thy rack’d heart and brain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Afford no balm?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Dost thou to-night behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here, through the moonlight on this English grass,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_902" id="page_902">{902}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The unfriendly palace in the Thracian wild?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dost thou again peruse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With hot cheeks and sear’d eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The too clear web, and thy dumb Sister’s shame?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dost thou once more assay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy flight, and feel come over thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor Fugitive, the feathery change<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once more, and once more seem to make resound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With love and hate, triumph and agony,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lone Daulis, and the high Cephissian vale?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Listen, Eugenia—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How thick the bursts come crowding through the leaves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Again—thou hearest!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eternal Passion!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eternal Pain!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_753" id="pm_753">753.</a></p> - -<h3>Shakespeare</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>THERS abide our question. Thou art free.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We ask and ask: Thou smilest and art still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out-topping knowledge. For the loftiest hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That to the stars uncrowns his majesty,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Planting his steadfast footsteps in the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Making the heaven of heavens his dwelling-place.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spares but the cloudy border of his base<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the foil’d searching of mortality;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou, who didst the stars and sunbeams know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Self-school’d, self-scann’d, self-honour’d, self-secure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Didst walk on earth unguess’d at. Better so!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All pains the immortal spirit must endure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All weakness that impairs, all griefs that bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Find their sole voice in that victorious brow.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_903" id="page_903">{903}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_754" id="pm_754">754.</a></p> - -<h3>From the Hymn of Empedocles</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><span class="letra">I</span>S it so small a thing<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To have enjoy’d the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To have lived light in the spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To have loved, to have thought, to have done;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To have advanced true friends, and beat down baffling foes;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">That we must feign a bliss<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of doubtful future date,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And while we dream on this<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lose all our present state,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And relegate to worlds yet distant our repose?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Not much, I know, you prize<br /></span> -<span class="i6">What pleasures may be had,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Who look on life with eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Estranged, like mine, and sad:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet the village churl feels the truth more than you;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Who’s loth to leave this life<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Which to him little yields:<br /></span> -<span class="i6">His hard-task’d sunburnt wife,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">His often-labour’d fields;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The boors with whom he talk’d, the country spots he knew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">But thou, because thou hear’st<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Men scoff at Heaven and Fate;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Because the gods thou fear’st<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Fail to make blest thy state,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tremblest, and wilt not dare to trust the joys there are.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">I say, Fear not! life still<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Leaves human effort scope.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But, since life teems with ill,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Nurse no extravagant hope.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because thou must not dream, thou need’st not then despair.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_904" id="page_904">{904}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_BRIGHTY_RANDS" id="WILLIAM_BRIGHTY_RANDS"></a>WILLIAM BRIGHTY RANDS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1823-1880<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_755" id="pm_755">755.</a></p> - -<h3>The Flowers</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN Love arose in heart and deed<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To wake the world to greater joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘What can she give me now?’ said Greed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who thought to win some costly toy.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He rose, he ran, he stoop’d, he clutch’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And soon the Flowers, that Love let fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In Greed’s hot grasp were fray’d and smutch’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Greed said, ‘Flowers! Can this be all?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He flung them down and went his way,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He cared no jot for thyme or rose;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But boys and girls came out to play,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And some took these and some took those—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Red, blue, and white, and green and gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And at their touch the dew return’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the bloom a thousandfold—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So red, so ripe, the roses burn’d!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_756" id="pm_756">756.</a></p> - -<h3>The Thought</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>NTO the skies, one summer’s day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I sent a little Thought away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up to where, in the blue round,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sun sat shining without sound.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then my Thought came back to me.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Little Thought, what did you see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the regions whence you come?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when I spoke, my Thought was dumb.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_905" id="page_905">{905}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But she breathed of what was there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the pure bright upper air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And, because my Thought so shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew she had been shone upon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Next, by night a Thought I sent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Up into the firmament;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the eager stars were out,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the still moon shone about.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And my Thought went past the moon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In between the stars, but soon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Held her breath and durst not stir,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the fear that covered her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then she thought, in this demur:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Dare I look beneath the shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into where the worlds are made;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the suns and stars are wrought?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I meet another Thought?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Will that other Thought have wings?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I meet strange, heavenly things?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thought of Thoughts, and Light of Lights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breath of Breaths, and Night of Nights?’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then my Thought began to hark<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the illuminated dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the silence, over, under,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Made her heart beat more than thunder.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And my Thought, came trembling back,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But with something on her track,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with something at her side;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor till she has lived and died,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lived and died, and lived again,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will that awful thing seem plain.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_906" id="page_906">{906}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_PHILPOT" id="WILLIAM_PHILPOT"></a>WILLIAM PHILPOT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1823-1889<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_757" id="pm_757">757.</a></p> - -<h3>Maritæ Suæ</h3> - -<h4>I</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>F all the flowers rising now,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou only saw’st the head<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that unopen’d drop of snow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I placed beside thy bed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In all the blooms that blow so fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou hast no further part,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Save those the hour I saw thee last,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I laid above thy heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Two snowdrops for our boy and girl,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A primrose blown for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wreathed with one often-play’d-with curl<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From each bright head for thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And so I graced thee for thy grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And made these tokens fast<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With that old silver heart I gave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My first gift—and my last.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h4>II</h4> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> DREAM’d, her babe upon her breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here she might lie and calmly rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her happy eyes on that far hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That backs the landscape fresh and still.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hoped her thoughts would thrid the boughs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where careless birds on love carouse,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And gaze those apple-blossoms through<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To revel in the boundless blue.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_907" id="page_907">{907}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But now her faculty of sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is elder sister to the light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And travels free and unconfined<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through dense and rare, through form and mind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Or else her life to be complete<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath found new channels full and meet—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, O, what eyes are leaning o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If fairer than they were before!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_JOHNSON_CORY" id="WILLIAM_JOHNSON_CORY"></a>WILLIAM (JOHNSON) CORY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1823-1892</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_758" id="pm_758">758.</a></p> - -<h3>Mimnermus in Church</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU promise heavens free from strife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pure truth, and perfect change of will;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But sweet, sweet is this human life,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So sweet, I fain would breathe it still;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your chilly stars I can forgo,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This warm kind world is all I know.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You say there is no substance here,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One great reality above:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Back from that void I shrink in fear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And child-like hide myself in love:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Show me what angels feel. Till then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I cling, a mere weak man, to men.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You bid me lift my mean desires<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From faltering lips and fitful veins<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sexless souls, ideal quires,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Unwearied voices, wordless strains:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My mind with fonder welcome owns<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One dear dead friend’s remember’d tones.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_908" id="page_908">{908}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Forsooth the present we must give<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To that which cannot pass away;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All beauteous things for which we live<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By laws of time and space decay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But O, the very reason why<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I clasp them, is because they die.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_759" id="pm_759">759.</a></p> - -<h3>Heraclitus</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HEY told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wept as I remember’d how often you and I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago at rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, awake;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Death, he taketh all away, but them he cannot take.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="COVENTRY_PATMORE" id="COVENTRY_PATMORE"></a>COVENTRY PATMORE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1823-1896<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_760" id="pm_760">760.</a></p> - -<h3>The Married Lover</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HY, having won her, do I woo?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Because her spirit’s vestal grace<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Provokes me always to pursue,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, spirit-like, eludes embrace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because her womanhood is such<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That, as on court-days subjects kiss<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Queen’s hand, yet so near a touch<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Affirms no mean familiarness;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_909" id="page_909">{909}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, rather marks more fair the height<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which can with safety so neglect<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To dread, as lower ladies might,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That grace could meet with disrespect;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thus she with happy favour feeds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Allegiance from a love so high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thence no false conceit proceeds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of difference bridged, or state put by;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because although in act and word<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As lowly as a wife can be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her manners, when they call me lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Remind me ’tis by courtesy;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not with her least consent of will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which would my proud affection hurt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But by the noble style that still<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Imputes an unattain’d desert;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because her gay and lofty brows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When all is won which hope can ask,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Reflect a light of hopeless snows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That bright in virgin ether bask;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because, though free of the outer court<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am, this Temple keeps its shrine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sacred to Heaven; because, in short,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She’s not and never can be mine.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_761" id="pm_761">761.</a></p> - -<h3>‘<i>If I were dead</i>’</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘I</span>F I were dead, you’d sometimes say, Poor Child!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dear lips quiver’d as they spake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the tears brake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From eyes which, not to grieve me, brightly smiled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor Child, poor Child!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I seem to hear your laugh, your talk, your song.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_910" id="page_910">{910}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is not true that Love will do no wrong.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor Child!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And did you think, when you so cried and smiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How I, in lonely nights, should lie awake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of those words your full avengers make?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor Child, poor Child!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And now, unless it be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That sweet amends thrice told are come to thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O God, have Thou <i>no</i> mercy upon me!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor Child!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_762" id="pm_762">762.</a></p> - -<h3>Departure</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>T was not like your great and gracious ways!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do you, that have naught other to lament,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Never, my Love, repent<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of how, that July afternoon,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You went,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sudden, unintelligible phrase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And frighten’d eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Upon your journey of so many days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Without a single kiss, or a good-bye?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew, indeed, that you were parting soon;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so we sate, within the low sun’s rays,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You whispering to me, for your voice was weak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your harrowing praise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Well, it was well<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hear you such things speak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I could tell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What made your eyes a growing gloom of love,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a warm South-wind sombres a March grove.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it was like your great and gracious ways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To turn your talk on daily things, my Dear,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_911" id="page_911">{911}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lifting the luminous, pathetic lash<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To let the laughter flash,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whilst I drew near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because you spoke so low that I could scarcely hear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But all at once to leave me at the last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More at the wonder than the loss aghast,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With huddled, unintelligible phrase,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And frighten’d eye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And go your journey of all days<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With not one kiss, or a good-bye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the only loveless look the look with which you pass’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas all unlike your great and gracious ways.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_763" id="pm_763">763.</a></p> - -<h3>The Toys</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y little Son, who look’d from thoughtful eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And moved and spoke in quiet grown-up wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Having my law the seventh time disobey’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I struck him, and dismissed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With hard words and unkiss’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—His Mother, who was patient, being dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I visited his bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But found him slumbering deep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With darkened eyelids, and their lashes yet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From his late sobbing wet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I, with moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kissing away his tears, left others of my own;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For, on a table drawn beside his head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He had put, within his reach,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A box of counters and a red-vein’d stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A piece of glass abraded by the beach,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_912" id="page_912">{912}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And six or seven shells,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A bottle with bluebells,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And two French copper coins, ranged there with careful art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To comfort his sad heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So when that night I pray’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To God, I wept, and said:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, when at last we lie with trancèd breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not vexing Thee in death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Thou rememberest of what toys<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We made our joys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How weakly understood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy great commanded good,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, fatherly not less<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou’lt leave Thy wrath, and say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘I will be sorry for their childishness.’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_764" id="pm_764">764.</a></p> - -<h3>A Farewell</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH all my will, but much against my heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We two now part.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My Very Dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our solace is, the sad road lies so clear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It needs no art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With faint, averted feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many a tear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In our opposèd paths to persevere.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go thou to East, I West.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We will not say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s any hope, it is so far away.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, O, my Best,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_913" id="page_913">{913}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the one darling of our widowhead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The nursling Grief,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And no dews blur our eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To see the peach-bloom come in evening skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Perchance we may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where now this night is day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And even through faith of still averted feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Making full circle of our banishment,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Amazèd meet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bitter journey to the bourne so sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Seasoning the termless feast of our content<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With tears of recognition never dry.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="SYDNEY_DOBELL" id="SYDNEY_DOBELL"></a>SYDNEY DOBELL</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1824-1874<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_765" id="pm_765">765.</a></p> - -<h3>The Ballad of Keith of Ravelston</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE murmur of the mourning ghost<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That keeps the shadowy kine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O Keith of Ravelston,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sorrows of thy line!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ravelston, Ravelston,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The merry path that leads<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the golden morning hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thro’ the silver meads;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ravelston, Ravelston,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stile beneath the tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The maid that kept her mother’s kine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The song that sang she!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_914" id="page_914">{914}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She sang her song, she kept her kine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She sat beneath the thorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Andrew Keith of Ravelston<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rode thro’ the Monday morn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His henchmen sing, his hawk-bells ring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His belted jewels shine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Keith of Ravelston,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sorrows of thy line!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Year after year, where Andrew came,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Comes evening down the glade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still there sits a moonshine ghost<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where sat the sunshine maid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her misty hair is faint and fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She keeps the shadowy kine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Keith of Ravelston,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sorrows of thy line!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I lay my hand upon the stile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stile is lone and cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The burnie that goes babbling by<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Says naught that can be told.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, stranger! here, from year to year,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She keeps her shadowy kine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Keith of Ravelston,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sorrows of thy line!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Step out three steps, where Andrew stood—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why blanch thy cheeks for fear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ancient stile is not alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis not the burn I hear!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_915" id="page_915">{915}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She makes her immemorial moan,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She keeps her shadowy kine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Keith of Ravelston,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sorrows of thy line!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_766" id="pm_766">766.</a></p> - -<h3>Return!</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">R</span>ETURN, return! all night my lamp is burning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night, like it, my wide eyes watch and burn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like it, I fade and pale, when day returning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bears witness that the absent can return,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Return, return.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like it, I lessen with a lengthening sadness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like it, I burn to waste and waste to burn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like it, I spend the golden oil of gladness<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To feed the sorrowy signal for return,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Return, return.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like it, like it, whene’er the east wind sings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I bend and shake; like it, I quake and yearn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When Hope’s late butterflies, with whispering wings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fly in out of the dark, to fall and burn—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Burn in the watchfire of return,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Return, return.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like it, the very flame whereby I pine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Consumes me to its nature. While I mourn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My soul becomes a better soul than mine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from its brightening beacon I discern<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My starry love go forth from me, and shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across the seas a path for thy return,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Return, return.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Return, return! all night I see it burn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night it prays like me, and lifts a twin<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_916" id="page_916">{916}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of palmèd praying hands that meet and yearn—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yearn to the impleaded skies for thy return.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Day, like a golden fetter, locks them in,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And wans the light that withers, tho’ it burn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As warmly still for thy return;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still thro’ the splendid load uplifts the thin<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pale, paler, palest patience that can learn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Naught but that votive sign for thy return—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That single suppliant sign for thy return,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Return, return.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Return, return! lest haply, love, or e’er<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou touch the lamp the light have ceased to burn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And thou, who thro’ the window didst discern<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wonted flame, shalt reach the topmost stair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To find no wide eyes watching there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No wither’d welcome waiting thy return!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A passing ghost, a smoke-wreath in the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flameless ashes, and the soulless urn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Warm with the famish’d fire that lived to burn—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Burn out its lingering life for thy return,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its last of lingering life for thy return,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its last of lingering life to light thy late return,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Return, return.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_767" id="pm_767">767.</a></p> - -<h3>A Chanted Calendar</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><span class="letra">F</span>IRST came the primrose,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">On the bank high,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Like a maiden looking forth<br /></span> -<span class="i8">From the window of a tower<br /></span> -<span class="i8">When the battle rolls below,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">So look’d she,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And saw the storms go by.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_917" id="page_917">{917}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i8">Then came the wind-flower<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In the valley left behind,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">As a wounded maiden, pale<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With purple streaks of woe,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">When the battle has roll’d by<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Wanders to and fro,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">So totter’d she,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Dishevelled in the wind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Then came the daisies,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">On the first of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Like a banner’d show’s advance<br /></span> -<span class="i8">While the crowd runs by the way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With ten thousand flowers about them they came trooping through the fields.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">As a happy people come,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">So came they,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">As a happy people come<br /></span> -<span class="i8">When the war has roll’d away,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With dance and tabor, pipe and drum.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And all make holiday.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Then came the cowslip,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Like a dancer in the fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">She spread her little mat of green,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And on it danced she.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With a fillet bound about her brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">A fillet round her happy brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">A golden fillet round her brow,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And rubies in her hair.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_918" id="page_918">{918}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_768" id="pm_768">768.</a></p> - -<h3>Laus Deo</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N the hall the coffin waits, and the idle armourer stands.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At his belt the coffin nails, and the hammer in his hands.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bed of state is hung with crape—the grand old bed where she was wed—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And like an upright corpse she sitteth gazing dumbly at the bed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hour by hour her serving-men enter by the curtain’d door,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with steps of muffled woe pass breathless o’er the silent floor,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And marshal mutely round, and look from each to each with eyelids red;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Touch him not,’ she shriek’d and cried, ‘he is but newly dead!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O my own dear mistress,’ the ancient Nurse did say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Seven long days and seven long nights you have watch’d him where he lay.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Seven long days and seven long nights,‘the hoary Steward said;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Seven long days and seven long nights,’ groan’d the Warrener gray;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Seven,’ said the old Henchman, and bow’d his aged head;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘On your lives!’ she shriek’d and cried,‘he is but newly dead!’<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then a father Priest they sought,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The Priest that taught her all she knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And they told him of her loss.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">‘For she is mild and sweet of will,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">She loved him, and his words are peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And he shall heal her ill.’<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But her watch she did not cease.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">He bless’d her where she sat distraught,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And show’d her holy cross,—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The cross she kiss’d from year to year<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_919" id="page_919">{919}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But she neither saw nor heard;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And said he in her deaf ear<br /></span> -<span class="i6">All he had been wont to teach,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">All she had been fond to hear,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Missall’d prayer, and solemn speech,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But she answer’d not a word.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only when he turn’d to speak with those who wept about the bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘On your lives!’ she shriek’d and cried, ‘he is but newly dead!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then how sadly he turn’d from her, it were wonderful to tell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he stood beside the death-bed as by one who slumbers well,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And he lean’d o’er him who lay there, and in cautious whisper low,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘He is not dead, but sleepeth,’ said the Priest, and smooth’d his brow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Sleepeth?’ said she, looking up, and the sun rose in her face!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘He must be better than I thought, for the sleep is very sound.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘He is better,’ said the Priest, and call’d her maidens round.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With them came that ancient dame who nursed her when a child;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O Nurse!’ she sigh’d, ‘O Nurse!’ she cried, ‘O Nurse!’ and then she smiled,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And then she wept; with that they drew<br /></span> -<span class="i6">About her, as of old;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Her dying eyes were sweet and blue,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Her trembling touch was cold;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But she said, ‘My maidens true,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">No more weeping and well-away;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Let them kill the feast.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I would be happy in my soul.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">“He is better,” saith the Priest;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">He did but sleep the weary day,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And will waken whole.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_920" id="page_920">{920}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i6">Carry me to his dear side,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And let the halls be trim;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Whistly, whistly,’ said she,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">‘I am wan with watching and wail,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">He must not wake to see me pale,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Let me sleep with him.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">See you keep the tryst for me,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I would rest till he awake<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And rise up like a bride.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">But whistly, whistly!’ said she.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">‘Yet rejoice your Lord doth live;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And for His dear sake<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Say <i>Laus, Domine</i>.’<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Silent they cast down their eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And every breast a sob did rive,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">She lifted her in wild surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And they dared not disobey.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘<i>Laus Deo</i>,’ said the Steward, hoary when her days were new;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘<i>Laus Deo</i>,’ said the Warrener, whiter than the warren snows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘<i>Laus Deo</i>,’ the bald Henchman, who had nursed her on his knee.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The old Nurse moved her lips in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And she stood among the train<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Like a dead tree shaking dew.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Then the Priest he softly slept<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Midway in the little band,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And he took the Lady’s hand.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">‘<i>Laus Deo</i>,’ he said aloud,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">‘<i>Laus Deo</i>,’ they said again,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Yet again, and yet again,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Humbly cross’d and lowly bow’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Till in wont and fear it rose<br /></span> -<span class="i6">To the Sabbath strain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_921" id="page_921">{921}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i6">But she neither turn’d her head<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Nor ‘Whistly, whistly,’ said she.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Her hands were folded as in grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">We laid her with her ancient race<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And all the village wept.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_ALLINGHAM" id="WILLIAM_ALLINGHAM"></a>WILLIAM ALLINGHAM</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1824-1889<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_769" id="pm_769">769.</a></p> - -<h3>The Fairies</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>P the airy mountain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down the rushy glen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We daren’t go a-hunting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For fear of little men;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wee folk, good folk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Trooping all together;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green jacket, red cap,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And white owl’s feather!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Down along the rocky shore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Some make their home,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They live on crispy pancakes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of yellow tide-foam;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some in the reeds<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the black mountain lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With frogs for their watch-dogs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All night awake.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">High on the hill-top<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The old King sits;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He is now so old and gray<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He’s nigh lost his wits.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_922" id="page_922">{922}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">With a bridge of white mist<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Columbkill he crosses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On his stately journeys<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From Slieveleague to Rosses;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or going up with music<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On cold starry nights<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To sup with the Queen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the gay Northern Lights.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They stole little Bridget<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For seven years long;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When she came down again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her friends were all gone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They took her lightly back,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Between the night and morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They thought that she was fast asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But she was dead with sorrow.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They have kept her ever since<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deep within the lake,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On a bed of flag-leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Watching till she wake.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By the craggy hill-side,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the mosses bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They have planted thorn-trees<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For pleasure here and there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If any man so daring<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As dig them up in spite,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He shall find their sharpest thorns<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In his bed at night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Up the airy mountain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down the rushy glen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We daren’t go a-hunting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For fear of little men;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_923" id="page_923">{923}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wee folk, good folk,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Trooping all together;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green jacket, red cap,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And white owl’s feather!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_MAC_DONALD" id="GEORGE_MAC_DONALD"></a>GEORGE MAC DONALD</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1824-1905<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_770" id="pm_770">770.</a></p> - -<h3>That Holy Thing</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HEY all were looking for a king<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To slay their foes and lift them high:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou cam’st, a little baby thing<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That made a woman cry.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O Son of Man, to right my lot<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Naught but Thy presence can avail;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet on the road Thy wheels are not,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor on the sea Thy sail!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My how or when Thou wilt not heed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But come down Thine own secret stair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That Thou mayst answer all my need—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yea, every bygone prayer.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DANTE_GABRIEL_ROSSETTI" id="DANTE_GABRIEL_ROSSETTI"></a>DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1828-1882<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_771" id="pm_771">771.</a></p> - -<h3>The Blessèd Damozel</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE blessèd Damozel lean’d out<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From the gold bar of Heaven:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her blue grave eyes were deeper much<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than a deep water, even.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She had three lilies in her hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the stars in her hair were seven.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_924" id="page_924">{924}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No wrought flowers did adorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But a white rose of Mary’s gift<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the neck meetly worn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her hair, lying down her back,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was yellow like ripe corn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Herseem’d she scarce had been a day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One of God’s choristers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wonder was not yet quite gone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From that still look of hers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Albeit, to them she left, her day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had counted as ten years.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">(To <i>one</i> it is ten years of years:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">... Yet now, here in this place,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Surely she lean’d o’er me,—her hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fell all about my face....<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nothing: the Autumn-fall of leaves.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The whole year sets apace.)<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was the terrace of God’s house<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That she was standing on,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By God built over the sheer depth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In which Space is begun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So high, that looking downward thence,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She scarce could see the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It lies from Heaven across the flood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of ether, as a bridge.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath, the tides of day and night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With flame and darkness ridge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The void, as low as where this earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spins like a fretful midge.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_925" id="page_925">{925}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">But in those tracts, with her, it was<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The peace of utter light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And silence. For no breeze may stir<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Along the steady flight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of seraphim; no echo there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beyond all depth or height.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Heard hardly, some of her new friends,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Playing at holy games,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spake, gentle-mouth’d, among themselves,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Their virginal chaste names;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the souls, mounting up to God,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Went by her like thin flames.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And still she bow’d herself, and stoop’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Into the vast waste calm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till her bosom’s pressure must have made<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bar she lean’d on warm,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lilies lay as if asleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Along her bended arm.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From the fixt lull of Heaven, she saw<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Time, like a pulse, shake fierce<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through all the worlds. Her gaze still strove,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In that steep gulf, to pierce<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The swarm; and then she spoke, as when<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The stars sang in their spheres.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I wish that he were come to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For he will come,’ she said.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Have I not pray’d in solemn Heaven?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On earth, has he not pray’d?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are not two prayers a perfect strength?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shall I feel afraid?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_926" id="page_926">{926}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘When round his head the aureole clings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And he is clothed in white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I’ll take his hand, and go with him<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the deep wells of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And we will step down as to a stream<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bathe there in God’s sight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘We two will stand beside that shrine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Occult, withheld, untrod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lamps tremble continually<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With prayer sent up to God;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And where each need, reveal’d, expects<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its patient period.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘We two will lie i’ the shadow of<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That living mystic tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within whose secret growth the Dove<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sometimes is felt to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While every leaf that His plumes touch<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saith His name audibly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘And I myself will teach to him,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I myself, lying so,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The songs I sing here; which his mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall pause in, hush’d and slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Finding some knowledge at each pause,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And some new thing to know.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">(Alas! to <i>her</i> wise simple mind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These things were all but known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before: they trembled on her sense,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her voice had caught their tone.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas for lonely Heaven! Alas<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For life wrung out alone!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_927" id="page_927">{927}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Alas, and though the end were reach’d?...<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was <i>thy</i> part understood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or borne in trust? And for her sake<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall this too be found good?—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May the close lips that knew not prayer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Praise ever, though they would?)<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘We two,’ she said, ‘will seek the groves<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the lady Mary is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her five handmaidens, whose names<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are five sweet symphonies:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Margaret and Rosalys.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Circle-wise sit they, with bound locks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bosoms coverèd;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the fine cloth, white like flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weaving the golden thread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To fashion the birth-robes for them<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who are just born, being dead.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘He shall fear, haply, and be dumb.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then I will lay my cheek<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To his, and tell about our love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not once abash’d or weak:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the dear Mother will approve<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My pride, and let me speak.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Herself shall bring us, hand in hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To Him round whom all souls<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kneel—the unnumber’d solemn heads<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bow’d with their aureoles:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Angels, meeting us, shall sing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To their citherns and citoles.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_928" id="page_928">{928}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘There will I ask of Christ the Lord<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thus much for him and me:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To have more blessing than on earth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In nowise; but to be<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As then we were,—being as then<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At peace. Yea, verily.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Yea, verily; when he is come<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We will do thus and thus:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till this my vigil seem quite strange<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And almost fabulous;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We two will live at once, one life;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And peace shall be with us.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She gazed, and listen’d, and then said,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Less sad of speech than mild,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘All this is when he comes.’ She ceased:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The light thrill’d past her, fill’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With Angels, in strong level lapse.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her eyes pray’d, and she smiled.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">(I saw her smile.) But soon their flight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was vague ’mid the poised spheres.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And then she cast her arms along<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The golden barriers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And laid her face between her hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And wept. (I heard her tears.)<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_929" id="page_929">{929}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_MEREDITH" id="GEORGE_MEREDITH"></a>GEORGE MEREDITH</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1828-1909<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_772" id="pm_772">772.</a></p> - -<h3>Love in the Valley</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>NDER yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Couch’d with her arms behind her golden head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knees and tresses folded to slip and ripple idly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lies my young love sleeping in the shade.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had I the heart to slide an arm beneath her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Press her parting lips as her waist I gather slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waking in amazement she could not but embrace me:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then would she hold me and never let me go?<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shy as the squirrel and wayward as the swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swift as the swallow along the river’s light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Circleting the surface to meet his mirror’d winglets,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her flight.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shy as the squirrel that leaps among the pine-tops,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wayward as the swallow overhead at set of sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hard, but O the glory of the winning were she won!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When her mother tends her before the laughing mirror,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tying up her laces, looping up her hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">More love should I have, and much less care.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When her mother tends her before the lighted mirror,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loosening her laces, combing down her curls,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Often she thinks, were this wild thing wedded,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I should miss but one for many boys and girls.<br /></span> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_930" id="page_930">{930}</a></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> - -<span class="i0">Heartless she is as the shadow in the meadows<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flying to the hills on a blue and breezy noon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No, she is athirst and drinking up her wonder:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Earth to her is young as the slip of the new moon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deals she an unkindness, ’tis but her rapid measure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Even as in a dance; and her smile can heal no less:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like the swinging May-cloud that pelts the flowers with hailstones<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Off a sunny border, she was made to bruise and bless.<br /></span> - -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> - -<span class="i0">Lovely are the curves of the white owl sweeping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wavy in the dusk lit by one large star.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lone on the fir-branch, his rattle-note unvaried,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brooding o’er the gloom, spins the brown evejar.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darker grows the valley, more and more forgetting:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So were it with me if forgetting could be will’d.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell the grassy hollow that holds the bubbling well-spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tell it to forget the source that keeps it fill’d.<br /></span> - -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stepping down the hill with her fair companions,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Arm in arm, all against the raying West,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Boldly she sings, to the merry tune she marches,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brave is her shape, and sweeter unpossess’d.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweeter, for she is what my heart first awaking<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whisper’d the world was; morning light is she.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love that so desires would fain keep her changeless;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fain would fling the net, and fain have her free.<br /></span> - -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happy happy time, when the white star hovers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Low over dim fields fresh with bloomy dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Near the face of dawn, that draws athwart the darkness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Threading it with colour, like yewberries the yew.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_931" id="page_931">{931}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thicker crowd the shades as the grave East deepens<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Glowing, and with crimson a long cloud swells.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maiden still the morn is; and strange she is, and secret;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strange her eyes; her cheeks are cold as cold sea-shells.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sunrays, leaning on our southern hills and lighting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wild cloud-mountains that drag the hills along,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oft ends the day of your shifting brilliant laughter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Chill as a dull face frowning on a song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ay, but shows the South-west a ripple-feather’d bosom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blown to silver while the clouds are shaken and ascend<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scaling the mid-heavens as they stream, there comes a sunset<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rich, deep like love in beauty without end.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When at dawn she sighs, and like an infant to the window<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Turns grave eyes craving light, released from dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beautiful she looks, like a white water-lily<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bursting out of bud in havens of the streams.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When from bed she rises clothed from neck to ankle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In her long nightgown sweet as boughs of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beautiful she looks, like a tall garden-lily<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pure from the night, and splendid for the day.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mother of the dews, dark eye-lash’d twilight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Low-lidded twilight, o’er the valley’s brim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rounding on thy breast sings the dew-delighted skylark,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clear as though the dewdrops had their voice in him.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hidden where the rose-flush drinks the rayless planet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fountain-full he pours the spraying fountain-showers.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me hear her laughter, I would have her ever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cool as dew in twilight, the lark above the flowers.<br /></span> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_932" id="page_932">{932}</a></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> - -<span class="i0">All the girls are out with their baskets for the primrose;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Up lanes, woods through, they troop in joyful bands.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My sweet leads: she knows not why, but now she loiters,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Eyes the bent anemones, and hangs her hands.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such a look will tell that the violets are peeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Coming the rose: and unaware a cry<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Springs in her bosom for odours and for colour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Covert and the nightingale; she knows not why.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Kerchief’d head and chin she darts between her tulips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Streaming like a willow gray in arrowy rain:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some bend beaten cheek to gravel, and their angel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She will be; she lifts them, and on she speeds again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Black the driving raincloud breasts the iron gateway:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She is forth to cheer a neighbour lacking mirth.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So when sky and grass met rolling dumb for thunder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saw I once a white dove, sole light of earth.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prim little scholars are the flowers of her garden,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Train’d to stand in rows, and asking if they please.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I might love them well but for loving more the wild ones:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O my wild ones! they tell me more than these.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You, my wild one, you tell of honied field-rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Violet, blushing eglantine in life; and even as they,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They by the wayside are earnest of your goodness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You are of life’s, on the banks that line the way.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peering at her chamber the white crowns the red rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Jasmine winds the porch with stars two and three.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Parted is the window; she sleeps; the starry jasmine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breathes a falling breath that carries thoughts of me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_933" id="page_933">{933}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweeter unpossessed, have I said of her my sweetest?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Not while she sleeps: while she sleeps the jasmine breathes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Luring her to love; she sleeps; the starry jasmine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bears me to her pillow under white rose-wreaths.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yellow with birdfoot-trefoil are the grass-glades;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yellow with cinquefoil of the dew-gray leaf;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yellow with stonecrop; the moss-mounds are yellow;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blue-neck’d the wheat sways, yellowing to the sheaf.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green-yellow, bursts from the copse the laughing yaffle;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sharp as a sickle is the edge of shade and shine:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth in her heart laughs looking at the heavens,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thinking of the harvest: I look and think of mine.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This I may know: her dressing and undressing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Such a change of light shows as when the skies in sport<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shift from cloud to moonlight; or edging over thunder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Slips a ray of sun; or sweeping into port<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White sails furl; or on the ocean borders<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White sails lean along the waves leaping green.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Visions of her shower before me, but from eyesight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Guarded she would be like the sun were she seen.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Front door and back of the moss’d old farmhouse<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Open with the morn, and in a breezy link<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Freshly sparkles garden to stripe-shadow’d orchard,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Green across a rill where on sand the minnows wink.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Busy in the grass the early sun of summer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swarms, and the blackbird’s mellow fluting notes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Call my darling up with round and roguish challenge:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quaintest, richest carol of all the singing throats!<br /></span> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_934" id="page_934">{934}</a></span> - -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cool was the woodside; cool as her white dairy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Keeping sweet the cream-pan; and there the boys from school,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cricketing below, rush’d brown and red with sunshine;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O the dark translucence of the deep-eyed cool!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spying from the farm, herself she fetch’d a pitcher<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full of milk, and tilted for each in turn the beak.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then a little fellow, mouth up and on tiptoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Said, ‘I will kiss you’: she laugh’d and lean’d her cheek.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Doves of the fir-wood walling high our red roof<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through the long noon coo, crooning through the coo.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Loose droop the leaves, and down the sleepy roadway<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sometimes pipes a chaffinch; loose droops the blue.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cows flap a slow tail knee-deep in the river,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breathless, given up to sun and gnat and fly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nowhere is she seen; and if I see her nowhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lightning may come, straight rains and tiger sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O the golden sheaf, the rustling treasure-armful!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O the nutbrown tresses nodding interlaced!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O the treasure-tresses one another over<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nodding! O the girdle slack about the waist!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Slain are the poppies that shot their random scarlet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Quick amid the wheat-ears: wound about the waist,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gathered, see these brides of Earth one blush of ripeness!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O the nutbrown tresses nodding interlaced!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Large and smoky red the sun’s cold disk drops,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clipped by naked hills, on violet shaded snow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Eastward large and still lights up a bower of moonrise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whence at her leisure steps the moon aglow.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_935" id="page_935">{935}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nightlong on black print-branches our beech-tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gazes in this whiteness: nightlong could I.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here may life on death or death on life be painted.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let me clasp her soul to know she cannot die!<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gossips count her faults; they scour a narrow chamber<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where there is no window, read not heaven or her.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘When she was a tiny,’ one agèd woman quavers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Plucks at my heart and leads me by the ear.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Faults she had once as she learn’d to run and tumbled:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faults of feature some see, beauty not complete.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet, good gossips, beauty that makes holy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Earth and air, may have faults from head to feet.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hither she comes; she comes to me; she lingers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deepens her brown eyebrows, while in new surprise<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High rise the lashes in wonder of a stranger;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet am I the light and living of her eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Something friends have told her fills her heart to brimming,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nets her in her blushes, and wounds her, and tames.—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sure of her haven, O like a dove alighting,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Arms up, she dropp’d: our souls were in our names.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soon will she lie like a white frost sunrise.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yellow oats and brown wheat, barley pale as rye,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Long since your sheaves have yielded to the thresher,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Felt the girdle loosen’d, seen the tresses fly.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soon will she lie like a blood-red sunset.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swift with the to-morrow, green-wing’d Spring!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sing from the South-west, bring her back the truants,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nightingale and swallow, song and dipping wing.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_936" id="page_936">{936}</a></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soft new beech-leaves, up to beamy April<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Spreading bough on bough a primrose mountain, you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lucid in the moon, raise lilies to the skyfields,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Youngest green transfused in silver shining through:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fairer than the lily, than the wild white cherry:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair as in image my seraph love appears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Borne to me by dreams when dawn is at my eyelids:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fair as in the flesh she swims to me on tears.<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could I find a place to be alone with heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I would speak my heart out: heaven is my need.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every woodland tree is flushing like the dogwood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Flashing like the whitebeam, swaying like the reed.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flushing like the dogwood crimson in October;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Streaming like the flag-reed South-west blown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flashing as in gusts the sudden-lighted whitebeam:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All seem to know what is for heaven alone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_773" id="pm_773">773.</a></p> - -<h3>Phœbus with Admetus</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN by Zeus relenting the mandate was revoked,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sentencing to exile the bright Sun-God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mindful were the ploughmen of who the steer had yoked,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who: and what a track show’d the upturn’d sod!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mindful were the shepherds, as now the noon severe<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bent a burning eyebrow to brown evetide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How the rustic flute drew the silver to the sphere,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sister of his own, till her rays fell wide.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">God! of whom music<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And song and blood are pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The day is never darken’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That had thee here obscure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_937" id="page_937">{937}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Chirping none, the scarlet cicalas crouch’d in ranks:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Slack the thistle-head piled its down-silk gray:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Scarce the stony lizard suck’d hollows in his flanks:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thick on spots of umbrage our drowsed flocks lay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sudden bow’d the chestnuts beneath a wind unheard,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lengthen’d ran the grasses, the sky grew slate:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then amid a swift flight of wing’d seed white as curd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clear of limb a Youth smote the master’s gate.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">God! of whom music<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And song and blood are pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The day is never darken’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That had thee here obscure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Water, first of singers, o’er rocky mount and mead,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">First of earthly singers, the sun-loved rill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sang of him, and flooded the ripples on the reed,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seeking whom to waken and what ear fill.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Water, sweetest soother to kiss a wound and cool,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweetest and divinest, the sky-born brook,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chuckled, with a whimper, and made a mirror-pool<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Round the guest we welcomed, the strange hand shook.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">God! of whom music<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And song and blood are pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The day is never darken’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That had thee here obscure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Many swarms of wild bees descended on our fields:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stately stood the wheatstalk with head bent high:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Big of heart we labour’d at storing mighty yields,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wool and corn, and clusters to make men cry!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hand-like rush’d the vintage; we strung the bellied skins<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Plump, and at the sealing the Youth’s voice rose:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Maidens clung in circle, on little fists their chins;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gentle beasties through push’d a cold long nose.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_938" id="page_938">{938}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i6">God! of whom music<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And song and blood are pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The day is never darken’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That had thee here obscure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Foot to fire in snowtime we trimm’d the slender shaft:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Often down the pit spied the lean wolf’s teeth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grin against his will, trapp’d by masterstrokes of craft;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Helpless in his froth-wrath as green logs seethe!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Safe the tender lambs tugg’d the teats, and winter sped<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whirl’d before the crocus, the year’s new gold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hung the hooky beak up aloft, the arrowhead<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Redden’d through his feathers for our dear fold.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">God! of whom music<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And song and blood are pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The day is never darkened<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That had thee here obscure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tales we drank of giants at war with gods above:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rocks were they to look on, and earth climb’d air!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tales of search for simples, and those who sought of love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ease because the creature was all too fair.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pleasant ran our thinking that while our work was good,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sure as fruits for sweat would the praise come fast.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He that wrestled stoutest and tamed the billow-brood<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Danced in rings with girls, like a sail-flapp’d mast.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">God! of whom music<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And song and blood are pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The day is never darken’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That had thee here obscure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Lo, the herb of healing, when once the herb is known,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shines in shady woods bright as new-sprung flame.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere the string was tighten’d we heard the mellow tone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">After he had taught how the sweet sounds came.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_939" id="page_939">{939}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stretch’d about his feet, labour done, ’twas as you see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Red pomegranates tumble and burst hard rind.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So began contention to give delight and be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Excellent in things aim’d to make life kind.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">God! of whom music<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And song and blood are pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The day is never darken’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That had thee here obscure.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You with shelly horns, rams! and, promontory goats,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You whose browsing beards dip in coldest dew!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bulls, that walk the pastures in kingly-flashing coats!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laurel, ivy, vine, wreathed for feasts not few!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You that build the shade-roof, and you that court the rays,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You that leap besprinkling the rock stream-rent:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He has been our fellow, the morning of our days;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Us he chose for housemates, and this way went.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">God! of whom music<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And song and blood are pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The day is never darken’d<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That had thee here obscure.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_774" id="pm_774">774.</a></p> - -<h3>Tardy Spring</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4"><span class="letra">N</span>OW the North wind ceases,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The warm South-west awakes;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Swift fly the fleeces,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thick the blossom-flakes.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now hill to hill has made the stride,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And distance waves the without-end:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now in the breast a door flings wide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our farthest smiles, our next is friend.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_940" id="page_940">{940}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And song of England’s rush of flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is this full breeze with mellow stops,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That spins the lark for shine, for showers;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He drinks his hurried flight, and drops.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stir in memory seem these things,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which out of moisten’d turf and clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Astrain for light push patient rings,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or leap to find the waterway.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis equal to a wonder done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whatever simple lives renew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their tricks beneath the father sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As though they caught a broken clue:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So hard was earth an eyewink back;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But now the common life has come,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blotting cloud a dappled pack,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grasses one vast underhum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A City clothed in snow and soot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With lamps for day in ghostly rows,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Breaks to the scene of hosts afoot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The river that reflective flows:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And there did fog down crypts of street<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Play spectre upon eye and mouth:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Their faces are a glass to greet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This magic of the whirl for South.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A burly joy each creature swells<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With sound of its own hungry quest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Earth has to fill her empty wells,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And speed the service of the nest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The phantom of the snow-wreath melt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That haunts the farmer’s look abroad,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who sees what tomb a white night built,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where flocks now bleat and sprouts the clod.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For iron Winter held her firm;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_941" id="page_941">{941}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Across her sky he laid his hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bird he starved, he stiffen’d worm;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A sightless heaven, a shaven land.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her shivering Spring feign’d fast asleep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bitten buds dared not unfold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We raced on roads and ice to keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thought of the girl we love from cold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i4">But now the North wind ceases,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The warm South-west awakes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The heavens are out in fleeces,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And earth’s green banner shakes.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_775" id="pm_775">775.</a></p> - -<h3>Love’s Grave</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>ARK where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its skeleton shadow on the broad-back’d wave!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here is a fitting spot to dig Love’s grave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Here where the ponderous breakers plunge and strike,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dart their hissing tongues high up the sand:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In hearing of the ocean, and in sight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of those ribb’d wind-streaks running into white.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I the death of Love had deeply plann’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I never could have made it half so sure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As by the unblest kisses which upbraid<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The full-waked sense; or failing that, degrade!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis morning: but no morning can restore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What we have forfeited. I see no sin:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wrong is mix’d. In tragic life, God wot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No villain need be! Passions spin the plot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We are betray’d by what is false within.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_942" id="page_942">{942}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_776" id="pm_776">776.</a></p> - -<h3>Lucifer in Starlight</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>N a starr’d night Prince Lucifer uprose.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Above the rolling ball in cloud part screen’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where sinners hugg’d their spectre of repose.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And now upon his western wing he lean’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now his huge bulk o’er Afric’s sands careen’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now the black planet shadow’d Arctic snows.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Soaring through wider zones that prick’d his scars<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With memory of the old revolt from Awe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He reach’d a middle height, and at the stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which are the brain of heaven, he look’d, and sank.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Around the ancient track march’d, rank on rank,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The army of unalterable law.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ALEXANDER_SMITH" id="ALEXANDER_SMITH"></a>ALEXANDER SMITH</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1829-1867<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_777" id="pm_777">777.</a></p> - -<h3>Love</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE fierce exulting worlds, the motes in rays,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The churlish thistles, scented briers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind-swept bluebells on the sunny braes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down to the central fires,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Exist alike in Love. Love is a sea<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Filling all the abysses dim<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of lornest space, in whose deeps regally<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Suns and their bright broods swim.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This mighty sea of Love, with wondrous tides,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is sternly just to sun and grain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis laving at this moment Saturn’s sides,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis in my blood and brain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_943" id="page_943">{943}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">All things have something more than barren use;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is a scent upon the brier,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A tremulous splendour in the autumn dews,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cold morns are fringed with fire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The clodded earth goes up in sweet-breath’d flowers;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In music dies poor human speech,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And into beauty blow those hearts of ours<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When Love is born in each.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Daisies are white upon the churchyard sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sweet tears the clouds lean down and give.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world is very lovely. O my God,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I thank Thee that I live!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_778" id="pm_778">778.</a></p> - -<h3>Barbara</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><span class="letra">O</span>N the Sabbath-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Through the churchyard old and gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the crisp and yellow leaves I held my rustling way;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And amid the words of mercy, falling on my soul like balms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid the gorgeous storms of music—in the mellow organ-calms,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Mid the upward-streaming prayers, and the rich and solemn psalms,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I stood careless, Barbara.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">My heart was otherwhere,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">While the organ shook the air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the priest, with outspread hands, bless’d the people with a prayer;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when rising to go homeward, with a mild and saint-like shine<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_944" id="page_944">{944}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleam’d a face of airy beauty with its heavenly eyes on mine—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gleam’d and vanish’d in a moment—O that face was surely thine<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Out of heaven, Barbara!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">O pallid, pallid face!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">O earnest eyes of grace!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When last I saw thee, dearest, it was in another place.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You came running forth to meet me with my love-gift on your wrist:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flutter of a long white dress, then all was lost in mist—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A purple stain of agony was on the mouth I kiss’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">That wild morning, Barbara.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">I searched, in my despair,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Sunny noon and midnight air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I could not drive away the thought that you were lingering there.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O many and many a winter night I sat when you were gone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My worn face buried in my hands, beside the fire alone—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the dripping churchyard, the rain plashing on your stone,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">You were sleeping, Barbara.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">’Mong angels, do you think<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of the precious golden link<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I clasp’d around your happy arm while sitting by yon brink?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or when that night of gliding dance, of laughter and guitars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was emptied of its music, and we watch’d, through lattice-bars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The silent midnight heaven creeping o’er us with its stars,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Till the day broke, Barbara?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_945" id="page_945">{945}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i6">In the years I’ve changed;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Wild and far my heart has ranged,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And many sins and errors now have been on me avenged;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But to you I have been faithful whatsoever good I lack’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I loved you, and above my life still hangs that love intact—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your love the trembling rainbow, I the reckless cataract.<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Still I love you, Barbara.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Yet, Love, I am unblest;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">With many doubts opprest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I wander like the desert wind without a place of rest.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Could I but win you for an hour from off that starry shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hunger of my soul were still’d; for Death hath told you more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than the melancholy world doth know—things deeper than all lore<br /></span> -<span class="i6">You could teach me, Barbara.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">In vain, in vain, in vain!<br /></span> -<span class="i6">You will never come again.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There droops upon the dreary hills a mournful fringe of rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gloaming closes slowly round, loud winds are in the tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round selfish shores for ever moans the hurt and wounded sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is no rest upon the earth, peace is with Death and thee—<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Barbara!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_946" id="page_946">{946}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="CHRISTINA_GEORGINA_ROSSETTI" id="CHRISTINA_GEORGINA_ROSSETTI"></a>CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1830-1894<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_779" id="pm_779">779.</a></p> - -<h3>Bride Song</h3> - -<p class="c">FROM ‘THE PRINCE’S PROGRESS’</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>OO late for love, too late for joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too late, too late!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You loiter’d on the road too long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You trifled at the gate:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The enchanted dove upon her branch<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Died without a mate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The enchanted princess in her tower<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Slept, died, behind the grate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her heart was starving all this while<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You made it wait.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ten years ago, five years ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One year ago,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even then you had arrived in time,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though somewhat slow;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then you had known her living face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which now you cannot know:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The frozen fountain would have leap’d.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The buds gone on to blow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The warm south wind would have awaked<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To melt the snow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Is she fair now as she lies?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once she was fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Meet queen for any kingly king,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With gold-dust on her hair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_947" id="page_947">{947}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now there are poppies in her locks,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">White poppies she must wear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must wear a veil to shroud her face<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the want graven there:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or is the hunger fed at length,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cast off the care?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We never saw her with a smile<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or with a frown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her bed seem’d never soft to her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though toss’d of down;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She little heeded what she wore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kirtle, or wreath, or gown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We think her white brows often ached<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beneath her crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till silvery hairs show’d in her locks<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That used to be so brown.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We never heard her speak in haste:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her tones were sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And modulated just so much<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As it was meet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her heart sat silent through the noise<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And concourse of the street.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was no hurry in her hands,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No hurry in her feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There was no bliss drew nigh to her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That she might run to greet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You should have wept her yesterday,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wasting upon her bed:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But wherefore should you weep to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That she is dead?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_948" id="page_948">{948}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo, we who love weep not to-day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But crown her royal head.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let be these poppies that we strew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your roses are too red:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let be these poppies, not for you<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cut down and spread.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_780" id="pm_780">780.</a></p> - -<h3>A Birthday</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y heart is like a singing bird<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose nest is in a water’d shoot;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart is like an apple-tree<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart is like a rainbow shell<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That paddles in a halcyon sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My heart is gladder than all these,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Because my love is come to me.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Raise me a daïs of silk and down;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hang it with vair and purple dyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Carve it in doves and pomegranates,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And peacocks with a hundred eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Work it in gold and silver grapes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because the birthday of my life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is come, my love is come to me.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_781" id="pm_781">781.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN I am dead, my dearest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing no sad songs for me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Plant thou no roses at my head,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor shady cypress tree:<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_949" id="page_949">{949}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be the green grass above me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With showers and dewdrops wet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And if thou wilt, remember.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And if thou wilt, forget.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall not see the shadows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I shall not feel the rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall not hear the nightingale<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing on, as if in pain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dreaming through the twilight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That doth not rise nor set,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Haply I may remember,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And haply may forget.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_782" id="pm_782">782.</a></p> - -<h3>Twice</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> TOOK my heart in my hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(O my love, O my love),<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I said: Let me fall or stand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let me live or die,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But this once hear me speak<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(O my love, O my love)—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet a woman’s words are weak;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You should speak, not I.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You took my heart in your hand<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a friendly smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a critical eye you scann’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Then set it down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And said, ‘It is still unripe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Better wait awhile;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wait while the skylarks pipe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till the corn grows brown.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_950" id="page_950">{950}</a></span>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">As you set it down it broke—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Broke, but I did not wince;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I smiled at the speech you spoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At your judgement I heard:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I have not often smiled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since then, nor question’d since,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor cared for cornflowers wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor sung with the singing bird.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I take my heart in my hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O my God, O my God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My broken heart in my hand:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou hast seen, judge Thou.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My hope was written on sand,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O my God, O my God:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now let thy judgement stand—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yea, judge me now.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This contemn’d of a man,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This marr’d one heedless day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This heart take thou to scan<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Both within and without:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Refine with fire its gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Purge Thou its dross away—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea, hold it in Thy hold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whence none can pluck it out.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I take my heart in my hand—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I shall not die, but live—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Before Thy face I stand;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I, for Thou callest such:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that I have I bring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All that I am I give,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smile Thou and I shall sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But shall not question much.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_951" id="page_951">{951}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_783" id="pm_783">783.</a></p> - -<h3>Uphill</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>OES the road wind uphill all the way?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yes, to the very end.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From morn to night, my friend.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But is there for the night a resting-place?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A roof for when the slow, dark hours begin.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May not the darkness hide it from my face?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You cannot miss that inn.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those who have gone before.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They will not keep you waiting at that door.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of labour you shall find the sum.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will there be beds for me and all who seek?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yea, beds for all who come.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_784" id="pm_784">784.</a></p> - -<h3>Passing Away</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>ASSING away, saith the World, passing away:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chances, beauty and youth sapp’d day by day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy life never continueth in one stay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the eye waxen dim, is the dark hair changing to gray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That hath won neither laurel nor bay?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall clothe myself in Spring and bud in May:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, root-stricken, shalt not rebuild thy decay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On my bosom for aye.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then I answer’d: Yea.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_952" id="page_952">{952}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Passing away, saith my Soul, passing away:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With its burden of fear and hope, of labour and play,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hearken what the past doth witness and say:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rust in thy gold, a moth is in thine array,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A canker is in thy bud, thy leaf must decay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At midnight, at cockcrow, at morning, one certain day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo, the Bridegroom shall come and shall not delay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watch thou and pray.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then I answer’d: Yea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Passing away, saith my God, passing away:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winter passeth after the long delay:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">New grapes on the vine, new figs on the tender spray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Turtle calleth turtle in Heaven’s May.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though I tarry, wait for me, trust me, watch and pray.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arise, come away; night is past, and lo, it is day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My love, my sister, my spouse, thou shalt hear me say—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then I answer’d: Yea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_785" id="pm_785">785.</a></p> - -<h3>Marvel of Marvels</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>ARVEL of marvels, if I myself shall behold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With mine own eyes my King in His city of gold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the least of lambs is spotless white in the fold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the least and last of saints in spotless white is stoled,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the dimmest head beyond a moon is aureoled.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O saints, my belovèd, now mouldering to mould in the mould,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall I see you lift your heads, see your cerements unroll’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See with these very eyes? who now in darkness and cold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tremble for the midnight cry, the rapture, the tale untold,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>The Bridegroom cometh, cometh, His Bride to enfold!</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Cold it is, my belovèd, since your funeral bell was toll’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cold it is, O my King, how cold alone on the wold!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_953" id="page_953">{953}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_786" id="pm_786">786.</a></p> - -<h3>Is it Well with the Child?</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>AFE where I cannot die yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Safe where I hope to lie too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Safe from the fume and the fret;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">You, and you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whom I never forget.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Safe from the frost and the snow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Safe from the storm and the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Safe where the seeds wait to grow<br /></span> -<span class="i6">One by one,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And to come back in blow.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_787" id="pm_787">787.</a></p> - -<h3>Remember</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">R</span>EMEMBER me when I am gone away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gone far away into the silent land;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When you can no more hold me by the hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Remember me when no more day by day<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You tell me of our future that you plann’d:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Only remember me; you understand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It will be late to counsel then or pray.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet if you should forget me for a while<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And afterwards remember, do not grieve:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For if the darkness and corruption leave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better by far you should forget and smile<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Than that you should remember and be sad.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_954" id="page_954">{954}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_788" id="pm_788">788.</a></p> - -<h3>Aloof</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE irresponsive silence of the land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The irresponsive sounding of the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Speak both one message of one sense to me:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Aloof, aloof, we stand aloof, so stand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou too aloof, bound with the flawless band<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of inner solitude; we bind not thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But who from thy self-chain shall set thee free?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What heart shall touch thy heart? What hand thy hand?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I am sometimes proud and sometimes meek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sometimes I remember days of old<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When fellowship seem’d not so far to seek,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the world and I seem’d much less cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And at the rainbow’s foot lay surely gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hope felt strong, and life itself not weak.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_789" id="pm_789">789.</a></p> - -<h3>Rest</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> EARTH, lie heavily upon her eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching, Earth;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lie close around her; leave no room for mirth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She hath no questions, she hath no replies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hush’d in and curtain’d with a blessèd dearth<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of all that irk’d her from the hour of birth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With stillness that is almost Paradise.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkness more clear than noonday holdeth her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Silence more musical than any song;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even her very heart has ceased to stir:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Until the morning of Eternity<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her rest shall not begin nor end, but be;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And when she wakes she will not think it long.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_955" id="page_955">{955}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_EDWARD_BROWN" id="THOMAS_EDWARD_BROWN"></a>THOMAS EDWARD BROWN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1830-1897<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_790" id="pm_790">790.</a></p> - -<h3>Dora</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE knelt upon her brother’s grave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My little girl of six years old—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He used to be so good and brave,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sweetest lamb of all our fold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He used to shout, he used to sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of all our tribe the little king—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And so unto the turf her ear she laid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To hark if still in that dark place he play’d.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No sound! no sound!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Death’s silence was profound;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And horror crept<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Into her aching heart, and Dora wept.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">If this is as it ought to be,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My God, I leave it unto Thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_791" id="pm_791">791.</a></p> - -<h3>Jessie</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN Jessie comes with her soft breast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And yields the golden keys,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then is it as if God caress’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Twin babes upon His knees—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twin babes that, each to other press’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just feel the Father’s arms, wherewith they both are bless’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But when I think if we must part,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all this personal dream be fled—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O then my heart! O then my useless heart!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would God that thou wert dead—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A clod insensible to joys and ills—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A stone remote in some bleak gully of the hills!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_956" id="page_956">{956}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_792" id="pm_792">792.</a></p> - -<h3>Salve!</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O live within a cave—it is most good;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But, if God make a day,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And some one come, and say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Lo! I have gather’d faggots in the wood!’<br /></span> -<span class="i4">E’en let him stay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And light a fire, and fan a temporal mood!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So sit till morning! when the light is grown<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That he the path can read,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Then bid the man God-speed!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His morning is not thine: yet must thou own<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They have a cheerful warmth—those ashes on the stone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_793" id="pm_793">793.</a></p> - -<h3><i>My Garden</i></h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> GARDEN is a lovesome thing, God wot!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rose plot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fringed pool,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fern’d grot—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The veriest school<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of peace; and yet the fool<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Contends that God is not—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not God! in gardens! when the eve is cool?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nay, but I have a sign;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis very sure God walks in mine.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_957" id="page_957">{957}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EDWARD_ROBERT_BULWER_LYTTON_EARL_OF_LYTTON" id="EDWARD_ROBERT_BULWER_LYTTON_EARL_OF_LYTTON"></a>EDWARD ROBERT BULWER LYTTON, EARL OF LYTTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1831-1892<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_794" id="pm_794">794.</a></p> - -<h3>A Night in Italy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>WEET are the rosy memories of the lips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That first kiss’d ours, albeit they kiss no more:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet is the sight of sunset-sailing ships,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Altho’ they leave us on a lonely shore:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweet are familiar songs, tho’ Music dips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her hollow shell in Thought’s forlornest wells:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sweet, tho’ sad, the sound of midnight bells<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the oped casement with the night-rain drips.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There is a pleasure which is born of pain:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The grave of all things hath its violet.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Else why, thro’ days which never come again,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Roams Hope with that strange longing, like Regret?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why put the posy in the cold dead hand?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why plant the rose above the lonely grave?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why bring the corpse across the salt sea-wave?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why deem the dead more near in native land?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy name hath been a silence in my life<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So long, it falters upon language now,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O more to me than sister or than wife,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Once ... and now—nothing! It is hard to know<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That such things have been, and are not; and yet<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Life loiters, keeps a pulse at even measure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And goes upon its business and its pleasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And knows not all the depths of its regret....<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_958" id="page_958">{958}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, could the memory cast her spots, as do<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The snake’s brood theirs in spring! and be once more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wholly renew’d, to dwell i’ the time that’s new,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With no reiterance of those pangs of yore.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Peace, peace! My wild song will go wandering<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Too wantonly, down paths a private pain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hath trodden bare. What was it jarr’d the strain?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some crush’d illusion, left with crumpled wing<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Tangled in Music’s web of twinèd strings—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That started that false note, and crack’d the tune<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In its beginning. Ah, forgotten things<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stumble back strangely! and the ghost of June<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stands by December’s fire, cold, cold! and puts<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The last spark out.—How could I sing aright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With those old airs haunting me all the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And those old steps that sound when daylight shuts?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For back she comes, and moves reproachfully,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mistress of my moods, and looks bereft<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Cruel to the last!) as tho’ ’twere I, not she,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That did the wrong, and broke the spell, and left<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Memory comfortless.—Away! away!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Phantoms, about whose brows the bindweed clings,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hopeless regret! In thinking of these things<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some men have lost their minds, and others may.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet, O for one deep draught in this dull hour!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One deep, deep draught of the departed time!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O for one brief strong pulse of ancient power,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To beat and breathe thro’ all the valves of rhyme!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou, Memory, with thy downward eyes, that art<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cup-bearer of gods, pour deep and long,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brim all the vacant chalices of song<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With health! Droop down thine urn. I hold my heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_959" id="page_959">{959}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">One draught of what I shall not taste again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save when my brain with thy dark wine is brimm’d,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One draught! and then straight onward, spite of pain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And spite of all things changed, with gaze undimm’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love’s footsteps thro’ the waning Past to explore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Undaunted; and to carve in the wan light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of Hope’s last outposts, on Song’s utmost height,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sad resemblance of an hour or more.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Midnight, and love, and youth, and Italy!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love in the land where love most lovely seems!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Land of my love, tho’ I be far from thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lend, for love’s sake, the light of thy moonbeams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spirit of thy cypress-groves and all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy dark-eyed beauty for a little while<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To my desire. Yet once more let her smile<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fall o’er me: o’er me let her long hair fall....<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Under the blessèd darkness unreproved<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We were alone, in that best hour of time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which first reveal’d to us how much we loved,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Neath the thick starlight. The young night sublime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hung trembling o’er us. At her feet I knelt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And gazed up from her feet into her eyes.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her face was bow’d: we breathed each other’s sighs:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We did not speak: not move: we look’d: we felt.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The night said not a word. The breeze was dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The leaf lay without whispering on the tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As I lay at her feet. Droop’d was her head:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One hand in mine: and one still pensively<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Went wandering through my hair. We were together.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How? Where? What matter? Somewhere in a dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drifting, slow drifting down a wizard stream:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whither? Together: then what matter whither?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_960" id="page_960">{960}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It was enough for me to clasp her hand:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To blend with her love-looks my own: no more.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Enough (with thoughts like ships that cannot land,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blown by faint winds about a magic shore)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To realize, in each mysterious feeling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The droop of the warm cheek so near my own:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The cool white arm about my shoulder thrown:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Those exquisite fair feet where I was kneeling.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How little know they life’s divinest bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That know not to possess and yet refrain!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let the young Psyche roam, a fleeting kiss:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grasp it—a few poor grains of dust remain.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See how those floating flowers, the butterflies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hover the garden thro’, and take no root!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Desire for ever hath a flying foot:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Free pleasure comes and goes beneath the skies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Close not thy hand upon the innocent joy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That trusts itself within thy reach. It may,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or may not, linger. Thou canst but destroy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wingèd wanderer. Let it go or stay.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love thou the rose, yet leave it on its stem.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Think! Midas starved by turning all to gold.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blessèd are those that spare, and that withhold;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because the whole world shall be trusted them.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The foolish Faun pursues the unwilling Nymph<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That culls her flowers beside the precipice<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or dips her shining ankles in the lymph:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But, just when she must perish or be his,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_961" id="page_961">{961}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heaven puts an arm out. She is safe. The shore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gains some new fountain; or the lilied lawn<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A rarer sort of rose: but ah, poor Faun!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thee she shall be changed for evermore.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Chase not too close the fading rapture. Leave<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To Love his long auroras, slowly seen.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be ready to release as to receive.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deem those the nearest, soul to soul, between<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose lips yet lingers reverence on a sigh.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Judge what thy sense can reach not, most thine own,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If once thy soul hath seized it. The unknown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is life to love, religion, poetry.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The moon had set. There was not any light,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Save of the lonely legion’d watch-stars pale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In outer air, and what by fits made bright<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hot oleanders in a rosy vale<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Searched by the lamping fly, whose little spark<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Went in and out, like passion’s bashful hope.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Meanwhile the sleepy globe began to slope<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A ponderous shoulder sunward thro’ the dark.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the night pass’d in beauty like a dream.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Aloof in those dark heavens paused Destiny,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her last star descending in the gleam<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the cold morrow, from the emptied sky.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hour, the distance from her old self, all<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The novelty and loneness of the place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Had left a lovely awe on that fair face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the land grew strange and magical.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_962" id="page_962">{962}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">As droops some billowy cloud to the crouch’d hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Heavy with all heaven’s tears, for all earth’s care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She droop’d unto me, without force or will,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sank upon my bosom, murmuring there<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A woman’s inarticulate passionate words.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O moment of all moments upon earth!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O life’s supreme! How worth, how wildly worth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whole worlds of flame, to know this world affords.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What even Eternity can not restore!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When all the ends of life take hands and meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round centres of sweet fire. Ah, never more,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah never, shall the bitter with the sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be mingled so in the pale after-years!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One hour of life immortal spirits possess.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This drains the world, and leaves but weariness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And parching passion, and perplexing tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sad is it, that we cannot even keep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That hour to sweeten life’s last toil: but Youth<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Grasps all, and leaves us: and when we would weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We dare not let our tears fall, lest, in truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They fall upon our work which must be done.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And so we bind up our torn hearts from breaking:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our eyes from weeping, and our brows from aching:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And follow the long pathway all alone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_795" id="pm_795">795.</a></p> - -<h3>The Last Wish</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>INCE all that I can ever do for thee<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is to do nothing, this my prayer must be:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thou mayst never guess nor ever see<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The all-endured this nothing-done costs me.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_963" id="page_963">{963}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2>JAMES THOMSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1834-1882<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_796" id="pm_796">796.</a></p> - -<h3>In the Train</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>S we rush, as we rush in the Train,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The trees and the houses go wheeling back,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the starry heavens above the plain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Come flying on our track.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All the beautiful stars of the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The silver doves of the forest of Night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the dull earth swarm and fly,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Companions of our flight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We will rush ever on without fear;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Let the goal be far, the flight be fleet!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For we carry the Heavens with us, dear,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While the Earth slips from our feet!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_797" id="pm_797">797.</a></p> - -<h3>Sunday up the River</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y love o’er the water bends dreaming;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">It glideth and glideth away:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She sees there her own beauty, gleaming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Through shadow and ripple and spray.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O tell her, thou murmuring river,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As past her your light wavelets roll,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How steadfast that image for ever<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shines pure in pure depths of my soul.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_964" id="page_964">{964}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_798" id="pm_798">798.</a></p> - -<h3>Gifts</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>IVE a man a horse he can ride,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Give a man a boat he can sail;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his rank and wealth, his strength and health,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On sea nor shore shall fail.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Give a man a pipe he can smoke,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Give a man a book he can read:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his home is bright with a calm delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though the room be poor indeed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Give a man a girl he can love,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As I, O my love, love thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his heart is great with the pulse of Fate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">At home, on land, on sea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_799" id="pm_799">799.</a></p> - -<h3>The Vine</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE wine of Love is music,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the feast of Love is song:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when Love sits down to the banquet,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Love sits long:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sits long and arises drunken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But not with the feast and the wine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He reeleth with his own heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That great, rich Vine.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_965" id="page_965">{965}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_MORRIS" id="WILLIAM_MORRIS"></a>WILLIAM MORRIS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1834-1896<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_800" id="pm_800">800.</a></p> - -<h3>Summer Dawn</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>RAY but one prayer for me ’twixt thy closed lips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Think but one thought of me up in the stars.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The summer night waneth, the morning light slips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faint and gray ’twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That are patiently waiting there for the dawn:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Patient and colourless, though Heaven’s gold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Waits to float through them along with the sun.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Far out in the meadows, above the young corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round the lone house in the midst of the corn.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Speak but one word to me over the corn,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Over the tender, bow’d locks of the corn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_801" id="pm_801">801.</a></p> - -<h3>Love is enough</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OVE is enough: though the World be a-waning,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the woods have no voice but the voice of complaining,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The gold-cups and daisies fair blooming thereunder,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though the hills be held shadows, and the sea a dark wonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And this day draw a veil over all deeds pass’d over,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet their hands shall not tremble, their feet shall not falter;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The void shall not weary, the fear shall not alter<br /></span> -<span class="i2">These lips and these eyes of the loved and the lover.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_966" id="page_966">{966}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_802" id="pm_802">802.</a></p> - -<h3>The Nymph’s Song to Hylas</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> KNOW a little garden-close<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Set thick with lily and red rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I would wander if I might<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From dewy dawn to dewy night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And have one with me wandering.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And though within it no birds sing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though no pillar’d house is there,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And though the apple boughs are bare<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of fruit and blossom, would to God,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her feet upon the green grass trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I beheld them as before!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There comes a murmur from the shore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the place two fair streams are,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drawn from the purple hills afar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drawn down unto the restless sea;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The hills whose flowers ne’er fed the bee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shore no ship has ever seen,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still beaten by the billows green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose murmur comes unceasingly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Unto the place for which I cry.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For which I cry both day and night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For which I let slip all delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That maketh me both deaf and blind,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Careless to win, unskill’d to find,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And quick to lose what all men seek.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet tottering as I am, and weak,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still have I left a little breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To seek within the jaws of death<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_967" id="page_967">{967}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">An entrance to that happy place;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To seek the unforgotten face<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once seen, once kiss’d, once reft from me<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Anigh the murmuring of the sea.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RODEN_BERKELEY_WRIOTHESLEY_NOEL" id="RODEN_BERKELEY_WRIOTHESLEY_NOEL"></a>RODEN BERKELEY WRIOTHESLEY NOEL</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1834-1894<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_803" id="pm_803">803.</a></p> - -<h3>The Water-Nymph and the Boy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> FLUNG me round him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I drew him under;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I clung, I drown’d him,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My own white wonder!...<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Father and mother,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Weeping and wild,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Came to the forest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calling the child,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Came from the palace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down to the pool,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calling my darling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My beautiful!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under the water,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cold and so pale!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Could it be love made<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Beauty to fail?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Ah me for mortals!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In a few moons,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If I had left him,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">After some Junes<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_968" id="page_968">{968}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">He would have faded,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faded away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He, the young monarch, whom<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All would obey,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fairer than day;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Alien to springtime,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Joyless and gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He would have faded,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faded away,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Moving a mockery,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Scorn’d of the day!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now I have taken him<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All in his prime,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saved from slow poisoning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pitiless Time,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fill’d with his happiness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">One with the prime,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saved from the cruel<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dishonour of Time.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laid him, my beautiful,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Laid him to rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Loving, adorable,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Softly to rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here in my crystalline,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Here in my breast!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_804" id="pm_804">804.</a></p> - -<h3>The Old</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HEY are waiting on the shore<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the bark to take them home:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They will toil and grieve no more;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hour for release hath come.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_969" id="page_969">{969}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All their long life lies behind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like a dimly blending dream:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There is nothing left to bind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the realms that only seem.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They are waiting for the boat;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There is nothing left to do:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What was near them grows remote,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Happy silence falls like dew;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now the shadowy bark is come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the weary may go home.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">By still water they would rest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the shadow of the tree:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">After battle sleep is best,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">After noise, tranquillity.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THOMAS_ASHE" id="THOMAS_ASHE"></a>THOMAS ASHE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1836-1889<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_805" id="pm_805">805.</a></p> - -<h3>Meet We no Angels, Pansie?</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>AME, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In white, to find her lover;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The grass grew proud beneath her feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The green elm-leaves above her:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Meet we no angels, Pansie?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She said, ‘We meet no angels now’;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And soft lights stream’d upon her;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with white hand she touch’d a bough;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She did it that great honour:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What! meet no angels, Pansie?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_970" id="page_970">{970}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sweet brown hat, brown hair, brown eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down-dropp’d brown eyes, so tender!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then what said I? Gallant replies<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seem flattery, and offend her:—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But—meet no angels, Pansie?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_806" id="pm_806">806.</a></p> - -<h3>To Two Bereaved</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">Y</span>OU must be sad; for though it is to Heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis hard to yield a little girl of seven.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alas, for me ’tis hard my grief to rule,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who only met her as she went to school;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who never heard the little lips so sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Say even ‘Good-morning,’ though our eyes would meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As whose would fain be friends! How must you sigh,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sick for your loss, when even so sad am I,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who never clasp’d the small hands any day!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fair flowers thrive round the little grave, I pray.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="THEODORE_WATTS-DUNTON" id="THEODORE_WATTS-DUNTON"></a>THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1836-1914<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_807" id="pm_807">807.</a></p> - -<h3>Wassail Chorus at the Mermaid Tavern</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>HRISTMAS knows a merry, merry place,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where he goes with fondest face,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brightest eye, brightest hair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell the Mermaid where is that one place,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Where?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Raleigh.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">’Tis by Devon’s glorious halls,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whence, dear Ben, I come again:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bright of golden roofs and walls—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">El Dorado’s rare domain<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_971" id="page_971">{971}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seem those halls when sunlight launches<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shafts of gold thro’ leafless branches,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the winter’s feathery mantle blanches<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Field and farm and lane.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Chorus.</span> Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Drayton.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">’Tis where Avon’s wood-sprites weave<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Through the boughs a lace of rime,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While the bells of Christmas Eve<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fling for Will the Stratford-chime<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er the river-flags emboss’d<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rich with flowery runes of frost—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the meads where snowy tufts are toss’d—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Strains of olden time.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Chorus.</span> Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Shakespeare’s Friend.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">’Tis, methinks, on any ground<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where our Shakespeare’s feet are set.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There smiles Christmas, holly-crown’d<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With his blithest coronet:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Friendship’s face he loveth well:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">’Tis a countenance whose spell<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sheds a balm o’er every mead and dell<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Where we used to fret.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Chorus.</span> Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Heywood.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">More than all the pictures, Ben,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Winter weaves by wood or stream,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Christmas loves our London, when<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Rise thy clouds of wassail-steam<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_972" id="page_972">{972}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Clouds like these, that, curling, take<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forms of faces gone, and wake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many a lay from lips we loved, and make<br /></span> -<span class="i8">London like a dream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Chorus.</span> Christmas knows a merry, merry place, &c.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><i>Ben Jonson.</i><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Love’s old songs shall never die,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet the new shall suffer proof:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love’s old drink of Yule brew I<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wassail for new love’s behoof.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Drink the drink I brew, and sing<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till the berried branches swing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till our song make all the Mermaid ring—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Yea, from rush to roof.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Finale.</span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Christmas loves this merry, merry place;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Christmas saith with fondest face,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Brightest eye, brightest hair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Ben, the drink tastes rare of sack and mace;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Rare!’<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ALGERNON_CHARLES_SWINBURNE" id="ALGERNON_CHARLES_SWINBURNE"></a>ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1837-1909<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_808" id="pm_808">808.</a></p> - -<h3>Chorus from ‘Atalanta’</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN the hounds of spring are on winter’s traces,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mother of months in meadow or plain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fills the shadows and windy places<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With lisp of leaves and ripple of rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the brown bright nightingale amorous<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is half assuaged for Itylus,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the Thracian ships and the foreign faces.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tongueless vigil, and all the pain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_973" id="page_973">{973}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Maiden most perfect, lady of light,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a noise of winds and many rivers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a clamour of waters, and with might;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bind on thy sandals, O thou most fleet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the splendour and speed of thy feet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the faint east quickens, the wan west shivers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Round the feet of the day and the feet of the night.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Where shall we find her, how shall we sing to her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fold our hands round her knees, and cling?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O that man’s heart were as fire and could spring to her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fire, or the strength of the streams that spring!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the stars and the winds are unto her<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As raiment, as songs of the harp-player;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the risen stars and the fallen cling to her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the southwest-wind and the west-wind sing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For winter’s rains and ruins are over,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the season of snows and sins;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The days dividing lover and lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The light that loses, the night that wins;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And time remember’d is grief forgotten,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And frosts are slain and flowers begotten,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in green underwood and cover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blossom by blossom the spring begins.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The full streams feed on flower of rushes,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ripe grasses trammel a travelling foot,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The faint fresh flame of the young year flushes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From leaf to flower and flower to fruit;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fruit and leaf are as gold and fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the oat is heard above the lyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the hoofèd heel of a satyr crushes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The chestnut-husk at the chestnut-root.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_974" id="page_974">{974}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">And Pan by noon and Bacchus by night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fleeter of foot than the fleet-foot kid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Follows with dancing and fills with delight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Mænad and the Bassarid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And soft as lips that laugh and hide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The laughing leaves of the trees divide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And screen from seeing and leave in sight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The god pursuing, the maiden hid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The ivy falls with the Bacchanal’s hair<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Over her eyebrows hiding her eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wild vine slipping down leaves bare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her bright breast shortening into sighs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wild vine slips with the weight of its leaves,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the berried ivy catches and cleaves<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To the limbs that glitter, the feet that scare<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wolf that follows, the fawn that flies.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_809" id="pm_809">809.</a></p> - -<h3>Hertha</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8"><span class="letra">I</span> AM that which began;<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Out of me the years roll;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Out of me God and man;<br /></span> -<span class="i9">I am equal and whole;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God changes, and man, and the form of them bodily; I am the soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Before ever land was,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Before ever the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Or soft hair of the grass,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Or fair limbs of the tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or the flesh-colour’d fruit of my branches, I was, and thy soul was in me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_975" id="page_975">{975}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">First life on my sources<br /></span> -<span class="i9">First drifted and swam;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Out of me are the forces<br /></span> -<span class="i9">That save it or damn;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of me man and woman, and wild-beast and bird: before God was, I am.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Beside or above me<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Naught is there to go;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Love or unlove me,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Unknow me or know,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am that which unloves me and loves; I am stricken, and I am the blow.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">I the mark that is miss’d<br /></span> -<span class="i9">And the arrows that miss,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">I the mouth that is kiss’d<br /></span> -<span class="i9">And the breath in the kiss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The search, and the sought, and the seeker, the soul and the body that is.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">I am that thing which blesses<br /></span> -<span class="i9">My spirit elate;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">That which caresses<br /></span> -<span class="i9">With hands uncreate<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My limbs unbegotten that measure the length of the measure of fate.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">But what thing dost thou now,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Looking Godward, to cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">‘I am I, thou art thou,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">I am low, thou art high’?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am thou, whom thou seekest to find him; find thou but thyself, thou art I.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_976" id="page_976">{976}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">I the grain and the furrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">The plough-cloven clod<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And the ploughshare drawn thorough,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">The germ and the sod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The deed and the doer, the seed and the sower, the dust which is God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Hast thou known how I fashion’d thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Child, underground?<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Fire that impassion’d thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Iron that bound,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dim changes of water, what thing of all these hast thou known of or found?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Canst thou say in thine heart<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Thou hast seen with thine eyes<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With what cunning of art<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Thou wast wrought in what wise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By what force of what stuff thou wast shapen, and shown on my breast to the skies?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Who hath given, who hath sold it thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Knowledge of me?<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Has the wilderness told it thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Hast thou learnt of the sea?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hast thou communed in spirit with night? have the winds taken counsel with thee?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Have I set such a star<br /></span> -<span class="i9">To show light on thy brow<br /></span> -<span class="i8">That thou sawest from afar<br /></span> -<span class="i9">What I show to thee now?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Have ye spoken as brethren together, the sun and the mountains and thou?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_977" id="page_977">{977}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">What is here, dost thou know it?<br /></span> -<span class="i9">What was, hast thou known?<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Prophet nor poet<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Nor tripod nor throne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor spirit nor flesh can make answer, but only thy mother alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Mother, not maker,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Born, and not made;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Though her children forsake her,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Allured or afraid,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Praying prayers to the God of their fashion, she stirs not for all that have pray’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">A creed is a rod,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">And a crown is of night;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">But this thing is God,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">To be man with thy might,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To grow straight in the strength of thy spirit, and live out thy life as the light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">I am in thee to save thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">As my soul in thee saith;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Give thou as I gave thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Thy life-blood and breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green leaves of thy labour, white flowers of thy thought, and red fruit of thy death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Be the ways of thy giving<br /></span> -<span class="i9">As mine were to thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">The free life of thy living,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Be the gift of it free;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not as servant to lord, nor as master to slave, shalt thou give thee to me.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_978" id="page_978">{978}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">O children of banishment,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Souls overcast,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Were the lights ye see vanish meant<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Alway to last,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ye would know not the sun overshining the shadows and stars overpast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">I that saw where ye trod<br /></span> -<span class="i9">The dim paths of the night<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Set the shadow call’d God<br /></span> -<span class="i9">In your skies to give light;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the morning of manhood is risen, and the shadowless soul is in sight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">The tree many-rooted<br /></span> -<span class="i9">That swells to the sky<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With frondage red-fruited,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">The life-tree am I;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the buds of your lives is the sap of my leaves: ye shall live and not die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">But the Gods of your fashion<br /></span> -<span class="i9">That take and that give,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In their pity and passion<br /></span> -<span class="i9">That scourge and forgive,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They are worms that are bred in the bark that falls off; they shall die and not live.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">My own blood is what stanches<br /></span> -<span class="i9">The wounds in my bark;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Stars caught in my branches<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Make day of the dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And are worshipp’d as suns till the sunrise shall tread out their fires as a spark.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_979" id="page_979">{979}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Where dead ages hide under<br /></span> -<span class="i9">The live roots of the tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In my darkness the thunder<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Makes utterance of me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the clash of my boughs with each other ye hear the waves sound of the sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">That noise is of Time,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">As his feathers are spread<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And his feet set to climb<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Through the boughs overhead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my foliage rings round him and rustles, and branches are bent with his tread.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">The storm-winds of ages<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Blow through me and cease,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">The war-wind that rages,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">The spring-wind of peace,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ere the breath of them roughen my tresses, ere one of my blossoms increase.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">All sounds of all changes,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">All shadows and lights<br /></span> -<span class="i8">On the world’s mountain-ranges<br /></span> -<span class="i9">And stream-riven heights,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose tongue is the wind’s tongue and language of storm-clouds on earth-shaking nights;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">All forms of all faces,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">All works of all hands<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In unsearchable places<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Of time-stricken lands,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All death and all life, and all reigns and all ruins, drop through me as sands.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_980" id="page_980">{980}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Though sore be my burden<br /></span> -<span class="i9">And more than ye know,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And my growth have no guerdon<br /></span> -<span class="i9">But only to grow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet I fail not of growing for lightnings above me or deathworms below.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">These too have their part in me,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">As I too in these;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Such fire is at heart in me,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Such sap is this tree’s,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which hath in it all sounds and all secrets of infinite lands and of seas.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">In the spring-colour’d hours<br /></span> -<span class="i9">When my mind was as May’s<br /></span> -<span class="i8">There brake forth of me flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i9">By centuries of days,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Strong blossoms with perfume of manhood, shot out from my spirit as rays.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">And the sound of them springing<br /></span> -<span class="i9">And smell of their shoots<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Were as warmth and sweet singing<br /></span> -<span class="i9">And strength to my roots;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the lives of my children made perfect with freedom of soul were my fruits.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">I bid you but be;<br /></span> -<span class="i9">I have need not of prayer;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">I have need of you free<br /></span> -<span class="i9">As your mouths of mine air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That my heart may be greater within me, beholding the fruits of me fair.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_981" id="page_981">{981}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">More fair than strange fruit is<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Of faiths ye espouse;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">In me only the root is<br /></span> -<span class="i9">That blooms in your boughs;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Behold now your God that ye made you, to feed him with faith of your vows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">In the darkening and whitening<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Abysses adored,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With dayspring and lightning<br /></span> -<span class="i9">For lamp and for sword,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God thunders in heaven, and his angels are red with the wrath of the Lord.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">O my sons, O too dutiful<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Toward Gods not of me,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Was not I enough beautiful?<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Was it hard to be free?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For behold, I am with you, am in you and of you; look forth now and see.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">Lo, wing’d with world’s wonders,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">With miracles shod,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">With the fires of his thunders<br /></span> -<span class="i9">For raiment and rod,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">God trembles in heaven, and his angels are white with the terror of God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">For his twilight is come on him,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">His anguish is here;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And his spirits gaze dumb on him,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Grown gray from his fear;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And his hour taketh hold on him stricken, the last of his infinite year.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_982" id="page_982">{982}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i8">Thought made him and breaks him,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Truth slays and forgives;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">But to you, as time takes him,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">This new thing it gives,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Even love, the belovèd Republic, that feeds upon freedom and lives.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">For truth only is living,<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Truth only is whole,<br /></span> -<span class="i8">And the love of his giving<br /></span> -<span class="i9">Man’s polestar and pole;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Man, pulse of my centre, and fruit of my body, and seed of my soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i8">One birth of my bosom;<br /></span> -<span class="i9">One beam of mine eye;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">One topmost blossom<br /></span> -<span class="i9">That scales the sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Man, equal and one with me, man that is made of me, man that is I.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_810" id="pm_810">810.</a></p> - -<h3>Ave atque Vale</h3> - -<p class="c">(IN MEMORY OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE)</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HALL I strew on thee rose or rue or laurel,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Brother, on this that was the veil of thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Or quiet sea-flower moulded by the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or simplest growth of meadow-sweet or sorrel,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Such as the summer-sleepy Dryads weave,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Waked up by snow-soft sudden rains at eve?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or wilt thou rather, as on earth before,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Half-faded fiery blossoms, pale with heat<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And full of bitter summer, but more sweet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thee than gleanings of a northern shore<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Trod by no tropic feet?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_983" id="page_983">{983}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For always thee the fervid languid glories<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Allured of heavier suns in mightier skies;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thine ears knew all the wandering watery sighs<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the sea sobs round Lesbian promontories,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The barren kiss of piteous wave to wave<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That knows not where is that Leucadian grave<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which hides too deep the supreme head of song.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Ah, salt and sterile as her kisses were,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The wild sea winds her and the green gulfs bear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hither and thither, and vex and work her wrong,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Blind gods that cannot spare.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou sawest, in thine old singing season, brother,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Secrets and sorrows unbeheld of us:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fierce loves, and lovely leaf-buds poisonous,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bare to thy subtler eye, but for none other<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Blowing by night in some unbreathed-in clime;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The hidden harvest of luxurious time,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sin without shape, and pleasure without speech;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And where strange dreams in a tumultuous sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Make the shut eyes of stricken spirits weep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with each face thou sawest the shadow on each,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Seeing as men sow men reap.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sleepless heart and sombre soul unsleeping,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That were athirst for sleep and no more life<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And no more love, for peace and no more strife!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Now the dim gods of death have in their keeping<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Spirit and body and all the springs of song,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is it well now where love can do no wrong,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_984" id="page_984">{984}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where stingless pleasure has no foam or fang<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Behind the unopening closure of her lips?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Is it not well where soul from body slips<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flesh from bone divides without a pang<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As dew from flower-bell drips?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is enough; the end and the beginning<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Are one thing to thee, who art past the end.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O hand unclasp’d of unbeholden friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For thee no fruits to pluck, no palms for winning,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No triumph and no labour and no lust,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Only dead yew-leaves and a little dust.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O quiet eyes wherein the light saith naught,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Whereto the day is dumb, nor any night<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With obscure finger silences your sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor in your speech the sudden soul speaks thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sleep, and have sleep for light.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Now all strange hours and all strange loves are over,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dreams and desires and sombre songs and sweet,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hast thou found place at the great knees and feet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of some pale Titan-woman like a lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Such as thy vision here solicited,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Under the shadow of her fair vast head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The deep division of prodigious breasts,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The solemn slope of mighty limbs asleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The weight of awful tresses that still keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The savour and shade of old-world pine-forests<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where the wet hill-winds weep?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Hast thou found any likeness for thy vision?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O gardener of strange flowers, what bud, what bloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hast thou found sown, what gather’d in the gloom?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What of despair, of rapture, of derision,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_985" id="page_985">{985}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">What of life is there, what of ill or good?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Are the fruits gray like dust or bright like blood?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Does the dim ground grow any seed of ours,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The faint fields quicken any terrene root,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In low lands where the sun and moon are mute<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all the stars keep silence? Are there flowers<br /></span> -<span class="i4">At all, or any fruit?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas, but though my flying song flies after,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">O sweet strange elder singer, thy more fleet<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Singing, and footprints of thy fleeter feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some dim derision of mysterious laughter<br /></span> -<span class="i4">From the blind tongueless warders of the dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Some gainless glimpse of Proserpine’s veil’d head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some little sound of unregarded tears<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wept by effaced unprofitable eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And from pale mouths some cadence of dead sighs—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">These only, these the hearkening spirit hears,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sees only such things rise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art far too far for wings of words to follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Far too far off for thought or any prayer.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What ails us with thee, who art wind and air?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What ails us gazing where all seen is hollow?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet with some fancy, yet with some desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Dreams pursue death as winds a flying fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our dreams pursue our dead and do not find.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Still, and more swift than they, the thin flame flies,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The low light fails us in elusive skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still the foil’d earnest ear is deaf, and blind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Are still the eluded eyes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_986" id="page_986">{986}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Not thee, O never thee, in all time’s changes,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Not thee, but this the sound of thy sad soul,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The shadow of thy swift spirit, this shut scroll<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I lay my hand on, and not death estranges<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My spirit from communion of thy song—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">These memories and these melodies that throng<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Veil’d porches of a Muse funereal—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">These I salute, these touch, these clasp and fold<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As though a hand were in my hand to hold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or through mine ears a mourning musical<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of many mourners roll’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I among these, I also, in such station<br /></span> -<span class="i4">As when the pyre was charr’d, and piled the sods.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And offering to the dead made, and their gods,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The old mourners had, standing to make libation,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I stand, and to the Gods and to the dead<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Do reverence without prayer or praise, and shed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Offering to these unknown, the gods of gloom,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And what of honey and spice my seed-lands bear,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And what I may of fruits in this chill’d air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And lay, Orestes-like, across the tomb<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A curl of sever’d hair.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But by no hand nor any treason stricken,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Not like the low-lying head of Him, the King,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The flame that made of Troy a ruinous thing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou liest and on this dust no tears could quicken.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">There fall no tears like theirs that all men hear<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Fall tear by sweet imperishable tear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down the opening leaves of holy poets’ pages.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thee not Orestes, not Electra mourns;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But bending us-ward with memorial urns<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_987" id="page_987">{987}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">The most high Muses that fulfil all ages<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Weep, and our God’s heart yearns.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For, sparing of his sacred strength, not often<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Among us darkling here the lord of light<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Makes manifest his music and his might<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In hearts that open and in lips that soften<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With the soft flame and heat of songs that shine.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy lips indeed he touch’d with bitter wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And nourish’d them indeed with bitter bread;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet surely from his hand thy soul’s food came,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The fire that scarr’d thy spirit at his flame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was lighted, and thine hungering heart he fed<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Who feeds our hearts with fame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Therefore he too now at thy soul’s sunsetting,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">God of all suns and songs, he too bends down<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To mix his laurel with thy cypress crown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And save thy dust from blame and from forgetting.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Therefore he too, seeing all thou wert and art,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Compassionate, with sad and sacred heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Mourns thee of many his children the last dead,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And hallows with strange tears and alien sighs<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thine unmelodious mouth and sunless eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And over thine irrevocable head<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sheds light from the under skies.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And one weeps with him in the ways Lethean,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And stains with tears her changing bosom chill;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That obscure Venus of the hollow hill,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thing transformed which was the Cytherean,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">With lips that lost their Grecian laugh divine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Long since, and face no more call’d Erycine<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_988" id="page_988">{988}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A ghost, a bitter and luxurious god.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thee also with fair flesh and singing spell<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Did she, a sad and second prey, compel<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Into the footless places once more trod,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And shadows hot from hell.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now no sacred staff shall break in blossom,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">No choral salutation lure to light<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A spirit sick with perfume and sweet night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And love’s tired eyes and hands and barren bosom.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">There is no help for these things; none to mend,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And none to mar; not all our songs, O friend,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will make death clear or make life durable.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Howbeit with rose and ivy and wild vine<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And with wild notes about this dust of thine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At least I fill the place where white dreams dwell<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And wreathe an unseen shrine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sleep; and if life was bitter to thee, pardon,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">If sweet, give thanks; thou hast no more to live;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And to give thanks is good, and to forgive.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Out of the mystic and the mournful garden<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Where all day through thine hands in barren braid<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Wove the sick flowers of secrecy and shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Green buds of sorrow and sin, and remnants gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Sweet-smelling, pale with poison, sanguine-hearted,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Passions that sprang from sleep and thoughts that started,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall death not bring us all as thee one day<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Among the days departed?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For thee, O now a silent soul, my brother,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Take at my hands this garland, and farewell.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thin is the leaf, and chill the wintry smell,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And chill the solemn earth, a fatal mother,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_989" id="page_989">{989}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">With sadder than the Niobean womb,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And in the hollow of her breasts a tomb.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Content thee, howsoe’er, whose days are done;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">There lies not any troublous thing before,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Nor sight nor sound to war against thee more,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For whom all winds are quiet as the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All waters as the shore.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_811" id="pm_811">811.</a></p> - -<h3>Itylus</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>WALLOW, my sister, O sister swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How can thine heart be full of the spring?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">A thousand summers are over and dead.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What hast thou found in the spring to follow?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">What hast thou found in thine heart to sing?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">What wilt thou do when the summer is shed?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O swallow, sister, O fair swift swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why wilt thou fly after spring to the south,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The soft south whither thine heart is set?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall not the grief of the old time follow?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall not the song thereof cleave to thy mouth?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hast thou forgotten ere I forget?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sister, my sister, O fleet sweet swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy way is long to the sun and the south;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But I, fulfill’d of my heart’s desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shedding my song upon height, upon hollow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From tawny body and sweet small mouth<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Feed the heart of the night with fire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I the nightingale all spring through,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O swallow, sister, O changing swallow,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_990" id="page_990">{990}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i4">All spring through till the spring be done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clothed with the light of the night on the dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Sing, while the hours and the wild birds follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Take flight and follow and find the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sister, my sister, O soft light swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though all things feast in the spring’s guest-chamber,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">How hast thou heart to be glad thereof yet?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For where thou fliest I shall not follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till life forget and death remember,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Till thou remember and I forget.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Swallow, my sister, O singing swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know not how thou hast heart to sing.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Hast thou the heart? is it all past over?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy lord the summer is good to follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fair the feet of thy lover the spring:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But what wilt thou say to the spring thy lover?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O swallow, sister, O fleeting swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My heart in me is a molten ember<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And over my head the waves have met.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But thou wouldst tarry or I would follow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Could I forget or thou remember,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Couldst thou remember and I forget.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sweet stray sister, O shifting swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The heart’s division divideth us.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy heart is light as a leaf of a tree;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But mine goes forth among sea-gulfs hollow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the place of the slaying of Itylus,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The feast of Daulis, the Thracian sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O swallow, sister, O rapid swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I pray thee sing not a little space.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_991" id="page_991">{991}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i4">Are not the roofs and the lintels wet?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The woven web that was plain to follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The small slain body, the flower-like face,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Can I remember if thou forget?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O sister, sister, thy first-begotten!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The hands that cling and the feet that follow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The voice of the child’s blood crying yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Who hath remember’d me? who hath forgotten?</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou hast forgotten, O summer swallow,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But the world shall end when I forget.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_DEAN_HOWELLS" id="WILLIAM_DEAN_HOWELLS"></a>WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS</h2> - -<p class="dttsml"> 1837<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_812" id="pm_812">812.</a></p> - -<h3>Earliest Spring</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>OSSING his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lion-like March cometh in, hoarse, with tempestuous breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Through all the moaning chimneys, and ’thwart all the hollows and angles<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Round the shuddering house, threating of winter and death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But in my heart I feel the life of the wood and the meadow<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thrilling the pulses that own kindred with fibres that lift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bud and blade to the sunward, within the inscrutable shadow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Deep in the oak’s chill core, under the gathering drift.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Nay, to earth’s life in mine some prescience, or dream, or desire<br /></span> -<span class="i2">(How shall I name it aright?) comes for a moment and goes—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rapture of life ineffable, perfect—as if in the brier,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leafless there by my door, trembled a sense of the rose.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_992" id="page_992">{992}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BRET_HARTE" id="BRET_HARTE"></a>BRET HARTE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1839-1902<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_813" id="pm_813">813.</a></p> - -<h3>What the Bullet sang</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> JOY of creation,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">To be!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O rapture, to fly<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And be free!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be the battle lost or won,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Though its smoke shall hide the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall find my love—the one<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Born for me!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall know him where he stands<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the power in his hands<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Not o’erthrown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall know him by his face,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By his godlike front and grace;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall hold him for a space<br /></span> -<span class="i4">All my own!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It is he—O my love!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">So bold!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is I—all thy love<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Foretold!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is I—O love, what bliss!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dost thou answer to my kiss?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O sweetheart! what is this<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lieth there so cold?<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_993" id="page_993">{993}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_TODHUNTER" id="JOHN_TODHUNTER"></a>JOHN TODHUNTER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1839-1916<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_814" id="pm_814">814.</a></p> - -<h3>Maureen</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> YOU plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Girl of my choice, Maureen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will you drive me mad for the kisses your shy, sweet mouth denies,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Maureen?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Like a walking ghost I am, and no words to woo,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">White rose of the West, Maureen:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For it’s pale you are, and the fear that’s on you is over me too,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Maureen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Sure it’s one complaint that’s on us, asthore, this day,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Bride of my dreams, Maureen:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The smart of the bee that stung us his honey must cure, they say,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Maureen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I’ll coax the light to your eyes, and the rose to your face,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Mavourneen, my own Maureen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When I feel the warmth of your breast, and your nest is my arm’s embrace,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Maureen!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O where was the King o’ the World that day—only me?<br /></span> -<span class="i6">My one true love, Maureen!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you the Queen with me there, and your throne in my heart, machree,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Maureen!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_994" id="page_994">{994}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_815" id="pm_815">815.</a></p> - -<h3>Aghadoe</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE’s a glade in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There’s a green and silent glade in Aghadoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where we met, my love and I, Love’s fair planet in the sky,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O’er that sweet and silent glade in Aghadoe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There’s a glen in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There’s a deep and secret glen in Aghadoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I hid from the eyes of the red-coats and their spies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That year the trouble came to Aghadoe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O, my curse on one black heart in Aghadoe, Aghadoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On Shaun Dhu, my mother’s son in Aghadoe!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When your throat fries in hell’s drouth, salt the flame be in your mouth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For the treachery you did in Aghadoe!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For they track’d me to that glen in Aghadoe, Aghadoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When the price was on his head in Aghadoe:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the mountain, through the wood, as I stole to him with food,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where in hiding lone he lay in Aghadoe.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But they never took him living in Aghadoe, Aghadoe;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the bullets in his heart in Aghadoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There he lay, the head, my breast keeps the warmth of where ’twould rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gone, to win the traitor’s gold, from Aghadoe!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I walk’d to Mallow town from Aghadoe, Aghadoe,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brought his head from the gaol’s gate to Aghadoe;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then I cover’d him with fern, and I piled on him the cairn,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like an Irish King he sleeps in Aghadoe.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_995" id="page_995">{995}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">O, to creep into that cairn in Aghadoe, Aghadoe!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There to rest upon his breast in Aghadoe!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sure your dog for you could die with no truer heart than I,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your own love, cold on your cairn in Aghadoe.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILFRID_SCAWEN_BLUNT" id="WILFRID_SCAWEN_BLUNT"></a>WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT</h2> - -<p class="dttsml"> 1840<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_816" id="pm_816">816.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> FLY not, Pleasure, pleasant-hearted Pleasure;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Fold me thy wings, I prithee, yet and stay:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For my heart no measure<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Knows, nor other treasure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To buy a garland for my love to-day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And thou, too, Sorrow, tender-hearted Sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou gray-eyed mourner, fly not yet away:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">For I fain would borrow<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy sad weeds to-morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To make a mourning for love’s yesterday.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The voice of Pity, Time’s divine dear Pity,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Moved me to tears: I dared not say them nay,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">But passed forth from the city,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Making thus my ditty<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of fair love lost for ever and a day.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_817" id="pm_817">817.</a></p> - -<h3>The Desolate City</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">D</span>ARK to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where is she that I loved, the woman with eyes like stars?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Desolate are the streets. Desolate is the city.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A city taken by storm, where none are left but the slain.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_996" id="page_996">{996}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Sadly I rose at dawn, undid the latch of my shutters,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thinking to let in light, but I only let in love.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Birds in the boughs were awake; I listen’d to their chaunting;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Each one sang to his love; only I was alone.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This, I said in my heart, is the hour of life and of pleasure.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Now each creature on earth has his joy, and lives in the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each in another’s eyes finds light, the light of compassion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This is the moment of pity, this is the moment of love.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Speak, O desolate city! Speak, O silence in sadness!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where is she that I loved in my strength, that spoke to my soul?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where are those passionate eyes that appeal’d to my eyes in passion?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where is the mouth that kiss’d me, the breast I laid to my own?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Speak, thou soul of my soul, for rage in my heart is kindled.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tell me, where didst thou flee in the day of destruction and fear?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">See, my arms still enfold thee, enfolding thus all heaven,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">See, my desire is fulfill’d in thee, for it fills the earth.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus in my grief I lamented. Then turn’d I from the window,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Turn’d to the stair, and the open door, and the empty street,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Crying aloud in my grief, for there was none to chide me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">None to mock my weakness, none to behold my tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Groping I went, as blind. I sought her house, my belovèd’s.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">There I stopp’d at the silent door, and listen’d and tried the latch.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, I cried, dost thou slumber? This is no hour for slumber,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This is the hour of love, and love I bring in my hand.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_997" id="page_997">{997}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">I knew the house, with its windows barr’d, and its leafless fig-tree,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Climbing round by the doorstep, the only one in the street;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I knew where my hope had climb’d to its goal and there encircled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All that those desolate walls once held, my belovèd’s heart.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There in my grief she consoled me. She loved me when I loved not.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She put her hand in my hand, and set her lips to my lips.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She told me all her pain and show’d me all her trouble.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I, like a fool, scarce heard, hardly return’d her kiss.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love, thy eyes were like torches. They changed as I beheld them.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Love, thy lips were like gems, the seal thou settest on my life.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Love, if I loved not then, behold this hour thy vengeance;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This is the fruit of thy love and thee, the unwise grown wise.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Weeping strangled my voice. I call’d out, but none answer’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Blindly the windows gazed back at me, dumbly the door;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She whom I love, who loved me, look’d not on my yearning,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gave me no more her hands to kiss, show’d me no more her soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Therefore the earth is dark to me, the sunlight blackness,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Therefore I go in tears and alone, by night and day;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Therefore I find no love in heaven, no light, no beauty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A heaven taken by storm, where none are left but the slain!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_998" id="page_998">{998}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_818" id="pm_818">818.</a></p> - -<h3>With Esther</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">H</span>E who has once been happy is for aye<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of destruction’s reach. His fortune then<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Holds nothing secret; and Eternity,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which is a mystery to other men,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has like a woman given him its joy.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Time is his conquest. Life, if it should fret,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Has paid him tribute. He can bear to die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He who has once been happy! When I set<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world before me and survey its range,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its mean ambitions, its scant fantasies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shreds of pleasure which for lack of change<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Men wrap around them and call happiness,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The poor delights which are the tale and sum<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the world’s courage in its martyrdom;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When I hear laughter from a tavern door,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When I see crowds agape and in the rain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Watching on tiptoe and with stifled roar<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To see a rocket fired or a bull slain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When misers handle gold, when orators<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Touch strong men’s hearts with glory till they weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When cities deck their streets for barren wars<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Which have laid waste their youth, and when I keep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Calmly the count of my own life and see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On what poor stuff my manhood’s dreams were fed<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till I too learn’d what dole of vanity<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Will serve a human soul for daily bread,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Then I remember that I once was young<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And lived with Esther the world’s gods among.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_999" id="page_999">{999}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_819" id="pm_819">819.</a></p> - -<h3>To Manon, on his Fortune in loving Her</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> DID not choose thee, dearest. It was Love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That made the choice, not I. Mine eyes were blind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As a rude shepherd’s who to some lone grove<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His offering brings and cares not at what shrine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He bends his knee. The gifts alone were mine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The rest was Love’s. He took me by the hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And fired the sacrifice, and poured the wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spoke the words I might not understand.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I was unwise in all but the dear chance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which was my fortune, and the blind desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which led my foolish steps to Love’s abode,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And youth’s sublime unreason’d prescience<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which raised an altar and inscribed in fire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its dedication <i>To the Unknown God</i>.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_820" id="pm_820">820.</a></p> - -<h3>St. Valentines Day</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>O-day, all day, I rode upon the down,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With hounds and horsemen, a brave company<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On this side in its glory lay the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On that the Sussex weald, a sea of brown.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wind was light, and brightly the sun shone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And still we gallop’d on from gorse to gorse:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And once, when check’d, a thrush sang, and my horse<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Prick’d his quick ears as to a sound unknown.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I knew the Spring was come. I knew it even<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better than all by this, that through my chase<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In bush and stone and hill and sea and heaven<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I seem’d to see and follow still your face.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your face my quarry was. For it I rode,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My horse a thing of wings, myself a god.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1000" id="page_1000">{1000}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_821" id="pm_821">821.</a></p> - -<h3>Gibraltar</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -Seven weeks of sea, and twice seven days of storm<br /> -Upon the huge Atlantic, and once more<br /> -We ride into still water and the calm<br /> -Of a sweet evening, screen’d by either shore<br /> -Of Spain and Barbary. Our toils are o’er,<br /> -Our exile is accomplish’d. Once again<br /> -We look on Europe, mistress as of yore<br /> -Of the fair earth and of the hearts of men.<br /> - Ay, this is the famed rock which Hercules<br /> -And Goth and Moor bequeath’d us. At this door<br /> -England stands sentry. God! to hear the shrill<br /> -Sweet treble of her fifes upon the breeze,<br /> -And at the summons of the rock gun's roar<br /> -To see her red coats marching from the hill!<br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_822" id="pm_822">822.</a></p> - -<h3>Written at Florence</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -O world, in very truth thou art too young;<br /> -When wilt thou learn to wear the garb of age?<br /> -World, with thy covering of yellow flowers,<br /> -Hast thou forgot what generations sprung<br /> -Out of thy loins and loved thee and are gone?<br /> -Hast thou no place in all their heritage<br /> -Where thou dost only weep, that I may come<br /> -Nor fear the mockery of thy yellow flowers?<br /> - O world, in very truth thou art too young.<br /> -The heroic wealth of passionate emprize<br /> -Built thee fair cities for thy naked plains:<br /> -How hast thou set thy summer growth among<br /> -The broken stones which were their palaces!<br /> -Hast thou forgot the darkness where <i>he</i> lies<br /> -Who made thee beautiful, or have thy bees<br /> -Found out his grave to build their honeycombs?<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -O world, in very truth thou art too young:<br /> -They gave thee love who measured out thy skies,<br /> -And, when they found for thee another star,<br /> -Who made a festival and straightway hung<br /> -The jewel on thy neck. O merry world,<br /> -Hast thou forgot the glory of those eyes<br /> -Which first look'd love in thine? Thou hast not furl'd<br /> -One banner of thy bridal car for them.<br /> - O world, in very truth thou art too young.<br /> -There was a voice which sang about thy spring,<br /> -Till winter froze the sweetness of his lips,<br /> -And lo, the worms had hardly left his tongue<br /> -Before thy nightingales were come again.<br /> -O world, what courage hast thou thus to sing?<br /> -Say, has thy merriment no secret pain,<br /> -No sudden weariness that thou art young?<br /> -</div> -</div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_823" id="pm_823">823.</a></p> - -<h3>The Two Highwaymen</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> LONG have had a quarrel set with Time<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Because he robb’d me. Every day of life<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was wrested from me after bitter strife:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I never yet could see the sun go down<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But I was angry in my heart, nor hear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The leaves fall in the wind without a tear<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the dying summer. I have known<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No truce with Time nor Time’s accomplice, Death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1002" id="page_1002">{1002}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i2">The fair world is the witness of a crime<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Repeated every hour. For life and breath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are sweet to all who live; and bitterly<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The voices of these robbers of the heath<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sound in each ear and chill the passer-by.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—What have we done to thee, thou monstrous Time?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What have we done to Death that we must die?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_AUSTIN_DOBSON" id="HENRY_AUSTIN_DOBSON"></a>HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1840<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_824" id="pm_824">824.</a></p> - -<h3>A Garden Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -Here in this sequester’d close<br /> -Bloom the hyacinth and rose,<br /> -Here beside the modest stock<br /> -Flaunts the flaring hollyhock;<br /> -Here, without a pang, one sees<br /> -Ranks, conditions, and degrees.<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -All the seasons run their race<br /> -In this quiet resting-place;<br /> -Peach and apricot and fig<br /> -Here will ripen and grow big;<br /> -Here is store and overplus,—<br /> -More had not Alcinoüs!<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -Here, in alleys cool and green,<br /> -Far ahead the thrush is seen;<br /> -Here along the southern wall<br /> -Keeps the bee his festival;<br /> -All is quiet else—afar<br /> -Sounds of toil and turmoil are.<br /> -</div><div class="stanza"> -Here be shadows large and long;<br /> -Here be spaces meet for song;<br /> -Grant, O garden-god, that I,<br /> -Now that none profane is nigh,—<br /> -Now that mood and moment please,—<br /> -Find the fair Pierides!<br /> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_825" id="pm_825">825.</a></p> - -<h3>Urceus Exit</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Triolet</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> INTENDED an Ode,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it turn’d to a Sonnet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It began <i>à la mode</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I intended an Ode;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But Rose crossed the road<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In her latest new bonnet;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I intended an Ode;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And it turn’d to a Sonnet.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_826" id="pm_826">826.</a></p> - -<h3>In After Days</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>Rondeau</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N after days when grasses high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er-top the stone where I shall lie,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though ill or well the world adjust<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My slender claim to honour’d dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I shall not question nor reply.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I shall not see the morning sky;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I shall not hear the night-wind sigh;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I shall be mute, as all men must<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In after days!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1004" id="page_1004">{1004}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But yet, now living, fain would I<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That some one then should testify,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saying—‘He held his pen in trust<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To Art, not serving shame or lust.’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will none?—Then let my memory die<br /></span> -<span class="i4">In after days!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_CLARENCE_KENDALL" id="HENRY_CLARENCE_KENDALL"></a>HENRY CLARENCE KENDALL</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1841-1882<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_827" id="pm_827">827.</a></p> - -<h3>Mooni</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">H</span>E that is by Mooni now<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sees the water-sapphires gleaming<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the River Spirit, dreaming,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleeps by fall and fountain streaming<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Under lute of leaf and bough!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hears what stamp of Storm with stress is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Psalms from unseen wildernesses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep amongst far hill-recesses—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He that is by Mooni now.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Yea, for him by Mooni’s marge<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sings the yellow-hair’d September,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the face the gods remember,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the ridge is burnt to ember,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the dumb sea chains the barge!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the mount like molten brass is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Down beneath fern-feather’d passes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Noonday dew in cool green grasses<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Gleams on him by Mooni’s marge.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1005" id="page_1005">{1005}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Who that dwells by Mooni yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Feels in flowerful forest arches<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Smiting wings and breath that parches<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where strong Summer’s path of march is,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the suns in thunder set!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Housed beneath the gracious kirtle<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the shadowy water-myrtle—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Winds may kiss with heat and hurtle,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He is safe by Mooni yet!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Days there were when he who sings<br /></span> -<span class="i0">(Dumb so long through passion’s losses)<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stood where Mooni’s water crosses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shining tracks of green-hair’d mosses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like a soul with radiant wings:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the psalm the wind rehearses—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the song the stream disperses—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lent a beauty to his verses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Who to-night of Mooni sings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Ah, the theme—the sad, gray theme!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Certain days are not above me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Certain hearts have ceased to love me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Certain fancies fail to move me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like the effluent morning dream.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Head whereon the white is stealing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart whose hurts are past all healing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where is now the first, pure feeling?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah, the theme—the sad, gray theme!<br /></span> - -<span class="i7">. . .<br /></span> - -<span class="i2">Still to be by Mooni cool—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the water-blossoms glister,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1006" id="page_1006">{1006}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And by gleaming vale and vista<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sits the English April’s sister,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Soft and sweet and wonderful!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Just to rest beneath the burning<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Outer world—its sneers and spurning—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ah, my heart—my heart is yearning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still to be by Mooni cool!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ARTHUR_WILLIAM_EDGAR_OSHAUGHNESSY" id="ARTHUR_WILLIAM_EDGAR_OSHAUGHNESSY"></a>ARTHUR WILLIAM EDGAR O’SHAUGHNESSY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1844-1881<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_828" id="pm_828">828.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>E are the music-makers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And we are the dreamers of dreams,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wandering by lone sea-breakers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sitting by desolate streams;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">World-losers and world-forsakers,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On whom the pale moon gleams:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet we are the movers and shakers<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the world for ever, it seems.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With wonderful deathless ditties<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We build up the world’s great cities,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And out of a fabulous story<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We fashion an empire’s glory:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">One man with a dream, at pleasure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall go forth and conquer a crown;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And three with a new song’s measure<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Can trample an empire down.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1007" id="page_1007">{1007}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">We, in the ages lying<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the buried past of the earth,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Built Nineveh with our sighing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Babel itself with our mirth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And o’erthrew them with prophesying<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the old of the new world’s worth;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For each age is a dream that is dying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or one that is coming to birth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_829" id="pm_829">829.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> MADE another garden, yea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For my new Love:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I left the dead rose where it lay<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And set the new above.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why did my Summer not begin?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Why did my heart not haste?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My old Love came and walk’d therein,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And laid the garden waste.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She enter’d with her weary smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Just as of old;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She look’d around a little while<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And shiver’d with the cold:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her passing touch was death to all,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her passing look a blight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She made the white rose-petals fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And turn’d the red rose white.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Her pale robe clinging to the grass<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Seem’d like a snake<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That bit the grass and ground, alas!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And a sad trail did make.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1008" id="page_1008">{1008}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">She went up slowly to the gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And then, just as of yore,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She turn’d back at the last to wait<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And say farewell once more.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_830" id="pm_830">830.</a></p> - -<h3>The Fountain of Tears</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>F you go over desert and mountain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Far into the country of Sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To-day and to-night and to-morrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And maybe for months and for years;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You shall come with a heart that is bursting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For trouble and toiling and thirsting.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You shall certainly come to the fountain<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At length,—to the Fountain of Tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Very peaceful the place is, and solely<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For piteous lamenting and sighing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And those who come living or dying<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alike from their hopes and their fears;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Full of cypress-like shadows the place is,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And statues that cover their faces:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But out of the gloom springs the holy<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And beautiful Fountain of Tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And it flows and it flows with a motion<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So gentle and lovely and listless,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And murmurs a tune so resistless<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To him who hath suffer’d and hears—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You shall surely—without a word spoken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Kneel down there and know your heart broken,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yield to the long-curb’d emotion<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That day by the Fountain of Tears.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1009" id="page_1009">{1009}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For it grows and it grows, as though leaping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Up higher the more one is thinking;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And ever its tunes go on sinking<br /></span> -<span class="i0">More poignantly into the ears:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yea, so blessèd and good seems that fountain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reach’d after dry desert and mountain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You shall fall down at length in your weeping<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And bathe your sad face in the tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then alas! while you lie there a season<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sob between living and dying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And give up the land you were trying<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To find ’mid your hopes and your fears;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—O the world shall come up and pass o’er you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Strong men shall not stay to care for you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor wonder indeed for what reason<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your way should seem harder than theirs.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But perhaps, while you lie, never lifting<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your cheek from the wet leaves it presses,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nor caring to raise your wet tresses<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And look how the cold world appears—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O perhaps the mere silences round you—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All things in that place Grief hath found you—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea, e’en to the clouds o’er you drifting,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May soothe you somewhat through your tears.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">You may feel, when a falling leaf brushes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Your face, as though some one had kiss’d you;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or think at least some one who miss’d you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had sent you a thought,—if that cheers;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or a bird’s little song, faint and broken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">May pass for a tender word spoken:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Enough, while around you there rushes<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That life-drowning torrent of tears.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1010" id="page_1010">{1010}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the tears shall flow faster and faster,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Brim over and baffle resistance,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And roll down blear’d roads to each distance<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of past desolation and years;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Till they cover the place of each sorrow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And leave you no past and no morrow:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For what man is able to master<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And stem the great Fountain of Tears?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the floods and the tears meet and gather;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The sound of them all grows like thunder:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—O into what bosom, I wonder,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is pour’d the whole sorrow of years?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For Eternity only seems keeping<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Account of the great human weeping:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May God, then, the Maker and Father—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">May He find a place for the tears!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_BOYLE_OREILLY" id="JOHN_BOYLE_OREILLY"></a>JOHN BOYLE O’REILLY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1844-1890<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_831" id="pm_831">831.</a></p> - -<h3>A White Rose</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE red rose whispers of passion,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the white rose breathes of love;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O, the red rose is a falcon,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the white rose is a dove.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But I send you a cream-white rosebud<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a flush on its petal tips;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For the love that is purest and sweetest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Has a kiss of desire on the lips.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1011" id="page_1011">{1011}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_BRIDGES" id="ROBERT_BRIDGES"></a>ROBERT BRIDGES</h2> - -<p class="dttsml"> 1844<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_832" id="pm_832">832.</a></p> - -<h3>My Delight and Thy Delight</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y delight and thy delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Walking, like two angels white,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the gardens of the night:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My desire and thy desire<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twining to a tongue of fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Leaping live, and laughing higher:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thro’ the everlasting strife<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the mystery of life.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love, from whom the world begun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hath the secret of the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love can tell, and love alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence the million stars were strewn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why each atom knows its own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">How, in spite of woe and death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gay is life, and sweet is breath:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This he taught us, this we knew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Happy in his science true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Hand in hand as we stood<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Neath the shadows of the wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heart to heart as we lay<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the dawning of the day.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1012" id="page_1012">{1012}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_833" id="pm_833">833.</a></p> - -<h3>Spirits</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>NGEL spirits of sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White-robed, with silver hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In your meadows fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the willows weep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the sad moonbeam<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On the gliding stream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Writes her scatter’d dream:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Angel spirits of sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dancing to the weir<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the hollow roar<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of its waters deep;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Know ye how men say<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ye haunt no more<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Isle and grassy shore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With your moonlit play;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That ye dance not here,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">White-robed spirits of sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the summer night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Threading dances light?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_834" id="pm_834">834.</a></p> - -<h3>Nightingales</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2"><span class="letra">B</span>EAUTIFUL must be the mountains whence ye come,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And bright in the fruitful valleys the streams, wherefrom<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Ye learn your song:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where are those starry woods? O might I wander there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Among the flowers, which in that heavenly air<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Bloom the year long!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Nay, barren are those mountains and spent the streams:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Our song is the voice of desire, that haunts our dreams,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1013" id="page_1013">{1013}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i6">A throe of the heart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose pining visions dim, forbidden hopes profound,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No dying cadence nor long sigh can sound,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">For all our art.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i2">Alone, aloud in the raptured ear of men<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We pour our dark nocturnal secret; and then,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">As night is withdrawn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From these sweet-springing meads and bursting boughs of May,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dream, while the innumerable choir of day<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Welcome the dawn.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_835" id="pm_835">835.</a></p> - -<h3>A Passer-by</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HITHER, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Ah! soon, when Winter has all our vales opprest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When skies are cold and misty, and hail is hurling,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wilt thoù glìde on the blue Pacific, or rest<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a summer haven asleep, thy white sails furling.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I there before thee, in the country that well thou knowest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Already arrived am inhaling the odorous air:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I watch thee enter unerringly where thou goest,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And anchor queen of the strange shipping there,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy sails for awnings spread, thy masts bare:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor is aught from the foaming reef to the snow-capp’d grandest<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Peak, that is over the feathery palms, more fair<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Than thou, so upright, so stately and still thou standest.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1014" id="page_1014">{1014}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">And yet, O splendid ship, unhail’d and nameless,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know not if, aiming a fancy, I rightly divine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That thou hast a purpose joyful, a courage blameless,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy port assured in a happier land than mine.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But for all I have given thee, beauty enough is thine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As thou, aslant with trim tackle and shrouding,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the proud nostril curve of a prow’s line<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the offing scatterest foam, thy white sails crowding.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_836" id="pm_836">836.</a></p> - -<h3>Absence</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN my love was away,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full three days were not sped,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I caught my fancy astray<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thinking if she were dead,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I alone, alone:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It seem’d in my misery<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In all the world was none<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ever so lone as I.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I wept; but it did not shame<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor comfort my heart: away<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I rode as I might, and came<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To my love at close of day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The sight of her still’d my fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My fairest-hearted love:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet in her eyes were tears:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Which when I questioned of,<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O now thou art come,’ she cried,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘<span class="lftspc">’</span>Tis fled: but I thought to-day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I never could here abide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If thou wert longer away.’<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1015" id="page_1015">{1015}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_837" id="pm_837">837.</a></p> - -<h3>On a Dead Child</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>ERFECT little body, without fault or stain on thee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With promise of strength and manhood full and fair!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Though cold and stark and bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The bloom and the charm of life doth awhile remain on thee.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy mother’s treasure wert thou;—alas! no longer<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To visit her heart with wondrous joy; to be<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Thy father’s pride:—ah, he<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must gather his faith together, and his strength make stronger.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">To me, as I move thee now in the last duty,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dost thou with a turn or gesture anon respond;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Startling my fancy fond<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With a chance attitude of the head, a freak of beauty.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thy hand clasps, as ’twas wont, my finger, and holds it:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But the grasp is the clasp of Death, heartbreaking and stiff;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Yet feels to my hand as if<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twas still thy will, thy pleasure and trust that enfolds it.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So I lay thee there, thy sunken eyelids closing,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Go lie thou there in thy coffin, thy last little bed!—<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Propping thy wise, sad head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy firm, pale hands across thy chest disposing.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So quiet! doth the change content thee?—Death, whither hath he taken thee?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To a world, do I think, that rights the disaster of this?<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The vision of which I miss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who weep for the body, and wish but to warm thee and awaken thee?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1016" id="page_1016">{1016}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Ah! little at best can all our hopes avail us<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To lift this sorrow, or cheer us, when in the dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Unwilling, alone we embark,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the things we have seen and have known and have heard of, fail us.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_838" id="pm_838">838.</a></p> - -<h3>Pater Filio</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>ENSE with keenest edge unusèd,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yet unsteel’d by scathing fire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lovely feet as yet unbruisèd<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On the ways of dark desire;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sweetest hope that lookest smiling<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er the wilderness defiling!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Why such beauty, to be blighted<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By the swarm of foul destruction?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Why such innocence delighted,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When sin stalks to thy seduction?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All the litanies e’er chaunted<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall not keep thy faith undaunted.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have pray’d the sainted Morning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To unclasp her hands to hold thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From resignful Eve’s adorning<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stol’n a robe of peace to enfold thee;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With all charms of man’s contriving<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Arm’d thee for thy lonely striving.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Me too once unthinking Nature,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">—Whence Love’s timeless mockery took me,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Fashion’d so divine a creature,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yea, and like a beast forsook me.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I forgave, but tell the measure<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of her crime in thee, my treasure.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1017" id="page_1017">{1017}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_839" id="pm_839">839.</a></p> - -<h3>Winter Nightfall</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE day begins to droop,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Its course is done:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But nothing tells the place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of the setting sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The hazy darkness deepens,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And up the lane<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You may hear, but cannot see,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The homing wain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">An engine pants and hums<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the farm hard by:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Its lowering smoke is lost<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the lowering sky.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The soaking branches drip,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all night through<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The dropping will not cease<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the avenue.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A tall man there in the house<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Must keep his chair:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He knows he will never again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breathe the spring air:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">His heart is worn with work;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He is giddy and sick<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If he rise to go as far<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the nearest rick:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He thinks of his morn of life,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His hale, strong years;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And braves as he may the night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of darkness and tears.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1018" id="page_1018">{1018}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_840" id="pm_840">840.</a></p> - -<h3>When Death to Either shall come</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN Death to either shall come,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I pray it be first to me,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Be happy as ever at home,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If so, as I wish, it be.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Possess thy heart, my own;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sing to the child on thy knee,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or read to thyself alone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The songs that I made for thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ANDREW_LANG" id="ANDREW_LANG"></a>ANDREW LANG</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1844-1912<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_841" id="pm_841">841.</a></p> - -<h3>The Odyssey</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>S one that for a weary space has lain<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lull’d by the song of Circe and her wine<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In gardens near the pale of Proserpine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where that Ææan isle forgets the main,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And only the low lutes of love complain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And only shadows of wan lovers pine—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As such an one were glad to know the brine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Salt on his lips, and the large air again—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">So gladly from the songs of modern speech<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And through the music of the languid hours<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They hear like Ocean on a western beach<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1019" id="page_1019">{1019}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_ERNEST_HENLEY" id="WILLIAM_ERNEST_HENLEY"></a>WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1849-1903<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_842" id="pm_842">842.</a></p> - -<h3>Invictus</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span>UT of the night that covers me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Black as the pit from pole to pole,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thank whatever gods may be<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For my unconquerable soul.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In the fell clutch of circumstance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I have not winced nor cried aloud.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Under the bludgeonings of chance<br /></span> -<span class="i2">My head is bloody, but unbow’d.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Beyond this place of wrath and tears<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Looms but the Horror of the shade,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And yet the menace of the years<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Finds and shall find me unafraid.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It matters not how strait the gate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How charged with punishments the scroll,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am the master of my fate:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am the captain of my soul.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_843" id="pm_843">843.</a></p> - -<h3>Margaritæ Sorori</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span> LATE lark twitters from the quiet skies:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And from the west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the sun, his day’s work ended,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lingers as in content,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There falls on the old, gray city<br /></span> -<span class="i0">An influence luminous and serene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A shining peace.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1020" id="page_1020">{1020}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">The smoke ascends<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a rosy-and-golden haze. The spires<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shine and are changed. In the valley<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shadows rise. The lark sings on. The sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Closing his benediction,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sinks, and the darkening air<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thrills with a sense of the triumphing night—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Night with her train of stars<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her great gift of sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So be my passing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My task accomplish’d and the long day done,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My wages taken, and in my heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Some late lark singing,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let me be gather’d to the quiet west,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sundown splendid and serene,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_844" id="pm_844">844.</a></p> - -<h3>England, My England</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HAT have I done for you,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">England, my England?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What is there I would not do,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">England, my own?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With your glorious eyes austere,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As the Lord were walking near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whispering terrible things and dear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As the Song on your bugles blown,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">England—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Round the world on your bugles blown?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1021" id="page_1021">{1021}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Where shall the watchful sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">England, my England,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Match the master-work you’ve done,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">England, my own?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When shall he rejoice agen<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such a breed of mighty men<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As come forward, one to ten,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the Song on your bugles blown,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">England—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Down the years on your bugles blown?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ever the faith endures,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">England, my England:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Take and break us: we are yours,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">England, my own!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life is good, and joy runs high<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Between English earth and sky:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Death is death; but we shall die<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the Song on your bugles blown,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">England—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the stars on your bugles blown!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">They call you proud and hard,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">England, my England:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You with worlds to watch and ward,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">England, my own!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You whose mail’d hand keeps the keys<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of such teeming destinies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You could know nor dread nor ease<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Were the Song on your bugles blown,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">England,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Round the Pit on your bugles blown!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1022" id="page_1022">{1022}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Mother of Ships whose might,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">England, my England,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is the fierce old Sea’s delight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">England, my own,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Chosen daughter of the Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Spouse-in-Chief of the ancient Sword,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There’s the menace of the Word<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the Song on your bugles blown, England—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Out of heaven on your bugles blown!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="EDMUND_GOSSE" id="EDMUND_GOSSE"></a>EDMUND GOSSE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1849<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_845" id="pm_845">845.</a></p> - -<h3>Revelation</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6"><span class="letra">I</span>NTO the silver night<br /></span> -<span class="i8">She brought with her pale hand<br /></span> -<span class="i6">The topaz lanthorn-light,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And darted splendour o’er the land;<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Around her in a band,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Ringstraked and pied, the great soft moths came flying,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And flapping with their mad wings, fann’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The flickering flame, ascending, falling, dying.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i6">Behind the thorny pink<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Close wall of blossom’d may,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">I gazed thro’ one green chink<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And saw no more than thousands may,—<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Saw sweetness, tender and gay,—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Saw full rose lips as rounded as the cherry,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saw braided locks more dark than bay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And flashing eyes decorous, pure, and merry.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1023" id="page_1023">{1023}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i5">With food for furry friends<br /></span> -<span class="i7">She pass’d, her lamp and she,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Till eaves and gable-ends<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Hid all that saffron sheen from me:<br /></span> -<span class="i8">Around my rosy tree<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Once more the silver-starry night was shining,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With depths of heaven, dewy and free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And crystals of a carven moon declining.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i5">Alas! for him who dwells<br /></span> -<span class="i7">In frigid air of thought,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">When warmer light dispels<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The frozen calm his spirit sought;<br /></span> -<span class="i6">By life too lately taught<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He sees the ecstatic Human from him stealing;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Reels from the joy experience brought,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dares not clutch what Love was half revealing.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ROBERT_LOUIS_STEVENSON" id="ROBERT_LOUIS_STEVENSON"></a>ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1850-1894<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_846" id="pm_846">846.</a></p> - -<h3>Romance</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> WILL make you brooches and toys for your delight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I will make a palace fit for you and me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1024" id="page_1024">{1024}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">And this shall be for music when no one else is near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That only I remember, that only you admire,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_847" id="pm_847">847.</a></p> - -<h3>In the Highlands</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N the highlands, in the country places,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the old plain men have rosy faces,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the young fair maidens<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Quiet eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where essential silence cheers and blesses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And for ever in the hill-recesses<br /></span> -<span class="i4"><i>Her</i> more lovely music<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Broods and dies—<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O to mount again where erst I haunted;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the low green meadows<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Bright with sward;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And when even dies, the million-tinted,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the night has come, and planets glinted,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Lo, the valley hollow<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Lamp-bestarr’d!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O to dream, O to awake and wander<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There, and with delight to take and render,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Through the trance of silence,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Quiet breath!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only the mightier movement sounds and passes;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Only winds and rivers,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Life and death.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1025" id="page_1025">{1025}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_848" id="pm_848">848.</a></p> - -<h3>Requiem</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">U</span>NDER the wide and starry sky<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dig the grave and let me lie:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Glad did I live and gladly die,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And I laid me down with a will.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">This be the verse you grave for me:<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Here he lies where he long’d to be;</i><br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>Home is the sailor, home from sea,</i><br /></span> -<span class="i2"><i>And the hunter home from the hill.</i><br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="T_W_ROLLESTON" id="T_W_ROLLESTON"></a>T. W. ROLLESTON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1857<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_849" id="pm_849">849.</a></p> - -<h3>The Dead at Clonmacnois</h3> - -<p class="c">FROM THE IRISH OF ANGUS O’GILLAN</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N a quiet water’d land, a land of roses,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Stands Saint Kieran’s city fair;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the warriors of Erin in their famous generations<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Slumber there.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There beneath the dewy hillside sleep the noblest<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Of the clan of Conn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Each below his stone with name in branching Ogham<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And the sacred knot thereon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There they laid to rest the seven Kings of Tara,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">There the sons of Cairbrè sleep—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Battle-banners of the Gael that in Kieran’s plain of crosses<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Now their final hosting keep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And in Clonmacnois they laid the men of Teffia,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">And right many a lord of Breagh;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Deep the sod above Clan Creidè and Clan Conaill,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Kind in hall and fierce in fray.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1026" id="page_1026">{1026}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Many and many a son of Conn the Hundred-Fighter<br /></span> -<span class="i6">In the red earth lies at rest;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Many a blue eye of Clan Colman the turf covers,<br /></span> -<span class="i6">Many a swan-white breast.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="JOHN_DAVIDSON" id="JOHN_DAVIDSON"></a>JOHN DAVIDSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1857-1909<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_850" id="pm_850">850.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HE boat is chafing at our long delay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And we must leave too soon<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The spicy sea-pinks and the inborne spray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The tawny sands, the moon.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Keep us, O Thetis, in our western flight!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Watch from thy pearly throne<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Our vessel, plunging deeper into night<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To reach a land unknown.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_851" id="pm_851">851.</a></p> - -<h3>The Last Rose</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘O</span> WHICH is the last rose?’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A blossom of no name.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At midnight the snow came;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">At daybreak a vast rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In darkness unfurl’d,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O’er-petall’d the world.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Its odourless pallor<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Blossom’d forlorn,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till radiant valour<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Established the morn<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1027" id="page_1027">{1027}</a></span>—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the night<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Was undone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In her fight<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the sun.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The brave orb in state rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And crimson he shone first;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While from the high vine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of heaven the dawn burst,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Staining the great rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From sky-line to sky-line.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The red rose of morn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A white rose at noon turn’d;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But at sunset reborn<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All red again soon burn’d.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then the pale rose of noonday<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rebloom’d in the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And spectrally white<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the light<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the moon lay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But the vast rose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Was scentless,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And this is the reason:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the blast rose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Relentless,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And brought in due season<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The snow rose, the last rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Congeal’d in its breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then came with it treason;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The traitor was Death.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">In lee-valleys crowded,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sheep and the birds<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1028" id="page_1028">{1028}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were frozen and shrouded<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In flights and in herds.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In highways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And byways<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The young and the old<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Were tortured and madden’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And kill’d by the cold.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But many were gladden’d<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By the beautiful last rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blossom of no name<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That came when the snow came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In darkness unfurl’d—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The wonderful vast rose<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That fill’d all the world.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_WATSON" id="WILLIAM_WATSON"></a>WILLIAM WATSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1858<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_852" id="pm_852">852.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>PRIL, April,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laugh thy girlish laughter;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Then, the moment after,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weep thy girlish tears!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">April, that mine ears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a lover greetest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">If I tell thee, sweetest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All my hopes and fears,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">April, April,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Laugh thy golden laughter,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But, the moment after,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Weep thy golden tears!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1029" id="page_1029">{1029}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_853" id="pm_853">853.</a></p> - -<h3>Ode in May</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>ET me go forth, and share<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The overflowing Sun<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With one wise friend, or one<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Better than wise, being fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the pewit wheels and dips<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On heights of bracken and ling,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And Earth, unto her leaflet tips,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Tingles with the Spring.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">What is so sweet and dear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As a prosperous morn in May,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The confident prime of the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the dauntless youth of the year,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When nothing that asks for bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Asking aright, is denied,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And half of the world a bridegroom is,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And half of the world a bride?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Song of Mingling flows,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Grave, ceremonial, pure,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As once, from lips that endure,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The cosmic descant rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the temporal lord of life,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Going his golden way,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Had taken a wondrous maid to wife<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That long had said him nay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For of old the Sun, our sire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Came wooing the mother of men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Earth, that was virginal then,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Vestal fire to his fire.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silent her bosom and coy,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But the strong god sued and press’d;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1030" id="page_1030">{1030}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">And born of their starry nuptial joy<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are all that drink of her breast.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And the triumph of him that begot,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the travail of her that bore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Behold they are evermore<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As warp and weft in our lot.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We are children of splendour and flame,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of shuddering, also, and tears.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Magnificent out of the dust we came,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And abject from the Spheres.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O bright irresistible lord!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We are fruit of Earth’s womb, each one,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And fruit of thy loins, O Sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whence first was the seed outpour’d.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To thee as our Father we bow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Forbidden thy Father to see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who is older and greater than thou, as thou<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Art greater and older than we.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thou art but as a word of his speech;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou art but as a wave of his hand;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou art brief as a glitter of sand<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twixt tide and tide on his beach;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art less than a spark of his fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or a moment’s mood of his soul:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou art lost in the notes on the lips of his choir<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That chant the chant of the Whole.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_854" id="pm_854">854.</a></p> - -<h3>The Great Misgiving</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘N</span>OT ours,’ say some, ‘the thought of death to dread;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Asking no heaven, we fear no fabled hell:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Life is a feast, and we have banqueted—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall not the worms as well?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1031" id="page_1031">{1031}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘The after-silence, when the feast is o’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And void the places where the minstrels stood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Differs in nought from what hath been before,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And is nor ill nor good.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah, but the Apparition—the dumb sign—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The beckoning finger bidding me forgo<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The fellowship, the converse, and the wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The songs, the festal glow!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And ah, to know not, while with friends I sit,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And while the purple joy is pass’d about,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whether ’tis ampler day divinelier lit<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or homeless night without;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And whether, stepping forth, my soul shall see<br /></span> -<span class="i2">New prospects, or fall sheer—a blinded thing!<br /></span> -<span class="i0"><i>There</i> is, O grave, thy hourly victory,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And there, O death, thy sting.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_CHARLES_BEECHING" id="HENRY_CHARLES_BEECHING"></a>HENRY CHARLES BEECHING</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1859-1919<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_855" id="pm_855">855.</a></p> - -<h3>Prayers</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>OD who created me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Nimble and light of limb,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In three elements free,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To run, to ride, to swim:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not when the sense is dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But now from the heart of joy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I would remember Him:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take the thanks of a boy.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1032" id="page_1032">{1032}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Jesu, King and Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Whose are my foes to fight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Gird me with Thy sword<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Swift and sharp and bright.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thee would I serve if I might;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And conquer if I can,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From day-dawn till night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take the strength of a man.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Spirit of Love and Truth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Breathing in grosser clay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The light and flame of youth,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Delight of men in the fray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Wisdom in strength’s decay;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From pain, strife, wrong to be free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This best gift I pray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take my spirit to Thee.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_856" id="pm_856">856.</a></p> - -<h3>Going down Hill on a Bicycle</h3> - -<p class="c">A BOY’S SONG</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>ITH lifted feet, hands still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I am poised, and down the hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dart, with heedful mind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The air goes by in a wind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Swifter and yet more swift,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the heart with a mighty lift<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O bird, see; see, bird, I fly.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Is this, is this your joy?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O bird, then I, though a boy,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For a golden moment share<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your feathery life in air!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1033" id="page_1033">{1033}</a></span>’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Say, heart, is there aught like this<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In a world that is full of bliss?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Tis more than skating, bound<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Steel-shod to the level ground.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Speed slackens now, I float<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Awhile in my airy boat;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till, when the wheels scarce crawl,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My feet to the treadles fall.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Alas, that the longest hill<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must end in a vale; but still,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Who climbs with toil, wheresoe’er,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shall find wings waiting there.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="BLISS_CARMAN" id="BLISS_CARMAN"></a>BLISS CARMAN</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1861<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_857" id="pm_857">857.</a></p> - -<h3>Why</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">F</span>OR a name unknown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Whose fame unblown<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleeps in the hills<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For ever and aye;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For her who hears<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The stir of the years<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Go by on the wind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">By night and day;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And heeds no thing<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the needs of spring,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of autumn’s wonder<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or winter’s chill;<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1034" id="page_1034">{1034}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">For one who sees<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The great sun freeze,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As he wanders a-cold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From hill to hill;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And all her heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Is a woven part<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the flurry and drift<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of whirling snow;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For the sake of two<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sad eyes and true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the old, old love<br /></span> -<span class="i2">So long ago.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DOUGLAS_HYDE" id="DOUGLAS_HYDE"></a>DOUGLAS HYDE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1861<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_858" id="pm_858">858.</a></p> - -<h3>My Grief on the Sea</h3> - -<p class="c">FROM THE IRISH</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y grief on the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How the waves of it roll!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For they heave between me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the love of my soul!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Abandon’d, forsaken,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To grief and to care,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Will the sea ever waken<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Relief from despair?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">My grief and my trouble!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Would he and I were,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In the province of Leinster,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or County of Clare!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1035" id="page_1035">{1035}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Were I and my darling—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O heart-bitter wound!—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">On board of the ship<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For America bound.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">On a green bed of rushes<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All last night I lay,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I flung it abroad<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the heat of the day.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And my Love came behind me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He came from the South;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His breast to my bosom,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His mouth to my mouth.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ARTHUR_CHRISTOPHER_BENSON" id="ARTHUR_CHRISTOPHER_BENSON"></a>ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1862<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_859" id="pm_859">859.</a></p> - -<h3>The Phœnix</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">B</span>Y feathers green, across Casbeen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The pilgrims track the Phœnix flown,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By gems he strew’d in waste and wood,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And jewell’d plumes at random thrown.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till wandering far, by moon and star,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">They stand beside the fruitful pyre,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where breaking bright with sanguine light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The impulsive bird forgets his sire.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Those ashes shine like ruby wine,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Like bag of Tyrian murex spilt,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The claw, the jowl of the flying fowl<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Are with the glorious anguish gilt.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1036" id="page_1036">{1036}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">So rare the light, so rich the sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Those pilgrim men, on profit bent,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Drop hands and eyes and merchandise,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And are with gazing most content.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_NEWBOLT" id="HENRY_NEWBOLT"></a>HENRY NEWBOLT</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1862<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_860" id="pm_860">860.</a></p> - -<h3>He fell among Thieves</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘Y</span>E have robb’d,’ said he, ‘ye have slaughtered and made an end,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What will ye more of your guest and sometime friend?’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘Blood for our blood,’ they said.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He laugh’d: ‘If one may settle the score for five,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I am ready; but let the reckoning stand till day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive.’<br /></span> -<span class="i2">‘You shall die at dawn,’ said they.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He flung his empty revolver down the slope,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He climb’d alone to the Eastward edge of the trees:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All night long in a dream untroubled of hope<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He brooded, clasping his knees.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The ravine where the Yassîn river sullenly flows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He did not see the starlight on the Laspur hills,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the far Afghan snows.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He saw the April noon on his books aglow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The wistaria trailing in at the window wide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He heard his father’s voice from the terrace below<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Calling him down to ride.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1037" id="page_1037">{1037}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">He saw the gray little church across the park,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The mounds that hid the loved and honour’d dead;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The brasses black and red.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He saw the School Close, sunny and green,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The runner beside him, the stand by the parapet wall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The distant tape, and the crowd roaring between,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His own name over all.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He saw the dark wainscot and timber’d roof,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The long tables, and the faces merry and keen;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The College Eight and their trainer dining aloof,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The Dons on the daïs serene.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He watch’d the liner’s stem ploughing the foam,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He felt her trembling speed and the thrash of her screw;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He heard the passengers’ voices talking of home,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">He saw the flag she flew.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And now it was dawn. He rose strong on his feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And strode to his ruin’d camp below the wood;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He drank the breath of the morning cool and sweet:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">His murderers round him stood.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Light on the Laspur hills was broadening fast,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The blood-red snow-peaks chill’d to a dazzling white;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He turn’d, and saw the golden circle at last,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Cut by the Eastern height.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O glorious Life, Who dwellest in earth and sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I have lived, I praise and adore Thee.’ A sword swept.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Over the pass the voices one by one<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Faded, and the hill slept.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1038" id="page_1038">{1038}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GILBERT_PARKER" id="GILBERT_PARKER"></a>GILBERT PARKER</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1862<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_861" id="pm_861">861.</a></p> - -<h3>Reunited</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN you and I have play’d the little hour,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Have seen the tall subaltern Life to Death<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Yield up his sword; and, smiling, draw the breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The first long breath of freedom; when the flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of Recompense hath flutter’d to our feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">As to an actor’s; and, the curtain down,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We turn to face each other all alone—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone, we two, who never yet did meet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Alone, and absolute, and free: O then,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O then, most dear, how shall be told the tale?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Clasp’d hands, press’d lips, and so clasp’d hands again;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">No words. But as the proud wind fills the sail,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">My love to yours shall reach, then one deep moan<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Of joy, and then our infinite Alone.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="WILLIAM_BUTLER_YEATS" id="WILLIAM_BUTLER_YEATS"></a>WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1865<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_862" id="pm_862">862.</a></p> - -<h3>Where My Books go</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL the words that I utter,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the words that I write,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must spread out their wings untiring,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And never rest in their flight,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till they come where your sad, sad heart is,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And sing to you in the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond where the waters are moving,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Storm-darken’d or starry bright.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1039" id="page_1039">{1039}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_863" id="pm_863">863.</a></p> - -<h3>When You are Old</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN you are old and gray and full of sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And nodding by the fire, take down this book,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And slowly read, and dream of the soft look<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">How many loved your moments of glad grace,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And loved your beauty with love false or true;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And loved the sorrows of your changing face.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And bending down beside the glowing bars,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And paced upon the mountains overhead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_864" id="pm_864">864.</a></p> - -<h3>The Lake Isle of Innisfree</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the honey bee,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And live alone in the bee-loud glade.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There midnight’s all a-glimmer, and noon a purple glow,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And evening full of the linnet’s wings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I will arise and go now, for always night and day<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements gray,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I hear it in the deep heart’s core.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1040" id="page_1040">{1040}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RUDYARD_KIPLING" id="RUDYARD_KIPLING"></a>RUDYARD KIPLING</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1865<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_865" id="pm_865">865.</a></p> - -<h3>A Dedication</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">M</span>Y new-cut ashlar takes the light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where crimson-blank the windows flare;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">By my own work, before the night,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Great Overseer, I make my prayer.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If there be good in that I wrought,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thy hand compell’d it, Master, Thine;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where I have fail’d to meet Thy thought<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I know, through Thee, the blame is mine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One instant’s toil to Thee denied<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Stands all Eternity’s offence;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of that I did with Thee to guide<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To Thee, through Thee, be excellence.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Who, lest all thought of Eden fade,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Bring’st Eden to the craftsman’s brain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Godlike to muse o’er his own trade<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And manlike stand with God again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The depth and dream of my desire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The bitter paths wherein I stray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">One stone the more swings to her place<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In that dread Temple of Thy worth—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It is enough that through Thy grace<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I saw naught common on Thy earth.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1041" id="page_1041">{1041}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Take not that vision from my ken;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">O, whatsoe’er may spoil or speed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Help me to need no aid from men,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That I may help such men as need!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_866" id="pm_866">866.</a></p> - -<h3>L’Envoi</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">T</span>HERE’s a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the ricks stand gray to the sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Singing:—‘Over then, come over, for the bee has quit the clover<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And your English summer’s done.’<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You have heard the beat of the off-shore wind<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And the thresh of the deep-sea rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">You have heard the song—how long! how long!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Pull out on the trail again!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ha’ done with the Tents of Shem, dear lass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’ve seen the seasons through,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it’s time to turn on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pull out, pull out, on the Long Trail—the trail that is always new.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">It’s North you may run to the rime-ring’d sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or South to the blind Horn’s hate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Or East all the way into Mississippi Bay,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or West to the Golden Gate;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where the blindest bluffs hold good, dear lass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the wildest tales are true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the men bulk big on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And life runs large on the Long Trail—the trail that is always new.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1042" id="page_1042">{1042}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">The days are sick and cold, and the skies are gray and old,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the twice-breathed airs blow damp;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And I’d sell my tired soul for the bucking beam-sea roll<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of a black Bilbao tramp;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With her load-line over her hatch, dear lass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a drunken Dago crew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her nose held down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From Cadiz Bar on the Long Trail—the trail that is always new.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">There be triple ways to take, of the eagle or the snake,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or the way of a man with a maid;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But the sweetest way to me is a ship’s upon the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the heel of the North-East Trade.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Can you hear the crash on her bows, dear lass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the drum of the racing screw,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As she ships it green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">As she lifts and ’scends on the Long Trail—the trail that is always new?<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">See the shaking funnels roar, with the Peter at the fore,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the fenders grind and heave,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the derricks clack and grate, as the tackle hooks the crate,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the fall-rope whines through the sheave;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s ‘Gang-plank up and in,’ dear lass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s ‘Hawsers warp her through!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it’s ‘All clear aft’ on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’re backing down on the Long Trail—the trail that is always new.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1043" id="page_1043">{1043}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">O the mutter overside, when the port-fog holds us tied,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the sirens hoot their dread!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When foot by foot we creep o’er the hueless viewless deep<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To the sob of the questing lead!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">It’s down by the Lower Hope, dear lass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the Gunfleet Sands in view,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the Mouse swings green on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the Gull Light lifts on the Long Trail—the trail that is always new.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">O the blazing tropic night, when the wake’s a welt of light<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That holds the hot sky tame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the steady fore-foot snores through the planet-powder’d floors<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the scared whale flukes in flame!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her plates are scarr’d by the sun, dear lass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And her ropes are taut with the dew,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For we’re booming down on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’re sagging south on the Long Trail—the trail that is always new.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Then home, get her home, where the drunken rollers comb,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the shouting seas drive by,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the engines stamp and ring, and the wet bows reel and swing,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the Southern Cross rides high!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yes, the old lost stars wheel back, dear lass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That blaze in the velvet blue.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They’re all old friends on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">They’re God’s own guides on the Long Trail—the trail that is always new.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1044" id="page_1044">{1044}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Fly forward, O my heart, from the Foreland to the Start—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">We’re steaming all too slow,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And it’s twenty thousand mile to our little lazy isle<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Where the trumpet-orchids blow!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You have heard the call of the off-shore wind<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the voice of the deep-sea rain;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You have heard the song—how long! how long!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pull out on the trail again!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The Lord knows what we may find, dear lass,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the deuce knows what we may do—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But we’re back once more on the old trail, our own trail, the out trail,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">We’re down, hull down on the Long Trail—the trail that is always new.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_867" id="pm_867">867.</a></p> - -<h3>Recessional</h3> - -<p class="dttsml"><i>June 22, 1897</i></p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">G</span>OD of our fathers, known of old—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Lord of our far-flung battle-line—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beneath whose awful Hand we hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dominion over palm and pine—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest we forget, lest we forget!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The tumult and the shouting dies—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The captains and the kings depart—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">An humble and a contrite heart.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest we forget, lest we forget!<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1045" id="page_1045">{1045}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">Far-call’d our navies melt away—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">On dune and headland sinks the fire—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lo, all our pomp of yesterday<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest we forget, lest we forget!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">If, drunk with sight of power, we loose<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such boasting as the Gentiles use<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Or lesser breeds without the Law—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lest we forget, lest we forget!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For heathen heart that puts her trust<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In reeking tube and iron shard—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All valiant dust that builds on dust,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And guarding calls not Thee to guard—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For frantic boast and foolish word,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="RICHARD_LE_GALLIENNE" id="RICHARD_LE_GALLIENNE"></a>RICHARD LE GALLIENNE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1866<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_868" id="pm_868">868.</a></p> - -<h3>Song</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE’s somewhere in the sunlight strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her tears are in the falling rain,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She calls me in the wind’s soft song,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And with the flowers she comes again.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yon bird is but her messenger,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The moon is but her silver car;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yea! sun and moon are sent by her,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And every wistful waiting star.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1046" id="page_1046">{1046}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_869" id="pm_869">869.</a></p> - -<h3>The Second Crucifixion</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">L</span>OUD mockers in the roaring street<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Say Christ is crucified again:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Twice pierced His gospel-bearing feet,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Twice broken His great heart in vain.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hear, and to myself I smile,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For Christ talks with me all the while.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">No angel now to roll the stone<br /></span> -<span class="i2">From off His unawaking sleep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In vain shall Mary watch alone,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In vain the soldiers vigil keep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet while they deem my Lord is dead<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My eyes are on His shining head.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Ah! never more shall Mary hear<br /></span> -<span class="i2">That voice exceeding sweet and low<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Within the garden calling clear:<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Her Lord is gone, and she must go.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet all the while my Lord I meet<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In every London lane and street.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Poor Lazarus shall wait in vain,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And Bartimæus still go blind;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The healing hem shall ne’er again<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Be touch’d by suffering humankind.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Yet all the while I see them rest,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The poor and outcast, on His breast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1047" id="page_1047">{1047}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">No more unto the stubborn heart<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With gentle knocking shall He plead,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No more the mystic pity start,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">For Christ twice dead is dead indeed.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">So in the street I hear men say,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet Christ is with me all the day.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="LAURENCE_BINYON" id="LAURENCE_BINYON"></a>LAURENCE BINYON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1869<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_870" id="pm_870">870.</a></p> - -<h3>Invocation to Youth</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">C</span>OME then, as ever, like the wind at morning!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Joyous, O Youth, in the agèd world renew<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Freshness to feel the eternities around it,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rain, stars and clouds, light and the sacred dew.<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The strong sun shines above thee:<br /></span> -<span class="i4">That strength, that radiance bring!<br /></span> -<span class="i4">If Winter come to Winter,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">When shall men hope for Spring?<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_871" id="pm_871">871.</a></p> - -<h3>O World, be Nobler</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">O</span> WORLD, be nobler, for her sake!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">If she but knew thee what thou art,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">What wrongs are borne, what deeds are done<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In thee, beneath thy daily sun,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Know’st thou not that her tender heart<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For pain and very shame would break?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O World, be nobler, for her sake!<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1048" id="page_1048">{1048}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="GEORGE_WILLIAM_RUSSELL_A_E" id="GEORGE_WILLIAM_RUSSELL_A_E"></a>GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL (‘A. E.’)</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1853<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_872" id="pm_872">872.</a></p> - -<h3>By the Margin of the Great Deep</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">W</span>HEN the breath of twilight blows to flame the misty skies,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All its vaporous sapphire, violet glow and silver gleam,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With their magic flood me through the gateway of the eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am one with the twilight’s dream.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the trees and skies and fields are one in dusky mood,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Every heart of man is rapt within the mother’s breast:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Full of peace and sleep and dreams in the vasty quietude,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">I am one with their hearts at rest.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">From our immemorial joys of hearth and home and love<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stray’d away along the margin of the unknown tide,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All its reach of soundless calm can thrill me far above<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Word or touch from the lips beside.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Aye, and deep and deep and deeper let me drink and draw<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the olden fountain more than light or peace or dream,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Such primæval being as o’erfills the heart with awe,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Growing one with its silent stream.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_873" id="pm_873">873.</a></p> - -<h3>The Great Breath</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>TS edges foam’d with amethyst and rose,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Withers once more the old blue flower of day:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">There where the ether like a diamond glows,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Its petals fade away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A shadowy tumult stirs the dusky air;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sparkle the delicate dews, the distant snows;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The great deep thrills—for through it everywhere<br /></span> -<span class="i4">The breath of Beauty blows.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1049" id="page_1049">{1049}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">I saw how all the trembling ages past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Moulded to her by deep and deeper breath,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Near’d to the hour when Beauty breathes her last<br /></span> -<span class="i4">And knows herself in death.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="T_STURGE_MOORE" id="T_STURGE_MOORE"></a>T. STURGE MOORE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1870<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_874" id="pm_874">874.</a></p> - -<h3>A Duet</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">‘F</span>LOWERS nodding gaily, scent in air,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Flowers posied, flowers for the hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Sleepy flowers, flowers bold to stare——’<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘O pick me some!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Shells with lip, or tooth, or bleeding gum,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Tell-tale shells, and shells that whisper <i>Come</i>,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shells that stammer, blush, and yet are dumb——’<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘O let me hear.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Eyes so black they draw one trembling near,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Brown eyes, caverns flooded with a tear,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Cloudless eyes, blue eyes so windy clear——’<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘O look at me!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Kisses sadly blown across the sea,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Darkling kisses, kisses fair and free,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bob-a-cherry kisses ’neath a tree——’<br /></span> -<span class="i4">‘O give me one!’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Thus sang a king and queen in Babylon.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1050" id="page_1050">{1050}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FRANCIS_THOMPSON" id="FRANCIS_THOMPSON"></a>FRANCIS THOMPSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1859-1907<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_875" id="pm_875">875.</a></p> - -<h3>The Poppy</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>UMMER set lip to earth’s bosom bare,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And left the flush’d print in a poppy there;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Like a yawn of fire from the grass it came,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the fanning wind puff’d it to flapping flame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">With burnt mouth red like a lion’s it drank<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The blood of the sun as he slaughter’d sank,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And dipp’d its cup in the purpurate shine<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the eastern conduits ran with wine.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Till it grew lethargied with fierce bliss,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And hot as a swinkèd gipsy is,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And drowsed in sleepy savageries,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With mouth wide a-pout for a sultry kiss.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">A child and man paced side by side,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Treading the skirts of eventide;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But between the clasp of his hand and hers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Lay, felt not, twenty wither’d years.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She turn’d, with the rout of her dusk South hair,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And saw the sleeping gipsy there;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And snatch’d and snapp’d it in swift child’s whim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With—‘Keep it, long as you live!’—to him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And his smile, as nymphs from their laving meres,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trembled up from a bath of tears;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And joy, like a mew sea-rock’d apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Toss’d on the wave of his troubled heart.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1051" id="page_1051">{1051}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">For <i>he</i> saw what she did not see,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That—as kindled by its own fervency—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The verge shrivell’d inward smoulderingly:<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">And suddenly ’twixt his hand and hers<br /></span> -<span class="i0">He knew the twenty withered years—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">No flower, but twenty shrivelled years.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Was never such thing until this hour,’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Low to his heart he said; ‘the flower<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of sleep brings wakening to me,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And of oblivion memory.’<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Was never this thing to me,’ he said,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘Though with bruisèd poppies my feet are red!’<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And again to his own heart very low:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">‘O child! I love, for I love and know;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘But you, who love nor know at all<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The diverse chambers in Love’s guest-hall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Where some rise early, few sit long:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In how differing accents hear the throng<br /></span> -<span class="i0">His great Pentecostal tongue;<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘Who know not love from amity,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nor my reported self from me;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">A fair fit gift is this, meseems,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You give—this withering flower of dreams.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘O frankly fickle, and fickly true,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Do you know what the days will do to you?<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To your Love and you what the days will do,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">O frankly fickle, and fickly true?<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1052" id="page_1052">{1052}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">‘You have loved me, Fair, three lives—or days:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">’Twill pass with the passing of my face.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But where <i>I</i> go, your face goes too,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To watch lest I play false to you.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘I am but, my sweet, your foster-lover,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Knowing well when certain years are over<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You vanish from me to another;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet I know, and love, like the foster-mother.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">‘So, frankly fickle, and fickly true!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For my brief life-while I take from you<br /></span> -<span class="i0">This token, fair and fit, meseems,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For me—this withering flower of dreams.’<br /></span> -<span class="i8">. . .<br /></span> - -<span class="i0">The sleep-flower sways in the wheat its head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Heavy with dreams, as that with bread:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The goodly grain and the sun-flush’d sleeper<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The reaper reaps, and Time the reaper.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I hang ’mid men my needless head,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And my fruit is dreams, as theirs is bread:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The goodly men and the sun-hazed sleeper<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Time shall reap, but after the reaper<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The world shall glean of me, me the sleeper!<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love! love! your flower of wither’d dream<br /></span> -<span class="i0">In leavèd rhyme lies safe, I deem,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Shelter’d and shut in a nook of rhyme,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">From the reaper man, and his reaper Time.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Love! <i>I</i> fall into the claws of Time:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But lasts within a leavèd rhyme<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All that the world of me esteems—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My wither’d dreams, my wither’d dreams.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1053" id="page_1053">{1053}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="HENRY_CUST" id="HENRY_CUST"></a>HENRY CUST</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1861-1917<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_876" id="pm_876">876.</a></p> - -<h3>Non Nobis</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">N</span>OT unto us, O Lord,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not unto us the rapture of the day,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The peace of night, or love’s divine surprise,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">High heart, high speech, high deeds ’mid honouring eyes;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">For at Thy word<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All these are taken away.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not unto us, O Lord:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">To us thou givest the scorn, the scourge, the scar,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The ache of life, the loneliness of death,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The insufferable sufficiency of breath;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And with Thy sword<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Thou piercest very far.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Not unto us, O Lord:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Nay, Lord, but unto her be all things given—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">My light and life and earth and sky be blasted—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But let not all that wealth of loss be wasted:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Let Hell afford<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The pavement of her Heaven!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="KATHARINE_TYNAN_HINKSON" id="KATHARINE_TYNAN_HINKSON"></a>KATHARINE TYNAN HINKSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1861<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_877" id="pm_877">877.</a></p> - -<h3>Sheep and Lambs</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">A</span>LL in the April morning,<br /></span> -<span class="i5">April airs were abroad;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The sheep with their little lambs<br /></span> -<span class="i5">Pass’d me by on the road.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1054" id="page_1054">{1054}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">The sheep with their little lambs<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Pass’d me by on the road;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">All in an April evening<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I thought on the Lamb of God.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">The lambs were weary, and crying<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With a weak human cry,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I thought on the Lamb of God<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Going meekly to die.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Up in the blue, blue mountains<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dewy pastures are sweet:<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Rest for the little bodies,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Rest for the little feet.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Rest for the Lamb of God<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Up on the hill-top green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Only a cross of shame<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Two stark crosses between.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">All in the April evening,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">April airs were abroad;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I saw the sheep with their lambs,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And thought on the Lamb of God.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="FRANCES_BANNERMAN" id="FRANCES_BANNERMAN"></a>FRANCES BANNERMAN</h2> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_878" id="pm_878">878.</a></p> - -<h3>An Upper Chamber</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> CAME into the City and none knew me;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">None came forth, none shouted ‘He is here!<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not a hand with laurel would bestrew me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">All the way by which I drew anear—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Night my banner, and my herald Fear.<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1055" id="page_1055">{1055}</a></span><br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> - -<span class="i0">But I knew where one so long had waited<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the low room at the stairway’s height,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Trembling lest my foot should be belated,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Singing, sighing for the long hours’ flight<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Towards the moment of our dear delight.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I came into the City when you hail’d me<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Saviour, and again your chosen Lord:—<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Not one guessing what it was that fail’d me,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">While along the way as they adored<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Thousands, thousands, shouted in accord.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">But through all the joy I knew—I only—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">How the hostel of my heart lay bare and cold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Silent of its music, and how lonely!<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Never, though you crown me with your gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Shall I find that little chamber as of old!<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="ALICE_MEYNELL" id="ALICE_MEYNELL"></a>ALICE MEYNELL</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1850<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_879" id="pm_879">879.</a></p> - -<h3>Renouncement</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span> MUST not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I shun the love that lurks in all delight—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The love of thee—and in the blue heaven’s height,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And in the dearest passage of a song.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Oh, just beyond the sweetest thoughts that throng<br /></span> -<span class="i2">This breast, the thought of thee waits hidden yet bright;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But it must never, never come in sight;<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I must stop short of thee the whole day long.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">But when sleep comes to close each difficult day,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">When night gives pause to the long watch I keep,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And all my bonds I needs must loose apart,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Must doff my will as raiment laid away,—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">With the first dream that comes with the first sleep<br /></span> -<span class="i0">I run, I run, I am gather’d to thy heart.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1056" id="page_1056">{1056}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_880" id="pm_880">880.</a></p> - -<h3>The Lady of the Lambs</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">S</span>HE walks—the lady of my delight—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A shepherdess of sheep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She guards them from the steep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She feeds them on the fragrant height<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And folds them in for sleep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She roams maternal hills and bright,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Dark valleys safe and deep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Her dreams are innocent at night;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The chastest stars may peep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She walks—the lady of my delight—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A shepherdess of sheep.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">She holds her little thoughts in sight,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Though gay they run and leap.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She is so circumspect and right;<br /></span> -<span class="i2">She has her soul to keep.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">She walks—the lady of my delight—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A shepherdess of sheep.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="DORA_SIGERSON" id="DORA_SIGERSON"></a>DORA SIGERSON</h2> - -<p class="dtt">d. 1918<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_881" id="pm_881">881.</a></p> - -<h3>Ireland</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">’T</span>WAS the dream of a God,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And the mould of His hand,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That you shook ’neath His stroke,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">That you trembled and broke<br /></span> -<span class="i2">To this beautiful land.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">Here He loosed from His hold<br /></span> -<span class="i2">A brown tumult of wings,<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1057" id="page_1057">{1057}</a></span><br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till the wind on the sea<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Bore the strange melody<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Of an island that sings.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">He made you all fair,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">You in purple and gold,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">You in silver and green,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Till no eye that has seen<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Without love can behold.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">I have left you behind<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In the path of the past,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the white breath of flowers,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">With the best of God’s hours,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">I have left you at last.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="MARGARET_L_WOODS" id="MARGARET_L_WOODS"></a>MARGARET L. WOODS</h2> - -<p class="dtt">b. 1856<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_882" id="pm_882">882.</a></p> - -<h3>Genius Loci</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">P</span>EACE, Shepherd, peace! What boots it singing on?<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Since long ago grace-giving Phœbus died,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And all the train that loved the stream-bright side<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Of the poetic mount with him are gone<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Beyond the shores of Styx and Acheron,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">In unexplorèd realms of night to hide.<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The clouds that strew their shadows far and wide<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Are all of Heaven that visits Helicon.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Yet here, where never muse or god did haunt,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Still may some nameless power of Nature stray,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Pleased with the reedy stream’s continual chant<br /></span> -<span class="i2">And purple pomp of these broad fields in May.<br /></span> -<span class="i0">The shepherds meet him where he herds the kine,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And careless pass him by whose is the gift divine.<br /></span> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1058" id="page_1058">{1058}</a></span></div></div> -</div> - -<h2><a name="R_D_BLACKMORE" id="R_D_BLACKMORE"></a>R. D. BLACKMORE</h2> - -<p class="dtt">1825-1900<br /> -</p> - -<p class="bld"><a name="pm_883" id="pm_883">883.</a></p> - -<h3>Dominus Illuminatio Mea</h3> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0"><span class="letra">I</span>N the hour of death, after this life’s whim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">When the heart beats low, and the eyes grow dim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And pain has exhausted every limb—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The lover of the Lord shall trust in Him.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the will has forgotten the lifelong aim,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the mind can only disgrace its fame,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And a man is uncertain of his own name—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The power of the Lord shall fill this frame.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">When the last sigh is heaved, and the last tear shed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the coffin is waiting beside the bed,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the widow and child forsake the dead—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">The angel of the Lord shall lift this head.<br /></span> -</div><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">For even the purest delight may pall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And power must fail, and the pride must fall,<br /></span> -<span class="i0">And the love of the dearest friends grow small—<br /></span> -<span class="i2">But the glory of the Lord is all in all.<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p class="c"> -<img src="images/deco.png" width="175" alt="" /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1059" id="page_1059">{1059}</a></span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1060" id="page_1060">{1060}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="INDEX_OF_AUTHORS_AND_FIRST_LINES" -id="INDEX_OF_AUTHORS_AND_FIRST_LINES"></a> -INDEX<br /> -OF AUTHORS<br /> -AND FIRST LINES</h2> - -<h2> <a name="INDEX_OF_AUTHORS" id="INDEX_OF_AUTHORS"></a>INDEX OF AUTHORS</h2> - -<p class="c"><i>The references are to the numbers of the poems</i></p> - -<p class="c"><a href="#A">A</a>, -<a href="#B">B</a>, -<a href="#C">C</a>, -<a href="#D">D</a>, -<a href="#E">E</a>, -<a href="#F">F</a>, -<a href="#G">G</a>, -<a href="#H">H</a>, -<a href="#J">J</a>, -<a href="#K">K</a>, -<a href="#L">L</a>, -<a href="#M">M</a>, -<a href="#N">N</a>, -<a href="#O">O</a>, -<a href="#P">P</a>, -<a href="#Q">Q</a>, -<a href="#R">R</a>, -<a href="#S">S</a>, -<a href="#T">T</a>, -<a href="#V">V</a>, -<a href="#W">W</a>, -<a href="#Y">Y</a>.</p> - -<p class="nind"><a name="A" id="A"></a>Addison, Joseph, <a href="#pm_433">433</a>.<br /> - -‘A.E.,’ <a href="#pm_872">872</a>, <a href="#pm_873">873</a>.<br /> - -Ainslie, Hew, <a href="#pm_619">619</a>.<br /> - -Akenside, Mark, <a href="#pm_461">461-463</a>.<br /> - -Alford, Henry, <a href="#pm_711">711</a>.<br /> - -Allingham, William, <a href="#pm_769">769</a>.<br /> - -Anonymous, <a href="#pm_1">1-7</a>, <a href="#pm_22">22-29</a>, <a href="#pm_50">50-72</a>, <a href="#pm_367">367-392</a>.<br /> - -Arnold, Matthew, <a href="#pm_747">747-754</a>.<br /> - -Ashe, Thomas, <a href="#pm_805">805</a>, <a href="#pm_806">806</a>.<br /> - -Ayton, Sir Robert, <a href="#pm_182">182</a>, <a href="#pm_183">183</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="B" id="B"></a>Baillie, Joanna, <a href="#pm_510">510</a>.<br /> - -Baillie, Lady Grisel, <a href="#pm_430">430</a>.<br /> - -Bannerman, Frances, <a href="#pm_878">878</a>.<br /> - -Barbauld, Anna Lætitia, <a href="#pm_474">474</a>.<br /> - -Barbour, John, <a href="#pm_9">9</a>.<br /> - -Barnefield, Richard, <a href="#pm_203">203</a>.<br /> - -Barnes, William, <a href="#pm_658">658</a>, <a href="#pm_659">659</a>.<br /> - -Beattie, James, <a href="#pm_472">472</a>.<br /> - -Beaumont, Francis, <a href="#pm_234">234</a>.<br /> - -Beaumont, Sir John, <a href="#pm_223">223</a>.<br /> - -Beddoes, Thomas Lovell, <a href="#pm_666">666-668</a>.<br /> - -Beeching, Henry Charles, <a href="#pm_855">855</a>, <a href="#pm_856">856</a>.<br /> - -Behn, Aphra, <a href="#pm_411">411</a>, <a href="#pm_412">412</a>.<br /> - -Benson, Arthur Christopher, <a href="#pm_859">859</a>.<br /> - -Binyon, Laurence, <a href="#pm_870">870</a>, <a href="#pm_871">871</a>.<br /> - -Blackmore, R. D., <a href="#pm_883">883</a>.<br /> - -Blake, William, <a href="#pm_483">483-492</a>.<br /> - -Blunt, Wilfrid Scawen, <a href="#pm_816">816-823</a>.<br /> - -Bowles, William Lisle, <a href="#pm_509">509</a>.<br /> - -Boyd, Mark Alexander, <a href="#pm_114">114</a>.<br /> - -Breton, Nicholas, <a href="#pm_73">73</a>, 74 (?).<br /> - -Bridges, Robert, <a href="#pm_832">832-840</a>.<br /> - -Brome, Alexander, <a href="#pm_354">354</a>.<br /> - -Brooke, Lord, <a href="#pm_96">96</a>.<br /> - -Broome, William, <a href="#pm_446">446</a>, <a href="#pm_447">447</a><br /> - -Brontë, Emily, <a href="#pm_735">735-738</a>.<br /> - -Brown, Thomas Edward, <a href="#pm_790">790-793</a>.<br /> - -Browne, William, of Tavistock, <a href="#pm_240">240-246</a>.<br /> - -Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, <a href="#pm_678">678-687</a>.<br /> - -Browning, Robert, <a href="#pm_715">715-730</a>.<br /> - -Buckinghamshire, Duke of, <a href="#pm_417">417</a>, <a href="#pm_418">418</a>.<br /> - -Bunyan, John, <a href="#pm_366">366</a>.<br /> - -Burns, Robert, <a href="#pm_493">493-506</a>.<br /> - -Byron, Lord, <a href="#pm_597">597-601</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="C" id="C"></a>Callanan, Jeremiah Joseph, <a href="#pm_638">638</a>.<br /> - -Campbell, Thomas, <a href="#pm_580">580</a>, <a href="#pm_581">581</a>.<br /> - -Campion, Thomas, <a href="#pm_168">168-176</a>.<br /> - -Carew, Thomas, <a href="#pm_289">289-295</a>.<br /> - -Carey, Henry, <a href="#pm_444">444</a>, <a href="#pm_445">445</a>.<br /> - -Carman, Bliss, <a href="#pm_857">857</a>.<br /> - -Cartwright, William, <a href="#pm_330">330-333</a>.<br /> - -Chapman, George, <a href="#pm_107">107</a>.<br /> - -Chatterton, Thomas, <a href="#pm_479">479</a>.<br /> - -Chaucer, Geoffrey, <a href="#pm_10">10-12</a>.<br /> - -Clare, John, <a href="#pm_621">621</a>.<br /> - -Clough, Arthur Hugh, <a href="#pm_741">741</a>.<br /> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1061" id="page_1061">{1061}</a></span>Coleridge, Hartley, <a href="#pm_643">643-646</a>.<br /> - -Coleridge, Samuel Taylor, <a href="#pm_549">549-555</a>.<br /> - -Coleridge, Sara, <a href="#pm_661">661</a>, <a href="#pm_662">662</a>.<br /> - -Collins, William, <a href="#pm_457">457-460</a>.<br /> - -Congreve, William, <a href="#pm_431">431</a>, <a href="#pm_432">432</a>.<br /> - -Constable, Henry, <a href="#pm_110">110</a>.<br /> - -Cory, William (Johnson), <a href="#pm_758">758-9</a>.<br /> - -Cotton, Charles, <a href="#pm_396">396</a>.<br /> - -Cowley, Abraham, <a href="#pm_349">349-353</a>.<br /> - -Cowper, William, <a href="#pm_470">470</a>, <a href="#pm_471">471</a>.<br /> - -Crabbe, George, <a href="#pm_480">480-482</a>.<br /> - -Crashaw, Richard, <a href="#pm_336">336-342</a>.<br /> - -Cunningham, Allan, <a href="#pm_589">589-591</a>.<br /> - -Cunninghame-Graham, Robert, of Gartmore, <a href="#pm_469">469</a>.<br /> - -Cust, Henry, <a href="#pm_876">876</a>.<br /> - -Cutts, Lord, <a href="#pm_421">421</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="D" id="D"></a>Daniel, Samuel, <a href="#pm_111">111-113</a>.<br /> - -Darley, George, <a href="#pm_640">640-642</a>.<br /> - -Davenant, Sir William, <a href="#pm_301">301-303</a>.<br /> - -Davidson, John, <a href="#pm_850">850</a>, <a href="#pm_851">851</a>.<br /> - -Davies, Sir John, <a href="#pm_181">181</a>.<br /> - -Davison, F. <i>or</i> W. (?), <a href="#pm_64">64</a>.<br /> - -Dekker, Thomas, <a href="#pm_204">204</a>.<br /> - -De Vere, Aubrey, <a href="#pm_732">732</a>, <a href="#pm_733">733</a>.<br /> - -De Vere, Sir Aubrey, <a href="#pm_602">602</a>.<br /> - -Dobell, Sydney, <a href="#pm_765">765-768</a>.<br /> - -Dobson, Henry Austin, <a href="#pm_824">824-826</a>.<br /> - -Donne, John, <a href="#pm_195">195-202</a>.<br /> - -Dorset, Earl of, <a href="#pm_408">408</a>.<br /> - -Drayton, Michael, <a href="#pm_116">116-120</a>.<br /> - -Drummond, William, of Hawthornden, <a href="#pm_224">224-232</a>.<br /> - -Dryden, John, <a href="#pm_398">398-402</a>.<br /> - -Dufferin, Lady, <a href="#pm_691">691</a>.<br /> - -Dunbar, William, <a href="#pm_18">18-21</a>.<br /> - -D’Urfey, Thomas, <a href="#pm_395">395</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="E" id="E"></a>Edwardes, Richard, <a href="#pm_46">46</a>.<br /> - -Elliott, Ebenezer, <a href="#pm_587">587</a>, <a href="#pm_588">588</a>.<br /> - -Elliot, Jane, <a href="#pm_466">466</a>.<br /> - -Emerson, Ralph Waldo, <a href="#pm_669">669-672</a>.<br /> - -Etherege, Sir George, <a href="#pm_404">404</a>, <a href="#pm_405">405</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="F" id="F"></a>Fanshawe, Sir Richard, <a href="#pm_329">329</a>.<br /> - -Ferguson, Sir Samuel, <a href="#pm_712">712-714</a>.<br /> - -FitzGerald, Edward, <a href="#pm_697">697</a>, <a href="#pm_698">698</a>.<br /> - -Flatman, Thomas, <a href="#pm_407">407</a>.<br /> - -Fletcher, Giles, <a href="#pm_233">233</a>.<br /> - -Fletcher, John, <a href="#pm_141">141-143</a> (?), <a href="#pm_207">207-217</a>.<br /> - -Fletcher, Phineas, <a href="#pm_222">222</a>.<br /> - -Ford, John, <a href="#pm_235">235</a>.<br /> - -Fox, George, <a href="#pm_734">734</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="G" id="G"></a>Gascoigne, George, <a href="#pm_47">47</a>.<br /> - -Gay, John, <a href="#pm_439">439</a>.<br /> - -Goldsmith, Oliver, <a href="#pm_467">467</a>, <a href="#pm_468">468</a>.<br /> - -Gosse, Edmund, <a href="#pm_845">845</a>.<br /> - -Gray, Thomas, <a href="#pm_453">453-456</a>.<br /> - -Greene, Robert, <a href="#pm_103">103-105</a>.<br /> - -Greville, Fanny, <a href="#pm_475">475</a>.<br /> - -Griffin, Gerald, <a href="#pm_663">663</a>.<br /> - -Grimald, Nicholas, <a href="#pm_42">42</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="H" id="H"></a>Habington, William, <a href="#pm_297">297</a>, <a href="#pm_298">298</a>.<br /> - -Harte, Bret, <a href="#pm_813">813</a>.<br /> - -Hawes, Stephen, <a href="#pm_32">32</a>, <a href="#pm_33">33</a>.<br /> - -Hawker, Robert Stephen, <a href="#pm_674">674</a>, <a href="#pm_675">675</a>.<br /> - -Hemans, Felicia Dorothea, <a href="#pm_622">622</a>.<br /> - -Henley, William Ernest, <a href="#pm_842">842-844</a>.<br /> - -Henryson, Robert, <a href="#pm_16">16</a>, <a href="#pm_17">17</a>.<br /> - -Herbert, George, <a href="#pm_281">281-286</a>.<br /> - -Herrick, Robert, <a href="#pm_247">247-275</a>.<br /> - -Heywood, John (?), <a href="#pm_53">53</a>.<br /> - -Heywood, Thomas, <a href="#pm_205">205</a>, <a href="#pm_206">206</a>.<br /> - -Hinkson, Katharine Tynan, <a href="#pm_877">877</a>.<br /> - -Hoccleve, Thomas, <a href="#pm_13">13</a>.<br /> - -Hood, Thomas, <a href="#pm_647">647-654</a>.<br /> - -Hogg, James, <a href="#pm_513">513</a>, <a href="#pm_514">514</a>.<br /> - -Horne, Richard Henry, <a href="#pm_673">673</a>.<br /> - -Houghton, Lord, <a href="#pm_710">710</a>.<br /> - -Howells, William Dean, <a href="#pm_82">82</a>.<br /> - -Hume, Alexander, <a href="#pm_106">106</a>.<br /> - -Hunt, Leigh, <a href="#pm_592">592</a>.<br /> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1062" id="page_1062">{1062}</a></span>Hyde, Douglas, <a href="#pm_858">858</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="J" id="J"></a>Jago, Richard, <a href="#pm_452">452</a>.<br /> - -James I (King of Scotland), <a href="#pm_15">15</a>.<br /> - -Johnson, Samuel, <a href="#pm_450">450</a>, <a href="#pm_451">451</a>.<br /> - -Jones, Ebenezer, <a href="#pm_745">745</a>.<br /> - -Jones, Sir William, <a href="#pm_478">478</a>.<br /> - -Jonson, Ben, <a href="#pm_184">184-194</a>.<br /> - -Jordan, Thomas, <a href="#pm_335">335</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="K" id="K"></a>Keats, John, <a href="#pm_623">623-637</a>.<br /> - -Keble, John, <a href="#pm_620">620</a>.<br /> - -Kendall, Henry Clarence, <a href="#pm_827">827</a>.<br /> - -King, Henry (Bishop of Chichester), <a href="#pm_278">278-280</a>.<br /> - -Kingsley, Charles, <a href="#pm_739">739</a>, <a href="#pm_740">740</a>.<br /> - -Kipling, Rudyard, <a href="#pm_865">865-867</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="L" id="L"></a>Lamb, Charles, <a href="#pm_577">577-579</a>.<br /> - -Lamb, Mary, <a href="#pm_511">511</a>.<br /> - -Landor, Walter Savage, <a href="#pm_557">557-576</a>.<br /> - -Lang, Andrew, <a href="#pm_841">841</a>.<br /> - -Le Gallienne, Richard, <a href="#pm_868">868</a>, <a href="#pm_869">869</a>.<br /> - -Lindsay, Lady Anne, <a href="#pm_477">477</a>.<br /> - -Locker-Lampson, Frederick, <a href="#pm_746">746</a>.<br /> - -Lodge, Thomas, <a href="#pm_97">97-100</a>.<br /> - -Logan, John, <a href="#pm_476">476</a>.<br /> - -Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, <a href="#pm_689">689</a>.<br /> - -Lovelace, Richard, <a href="#pm_343">343-348</a>.<br /> - -Lydgate, John, <a href="#pm_14">14</a>.<br /> - -Lyly, John, <a href="#pm_85">85</a>, <a href="#pm_86">86</a>.<br /> - -Lyttelton, Lord, <a href="#pm_449">449</a>.<br /> - -Lytton, Earl of, <a href="#pm_794">794</a>, <a href="#pm_795">795</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="M" id="M"></a>Macaulay, Lord, <a href="#pm_657">657</a>.<br /> - -MacDonald, George, <a href="#pm_770">770</a>.<br /> - -Mahony, Francis, <a href="#pm_677">677</a>.<br /> - -Mangan, James Clarence, <a href="#pm_664">664</a>, <a href="#pm_665">665</a>.<br /> - -Mannyng, Robert, of Brunne, <a href="#pm_8">8</a>.<br /> - -Marlowe, Christopher, <a href="#pm_121">121</a>.<br /> - -Marvell, Andrew, <a href="#pm_355">355-361</a>.<br /> - -Mayne, Jasper, <a href="#pm_296">296</a>.<br /> - -Melcombe, Lord, <a href="#pm_443">443</a>.<br /> - -Meredith, George, <a href="#pm_772">772-776</a>.<br /> - -Meynell, Alice, <a href="#pm_879">879</a>, <a href="#pm_880">880</a>.<br /> - -Milton, John, <a href="#pm_307">307-324</a>.<br /> - -Montgomerie, Alexander, <a href="#pm_48">48</a>.<br /> - -Montrose, Marquis of, <a href="#pm_334">334</a>.<br /> - -Moore, Thomas, <a href="#pm_582">582-585</a>.<br /> - -Moore, T. Sturge, <a href="#pm_874">874</a>.<br /> - -Morris, William, <a href="#pm_800">800-802</a>.<br /> - -Munday, Anthony, <a href="#pm_87">87</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="N" id="N"></a>Nairne, Carolina Lady, <a href="#pm_512">512</a>.<br /> - -Nashe, Thomas, <a href="#pm_166">166</a>, <a href="#pm_167">167</a>.<br /> - -Newbolt, Henry, <a href="#pm_860">860</a>.<br /> - -Noel, Roden Berkeley Wriothesley, <a href="#pm_803">803</a>, <a href="#pm_804">804</a>.<br /> - -Norton, Caroline Elizabeth Sarah, <a href="#pm_692">692</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="O" id="O"></a>Oldham, John, <a href="#pm_420">420</a>.<br /> - -Oldys, William, <a href="#pm_438">438</a>.<br /> - -O’Reilly, John Boyle, <a href="#pm_831">831</a>.<br /> - -O’Shaughnessy, Arthur William Edgar, <a href="#pm_828">828-830</a>.<br /> - -Otway, Thomas, <a href="#pm_419">419</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="P" id="P"></a>Pagan, Isobel, <a href="#pm_473">473</a>.<br /> - -Parker, Gilbert, <a href="#pm_861">861</a>.<br /> - -Parnell, Thomas, <a href="#pm_436">436</a>.<br /> - -Patmore, Coventry, <a href="#pm_760">760-764</a>.<br /> - -Peacock, Thomas Love, <a href="#pm_593">593-595</a>.<br /> - -Peele, George, <a href="#pm_101">101</a>, <a href="#pm_102">102</a>.<br /> - -Philips, Katherine (‘Orinda’), <a href="#pm_397">397</a>.<br /> - -Philpot, William, <a href="#pm_757">757</a>.<br /> - -Poe, Edgar Allan, <a href="#pm_694">694-696</a>.<br /> - -Pope, Alexander, <a href="#pm_440">440-442</a>.<br /> - -Praed, Winthrop Mackworth, <a href="#pm_660">660</a>.<br /> - -Prior, Matthew, <a href="#pm_422">422-428</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1063" id="page_1063">{1063}</a></span> -<a name="Q" id="Q"></a>Quarles, Francis, <a href="#pm_276">276</a>, <a href="#pm_277">277</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="R" id="R"></a>Raleigh, Sir Walter, <a href="#pm_75">75-78</a>, <a href="#pm_122">122</a>.<br /> - -Ramsay, Allan, <a href="#pm_437">437</a>.<br /> - -Randolph, Thomas, <a href="#pm_299">299</a>, <a href="#pm_300">300</a>.<br /> - -Rands, William Brighty, <a href="#pm_755">755</a>, <a href="#pm_756">756</a>.<br /> - -Reynolds, John, <a href="#pm_177">177</a>.<br /> - -Rochester, Earl of, <a href="#pm_413">413-416</a>.<br /> - -Rolleston, T. W., <a href="#pm_849">849</a>.<br /> - -Rossetti, Christina Georgina, <a href="#pm_779">779-789</a>.<br /> - -Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, <a href="#pm_771">771</a><br /> - -Rowe, Henry, <a href="#pm_507">507</a>, <a href="#pm_508">508</a>.<br /> - -Rowlands, Richard, <a href="#pm_165">165</a>.<br /> - -Ruskin, John, <a href="#pm_744">744</a>.<br /> - -Russell, George William, <a href="#pm_872">872</a>, <a href="#pm_873">873</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="S" id="S"></a>Scott, Alexander, <a href="#pm_43">43</a>, <a href="#pm_44">44</a>.<br /> - -Scott, Sir Walter, <a href="#pm_542">542-548</a>.<br /> - -Scott, William Bell, <a href="#pm_731">731</a>.<br /> - -Sedley, Sir Charles, <a href="#pm_409">409</a>, <a href="#pm_410">410</a>.<br /> - -Shakespeare, William, 56 (?), <a href="#pm_123">123-164</a>.<br /> - -Shelley, Percy Bysshe, <a href="#pm_605">605-618</a>.<br /> - -Shirley, James, <a href="#pm_287">287</a>, <a href="#pm_288">288</a>.<br /> - -Sidney, Sir Philip, <a href="#pm_88">88-95</a>.<br /> - -Sigerson, Dora, <a href="#pm_881">881</a>.<br /> - -Skelton, John, <a href="#pm_30">30</a>, <a href="#pm_31">31</a>.<br /> - -Smart, Christopher, <a href="#pm_465">465</a>.<br /> - -Smith, Alexander, <a href="#pm_777">777</a>, <a href="#pm_778">778</a>.<br /> - -Smollett, Tobias George, <a href="#pm_464">464</a>.<br /> - -Southey, Caroline, <a href="#pm_596">596</a>.<br /> - -Southey, Robert, <a href="#pm_556">556</a>.<br /> - -Southwell, Robert, <a href="#pm_108">108</a>, <a href="#pm_109">109</a>.<br /> - -Spenser, Edmund, <a href="#pm_79">79-84</a>.<br /> - -Stanley, Thomas, <a href="#pm_394">394</a>.<br /> - -Stevenson, Robert Louis, <a href="#pm_846">846-848</a>.<br /> - -Stevenson, William, <a href="#pm_49">49</a>.<br /> - -Stirling, Earl of, <a href="#pm_221">221</a>.<br /> - -Strode, William, <a href="#pm_393">393</a>.<br /> - -Suckling, Sir John, <a href="#pm_325">325-328</a>.<br /> - -Surrey, Earl of, <a href="#pm_39">39-41</a>.<br /> - -Swinburne, Algernon Charles, <a href="#pm_808">808-811</a>.<br /> - -Sylvester, Joshua, <a href="#pm_115">115</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="T" id="T"></a>Taylor, Sir Henry, <a href="#pm_656">656</a>.<br /> - -Tennyson, Frederick, <a href="#pm_688">688</a>.<br /> - -Tennyson, Lord, <a href="#pm_699">699-709</a>.<br /> - -Thom, William, <a href="#pm_655">655</a>.<br /> - -Thompson, Francis, <a href="#pm_875">875</a>.<br /> - -Thomson, James, <a href="#pm_448">448</a>.<br /> - -Thomson, James, <a href="#pm_796">796-799</a>.<br /> - -Thurlow, Lord, <a href="#pm_586">586</a>.<br /> - -Todhunter, John, <a href="#pm_814">814</a>, <a href="#pm_815">815</a>.<br /> - -Traherne, Thomas, <a href="#pm_406">406</a>.<br /> - -Turner, Charles Tennyson, <a href="#pm_693">693</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="V" id="V"></a>Vaughan, Henry, <a href="#pm_362">362-365</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="W" id="W"></a>Wade, Thomas, <a href="#pm_676">676</a>.<br /> - -Walker, William Sidney, <a href="#pm_639">639</a>.<br /> - -Waller, Edmund, <a href="#pm_304">304-306</a>.<br /> - -Walsh, William, <a href="#pm_429">429</a>.<br /> - -Watson, William, <a href="#pm_852">852-854</a>.<br /> - -Watts, Isaac, <a href="#pm_434">434</a>, <a href="#pm_435">435</a>.<br /> - -Watts-Dunton, Theodore, <a href="#pm_807">807</a>.<br /> - -Webbe, Charles, <a href="#pm_403">403</a>.<br /> - -Webster, John, <a href="#pm_218">218-220</a>.<br /> - -Wever, Robert, <a href="#pm_45">45</a>.<br /> - -Whitman, Walt, <a href="#pm_742">742</a>, <a href="#pm_743">743</a>.<br /> - -Whittier, John Greenleaf, <a href="#pm_690">690</a>.<br /> - -Wither, George, <a href="#pm_236">236-239</a>.<br /> - -Wolfe, Charles, <a href="#pm_603">603</a>, <a href="#pm_604">604</a>.<br /> - -Woods, Margaret L., <a href="#pm_882">882</a>.<br /> - -Wordsworth, William, <a href="#pm_515">515-541</a>.<br /> - -Wotton, Sir Henry, <a href="#pm_178">178-180</a>.<br /> - -Wyatt, Sir Thomas, <a href="#pm_34">34-38</a>.<br /> - -<br /> -<a name="Y" id="Y"></a>Yeats, William Butler, <a href="#pm_862">862-864</a>.<br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1064" id="page_1064">{1064}</a></span></p> - -<h2><a name="INDEX_OF_FIRST_LINES" id="INDEX_OF_FIRST_LINES"></a>INDEX OF FIRST LINES</h2> - -<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="1" summary="deprecated"> - -<tr><td> </td><td class="rt">No. -</td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A Book of Verses underneath the Bough,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_698">698</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A child’s a plaything for an hour,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_511">511</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A! Fredome is a noble thing!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_9">9</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A garden is a lovesome thing, God wot!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_793">793</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A late lark twitters from the quiet skies,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_843">843</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A plenteous place is Ireland for hospitable cheer,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_714">714</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A rose, as fair as ever saw the North,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_242">242</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A slumber did my spirit seal,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_519">519</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A star is gone! a star is gone!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_642">642</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A sunny shaft did I behold,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_555">555</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A sweet disorder in the dress,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_258">258</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A thousand martyrs I have made,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_412">412</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">A weary lot is thine, fair maid,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_546">546</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Above yon sombre swell of land,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_673">673</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Absence, hear thou my protestation,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_197">197</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Absent from thee, I languish still,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_413">413</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Accept, thou shrine of my dead saint,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_280">280</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Adieu, farewell earth’s bliss!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_167">167</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ae fond kiss, and then we sever,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_499">499</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ah, Chloris! that I now could sit,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_406">406</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ah, how sweet it is to love!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_400">400</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ah! were she pitiful as she is fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_104">104</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ah, what avails the sceptred race,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_558">558</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_739">739</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Alexis, here she stay’d; among these pines,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_228">228</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">All are not taken; there are left behind,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_680">680</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">All holy influences dwell within,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_602">602</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">All in the April morning,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_877">877</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">All is best, though we oft doubt,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_324">324</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">All my past life is mine no more,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_414">414</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_554">554</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">All’s over, then: does truth sound bitter,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_726">726</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">All the flowers of the spring,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_220">220</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">All the words that I utter,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_862">862</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">All thoughts, all passions, all delights,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_551">551</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">All under the leaves and the leaves of life,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_382">382</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Allas! my worthy maister honorable,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_13">13</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1065" id="page_1065">{1065}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Amarantha sweet and fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_346">346</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">An ancient chestnut’s blossoms threw,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_572">572</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">And, like a dying lady lean and pale,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_609">609</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">And wilt thou leave me thus?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_35">35</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Angel, king of streaming morn,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_507">507</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Angel spirits of sleep,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_833">833</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">April, April,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_852">852</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_204">204</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">As doctors give physic by way of prevention,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_428">428</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">As I in hoary winter’s night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_109">109</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">As I was walking all alane,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_380">380</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">As it fell upon a day,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_203">203</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">As one that for a weary space has lain,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_841">841</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">As those we love decay, we die in part,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_448">448</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">As we rush, as we rush in the Train,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_796">796</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">As ye came from the holy land,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_26">26</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ask me no more where Jove bestows,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_289">289</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ask me why I send you here,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_254">254</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ask not the cause why sullen Spring,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_402">402</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">At her fair hands how have I grace entreated,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_64">64</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">At the last, tenderly,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_742">742</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_585">585</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Awake, Æolian lyre, awake,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_455">455</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Away! Away!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_462">462</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Away, delights! go seek some other dwelling,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_211">211</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Away! the moor is dark beneath the moon,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_617">617</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Bacchus must now his power resign,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_445">445</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Balow, my babe, lie still and sleep!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_28">28</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Bards of Passion and of Mirth,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_630">630</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Be it right or wrong, these men among,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_25">25</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Beating Heart! we come again,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_746">746</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Beautiful must be the mountains whence ye come,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_834">834</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Beauty clear and fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_215">215</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Beauty sat bathing by a spring,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_87">87</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Behold her, single in the field,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_528">528</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Being your slave, what should I do but tend,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_151">151</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Best and brightest, come away,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_606">606</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Bid me to live, and I will live,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_266">266</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav’ns joy,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_309">309</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Blow, blow, thou winter wind,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_136">136</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Blown in the morning, thou shalt fade ere noon,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_329">329</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Bonnie Kilmeny gaed up the glen,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_514">514</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Brave flowers—that I could gallant it like you,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_278">278</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1066" id="page_1066">{1066}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Breathes there the man with soul so dead,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_547">547</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Bright Star, would I were steadfast as thou art,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_637">637</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Bring me wine, but wine which never grew,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_671">671</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Busy, curious, thirsty fly!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_438">438</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">By feathers green, across Casbeen,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_859">859</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Bytuene Mershe ant Averil,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_2">2</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ca’ the yowes to the knowes, 473,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_506">506</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_218">218</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Calm on the bosom of thy God!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_622">622</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Calme was the day, and through the trembling ayre,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_81">81</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Came, on a Sabbath noon, my sweet,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_805">805</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Charm me asleep, and melt me so,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_263">263</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Cherry-ripe, ripe, ripe, I cry,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_256">256</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Chloe’s a Nymph in flowery groves,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_395">395</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Christmas knows a merry, merry place,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_807">807</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Clerk Saunders and may Margaret,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_371">371</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Cold in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_736">736</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come away, come away, death,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_134">134</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come, dear children, let us away,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_747">747</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_706">706</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come into the garden, Maud,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_708">708</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come, let us now resolve at last,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_417">417</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come little babe, come silly soul,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_74">74</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come live with me and be my Love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_121">121</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come not in terrors clad, to claim,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_596">596</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_207">207</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come, Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_94">94</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come, spur away,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_300">300</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come then, as ever, like the wind at morning!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_870">870</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come thou, who art the wine and wit,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_274">274</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come unto these yellow sands,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_129">129</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Come, worthy Greek! Ulysses, come,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_112">112</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Condemn’d to Hope’s delusive mine,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_451">451</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Corydon, arise, my Corydon!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_57">57</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Count each affliction, whether light or grave,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_733">733</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Crabbèd Age and Youth,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_56">56</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Cupid and my Campaspe play’d,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_85">85</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Cynthia, to thy power and thee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_208">208</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Cyriack, whose Grandsire on the Royal Bench,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_320">320</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Dark, deep, and cold the current flows,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_588">588</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Dark to me is the earth. Dark to me are the heavens,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_817">817</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Daughter to that good Earl, once President,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_317ast">317* </a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1067" id="page_1067">{1067}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Day, like our souls, is fiercely dark,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_587">587</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Dear Lord, receive my son, whose winning love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_223">223</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Dear love, for nothing less than thee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_199">199</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Death, be not proud, though some have callèd thee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_202">202</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Deep on the convent-roof the snows,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_703">703</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">‘Do you remember me? or are you proud?’,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_569">569</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Does the road wind uphill all the way?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_783">783</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Drink to me only with thine eyes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_185">185</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Drop, drop, slow tears,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_222">222</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Earth has not anything to show more fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_520">520</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">E’en like two little bank-dividing brooks,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_276">276</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Enough; and leave the rest to Fame!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_361">361</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Even such is Time, that takes in trust,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_78">78</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ever let the Fancy roam,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_631">631</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fain would I change that note,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_68">68</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fair Amoret is gone astray,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_432">432</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fair and fair, and twice so fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_101">101</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fair daffodils, we weep to see,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_252">252</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fair is my Love and cruel as she’s fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_113">113</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fair pledges of a fruitful tree,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_253">253</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fair ship, that from the Italian shore,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_707">707</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fair stood the wind for France,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_119">119</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">False though she be to me and love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_431">431</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">False world, good night! since thou hast brough,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_190">190</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_153">153</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_140">140</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fine knacks for ladies! cheap, choice, brave, and new,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_58">58</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">First came the primrose,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_767">767</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Flowers nodding gaily, scent in air,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_874">874</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fly envious Time, till thou run out thy race,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_308">308</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fly hence, shadows, that do keep,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_235">235</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Follow a shadow, it still flies you,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_187">187</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_170">170</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Follow your saint, follow with accents sweet!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_171">171</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Foolish prater, what dost thou,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_351">351</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">For a name unknown,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_857">857</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">For her gait, if she be walking,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_243">243</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">For knighthood is not in the feats of warre,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_32">32</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Forbear, bold youth; all’s heaven here,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_397">397</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Forget not yet the tried intent,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_34">34</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fra bank to bank, fra wood to wood I rin,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_114">114</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Fresh Spring, the herald of loves mighty king,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_79">79</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1068" id="page_1068">{1068}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">From harmony, from heavenly harmony,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_399">399</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">From low to high doth dissolution climb,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_539">539</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">From the forests and highlands,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_605">605</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">From you have I been absent in the spring,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_157">157</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">From you, Ianthe, little troubles pass,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_559">559</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Full fathom five thy father lies,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_131">131</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_248">248</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_247">247</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Give a man a horse he can ride,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_798">798</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Give all to love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_669">669</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Give me my scallop-shell of quiet,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_77">77</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Give pardon, blessèd soul, to my bold cries,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_110">110</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Give place, you ladies, and begone!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_53">53</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Go and catch a falling star,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_196">196</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Go fetch to me a pint o’ wine,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_496">496</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Go, for they call you, Shepherd, from the hill,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_751">751</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Go from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_684">684</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Go, lovely Rose,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_305">305</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">God Lyæus, ever young,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_214">214</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">God of our fathers, known of old,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_867">867</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">God who created me,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_855">855</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Gone were but the winter cold,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_591">591</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Good-morrow to the day so fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_268">268</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Great men have been among us; hands that penn’d,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_525">525</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Had we but world enough, and time,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_357">357</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_476">476</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hail holy light, ofspring of Heav’n first-born,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_322">322</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hail, sister springs,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_337">337</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hail to thee, blithe spirit!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_608">608</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hallow the threshold, crown the posts anew!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_332">332</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_590">590</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Happy those early days, when I,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_362">362</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hark! ah, the Nightingale,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_752">752</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_139">139</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hark! Now everything is still,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_219">219</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hark! the mavis’ evening sang,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_506">506</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">He first deceased; she for a little tried,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_180">180</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">He has conn’d the lesson now,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_660">660</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">He that is by Mooni now,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_827">827</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">He that is down needs fear no fall,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_366">366</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">He that loves a rosy cheek,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_292">292</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1069" id="page_1069">{1069}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">He who has once been happy is for aye,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_818">818</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_715">715</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hear the voice of the Bard,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_488">488</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hear, ye ladies that despise,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_213">213</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Helen, thy beauty is to me,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_694">694</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hence, all you vain delights,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_216">216</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hence, heart, with her that must depart,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_43">43</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hence loathed Melancholy,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_310">310</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hence vain deluding joyes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_311">311</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_262">262</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Here a little child I stand,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_271">271</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Here a pretty baby lies,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_273">273</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Here, ever since you went abroad,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_567">567</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Here in this sequester’d close,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_824">824</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Here she lies, a pretty bud,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_272">272</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hey nonny no!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_59">59</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hey! now the day dawis,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_48">48</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hierusalem, my happy home,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_61">61</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">High-spirited friend,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_191">191</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Highway, since you my chief Parnassus be,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_92">92</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">His golden locks Time hath to silver turn’d,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_102">102</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">How happy is he born and taught,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_179">179</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">How like a Winter hath my absence been,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_156">156</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">How many times do I love thee, dear?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_668">668</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">How near me came the hand of Death,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_239">239</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">How sleep the brave, who sink to rest,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_458">458</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">How vainly men themselves amaze,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_359">359</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hush! my dear, lie still and slumber,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_435">435</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Hyd, Absolon, thy gilte tresses clere,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_11">11</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I am that which began,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_809">809</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I am! yet what I am who cares, or knows?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_621">621</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I arise from dreams of thee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_611">611</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I ask no kind return of love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_475">475</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I came into the City and none knew me,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_878">878</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I cannot change as others do,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_415">415</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I cannot eat but little meat,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_49">49</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I dare not ask a kiss,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_250">250</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I did but look and love awhile,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_419">419</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I did not choose thee, dearest. It was Love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_819">819</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I do confess thou’rt smooth and fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_182">182</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I do not love thee!—no! I do not love thee!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_692">692</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I dream’d that, as I wander’d by the way,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_616">616</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I dug, beneath the cypress shade,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_594">594</a> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1070" id="page_1070">{1070}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I feed a flame within, which so torments me,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_401">401</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I flung me round him,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_803">803</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I got me flowers to straw Thy way,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_282">282</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I have a mistress, for perfections rare,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_299">299</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I have had playmates, I have had companions,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_577">577</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I intended an Ode,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_825">825</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I know a little garden-close,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_802">802</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I know a thing that’s most uncommon,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_440">440</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I know my soul hath power to know all things,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_181">181</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I left thee last, a child at heart,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_678">678</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I long have had a quarrel set with Time,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_823">823</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I loved a lass, a fair one,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_236">236</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I loved him not; and yet now he is gone,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_557">557</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I loved thee once; I’ll love no more,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_183">183</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I made another garden, yea,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_829">829</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I mind me in the days departed,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_679">679</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I must not think of thee; and, tired yet strong,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_879">879</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I, my dear, was born to-day,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_425">425</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I play’d with you ’mid cowslips blowing,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_593">593</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I pray thee, leave, love me no more,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_116">116</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I said—Then, dearest, since ’tis so,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_727">727</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I saw fair Chloris walk alone,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_393">393</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I saw my Lady weep,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_66">66</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I saw old Autumn in the misty morn,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_647">647</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I saw where in the shroud did lurk,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_579">579</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I sent a ring—a little band,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_641">641</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I sing of a maiden,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_23">23</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I strove with none, for none was worth my strife,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_576">576</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_681">681</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I that in heill was and gladnèss,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_21">21</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_538">538</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I thought once how Theocritus had sung,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_682">682</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I thought to meet no more, so dreary seem’d,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_620">620</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I took my heart in my hand,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_782">782</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I travell’d among unknown men,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_517">517</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I wander’d lonely as a cloud,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_530">530</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_864">864</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I will make you brooches and toys for your delight,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_846">846</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I wish I were where Helen lies,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_387">387</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I, with whose colours Myra dress’d her head,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_96">96</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ichot a burde in boure bryht,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_4">4</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I’d a dream to-night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_658">658</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I’d wed you without herds, without money or rich array,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_713">713</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I’m sittin’ on the stile, Mary,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_691">691 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1071" id="page_1071">{1071}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I’m wearin’ awa’, John,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_512">512</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">I’ve heard them lilting at our ewe-milking,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_466">466</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If all the world and love were young,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_122">122</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_459">459</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If doughty deeds my lady please,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_469">469</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If I had thought thou couldst have died,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_604">604</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">‘If I were dead, you’d sometimes say, Poor Child!’,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_761">761</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If rightly tuneful bards decide,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_461">461</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If the quick spirits in your eye,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_290">290</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If the red slayer think he slays,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_672">672</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If there were dreams to sell,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_667">667</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If thou must love me, let it be for naught,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_685">685</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If thou wilt ease thine heart,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_666">666</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If to be absent were to be,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_344">344</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">If you go over desert and mountain,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_830">830</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In a drear-nighted December,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_632">632</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In a harbour grene aslepe whereas I lay,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_45">45</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In a quiet water’d land, a land of roses,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_849">849</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In a valley of this restles mind,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_24">24</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In after days when grasses high,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_826">826</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In Clementina’s artless mien,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_568">568</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In going to my naked bed as one that would have slept,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_46">46</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In Scarlet town, where I was born,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_389">389</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In somer when the shawes be sheyne,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_22">22</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In the hall the coffin waits, and the idle armourer stands,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_768">768</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In the highlands, in the country places,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_847">847</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In the hour of death, after this life’s whim,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_883">883</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In the hour of my distress,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_275">275</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In the merry month of May,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_73">73</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">In Xanadu did Kubla Khan,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_550">550</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Into the silver night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_845">845</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Into the skies, one summer’s day,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_756">756</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Is it so small a thing,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_754">754</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It fell about the Martinmas,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_374">374</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It fell in the ancient periods,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_670">670</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It fell on a day, and a bonnie simmer day,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_377">377</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_521">521</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It is an ancient Mariner,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_549">549</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It is not, Celia, in our power,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_405">405</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It is not death, that sometime in a sigh,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_649">649</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It is not growing like a tree,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_194">194</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It is not to be thought of that the flood,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_526">526</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It is the miller’s daughter,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_701">701</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It was a dismal and a fearful night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_352">352 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1072" id="page_1072">{1072}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It was a lover and his lass,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_137">137</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It was a’ for our rightfu’ King,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_505">505</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It was many and many a year ago,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_695">695</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It was not in the Winter,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_651">651</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It was not like your great and gracious ways!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_762">762</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">It was the Winter wilde,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_307">307</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Its edges foam’d with amethyst and rose,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_873">873</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Jenny kiss’d me when we met,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_592">592</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">John Anderson, my jo, John,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_497">497</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Know, Celia, since thou art so proud,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_293">293</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ladies, though to your conquering eyes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_404">404</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Late at een, drinkin’ the wine,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_370">370</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Lawrence of vertuous Father vertuous Son,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_319">319</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Lay a garland on my herse,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_209">209</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Leave me, O Love, which reachest but to dust,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_95">95</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Lenten ys come with love to toune,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_3">3</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Lestenyt, lordynges, both elde and yinge,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_7">7</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Let me go forth, and share,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_853">853</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Let me not to the marriage of true minds,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_162">162</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Let the bird of loudest lay,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_144">144</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Let us drink and be merry, dance, joke, and rejoice,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_335">335</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Life! I know not what thou art,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_474">474</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Like the Idalian queen,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_225">225</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Like thee I once have stemm’d the sea of life,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_472">472</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Like to Diana in her summer weed,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_103">103</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Like to the clear in highest sphere,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_100">100</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Lo, quhat it is to love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_44">44</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">London, thou art of townes <i>A per se</i>,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_19">19</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Long-expected One-and-twenty,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_450">450</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Look not thou on beauty’s charming,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_544">544</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Lords, knights, and squires, the numerous band,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_423">423</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Loud mockers in the roaring street,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_869">869</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Love bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_286">286</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Love guards the roses of thy lips,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_99">99</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Love in fantastic triumph sate,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_411">411</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Love in my bosom like a bee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_97">97</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Love is a sickness full of woes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_111">111</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Love is enough: though the World be a-waning,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_801">801</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Love is the blossom where there blows,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_233">233</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Love not me for comely grace,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_71">71 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1073" id="page_1073">{1073}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Love, thou art absolute, sole Lord,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_338">338</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Love thy country, wish it well,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_443">443</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Love wing’d my Hopes and taught me how to fly,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_62">62</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Marie Hamilton’s to the kirk gane,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_375">375</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Mark where the pressing wind shoots javelin-like,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_775">775</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Martial, the things that do attain,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_41">41</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Marvel of marvels, if I myself shall behold,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_785">785</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Mary! I want a lyre with other strings,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_470">470</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">May! Be thou never graced with birds that sing,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_245">245</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">May! queen of blossoms,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_586">586</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Me so oft my fancy drew,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_238">238</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Men grew sae cauld, maids sae unkind,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_655">655</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Merry Margaret,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_31">31</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Methought I saw my late espousèd Saint,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_321">321</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Mild is the parting year, and sweet,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_565">565</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_524">524</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">More love or more disdain I crave,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_403">403</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Mortality, behold and fear!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_234">234</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Most glorious Lord of Lyfe! that, on this day,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_84">84</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Mother, I cannot mind my wheel,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_564">564</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Mother of Hermes! and still youthful Maia!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_629">629</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_634">634</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Music, when soft voices die,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_618">618</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My blood so red,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_385">385</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My Damon was the first to wake,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_480">480</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My days among the Dead are past,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_556">556</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My dear and only Love, I pray,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_334">334</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My delight and thy delight,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_832">832</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My faint spirit was sitting in the light,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_613">613</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My grief on the sea,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_858">858</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_624">624</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My heart is high above, my body is full of bliss,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_52">52</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My heart is like a singing bird,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_780">780</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My heart leaps up when I behold,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_532">532</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My little Son, who look’d from thoughtful eyes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_763">763</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My Love in her attire doth show her wit,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_63">63</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My love is strengthen’d, though more weak in seeming,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_158">158</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My love o’er the water bends dreaming,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_797">797</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My lute, awake! perform the last,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_38">38</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My mother bore me in the southern wild,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_487">487</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My new-cut ashlar takes the light,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_865">865</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My noble, lovely, little Peggy,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_427">427</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My Peggy is a young thing,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_437">437 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1074" id="page_1074">{1074}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My Phillis hath the morning sun,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_98">98</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My silks and fine array,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_485">485</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My soul, sit thou a patient looker-on,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_277">277</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My soul, there is a country,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_363">363</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My thoughts hold mortal strife,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_230">230</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">My true love hath my heart, and I have his,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_88">88</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Nay but you, who do not love her,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_721">721</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Near to the silver Trent,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_118">118</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Never seek to tell thy love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_492">492</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Never weather-beaten sail more willing bent to shore,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_176">176</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">New doth the sun appear,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_231">231</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">News from a foreign country came,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_406">406</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">No coward soul is mine,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_738">738</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">No, no! go not to Lethe, neither twist,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_628">628</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">No thyng ys to man so dere,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_8">8</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_730">730</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_603">603</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Not, Celia, that I juster am,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_410">410</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">‘Not ours,’ say some, ‘the thought of death to dread,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_854">854</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Not unto us, O Lord,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_876">876</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_705">705</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Now the lusty spring is seen,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_212">212</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Now the North wind ceases,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_774">774</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Now winter nights enlarge,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_174">174</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Nuns fret not at their convent’s narrow room,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_533">533</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O, Brignall banks are wild and fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_543">543</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_743">743</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O Christ of God! whose life and death,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_690">690</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O come, soft rest of cares! come, Night!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_107">107</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_789">789</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O fly, my Soul! What hangs upon,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_287">287</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O fly not, Pleasure, pleasant-hearted Pleasure,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_816">816</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O for some honest lover’s ghost,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_325">325</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O for the mighty wakening that aroused,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_676">676</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O friend! I know not which way I must look,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_523">523</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_626">626</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O happy dames! that may embrace,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_40">40</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O happy Tithon! if thou know’st thy hap,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_221">221</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O how much more doth beauty beauteous seem,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_150">150</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O, I hae come from far away,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_731">731</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O joy of creation,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_813">813 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1075" id="page_1075">{1075}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O lusty May, with Flora queen!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_51">51</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O many a day have I made good ale in the glen,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_638">638</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O Mary, at thy window be,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_493">493</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O Mary, go and call the cattle home,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_740">740</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O Memory, thou fond deceiver,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_468">468</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O mistress mine, where are you roaming?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_133">133</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O mortal folk, you may behold and see,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_33">33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O my Dark Rosaleen,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_664">664</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O my deir hert, young Jesus sweit,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_384">384</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O my Luve’s like a red, red rose,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_503">503</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O never say that I was false of heart,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_161">161</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O perfect Light, which shaid away,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_106">106</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O ruddier than the cherry!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_439">439</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O saw ye bonnie Lesley,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_500">500</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O saw ye not fair Ines?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_650">650</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O sing unto my roundelay,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_479">479</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O sleep, my babe, hear not the rippling wave,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_661">661</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O soft embalmer of the still midnight!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_636">636</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O Sorrow!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_623">623</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O that ’twere possible,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_709">709</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O the sad day!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_407">407</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O thou, by Nature taught,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_457">457</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O thou that swing’st upon the waving hair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_347">347</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O thou undaunted daughter of desires!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_339">339</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O thou with dewy locks, who lookest down,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_484">484</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O Time! who know’st a lenient hand to lay,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_509">509</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O, to be in England,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_729">729</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O turn away those cruel eyes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_394">394</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O waly, waly, up the bank,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_388">388</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O were my Love yon lilac fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_502">502</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O western wind, when wilt thou blow,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_27">27</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O wha will shoe my bonny foot?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_369">369</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O what a plague is love!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_392">392</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_633">633</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">‘O which is the last rose?’,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_851">851</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn’s being,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_610">610</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O world, be nobler, for her sake!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_871">871</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O world, in very truth thou art too young,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_822">822</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O yonge fresshe folkes, he or she,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_10">10</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O, you plant the pain in my heart with your wistful eyes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_814">814</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Of a’ the airts the wind can blaw,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_494">494</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Of all the flowers rising now,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_757">757</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Of all the girls that are so smart,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_444">444</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Of all the torments, all the cares,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_429">429 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1076" id="page_1076">{1076}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Of Nelson and the North,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_581">581</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Of Neptune’s empire let us sing,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_173">173</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Of on that is so fayr and bright,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_6">6</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Oft, in the stilly night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_584">584</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Often I think of the beautiful town,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_689">689</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Oh how comely it is and how reviving,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_323">323</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">On a day—alack the day!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_124">124</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">On a starr’d night Prince Lucifer uprose,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_776">776</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">On a time the amorous Silvy,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_72">72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">On either side the river lie,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_700">700</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">On parent knees, a naked new-born child,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_478">478</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">On the deck of Patrick Lynch’s boat I sat in woful plight,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_734">734</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">On the Sabbath-day,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_778">778</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">On the wide level of a mountain’s head,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_553">553</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Once did she hold the gorgeous East in fee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_522">522</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">One more Unfortunate,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_654">654</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">One word is too often profaned,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_615">615</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Only tell her that I love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_421">421</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">O’re the smooth enameld green,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_312">312</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Orpheus with his lute made trees,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_143">143</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Others abide our question. Thou art free,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_753">753</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Out of the night that covers me,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_842">842</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Out upon it, I have loved,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_326">326</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Over hill, over dale,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_127">127</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Over the mountains,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_391">391</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Over the sea our galleys went,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_716">716</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Pack, clouds, away! and welcome, day!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_205">205</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Passing away, saith the World, passing away,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_784">784</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Passions are liken’d best to floods and streams,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_75">75</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Past ruin’d Ilion Helen lives,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_561">561</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Peace, Shepherd, peace! What boots it singing on?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_882">882</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Perfect little body, without fault or stain on thee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_837">837</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Phœbus, arise!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_224">224</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Piping down the valleys wild,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_486">486</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_164">164</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Praise is devotion fit for mighty minds,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_303">303</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Pray but one prayer for me ’twixt thy closed lips,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_800">800</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Proud Maisie is in the wood,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_542">542</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Proud word you never spoke, but you will speak,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_562">562</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Pure stream, in whose transparent wave,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_464">464</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Put your head, darling, darling, darling,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_712">712</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_184">184 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1077" id="page_1077">{1077}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_449">449</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Quhen Flora had o’erfret the firth,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_50">50</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Quoth tongue of neither maid nor wife,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_656">656</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Remain, ah not in youth alone!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_566">566</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Remember me when I am gone away,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_787">787</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Return, return! all night my lamp is burning,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_766">766</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">‘Rise,’ said the Master, ‘come unto the feast’,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_711">711</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Robin sat on gude green hill,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_16">16</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Roll forth, my song, like the rushing river,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_665">665</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Rorate coeli desuper!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_20">20</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Rose-cheek’d Laura, come,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_169">169</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Roses, their sharp spines being gone,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_141">141</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Round the cape of a sudden came the sea,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_725">725</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sabrina fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_315">315</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Safe where I cannot die yet,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_786">786</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Say, crimson Rose and dainty Daffodil,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_177">177</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Say not the struggle naught availeth,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_741">741</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Says Tweed to Till,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_383">383</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Scorn not the Sonnet; Critic, you have frown’d,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_534">534</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Seamen three! What men be ye?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_595">595</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_627">627</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">See how the flowers, as at parade,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_356">356</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">See the Chariot at hand here of Love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_188">188</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">See where she sits upon the grassie greene,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_80">80</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">See with what simplicity,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_358">358</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">See yon blithe child that dances in our sight!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_662">662</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sense with keenest edge unusèd,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_838">838</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Seven weeks of sea, and twice seven days of storm,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_821">821</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Shall I compare thee to a Summer’s day?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_145">145</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Shall I strew on thee rose or rue or laurel,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_810">810</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Shall I thus ever long, and be no whit the neare?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_54">54</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Shall I, wasting in despair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_237">237</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She beat the happy pavèment,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_345">345</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She dwelt among the untrodden ways,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_516">516</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She fell away in her first ages spring,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_83">83</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She is not fair to outward view,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_644">644</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She knelt upon her brother’s grave,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_790">790</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She pass’d away like morning dew,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_645">645</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She stood breast-high amid the corn,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_652">652</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She walks in beauty, like the night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_600">600</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She walks—the lady of my delight,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_880">880 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1078" id="page_1078">{1078}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She was a phantom of delight,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_529">529</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She was a queen of noble Nature’s crowning,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_643">643</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She who to Heaven more Heaven doth annex,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_333">333</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">She’s somewhere in the sunlight strong,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_868">868</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Should auld acquaintance be forgot,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_495">495</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Shut not so soon; the dull-eyed night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_261">261</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Since all that I can ever do for thee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_795">795</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Since first I saw your face I resolved to honour and renown ye,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_69">69</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Since I noo mwore do zee your feäce,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_659">659</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_117">117</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sing his praises that doth keep,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_210">210</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sing lullaby, as women do,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_47">47</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sister, awake! close not your eyes!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_67">67</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_490">490</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">So shuts the marigold her leaves,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_244">244</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">So, we’ll go no more a-roving,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_599">599</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Softly, O midnight Hours!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_732">732</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Some vex their souls with jealous pain,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_418">418</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_545">545</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_166">166</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Stand close around, ye Stygian set,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_571">571</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Stay, O sweet, and do not rise!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_195">195</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Steer, hither steer your wingèd pines,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_241">241</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Stern Daughter of the voice of God!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_531">531</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Still do the stars impart their light,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_331">331</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Still let my tyrants know, I am not doom’d to wear,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_737">737</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Still to be neat, still to be drest,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_186">186</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Strange fits of passion have I known,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_515">515</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Strew on her roses, roses,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_750">750</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sublime—invention ever young,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_465">465</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sumer is icumen in,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_1">1</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Summer set lip to earth’s bosom bare,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_875">875</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sure thou didst flourish once! and many springs,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_364">364</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_537">537</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_811">811</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sweet are the rosy memories of the lips,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_794">794</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_264">264</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_281">281</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sweet Echo, sweetest Nymph that liv’st unseen,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_314">314</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sweet in her green dell the flower of beauty slumbers,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_640">640</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sweet rois of vertew and of gentilness,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_18">18</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sweet Spring, thou turn’st with all thy goodly train,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_227">227</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sweet western wind, whose luck it is,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_249">249</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Sweetest Saviour, if my soul,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_284">284 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1079" id="page_1079">{1079}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Swiftly walk over the western wave,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_612">612</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Take, O take those lips away,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_138">138</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Tary no longer; toward thyn heritage,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_14">14</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Tell me not of a face that’s fair,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_354">354</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_343">343</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Tell me not what too well I know,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_570">570</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Tell me where is Fancy bred,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_132">132</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Th’ expense of Spirit in a waste of shame,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_163">163</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Thank Heaven! the crisis,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_696">696</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">That time of year thou may’st in me behold,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_152">152</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">That which her slender waist confined,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_304">304</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">That zephyr every year,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_226">226</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The beauty and the life,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_229">229</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The blessèd Damozel lean’d out,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_771">771</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The boat is chafing at our long delay,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_850">850</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The chough and crow to roost are gone,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_510">510</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_453">453</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The day begins to droop,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_839">839</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The days are sad, it is the Holy tide,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_688">688</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The fierce exulting worlds, the motes in rays,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_777">777</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The forward youth that would appear,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_355">355</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The glories of our blood and state,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_288">288</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The gray sea and the long black land,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_724">724</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The Indian weed witherèd quite,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_390">390</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The irresponsive silence of the land,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_788">788</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_601">601</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The king sits in Dunfermline town,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_368">368</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The Lady Mary Villiers lies,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_294">294</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The lark now leaves his wat’ry nest,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_301">301</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The last and greatest Herald of Heaven’s King,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_232">232</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The leaves are falling; so am I,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_575">575</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The linnet in the rocky dells,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_735">735</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The loppèd tree in time may grow again,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_108">108</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The lovely lass o’ Inverness,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_504">504</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The man of life upright,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_175">175</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The merchant, to secure his treasure,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_424">424</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The moth’s kiss, first!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_723">723</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The murmur of the mourning ghost,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_765">765</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The Nightingale, as soon as April bringeth,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_91">91</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The rain set early in to-night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_720">720</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The red rose whispers of passion,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_831">831</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The reivers they stole Fair Annie,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_372">372</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The ring, so worn as you behold,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_482">482</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The Rose was sick and smiling died,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_255">255 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1080" id="page_1080">{1080}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The seas are quiet when the winds give o’er,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_306">306</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_39">39</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The spacious firmament on high,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_433">433</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The splendour falls on castle walls,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_704">704</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The Star that bids the Shepherd fold,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_313">313</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The sun descending in the west,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_491">491</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The sun rises bright in France,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_589">589</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The thirsty earth soaks up the rain,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_349">349</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The twentieth year is wellnigh past,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_471">471</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The wine of Love is music,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_799">799</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The world is too much with us; late and soon,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_535">535</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The world’s great age begins anew,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_607">607</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The year’s at the spring,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_718">718</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">The young May moon is beaming, love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_582">582</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Thee too, modest tressèd maid,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_508">508</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_154">154</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There ance was a may, and she lo’ed na men,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_430">430</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There are two births; the one when light,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_330">330</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There be none of Beauty’s daughters,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_598">598</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There is a garden in her face,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_168">168</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There is a Lady sweet and kind,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_70">70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There is a mountain and a wood between us,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_574">574</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There is a silence where hath been no sound,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_648">648</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There is sweet music here that softer falls,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_702">702</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There lived a wife at Usher’s well,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_378">378</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_536">536</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There were three ravens sat on a tree,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_379">379</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There were twa sisters sat in a bour,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_376">376</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There’s a glade in Aghadoe, Aghadoe, Aghadoe,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_815">815</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There’s a whisper down the field where the year has shot her yield,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_866">866</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There’s a woman like a dew-drop, she’s so purer than the purest,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_722">722</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">There’s not a nook within this silent Pass,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_540">540</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">They are all gone into the world of light!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_365">365</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">They are waiting on the shore,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_804">804</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">They flee from me that sometime did me seek,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_37">37</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">They seem’d, to those who saw them meet,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_710">710</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">They that have power to hurt and will do none,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_155">155</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_759">759</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">They all were looking for a king,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_770">770</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">This ae nighte, this ae nighte,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_381">381</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">This hinder yeir I hard be tald,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_17">17</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">This is a spray the Bird clung to,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_728">728</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">This little vault, this narrow room,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_295">295 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1081" id="page_1081">{1081}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">This winter’s weather it waxeth cold,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_29">29</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Thou art to all lost love the best,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_267">267</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Thou still unravish’d bride of quietness,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_625">625</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Thou youngest virgin-daughter of the skies,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_398">398</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Though beauty be the mark of praise,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_189">189</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Three years she grew in sun and shower,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_518">518</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Through grief and through danger thy smile hath cheer’d my way,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_583">583</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_748">748</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Throw away Thy rod,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_283">283</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Thus the Mayne glideth,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_717">717</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Thus when the silent grave becomes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_447">447</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_148">148</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Thy restless feet now cannot go,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_341">341</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Thy soul within such silent pomp did keep,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_420">420</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Tiger, tiger, burning bright,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_489">489</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Time is the feather’d thing,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_296">296</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">’Tis a dull sight,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_697">697</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">To all you ladies now at land,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_408">408</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">To fair Fidele’s grassy tomb,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_460">460</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">To live within a cave—it is most good,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_792">792</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">To me, fair friend, you never can be old,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_159">159</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">To mute and to material things,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_548">548</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">To my true king I offer’d free from stain,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_657">657</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">To the Ocean now I fly,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_316">316</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">To these whom death again did wed,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_342">342</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">To-day, all day, I rode upon the down,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_820">820</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">To-night retired, the queen of heaven,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_463">463</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Too late for love, too late for joy,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_779">779</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Too solemn for day, too sweet for night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_639">639</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Tossing his mane of snows in wildest eddies and tangles,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_812">812</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_367">367</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Trust thou thy Love: if she be proud, is she not sweet?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_744">744</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">’Twas on a lofty vase’s side,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_456">456</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">’Twas the dream of a God,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_881">881</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Twenty years hence my eyes may grow,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_560">560</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Under the greenwood tree,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_135">135</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Under the wide and starry sky,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_848">848</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Under yonder beech-tree single on the green-sward,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_772">772</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Underneath this myrtle shade,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_350">350</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Underneath this sable herse,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_246">246</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Unlike are we, unlike, O princely Heart!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_683">683</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Up the airy mountain,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_769">769</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Upon my lap my sovereign sits,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_165">165 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1082" id="page_1082">{1082}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Urns and odours bring away!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_142">142</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Venus, take my votive glass,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_426">426</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Verse, a breeze ’mid blossoms straying,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_552">552</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Vital spark of heav’nly flame!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_442">442</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Waes-hael for knight and dame!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_674">674</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">We are the music-makers,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_828">828</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">We saw Thee in Thy balmy nest,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_340">340</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">We see them not—we cannot hear,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_675">675</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">We, that did nothing study but the way,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_279">279</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">We watch’d her breathing thro’ the night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_653">653</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">We’ve trod the maze of error round,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_481">481</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Weave the warp, and weave the woof,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_454">454</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Weep no more, nor sigh, nor groan,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_217">217</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_105">105</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Weep with me, all you that read,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_193">193</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Weep you no more, sad fountains,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_65">65</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Welcome, maids of honour!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_251">251</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Welcome, welcome! do I sing,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_240">240</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Well then! I now do plainly see,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_353">353</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Were I as base as is the lowly plain,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_115">115</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Wharefore sou’d ye talk o’ love,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_619">619</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">What beck’ning ghost, along the moonlight shade,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_441">441</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">What bird so sings, yet so does wail?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_86">86</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">What conscience, say, is it in thee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_265">265</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">What have I done for you,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_844">844</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">What is your substance, whereof are you made,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_149">149</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">What needs complaints,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_269">269</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">What nymph should I admire or trust,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_422">422</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">What should I say?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_36">36</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">What sweet relief the showers to thirsty plants we see,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_42">42</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">What was he doing, the great god Pan,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_687">687</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When by Zeus relenting the mandate was revoked,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_773">773</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When, Cœlia, must my old day set,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_396">396</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When daisies pied and violets blue,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_125">125</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When, dearest, I but think of thee,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_328">328</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When Death to either shall come,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_840">840</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When Delia on the plain appears,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_449">449</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When God at first made Man,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_285">285</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When I am dead, my dearest,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_781">781</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When I consider how my light is spent,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_318">318</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When I have borne in memory what has tamed,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_527">527</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When I have fears that I may cease to be,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_635">635</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When I survey the bright,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_298">298 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1083" id="page_1083">{1083}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When icicles hang by the wall,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_126">126</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When, in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_146">146</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When in the chronicle of wasted time,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_160">160</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When Jessie comes with her soft breast,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_791">791</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When Letty had scarce pass’d her third glad year,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_693">693</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When like the early rose,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_663">663</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When Love arose in heart and deed,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_755">755</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When Love with unconfinèd wings,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_348">348</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When lovely woman stoops to folly,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_467">467</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When maidens such as Hester die,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_578">578</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When my love was away,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_836">836</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When our two souls stand up erect and strong,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_686">686</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When the breath of twilight blows to flame the misty skies,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_872">872</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When the fierce North-wind with his airy forces,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_434">434</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When the hounds of spring are on winter’s traces,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_808">808</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When the lamp is shatter’d,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_614">614</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_477">477</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When the world is burning,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_745">745</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When thou must home to shades of underground,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_172">172</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When thou, poor Excommunicate,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_291">291</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When thy beauty appears,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_436">436</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When to the Sessions of sweet silent thought,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_147">147</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When we two parted,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_597">597</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When we were idlers with the loitering rills,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_646">646</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When you and I have play’d the little hour,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_861">861</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">When you are old and gray and full of sleep,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_863">863</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Whenas in silks my Julia goes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_259">259</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Where, like a pillow on a bed,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_198">198</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Where the bee sucks, there suck I,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_130">130</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Where the pools are bright and deep,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_513">513</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Where the remote Bermudas ride,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_360">360</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Whether on Ida’s shady brow,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_483">483</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">While that the sun with his beams hot,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_55">55</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_835">835</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Who hath his fancy pleased,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_89">89</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Who is it that, this dark night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_90">90</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Who is Silvia? What is she?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_123">123</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Whoe’er she be,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_336">336</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_200">200</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_541">541</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_373">373</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Why dost thou shade thy lovely face? O why,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_416">416</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Why, having won her, do I woo?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_760">760</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Why I tie about thy wrist,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_260">260 -</a> - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="page_1084" id="page_1084">{1084}</a></span></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Why so pale and wan, fond lover?,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_327">327</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Why, why repine, my pensive friend,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_563">563</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Wilt Thou forgive that sin where I begun,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_201">201</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">With all my will, but much against my heart,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_764">764</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">With blackest moss the flower-plots,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_699">699</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">With deep affection,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_677">677</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb’st the skies!,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_93">93</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">With leaden foot Time creeps along,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_452">452</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">With lifted feet, hands still,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_856">856</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">With margerain gentle,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_30">30</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Worschippe ye that loveris bene this May,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_15">15</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Wouldst thou hear what Man can say,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_192">192</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Wrong not, sweet empress of my heart,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_76">76</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Wynter wakeneth al my care,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_5">5</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Years, many parti-colour’d years,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_573">573</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ye banks and braes and streams around,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_501">501</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ye blushing virgins happy are,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_297">297</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ye flowery banks o’ bonnie Doon,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_498">498</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ye have been fresh and green,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_270">270</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">‘Ye have robb’d,’ said he, ‘ye have slaughter’d and made an end,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_860">860</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ye Highlands and ye Lawlands,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_386">386</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ye learnèd sisters, which have oftentimes,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_82">82</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ye little birds that sit and sing,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_206">206</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Ye Mariners of England,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_580">580</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Yes: in the sea of life enisled,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_749">749</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Yet if His Majesty, our sovereign lord,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_60">60</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Yet once more, O ye Laurels, and once more,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_317">317</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">You are a tulip seen to-day,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_257">257</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">You brave heroic minds,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_120">120</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">You meaner beauties of the night,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_178">178</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">You must be sad; for though it is to Heaven,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_806">806</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">You promise heavens free from strife,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_758">758</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">You spotted snakes with double tongue,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_128">128</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">You’ll love me yet!—and I can tarry,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_719">719</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Your beauty, ripe and calm and fresh,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_302">302</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td class="pdd">Your eyen two wol slee me sodenly,</td><td class="rt" valign="bottom"><a href="#pm_12">12</a></td></tr> -</table> - -<p class="fint"> -PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, OXFORD<br /> -BY JOHN JOHNSON, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY<br /> -</p> - -<hr class="full" /> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OXFORD BOOK OF ENGLISH VERSE; 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