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PARNASSUS.
 —

PARNASSUS
EDITED BY

RALPH WALDO EMERSON

how fair fruit may you to mortal man

'Oh,
From Wisdom's garden give!" Gascoigrb,

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
€ie mibttiiae ^vtii, Camtirtllge
Entered accoidlng to Act of Congress, in the year 1874, by
EAiPH WALDO EMEESON,
In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.
 PREFACE.

This volume took its origin from an old habit of copying anj
poem or lines that interested me into a blank book.
•
In many
years, my selections filled the volume, and required another ; and
still the convenience of commanding all my favorites in one
album, instead of searching my own and other libraries for a

desired song or verse, and the belief that what charmed me proba-
bly might charm others, suggested the printiag of my enlarged
selection. I know the convenience and merits of the existing
anthologies, and the necessity of printing in every collection many
masterpieces which all English-speaking men have agreed in ad-
miring. Each has its merits ; but I have found that the best of
these collections do not contain certain gems of pure lustre,

whilst they admit manj^ of questionable claim. The voluminous

octavos of Anderson and Chalmers have the same fault of too
much mass and too little genius ; and even the more select

"Golden Treasury" of Mr. Palgrave omits too much that I can-

not spare. I am aware that no two readers would make the same
selection. Of course, I shall gladly hail with the public a better

collection than mine.

Poeti'y teactes the enormous force of a few words, and, in pro-

portion to the inspiration, checks loquacity. It requires that

splendor of expression which carries with it the proof of great

thoughts. Great thoughts insure musical expressions. Every

word should be the right word. The poets are they who see that
 ;

iv PREFACE.

spiritual is greater than any material force, that thoughts rule the
world. The great poets are judged by the frame of mind they
induce ; and to them, of all men, the severest criticism is due.
Some poems I have inserted for their historical importance

some, for their weight of sense ; some, for single couplets or lines,
perhaps even for a word ; some, for magic of style ; and I have
admitted verses, which, in their structure, betray a defect of poetic
ear, but have a wealth of truth which ought to have created
melody. I know the peril of didactics to kill poetry, and that

"Wordsworth runs fearful risks to save his mental experiences.

Some poems are external, like Moore's, and have only a superficial
melody : others, like Chaucer's, have such internal music as to
forgive a roughness to the modern ear, which, in the mouth of the
bard, his contemporaries probably did not detect. To Chaucer
may be well applied the word of Heraclitus, that " Harmony la-

tent is of greater value than that which is patent."

There are two classes of poets, — the poets by education and
practice, these we respect ; and poets by nature, these we
love. Pope is the best type of the one class : he had all the
advantage that taste and wit could give him^ but never rose to
grandeur or to pathos. Milton had all its advantages, but was
also poet bom. Chaucer, Shakspeare, Jonson (despite all the
pedantic lumber he fragged with him) , Herbert, Herrick, Collins,
Burns, — of the other. Then there are poets who rose slowly,
and wrote badly, and had j'et a true, calling, and, after a hundred
failures, arrived at pure power ; as Wordsworth, encumbered for
years with childish whims, but at last, by his religious insight,
lifted to genius.

Scott was a man of genius, but only an accomplished rhymer

(poet on the same terms as the Norse bards and minstrels) , admir-
able chronicler, and master of the ballad, but never crossing the
threshold of the epic, where Homer, Dante, Shakspeare, and
Milton dwell.
 PBEFACE. y
The task of selection is easiest in poetry. What a signal con-
venience is fame ! Do we read all authors to grope our way to
the best? No ; but the world selects for us the best, and we select
from these our best.

Chaucer fulfils the part of the poet, possesses the advantage of

being the most cultivated man of his time, and so speaks always
sovereignly and cheerfully. Often the podtic nature, being too
susceptible, is over-acted on by others. The religious sentiment

teaching the immensity of every moment, the indifiisrence of mag-

nitude, the present is all, the soul is God ; — this lesson is

great and greatest. Yet this, also, has limits for humanity. One
must not seek to dwell in ethereal contemplation : so should the
man decline into a monk, and stop short of his possible enlarge-

ment. The intellect is cheerful.

Chaucer's antiquity ought not to take him out of the hands of

intelligent readers. No lover of poetry can spare him, or should
grudge the short study required to command the archaisms of his
English, and the skill to read the melody of his verse. His matter
is excellent, his story told with vivacity, and with equal skill in

the pathos and in triumph. I think he has lines of more force

than any English writer, except Shakspeare. If delivered by an

experienced reader, the verses will be found musical as well as
wise, and fertile in invention. He is always strong, facile, and
pertinent, and with what vivacity of style through all the range

of his pictures, comic or tragic ! He knows the language of joy

and of despair.
Of Shakspeare what can we say, but that he is and remains an
exceptional mind in the world ; that a universal poetry began and
ended with him ; and that mankind have required the three hun-
dred and ten years since his birth to familiarize themselves with
his supreme genius? I should like to have the Academy of
Letters propose a prize for an essay on Shakspeare's poem, " Let
 ;

yi PREFACE.

the bird of loudest lay," and the " Threnos " with which it closes

the aim of the essay being to explain, by a historical research into

the poetic myths and tendencies of the age in which it was writ-

ten, the frame and allusions of the poem. I have not seen Ches-

ter's ^^ Love's Martyr" and "the Additional Poems" (1601), in

which it appeared. Perhaps that book will suggest all the expla-
nation this poem requires. To unassisted readers, it would appear
to be a lament on the death of a poet, aiid of his poetic mistress.
But the poem is so quaint, and charming in diction, tone, and
allusions, and in its perfect metre and harmony, that I would
gladly have the fullest illustration yet attainable. I consider this
piece a good example of the rule, that there is a poetry for bards
proper, as well as a poetry for the world of readers. This poem,
if published for the first time, and without a known author's name,

would find no general reception. Only the poets would save it.

To the modern reader, Ben Jonson's plays have lost their old

attraction ; but his occasional poems are fUU of heroic thought, and
his songs are among the best in the language. His life interests

us from the wonderful circle of companions with whom he lived, —

with Camden, Shakspeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, Bacon, Chapman,
Herbert, Herrick, Cowley, Suckling, Drayton, Donne, Carew, Sel-
den, — and b}' whom he was honored. Cowley tells us, "I must
not forget Ben's reading : it was delicious : never was poetry mar-
:
ried to more exquisite music " and the Duchess of Newcastle
relates, that her husband, himself a good reader, said he " never
heard any man read well but Ben Jonson."
Spence reports, that Pope said to him, " Crashaw is a worse
sort of Cowley: Herbert is lower than Crashaw," — an opinion
which no reader of their books at this time will justify. Crashaw,
if he be the translator of the ' Sospetto d'Herode,' has written
masterly verses never learned from Cowley, some of which I have-
transcribed; and Herbert is the psalmist dear to all who love
 PREFACE. yii

religious poetry with exquisite refinement of tiiought. So much

piety was never married to so much wit. Herbert identifies him-
self with Jewish genius, as Michael Angelo did when carving or
painting prophets and patriarchs, not merely old men in robes

and beards, but with the sanctity and the character of the Penta-
teuch and the prophecy conspicuous in them. His wit and his
piety are genuine, and are sure to make a lifelong friend of a good
reader.

Herrick is the, Ij'ric poet, ostentatiously choosing petty subjects,

pettj' names fo^ each piece, and disposing of his theme in a few

lines, or in a couplet ; is never dull, and is the master of miniature

painting. On graver themes, in his " Sacred Numbers," he is

equally successful.
Milton's " Paradise Lost " goes so surely with the Bible on to /

every book-shelf, that I have not cited a line ; but I could not
resist the insertion of the " Comus," and the "Lycidas," which
are made of pure j)oetry, and have contented myself with extracts
from the grander scenes of " Samson Agonistes."
The public sentiment of the reading world was long divided on

the. merits of Wordsworth. His early poems were written on a J

false theory of poetry ; and the critics denounced them as childish.

He persisted long to write after his own whim ; and, though he

amved at unexpected power, his readers were never safe from a
childish return upon himself and an unskilful putting-forward of

it. How different from the absolute concealment of Shakspeare

in all his miraculous dramas, and even in his love-poems, in

which, of course, the lover must be perpetually present, but always

by thought, and never by his buttons or pitifulness ! Montaigne
is delightful in his egotism. Bjtou is always egotistic, but inter-
esting thereby, through the taste and genius of his confession or

his defiance.

Wordsworth has the merit of just moral perception, but not that
 ;

viii PREFACE.

of deft poetic execution. How would Milton curl his lip at such
slipshod newspaper style ! Many of his poems, as, for example,
" The Eylstone Doe," might be all improvised : nothing of Mil-
ton, nothing of Mai-vell, of Herbert, of Dryden, could be. These
are verses such as many country gentlemen could write ; but few
would think of claiming the poet's laurel on their merit. Pindar,
Dante, Shakspeare, whilst they have the just and open soul, have
also the eye to see the dimmest star, the serratures of every leaf,
the test objects of the microscope, and then the tongue to utter
the same things in words that engrave them on the ears of all

mankind.
The poet demands all gifts, and not one or two only. Like the
electric rod, he must reach from a point nearer to the sky than all

surrounding objects, down to the earth, and into the wet soil, or
neither is of use. The poet must not only converse with pure
thought, but he must demonstrate it almost to the senses. His
words must be pictures : his verses must be spheres and cubes, to
be seen and handled. His fable must be a good story, and its

meaning must hold as pure truth. In the debates on the Copyright

Bill, in the English parliament, Mr. Sergeant Wakley, the coroner,
quoted Wordsworth's poetry in derision, and asked the roaring
House of Commons, " what that meant, and whether a man should
have a public reward for writing such stuff?" — Homer, Horace,
Milton, and Chaucer would defy the coroner. Whilst they have
wisdom to the wise, he would see that to the external they have
external meaning. Coleridge rightly said that " poetry must first

be good sense, as a palace might well be magnificent, but first it

must be a house." Wordsworth is open to ridicule of this kind

and yet, though satisfied if he can suggest to a sympathetic mind
his own mood, and though setting a private and exaggerated value
on his compositions, and taking the public to task for not admiring
his poetry, he is really a master of the English language ; and his
 PEEFAOB. ix

best poems evince a power of diction that is no more rivalled by

his contemporaries than is his poetic insight. But his capital

merit is, that he has done more for the sanity of his generation

than any other writer.

" Laodamia" is almost entitled to that eminence in his literary
performance which Landor gave it when he said, that "Words-
worth had now written a poem which might be fitly read in Elysium,
and the gods and heroes might gather round to listen." I count
that and the " Ode on Immortality " as the best.

Wordsworth has a religious value for his thoughts ; but his

inspirations are casual and insufficient, and he persists in writing

after they are gone. No great poet needs so much a severely

critical selection of the noble numbers from the puerile into which
he often falls. Leigh Hunt said of him, that "he was a fine
lettuce with too many outer leaves."
Byron's rare talent is conspicuously partial. He has not sweet-
ness, nor solid knowledge, nor lofty aim. He had a rare skiU for
rhythm, unmatched facilitj' of expression, a firm, ductile thread of
gold. His rhymes do not suggest any restraint, but the utmost
freedom, as the rules of the dance do not fetter the good dancer,
but exhibit his natural grace. In his isolation he is starved for a

purpose ; and finding no material except of romance, — first, of

corsairs, and Oriental robbers and harems, and, lastly, of satire, —

he revenges himself on society for its supposed distrust of him, by
cursing it, and throwing himself on the side of its destroyers.

His life was wasted ; and its only result was this brilliant gift of

song with which he soothed his chosen exile. I do not know that

it can retain for another generation the charm it had for his con-

temporaries ; but the security with which he pours these perfectly

modulated verses to any extent, without any sacrifice of sense foi

the sake of metre, surprises the reader.

X PEEFACE.

Tennyson lias incomparable felicity in all poetic forms, surpass-

ing in melody also, and is a brave, thoughtful Englishman, un-
matched in rhythmic power and variety. The thoroughness with
which the fable has been thought out, as in the account of the
supreme influence of Arthur on his knights, is only one of his tri-

umphs. The passion of love in his " Maud" found a new cele-

bration, which woke delight wherever the English language is

known; the "Dirge of Wellington" was a more magnificent

monument than any or all of the histories that record that com-
mander's life. Then the variety of his poems discloses the wealth

and the health of his mind. Nay, some of his words are poems.
The selections from American writers are necessarily confined
to the present century ; but some of them have secured a wide
fame. Some of them are recent,- and have yet to earn their lau-
rels. I have inserted only one of the remarkable poems of For*
ceythe Willson, a young Wisconsin poet of extraordinary promise,
who died very soon after this was wi-itten. The poems of a lady
who contents herself with the initials H. H. in her book published
in Boston (1874) have rare merit of thought and expression,
and will reward the reader for the careful attention which they
require. The poem of " Sir Pavon and Saint Pavon," by another
hand, has a dangerous freedom of style, but carries in it rare
power and pathos.
The imagination wakened brings its own language, and that is

always musical. It may or may not have rhyme or a fixed metre ;

but it will always have its special music or tone. Whatever lan-
guage the bard uses, the secret of tone is at the heart of the poem.
Everj- great master is such by this power, — Chaucer and Shak-
speare and Raleigh and Milton and Collins and Burns and
BjTon and Tennj-son and Wolfe. The true inspiration always
brings it. Perhaps it cannot be analj-zed ; but we all yield to it.

It is the life of the good ballads.; it is in the German hymns

 PREFACE. XI

which Wesley translated ; it is in the " Marseillaise " of Rouget de

Lisle ; it gave their value to the chants of the old Romish and
of the English Church ; and it is the only account we can give of
their wonderful power on the people. Poems may please by their

talent and ingenuity ; but, when they charm us, it is because they
have this quality, for this is the union of nature with thought.

R. W. E.
 . , , .

CONTENTS

NATURE.
Laitd. — Sea. — Sky.
PAOE.
Argoment of his Book Herrick . 3
At Sea J. T. Traailridge 43
Barberry-Basb, The Jtmes Very .

Bird, The W. Allingham

Birds of KUlingworth, The Longfellow •

Blossoms, To Berrick ,

Bothle 01 Tober na Yuolich, From the . , . Clough . 20

Boy Poet, The Wardtwarth . 27
Breeding Lark Arthw Boa/r . 36
Cave of StafEa Wordsworth 42
Cloud, The Shelley . 46
Coral Grove, The J. O, Percwal 39
Corinua's going a-Maying Herrick . 10
Country Life, The " '
Herriek
' 15
Dawn Shakspeare 6
DaSodllls, To Herrick 33
Daffodils Wordsworth 33
Death of the Flowers, The Bryant 29
Death of the Old Year, The Teimyson 24
Diamond, The J.J.Q. Wilkinson 34
DoverCliifs , . Shakspeca-e 8
Drop of Dew, A A. Marvell 4T
Eagle, The Teimyson 38
Earth-Spirit, The Chammng . 2T
Evening, Ode to Collins . 43
Evening Star, To the Wordsworth 44
First of May Wordsworth 9
Flight of theWild Geese -
. Cha/nmmg 37
Flowers Shakspeare 29
Flowers at Cave of Staffa Wordsworth 42
Fox and Cock Chaucer 16-
Fringed Gentian, To the Bryant 30
Qsa&n, The Marvell 26
Grasshopper, The Richard: Lovelace 16
Haze H. D. Thoreaa 48
Herb Bosemary, To the H. K. White . 32
Hillside Cot, The Chamning
Hope . ' Ca/niphell . 45
Joanna, To Wordsworth • 17
IlFenseroso Milton 18
Lacbin y Gaix Byron .

li'Allegro Milton .

Iiandscape Termyson
Liberty Wordsworth ,

liost in the Snow Thomson

Hay Ben Jonson .

Milky Way, The Chaucer. 45

Mist Thoreau . 48
Moonlight Shakspeare . 43
Morning Shakspeare 61

Homing in the Mountains Wordsworth.

xiii
 .. ...

XIV CONTENTS.
Mountain, The . . . . Charming
Nature Ben Jonson . 3
Nature James JBeaitie . 3
Night and Death J. Blanco White 44
Night Beattie 3
Night Shakapeare . 34
Nightingale, The
Nightingale
Nightingale, The
....
. .

. .
.

.
.

.
Keats
Thomson
R. Ba/mefield .
34
34
35
Nightingale's Death-Song, The 35
Nightingale's Song, The T. H. Bayly . 35
Ocean , . . ' , Charles Sprague 38
Ocean Pollok 38
Osmnnda Regalis, The . Wordsworth .

Out and Inward Bound Shakspeare

Pass of Kirkstone, The . Wordsworth
Primrose, The . . . . Herrick , 32
Rainbow, To the
Rainbow, The
Rivulet, The
....
....
Campbell
Byron
4C'
46
25
Sea . Byron 39
Sea-Shell, Inscription on a . Landor . 40
Sea Song Channing
Sea Song A. Cunmngham
September, 1819 Wordsworth . 34
Skating Wordsworth 22
Skylark, To a Shelley . 36
Skylark, To the Wordsworth . 36
Smoke Thoreau . 47
Snow Wordsworth 22
Solitude Byron 28
Song of the Emigrants in Bermuda . Marvell . . 41
Song of the Stars Bryant 44
Sonnet " Full many a glorious morning "
: Shakspeare . 6
Storm, The Byron 42
Sunflower, The W. Blake 29
Sunset 42
Swimnmig
Tacking Ship
Tintem Abbey
off Shore .... Byron
Wordsworth
.

Walter Mitchel
21
40
29
Spenser . 30
Waterfowl, To a "
.
'
. .
'
. Bryant . 37
Winter: a Dirge Bums 22
Winter Night, A Bwms . 24
Yew-Trees Wordsworth , 31

HUMAN LIFE.

Home. — Woman. — Love, - Friendship. — Manners. — Holt Days. —

Holidays.
Anath'emata . . F. B. Sanborn 59
Apology for having loved before E. Waller . 63
Ariadne Chaucer . 75
AtUulf and Ethilda Benry Taylor 70
Babe, The Sir Wm. Jones (Trans.) 56
Beauty Spenser. 84
Bride, The Spenser . 67
Bride, The Suckling 68
Charmer, My Waller . 87
ChUd, To a JV P. Willis 57
Children's Hour, The Longfellow 57
Gomn\on Sense Shakspeare . 76
Corinne, To Mrs. Hemans 51
Cotter's Saturday Night, The Burns . 53
Divided Jean Ingelow 80
Duch^sse Blanche Chaucer 60
Ecstasy, The John Donne 70
Elizabeth of Bohemia Wotton .

Freedom in Dress Ben Jonson

 .

CONTENTS. XV
Henevleye Coleridge
Gentility Chaucer . ,
Girdle, On a Waller .

Giveme the Old Messinger

Home Wordsworth
Honona Coventry Patmore
Hymn to the Giaces Uerrick ,

never love thee more

I'll
Inborn Eoyalty
....
If Thou wert by my Side, my Love , Heber
Montrose
Shakspeare
Lady's Tes, The E. B. Broionimg .

Last Farewell, The Emerson .

Lily of Nithadale, The

Lines on leaving Europe
Love
.... A. Cunningham
JV. P. Willis
Donne .
.
.

Love against Love D, A. Wasson .

Loveat First Sight Beaumont a/ad Fletcher

Lucasta, To Lovelace .

Lucy Wordsworth .

Maud Tennyson .

My Mother's Picture Cowper .

Defence
Othello's Shakspeare
Outgrown
Feasant's Return, The
Playmate, My
.... Julia E. C. Dorr
William Barnes
Whittier
.

Pilot's Daughter, The Allin^Jiam

Poetry of Dress, The Herrtck
The
Portrait, Heywood .

Qua Cursum Ventus Clough .

Queen, The Patmore .

Kosaline
Rose of the World,
Sentences
The .... T. Lodge
Patmore
Patm<yre
.

She walks in Beauty Byron

Silvia, To Herrick .
Song " See the Chariot at hand "
: . Ben Jonson
Song " How near to Good is what is Fair "
: Ben Jonson .
Sonnet " How oft when thou "
: Shakspeare
Sonnet " Let me not to the Marriage "
: Shakspeare .
Sonnet :" So am I as the Rich " Shakspeare
Sonnet: "Tome Fair Friend" . Shakspeare .
Sundered Sidney H. Morse
Sympathy Thoreau
t4ou hast sworn by thy God, my Jeanie . A. Cunmingham
Tribute, The Coventry Patmore
True Love •

Una and the lion Spenser -

Venus, To Beaumont and Fletcher

Viola disguised, and the Duke
Virginia
When I do count the Clock
Woman
.... Chaucer
Shakspeare
Prof. Wilson (Trams.)
.

Wood-Fire, The E.S.H.

INTELLECTUAL.
Memory. — Inspiration. — Imagination. — Eanctt. — Music. — Art.
Beauty. — Moods.
.fflolianHarp Allvngham
Alexander's Feast Dryden .

Art and Nature Shakspeare

Cathedral
Compliment to Queen Elizabeth
Comus L a Mask
.... Congreve
Shakspeare
Milton .
Critic, To. the Tennyson.
Cuckow. and the Nightingale Chaucer
Daedalus
Dreams
Fantasy
.... Sterling
Scott .

Ben Jonson
.
 — .
. . .

xn CONTENTS.
Fairies Warton . •
Fame Ben Jonson .

Flower, The Oeorge Herbert

Foresluit Shakapeare .
Harp, To the 2)rayton .
Hurts of Time
Inspiration Bwms
Inspiration , Thoreau
Kilmeny James Hogg
King Lear Shahspeoire
Eu DlaEJian Coleridge .
LooksleyHall Tennyson
Memory Termyson .

Memory
Moods Sir J. Suckling
Morning AllingTutm .
Mnse, The Oeorge Wither
Music, To Mrs. Bemams
Music Keats
Music W. Strode .

Mythology
Not Eveiy Day Fit for Verse
Ode to Hnnself
.... Coleridge
Herrick
Ben Jonson
.

Orpheus with his Lute Shakspeare .

Passions, The an Ode for Music

: Collins
Phoenix and Turtle Dove
Pleasures of Imagination Akenside
Poet, The C.S.T.
Poet, The Ckamcer
Poet's Mood Beavmumt and Fletcher
Praise of Homer, The George Chapman
Prayer to Apollo Chaueer.
Queen Mab Shakspeare
Questionings F. H. Hedge
Babia J. F. Clarke (Trams.
Borneo's Presage Shakspeare
Scale of Minds Wordsworth
Ships at Sea B. B. Coffin
Socrates Toimg
Song from Gypsies' Metamorphoses . BenJimson
Song of FionnuaJa, The Moore
Sonnet: " O how much more doth " . , , Shakspeare
Sonnet: "From you have I been" . . Shakspeare
Sonnet on First Looking into Chapman's Homer Keats .
Soul's Errand, The Ba^eigh .
St. Cecilia's Day Dryden.
Steamboats, Viaducts, and Railways Wordsworth
Supplication, A Cowley .
Thought H.H.
Ulysses
Under the Portrait of Milton
White Island, The
.... Tenm/scm,
Dryaen
Herriek.
.

Outline Wordsworth
Writing Verses Bums .

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL. — RELIGIOUS.

— — —
Max.
— — HoNOB.
—VnsTui!. — Death.
Time. Fate.
Imuobtaliit. —Sleep. Deeams,
Htmns and Odes,
AbouBenAdbem ZeighHwnt
Affliction Herbert
The
Angels, Dnimmond
An^onest Man's Fortune John Fletcher
Before Sleep Sir T. Broume
Burning Babe, The Southwell
Cellnda Lord Herbert .

Character , Coleridge
Church Porch, The Herbert .

Christmas Tennyson ,

Christmas Carol, The Wordsworth ,

 CONTENTS. XVll
Cbristmas Hymn Miltaa
Come Morir S. O, W. .

ConfesBion Herl^
Consolers, The S. Q.W.
Death's Final Conquest Jamea Shirley
Dependence Cowper .

Destiny Chaucer
Divine Love Wesley (Trams.)
Duty, Ode to Wordawarth .
Easter Herl>eTt . • .
EleOT Written in a Country C3iur<diyard . . . Gray , .
Elixir, The Herbert
English Channel Wordsieorth .

Eton College Oray

Euthanasia Henry More
Forecast Chaucer
forecast Bailey
Good Omens Shakapeare .
Gratefulness Herbert .

Hamlet's Soliloquy Shakspeare ,

Happy Life, The Wotttm .

Honest Poverty Biima , .

Honor Wordamorth .

Humility B. M. MiUiei
Hymn to Christ, A Dorme
Hymn to God, My God, in my Sickness Sorme
Hymn " Lord, when I quit this Earthly Stage""
: Watta
Hyperion " As Heaven and Earth are Fairer
: Keata
Immortality Wordsworth
Immortal Mind, The
Inscription on Melrose Abbey ....
Inscription on a Wall in St. Edmund's Church, In
Byron
Arumymoua
.

Lombard St., London Aiumymons .

Inscription in Marble in the Parish Church of Faver-

aham, in Agro Cantiano Anonymoua
Joy . H.H..
Ijaodamia . . •. Wordaworth
Life Herbert .

Life Mra. Barbauld

Life Longfellom
Life and Death SAakapeare .
Life and Death Shakspeare
Litany to the Holy Spirit Herrick .

Love and Humili^ Hewry More .

Man Herbert .

Matins Herrick . ,

Moravian Hymn . . , John Wealey

My Legacy H. H. . .

My Mind to Me a Kingdom is °J'*''t_ , • „

Narayena: Spirit of God Str. Wm. Janet {Trams..)
New Prince, New Pomp . . i • . • Southwell .

Old Man's Funeral, The -^2?', •

Orthodoxy W.Blake .

Peace Herbert .

Penitence i.<™2? ^ , .• ^
Pilgrimage Str W. Italetgh
Poet's Hope, A Chammmg
^ra. Barbauld
.

Praise to God
Pjayers Shakapeare .

Providence Herbert
Providence ^^^T.,: „:, '

Psalm XCIII Svrl>hihp SiOney

Psalm XVHI. Stemhold .

Psalm CXXXrX *»»• Philip Sidney

Pulley, The
Quip, The
^l^-
mrbert .
•

letreat, The ^enry Vaugham

Bevolutions Shakspeare .

ga^Q . t • Rtclmrd Craaham

Seven AgeSjTho Shakapeare
Shepherds, The Drwmimnd .

Shield, The 8. O. W. . .
XTIU CONTENTS.
Sin ...
Sing unto the Lord
. Herbert .

Sir Philip Sidney

Skeptic, The . . Wordsworth .

Skuil, The . Byron. .

Sleep . . . . . Snakspeare
Young .

Stanzas written in the Churchyard of Bichmond,

Yorkshire Herbert Knowles
Star-Song, The Merrick .

Strangers, The Jones Very

Sun-Dial
Thanatopsis
That Each Tiling is hurt of Itself . Anonymous
1 he Spacious Firmament on High Addison
Tithonus
To Be no More Milton
Touchstone, The Allingham ,.

Two went up into the Temple to pray Rjcha/rd Cr,ash^V3

Undertaking, The DoTvne ,,
Virtue Herbert , .
Wayfarers E.S.H^.
Wisdom Coventry Patmore

HEROIC.
Patriotic. — HiSTOBic. —Political.
Abraham Lincoln
Antony over the Dead Body
Ariadne's Farewell
of Gsesar .... Tom Taylor
Shakspeaire
H. H.
.

Bannockbum Bums .

Bird, The Gray

Battle Hymn of the Eepublic Julia Ward Howe
Battle of the Baltic . Campbell .
Battle on St. Crispian's Day Shakspeare .
Bay Fight, The . H. H. Brownell
Boadicea Cowper .

Bonduca Beaumont amd Fletcher

Bunker HUl G. Mellen
Cassins Shakspeare
Chicago
Chivalry
Christian Militant
..... ... Bret Harte
Ben Jonson
Herrick
Commemoration Ode Lowell
Constancy Herbert .
Coronation H.H. . .

Cromwell and King Charles . Marvell .

Cumberland, The LongfelloiB

Defiance Scott. .
Entrance of Columbus into Barcelona . Q. Mellen
Epistle to a Friend to persuade him to the Wars Ben Jonson .

The
Flag,
George WasMngton ...Howe
Julia Ward

Greenngto " The George Griswold "

Happy Warrior, The
Henry V.'s Audience of
.......
French Ambassadoi^
. . .

.
Punch
Wordsworth
Shakspeare
.

Heroism '.
. . . Coleridge (Trc s.)
Hohenlinden Campbell .
Hotspur's Quarrel with Henry IV Shakspeare .
Hotspur Shakspeare '
.

Ichabod Whitder
Indians Charles Sprague
In State '.
. Forceythe WMson
In the Fight Tennyson
Jephthalrs Daughter Byron .

John Brown of Osawatomie E. C. Stedman

King Kicliard's Soliloquy Shakspeare .
Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, The . . . Mrs. Hemans .

Loohiers Warning Cam,pbell

Lost Leader. The Robert Browning
Loyal Woman's No, A Lucy Larcom .
 "

CONTENTS. XIX
Maryland J. R. Randall
Mason and Slidell LowM .

Master Spirit, Tlie George Chapjrum

Murat Byron .

Never or Now . . . . . O. W. Holmes

Ode on Decorating the Graves of the Confederate Sol-
diers Henry Timrod
Old Ironsides
On the Late Massacre in Piemont
Port Royal, At
.... O. W. Holmes
Milton
Wliittier
.

The
Prayer. Tennyson
Requiem George Lunt
Royalty D. A. Wasson
Samson Agonistes Milton
SchUl Wordsworth
Scotland
Song of Saul before his Last Battle
Sonnet: "Alas! v^hat boots the long" .
Buron .
Wordsworth
.... Bums

Sonnet :" It is not to be thought of that Wordsworth

Speech of the Dauphin Shakspeare
Sunthin in a Pastoral Line Loweil .
Tliought of a Briton on the Subjugation of Switzer-
land Wordsworth
The
Vision, Bums .

Warden of the Cinque Ports, The . - . . Longfellow

Washers of the Shroud, The Lowell .
Waterloo Byron
Westward the Star of Empire G. Berkeley
What the Birds said Whittier .
Ye Mariners of England Campbell

PORTRAITS. — PERSONAL. — PICTURES.

Addison, Portrait of Pope . . . ,

Agissiz, Fiftieth Birthday of . . . Longfellow

AKing Robert Browning .

Alexander Pope, Lines to '

. David Lewis .

Ben Jonson, Ode to Herrick . . . .

Black Prince, The Shakspeare

Burial of Moses Mrs. C. F, Alexander .

Campbell, To Moore
Caliph's Encampment, The Moore . . . .

Cleopatra Shakspeare
Coriolanus
Coriolanus at Antium
Countess of Rutland, To the
.... .
Shakspeare
ShakM)eare
Ben Jonson
.

Cowley's Epigram on Sir Francis Drake . Ben Jonson (Trans.)

Destruction of Sennacherib, The Byron . . . .

Elegy on Mistress Elizabeth Drury Donne

Entrance of Boliughroke into London Shakspeare .

Epigram
Epitaph on Shakspeare ....
"
Epitaph " tJndemeath this sable hearse "
:
Ben Jonson
Milton .
Ben Jonson
. . .

Epitaph "Underneath this stone doth lye

: Ben Jonson .

Execution, The
Fare Thee Well
Fop, The ••-,••
Forging of the Anchor, The
George Peabody, To
Byron
Byron
Sh
S. Ferguson
O. W. Holmes .

Glad&tor, The Byron ,

H«nryV Shakspeare
Ice Palace,
Lines in a Lady's
Love of
The
England
Album
. • •„
.... •
Cowper
Byron
.

Daniel Webster
.

Lucy, Countess of Bedford, On . . . Ben Jonson

Man of Ross The Pope
Milton, To Wordsworth
Mountain Daisy, To a Burns .

Mouse, To a Bums
Nebuchadnezzar Gower .

Nestor to Hector Shakspeare

 ,.
.. . .

XX CONTENTS.
No More Syron .

On his Bllndneas URUon

Outward Bound Byron ,

Palm and Fine Milnes

Prayer to Ben Jonson Herriek .

Prisoner of Cliillon, Tlie Byron

Rob Roy's Grave Wordsworth .

Santa Miomena Longfellow

Siege of Corinth Byron .

Sir Henry Vane, To Milton

Sir Pliilip Sidney Matthew Boyden .

Soldier's Dream, The Campbell .

Sonnet : " O for mjr sake do yon with fortune chide ! " Shakspeare .
Sonnet, on his being arrived to the age of twenty-
tliree Milton
Spenser at Court Spenser .

Stanzas, " Though the day of my destiny's over " Byron

To live Merrily and to trust to Gfood Verses . . Herriek .

W^ants of Man, The J. Q. Adams

When the Assault was intended to the City . . Milton .

William Sidney on his Birthday, To . . . Ben Jonson

NAEEATIVE POEMS ANB BALLADS.

Alfred the Harper
Alice Brand Scott
Allen-a-Dale Scott
Amy "Wentworth Whittier
Auld Robin Gray Lady Anne Lindsay
Battle of Harlaw Scott .

Boy of Egremond, The Wordsworth .

Braes of Yarrow, The W. Hamilton

Bristowe Tragedy T. Chatterton .

Bruce and the Abbot Scott

Child Dyring Scott
Children in the Wood Anonymous .

Chimney-Sweep, The E.S.JI. .

Crowning of Arthur, The Tennyson

Drowned Lovers, The Anonymous
Duchess May, Rhyme of E. B. Browning .

Earl o' Quarterdeck, The George MacSonald

Fair Annie Scott .

Fair Helen Scott

Fidelity Wordsworth
Fitz Traver's Song Scott
Friar of Orders Gray Scott .

Garci Perez de Vargas Lockhwrt .

Gate of Camelot, The Tennyson

Gay Goss-Hawk, The Scott
George Nidiver B.H. .

Glenara Campbell .

Glenlogie Smith's Scottish Minstrel

Grseme and Bevrick Scott
Griselda Chaucer
Heir of Linne, The Percy's Reliques
Helvell^ Scott .

High Tide on the Coast of Lincolnshire, The .

House of Busyrane Spenser .

How they brought the Good News from Ghent to Aiv Robert Browning
Island, The Byron .

King John and the Abbot of Canterbury Percy's Reliques

KinmontWilUe Scott .

Lady Clara Vere de Vere

Lady Clare Tennyson
Lady Geraldine's Courtship B. B. Browning
Lake of the Dismal Swamp, The Moore .
Lochinvar Scott
Mass, The Scott .

CEnone; or, the Choice of Paris Tennyson

Relief of Lucknow, The Robert Lowell
Bhotruda Tuckerman
 . .. .

CONTENTS. XXI
Bosabelle Scott ....
Sallyfrom Coventry, The .
Sea-Cave, The
....
6.
Byron ....
W. Thomlmry .

Skipper Ireson's Bide

Siege and Conquest of Alhama
....
Whittier
Byron ..... . . .

Sir Andrew Barton

Sir Patrick Spens
Sir Pavon and St. Pavon .
.... Anonymmis
Anonymous
Sa/ra H. Palfrey
.

Song of the Tonga-Islanders . Anonymous .

SvendVonved
Telling the Bees
Vision of Belshazzar
....
....
Oeorge Borrow
Whittier
Byron
(Trans.)

Waly, Waly, but Love be Bonny

Wild Huntsman, The
William of CloudesW
.... .

Scott (Trans.)
Anonynums .

Winstanley Jeam, Ingeiow .

Wreck of " The Grace of Sunderland' Jean Ingelmo

SONGS.

Althea, To
Araby's Daughter .... Lovelace
Moore .
.

Ariers Song
Anld Lang Syne
A Weary Lot is Thine
....
....
Skakspeare
Bwms
Scott
.

Banks of Doon, The

Blow, Blow, thou Winter Wind
Boatie Bows, The
Boimy Dundee
.... Shakspeare
Anonymous
Scott .

Bridal of Andalla, The . Lockhart

Banks
Briraiall
Bu^e-Song, The
Canadian Boat-Song
....
....
Scott
Tennyson
Moore
Cella, To Ben Jonsaa
Ceres,Song to Leigh Hwnt
Clan-Alpine, Song of . . . Scott .

Come Away, Come Away, Death

County Guy Scott
Disdain Betumed
Dyine Bard, The
Full
....
Fathom Five thy Father Lies .
Thomas Carew
Scott
Shakspeare
.

Garden Song Tennyson

Goldilocks Jean Ingeiow .

Go, Lovely Eose ! . . . . Waller .

Hark, Hark, the Lark!
Hero to Leander
Jeauie Morrison
.... Shakspeare
Tennyson
Motherwell
John Anderson, My Jo . Bums .

Love Samuel Daniel

Love's Toung Dream
Manly Heart, The
Mary Donnelly
.... Moore
G. Wither
Allvngham
.

Masque of Pleasure and Virtue Ben Jonson

Night Piece : to Julia Herrick .
Night-Sea, The Harriet Frescott Spofford
Of A' the Airts
Oft in the Staiy Ni^t
O my Luve'B like a Bed,
....Bed Bose
Bums
Moore
Bums
.

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu Scott

Elver Song F. B. Sanborn
Eose, To the Herrick
Sailor, The Allmgham .

Song of Echo • Ben Jonson

Song Milton .
Song from Jason . . . .
William Morris
Song from Neptune's Triumph Ben Jonson .

Song " Shake off your heavy trance

:
Beaumont and Fletcher
Song: "When Daisies Pied" Shakspeare
lake, O Take Those Lips away . Shakspeare
 .

xxu CONTENTS.
Tell Me where is Fancy Bred
Thekla'8 Soug
SMkspeare
Anonymous (IVoM.)
.... . .
441
447
The Haip that once through Tara's Halls
There's Nae Luck about the House .
Under the Greenwood-Tree
.
.

.
.

.
. Moore
W.J. Mickle
Shakspeare
....
....
436
437
440

DIRGES AND PATHETIC POEMS.

Braes of Yarrow, The
Burial of Sir John Moore at Gorunna, The
J. Logan
Charles Wolfe ... 456
466
Coronach
Departed
Scott
Wordsworth .... 461
471
Deserted House, The
Dion
Tennysoil
Worasteorth.... 457
475
Dirge for Dorcas
Dirge: "Heisgone —
is dust" .... Herrick
Coleridge (Trans.) . .
461
469
Dirge in Cymbeline
Epitaph from Simonides
Fear no More the Heat o' th'
.

Sun
. . .
Collins
Anonymous
Shakspeare
....
....
460
463
461
He's Gane
Hosea Biglow's Lament
Laborer, The
Bwms
Lowell
John Clare
.....
....
458
476
456
Lachrimse or, Mirth turned to Mourning
; . Herrick 455
Lament for James, Earl of Glencaim Bums 458
Lament of Mary Queen of Scots on the Approach of
Spring Bwms 456

ing Death of Charles James Fox

Lycidas .
....
Lines written at Gra«mere on Tidings of the Approach-

.
Wordsworth
Milton -
.... 463
467
Lykewake Dirge ..471071 459
Murdered Traveller, The
Nymph Mourning her Fawn, The
Ode " How sleep the brave who sink to rest "
:
....
Bryant
Majrvell
Collins .
457
455
459
Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington 7*671717/5071 464
Ode on the Death of Thomson
On Sir Philip Sidney
Collins
Ode on the Consecration of Sleepy-Hollow Cemetery F. B. Sanborn .... 462
462

On the Loss of the " Royal George "

Othello's Last Words
... Fullie Greville,
Ccywper
Shahspeare ....
Lord Brooke 467
463
476
Sleepy Hollow
Thvrsis
Wiaiding-Sheet, To his
Channing
Matthew Arnold
Herrick
... 460
471
458

COMIC AND HUMOROUS.

Satibical.
Atheism Clongh 497
Chiquita Bret Ha/rte . 502

Contentment
Cosmic Egg, The
........
Collusion between a Alegaiter and a Water-Snaik , J, W. Morris
Holmes
Anonymous
.
491
499
506
Dorothy Q
Fight over the Body of Keitt, The
Her Letter
.... Holmes
Punch
Bret Hmrte
.
498
500
495
His Answer to " Her Letter " Bret Harte . 496
Holy Willie's Prayer Bums 481
Jove and the Souls Swift 502
Mignonette G, B. BaHlett 605
Old Cove, The H. H. Browmll 502
Ori^n of Didactic Poetry, The
Plain Language from Truthful James
Puritans
.... Lowell
Bret Harte
Butler
483
504
601
Kudolph, The Headsman Holmes . 503
Tarn O'Shanter Bums 484
The Courtin' Lowell . 494
The Deacon's Masterpiece; or. The Wonderful One-
Uoss-Shay ,
. . Holmes 492 /
 . .

CONTENTS. XXUl
The Friend of Humanity and the Knife-Grinder . Canning 604
To the Devil Bums 483
Tothe Cnco6nid; or, theBigidlyKighteous . . Burnt . 482
Wltoh of Kf e, The Bagg . 487

POETRY OF TEREOR.
Apparition,
C^rence's Dream
The Byron
Shakapeare .... 614
611
Corsair,
Crime
Hesitation
The Byron
Snakapeare
Shakspemre
....
....
512
510
612
Incantation from Manfred
I see Men's Judgments are
Macbeth is ripe for sliaklng
Byron
Snakspeare
Shakspeare
....
....
512
511
610
Manfred
Merciful Heaven
Bemorse
Baron
Shakspeare
Shakspeare
....
....
513
611
510
Song of the Parcse Goethe trans, by Frothingham 510
Tbea
The Gods are Just
Army led by a Delicate
Xeats
Shakspeare ....
....
509
511
This
Tiger, The
To beguile the time
and Tender Prince . Shakspeare
William Blake
Shakspeare
...
....
612
509

Turner
When we in our viclousness grow hard . . .
J.J.G. Wilkinson .
Shakspeare ..... . 509
510

ORACLES AND COUNSELS.

Good Counsel. — Supreme Houks.

Beware ....
Antony and the Soothsayer Shakspeare
Scott .
519
51T

Courage
£ach and all
....
Cleopatra's Eesolution

.
Shakspeare
Shakspeare
Shakspeare
621
520
520
Faith Mrs. Kemble 518
Firmness . ... Shakspeare 521
Good Heart Bwms . 618
Guidance Shakspeare 521
Human Life Shakspeare 521
If men be worlds .
Donne 617
Knowing the heart of man . Daniel . 617
Mine honesty and
Mother's Blessing
O how feeble is man's power
....
I begin to square Shakspeare
Shakspeare
Dontie
621
520
617
Opportunity Shakspeare 517
Saturn Keats 518
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook Shakspeare 520
The Nobly Bom . M. S. H. . 618
The recluse hermit . Donne . 617
There is a history Shakspeare 617
There is a mystery .
Shakspeare 517
True Dignity Wordsworth 520
Trust . . .
Wordsworth 621
Ulysses and Achilles .
Shakspeare 518
 mDEX OF AUTHOES.

Adams, Johs Qoinoy. Barnes, Wilijam.

Bom in Quincy, Mass., 1767; died Bom in Dorsetshire.
1848. The Peasant's Betum . . . .75
The Wants of Man 280
BABTI.ETT, GEOBQE B.
Addison, Joseph. Mignonette 50S
Bom in Wiltshire, Bng., 1672; died
1719. Batlt, Thomas Hatnes.
The Spacious Firmament ... 180 Bom near Bath, Eng., 1797 ; died
1839.
Akensidi:, Wabk. Nightingale's Song 35
Bom in yewcaatle^upoji'TyTie,
1721; died 1770. Beattie, James.
Pleasures of Imagination . . .99 Bom in Scotland, 1735; died 1803.
Nature 3
AT.TTYtTTmr.R, MBS. C. 7. Night 3
Burial of Moses 290

" Beaumont and Feetcbee.

ALMNGHAM, WTT.T.TAHf .

FraTicis Bea/imumt ham in Leices-

Bom in, Irelamd. tershire, 1586; died 1616. John
Mary Donnelly 434 Fletcher bom in Northampton-
Morning 94 shire, 1576; died in London, 1625.
ffiolianHaip 130 Bonduca 213
The Bird 36 Lore at First Sight 71
The Pilot's Daughter . . . .77 Poet's Mood 138
TheSaUor 436 Song: "Shalseofl your heavy trance," 433
Ihe Touchstone 168 To Venus 72

Abnold, Matthew. Berkeley, George.

Bom in EngUmd, 1822. Bom in Ireland, 1684 ; died 1673.
Ihyrsis 471 Verse: "'Westward the Star of Em-
pire" 225
BAKBAULD, AlOfA L^TITIA.
Bam in Leicestershire, Eng., 1743; Blake, William.
died 1826. Bom in London, 1757 ; died 1828.
Life 169 Orthodoxy 168
Praise to God 183 The Sunflower 29
The Tiger 609
Bau^y, Philip James.
BoAB, Arthur.
Bom in Nottingham, Eng.,
Forecast
1816.
163 The Breeding Ijark .... 36

Baenepield, Eiohakd. Borrow, George.

Bam in EngUmd. Bom in Englcmd, 1803.
Hie Nightingale 3S Svend Vonved 328

XXV
XXVI INDEX OF ATJTHOES.
Browite, Sir Thomas. Byrd, William.
Bom in London, 1605; died 1682. Bom in England, about 1540; died
1623.
Before Sleep 185
My Minde to me a Kingdom is . .154
Browkell, Henry Howard.
Btym in Connecticut^ 1820; died Byron, George Gordon (Lord).
1872. Bom in London, 1788; died in
The Bay Fight 248 Greece, 1824.
The Old Cove 502 Destruction of Sennacherib . . .282
Fare Thee Well 277
BEowumG, Elizabeth Barrett. Hurts of Time 138
Bom vn London, 1809; died in Incantation, from Manfred . .512

Lady
Florence, 1861.
Gferaldine's Courtship . . . 366
Island (The Sea Cave)
Jephthah's Daughter
Lachin y Galr
.

.... . . .378
203
26
Ehyme oE the Buchess May . . 404 Love of England 2T7
The Lady's Tea 64 Manfred 513
Murat 223
Browhxkg, Bobert. No More 278
^0771 in Camberwell, Tiear London,

A King
1812.
282
Outward Bound
She Walks in Beauty
Siege and Conquest of Alhama
.... , .
276
59
310
Siege of Corinth 284
How they brought the Good News from Solitude 28
Ghent to Aix 355
The Lost Leader 224 Song of Saul before his Last Battle . 203
Stanzas ** Though the day of "
; . 276
Sunset 42
Bryant, Whjjlam Cullbn. Swimming 21
Bom vn Oummington, Mass., The Apparition 514
Death of the Flowers
Song of the Stars
.... 1794,
29
44
The Corsair
The Execution
512
284
Thanatopsis 168 The Gladiator 283
The Murdered Traveller
The Old Man's Funeral
The Eivulet
.
.

.
.

.
.457
.167
25
The Immortal Mind
The Island ....
The Prisoner of ChiUon
.

.
.

.
.

.
.377
.172

.283
TheEainbow 46
To a Waterfowl
To the Fringed Gentian ... 37
30 The Sea
The Skull
39
171

Bom
BrEKs, Egbert.
n£a/r Ayr, Scotland, 1759;
The Storm
Vision of Belshazzar
Waterloo
.... 42
416
222
died 1796.
Auld Lang Syne 439 Calidasa.
Banks of Boon 447
Supposed to Jiave lived about 50 B. C.
Bannockbum 219
He's Gane 468 The Babe (Sir William Jones's trans-
Holy Willie's Prayer . . . .481 lation) 56
Honest Poverty 147 Woman (Prof. Wilson's translation) . 58
Inspiration 95
John Anderson, my Jo . . . 438 Campbell, Thomas.
Lament for James, Earl of Glencaim . 458
Bom in Glasgow, 1777 ; died in
Lament of Mary, Queen of Scots 456
....
.
Boulogne, 1844.
Of a' the Airts the Wind can Blaw . 442
Oh, my Luve's like a Bed, Bed Bose , 443 Battle of the Baltic 220
Scotland 220 Glenara 363
Tam O' Shanter 484 Hohenlinden 223
The Cotter's Saturday Night . . . 53 Hope 45
The Good Heart 518 Lochiel'sWarning . . . . 217
The Vision
To a Mountain Daisy
To a Mouse
.... 219
279
278
To the Eainbow
The Soldier's Bream
Ye Mariners of England
.... . . . .221
46
289

To the Devil 483

To the Unco Guid 482 Cannino, George.
Winter 22 Bom in London, 1770 ; died in Chis-
Winter Night
Writing Verses , .... 24
95 The Knife-Grinder ....
wick, 1827.
504

Butler, Samcel. Cabew, Thomas.

Bom in Worcestershire, 1612; died Bom in Devonshire, Eng., 1589;
in London, 1680. died 1639.
Puritans 501 Disdain Betumed 446
 ;

INDEX OF AUTHOKS. XXVll

Chahbing, Wiluau Elleby. Collins, William,
Bom in Boston. Bom in Chichester, Eng., 1720;
Memory 92
Sea Song died 1756.
38
Sleepy Hollow 460 Dirge In Cymbeline 460
The Earth-Spirit 2T Ode: " How sleep the brave " . . 459
The Flight of the Wild Geefe . . 37 Ode on the Death of Thomson , . 462
. The HlUBide Cot 7 Ode to Evening 43
The Mountain 6 The Passions 128
The Poet's Hope 153

Ghapuah, Georqe. CONOREVE, WiLLLAM,

Bom in England, 1557 dUdin ; Bom near Leeds, Eng., 1670; died
London, 1634, 1729.
The Master Spirit
The Praise of Homer .... 198
93
The Cathedral 133

Chattebton, Thomas. Cowley, Abraham.

Bom in Bristol, Eng., 1752: died Bom in London 1618; died 1667.
1770. A Supplication 129
Bristowe Tragedy 343 Epigram on Drake (trans, by Ben
Jonson) 268
Chauoeb, Geoffrey.
Bom in London, 132&; died 1400. CowpEB, William.
Ariadne 76 Bom in Herefordshire, Eng., 1731
Destiny 152 died 1800.
Dnchesse Blanche 60
Forecast 153 Boadicea 212
Fox and Cock
Gentility
Griselda
...... 16
83
38S
Dependence
Loss of " The Royal George "
My Mother's Picture .
Providence
,
.

,
,

,
,
182
463
52
Prayer to Apollo . . . . '
, 96 182
The Cuckow and the Nightingale . . 97 The Ice Palace 288
The Milky Way 45
The Poet 96 Grashaw, Bichabd.
Virginia 67
Bom in England; died 1650,
Clabe, John. Satan 179
Bom in England, 1793; died 1864, Two went upinto the Temple to Piay , 180

The Laborer 466

GummraHAM, Allan,
Clarke, James Freeman. Bom in Blacktaood, ScotUmd, 1784;
Bom in Boston. i2i«<21842,
Babia (translation) 140 SearSong :
" A wet sheet and a flowing

CLonoB, Arthur HnOH. The Lily of Nithsdaie ','.'.'

, 75
Bom in Liverpool, 1819; died in ThouhastswombythyGod,myJeanie, 66
Florence, 1861.
Atheism 497 Daniel, Samuel.
Bathing; from The Bothie of Toberna
VuoUch
Qua Curaum TentuB .... 20
82
Bom in Taunton, Eng,, 1662; died
1619,

Coffin, B. B. Knowing the Heart of Man is set to be, 517

Love 446
Bam in Jmerica.
Ships at Sea 122
Donne, John.
Coi^RisoE, Samuel Tatloe, Bom in London 1573; died 1631.
Bom in Devonshire, Eng., 1772; Elegy on Mistress Elizabeth Druty , 273
died 1834. Ecstasy 70
Character . . • , 164 . Hymn to God, my God, in my Sickness, 186
Dirge: He is gone— is dust (trans, from Hymn to Christ 180
Schiller) 459 If Men be Worlds , , , . 617
Genevieve . ^ 73 Love 62
Heroism (trans, from Schiller) . . 195 Oh, how feeble is Man's Power . , 617
Kubla Khan 126 The recluse Hermit , . , t 617
Mythology (trans, from Schiller) . 120 The Undertaking 164
XXVIU ISTDEX OS AtJTHOES.

DORB, JlTLIA C. E. Heber, Reginald.

JBam in America. Bom in, Cheshire, Eng., 1783; died
1826.
Outgrown 64
li thou wert by my side, my Love . . 63
Drayton, Michael.
Bom in Englcmd, 1563; died 1631. Hedge, Frederic H.
The Harp 130 Bom in Cambridge, Mass., 1805.
Questionings 91
DRUMMOmO, WlLUAM.
Bom in Scotland, 1585; died 1649. Hemans, Felicia.
rhe Angels 190 Bom in Liverpool, Eng,, 1794; died
1835.
The Shepherds 190
Landing of the PUgrim Fathers . . 226
Music 130
Dryben, John. Nightingale's Death Song . . .36
Bom in Northamptonshire, Bng., To Corinne 61

Alexander's Feast
Day
St. Cecilia's
....
1631; died 1700.
130
127 Bam in
Herbert, George.
Wales in 1593; died 1632.
Under the Portrait o£ Milton . . 99
AfSiction 184
Confession 160
Emerson, Edward Bliss. Constancy 196
Easter 192
Bom in Boston, 1805; died in Porto
Gratefulness 184
Rico, 1831.
Life 161
The Last Farewell 61 Man 143
Peace 157
Providence 182
Ferguson, Samuel. Sin 169
Bom in Ireland, about 1805. The Church Porch
Forging of the Anchor ... 287 TheElijdr
The Flower
146
181
96
The Pulley 144
Frothingham, N. L. The Quip 147
Bom in Boston, 1793; died 1870. Virtue 147
Translation of Goethe's Song of the
Farcse 610 Herbert, Edward (Lord of
Cherbury).
GoWER, John. Bom in London, 1591 ; died 1648.
Bom in England, 1320; died 1402. Celinda 172
Nebuchadnezzar 265 Herrick, Robert.
Bom in London, 1591 ; died 1674.

Bom in
Gkat, Thomas.
London, 1716; died 1771.
Argument of his Book ... 3

........
ChBstian Militant 198
Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard, 169 Goiinna's going a-Maylng 10
Eton College 148 Country Life ,15
The Bard 216 Dirge fOr Dorcas 461
Hymn to the Graces . .. .86
Greville, Fulke (Lord Lachrimse ; or. Mirth turned to Mourn-
Brooke). ing 466
Bom in England, 1554; died 1628. Litany to the Holy Spirit . . .186
Matins
On Sir Philip Sidney . . . .467 Night Piece to Julia ... 185
.446
Hamilton, William.
Not Every Day fit for Verse
Ode to Ben Jonson
Prayer to Ben Jonson
....
....
.93 . .

270
269
Bom in Bangow, Scotland, 1704; Poetry of Dress 87
died 1764. Star Song 190
Braes of Yarrow 412 The Primrose 32
The Rose 443
The White Island . . . . 123
Harte, Bret. To Blossoms 33
nhicago
Chiquita
Her Letter
261
602
495
To Daffodills
To his Winding Sheet
To Live Merrily and to Trust
.... to Good
33
458

His Answer to her Letter . . . 496 Verses 269

Plain Language from Truthful James 504 To Silvia 68
 ;

INDEX OP AUTHORS. XXIX

Heywood, Johk. JOKSON, Ben (continued).
JBom in England; died 1565. Epistle to a Friend to Persuade TTim to
rhe Portrait 65 the Wars
Epitaph: "Underneath this sable
E. H. hearse"
Epitaph " Underneath this stone doth
:
George Nidiver 327
lye"
Hogg, James. Fame 101
Bam in Ettricle, Scotland, 1772; Fantasy 123
died 1835. Freedom in Dress 87
May
,

9
Kilmeny 120
Masque of Pleasure and Virtue .
The Witch o£ Fife 487
Nature
Holmes, Oliver Wehdell. Ode to Himself . . . . . 93
On Lucy, Countess of Bedford .
Bom in CambridgCf Mass., 1809. Song: "How near to good is what is
Contentment 499 fair" 87
Dorothy Q 498 Song: "The owl is abroad" 125
Never or Now 232 Song of Echo 441
Old Ironsides -226 Song " See the chariot at hand " .
: 73
Rudolph the Headsman -. . . 503 Song " Spring all the graces of the
:

The Deacon's Masterpiece;

Wonderful One-Hoss Shay
To George Peabody ....
or,
.
The
. 492
282
ToCelia .

To the Countess of Rutland

.... .
. 434
445

Howe, Julia Waed. To William Sidney, on his Birthday 269

Bom in New Tork,

Eeats, John.
Battle Hymn of the Eepublio . . 230
Bom,im London, 1796; died 1820.
The Blag 236
Hunt, Leigh. Hyperion: "As heaven and earth are
fairer " 143
Bom, in Middlesex, Mng., 1784;
Hyperion (Music) 128
died 1859, Hyperion (Saturn, as he walked into
Abou Ben Adhem 158 the midst) 518
Song to Ceres 434 Hyperion (Thea) 509
On First Looking into Chapman's
Homer 94
E. S. H. The Nightingale 34
The Chimney Sweep .

The Nobly Bom . 518 Eemble, Mbs. Fbanoes Anne.

The Wood Fire . 56 Bom in London, about 1811.
Wayfarers . 159 Faith 518

H. H. Knowles, Herbebo?.
Ariadne's Farewell
Bom in England.
Coronation , 202 Written in the Churchyard of Rich-
Joy 157 mond, Yorkshire . . . 167
My Legacy , 176
Lanhob, Waltee Savage.
91
Bom in Warwickshire, Eng., 1775
died 1864.
iNGELOw, Jean.
Bom, in England, 1825.
Inscription on a Sea-Shell . .40 .

Divided 80 Labcom, Lucy.

Goldilocks 443
Bom, in Massachusetts.
High Tide on
Wmstanley
Wreck of the
the Coast of Lincolnshire 340
. . .

"Grace of Sunderland" 320

. . .322 A Loyal Woman's No .... 248

Lewis, David.
Lines to Alexander Pope . . . 272
JoHES, Sib William.
Bom, vn London, 1746; died 1794. Lindsay, Lady Anne.
Narayena, Spirit of God (translation) . 180 Bom in Scotland, 1760 : died in
The Babe (translation from Calidasa) . 56 London, 1826.
Auld Robin Gray 383
JoNSON, Ben. LooKHART, John Gibson.
Bom, in London, 1674; died 1637. Bom in Glasgow, Scotla/nd, 1792:
Chivalry 199 died 1864.
Epigram 269 Bridal of Andalla 441
Epigram (trans.) 268 Garci Perez de Vargas . .300 .
 ;

XXX INDEX OP AUTHORS.

IiODOE, ThOKAS. MioKLE, Willlam Julius.
Bom in England, 1556; died 1625. Bom in Drnnfries-shire, Scotland,
Kosaline 1734; died 1788.
72
There's Nae Luck about the House . 437
liOOAiT, John.
JSom in Scotland,
The Braes of YsuTOw ....
1748; died 1788.
466
MiLNEg, BlOHABD MONOKTON
(Lord Houghton).
Longfellow, Henry Wads- Bom in Yorkshire, Eng., 1809.
WOKTH. Humility 145
JBom in Portland, Me., 1807. The Palm and the Pine . . .289
Affiigsiz, on tLbe Fiftieth Birthday of . 280
Milton, John.
Santa Filomena Bom in London,
...
'
. . . . . 280 '
1608; died 1674.
The Birds of Killingworth 11
The Children's Hour GhrlBtmas Hymn 187
. . . .67 Comufl 104
The Cumberland 239
The Warden of the Cinque Ports Epitaph on Shakspeare . . . .268
. 224
II Penseroso 18
L' Allegro 4
LOTELACE, SlOHABD. Lycidas 467
Bom in Kent, Eng., 1618
ToAlthea
; died 1658.
445
Samson Agonistes
Song: "Sweet Echo" .
. . .

On His being Arrived at the Age of

...
.199
441
ToLucasta -63
The Grasshopper 16
Twenty-three
Sonnet on his Blindness ...
Sonnet on the Late Massacre In Ple-
270
271

Lowell, James Bussell. I

mont 195
Bom in Cambridge, Mass., 1819. ' Sonnet to Sir Henry Vane . . .271
Commemoration Ode .258
To Be no More 169
Hosea Biglow*s Lament
.

.
.

.
.

. 476
When the Assault was intended to the
City 274
Mason and Slidell 234
Origin of Didactic Poetiy . . . 483
Sunthin' in a Pastoral Lme . . .240 MiTOHBL, WALTEB.
The Courtjn' 494 Bom, in America.
The Washers of the Shroud . . .237
Tacking Ship off Shore 40
Lowell, Bobebt T. S.
Bom in Boston, Mass., 1816. MONTGOMEBY, jAIO:S.
The BeUef of Lucknow . . .311 Bom in Irvine, Scotland, 1771
died 1834.
Ldst, George. The Sun-Dial 161
Bom in Newbaryport, Mass., 1803.
Beqoiem: "Breathe, trumpets, MoNTBOSE (James Grahame),
breathe " 257 Marquis of.
Bom in Montrose, Scotland, 1612;
Macdonald, Geoboe. executed 1650.
Bom in Scotland. ru never Love Thee more ... 63
The Earl o' Quarterdeck . . . 318
MooBE, Thomas.
Maetell, Ahdbew. Bom in Dublin, 1779;died 1852.
Bom in Englamd, 1620;
A Drop of Dew
Cromirell and King Charles
died 1678.
47
219
Araby's Daughter
^Canadian Boat-Song ....
^arp that once through Tara's Halls .
435
436
435
The Garden
The Nymph Mourning her Fawn
Song of the Emigrants in Bermuda .
455
41
Lake of the Dismal Swamp
iove's Young Dream
Oft in the Stilly Night .
....
.

...
. 335
446
438
Song of Fionnuala 126
Mellen, Gbektille. "To Campbell 276
BominATtieHea, 1799; died 1841. The Caliph's Encampment . , .286
Bunker Hill
Entrance of Columbus into Barcelona MoBE, Henry.
Messinoeb, Bobekt Hinoelet.
Bom in Grantham, Eng., 1614;
died 16S7.
Bom in Boston, Mass., about 1807. Euthanasia . . . . . . 173
Oive me the Old 57 Love and Humility 17S
 ;

INDEX OF AUTHORS. XXXI

Morris, J. W. Sanborn, F. B.
Bom in America. Bom in America.
A Collusion between a Alegaiter and a
Watei^Snaik 491
Anathemata
River Song . . ....
Ode written for the Consecration of
69
442

Morris, William. Sleepy Hollow Cemetery 462 . .

Bom in England, Schiller (see Coleridoe).

Song from Jason: "I know a lltUe Bom in Germany.
garden close" 442
Scott, Sib Walter.
Morse, Sidney H. Bam in Edinburgh, 1771 ; died 1832.
Bom in ATnerica, AlIen-a-Dale 363
Sundered
Motherwell, William.
82 Alice Brand
A Weary Lot is Thine
Battle of Harlaw
. ... 334
448
301
Bom in Scotland, 1797 ; died 1835, Beware 517
Bonny Dundee 449
Jeanle Morrison

Palfrey, Sara H. [E. Foxton ]

43S Brignall Banks
Bruce and the Abbot
Child Dyring
.... '449
415
.336
Bom in America. Clan Alpine 450
Sir Pavon and Saint Pavon . . 417 Coronacn 461
County Guy 442
Defiance 218
Patmoke, Coyektet. Dreams 122
Bom in Essex, Eng., 1823. Fair Annie 384
Honorla
Sentences
69
76
Fair Helen
Fitz Travers' Song .... 411
364
The Queen
a?!ie Rose o£ the World
The Tribute
... 63
68
66
Friar of Orders Gray
Graeme and Bewick
Helvellyn
....
. . . .349
350
326
Wisdom 146 Kinmont Willie 301

Peroiyal, James Gates.

Lochinvar
Plbrooh of Donuil
Rosabelle
Dhu ... 366
450
414
Bam in Berlin, Conn., 1795 ; died 1856. The Dying Bard 451
The Coral Grove 39 The Gay Goss-Hawk . . . .361
The Mass 349
Percy's Eeliques. Wild Huntsman 330
Heir of Linne 307
King John and the Abbot of Canter- Shakspeake, William.
bury 352 Bom in Stratford-on-Avon,, Eng.,
1564; died 1616.
Pollok, Robert. Antony and the Soothsayer . . 619
Bom in Renfrewshire, Scotland, / Antony over the Dead Body of Caesar . 205
1799; died 1S27. Ariel's Song 440
The Ocean 38 Art and Nature 132
Battle of St. Crispian's T>xs . . 211
Pope, Alexaitdeb. Blow, Blow, thou Winter Wind . .439
Bom in London, 1688; died 1744. Bolingbroke's Entrance into London 285
Cassins 203
Man of Ross
Portrait of Addison .... 272
271
Clarence's Dream
Cleopatra
511
283
Cleopatra's Resolution .621
London Pitnoh.
Come Away, Come Away, Death
. . .

. 439
Abraham Lincoln 264 Common Sense 76
A Greeting to the " George Griswold," 227 Compliment to Queen Elizabeth . 124
Fight over the Dead Body of Keitt . 500 Corlolanus 265
Courage 620
Raleioh, Sir Walter. Crime 510
Bom vn, Budleigh, Eng., 1552 Dawn 5
beheaded 1618. Dover Cliffs 8
Ea«b and All 520
Pilgrimage
The SouPs Errand .... 160
139
'
Fear no More the Heat
IFirmness
o' the Sun . 46
521
iFlowers 29
Randall, James B. I'op 286
Maryland 230 Foresight 92
Full Fathoms Five thy Father Lies 441
RoYDON, Matthew. .

On Sir Philip Sidney .... 268

Good Omens
Guidance
152
521
 xxxu INDEX OF AUTHOES.
Shaespeabe, William (continued.) Shibley, James.
Bom in London, about 1694;
^-Hamlet's SolUoqtiy
"^Hark, Haik, the Lark!
~-Heury V
... 160
441
267 Death's Final Conquest
1666.
. .
died

.167
~ Henry V.'s Audience of French Ambas-
sadors
Hesitation
........
.
. . 210
612 SiDSEY, SiK Philip.
Hotspur 208 Born in Penkurst Kent, Eng.f 1654;
~- Hotspur's Quarrel with Henry IV. . 207 died 1686.
-
Human Life 621 Psalm XCIII 178
Psalm CXXXIX
Inborn Royalty
I See Men's Judgments
^KingLear
.... 83
611
102
Psalm XCVl
178
181

^King Bichard'B Soliloquy . . . 211 SlMONIDES.

"Life and Death 161
Bom in Julis, Isla/nd of Ceos,

''
Macbeth is Ripe for Shaking
Merciful Heaven
Moonlight
! .... . . . 510
611
43 Epitaph
B.C. 654.
463
^Morning 6
~-
Mother's Blessing 520 Southwell, Robert.
Neator to Hector 265 Bom in England, 1666; executed
^Night 34 1595.
^Opportunity 517 New Prince, New Pomp . . . 191
Oracle: " Mine honesty and I " 621 . .
The Burning Babe 191
^ Oracle :" The flighty purpose " 620 . .

Oracle: "There is a mystery in the," 617

*"
Oracle; "There is. a history'" .617 ,
Spbnseb, Edmcsd.
Oracle: " We
must not stint " . 521 . Bom in London, 1663 ; died 1699,
—Orpheus with Lutehis . . . .127 Beauty 84
- Othello's Defence 69 House of Busyrane 293
Othello's Last Words
-.Out and Inwai'd Bound
.

... . . .476
40
Spenser at Court
The Bride
. . . . » . 267
67

--.Qneen
Prayers
^PhcBnix and Turtle-Dove
Mab
... 159
123
125
Trees
Una and the Lion
30
8?
^Kemorse 610
^Kevolutions 152 Spopfobd, Habbiet Presoott.
Bom
-
Romeo's Presage
-Seven Ages
Sleep
122
161
160
Tue Night Sea ...
in America.
.448
- Sonnet " From you have I been ab-
:
Sprague, Chables.
sent" 133
^ Sonnet: " Full many a glorious morn- Bom in Boston, Mass., 1791.
ing" 6 The Indians 225
Sonnet " ; How oft when thou my mu- The Ocean 38
sic" 73
-Sonnet : " Let me not to the marriage," 77 Stedman, Edmund Clarekce.
- Sonnet: "Oh, for my sake" 271
Sonnet :
" Oh, how much more doth " 133
. .

.
Bom in America.
Sonnet :
" So am I as the rich " 78 •
tlohn Brown of Osawatomie . . . 227
Sonnet :
" To me, fail* friend " .86 .

- Soimet " Wlien I do count the clock " 86

: Steeling, John,
- Speech of tlie Dauphin .207 . . .
Bom in the Island of Bute, 1806;
- Take,
O Take those Lips away 444
....
. .
died 1844.
--Tell me where is Fancy Bred 441 . .
Alfred the Harper 298
The Black Prince 266
Daedalus 132
The Gods arc Just 611
Tills Army Led by a Delicate and
Tender Prince 612 Sternhold, Thomas.
To Beguile Time 510 Bom in England; died 1549.
-True Love 62 Psalm XVIII 182
Ulysses and Achilles .618. . .

Under the Greenwood Tree .440 . .

- Viola Disguised, and the Duke 68 . .

Strode, William.
-When Daisies Pied and Violets Blue 440 . Bom in England, 1600; died 1644.
When we in our Vioiousness grow Hard, 510 Music 127

Shelley, Percy Bysshe. Suckling, Sir John.

Bom in Sussex, Eng., 1792; died Born in Whitton, Eng., 1609; died

The Cloud
To a Skylark
1822.
46
36
Moods
The Bride
........ 1641.
139
68
 1

INDEX OF AUTHORS. XXXIU

SwiET, Jonathan. TUOKERMAN, FREDERIC GORDON.

Bom in Dublin, 1667; died 1746. Bom in 1821; died 1873.
Jove and the Souls S02 Rhotruda 357
Tayix>r, Hekby. Trowbridge, J. T.
Bom in England, about 180O. Bom in Neio York, 1827.
Athnlf tuid Etbilda 70 At Sea 48
Taylor, Tom. Vauohan, Henry.
Bom. in England, 1817. Bom in Xewton, Eng., 1621 ; died
Abraham Uncoln 261 1695.
The Retreat 173
Temtyson, Alfred.
Bom. in lAncolnahire, Eng., 1810. Very, Jones.
Bom in Salem, Mass., about 1812.
Bugle Song
// Chnstmaa
441
192 The Barberry-Bush .... 32
I

1
i Crowning of Arthur
Death oithe Old Year.
Eagle, The
. .

... . . 296
24
38
The Strangers
Waller, Edmund.
159

Gate of Camelot 294 Btym vn Colehill, Eng., 1605 ; died

Hero to Leander 448 1687.
In the Fight 223 Apology for Having Loved Before . 63
Lady Clara Vere de Vers . . .365 Go, Lovely Rose 443
Lady Clare 381 On a Girdle 73
Landscape 9 My Charmer 87
LocksleyHall 134
Maud 72 S. 6. W.
Maud: "The Garden Song" . . 444 The Shield 160
Memory 92 The Consolers 160
Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wel- GomeMorir 166
lington 464
CEnone
The Prayer
; or,
The Deserted House ....
the Choice of Paris . . 376
457
198
Bom
Warton, Thomas.
in Basingstohe, Eng., 1728;
died 1687.
Tithonus 165
To the Critic 133 The Fairies 126
Ulysses . 101 Wasson, David A.
C. S. T. Bam in America.
The Poet 95 Love against Love 83
Royalty 198
Tersteeoen, Gerhard (see John
Wesi^y.) Watts, Isaac.
Bomin Westphalia, Germany, 1697. Bom in Souihampton, Eng,, 1674;
died 1748.
Thomson, James.
Hymn: "Lord, when I quit this earthly
Bom, in BoxburgTishire, Scotland, stage" 185
1700; died n4S.
Lost in the Snow 23 Webster, Daniel.
The Nightingale 34 Bom in Salisbury, N.H,, 1782:
died 1852.
Thoreau, Henry David.
Lines Written in a Lady's Album . 261
Bom in Concord, Mats., 1817 ; died
1862. Wesley, John.
Haze 48 Bam in Lincolnshire, Eng., 1703;
Inspiration 94 died 1796.
Mist 48
Translation of Tersteegen's Divine
Smoke 47
Sympathy 78 Love 177
Moravian Hymn 178
Thornbury, G. W. White, Joseph Blanco.
The Sally from Coventry . . .364
Bom in Spain, about 1773; died in

Bom
TiMBOD, Henry.
1829; died in South Carolina,
1867.
Englcmd,
Night and Death ..... 1840.
44
White, Henry Kirke.
Ode sung on the Occasion of Decorating Bom in Nottingham, Eng., 1786;
the Graves of the Confederate died ISOe.
Dead, at Magnolia Cemcitery,
Charleston, 8. C 268 To the Herb Rosemary . . . .32
XXXIV INDEX OF AUTHOKS.
WraTTiEH, John GEEEmtEAF. WOBDSWOETH, WILLIAM (continued).
Bom in Haverhill, Mass., 1808. Ode to Duty 149
Amy Wentworth 380 Osmunda Begalis 32
At Port Koyal
Ichabod
231
227
Outline
Pass of Eirkstone
Bob Boy's Grave
.... 102
28
274
Skipper Ireson's Bide . , . .304 98
Telling the Bees 4M Scale of Minds
Schffl 222
^Playmate 79
September, 1819 31
What the Birds said . . . .' 246
Skating 22
Snow 22
WiLKrason, James John Gabth. Sonnet: "Alas! what boots the long." 221
Bom in London, about 1812. Sonnet: "It is not to be thought of" 223
The Diamond
Turner
34
609
Steamboats, Viaducts, and Bailways . 98
The Boy of Egremond ... 339

WiLUS, Nathaniel Fabkeb.

The Boy Poet
The EveningStar
The Happy Warrior
....
. . . .196
27
44

Som in Portland, Me., 1807; died TheSkepfio 152

1867.
Thought of a Briton on the Subjuga-
tion of Switzerland . . . .221
Lines on Leaving Europe Tintem Abbey 29
To a Child . .
To Milton 274
To the Skylark 36
Wilson, John. To Joanna 17
True Dignity 520
Bom in Scotland, 1785; died 1854.
Trust
. ,
521
Translation of Calldasa's Woman . 68 Tew-Trees 31

WiLLSON, FOEOEYTHE.
Bom vn Little Genesee, 2f. T., 1837;
WOTTON, SiE Henet.
died in Alfred Centre, If. T., 1867.
In State 26B Bom in Englamd, 1568; died 1639.

WiTHEB, Geobqe.
Elizabeth of Bohemia
The Happy Life
.... 66
146
Bam i/n Bentworth, Eng., 1588 ; died
1667.
TOUNG, Edwaed.
The Manly Heart 446
The Muse 96 Bam in Hampshire, Eng., 1684;
died 1766.

Wolfe, Ohablbs. Penitence 180

Sleep 160
Bom in Ireland, 1791; died 1823. Socrates 94
Burial of Sir John Moore . . . 466
AllONYUOUS.
WOBDSWOKTH, WiLLIAM.
Bom in Cockermouth, Bug., 1770;
died 1860.
Boatie Bows
Children in the Wood .... 437
337

Gave of StaSa
Christmas Carol
42
191
Epitaph from Simonides
George Washington ....
Glenkigie (Smith's Scottish Minstrel-
. . . 463
226

Daffodils 33 sy) 360

Departed 471 luscnption on a Wall in St. Edmund's
Dion 476 Churchin Lombard Street, London 162
English Channel , . . . .144 Inscription in the Parish Church in
Ficfelityi 326 Faversham in Agro Cantiano . 162
First of May 9 Inscription in Melrose Abbey . . 161

Flowers at the Care of Stafla' . . 42 Lykewake Dirge 469

Home 61 Su' Andrew Barton (old ballads) . . 312
Honor 144 Sir Patrick Spens (old ballads) . . 317
Immortality 173 Song of the Tonga-Islanders . . . 380
Laodamia 162 That Each Thing is Hurt of Itself . 154
Liberty 33 The Cosmic Egg 505
Lines written on Tidings of the Ap- The DrownedXovers (Buohan) . . 321
proaching Death of Charles James Thekla'B Song 447
Pox
Lucy
Morbing in the Mounttdns ...
463
62
8
Waly, Waly, but Love be Bonny

WUliam
table miscellany)
of CloudesU
.... . . .
(tea-

.
383
306
 NATURE.
LAND. — SEA. — SKY.

" Katore the vicai of the AJmightie Ijotd." — Chauceb.

 ; ! ; ; ! ; ! :!

E"ATURE.

ARGUATENT OF HIS BOOK.

/ And all that echoes to the song of
even.
ISING of brooks, of blossoms, birds, All that the mountain's sheltering
and bowers, bosom shields.
Of April, May, of June, and July- And allthe dread magnificence of
flowers ;
heaven,
I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, was- how canst thou renounce, and
sails, wakes. hope to be forgiven
Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their James Beattib.
bridal-cakes.
I write of youth, of love, and have
access
NIGHT.
By these, to sing of cleanly wanton- 'Tis night, and the landscape is
ness;
lovely no more
I sing of dews, of rains, and, piece
1 mourn, but, ye woodlands, I mourn
by piece,
not for you
Of balm, of oil, of spice, and amber-
For mom is approaching, your
greee.
chaims to restore.
I sing of times trans-shifting ; and I
Perfumed with fresh fragrance, and
write
glittering with dew^
How roses iirst came red, and lilies
Nor yet for the ravage of winter I
white.
mourn
I write of groves, of twilights, and I
Kind Nature the embryo blossom will
sing
save,
The court of Mab, and of the fairie But when shall spring visit the
king.
mouldering urn
I write of Hell; I sing, and ever
shall.
O when shall day dawn on the night
of the grave
Of Heaven, and hope to have it after
James Beattie.
all.
Hbbrick.
NATURE. ly
NATUEE. How young and fresh am I to-night,
To see't kept day by so much light,
O HOW canst thou renounce the And twelve of ray sons stand in their
boundless store Maker's sight!
Of charms which Nature to her Help, wise Prometheus, something
votary yields must be done.
The warbling woodland, the resound- To show they are the creatures of
ing shore. the sun.
The pomp of groves, and garniture That each to other
of fields Is a brother.
All that the genial ray of morning And Nature here no stepdame, but a
gilds, mother.
 ; ;; : ; : ; ; : ;; ;

PARNASSUS.
Come forth, come forth, prove all Quips, and Cranks, and wanton
the numbers then. Wiles,
That make perfection up, and may Nods, and Becks, and wreathfed
absolve you men. Smiles,
But show thy winding ways and arts, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek.
Thy risings, and thy timely starts And love to live in dimple sleek
Of stealing fire from ladies' eyes and Sport that wrinkled Care derides.
hearts. And Laughter holding both his sides.
Those softer circles are the young -Come, and trip it as ye go.
man's heaven, On the light fantastic toe
And there more orbs and planets are And in thy light hand lead with thee
than seven. The mountain nymph, sweet Lib-
To know whose motion erty;
Were a notion And I give thee honor due.
if
As worthy of youth's study, as devo- Mirth, admit me of thy crew,
tion. To live with her, and live with thee,
Come forth, come forth! prove all In unreprovfed pleasures free
the time will gain, To hear the lark begin his flight,
For Nature bids the best, and never And singing startle the dull night
bade in vain. From his watch-tower in the skies,
Ben Jonson. Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then tocome in spite of sorrow,
And my window bid good morrow,
at
L'ALLEGRO. Through the sweetbrier, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine
Hence, loathed Melancholy, While the cock with lively din
Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight Scatters the rear of Darkness thin,
bom! And to the stack, or the barn-door,
In Stygian cave forlorn, Stoutly struts his dames before
'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, Oft listening how the hounds and
and sights unholy, horn
Find out some uncouth cell. Cheerly rouse the slumbering mom.
Where brooding Darkness spreads From the side of some hoar hill.
his jealous wings. Through the high wood echoing
And the night-raven sings shrill
There under ebon shades, and low- Some time walking, not unseen,
brow' d rocks, By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
As ragged as thy locks, Eight against the eastern gate.
In dark Cimmerian desert ever Where the great sun begins his state,
dwell. Kobed in flames, and amber light.
But come, thou Goddess fair and free. The clouds in thousand liveries
In heav'n y-clep'd Euphrosyne, dight;
And by men, heart-easing Mirth, While the ploughman near at hand
Whom lovely Venus at a birth, Whistles o'er the furrowed laud.
With two sister Graces more. And the milkmaid singeth blithe.
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore And the mower whets his scythe,
Or whether (as some sager sing) And every shepherd tells his tale
The frolic wind that breathes the Under the hawthorn in the dale.
spring, Straight mine eye hath caught new
Zephyr with Aurora playing, pleasures
As he met her once a-Maying Whilst the landscape round it
There on beds of violets blue, measures
All d fresh-blown roses washed in dew, Russet lawns, and fallows gray.
Fill'd her with thee, a daughter fair, Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
So buxom, blithe, and debonair. Mountains, on whose barren breast
Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with The laboring clouds do often rest
thee Meadows trim with daisies pied,
Jest, and youthful Jollity, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide
 ; ;; ; ; :: : ;

NATTJEE.

Towers and battlements it sees Of wit, or arms, while both contend

Bosomed high in tufted trees, To win her grace whom all com-
Where perhaps some beauty lies, mend.
The cynosure of neighboring eyes There let Hymen oft appear
Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes, In saffron robe, with taper clear.
From betwixt two aged oaks, And pomp, and feast, and reveliy.
Where Corydon and Thyrsis met. With mask, and antique pageantry,
Are at their savory dinner set Such sights as youthful poets dream
Of herbs, and other country messes, On summer eves by haunted stream.
Which the neat-handed Phillis Then to the well-trod stage anon.
dresses If Jonson's learned sock be on.
And then in haste her bow'r she Or sweetest Shakspeare, Fancy's
leaves. child.
With Thestylis to bind the sheaves Warble his native wood-notes wild.
Or, if the earlier season lead, And ever against eating cares,
To the tanu'd haycock in the mead. Lap me in soft Lydian airs.
Sometimes with secure delight Married to immortal verse.
The upland hamlets will invite. Such as the meeting soul may pierce.
When the merry bells ring round. In notes, with many a winding bout
And the jocund rebecs sound Of linkfed sweetness long drawn out.
To many a youth, and many a maid. With wanton heed, and giddy cun-
Dancing in the checker' d shade ning.
And young and old come forth to The melting voice through mazes
play running.
On a sunshine holiday, Untwisting all the chains that tie
Till the livelong daylight fail. The hidden soul of hai-mony
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, That Orpheus' self may heave his
With stories told of many a feat. head
How fairy Mab the junkets eat From golden slumber on a bed
She was pincht and piill'd, she said, Of heapt Elysian flowers, and hear
And he by friar's lanthorn led, Such strains as would have won the
Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat. ear
To earn his cream-bowl duly set. Of Pluto, to have quite set free
When in one night, ere glimpse of His half regain' d Eurydice.
mom. These delights if thou canst give.
His shadowy flail hath thresh' d the Mirth, with thee I mean to live.
corn Milton.
That ten day-laborers could not
end;
Then lies him down the lubbar fiend. DAWN. //
And stretch'd out all the chimney's
length, Juliet. — Wilt
thou be gone? It
$asks at the fire his hairy strength. is not yet near day,
And crop-full out of doors he flings. It was the nightingale, and not the
Ere the first cock his matin rings. lark.
Thus done the tales, to bed they That pierced the fearful hollow of
creep. thine ear
By whispering winds soon lull'd Nightly she sings on yon pomegran-
asleep. ate tree
Tower' d us then.
cities please Believe me, love, it was the nightin-
And the busy hum of men, gale.
(There throngs of knights and barons
bold Borneo. —
It was the lark, the her-
in weeds of peace high triumphs ald of the mom,
hold. No nightingale: look, love, what
With store of ladies, whose bright. envious streaks
eyes Do lace the severing clouds in yon-
Rain influence, and judge the prize der east
 ; : ! ; ;

PAENASSXJS.

Night's candles are burnt out, and Yet him for this my love no whit
jocund day- disdaineth
Stands tiptoe on the misty moun- Suns of the world may stain, when
tain-tops ;
heaven's sun staineth.
I must be gone and live, or stay and Shakspeake.
die.
Shakspeabe.
THE MOUNTAIN.
MORNING. }/ . . . Once we built our fortress
where you see
This castle hath a pleasant seat ; the Yon group of spruce-trees sidewise
air on the line
Nimbly and sweetly recommends it- Where the horizon to the eastward
self bounds, —
Unto our gentle senses. A point selected by sagacious art,
Where all at once we viewed the
This guest of summer. Vermont hills,
The temple-haunting martlet, does And the long outlines of the moun-
approve, tain-ridge.
By his lov'd mansionry, that the Ever-renewing, chailgeful every
heaven's breath hour.
Smells wooingly here: no jutty, Strange, a few cubits raised above
frieze, buttress. the plain.
Nor coigne of vantage, but this bird And a few tables of resistless stone
hath made Spread round us, with that rich de-
His pendent bed, and procreant cra- lightful air,
dle Where they
: Draping high altars in cerulean
Most breed and haunt, I have ob- space, ,

serv'd the air Could thus enchant the being that

Is delicate. we are
Shakspeabe: Macbeth. Those where the airy element
altars,
Flows o'er in new perfection, and re-
veals
SONNET.
iX Its constant lapsing (never stillness
all),
Full many a glorious morning have As a, mother's kiss, touching the
I seen bright spruce-foliage
Flatter the mountain-tops with sove- And in her wise distilment the soft
reign eye, rain.
Kissing with golden face the mead- Trickling below the sphagnum that
ows green, o'erlays
Gilding pale streams with heavenly The plateau's slope, Is led to the ra-
alchemy. vine.
Anon pennit the basest clouds to ride And so electrified by her pure
With ugly rack onhis celestial face, breath,
And from the forlorn world his vis- As if in truth the living water famed
age hide, Recorded in John's mythus, who
Stealing unseen to west with this first dashed
disgrace Ideal baptism on Jordan's shore.
Even so my sun one early morn did
shine In this sweet solitude, the Moun-
With all triumphant splendor on my tain's life.
brow At morn and eve, at rise and hush of
But out alack he was but one hour
! ! day,
mine. I heard the wood-thrush sing in the
The region cloud hath mask'd him white spruce. ,

from me now. The living water, the emihanted air

 ! ; ; :

NATURE.
So mingling in its crystal clearness Nor wearied yet when generations
there fade.
A sweet, peculiar grace from both, — The crystal air, the hurrying light,
this song, the night.
Voice of the lonely mountain's fa- Always the day that never seems to
vorite bird end,
These steeps inviolate by human Always the night whose day does
art, never set
Centre of awe, raised over all that One harvest and one reaper, ne'er
man too ripe.
Would fain enjoy, and consecrate to Sown by the self-preserver, free from
one, mould,
Lord of the desert and of all be- And builded in these granaries of
side. heaven.
Consorting with the cloud, the echo- This ever-living purity of air.
ing storm. In these perpetual centres of repose
When like a myriad bowls the moun- Still softly rocked."
tain wakes Chaothng.
In all its alleys one responsive roar
And sheeted down the precipice, all
light THE HILLSIDE COT.
Tumble the momentary cataracts, —
The sudden laughter of the moun- AcTD here the hermit sat, and told
tain-child. his beads.
And stroked his flowing locks, red
as the fire,
On the mountain-peak Summed up his tale of moon and
I marked the sage at sunset, where sun and star
he mused. "How blest are we," he deemed,
Forth looking on the continent of " who so comprise
hills; The essence of the whole, and of
While from his feet the five long ourselves,
granite spurs As in a Venice flask of lucent shape.
That bind the centre to the valley's Ornate of gilt Arabic, and inscribed
side, With Suras from Time's Koran, live
(The spokes from this strange mid- and pray.
dle to the wheel) More than haH grateful for the glit-
Stretched in the fitful torrent of the tering prize.
gale, Human existence! If I note my
Bleached on the terraces of leaden powers.
cloud So poor and frail a toy, the insect's
And passages of light, — Sierras long prey,
In archipelagoes of mountain sky, Itched by a berry, festered by a
Where it went wandering all the plum.
livelong year. The very air Infecting my thin
He spoke not, yet methought I frame
heard him say, With its malarial trick, whom every
"All day and night the same; in day
sun or shade. Bushes upon and hustles to the
In summer flames, and the jagged, grave.
biting knife Yet raised by the great love that
That hardy winter splits upon the broods o'er all
cliff, — Eesponsive, to a height beyond all
From earliest time the same. thought."
One mother and one father brought He ended as the nightly prayer and
us forth fast
Thus gazing on the summits of the Summoned him inward. But I sat
days, and heard
 ; ; ;
: ; !

8 PABNASStrS.

The night-hawks rip the air above Unutterable love. Sound needed
my head, none.
Till midnight, o'er the warm, dry, Nor any voice of joy his spirit drank ;

dewless rocks The spectacle sensation, soul, and

;

And saw the blazing dog-star droop form

his fire. All melted into him they swallowed
;

And the low comet, trailing to the up

south, His animal being in them did he live.
;

Bend his reverted gaze, and leave And by them did he live ; they were
us free. his life.
Channtng. In such access of mind, in such
high hour
Of visitation from the living God,
" Herelet us live, and spend away Thought was not; in enjoyment it
our lives," expired.
Said once Fortunio, "while below, No thanks he breathed, he proffered
absorbed, no request
The riotous careering race of man, Eapt into still communion that tran-
Intent on gain or war, pour out scends
their news. The imperfect oflSces of prayer and
Let us bring in a chosen company. praise.
Like that the noblest of our beaute- His mind was a thanksgiving to the
ous maids power
Might lead, —
unequalled Margaret, That made him ; it was blessedness
herself and love.
The summary of good for all our state WOEDSWOKTH.
Composedly thoughtful, genial, yet
reserved,
Pure as the wells that dot the rar DOVER CLIFFS.
j^
vine's bed.
And lofty as the stars that pierce Come on, sir; here's the place: —
her skies. stand still. —
How fearful
Here shall she reign triumphant, And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eye so
and preside low!
With gentle prudence o'er the camp's The crows and choughs, that wing
wild mood. the midway air,
Summoning forth much order from Show scarce so gross as beetles;
what else half way down
Surely must prove unsound." Hangs one that gathers samphire;
CHAlfNING. dreadful trade
Methinks he seems no bigger than
his head
MOKOTNG IN THE MOUNTAINS. The fishermen, that walk upon the
beach.
THEN what soul was his, when, on Appear like mice; and yond' tall
the tops anchoring bark
Of the high mountains, he beheld Diminish'd to her cock; her cock, a
the sun buoy
Kise up, and bathe the world in Almost too small for sight: the
light! He looked — murmuring surge.
Ocean and earth, the solid frame of That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles
earth chafes,
And ocean's liquid mass, beneath Cannot be heard so high: — I'll look
him lay no more
In gladness and deep joy. The Lest my brain turn, and the deficient
clouds were touched. sight
And in their silent faces did he Topple down headlong.
read Shakspeabe,
 ; : !; ; ;

NATURE. 9
LANDSCAPE. And crested lark, doth his division
run.
Calm and still light on yon great The yellow bees the air with mur-
plain mur flu.
That sweeps with all Its autumn The finches carol and the turtles
bowers, bill; —
And crowded farms and lessening Whose power is this ? What god ?
towers, Behold a King,
To mingle with the bounding main. Whose presence maketh this perpet-
Tennyson. ual spring.
The glories of which spring grow in
that bower,
MAY. And are the marks and beauties of
his power.
Whence is it that the air so sudden Ben Jonson.
clears.
And all things in a moment turn so
mild? FIRST OF MAT.
Whose breath or beams have got
proud Earth with child While from the purpling east de-
Of all the treasure that great Nar parts
tare's worth, The star that led the dawn,
And makes her every minute to bring Blithe Flora from her couch up-
forth? starts,
How comes It winter is so quite For May is on the lawn.
forced hence A quickening hope, a freshening glee.
And locked up under ground ? That Foreran the expected power,
every sense Whose first-drawn breath, from bush
Hath several objects, trees have got and tree,
their heads. Shakes off that pearly shower.
The fields their coats, that now the
shining meads
All Nature welcomes her whose
Do boast the paunce, the lily, and sway
the rose,
Tempers the year's extremes
And every flower doth laugh as Who scattereth lustres o'er noonday,
Zephyr blows ? Like morning's dewy gleams;
That seas are now more even than While mellow warble, sprightly trill.
the land The tremulous heart excite
The run as smoothed by
rivers his
And hums the balmy air to still
hand;
The balance of delight.
Only their heads are crisped by his
stroke.
How plays the yearling, with his Time was, blest Power when youths !

brow scarce broke, and maids

Now in the open grass, and frisking At peep of dawn would rise,
lambs And wander forth, in forest glades
Make wanton salts about their dry- Thy birth to solemnize.
sucked dams. Though mute the song — to gi-ace
Who to repair their bags do rob the the rite
fields. Untouched the hawthorn bough.
How is't each bough a several mu- Thy triumphs o'er the slight
spirit
sic yields ? Man changes, but not thou
The lusty throstle, early nightin-
gale. Thy feathered lieges bill and wings
Accord in tune though vary in their In love's disport employ.
tale. Warmed by thy influence, creeping
The chirping swallow, called forth things
by the sun. Awake to silent joy
 ! ; ; ; ; ; ;

10 PAKNASSUS.

Queen art thou still for each gay Nay not I so much as out of bed
plant When all the birds have matins
Where the slim wild deer roves said.
And served in depths where fishes And sung their thankful hymns;
haunt 'tis sin,
Their own mysterious groves. Nay, profanation to keep in,
When as a thousand virgins on this
day
Spring, sooner than the lark, to
fetch in May.
And if, on this thy natal mom,
The pole, from which thy name and put on your foliage, and
Bise,
Hath not departed, stands forlorn be seen
Of song and dance and game,
Still from the village-green a vow
To come forth, like the spring-time
fresh and green.
Aspires to thee addrest.
Wherever peace is on the brow,
And sweet as Flora. Take no
care
Or love within the breast.
For jewels for your gowne or
haire
Yes ! where love nestles thou canst
Feare not, the leaves will strew
teach
The soul to love the more Gems in abundance upon you
Besides, the childhood of the day
Hearts also shall thy lessons reach
has kept.
That never loved before. t
Against you come, some orient pearls
Stript is the haughty one of pride. '
unwept.
The bashful freed from fear.
Come, and receive them while the
While rising, like the ocean-tide.
light
In flows the joyous year.
Hangs on the dew-locks of the
night;
Hush, feeble lyre! weak words, re-
fuse
And Titan on the eastern hill
Eetires himself, or else stands
The service to prolong stiil
To yon exulting thrush the Muse Till you come forth. Wash, dresse,
Intrusts the imperfect song;
be briefe in praying;
His voice shall chant, in accents
Few beads are best, when once we
clear,
go a-Maying.
Throughout the livelong day,
Till the first silver star appear.
The sovereignty of May. Come, my Corinna, come and com-
;

WOBDSWOKTH. ing, mark

How each field turns a street, each
street a park
COEINNA'S GOING A-MAYING. Made green, and trlmm'd with
trees ; see how
Get up, get up, for shame; the Devotion gives each house a
blooming. Morn bough,
Upon her wings presents the god Or branch ; each porch, each doore,
unshorn. ere this.
See how Aurora throws her fair An ark, a tabernacle is.
Fresh-quilted colors through the Made up of white-thorn neatly
air; interwove
Get up, sweet slug-a-hed, and see As if here were those cooler shades
The dew bespangling herb and of love.
tree. And sin no more, as we have done,
Each flower has wept, and bow'd by staying;
toward the east. But, my Corinna, come, let's go
Above an hour since, yet you not a-Maying.
drest, Hebbick.
 ;; ; ; ; '

NATTJEE. 11
THE BIRDS OF KILLING- And thrifty farmers, as they tilled
WORTH. the earth,
Heard with alarm the cawing of
It was the season when through all the crow.
the land That mingled with the universal
The merle and mavis build, and mirth,
building sing Cassandra - like, prognosticating
Those lovely lyrics written by His woe:
hand They shook their heads, and doomed
Whom Saxon Caedmon calls the with dreadful words
Blithe-heart King To swift destruction the whole race
When on the boughs the pui-ple buds of birds.
expand,
The banners of the vanguard of And a town-meeting was convened
the Spring; straightway
And rivulets, rejoicing, rush and To set a price upon the guilty
leap, heads
And wave their fluttering signals Of these marauders, who, in lieu of
from the steep. pay,
Levied black-mail upon the gar-
The robin and the bluebird, piping den-beds
loud, And cornfields, and beheld without
Filled all the blossoming orchards dismay
with their glee The awful scarecrow, with his
The sparrows chirped as if they still fluttering shreds, —
were proud The skeleton that waited at their
Their race in Holy Writ should feast.
mentioned be Whereby their sinful pleasure was
And hungry crows, assembled in a increased.
crowd.
Clamored their piteous prayer in- Then from his house, a temple paint-
cessantly, ed white.
Knowing who hears the ravens cry, With fluted columns, and a roof
and said, of red.
" Give us, O Lord, this day our dai- The Squire came forth, — august
ly bread!" and splendid sight! —
Slowly descending, with majestic
Across the Sound the birds of pas- tread.
sage sailed, Three flights of steps, nor looking
Speaking some unknown language, left nor right,
strange and sweet Down the long street he walked,
Of tropic isle remote, and, passing, as one who said,
hailed "A town that boasts inhabitants
The village with the cheers of all like me
their fleet Can have no lack of good society."
Or, quarrelling together, laughed
and railed The Parson, too, appeared, a man
Like foreign sailors landed in the austere,
street The instinct of whose nature was
Of seaport town, and with outland- to kill;
ish noise The wrath of God he preached from
Of oaths and gibberish frightening year to year.
girls and boys. And read with feiTor Edwards ou
the Will:
Thus came the jocund Hpring in His favorite pastime was to slay the
Killingworth, deer
In fabulous days, som< '»undred In summer on some Adirondack
years ago hill:
 ; : ;; : ;

12 PAENASStrS.

E'en now, while walking down the Then thought of fair Almira, and
rural lane, took heart
He lopped the wayside lilies with his To speak out what was in him,
cane. clear and strong.
Alike regardless of their smile oi
From the Academy, whose belfry frown.
crowned And quite determined not to be
The Hill of Science with its vane laughed down.
of brass,
Came the Preceptor, gazing idly "Plato, anticipating the reviewers.
round, From his republic banished with-
Now at the clouds, and now at the out pity
green grass, The poets in this little town of
:

And all absorbed in rereries pro- yours.

found You put to death, by means of a
Of fair Almira In the upper class, committee.
Who was, as in a sonnet he had said. The ballad-singers and the trouba-
As pure as water, and as good as bread. dours.
The street-musicians of the heav-
And next the Deacon issued from enly city,
his door, The birds, who make sweet music
Inhis voluminous neck-cloth, for us all
white as snow In our dark hours, as David did for
A suit of sable bombazine he wore Saul.
His form was ponderous, and his
step was slow " The thrush, that carols at the dawn
There never was so wise a man be- of day
fore: From the green steeples of the
He seemed the incarnate "Well, piny wood
I told you so!" The oriole in the elm; the noisv
And to perpetuate his great renown,
,
jay,
There was a street named after hira Jargomng like a foreigner at his
in town. food;
The bluebird balanced on some top-
These came together in the new most spray.
town-hall. Flooding with melody the neigh-
With sundry farmers from the re- borhood ;

gion round Linnet and meadow-lark, and all the

The Squire presided, dignified and throng
tall. That dwell in nests, and have the
Hisair impressive and his reason- gift of song, —
ing sound.
Ill fared it with the birds, both great "Tou slay them all! and wherefore?
and small For the gain
Hardly a friend in all that crowd Of a scant handful, more or less,
they found, of wheat.
But enemies enough, who every one Or or barley, or some other
rye,
Charged them with all the crimes grain.
beneath the sun. Scratched up at random by indus-
trious feet
When they had ended, from his Searching for worm or weevil after
place apart rain.
Rose the Preceptor, to redress the Or a few cherries, that are not so
wrong, sweet
And, trembling like a steed before As are the songs these uninvited
the start. guests
Looked round bewildered on the Sing at their feast with comfortable
expectant throng; breasts.
 ! ! ! ! ; : ; ,

NATTTRE. 13
"Do you ne'er think what wondrous Is this more pleasant to you than
beings these ? the whirr
Do you ne'er thinlj who made Of meadow-lark, and its sweet
them, and who taught roundelay.
The dialect they speali, where melo- Or twitter of little fieldfares, as you
dies take
Alone are the interpreters of Your nooning in the shade of bush
thought? and brake?
Whose household words are songs in
many keys, "You call them thieves and pilla-
Sweeter than instrument of man gers ; but know
e'er caught They are the wing&d wardens of
Whose habitations in the tree-tops your farms.
even Who from the cornfields drive the
Are half-way houses on the road to insidious foe,
heaven And from your harvests keep a
hundred harms
" Think, every morning when the sun Even the blackest of them all, the
peeps through crow,
The dim, leaf-latticed windows of Renders good service as your man-
the grove. at-arms.
How jubilant the happy birds renew Crushing the beetle in his coat of mail
Their old melodious madrigals of And crying havoc on the slug and
love! snail.
And when you think of this, remem-
ber, too, " How can I teach your children gen-
'Tis always morning somewhere, tleness.
and above And mercy to the weak, and reve-
The awakening continents, from rence
shore to shore, For Life, which, in its weakness or
Somewhere the birds are singing excess.
evermore. Is still a gleam of God's omnipo-
tence.
" Think of your woods and orchards Or Death, which, seeming darkness,
without birds is no less
Ofempty nests that cling to The selfsame light, although
boughs and beams. averted hence.
As in an idiot's brain remembered When by your laws, your actions,
words and your speech.
Hang empty 'mid the cobwebs of You contradict the very things I
his dreams teach?"
Will bleat of flocks or bellowing of
herds With this he closed; and through
Make up for the lost music, when the audience went
your teams A murmur like the rustle of dead
Drag home the stingy harvest, and leaves
no more The farmers laughed and nodded,
The feathered gleaners follow to and some bent
your door? Their yellow heads together like
their sheaves
" What would you rather see
! the in- Men have no faith in fine-spun sen-
cessant stir timent
Of insects in the windrows of the Who put their trust in bullocks
hay, and in beeves.
And hear the locust and the grass- The birds were doomed and, as the ;

hopper record shows,

Their melancholy hurdy-gurdies A bounty offered for the head of
play? crows.
 : ; :: : ! : : : ;

14 PAENASStrS.

There was another audience out of They were the terror of each favor-
reach, ite walk.
Who had no voice nor vote' in The endless theme of all the village-
making laws, talk.
But in the papers read his little
speech. The farmers grew impatient; but a
And crowned his modest temples few
with applause Confessed their error, and would
They made him conscious, each one not complain
more than each. For, after all, the best thing one can
He still was victor, vanquished in do.
their cause When it is raining, is to let it rain.
Sweetest of all the applause he won Then they repealed the law, al-
from thee, though they knew
O fair Almira at the Academy It would not call the dead to life
again
And so the dreadful massacre began As school-boys, finding their mis-
O'er fields and orchards, and o'er take too late.
woodland crests, Draw a wet sponge across the accus-
The ceaseless fusillade of terror ran. ing slate.
Dead fell the birds, with blood-
stains on their breasts. That year in Killingworth the Au-
Or wounded crept away from sight tumn came
of man. Without the light of his majestic
While the young died of famine in look,
their nests The wonder of the falling tongues
A slaughter to be told in groans, not of flame,
words. The illumined pages of his Dooms-
The very St. Bartholomew of birds I Day Book.
A few lost leaves blushed crimson
The Summer came, and all the birds with their shame,
were dead And drowned themselves despair-
The days were like hot coals ; the ing in the brook.
very ground While the wild wind went moaning
Was burned to ashes: in the or- eveiywhere,
chards fed Lamenting the dead children of the
Myriads of caterpillars, and around air.
The cultivated fields and garden-
beds But the next Spring, a stranger sight
Hosts of devouring insects crawled, was seen,
and found A sight that never yet by bard was
No foe to check their march, till sung.
they had made As great a wonder as it would have
The land a desert without leaf or been.
shade. If some dumb animal had found
a tongue
Devoured by worms, like Herod, A wagon overarched with evergreen,
was the town. Upon whose boughs were wicker
Because, like Herod, it had ruth- cages hung,
lessly All full of singing-birds, came down
Slaughtered the Innocents. From the street.
the trees spun down Filling the air with music, wild and
The canker-worms upon the pass- sweet.
ers-by, —
Upon each woman's bonnet, shawl, From all the country round these
and gown. birds were brought
Who shook them off with just a By order of the town, with anx-
little cry ious quest,
 :; : ; ; :;:
; ;;
:

NATTTEB. 15
And, loosened from their wicker For well thou know'st, 'tis not the
prison, sought extent
In woods and fields the places they Of land makes life, but sweet con-
loved best, tent.
Singing loud canticles, which many When now the cock, the ploughman's
Qiought home.
Were satires to the authorities ad- Calls forth the lily-wristed morne
dressed ; Then to thy cornfields thou dost go.
While others, listening in green Which, though well soyl'd, yet thou
lanes, averred dost know.
Such lovely music never had been That the best compost for the lands
heard. Is the wise master's feet and hands
There at the plough thou find st thy
But blither still and louder carolled teame.
they With a hind whistling there to them
Upon the morrow, for they seemed And cheer' st them up, by singing
to know how
It was the fair Almira's wedding- The kingdom's portion
is the plough
day; This done, then to the enameled
And everywhere, around, above, meads
below, Thou go'st, and as thy foot there
When the Preceptor bore his bride treads,
away. Thou seest a present godlike power
Their songs burst forth in joyous Imprinted in each herbe and flower
overflow, And smell'st the breath of great-eyed
And a new heaven bent over a new kine,
earth Sweet as the blossoms of the vine
Amid the sunny farms of Killing- Here thou behold'st thy large sleek
worth. neat
Longfellow. Unto the dew-laps up in meat
And as thou look'st, the wanton
steere.
The heifer, cow, and oxe draw neare,
C^TSE COUNTRY LIFE. To make a pleasing pastime there
These seen, thou go'st to view thy
Sweet country life, to such un- flocks
known, Of sheep, safe from the wolf and fox,
Wljose lives are others, not their And find'st their bellies there as full
own; Of short sweet grass, as backs with
But, serving courts and cities, be wool;
Less happy, less enjoying thee. And leav'st them, as they feed and
Thou never plough' st the ocean's fill,

foame A shepherd piping on a hill.

To seek and bring rough pepper For sports, for pageantrie, and
home; playes.
'

Nor to the Eastern Ind dost rove Thou hast thy eves and holydayes
To bring from thence the scorched On which the young men and maids
clove meet
Nor, with the loss of thy loved rest. To exercise their dancing feet.
Bring' St home the ingot from the Tripping the comely country round,
west With daffodils and daisies crowned.
No, thy ambitious masterpiece Thy wakes, thy quintels, here thou
Flies no thought higher than a fleece hast,
Or to pay thy hinds, and cleere Thy May-poles, too, with garlands
All scores, and so to end the yeare grac't.
But walk'st about thine own dear Thy morris-dance, thy Whitsun ale.
bounds. Thy shearing-feast, which never
Not envying others' larger grounds; faile,
 ; ; ; :; ; !: ;

16 PAENASStrS.

Thy harvest home, thy wassail Ean cow and calf, and eke the very
bowle,
That's tost up after fox 1' th' hole, So feared were for barking of the
Thy mummeries, thy twelf-tlde dogges. .

kings And shouting of the men and women

And queenes, thy Christmas revel- eke,
lings, They ronnen so, them thought hir
Thy nut-browne mirth, thy russet hertes breke.
wit, They yelleden as fendes don in
And no man pays too deare for it Helle:
To these thou hast thy times to The dokfes crieden as men wold hem
goe, quelle
And trace the hare i' th' treacherous The gees for fere flewen over the
snow; trees.
Thy witty wiles to draw and get Out of the hive came the swarme of
The larke into the trammel net
Thou hast thy eockrood and thy So hideous was the noise, a bene-
glade dicite
To take the precious pheasant made Certes he Jakke Straw, and his
Thy llme-twlgs, snares, and pit-falls meinie,
then Ke maden never shoutSs half so
To catch the pilfering birds, not shrill.
men. When that they wolden any Fleming
O happy life ! if that their good kill,
The husbandmen but understood As thilke day was made upon the fox.
Who all the day themselves do Of brass they broughten beeme's
please, and of box,
And younglings with such sports as Of horn and bone, in which they
these blew and pouped,
And, lying down, have nought to And therwithal they shrieked and
affright they houped
Sweet sleep, that makes more short It seemed, as the Heven shuldg
the night. falle.
Hebbice, Chaticbb: JTans' Priest's Tale.

FOX AJSD COCK. THE GRASSHOPPER.

Now wol I turn unto my tale agen. TO MY NOBLE FKIEND, ME. CHABLES
The silly widow and her doughtren COTTON.
two,
Herden these hennfe cry and maken ODE.
wo,
And out of dor^s sterten they anon, O THQTJ that swing' St upon the wav-
And saw the fox toward the wode is ing ear
gon. Of some well-flUed oaten beard,
And bare upon his back the cock Drunk every night with a delicious
away: tear
They criden out ! "Harowand wala Dropt thee from heaven, where
wa! now thou art reared.
A ha! the fox " and after him they
!

ran. The joys of earth and air are thine

And eke with staves many another entire
man; That with thy feet and wings dost
Ran Colle our dog, and Talbot, and hop and fly,
Gerlond And when thy poppy works thou
And Malkin, with her distaf in her dost retire,
hond; To thy carved acorn-bed to lie.
 ;! ; ; ; ; ;

NATURE. 17
Up with the day, the Sun thou wel- Thus richer than untempted kings
com'st then, are we.
Sport' St in the gilt plaits of his That asking nothing, nothing
beams. need;
And all these merry days mak'st Though lord of all what seas em-
merry men brace, yet he
Thyself and melancholy streams. That wants himself is poor indeed.
BicHABD Lovelace.
But ah the sickle ! golden ears are
!

cropt
Ceres and Bacchus bid good-night TO JOANNA.
Sharp frosty fingers all your flowers
have topt, As it befell,
And what scythes spared winds One summer morning we had walked
shave off quite. abroad
At break of day, Joanna and myself.
Poor verdant fool! and now green 'Twas that delightful season when
ice, thy joys the broom.
Large and as lasting as thy perch Full-flowered, and visible on every
of grass steep.
Bid us lay in 'gainst winter rain, and Along the copses runs in veins of
poise gold.
Their floods with an o'erflowing Our pathway led us on to Botha's
glass. banks
And when we came in front of that
Thou best of men and friends, we rock
tall
will create That eastward looks, I there stopped
Agenuine summer in each other's short, and stood
breast; Tracing the lofty barrier with my eye
And spite of this cold tune and From base to sunmiit such delight;

frozen fate, Ifound

Thaw us a warm seat to our rest. To note in shrub and tree, in stone
and flower,
Our sacred hearths shall burn eter- That intermixture of delicious hues.
nally In one impression, by connecting
As vestal flames ; the North-wind, force
he Of their own beauty, imaged in the
Shall strike his frost-stretched wings, heart.
dissolve, and fly When I had gazed perhaps two
This ^tna in epitome. minutes' space,
Joanna, looking in my eyes, beheld
Dropping December shall come That ravishment of mine, and
weeping in, laughed aloud.
Bewail th' usurping of his reign The Rock, like something starting
But when in showers of old Greek* from a sleep,
we begin. Took up the Lady's voice, and
Shall cry, he hath his crown laughed again
again That ancient Woman seated on
Helm-crag
Night as clear Hesper shall our Was ready with her cavern; Ham-
tapers whip mar-scar,
From the light casements where And the tall Steep of Silver-how,
we play, sent forth
And the dark hag from her black A noise of laughter; southern
mantle strip, Loughrigg heard.
And stick there everlasting day. And Fairfield answered with a
mountain tone
• Greek wine. Helvellyn far into the clear blue sky
 ! ;; : ; ;: :

18 PAENASStrS.

Carried the Lady's voice, — old Skid- As thick and numberless

-daw blew As the gay motes that people the
His speaking-trumpet; back out of sunbeams.
the clouds Or likest hovering dreams
Of Glaramara southward came the The fickle pensioners of Mor-
voice pheus' train.
And Kirkstone tossed it from his But hail thou Goddess, sage and
misty head. holy,
"Now whether" (said I to our Hail divinest Melancholy,
cordial friend, Whose saintly visage is too bright
Who in the hey-day of astonishment To hit the sense of human sight.
Smiled in my
face), "this were in And therefore to our weaker view
simple truth O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's
A work accomplished by the brother- hue;
hood Black, but such as in esteem
Of ancient mountains, or my ear Prince Memnon's sister might be-
was touched seem,
With dreams and visionaiy impulses Or that Starr' d Ethiop queen that
To me alone imparted, sure I am strove
That there was a loud uproar in the To set her beauty's praise above
hills." The Sea-Nymphs, and their powers
And while we both were listening, offended
to my side Yet thou art higher far descended
The Joanna drew, as if she
fair Thee bright-hair'd Vesta, long of
wished yore.
To shelter from some object of her To solitary Saturn bore
fear. His daughter she (in Saturn's reign.
And hence long afterwards, when Such mixture was not held a stain).
eighteen moons Oft in glimmering bowers and glades
Were wasted, as I chanced to walk He met her, and in secret shades
alone Of woody Ida's inmost grOve,
Beneath this rock, at sunrise, on a While yet there was no Stear of Jove.
calm Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure.
And silent morning, I sat down, and Sober, steadfast, and demure,
there, All in a robe of darkest grain.
In memoi-y of affections old and true, Flowing with majestic train,
I chiselled out in those rude charac- And sable stole of cyprus-lawn.
- ters Over thy decent shoulders drawn.
Joauna's name deep in the living Come, but keep thy wonted state,
stone With even step, and musing gait,
And I and all who dwell by my And looks commercing with the
fireside skies.
Have called the lovely rock, " Joan- Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes
na's Kock." There held in holy passion still.
WOEDSWOKTH. Forget thyself to marble, till
With a sad leaden downward cast
Thou fix them on the earth as fast
IL PENSEROSO. And join with thee calm Peace, and
Quiet,
Hence, vain deluding joys. Spare Fast, that oft with Gods doth
The brood of Folly without father diet.
bred, And hears the Muses in a ring
How little you bestead, Aye round about Jove's altar sing:
Or fill the fixed mind with all your And add to these retired Leisure,
toys That in trim gardens takes his pleas-
Dwell in some idle brain, ure;
And fancies fond with gaudy But first, and chiefest, with thee
bring,
 ; ; : ; ;

NATURE. 19
Him that yon soars on golden wing, Or the tale of Troy divine.
Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, Or what (though rare) of later age
The Cherub Contemplation Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage.
And the mute Silence hist along, But, O
sad Virgin, that thy power
'Less Philomel will deign a song. Might Musseus from his bower,
raise
In her sweetest, saddest plight. Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing
Smoothing the rugged brow of night, Such notes as warbled to the string.
While Cynthia checks her dragon Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.
yoke. And made Hell grant what love did
Gently o'er th' accustomed oak; seek.
Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise Or call up him that left half told
of folly, The story of Cambuscan bold,
Most musical, most melancholy! Of Camball, and of Algarsife,
Thee, chauntress, oft the woods And who had Canace to wife.
among That own'd the virtuous ring and
I woo, to hear thy even-song glass,
And missing thee, I walk unseen And of the wondrous horse of brass,
On the dry smooth-shaven green, On which the Tartar king did ride
To behold the wandering moon, And if aught else great bards be-
Riding near her highest noon. side,
Like one that had been led astray In sage and solemn tunes have sung.
Through the heav'n's wide pathless Of turneys and of trophies hung.
way; Of forests, and enchantments drear.
And oft, as ifher head she bow'd, Where more is meant than meets the
Stooping through a fleecy cloud. ear.
Oft on a plat of rising ground, Thus Night oft see me in thy pale
I hear the far-off curfew sound. career,
Over some wide-water'd shore, Till civil-suited Morn appear,
Swinging slow with sullen roar; Not trick' d and frounc'd as she was
Or, if the air will not permit. wont
Some still removed place will fit. With the Attic boy to hunt.
Where glowing embers through the But kerchiefed in a comely cloud.
room While I'ocking winds are piping loud.
Teach light to counterfeit a gloom Or usher'd with a shower still,
Far from all resort of mirth. When the gust hath blown his fill.
Save the cricket on the hearth. Ending on the rustling leaves.
Or the bellman's drowsy charm. With minute drops from off the
To bless the doors from nightly eaves.
harm: And when the sun begins to fling
Or let my lamp at midnight hour His flaringbeams, me. Goddess,
Be seen in some high lonely tow'r, bring
Where I may oft outwatch the Bear, To archfed walks of twilight groves.
With thrice-great Hermes, or un- And shadows brown that Sylvan
sphere loves
The spirit of Plato, to unfold Of monumental oak,
pine, or
What worlds, or what vast regions Where the rude axe with heaved
hold stroke
The immortal mind, that hath for- Was never heard the Nymphs to
sook daunt.
Her mansion in this fleshly nook Or fright them from their hallow'd
And of those Demons that are haunt.
found There in close covert by some brook.
In fire, air, flood, or under ground, Where no profaner eye may look.
Wliose power hath a true consent Hide me from day's garish eye.
With planet, or with element. While the bee with honied thigh,
Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy That at her flowery work doth sing,
In sceptred pall come sweeping by. And the waters murmuring
Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' Une, With such consort as they keep,
 : ; ; : ; ; ;

20 PARNASSUS.

Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep; Met and blocked by a huge interpos-

And let some strange mysterious ing mass of granite,
dream Scarce by a channel deep-cut, raging
Wave at his wings in aery stream up and raging onward.
Of lively portraiture display' d, Forces its flood through a passage
Softly on my
eyelids laid. so narrow a lady would step
And as I wake, sweet music breathe it,
Above, about, or underneath, There, across the great rocky
Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, wharves, a wooden bridge
Or the unseen Genius of the wood. goes.
But let my due feet never fail Carrying a path to the forest; be-
To walk the studious cloisters pale. low, three hundred yards, say
And love the high embowfed roof, Lower in level some twenty-five
With antique pillars massy proof. feet, through flats of shingle,
And storied windows richly dight. Stepping-stones and a cart-track
Casting a dim religious light cross in the open valley.
There let the pealing organ blow. But in the interval here the boiling,
To the full voic'd quire below, pent-up water
In service high, and anthems clear, Frees itself by a flnal descent, at-
As may with sweetness, through mine taining a basin.
ear. Ten feet wide and eighteen long,
Dissolve me into ecstasies, with whiteness and fury
And bring all heav'n before mine Occupied partly, but mostly pellucid,
eyes. pure, a mirror
And may my weary age
at last Beautiful there for color derived
Find out the peaceful hermitage. from green rocks under
The hairy gown and mossy cell, Beautiful, most of all, where beads
Where I may sit and rightly spell of foam uprising
Of every star that heav'n doth show. Mingle their clouds of white with the
And every herb that sips the dew delicate hue of the stillness.
Till old experience do attain Cliff overchfE for its sides, with rowan
To something like prophetic strain. and pendent birch-boughs.
These pleasures Melancholy give, Here it lies,unthought of above at
And I with thee will choose to live. the bridge and pathway.
Milton. Still more enclosed from below by
wood and rocky projection.
You are shut in, left alone with
FROM THE BOTHIE OF TOBER yourself and perfection of
NA VUOLICH. water.
Hid on all sides, left alone with
There is a stream, I name not its yourself and the goddess of
name, lest inquisitive tourist bathing.
Hunt and make it a lion, and get
it, Here, the pride of the plunger, you
it at last into guide-books. stride the fall and clear it
Springing far off from a loch unex- Here, the delight of the bather, you
plored in the folds of great roll in beaded sparklings.
mountains, Here into pure green depth drop
Falling two miles through rowan down from lofty ledges.
and stunted alder, enveloped Hither, a mouth agone, they had
Then for four more in a forest of come, and discovered it;
pine, where broad and ample hitlier
Spreads, to convey it, the glen with (Long a design, but long unaccounta-
heathery slopes on both sides bly left unaccomplished).
Broad and fair the stream, with Leaving the well-known bridge and
occasional falls and narrows pathway above to the forest.
But, where the glen of its course Turning below from the track of
approaches the vale of the the carts over stone and
river, shingle,
 : ; ; ; ;

KATTJRE. 21
Piercing a wood, and skirting a Eying one moment the beauty, the
narrow and natural causeway life, ere he flung himself in it.
Under tlie rocky wall that hedges Eying through eddying green waters
the bed of the streamlet, the green tinting floor under-
Rounded a craggy point, and saw on neath them,
a sudden before them Eying the bead on the surface, the
Slabs of rock, and a tiny beach, and bead, like a cloud, rising to it,
perfection of water. Drinking in, deep in his soul, the
Picture-like beauty, seclusion sub- beautiful hue and the clear-
lime, and the goddess of bath- ness,
ing. Arthur, the shapely, the brave, the
There they bathed, of course, and unboasting, the glory of
Arthur, the glory of headers. headers
Leapt from the ledges with Hope, Tes, and with fragrant weed, by his
he twenty feet, he thirty knapsack, spectator and critic,
There, overbold, great Hobbes from Seated on slab by the margin, the
a ten-foot height descended. Pipe^i the Cloud-compeller.
Prone, as a quadruped, prone with Clough.
hands and feet protending
There in the sparkling champagne,
ecstatic, they shrieked and SWIMl^ING.
shouted.
" Hobbes' s gutter," the Piper en- How many a time have I
titles the spot, profanely, Cloven, with arm still lustier, breast
Hope "the Glory" would have, more daring.
afterArthur, the glory of The wave all roughened; with a
headers .- -swimther's stroke
But, for before they departed, in shy Flinging the billows back from my
and fugitive reflex drenched hair.
Here in the eddies and there did And laughing from my lip the auda-
the splendor of Jupiter glim- cious brine,
mer, Which kissed it like a wine-cup, ris-
Adam adjudged it the name of ing o'er
Hesperus, star of the even- The waves as they arose, and prouder
ing. still
Hither, to Hesperus, now, the star The loftier they uplifted me; and
of evening above them, oft.
Come in their lonelier walk the pupils In wantonness of spirit, plunging
twain and Tutor down
Turned from the track of the carts, Into their green and glassy gulfs, and
and passing the stone and making
shjngle, . - My way to shells and seaweed, all
piercing the wood, and skirting the unseen
stream by the natural cause- By those above, till they waxed fear-
way, i '* .-'^- -.. '. ful; then
Rounded the' craggy point, and now Returning with my grasp full of such
at their ease looked up and ; tokens
Lo, on the^rocky ledge, regardant, As showed that I had searched the
the Glory of headers, deep; exulting,
Lo, on the beach, expecting the With a far-dashing stroke, and draw-
plunge, not cigarless, the ing deep
Piper. — The long-suspended breath, again I
^d they looked, and wondered, in- spurned
credulous, looking yet once The foam which broke around me,
more. and pursued
Yes, it was on the ledge, bare-
he, My track like a sea-bird. —I was a
limbed, an Apollo, down-gaz- boy then.
ing, Byron.
 ; d ! ;; ! ;:
;

22 PAENASSUS.

SKATING. Have I, reclining back upon my

heels,
— In the frosty season, when the Stopp'd short; yet still the solitary
sun cliffs
Was set, and, visible for many a Wheel' d by me, even as if the earth
mile. had roU'd
The cottage windows through the With visible motion her diurnal
twilight blazed, round.
I heeded not the summons: happy Behind me did they stretch in sol-
time emn train,
It was indeed for all of us for me ; Feebler and feeliler, and I stood and
It was a time of rapture. Clear and watch'
loud Till all was tranquil as a summer sea.
The village clock tolled six. I WOKDSWOBTH.
wheel' d about,
Proud and exulting, like an untired
horse WIKTER.— A DIRGE.
That cares not for its home. All
shod with steel. The wintry west extends his blast.
We hiss'd along the polish'd ice in And hail and rain does blaw
games Or the stonny north sends driving
Confederate, imitative of the chase forth
And woodland pleasures, the re- — The blinding sleet and snaw
sounding horn, While tuiijbling brown, the burn
The pack loud-bellowing, and the comes down.
hunted hare. And roars frae bank to brae
So through the darkness and the And bird and beast In covert rest.
cold we flew. And pass the heartless day.
And not a voice was idle with the
:

din " The sweeping blast the sky o'er-

Meanwhile the precipices rang aloud cast,"
The leafless trees and every icy The joyless winter-day,
crag Let others fear, to me more dear
Tingled like iron while the distant
; Than all the pride of May
hills The tempest's howl, it soothes my
Into the tumult sent an alien sound soul.
Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while My griefs it seems to join
the stars, The leafless trees my
fancy please.
Eastward, were sparkling clear, and Their fate resembles mine
in the west
The orange sky of evening died Thou Power Supreme, whose mighty
away. scheme
These woes of mine fulfil,
Not seldom from the uproar I retired Here, firm, I rest, they must be best.
Into a silent bay, or sportively Because they are thy will.
Glanced sideway, leaving the tumult- Then all I want (oh, do thou grant
uous throng. This one request of mine !)
To cut across the image of a star Since to enjoy thou dost deny.
That gleam'd upon the ice; and Assist me to resign
oftentimes, Burns.
Wlien we had given our bodies to
the wind. SNOW.
And all the shadowy banks on either
side Fleet the Tartar's reinless steed.
Came sweeping through the dark- But fleeter far the pinions of the
ness, spinning still wind,
The rapid line of motion, then at Which from Siberia's caves the mon
once arch freed,
 ! !: : : ; ; ;

NATX7EB. 23
And sent him forth, with squadrons Far from the track, and bless'd abode
of his kind, of man;
And bade the snow their ample backs While round him night resistless
bestride. closes fast,
And to the battle ride And every tempest, howling o'er his
No pitying voice commands a halt, head,
No courage can repel the dire as- Renders the savage wilderness more
sault : wild.
Distracted, spiritless, benvunbed, and Then throng the busy shapes into
blind. his mind,
Whole legions sink, and, in an in- Of covered pits unfathomably
stant, find deep,
Burial and death: look for them, A dire descent I beyond the power
and descry, of frost;
When morn returns, beneath the Of faithless bogs; of precipices
clear blue sky, huge.
A soundless waste, a trackless va- Smoothed up with snow; and what
cancy! is land unknown.
WOBDSWOETH. What water, of the still unfrozen
spring.
In the loose marsh or solitary lake,
Where the fresh fountain from the
LOST IN THE SNOW. bottom boils.
These check his fearful steps; and
The snows arise; and, foul and down he sinks
fierce. Beneath the shelter of the shapeless
All winter drives along the darkened drift,
air: Thinking o'er all the bitterness of
In his own loose-revolving fields the death
swain Mixed with the tender anguish Na-
Disastered stands; sees other hills ture shoots
ascend. Through the wrung bosom of the
Of unknown joyless brow ; and other dying man.
scenes, His wife, his children, and his friends
Of horrid prospect, shag the track- unseen.
less plain In vain for him th'oflScious wife pre-
Nor finds the river, nor the forest, pares
hid The fire fair-blazing, and the vest-
Beneath the formless wild, but wan- ment warm
ders on In vain his little children, peeping
From hill to dale, still more and out
more astray Into the mingling storm, demand
Impatient flouncing through the their sire.
drifted heaps, With tears of artless innocence.
Stung with the thoughts of home; Alas!
the thoughts of home Nor wife, nor children, more shall he
Bush on his nerves, and call their behold
vigor forth Nor friends, nor sacred home. On
In many a vain attempt. How sinks every nerve
his soul The deadly Winter seizes shuts up ;

What black despair, what horror, fills sense.

his heart And, o'er his inmost vitals creeping
When, for the dusky spot which fan- cold.
cy feigned Lays him along the snows a stiffened
His tufted cottage rising through the corse.
snow, Stretched out, and bleaching in the
He meets the roughness of the mid- northern blast.
dle waste, Thomson.
 ;; ! " ! ;; :

24 PAENASSUS.

A WINTER NIGHT. "O ye! who, sunk in beds of

down.
When biting Boreas, fell and doure, Peel not a want but what yourselves
Sharp shivers thro' the leafless create, '

bow'r Think for a moment on his wretched

When Phoebus gles a short-liv'd fate.
glow'r Whom friends and fortune quite
Far south the lift, disown
Dim dark'ning thro' the flaky Ill satisfied keen Nature's clamorous
show'r, call.
Or whirlin' drift: Stretched on his straw, he lays
himself to sleep.
Ae night the storm the steeples While thro' the ragged roof and
rocked, chinky wall.
Poor labor sweet in sleep was Chill o'er his slumbers piles the
locked, drif ty heap !
While burns, wi' snawy wreaths up-
chocked,
Wlld-eddjrlng swirl.
Or thro' the mining outlet becked, Iheard nae mair, for Chanticleer
Down headlong hurl. Shook off the pouthery snaw.
And hailed the morning with a
Listening, the doors an' winnocks cheer, —
rattle. A cottage-rousing craw
I thought me on the ourie cattle, BUBNS.
Or silly sheep, wha bide this brattle
O' winter war,
And thro' the drift, deep-lairing THE DEATH OF THE OLD
sprattle YEAR.
Beneath a scar.
Full knee-deep lies the winter
Ilk happing bird, wee, helpless thing. snow.
That, in the merry months o' spring. And the winter winds are weari-
Delighted me to hear thee sing. ly sighing:
What comes o' thee ? Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow.
Whare wilt thou cow'r thy chitt'ring And tread softly, and speak low,
wing, For the old year lies a-dying.
An' close thy e'e? Old year, you must not die
You came to us so readily.
E'en you on murd'ring errands You lived with us so steadily,
toil'd. Old year, you shall not die.
Lone from your savage homes ex-
iled. He lieth still he doth not move
:

The blood-stained roost, and sheep- He will not see the dawn of day.
cote spoiled. He hath no other life above.
My heart forgets. He gave me a friend, and a true
While pitiless the tempest wild true-love.
Sore on you beats. And the New-year will take 'em
away.
Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign. Old year, you must not go
Dark muffled, viewed the dreary So long as you have been with
plain us.
Still crowding thoughts, a pensive Such joy as you have seen with
train, us.
Rose in my soul. Old year, you shall not go.
While on my ear this plaintive
strain. He frothed his bumpers to the
Slow, solemn, stole :
— brim:
 ; ;; : : : ; ; ;! : ; !! ;

NATURE. 25
A jollier year we shall not see. Amid young flowers and tender
But though his eyes are waxing dim, grass
And though his foes speak ill of him, Thy endless infancy shalt pass
He was a friend to me. And, singing down thy narrow glen,
Old year, you shall not die Shalt mock the fading race of men.
We did so laugh and cry with you, Bkyant.
I've half a mind to die with you,
Old year, if you must die.
THE GAEDEN.
He was full of joke and jest
But all his merry quips are o'er How vainly men themselves amaze,
To see him die, across the waste To win the palm, the oak, or bays.
His sou and heir doth ride post- And their incessant labors see
haste; Crowned from some single herb or
But he'llhe dead hefore. tree.
Every one for his own. Whose short and narrow-vergfed
The night Is starry and cold, my shade
friend, Does prudently their toils upbraid
And the New-year hlithe and While all the flowers and trees do
bold, my
friend. close,
Comes up to take his own. To weave the garlands of repose

How hard he breathes! over the Fair Quiet, have I found thee
snow here.
I heard just now the crowing cock. And Innocence, thy sister dear?
The shadows flicker to and fro Mistaken long, I sought you then
The cricket chirps; the light bums In busy companies of men.
low: Tour sacred plants, if here below.
'Tis nearly twelve o'clock. Only among the plants will grow
Shake hands, before you die. Society is all but rude
Old year, we'll dearly rue for To this delicious solitude.
you:
What is it we can do for you? No white nor red was ever seen
Speak out before you die. So amorous as this lovely green.
Fond lovers, cruel as their flame.
His face is growing sharp and thin. Cut in these trees their mistress'
Alack ! our friend is gone. name
Close up his eyes tie up his chin:
: Little, alas they know or heed
!

Step from the corpse, and let him in How far these beauties her exceed
That standeth there alone. Fair trees! where'er your barks I
And waiteth at the door. wound,
There's a new foot on the floor, No name shall but your own he
my friend, found.
And a new face at the door, my
friend, When we have run our passion's
A new face at the door. heat.
TBinrrsoN. Love hither makes his best retreat.
The gods, who mortal beauty chase,
Still in a tree did end their race
THE RIVULET. Apollo hunted Daphne so,.
Only that she might laurel grow;
And I shall sleep ; and on thy side, And Pan did after Syrinx speed,
As ages after ages glide. Not as a nymph, but for a reed.
Children their early sports shall try.
And pass to hoary age, and die. What wondrous life is this I lead
But thou, unchanged from year to Ripe apples drop about my head
year, The luscious clusters of the vine
Gayly shalt play and glitter here Upon my mouth do crush their wine
 ! : :! ; ;: : ;; ;

26 PARNASSUS.

The nectarine, and curious peach, Restore me the rocks where the
Into my hands
themselves do reach snowflake reposes.
Stumbling on melons, as I pass, For still they are sacred to freedom
Insnared with flowers, I fall on and love
grass. Yet, beloved are thy
Caledonia,
mountains,
Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure Bound their white summits though
less. elements war.
Withdraws into its happiness, — Though cataracts foam, 'stead of
The mind, that ocean where each smooth-flowing fountains,
kind I sigh for the valley of dark Loch
Does straight its own resemblance na Gair.
find.
Yet creates, transcending these,
it Ah! there my young footsteps in
Far other worlds and other seas. infancy wandered
Annihilating all that's made My cap was the bonnet, my cloak
To a green ttiought in a green shade. was the plaid
On chieftains long perished, my
Here at the fountain's sliding foot. memory pondered,
Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root. As through the pine-
daily I strode
Casting the body's vest aside, covered glade
My soul into the boughs does glide I sought not my home till the day's
There, like a bird, it sits and sings, dying glory
Then whets and claps its silver Gave place to the rays of the bright
wings. polar star;
And, prepared for longer flight.
till For Fancy was cheered by traditional
Waves in its plumes the various story
light. Disclosed by the natives of dark
Iioch na Gair.
Such was that happy garden-state.
While man there walked without a "Shades of the dead! have I not
mate: heard your voices
After a place so pure and sweet, Else on the night-roUing breath of
What other help could yet be meet thega,le?" ^
But 'twas beyond a mortal's share Surely the soul of the hero rejoices.
To wander solitary there And rides on the wind o'er his
Two paradises are in one. own Highland vale : -

To live in paradise alone. Round Loch na Gair^' while the

stormy mist gathers.
How well the skilful gardener drew Winter presides in his cold icy
Of flowers and herbs this dial new. car; '

Where, from above, the milder sun Clouds there encircle the forms of
Does through a fragrant zodiac run. my fathers
And, as it works, the industrious bee They dwell in the tempests of dark
Computes its time as well as we I Loch ua Gair.
How could such sweet and whole-
some hours "lU-starred, though brave, did no
Be reckoned but with herbs and visions foreboding
flowers ? Tell you that Fate had forsaken
Mabysul. your cause?"
Ah ! were you destined to die at Cul-
loden.
LACHIN T GAIR. Victory crowned not your fall with
applause
Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens Still were you happy in death's early
;

of roses slumber
In you let the minions of luxury You rest with your clan, in the
rove; caves of Braemar,
 ; ; ; ; ; ; ;

NATURE. 27
The pibroch resounds to the piper's That pauses of deep silence mocked
loud number, his skill.
Tour deeds on tlie echoes of darlc Then, sometimes, in that silence,
Loch na Gair. while he hung
Listening, a gentle shock of mild
Years have rolled on, Loch na Gair, surprise
since I left you Has carried far into his heart the
Tears must elapse ere I tread you voice
again; Of mountain torrents ; or the visible
Nature of verdure and flowers has scene
bereft you. Would enter unawares into his mind
Yet still are you dearer than With all its solemn imagery, its
Albion's plain: rocks.
England ! thy beauties are tame and Its woods, and that uncertain heav-
domestic en, received
To one vfho has roved on the Into the bosom of the steady lake.
mountains afar WOEDSWOKTH.
Oh for the crags that are wild and
majestic,
The steep-frowning glories of dark THE EARTH-SPIRIT.
Loch na Gair I

Bybon. I HAVE woven shrouds of air

In a loom of hurrying light,
For the trees which blossoms
THE BOY-POET. bear,
And gilded them with sheets of
There was a boy ye
;
knew him well, bright
ye cliffs I fall upon the grass like love's first
And islands of Winander ! Many a kiss;
time, I make the golden flies and their
At evening, when the earliest stars fine bliss
began I paint the hedgerows in the lane,
To move along the edges of the And clover white and red the path-
hills, ways bear;
Kising or setting, would he stand I laugh aloud in sudden gusts of
alone. rain
Beneath the trees, or by the glim- To see the ocean lash himself in
mering lake air;
And there, with fingers intenvoven, I throw smooth shells and »weeds
both hands along the beach,
Pressed closely palm to palm and to And pour the curling waves far o'er
his mouth the glossy reach
Uplifted, he, as through an instru- Swing birds' nests in the elms, and
ment, shake cool moss
Blew mimic hootings to the silent Along the aged beams, and hide their
owls. loss.
That they might answer him. And The very broad rough stones I glad-
they would shout den too
Across the watery vale, and shout Some willing seeds I drop along
again, their sides.
Responsive to his call, with quiver- Nourish the generous plant with
ing peals, freshening dew.
And long halloos and screams, and Till there where all was waste, true
echoes loud joy abides.
Redoubled and redoubled ; concourse The peaks of aged mountains, with
wild my care
Of mirth and jocund din! And Smile in the red of glowing morn
when it chanced elate
 ! ! : ! ; ;; — ; ;: ! !

28 PAENASSUS.

I bind the caverns of the sea with
hair,
Glossy, and long, and rich as Idngs'
I polish the green ice,
the wall
With the white frost, and leaf the
brown trees tall.
Channing.
THE PASS OP KIEKSTONE.
Within the mind strong fancies
work,
A deep delight the bosom thrills,
Oft as I pass along the fork
Of these fraternal hills.
Where, save the rugged road, we
find
No appanage of human kind.
Nor hint of man if stone or rock
; Gives to this savage pass its name.
Seem not his handiwork to mock
A genius dwells, that can subdue
—
At onceall memory of You,
Most potent when mists veil the
sky,
and gleam Mists that distort and magnify;
Wliile the coarse rushes to the
sweeping breeze
Sigh forth their ancient melodies
m.
List to those shriller notes! that
march
Perchance was on the blast.
When, through this height's inverted
arch,
Rome's earliest legion passed!
They saw, adventurously impelled,
And older eyes than theirs beheld.
This block, and yon, whose church-
like frame
Aspiring Road that lov'st to hide
I

By something cognizably shaped Thy daring in a vapory bourn.

Mockery, or model roughly hewn. Not seldom may the hour return
And left as if by earthquake strewn, When thou shalt be my guide.
Or from the flood escaped WOBDSWOBTH.
Altars for Druid service fit;
(But where no fire was ever lit.
Unless the glow-worm to the skies SOLITUDE.
Thence offer nightly sacrifice,)
Wrinkled Egyptian monument Thebe is a pleasure in the pathless
Green moss-grown tower; or hoary woods
tent; There is a rapture on the lonely
Tents of a camp that never shall be shore
raised — There is society where none in-
On which four thousand years have trudes.
gazed By the deep sea, and music in its
roar:
II.
I love not man the less, but nature
Te ploughshares sparkling on the more.
From these our interviews, in which
Ye snow-white lambs that trip I steal
Imprisoned 'mid the formal props From all I may be, or have been
Of restless ownership before.
Te trees, that may to-morrow fall To mingle with the universe, and
To feed the insatiate prodigal feel
Lawns, houses, chattels, groves, and What I can ne'er express, yet can-
fields. not all conceal.
All that the fertile valley shields
Wages of folly, baits of crime. Roll on, thou deep and dark-blue
Of life's uneasy game the stake, ocean, roll
Playthings that keep the eyes awake Ten thousand sweep over thee
Of drowsy, dotard Time, — in vain
fleets

O care! O guilt! O vales and Man marks the earth with ruin : his
plains. control
Here, 'mid his own uuvexed do- Stops with the shore: upon the
mains, watery plain
 :

NATURE. 29
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor FLOWERS.
doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his O Pboserpiij-a,
own, For the flowers now, that frighted,
When, for a moment, like a drop of thou let' St fall
rain, From Dis's wagon! daffodils.
He sinks into thy depths with bub- That come before the swallow dares,
bling groan, and take
Without a grave, unknelled, uncof- The winds of March with beauty;
fined, and unknown. violets dim,
Bybon : Childe Harold. But sweeter than the lids of Juno's
eyes.
Or Cytherea's breath; pale prim-
roses.
TINTERN ABBEY. That die unmarried, ere they can
behold
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a
I HAVE learned malady
To look on Nature, not as in the Most incident to maids bold ; ox-lips,
hour and
Of thoughtless youth, but hearing The crown-imperial; lilies of all
oftentimes kinds.
The still, sad music of humanity, The flower-de-luce being one! Q,
Nor harsh nor grating, though of these I lack.
ample power To make you garlands of; and my
To chasten and subdue. And I sweet friend.
have felt To strew him o'er and o'er!
A presence that disturbs me with
Shakspeabb: Winter' a Tale.
the joy
Of elevated thoughts; a sense sub-
lime THE SUNFLOWER.
Of something far more deeply inter-
fused, Ah, sunflower weary
! of time.
Whose dwelling is the light of set- Who countest the steps of the sun,
ting suns. Seeking after that sweet golden
And the round ocean, and the living clime,
air.
Where the traveller's journey is
And the blue sky, and in the mind
ofman, — done;
A motion and a spirit, that impels Where the youth pined away with
All thinking things, all objects of all desire.
thought. And the pale virgin shrouded in
And rolls through all things. There-
snow.
fore am I still
Arise from their graves, and aspire
A lover of the meadows, and the Where my sunflower wishes to go.
woods,
And mountains, and of all that we William Blake.
behold
From this green earth; of all the THE DEATH OF THE FLOWERS.
mighty world
Of eye and ear, both what they half The melancholy days are come, the
create. saddest of the year,
And what perceive ; well pleased to Of wailing winds, and naked woods,
recognize and meadows brown and sear.
In Nature and the language of the Heaped in the hollows of the grove,
sense the withered leaves lie dead
The anchor of my purest thoughts. They rustle to the eddying gust, and
WOBDSWOETH. to the rabbit's tread.
 ;; : ;; ; ;

30 PAENASSUS.

The robin and the wren are flown, Yet not unmeet it was, that one,
and from the shrubs the jay like that young friend of ours.
And from the wood-top calls the So gentle and so beautiful, should
crow, through all the gloomy perish with the flowers.
day. BeyANT.
Where are the
flowers, the fair
young flowers, that lately TO THE FKIKGED GENTIAN.
sprang and stood.
In brighter light and softer airs, a Thou blossom bright with autumn
beauteous sisterhood ? dew.
Alas! they all are in their graves: And colored with the heaven's own
the gentle race of flowers blue,
Are lying in their lowly beds, with That openest, when the quiet light
the fair and good of ours. Succeeds the keen and frosty night.
The rain is falling where they lie;
but the cold November rain Thou comest not when violets lean
Calls not, from out the gloomy O'er wandering brooks and springa
earth, the lovely ones again. unseen,
Or columbines, in purple drest.
The wind-flower and the violet, Nod o'er the ground-bird's hidden
they perished long ago nest.
And the brier-rose and the orchis
died amid the summer glow Thou waitest late, and com'st alone,
But on the hill the golden-rod, and When woods are bare, and birds are
the aster in the wood, flown.
And the yellow sunflower by the And frosts and shortening days por-
brook, in autumn beauty stood. tend
Till fell the frost from the clear, cold The aged year is near its end.
heaven, as falls the plague on
men. Then doth thy sweet and quiet eye
And the brightness of their smile Look through its fringes to the
was gone from upland, glade, sky,
and glen. Blue, blue, as if that sky let fall
A flower from its cerulean wall.
And now when comes the calm mild
day, as still such days will I would that thus, when I shall see
come, The hour of death draw near to
To the squirrel and the bee from
call me,
out their winter home Hope, blossoming within my heart,
Wlien the sound of dropping nuts is May look to heaven as I depart.
heard, though all the trees are
still.
Bryant.
And twinkle in the smolcy light the
waters of the rill, — TEEES.
IX
The south wind searches for the
flowers whose fragrance late A SHADIE grove not far away they
he bore. spied.
And them in the wood
sighs to find That promist ayde the tempest to
and by the stream no more. withstand
And then I think of one who in her Whose loftie trees, yclad with som-
youthful beauty died. mers pride.
The fair, meek blossom that grew Did spred so broad, that heaven's
up, and faded by my side light did hide,
In the cold moist earth we laid her Not perceable with power of any
when the forest cast the leaf. Starr
And we' wept that one so lovely And all within were pathes an i al-
should have a life so brief; leles wide,
 ;; ; :
; ; ; ; ; ; ;

NATURE. 31
With footing worne, and leading in- Of Umfraville or Percy ere they
ward far marched
Faire harbour that them seems ; so To Scotland's heaths ; or those that
in they entred are. crossed the sea.
And drew their sounding bows at
And forth they passe, with pleasure Azincour
forward led, Perhaps at earlier Crecy, or Pole-
Joying to heare the birdes' sweete tiers.
harmony. Of vast circumference and gloom
Which therein shrouded from the profound
tempest dred, This solitary Tree ! a living thing
Seemed in their song to scome the Produced too slowly ever to decay
cruell sky. Of form and aspect too magnifi-
Much can they praise the trees so cent
straight and high, To be destroyed. But worthier still
The sayling pine; the cedar proud of note
and tall; Are those fraternal Four of Borrow-
The vine-propp elme the poplar nev- ; dale.
er dry Joined in one solemn and capacious
The builder oake, sole king of for- grove
rests all; Huge trunks! and each particular
The aspine good for staves ; the cy- trunk a growth
presse f unerall Of intertwisted fibres serpentine
Up-coiling, and inveterately con-
The laurel! meed of mightie con- volved ;

querours Nor uninformed with fantasy, and

And poets sage; the fir that weep- looks
eth still That threaten the profane a pillared ;

The willow, worne of forlorne para- shade.

mours ;
Upon whose grassless floor of red-
The yew, obedient to the bender's brown hue,
will; By sheddings from the pining um-
The birch for shaftes the sallow for ; brage tinged
the mill Perennially; beneath whose sable
The mirrhe sweet-bleeding in the roof
bitter wound Of boughs, as if for festal purpose,
The warlike beech; the ash for decked
nothing ill With unrejoicing berries, ghostly
The fruitful olive ; and the platane
round May meet at noontide; Fear, and
The carver holme; the maple, sel- trembling Hope,
dom inward sound. Silence, and Foresight; Death the
Spenser. Skeleton,
And Time the Shadow ; there to cele-
brate.
As in a natural temple scattered
YEW-TEEES. o'er
With altars undisturbed of mossy
Thebe is a yew-tree, pride of Lor- stone.
ton Vale, United worship; or in mute re-
Which to this day stands single in pose
the midst To lie, and listen to the mountain
Of its own darkness, as it stood of flood
yore: Murmuring from Glaramara's in-
Not loath to furnish weapons for the most caves.
bands WOBDSWOKTH.
 ; ; : ; ; ! ; ;

32 PAENASSUS.

THE OSMUNDA EEGALIS. TO THE HERB ROSEMARY.

Often, trifling with a privilege Sweet-scented flower! who art
Alike indulged to all, we paused, one wont to bloom
now. On January's front severe.
And now the other, to "point out, And o'er the wintry desert drear
perchance To waft thy waste perfume
To pluck, some flower or water- weed Come, thou shalt form my nosegay
too fair now.
Either to be divided from the place And I will bind thee round my brow
On which it grew, or to be left alone And as I twine the mournful
To its own beauty. Many such there wreath,
are. I'll weave a melancholy song,
Fair ferns and flowers, and chiefly And sweet the strain shall be, and
that tall fern. long, —
So stately, of the queen Osmunda The melody of death.
named
Plant lovelier, in its own retired abode Come, funeral flower! who lov'st to
On Grasmere's beach, than Naiad by dwell
the side With the pale corse in lonely
Of Grecian brook, or Lady of the tomb.
Mere, And throw across the desert gloom
Sole-sitting by the shores of old ro- A sweet decaying smell.
mance. Come, press my lips, and lie with
WOKDSWOETH. me t

Beneath the lowly alder-tree,

And we will sleep a pleasant sleep.
THE BARBERRY-BUSH. And not a care shall dare in-
trude
The bush that has most briers and To break the marble solitude.
bitter fruit So peaceful and so deep.
Wait till the frost has turned its
green leaves red, And harkthe wind-god, as he flies.
!

Its sweetened berries will thy palate Moans hollow in the forest trees,
suit, And, sailing on the gusty breeze.
And thou mayst find e'en there a Mysterious music dies.
homely bread. Sweet flower! that requiem wild
Upon the hills of Salem scattered mine
is
wide. It warns me to the lonely shrine,
Their yellow blossoms gain the eye The cold turf altar of the dead
in spring My grave shall be in yon lone
And, straggling e'en upon the turn- spot.
pike's side. Where as I lie, by all forgot,
Their ripened branches to your hand A dying fragrance thou wilt o'er my
they bring. ashes shed.
I've plucked them oft in boyhood's H. K. White.
early hour,
That then I gave such name, and

Uut now
thought it true
I know that other fruit as
THE PEIMEOSE. y
sour Ask pie why I send you here
Grows on what now thou callest me This sweet Infanta of the yeere ?
and you: Ask me why I send to you
Yet Will thou wait, the autumn that This Primrose, thus bepearl'd with
I see dew?
Will sweeter taste than these red I will whisper to your eares.
berries be. The sweets of love are mixt with
Jones Very. tears.
 ;
:; ; ; : : : ;

NATURE. 33
Ask me why this flower does show A poet could not but be gay
So yellow-green and sickly too ? In such a jocund company
Ask me why the stalk is weak I gazed, and gazed, but little thought
And bending, yet it doth not break ? What wealth the show to me had
I will answer, these discover brought
What fainting hopes are in a lover.
Hekrick. 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
TO DAFFODILLS. i^ And then my heart with pleasure
fills.
Faire Daffodills, we weep
to see And dances with the daffodils.
You haste away so soone WOEDSWOBTH
As yet the early rising sun
Has not attain' d his noone.
Stay, stay,
Untill the hasting day
TO BLOSSOMS. '^
Has run
But to the even-song;
And, having pray'd together, we
Faib pledges of a fruitful tree,
Will goe with you along.
Why do ye fall so fast?
Your date is not so past.
But you may stay yet here a while
We have short time to stay as you, To blush and gently smile.
We have as short a spring And go at last.
As quick a growth to meet decay,
As you, or any thing.
We die What, were ye bom to be
As your hours doe, and drie An hour or half's delight.
Away, And so to bid good-night ?
Like to the summer's raine 'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth
Or as the pearles of morning's dew, Merely to show your worth.
Ne'er to be found againe; And lose you quite.
Hebbick.
But you are lovely leaves, where w*
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave:
DAFFODILS. And after they have shown their
pride
I WAUDBEBD lonely as a cloud Like you, a while, they glide
That floats on high o'er vales and Into the grave.
hills. Herbick.
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden dafEodils
Beside the lake, beneath the trees.
Fluttering, dancing in the breeze. LIBERTY.
Continuous as the stars that shine Who can divine what impulses from
And twinkle on the milky way, God
They stretched in never-ending line Reach the caged lark, within a town
Along the margin of a bay abode,
Ten thousand saw I at a glance, From his poor inch or two of daisied
Tossing their heads in sprightly sod?
dance. Oh, yield him back his privilege ! No
sea
The waves beside them danced but ; Swells like the bosom of a man set
they free:
Outdid the sparkling waves in glee A wilderness is rich with liberty.
3
 ! ! ; — ;!

84 PARNASSUS.

Roll on, ye spouting whales, who die SEPTEMBER.

or Iceep
Tour independence in the fathomless 1819.
deep!
Spread, tiny Nautilus, the living sail ; yon vocal grove
AisTD, sooth to say,
Dive, at thy choice, or brave the Albeit uninspired by love.
freshening gale By love untaught to ring,
If unreproved the ambitious eagle May well afford to mortal ear
mount An impulse more profoundly dear
Sunward to seek the daylight in its Than music of the spring.
fount.
Bays, gulfs, and ocean's Indian But list! though winter's storms he
width, shall be, nigh.
Till the world perishes, a field for Unchecked is that soft harmony:
thee! There lives Who can provide
WOEDSWOBTH. For all his creatures and in him,;

Even like the radiant Seraphim,

These Choristers confide.
NIGHT. tX WOEDSWOETH.
Come, seeling night,
Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful NIGHTINGALE.
day.
And, with thy bloody and invisible Oft when, returning with her loaded
hand, bill,
Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great Th' astonish' d mother finds a vacant
bond nest,
Which keeps me pale ! — Light thick- By the hard liand of unrelenting
and the crow
ens ; clown
Makes wing to the rooky wood. Robb'd; to the ground the vain pro-
Shakspkabe: Macbeth. vision falls
Her pinions ruffle, and low-drooping
scarce
THE DIAMOND. Can bear the mourner to the poplar
shade;
Stab of the flowers, and flower of the Where, all abandoned to despair, she
stars. sings
And earth of the earth, art thou Her sorrows thro' the night; and on
And darkness hath battles, and light the bough
hath wars Sole-sitting, still at every dying fall
That pass in thy beautiful brow. Takes up again her lamentable strain
Of winding woe, till, wide around,
The eye the ground thus was
of the woods
planted by heaven, Sigh to her song, and with her wail
And the dust was new wed to the resound.
sun, Thomson.
And the monarch went forth, and
the earth-star was given,
That should back to the heaven-star THE NIGHTINGALE.
run.
Thou wast not born for death, im-
So in all things it is : the first origin mortal bird
lives. No hungry generations tread thee
And loves his life out to his flock; down
And in dust, and in matter, and na- The voice I hear this passing night
ture, he gives was heard
The spirit's last spark to the rock. In ancient days by emperor and
J. J. G. Wilkinson. clown,
 ; : : ; : ; ;
: ; ; ! ! !

NATURE. 35
Perhaps the selfsame song that found They are gone, they are gone ; but I
a path go not with them,
Through the sad heart of Ruth, I linger to weep o'er its desolate
when, sick for home, stem.
She stood in tears amid the alien
corn They say if I rove to the south I
The same that oft-times hath meet
shall
Charmed magic casements, opening With hundreds of roses more fair
on the foam and more sweet
Of perilous seas, in faery lands But my heart, when I'm tempted to
forlorn. wander, replies,
Keats. Here my first love, my last love, my
only love lies.

THE NIGHTINGALE. When the last leaf is withered, and

the earth.
falls to

As it fell upon a day

The false one to southerly climes
In the merry month of May, may fly forth
Sitting in a pleasant shade But truth cannot fly from his sor-
Which a grove of myrtles made. rows : he dies,
Beasts did leap, and birds did sing, Where his first love, his last love, his
Trees did gi'ow, and plants did only love lies.

spring, T. H. T^^TIT.
Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone.
She, poor bird, as all forlorn. THE NIGHTINGALE'S DEATH-
Leaned her breast against a thorn. SONG.
And there sung the dolefulest ditty.
That to hear it was great pity. MouRNFTTLLY, slng moumfuUy,
Fie, fie, fie now would she cry
!
And die away my heart
Tereu, tereu, by and by The rose, the glorious rose, is gone,
That to hear her so complain And I, too, will depart.

Scarce I could from tears refrain

For her griefs so lively shown The skies have lost their splendor.
Made me think upon mine own. The waters changed their tone,
Ah, thought I, thou moum'st in And wherefore, in the faded world.
vain. Should music linger on ?
None takes pity on thy pain
Senseless trees, they cannot hear Where is the golden sunshine,
thee, And where the flower-cup's glow ?
Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer And where the joy of the dancing
thee; leaves.
King Pandiva, he dead.
is
And the fountain's laughing flow?
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead
Tell of the brightness parted.
All thy fellow-birds do sing
Careless of thy sorrowing Thou bee, thou lamb at play
Even so,poor bird, like thee. Thou lark, in thy victorious mirth
None alive will pity me.
Are ye, too, passed away ?
B. Babnefield.
With sunshine, with sweet odor,
With every precious thing,
UpoTi the last warm southern breeze^
THE NIGHTINGALE'S SONG. My soul its flight shall wing.

Bound my own pretty rose I have Alone I shall not linger

hovered all day, Wlien the days of hope are past,
I have seen its sweet leaves one by To watch the fall of leaf by leaf.
one fall away To wait the rushing blast.
 " ; ; ! : "!
! ; !

36 PAENASSUS.

Triumphantly, triumphantly, Or, while the wings aspire, are heart

Sing to the woods, I go and eye
For me, perchance, in other lands Both with thy nest upon the dewy
The glorious rose may blow. ground ? —
Thy nest, which thou canst drop into
No more, no more, sing mournfully at will.
Swell high, then break, my heart Those quivering wings composed,
The rose, the royal rose. Is gone, that music still
And I, too, will depart.
Hemans. To the last point of vision, and be-
yond.
THE BIRD. Mount, daring warbler That love-
!

prompted strain,
" BiBDiE, Birdie, will you, pet? 'Twixt thee and thine a never-failing
Summer is far and far away yet. bond.
You'll have silken quilts and a vel- Thrills not the less the bosom of the
vet bed. plain
And a pillow of satin for your head." Yet might' St thou seem, proud privi-
to sing
lege !

"I'd rather sleep in the ivy wall All independent of the leafy spring.
No rain comes through, though I
hear it fall Leave to the nightingale her shady
The sun peeps gay at dawn of day. wood;
And I sing, and wing away, away ! A privacy of glorious light is thine,
Whence thou dost pour upon the
"O Birdie, Birdie, will you, pet? world a flood
Diamond stones and amber and jet Of harmony, with instinct more di-
We' 11 string on a necklace fair and fine, vine;
To please this pretty bird of mine." Type of the wise, who soar, but never
roam,
"Oh! thanks for diamonds, and True to the kindred points of heaven
thanks for jet and home.
But here is something daintier yet, — WOBDSWOBTH.
A feather necklace, round and round.
That I would not sell for a thousand
pound ! TO A SKY-LARK.
"O Birdie, Birdie, won't you, pet? Like a poet hidden
We'll buy you a dish of silver fret, In the light of thought.
A golden cup and an ivory seat. Singing hymns unbidden.
And carpets soft beneath your feet." Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears ij
" Can running water be drunk from heeded not.
gold? Shelley.
Can a silver dish the forest hold ?
A rocking twig is the finest chair, BREEDING LAHK.
And the softest paths lie through the
air:
Good-by, good-by, to my lady fair." I MUST go furnish up
Allingham.
A nest I have begun.
And will return and bring ye meat.
As soon as it is done.
TO THE SKY-LARK.
Then up she clambe the clouds
Ethereal minstrel, pilgrim of the With such a lusty lay,
sky! That it rejoiced her younglings' heart,
Post thou despise the earth where As in their nest they lay.
cares abound ? AsTHUli BOATi
 ; ; ; ! ! ;

NATURE. 37
FLIGHT OF THE WILD GEESE. "Let's brush loose for any creek,
There lurk fish and fly.
Rambling along the marshes, Condiments to fat the weak.
On the bank of the Assabet, Inundate the pie.
Sounding myself as to how It went, Flutter not about a place,
Praying that I might not forget. Te concomitants of space!"
And all uncertain
Whether I was in the right, Mute the listening nations stand
Toiling to lift Time's curtain, On that dark receding land ; , ,

And if I burnt the strongest light How faint their villages and towns.
Suddenly, Scattered on the misty downs
High in the air, A meeting-house
I heard the travelled geese Appears no bigger than a mouse.
Their overture prepare.
How long ?
Stirred above the patent ball. Never is a question asked.
The wild geese flew. While a throat can lift the song.
Nor near so wild as that doth me be- Or a flapping wing be tasked.
fall.
Or, swollen Wisdom, you. All the grandmothers about
Hear the orators of Heaven,
In the front there fetched a leader, Then put on their woollens stout,
Him behind the line spread out. And cower o'er the hearth at even
And waved about, And the children stare at the sky.
As it was nearnight, And laugh to see the long black line
When these air-pilots stop their so high
flight.
Then once more I heard them say, —
Cruising off the shoal dominion " Tis a smooth, delightful road,
'

Where we sit, Difficult to lose the way,

Depending not on their opinion. And a trifle for a load.
Nor hiving sops of wit
Geographical in tact, " 'Twas our forte ic pass for this, ,

Naming not a pond or river, Proper sack of sense to borrow,

Pulled with twilight down in fact, Wings and legs, and bills that clat-
In the reeds to quaek and quiver, ter.
There they go, And the horizon of To-morrow,"
Spectators at the play below. Channinq.
Southward in a row.

Cannot land and map the stars TO A WATEEFdWL.

The indifferent geese,
Nor taste the sweetmeats in odd jars. Whithbe, 'midst falling dew.
Nor speculate and freeze While glow the heavens with the last
Kaacid weasands need be well, steps of day?
Feathers glossy, quills in order. Far through their rosy depths dost
Starts this train, yet rings no bell thou pursue
Steam is raised without recorder. Thy solitary way ?
" Up, my feathered fowl, all," — Vainly the fowler's eye
Saith the goose commander, Might mal-k thy distant flight to do
" Brighten your bills, and flirt your thee wrong.
pinions. As, darkly painted on the crimson
My toes are nipped, let us render— sky,
Ourselves in soft Guatemala, Thy figure floats along.
Or suck puddles in Campeachy,
Spitzbergen-cake cuts very frosty, Seek' St thou the plashy brink
^d the tipple is not leechy.. Of weedy lake, or marge of river wide,
 ; : : ! !

38 PARNASSUS.

Or where the rocking billows rise That rolled the wild, profound, eter-
and sink nal bass
On the chafed ocean-side ? In nature's anthem, and made mu-
sic such
There is a Power whose care As pleased the ear of God ! original,
Teaches thy way along that pathless Unmarred, unf aded work of Deity
coast, — And unburlesqued by mortal's puny
The desert and illimitable air, — skill;
Lone wandering, but not lost. From age to age enduring, and un-
changed,
All day thy wings have fanned Majestical, inimitable, vast.
At that far height the cold, thin Loud uttering satire, day and night,
atmosphere, on each
Tet stoop not, weary, to the welcome Succeeding race, and little pompous
land. work
Though the dark night is near. Of man unfallen, religious, holy sea
;

Thou bowedst thy glorious head to

And soon that toil shall end. none, fearedst none,
Soon Shalt thou find a summer home, Heardst none, to none didst honor,
and rest, but to God
And scream among thy fellows: Thy Maker, only worthy to receive
reeds shall bend. Thy great obeisance. ,
Soon, o'er thy sheltered nest. POLLOK.

Thou'rt gone, the abyss of heaven

Hath swallowed up thy form; yet OCEAN.
on my heart
Deeply hath sunk the lesson thou See living vales by living waters
hast given, blessed,
And shall uot soon depart. Their wealth see earth's dark caverns
yield,
He who, from zone to zone, See Ocean roll in glory dressed.
Guides through the boundless sky For all a treasure, and round all a,

thy certain flight, shield.

In the long way that I must tread Charles Sprague.
alone
Will lead my steps aright.
Bbyakt. SEA SONG.

THE EAGLE. Our boat to the waves go free.

By the bending tide, where the
curled wave breaks.
He clasps the crag with hookfed
Like the track of the wind on the
hands white snowflakes
Close to the sun in lonely lands.
Away, away! 'Tis a path o'er the sea.
Ringed with the azure world, he
stands.
Blasts may rave, — spread the sail.
For our spirits can wrest the power
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls from the wind.
He watches from his mountain walls, And the gray clouds yield to the
And like a thunderbolt he falls. sunny mind.
Tennyson. Fear not we the whirl of the gale.

OCEAN.
Waves on the beach, and the wild
Great Ocean! strongest of crea- sea-foam,
tion's sons, With a leap, and a dash, and a sud-
Unconquerable, uureposed, untired, den cheer,
 ! ; ; ! ;:! : ; ; :

NATURE. 39
Where the seaweed makes Its bend- Not thou, vain lord of wantonness
ing home, and ease
And the sea-birds swim on the crests Whom slumber soothes
so clear, cannot please, — not, pleasure
Wave after wave, they are curling Oh I who can tell, save he whose
o'er. heart hath tried.
While the white sand dazzles along And danced in triumph o'er the wa-
the shore. ters wide.
Chaining. The exulting sense, the pulse's mad-
dening play.
That thrillsthe wanderer of that
SEA SONG. trackless way ?
Bybon: Corxair.
A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA.
A WET sheet and a flowing sea, THE CORAL GROVE.
A wind that follows fast. Deep in the wave is a coral grove,
And fills the white and rustling sail, Where the purple mullet and gold-
And bends the gallant mast. rove
fish
And bends the gallant mast, my boys.
While, like the eagle free.
Where the sea-flower spreads its
leaves of blue.
Away the good ship flies, and leaves
That never are wet with falling dew,
Old England on the lee.
But in bright and changeful beauty
shine
There's tempest in yon horned moon,
Far down in the green and glassy
And lightning in yon cloud; brine.
And hark, the music, mariners The floor is of sand, like the moun-
The wind is wakening loud. tain drift.
The wind is wakening loud, my boys. And the pearl-shells spangle the
The lightning flashes free; flinty snow
The hollow oak our palace is, From coral rocks the sear-plants lift
Our heritage the sea. Their boughs, where the tides and
Allan Cunningham. billows flow
The water is calm and still below,
For the winds and the waves are
SEA. absent there.
And the sands are bright as the stars
O'be the glad waters of the dark- that glow
blue sea, In the motionless fields of upper air
Our thoughts as boundless, and our There with its waving blade of
souls as free, '
green.
Far as the breeze can bear, the bil- The sea-flag streams through the
lows foam, silent water,
Survey our empire, and behold our And the crimson leaf of the dulse is
home! seen
These are our realms, no limits to To blush like a banner bathed in
their sway slaughter
Our flag the sceptre all who meet There with a light and easy motion
obey. The fan coral sweeps through the
Ours the wild life in tumult still to clear deep sea
range And the yellow and scarlet tufts of
From toil to rest, and joy in every ocean
change. Are bending like com
ou the upland
Oh who
! can tell ? not thou, luxuri- lea;
ous slave And life, in rare and beautiful forms,
Whose soul would sicken o'er the Is sporting amid those bowers of
heaving wave stone,
 ! ! " ; " !;

40 PARNASSUS.

Aud is safe, when the wrathful spirit The braces are taut, the lithe boom
of storms quivers,
Has made the top of the waves his And the waves with the coming
own: squall-cloud blacken.
And when the ship from his fury
flies, Open one point on the weather-bow.
When the myriad voices of ocean on Fire Island
Is the light-house tall
roar, Head?
When the wind-god frowns in the There's a shade of doubt on the cap-
murky skies. tain's brow.
And demons are waiting the wreck And the pilot watches the heaving
on the shore, lead.
Then, far below, in the peaceful sea,
The purple mullet and gold-fish I stand at the wheel, and with eager
rove. eye,
Where the waters murmur tran- To sea and to sky and to shore I gaze,
quilly Till the muttered order of ^' Full and.
Through the bending twigs of the by!
coral grove. Is suddenly changed for "Full for
PEECIVAi. 1"

The ship bends lower before the

INSCRIPTION ON A SEA breeze.
SHELL. As her broadside fair to the blast she
lays
Pleased we remember our august And she swifter springs to the rising
abodes, seas.
And murmur as the ocean murmurs As the pilot calls, " Stand by for
there. stays !"
Landob.
It is silence all, as each in his place,
With the gathered coil in his har-
OUT AND INWARD BOUND.
y All things that are,
By
dened hands.
tack and bowline, by sheet and
brace,
Are with more spirit chasfed than Waiting the watchword impatient
enjoy'd. stands.
How like a younker or a prodigal
The scarffed bark puts from her And the light on Fire Island Head
native bay, draws near.
Hugg'd and embraced by the strum- As, trumpet-winged, the pilot's shout
pet wind From his post on the bowsprit's heel
How like the prodigal doth she re- I hear.
turn With the welcome call of " Beady
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged About!"
sails.
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the No time to spare It is touch and go
1

strumpet wind And the captain growls, "Down,

Shakspeare. helm hard down!
!

Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6. As my weight on the whirling spokes

I throw,
While heaven grows black with the
TACKING SHIP OFF SHORE. storm-cloud's frown.

The weather-leech of the topsail High o'er the knight-heads flies the
shivers. spray,
The bow-lines strain, aud the lee- As we meet the shock of the plun-
shrouds slacken. ging sea;
 ;: " "
: : — : ; :

NATURE. 41
knd my shoulder stiff to the wheel I In my fo'castle bunk, in a jacket
lay, dry,
As I answer, "Ay, ay, sir! HorCM-d Eight bells have struck and my watch
a lee !
" is below.
Walter Mitchel.
With the swerving leap of a startled
steed
The ship flies fast in the eye of the SONG OP THE EMIGRANTS IN
wind, BEKMUDA.
The dangerous shoals on the lee
recede, Where the remote Bermudas ride
And the headland white we have In the ocean's bosom unespied,
left behind. From a small boat that rowed along,
The listening winds received this
The topsails flutter, the jibs collapse, song :

And belly and tug at the groaning " What should we do but sing His
cleats praise,
The spanker slats, and the mainsail That led us through the watery
flaps; maze
And thunders the order, " Tacks and Where He the huge sea-monsters
!
sheets wracks,
That the deep upon their backs,
lift
'
Mid the rattle of blocks and the Unto an isle so long unknown.
tramp oi the crew. And yet far kinder than our own f
Hisses the rain of the rushing squall He lands us on a grassy stage.
The sails are aback from clew to Safe from the storms, and prelate's
clew, rage:
And now is the moment for, " Main- He gave us this eternal spring
sail, haul! Which here enamels every thing.
And sends the fowls to us in care
And the heavy yards, like a baby's On daily visits through the air.
toy, He hangs in shades the orange bright.
By fifty strong arms are swiftly Like golden lamps in a green night.
swung And does in the pomegranates close
She holds her way, and I look with Jewels more rich than Ormus shows
joy He makes the figs our mouths to
For the first white spray o'er the bul- meet,
warks flung. And throws the melons at our feet;
But apples, plants of such a price,
"Let go, and haul!" 'Tis the last No tree could ever bear them twice.
command. With cedars chosen by his hand
And fill to the blast
the head-ssilc From Lebanon he stores the land
once more And makes the hollow seas that roar
Astern and to leeward lies the land, Proclaim the ambergris on shore.
With its breakers white on the He cast (of which we rather boast)
shingly shore. The gospel's pearl upon our coast;
And in these rocks for us did frame
What matters the reef, or the rain, A temple where to sound his name.
or the squall ? Oh let our voice his praise exalt
!

I steady the helm for the open sea; Till it arrive at heaven's vault.
The first mate clamors, "Belay thexe, Which then perhaps rebounding may
all!" Echo beyond the Mexique bay."
And the captain's breath once more Thus sung they in the English boat
comes free. A holy and a cheerful note
And the way, to guide their
all
And so off shore let the good ship chime,
fly; With falling oars they kept the time.
Little care I how the gusts may blow, A. Mabvell.
 : ; !

42 PAENASStrS.

CAVE OP STAFFA. In symmetry, and fashioned to en-

dure,
Thanks for the lessons of this spot, Unhurt, the assaults of time with all
fit school his hours.
For the presumptuous thoughts that As the supreme Artificer ordained.
would assign WOBDSWOBTH.
Mechanic laws to agency divine,
And, measuring heaven by earth,
would overrule ' THE STORM.
Infinite power. The pillared vesti-
bule. The sky is changed; and such
Expanding yet precise, the roof em- a change O night. !

bowed. And stoim, and darkness, ye are

Might seem designed to humble wondrous strong,
man, when proud Yet lovely in your strength, as is
Of his best worlunanship by plan the light
and tool. Of a dark eye in woman! Far along,
Down-bearing with his whole Atlan- From peak to peak, the rattling
tic weight crags among.
Of tide and tempest on the struc- Leaps the live thunder Not from !

ture's base. one lone cloud,

And flashing upwards to its topmost But every mountain now hath
height, found a tongue,
Ocean has proved its strength, and And Jura answers, through her
of its grace misty shroud,
In calms is conscious, finding for his Back to the joyous Alps, who call to
freight her aloud
Of softest music some responsive Bybon.
place.
WOKDSWOETH.
SUNSET.
FLOWERS ON THE TOP OP The moon is up, and yet it is not
THE PILLARS AT THE EN- night
TRANCE OF THE CAVE. Sunset divides the sky with her;
a sea
Hope smiled when your nativity Of glory streams along the Alpine
was cast. height
Children of summer! Te fresh Of blue Priuli's mountains heaven ;

flowers that brave free

is
What summer here escapes not, the From clouds, but of all colors
fierce wave. seems to be
And whole artillery of the western Melted to one vast Iris of the west.
blast. Where the day joins the past
Battering the temple's front, its eternity
long-drawn nave While, on the other hand, meek
Smiting, as if each moment were Dian's crest
their last. Floats through the azure air, an
But ye, bright flowers, on frieze and island of the blest.
architrave
Survive, and once again the pile A single star is at her side, and
stands fast. reigns
Calm as the universe, from specular With her o'er half the lovely
towers heaven ; but still
Of heaven contemplated by spirits Ton sunny sea heaves brightly,
pure — and remains
Suns and their systems, diverse yet Rolled o'er the peak of the fal
sustained Rhoetian hill.
 : ! : ; ! ;

KATTJRE. 43
As day and night contending were Like thy own brawling springs.
until Thy springs, and dying gales
Nature reclaimed her order:
gently flows O nymph reserved, while now the
The deep-dyed Brenta, where bright-haired sun
their hues instil Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy
The odorous purple of a new-hom skirts.
rose, With brede ethereal wove,
Which streams upon her stream, O'erhang his wavy bed:
and glassed within it glows,
Now where the
air is hush'd, save
Filled with the face ofheaven, weak-eyed bat
which, from afar. With short shrill shriek flits by on
Comes down upon the waters ; all leathern wing;
itshues, Or where the beetle winds
From the rich sunset to the rising His small but sullen horn.
star,
Their magical variety diffuse As he rises 'midst the twilight
oft
And now they change; a paler path,
shadow strews Against the pilgrim borne in heedless
Its mantle o'er the mountains: hum:
parting day Now teach me, maid composed.
Dies like the dolphin, whom each To breathe some softened strain,
pang imbues
With a new color as it gasps away. Whose numbers, stealing through thy
The last still loveliest, till 'tis gone darkening vale.
—
and all is gray. May not unseemly with its stillness
Bybon. suit;
As, musing slow, I hail
Thy genial loved return
MOONLIGHT. L^
For when thy folding-star arising
How sweet the moonlight sleeps shows
upon bank this His paly circlet, at his warning lamp
Here will we sit, and let the sounds The fragrant Hours and Elves
of music Who slept in buds the day.
Creep in your ears: soft stillness,
and the night.
And many a N3rmph who wreathes
Become the touches of sweet har-
her brows with sedge.
mony. And sheds the freshening dew, and,
Sit, Jessica : look, how the floor of
lovelier still,
heaven The pensive Pleasures sweet,
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright Prepare thy shadowy car.
gold
There's not the smallest orb which
thou behold'st. Then let me rove some wild and
But in hismotion like an angel sings. healthy scene
Still quiring to the young-ey'd Or find some ruin, 'midst its dreary
cherubims. dells.
Shakspeabe. Whose walls more awful nod
By thy religious gleams.

ODE TO EVENING. Or, blustering winds, or driv-

if chill
ing rain.
If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral Prevent my willing feet, be mine the
song. hut.
May hope, chaste Eve, to soothe thy That from the mountain's side,
modest ear, Views wilds, and swelling floods,
 ; ! ; ;!

44 PAKNASSTJS.

And hamlets brown, and dim-dis- Why do we then shun Death with
covered spires anxious strife?
And hears their simple bell, and
'
If Light can thus deceive, where-
marks o'er all fore not Life ?
Thy dewy fingers draw J. Blanco White.
The gradual dusky veil.

While Spring shall pour his showers, TO THE EVENING STAR.

as oft he wont,
And bathe thy breathing tresses,
Since the Sun,
meekest Eve The absolute, the world-absorbing
While Summer loves to sport one,
Beneath thy lingering light Relinquished half his empire to the
host
Emboldened by thy guidance, holy
WTiile sallow Autumn fills thy lap
star.
with leaves
Holy as princely, who that looks on
Or Winter, yelluig through the trou- thee.
blous air,
Touching, as now, in thy humility
Affrights thy shrinking train,
And rudely rends thy robes The mountain borders of this seat
of care.
Can question that thy countenance
So long, regardful of the quiet is bright.
rule. Celestial power, as much with love
Shall Fancy,Friendship, Science, as light?
smiling Peace, WORDSWOKTH.
,
Thy gentlest influence own.
And love thy favorite name
Collins. SONG OF THE STARS.
When the radiant morn of creation
broke.
KIGHT AND DEATH. And the world in the smile of God
awoke.
Mystbbious Night! when our first And the empty realms of darkness
Parent knew
,
and death
Thee, from report divine, and Were moved through their depths
heard thy name, by his mighty breath.
Did he not tremble for this lovely And orbs of beauty and spheres of
Frame, flame
This glorious canopy of Light and From the void abyss by myi-iads
Blue? came, —
Yet 'neath a. curtain of translucent In the joy of youth as they darted
dew, - ' away.
Bathed in the rays of the great set- Through the widening wastes of
ting Flame, space to play.
Hesperus with the Host of Heaven Their silver voices in chorus rung.
came, And this was the song the bright ones
Andlo! Creation widened on Man's sung.
view.
Who could have thought such Dark- "Away, away, through the wide,
ness lay conceaJed wide sky, —
Within thy beams^ O Sun or who The fair blue fields that before us
could find,
!

lie, —
Whilst flower, and leaf, and insect Each sun with the worlds that round
stood revealed. him roll,
That to such countless Orbs thou Each planet poised on her turning
mad' St us blind 1 pole;
 : ; ;! ;! ! ; !

KATURB. 45
With her isles of green and her Glide oh, in the glory and gladness
clouds of white, sent,
And her waters that lie like fluid To the farthest wall of the firma-
light. ment, —
The bovmdless visible smile of Him,
" For the Source of Glory uncovers To the veil of whose brow your lamps
his face, are dim."
And the brightness o'erflows un- Bkyant.
bounded space
And we drink, as we go, the lumi-
nous tides THE MILKY WAT.
In our ruddy air and our blooming
sides " Lo," quoth he, " cast up thine
Lo, yonder the living splendors eye.
play; See yonder, lo I the galaxie.
Away, on our joyous path, away The which men clepe the Milky Way,
For white and some parf ay
it is ;

"Look, look, through our glittering Callen it Watling streets.

ranks afar, That once was brent with the hete.
In the infinite azure, star after star. When the Sunne's sonne the rede.
How they brighten and bloom as they That ''ight Phaeton, would lead
swiftly pass Algate his father's cart, and gie.*
How the verdure runs o'er each roll- " The cart horses gan well aspie,
ing mass That he could no governaunce.
And the path of the gentle winds is And gan for to leape and praunce.
seen, And bear him up, and now down.
Where the small waves dance, and Till he saw the Scorpioun,
the young woods lean. WTiich that in Heaven a signe is yet,
And for fer6 lost his wit
" And see, where brighter day-beams Of that, and let the reyn^s gone
pour. Of his horses, and they anone
How the rainbows hang in the sunny Soone up to mount, and downe de-
shower scend.
And the morn and eve, with their Till both air and Earthe brend.
pomp of hues. Till Jupiter, lo ! at the last
Shift o'er the bright planets and shed Him slew, and fro the cart€ cast.
their dews Chaucer.
And 'twixt them both, o'er the teem-
ing ground. HOPE.
With her shadowy cone the night
goes round At summer eve, when heaven's ae-
rial bow
"Away, away! in our blossoming Spans with bright arch the glittering
bowers, hills below.
In the soft air wrapping these spheres Why yon mountain turns the
to
of ours. musing eye.
In the seas and fountains that shine Whose sunbright summit mingles
with morn, with the sky ?
See, love brooding, and life is born.
is Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint
And breathing myriads are breaking appear
from night, More sweet than all the landscape
To rejoice like us, in motion and smiling near ? —
light. 'Tis distance lends enchantment to
the view.
" Grlide on in your beauty, ye youth- And robes the mountain in its azure
ful spheres, hue.
To weave the dance that measures Campbell.
the years • Guide.
 ; ; ; ;

46 PARNASSUS.

TO THE RAINBOW. For, faithful to its sacred page.

Heaven still rebuilds thy span
TbiumphAi, arch, that fiU'st the sky Nor lets the type grow pale with age.
When storms prepare to part, That first spoke peace to man.
I asjc not proud philosophy Campbell.
To teach me what thou art.

Still seem as to my childhood's sight, THE EAINBOW.

A midway station given.
For happy spirits to alight Now overhead a rainbow, bursting
Betwixt the earth and heaven. through
The scattering clouds, shone, span-
Can that optics teach unfold
all ning the dark sea,
Thy form to please me so, Resting its bright base on the quiv-
As when I dreamed of gems and ering blue
gold And all within its arch appeared
Hid in thy radiant bow? to be
Clearer than that without; and its
And yet, fair bow, no fabling wide hue
dreams. Waxed broad and waving, like a
But words of the Most High, banner free.
Have told why first thy robe of Then changed like to a bow that's
beams bent, and then
Was woven in the sky. Forsook the dim eyes of those ship-
wrecked men.
When o'er the green, undeluged
earth It changed, of course; a Tieavenly
Heaven's' covenant thou didst chameleon.
shine, The airy child of vapor and the
How came the world's gray fathers sun,
forth Brought forth in purple, cradled in
To watch thy sacred sign I vermilion,
Baptized in molten gold, and
And when yellow lustre smiled
its swathed in dun.
O'er mountains yet untrod. Glittering like crescents o'er a Turk's
Each mother held aloft her child pavilion,
To bless the bow of God. And blending every color into one.
Byeon.
Methinks, thy jubilee to keep.
The first-made anthem rang
On earth, delivered from the deep, THE CLOUD.
And the first poet sang.
I SIFT thesnow on the mountains
The earth to thee her incense yields, below, I

The lark thy welcome sings, And their great pines groan aghast
When, glittering in the freshened And all the night 'tis my pillow
fields. white,
The snowy mushroom springs. While I sleep in the arms of the
blast.
How glorious thy girdle cast
is
O'er mountain, tower, and town, That orbfed maiden, with white fire
Or mirrored in the ocean vast, laden,
A thousand fathoms down! Whom mortals call the moon.
Glidesglimmering o'er my fleece-
As fresh in yon horizon dark, like floor.
As young thy beauties seem, By the midnight breezes strewn
As when the eagle from the ark And wherever the beat of her unseen
First sported in thy beam. feet.
 ; ; ; ; ; ; ;

NATURE. 47
Which only the angels hear, Till the warm sun pities its pain.
May have broken the woof of my And to the skies exhales it back
tent's thin roof.
The stars peep behind her and
peer; So the soul, that drop, that ray,
And I laugh to see them whirl and Of the clear fountain of eternal
flee. day.
Like a swarm of golden bees, Could it within the human flower
When I widen the rent in my wind- be seen.
built tent. Remembering still its former
Till the calm rivers, lakes, and height,
seas. Shuns the sweet leaves, and blos-
Like strips of the sky fallen through soms green.
me on high And, recollecting its own light.
Are each paved with the moon and Does, in its pure and circling
these. thoughts, express
The greater heaven in a heaven less.
I am the daughter of earth and In how coy a figure wound.
water. Every way it turns away.
And the nursling of the sky; So the world excluding round,
I pass through the pores of the Yet receiving in the day,
ocean and shores Dark beneath, but bright above,
I change, but I cannot die. Here disdaining, there in love.
For after the rain, when with never How loose and easy hence to go
a stain, How girt and ready to ascend
The pavilion of heaven is bare. Moving but on a point below.
And the winds and sunbeams, with It all about does upwards bend.
their convex gleams, Such did the mamia's sacred dew dis-
Build up the blue dome of air, til,

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, White and entire, although congealed

And out of the caverns of rain. and chill
Like a child from the womb, like a Congealed on earth; but does, dis-
ghost from the tomb, solving, run
I arise and unbuild it again. Into the glories of the almighty sun.
Shelley. Mabvell.

A DROP OF DEW. SMOKE.

See how the orient dew, Light-winged Smoke ! Icarianbird,
Shed from the bosom of the mom Melting thy pinions in thy upward
Into the blowing roses, flight;
(Yet careless of its mansion new. Lark without song, and messenger
For the clear region where 'twas of dawn,
bom,) Circling above the hamlets as thy
Boundin itself encloses nest;
And, in its little globe's extent. Or else, departing dream, and shad-
Frames, as it can, its native element. owy form
How it the purple flower does Of midnight vision, gathering up thy
slight. skirts
Scarce touching where it lies', By night star-veiling, and by day
But gazing back upon the skies. Darkening the light and blotting out
Shines with a mournful light. the sun
Like its own tear. Go thou, my incense, upward from
Because so long divided from the this hearth,
sphere. And ask the gods to pardon this clear
Restless it rolls, and insecure. flame.
Trembling, grow impure
lest it Thoreau.
 ; ;
48
MIST.
Low-anchored cloud,
Newfoundland air,
Fountain-head and source of rivers,
Dew-cloth, dream-drapery.
And napkm spread by fays
Drifting meadow of the air.
Where bloom the daisied banks and
violets,
And in whose fenny labyrinth
The bittern booms and heron wades
Spirit of lakes and seas and rivers,
Bear only perfumes and the scent
Of heaUng herbs to just men's fields.
Thobeau.
HAZE.
Woof of the fen, ethereal gauze,
Woven of Nature's richest stuffs,
Visible heat, air-water, and dry sea,
Last conquest of the eye
Toil of the day displayed, sun-dust,
Aerial surf upon the shores of earth.
Ethereal estuary, frith of light,
Breakers of air, billows of heat.
Fine summer spray on inland seas
Bird of the sun, transparent-winged.
Owlet of noon, soft-pinioned.
From heath or stubble rising without
song, — A heavenly trust my spirit calms.
Establish thy serenity o'er the fields.
Thobeau.
AT SEA.
The ni^ht is made for cooling shade.
For silence, and for sleep
; ; ; ! :: !
PARNASSUS.
And when I was a child, I laid
My hands upon my breast, and prayed,
And sank to slumbers deep
Childlike as then I lie to-night.
And watch my lonely cabin-light.
Each movement of the swaying lamp
Shows how the vessel reels
As o'er herdeck the billows tramp.
And all her timbers strain and cramp
With every shock she feels.
It starts and shudders, while it burns.
— And in its hingfed socket turns.
Now swinging slow and slanting low.
It almost level lies
And yet I know, while to and fro
I watch the seeming pendule go
With restless fall and rise.
The steady shaft is still upright.
Poising its little globe of light.
of God
hand O lamp of peace
!
O
promise of my soul
Though weak, and tossed, and ill at
ease.
Amid the roar of smiting seas.
The ship's convulsive roll,
1 own with love and tender awe
Yon perfect type of faith and law.
My soul is filled with light:
The Ocean sings his solemn psalms,
The wild winds chant: I cross my
palms,
Happy as if to-night
Under ttie cottage roof again
I heard the soothing summer rain.
J. T. Tkowbbidge.
 —

n.

HITMAN LIFE.

HOME. — WOMAN. — LOVE. — FKIENDSHIP.

MANNERS. — BEAUTY.

"The privates of man's heart

They spekeu and sound in his ear
Ab though they loud winds were." — GowiEIE.
 !! : ! ; ; ; ; ;! ! !

HUMAN LIFE.

HOME. My mother, in thy prayer to-night

There come new words and warm-
'Tis not in battles that from youth er tears
we train On long, long darkness breaks the
The governor who must be wise and light.
good, Comes home the loved, the lost for
And temper with the sternness of years.
the brain Sleep safe, O wave-worn mariner
Thoughts motherly, and meek as Fear not to-night, or storm or sea:
womanhood. The ear of Heaven bends low to
Wisdom doth live with children her!
round her knees He comes to shore who sails with
Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and me.
the talk The wind-tossed spider needs no
Man holds with week-day man in the token
hourly walk How stands the tree when light-
Of the mind's business: these are nings blaze
the degrees And, by a thread from heaven un-
By which true Sway doth mount; broken,
this is the stalk I know my mother lives and
True Power doth grow on ; and her prays.
rights are these. N. P. Willis.
WOBDSWOBTH.
THE LAST FAREWELL.
TO COEINNE.
Fakewell, ye lofty spires
Happt, happier far than thou That cheered the holy light
With the laurel on thy brow. Farewell, domestic fires
She that makes the humblest hearth That brolf e the gloom of night
Lovely but to one on earth Too soon these spires are lost,
Hemans. Too fast we leave the bay,
Too soon by ocean tost
From hearth and home away.
LINES ON LEAVING EUROPE. Far away, far away.

Bbight flag at yonder tapering mast, Farewell, the busy town.

Fling out your field of azure blue The wealthy and the wise,
Let star and stripe be westward cast, Kind smile and honest frown
And point as Freedom's eagle From bright, familiar eyes.
flew! All these are fading now
Strain home ! O lithe and quivering Our brig hastes on her way
spars Her unremembring prow
Point home, my country's flag of Is leaping o'er the sea.
stars Far away, far away.
51
 ! ; ! : ; : — : ; ;

52 PARNASSUS.

Farewell, my mother fond, The partingword shall pass ULy lips

Too kind, too good to me, no more.
Kor pearl, nor diamond Thy maidens, grieved themselves at
Would pay my debt to thee my concern.
But even thy kiss denies Oft gave me promise of thy quick
Upon my cheek to stay. return
The winged vessel flies. What ardently I wished, I long be-
And billows round her play, lieved.
Far away, far away. And, disappointed still, was still de-
ceived, —
Farewell, my brothers true. By expectation every day beguiled.
My betters, yet my peers. Dupe of tomorrow even from a
How desert without you child.
My few and evil years Thus many a sad tomorrow came
But though aye one in heart, and went,
Together sad or gay. my stock of infant sorrows
Till, all
Rude ocean doth us part. spent,
We separate to-day. I learned at last submission to my
Far away, far away. lot;
But, though I less deplored thee,
ne'er forgot.
Farewell I breathe again
Where once we dwelt, our name is
To dim New England's shore heard no more
My heart shall beat not when Children not thine have trod my
I pant for thee no more.
nursery floor
In yon green palmy isle, And where the gardener Robin, day
Beneath the tropic ray,
by day.
I murmur never while
For thee and thine I pray
Drew me to school along the public

Far away, far away.

way,—
Embbsoit.
Delighted with my bauble coach,
and wrapped
In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet
cap,
Could Time, his flight reversed, re-
MY MOTHER'S PICTURE. store the hours
When, playing with thy vesture's tis-
Mr mother, when I learned that sued flowers, —
thou wast dead, The violet, the pink, the jessa-
Say, wast thou conscious of the mine, —
tears I shed ? I pricked them into paper with a
Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrow- pin,
ing son, — (And thou wast happier than myself
Wretch even then, life's journey the while —
just begun ? Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my
I heard the bell tolled on thy burial- head, and smile,)
day; Could those few pleasant days again
Isaw the hearse that bore thee slow appear.
away; Might one wish bring them, would I
And, turning from my nursery-win- wish them here ?
dow, drew But no What here we call our life is
!

A long, long sigh, and wept a last such,

adieu So little to be loved, and thou so
But was it such? It was. Where much.
thou art gone, That I should ill requite thee to con-
Adieus and farewells are a sound strain
unknown Thy unbound spirit Into bonds
May I but meet thee on that peaceful again.
shore. COWPEE.
 ;
; ; ! ! : ; :

HUMAN LIFE. 53
IF THOU WERT BY MY SIDE, Hoping the morn in ease and rest
MY LOVE. to spend.
And weary, o'er the moor, his
If thou wert by my side, my love, course does hameward bend.
How fast would evening fail,
In green Bengala's palmy grove. At length his lonely cot appears in
Listening the nightingale view,
Beneath the shelter of an aged
I miss thee, when, by Gunga's tree;
stream. Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin
My twilight steps I guide, stacher thro'.
But most beneath the lamp's pale To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin
beam noise an' glee.
I miss thee from my side. His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnily,
His clane hearth-stane, his thriftie
But when at morn and eve the star wifie's smile.
Beholds me on my knee, The lisping infant prattling on his
I feel, though thou art distant far, knee.
Thy prayers ascend for me. Does all his weary carking cares
beguile.
Then on, then on, where duty An '
makes him quite forget his
leads! labor an' his toil.
My course be onward still.
O'er broad Hindostan's sultry meads.
O'er bleak Almorah's hill.
Wi' joy unfeign'd brothers and sis-
That course nor Delhi's kingly ters meet.
An' each for other's welfare kindly
Nor mild Malwah detain; spiers
For sweet the bliss us both awaits The social hours, swift-winged, un-
By yonder western main. noticed fleet;
Each tells the uncos that he sees
Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, or hears
they say. The parents, partial, eye their hope-
Across the dark blue sea; ful years.
But ne'er were hearts so light and gay Anticipation forward points the
As then shall meet in thee view.
Hebeb. The mother, wi' her needle and her
shears.
Gars auld claes look amaist as
THE COTTER'S SATURDAY weel's the new;
NIGHT. The father mixes a' wi' admonition
due.

November chill blaws loud wi' an- Their master's an' their mistress's
gry sugh; command.
The short' ning winter-day is near The younkers a' are warnfed to
a close obey;
The miry beasts retreating frae the And mind their labors wi' an eydent
pleugh hand.
The black'ning trains o' craws to And ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to
their repose jauk or play
The toil-worn Cotter frae his labor " And, oh be sure to fear the Lord
!

goes. alway.
This night his weekly moil is at And mind your duty, duly, morn
an end, and night I

Collects his spades, his mattocks, Lest in temptation's path ye gjwig

and his hoes, astray.
 ;; ;!! ; ; ; " ; ; ; ;

54 PAENASSUS.

Implore Ms counsel and assisting In other's arms breathe out the

might: tender tale.
They never sought in vain that Beneath the milk-white thorn that
sought the Lord aright !
scents the ev'ning gale!"

But, hark! a rap comes gently to

the door
Jenny, wha kens the meaning o'
But now the supper crowns their
simple board.
the same,
Tells how a neebbr lad cam o'er the
The halesome parritch, chief o'
Scotia's food:
moor.
The soupe their only hawkie does
To do some errands,jand convoy afford,
her hame. snugly
That 'yont the hallan
The wily mother sees the conscious
chows her cood
flame
Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush
The dame brings forth in compli-
mental mood.
her cheek
Wi' heart-struck anxious care, in-
To grace the lad, her weel-hain'd
kebbuck, fell.
quires his name,
And aft he's prest, and aft he calls it
While Jenny hafflins is afraid to
gude;
speak
Weel pleas'd the mother hears, it's
The frugal wifie, garrulous, will
tell
nae wild worthless rake.
How 'twas a towmond auld, sin'
lint was i' the bell.
Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings
him ben The cheerful supper done, wi'
A strappan youth; he takes the serious face,
mother's eye; They, round the ingle, form a cir-
Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill
cle wide;
ta'en The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal
The father cracks of horses, grace.
pleughs, and kye. The big ha' -Bible, ance his
The youngster's artless heart o'er- father's pride:
flows wi' joy. His bonnet rev'rently is laid aside.
But, blate and laithfu', scarce can His lyart haffets wearing thin an'
weel behave bare;
The woman, wi' a woman's wiles, Those strains that once did sweet in
can spy Zion glide,
What makes the youth sae bashfu' He wales a portion with judicious
an' sae grave care;
Weel pleas'd to think her bairn's re- And "Let us worship God!" he
spected like the lave. says, with solemn air.

O happy love where love

! like this They chant their artless notes in
is found simple guise
O heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond They tune their hearts, by far the
compare noblest aim
I've pacfed much this weary, mortal Perhaps "Dundee's " wild warbling
round. measures rise.
And sage experience bids me this Or plaintive "Martyrs," worthy
declare — of the name
" If Ileav'n a draught of heav'nly Or noble " Elgin" beats the heav'n-
pleasure spare, ward flame,
One cordial in this melancholy The sweetest far of Scotia's holy
vale, lays:
'Tis when a youthful, loving, mod- Compar'd with these, Italian trills
est pair, are tame
 ; : ;; : ::;: ; ;; ! ;; ! ! ;

HUMAN LITE. 55
The tickled ears no heart-felt rap- Compar'd with this, how poor reli-
tures raise gion's pride.
Nae unison hae they with our Crea- In all the pomp of method, and of art,
tor's praise. When men display to congregations
wide
The priest-like father reads the Devotion's ev'ry grace, except the
sacred page, heart *

How Abram was the friend of The Power, incens'd, the pageant
God on high will desert.
Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage The pompous strain, the sacerdo-
With Amalek's ungracious proge- tal stole
ny; But haply, in some cottage far apart,
Or how the royal Bard did groaning May hear, well pleas' d, the lan-
lie guage of the soul
Beneath the stroke of Heaven's And in his book of life the iiunates
avenging ire poor enrol.
Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing
cry; Then homeward all take ofE their
Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire sev'ral way;
Or other holy seers that tune the The youngling cottagers retire to
sacred lyre. rest:
The parent-pair their secret homage
Perhaps the Christian volume is the pay,
theme, And proffer up to Heaven the
How blood for guilty
guiltless warm request.
man was shed That He who stills the raven's clam-
How He, who bore in Heaven the 'rous nest.
second name. And decks the lily fair in flow'ry
Had not on earth whereon to lay pride.
his head Would, in the way his wisdom sees
How his first followers and ser- the best.
vants sped For them and for their little ones
The precepts sage they wrote to provide;
many a land But chiefly in their hearts with
How he, who lone in Patmos ban- grace divine preside.
ished.
Saw in the sun a mighty angel From scenes like these old Scotia's
stand grandeur springs.
And heard great Babylon's doom That makes her lov'd at home,
pronounced by Heaven's com- rever'd abroad:
mand. Princes and lords are but the breath
of kings;
Then kneeling down, to Heaven's "An honest man's the noblest
Eternal King, work of God:"
The saint, the father, and the hus- And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly
band prays road.
Hope " springs exulting on triumph- The cottage leaves the palace far
ant wing," behind
That thus they all shall meet in What a lordling's pomp? a cum-
is

jfuture days brous load.

There ever bask in uncreated rays, Disguising oft the wretch of hu-
Ko more to sigh, or shed the bit- man kind.
ter tear, Studied in arts of hell, in wicked-
Together hymning their Creator's ness refin'd
praise,
In such society, yet still more dear O Scotia! my dear, my native soil!
While circling time moves round in For whom my warmest wish to
an eternal sphere. Heaven is sent
 !) : ; ! ! ! : ; ;

56 PABNASSUS.

Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil The bright scenes of my youth, — all
Be blest with health, and peace, gone out now.
and sweet content How eagerly its flickering blaze doth
And, oh, may Heaven their simple catch
lives prevent On every point now wrapped in
From luxury's contagion, weak time's deep shade!
• and vile Into what wild grotesqueness by its

Then, howe'er crowns and coronets flash

be rent, And fitful checkering is the picture
A virtuous populace may rise the made!
while, When I am glad or gay.
And stand a wall of fire around their Let me walk forth into the brilliant
much-lov'd isle. sun,
And with congenial rays be shone
O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic upon
tide When I am sad, or thought-be-
That stream' d thro' Wallace's un- witched would be,
daunted heart Let me glide forth in moonlight's
Who dar'd to nobly stem tyrannic mystery.
pride. But never, while I live, this change-
Or nobly die, the second glorious ful life.
part, This past and future with all won-
(The patriot's God, peculiarly Thou ders rife,
art, Never, bright flame, may be denied
His friend, inspirer, guardian, and tome
reward
,
!
Thy dear, life-imaging, close sympa-
O never, never Scotia's realm desert; thy.
But still the patriot, and the pa- What but my hopes shot upwards
triol/bard. e'er so bright?
In bright succession raise, her orna- What but my fortunes sank so low
ment and guard in night?
BUBNS. Why artthou banished from our
hearth and hall.
Thou who art welcomed and beloved
THE BABE. by all?
Was thy existence then too fanciful
Naked on parents' knees, a newborn For our life's common light, who are
child, so dull ?
Weeping thou sat' st when all around Did thy bright gleam mysterious
thee smiled converse hold
So live, that, sinking to thy last long With our congenial souls? secrets
sleep. too bold ?
Thou then mayst smile while all Well, we are safe and strong for ; now
around thee weep. we sit
SiK William Jones: Beside a hearth where no dim sha-
Translated from Calida^a. dows flit
Where nothing cheers nor saddens,
but a fire
THE WOOD-FIRE. Warms feet and hands, nor does to
more aspire
This bright wood-fire, By whose compact, utilitarian heap,
So like to that which warmed and The present may sit down and go to
lit sleep.
My youthful days, — how doth it Nor fear the ghosts who from the dim
flit past walked,
Back on the periods nigher And with us by the unequal light of
Ee-lighting and re-wanning with its the old wood-fire talked.
glow E. S. H.
 ;! ! : ! ; ;
! ; !! :

HUMAK LITE. 67
GIVE ME THE OLD.
Old friends to talk
Ay, bring those chosen few.
Old wine to drink The wise, the courtly, and the true,
Ay, give the slippery juice So rarely found
That drippeth from the grape thrown Him for my wine, him for my stud.
loose Him for my easel, distich, bud
Within the tun In mountain walk
Plucked from beneath the cliff Bring Walter good
Of sunny-sided Teneriffe, With soulful Fred; and learned Will,
And ripened 'neath the blink And thee, my alter ego, (dearer still
Of India's sun! For every mood).
Peat whiskey hot, K. H. Messingee.
Tempered with well-boiled water!
These make the long night shorter,
Forgetting not TO A CHILD.
Good stout old English porter.
I WOULD that thou might always be
n. As innocent as now.
That time might ever leave as free
Old wood to bum !
— Thy yet unwritten brow.
Ay, bring the hillside beech I would were all poetry
life
From where the owlets meet and To gentle measure set,
screech, That nought but chastened melody
And ravens croak; Might stain thine eye of jet.
The crackling pine, and cedar sweet Nor one discordant note be spoken,
Bring too a clump of fragrant peat, Till God the cunning harp had broken.
Dug 'neath the fern; I fear thy gentle loveliness.
The knotted oak, Thy witching tone and air.
Afagot too, perhap. Thine eye's beseeching earnestness
Whose bright flame, dancing, wink- May be to thee a snare.
ing, The silver stars may purely shine.
Shall light us atour drinking; The waters taintless flow;
While the oozing sap But they who kneel at woman's
Shall make sweet music to our think- shrine
ing. Breathe on it as they how.
N. P. Willis.
rn.

Old books to read THE CHILDREN'S HOUR.

Ay, bring those nodes of wit,
The brazen-clasped, the vellum-writ, Between the dark and the daylight,
Time-honored tomes When the night is beginning to
The same my sire scanned before, lower,
The same my grandsire thnmbM o'er. Comes a pause in the day's occupa^
The same his sire from college bore, tions
The well-earned meed That is known as the children's
Of Oxford's domes hour.
Old Homer blind.
Old Horace, rake Anacreon, by I hear in the chamber above me
Old Tully, Plavtus, Terence lie The patter of little feet.
Mort Arthur's olden minstrelsie, The sound of a door that is opened,
Quaint Burton, quainter Spenser, ay And voices soft and sweet.
And Gervase Markham's venerie —
Nor leave behind From my study I see in the lamp-
The Holy Book by which we live light,
and die. Descending the broad hall-stair,
 ; ;: !;
: !

58 PARNASSUS.

Grave Alice and laughing AUegra, TO SILVIA.

And Edith with golden hair.
I AM holy
while I stand
A whisper, and then a silence Circum-crost by thy pure tiand ;

Yet I know by their merry eyes But when that is gone, again
They are plotting and planning I, as others, am profane.
together Hebbice.
To take me by surprise.

A sudden rush from the stairway, THE ROSE OF THE WORLD.

A
sudden raid from the hall
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall.
Lo, when the Lord made north and
They climb up into my turret south.
O'er the arms and back of my And sun and moon ordained, he.
chair Forth bringing each by word of
If I try to escape, they surround me mouth
They seem to be everywhere. In order of its dignity,
Did man from the crude clay express
They almost devour me witli kisses By sequence, and, all else decreed,
Their arms about me intwiiie. He formed the woman; nor might
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen less
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine. Than Sabbath such a work suc-
ceed.
Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti
Because you have scaled the wall, n.
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all ? And still with favor singled out.
Marred less than man by mortal
I have you fast in my fortress, fall.
And will not let you depart. Her disposition is devout.
But put you down into the dungeons Her countenance angelical.
In the Round Tower of my heart. No faithless thought her instinct
shrouds.
And there will I keep you forever, — But fancy checkers settled sense.
Yes, forever and a day. Like alteration of the clouds
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin, On noonday's azure pei-manence.
And moulder in dust away. Pure courtesy, composure, ease.
Longfellow. Declare affections nobly fixed,
And impulse sprung from due de-
grees
woMAisr. Of sense and spirit sweetly mixed.
Her modesty, her chiefest grace.
There in the fane a beauteous The cestus clasping Venus' side.
creature stands, Is potent to deject the face
The firstbest work of the Creator's Of him who would affront its pride.
hands, Wrong dares not in her presence
Wliose slender limbs inadequately speak.
bear Nor spotted thought its taint dis-
A full-orbed bosom and a weight of close
care; Under the cheek
protest of a
Whose teeth like pearls, whose lips Outbragging Nature's boast, the
show.
like cheri'ies, rose.
And fawn-like eyes still tremble as In mind and manners how discreet!
they glow. How artless in her very art
John Wilson : How candid in discourse how sweet !

Translated from Calidasa. The concord of her lips and heart!

 ; ! : ; ;: ;; ; ;

HUMAIT LIFE. 69
How (not to call true instinct's bent Fresh as the morning, earnest as the
And woman's very nature haiTO), hour
How amiable and innocent That calls the noisy world to grate-
Her pleasure in her power to ful sleep,
charm! Our silent thought reveres the name-
How humbly careful to attract, less power
Though crowned with all the soul That high seclusion round thy life
desires, doth keep
Connubial aptitude exact. So feigned the poets, did Diana love
Diversity that never tires To smile upon her darlings while
COVENTBY PATMOBE. they slept
Serene, untouched, and walking far
above
SHE WALKS IN BKAUTT. The narrow ways wherein the many
crept,
She walks in beauty, like the night Along her lonely path of luminous air
Of cloudless climes and starry She glided, of her brightness un-
skies aware.
And all that's best of dark and
bright Tet if they said she heeded not the
Meet in her aspect and her eyes hymn
Thus mellowed to that tender light Of shepherds gazing heavenward
Which heaven to gaudy day denies. from the moor
Or homeward sailors, when the wa-
One shade the more, one ray the ters dim
less. Flashed with long splendors, widen-
Had half impaired the nameless ing toward the shore
grace Nor wondering eyes of children cared
Which waves in every raven tress. to see
Or softly lightens o'er her face. Or glowing face of happy lover, up-
Where thoughts serenely sweet ex- turned.
press As late he wended from the trysting-
How pure, how dear, their dwell- tree.
ing-place. Lit by the kindly lamp in heaven
that burned
And on that cheek, and o'er that And heard unmoved the prayer of
brow, wakeful pain,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent. Or consecrated maiden's holy vow, —
The smiles that win, the tints that Believe them not: they sing the
glow. song in vain
But tell of days in goodness spent, For so it never was, and is not now.
A mind at peace with all below, Her heart was gentle as her face was
A heart whose love is innocent. fair.
Byron. With grace and love and pity dwell-
ing there.
F. B. Sanborn.
ANATHEMATA.
" O maiden come into port bravely, or
sail
!

with God the eeaa." HONOEIA.

With joys unknown, with sadness I WATCHED her face, suspecting
unconfessed. germs
The generous heart accepts the pass- love: her farewell showed me
Of
ing year, plain
Finds duties dear, and labor sweet as She loved, on the majestic terms
rest. That she should not be loved again.
And for itself knows neither care She was all mildness ; yet t'was writ
nor fear. Upon her beauty legibly,

60
" He that's for heaven itself unfit,
Let him not hope to merit me."
And though her charms are a strong
law
Compelling all men to admire,
They are so clad with lovely awe,
None but the noble dares desire.
He who would seek to make her his,
Will comprehend that souls of
grace
Own sweet repulsion, and that 'tis
The quality of their embrace
To be like the majestic reach
Of coupled suns, that, from afar.
Mingle their mutual spheres, while
each
Circles the twin obsequious star
And in the warmth of hand to hand.
Of heart to heart, he'll vow to note
/V.nd reverently understand
How the two spirits shine remote
And ne'er to numb fine honor' s nerve,
Nor let sweet awe in passion melt,
Nor fail by courtesies to observe
The space which makes attraction
felt;
Nor cease to guard like life the sense
Which tells him that the embrace
of love
Is o'er a gulf of difference
Love cannot sound, nor death re-
move.
COVENTBY PATMOBB.
DUCHESSE BLANCHE.
It happed that I came on a day
Into a place, there that I say.
Truly the fairest companey
Of ladies that ever man with eye
Had seen together in one place,
Shall I clepe it hap or grace ?
Among these ladies thus each one
Sooth to say I saw one
That was like none of the rout,
For I dare swear without doubt.
That as the summer's Sunne bright
Is fairer, clearer, and hath more light
: ;
PARNASSUS.
Than any other planet in Heaven,
The moone, or the starres seven.
For all the world, so had she
Surmounten them all of beauty,
Of manner, and of comeliness.
Of stature, and of well set gladnesse,
Of goodly heed, and so well besey,i^
Shortly what shall I more say.
By God, and by his holowes^ twelve,
It was my sweet, right all herselve.
She had so stedfast countenance
In noble port and maintenance.
And Love that well harde my bone'
Had espied me
thus soone.
That she soone in my thought
full
As, help me God, so was I caught
So suddenly that I ne took
No manner counsel but at her look.
And at my heart for why her eyen
So gladly I trow mine heart, seyen
That purely then mine own thought
Said, 'Twere better to serve her for
nought
Than with another to be well.
I saw her dance so comely,'*
Carol and sing so swetely.
Laugh and play so womanly.
And look so debonairly.
So goodly speak, and so friendly.
That certes I trow that evermore
N'as seen so blissful a treasore.
For every hair on her head.
Sooth to say, it was not red.
Nor neither yellow nor brown it n'as,
Methought most like gold it was.
And such eyen my lady had,
Debonnaire, good, glad, and sad,
Simple, of good mokel,* not too wide,
Thereto her look was not aside,
Nor overtwhart, but beset so well
It drew and took up every dell.
All that on her 'gan behold
Her eyen seemed anon she would
—
Have mercy, folly wenden ^ so,
But it was never the rather do.
It was no counterfeited thing
It was her own pure looking
That the goddess Dame Nature
Had made them open by measure
— And close; for, were she never so
glad
Her lookingwas not foolish sprad '
Nor wildly, though that she played;
But ever methought her eyen said
1 Beseen, appearing. * Quantity.
* Saints. ' Thought.
' Boon, petition, ' Spreaa.

HUMAN
By Grod my wrath is all forgive.
Therewith her list so well to live,
That dulness was of her adrad,
She n'as too sober ne too glad;
In all thiuges more measure
Had never I trowe creature,
But many one with her look she hurt,
And that sat her full little at hei'te
For she knew nothing of their
thought,
But whether she knew, or knew it not,
Alway she ne cared for them a stree ^
To get her love no near n'as he
That woned at home, than he in Inde,
'^
The foremost was alway hehinde
But good folk over all other
She loved as man may his brother.
Of which love she was wonder large,
In skilful places that bear charge
But what a visage had she thereto,
Alas my heart is wonder woi
!
That I not can describen it; — Her Uppes were ; a straight flat back,
Me lacketh both English and wit
For to undo it at the full.
And eke my spirits he so dull
So great a thing for to devise,
I have not wit that can suflSce
To comprehend her beauts.
But thus much I dare saine, that she
Was white, ruddy, fresh, and
hued,
And every day her beauty newed.
And nigh her face was alderbest;'
For, certes. Nature had such lest
To make that fair, that truly she
Was her chief patron of beaute.
And chief example of all her worke
And moulter :* for, be it never so derke,
Methinks I see her evermo.
And yet, moreover, though all tho
That ever lived were now alive,
Not would have founde to descrive
In all her face a wicked sign, — waked,
For it was sad, simple, and benign.
And such a goodly sweet speech
Had that sweet, my hfe's leech.
So friendly, and so well y-grounded
Upon all reason, so well founded.
And so treatable to all good,
That I dare swear well by the rood.
Of eloquence was never found
So sweet a sounding faconde,'
Nor truer tongued nor scomfed less,
Norb^t" could heal, that, by the Mass
I durst swear, though the Pope it sung,
1 Straw. * Monster.
' Lived, ' Eloquence.
' Best of all, ' Better.
;: : ' '
LIFE. 61
There was never yet through her
tongue
Man or woman greatly harmM
As for her was all harm hid.
No lassie flattering in her worde,
That, purely, her simple record
Was found as true as any bond.
Or truth of any man'es hand.
Her throat, as I have now memory,
Seemed as a round tower of ivory.
; Of good greatness, and not too great,
And fair white she liete
That was my lady's name right.
She was thereto fair and bright,
She had not her name wrong.
Right fair shoulders, and body long
She had, and armes ever lith
Fattish, fleshy, not great therewith.
Right white hands and uailes red
Round breasts, and of good brede
I knew on her none other lack.
That all her limbs were pure snowing
In as far as I had knowing.
Thereto she could so well play
What that her list, that I dare say
That was like to torch bright
That every man may take of light
lifely Enough, and it hath never the less
Of manner and of comeliness.
Right so fared my lady dear
For every wight of her mannere
Might catch enough if that he would
If he had eyes her to behold
For I dare swear well if that she
Had among ten thousand be.
She would have been at the best,
A chief mirror of all the feast
Though they had stood in a row
To men's eyen that could know,
For whereso men had played or
Methought the fellowship as naked
Without her, that I saw once
As a crown without stones.
Truely she was to mine eye
The solein ' phoenix of Araby,
For there liveth never but one.
Nor such as she ne know I none.
To speak of goodness, truely she
Had as much debonnairte
As ever had Hester in the Bible,
And more, if more were possible;
And sooth to say therewithal
She had a wit so general.
' Was called. » Sole.
> Breadth,
 ; ; ; ; ;
: : : :

62 PAHNASStrS.

So well inclinfed to all good "And vital feelings of delight

That all her wit was set by the rood, Shall rear her form to stately height,
Without malice, upon gladness. Her virgin bosom swell
And thereto I saw never yet a less Such thoughts to Lucy I will give,
Harmful than she was in doing. While she and I together live
I say not that she not had kuowing Here in this happy dell."
What harm was, or else she Wordsworth.
Had known no good, so thiuketh me
And truly, for to speak of truth
But she had had, it had been ruth.
Therefore she had so much her dell
And I dare say, and swear it well Thou
LOVE.
not gone, being gone,
art
^
That Truth him'self over all and all where'er thou art
Had chose his manor principal Thou leav'st in him thy watchful
In her that was his resting place eyes, in him thy loving heart.
Thereto she had the moste grace Donne.
To have stedfast perseverance
And easy attempre governance
That ever I knew or wist yet TRUE LOVE. )^
So pure sufiraunt was her wit.
Chaucer. I THINK not on my father.
And these great tears grace his re-
membrance more
LUCT. Than those I shed for him. What
was he like ?
jfHREE years she grew in sun and I have forgot him imagination
: my
shower Carries no favor in it, but Ber-
Then Nature said, " A lovelier flower tram's.
On earth was never sown I am undone: there is no living,
This child I to myself will take none.
She shall be mine, and I will make If Bertram be away. It were all
A lady of my own. one.
That I should love a bright, particu-
" Myself will to my darling be lar star.
Both law and impulse and with me
; And think to wed it, he is so above
The girl, in rock and plain. me:
In earth and heaven, in glade and In his bright radiance and collateral
bower. light
Shall feel an overseeing power Must I be comforted, not in his
To kindle or restrain. sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues
"The floating clouds their state shall itself.
lend The hind that would be mated by the
To her for her the willow bend
; lion
Nor shall she fail to see. Must die for love. 'Twas pretty,
Even in the motions of the storm, though a plague,
Grace that shall mould the maiden's To see him every hour to ; sit and
form draw
By silent sympathy. His archfed brows, his hawking eye,
his curls.
" The stars of midnight shall be dear In our heart's table ; heart, too capa-
To her; and she shall lean her ear ble
In many a secret place Of every line and trick of his sweet
Where rivulets dance their wayward favor
round But now he's gone, and my idola-
And beauty, bom of murmuring trous fancy
sound. Must sanctify his relics.
Shall pass into her face. Shakspeare.
 ! ; ; :; ;: ;

HUMAN LIFE. 63
THE QUEEN. I'LL NEVER LOVE THEE MORE.
My dear and only love,I pray
That world of thee
little
To heroism and holiness Be governed by no other sway
How hard it isfor man to soar, But purest monarchy
But how much harder to be less For ifconfusion have a part,
Than what his mistress loves him Which virtuous souls abhor,
for! And hold a synod in thy heart,
He does with ease what do he must, I'll never love thee more.
Or lose her, and there's nought
debarred Like Alexander I will reignj
From him who's called to meet her And I will reign alone:
trust, My thoughts did evermore disdain
And credit her desired regard. A rival on my throne.
Ah, wasteful woman ! she that may He either fears his fate too much,
On her sweet self set her own Or his deserts are small,
price, Who dares not put it to the touch,
Knowing he cannot choose but pay To gain or lose it all.
How has she cheapened paradise.
How given for nought her priceless But, if no faithless action stain
gift, Thy love and constant word,
How spoiled the bread, and spilled I'll make thee famous by my pen.
the wine. And glorious by my sword.
Which, spent with due, respective I'll serve thee in such noble ways
thrift. As ne'er was known before
Had made brutes men, and men I'll deck and crown thy head with
divine. bays.
And love thee more and more.
Mabquis of Montbosb.
queen awake to thy renown,
!

Require what 'tis our wealth to TO LUCASTA.

give,
And comprehend and wear the crown Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind.
Of thy despised prerogative That from the nunnery
1 who in manhood's name at length Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
With glad songs come to abdicate To war and arms I fly.
The gross regality of strength,
Must yet in this thy praise abate. True, a mistress now I chase.
new
That through thine emng humble- The foe in the field
first
ness And with a stronger faith embrace
And disregard of thy degree, Asword, a horse, a shield.
Mainly, has man been so much less
Than fits his fellowship with thee. Yet this inconstancy is such
P^igh thoughts had shaped the fool- As you too shall adore
ish brow, I could not love thee, dear, so much,
The coward had grasped the hero's Loved I not honor more.
sword, RicHABD Lovelace.
The vilest had been great, hadst
thou.
Just to thyself, been worth's re- APOLOGY FOR HAVING
ward: LOVED BEFORE.
But lofty honors undersold
Seller and buyer both disgrace They that never had the use
And favor that makes folly bold Of the grape's surprising juice,
Puts out the light in virtue's face. To the first delicious cup
COVBNTBY FATMOBE. All their reason render up
 ;: ; ;; ; : : ; : ; ;

64 PARNASSUS.

ffeither do, nor care to,
Whether It be best or no.
So they that are to love inclined,
Sway'd by chance, nor choice or
art.
To the first that's fair or kind,
Make a present of their heart
Tis not she that first we love,
But whom dying we approve.
To man, that was
made.
Stars gave the first
Admiring in the gloomy shade
Those little drops of light.
know, Learn to win a lady's faith
Nobly as the thing is high.
Bravely as for life and death.
With a loyal gravity.
Lead her from the festive boards
Point her to the starry skies
Guard her by your faithful words,
Pure from coiurtship's flatteries.
By your truth she shall be true.
in th' evening Ever true, as wives of yore.
And her Yes, once said to you.
delight Shall be Yes for evermore.
Elizabeth Babbbtt Bkowning.

Then, at Aurora, whose fair hand

Removed them from the skies. OUTGEOWTST.
He gazing toward the east did stand,
She entertained his eyes. Nat, you wrong her my
friend,
she's not fickle; her love she
But when the bright sun did appear. has simply outgrown
All those he 'gan despise One can read the whole matter,
His wonder was determiu'd there. translating her heart by the
And could no higher rise. light of one's own. •

He neither might nor wished to Can you bear me to talk with you
know frankly? There is much that
A more refulgent light my heart would say
For that (as mine your beauties And you know we were children
now), together, have quarrelled and
Employed his utmost sight. " made up " in play.
Edmund Walleb.
And so, for the sake of old friend-
ship, I venture to tell you the
truth, —
THE LADY'S YES. As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly,
as I might in our earlier
" Yes " I answered you last night
! youth.
" No! " this morning, sir, I say.
Colors seen by candle-light Five summers ago, when you wooeJ
Will not look the same by day. her, you stood on the self-
same plane,
When the tabors played their best, Face to face, heart to heart, never
Lamps above, and laughs below, dreaming your souls could be
Love me sounded like a jest. parted again.
Fit for Yes, or fit for No!
She loved you at that time entirely,
Call me false ; or call me free in the bloom of her life's early
Vow, whatever light may shine, May;
No man on thy face shall see And it is not her fault, I repeat it,
Any grief for change on mine. that she does not love you
to-day.
Yet the sin is on us both
Time to dance is not to woo Nature never stands still, nor souls
Wooer light makes fickle troth, either: they ever go up ot
Scorn of me recoils on you. go down;
 : : : ; : : : ;

HUMAiT LIPB. 65
And hers has been steadily soar- She cannot look down to her lover:
ing —but how has it been her love like her soul, as-
with your own ? pires ;

He must stand by her side, or above

She has struggled and yearned and her, who would kindle its
aspired, grown purer and wiser holy fires.
each year
The stars are not farther above Now farewell For the sake of old
I

you in yon luminous atmos- friendship I have ventured to

phere ! tell you the truth.
As plainly, perhaps, and as bluntly,
For she whom you crowned with as I might in our earlier
fresh roses, down yonder, five youth.
summers ago, JuiiiA C. K. DOKB.
Has learned that the first of our
duties to God and ourselves is
to grow. THE PORTRAIT.
Her eyes they are sweeter and Give place, ye ladies, and begone.
calmer; but their vision is Boast not yourselves at all
clearer as well : For here at hand approacheth one
Her voice has a tenderer cadence, Whose face will stain you all.
but is pure as a silver bell.
The virtue of her lively looks
Her worn by those
face has the look Excels the precious stone
who with God and his angels I wish to have none other books
have talked To read or look upon.
The white robes she wears are less
white than the spirits with In each of her two crystal eyes
whom she has walked. Smileth a naked boy
It would you all in heart suffice
And you? Have you aimed at the To see that lamp of joy.
highest? Have you, too, as-
pired and prayed ? I think Nature hath lost the mould
Have you looked upon evil, un- Where she her shape did take
sullied ? Have you conquered Or else I doubt if Nature could
it undismayed ? So fair a creature make.

Have you, too, grown purer and In life she is Diana chaste.
wiser, as the months and the In truth Penelope
years have rolled on ? In word and eke in deed steadfast:
Did you meet her this morning re- What will you more we say ?
joicing in the triumph of
victory won? world were sought so far,
If all the
Who could find such a wight ?
yay, hear me! The truth cannot Her beauty twinkleth like a star
harm you. When to-day in Within the frosty night.
her presence you stood.
Was the hand that you gave her as Her roslal color comes and goes
white and clean as that of her With such a comely grace,
womanhood ? More ruddier too, than in the rose
Within her lovely face.
Go measure yourself by her stand-
ard; look back on the years At Bacchus' feast none shall her
that have fled meet,
Then ask, if ycu need, why she tells Nor at no wanton play.
you that the love of her girl- Nor gazing in an open street.
hood is dead. Nor gadding as astray.
5
 ; ; ; ; ; ! ! d

66 PARNASSUS.

The modest mirth that she doth use Like the proud virgins of the year.
Is mixt with shamef astness As if the spring were all yout
All vice she doth' wholly refuse, own, —
And hateth idleness. What you when the rose
are is
blown ?
O Lord it is a world to
! see
How virtue can repair Ye curious chanters of the wood.
Anddeck in her such honesty, That warble forth dame Nature's
Whom Nature made so fair! lays,
Thinking your voices understood
How might I do to get a graSe By your weak accents, what's —
Of this unspotted tree ? your praise
For all the rest are plain hut chaff. When Philomel her voice shall
Which seem good corn to be. raise ?
Heywood.
So when my mistress shall be seen,
In form and beauty of her mind.
THE TRIBUTE. By virtue first, then choice, a
queen.
No splendor 'neath the sky's proud Tellme if she was not design'
dome Th' eclipse and glory of her kind.
But serves for her familiar wear; SiE Henby Wotton.
The far-fetch' d diamond finds its
home
Flashing and smouldering in her THOU HAST SWORN BY THY
hair; GOD, MY JEANIE.
For her the seas their pearls reveal
Art and strange lands her pomp Thou hast sworn by thy God, my
supply Jeaiiie,
With purple, chrome, and cochineal, By that pretty white hand o' thine,
Ochre, and lapis lazuli And by a' the lowing stars in
The worm its golden woof presents heaven,
Whatever runs, flies, dives, or That thou wad aye be mine
delves, And I hae sworn by my God, my
AH doff for her their ornaments, Jeanie,
Which suit her better than them- And by that kind heart o' thine.
By a' the stars sown thick owre
And all, by this their power to give heaven.
Proving her right to take, pro- That thou shalt aye be mine
claim
Her beauty's clear prerogative Then foul fa' the hands that wad
To profit so by Eden's blame. loose sic bands,
COVENTKY PATMORB. And the heart that wad part sic luve!
But there's nae hand can loose my
band.
ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA. But the finger o' Him above.
Though the wee wee cot maun be
Tou meaner beauties of the night. my bield,
That poorly satisfy our eyes And my clothing ne'er sa mean,
More by your number than your I lap me up rich i' the faulds
wad o'
light,— luve, —
Tou common people of the skies. Heaven's arinfu' o' my
Jean.
What are you when the sun shall
rise? Her white arm wad be a pillow for
me
ye violets that first appear, down
Fu' saf ter than the
By your pure purple mantles And Luve wad winnow owre us hi»
known, kind kind wings,
 ; ! ; ;;

HUMAJS^ LIFE. 67
An' sweetlyI'd sleep an' sound. And for my werk right nothing wol
Come here to me, thou lass o' my I axe;
luve! My lord and I ben ful of one accord.
Come here and kneel wi me 1 made her to the worship of my Lord.
The morn Is fu' o' the presence o' Chaucee.
God,
And I canna pray without thee.
THE BRIDE. ^
The morn wind is sweet 'mang the
heds o' new flowers, Lo! where she comes along with
The wee birds sing kindlie and hie portly pace,
Our gudeman leans o'er his kale Lilie Phoebe from her chamber of
yard dyke, the east,
And a blythe auld bodie is he. Arising forth to run her mighty race.
The Benk maun be ta'en when the Clad all in white, that seems a virgin
carle comes hame, best.
Wi the holy psalmodie So well it her beseems, that ye would
And thou maun speak o' me to thy ween
God, Some angel she had been.
And I will speak o' thee. Her long, loose yellow locks, like
Cunningham. golden wire,
Sprinkled with pearl, and pearling
flowers atween.
VIRGINIA. Do like a golden mantle her attire
And being crownfed with a garland
This knight a doughter hadde by green.
his wif. Seem like some maiden queen.
No children had he mo in all his lif. Her modest eyes abashfed to behold
Faire was this maid in excellent So many gazers as on her do stare,
beautee Upon the lowly ground aflixed are
Aboven every wight that man may Ne dare lift up her countenance too
see: bold.
For nature hath with soveraine dili- But blush to hear her praises sung
gence so loud.
Yformed hire in so gret excellence. So far from being proud.
As though she wolde sayn, lo, I Nathless do ye still loud her praises
Nature, sing.
Thus can I forme and peint a crea- That the woods may answer, and
all
ture. your echo ring.
Whan that me list; who can me
contrefete? Tell me, ye merchants' daughters,
Pigmalion ? not, though he ay forge did ye see
and bete, So fair a creature in your town be-
Or grave, or peinte : for I dare wel fore?
sain, So sweet, so lovely, and so mild as
Apelles, Xeuxis, shulden werche she.
in vain. Adorned with Beauty's grace and
Other to grave, or peinte, or forge, Virtue's store ?
or bete. Her goodly eyes like sapphires, shin-
If they presumed me to contrefete. ing bright.
For he that is the Former principal. Her forehead ivory white.
Hath maked me his vicaire general Her cheeks like apples which the
To forme and peiuten erthly crea- sun hath rudded.
tures Her lips like cherries charming men
Bight as me list, and eche thing in to bite.
my cure is Her breast like to a bowl of cream
Under the mone, that may wane uncrudded,
and waxe. Her paps like lilies budded,
 ; ; ; ; ! —; ; :

m PARNASSUS.

Her snowy neck like to a marble That they might passage get;
tower But she so handled still the matter,
And all her body like a palace fair, They came as good as ours, or better,
Ascending up with many a stately And are not spent a whit.
stair Sib Johk Suckling.
To Honor's seat and Chastity's sweet
bower.
VIOLA DISGUISED AND THE
Why stand ye still, ye virgins, in DUKE.
amaze.
Upon her so to gaze, Duke. — Once more, Cesario,
WTiilst ye forget your former lay to Get thee to yon same sovereign
sing. cruelty :
To which the woods did answer, and The parts that fortune hath be-
your echo ring. stow'd upon her.
Spbnsek. Tell her, I hold as giddily as for-
tune;
But 'tis that miracle and queen of
THE BRIDE. gems.
That nature pranks her in, attracts
Heb finger was so small the ring my soul.
Would not stay
— on which they did Viola.— But she cannot love
if
bring, you, sir?
Itwas too wide a peck Duke. — I cannot be so answer'd.
And, to say truth, for out — it Vio. — Sooth, but you must.
must, — Say, that some lady, as perhaps there
It looked like the great collar — is.
just — Hath for your love as great a pang
About our young colt's neck. of heart
As you have for Olivia : you cannot
Her feet beneath her petticoat. love her
Like little mice stole in and out. You tell her so ; must she not, then,
As if they feared the light; be answer'd?
But O, she dances such a way Duke. —
There is no woman' s sides
No sun upon an Easter day Can bide the beating of so strong a
Is half so fine a sight. passion
As love doth give my heart: no wo-
Her cheeks so rare a white was on, man's heart
No daisy makes comparison So big, to hold so much they lack ;

Who sees them is undone retention.

For streaks of red were mingled Alas their love may be call'd appe-
there.
!

tite, —
Such as are on a Cath'rine pear, No motion of the liver, but the pal-
The side that's next the sun. ate,
That suffer forfeit, cloyment, and
Her lips were red; and one was thin. revolt
Compared to that was next her But mine is all as hungry as the sea,
chin, And can digest as much: make no
Some bee had stung it newly; compare
But, Dick, her eyes so guard her Between that love a woman can bear
face, me.
I durst no more upon them gaze. And that I owe Olivia.
Than on the sun in July. Vio. —
Ay, but I know, —
Duke. —
What dost thou know ?
Her mouth so small, when she does Vio. —
Too well what love women
speak to men may owe
Thou'dst swear her teeth her words In faith, they are as true of heart as
did break, we.
 ; ; : : ; ; ;
:

HUMAN LIFE. 69
My fatherhad a daughter lov'd a And thereforelittle shall I grace my
man, cause
As it might be, perhaps, were I a In speaking for myself. Yet, by
woman, your gracious patience,
I should your lordship. I will a round unvarnished tale
Duke. — And what's her history? deliver
Vio. — A blank, my lord. She Of my whole course of love what ;

never told her love. drugs, what charms,

But let concealment, like a worm i' What conjuration, and what mighty
the bud. magic,
Feed on her damask cheek; she (For such proceeding I am charged
pin'd in thought; withal,)
And with a green and yellow melan- I won his daughter with.
choly.
She sat like patience on a monu- Her father loved me, oft invited me
ment, Still questioned me the story of my
Smiling at grief. Was not this love life,
indeed ? From year to year; the battles,
We men may say more, swear more sieges, fortunes,
but indeed That I have passed.
Our shows are more than will for ; I ran it through, even from my
still we prove boyish days.
Much in our vows, but little in our To the very moment that he bade
love. me tell it
Duke. — But died thy sister of Wherein I spoke of most disastrous
her love, my boy ? chances,
Vio. — I am the daughters of
all Of moving accidents, by flood and
my father's house, field;
And all the brothers too. Of hairbreadth scapes in the immi-
Shaksfease. nent deadly breach

OTHELLO'S DEFENCE.
^ Of being taken by the insolent
And soldto slavery ; of my redemp-
tion thence.
And portance in my travel's his-
foe,

Most potent, grave, and reverend tory :

signiors. Wherein of antres vast, and deserts
My very noble and approved good idle,
masters. Rough quarries, rocks, and hills
That I have ta'en away this old whose heads touch heaven,
man's daughter, It was my hint to speak, such was
It is most true true, I have married
; the process
her; And of the Cannibals that each other
The very head and front of my eat.
offending The Anthropophagi, and men whose
Hath this extent, no more. Rude heads
am I in my speech, Do grow beneath their shoulders.
And little bless'd with the set phrase These things to hear
of peace. Would Desdemona seriously incline
For since these arms of mine had But still the house affairs would
seven years' pith. draw her thence
Till nine moons wasted,
now some Which ever as she could with haste
they have used despatch,
Their dearest action in the tented She'd come again, and with a
•
field: greedy ear
And litye of this great world can I Devour up my discourse: which, I
speak. observing.
More than pertains to feats of broil Took once a pliant hour, and found
and battle good means
 ;; ;

70 PARNASSUS.

To draw from her a prayer of earnest Do likewise. Starting at the random

heart, word.
That I would all my pilgrimage And dumb with trepidation, there I
dilate, stood
Whereof by parcels she had some- Some seconds as bewitched; then I
thing heard, looked up.
But not intentively I did consent
: And in her face beheld an orient
And often did beguile her of her flush
tears, Of half-bewildered pleasure: from
When I did speak of some distressful which trance
stroke She with an instant ease resumed
That myyouth suffer'd. My story • herself.
being done. And frankly, with a pleasant laugh,
She gave me for my pains a world held out
of sighs: Her arrowy hand.
She swore, —
in faith, 'twas strange, I thought it trembled as it lay in
'twas passing strange mine.
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous piti- But yet her looks were clear, direct,
ful: and free.
She wished she had not heard it; And said that she felt nothing.
yet she wished Sidroc. —
And what felt'st thou ?
That heaven had made her such a Athulf. —Asort of swarming, curl-
man ; she thank'd me ing, tremulous tumbling.
And bade me, if I had a friend that As though there were an ant-hill in
loved her, my bosom.
I should but teach him how to tell I said I was ashamed. —
Sidroc, you
my story. smile.
And that would woo her. Upon If at my
folly, well! But if you
this hint, I spake: smile.
She loved me for the dangers I had Suspicious of a taint upon heart. my
Wide is your error, and you never
And I loved her that she did pity loved.
them. Henry Taylor.
This only is the witchcraft I have
used:
Here comes the lady, let her witness
it.
THE ECSTASY. ^
Shakspeare. Where, like a pillow on a bed,
A pregnant bank swelled up to
rest
ATHULF AND ETHILDA. The violet's declining head.
Sate we on one another's breast.
Athulf. — Appeared Our hands were firmly cemented
The princess with that merry child By a fast balm which thence did
Prince Guy: spring,
He loves me well, and made her stop Our eye-beams twisted, and did
and sit, thread
And sate upon her knee, and it so Our eyes upon one double string.
chanced So hands as yet
to ingraft our
That in his various chatter he denied Was all the means to make us one,
That I could hold his hand within And pictures in our eyes to get
my own Was all our propagation.
So closely as to hide it: this being As 'twixt two equal armies Fate
tried Suspends uncertain victory, '

Was proved against him he ; insisted Our souls (which to advance our
then state
I could not by his royal sister's Were gone out) hung 'twixt hei
hand and me.
 ) ;
:: ; ;

HUMAN UPE. 71
Aji^ whilst our souls negotiate But that it first imprints the Air
there, For soul into the soul may flow.
We likesepulchral statues lay: Though it to body first repair.
All day the same our postures were, As our blood labors to beget
And we said nothing all the day. Spirits as like souls as it can.
If any, so by love refined, Because such fingers need to knit
That he soul's language under- That subtile knot which makes us
stood. man:
And by good love were grown all So must pure lovers' souls descend
mind. To affections and to faculties.
Within convenient distance stood. Which sense may reach and ap-
He, (though he knew not which soul prehend ;

spoke, Else a great Prince in prison lies.

Because both meant, both spoke To our bodies turn we then, and so
the same,) Weak men on love revealed may
Might thence a new concoction take, look;
And part far purer than he came. Love's mysteries in souls do grow,
This ecstasy doth unperplex. But yet the body is the book.
We said, and tell us what we love And if some lover such as we
We see by this it was not sex. Have heard this dialogue of one.
We see, we saw not what did Let him mark us, he shall see
still
move: Small change when we're to
But as all several souls contain bodies grown.
Mixture of things they know not Donne.
what,
Love these mixed souls doth mix
again.
And makes both one, each this LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT. ^
andthat.
A single violet transplant, Sitting in my window,
Tlie strength, the color, and the Pointing my thoughts in lawn, I saw
size a god,
(All which before was poor and (I thought, but it was you,) enter
scant, our gates
Redoubles still and multiplies. My blood flew out and back again,
When love with one another so as fast
Interanimates two souls. As I had prest it forth, and sucked
That abler soul which thence doth it in,
flow Like breath ; then was I called away
Defects of loveliness controls. in haste
We who are this new soul,
then, To entertain you. Never was a
know man
Of what we are composed and made Heaved from a sheepcot to a sceptre,
For the atoms of which we grow raised
Are soul, whom no change can So high in thoughts as I : you left a
invade. kiss
But, O alas so long, so far
! Upon these lips, then, which I mean
Our bodies why do we forbear? to keep
They are ours, though not we. From you forever. I did hear you
We are talk
The Intelligences, they the spheres Far above singing; after you were
We owe them thanks, because gone,
they thus I gi'ew acquainted with my heart,
Did us to us at first convey. and searched
Yielded their sense's force to us, What stirred it so. Alas! I found
Nor are dross to us, but allay. it love.
On man Heaven's influence works Beaumont and Fletcher:
not so, Philaster.
 ; !; ; ! : !!
! ; ; :;
; :; : !

72 PAKNASSUS.

MAUD. Thou the fuel, and the flame

Thou in heaven, and here, the same;
Thou the wooer, and the wooed
Thou the hunger, and the food
A VOICE by the cedar-tree, Thou the prayer, and the prayed
In the meadow under the Hall Thou what is or shall be said.
She is singing an air that is known Beaumont ai^d Fletcheb.
to me,
A passionate ballad gallant and gay,
A martial song like a trumpet's call ROSALINE. l^
Singing alone iu the morning of life,
In the happy morning of life and of Like to the clear in highest sphere
May, Where all imperial glory shines,
Singing of men that in battle array, Of selfsame color is her hair.
Ready in heart and ready in hand, Whether unfolded, or in twines
March with banner and bugle and fife Heigh ho, fair Rosaline
To the death, for their native land. Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,
Resembling Heaven by every wink;
The Gods do fear whereas they glow.
And I do tremble when I think
Maud with her exquisite face, Heigh ho, would she were mine
And wild voice pealing up to the
sunny sky, Her cheeks are like the blushing
And feet like sunny gems on an cloud
English green That beautifies Aurora's face.
Maud in the light of her youth and Or like the silver crimson shroud
her grace, That Phoebus' smiling looks doth
Singing of Death, and of Honor that grace;
cannot die. Heigh ho, fair Rosaline
Till I well could weep for a time so Her lips are like two budded roses
sordid and mean, Wliom ranks of lilies neighbor nigh,
And myself so languid and base. Within which bounds she balm en-
closes
Apt to entice a deity
Heigh ho, would she were mine
Silence, beautiful voice.
Be still, for you only trouble the mind Her neck is like a stately tower
With a joy in which I cannot rejoice, Where Love himself imprisoned lies,
A glory I shall not find. To watch for glances every hour
Still ! I will hear you no more From her divine and sacred eyes
For your sweetness hardly leaves me Heigh ho, fair Rosaline
a choice Her paps are centres of delight.
put to move to the meadow, and fall Her breasts are orbs of heavenly
before frame.
Her feet on the meadow grass, and Where Nature moulds the dew of
adore, light
N^ot her, who is neither courtly nor To feed perfection with the same
kind, Heigh ho, would she were mine!
Ifot her, not her, but a voice.
Tennyson. With orient pearl, with ruby red,
With marble white, with sapphire
blue.
TO VENUS. !/ Her body every way is fed.
Yet soft in touch and sweet in view:
DIVINE star of Heaven, Heigh ho, fair, Rosaline
Thou in power above the seven Nature herself her shape admires
Thou, O gentle Queen, that art The Gods are wounded in her sight;
Curer of each wounded heart. And Love forsakes his heavenly flres,
 ! ; : :! : : !

HUMAN LIFE 73
And at her eyes his brand doth light ON A GIRDLE.
Heigho, would she were mine
That which her slender waist con-
Then muse not, Nymphs, though I fined
bemoan Shall now my joyful temples bind :

The absence of fair Rosaline, No monarch but would give his

Since for a fair there's fairer none, crown
Nor for her virtues so divine His aims might do what this has done.
Heigh ho, fair Rosaline
Heigh ho, my
heart ! would God that A narrow compass and yet there
!

she were mine Dwelt all that's good and all that's
T. Lodge. fair
Give me but what this ribband

SONG. ^ Take
bound.
all the rest the Sun goes round.
Waller.
Seb the chariot at hand here of
Love,
Wherein my lady rideth! SONNET, i,.^
Each tliat draws is a swan or a dove.
And well the car Love guideth. How oft, when thou, my music, mu-
As she goes, all hearts do duty sic play'st.
Unto her beauty. Upon that blessed wood whose mo-
And enamoured do wish so they tion sounds
might With thy sweet fingers, when thou
But enjoy such a sight; gently sway'st
That they still were to run by her side. The wiry concord that mine ear con-
Through swords, through seas, founds.
whither she would ride. Do I envy those jacks, that nimble
leap
Do but look on her eyes, they do light To kiss the tender inward of thy
All that Love's world compriseth hand,
Do but look on her hair, it is bright ^Vhilst my poor lips, which sliould
As Love's star when it riseth: that harvest reap,
Do but mark, her forehead's smooth- At the wood's boldness by thee
er blushing stand
Than words that soothe her. To be so tickled, they would change
And from her arched brows such a their state
grace And situation with those dancing
Sheds through the face,
itself chips.
As alone there triumphs to the life O'er whom thy fingers walk with
All the gain, all the good of the ele- gentle gait.
ment's strife. Making dead wood more bless'd than
living lips.
Have you seen a bright lily grow. Since saucy jacks so happy are in
Before rude hands have touched it ? this,
Have you marked but the fall o' the Give them thy fingers, me thy lips
snow to kiss.
Before the soil hath smutched it? Shakspkake.
Have you felt the wool of the Bea-
ver?
Or Swan's down ever? GENEVIEVE.
Or have smelt of the bud of the brier ?
Or the Nard in the fire ? All thoughts, all passions, all de-
Or have tasted the bag of the bee ? lights.
so white, O so soft, O so sweet is Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
she! AH are but ministers of Love,
Ben Jonson. And feed his sacred flame.
 ;; ! ;
; !! ; ; ; !
; ; ; ; ; ;

74 PAENASSTTS.

Oft in my waking dreams do I That sometimes from the savage

Live o'er again that happy hour, den.
When midway on the mount I lay, And sometimes from the darksome
Beside the ruined tower. shade.
And sometimes starting up at once
The moonshine, stealing o'er the In green and sunny glade,
scene.
Had blended with the lights of eve There came and looked him in the
And she was there, my hope, my face
joy. An angel beautiful and bright
My own dear Genevieve And that he knew it was a Fieud,
This miserable Knight
She leaned against the armfed man.
The statue of the armfed knight And that, unknowing what he did.
She stood and listened to my lay. He leaped amid a murderous band,
Amid the lingering light. And saved from outi-age worse than
death
Few sorrows hath she of her own, The Lady of the Laud
My hope, my joy, my Genevieve
She loves me best, whene'er I sing And how she wept, and clasped his
The songs that make her grieve. knees
And how she tended him in vain.
played a soft and doleful air, And ever strove to expiate
I
isang an old and moving story, — The scorn that crazed his brain
An old rude song, that suited well
That ruin wild and hoary. And that she nursed him in a
cave;
She listened with a flitting blush, And how his madness went away,
With downcast eyes and modest Wlien on the yellow forest leaves
grace A dying man he lay ;
—
For well she knew I could not
choose His dying words, — but when I
But gaze upon her face. reached
That tenderest strain of all the ditty.
her of the Knight that wore
I told My faltering voiceand pausing harp
Upon his shield a burning brand Disturbed her soul with pity.
And that for ten long years he
wooed All impulses of soul and sense
The Lady of the Land. Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve
The music and the doleful tale,
I told her how he pined and ah
; The I'ich and balmy eve
The deep, the low, the pleading
tone And hopes, and fears that kindle
With which I sang another's love hope,
Interpreted my own. An undistinguishable throng.
And gentle wishes, long subdued.
She listened with a fitting blush, Subdued and cherished long.
With downcast eyes, and modest
grace She wept with pity and delight,
And she forgave me that I gazed She blushed with love and virgin
Too fondly on her face. shame
And. like the murmur of a dream,
But when I told the cruel scorn I heard her breathe my name.
That crazed that bold and lovely
Knight, Her bosom heaved she stept aside.
:

And that he crossed the mountain- As conscious of my look she stept

woods, Then sviddenly, with timorous eye
Nor rested day nor night; She fled to me and wept.
 ; ! ; ! ; ; ; ; : ;

HUMAN LIFE. 75
She half enclosed me with her arms, An' a lovelier light in the brow of
She pressed me with a meek em- heaven
brace ; Fell time shall ne'er destroy.
And, bending back her head, looked
tip, Thy lips were ruddy and calm, my
And gazed upon my face. lassie.
Thy lips were ruddy and calm;
'Twas partly love, and partly fear, But gane. was the holy breath of
And partly 'twas a bashful art, heaven
That I might rather feel, than see. To sing the evening psalm.
The swelling of her heart.
There's nought but dust now mine,
I calmed her fears, and she was lassie.
calm, There's nought but dust now
And told her love with virgin pride mine
And so I won my Genevieve, My Saul's wi thee in the cauld grave.
My bright and beauteous bride. An' why should I stay behiu' ?
Coleridge. Cunningham.

THE LILY OP NITHSDALE. THE PEASANT'S RETURN.

She's gane to dwall in heaven, my And passing here through evening
lassie. dew.
She's gane to dwall in heaven; He hastened happy to her door.
Ye're ower pure, quoth the voice of But found the old folk only two
God, With no more footsteps on the floor
For dwalling out of heaven To walk again below the skies
Where beaten paths do fall and rise.
what' 11 she do in heaven, my
lassie ? For she wer gone from earthly eyes
what' 11 she do in heaven? — To be a-kept in darksome sleep
She'll mix her ain thoughts with an- Until the good again do rise
gels' sangs. A joy to souls they left to weep.
An' make them mair meet for The rose were dust that bound her
heaven. brow
The moth did eat her Sunday cape
Low there thou lies, my lassie, Her frock were out- of fashion now;
Low there thou lies Her shoes were dried up out of
A bonnier form ne'er went to the
yird, William Barnes.
Nor frae it will arise

Fu' soon I'll follow thee, lassie, ARIADNE.

Fu' soon I'll follow thee
Thou left me nought to covet ahin'. But I wol tume againe to Ariadne,
But took gudness' self wi' thee. That is with slepe for werinesse
ytake,
1 looked on thy death-cold face, my Ful sorrowfully her herte may
lassie, awake.
1 looked on thy death-cold face Alas, for thee, mine hert^ hath
Thou seemed a lilie new cut i' the pitd;
bud, Eight in the dawning tho awaketh
An' fading in its place. she.
And gropeth in the bed, and found
I looked on thy death-shut eye, my right nought
lassie, " Alas," (quoth she) " that ever I
I looked on thy death-shut eye was wrought, —
 : : —
; ; ; ;

76 PARNASSUS.

I am betrayed," and her haire to What should I telW more her com-
rent, plaining,
And to the strand^ barefote fast she It is so long, it were an heavy
went, thing?
Ahd cried: "Theseus, mine hertS In her epistle, Naso
telleth all,
swete, But shortly to tlie end6 tell I shall.
Where be ye, that I may not with The goddes have her holpen for
you mete ? pite'.
And mighte thus with beestes ben And, in the signe of Taurus, men
yslaine." may see
The hollow rock^s answerede her The stones of her crowne shinS
againe, clere,
No man she saw, and yet shone the I will no more speake of this ma-
Moone, tere.
And hie upon a rock^ she went Chaitceb.
soone,
And sawe his barge sayling in the
sea, COMMON SENSE. L^
Cold woxe her herte, and righte
thus said she SECOND THOUGHT.
"Meker then ye find I the beestes
wilde." My mistress's eyes are nothing like
Hath he not sinne, that he her thus the sun
begilde ? Coral is far more red than her lips'
She cried, "O
turne againe for red;
routhe and sinne. If snow be white, why then her
Thy barg6 hath not all his meinie breasts are dun
in," If hairs be wires, black wires grow
Her kerchefe on a pole sticked she, on her head.
Ascaunce he should it well ysee, I have seen roses damask'd red and
And him remembre that she was white,
behind. But no such roses see I in her
And turne againe, and on the stronde cheeks
her find. And in some perfumes is there more
But all for nought, his way he — delight
is ygone. Than in the breath that from my
And down she fell a swone upon a mistress reeks.
stone. I love to hear her speak, yet well —
And up she riste, and kissed in all I know
her care That music hath a far more pleasing
The steppes of his feete, there he sound;
hath fare. Igrant I never saw a goddess go, —
And to her bed right thus she spek- My mistress, when she walks, treads
etli tho on the ground
"Thou bed," (quod she) "that And yet by Heaven, I think my
'
hast' received two.
,
'
love as rare
Thou Shalt answere of two, and not As any she belie' d with false
of one, compare.
Where is the greater parte, away Shakspeabe.
ygone?
Alas, where shall I wretched wight
'

become ? SENTENCES
For 'though so be that bot^ none here
come, 'Tis truth, (although this truth's »
IHotne to my countrey dare I not for star
drede. Too deep-enskied for all to see).
t^ean my selfe In this case not As poets of grammar, lovers are
yrede." The well-heads of morality.
 ; ; ; ! : : ; ; ; ;

HUMAN LIFE. 77
"Keep measure In love?" More When, for the crowning vernal sweet.
light befall Among the slopes and crags I meet
Thy sanctity, and make it less The pilot's pretty daughter.
Be sure I will not love at all
Where I may not love with excess. Round her gentle, happy face,
Dimpled soft, and freshly fair,
Who Is the happy husband ? He Danced with careless ocean grace
Who, scanning his unwedded life, Locks of auburn hair
Thanks Heaven, with a conscience As lightly blew the veering wind.
free, They touched her cheeks, or waved
'Twas faithful to his future wife. behind.
COVENTBY PATMOKE. Unbound, unbraided, and unlooped
Or when to tie her shoe she stooped.
Below her chin the half-curls
SONNET, i^ drooped,
And veiled the pilot's daughter.
Let me not to the marriage of true
minds Rising, she tossed them gayly back.
Admit impediments. Love is not With gestuie infantine and brief.
love To fall around as soft a neck
Which alters when it alteration As the wild-rose's leaf.
finds, Her Sunday frock of lilac shade
Or bends with the remover to re- (That choicest tint) was neatly made,
move ; And not too long to hide from view
O no; an ever-fixfed mark.
it is The stout but noway clumsy shoe.
That looks on tempests, and is never And stockings' smoothly-fitting blue.
shaken That graced the pilot's daughteri
It is the star to every wandering
bark. With look half timid and half droll,
Whose worth's unknown, although And then with slightly downcast
his height be taken. eyes.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy And blush that outward softly stole.
lips and cheeks Unless it were the skies
Within his bending sickle's compass Whose sun-ray shifted on her cheek.
come She turned when I began to speak
Love alters not with his brief hours But 'twas a brightness all her own
and weeks. That in her firm light step was
But bears it out even to the edge of shown,
doom. And the clear cadence of her tone
If this be error, and upon me The pilot's lovely daughter.
proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever Were it my lot (the sudden wish)
loved. To hand a pilot's oar and sail.
Shakspeake. Or haul the dripping moonlight mesh,
Spangled with herring-scale
By dying stars, how sweet 'twould be.
THE PILOT'S DAUGHTER. And dawn-blow freshening the sea,
With weary, cheery pull to shore.
O'Eit western tides the fair Spring To gain my cottage home once more.
Day And clasp, before I reach the door,
Was smiling back as it withdrew, My love, the pilot's daughter.
And all the harbor, glittering gay,
Returned a blithe adieu This element beside my feet
Great clouds above the hills and sea Allures, a tepid wine
of gold
Kept brilliant watch, and air was One touch, one taste, dispels the
free cheat
Where last lark firstborn star shall 'Tis salt and nipping cold
greet, — A fisher's hut, the scene perforce
 — ; : ; ; d

78 PARNASSUS.

Of narrow thoughts and manners To make some special instant special-

coarse, blest.
Coarse as the curtains that beseem By new unfolding his imprison'
With net-festoons the smoljy beam, pride.
Would never lodge my favorite Blessed are you, whose worthi-
dream, ness gives scope.
E'en vrith my pilot's daughter. Being had, to triumph, being
lack'd, to hope.
To the large riches of the earth, Shakspeabe.
Endowing men in their own spite,
The poor, by privilege of birth,
Stand in the closest right. SYMPATHY.
Yet not alone the palm grows dull
With clayey delve and watery pull Lately, alas I knew a gentle boy,
—
!

And this for me, or hourly pain. Whose features all were cast in
But coiild I sink and call it gain? Virtue's mould.
Unless a pilot true, 'twere vain As one she had designed for Beauty's
To wed a pilot's daughter. toy.
But after manned him for her own
Like her, perhaps ? — but ah ! I said. stronghold.
Much wiser leave such thoughts
alone. On every side he open was as day.
So may thybeauty, simple maid, That you might see no lack of
Be mine, yet all thine own. strength within
Joined in my free contented love For walls and ports do only serve
With companies of stars above
Who, from their throne of airy For a pretence to feebleness and sin.
steep.
Do kiss these ripples as they creep Say not that Caesar was victorious,
Across the boundless, darkening With toil and strife who stormed
deep, the House of Fame,
Low voiceful wave! hush soon to In other sense this youth was
sleep glorious,
The gentle pilot's daughter. Himself a kingdom whereso'er he
Allingham. came.

No strength went out to get him

SONNET. <^ victory.
When all was income of its own
So am I as the rich, whose blessed accord
key For where he went none other was
Can bring him to his sweet up- to see.
lockfed treasure. But all were parcel of their noble lord.
The which he will not every hour
survey. He forayed like the subtle haze of
For blunting the fine point of sel- summer,
dom
pleasure. That shows fresh landscapes
stilly
Therefore are feasts so solemn and to our eyes,
so rare. And revolutions works without a.
Since seldom coming, in the long murmur.
year set. Or rustling of a leaf beneath the skies.
Like stones of worth they thinly
placed are, So was I taken unawares by this,
Or captain jewels in the carcanet. 1 quite forgot my homage to confess;
So is the time that keeps you, as my Yet now am forced to know, though
chest. hard it is,
Or as the wardrobe which the robe I might have loved him; had I
doth hide, loved him less.
 ; ; ; ; : : :; ;: :

HUMAN LIFE. 79
Each moment as we nearer drew to MY PLAYMATE.
each,
A stern respect withheld us further Tetb pines were dark on Bamoth
yet, hill,
So that we seemed beyond each Their song was soft and low;
other's reach. The blossoms In the sweet
And less acquainted than when first wind
we met. Were falling like the snow.

We two were one while we did The blossoms drifted at our feet,
sympathize, The orchard birds sang clear
So could we not the simplest bargain The sweetest and the saddest day
drive It seemed of all the year.
And what avails it, now that we are
wise, For, more to me than birds or
If absence, doth this doubleness flowers.
contrive ? My playmate left her home.
And took with her the laughing
Eternity may not the chance repeat; spring,
But I must tread my single way alone, The music and the bloom.
In sad remembrance that we once
did meet. She kissed the lips of kith and kin,
And know that bliss irrevocably gone. She laid her hand in mine
What more could ask the bashful
The spheres henceforth my elegy boy
shall sing. Who fed her father's kine ?
For elegy has other subject none
Each strain of music in my ears She left us in the bloom of May
shall ring The constant years told o'er
Knell of departure from that other Their seasons with as sweet May
one. morns
But she came back no more.
Make haste and celebrate my trage-
dy; I walk with noiseless feet the round
With fitting strain resound, ye woods Of uneventful years
and fields Still o'er and o'er I sow the spring
Sorrow is dearer iu such case to me And reap the autumn ears.
Than all the joys other occasion
yields. She lives where all the golden year
Her summer roses blow
The dusky children of the sun
Is't then toolate the damage to Before her come and go.
repair?
Distance, forsooth, from my weak There haply with her jewelled handj
grasp has reft She smooths her silken gown, —
The empty husk, and clutched the No more the homespun lap wherein
useless tare, I shook the walnuts down.
But in myhands the wheat and
kernel left. The wild grapes wait us by the brook,
The brown nuts on the hill.
If I but love that virtue which he is, And still the May-day flowers make
Though it be scented in the morning sweet
air, The woods of FoUymill.
Still, shall we be truest acquaint-
ances. The lilies blossom in the pond
Nor mortals know a sympathy more The bird builds in the tree
rare. The dark pines sing on Ramoth hill
Thobeau. The slow song of the sea.
 ;; ; !
:
; ; ; : ! ; : :;

80 PARNASStrS.

I wonder she thinks of them,

if We two walk till the purple dieth,

And how the old time seems And short dry grass under foot ia

If ever the pines of Ramoth wood brown.

Are sounding in her dreams, But one little streak at a distance
lieth
I see her face, I hear her voice Green like a ribbon to prank the
Does she remember mine ? down.
And what to her is now the boy
Who fed her father's Itine?

What cares she that the orioles build Over the grass we stepped unto it,
For other eyes than ours And God he knoweth how blithe
That other hands with nuts are filled, we were
And other laps with flowers ? Never a voice to bid us eschew it
Hey the green ribbon that showed
O playmate in the golden time so fair t
Our mossy seat is green
Its fringing violets blossom yet; Hey the green ribbon! we kneeled
The old trees o'er it lean. beside it.
We parted the grasses dewy and
The winds so sweet with birch and sheen
fern Drop over drop there filtered and
A
sweeter memory blow glided
And there in spring the veeries sing A tiny bright beck that trickled
The song of long ago. between.

And the pines of Ramoth wood Tinkle, tinkle, sweetly it sung to us.
still
Are moaning like the sea, — Light was our talk as of fafiry
The moaning of the sea of change bells
Between myself and thee. Faery wedding-bells faintly rung to
Whittier. us
Down in their fortunate parallels.

DIVIDED. Hand in hand while the sun peered

over.
We lapped the grass on that young-
ling spring
An emptysky, a world of heather, Swept back its rushes, smoothed its
Purple of foxglove, yellow of broom clover.
We two among them wading together. And said, "Let us follow it west-
Shaking out honey, treading per- ering."
fume.
III.
Crowds of bees are giddy with clover.
Crowds of grasshoppers skip at our A dappled sky, a world of meadows.
feet. Circling above us the black rooks
Crowds of larks at their matins hang fly
over. Forward, backward; lo their dark
Thanking the Jiord for a life so shadows
sweet. Flit on the blossoming tapegtry

Flusheth the rise with her purple Flit on the beck ; for her long grass
favor, parte th
Gloweth the cleft with her golden As hair from a maid's bright eyes
ring, blown back
'Twixt the two brown butterflies And, the sun like a lover darteth
lo,
waver. His flattering smile on her way
Lightly settle, and sleepily swing. ward track.
 ;" ; : ; :
;
! : ; ; ; ; ;

HUMAN LIFE. 81
Sing on! we sing in the glorious
weather
Till one steps over the tiny strand, A yellow moon in splendor drooping,
So narrow, in sooth, that still to- A tired queen with her state
gether oppressed.
On either brink we go hand in Low by rushes and swordgrass
hand. stooping,
Lies she soft on the waves at rest.
The heck grows wider, the hands
must sever. The desert heavens have felt her
On either margin, our songs all done, sadness
We move apart, while she singeth Her earth will weep her some
ever. dewy tears
Taking the course of the stooping The wild beck ends her tune of
sun. gladness.
And goeth stilly as soul that fears.
He prays, "Come over," —I may
not follow We two walk on in our grassy places
I cry, " Return," — but he cannot On either marge of the moonlit
come: flood,
We speak, we laugh, but with voices With the moon's own sadness in our
hollow faces.
Our hands are hanging, our hearts Where joy is withered, blossom
are numb. and bud.

A breathing sigh, a sigh for answer, A shady freshness, chafers whirring;

A little talking of outward things A little piping of leaf-hid birds
The careless beck is a merry dancer, A flutter of wings, a fitful stirring
Keeping sweet time to the air she A cloud to the eastward snowy as
sings. curds.

A little pain when the beck grows Bare grassy slopes where kids are
wider; tethered,
" Cross to me now; for her wave- Eound valleys like nests all ferny-
swell;"
lets lined,
" I may not cross," and the voice — Round hills, with fluttering tree-tops
beside her feathered,
Faintly reacheth, though heeded Swell high in their freckled robes
well. behiud.

No backward path ah no returning ; ! A rose-flush tender, a thrill, a

Ko second crossing that ripple's quiver,
flow: When golden gleams to the tree-
"Come to me now, for the west is tops glide
burning A flashing edge for the milk-white
Come ere it darkens." — " Ah, no river,
ah, no
!
The beck, a river — with still sleek
tide.
Then cries of pain, and arms out-
reaching, Broad and white, and polished as
The beck grows wider and swift silver
and deep On she goes under fruit-laden
Passionate words as of one beseech- trees
ing: Sunk in leafage cooeth the culver,
The loud beck drowns them: we And 'plaiueth of love's disloyal
walk, and weep. ties.
 ; ; ! :

82 PARNASSUS.

Glitters the dew, and shines the QUA CUESUM VENTUS.

riA'er,
Up comes the lily and dries her Asships becalmed at eve, that lay
bell; With canvas drooping, side by side,
But two are walking apart forever, Two towers of sail at dawn of day
And wave their hands for a mute Are scarce, long leagues apart,
farewell. descried

When fell the night, upsprung the

breeze.
A braver swell, a swifter sliding And all the darkling hours they
The river hasteth, her banks re- plied,
cede. Nor dreamt but each the selfsame seas
Wing-like sails on her bosom gliding By each was cleaving, side by side
Bear down the lily, and drown the
reed. E'en so — but why the tale reveal
Of those whom, year by year un-
Stately prows are rising and bowing
(Shouts of mariners winnow the Brief absence joined anew to feel.
air). Astounded, soul from soul es-
And level sands for banks endowing tranged ?
The tiny green ribbon that showed
so fair. At dead of night their sails were
filled.
While, O my heart! as white sails And onward each rejoicing steered
shiver, Ah, neither blame, for neither willed.
And
clouds are passing, and banks Or wist, what first with dawn ap-
stretch wide, peared !

How hard to follow, with lips that

quiver. To veer, how vain! On, onward
That moving speck on the far-off strain.
side. Brave barks! In light, in dark-
ness too.
Farther, farther; I see it, know it — Through winds and tides one com-
My eyes brim over, it melts away: pass guides, —
Only my heart to my heart shall To that, and your own selves, be
show it true.
As I walk desolate day by day.
But O blithe breeze, and O great seas.
Though ne'er, that earliest part-
ing past.
And yet I know past all doubting, On your wide plain they join again.
truly, — Together lead them home at last
A knowledge greater than grief
can dim, — One port, methought, alike they
I know, as he loved, he will love me sought.
duly,— One purpose hold where'er they
Tea better, e'en better than I fare, —
love him. bounding breeze, O rushing seas.
At last, at last, unite them there!
And as I wa'k by the vast calm Clough.
river.
The awful river so dread to see, SUNDERED.
I say, " Thy breadth and thy depth
forever 1 CHALLENGE the Oracle
iiot
Are bridged by his thoughts that That drove you from my board:
cross to me." I bow before the dark decree
Jean Inqelow. That scatters as X hoard.
 : ! ; : !

HUMAN LIPB. 83.

You vanished like the sailing ship INBORN ROYALTY.
That rides far out at sea.
I murmur as your farewell dies O THOU goddess.
And your form floats from me Thou divine Nature, how thyself
thou blazon' St
Ah ties are
! sundered in this hour In these two princely boys ! They
No tide of fortune rare are as gentle
Shall bring the heart I owned before, As zephyrs, blowing below the vio-
And my love's loss repair. let.
Not wagging his sweet head: and
When voyagers make a foreign port, yet as rough,
And leave their precious prize, Their royal blood enchafed, as the
Returning home they bear for rud'st wind.
freight That by the top doth take the
A bartered merchandise. mountain pine.
And make him stoop to the vale.
Alas ! When you come back to me. 'Tis wonderful
And come not as of yore. That an invisible instinct should
But with your ahen wealth and peace. frame them
Can we be lovers more ? To royaltyunlearned; honor un-
taught;
I gave you up to go your ways, CiviUty not seen from other; valor,
O you whom I adored That wildly grows in them, but'
Love hath no ties, but Destiny yields a crop
Shall cut them with a sword. As if it had been sowed
SisxEY H. Morse. Shakspeakb: Gymbeline.

LOVE AGAINST LOVE. GENTILITY.

As unto blowing roses sunmier But for ye speken of such gentil-
dews. lesse,
Or morning's amber to the tree-top As is descended out of old richesse,
choirs. That therfore shullen ye be gentil-
So to my bosom are the beams that men, —
use Such aiTogance n'is not worth an hen.
To rain on me from eyes that love Look who that is most virtuous
inspires. alway,
Your love, —
vouchsafe it, royal- Prive and apart, and most entendeth
hearted Few, aye
And I will set no common price To do the gentil dedes that he can,
thereon, And take him for the greatest gen-
O, I will keep, as heaven his holy tilman.
blue. Christ wol we claime of him our
Or night her diamonds, that dear gentillesse.
treasure won. Not of our elders for their old rich-
But aught of inward faith must I esse:
forego, For though they gave us all their
Or miss one drop from truth's bap- heritage.
tismal hand, For which we claim to be of high
Think poorer thoughts, pray cheaper parage.
prayers, and grow Yet may they not bequethen, for
Less worthy trust, to meet your no thing.
heart's demand, — To none of us, their virtuous living,
Farewell'. Tour wish I for your sake That made them gentilmen callfed to
deny be,
Rebel to love in truth to love am L And bade us follow them in such
D. A, Wasson. degree.
 ;: : ; ;

84 PARNASSUS.
" Wei can the wise poet of Flor- For sinful dedes make a
vilains'
ence, churl.
That hight6 Dant, speken of this For gentillesse n'is but the renomee
sentence Of thine auncestres, for their high
Lo, In such maner rime Is Dante's bounte'e,.
tale. Which is a strange thing to thy per-
Ful selde upriseth by his branches soue:
smale Thy gentillesse Cometh fro God
Prowesse of man, for God of his alone.
goodnesse Than cometh our very gentillesse of
Will that we claime of him our gen- grace.
tillesse It was no thing bequethed us with
For of our elders may we nothing our place.
claime Chaucek.
But temporal thing, that man may
hurt and maime.
" Eke every wight wot this as wel BEAUTY. 6^
as I,
If gentlllesse were planted natur- So every spirit, as it is most pure.
elly And hath in it the more of heaven-
Unto a certain linage down the line, ly light.
Prive and apart, then wol they never So it the fairer body doth procure
fine To habit in, and it more fairly dight
To don of gentillesse the faire of- With cheerful grace and amiable
fice, sight;
They mighten do no vilanie or vice. For of the soul the body form doth
" Take fire and beare it into the take;
derkest hous For soul is form, and doth the body
Betwixt this and the mount of Cau- make.
casus,
And let men shut the dor^s, and go Therefore wherever that thou dost
"
tlienne, behold
Yet <volthe fire as faire lie and A comely corpse, with beauty fair
brenne endued,
As twenty thousand men might it Know this for certain, that the same
behold doth hold
His office naturel ay wol it hold, A beauteous soul, with fair condi-
Up peril of my that it die.
lif, til tions thewed,
"Here may ye see wel, how that Fit to receive the seed of virtue
genterie strewed
Is not annexed to possession, For all that fair is, is by nature good
Sith folk ne don their operation That is a sign to know the gentle
Alway, as doth the fire, lo, in his blood.
kind.
For God It wot, men may full often Yet oft it falls that many a gentle
find mind
A lorde's son do shame and vilanie. Dwells in deformfed tabernacle
And he that wol have prize of his drowned,
genterie. Either by chance, against the course
For he was boren of a gentil house, of kind.
And had his elders noble and virtu- Or through unaptnesse in the sub-
ous, stance found.
And n'illhimselven do no gentil Which it assumfed of some stubborne
dedes, ground,
Ke folwe his gentil auncestrie, that That will not yield unto her form's
'
dead is. direction,
He n'is not gentil, be he duke or But is perform' d' with some foul im.
erl; perfection.
 ;;
; ; ;; ! ;

HUMAif LIFE. 85
Aiid oft it falls (aye me, the more to To have at once devoured her tender
rue!) corse
That goodly heauty, albeit heavenly But to the prey when as he drew
born, more nigh.
and that celestial hue.
Is foulabus'd, His bloody rage assuagfed with re-
Which doth the world with her de- morse,
light adorn. And with the sight amazed, forgat
Made but the bait of sin, and sin- his furious force.
ners' scorn,
Whilst every one doth seek and sue Instead thereof, he kissed her weary
to have it. feet.
But every one doth seek but to de- And licked her lily hands with fawn-
prave it. ing tongue.
As he her wrongfed innocence did
Yet nathemore is that faire beauty's weet.
blame. Oh! how can beauty master the
But theirs that do abuse it unto ill: most wrong.
Nothing so good, but that through And simple truth subdue avenging
guilty shame strong
May be corrupt, and wrested unto Whose yielded pride and proud sub-
will: mission.
Nathelesse the soule is fair and Still dreading death, when she had
beauteous still, markfed long.
However fleshe's fault it filthy make Her heart 'gan melt in great com-
For things immortal no corruption passion.
take. And drizzling tears did shed for pure
Spensee. afCection.

"The lion, lord of every beast ir

field,"
UNA AND THE LION.^ Quoth she, "his princely puissance
doth abate.
One day, nighweary of the irksome And mighty proud to humble weak
way. does yield
Prom her unhasty beast she did Forgetful of the hungry rage, which
alight late
And on the grass her dainty limbs Him pricked, in pity of sad es- my
did lay. tate : —
In secret shadow far from all men's But he, my
lion, and my
noble lord.
sight How does he find in cruel heart to
From her fair head her fillet she un- hate
dight. Her that him loved, and ever most
And laid her stole aside ; her angel's adored
face As the god of my life ? Why hath;
As the great eye of heaven shined he me abhorred?"
bright.
And made a sunshine in the shady Redounding tears did choke th' end
place of her plaint.
Did never mortal eye behold such Which softly echoed from the neigh-
heavenly grace. bor wood
And sad to see her sorrowful con-
It fortunfed, out of the thickest wood straint
A ramping lion rushfed suddenly. The kingly beast upon her gazing
Hunting full greedy after savage stood
blood. With pity calmed, down fell his an-
Soon as the royal virgin he did spy. gry mood.
With gaping mouth at her ran gree- At last,in close heart shutting up
dily, her pain.
 ; ; ; ; ; : ; ; ;

PAKNASSTJS.

Arose the virgin, bom of heavenly SONNET.

brood,
And to her snowy palfrey got again To me, fair friend, you never can be
To seek her strayed champion if she old.
might attain. For as you were, when first your eye
I eyed.
The lion would not leave her deso- Such seems your beauty still. Three
late, winters cold
But with her went along, as a strong Have from the forest shook three
guard summers' pride;
Of her chaste person, and a faithful Three beauteous springs to yellow
mate. autumn turned.
Still, when she slept, he kept both In process of the seasons have I
watch and ward seen,
And, when she waked, he waited Three April perfumes in three hot
diligMit, Junes burned.
With humble service to her will pre- Since first I saw you fresh which yet
pared : are green.
From her fair eyes he took com- Ah ! yet doth beauty, like a dial-
mandment hand.
And ever by her looks conceived her Steal from his figure, and no pace
intent. perceived
Spbnseb. So your sweet hue, which methinks
still doth stand.

]/' Hath motion, and mine eye may be

deceived. n
WHEN I DO
COinSTT THE For fear of which, hear this, thou
CLOCK. age unbred,
Ere you were born, was beauty's
When I do count the clock that tells summer dead.
the time, Shakspeake.
1/
And see the brave day sunk in hide-
ous night Tbuth needs no color with his color
When I behold the violet past fixed.
prime, Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to
And sable curls all silvered o'er with lay; .

white; But best is best, if never intermix'd.

When lofty trees I see barren of Shakspeaee.
leaves.
Which erst from heat did canopy the HYMN TO THE GRACES. U^
herd.
And summer's green, all girded up When I love, as some have told,
in sheaves. Love I shall when I am old,
Borne on the bier with white and O ye Graces !make me fit
bristly beard For the welcoming of it.
Then of thy beauty do I question Clean my rooms as temples be.
make. To entertain that deity
That thou among the wastes of time Give me words wherewith to woo,
must go. Suppling and successful too
Since sweets and beauties do them- Winning postures, and withal,
selves forsake, Manners each way musical
A-ud die as fast as they see others Sweetnesse to allay my sour
grow; And unsmooth behavior
And nothing 'gainst Time's scythe For I know you have the skill
can make defence. Vines to prune, though not to kill
Save breed, to brave him when he And of any wood ye see,
takes thee hence. You can make a Mercury.
Shaesfeabe. HeBBIGBi
 ; —
; ;; ;

HUMAN LIFE. 87
SONG. U An erring lace, which here and there
Inthralls the crimson stomacher, —
How near to good is what is fair, A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Which we no sooner see, Eibbons to flow confusedly, —
But with the lines and outward air A winning wave, deserving note.
Our senses taken be. In the tempestuous petticoat, —
We wish to see it still, and prove A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
What ways we may deserve I see a wild civility, —
We eourt, we praise, we more than Do more bewitch me, than when
love, art
We are not grieved to serve. Is too precise in every part.
Ben Jonson. Hebbick.

MY CHAEMEE. FEEEDOM IN DEESS. L-

Sweetness, truth, and every, grace Still to be neat, still to be drest,
Which time and use are wont to As you were going to a feast
teach. Still to be powdered, still per-
The eye may in a moment reach fumed, —
And read distinctly in her face. Lady, it is to be presumed.
Though art's hid causes are not
Some other nymphs with colors faint found.
And pencil slow, may Cupid paint. All is not sweet, all is not sound.
And a weak heart in time destroy
She has a stamp, and prints the boy. Give me a look, give me a face.
Wallek. That makes simplicity a grace
Eobes loosely flowing, hair as free, —
I Such sweet neglect more taketh me
THE POETEY OF DEESS. Than all the adulteries of art
They strike mine eyes, but not my
A sweet disorder in the dress heart.
Kindles in clothes a wantonness : Ben Jonson.
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction, —
 III.

INTELLECTUAL.
MEMORY. —INSPIRATION. —IMAGINATION.
FANCY. — MUSIC. — ART. — MOODS.

"Qnotque adeiant vatea, rebar adesse Deos." — OVXD.

" By pain of heart, now checked, and now impelled,
The intellectual power from words to things
Went sounding on, — adim and perilous way."— WoBDSWOBTH.
 ;; ! —

Ili3"TELLECTUAL.

THOUGHT. Are the clouds that wander by

But the offspring of mine eye,
Messenger, art thou the king, Bom with evei-y glance I cast,
or I? Perishing when that is past ?
Thou dalliest outside the palace gate And those thousand, tliousand eyes,
on thine idle armor lie the late
Till Scattered through the twinkling
And heavy dews the morn's bright,
: skies.
scornful eye Do they draw their life from mine,
Eeminds thee; then, in subtle Or, of their own beauty shine ?
mockery.
Thou smilest at the window where I Now I close my eyes, my ears.
wait, And creation disappears
Who bade thee ride for life. In Yet if I but speak the word.
empty state All creation is restored.
My days go on, while false hours Or — more wonderful — within.
prophesy New creations do begin
Thy quick return; at last, in sad Hues more bi-ight and forms more
despair, rare.
1 cease to bid thee, leave thee free Than reality doth wear,
as air; Plash across my inward
sense,
When lo, thou stand'st before me Born of the mind's omnipotence.
glad and fleet.
And lay'st undreamed-of treasures Soul ! that all informest, say
at my feet. Shall these glories pass away ?
Ah! messenger, thy royal blood to Will those planets cease to blaze
buy, When these eyes no longer gaze ?
I am too poor. Thou art the kmg, And the life of things be o'er,
not I. When these pulses beat no more ?
H. H.
Thought! that in me works and
lives, —
QUESTIONINGS. Life to things living gives,
all —
Art thou not thyself, perchance,
Hath this world, without me But the universe in trance ?
wrought, A reflection inly flung
Other substance than my thought? By that world thou fanciedst sprung
Lives it by my sense alone, From thyself, — thyself a dream,
Or by essence of its own. Of the world's thinking thou the
Will its life, with mine begun. theme ?
Cease to be when that is done,
Or anotlier consciousness Be it thus, or be thy birth
With the selfsame forms impress ? From a source above the earth, —
Be thou matter, be thou mind.
Doth yon fire-ball, poised in air. In thee alone myself I find.
Hang by ray permission there ? And through thee alone, for me,
91
 ; ;

92 PAENASSUS.

Hath this world reality. And odors in the landscape sail,

Therefore, in thee will I live,
To thee all myself will give,
Losing still, that I may find
This hounded self in houndless mind.
F. H. Hedge.
-
MEMOKY.
And charm the sense with sudden
bliss.
But Pate, who metes a different way
To me, since I was falsely sold,
Hath gray-haired turned the sunny
day.
Bent its high form, and made it old.

In sweet dreams softer than un- Come Time, come Death, and blot
broken rest my doom
Thou leddest by the hand thine With fellerwoes, if they be thine
infant Hope. Clang back thy gates, sepulchral
The eddying of her garments caught tomb.
from thee And match thy barrenness with
The light of thy great presence ; and mine.
the cope
Of the half-attained futurity. O moaning wind along the shore.
Though deep not fathomless, How faint thy sobbing accents
Was cloven with the million stars come!
which tremble Strike on my heart with maddest roar.
O'er the deep mind of dauntless Thou meet' St no discord in this
infancy. home.

Sure she was nigher to heaven's Sear, blistering sun, these temple
spheres, veins
Listening the lordly music flowing Blind, icy moon, these coldest eyes
And
from
The illimitable years.
drench
rains, —me through, ye winter

Tennyson. Swell, if ye can, my miseries.

Those dark deep orbs are meeting
MEMOET. mine.
That white hand presses on my
brow.
That soft, sweet smile I know, 'tis
I HEAK thy solemn anthem fall, thine, —
Of richest song, upon my ear, I see thee standing by me now.
That clothes thee in thy golden pall, Channing.
As this wide sun flows on the mere.
Away — 'tis Autumn in the land. POEESIGHT. )/
Though Summer decks the green
pine's bough. No man is the lord of any thing
Its spires are plucked by thy white Till he communicate his parts to
hand, — others,
I see thee standing by me now. Nor doth he of himself know them
'
for aught
I dress thee in the withered leaves, Till he behold them formed in the
Like forests when their day is applause
done, Where they are extended, which,
I bear thee as the wain sheaves.
its like an arch, reverberates
Which crisply rustle in the sun. The voice again or like a gate of steel.
;

Fronting the sun, receives and ren-

A thousand flowers enchant the gale ders back
With perfume sweet as love's first His figure and his heart.
Shakspeabe.
 ; ; ;; : ;

INTELLECTtJAL. 93
ODE TO HIMSELF. '^ Of objects be not so in-
fitting
flamed.
Whbbe dost thou careless lie How much, then, were this king-
Buried in ease and sloth ? dom's main soul maimed
Knowledge that sleeps, doth die To want this great inflamer of all
And this security, powers
It is the common moth That move in human souls! All
That eats on wits and arts, and so realms but yours
destroys them both. Are honored with them, and hold
blest that State
Are all the Aonian springs That have his works to read and
Dried up ? lies Thespia waste ? contemplate,
Doth Clarius' harp want strings ? In which humanity to her height is
That not a nymph now sings ? raised
Or droop they as disgraced Which all the world, yet none enough
To see their seats and bowers by hath praised.
chattering pies defaced ? Seas, earth, and heaven, he did in
verse comprise,
If hence thy silence be. Outsung the Muses, and did equal-
As 'tis too just a cause, — ize
Let this thought quicken thee Their King Apollo; being so far
Minds that are great and free from cause
Should not on fortune pause Of princes' light thoughts, that their
'Tis crown enough to virtue still, gravest laws
her own applause. May find stuff to be fashioned by his
Ben Jonson. lines.
Through all the pomp of kingdoms
still he shines.
And graceth all his gracers. Then
let lie
-^KOT EVEEY DAY PIT EOK Your lutes and viols, and more
VEESE. loftily
Make the heroics of your Homer
'Tis not every day that I sung;
Fitted am to prophesy To drums and trumpets set his angel
No, but when the spirit fills tongue;
The fantastic pannicles. And, with the' princely sport of
Full of fire, then I write hawks you use.
As the Godhead doth indite. Behold the kingly flight of his high
Thus inraged, my lines are hurled. muse.
Like the Sibyl's through the world: And see how, like the Phoenix, she
Look how next the holy fire renews
Either slakes, or doth retire Her age and starry feathers in your
So the fancy cools, till when sun.
That brave spirit comes agen. Thousands of years attending every ;

Hbbeick, one
Blowing the holy fire, throwing In
Their seasons, kingdoms, nations,
that have been
t/THE PKAISE OP HOMEE. Subverted in them ; laws, religions,
all
O ! 'tis wondrous much Offered to change, and greedy
Though nothing prosed, that the right funeral.
virtuous touch Yet still your Homer lasting, living;
Of a well written soul to virtue reigning.
moves, And proves how firm Truth builds
ffor have we souls to purpose, if in poets feigning.
their loves Geobge Chapman.
 : ; : ; : '

94 PARNASSUS.

SONNET. Rigid in thought and motionless he

stands.
ON riBST LOOKING INTO CHAP- Nor quits his theme or posture, till
MAN'S HOMEK. the sun
Disturbs his nobler intellectual
Much have I travelled in the realms beam.
of gold, And gives him to the tumult of the
And many goodly states and king- world.
doms seen TOUNG.
Round many western islands have I
been,
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. MORNING.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been
told Sleep is like death, and after sleep,
That deep-browed Homer ruled as The world seems new begun,
his demesne Its earnestness all clear and deep.
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Its true solution won
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud White thoughts stand luminous and
and bold firm,
Then felt I like some watcher of the Like statues in the sun.
skies Refreshed from supersensuous
When a new planet swims into his founts.
ken; The soul to purer vision mounts.
Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle Allingham.
eyes
He stared at the Pacific, — and all
his men INSPIRATION.
Looked at each other with a wild
surmise — If with light head erect I sing.
Silent, upon a peak in Darien. Though all the Muses lend their force,
Keats. From my poor love of any thing.
The verse is weak and shallow as its

SOCRATES.
But if with bended neck I groi)e.
Night isfair Virtue's immemorial Listening behind me for my wit,
friend. With faith superior to hope,
The conscious moon through every More anxious to keep back than
distant age forward it
Has held a lamp to Wisdom, and let
fall Making my soul accomplice there
On Contemplation's eye her purging Unto the flame my heart hath lit,
ray. Then will the verse forever wear, —
The famed Athenian, he who wooed Time cannot bend the line whicl'
from heaven God has writ.
Philosophy the fair, to dwell with
men, I who had but ears,
hearing get,
And form their manners, not inflame And who had but eyes before
sight,
their pride I live, who lived but years,
moments
While o'er his head, as fearful to And truth discern, who knew but
molest learning's lore.
His laboring mind, the stars in si-
lence slide. Now chiefly is my natal hour,
And seem all gazing on their future And only now my prime of life,
guest. Of manhood's strength it is the
See him soliciting his ardent suit, flower,
In private audience all the livelong; 'Tis peace's end, and war's begin-
night ning strife.
 — ; ; ; !; : ;

INTELLECTUAIi. 96
It comes in summer's broadest noon, And no think lang
By a gray wall, or some chance place, O sweet to stray and pensive ponder
Unseasoning time, insulting June, A heartfelt sang
And vexing day with its presuming BXIBNS.
face.

I will not doubt the love untold THE FLOWEE. 1^

Which not my worth nor want hath
bought, How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and
Which wooed me young, and wooed clean
me old. Are thy returns ! even as the flowers
And to this evening hath me in spring
brought. To which, besides their own de-
Thoreau. mean.
The late-past frosts tributes of
pleasure bring.
THE POET. Grief melts away
Like snow in May,
Thotj hast learned the woes of all As if there were no such cold thing.
the world
From thine own longings and lone Who would have thought my
tears, shrivelled heart
And now thy broad sails are unfurled Could have recovered greenness?
And all men hail thee with loud It was gone
cheers. Quite underground ; as flowers de-
part
The flowing sunlight is thy home, To mother root, when they
see their
The billows of the sea are thine. have blown
To all the nations shalt thou roam. Wliere they together
Through every heart thy love shall All the hard weather.
shine. Dead to the world, keep house un-
known.
The subtlest thought that finds its
goal And now in age I bud again,
Far, far beyond the horizon's verge, After so many deaths I live and
Oh ! shoot it forth on arrows bold write
The thoughts of men on, on, to urge. I once more smell the dew and rain.
And relish versing : only light. O my
Toil not to free the slave from It cannot be
chains, That I am he
Think not to give the laborer rest, — On whom thy tempests fell all night.
Unless rich beauty fill the plains Hbbbebt.
The free man wanders still unblest.
Allmen can dig and hew rude stone. WRITING VERSES.
But thou must carve the frieze above.
And columned high through thee Just now I've ta'en a fit of rhyme.
alone My barmy noddle's working prime.
Shall rise our frescoed homes of love. My fancy yerkit up sublime
C. S. T. Wi' hasty summons
Hae ye a leisure moment's time
To hear what's comin' ?
INSPIRATION.
Some rhyme a neebor's name to lash
The Muse, nae poet ever fand her, Some rhyme (vain thought!) for
Till byhimsel' he learned t? wander, needfu' cash;
Adown some trotting bum's me- Some rhyme to court the countra
ander, clash,
 ; :; ;!; ;; ; ;

96 PAENASSUS.

An' raise a din Poesy, thou sweet' st content.

For me, an aim I never fash That e'er Heaven to mortals lent.
I rhyme for fun. Though they as a trifle leave thee,
Whose dull thoughts cannot con-
The star that rules my luckless lot, ceive thee.
Has fated me the russet coat. Though thou be to them a scorn
An' damned my fortune to the groat Who to nought but earth are born ;
But in requit, Let my life no longer be
Has blessed me wi' a random shot Than I am in love with thee.
O' countra wit. Gboege Wither.
BUBNS.

THE POET.
THE MUSE.
And also, beau sire, of other things,
The Muse doth tell me where to bor- That is, thou haste no tidings
row Of Love's folk, if they be glade,
Comfort in the midst of sori'ow Ne of nothing els^ that God made.
Makes the desolatest place And not only fro far countree.
To her presence be a grace That no tidings come to thee,
And the blackest discontents Not of thy very neighbors.
Be her fairest ornaments. That dwellen almost at thy dores.
In my former days of bliss, Thou hearest neither that ne this,
Her divine skill taught me this. For when thy labor all done is.
That, from every thing I saw, And hast made all thy reckonings
I could some invention draw Instead of rest and of new things,
'

And raise pleasure to her height, Thou goest home to thine house
Through the meanest object's sight. anone.
By the rauiTuur of a spring. And also dumb6 as a stone.
Or the least bough's rustling. Thou sittest at another booke.
By a daisy, whose leaves spread. Till fully dazfed is thy looke.
Shut, when Titan goes to bed, And livest thus as an hermite.
Or a shady bush, or tree. Chaucer.
She could more infuse in me.
Than all Nature's beauties can
In some other wiser man. PRATER TO APOLLO.
By her help, I also now
Make this churlish place allow God of science and of light,
Some things that may sweeten glad- Apollo through thy greate might,
ness. This littell last booke now thou gie,*
In the very gall of sadness. Now that I will for maistrie,
The dull loneness, the black shade, Here art potenciall be shewde.
That these hanging vaults have But for the rime is light and lewde,
made; Yet make it somewhat agreeable,
The strange music of the waves Though some verse fayle in a sillable,
Beating on these hollow caves And that I do no diligence.
This black den which rocks emboss To shewe craft, but sentence,
Overgrown with eldest moss And if divine vertue thou
The rude portals which give light Wilt helpe me to shewe now.
More to terror than delight That in my heed ymarked is,
Tills my chamber of Neglect, Lo, thatis for to meanen this.
Walled about with Disrespect The House of Fame for to discrive, —
From all these, and this dull air, Thou shalt see me go as blive t
A fit object for despair, Unto the next laurel I see
She hath taught me by her might And kisse it, for it is thy tree,
To draw comfort and delight. Now enter in my brest anon.
Therefore, thou best earthly bliss, Chaucer,
I will cherish thee for this
» Guide. t Quickly.
 ;

INTELLECTUAL. 97
THE CUCKOW AND THE Teve sorrow on thee, and on thy
NIGHTINGALE. lewde vols.
Full little joy have I now of thy
I CAME
to a laund of white and cry."
green,
So faire one had I never in been, And as I with the cuckow thus gan
The ground was green, ypowdred chide,
with daisie, I heard in the next bush beside
The flowres and the grov6s like hy, A nightingale so lustely sing.
All greene and white, was nothing That with her clerd voice she madd
eles seene. ring
Through all the greene wood wide.
There sate I downe among the faire
flowres, "Ah, good nightingale'" (quoth I
And saw the birds trip out of hir then)
bowrs. "A little hast thou ben too long^
There as they rested them all the hen,*
night, For here hath been the lewd cuckow.
They were so joyfuU of the day& And songen songs rather than hast
light. thou,
They began of May for to done hon- I pray to God evil Are her bren."
ours.
But now I wol you tell a wonder thing.
They coud that service all by rote, As long as I lay in that swowniug.
There was many a lovely note, Me thought I wist what the birds
Some sung loud as they had plainfed, meant,
And some in other manner voice And what they said, and what was
yfainfed. their intent.
And some all out with the full throte. And of their speech I had good
knowing.
They proyned hem, and made them
right gay, There heard I the nightingale say,
And daunceden, and leapten on the " Now, good cuckow, go somewhere
spray. away.
And evermore two and two in fere. And let us that can singen dwellen
Right so as they had chosen them to here,
yere For every wight escheweth thee to
In Februere, upon saint Valentine's hear.
day. Thy songs be so eleng^ in good fay."

And the river that I sate upon. "What" (quod she) "what may
It made such a
noise as it ran, thee alien now,
Accordaunt with the bird^s har- It thinketh me, I sing as well as thou,
mony, For my song is both true and plaine.
Methought it was the best melody And though I cannot crakell so in
That might ben yheard of any mon. vaine.
As thou dost in thy throte, I wot
And for delite, I wote never how never how.
I,fell in such a slomber and a swow,
Not all asleepe, ne fully waking. " And every wight may understande
And in that swow me thought I mee.
heard sing But nightingale so may they not
The sorry bird, the lewd cuckow. done thee
For thou hast many a nice queint cry,
And that was on a tree right fast by. I have thee heard saine, oey, ocy,
But who was then evill apaid tut I ? How might I know what th4*
"Now God" (quod I) "that died should be?"
on the crois * Hence.
7
 ! ; ! : ;

PAENASSUS.

"Ah foole," (quod she,) " wist thou To men as they are men within
not what it is themselves.
When that I say, ocy, ocy, ywis ? How oft high service is performed
Then meane I that I would wonder within,
faine When all the external man is rude
That all they were shamefully yslaine in show
Thatmeanen ought agaiu^ love amiss. Not like a temple rich with pomp
and gold.
" And also I would that all tho were But a mere mountain chapel that
dede protects
That thinkg not in love their life to Its simple worshippers from sun and
lede. shower
For whoso that wol not the God of Of these, said I, shall be song; my
love serve, of these.
I dare well say, he worthy is to starve, If future years mature me for the task,
And for that skill, ocy, ocy, I grede." Will I record the praises, making verse
Chaucer. Deal boldly with substantial things,
— in truth
And sanctity of passion speak of these,
STEAMBOATS, VIADUCTS, That justice may be done, obeisance
AND RAILWAYS. paid
Where it is due. Thus haply shall
Motions and means, on land and sea I teach.
at war Inspire, through unadulterated ears
With old poetic feeling, not for this, Pour rapture, tenderness, and liopfe
Shall ye, by poets even, be judged my theme
amiss No other than the very heart of man,
Nor shall your presence, howsoe'er As found among the best of those
it mar who live.
The loveliness of Nature, prove a Not unexalted by religious faith.
bar Nor uninfoiTned by books,good books,
To the mind'sgaining that pro- though few.
phetic sense In Nature's presence: thence may I
Of future change, that point of select
vision whence Sorrow that is not sorrow, but
May be discovered what in soul ye delight.
are. And miserable love that is not pain
In spite of all that beauty may dis- To hear of, for the glory that
own redounds
In your harA features. Nature doth Therefrom to human kind, and
embrace what we are.
Her lawful offspring in man's art; Be mine to follow with no timid step
and Time, Where knowledge leads me it shall ;

Pleased with your triumphs o'er his be my pride

brother Space, That I have dared to tread this holy
Accepts from your bold hands the ground.
proffered crown Speaking no dream, but things oracu-
Of hope, and smiles on you with lar.
cheer sublime. Matter not lightly to be heard by
WoiiDSWORTH. those
Wlio to the letter of the outward
promise
SCALE OF MINDS. Do read the invisible soul : by meu
adroit
" Hebe might I pause, and bend m In speech, and for communion with
reverence the world
I'o Nature, and the power of Accomplished, minds whose facul-
human minds ties are then
 ; ; : ;

INTELLECTUAL. 99
Most active when tliey are most PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION.
eloquent,
And elevated most when most As Memnon's marble harp renowned
admired. of old
Men may be found of other mould By fabling Nilus, to the quivering
than these touch
Who are their own upholders, to Of Titan's ray, with each repulsive
themselves string
Encouragement, and energy, and Consenting, sounded through the
will; warbling air
Expressing liveliest thoughts in Unbidden strains; e'en so did
words.
lively Nature's hand
As. native passion dictates. Others, To certain species of external things
too, Attune the finer organs of the mind:
There are, among the walks of So the glad impulse of congenial
homely life, powers.
Still higher, men for contemplation Or of sweet sound, or fair-propor-
framed tioned form.
Shy, and unpractised in the strife The grace of motion, or the bloom
of phrase. of light,
Meek men, whose very souls perhaps Thrills through imagination's tender
would sink frame,
Beneath them, summoned to such From nerve to nerve ; all naked and
intercourse. alive
Theirs is the language of the heav- They catch the spreading rays ; till
ens, the power. now the soul
The thought, the image, and the At length discloses every tuneful
silent joy spring,
Words are hut under-agents in their To that harmonious movement from
souls without,
When they are grasping with their Responsive. Then the inexpressive
greatest strength strain
They do not breathe among them; Diffuses its enchantment; Fancy
speak
this I dreams
In gratitude to God, who feeds our Of sacred fountains and Elysian
hearts groves,
For his own service, knoweth, lov- And vales of bliss; the Intellectual
eth us. Power
When we are unregarded by the Bends from his awful throne a
world." wondering ear,
WOBDSWOETH. And smiles; the passions gently
soothed away.
Sink to divine repose, and love and joy
UNDER THE PORTRAIT OF Alone are wakhig; love and joy
MILTON. serene
As airs that fan the summer. O
Three Poets, in three distant ages attend.
born, Whoe'er thou art whom these de-
Greece, Italy, and England did lights can touch,
adorn. Wliose candid bosom the refining love
The first in loftiness of thought sur- Of nature wanns; O, listen to my
song,
The next in majesty in both the ; last. And I will guide thee to her favorite
The force of Nature could no fur- walks,
ther go : And teach thy solitude her voice to
To make a third she joined the for- hear.
mer two. And point her loveliest features to
DlJYDEN. thy view.
 ;; ; ; ; ; ;

100 PARNASSUS.

Say, why was man so eminently To mark the windings of a scanty

raised rill
Amid the vast creation; why or- That murmurs at his feet? The
dained high-born soul
Through life and death to dart his Disdains to rest her heaven-aspiring
piercing eye, wing
With thoughts beyond the limits of Beneath its native quarry. Tired of
his frame, earth
But that the Omnipotent might send And this diurnal scene, she springs
him forth aloft.
In sight of mortal and immortal Through fields of air pursues the
powers, flying storm
As on a boundless theatre to run Rides on the volleyed lightning
The great career of justice to exalt ; through the heavens
His generous aim to all diviner Or, yoked with whirlwinds and the
deeds northern blast.
To chase each partial purpose from Sweeps the long track of day. Then
his breast high she soars
And through the mists of passion The blue profound, and hovering
and of sense, o'er the sun
And through the tossing tide of Beholds him pouring the redundant
chance and pain, stream
To hold his course unfaltering, while Of light: beholds the unrelenting
the voice sway
Of Truth and Virtue, up the steep Bend the reluctant planets to absolve
ascent The fated rounds of time. Thence
Of nature, calls him to his high far effused
reward, She darts her swiftness up the long
The applauding smile of heaven? career
else wherefore bums, Of devious comets; through its burn-
In mortal bosoms, this unquenched ing signs
hope Exulting circles the perennial wheel
That breathes from day to day sub- Of nature, and looks back on all the
limer things, stars.
And mocks possession? wherefore Whose blended light, as with a milky
darts the mind. zone,
With such resistless ardor to embrace Invests the orient. Now amazed she
Majestic forms; impatient to be views
free, The empyreal waste, where happy
Spuming the gross control of wilful spirits hold,
might Beyond this concave heaven, their
Proud of the strong contention of calm abode
her toils And fields of radiance, whose unfad-
Proud to be daring ? Who but rather ing light
turns Has travelled the profound six thou-
To heaven's broad fire his uncon- sand years.
strained view, Nor yet arrived in sight of mortal
Than to the glimmering of a waxen things.
flame?
Wlio that, from Alpine heights, his Nature's care, to all her children
laboring eye just,
Shoots round the wide horizon to With richer treasures and an ampler
survey state,
Nilus or Ganges rolling his broad tide Endows at large whatever happy man
Through mountains, plains, through Will deign to use them. His the
empires black with shade, city's pomp,
A.nd continents of sand, will tuni — The rural honors his: whate'er
his gaze adorns
 ! ;

INTELLECTUAL. 101
The princely dome, the column and ULYSSES.
the arch,
The breathingmarbles and the sculp- It that an idle king
little profits
tured gold, By still hearth, among these
this
Beyond the proud possessor's nar- barren crags.
row claim. Matched with an aged wife, I mete
His tuneful breast enjoys. For him and dole
the Spring Unequal laws unto a savage race
Distils her dews, and from the silken That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and
gem know not me.
His lucid leaves unfolds ; for him the 1 cannot rest from travel: I will drink
hand Life to the lees: all times I have!
Of Autumn tinges every fertile enjoyed
branch Greatly, have suffered greatly, both
With blooming gold, and blushes like with those
the mom. That loved me, and alone ; on shore,
Each passing Hour sheds tribute and when
from her wings, Through scudding drifts the rainy
And still new beauties meet his Hyades
lonely walk. Vext the dim sea: I am become a
And loves unf elt attract him. name;
For always roaming with a hungry
Look, then, abroad through Nature, heart
to the range Much have I seen and known cities ;

Of planets, suns, and adamantine of men

spheres, And manners, climates, councils,
Wheeling unshaken through the governments,
Void immense. Myself not least, but honored of them
And speak, O man does this capa-
! all;
cious scene And drunk delight of battle with my
With half that kindling majesty peers,
dilate Far on the ringing plains of windy
Thy strong conception, as when Troy.
Brutus rose I am a part of all that I have met
Refulgent from the stroke of Caesar's Yet all experience is an arch where-
fate. through
Amid the crowd of patriots ; and his Gleams that un travelled world, whose
arm margin fades
Aloft extending, like eternal Jove, Forever and forever when I move.
When guilt brings down the thun- How dull it is to pause, to make an
der, called aloud end.
On Tully's name, and shook his To rust unburnished, not to shine in
crimson steel. use!
And bade the Father of his Country, As though to breathe were life. Life
hail! piled on life
For lo! the tyrant prostrate in the Were all too little,and of one to me
dust, Little remains: but every hour is
And Rome again is free saved
Akenside. From that eternal silence, something
more,
A bringer of new things ; and vile it
FAME. 1/ were
For some three suns to store and
Heh house of Echo made
is all hoard myself.
AVhere never dies the sound-, And this gray spirit yearning in
A.nd as her brows the clouds invade. desire
Her feet do strike the ground. To follow knowledge like a siulung
Ben Jonson. star
 :
: ;
: ;; ; ! ' ; ; ;

102 PAENASSUS.

Beyond the utmost bound of human And see the gi-eat Achilles, whom
thought. we knew.
This is my son, mine own Telema- Though much is taken, much abides
chus, and though
To whom I leave the sceptre and the We are not now that strength which
isle — in old days
Well loved of me, discerning to fulfil Moved earth and heaven ; that which
This labor, by slow prudence to we are, we are
make mild One equal temper of heroic hearts.
A rugged people, and through soft de- Made weak by time and fate, but
grees strong in will
Subdue them to the useful and the To strive, to seek, to find, and not
good. to yield.
Most blameless is he, centred in the Tennyson.
sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
KING LEAR, l^
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his O Heavens,
If you do love old men, if your
work, I mine.
sweet sway
There lies the port: the vessel
Allow obedience, if yourselves are old,
pufEs her sail
There gloom the dark broad
Make it your cause send down, and
;
seas.
My mariners, take my parti
Shakspearb.
Souls that liave toiled, and wrought,
and thought with me, — EUMBLB thy belly-full! Spit, fire I
That ever with a frolic welcome took
spout, rain
The thunder and the sunshine, and
opposed
Nor rain,wind, thunder, fire, are
my daughters
Free hearts, free foreheads,
.

and I are old

— you I tax not you, you elements, with
:

unkindness,
Old age hath yet his honor and his
I never gave you kingdom, called you
toil;
children
Death closes all but something ere
the end.
:
You owe me no subscription; why
then, let fall
Some work of noble note, may yet
be done
Your horrible pleasure here I stand ;

your slave,
Not unbecoming men that strove
A poor infirm, weak, and despised
The
with Gods.
lights begin to twinkle from the
old man ;
—
rocks
But yet I call you servile ministers,
The long day wanes the slow moon That have with two pernicious
:

climbs : the deep

daughters joined
Moans round with many voices.
Your high-engendered battles 'gainst
Come, my friends, a head
'Tis not too late to seek a newer So old and white as this. O O
! ! 'tis
foul!
world.
Push off, and sitting well in order, Shakspeabe.
smite
The sounding furrows for my pur- ;
out'line.
pose holds
To beyond the sunset, and the
sail Of Truth, of Grandeur, Beauty,
baths Love, and Hope,
Of all the western stars, until I die. And melancholy Fear subdued by
It maybe that the gulfs will wash us Faith
down Of blessed consolations in distress
It may be we shall touch the Happy Of moral strength, and intellectual
Isles, power
 ! ; ; )

INTELLECTUAL. 103
Of joy in widest commonalty spread Or a mere fiction of what never was ?
Of the individual Mind that keeps For the discerning intellect of Man,
her own When wedded to this goodly uni-
Inviolate retirement, subject there verse
To Conscience only, and the law In love and holy passion, shall find
supreme these
Of that
— Intelligence which governs A simple produce of the common
all day.
I sing: — "fit audience let me find, I, long before the blissful hour ar-
though few!" rives.
So prayed, more gaining than he Would chant, in lonely peace, the
asked, the Bard spousal verse
In holiest mood. Urania, I shall need Of this great consummation and, : —
Thy guidance, or a greater Muse, if by words
such Wliich speak of nothing more than
Descend to earth or dwell in highest what we are,
heaven Would I arouse the sensual from
For I must tread on shadowy ground, their sleep
must sink Of Death, and win the vacant and
Deep, and, aloft ascending, breathe the vain
in worlds To noble raptures while my voice ;

To which the heaven of heavens is proclaims

but a veil. How exquisitely the individual Mind
All strength, all terror, single or in (And the progressive powers, per-
bauds. haps no less.
That ever was put forth in personal Of the whole species) to the exter-
form — nal World
—
.

Jehovah, with his thunder, and the Is fitted and how exquisitely,
choir too
:

—
Of shouting Angels, and the empy- {Theme this but little heard of
real thrones, — among men —
I pass them uualarmed. Not Chaos, The external World is fitted to the
not Mind;
The darkest pit of lowest Erebus, And the creation (by no lower name
Nor aught
. of blinder vacancy, Can it be called) which they with
scooped out blended might
By help of dreams, can breed such Accomplish : — this is our high argu-
and awe
fear ment.
As fall upon us often when we look Such grateful haunts foregoing, if I
Into our Minds, into the Mind of oft
Man, — Must turn elsewhere, to travel near
My haunt, and the main region of the tribes
my song. And fellowships of men, and see ill
Beauty —a living Presence of the sights
earth. Of madding passions mutually in-
Surpassing the most fair ideal Forms flamed ;

Which craft of delicate Spirits doth Must hear Humanity in fields and
compose groves
From earth's materials — waits upon Pipe solitary anguish or must hang ;

my steps Brooding above the fierce confede-

Pitches her tents before me as I move, rate storm
An hourly neighbor. Paradise, and Of sorrow, barricaded evermore
groves Within the walls of cities, may —
Elysian, Fortunate — like
Fields, these sounds
those of old Have their authentic comment that
—
;

Sought in the Atlantic main, why even these

should they be Hearing, I be not downcast or for-
A history only of departed things, lorn!
 ! ! ; ;

104 PARNASSUS.

Descend, prophetic spirit! that in- Of bright aerial spirits live insphered
spir'st In regions mild of calm and serene
The human Soul of universal earth, air.
Dreaming on things to come and ; Above the smoke and stir of this dim
dost possess spot
A metropolitan temple in the hearts Wliich men call Earth, and with
Of mighty Poets upon me bestow : low-thoughted care
A gift of genuine insight that my ; Confined and pestered in this pinfold
Song here,
With star-like virtue in its place Strive to keep up a frail and feverish
may shine. being.
Shedding benignant influence, and Unmindful of the crown that virtue
secure. gives.
Itself, from malevolent effect
all After this mortal change, to her true
Of those mutations that extend their servants,
sway Amongst the enthroned Gods on
Throughout the nether sphere ! And sainted seats.
if with this Yet some there be that by due steps
I mix more lowly matter; with the aspire
thing To lay their just hands on that gol-
Contemplated, describe the Mind den key
and Man That opes the palace of eternity
Contemplating; and who, and what To such my errand is and, but for
was, —
;

lie such,
The transitory Being that beheld I would not soil these pure ambro-
This Vision when and where, and sial weeds
how he lived;
;

— With the rank vapors of this sin-

Be not tills labor useless. If such worn mould.
theme But to my task. Neptune, besides
May sort with highest objects, then the sway
— dread Power Of every salt flood, and each ebbing
Whose gracious favor is the primal stream.
source Took in by lot 'twixt high and nether
Of all illumination, may my Life — Jove
Express the image of a better time, Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles,
More wise desires, and simpler man- That like to rich and various gems
ners; nurse inlay
My Heart in genuine freedom all : — The unadorned bosom of the deep
pure thoughts Which he, to grace his tributary
Be with me —
so shall thy unfailing
; Gods,
love By coui'se commits to several govern-
Guide and support and cheer me to ment,
the end And gives them leave to wear their
WOKDSWOETH. sapphire crowns,
And wield their little tridents : but
this Isle,
COMUS, A MASK. The greatest and the best of all the
main,
rilK FIRST DISCOVEKS
SCEISTE A He quarters to his blue-haired dei-
WILD WOOD. ties;
And all this tract that fronts the
The Attendant Spirit descends or falling sun
enters. A noble Peer of mickle trust and
power
Befokb the starry threshold of Has in his charge, with tempered
Jove's court awe to guide
My mansion is, where those immor- An old and haughty nation proud la
tal shapes arms:
 ;;

INTELLECTTTAJU 105
Wiere his fair offspring, nursed in Excels his mother at her mighty
princely lore, art.
Are coming to attend their father's Offering to every weary traveller
state, His orient liquor in a crystal glass.
And new-intrusted sceptre ; but their To quench the droutli of Phoebus;
way which as they taste,
Lies through the perplexed paths of (For most do taste through fond in-
this drear wood, temperate thirst)
The nodding horror of whose shady Soon as the potion works, their hu-
brows man count'nance,
Threats the forlorn and wandering The express resemblance of the Gods,
passenger is changed
And here their tender age might Into some brutish form of wolf, or
suffer peril. bear.
But that by quick command from Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded
sovereign Jove goat,
I was despatched for their defence AU other parts remaining as they
and guard were;
And listen why, for I will tell you And they, so perfect is their mis-
now ery.
What never yet was heard in tale or Not once perceive their foul disng-
song, urement.
From old or modem bard, in hall or But boast themselves more comely
bower. than before.
Bacchus, that first from out the And all their friends and native
purple gi-ape home forget.
Crushed the sweet poison of misusM To roll with pleasure in a sensual
wine. sty.
After the Tuscan mariners trans- Therefore, when any favored of high
formed. Jove
Coasting the Tyrrhene shore, as the Chances to pass through this adven-
winds listed. turous glade.
On Circe's island fell: who knows Swift as the sparkle of a glancing
not Circ^, star
The daughter of the sun, whose I shoot from heaven, to give him safe
charmfed cup convoy.
Whoever tasted, lost his upright As now I do : But first I must put
shape. off
And downward fell into a grovelling These my sky robes spun out of Iris'
swine ? woof,
This Nymph that gazed upon his And take the weeds and likeness of
clustering locks a swain.
With ivy berries wreathed, and his That to the service of this house
blithe youth. belongs.
Had by him, ere he parted thence, a Who with his soft pipe, and smooth-
son dittied song.
Much like his father, but his mother Well knows to still the wild winds
more. when they roar.
Whom therefore she brought up, and And hush the waving woods, nor of
Comus named less faith.
Who ripe, and frolic of his full grown And in this office of his mountain
age. watch.
Roving the Celtic and Iberian Likeliest, and nearest to the present
fields, aid
^t last betakes him to this ominous Of this occasion. But I hear the
wood, tread
And in thick shelter of black shades Of hateful steps ; I must be viewless
imbowered, now.
 ; ; ; : ;

106 PARNASSUS.

CoMUS enters vMh a charming-rod That ne'er art called, but when the
in one hand, his glass in the other; dragon womb
with him a rout of monsters, headed Of Stygian darkness spets her thick-
like sundry sorts of wild beasts, but est gloom.
otherwise like men and women, their And makes one blot of all the air;
apparel glistering ; they come in Stay thy cloudy ebon chair,
rnaking a riotous and unruly noise, Wherein thou rid'st with Hecate, and
with torches in their hands. befriend
Us thy vowed priests, till utmost end
Comus. — The star that bids the Of all thy dues be done, and none
shepherd fold, left out,
Now the top of heaven doth hold Ere the babbling eastern scout.
And the gilded car of day The nice Morn, on the Indian steep
His glowing axle doth allay From her cabined loophole peep,
In the steep Atlantic stream And to the telltale sun descry
And the slope sun his upward beam Our concealed solemnity.
Shoots against the dusky pole, Come, knit hands, and beat the
Pacing toward the other goal ground
Of his chamber in the east. In a light fantastic round.
Meanwhile welcome Joy, and Feast,
Midnight Shout and Revelry, THE MEASUBE.
Tipsy Dance and Jollity.
Braid your locks with rosy twine. Break off, break off, I feel the differ-
Dropping odors, dropping wine. ent pace
Rigor now has gone to bed, Of some chaste footing near about
And Advice with scrupulous head. this ground.
Strict Age, and sour Severity, Run to your shrouds, within these
With their grave saws in slumber lie. brakes and trees
We that are of purer fire Our number may affright: Soma
Imitate the starry quire. virgin sure
Who in their nightly watchful (For so I can distinguish by mine
spheres art)
Lead in swift round the months and Benighted in these woods. Now to
years. my charms,
The sounds and seas, with all their And my wily trains I shall ere
to ;

finny drove. long

Now to the moon In wavering mor- Be wellstocked with as fair a herd as
rice move grazed
And on the tawny sands and shelves About my mother Circ& Thus I
Trip the pert fairies and the dapper huri
elves. My dazzling spells into the spungy
By dimpled brook, and fountain brim. air.
The wood-nymphs decked with dai- Of power to cheat the eye with blear
sies trim, illusion.
rheir merry wakes and pastimes And give it false presentments, lest
keep; the place
Wliat hath night to do with sleep ? And my quaint habits breed aston-
Night hath better sweets to prove, ishment.
Venus now wakes, and wakens Love. And put the damsel to suspicious
Come, let us our rites begin, flight.
'Tis only daylight that makes sin, Which must not be, for that's against
Which these dun shades will ne'er my course
report. I, underfair pretence of friendly
Hail, Goddess of nocturnal sport. ends.
Dark-veil' d Cotytto! t'whom the And well-placed words of glozing
secret flame courtesy
Of midnight torches burns; myste- Baited with reasons not unplausible,
rious dame, Wind me into the easy-hearted man.
 ! ;

INTELLECTUAL. 107
And hug him into snares, When They had engaged their wandering
once her eye steps too far
Hath met the virtue of this magic And envious darkness, ere they
dust, could return.
I shall appear some harmless vil- Had stole them from me: else, O
lager, thievish Night,
Whom thrift keeps up ahout his Why shouldst thou, but for some
country gear. felonious end.
But here she comes; I fairly step In thy dark lantern thus close up
aside, the stars,
And hearken, if I may, her business That Nature hung in heaven, and
here. their lamps
filled
With everlasting oil, to give due
THE LADY ElfTEKS. light
To the misled and lonely traveller ?
This way the noise was, if mine ear This is the place, as well as I may
be true. guess,
My best guide now; methought it Whence even now the tumult of loud
was the sound mirth
Of riot and ill-managed merriment, Was rife, and perfect in my listening
Such as the jocund flute, or game- ear.
some pipe Yet nought but single darkness do I
Stirs up among the
loose imlettered find.
hinds. What might this be? A thousand
When for their teeming flocks, and fantasies
granges full. Begin to throng into my memory,
In wanton dance, they praise the Of calling shapes, and beckoning
bounteous Pan, . shadows dire.
And thank the Gods amiss. I should And airy tongues, that syllable men's
be loath names
To meet the rudeness, and swilled On sands, and shores, and desert
insolence wildernesses.
Of such late wassailers; yet O! These thoughts may startle well, but
where else not astound
Shall I inform my
unacquainted feet The virtuous mind, that ever walks
In the blind mazes of this tangled a ttended
wood? By a strong-siding champion. Con-
My brothers,when they saw me science. —
wearied out welcome, pure-eyed Faith, white-
With this long way, resolving here handed Hope,
to lodge Thou hovering Angel, girt with
Under the spreading favor of these golden wings.
pines. And thou, unblemished form of
Stepped, as they said, to the next Chastity
thicket side 1 see ye visibly, and now believe
To bring me berries, or such cooling That he, the Supreme Good, t'whom
fruit all things ill
As the kind, hospitable woods pro- Are but as slavish oflicers of ven-
vide. geance,
They left me then, when the gray- Would send a glistering guardian, if
hooded Even, need were.
Like a sad votarist in palmer's weed. To keep my life and honor Unas-
Rose from the hindmost wheels of sailed.
Phoebus' wain. Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud
But where they are, and why they Turn forth her silver lining on the
came not back, night?
Is now the labor of my thoughts; I did not err, there does a sable
'tis likeliest cloud
 : ; ! : !

108 PARNASSUS.

Turn forth her silver lining on the Who, as tli3y sung, would take the
night, prisoned soul.
And casts a gleam over this tufted And lapit in Elysium Scylla wept, ;

grove And chid her barking waves into

I cannot halloo to ray brothers, but attention,
Such noise as I can make to be And Charybdis murmured soft
fell
heard farthest applause
I'll venture, for new enlivened my Yet they in pleasing slumber lulled
spirits the sense.
Prompt me; and they perhaps are And in sweet madness robbed it of
not far offl. itself;
But such a sacred and homefelt de-
SONG. light.
Such sober certainty of waking bliss,
Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that I never heard till now. I'll speak to
liv'st un.seen her.
Within thy airy shell. And she shall be my queen. Hail,
By slow Meander's margent green, foreign wonder
A.nd in the violet-embroidered vale. Whom certain these rough shades
Where the love-lorn nightingale did never breed.
Ifightly to thee her sad song mourn- Unless the goddess that in rural
eth well shrine
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair Dwell'st here with Pan, or Silvan, by
That likest thy Narcissus are ? blest song
O, if thou have Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog
. Hid them in some flowery cave. To touch the prosperous growth of
Tell me but where. this tall wood.
Sweet queen of parley, daughter of Lady. —
IJay, gentle Shepherd, ill
the sphere is lost that praise
So mayst thou be translated to the That is addressed to unattending
skies. ears;
And give resounding grace to all Not any boast of skill, but extreme
heaven's harmonies. shift
How to regain my severed company.
Enter Comus. Compelled me to awake the cour-
teous Echo
Com. — Can any mortal mixture of To give me answer from lier mossy
earth's mould couch.
Breathe such divine enchanting rav- Com.— What chance, good Lady,
ishment? hath bereft you thus ?
Sure something holy lodges in that Lady.— Dim darkuess, and this
breast. leafy labyrinth.
And with these raptures moves the Com. — Could that divide you from
vocal air near-ushering guides ?
To testify his hidden residence: Lady. — They me weary on a
left
How sweetly did they float upon the grassy turf.
wings Com. — By falsehood, or discourte-
Of through the empty-
silence, or why ?
sy,
vaulted night. Lady. — To seek the valley some
i'
At every fall smoothing the raven cool friendly spring.
down Com. — And your fair side
left all
Of darkness till it smiled! I have unguarded. Lady?
oft heard Lady. — They were but twain, and
My mother Circ^ with the Sirens purposed quick return.
three. Com. — Perhaps forestalling night
Amidst the flowery-kirtled Nalddes, prevented them.
Culling their potent herbs, and bale- Lady. — How easy my misfortune
ful drugs, is to hit 1
 ; ; : ; ;

INTELLECTUAL. 109
Com. — Imports their loss beside Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted

Lady. — 'So
the present need ? lark
less than if I should From her thatched pallet rouse: if
my brothers lose. otherwise,
Com. Were they of manly prime, I can conduct you, Lady, to a low
or youthful bloom ? But loyal cottage, where you may be
Lady. —
As smooth as Hebe's their safe
unrazored lips. Till further quest.
Cmn. —
Two such I saw, what time Lady. —
Shepherd, I take thy word.
the labored ox And trust thy honest offered courte-
In his loose traces from the furrow sy.
,™
came, Which oft is sooner found in lowly
And the swinked hedger at his sup- sheds
per sat With smoky rafters, than in tap'stry
I saw them under a green mantling halls
vine And courts of princes, where it iSrst
That crawls along the side of yon was named.
small hill, And yet is most pretended : in a place
Plucking ripe clusters from the ten- Less warranted than this, or less
der shoots secure,
Their port was more than human, I cannot be, that I should fear to
as they stood change it.
I took it for a faery vision Eye me, blest Providence, and square
Of some gay creatures of the ele- my trial
ment. To my proportioned strength. Shep-
That in the colors of the rainbow live. herd, lead on.
And play i' the plighted clouds. I
was awestruck, Enter the Two Brothers.
And as I passed, I worshipped: if
those you seek. 1 Br. — Unmuffle, ye faint stars,
It were a journey like the path to and thou, fair moon.
heaven That wont'st to love the traveller's
To help you iind them. benison.
Lady. —
Gentle Villager, Stoop thy pale visage through an
What readiest way would bring me amber cloud,
to that place ? And disinherit Chaos, that reigns
Com. —
Due west it rises from this here
shrubby point. In double night of darkness and of
Lady. —
To find that out, good shades
shepherd, I suppose Or if your influence be quite dammed
In such a scant allowance of star- up
light, With black usurpmg mists, some
Would overtask the best land-pilot's gentle taper.
art. Though a rush candle, from the
Without the sure guess of well- wicker-hole
practised feet. Of some clay habitation, visit us
Com. —
I know each lane, and With thy long-levelled rule of
every alley gi'een. streaming light
Dingle or bushy dell, of this wild And thou shalt be our star of
wood, Arcady,
And every bosky bourn from side to Or Tyrian Cynosure.
side. 2 Br. —
Or if our eyes
My daily walks and ancient neigh- Be barred that happiness, might we
borhood ; but hear
And if your stray attendants be yet The folded flocks penned in their
lodged wattled cotes.
Or shroud within these limits, I Or sound of pastoral reed with oaten
shall know stops.
 ; ! ! : ;

110 PAENASSXJS.

Or whistle from the lodge, or village She plumes her feathers, and lets
cock grow her wings,
Count the night watches to his That in the various bustle of resort
feathery dames, Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes
'Twould be some solace yet, some impaired.
little cheering He that has light within his own
In this close dungeon of innumerous clear breast,
boughs. May sit i' the centre, and enjoy
But O that hapless virgin, our lost bright day
sister But he that hides a dark soul, and
Where may she wander now, whither foul thoughts,
betake her Benighted walks under the mid-day
From the chill dew, among rude sun;
burrs and thistles ? Himself is his own dungeon.
Perhaps some cold bank is her bol- 2 Br. —
'Tis most true,
ster now, That musing meditation most affects
Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some The pensive secrecy of desert cell,
broad elm Far from the cheerful haunt of men
Leans her unpillowed head, fraught and*herds.
with sad fears. And sits as safe as in a senate house
What, if in wild amazement and For who would rob a hermit of his
affright, weeds.
Or, while we speak, within the dire- His few books, or his beads, or maple
ful grasp dish,
Of savage hunger, or of savage heat? Or do his gray hairs any violence ?
1 Br. —
Peace, brother, be not But beauty, like the fair Hesperian
over-exquisite tree
To cast the fashion of uncertain Laden with blooming gold, had need
evils the guard
For grant they be so, while they rest Of dragon watch with unenchanted
unknown, eye.
Wliat need a man forestall his date To save her blossoms, and defend
of grief. her fruit
And run to meet what he would From the rash hand of bold incon-
most avoid ? tinence.
Or if they be but false alarms of fear, Ton may as well spread out the un-
How bitter is such self-delusion sunned heaps
I do not think my
sister so to seek, Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's
Or so unprincipled in virtue's book. den,
And the sweet peace that goodness And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope
bosoms ever. Danger will wink on opportunity.
As that the single want of light and And let a single helpless maiden pass
noise Uninjured in this wild surrounding
(ITot being in danger, as I trust she waste.
is not) Of night, or loneliness, it recks me
Could stir the constant mood of her not;
calm thoughts. I fear the dread events that dog them
And put them into misbecoming both,
plight. Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt
Virtue could see to do what virtue the person
would Of our unowned sister.
By her own radiant light, though 1 Br. —
I do not, brother,
sun and moon Infer, as if I thought my sister's
Were in the flat sea sunk. And state
Wisdom's self Secure without all doubt or con-
Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude. troversy ;

Where, with her best nurse. Con- Yet where an equal poise of hope
templation, and fear
 ; :

INTELLECTUATx 111
Does arbitrate the event, my nature Wherewith she tamed the brinded
Is lioness
That I incline to hope rather than And spotted mountain pard, and set
fear, at nought
And gladly banish squint suspicion. The frivolous bolt of Cupid; gods
My sister is not so defenceless left. and men
As you imagine; she has a hidden Feared her stem frown, and she was
strength queen o' the woods.
Which you remember not. What was that snaky-headed Gorgon
2 Br. —
What hidden strength. shield.
Unless the strength of Heaven, if That wise Minerva wore, uncon-
you mean that ? quered virgin,
1 Br. — I mean that too, but yet a Wherewith she freezed her foes to
hidden strength congealed stone,
Which, if Heaven gave it, may be But rigid looks of chaste austerity.
termed her own And noble grace that dashed brute
'Tis chastity, my brother, chastity. violence
She that has that is clad in complete With sudden adoration and blank
steel, awe?
And like a quivered Nymph with So dear to heaven is saintly chastity,
arrows keen That when a soul is found sincerely
May trace huge forests, and unhar- so,
bored heaths. A thousand liveried angels lackey
Infamous hills, and sandy perilous her,
wilds. Driving far off each thing of sin and
Where through the sacred rays of guilt.
chastity, And in clear dream, and solemn vis-
No savage fierce, bandite, or moun- ion.
taineer Tell her of things that no gross ear
Will dare to her virgin purity
soil can hear,
Yea there, where very desolation Till oft converse with heavenly habi-
dwells, tants
By grots, and caverns shagged with Begin to cast a beam on the outward
horrid shades.
She may pass on with unblenched The unpolluted temple of the mind.
majesty. And turns it by degrees to the soul's
Be it not done in pride, or in pre- essence,
sumption. Till all be made immortal : but when
Some say no evil thing that walks lust,
by night, By unchaste looks, loose gestures,
In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish and foul talk.
fen, But most by lewd and lavish act of
Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid sin,
ghost. Lets in defilement to the inward
That breaks his magic chains at parts.
curfew time. The soul grows clotted by contagion,
No goblin, or swart faery of the Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she
mine, quite lose
Hath hurtful power o'er true virgin- The divine property of her first be-
ity. ing.
U6 ye believe me yet, or shall I call Such are those thick and gloomy
Antiquity from the old schools of shadows damp
Greece Oft seen in chamel vaults, and sep-
To testify the arms of chastity? ulchres,
Hence had the huntress Dian hei Lingering and sitting by a new-made
dread bow. grave.
Fair silver-shafted qaeen, forever As loath to leave the body that it

chaste, loved,
 ; ; ;

112 PARNASSUS.

And linked itself by carnal sensual- Spir. — O my loved master's heir,

ty and his next joy,
To a degenerate and degraded state, I came not here on such a trivial
2 Br. —
How charming is divine toy
philosophy! As a strayed ewe, or to pursue the
Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools stealth
suppose, Of pilfering wolf ; not all the fleecy
But musical as is Apollo's lute. wealth
And a perpetual feast of nectared That doth enrich these downs is
sweets. worth a thought
Where no crude surfeit reigns, To this my errand, and the care it
1 Br. — List, hear
list, I brought.
Some far off halloo break the silent But, O my virgin Lady, where is
air. she?
2 Br. — Methought so too : what How chance she is not in your com-
should it be ? pany?
1 Br. — For certain 1 Br. —
To tell thee sadly, Shep-
Either some one like us night-found- herd, without blame.
ered here, Or our neglect, we lost her as we
Or else some neighbor woodman, came.
or, at worst. Spir. —
Aye me unhappy then ! my
Some roving robber calling to his fears are true.
fellows. 1 Br. —
What fears, good Thyrsis ?
2 Br. —
Heaven keep my sister. Prithee briefly show.
Again, again, and near! Spir. —
I'll tell ye 'tis not vain or
;

Best draw, and stand upon our fabulous.

guard. Though so esteemed by shallow ig-
1 Br. —
I'll halloo: norance,
If he be friendly, he comes well if ; What the sage poets, taught by the
not, heavenly Muse,
Defence is a good cause, and Heaven Storied of old in high immortal verse.
be for us. Of dire chimeras, and enchanted
isles.
Enter the Attendant Spirit, Jiab- And rifted rocks whose entrance
ited like a shepherd. leads to Hell
For such there be, but unbelief is
That halloo I should know: what blind.
are you ? speak Within the navel of this hideous
Come not too near, you fall on iron wood.
stakes else. Immured in cypress shades u. sorcer-
Spir. — What voice that? my is er dwells.
young Lord speak again.
? Of Bacchus and of Circ^ born, great
2 Br. — O brother, my father's
'tis Comus,
shepherd, sure. Deep skilled in all his mother's
1 Br. — Thyrsis? Whose artful witcheries
strains have oft delayed And here to every thirsty wanderer
The huddling brook to hear his mad- By sly enticement gives his baneful
rigal. cup.
And sweetened every muskrose of With many murmurs mixed, whose
the dale. pleasing poison
How cam' St thou here, good swain? The visage quite transforms of him
hath any ram that drinks.
Slipt from the fold, or young kid And the inglorious likeness of s
lost his dam. beast
Or straggling wether the pent flock Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's
forsook ? mintage
How couldst thou find this dark se- Charactered in the face : this I have
questered nook? learnt
 ; ; ; !

INTELLECTUAL. 113
Tending my flocks hard by i' the Too well I did perceive it was the
hilly crofts, voice
That brow this bottom-glade, whence Of my most honored Lady, your
night by night. dear sister.
He and his monstrous rout are heard Amazed I stood, harrowed with grief
to howl, and fear,
Like stabled wolves, or tigers at And O poor hapless nightingale
their prey. thought I,
Doing abhorred rites to Hecate How sweet thou sing'st, how near
la their obscured haunts of inmost the deadly snare
bowers. Then down the lawns I ran with
Yet have they many baits, and guile- headlong haste,
ful spells, Through paths and turnings often
T'inveigle and invite the unwary trod by day.
sense Till guided by mine ear I found the
Of them that pass unweeting by the place.
way. Where that damned wizard, hid in
This evening late, by then the chew- sly disguise,
ing flocks (For so by certain signs I knew) had
Had ta'en their supper on the sa- met
vory herb Already, ere my best speed could
Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and prevent,
were in fold, The aidless innocent Lady his
I sat me down to watch upon a bank wished prey
With ivy canopied, and Interwove Who gently asked if he had seen
With flaunting honey-suckle, and such two,
began. Supposing him some neighbor vil-
Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melan- lager.
choly. Longer I durst not stay, but soon I
To meditate my rural minstrelsy. guessed
Till fancy had her fill, but ere a Te were the two she meant: with
close, that I sprung
The wonted roar was up amidst the Into swift flight, till I had found
woods. you here.
And the air with barbarous
filled But further know I not.
dissonance 2 Br. —O
night and shades.
At which I ceased, and listened them How are ye joined with Hell in
a while. triple knot,
Till an unusual stop of sudden silence Against the unarmed weakness of
Gave respite to the drowsy frighted one virgin.
steeds. Alone and helpless Is this the con-
!

That draw the litter of close-cur- fidence

tained sleep; You gave me, brother?
At last a soft and solemn-breathing 1 Br. —
Yes, and keep it still.
soiind Lean on it safely not a period
;

Rose like a stream of rich distilled Shall be unsaid for me against the :

perfumes, threats
And stole upon the air, that even Of malice or of sorcery, or that power
Silence Which erring men call Chance, this
Was took ere she was ware, and I hold finn.
wished she might Virtue may be assailed, but never
Deny her nature, and be never more, hurt.
Still to be so displaced. I was all Surprised by unjust force, but not
ear, inthralled
And took in strains that might Yea even that which mischief meant
create a soul most harm,
Under the ribs of death : but O ere Shall in the happy trial prove most
long glory:
 ; : : ; : : : :

114 PARNASSUS.

But evil on itself shall back recoil, Which when I did, he on the tender
And mix no more with goodness,
when at last Would sit, and hearken e'en to ecs-
Gathered lilie scum, and settled to tasy.
itself, And in requital ope his leathern
It shall be in eternal restless change scrip,
Self-fed, and self -consumed : if this And show me simples of a thousand
fail, names,
The pillared firmament rottenness.is Telling their strange and vigorous
And earth's base built on stubble. faculties
But come, let's on. Amongst the rest a small unsightly
Against the opposing will and arm root.
of heaven But of divine effect, he culled me out
May never this just sword be lifted The leaf was darkish, and had
up; pricliles on it.
But for that damned magician, let But in another country, as he said.
him be girt Bore a bright golden flower, but not
With all the grisly legions that troop' in this soil
Under the sooty flag of Acheron, Unknown, and like esteemed, and
Harpies and Hydras, or all the mon- the dull swain
strous forms Treads on it daily with his clouted
'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him shoon
out. And yet more med'cinal is it than
And force him to return his pur- that moly
chase bacl^, That Hermes once to wise Ulysses
Or drag him by the curls to a foul gave .,

death. He called it haemony, and gave it me.

Cursed as his life. And bade me keep it as of sovereign
Spir. —
Alas good ! vent'rous use
Youth, 'Gainst all enchantments, mildew,
I love thy courage yet, and bold em- blast, or damp.
, prise Or ghastly furies' apparition.
But here thy sword can do thee I pursed it up, but little reck'ning
little stead; made.
Far other arms and other weapons Till now tliat this extremity com-
must pelled :

Be those that quell the might of But now I find it true ; for by this
hellish charms means
He with his bare wand can unthread I knew the foul enchanter though
thy joints. disguised.
And crumble thy sinews.
all Entered the very lime-twigs of his
1 Br. —
Why prithee. Shepherd, spells.
How durst thou then thyself ap- And yet came off : if you have this
proach so near. about you,
As to malte this relation ? (As I will give you when we go) you
Spir. —
Care and utmost shifts may
How to secure the Lady from sur- Boldly assault the necromancer's
prisal, hall;
Brought to my mind a certain shep- Where if he be, with dauntless har-
herd lad, dihood,
Of small regard to see to, yet well And brandished blade rush on him,
sliilled break his glass.
In every virtuous plant and healing And shed the luscious liquor on the
herb. ground.
That spreads her verdant leaf to the But seize his wand ; though he and
morning ray his cursed crew
He loved me well, and oft would beg Pierce sign of battle make, and men
me sing. ace higli,
 ' ! ; ;

rNTELIJECTUAL. 115
Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit And to those dainty limbs which
smoke, nature lent
Ye^ will they soon retire, if he but For gentle usage, and soft delicacy ?
shrink. But you invert the covenants of her
1Br. —
Thyrsis, lead on apace, I'll trust,
follow thee, And harshly deal, like an ill borrower,
And some good Angel bear a shield With that which you received on
before us. other terms
Scorning the unexempt condition
The Scene changes to a stately palace, By which all mortal frailty must
set outwith all manner ofdelicious- subsist,
ness; soft music, tables spread with Eefreshment after toll, ease after
all dainties. Comus appears with pain.
his rabble, and
the Lady
set in an That have been tired all day without
enchanted chair, to whom he offers repast.
his glass, lohich she puts by, and And timely rest have wanted; but,
goes about to rlie. fair "Virgin,
This will restore all soon.
Com. —
Kay, Lady, sit; if I but Lady. —
'Twill not, false traitor,
wave this wand, 'Twill not restore the truth and
Your nerves are all chained up in honesty
alabaster. That thou hast banished from thy
And you, a statue, or as Baphne was tongue with lies.
Root-bound, that fled Apollo. Was this the cottage, and the safe
Lady. —
Fool, do not boast. abode
Thou canst not touch the freedom Thou told' St me of? What grim
of my mind aspects are these,
With thy charms, although this
all These ugly-headed monsters ? Mercy
corporal rind guard me
Thou hast immanacled, while heaven Hence with thy brewed enchant-
sees good. ments, foul deceiver
Com. — Why are you vext, Lady? Hast thou betrayed my credulous
why do you frown? innocence
Here dwell no frowns, nor anger; With visored falsehood and base
from these gates forgery ?
Sorrow flies far See, here be all the
: And wouldst thou seek again to trap
pleasures me here
That fancy can beget on youthful With liquorish baits fit to insnare a
thoughts, brute?
When the fresh blood grows lively, Were it a draught for Juno when she
and returns banquets,
'
Brisk as the April buds iu primrose- I would not taste thy treasonous
season. offer; none
And first behold this cordial julep But such as are good men can give
here. good things,
That flames,and dances in his crys- And that which is not good is not
bounds,
tal delicious
With spirits of balm, and fragrant To a well-governed and wise appetite.
syrups mixed. Com. — O foolishness of men! that
N^ot that Nepenthes, which the wife lend their ears
of Thone To those budge doctors of the Stoic
In Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena, fur,
Is of such power to stir up joy as And fetch their precepts from the
this, Cynic tub.
To life so friendly, or so cool to Praising the lean and sallow Absti-
thirst. nence.
Why should you be so cruel to your- Wherefore did Nature pour hei
self, bounties forth
 ; ; ; ;

116 PARNASSUS.

With such a full and unwithdrawing But must be current, and the good
hand, thereof
Covering the earth with odors, Consists in mutual and partaken
fruits, and flocks, bliss.
Thronging the seas with spawn Unsavory in the enjoyment of
innumerable. itself
But all to please, and sate the curious If you let slip time, like a neglected
taste ? rose
And set to work millions of spinning It withers on the stalk with lan-
worms, guished head.
That in their green shops weave the Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be
smooth-haired sillt shown
To deck her sons and that no cor-
; In courts, at feasts, and high solem-
ner might. nities,
Be vacant of her plenty, in her own Where most may wonder at the
loins workmanship
She hutched the all worshipped ore, It is for homely features to keep
and precious gems. home.
To store her children with if all the : They had their name thence coarse ;

world complexions.
Should in a pet of temperance feed And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve
on pulse, to ply
Drink the clear stream, and nothing Thesampler, and to tease the house-
wear but frieze. wife's wool.
The All-giver would be unthanked, What need a vermeil-tinctured lip
would be unpraised. for that.
Not half his riches known, and yet Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the
despised morn?
And we should serve him as a grudg- There was another meaning in these
ing master. gifts.
As a, penurious niggard of his Think what, and be advised, you are
wealth but young yet.
And live like Nature's bastards, not Lady. —
I had not thought to have
her sons. unlockt my lips
Who would be quite surcharged with In this unhallowed air, but that this
her own weight, juggler
And strangled with her waste fer- Would think to charm my judgment,
tility ;
as mine eyes.
The earth cumbered, and the winged Obtruding false rules pranked in
darked with plumes,
air reason's garb.
The herds would over-multitude I hate when Vice can bolt her argu-
their lords. ments, ,
The sea o'erfraught would swell, and And Virtue has no tongue to check
the unsought diamonds her pride.
Would so emblaze the forehead of Impostor, do not charge most iimo-
the deep, cent Nature,
And so bestud with stars, that they As if she would her children should
below be riotous
Would grow inured to light, and come With her abundance; she, good
at last cateress.
To gaze upon the sun with shame- Means her provision only to the
lessbrows. good.
List, Lady, be not coy, and be not That live according to her sober
cozened laws.
With that same vaunted name Vir- And holy dictate of spare tempei--
ginity. ance:
peauty is Nature's coin, must not be If every just man, that now pinei
boarded, with want,
 ; ; : :

INTELLECTUAL. 117
Had but a moderate and beseeming Com. — She fables not; I feel that
share I do fear
Of that which lewdly-pampered Her words set off by some superior
luxury power
Now heaps upon some few with vast And though not mortal, yet a cold
excess, shuddering dew
Nature's full blessings would be well Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath
dispensed of Jove
In unsupeifluous even proportion, Speaks thunder, and the chains of
And she no whit encumbered with Erebus,
her store To some of Saturn's crew. I must
And then the Giver would be better dissemble.
thanked, And try her yet more strongly. Come,
His praise due paid; for swinish no more.
gluttony This is mere moral babble, and direct
Ne'er looks to heaven amidst his Against the canon laws of our foun-
gorgeous feast. dation ;

But with besotted base ingratitude I must not suffer this, yet 'tis but
Crams, and blasphemes his feeder. the lees
Shall I go on? And settlings of a melancholy blood
Or have I said enough? To him But this will cure all straight one ;

that dares sip of this

Arm his profane tongue with con- Will bathe the drooping spirits in
temptuous words delight.
power Beyond the Be
Against the sun-clad
Chastity,
of
wise, and
bliss of
taste. —dreams.
Fain would I something say, yet to
what end ? The Bbothees rush in with swords
Thou hast not ear, nor soul to appre- drawn, wrest his glass out of his
hend hand, and break it against the
The sublime notion,, and high mys- ground : his rout make sign of re-
tery. sistance, but are all driven in. The
That must be uttered to unfold the Attendant Spirit comes in.
sage
And serious doctrine of Virginity, Spir. —
What, have you let the
And thou art worthy that thou false enchanter 'scape ?
shouldst not know O yemistook, ye should have
More happiness than this thy present snatched his wand.
lot. And bound him fast: without his
Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rheto- rod reversed.
ric, And backword mutters of dissever-
That hath so well been taught her ing power.
dazzling fence. We cannot free the Lady that sits
Thou art not fit to hear thyself here
convinced In stony fetters fixed, and motion-
Yet should I try, the uncontrolled less:
worth Yet stay, be not distui-bed: now I
Of this pure cause would kindle my bethink me.
rapt spirits Some other means I have which may
To such a flame of sacred vehemence, be used,
That dumb things would be moved Whic^j once of Meliboeus old I
to sympathize, learnt.
^d the brute earth would lend her The soothest shepherd that e'er
nerves, and shake. piped on plains.
Till all thy magic structures reared There .s a gentle nymph not far
so high. from hence.
Were shattered into heaps o'er thy That with moist curb sways the
false head. smooth Severn stream,
 ; ; ; ;

118 PARNASSUS.

Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure To aid a virgin, such as was herself,
Whilom she was the daughter of In hard-besetting need; this will I
Locrine, try.
That had the sceptre from his fath- And add the power of some adjuring
er Brute. verse.
She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad
pursuit
Of her enraged stepdame Guendo-
len. Sabrina fair,
Commended her fair innocence to Listen where thou art sitting
the flood. Under the glassy, cool, translucent
They stayed her flight with his cross- wave,
flowing course. In twisted braids of lilies knitting
The water-nymphs that in the bot- The loose train of thy amber-drop-
tom played, ping hair
Held up their pearlfed wiists, and Listen for dear honor's sake.
took her in, Goddess of the silver lake,
Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' Listen and save.
hall, Listen and appear to us
Who, piteous of her woes, reared In name of great Oceanus,
her lank head, By the earth-shaking Neptune's
And gave her to his daughters to mace,
imbathe And Tethys' grave majestic pace,
In nectared lavers strewed with as- By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,
phodel, And the Carpathian wizard's hook,
And through the porch and inlet of By scaly Triton's winding shell.
each sense And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell,
Dropped in ambrosial oils, till she By Leucothea's lovely hands,
revived, And her son that rules the strands,
And underwent a quick immortal By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet.
change, And the songs of Sirens sweet,
Made Goddess of the river : still she By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,
retains And fair Ligea's golden comb.
Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve Wherewith she sits on diamond
Visits the herds along the twilight rocks.
meadows, Sleeking her soft alluring locks,
Helping all urchin blasts, and ill- By all the nymphs that nightly dance
luck signs Upon thy streams with wily glance.
That the shrewd meddling elf de- Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head
lights to make. From thy coral-paven bed.
Which she with precious vialled li- And bridle in thy headlong wave.
quors heals Till thou our summons answered
For which the shepherds at their have.
festivals Listen and save.
Carol her goodness loud in rustic
lays, Sabrina rises, attended by water-
And throw sweet garland wreaths nymphs, and sings.
into her stream
Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffo- By the rushy-fringed bank.
dils, Where grow the willow and the osiei
And, as the old swain said, she can dank.
unlock My sliding chariot stays.
The clasping charm, and thaw the Thick set with agate, and the azum
numbing spell, sheen
If she be right invoked in warbled Of turkis blue, and emerald green,
song; That in the channel strays
For maidenhood she loves, and will Whilst from off the watei's fleet,
be swift Thus I set my priutless feet
 : ; ;;
O'er the cowslip's velvet head,
That bends not as I tread
Gentle Swain, at thy request
I am
here.
Spir. —
Goddess dear.
We implore thy powerful hand
To undo the charmfed band
Of true virgin here distressed.
Through the force, and through the
wile
Of unblest enchanter vile.
Sabr. —
Shepherd, 'tis my office
best
To help ensnarfed chastity
Brightest Lady, look on me
Thus I sprinkle on thy breast
Drops that from my fountain pure
I have kept of precious cure,
Thrice upon thy finger's tip,
Thrice upon thy rubied lip
Next this marble venomed seat,
Smeared with gums of glutinous
heat,
I touch with chaste palms moist and
cold:
Now the spell hath lost his hold;
And I must haste ere morning hour
To wait in Amphitrite's bower.
Sabkuta descends, and the
rises out of her seat.
Spir. —
Virgin, daughter of Lo-
crine.
Sprung of old Anchises' line,
May thy brimmfed waves for this
Their never miss
full tribute
From a thousand petty rills,
That tumble down the snowy hills
Summer drouth, or singfed air
Never scorch thy tresses fair.
Nor wet October's torrent flood
Thy molten crystal fill with mud
May thy billows roll ashore
The beryl, and the golden ore
May thy lofty head be crowned
With many a tower and terrace round.
And here and there thy banks upon
Witli groves of myrrh and cinnamon.
Come, Lady, while heaven lends
us grace,
Let us fly tbi^ cursed place,
Lest the sorcerer us entice
Witli some other new device.
Not a waste, or needless sound.
Till we come to holier ground
I shall be youi- faithful guide
Through this gloomy covert wide,
;; ; : ; ; ;
INTELLECTUAL. 119
And not many furlongs thence
Is your Father's residence.
Where this night are met in state
Many a friend to gratulate
His wished presence, and beside
All the swains that there abide,
With jigs, and rural dance resort
We shall catch them at their sport.
And our sudden coming there
Will double all their mirth and cheer;
Come, let us haste, the stars grow
high.
But night sits monarch yet in the
mid sky.
The Scene changes, presenting Lud-
low town and the President's cas-
tle ; then come in country dancers,
after them the Attendant Spibit,
with the Two Bkothebs, and the
Lady.
SONG.
Spir. — Back, Shepherds, back,
enough your play,
Till next sunshine holiday
Here be without duck or nod
Other trippings to be trod
Lady Of lighter toes, and such court guise
As Mercuiy did first devise.
With the mincing Dryades,
On the lawns, and on the leas.
This second Song presents them to
their Father and Mother.
Noble Lord, and Lady bright,
I have brought ye new delight.
Here behold so goodly grown
Three fair bi'anches of your own
Heaven hath timely tried £heir
youth.
Their faith, their patience, and
their truth,
And sent them here through hard
assays
With a crown of deathless praise.
To triumph in victorious dance
O'er sensual folly, and intemperance,
The dances ended, the Spirit epir
logizes.
Spir. —
To the ocean now I fly,
And those bappy climes that lie
Where day never shuts his eye.
Up in the broad fields of the sky:
 ;;: ;: : ;

120 PARNASSUS.

There I suck the liquid air With life and mystical predomi-
All amidst the gardens fair nance ;

Of Hesperus, and his daughters three Since likewise for the stricken heart
That sing about the golden tree of Love
Along the crisped shades and bowers This visible nature, and this common
Revels the spruce and jocund Spring, world.
The Graces, and the rosy-bosomed Is all too narrow : yea, a deeper im-
Hours, port
Thither all their bounties bring Lurks in the legend told my infant
There eternal Summer dwells, years
And west-winds, with musky wing, Than lies upon that truth we live to
About the cedarn alleys fling learn.
Nard and cassia's balmy smells. For fable is Love's world, his home,
Iristhere with, humid bow his birthplace
Waters the odorous banks, that blow Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays
Flowers of more mingled hue and talismans.
Than her purfled scarf can show. And spirits ; and delightedly believes
And drenches with Elysian dew, Divinities, being himself divine.
(List mortals, if your ears be true) The intelligible forms of ancient
iSeds of hyacinth and roses, poets,
WTiere young Adonis oft reposes. The fair humanities of old religion.
Waxing well of his deep wound The power, the beauty, and the
In slumber soft, and on the ground majesty.
Sadly sits the Assyrian queen That had their haunts in dale, or
But far above in spangled sheen piny mountain.
Celestial Cupid, her famed son, ad- Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly
vanced, spring.
Holds his dear Psyche sweet en- Or chasms and watery depths; all
tranced. these have vanished
After her wandering labors long, They live no longer in the faith of
Till free consent the Gods among reason.
Make her his eternal bride, But still the heart doth need a lan-
And from her fair unspotted side guage, still
Two blissful twins are to be bom. Doth the old instinct bring back the
Youth and Joy ; so Jove hath sworn. old names.
But now my task is smoothly done, And to yon starry world they now
I can fly, or I can run are gone,
Quickly to the green earth's end, Spirits or gods, that used to share
Where the bowed welkin slow doth this earth
bend. With man as with their friend and ;

And from thence can soar as soon to the lover

To the corners of the moon. Yonder they move, from yonder
Mortals, that would follow me, visible sky
Love Virtue, she alone is free Shoot influence down; and even at
She can teach ye how to climb this day
Higher than the sphery chime 'Tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is
Or, if Virtue feeble were. great.
Heaven itself would stoop to her. And Venus who brings every thing
Milton. that's fair!
Colebidge: Wallenstein.

MYTHOLOGY.
KILMENY.
O NEVEE rudely will I blame his faith
In the might of stars and angels! Bonny Kilraeny gaed up the glen;
'Tis not merely But it was na to meet Duueira's
The human being's Pride that peo- men.
ples space Nor the rosy monk of the isle to see,
 — ; ; ;! ; ;; ; ;;

INTELLECTTJAI,. 121
For Kilmeny was pure as pure could As stillwas her look, and as still
be. was her ee.
It was only to hear the yorlin sing, As the stillness that lay on the
And pu' the cress flower round the emerant lea,
spring Or the mist that sleeps on a wavelesa
The scarlet hypp, and the hind berry, sea.
And the nut that hangs frae the For Kilmeny had been she knew not
hazel tree where.
For Kilmeny was pure as pure could And Kilmeny had seen what she
be. could not declare
But lang may her minny look o'er Kilmeny had been where the cock
the wa', never crew.
And lang may she seek in the green- Where the rain never fell, and the
wood shaw wind never blew
Lang the laird of Duneira blame, But it seemed as the harp of the sky
And lang, lang greet ere Kilmeny had rung,
come hame. And the airs of heaven played round
her tongue.
When many a day had come and fled, When she spake of the lovely forms
When grief grew calm, and hope she had seen,
was dead. And a land where sin had never
When mass for Kilmeny's soul had been —
been sung, A land of love and a land of light,
When the bedesman had prayed, Withouten sun, or moon, or night
and the dead-bell rung. And lovely beings round were rife.
Late, late in a gloamin, when all Who erst had travelled mortal life
was still, They clasped her waist and her
When the fringe was red on the hands sae fair,
westlin hill. They her cheek and they
kissed
The wood was sere, the moon in the kemed her hair;
wane, And round came many a blooming
The reek of the cot hung over the fere,
plain — Saying, "Bonny Kilmeny, ye're wel-
Like a little wee cloud in the world come here!
lane Oh, bonny Kilmeny, free frae stain.
When
its
the ingle glowed with an eiry you seek the world again
If ever —
flame. That world of sin, of sorrow, and
Late, late in a gloamin, Kilmeny fear —
came hame O, tell of the joys that are waiting
here!
" Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have And tell of the signs you shall
you been ? shortly see.
Long hae we sought baith holt and Of the times that are now, and the
den — times that shall be."
By linn, by ford, and greenwood tree
Yet you are halesome and fair to see. But to sing of the sights Kilmeny
Wliere got you that joup o' the lily saw,
sheen ? So far surpassing Nature's law.
That bonny snood of the birk sae The singer's voice wad sink away,
green ? And the string of his harp wad
And these roses, the fairest that cease to play.
ever were seen ? But she saw till the. sorrows of man
Kilmeny, Kilmeny, where have you were by.
been?" And was love and harmony
all
Kilmeny looked up with a lovely Till the stars of heaven fell calmly
grace. away.
But nae smile was seen ou Kilmeny's Like the flakes of snaw on a winter's
face; day.
 ; : ; ;: ! !; ; ; : ; —;;

122 PAENASSrrS.

Then Kilmeny begged again to see Lifts me above the ground with
The friends she had left in her own cheerful thoughts.
countrye I dreamt my lady came and found
Witli distant music soft and deep, me dead
They lulled Kilmeny sound asleep (Strange dream that gives a dead
And when she awakened, she lay man leave to think,)
her lane, And breathed such life with kisses
All happed with flowers in the green- in my lips.
wood wene. That was an emperor.
I revived and
When seven long years had come Ah, me how sweet is love itself pos-
!

and fled sessed

When grief was calm, and hope was When but love's shadows are so rich
dead; in joy.
When scarce was remembered Kil- Shakspbabe Romeo and Juliet.
:

meny's name. Act v. Sc. '1.

Late, late in a gloamin, Kilmeny

came hame
And oh, her beauty was fair to see. SHIPS AT SEA.
But still and steadfast was her ee
And oh, the words that fell from I HAVE
ships that went to sea
her mouth More than fifty years ago
Were words of wonder and words None have yet come home to me.
of truth! But keep sailing to and fro.
I have seen them, in my sleep,
Itwas na her home, and she could Plunging through the shoreless deep,
na remain; With tattered sails and battered
She left this world of sorrow and hulls.
pain. While around them screamed the
And returned to the land of thought gulls,
again. Flying low, flying low.
Hogg.
Ihave wondered why they staid
From me, sailing round the world
DREAMS. And I've said, " I'm half afraid
That their sails will ne'er be
Again returned the scenes of youth, furled."
Of confident undoubting truth; Great the treasures that they hold,
Again his soul he interchanged Silks and plumes, and bars of gold
With friends whose hearts were long While the spices which they bear
estranged Fill with fragrance all the air,
They come, in dim procession led. As they sail, as they sail.
The cold, the faithless, and the dead
As warm each hand, each brow as Every sailor in the port
gay, Knows that I have ships at sea.
As if they parted yesterday. Of the waves and winds the sport
Scott. And the sailors pity me.
Oft they come and with me walk,
Cheering me with hopeful talk,
EOMEO'S PRESAGE. 1/ Till I put my fears aside.
And contented watch the tide
Romeo. —
If I may trust the flat- Rise and fall, rise and fall.
tering eye of sleep.
My dreams presage some joyful news Ihave waited on the piers,
at hand Gazing for them down the bay,
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his Days and nights, for many years,
throne Till I turned heart-sick away.
And all this day an unaccustomed But the pilots, when they land.
spirit Stop and take me by the hand.
 ; : ; ; : ; ; : ;; ;:

INTELLECTUAL. 123
Saying, " You will live to see FANTASY. ^^^
Your proud vessels come from sea,
One and all, one and all." Bbkak, Fantasy, from thy cave of
cloud.
So I never quite despair, And spread thy purple wings.
Nor let hope or courage fail Now all thy figures are allowed.
And some day, when skies are fair, And various shapes of things
Up the bay my ships will sail. Create of airy forms a stream.
I can buy then all I need, — It must have blood, and nought of
Prints to look at, books to read, phlegm.
Horses, wines, and works of art. And, though it be a waking dream,
Every thing except a heart Yet let it like an odor rise
That is lost, that is lost. To all the senses here.
And fall like sleep upon their eyes,
Once when I was pure and young, Or music in their ear.
Poorer, too, than I am now. Ben Jonson.
Ere a cloud was o'er me flung,
Or a wrinkle creased my brow.
There was one whose heart was mine PHCENIX AND TURTLE DOVE.
But she's something now divine.
And though come my ships from sea. Let the bird of loudest lay,
They can bring no heart to me. On the sole Arabian tree.
Evermore, evermore. Herald sad and trumpet be.
R. B. Coffin. To whose sound chaste wings obey.
But thou shrieking harbinger.
THE WHITE ISLAND. Foul pre-currer of the fiend.
Augur of the fever's end,
In this world, the Isle of Dreames, To this troop come thou not near.
While we sit by Sorrow's streames,
Teares and terrors are our themes. From this session interdict
Reciting Every fowl of tyrant wing.
Save the eagle, feathered king
But when once from hence we flie. Keep the obsequy so strict.
More and more approaching nigh
Unto young etemitie. Let the priest in surplice white
Uniting, That defunctivfe music can,
Be the death-divining swan.
In that Whiter Island, where Lest the requiem lack his right.
Things are evermore sincere
Candor here and lustre there, And thou treble-dated crow.
Delighting That thy sable gender mak'st
With the breath thou giv'st and
There no monstrous fancies shall tak'st,
Out of hell an Horror call, 'Mongst our mourners shalt thou go.
To create, or cause at all,
AfErighting. So they loved, as love in twain
Had the essence but in one
There, in calm and cooling sleep. Two distincts, division none
We our eyes shall never steep. Number there in love was slain.
Bit eternall watch shall keep.
Attending Hearts remote, yet not asunder
Distance, and no space was seen
Pleasures such as shall pursue 'Twixt the turtle and his queen
Me immortalized and you But in them it were a wonder.
And fresh joyes, as never to
Have ending. So between them love did shine.
Hebbick. That the turtle saw his right
 ;; ;! ; ;; ; ; : :

124 PARNASSUS.

Flaming in the Phoenix' sight : That the rude sea grew civil at her
Either was the other's mine. song;
And certain stars shot madly from
Property was thus appalled, their spheres,
That the self was not the same To hear the sea-maid's music.
Single nature's double name That very time, I saw, but thou
Neither two nor one was called. couldst not.
Flying between the cold moon and
Reason, in itself confounded. the earth,
Saw division grow together Cupid all armed: a certain aim he
To themselves yet either-neither, took
Simple was so well compounded : At a fair vestal, throned by the
west;
That it cried, How true a twain And loosed his love-shaft smartly
Seemeth this concordant one from his bow.
Love hath reason, reason none, As it should pierce a hundred thou-
If what parts can so remain. sand hearts
But I might see young Cupid's fiery
Whereupon it made this threne shait
To the Phnenix and the dove, Quenched in the chaste beams of the
Co-supremes and stars of love watery moon,
As chorus to their tragic scene. And the imperial votaress passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy-free.
Yet marked I where the bolt of Cu-
pid fell
Beauty, truth, and rarity, It fell upon a little western flower, —
Grace in all simplicity, Before milk-white, now purple with
Here enclosed in cinders lie. love's wound, —
And maidens call it Love-in-idle-
Death is now the Phoenix' nest ness.
And the turtle's loyal breast Fetch methat flower; the herb I
To eternity doth rest, showed thee once.
The juice of it on sleeping eyelids
Leaving no posterity: — laid
'Twas not their infirmity, Will make a man or woman madly
It was married chastity. dote
Upon the next live creature that it
Truth may seem, but cannot be sees.
Beauty brag, but 'tis not she Fetch me this herb and be thou here
:

Truth and beauty buried be. again.

Ere the Leviathan can swim a
To this urnthose repair
let league.
That are either true or fair Puck. —
I'll put a girdle round
For these dead birds sigh a prayer. about the earth
Shakspeabe. In forty minutes.

Oberon. —
Hast thou the flower
1/ there ? Welcome, wanderer.
COMPLIMENT TO QUEEN Puck. —
Ay, there it is.
ELIZABETH. Oberon. —
I pray thee, give it me.
I know a bank whereon the wild
My gentle Puck, come hither, thou thyme blows,
remember' St Wliere ox-lips and the nodding vio-
Since once I sat upon a promontory. let grows.
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's Quite over-canopied with lush wood-
back, bine,
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious With sweet musk-roses, and with
breath, eglantine
 : ; ; ; : ; : ; ;

LNTELLECTTTAL. 125
There sleeps Titania, some time of Which oft the angry Mab with blis-
the night, ters plagues,
Lulled in these flowers with dances Because their breaths with sweet-
and delight; meats tainted are
And there the snake throws her Sometimes she gallops o'er a cour-
enamelled skin, tier's nose.
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in And then dreams he of smelling out
And with the juice of this I'll streak a suit
her eyes. And sometimes comes she with a
And make her full of hateful fan- tithe-pig's tail.
Tickling a parson's nose as he lies
Shakspbabb : Midsummer Night's asleep,
Bream. Then dreams he of another bene-
fice:
Sometimes she driveth o'er a sol-
QUEEN MAB. dier's neck.
And then dreams he of cutting for-
O THBiT, I see,Queen Mab hath been eign throats.
with you. Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish
She the fairies' midwife and she
is ; blades.
'
comes Of healths five fathom deep; and
In shape no bigger than an agate- then anon
stone Drums in his ear, at which he starts,
On the fore-finger of an alderman, and wakes.
Drawn with a team of little atomies And, being thus frighted, swears a
Athwart men's noses as they He prayer or two.
asleep And sleeps again. This is that very
Her wagon-spokes made of long spin- Mab
ners' legs; That plaits the manes of horses in
The cover, of the wings of grass- the night.
hoppers ;
And bakes the elf-locks in foul slut-
The traces, of the smallest spider's tish hairs.
web; Which once untangled, much mis-
The collars, of the moonshine's fortune bodes.
watei-y beams Shakspbabe Borneo and Juliet.
:

Her whip, of cricket's bone; the

lash, of film
Her wagoner, a small gray-coated SONG FROM GYPSIES' META-
u
gnat. MOBPHOSES.
Not half so big as a round little
worm The owl is abroad, the bat, the
Pricked from the lazy finger of a toad.
maid: And so is the cat-a-mountain
Her chariot is an empty hazel-hut. The ant and the mole sit both in a
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old hole;
grub. And frog peeps out o' the fountain
Time out of mind the fairies' coach- The dogs they bay, and the timbrels
makers. play;
And in this state she gallops night The spindle now is a-turning;
by night The moon it is red, and the stars are
Through lovers' brainSj and then' fled;
they dream of love But all the sky is a-burning.
On courtiers' knees, that dream on
court' si es straight;
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight The faery beam upon you,
dream on fees And the stars to glister on you,
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on A moon of light
kisses dream, In the noon of night,
 ; :
! : ; :

126 PAENASSUS.

Till the flre-drake hath o'ergone you, Then to the noblest princes fellow
The wheel of Fortune guide you, might he
be.
The Boy with the bow beside you Wakton Little Garden of Roses.
:

Run aye in the wAy, till the bird of

day.
And the luckier lot betide you. KUBLA KHAN.
Ben Jonson.
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree
THE SONG OF FIONTSrUALA.* Where Alph, the sacred river, ran,
Through caverns measureless to
Silent, O Moyle, be the roar of thy man,
water. Down to a sunless sea.
Break not, ye breezes, your chain of So twice five miles of fertile ground
repose, With walls and towers were girdled
While, murmuring mournfully, Llr's round
lonely daughter And here were gardens bright with
Tells to the night-star her tale of sinuous rills,
woes. Where blossomed many an incense-
When shall the swan, her death-note bearing tree
singing. And here were forests ancient as the
Sleep, with wings in darkness furled ? hills.
When will heaven its sweet bell Infolding sunny spots of greenery.
ringing,
Call my
spirit from this stormy But oh! that deep chasm which
world ? slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn
Sadly,O Moyle, to thy winter wave cover
weeping, A savage place! as holy and en-
Fate bids me languish long ages chanted
away; As e'er beneath a waning moon was
Yet still in her darkness doth Erin haunted
lie sleeping. By woman wailing for her demon-
Still doth the pure light its dawning lover !
delay. And from this chasm, with ceaseless
When will that day-star, mildly turmoil seething,
springing. As if this earth in fast thick pants
Warm our with peace and love ?
isle were breathing,
When will heaven, its sweet bell A mighty fountain momently was
ringing. forced
Call my spirit to the fields above ? Amid whose swift half-intermitted
Thomas Moobe. burst
Huge fragments vaulted like re-
boimding hail,
FAIRIES. Or chaffy grain beneath the thresh-
er's flail:
Little was King Laurin, but from And 'mid these dancing rocks at
many
a precious gem once and ever
His wondrous strength and power, It flung up momently the sacred
and his bold courage came river.
Tall at times his stature grew, with Five miles meandering with a mazy
spells of gramarye, motion
*Wonnuala, the daughter of Lir, was, Through wood and dale the sacred
by some supernatural power, transformed river ran,
into a swan, and condemned to wander
over certain lakes and rivers in Ireland,
Then reached the caverns measure-
till the coming of Christianity, when the less to man.
first sound of me mass bell was to be the And sank in tumult to a lifeless
signal of her release. ocean
 ! : : !; ; ;! ;;

INTELLECTUAL. 127
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard Less than a God they thought there
from far could not dwell
Ancestral voices prophecying war Within the hollow of that shell.
That spoke so sweetly and so well.
The shadow of the dome of What passion cannot Music raise
pleasure and quell ?
Floated midway on the waves Dbyden.
Where was heard the mingled
measure
From the fountain and the MUSIC.
caves.
It was a miracle of rare device, When whispering strains with
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves creeping wind
of ice Distil soft passions through the
heart
A damsel with a dulcimer And when at every touch we find
In a vision once I saw Our pulses beat and bear a part
It was an Abyssinian maid, When threads can make
And on her dulcimer she played, Aheartstring ache.
Singing of Mount Abora. Philosophy
Could I revive within me Can scarce deny
Her symphony and song, Our souls are made of harmony.
To such a deep delight 'twould
win me. When unto heavenly joys we faine
That with music loud and long, Whate'er the soul aJEEecteth most,
I would build that dome in air. Which only thus we can explain
That sunny dome! those caves of By music of the hetivenly host;
ice! Whose lays we think
And all who heard should see them Make stars to wink.
there, Philosophy
And allshould cry. Beware! Be- Can scarce deny
ware! Our souls consist of harmony.
His flashing eyes, his floating hair.
Weave a circle round him thrice. O lull me, lull me, charming air
And close your eyes with holy dread, My senses rock with wonder sweet
For he on honey-dew hath fed, > Like snow on wool thy fallings are
And drunk the milk of Paradise. Soft like a spirit's are thy feet!
S. T. COLEBIDGE. Grief who needs fear
That hath an ear?
Down let him lie,
ST. CECILIA'S DAY. And slumbering die.
And change his soul for harmony.
Fbom harmony, from heavenly har- William Strode.
mony,
This universal frame began
From harmony to harmony, ORPHEUS WITH HIS LUTE.
Through all the compass of the notes
it ran. Orpheus with his lute made trees.
The diapason closing full in man. And the mountain-tops that freeze.
Bow themselves, when he did
What passion cannot Music raise and sing:
quell? To his music, plants and flowers
When Jubal struck the chorded Ever sprung, as sun and showers.
shell. There had been a lasting spring.
His listening brethren stood
around, Every thing that heard him play.
And, wondering, on t'aeir faces fell Even the billows of the sea.
To worship that celestial sound. Hung their heads, and then lay by.
 ; ; ; ; !;; ; : ; ;

128 PAENASSTTS.

In sweet music is such art With woful measures, wan Despair

Killing care and grief of heart, Low, sullen sounds his grief be-
Fall asleep, or, hearing, die. guiled ;

Shakspeabb. A solemn, strange, and mingled air;

'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas
wild.
MUSIC.
But thou, O Hope with eyes so fair.
!

NoBTHWABD he turneth through a What was thy delighted measure ?

little door. Still it whispered promised pleasure.
And scarce three steps, ere Music's And bade the lovely scenes at dis-
golden tongue tance hail
Flattered to tears this aged man and Still would her touch the strain pro-
poor. long;
Keats. And from the rocks, the woods,
the vale,
She called on Echo still, through all
THE PASSIONS. the song
And, where her sweetest theme
AST ODE FOB MTTSIC. she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard
'

When Music, heavenly maid, was at every close,

young. And Hope enchanted smiled, and
While yet in early Greece she sung, waved her golden hair.
The Passions oft, to hear her shell. And longer had she sung; — but
Thronged around her magic cell. with a frown
Exulting, trembling, raging, faint- Revenge impatient rose
ing. He threw his blood-stained sword,
Possessed beyond the Muse's paint- in thunder down
ing: And with a withering look,
By turns they felt the glowing -mind The war-denouncing trumpet took.
Disturbed, delighted, raised, refined And blew a blast so loud and dread,
Till once, 'tis said, when all were Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full
fired. of woe!
Filled with fury, rapt, inspired. And, ever and anon, he beat
From the supporting myrtles round, The doubling drum, with furious
They snatched her instruments of heat;
sound And though sometimes, each dreary
And as they oft had heard apart. pause between.
Sweet lessons of her forceful art. Dejected Pity, at his side.
Each (for Madness ruled the hour) Her soul-subduing voice applied.
Would prove his own expressive Yet still he kept his wild unaltered
power. mien.
While each strained hall of sight
First Fear his hand, its skill to try. seemed bursting from his head.
Amid the chords bewildered laid. Thy numbers. Jealousy, to nought
And back recoiled, he knew not were iixed
why, Sad proof of thy distressful state
E en at the sound himself had Of differing themes the veering song
made. was mixed
And now it called on Love, now
Next Anger rushed, his eyes on fire. raving called on Hate.
In lightnings owned his secret
stings : With eyes upraised, as one inspired,
In one rude clash he struck the Pale Melancholy sate retired
lyre. And from her wild sequestered seat,
And swept with hurried hand the In notes by distance made more
strings. sweet,
 : ; ;; : : : ; ; ; !; ; ! ; ! !;! ; ;

INTELLECTUAL. 129
Poured through the mellow horn O Music sphere-descended maid,
!

her pensive soul Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid

And dashing soft from rocks Why, goddess why, to us denied,
!

around, Lay' St thou thine ancient lyre aside ?

Bubbling runnels joined the sound
Through glades and glooms the
mingled measure stole,
Or, o'er some haunted stream, with
fond delay,
Round a holy calm diffusing,
Love of Peace, and lonely musing.
In hollow murmurs died away.
But O how altered was
!
As in that loved Athenian bower,
You learned an all-commanding
power,
Thy mimic soul, O Nymph endeared.
Can well recall what then it heard
Where is thy native simple heart,
Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art ?
Arise, as in that elder time.
Warm, energetic, chaste, sublime
its spright- Thy wonders, in that godlike age.

lier tone. thy recording Sister's page

Fill :
—
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of and I believe the tale,
'Tis said,
healthiest hue. Thy humblest seed could more pre-
Her bow across her shoulder flung. vail.
Her buskins gemmed with morn- Had more of strength, diviner rage.
ing dew. Than all which charms this laggard
Blew an inspiring air that dale and age;
thicket rung, E'en all at once together found,
The hunter's call, to Faun and Cecilia'smingled world of sound, — '

Dryad known O bid our vain endeavors cease

The oak-crowned Sisters, and their Revive the just designs of Greece
chaste-eyed Queen, Return in all thy simple state
Satyrs and Sylvan Boys, were seen. Confirm the tales her sons relate
Peeping from forth their alleys Collins.
green
Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear
And Sport leaped up, and seized
his beechen spear. A SUPPLICATION.
Last came Joy's ecstatic trial
He with vlny crown advancing, Awake, awake, my Lyre
First to the lively pipe his hand And tell thy silent master's humble
addrest tale
But soon he saw the brisk awaken- In sounds that may prevail
ing viol. Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire
Whose sweet entrancing voice he Though so exalted she,
loved the best; And I so lowly be,
They would have thought, who Tell her, such different notes make
heard the strain, all thy harmony.
They saw in Tempe's vale, her
native maids. Hark how the strings awake
! :

Amidst the festal sounding shades. And, though the moving hand ap-
To some unwearied minstrel dancing, proach not near.
While, as his flying fingers kissed Themselves with awful fear
the strings. A kind of numerous trembling make.
Love framed with Mirth a gay Now all thy forces try
fantastic round Now all thy channs apply
Loose were her tresses seen, her Revenge upon her ear the conquests
zone unbound of her eye.
And he, amidst his frolic and his
play, Weak Lyre ! thy virtue sure
As if he would the charming air Is useless here, since thou art only
repay. found
Shook thousand odors from his dewy Tocure, but not to wound,
wings. And she to wound, but not to cure.
9
 ; ! ; ; ! ! ; ! : !

130 PARNASSUS.

Too weak, too, wilt thou prove ^OLIAN HARP.

My passion to remove
Physic to other ills, thou'rt nourish-
ment to love.
Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre
For thou canst never tell my humhle
tale
In sounds that will prevail,
Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire
All thy vain mirth lay by,
Bid thy strings silent lie.
Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre, and let
thy master die.
TO MUSIC.
Ever a current of sadness deep
Through the streams of thy
is heard to sweep.
TO THE HARP. 2/
That instrument ne'er heard
Struck by the skilful bard
It strongly to awake.
But it the Internals scared
And made Olympus quake.
As those prophetic strings
Whose sounds with fiery wings
Drove fiends from their abode,
Touched by the best of kings.
That sung the holy ode.
So his when women slew
And it in Hebrus threw.
Such sounds yet forth it sent.
The banks to weep that drew
As down the stream it went.
And diversely though strong.
So anciently we sung
To it, that now scarce
belong
If first it did
To Greece, or if our own.
The Dniid^s imbrued
With gore on altars rude
With sacrifices crowned
In hollow woods bedewed.
The sea rolls vaguely, and the stars
are dumb.
The ship is sunk full many a year.
Dream no more of loss or gain
A ship was never here.
A dawn will never, never come.
Is it all in vain ?
Allinoham.
ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR,
THE POWER OF MUSIC.
Cowley.
'TwAS at the royal feast for Persia
won
By Philip's warlike son —
Aloft in awful state
The godlike hero sate
On his imperial throne
triumph
His valiant peers were placed around,
Their brows with roses and with
Hemans.
myrtles bound
(So should desert in arms be
crowned);
The lovely Thais by his side
Sate like a blooming Eastern bride
In flower of youth and beauty's
pride :
—
Happy, happy, happy pair
None but the brave
None but the brave
None but the brave deserves the
fair!
Timotheus placed on high
Amid the tuneful choir
With flying fingers touched the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky.
And heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove,
Who Jef t his above
blissful seats —
Such the power of mighty love
is
A dragon's fiery form belied the god;
Sublime on radiant spheres he rode
When he to fair Olyrapla prest.
And while he sought her snowy
known breast
Then round her slender waist he
curled,
And stamped an image of himself, a
sovereign of the world.
— The listening crowd admire the
lofty sound
A present deity they shout around:
!

Adored the trembling sound. A present deity! the vaulted roofs

Dbaytoit. rebound
 : ; ; : ! : ; ;! : ! ;!; ! ! !; ; :: ! ; : : :
!

INTELLECTUAL. 131
With ravished ears War, he sung, is toil and trouble.
The monarch hears, Honor but an empty bubble,
Assumes the god Never ending, still Jbeginning
Affects to nod, Fighting still, and still destroying;
And seems to shal^e the spheres. If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O think, it worth enjoying
The praise of Bacchus then the sweet Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
musician sung, — Take the good the gods provide thee
Of Bacchus ever fair and ever The many rend the skies with
young loud applause
The jolly god in triumph comes So Love was crowned, but Music
Sound the trvmipets, heat the drums won the cause.
Flushed with a purple grace The prince unable to conceal his
He shows his honest face pain,
Now give the hautboys breath he ; Gazed on the fair
comes, he comes Who caused his care,
Bacchus, ever fair and young, And sighed and looked, sighed and
Drinking joys did first ordain looked.
Bacchus' blessings are a treasure. Sighed and looked and sighed again
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure At length with love and wine at once
Rich the treasure, opprest
Sweet the pleasure. The vanquished victor sunk upon
Sweet is pleasure after pain. her breast.

Soothed with the sound, the king Now strike the golden lyre again
grew vain A louder yet, and yet a louder
Fought all his battles o'er again. strain
And thrice he routed all his foes, Break his bands of sleep asunder,
and thrice he slew the slain And rouse him like a rattling peal
The master saw the madness rise. of thunder.
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes Hark, hark ! the horrid sound
And while he Heaven and Earth defied Has raised up his head
Changed his hand and checked his As awaked from the dead
pride. And amazed he stares around.
He chose a mournful Muse Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries.
Soft pity to infuse See the Furies arise
He sung Darius great and good, See the snakes that they rear
By too severe a fate How they hiss in their hair.
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen. And the sparkles that flash from
Fallen from his high estate, their eyes
And weltering in his blood; Behold a ghastly band
Deserted, at his utmost need. Each a torch in his hand
By those his former bounty fed Those are Grecian ghosts, that in
On the bare earth exposed he lies battle were slain
With not a friend to close his eyes. And unburied remain
With downcast looks the joyless Inglorious on the plain
victor sate, Give the vengeance due
Revolving in his altered soul To the valiant crew 1

The various turns of Chance below Behold how they toss their torches
And now and then a sigh he stole, on high.
And tears began to flow. How they point to the Persian
abodes
The mighty master smiled to see And glittering temples of their hos-
That love was in the next degree; tile gods.
'Twas but a kindred sound to move, The princes applaud with a furi'
For pity melts the mind to love. ous joy:
Softly sweet, in Lydian measures And the King seized a flambeau with
Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures. zeal to destroy
 ! ; ; ; ! ; ! ! ! ! !.!

132 PAENASStrS.

Thais led the way Statues, bend your heads in sor-

Tolight him to his prey, row.
And like another Helen, fired Ye that glance 'mid ruins old.
another Troy 1 That know not a past, nor expect a
morrow
Thus long ago, On many a moonlight Grecian wold
Ere heaving bellows learned to blow,
While organs yet were mute,
Timotheus, to his breathing flute By sculptured cave and speaking
And sounding lyre river.
Could swell the soul to rage, or Thee, Dsedalus, oft the Nymphs re-
kindle soft desire. call;
At last divine Cecilia came, The leaves with a sound of winter
Inventress of the vocal frame quiver,
The sweet enthusiast from her sacred Murmur thy name, and withering fall
store
Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
And added length to solemn sounds. Yet are thy visions in soul the
With Nature's mother-wit, and arts grandest
unknown before. Of all that crowd on the tear-dimmed
Let old Timotheus yield the prize, eye,
Or both divide the crown ThoughjDsedaluSjthou no more com-
He raised a mortal to the skies mandest
She drew an angel down New stars to that ever-widening sky.
Dbtden.
Ever thy phantoms arise before us,
Our loftier brothers, but one in
^"AUT AJSTD NATURE. blood
By bed and table they lord it o'er
Natube is made better by no
us.
mean, With looks of beauty and words of
But Nature makes that mean: so good.
over that Art
Which you say adds to Nature is an
Art Calmly they show us mankind vic-
That Nature makes. You see, sweet torious
maid, we marry
O'er all that's aimless, blind, and
A gentler scion to the wildest stock.
base;
And make conceive a bark of baser
Their presence has made our nature
kind
glorious,
By buds of nobler race. This is an Unveiling our night's illumined face.
Art
Which does mend Nature, change it
rather; but
Wail for Dsedalus, Earth and Ocean
rhe Art itself is Nature.
Stars and Sun, lament for him
Shakspeake: Winter's Tale. Ages quake in strange commotion
All ye realms of Life be dim

DMDALVS. Wail for Dsedalus, awful Voices,

From earth's deep centre Mankind
Wail for Daedalus, all that is fairest appall
All that is tuneful in air or wave 1 Seldom ye sound, and then Death
iShapes whose beauty is truest and rejoices.
rarest. For he knows that then the mighti-
Haunt with your lamps and spells est fall.
his grave 1
John SxEBLma
 ; ;! ! : : ::

INTELLECTUAL. 133
CATHEDRAL. Of their sweet deaths are sweetest
odors made
Almeria. — It was thy fear, or else And so of you, beauteous and
some transient wind lovely youth,
Whistling through hollows of this When that shall fade, by verse
vaulted aisle: distils your truth.
No, all is hushed and still as death. Shaksfeabe.
'Tis dreadful
How reverend is the face of this tall
pile,
Whose ancient pillars rear their SONNET. L^
marble heads
To hear aloft its arched and ponder- Pkom you have I been absent in the
ous roof, spring.
By its own weight made steadfast When proud-pied April, dressed in
and immovable, all his trim.
Looking tranquillity It strikes an
! Hath put a spirit of Youth in every
awe thing.
And on
terror my aching sifeht ; the That heavy Saturn laughed and
tombs leaped with him.
And monumental caves of death Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the
look cold, sweet smell
And shoot a chillness to my trem-i Of different flowers in odor and in
bling heart. hue,
Give me thy hand, and let me hear Could make me any summer's story
thy voice '

tell.
Nay, quickly speak to me, and let Or from their proud lap pluck them
me hear where they grew
Thy voice; — my own affrights me Nor did I wondel: at the lilies white,
with its echoes. Nor praise the deep vermilion in the
WlI/LIAM CONGBEVE. rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of
delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all
those.
SONNET. tX Yet seemed
away,
it winter still, and, you

Oh how much more doth beauty As with your shadow I with these
beauteous seem did play.
By that sweet ornament which truth Shaksfeabe.
doth give
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it
deem
For that sweet odor which doth in TO THE CEITIC.
it live.
The canker-blooms have full as deep
a dye
As the perfumfed tincture of the roses. Vex not thou the poet's mind
Hang on such thorns, and play as With thy shallow wit
wantonly Vex not thou the poet's mind;
When summer's breath their masked For thou canst not fathom it.
buds discloses
But, for their virtue only is their
show, n.
They live unwooed, and unrespected
fade; Dark-browed sophist. come not
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do anear;
uot so
 ;; ; ;; : ;; ; ;

134 PABNASSUS.

Hollow smile and frozen sneer In the Spring a fuller crimson comes
Come not here. upon the robin's breast;
In the Spring the wanton lapwing
The flowers would faint at your gets himself another crest
cruel cheer.
In the Spring a livelier iris changes
In the heart of the garden the merry on the burnished dove
bird chants, In the Spring a young man's fancy
It would fall to the ground if you lightly turns to thoughts of
came in. love.
Tennyson.
Then her cheek was pale and thin-
ner than should be for one so
young.
LOCKSLEY HALL. And her eyes on all my motions
with a mute observance hung.
CoMBADES, leave me here a little,
while as yet 'tis early morn And I said, "My cousin Amy,
Leave me here, and when you want speak, and speak the truth to
me, sound upon the bugle- me.
horn. Trust me, cousin, all the current of
my being sets to thee."
'Tis the place, and all around it, as
of old, the curlews call. On her pallid cheek and forehead
Dreary gleams about the moorland came a color and a light.
flying over Locksley Hall As I have seen the rosy red flushing
in the northern night.
Locksley Hall, that in the distance
overlooks the sandy tracts.
And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring And she turned —
her'bosom shaken
into cataracts. with a sudden storm of sighs —
All the spirit deeply dawning in the
Many a night from yonder ivied dai'k of hazel eyes —
easement, ere I went to rest.
Did I look on great Orion sloping Saying, "I have hid my feelings,
slowly to the West. fearing they should do me
wrong;"
Many a night I saw the Pleiads, Saying, "Dost thou love me, cous-
rising through the mellow in?" weeping, "I have loved
shade. thee long."
Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tan-
gled in a silver braid. Love took up the glass of Time, and
turned it in his glowing
Here about the beach I wandered, hands
nourishing a youth sublime Every moment, lightly shaken, ran
With the fairy tales of science, and itself in golden sands.
the long result of time
Love took up the harp of Life, and
When the centuries behind me like a smote on all the chords with
fruitful land reposed might
When I clung to all the present for Smote the chord of Self, that, trem-
the promise that it closed bling, passed in music out of
sight.
When I dipt into the future far as
human eye could see Many a morning on the moorland
Saw the Vision of the world, and we hear the copses ring.
did
all the wonder that would And her whisper thronged my pulses
be.— with the fulness of the Spring.
 — !: ! ! : ! ! !!

INTELIiECTUAi. 135
Many an evening by the waters did Cursed be thesocial wants that sin
we watch the stately ships, against the strength of youth
And our spirits rushed together at Cursed be the social lies that warp
the touching of the lips. us from the living truth

O my cousin, shallow-hearted! O Cursed be the sickly forms that err

my Amy, mine no more from honest Nature's rule
O the dreary, dreary moorland! O Cursed be the gold that gilds the
the barren, barren shore! straitened forehead of the
fool!
Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser
than all songs have sung. Well — 'tis well that I should blus-
Puppet to a father's threat, and ser- ter Hadst thou less unwor-
vile to a shrewish tongue
!

thy proved —
Would to God — for I had loved thee
Is itwell to wish thee happy ? hav- — more than ever wife was
ing known me to decline — loved.
On a range of lower feelings and a
narrower heart than mine Am I mad, that I should cherish
that which bears but bitter
Yet it shall be thou shalt lower to
: fruit?
his levelday by day. I will pluck it from my bosom,
What is fine within thee growing though my heart be at the
coarse to sympathize with clay. root.

As the husband is, the wife is : thou Never, though my mortal summer.'
art mated with a clown. to such length of years shoul(>
And the grossness of his nature will come
have weight to drag thee down. As the many-wintered crow thai
leads the clanging rookerj
He will hold thee, when his passion home.
shall have spent its novel
force. Where is comfort in division of the
!

Something better than his dog, a records of the mind ?

little dearer than his horse. Can I part her from herself, and love
her, as I knew her kind ?
What is this? his eyes are heavy:
think not they ai-e glazed with I remember one that perished:
wine. sweetly did she speak and
Go to him it is thy duty kiss him
: : move:
take his hand in thine. Such a one do I remember, whom to
look at was to love.
It may be my lord is weary, that
overwrought
his brain is Can I think of her as dead, and love
Soothe him with thy finer fancies, her for the love she bore ?
touch him with thy lighter No — she never loved me truly:
thought. love is love forevermore.

He answer to the purpose, easy

will Comfort ? comfort scorned of devils
things to understand this is truth the poet sings.
Better thou wert dead before me, That a sorrow's crown of sorrow is
though I slew thee with my remembering happier things.
band!
Drug thy memories, lest thou learn
Better thou and I were lying, hidden it, lest thy heart be put to
from the heart's disgrace. proof.
Rolled in one another's arms, and In the dead unhappy night, and
silent in a last embrace. when the rain is on the roof.
 — ; ! ; : ; ; ;
! ;

136 PAENASStrS.

Like a dog, he hunts in dreams, and Every gate is thronged with suitors,
thou art staring at the wall. all the markets overflow.
Where the dying night-lamp flickers, I have but an angry fancy what : is
and the -shadows rise and fall. that which I should do ?

Then a hand shall pass before thee, I had been content to perish, falling
pointing to his drunken sleep, on the foeman's ground.
To thy widowed marriage-pillows, When the ranks are rolled in vapor,
to the tears that thou wilt and the winds are laid with
weep. sound.

Thou shalt hear the "Never, nev- But the jingling of the guinea helps
er," whispered by the phantom the hurt that Honor feels,
years, And the nations do but murmur,
And a song from out the distance in snarling at each other's heels.
the ringing of thine ears
Can but relive in sadness ? I will
I
And an eye shall vex thee, looking turn that earlier page.
ancient kindness on thy pain. Hide me from my deep emotion, O
Turn thee, turn thee on thy pillow: thou wondrous Mother-Age
get thee to thy rest again.
Make me feel the wild pulsation that
Nay, but Nature brings thee solace I felt before the strife.
for a tender voice will cry. When I heard my
days before me,
'Tis a purer life than thine; a lip to and the tumult of life.my
drain thy trouble dry.
Yearning for the large excitement
Baby lips will laugh me down my
: that the coming years would
latest rival brings thee rest. yield.
Baby lingers, waxen touches, press Eager-hearted as a boy when first he
me from the mother's breast. leaves his father's field.

O, the child, too, clothes the father And at night along the dusky high-
with a dearness not his due. way near and nearer drawn.
Half is thine, and half is his it : Sees in heaven the light of London
will be worthy of the two. flaring like a dreary dawn

O, I see thee old and formal, fitted And his spirit leaps, within him to be
to thy petty part. gone before him then,
With a little hoard of maxims Underneath the light he looks at, in
preaching down a daughter's among the throngs of men
heart.
Men, my brothers, men the work-
"They were dangerous guides the ers, ever reaping something
feelings — she herself was not new:
exempt That which they have done but
Truly, she herself had suffered" — earnest of liie things that they
Perish in thy self-contempt shall do

Overlive it —
lower yet —
be happy! For I dipped into the future, far as
wherefore should I care? human eye could see.
I myself must mix with action, lest Saw the Vision of the world, and
I wither by despair. all the wonder that would be

What is that which I should turn to, Saw the heavens fill with commerce,
lighting upoTi days like these ? argosies of magic sails,
Every door is barred with gold, and Pilots of the purple twilight, drop-
opens but to golden keys. ping down with costly bales
 : ; : : :

INTELLECTUAL. 137
Heard the heavens fill with shout- Knowledge comes, but wisdom lin-
ing, and there rained a ghastly gers, and he bears a laden
dew breast,
From the nations' airy navies grap- Full of sad experience, moving to-
pling in the central blue ward the stillness of his rest.

Far along the world-wide whisper of Hark, my merry comrades call me,
the south-wind rushing warm, sounding on the bugle-horn.
With the standards of the peoples They to whom my foolish passion
plunging through the thunder- were a target for their scorn
storm;
Shall it not be scorn to me to harp
Till the war-drum throbbed no long- on such a mouldered string?
er, and the battle-flags were I am shamed through all my nature
furled to have loved so slight a thing.
In the Parliament of man, the Fede-
ration of the world. Weakness be wroth with weak-
to
ness! woman's
pleasure, wo-
man's pain —
There the common sense of most Nature made them blinder motions
shall hold a fretful realm in bounded in a shallower brain
awe,
And the kindly earth shall slumber, Woman is the lesser man, and all
lapped in universal law. thy passions, matched with
mine.
So I triumphed ere my passion Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and
sweeping through me left me as water unto wine —
dry.
Left me with the palsied heart, and Here at least, where nature sickens,
left me with the jaundiced nothing. Ah, for some retreat-
eye; Deep in yonder shining Orient,
where my life began to beat;
Eye, to which all order festers, all
things here are out of joint Where in wild Mahratta-battle fell
Science moves, but slowly, slowly, my father evil-starred ;
—
creeping on from point to I was left a trampled orphan, and a
point selfish uncle's ward.

Slowly comes a hungry people, as a Orto burst all links of habit there —
lion, creeping nigher. to wander far away,
Glares at one that nods and winks On from island unto island at the
behind a slowly-dying Are. gateways of the day.

Yet I doubt not through the ages Larger constellations burning, mel-
one increasing purpose runs, low moons and happy skies,
And the thoughts of men are wid- Breadths of tropic shade and palms
ened with the process of the in cluster, knots of Paradise.

Never comes the trader, never floats

What that to him that reaps not
is
harvest of his youthful joys.
Though the deep heat of existence
beat forever like a boy's ?
an European flag.
Slides the bird o'er lustrous wood-
land, swings the trailer from
the crag;

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lin- Droops the heavy-blossomed bower,

gers, and I linger on the shore. hangs the heavy-fruited tree —
And the individual withers, and the Summer isles of Eden
lying in dark-
world is more and more. purple spheres of sea.
 ! :; ! ; ; ! ;

138 PAENASSTJS.

There methinks would be enjoy- Kift the hills, and roll the waters,
ment more than m
this march flash the lightnings, weigh the
of mind, sun.
In the steamship, in the railway, in
the thoughts that shake man- O, I see the crescent promise of my
kind. spirit hath not set.
Ancient founts of inspiration well
There the passions cramped no long- through all my fancy yet.
er shall have scope and breath-
ing-space ; Howsoever these things be, a long
I will take some savage woman, she farewell to Locksley Hall
shall rear my
dusky race. Now for me the woods may wither,
now for me the roof-tree fall.
Iron-jointed, supple-sinewed, they
and they shall run.
shall dive, Comes a vapor from the margin,
Catch the wild goat by the hair, and blackening over heath and
hurl their lances in the sun holt.
Cramming all the blast before it, In
Whistle back the parrot's call, and its breast a thunderbolt.
leap the rainbows of the
brooks, Let it fall on Locksley Hall, with
Not with blinded eyesight poring rain or hail, or fireor snow
over miserable books — For the mighty wind arises, roaring
seaward, and I go.
Fool, again the dream, the fancy! Tennyson.
but I know my words are wild,
But I count the gray barbarian lower
than the Christian child. HURTS OF TIME.
/ to herd with narrow foreheads,
Otjt upon Time, who will leave no
vacant of our glorious gains.
more
Like a beast with lower pleasures,
Of the things to come than the
things before
like a beast with lower pains
Out upon Time, who forever will

Mated with a squalid savage, — what leave

But enough of the past for the
to me were sun or clime ?
future to grieve,
I the heir of all the ages, in the
foremost files of time — Relics of things that have passed
away.
I that rather held it better men
Fragments of stone reared by crea-
tures of clay.
should perish one by one.
Than that earth should stand at For who the fool that doth not know
gaze like Joshua's moon in How bloom and beauty come and go.
Ajalon And how disease, and pain, and
sorrow.
Not in vain the distance beacons. May chance to-day, may chance to-

Forward, forward let us range, morrow.

Let the great world spin forever Unto the merriest of us all ?
down the ringing grooves of Byron.
change.
POET'S MOOD, /
Through the shadow of the globe we
sweep into the younger day Hence, all you vain delights,
Better fifty years of Europe than a As short as are the nights
cycle of Cathay. Wherein you spend your folly S
There's nought in this life sweet,
Mother-Age (for mine I knewno.t) If man were wise to see it.
help me as when life begun But only melancholy
 :: ;
! ; ; :! !; :; ; :;::; ;
: ;;; :; ;

Oh, sweetest melancholy
Welcome folded arms, and fixed eyes,
A sigh that piercing mortifies,
A look that's fastened to the ground,
A tongue chained up, wiSiout a
sound I Not loved, unless they give,
Fountain-head 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.
Beaumont Aino Fletcheb.
MOODS.
Out upon it : I have loved
Three whole days together;
And am like to love three
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
Is due at all to me
Love with me had made no
Had it any been but she.
INTELLECTUAL. 139
If Court and Church re^y.
Give Court and Church the lie.
Tell Potentates they live
Acting, but oh! their actions;
Nor strong but by their factions
If Potentates reply.
Give Potentates the lie.
Tell men of high condition,
That rule affairs of state,
Their purpose is ambition;
Their practice only hate
And if they do reply,
Then give them all the lie.
Tell those that brave it most
They beg for more by spending,
Who in their greatest cost
Seek nothing but commending
And if they make reply,
Spare not to give the lie.
Tell Zeal it lacks devotion
more,
Tell Love it is but lust
Tell Time it is but motion;
Tell Flesh it is but dust:
«
And wish them not reply.
For thou must give the lie.
Tell Age it daily wasteth;
Tell Honor how it alters
praise
Tell Beauty that it blasteth
Tell Favor that she falters
stays,
And as they do reply,
Give every one the lie.

Had it any been but she, Tell Wit how much it wrangles
And that very face, In fickle points of niceness
There had been at least ere thU
Tell Wisdom she entangles
A dozen dozen in her place. Herself in over wiseness
Sib John Suckj'-ing.
And if they do reply,
^ Then give them both the lie.

THE SOUL'S EEKAJSTD, Tell Physic of her boldness

Tell Skill it is pretension
Go, Soul, the body's guest. Tell Charity of coldness
Upon a thankless errand Tell Law it is contention
Fear not to touch the best And if they yield reply.
The truth shall be thy warrant Then give them all the lie.
Go, since I needs must die,
And give them all the lie. Tell Fortune of her blindness;
Tell Nature of decay
Go tell the Court it glows Tell Friendship of unkindness
And shines like rotten wood Tell Justice of delay
Go tell the Church it shows And if they do reply,
What's good, but does no good: Then give them still the lie.
 ; — !: ; : ;
: !

140 PARNASSUS.

Tell Arts they have no soundness, Holy Malik, Hassan wise —

But vary by esteeming Men of mark in Moslem eyes.
Tell Schools they lack profoundness,
And much on seeming
stand too Hassan says, " Whose prayer is pure,
If Arts and Schools reply, Will God's chastisement endure."
Give Arts and Schools the lie.
Malik, from a deeper sense
Tell Faith it's fled the city; Uttered his experience:
Tell how the country erreth
Tell, Manhood shakes off pity; " He who loves his Master's choice
Tell, Virtue least preferreth Will in chastisement rejoice."
And if they do reply,
Spare not to give the lie. Rabia saw some selfish will
In their maxims lingering still.
So when thou hast, as I
Commanded thee, done blabbing And replied, "O men of grace
Although to give the lie He who sees his Master's face
Deserves no less than stabbing
Yet stab at thee who will. Will not, in his prayer, recall
No stab the Soul can kill That he is chastised at all."
Sib Walter Raleigh. Trans, by J. F. Clarke.

RABIA.
Rabia, sick upon her bed.
By two saints was visited,
 rv.

CONTEMPLATIVE. - MORAL.
RELIGIOUS.

MAN. —VIRTUE. — HONOR. — TIME. — CHANGE

FATE. —DEATH. —IMMORTALITY.
HYMNS. — HOLYDAYS.

'^ Eyes which the beam celestial view,

'Which eveimoia makes all things new." — Keblb.
 ; ; ; ; ; : ; ; :;

OONTEMPLATIYE. - MORAL. - EELI-

GIOUS.

FROM HYPERION. Man is all symmetry,

Full of proportions, one limb to an-
As Heaven and Earth are fairer, other.
fairer far And all to all the world besides
Than Chaos and blank Darkness, Each part may call the farthest,
though once chiefs brother
And we show beyond that Hea-
as For head with foot hath private am-
ven and Earth ity,
In form and shape compact and And both with moons and tides.
beautiful.
In will, in action free, companion- Nothing hath got so far,
ship. But man hath caught and kept it
And thousand other signs of purer as his prey.
life; His eyes dismount the highest star
So on our heels a fresh perfection He is in little all the sphere
treads, Herbs gladly cure our flesh, because
A power more strong in beauty, bom that they
of us. Find their acquaintance there.
And fated to excel us, as we pass
In glory that old Darkness. For us the winds do blow,
Keats. The earth doth rest, heaven move,
and foimtains flow
Nothing we see but means our good
MAN. ty As our delight, or as our treasure
The whole is either our cupboard of
Mt Grod, I heard this day food.
That none doth build a stately habi- Or cabinet of pleasure.
tation
But he that means to dwell there- The stars have us to bed
in. Night draws the curtain, which the
What house more stately hath sun withdraws.
there been. Music and light attend our head.
Or can be, than is Man? to whose All things unto our flesh are kind
creation In their descent and being; to our —
All things are in decay. mind.
In their ascent and cause.
For man is eveiy thing,
And more. He is a tree, yet bears Each thing is full of Duty:
no fruit Waters united are our navigation
A should be more.
beast, yet is or Distinguished, our habitation
Reason and speech we only bring. Below our drink above our meat
:

Parrots may thank us, if they are Both are our cleanliness. Hath one
not mute. such beauty ?
They go upon the score. Then how are all things neat.
143
 ; ; :
; ;

144 PARNASSUS.

More servants wait on Man Was like a lake, or river bright and
Than he'll take notice of. In every fair,
path A span of waters ;
yet what power is
He treads down that which doth there I

befriend him What mightiness for evil and for

When sickness makes him pale good!
and wan. Even so doth God protect us, if we be
O mighty Love Man is one world,
! Virtuous and wise. Winds blow,
and hath and waters roll
Another to attend him. Strength to the brave, and Power,
and Deity;
Since then, my God, thou hast Yet In themselves are nothing One I

So brave a palace built, O dwell in it. decree

That it may dwell with thee at Spake laws to them, and said, that
last! by the soul
thenafEord us so much wit,
Till Only, the Nations shall be great and
That as the world serves us, we may free.
serve thee. Wordsworth.
And both thy servants be.
Herbert.
THE PULLET. 1/

HONOR When God at first made man.

Having a glass of blessings standing
i>y,
Say, what is Honor ? 'Tls the finest " Let us," said he, " pour on him all
sense
Of justice which the human mind we can
can frame,
Let the world's riches, which dis-
persed lie.
Intent each lurking frailty to dis-
claim.
Contract into a span."
And guard the way of life from all
offence
So strength first made away
Suffered or done.
Then beauty flowed; then wisdom,
honor, pleasure.
We know the arduous strife, the
When almost all was out, God made
eternal laws
a stay
Perceiving that alone of all the treas-
To which the triumph of all good is
given,
ure
High sacrifice, and labor without
Rest in the bottom lay.
pause.
Even to the death: else wherefore "For if I should," said he,
should the eye
" Bestow this jewel also on my
crea-
Of man converse with immortality ? ture,
Wordsworth. He would adore my gifts instead of
me;
And rest in Nature, not the God of
Nature
ENGLISH CHANNEL. So both should losers be.

iNi/ANB, within a hollow vale, I " Yet let him keep the rest;
stood But keep them, with repining rest-
And saw, while sea was calm and
air was clear. Let him be rich and weary; that, at
The coast of France — the coast of least.
France how near! If goodness lead him not, yet weari-
Drawn almost into frightful neigh- ness
borhood. May toss him to my breast."
I shrunk; for verily the barrier flood HlSREERT.
 ; ; : : : ; : ; ;

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MOKAL. — RELIGIOUS. 145

/-'
THE CHURCH POUCH. (But a proud ignorance will lose his
rest,
Thou whose sweet youth and early Rather than show his cards) steal
hopes enhance fromhis treasure
Thy rate and price, and mark thee What to ask further. Doubts
for a treasure, well raised do lock
Hearken unto a Verser, who may The speaker to thee, and pre-
chance serve thy stock.
Rhyme thee to good, and make a bait
of pleasure When once thy foot enters the
A verse may find him who a ser- church, be bare.
mon flies God is more there than thou; for
And turn delight into a sacri- thou art there
fice. '
Only by his permission. Then
beware.
When thou dost purpose aught And make thyself all reverence and
(withiu thy power), fear.
Be sure to doe It, though it be but Kneeling ne'er spoiled silk stock-
small ings ; quit thy state
Constancie knits the bones, and All equal are within the churches'
makes us stowre. gate.
When wanton pleasures beckon us
to thrall. Resort to sermons, but to prayers
Who breaks his own bond, for- most:
feiteth himself: Praying's the end of preaching. O
What nature made a ship, he be drest
makes a shelf. Stay not for th' other pin : why thou
hast lost
By all means use sometimes to be A joy for it worth worlds. Thus hell
alone. doth jest
Salute thyself: see what thy soul Away thy blessings, and ex-
doth wear. tremely flout thee.
Dare to look in thy chest; for 'tis Thy clothes being fast, but thy
thine own soul loose about thee.
And tumble up and down what thou
find' St there. Judge not the preacher; for he is
Who cannot rest till he good thy judge
fellows finde. If thou mislike him, thou conceiv'st
He breaks up house, turns out him not.
of doores his minde. God calleth preaching folly. Do not
grudge
In clothes,cheap handsomenesse To pick out treasures from an
doth bear the bell, earthen pot.
Wisdome' s a trimmer thing than shop The* worst speak something
e'er gave. good : if all want sense,
Say not then, this with that lace will God takes a text, and preacheth
do well patience.
But, this with my discretion will be Herbebt.
brave.
Much curiousnesse is a perpet-
ual wooing, HUMILITY.
Nothing with labor, folly long a
doing. To me men are for what they
are.
Entice all neatly to what they kuow They wear no masks with me.
best; I never sickened at the jar
For so thou dost thyself and him a Of ill-tuned flattery
pleasure I never mourned affection lent
10
 ;; ; ; ;; ;! : ;
:
; ; : ; ; ;

146 PAKNASStJS.

In folly or in blindness ;
— What's that which Heaven to man
The kindness that on me is spent endears.
Is pure, unasking kindness. And that which eyes no sooner see
K. M. MiLNBS. Than the heart says, with floods of
tears,
" Ah, that's the thing which I
THE HAPPY LIFE. would be!"

How happy is he horn and taught Not childhood, full of frown and
That serveth not another's will; fret;
Whose armor is his honest thought, Not youth, impatient to disown
And simple truth his utmost skill Those visions high, which to forget
Were worse than never to have
Whose passions not his masters are known
Whose soul is still prepared for death, Not great men, even when they're
Not tied unto the world with care good:
Of public fame, or private breath The good man whom the Lord
makes great.
Who envies none that chance doth By some disgrace of chance or blood
raise. He fails not to humiliate
Or vice ; who
never understood Not these: but souls, found here
How deepest wounds are given by and there.
praise Oases in our waste of sin.
Nor rules of state, but rules of good Where every thing is well and fair.
And God remits his discipline
Who hath his life from rumors Whose sweet subdual of the world
freed. The worldling scarce can recog-
Whose conscience is his strong nize.
retreat And ridicule against it hurled.
Whose state can neither flatterers Drops with a broken sting, and
feed. dies;
Nor ruin make oppressors great Who nobly, if they cannot know
Whether a 'scutcheon's dubious
Who God doth late and early pray field
More of his grace than gifts to lend Carries a falcon or a crow.
And entertains the harmless day Fancy a falcon on the shield
With a religious book or friend Yet ever careful not to hurt
God's honor, who creates success,
This man is freed from servile bands Their praise of even the best desert
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall Is but to have presumed no less
Lord of himself, though not of And should their own life plaudits
lands bring.
And having nothing, yet hath all. They're simply vexed at heart
Sib H.tWoTTON. that such
An easy, yea, delightful thing
Should move the minds of men so
WISDOM. much.
They live by law, not like the fool.
WouiiD Wisdom for herself be wooed, But like the bard, who freely sings
And wake the foolish from his In strictest bonds of rhyme and rule.
dream. And finds in them not bonds, but
She must be glad as well as good, wings.
And must not only be, but seem They shine like Moses In the face,
Beauty and joy are hers by right; And teach our hearts, without this
And knowing this, I wonder less rod.
That she's so scorned, when falsely That God's gi'ace is the only grace.
dight And all grace is the grace of
In misery and ugliness. God.
 ; — : ; ;; ; ;
! ;

CONTEMPLATIVE. —MORAL. — EEHGIOTTS. 147

Their home is home; their chosen For a' that, and a' that,
lot Their tinsel show and a' that;
A private place and private name, The honest man though e'er sae
But, if the world's want calls, they'll poor,
not Is king o' men for a' that.
Refuse the indignities of fame.
COVENTBT PATMOBE. You see yon birkie ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, and stares, and a'
that.
VIETUE. C^ Though hundreds worship at his
word.
Sweet Day! so cool, so calm, so He's but a coof for a' that.
bright. For a' that, and a' that.
The bridal of the earth and sky. His riband, star, and a' that
The dew shall weep thy fall to- The man of independent mind,
night. — He looks and laughs at a'
For thou must die. that.

Sweet Rose ! whose hue, angry and A prince can mak a belted knight,
brave, A marquis, duke, and a' that
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, But an honest man's aboon his
Thy root is ever in its grave; — might,
And thou must die. Guid faith he mauna fa' that
For a' that, and a' that.
Sweet Spring ! full of sweet days and Their dignities, and a' that,
roses The pith o' sense, and pride o'
A box where sweets compacted lie worth.
My music shows ye have your Are higher ranks than a' that.
closes ;

And all must die. Then let us pray that come it may.
As come it will for a' that,
Only a sweet and virtuous soul, That sense and worth, o'er a' the
Like seasoned timber, never gives earth,
But, though the whole world turn May bearthe gree, and a' that.
to coal. For that, and a' that,
a'
Then chiefly lives. coming yet for a' that.
It's
Hebbebt. When man to man, the warld
o'er.
Shall brothers be for a' that.
HONEST POVERTY. BUBNS.

Is there, for honest poverty

Wha hangs his head, and a' that?
The coward-slave, we pass him by, THE QUIP.
U
We dare be poor for a' that.
For a' that, and a' that The merry world did on a day
Our toils obscure, and a' that. With his train-bands and mates
The rank is but the guinea agree
stamp. To meet together, where I lay.
The man's the gowd for a' And all in sport to jeer at me.
that.
First, Beauty crept into a rose
What though on hamely fare w-e Which when I plucked not " Sir," —
dine, said she,
Wear hodden gray, and a' that " Tell me, I pray, whose hands are
Grie fools their silks, and knaves those?"
their wine, But thou shalt answer. Lord, for
A man's a man for a' that. me.
 ; ! ; ! ; ! ! : ; ;
: ;! ;;

148 PAENASSXJS.

Then Money came; and, chinking Say, father Thames, for thou hast
still — seen
"What tune is this, poor man?" Full many a sprightly race
said he Disporting on thy margent green.
" I heard in music you had skill." The paths of pleasure trace
But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Who foremost now delight to cleave.
With pliant arm, thy, glassy wave?
The captive linnet which inthrall 1
Then came brave Glory puffing by.
What idle progeny succeed
In silks, that whistled — " Who but
To chase the rolling circle's speed.
he?" Or urge the flying ball?
He scarce allowed me half an eye.
But thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. While some on earnest business
bent,
Then came quick Wit and Conversa- Their muiinuring labors ply
tion; 'Gainst graver hours that bring con-
And he would needs a comfort be, straint
And, to be short, make an oration. To sweeten liberty
But thou shalt answer. Lord, for me. Some bold adventurers disdain
The limits of their little reign.
Yet,when the hour of thy design
And unknown regions dare de-
scry:
To answer these fine things shall Still as they run they look behind.
come.
They hear a voice in every wind,
Speak not at large ; say I am thine
And then they have their answer And snatch a fearful joy.
home.
Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,
Hebbbbt. Less pleasing when possest
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast
Theirs buxom health of rosy hue,
ETON COLLEGE. Wild wit, invention ever new.

Yb distant spires, ye antique towers.

And lively cheer, of vigor born
The thoughtless day, the easy night.
That crown the watery glade,
Where grateful Science still The spirits pure, the slumbers light.
adores
Her Henry's holy shade That fly the approach of mom.
And ye, that from the stately brow Alas regardless of their doom.
Of Windsor's heights the expanse !

below The little victims play

Of grove, of lawn, of mead, survey, No sense have they of ills to come.
Whose tiirf, whose shade, whose Nor care beyond to-day:
flowers among Yet see, how all around them wait
The ministers of human fate.
Wanders the hoary Thames along
His silver-winding way:
And black Misfortune's baleful
train
Ah, show them where in ambush
Ah, happy hills ah, pleasing shade
! stand.
Ah, fields beloved in vain To seize their prey, the murth'rous
Where once my careless childhood band!
strayed, Ah, tell them, they are men
A stranger yet to pain
I feel the gales that from ye blow These shall the fury Passions tear.
A momentary bliss bestow. The vultures of the mind.
As waving fresh their gladsome Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear,
wing, And Shame that skulks behind
My weary soul they seem to soothe, Or pining Love shall waste their
And, redolent of joy and youth. youth.
To breathe a second spring. Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth,
 ; ;: ; ! ;; ! ; :;

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL. — RELIGIOUS. 149

That inly gnaws the secret heart Lives of great men all remind us
And Envy wan, and faded Care, We can make our lives sublime.
Grim-visaged comfortless Despair, And departing leave behind us
And Sorrow's piercing dart. Footprints on the sands of time.

Ambition this shall tempt to rise, Footprints that perhaps another.

Then whirl the wretch from high, Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
To bitter Scorn a sacrifice, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
And grinning Infamy. Seeing shall take heart again.
The stings of Falsehood those -shall Longfellow.
try.
And hard Unkindness' altered eye.
That mocks the tear it forced to
flow; ODE TO DUTY.
And keen Remorse with blood
defiled, Steek daughter of the voice of
And moody Madness laughing wild God!
Amid severest woe. O Duty if that name thou
! love.
Who art a light to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove
Lo ! in the vale of years beneath Thou who art victory and law
A grisly troop are seen. When empty terrors overawe
The painful family of Death, From vain temptations dost set
More hideous than their queen free;
This racks the joints, this fires the And calm' St the weary strife of frail
veins. humanity
That every laboring sinew strains.
Those in the deeper vitals rage
Lo Poverty, to fill the band.
! There are who ask not if thine
That numbs the soul with icy eye
hand, Be on them ; who, in love and
And slow-consuming Age. truth,
Where no misgiving is, rely
Upon the genial sense of youth:
To each his sufferings all are men.
: Glad hearts! without reproach or
Condemned alike to groan blot;
The tender for another's pain, AVho do thy work, and know it not
The unfeeling for his own. May joy be theirs while life shall
Yet, ah! why should they know last!
their fate, And thou, if they should totter,
Bince sorrow never comes too late, teach them to stand fast
Ajid happiness too swiftly flies ?
Thought would destroy their para-
dise.
iTo more ; —
where ignorance is bliss, Stern lawgiver ! yet thou dost wear
'Tis folly to be wise. The Godhead's most benignant
Gray. grace;
Nor know we any thing so fair
As is the smile upon thy face
Flowers laugh before thee on their
LIFE. beds;
And fragrance in thy footing treads
Aet is long, and time is fleeting Thou dost preserve the stars from
And our hearts, though stout and wrong.
brave. And the most ancient heavens,
muflled drums are beating
Still like through thee, are fresh and
Funeral marches to the grave. strong.
 ; : ; ; ! ; ; !; ! ; ! —: ; ;

150 PAENASSXJS,

To humbler functions, awful power Forth from the tower Hope and
I call thee I myself commend
: Desire had built.
Unto thy guidance from this hour In youth's bright morn I gazed upon
Oh ! let my weakness have an end the plain,
Give unto me, made lowly wise, There struggled countless hosts,
The spirit of self-sacrifice while many a stain
The confidence of reason give Marked where the blood of brave
And, in the light of truth, thy bond- men had been spilt.
man let me live
WOKDSWOBTH. With spirit strong I buckled to the
fight,

CONTESSIOK. >y
What sudden chill rushes through
every vein ?
Those fatal arms oppress me — all in
No
screw, no piercer can
vain
Into a piece of timber worke and
winde,
My fainting limbs seek their accus-
tomed might.
As God's into man.
aflElictions
When he a torture hath designed. Forged were those arms for men of
They are too subtle for the subtlest other mould
hearts
Our hands they fetter, cramp our
And fall, like rheumes, upon the
spirits free
tenderest parts.
I throw them on the ground, and
suddenly
We are the earth and they. ;
Comes back my strength returns —
Like moles within us, heave, and
cast about
my spirit bold. '*

And till they foot and clutch I stand alone, unarmed, yet not alone
their prey,
They never cool, much less give
Who heeds no law but what within
he finds, .

out.
Trusts his own vision, not to other
No smith can make such locks, but
minds.
they have keys
Closets are halls to them; and
He fights with thee Father, aid —
thou thy son.
hearts, high-ways.
S. G. W.

Only an open breast

Doth shut them out, so that they
THE CONSOLERS.
cannot enter
CoNSOLEKS of the solitary hours
Or, if they enter, cannot rest.
But quickly seek some new
A^en I, a pilgrim, on a lonely shore
Sought help, and found none, save
adventure.
in those high powers
Smooth open hearts no fastening
That then I prayed might never leave
have but fiction
Doth give
;

a hold and handle to

me more
affliction.
There was the blue, eternal sky
Hekbebt. above.
There was the ocean silent at my feet,
THE SHIELD. There was the univei-se but nought —
to love
The old man said,this"Take thou The universe did its old tale repeat.
shield, son, my
Long tried in battle, and long tried Then came ye to me, with your heal-
by age. ing wings,
Guarded by this thy fathers did en- And said, " Thus bare and branch-
must thou be,
less
Trusting to this the victory they Ere thou couldst feel the wind from
have won." heaven that springs."
 : ; ; ! ; ;

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MOKAi. — REUGIOTTS. 151

And now again fresh leaves do bud That ends this strange eventful
for me, — history,
Yet let me feel that still the spirit Is second childishness, and mere ob-
sings livion ;
Its quiet song, coming from heaven Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste,
free. sans every thing.
S. G. W. Shakspeabe As you : like it.

THE SEVEN AGES. SUN-DIAL.

All the world's a stage, The shadow on the dial's face,
And all the men and women merely
That from day
steals to day,
players
They have their exits and their en- With slow, unseen, unceasing pace,
trances ;
Moments and months, and years
And one man in his time plays many away;
This shadow, which, in every clime,
parts,
Since light and motion first began.
His acts being seven ages. At first
Hath held its course sublime
the infant.
Mewling and puking in the nurse's
What is it ? mortal man
It is the scythe of Time.
arms:
And then the whining schoolboy,
Not only o'er the dial's face.
This silent phantom, day by day,
with his satchel,
And shining morning face, creeping
With slow, unseen, unceasing pace.
Steals moments, months, and years
like snail
away
Unwillingly to school : and then the
lover.
From hoary rock and aged tree,
with a woful
From proud Palmyra's mouldering
Sighing like furnace,
walls.
ballad
From Teneriffe, towering o'er the
Made to his mistress' eyebrow : then
sea.
a soldier.
From every blade of grass it falls
Full of strange oaths, and bearded
like the pard,
And where'er a shadow sweeps.
still
The scythe of time destroys.
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick
in quari'el,
And man at every footstep weeps
O'er evanescent joys.
Seeking the bubble reputation
MONTGOMEBY.
Even in the cannon's mouth: and
then the justice
In fair round belly, with good capon
lined, LIFE. />-
With eyes severe, and beard of for-
mal cut, I MADE a posie while the day ran
Full of wise saws and modern in- by:
stances. Here will I smell my remnant out,
And so he plays his part: the sixth and tie
age shifts My within this band.
life
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, But Time did beckon to the flowers,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch and they
on side. By noon most cunningly did steal
His youthful hose well saved, a away.
world too wide And withered in my hand.
For his shrunk shank and his big;

manly voice. My hand was next to them, and then

Turning again toward childish my heart
treble, pipes I took, without more thinking, in
Ajid whistles in his sound- Last good part
scene of all Time's gentle admonition;
 ; ;;!

152 PAENASSTTS.

Who did so sweetly Death's sad taste Can yet 'the lease of my true love
convey, control,
Making my mind to smell my fatal Supposed as forfeit to a, confined
day, doom.
Yet sugaring the suspicion. The mortal moon hath her eclipse
endured,
Farewell, dear, flowers, sweetly your And the sad augurs mock their own
time ye spent. presage
Fit, while you lived, for smell and Incertainties now crown themselves
ornament. assured.
And after death for cures. And peace proclaims olives of end-
I follow straight without complaints less age.
or grief Now with the drops of this most
Since, if my scent he good, I care not if balmy time
It be as short as yours. My love looks fresh, and Death to me
Heebkrt. subscribes.
Since spite of him, I'll live in this
poor rhyme.
While he insults o'er dull and
REVOLUTIONS. 1^ speechless tribes.
And thou in this shalt find thy
Like waves make towards the
as the monument,
pebbled shore, When tyrants' crests and tombs
So do our minutes hasten to their of brass are spent.
end; Shaksfeabe.
Each changing place with that which
foes before.
In sequent toil all forwards do con- THE SKEPTIC.
tend.
Nativity once in the main of light I CALLED on dreams and visions to
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being disclose
crowned, That which is veiled from waking
Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory thought; conjured
fight. Eternity, as men constrain a ghost
And Time that gave, doth now his To appear and answer. Then my
confound.
gift soul
Time doth transfix the flourish set Turned inward, to examine of what
on youth. stufe
And delves the parallels in beauty's Time's fetters are composed; and
brow life was put
Feeds on the rarities of Nature's To inquisition, long and profitless.
truth. By pain of heart, -^ now checked,
And nothing stands but for his and now impelled.
scythe to mow. The Intellectual Power, through
And yet,to times in hope, my words and things,
verse shall stand Went sounding on, a dim and peril-
Praising thy worth, despite his ous way
cruel hand. WOBDSWOBTH.
Shaksfeabe.

DESTINY.
]/
GOOD OMENS. The Destiny, Minister General,
That executeth in the world o'er all
Not mine own fears, nor the pro- The purveiance that God hath seen
phetic soul beforne
Of the wide world dreaming on So strong it is, that though the
things to come, world had sworn
 ; ; ; ; ;

CONTEMPLATIVE. —MORAL. —RELIGIOUS. 153

The contrary of a thing by Yea or Upbear me in your arms, unceasing
Nay, river,
Yet sometime it shall fallen on a day That from the soul's clear fountain
That falleth not eft in a thousand swiftly pours.
year. Motionless not, until the end is
For certainly our appetites here, won,
Be it of war, or peace, or hate, or Which now I feel hath scarcely
love, — the sun.
felt

All this is rulfed by the sight above.

Chaucek. To feel, to know, to soar unlimited,
'Mid throngs of Ught^-winged angels
sweeping far.
FORECAST. And pore upon the realms unvisited,
That tesselate the unseen unthought
Or if the soul of proper kind, star.
Be so perfect as men find. To be the thing that now I feebly
That wot what is to come.
it dream
And that he warneth all and some Flashing within my faintest, deepest
Of every of their aventures. gleam.
By avisions, or by figures.
But that our flesh hath no might Ah, caverns of my soul how ! thick
To understands it aright. your shade.
For it is warnfed too derkely. Where flows that life by which I
But why the cause is, not wot I. faintly see, —
Chatjcee. Wave your bright torches, for I
need your aid.
Golden-eyed demons of my ances-
FORECAST. try!
Your son though blinded hath a
Teceee are points from which we light within,
can command our life. A heavenly fire which ye from suns
When the soul sweeps the future did win.
hke a glass.
And coming things, full-freighted Time! O Death! I clasp you in
with our fate. my arms,
Jut out dark on the offing of the For I can soothe an infinite cold
mind. sorrow.
Batt.ey: Festus. And gaze contented on your icy
charms,
And that wild snow-pile which we
A POET'S HOPE. call to-morrow
Sweep on, O soft, and azure-lidded
Lady, there is a hope that all men sky.
have, Earth's waters to your gentle gaze
Some mercy for their faults, a grassy reply.
place
To rest in, and a flower-strewn, 1 am
not earth-bom, though I here
gentle grave delay
Another hope which purifies our Hope's child, I summon inflniter
race, powers
That when that fearful bourn for- And laugh to see the mild and sunny
ever past. day
They may find rest, — and rest so Smile on the shrunk and thin au-
long to last. tumnal hours
I laugh, for hope hath happy place
I seek it not, I ask no rest forever, with me.
My path is onward to the farthest If my bark sinks, 'tis to another sea.
shores, — Channing.
 ! : ; ;; ; ; : ; ; ; ! ;

154 PAENASSTTS.

THE UNDERTAKING. Greatness and goodness are not

means, but ends
I HAVE done one braver thing Hath he not always treasures, always
Than the Worthies did
all friends.
And yet a braver thence doth spring, The good great man? — three treas-
Which is, to keep that hid. i\res, Iiooe and
Light,
And Calm Thoughts regular as in-
It were but madness to impart now fants' breath
The skill of specular stone. And three firm friends, more sure
When he, which can have learned than day and night.
the art Himself, his Maker, and the angel
To cut it, can find none. Death.
Coleridge.
So, if I now
should utter this,
Others (because no more
Such stuff to work upon there is) THAT EACH THING IS HURT
Would love but as before. OF ITSELF.
But he, who loveliness within Why fearest thou the outward foe.
Hath found, all outward loathes When thou thyself thy harm dost
For he who color loves and skin. feed?
Loves but their oldest clothes. Of grief or hurt, of pain or woe.
Within each thing is sown the seed.
If,as I have, you also do So fine was never yet the cloth.
Virtue in women see. No smith so hard his iron did beat.
And dare love that, and say so too, But th' one consumed was with moth,
And forget the he and she Th' other with canker all to-f reate.

And if this love, though placM so, The knotty oak and wainscot old
From profane men you hide. Within doth eat the silly worm
Who will no faith on this bestow. Even so a mind in envy rolled
Or, if they do, deride Always witliin itself doth burn.
Thus every thing that nature wrought,
Then you have done a braver thing Within itself his hurt dotli bear
Than all the Worthies did. No outward harm need to be sought.
And a braver thence will spring, Where enemies be within so near.
Which is, to keep that hid. Anonymous.
Donne.
MY MIND TO ME A KING-
CHAKACTER. DOM IS.
How seldom, friends, a good great My mind to me a kingdom is
man inherits Such perfect joy therein Lfind
Honor or wealth with all his worth As far exceeds all earthly blisse
and pains That God or Nature liatli assigned
It sounds like stories from the land Though much I want that most
of spirits. would have,
If any man obtain that which he Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
merits.
Or any merit that which he obtains — Content I live this is my stay
;
—
for shame, dear friends, renounce I seek no more than may suffice.
this canting strain I press to bear no haughty sway
What wouldst thou have a, good Look, what I lack my miud sup-
great man obtain ? plies. .

Place, titles, salary, a gilded chain? Lo thus

! triumph
I like a king.
Or throne of corses which his sword Content with that my mind doth
hath slain ? bring.
 ;; ; ; ;;; ; ; ; ;
;; ;;; ; ; : ; ; ; ; !

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL. — EELIGIOtTS. 155

I see how pleutie surfeits oft, This is my choyce for why, I find ;

And hasty climhers soonest fall No wealth is like a quiet mind.

I see that such as sit aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all. My wealth is health and perfect
These get with- toil, and keep with €ase
fear; My conscience clear my chief
Such cares my mind could never def eince
hear. I never seek by bribes to please.
Nor by desert to give offence.
No princely pomp nor wealthy store, Thus do I live, thus will I die;
Ifo force to win the victory, Would all did so as well as I
No wily wit to salve a sore, William Bykd.
No shape to win a lover's eye —
To none of these I yield as thrall
For why, my
mind despiseth all.
AN HONEST MAN'S FORTUNE.
Some have too much, yet still they
crave You that can look through Heaven,
I little have, yet seek no more. and tellthe stars,
They are but poor, though much Observe their kind conjunctions,
they have and their wars
And I am rich with little store. Find out new lights, and give them
They poor, I rich ; they beg, I give where you please,
They lack, I lend ; they pine, I live. To these men honors, pleasures, to
those ease
I laugh not at another's loss, You that are God's surveyors, aud
I grudge not at another's gaine can show
No worldly wave my mind can toss How and when, and why the
far,
I brook that is another's bane. wind doth blow
I feare no foe, nor fawn on friend Know all the charges of the dread-
I loathe not life, nor dread mine end. ful thunder.
And when it will shoot over, or fall
I joy not in no earthly blisse under
I weigh not Croesus' wealth a Tell me, by
all your art I conjure ye.
straw Yes, and by truth, what shall be-
For care, I care not what it is come of me ?
I fear not fortune's fatal law Find out my star, if each one, as
My mind is siich as may not move you say.
For beauty bright, or force of love. Have his peculiar Angel, and his
way.-
I wish but what I have at will Observe my fate, next fall into your
I wander not to seek for more dreams.
3 climb no hill
like the plain, I Sweep clean your houses, and new
In greatest storms I sit on shore, lineyour seams,
Aud laugh at them that toil in vain Then say your worst: or have I
To get what must be lost again. none at all ?
Or is it burnt out lately? or did
I kisse not where I wish to kill fall?
I feign not love where most I hate Or am I poor, not able, no full flame ?
I break no sleep to win will my My star, like me, unworthy of a
I wait not at the mighty's gate. name?
I scorn no poor, I fear no rich Is your art can only work on
it,
I feel no want, nor have too much. those
That deale with dangers, dignities,
The court nor cart I like nor loathe and cloathes ?
Extremes are counted worst of all With love, or new opinions ? you all
The golden mean betwixt them both lye,
Doth surest sit, and fears no fall A fishwife hath a fate, and so have I,
 ; ; ; —
: ;

156 PAENASSUS.

But far above your finding ; He He made the Angels thine, thy fel-
tliat gives, lows all,
Out of liis providence, to all that Nay, even thy servants, when devo-
lives tions call.
He that made all the stars, you daily Oh canst thou be so stupid then, so
read, dim.
And from thence filch a knowledge To seek a saving influence, and lose
how to feed him?
Hath hid this from you, your con- Can Stars protect thee ? or can pov-
jectures all erty,
Are drunken things, not how, but Which is the light to Heaven, put
when they fall out his eye ?
Man is his own star, and the soul He is my star; in him all truth I
that can find,
Render an honest, and a perfect AH influence, all fate, and when my
man mind
Commands all light, all influence, Is furnished with his fuUnesse, my
all fate. poor story
Nothing to him falls early or too Shall outlive all their Age, and all
late. their glory.
Our acts our Angels are, or good, or The hand of danger cannot fall
ill, amiss.
Our fatal shadows that walk by us When I know what, and in whose
still. power it is.
And when the stars are laboring we Nor want, the cause of man, shall
believe make me groan ; -

It is not that they govern, but they A holy hermit is a mind alone.
grieve Doth not experience teach us all we
Our stubborn ignorance; all things can
that are To work ourselves into a glorious
Made for our general uses are at war. man?
Even we among ourselves, and from Love's but an exhalation to best eyes
the strife The matter's spent, and then the
Tour unlike opinions got a life.
first fool's fire dyes?
O man, thou image of thy Maker's Were I in love, and could that bright
good, star bring
What canst thou fear, when breathed Increase to wealth, honor, and every
into thy blood thing
His spirit is, that built thee? what Were she as perfect good as we can
dull sense aim,
Makes thee suspect, in need, that The first was so, and yet she lost the
providence? Game.
Who made the morning, and who My mistress then be knowledge and
placed the light faire truth
Guide to thy labors ? who called up So I enjoy all beauty and all youth,
tlie night, And though to Time her lights and
And bid her fall upon thee, like sweet laws she lends.
showers She knows no Age that to corruption
In hollow murmurs, to lock up thy bends.
powers ? Friends' promises may lead me to
Who gave thee knowledge? who so believe,
trusted thee, But he that is his own friend knows
To let thee grow so near himself, the to live.
Tree? Affliction, when I know it, is but
Must he then be distrusted? shall this,
frame
his A deep alloy whereby man tougher is
Discourse with him, why thus, and To bear the hammer; and the deepei
thus I am ? still.—
 ; ; : ! !

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL— RELIGIOUS. 157

We still arise more image of his But, after death, out of his grave
will. There sprang twelve stalks
Sickness an humorous cloud 'twixt of wheat
VIS and light, Which many wondering at, got some
And Death, at longest hut another of those
night. To plant and set.
Man is his own Star, and that soul
that can "It prospered strangely, and did
Be honest is the only perfect man. soon disperse
John Flbtcheb. Through" all the earth.
For they that taste it do re-
hearse,
PEACE. l^ That virtue lies therein, —
A secret virtue, bringing peace and
Sweet Peace, where dost thou mirth,
dwell ? I humbly crave. By flight of sin.
Let me once Imow.
I sought thee in a secret cave " Take of this grain, which in my
And asked, if Peace were garden grows.
there. And grows for you
A hollow wind did seem to answer, Make bread of it; and that re-
"No! pose
Go, seek elsewhere." And peace which every-
where
I did; and, going, did a rainbow With so much earnestness you do
note: pursue,
" Surely," thought I, Is only there."
"This is the lace of Peace's Heebebt.
coat.
I will search out the mat-
ter." JOY.
But, while I looked, the clouds im-
mediately O Joy, hast thou a shape ?
Did break and scatter. Hast thou a breath ?
How fillest thou the soundless air?
Then went I to a garden, and did Tell me the pillars of thy house
spy What rest they on ? Do they escape
A gallant flower, — The victory of Death ?
The crown-imperial. "Sure," And are they fair
said I, Eternally, who enter in thy house?
"Peace
at the root must O Joy, thou viewless spirit, canst
dwell." thou dare
But, when I digged, I saw a worm To tell the pillars of thy house ?
devour
What showed so well. On adamant of pain
Before the earth
At length I met a reverend, good old Was bom of sea, before the sea,
man; Tea, and before the light, my house
Whom when for Peace Was built. None know what loss,
I did demand, he thus began :
— what
gain.
" There was a prince of old Attends each travail birth.
At Salem dwelt, who lived with good No soul could be
increase At peace when it had entered in my
Of flock and fold. house.
If the foundations it could touch or
"He sweetly lived; yet sweetness see,
did not save Which stay the pillars of my house
His life from foes. H. H.
 : ; ;; ; ;; " : ; :;:

158 PARNASSUS.

ABOU BEX ADHEM. And standing on the altar high,

"Lo, what a fiend is here!" said
Abou Ben Adhem, (may his tribe he,
increase !)
" One who sets reason up for judge
Awoke one night from a deep dream Of our moat holy Mystery."
of peace,
And saw within the moonlight in the The weeping child could not be
room, heard
Making it rich and like a lily in The weeping parents wept in vain
bloom. They stript him to his little shirt.
An angel writing in a book of gold And bound him in an iron chain
Exceeding peace had made Ben
Adhem bold, And burned him in a holy place,
And to the Presence in the room he Where many had been burned
said, before
" What writest thou ? " The vision The weeping pafents wept in vain
raised its head. Are such things done on Albion's
And with a look made all of sweet shore ?
accord, William Blake.
Answered, " The names of those who
love the Lord."
"And is mine one ?" said Adhem.
" Nay, not so," THE TOUCHSTONE.
Replied the angel. Adhem spoke
more
low, A MAN
. there came, whence none
But cheerly still, and said, " I pray could tell.
thee, then. Bearing a Touchstone in his hand,
Write me as one who loves his fel- And tested all things in the land
low-men." By its unerring spell.
The angel wrote and vanished the ;

next night A thousand transformations rose

He came again with a great waken- Prom fair to foul, from foul to fair
ing light. The golden crown he did not spare.
And showed their names whom love Nor scorn the beggar's clothes.
of Crod had blest,
And lo! Ben Adhem' s name led all
the rest.
Of heirloom jewels, prized so much.
Leigh Hunt. Were many changed to chips and
clods
And even statues of the Gods
ORTHODOXY. Crumbled beneath its touch.

" Nought loves another as itself, Then angrily the people cried,
Nor venerates another so "The loss outweighs the profit far;
Nor is it possible to thought, Our goods sufBce us as they are
A greater than itself to know. We will not have theni tried."

" And, Father, how can I love you. And, since they could not so avail
Or any of my
brothers more ? To check his unrelenting quest,
1 love yoti like the little bird They seized him, saying, " Let him
That picks up crumbs around the test
door." How real is our jail
!

The Priest sat by, and heard the But though they slew him with the
child sword.
In trembling zeal he seized his hair And in a fire his Touchstone burned,
He led him by his little coat, Its doings could not be o'erturned,
Aiid all admired the priestly care. Its undoings restored.
 —
; ; ; ; ! ; ! ; ;

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL. — KELIGIOUS. 159

And when, to stop all future harm, Tet all these fences, and their whole
They strewed its ashes on the array,
breeze, One cunning bosom-sin blows
They little guessed each grain of quite away.
these Hebbebt.
Conveyed the perfect charm.
Allingham.
WAYFARERS.
PRATEKS. How they go by — those strange and
Isabella. — Hark, how I'll bribe dreamlike
One glance on
men
you, each, one gle^m
Ay, with such that Heaven gifts from out each eye.
shall share with you. And that I never looked upon till

Not with fond shekels of the tested now,

gold, Has vanished out of sight as in-
Or stones, whose rates are either stantly.
rich, or poor.
As fancy values them; but with true Tet in it passed there a whole heart
prayers, and life,
That shall be up at heaven, and enter The only key it gave that tran-
there. sient look
Ere sunrise ;
prayers from preserved But for this key its great event in
souls, time
From fasting maids, whose minds Of peace or strife to me a sealed
are dedicate book.
To nothing temporal. E. S. H.
Shakspeake Measure far Measure.
:

THE STRANGERS.
SIST. L^
Each care-worn face is but a book
LoKD, with what care hast thou To of houses bought or sold
tell
begirt us round Or filled with words that men have
Parents first season us; then took
schoolmasters From those who lived and spoke
Deliver us to laws; they send us of old.
bound
To rules of reason, holy messen- none whom I know, for they
I see
gers See other things than him they
meet;
Pulpits and Sundays; sorrow dog- And though they stop me by the way,
ging sin 'Tis still some other one to greet.
Afflictions sorted; anguish of all
sizes There are no words that reach my
Fine nets and stratagems to catch us ear;
in; Those speak who tell of other
Bibles laid open; millions of sur- things
prises ; Than what they mean for me to hear,
For in their speech the counter
Blessings beforehand ties of grate- ; rings.
fulness ;

The sound of glory ringing in our I would be where each word is true,
ears Each eye sees what it looks upon
Without, our shame; within, our For here my eye has seen but few
consciences Who in each act that act have
Angels and grace; eternal hopes done.
and fears — Jones Veby.
 ; ! ; ; ; ; ; — ! —

160 PABNASSUS.

PILGRIMAGE, l^ Under the canopies of costly state.

And lulled with sounds of sweetest
Give me my scallop-shell of Quiet, melody ?
My staff of Faith to walk upon, O thou dull god, why liest thou with
My scrip of Joy, immortal diet the vile.
My bottle of salvation In loathsome beds ; and leav'st the
My Gown of Glory, (Hope's true kingly couch,
A watch-case, or a common 'larum
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage. bell?
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy
Blood must be my body's balmer, mast
Whilst my soul, like a quiet Palmer, Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and
Travelleth towards the land of rock his brains
Heaven In of the rude imperious
cradle
No other bahn will there be given. surge ;
^''

Over the silver mountains And in the visitation of the winds.

Where spring the nectar fountains. Who take the ruflSan billows by the
There will I kiss top.
The bowl of bliss, Curling their monstrous Jieads, and
And drink mine everlasting fill. hanging them
Upon every milken hill With deafening clamors in the slip-
My soul will be a-dry before. pery clouds.
But after, it will thirst no more. That, with the hurly, death itself
Sib WAiiTBB Ealbigh. awakes ?
Canst thou, O partial sleep! give
thy repose
SLEEP. To the wet sea-boy in an hour so
rude;
Tired Nature's sweet restorer, And, in the calmest and most still-
balmy sleep, — est night.
He, like the world, his ready visits With all appliances and means to boot,
pays Deny it to a king? Then, happy
Where fortune smiles the wretched: low, lie down
he forsakes. Uneasy lies the head that wears a
And lights on lids unsullied by a crown.
tear. Shakspeabb Wmt Henry : IV.
YOUJTG.

^' HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY.

y
SLEEP.
To or not to be, that is the
be,
How many thousands of my poorest question :
—
subjects Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to
Are at this hour asleep! Sleep! —O suffer
O gentle sleep The slings and arrows of outrageous
Nature's soft nurse, how have I fortune
frighted thee, Or to take arms against a sea of
That thou no more wilt weigh my troubles.
eyelids down. And, by opposing, end them? — To
And steep my
senses in forgetful- — to sleep,
die,
ness? No more; — and, by a sleep, to say
Why sleep, Hest thou in
rather, we end
smoky cribs. The heart-ache, and the thousand
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee. natural shocks
And hushed with buzzing night-flies That flesh is heir to, 'tis a con- —
to thy slumber summation
Than in the perfumed chambers of Devoutly to be wished. To die; —
the great, to sleep:
 ; ! ; ;; !

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL.— RELIGIOUS. 161

To sleep ! perchance to dream ; — ay, Servile to all the skyey influences,
there's the rub; That dost this habitation, wlfere thou
For in that sleep of death what keep' St,
dreams may come, Hourly afflict. Thou art by no
Wlieu we have shuffled ofE this mor- means valiant
tal coll. For thou dost fear the soft and ten-
Must give us pause: there's the der fork
respect, Of a poor worm : thy best of rest is
That makes calamity of so long life sleep,
For who would bear the whips and And that thou oft provok'st; yet
scorns of time, grossly fear'st
The oppressor's wrong, the proud Thy death, which is no more.
man's contumely. Shakspeare Measure for Measure.
:

The pangs of despised love, the

law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the
LIFE AND DEATH.
spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy At, but to die, and go we know
takes,
not where.
When he himself might his quietus
To lie in cold obstruction, and to
make,
rot:
With a bare bodkin? Who would
This sensible warm motion to be-
fardels bear
come
To grunt and sweat under a weary A kneaded clod; and the delighted
life;
spirit
But that the dread of something
after death, — To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbfed
The undiscovered country, from
ice;
whose bourn To be imprisoned
No traveller returns, — puzzles the
winds.
in the viewless

will.
And blown with restless violence
And makes us rather hear those ills round about
we have, The pendent world or to be worse ;

Than fly to others that we know not than worst

of? Of those, that lawless and incertain
Thus conscience does make cowards thoughts
of us all.
And thus the native hue of resolution
Imagine howling ! — 'tis too horrible
The weariest and most loathed
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of worldly life,
thought and impris-
That age, ache, penury,
And enterprises of great pith and onment
moment, Can lay on nature, is a paradise
With this regard, their currents turn
To what we fear of death.
awry, Shakspbabe Measure for
And lose the name of action. — Soft : Measure.
you, now
The fair Ophelia: — Nymph, in thy
orisons INSCRIPTION ON MELROSE
Be all my sins remembered. ABBEY.
Shakspeare.
The earth goes on the earth glitter-
ing in gold.
LIFE AND DEATH. The earth goes to the earth sooner
than it would
Reason
thus with Mfe, — The earth builds on the earth castles
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing and towers,
That none but fools would keep a ; The earth says to the earth — All
breath thou art, this is ours.
11
 ; ; ; : !;: ; !

162 PARNASSUS^

IKSCRffTION ON A WALL IN Her bosom heaves and spreads, her

ST.EDMUND'S CHURCH IN stature grows.
LOMBARD STREET, LONDON. And she expects the issue in repose.

Man, thee behoveth oft to have this

O terror ! what hath she perceived ?
joy!
What doth she look on — whom
in mind,
doth
That thou givest with thine hand,
she behold ?
that thou shalt ftnd
Her hero slain upon the beach of
For widows he slothful, and children
Troy?
he unkind.
Executors be covetous, and keep all His vital presence — his corporeal
mould ?
that they find
If anybody ask where the dead's
It is — if sense deceive her not —
goods became ? 'tishe
So God help me and Halidam, he And a god leads him — wingfed Mer-
cury!
died a poor man.
Mild Hermes spake, and touched her
with his wand
That calms all fear: "Such grace
INSCRIPTION IN MARBLE IN hath crowned thy prayer,
THE PARISH CHURCH OF Laodamia, that at Jove's command
FAVERSHAM, IN AGRO CAN- Thy husband walks the paths of up-
TIANO. per air
He comes to tarry with thee three
Whoso him bethoft hours' space;
Inwardly and oft, Accept the gift behold him face to
;

How hard it were to flit face!"

From bed unto the pit.
From pit unto pain Forth sprang the impassioned queen
That ne'er shall cease again, her lord to clasp
He would not do one sin Again that consummation she es-
All the world to win. sayed ;

But unsubstantial form eludes her

grasp
As often as that eager grasp was
LAODAMIA. made.
The phantom parts — but parts to
"With sacrifice, before the rising re-unite,
morn And re-assume his place before her
Performed, my slaughtered lord have sight.
I required
And in thick darkness, amid shades " Protesilans, lo ! thy guide is gone
forlorn, Confirm, I pray, the vision with thy
Him of the infernal gods have I de- voice
sired :

— This is our palace, yonder is thy —

Celestial pity I again implore ; throne
Restore him to my
sight, great Jove, Speak, and the floor thou tread' st on
restore!" will rejoice.
Not to appall me have the gods be-
So speaking, and by fervent love en- stowed
dowed This precious boon, — and blessed a
With faith, the suppliant heaven- sad abode."
ward her hands
lifts
While, like the sun emerging from a " Great Jove, Laodamia, doth not
cloud, leave
Her countenance brightens — and His gifts imperfect :
— Spectre though
her eye expands, 1 be,
 ; ; ! : : : ;

CONTEMPLATIVE. - MORAL. - RELIGIOUS. 163

I am not sent to scare thee or de- " This visage tells thee that my doom
ceive, past
is
But reward of thy fidelity.
in Know, virtue were not virtue if the
And something also did my worth joys
obtain Of sense were able to return as fast
For fearless virtue bringeth bound- And surely as they vanish. Earth —
less gain. destroys

" Thou know' St, the Delphic oracle

Those raptures duly Erebus dis-—
dains :
foretold Calm pleasures there abide ma- —
That the Greek who touched
first jestic pains.
the Trojan strand
Should die; but me the threat did "Be taught, O faithful consort, to
not withhold control
A generous cause a victim did de- Kebellious passion: for the gods
mand; approve
And forth I leaped upon the sandy
The depth, and not the tumult of
plain
A self-devoted chief by Hector — A
the soul;
fervent, not ungovernable love.
slain."
Thy transports moderate and meek- ;

ly mourn
"Supreme of heroes — bravest, no- When I depart, for brief is my so-
blest, best!
Thy matchless courage
journ " —
I bewail no
more.
That then, when tens of thousands "Ah, wherefore? — Did not Her-
were depressed cules by force
By doubt, propelled thee to the fatal Wrest from the guardian monster of
shore the tomb
—
Thou found' St and I forgive thee Alcestis, a re-animated corse.
—
here thou art — Given back to dwell on earth
vernal bloom ?
in
A nobler counsellor than my poor
Medea's spells dispersed the weight
heart
of years,
" But thou, though capable of stern-
And ^son stood a youth 'mid
youthful peers.
est deed,
Wert kind as resolute, and good as
brave " The gods to us are merciful and —
And He, whose power restores thee, they
hath decreed Tet further may relent for mightier :

That thou shouldst cheat the malice far

of the grave; Than strength of nerve and sinew,
Redundant are thy locks, thy lips or the sway
as fair Of magic, potent over sun and
As when their breath enriched star.
Thessalian air. Is love — though oft to agony dis-
tressed
me, — no
;

•'No spectre greets vain And though his

favorite seat be
shadow this feeble woman's breast.
Come, blooming hero, place thee by
my side " But if thou goest, I follow " —
Give, on this well-known couch, one " Peace " he said
!
—
nuptial kiss She looked upon him, and was
To me, this day a second time thy calmed and cheered
bride!" The ghastly color from his lips had
Jove frowned in heaven the con- : fled;
scious Parcae threw lu his deportment, shape, and mien,
Upon those roseate lips a Stygian hue. appeared
 ; ;; : — : ; :

164 PAKNASSUS.

Elysian beauty, melancholy grace, And, if no worthier led the way, re-
Brought from a pensive though a solved
happy place. That, of a thousand vessels, min*
should be
He spake of love, such love as spirits The foremost prow in pressing to thf
feel strand, —
In worlds whose course is equable Mine the first blood that tinged thi
and pure Trojan sand.
No fears to beat
— away — no strife to
" Yet
heal bitter, ofttimes bitter, was the
The past unsighed for, and the fu- pang
ture sure When of thy loss I thought, beloved
Spake of heroic arts in graver mood wife;
Kevived, with finer harmony pur- On thee too fondly did my memory
sued; hang.
And on the joys we shared in mortal
Of all that is most beauteous — life,
imaged there The paths which we had trod —
In happier beauty; more pellucid these fountains — flowers;
streams. My new-planned cities, and un-
An ampler ether, a diviner air. finished towers.
And fields invested with purpureal
gleams "But should suspense permit the
Climes which the sun, who sheds foe to cry,
the brightest day '
Behold they tremble haughty ! their
Earth knows, is all unworthy to array,
survey. Yet flf their number no one dares to
die?' —
Yet there the soul shall enter which In soul I swept the indignity away
hath earned Old frailties then recurred but lofty
—
:

That privilege by virtue. "111," thought,

said he, In act embodied, my deliverance
" The end of man's existence I dis- wrought.
cerned,
Who from ignoble games and " And thou, though strong in love,
revelry art all too weak
Could draw, when we had parted, In reason, in self-government too
vain delight. slow;
While tears were thy best pastime, I counsel thee by fortitude to seek
day and night Our blessed re-union in the shades
below.
" And while my youthful peers, The invisible world with thee hath
before my eyes sympathized
(Each hero following his peculiar Be thy affections raised and sol-
bent), emnized.
4 Prepared themselves for glorious
enterprise "Learn by a mortal yearning to
By martial sports, —
or, seated in ascend.
the tent, Seeking a higher object: — Love
Chieftains and kings in council were was given.
detained Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for
What time the fleet at Aulis lay that end
enchained. For this the passion to excess was
driven —
" The wished-for wind was given : — That might be annulled; her
self
I then revolved bondage prove
Our future course, upon the silent The fetters of a dream, opposed to
sea; love."
 ! ! ; : ;

CONTEMPLATIVE. - MORAL. - RELIGIOUS. 165

A.loud she shrieked! for Hermes Man comes and tills the field and
re-appears beneath.
lies
Round the dear shade she would And after many a summer dies the
have clung 'tis vain — swan.
The hours are past —
too brief had Me only cruel immortality
they been years Consumes I wither slowly in thine
:

And him no mortal effort can de- arms.

tain: Here at the quiet limit of the world,
Swift, toward the realms that know A white-haired shadow roaming like
not earthly day, a dream
He through the portal takes his The ever silent spaces of the East,
silent way — Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls
And on the palace floor a lifeless of morn.
corse she lay.
Alas for this gray shadow, once a
man —
!

Ah, judge her gently who so deeply

loved So glorious in his beauty and thy
Her, who, in reason's spite, yet choice.
without crime, Who madest him thy chosen, that he
Was in a trance of passion thus re- seemed
moved ;
To his great heart none other than a
Delivered from the galling yoke of God!
time, I asked thee, " Give me immortal-
And these frail elements — to gather ity."
flowers Then didst thou grant mine asking
Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading with a smile.
bowers. Like wealthy men who care not how
they give,
Yet tears to human suffering are But thy strong Hours indignant
due; worked their wills,
And mortal hopes defeated and
o'erthrown And beatme down and marred and
Are mourned by man, and not by wasted me.
man alone, And though they could not end me,
As fondly he believes. — Upon the left me maimed
side To dwell in presence of immortal
Of Hellespont (such faith was enter- youth,
tained) Immortal age beside immortal youth.
A knot of spiry trees for ages grew And all I was, in ashes. Can thy
From out the tomb of him for whom love,
she died; Thy beauty, make amends, though
And ever, when such stature they even now,
had gained Close over us, the silver star, thy
That Ilium's walls were subject to guide,
their view, Shines in those tremulous eyes that
The trees' tall summits withered at fill with tears

the sight; To hear me ? Let me go take back:

^ constant interchange of growth thy gift:

and blight! Why should a man desire in any way
WOBDSWOBTH. To vary from the kindly race of men.
Or pass beyond the goal of ordinance
Where all should pause, as is most
TITHONUS. meet for all ?

The woods decay, the woods decay A soft air fans the cloud apart
and fall. there comes
The vapors weep their burthen to A glimpse of that dark world where
the ground, I was born.
 ; :

166 PARNASSUS.

Once more the old mysterious glim- Whispering I knew not what of wild
mer steals and sweet,
From thy pure brows, and from thy Like that strange song I heard
shoulders pure, Apollo sing.
And hosom beating with a heart re- While Ilion like a mist rose into
newed. towers.
Thy cheek begins to redden through
the gloom, Yet hold me not forever in thine
Thy sweet eyes brighten slowly close East:
to mine, How can my nature longer mix with
Ere yet they blind the stars, and the thine ?
wild team Coldly thy rosy shadows bathe me,
Which love thee, yearning for thy cold
yoke, arise. Are all thy lights, and cold my
And shake the darkness from their wrinkled feet
loosened manes, Upon thy glimmering thresholds,
And beat the twilight into flakes of when the steam
fire. Floats up from those dim fields about
the homes
Lo ! ever thus thou growest beau- Of happy men that have the power
tiful to die.
In then before thine answer
silence, And grassy barrows of the happier
given dead.
Departest, and thy tears are on my Release me, and restore me to the
cheek. ground
Thou seest all things, thou wilt see
Why wilt thou ever scare me with
my grave
thy tears,
Thou wilt renew thy beauty mom by
morn:
And make me tremble lest a saying I earth in earth forget these empty
leaiiit.
courts.
In days far-off, on that dark earth, And thee returning on thy silver
be true ?
" The Gods themselves cannot recall wheels.
their gifts."
Tennyson.

Ay me I ay me! with what another COME MOEIR.

heart
In days far-off, and with what other He leaves the earth, and says,
eyes enough and more
I used to watch — if I be he that Unto thee have I given, oh Earth. —
watched — For all
The lucid outluie forming round With hand free and ungrudging gave
thee; saw lup,—
The dim curls kindle into sunny But now I leave thy pale hopes and
rings; dear pains.
Changed with thy mystic change, The rude fields where so many years
and felt my blood I've tilled,
Glow with the glow that slowly And where no other feeling gave me
crimsoned all strength.
Thy presence and thy portals, while Save that from them my home was
Hay, aye in view,
Mouth, forehead, eyelids, growing For only transient cloiids could hide
dewy-waim from me
With kisses balmier than half-open- My home, whence it came,
spirit's
ing buds where should go ;
—
Of April, and could hear the lips Enough, more than enough, now let
that kissed me rest.
S. G. W
 ; ; : : ! ; ;!

CONTEMPI^ATIVE. - MORAL. — RELIGIOUS. 167

THE OLD MAN'S FUNERAL. But the shadows of eve that encom-
pass with gloom
Ye sigh not when the sun, his The abode of the dead and the place
course fulfilled, of the tomb.
His glorious course, rejoicing earth
and sky, Shall we build to Ambition ? Ah,
In the soft evening, when the winds Affrighted, he shrinketh away, —no
are stilled. For see, they would pin him below
Sinks where his islands of refresh- In a dark narrow cave, and, begirt
ment lie. with cold clay.
And leaves the smile of his departure To the meanest of reptiles a fear and
spread a prey.
O'er the warm-colored heaven and
ruddy moiuitain head. To Beauty ? Ah, no she forgets !

The charms which she wielded be-

Why weep ye then for him, who, fore.
having won Nor knows the foul worm that he
The bound of man's appointed frets
years, at last, The skin that but yesterday fools
Life's blessings all enjoyed, life's could adore,
labors done. For the smoothness it held, or the
Serenely to his final rest has tint which it wore.

While the soft memory of his virtues Shall we build to the purple of Pride,
yet The trappings which dizen the
Lingers like twilight hues, when the proud ?
bright sun is set? Alas ! they are all laid aside.
Bbtaut. And here's neither dress nor adorn-
ment allowed,
Save the long winding-sheet and the
DEATH'S FINAL CONQUEST. fringe of the shroud.

Thb garlands wither on your brow. To Riches ? Alas, 'tis in vahi

Then boast no more your mighty Who hide in their turns have been
deeds hid;
Upon death's purple altar now. The treasures are squandered again
See where the victor-victim bleeds And here in the grave are all metals
forbid.
All heads must come
To the cold tomb Save the tinsel that shines on the
Only the actions of the just dark coflBn lid.
Smell sweet and blossom in the
dust. To the pleasm-es which Mirth can
James Shikley. afford.
The the laugh and the jeer?
i-evel,
Ah here is a plentiful board
!

But the guests are all mute at their

STANZAS WRITTEN IN THE pitiful cheer,
CHURCHYARD OF RICH- And none but the worm is a reveller
MOND, YORKSHIRE. here.

" It
is good (or us to be here If thou
wilt, let us make liere three tabernacles,
:
Shall we build to Affection and Love ?
one for thee, one for Moses, and one for Ah, no! They have withered and
Elias." —
St. Matthew. died.
Or fled with the spirit above
Methinks it is good
to be here. Friends, brothers, and sisters, are
If thou wilt let us build, —
but for laid side by side.
whom? Yet none have saluted, and none
Nor Elias nor Moses appear; have replied.
 ; !
; ; !

168 PARNASSUS.

Unto Sorrow? The dead cannot Thine individual being, shalt thou
grieve go
Not a sob, not a sigh meets mine To mix forever with the elements,
ear, To be a brother to the insensible rock,
Which Compassion itself could re- And to the sluggish clod, which the
lieve. rude swain
Ah, sweetly they slumber, nor love, Turns with his share, and treads
hope, or fear. upon. The oak
Peace, peace is the watchword, the
! Shall send his roots abroad, and
only one here. pierce thy mould.
Yet not to thy eternal resting-place
Shalt thou retire alone nor couldst —
thou wish
Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt
Unto Death, to whom monarchs lie down
must bow ? With patriarchs of the infant world,
Ah, no for his empire is known,
!
—
with kings.
And here there are trophies enow
Beneath the cold head, and around
The powerful of the earth, the —
wise, the good.
the dark stone,
Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages
Are the signs of a sceptre that none past.
may disown. All in one mighty sepulchre. The
hills
Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun,

The first tabernacle to Hope we will

—
the vales
Stretching in pensive quietness be-
build, tween
And look for the sleepers around us
to rise
;

The venerable woods, — rivers that

move
The second to Faith, which insures In majesty, and the complaining
it fulfilled brooks
And the third to the Lamb of the That make the meadows green and ;

great sacrifice. poured roimd all,

Who bequeathed us them both when Old ocean's gray and melancholy
he rose to the skies. waste, —
Herbbbt Knowlbs. Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man. The
golden sun,
The planets, all the infinite host of
heaven,
Are shining on the sad abodes of
THANATOPSIS. death,
Through the still lapse of ages. All
. . . Yet a few days, and thee that tread
The all-beholding sun shall see no The globe are but a handful to the
more tribes
In course nor yet in the cold
all his ; That slumber in its bosom. . . .

ground,
Where thy pale form was laid, with So live, that when thy summons
many tears, comes to join
Nor in the embrace of ocean, shall The innumerable caravan, that
exist moves
Thy image. Earth, that nourished To that mysterious realm, where
thee, shall claim each shall take
Thy growth, to be resolved to earth His chamber in the silent halls of
again death.
A.nd lost each human trace, sur- Thou go not, like the quarry-slave
rendering up at night,
 ; ; ; : ! :

CONTEMPLATIVE. - MORAL. — RELIGIOUS. 169

Scourged to his dungeon, but sus- The ploughman homeward plods his
tained and soothed weary way.
By an unfaltering trust, approach And leaves the world to darknesa
thy grave, • and to me.
Like one who wraps the drapery of
couch
his Now fades the glimmering landscape
About him, and lies down to pleas- on the sight,
ant dreams. And all the air a solpmn stillness
Bkyant. holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his
droning flight.
TO BE NO MORE. And drowsy tinklings lull the dis-
tant folds
To be no more — sad cure ; for who
would lose
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled
Though full of pain, this intellectual
tower.
being,
Those thoughts that wander through
The moping owl does to the moon
complain
eternity,
Of such as, wandering near her se-
To perish rather, swallowed up and
cret bower,
lost
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
In the wide womb of uncreated
night.
Devoid of sense and motion ? Beneath those rugged elms, that
Milton. yew-tree's shade.
Where heaves the turf in many a
mouldering heap,
LIFE. Each in his narrow cell forever laid.
The rude forefathers of the hamlet
LiFB I know not what thou art.
!
sleep.
But know that thou and I must
part The breezy call of incense-breathing
And when, or how, or where we morn.
met, The swallow twittering from the
I own to ma's a secret yet. straw-built shed.
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echo-
Life! we've been long together. ing horn.
Through pleasant and through No more shall rouse them from
cloudy weather their lowly bed.
'Tis hard to part when friends are
dear — For them no more the blazing hearth
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;
shall bum.
Then steal away, give little warn-
ply her evenhig
ing.
Or busy housewife
care;
Choose thine own time
Say not Good-night, but in some — No children run to lisp their sire's
return.
brighter clime
Bid me Good-morning. Or climb his knees the envied kiss
Babbauld. to share.

Oft did the harvest to their sickle

ELEGY WRITTEN IN A GOUN- yield.
TRY CHURCHYARD. Their furrow oft the stubborn
glebe has broke
The curfew tolls the knell of parting How jocund did they drive their
day. team afield
The lowing herd winds slowly o'er How bowed the woods beneath
the lea, their sturdy stroke 1
 : ; : ; ;

170 PARNASSUS.

Let not ambition. mock their useful Some village-Hampden, that, with
toil, dauntless breast.
Their homely joys, and destiny ob- The little tyrant of his fields with-
scure ;
stood,
If or grandeur hear with a disdainful Some mute inglorious Milton here
smile may rest.
The short and simple annals of the Some Cromwell guiltless of his
poor. country's blood.

The boast of heraldry, the pomp of The applause of listening senates to

power, command.
And all that beauty, all that wealth, The threats of pain and ruin to
e'er gave, despise.
Await alike the inevitable hour. To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land,
The paths of glory lead but to the And read their history in a na-
grave. tion's eyes,

Nor you, ye proud, impute to these Their lotforbade : nor circumscribed

the fault, alone
K memory o'er their tomb no tro- Their growing virtues, but their
phies raise, crimes confined
AVhere through the long-drawn aisle Forbade to wade through slaughter
and fretted vault to a throne.
The pealing anthem swells the And shut the gates of mercy on
note of praise. mankind.

Can storied urn, or animated biist, The struggling pangs of conscious

Back to its mansion call the fleet- truth to hide,
ing breath ? To quench the blushes of ingenu-
Can honor's voice provoke the si- ous shame,
lent dust. Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride
Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear With incense kindled at the Muse's
of death? flame.

Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Far from the madding crowd's igno-
Some heart once pregnant with ble strife.
celestial fire Their sober wishes never learned
Hands, that the rod of empire might to stray
have swayed. Along the cool sequestered vale of life
Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre They kept the noiseless tenor of
their way.
But knowledge to their eyes her
ample page. Tet even these bones from insult to
Rich with the spoils of time, did protect.
ne'er unroll; Some frail memorial still erected
Chill penury repressed their noble nigh.
rage. With uncouth rhymes and shapeless
And froze the genial current of sculpture decked,
the soul. Implores the passing tribute of a

Full many
a gem of purest ray se-
rene Their name, their years, spelt by the
The dark unfathomed caves of unlettered Muse, ,

ocean bear The place of fame and elegy supply :

Full many a flower is bom to blush And many a holy text around she
unseen, strews.
And waste its sweetness on the That teach the rustic moralist to
desert air. die.
 ; ;; ; :; : : !

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL. — RELIGIOUS. 171

For who, to dumb forgetfulness a Another came; nor yet beside the
prey, rill.
This pleasing anxious being e'er Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood,
resigned, was he
Left the warm precincts of the cheer-
ful day, "The next, with dirges due, in sad
Nor cast one longing, lingering array.
look behind ? Slow through the church-way path
we saw him borne :
—
On some fond breast the parting soul Approach and read (for thou canst
relies, read) the lay
Some
pious drops the closing eye Graved on the stone beneath yon
requires aged thorn."
E'en from the tomb the voice of
Nature cries. THE EPITAPH,
E'en in our ashes live their wont-
ed fires. Here rests his head upon the lap of
earth,
For thee,who, mindful of the un- • A youth, to fortune and to fame
honored dead. unknown
Dost in these lines their artless Fair Science frowned not on his
tale relate humble birth,
If chance, by lonely contemplation And Melancholy marked him for
led. her own.
Some kindred shall inquire
thy fate, —spirit Large was his bounty, and his soul
sincere.
Haply some hoary-headed swain may Heaven did a recompense as large-
say, ly send
"Oft have we seen him at the He gave to misery (all he had) a
peep of dawn tear.
Brushing with hasty steps the dews He gained from heaven ('twas all
away. he wished) a friend.
To meet the sun upon the upland
lawn: No farther seek his merits to dis-
close.
" There at the foot of yonder nod- Or draw his frailties from their
ding beech. dread abode,
That wreathes its old fantastic (There they alike in trembling hope
roots so high. repose,)
His listless length at noontide would The bosom of his Father and his
he stretch. God.
And pore upon the brook that bab- Gbay.
bles by.

" Hard by yon wood, now smiling as THE SKULL.

in scorn.
Muttering hiswayward fancies he BEMoyE yon skull from out the
would rove scattered heaps
Now drooping, woful-wan, like one Is that a temple where a god may
forlorn, dwell?
Or crazed with care, or crossed in Why even the worm at last disdains
hopeless love. her shattered cell

"One mom I missed him on the Look on its broken arch, its ruined
accustomed hill. wall,
Along the heath, and near his fa- Its chambers desolate, and portals
vorite tree foul:
 ; :! ! : ! : ; ; : ; ;

172 PABNASSUS.

Yes, this was once Ambition's airy So darkly of departed years,

hall, In one broad glance the soul be-
The dome of Thought, the palace holds,
of the Soul And all,that was, at once appears.
Behold through each lack-lustre,
eyeless hole. Before creation peopled earth,
The gay recess of Wisdom and of Its eyes, shall roll through chaos
Wit, back
And Passion's host, that never And where the farthest heaven had
brooked control birth,
Can all saint, sage, or sOphist ever The spirit trace its rising track.
writ. And where the future mars or
People this lonely tower, this tene- makes.
ment refit ? Its glance dilate o'er
all to be.
While sun is quenched or system
Yet if , as holiest men have deemed, breaks.
there be Fixed in its own eternity.
A laud of souls beyond that sable
shore. Above or love, hope, hate, or fear,
To shame the doctrine of the Sad- It lives all passionless and pure
ducee. An age shall fleet like earthly year
And sophists, madly vain of dubi- Its years as moments shall endure.
ous lore Away, away, without a wing.
How sweet it were in concert to O'er all, through all, its thoughts
adore shall fly
With those who made our mortal A nameless and eternal thing,
labors light Forgetting what it was to die.
To hear each voice we feared to Bykon.
hear no more
Behold each mighty shade revealed
to sight, CELINDA.
The Bactrian, Samian sage, and all
who taught the right Walking thus towards a pleasant
Bybon : Childe Harold. grove,
Which did, it seemed, in new deJight
The pleasures of the time unite
To give a triumph to their love, —
THE IMMORTAL MIND. They staid at last, and on the
grass
When coldness wraps this suffering Kepos&d so as o'er his breast
' clay, She bowed her gracious head to
Ah, whither strays the immortal rest.
mind? Such a weight as no burden was.
It cannot cannot stay,
die, it Long their fixed eyes to heaven bent.
But leaves its darkened dust be- Unchanged they did never move.
hind. As if so great and pure a love
Then, unembodied, doth it trace No glass but it could represent.
By steps each planet's heavenly " These eyes again thine eyes shall
way? see.
Or fill at once the realms of space, Thy hands again these hands infold,
A thing of eyes, that all survey ? And chaste pleasures can be told
all
Shall with us everlasting be.
Eternal, boundless, undecayed, Let then no doubt, Celinda, touch,
A
thought unseen, but seeing all, Much less your fairest mind invade
AH, all in earth, or skies displayed, Were not our souls immortal made.
Shall it survey, shall it recall Our equal loves can make them
Each" faiiitel- trace that memory such."
holds, Lord Edward Herbert,
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CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL. — KELIGIOUS. 173

EUTHANASIA. IMMORTALITY,
But souls that of his own good life " The oliDd is father of the man
partake, And I could wiah my days to be ,

Bound each toeach by natural pie*!?."

He loves as his own self; dear as his
eye
I.
They are to him: He'll never them
forsake
When they shall There was a time when meadow,
die, then God him-
grove, and stream.
self shall die
They live, they live in hlest eternity.
The earth, and every common sight.
To me did seem
Hbnky Moke. Apparelled in celestial light.
The glory and the freshness of a
dream.
It is not now as it hath been of
THE EETREAT. •yore ;
—
Turn whereso'er I may,
Happy those early days when I
By night or day,
Shined in my angel-infancy
The things which I have seen I now
Before I understood this place
can see no more.
Appointed for my second race.
Or taught my soul to fancy aught
But a white, celestial thought II.

When yet I had not walked above

A mile or two from my first love, The rainbow comes and goes,
And looking back, at that short And lovely
the rose is

space The moon doth with delight

Could see a glimpse of his bright Look round her when the heavens
face; are bare
When on some gilded cloud or Waters on a starry night
flower Are beautiful and fair
My gazing soul would dwell an hour. The sunshine is a glorious birth
And in those weaker glories spy But yet I know, where'er I go.
Some shadows of eternity: That there hath passed away a glory
Before I taught my tongue to wound from the earth.
My conscience with a sinful sound,
Or had the black art to dispense III.
A several sin to every sense
But felt through all this fleshly Now, while the birds thus sing a
dress joyous song.
Bright shoots of everlastingness. And while the young lambs bound
O how I long to travel back. As to the tabor's sound.
And tread again that ancient track To me alone there came a thought
That I might once more reach that of grief:
plain A timely utterance gave that
Where first I left my glorious train. thought relief.
From whence the enlightened spirit And I again am strong
sees The blow their trumpets
cataracts
That shady city of palm-trees. from the steep;
But ah! ray soul with too much No more shall grief of mine the
stay season wrong
Isdrunk, and staggers in the way I hear the echoes through the
Some men a forward motion love. mountains throng.
But I by backward steps would The winds come to me from the
move; fields of sleep,
And when this dust falls to the urn, And the earth is gay;
all
En that state I came^ return. Land andsea
Henry Vaughan. Give themselves up to jollity,
 ; : !; :: :; ; ; ! ; ;;

174 PARNASSUS.

And with the heart of May Shades of the prison-house begin to

Doth every beast keep holiday close
Thou child of joy, Upon the growing boy.
Shout round me, let me hear thy But he beholds the light, and
shouts, thou happy shepherd- whence it flows.
boy! He sees it in his joy
The youth, who daily farther from
the east
Must travel, still is Nature's priest.
Ye blessfed creatures, I have heard And by the vision splendid
the call Is on way attended
his
Ye to each other make I see ; At length the man perceives it die
The heavens laugh with you in your away,
jubilee And fade into the light of common
My heart is at your festival.
My head hath its coronal.
The fulness of your bliss, I fe'el —I TT.
feel it all.
Oh evil day I if I were sullen Earth fills her lap with pleasures of
While the earth herself is her own
adorning, Yearnings she hath in her own
This sweet May-moninig, natural kind,
And the children are culling And, even with something of a
On every side. mother's mind.
In a thousand valleys far and And no unworthy aim,
wide. The homely nurse doth all she can
Fresh flowers; while the sun To make her foster-child, her in-
shines warm, mate man.
And the babe leaps up on his Forget the glories he hath known.
mother's arm: — And that imperial palace whence he
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear came.
— But there's a tree, of many
one,
A sitigle field which I have looked
upon. Behold the child among his new-
Both of them speak of something bom blisses,
that gone
is A six years' darling of a pygmy
The pansy at my feet size!
Doth the same tale repeat See, where 'mid work of his own
Whither is fled the visionary gleam ? hand he lies,
Where is it now, the glory and the Fretted by sallies of his mother's
dream ? kisses.
\ With upon him from his
light
father's eyes
See, at his feet, some little plan or
Our birth is but a sleep and a for- chart,
getting: Some fragment from his dream of
The soul that rises with us, our human life.
life's star. Shaped by himself with newly-
Hath had elsewhere its setting. learned art
And Cometh from afar: A wedding or a festival,
Not in entire forgetfulness. A mourning or a funeral
And not in utter nakedness, And this hath now his heart,
But trailing clouds of glory do we And unto this he frames his
come song
From God, who is our home Then will he fit his tongue
Heaven lies about us in our in- To dialogues of business, love, oi
fancy ! strife
 ; ! ! ; ; ; ! ' ; . ;

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL. — RELIGIOUS. 175

But it will not be long The thought of our past years in me
Ere this be thrown aside, doth breed
And with new joy and pride Perpetual benedictions not indeed :

The little actor cons another part For that which is most worthy to be
Filling from time to time his " hu- blest
morous stage" Delight and liberty, the simple creed
With all the persons, down to pal- Of childhood, whether busy or at
sied age, rest,
That Life brings with her in her With new-fledged hope still flutter-
equipage ing in his breast: —
As if his whole vocation Not for these I raise
Were endless imitation. The song of thanks and praise;
But for those obstinate question-
ings
Of sense and outward things.
Thou, whose exterior semblance Fallings from us, vanishings
doth belie Blank misgivings of a creature
Thy soul's immensity; Moving about in worlds not realized.
Thou best philosopher, who yet High instincts, before which our
dost keep mortal nature
Thy heritage; thou eye among the Did tremble like a guilty thing sur-
blind. prised :
That, deaf and silent, read'st the But for those first affections,
eternal deep, Those shadowy recollections.
Haunted forever by the eternal Which, be they what they may.
mind, — Are yet the fountain light of all our
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest day.
On whom those truths do rest. Are yet a master light of all our see-
Which we are toiling all our lives to ing;
find; Uphold us, and have
cherish,
(In darkness lost, the darkness of power to make
the grave ;) Our noisyyears seem moments in
Thou, over whom thy immortality the being
Broods like the day, a master o'er a Of the eternal silence: truths that
wake,
A presence which is not to be put by To perish never
Thou little child, yet glorious in Which neither listlessness, nor mad
the might endeavor,
Of heaven-born freedom, on thy Nor man nor boy.
being's height. Nor all that is at enmity with joy.
Why with such earnest pains dost Can utterly abolish or destroy !

thou provoke Hence, in a season of calm weather,

The years to bring the inevitable yoke. Though inland far we be,
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at Our souls have sight of that im-
strife? mortal sea
Full soon thy soul shall have her Which brought us hither,
earthly freight. Can in a moment travel thither,
And custom lie upon thee with a And see the children sport upon the
weight, shore.
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as And hear the mighty waters rolling
life! evermore.

IX.

O joy ! that in our embers Then sing, ye birds, sing, sing a

Is something that doth live. joyous song
That Nature yet remembers And let the young lambs bound
What was so fugitive As to the tabor's sound !
 ! ; ; ;; ; ; ! — ; !! : !

176 PAKNASSUS.

We in thought will join your To me the meanest flower that blows

throng, can give
Ye that pipe and ye that play, Thoughts that do often lie too deep
Ye that through your hearts to- for tears.
day WOEDSWOBTH.
Feel the gladness of the May
What though the radiance which
was once so bright LOVE AND HUMILITY.
Be now forever taken from my
sight, Fab have I clambered in my mind.
Though nothing can bring back But nought so great as love I find
the hour Deep-searching wit, mount-moving
Of splendor in the grass, of glory in might,
the flower Are nought compared to that good
We will grieve not, rather find sprite.
Strength in what remains be- Life of delight, and soul of bliss
hind. Sure source of lasting happiness
In the primal sympathy Higher than heaven lower than hell
!

Which having been, must ever What is thy tent? Where mayst
be; thou dwell ?
In the soothing thoughts that
spring My mansion hight humility.
Out of human suffering Heaven's vastest capability.
In the faith that looks through The further it doth downward bend.
death. The higher up it doth ascend
In years that bring the philosophic If it go down to utmost nought.
mind. It shall return with what it sought.

Could I demolish with mine eye

Strong towers stop the fieet stars in
;

And O yefountains, meadows, slty.

hills, and groves. Bring down to earth the pale-faced
Forebode not any severing of our moon,
loves Or turn black midnight to bright
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your noon;
might Though all things were put in my
I only have relinquished one delight. hand, —
To live beneath your more habitual As parched, as dry, as Libyan sand
sway. Would be my life, if Charity
I love the brooks which down their Were wanting. But Humility
channels fret. Is more than my poor soul durst crave.
Even more than when I tripped That lies entombed in lowly grave.
^
lightly as they: But if 'twere lawful up to send
The innocent brightness of a new- My voice to heaven, this should it
born day rend.
Is lovely yet Lord, thrust me deeper Into dust,
The clouds that gather round the That thou mayst raise me with the
setting sun just.
Do take a sober coloring from an Henby Mobb.
eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's
mortality MY LEGACY.
Another race hath been, and other
palms are won. They told me I was heir: I turned
Thanks to the human heart by which in haste.
we live And my treasure.
ran to seek
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, And wondered as, I ran, how it was
and fears, placed,
 ; ; ; ;; ; : ; ; ; ;;

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MOEAL. — RELIGIOUS. 177

If Ishould find a measure My share No deed of house
! or
Of gold, or if the titles of fair lands spreading lands.
And houses would be laid within my As had dreamed no measure
I ;

hands. Heaped up with gold; my elder

brother's hands
I journeyedmany roads ; I knocked Had never held such treasure.
at gates Foxes have holes, and birds in nests
I spoke to each wayfarer are fed
I met, and said, " A
heritage awaits My brother had not where to lay his
Me. Art not thou the hearer head.
Of news ? some message sent to me
whereby My The right like him to
share!
I learn which way my new posses- know all pain
sions lie ? " Which hearts are made for knowing
The right to find in loss the surest
Some asked me in ; nought lay be- gain;
yond their door; To reap my joy from sowing
Some smiled, and would not tarry, In bitter tears the right with
; him
But said that men were just behind to keep
who bore A watch by day and night with all
More gold than I could carry who weep.
And so the morn, the noon, the day,
were spent, My share To-day men call it grief
!

While empty handed up and down I and death

went. I see the joy and life to-morrow
I thank my Father with my every
At lastone cried, whose face I could breath.
not see. For this sweet legacy of sorrow
As through the mists he hasted ; And through my
tears I call to each
"Poor child, what evil ones have "joint heir
hindered thee. With Christ, make haste to ask him
Till this whole day is wasted ? for thy share."
Hath no man told thee that thou art H. H.
joint heir
With one named Christ, who waits
the goods to share?" DIVINE LOVE.
The one named Christ I sought for Thou hidden love of God! whose
many days. height,
In many places vainly Whose depth unfathomed, no man
I heard men name his name in many knows —
ways; I see from
far thy beauteous light,
Isaw his temples plainly; Inly I sigh for thy repose.
But they who named him most gave My heart is pained ; nor can it be
me no sign At rest till it finds rest in Thee.
To find him by, or prove the heir-
ship mine. Thy secret voice invites me still
The sweetness of Thy yoke to prove
And when at last I stood before Uis And fain I would ; but though my will
facp, Seem fixed, yet wide my passions
I knew him by no token rove
Save subtle air of joy which filled Yet hindrances strew all the way —
the place I aim at Thee, yet from Thee stray.
Our greeting was not spoken
lu solemn silence I received my 'Tis mercy all, that Thou hast
share. brought
Kneeling before my brother and My mind to seek her peace in
"joint heir." Theel
12
 : ; ;
: —
!; ; ! ;; : : ; !:: ;

178 PARNASSUS.

Yet while I seek, but find Thee not, He whose stable throne disdains
No peace my wandering soul shall Motion's shock and age's flight;
see. He who endless one remains
O when shall all my wanderings One, the same, in changeless plight.
end,
And all my steps to Theeward tend ? Rivers, —
yea though rivers roar,
Eoaring though sea-billows rise.
Is there a thing beneath the sun Vex the deep, and break the
That strives with Thee my heart shore, —
to share ? Stronger art thou. Lord of skies
Ah, tear it thence, and reign alone — Firm and true thy promise lies
The Lord of every motion there Now and still as heretofore
Then shall my heart from earth be Holy worship never dies
free, In thy house where we adore.
Wlien it hath found repose in Thee. Sir Philip Sidney.
Gerhard Teksteegen:
Trans, by John Wesley.
PSALM CXXXIX.
MOEAVIAN HYMN. O Lord in me there lieth nought
But to thy search revealfed lies
O DRAW me. Father, after thee. For when I sit
So shall I run and never tire Thou markest it
With gracious words still comfort Nor thou notest when I rise
less
me; Yea, closest closet of my thought
Be thou my hope, my sole desire Hath open windows to thine eyes.
Free me from every weight; nor
fear Thou walkest with me when I walk;
Nor sin can come, if thoji art here. When to my bed for rest I go,
I find thee there,
From all eternity, with love And everywhere
Unchangeable thou hast me viewed Not youngest thoughtin me doth
Ere knew this beating heart to grow.
move, No, not one word I cast to talk
Thy tender mercies me pursued But, yet uuuttered, thou dost
Ever with me may they abide. know.
And close me in on every side.
If forth I march, thou goest before
In suffering, be thy love my peace If back I turn, thou com'st behind
In weakness, be thy love my power So forth nor back
And when the storms of life shall Thy guard I lack;
cease. Nay, on me too thy hand I find.
My God in that transcendent hour,
! Well I thy wisdom may adore.
In death as life be thou guide, my But never reach with earthly
And bear me through death's mind.
whelming tide.
John Wesley. To shim thy notice, leave thine eye,
O
whither might I take my way ?
To starry sphere ?
PSALM XCIII. / Thy throne is there
To dead men's undelightsome
Clothed with state, and girt with stay?
might, There is thy walk, and there to lie
Monarch-like Jehovah reigns. Unknown, in vain should I assay.
He who earth's foundation pight*
Pight at first, and yet sustains O sun, whom light nor flight can
match
•Pitched. Suppose thy lightf ul flightful wings
 : : : ! : ;; ; ! : ;:

CONTEMPLATIVE. - MOEAL. — RELIGIOUS. 179

Thou lend to me, And feel the pulse of every prophecy,
And I could flee He knows, but knows not how, or
As far as thee the evening brings by what art
Even led to west he would me catch. The heaven-expecting ages hope to
Nor should I lurk with western see
things. A mighty Babe, whose pure, un-
spotted birth
Do thou thy best, O secret night From a chaste virgin womb should
In sable veil to cover me bless the earth
Thy sable veil
Shall vainly fail But these vast mysteries his senses
With day unmasked my night smother.
shall be, And reason, — for what's faith to
For night day, and darkness light,
is him ! — devour.
O Father of all lights, to thee. How she that is a maid should prove
Sib Philip Sidney. a mother.
Yet keep inviolate her virgin flower
How God's eternal Son should be
SATAN. man's brother,
Poseth his proudest intellectual
Below the bottom of the great Abyss, power
There where one centre reconciles How a pure spirit should incar-
all things. nate be.
The world's profound heart pants; And life itself wear death's frail
there placed is livery.
Mischief's old Master! close about
him clings That the great angel-blinding light
A curled knot of embracing snakes, should shrink
that kiss His blaze, to shine in apoor shep-
His correspondent cheeks: these herd's eye;
loathsome strings That the unmeasured God so low
Hold the perverse prince in eternal should sink
ties. As prisoner in a few poor rags to lie
Fast bound since first he forfeited "That from his mother's breast He
the skies. milk should drfnk,
Who feeds with nectar Heaven's fair
Heaven's golden- wlugfed herald late family
he saw That a vile manger his low bed
To a poor Galilean virgin sent; should prove
How long the bright youth bowed, Who in a throne of stars thunders
aud with what awe above.
Immortal flowers to her fair hand
present That He whom the sun serves, should
He saw the old Hebrew's womb faintly peep
neglect the law Through clouds of infant flesh : that
Of age and barrenness and her Babe; He the old
prevent Eternal Word would be a child, and
His birth by his devotion, who be- weep;
gan That He who made the fire should
Betimes to be a saint before a feel the cold
That Heaven's high Majesty his
court should keep
Yet, on the other side, fain would In a clay-cottage, by each blast con-
he start trolled :

Above his fears, and think it cannot That Glory's self should serve our
be: griefs and fears
He studies Scripture, strives to sound And free Eternity submit to years.
the heart lilCHABD CRASHAW.
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180 PARNASSUS.

NAKATENA: SPIRIT OF GOD. Their great Original proclaim.

The unwearied sun, from day to day,
Blue crystal vault and elemental Does his Creator's power display;
fires And publishes to every land
That in the aerial fluid blaze and The work of an Almighty hand.
breathe
Thou tossing sea, whose snaky Soon as the evening shades prevail.
branches wreath The moon takes up the wondrous
This pensile orb with intertwisted tale,
gyves ;
And nightly, to the listening earth.
Mountains whose lofty radiant spires Repeats the story of her birth
Presumptuous rear their summits Whilst all the stars that round her
to the slcies burn.
Smooth meads and lawns that glow And the planets in their turn,
all
, with vergant dyes Confirm the tidings as they roll.
Of dew-bespangled leaves and blos- And spread the truth from pole to
soms bright! pole.
Hence vanish from my sight
!

Delusive pictures ! Unsubstantial Wliat though, in solemn silence, all

shows Move round this dark, terrestrial
My soul absorbed, one only Being ball?
knows What though nor real voice nor
Of perceptions one abundant
all , sound
source Amidst their radiant orbs be found ?
Whence every object every moment In reason's ear they all rejoice,
flows: And utter forth a gloriotis voice,
Suns hence derive their force; Forever singing as they shine,
Hence planets learn their course " The hand that made us is divine !
But suns and fading worlds I view Addison.
no more
God onl y I percei ve God only I adore. ;

Sib William Jones Translation. : TWO WENT UP INTO THE

TEMPLE TO PRAT.
PENITENCE. Two went to pray ? Oh ! rather say.

One weiit to brag, the other to pray.

Great God!
Greater than greatest! better than One stands up close, and treads or.
the best! high.
Kinder than kindest with soft pity's ! Where the other dares not lend hit
eye eye.
Look down
On a poor breathing particle in One nearer to God's altar trod;
dust! The other to the altar's God.
Or, lower, — an immortal in his RiCHABD CbASHAW.
crimes.
His crimes forgive, forgive his vir-
tues too A HYMN TO CHRIST,
Those smaller faults, half converts
to the right. AT THE AUTHOB's LAST GOING INTO
Young. GEBMANY.
In what torn ship soever I embark.
AN ODE. That ship shall be my emblem of
thy ark
The spacious firmament on high, What sea soever swallow me, that
With all the blue ethereal sky, flood
^nd spangled heavens, a shining Shall be to me an emblem of thy
frame. blood.
 : ; :; ; ; ;:;: ; ; ;; ; :

COKTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL. — RELIGIOUS. 181

Though thou with clouds of anger Not rudely, as a beast.
do disguise To run into an action
Thy face, yetthrough that mask I But still to make thee prepossessed.
know those eyes, And give it his perfection.
Which, though they turn away some-
times, — A man that looks on glass
They never will despise. On it may stay his eye
Or, he pleaseth, through it
if pass,
I sacrifice this island unto thee. And then the heaven espy.
And all whom I love here, and who
love me All may of thee partake
When have put this flood 'twixt
I Nothing can be so mean.
them and me. Which with this tincture, for thy
Put thou thy blood betwixt my sins sake,
and thee. Will not grow bright and clean.
As the tree's sap doth seek the root
below A servant, with this clause.
In winter, in my winter now I go Makes drudgery divine
Where none but thee, the eternal root Who sweeps a room, as for thy laws,
Of true love, I may know. Makes that, and the action, fine.

Nor thou, nor thy religion, dost con- This is the famous stone
trol That turneth all to gold
The amorousness of an harmonious For that which God doth touch and
soul; own
But thou wouldst have that love Cannot for less be told.
thyself as thou
: Hbkbeet.
Art jealous, Lord, so I am jealous
now.
Thou lov'st not till from loving SING UNTO THE LORD.
morethoit free
My soul : who ever gives, takes lib- PSALM XCVI.
erty;
Oh! if thou car' St not I love, whom Sing, and let your song be new,
Alas, thou lov'st not me I Unto him that never endeth I

Sing all earth, and all in you.

Seal, then, this bill of my divorce to Sing to God, and bless his name.
all Of the help, the health he sendeth,
On whom those fainter beams of Day by day new ditties frame.
love did fall
Marry those loves, which in youth Make each country know his worth
scattered be Of his acts the wondered story
On face, wit, hopes (false mistresses), Paint unto each people forth.
to thee. For Jehovah great alone.
Churches are best for prayer that All the gods for awe and glory.
have least light Far above doth hold his throne.
To see God only, I go out of sight
And to 'scape stormy days, I choose For but idols, what are they
An everlasting night. Whom besides mad earth adoreth ?
Donne. He the skies in frame did lay
Grace and honor are his guides

THE ELIXIR. u Majesty his temple storeth

Might in guard about him bides.

Teach me, my God and King, Kindreds come Jehovah give,

!
—
In things thee to see
all O give Jehovah all together,
And, what I do in any thing, Force and fame whereso you live.
To do it as for thee Give his name the glory fit
 ; ;! : : !; ! ; ; ; :; ; :: :

182 PARNASSUS.

Take your ofEerings, get you Man's wisdom is to seek

thither,
Where he doth enshrinfed
Go, adore him in the place
Where his pomp is most
Earth, O go with quaking pace,
Go proclaim Jehovah king:
Stayless world shall now be stayed
Righteous doom his rule shall bring.
Starry roof and earthy floor,
Sea and all thy wideness yieldeth
Now rejoice, and leap, and roar.
Leafy infants of the wood,
Fields, and all that on you feed-
eth,
Bauce, O dance, at such a good
For Jehovah cometh, lo
Lo, to reign Jehovah cometh
Under whom you all shall go.
He the world shall rightly guide
Truly, as a king becometh,
For the people's weal provide.
Sir Philip Sidney.
PSALM xnii.
His strength in God alone
sit. And even an angel would be weak.
Who trusted in his own.
displayed. Retreat beneath his wings,
And in his grace confide:
This more exalts the King of kings
Than all your works beside.
In Jesus is our store
Grace issues from his throne
Whoever says, " I want no more,"
Confesses he has none.
COWPER,
PROVIDENCE.
God moves in a mysterious way
His wonders to perform
He plants his footsteps in the sea,
And rides upon the storm.
Deep in unfathomable mines
Of never-failing skill.
He treasures up his bright designs,
And works his sovereign will.

The Lord descended from above. Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take:
And bowed the heavens high The clouds ye so much dread
And underneath his feet he cast Are big with mercy, and shall break
The darkness of the sky. In blessings on your head.

On Cherubim and Seraphim Judge net the Lord by feeble sense.

Full royally he rode But trust him for his grace
And on the wings of mighty winds Behind a frowning providence
Came flying all abroad. He hides a smiling face.

He sat serene upon the floods. His purposes will ripen fast,
Their fury to restrain Unfolding every hour:
And he as sovereign Lord and King The bud may have a bitter taste;
Forevermore shall reign. But sweet will be the flower.
Steknhold.
Blind unbelief is sure to err,
And scan his works in vain
DEPENDENCE. God is his own interpreter
And he willmake it plain.
To keep the lamp alive. COWPEB.
With oil we till the bowl
'Tis water makes the willow thrive,
And grace that feeds the soul. PROVIDENCE. >
/A

The Lord's unsparing hand O SACKED Providence, who from

Supplies the living stream end to end
It is not at our own command. Strongly and sweetly movest! shall
But still derived from him. I write,
 ! : ; : ; ; ; :; ;

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL. — RELIGIOUS. 183

And not of thee, through whom my Rain, do not hurt my flowers, but
fingers bend gently spend
To hold my quill ? shall they not do Your honey drops presse not to smell
;
thee right ? them here
When they are ripe, their odor will
Wherefore, most sacred Spirit, I ascend.
here present, And at your lodging with their
For me and all my fellows, praise to thanks appeare.
thee:
And just it is that I should pay the Sometimes thou dost divide thy gifts
rent, to man
Because the benefit accrues to me. Sometimes unite. The Indian nut
alone
Is clothing, meat, and trencher,
Tempests are calm to. thee: they
drink and can.
know thy hand,
Boat, cable,
And holdit fast, as children do
sail and needle, all in
one.
their fathers,
Which cry and follow. Thou hast Each thing that is, although in use
made poore sand
Check the proud sea, even when and name
it
swells and gathers.
It go for one, hath many ways in
store
To honor thee ; and so each hymn
How finely dost thou times and sea- thy fame
sons spin, Extolleth many ways, yet this one
And make a twist checkered with more.
night and day Hebbkrt.
Which as it lengthens, windes and
windes us in,
As bowls go on, but turning all the PRAISE TO GOD.
way.
Pbaise to God, immortal praise,
Bees work for man; and yet they For the love that crowns our days
never bruise Bounteous source of every joy.
Their master's flower, but leave it, Let thy praise our tongues employ
having done.
As fair as ever, and as fit to use For the blessings of the field.
So both the flower doth stay, and For the stores the gardens yield,
honey run. For the vine's exalted juice,
For the generous olive's use

Wlio hath the virtue to expresse the Flocks that whiten all the plain.
rare Yellow sheaves of ripened grain
And curious virtues both of herbs Clouds that drop their fattening
and stones ? dews,
Is there an herb for that? O that Suns that temperate warmth diffuse
thy care
Would show a root that gives ex- All that Spring with bounteous
pressions !
hand
Scatters o'er the smiling land:
The sea which seems to stop the All that liberal Autumn pours
traveller, From her rich o'erflowing stores:
Is by a ship the speedier passage
made: These to thee, my God, we owe
The windes, who think they rule the Source whence allour blessings
mariner, flow;
Are ruled by him, and taught to And for these my soul shall raise
serve his trade. Grateful vows and solemn praise.
 ; : ; ;; ;; ; : :; : ;

184 PAENASSUS.

Yet should rising whirlwinds tear My days were strewed with flowers
From its stem the ripening ear and happiness
Should the fig-tree's blasted shoot There was no month but May
Drop her green untimely fruit But with my years sorrow did twist
and grow.
Should the vine put forth no more, And made a party unawares for woe.
Nor the olive yield her store
Though the sickening flocks should Whereas my birth and spirit rather
fall, took
And the herds desert the stall The way that takes the town
Thou didst betray me to a lingering
Should thine altered hand restrain book.
The early and the latter rain. And wrap me in a gown.
Blast each opening bud of joy, I was entangled in a world of strife,
And the rising year destroy Before I had the power to change my
life.
Yet to thee my
soul should raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise Yet lest perchance I should too hap-
And, when every blessing's flown. py be
—
Love thee for thyself alone. In my unhappiness,
BABBATTIiD. Turning my pvirge to food. Thou
throwest me
Into more sicknesses.
AFFLICTIOlSr. ^ Thus does Thy power cross-bias me,
not making
When first Thou didst entice to Thee Thine own gift good, yet me from
my heart, my ways taking.
I thought the service brave
So many joys I writ down for my Now I am here ; what Thou wilt do
part! with me.
Besides what I might have None of my books will show
Out of my stock of natural delights. I read, and sigh, and wish I were a tree
Augmented with Thy gracious bene- For sure then I should grow
fits. To fruit, or shade at least some bird
;

would trust
I look&d on Thy furniture so fine, Her household to me, and I should
And made it fine to me. be just.
Thy glorious household stufE did me
intwine. Yet though Thou troublest me, I
And me
unto Thee.
'tice must be meek;
Such stars I counted mine: both In weakness must be stout.
heaven and earth Well, I will change the service, and
Paid me my wages in a world of mirth. go seek
Some other master out.
What pleasure could I want, whose Ah, my dear God though I am clean
!

King I served ? forgot.

Where joys my fellows were ? Let me not love Thee, if I love Thee
Thus argued into hopes, my thoughts not.
reserved Hbkberi.
Ko place for grief or fear:
Therefore my sudden soul caught at 1/
the place. GRATEFULNESS.
And made her youth and fierceness
seek Thy face. Thou that hast given so much to me,
Give one thing more, a grateful —
At first Thou gav'st me milk and heart.
sweetnesses See how Thy beggar works on Thee
I had my wish and way: By art:
 ; ; ; : ; ;

CONTEMPLATIVE. —MORAL. —EELIGIOUS.

He makes Thy gifts occasion more, Thy golden censers filled with odors
And says — If he in this be crest, sweet
All Thou hast given him heretofore Shall make thy actions with their
Is lost. ends to meet.
Hebeick.
But Thou didst reckon, when at first
Thy word our hearts and hands did
crave, BEFORE SLEEP.
What it would come to at the worst
To save. The night is come like to the
day,—
Perpetual knockings at Thy door, Depart not thou, great God, away,
Teai's sullying Thy transparent Let not my sins, black as the night.
rooms, Eclipse the lustre of thy light.
Gift upon gift, much would have Keep still in my horizon for to me ;

more. The sun makes not the day, but

And comes. thee.
Thou, whose nature cannot sleep.
This notwithstanding^ thou went'st On my temples sentry keep
on. Guard me 'gainst those watchful
And didst allow us all our noise foes
Nay, Thou hast made a sigh and Whose eyes are open while mine
groan. close.
Thy joys. Let no dreams my head Infest
But such as Jacob's temples blest.
Not that Thou hast not still above While I do rest, my soul advance.
Much better tunes than groans can Make my sleep a holy trance.
make. That I may, my rest being wrought,
But that these country airs Thy love Awake into some holy thought,
Did take. And with as active vigor run
My course, as doth the nimble sun,
Wherefore I cry, and cry agahi Sleep is a death O make me try
;

And in no quiet canst Thou be, By sleeping, what it is to die

Till I a thankful heart obtain And as gently lay head my
Of Thee. On my
gi-ave, as now bed. my
Howe'er I rest, great God, let me
Not thankful when pleaseth me, —
it Awake again at least with thee
As Thy blessings had spare days, —
if And thus assured, behold I lie
But such a heart, whose pulse may Secure, or to awake or die.
be These are my
drowsy days ; in vain
Thy praise. I do now wake to sleep again ; —
Hebbebt. O come that hour, when I shall never
Sleep again, but wake forever.
Sib Thomas Browne.
MATINS, ly
When with the virgin morning HYMN.
thou dost rise.
Crossing thyself, come thus to sacri- Lord, when I quit this earthly stage,
fice; Where shall I fly but to thy breast?
First wash thy heart in innocence, For I have sought no other honie.
then bring For I have learned no other rest.'
Pure hands, pure habits, pure, pure
every thing. I cannot live contented here,
Next to the altar humbly kneel, and Without some glimpses of thy face
thence And heaven without thy presence
Give up thy soul in clouds of frank- there
iucense. Would be a dark and tiresome place.
 ! :; ; : !; !!!!

186 PARNASSUS
When earthly cares engross the day, LITANY TO THE HOLY SPIRIT
And hold my thoughts aside from
thee, In the hour ofmy distress,
The shining hours of cheerful light When temptations me oppress.
Are long and tedious years to me. And when I my sins confess,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me
And if no evening visit's paid
Between my Saviour and my soul. When I lie within my bed.
How dull the night! how sad the Sick at heart, and sick in head.
shade And with doubts discomforted,
How mournfully the minutes roll Sweet Spirit, comfort me
My God I and can a humhle child When the house doth sigh and
That loves thee with a fame so high, weep.
Be ever from thy face exiled. And is drowned in sleep.
the world
Without the pity of thy eye ? Yet mine eyes the watch do keep.
Sweet Spirit, comfort me
Impossible for thine own hands
!

Have tied my heart so fast to thee When the artless doctor sees
And in thy book the promise stands No one hope, but of his fees.
That where thou art thy friends And his skill runs on the lees.
must be. Sweet Spirit, comfort me
Watts.
When his potion and his pill,
Has or none or little skill.
/ HYMK TOMY GOD, MY GOD,
SICKNESS.
IN Meet for nothing, but to kill,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me
—
Since I am coming to that holy room. When the passing bell doth toll,
Where with the choir of saints for- And the Furies, in a shoal.
evermore Come to fright a parting soul,
I shall be made thy music, as I come Sweet Spirit, comfort me!'
I tune the instrument here at the
door, When the tapers now burn blue,
And what I must do then, think here And the comforters are few.
before. And that number more than true.
Sweet Spirit, comfort me
We think that Paradise and Calvary,
Christ's cross and Adam's tree, When the priest his last hath prayed,
stood in one place And I nod to what is said.
Look, Lord, and find both Adams Because my speech is now decayed,
met in me Sweet Spirit, comfort me
As the first Adam's sweat sur-
rounds my face, When, God knows, I'm tost about
May the last Adam's blood my soul Either with despair or doubt.
embrace. Yet before the glass be out.
Sweet Spirit, comfort me
So, in his purple wrapped, receive
me, Lord; When the Tempter me pursu'th
By these his thorns give me his With the sins of all my youth,
other crown And half damns me with untruth.
And as to others' souls I preached Sweet Spirit, comfort me 1

thy word.
Be this my text, my sermon to When the flames and hellish cries
mine own Fright mine ears, and fright mine
Therefore, that he may raise, the eyes.
Lord throws down. And allterrors me suiprise.
Donne. Sweet Spirit, comfort me 1
 ;: ; : ! ; ; ;:; ;

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL. - RELIGIOUS. 187

When the judgment Is revealed, The trumpet spake not to the
And that opened which was sealed armfed throng.
When to Thee I have appealed, And kings sat still with awful eye,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me As if they surely knew their sovereign
Herkick. Lord was by.

CHRISTMAS HYMN.
But peaceful was the night
Wherein the Prince of light
His reign of peace upon the earth
It was the winter wild, began
Wliile the heaven-born child The winds, with wonder whist.
All meanly wrapt In the rude man- Smoothly the waters kist,
ger lies Whispering new joys to the mild
Kature in awe to him ocean.
Had doff'd her gaudy trim. Who now hath quite forgot to rave,
With her great Master so to sym- While birds of calm sit brooding on
pathiise the charmed wave.
Itwas no season then for her
To wanton with the sun, her lusty
paramour.
The stars with deep amaze
II. Stand fixed in steadfast gaze.
Bending one way their precious
Only with speeches fair influence,
She wooes the gentle air And will not take their flight.
To
hide her guilty front with inno- For all the morning light,
cent snow, Or Lucifer, that often warned them
And on her naked shame. thence
Pollute with sinful blame. But in their glimmering orbs did
The saintly veil of maiden white glow.
to throw Until their Lord himself bespake,
Confounded that her Maker's eyes and bade them go.
Should look so near upon her foul
deformities.

m. And though the shady gloom

Had given day her room.
But He, her fears to cease, The sun himself withheld his
Sent down
the njeek-eyed Peace wonted speed.
She, crowned with olive green, And hid his head for shame,
came softly sliding As his inferior flame
Down through the turning sphere The new enlightened world no
His ready harbinger, more should need
With turtle wing the amorous clouds He saw a greater sun appear
dividing; Than his bright throne or burning
And waving wide her myrtle wand. axletree could bear.
She strikes a universal peace through
sea and land. vni.

The shepherds on the lawn,

Or e'er the point of dawn,
No war, or battle's sound. Sat simply chatting in a rustic
Was heard the world around row;
The idle spear and shield Full thought they then
little
high uphung, That the mighty Pan
The hookfed chariot stood Was kindly come to live with them
Unstained with hostile blood, below
 : ; ; ; ; ; : :

188 PARNASSUS.

Perhaps their loves, or else their xin.

sheep, Ring out, ye crystal spheres,
Was all that did their silly thoughts Once bless our human ears.
so busy keep. If ye have power to touch oui
senses so
And let your silver chime
When such music sweet Move in melodious time.
Their hearts and ears did greet, And let the base of heaven's deep
As never was by mortal finger organ blow
strook, And with your ninefold harmony
Divinely-warbled voice Make up full consort to the angelic
Answering the stringfed noise, symphony.
As alltheir souls in blissful rap-
ture took XIV.
The air,such pleasure loath to lose. For if such holy song
With thousand echoes still prolongs Inwrap our fancy long.
each heavenly close. Time will run back, and fetch tha
age of gold;
And speckled Vanity
Nature, that heard such sound. Will sicken soon and die.
Beneath the hollow round And leprous Sin will melt from
Of Cynthia's seat, the airy region earthly mould
thrilling, And Hell itself will pass away.
Now was almost won And leave her dolorous mansions to
To think her part was done, the peering day.
And that her reign had here its
last fulfilling;
She knew such harmony alone Tea, Truth and Justice then
Could hold all heaven and earth in Will down return to men,
happier union. Orbed in a rainbow; and, like
glories wearing,
Mercy will sit between.
At last surrounds their sight Throned in celestial sheen,
A globe of circular light, With radiant feet the tissued
That with long beams the shame- clouds down steering
faced night arrayed And heaven, as at some festival,

The helmfed Cherubim, Will open wide the gates of her high
And sworded Seraphim, palace hall.
Are seen in glittering ranks with
wings displayed.
Harping in loud and solemn quire. But wisest Fate says, no,
With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's This must not yet be so.
new-born Heir. The babe yet lies in smiling in-
fancy.
That on the bitter cross
Such music (as 'tis said) Must redeem our loss
Before was never made. So both himself and us to glorify;
But when of old the sons of morn- Yet first to those ychained in sleep,
ing sung. The wakeful trump of doom must
While the Creator great thunder through the deep,
His constellations set.
And the well-balanced world on xvn.
hinges hung. With such a horrid clang
And cast the dark foundations deep. As on Mount Sinai rang,
And bid the weltering waves their While the red fire, and smoulder-
oozy channel keep. ing clouds outbrake
 ; ; ; ; ;: ; ; ; ; :

CONTEMPLATIVE. — MORAL. — RELIGIOUS. 189

The aged earth aghast, And the chill marble seems to sweat,
With terror of that blast, While each peculiar Power foregoes
Shall from the surface to the cen- his wonted seat.
tre shake
When at the world's last session,
The dreadful Judge in middle air
Peor and Baalim
shall spread his throne.
Forsake their temples dim,
With that twice-battered god of
Palestine
And then at last our bliss And moonfed Ashtaroth,
Full and perfect is, Heaven's queen and mother both,
But now begins; for, from this Now sits not girt with tapers' holy
happy day. shine
The old Dragon under ground The Lybic Hammon shrinks his
In straiter limits bound, horn;
Not half so far casts his usurped In vain the Tyrian maids their
sway, wounded Thammuz mourn.
And, wroth to see his kingdom fail,
uwinges the scaly horror of his xxin.
folded tail.
And sullen Moloch fled,
Hath left in shadows dread
His burning idol all of blackest
^he oracles are dumb hue;
io voice or hideous hum In vain with cymbals' ring
Buns through the archfed roof in They call the grisly king.
words deceiving. In dismal dance about the furnace
A.pollo from his shrine blue:
Can no more divine, The brutish gods of Nile as fast,
With hollow shriek the steep of Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis,
Delphos leaving. haste.
No nightly trance or breathed spell
Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the XXIV.
prophetic cell.
Nor is Osiris seen
In Memphian grove or green,
Trampling the unshowered grass
The lonely mountains o'er, with lowings loud
And the resounding shore, Nor can he be at rest
A voice of weeping heard and loud Within his sacred chest;
lament Nought but profoundest hell can
From haunted spring, and dale be his shroud
Edged with poplar pale. In vain with timbrelled anthems dark
The parting Genius is with sighing The sable-stolfed sorcerers bear his
sent; worshipped ark.
With flower-inwoven tresses torn.
The Nymphs in twilight shade of
tangled thickets mourn.
He feels from Judah's land
The dreaded Infant's hand;
The rays of Bethlehem blind hisi
In consecrated earth. dusky eyn
And on the holy hearth. Nor all the gods beside.
The Lars and Lemures moan with Longer dare abide
midnight plaint; Not Typhon huge ending in snaky
In urns and altars round, twine
A drear and dying sound Our babe, to show his Godhead true.
Affrights the Flamens at their ser- Can in his swaddling bands control
vice quaint the damned crew.
 ! ; ! :! ; ; ; ! ! ; : : ;

190 PARNASSUS.

XXVI. THE ANGELS.

So when the sun in bed,
Run, shepherds, run where Bethle-
Curtained with cloudy red,
Pillows his chin upon an orient
hem blest appears.
wave.
We bring the best of news ; be not
dismayed
The flocking shadows pale A Saviour there is bom more old
Troop to the infernal jail,
than years.
Each fettered ghost slips to his
Amidst heaven's rolling height this
several grave
earth who stayed.
And the yellow-skirted Fayes .

In a poor cottage inned, a virgin

Fly after the night-steeds, leaving
maid
their moon-loved maze.
A weakling did him bear, who all
upbears
There is he poorly swaddled, in
But see the Virgin blest manger laid.
Hath laid her Babe to rest To whom too narrow swaddlings are
Time is our tedious song should our spheres
here have ending Run, shepherds, run, and solemnize
Heaven's youngest-teem&d star his birth.
Hath fixed her polished car, This is that night no, day, grown —
Her sleeping Lord with handmaid great with bliss.
lamp attending In which the power of Satan broken
And all about the courtly stable is:
Bright-harnessed angels sit in order In heaven be glory, peace unto the
serviceable. earth
Milton. Thus singing, through the air the
angels swarm.
And cope of stars re-echoed the
[/ THE SHEPHERDS. same.
Dbummond.
O THAN the fairest day, thrice fairer
night THE STAR SONG.
Night to best days, in which a sun
doth rise Tell us, thou clear and heavenly
Of which that Golden eye which tongue.
clears the skies Where is the Babe but lately sprung ?
Is but a sparkling ray, a shadow light Lies he the lily-banks among?
And blessfed ye, in silly pastors' sight,
Wild creatures in whose warm crib Or say, if this new Birth of ours
now lies Sleeps, laid within some ark of
That heaven-sent youngling, holy flowers.
maid-born wight, Spangled with dew-light; thou canst
'Midst, end, beginning of our clear
prophecies All doubts, and manifest the where.
Blest cottage that hath flowers in
winter spread Declare to us, bright star, if we
Though withered, —
blessed grass, shall seek
that hath the grace Him in the morning's blushing
To deck and be a carpet to that place! cheek.
Thus sang unto the sounds of oaten Or search the beds of spices through.
reed, To find him out?
Before the Babe, the shepherds bowed
on knees
And springs ran nectar, honey
Star. — No, this ye need not do
But only come and see Him rest,
dropped from trees. A princely babe, in's mother's breast.
Dbuhmond. Hbbbick.
 ! : ; ; ;; ;: ; ; ;: ; ! ;; : ; ; ;
:

CONTEMPLATIVE. - MORAL. — EELIGIOUS. 191

]TOW PRINCE, NEW POMP. Alas, quoth he, but newly bom.
In fiery heats I fry.
Behold a silly, tender Babe, Yet none approach to warm theil-
In freezing winter night. hearts
In homely manger trembling lies Or feel the fire, but I.
Alas ! a piteous sight.
My faultless breast the furnace is
The inns are full no man will yield
; The fuelwounding thorns
This little Pilgrim bed Love isthe fire, and sighs the smoke.
But forced he is with silly beasts The ashes shames and scorns.
In crib to shroud his head.
The fuel justice layeth on.
Despise him not for lying there And mercy blows the coals
First what he is inquire The metal in this furnace wrought
An Orient pearl is often found Are men's defilM souls —
In depth of dirty mire.
For which, as now on fire I am.
Weigh not his crib, his wooden dish, To work them to their good.
Nor beasts that by him feed So will I melt into a bath.
Weigh not his mother's poor attire. To wash them in my
blood.
Nor Joseph's simple weed.
With this he vanished out of sight,
This stable is a Prince's covirt. And swiftly shrunk away.
The crib his chair of state And straight I callfed unto mind
The beasts are parcel of his pomp. That it was Christmas Day.
The wooden dish his plate. Southwell.

The persons in that poor attire

His royal liveries wear THE CHRISTMAS CAROL.
The Prince himself is come from
heavfen The minstrels played their Christ-
This pomp is praisM there. mas tune
To-night beneath my cottage-eaves
With joy approach, O Christian While, smitten by a lofty moon.
wight The encircling laurels, thick with
Do homage to thy King leaves.
And highly praise this humble pomp, Gave back a rich and dazzling sheen.
Which he from heaven doth bring. That overpowered their natural
Southwell. green.

Through hill and valley every breeze

THE BUENING BABE. Had sunk to rest with folded wings
Seen was the air, but could not
As I in hoary winter's night freeze.
Stood shivering in the snow. Nor check, the music of the strings
Surprised I was by sudden heat So stout and hardy were the band
Which made my heart to glow; That scraped the chords with stren-
uous hand
And lifting up a fearful eye
To view what fire was near, And who but listened? — till was
A pretty babe all burning bright.
Did in the air appear Respect to every inmate's claim
The greeting given, the music
Who, scorched with excessive heat. played.
Such floods of tears did shed. In honor of each household name.
As though his floods should quench Duly pronounced with lusty call.
his flames And '• Merry Christmas " wished to
Which with his tears were bred all!
 ; ; ! ; ;; : ; ;: ;;

192 PAKNASSUS.

How touching, when, at midnight, Ring out the want, the care, the sin,
sweep The faithless coldness of the
Snow-muffled winds, and all is dark, times
To hear, and sink again to sleep Ring out, ring out my mournful
Or, at an earlier call, to mark. rhymes.
By blazing fire, the still suspense But ring the fuller minstrel in.
Of self-complacent innocence
Ring out false pride in place and
The mutual nod, — the grave dis- blood.
guise The civic slander and the spite
Of hearts with gladness brimming Ring in the love of truth and
o'er; right.
And some unbidden tears that rise Ring in the common love of good.
For names once heard, and heard no
more; Ring out old shapes of foul disease.
Tears brightened by the serenade Ring out the narrowing lust of
For infant in the cradle laid. gold;
Ring out the thousand wars of
Manners sure defence,
Hail, ancient ! old.
Where they survive, of wholesome Ring in the thousand years of peace.
laws;
Eemnants of love whose modest Ring^ in the valiant man and free.
sense The larger heart, the kindlier hand
Thus into narrow room withdraws Ring out the darkness of the
Hail, Usages of pristine mould, land, —
And ye that guard them. Mountains Ring in the Christ that is to be.
old! TElWYSOIf.
WOEDSWOETH.

1/ EASTER.
CHRISTMAS.
I GOT me flowers to strew Thy way
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky. I got me boughs off many a tree
The flying cloud, the frosty light: But thou wast up by break of day.
The year is dying in the night — And brought' St Thy sweets along
Ring out, wild bells, and let him die. with Thee.

Ring out the old, ring in the new — The sun arising in the east, —
Ring, happy bells, across the snow
The year is going, let him go Though he give light, and the east
Ring out the false, ring in the true. perfume
If they should offer to contest
Ring out the grief that saps the mind. With Thy arising, they presume.
For those that here we see no more
Ring out the feud of rich and poor. Can there be any day but this.
Ring in redress for all mankind. Though many suns to shine en-
deavor?
Ring out a slowly dying cause.
And ancient forms of party strife
We count three hundred, but we —
miss:
Ring in the nobler modes of life. There is but one, and that one ever.
With sweeter manners, purer laws. Hebbebi:
 V.

HEROIC.

PATRIOTIC. — HISTOEIC. — POLITICAL.

" Pallai. — See yonder souls set fax within the shade,
Who in Elysian bowers the blessM seats do Iceep,
That for their living good now semi-godB are made,
And went away from earth, as if hut tamed with sleep.
These we must join to wake for these are of the strain
;

That Justice dare defend, and will the Age sustain."

Beh JONSOir: Golden Age Seetored,
 ; ;

HEEOIO.

ON THE LATE MASSACEE IN Then falls the power into the mighty
PIEMONT. hands
Of Kature, of the spirit giant-born.
Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered Who listens only to himself, knows
saints, whose bones nothing
Lie scattered on the Alpine moun- Of stipulations, duties, reverences.
tains cold And, like the emancipated force of
Even them who kept thy truth so fire,
pure of old, Unmastered scorches, ere it reaches
When all our fathers worshipped them.
stocks and stones, Their fine-spun webs.
Forget not : in thy book record their CoLEKiDGE's Translation of " Wal-
groans lenstein."
Who were thy sheep, and in their
ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piemontese
that rolled CONSTANCY. l^
Mother with infant down the
rocks. Their moans Who Is the honest man ?
The vales redoubled to the hills, and He that doth still and strongly good
they pursue
To Heaven. Their martyred blood To God, his neighbor, and himself,
and ashes sow most true.
O'er all the Italian fields, where Whom neither force nor fawning
still doth sway can
The triple tyrant; that from these Unpin, or wrench from giving all
may grow their due.
A hundred-fold, who, having
learned thy way, Whose honesty is not
Early may fly the Babylonian woe. So loose or easy, that a ruffling wind
Milton. Can blow away, or glittering look it
blind.
Who and even trot,
rides his sure
While the world now rides by, now
HEROISM. lags behind.

At the approach Who, when great trials come,

Of extreme peril, when a hollow Nor seeks, nor shuns them, but
image doth calmly stay.
Is found a hollow image and no Till he the thing and the example
more. weigh.
196
 ; ; !; !
; ; ;
; : ;

196 PAENASSUS.

All being brought into a sum, And never but for doing wrong be
What place or person calls for, he sorry
doth pay. That, by commanding first thyself,
thou mak'st
Whom none can work or woo. Thy person fit for any charge thou
To use in any thing a trick, or tak'st;
sleight That Fortune never make thee to
For above aU things he abhors de- complain.
ceit. But what she gives, thou dar'st give
His words and works, and fashion her again
too. That, whatsoever face thy Fate puts
All of a piece ; and all are clear and on,
straight. Thou shrink or start not, but be
always one:
Who never melts or thaws That thou think nothing great, but
At close temptations. When the what is good
day is done, And from that thought strive to be
His goodness sets not, but in dark understood.
can run. These take, and now go seek thy
The sun to others writeth laws, peace in war:
And is their virtue : virtue is his sim. Who falls for love of God shall rise
a star,
Who, when he is to treat Ben JoNsoif.
With sick folks, women, those whom
passions sway.
Allows for that, and keeps his con-
stant way; THE HAPPY WARRIOR.
Whom others' faults do not de-
feat; Who is the happy warrior? Who is
But, though men fail him, yet his he
part doth play. That every man in arms should
wish to be ?
Whom nothing can procure. It is the generous spirit, who, when
When the wide world runs bias, brought
from his will Among the tasks of real life, hath
To writhe his limbs, and share, not wrought
mend, the ill. Upon the plan that pleased his
This is the marksuian safe and childish thought
sure; Whose high endeavors are an inward
Who still is right, and prays to be light
so still. That make the path before him al-
Hekbekt. ways bright
Who, with a natural instinct to dis-
cern
What knowledge can perform, is dili-
1/ EPISTLE TO A FEIEND, TO gent to learn
PERSUADE HIM TO THE Abides by this resolve, and stops not
WARS. there.
But makes his moral being his prime
Take along with thee care;
Thy true friend's wishes, Colby, Who, doomed to go In company with
which shall be. pain,
That thine be just and honest, that And fear, and bloodshed, miserable
thy deeds train
Not wound thy conscience, when Turns his necessity to glorious gain
thy body bleeds In face of these doth exercise a power
That thou dost all things more for Which is our human nature's high-
truth than gloiy. est dower
 ; ;; ; ; ;; ;: ;

HEROIC. 197

Controls them and subdues, trans- Some awful moment to which Heaven
mutes, bereaves has joined
Of their bad Influence, and their Great issues, good or bad for humar.
good receives kind.
By objects which might force the Ishappy as a lover and ; attired
soul to abate With sudden brightness like a man
Her feeling, rendered more compas- inspired
sionate And, througli the heat of conflict^
Is placable, — ;

because occasions rise keeps the law

So often that demand such sacri- In calmness made, and sees what he
fice; foresaw
More skilful in self-knowledge, even Or if an unexpected call succeed,
more pure. Come when it will, is equal to the
As tempted more more able to en- need:
— He
;

dure. who, though thus endued as

As more exposed to suffering and with a sense
distress And faculty for storm and turbu-
Thence, also, more alive to tender- lence.
yet a soul whose master bias
—'Tis ness.
he whose law is reason; who
Is
leans
,

depends To homefelt pleasures and to gentle

Upon that law as on the best of scenes
. friends Sweet images! which, wheresoe'er
Whence, in a state where men are he be,
tempted still Are at his heart and such fidelity
;

To evil for a guard against worse ill, It is his darling passion to approve
And what in quality or act is best More brave for this, that he hath
Doth seldom on a right foundation much to love
rest. 'Tis, finally, the man, who, lifted
He fixes good on good alone, and high.
owes Conspicuous object in a nation's eye,
To virtue every triumph that he Or left unthought of in obscurity, —
knows; Who, with a toward or untoward
— Who, if he rise to station of com- lot.
mand. Prosperous or adverse, to Ms wish
Rises by open means ; and there will or not.
. stand Plays, in the many games of life,
On honorable tenns, or else retire. that one
And in himself possess his own de- Where what he most doth value
sire; must be won
Who comprehends his trust, and to Whom neither shape of danger can
the same dismay,
Keeps faithful with a singleness of Nor thought of tender happiness be-
aim; tray ;

And therefore does not stoop, nor lie Who, not content that former worth
in wait stand fast,
For wealth, or honors, or for worldly Looks forward persevering to the
state: last,
AVhom they must follow ; on whose From well to better, daily self-sur-
head must fall,
Like showers of manna, if they come Who, whether praise of him must
at all walk the earth
Whose powers shed round him in the Forever, and to noble deeds give
common strife. birth.
Or mild concerns of ordinary life, Or he must go to dust without his
A constant influence, a peculiar fame.
grace And
But trbo, if he be called upon to face
leave
name, —a dead, unprofitable
 ; ; ;: ; ; ; : ; ! :

198 PAENASStJS.

Finds comfort in himself and in his One still strong man in a blatant
cause land.
And, while the mortal mist is gath- Whatever they call him, what care I,
ering, draws Aristocrat, democrat, autocrat —
His breath In confidence of Heaven's one
applause Who can rule, and dare not lie
This is the happy warrior: this is Tennyson.
he
That every man in arms should
wish to be.
WORDSWOKTH. ROYALTY.
That regal soul I reverence, in
whose eyes
(y' CHRISTIAN MILITANT. Sufiices not all worth the city
knows
A MAisr prepared against all ills to To pay that debt which his own
come. heart he owes
That dares to dead the fire of martyr- For less than level to his bosom
dom; rise
That sleeps at home, and sailing The low crowd's heaven and stars
there at ease, above their skies
Fears not the fierce sedition of the Runneth the road his daily feet have
seas; pressed
That's counterproof against the A loftier heaven he beareth in his
farm's mishaps breast.
Undreadful too of courtly thunder- And o'er the summits of achieving
claps ; hies
That wears one face, like heaven, With never a thought of merit or of
and never shows meed;
A change, when fortune either comes Choosing divinest labors through a
or goes pride
That keeps his own strong guard, in Of that holdeth appetite to
soul,
the despite feed
Of what can hurt by day, or harm by Ever on angel-herbage, nought be-
night; side;
That takes and re-delivers every Nor praises more himself for hero-
stroke deed
Of chance, as made up all of rock Than stones for weight, or open seas
and oak for tide.
That sighs at other's death, smiles D. A. Wasson.
at his own
Most dire and horrid crucifixion
Who for true glory suffers thus,
grant
we / THE MASTER SPIRIT.
Him to be here our Christian mili-
tant. Give me a Spirit that on life's rough
Hebkick. sea
Loves to have his sails filled with a
lusty wind,
Even till his sailyards tremble, his
THE PKAYER. masts crack.
And his rapt ship run on her side so
Ah God, for a man with heart, head, low
hand. That she drinks water, and her keel
Like some of the simple great ones ploughs air
gone There is no danger to a man that
For ever and ever by. knows
 ; ! ; ; ; ; :

HEROIC. 199
Where life and death is there's not ; See how he lies at random, carelessly
any law diffused,
Exceeds his knowledge, neither is it With languished head unpropped,
needful As one past hope, abandoned.
That he should stoop to any other And by himself given over;
law; In slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds
He goes before them, and commands O'er-worn and soiled
them all, Or do my eyes misrepresent? can
That to himself is a law rational. this be he.
Geobgb Chapman. That heroic, that renowned.
Irresistible Samson ? whom unarmed
No strength of man or fiercest wild

U CHIYALRT.
beast could withstand
Who tore the lion, as the lion tears
the kid,
The house of Chivalry decayed, Ban on embattled armies clad in
Or rather ruined seems, her build- iron.
ings laid And, weaponless himself,
Flat with the Earth, that were the Made arms ridiculous, useless the
pride of Time forgery
Those obelisks and columns broke Of brazen shield and spear, the ham-
and down, mered cuirass,
That strook the stars, and raised the Chalybean tempered steel, and frock
British Crown of mail
To be a constellation. Adamantean proof;
When to the structure went more But safest he who stood aloof.
noble names When insupportably his foot ad-
Than to the Ephesian Temple lost vanced.
in fames. In scorn of their proud arms and
When every stone was laid by virtu- warlike tools,
ous hands. Spurned them to death by troops.
Ben Jonson. The bold Ascalonite
Fled from his lion ramp ; old war-
riors turned
Their plated backs under his heel.
SAMSON AGONISTES. Or, grovelling, soiled their crested
helmets in the dust.
Samson. —
O dakk, dark, dark, amid Then with what trivial weapon came
the blaze of noon. to hand,
Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse The jaw of a dead ass, his sword of
Without all hope of day bone,
O first created beam, and thou great A thousand foreskins fell, the flower
Word, of Palestine
"Let there be light, and light was In Bamath-lechi, famous to this day
over all;" Then by main force pulled up, and
Why am I thus bereaved thy prime on his shoulders bore
decree ? The gates of Azza, post, and massy
The sun to me is dark bar,
And silent as the moon. Up to the hill by Hebron, seat of
When she deserts the night, giants old.
Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. No journey of a Sabbath day, and
loaded so
Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear
Chmus. — This, this is he ; softly a up heaven.
while. Which shall I first bewail,
Let us not break in upon him Thy bondage or lost sight,
change beyond report, thought, or Prison within prison
belief! Inseparably dark ?
 ; ; ; ; ! ; !

200 PARNASSUS.

Thou art become, O worst Imprison- Sams. —

Thou know'st I am an
ment! Hebrew, therefore tell them.
The dungeon of thyself; thy soul, Our law forbids at their religious
Which men enjoying sight oft with- rites
out cause complain, My presence ; for that cause I can-
Imprisoned now indeed, not come.
In real darkness of the body dwells.
Shut up from outward light, Chor.— How thou wilt here come
T' incorporate with gloomy night. surmounts my reach.
off
Sams. — Be of good courage, I
Oh, how comely it is, and how re- begin to feel
viving Some rousing motions in me, which
To the spirits of just men long
oppressed, To something extra,ordinary my
AVhen God into the hands of their thoughts.
deliverer I with this messenger will go along,
Puts invincible might Nothing to do, be sure, that may
To quell the mighty of the earth, the dishonor
oppressor. Our law, or stain my vow of Naza-
The brute and boisterous force of rite.
violent men. If there beaught of presage in the
Hardy and iudustrious to support mind.
Tyrannic power, but raging to This day will be remarkable in my
pursue life
The righteous, and all such as honor By some great act, or of my days
truth! the last:
He all their ammunition Chor. —In time thou hast re-
And feats of war defeats. solved the man returns.
With plain heroic magnitude of mind Off. — Samson, ;

this second mes-

And celestial vigor armed sage from our lords
Their armories and magazines con- To thee I am bid say. Art thou our
temns. slave,
Benders them useless, while Our captive, at the public mill our
With wingfed expedition. drudge.
Swift as the lightning glance, he And dar'st thou at our sending and
executes command
His errand on the wicked, who sur- Dispute thy coming ? come without
prised delay
Lose their defence, distracted and Or we shall find such engines to
amazed.
And hamper thee, as thou shalt
Officer. — Samson, to thee our lords come of force,
thus bid me say Though thou wert firmlier fastened
This day to Dagon is a solemn feast. than a rock.
With sacrifices, triumph, pomp, and Sams. —
I could be well content to
games try their art,
Thy strength they know surpassing Which to no few of them would
human rate. prove pernicious
And now some public proof thereof Yet knowing their advantages too
require many.
To honor this great feast and great Because they shall not trail me
through their streets
Kise therefore with all speed and Like a wild beast, I am content to
come along. go.
Where I will see thee heartened and
fresh clad Manoah. —
O what noise
T' appear as fits before the illustri- Mercy of heaven, what hideous noise
ous lords. was that
 ; ; ; : ;

HEROIC. 201
Horribly loud, unlike the former Who had made their dreadful enemy
shout. their thrall.
Chor. —
To our wish I see one He patient, but undaunted, where
hither speeding, they led him,
An Hebrew, as I guess, and of our Came to the place, and what was set
tribe. before him.
Messenger. —
Gaza yet stands, but Which without help of eye might be
all her sops are fallen. assayed.
All in a moment overwhelmed and To heave, pull, draw, or break, he
fallen. still performed
All with incredible stupendous force.
Occasions drew me early to this city. None daring to appear antagonist.
And as the gates I entered with sun- At length for intermission sake they
rise, led him
The morning trumpets festival pro- Between the pillars; he his guide
claimed requested.
Through each high-street. Little I For so from such as nearer stood we
had despatched heard.
When all abroad was rumored, |that As over-tired to let him lean awhile
this day With both his arms on those two
Samson should be brought forth to massy pillars,
show the people That to the archfed roof gave main
Proof of his mighty strength in feats support.
and games He unsuspicious led him; which
I sorrowed at his captive state, but when Samson
minded Felt in his arms, with head awhile
Not to be absent at that spectacle. inclined.
The building was a spacious theatre. And eyes fast fixt he stood, as one
Half-round, on two main pillars who prayed,
vaulted high, Or some great matter in his mind
With seats, where all the lords and revolved
each degree At last with head erect thus cried
Of sort might sit in order to behold aloud,
The other side was open, where the " Hitherto, lords, what your com-
throng mands imposed
On banks and scaffolds under sky I have performed, as reason was,
might stand obeying,
Iamong these aloof obscurely stood. Not without wonder or delight be-
The feast and noon grew high, and held:
sacrifice Now of my own accord such other
Had their hearts with mirth,
filled trial
high cheer, and wine. I mean to show you of my strength,
When to their sports they turned. yet greater.
Immediately As with amaze shall strike all who
Was Samson as a public servant behold."
brought, This uttered, straining all his nerves
In their state livery clad; before him he bowed
pipes As with the force of winds and
And timbrels, on each side wept waters pent.
arhifed guards. When mountains tremble, those two
Both horse and foot, before him and massy pillars
behind With horrible convulsion to and fro
Archers, and slingers, cataphracts, He tugged, he shook, till down they
and spears. came, and drew
At sight of him the people with a The whole roof after them, with
shout burst of thunder
Rifted the air, clamoring their God Upon the heads of all who sat be-
with praise, neath,
 ; ! ; ;

202 PAENASStrS.

Lords, ladies, captains, counsellors, And worthless glass, which in the

or priests. sunlight's hold
Their choice nobility and flower, not Could shameless answer back my
only diamond's glow
Of this, but each Philistian city round, With cheat of kindred fire? The
Met from all parts to solemnize this currents slow.
feast. And deep, and strong, and stainless,
Samson.with these immixt.inevitably which had rolled
Pulled down
the same destruction Through royal veins for ages, what
on himself; had told
The vulgar only 'scaped who stood To them that hasty heat and lie
without. could show
As quick and warm a red as theirs ?
2. Semi-clwrus. —
But he, though Go free!
blind of sight, The svm is breaking on the sea's blue
Despised and thought extinguished shield
quite. Its golden lances ; by their gleam I
With inward eyes illuminated. see
His fiery virtue roused Thy ship's white sails. Go free, if
From under ashes into sudden flame, scorn can yield
Not as an evening dragon came. Thee freedom
Assailant on the perched roosts Then, alone, my love and I, —
^nd nests in order ranged We both are royal we know how to
;

Of tame villatic fowl but as an eagle

; die.
His cloudless thunder bolted on their H. H.
heads.
So virtue given for lost. CORONATION.
Depressed, and overthrown, as
seemed, At the king's gate the .subtle noon
Like that self-begotten bird Wove filmy yellow nets of sun
In the Arabian woods imbost. Into the drowsy snare too soon
That no second knows nor third. The guards fell one by one.
And lay ere while a holocaust.
From out her ashy womb now Through the king's gate, unques-
teemed. tioned then,
Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous A beggar went, and laughed,
most " This brings
When most unactive deemed Me chance, at last, to see if men
And though her body die, her fame Fare better, being kings."
survives,
A secular bird, ages of lives. The king sat bowed beneath his
Man. —
Come, come, no time for crown.
lamentation now, Propping his face with listless hand
Nor much more cause Samson hath : Watching the hour-glass sifting down
quit himself Too slow its shining sand.
Like Samson, and heroically hath
finished " Poor man, what wouldst thou
A life heroic, on his enemies have of me?"
Fully revenged. The beggar turned, and pitying.
Milton. Replied, like one indream, " Of thee.
Nothing. I want the king."
ARIADNE'S FAREWELL. Uprose the king, and from his head
Shook off the crown, and threw it
The daughter of a king, how should
I know ''O man! thou must have known,"
rhat there were tinsels wearing face he said.
of gold, " A greater king than I."
 : ! ;
! ; ; : ! ! :

HEROIC. 203
Through all the gates, unquestioned As the blessing I beg ere it flow.
then, And the last thought that soothes
Went
king and beggar hand in me below.
hand.
Whispered the Wng, " Shall I know Though the virgins of Salem la-
when ment,
Before his throne I stand ? " Be the judge and the hero unbent
I have won the great battle for
The beggar laughed. Free winds in thee.
haste And my father and country are
Were wiping from the king's hot free!
brow
The crimson lines the crown had When this blood of thy giving hath
traced. gushed,
" This is his presence now." When the voice that thou lovest is
hushed.
At the king's gate, the crafty noon Let my memory still be thy pride.
Unwove its yellow nets of sun And forget not I smiled as I died
Out of their sleep in terror soon Bybon.
The guards waked one by one.
" Ho here ! Ho there ! Has no man SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS
seen LAST BATTLE.
The king?" The cry ran to and
fro; Wabkiors and chiefs! should the
Beggar and king, they laughed, I shaft or sword
ween. Pierce me in leading the host of the
The laugh that free men know. Lord,
Heed not the corse, though a king's,
On the king's gate the moss grew in your path
gray; Bury your steel in the bosoms of
The king came not. They called Gath!
him dead
And made his eldest son one day Thou who art bearing my buckler
Slave in his father's stead. and bow.
H. H. Should the soldiers of Saul look
away from the foe,
Stretchme that moment in blood at
JEPHTHAH'S DAUGHTER. thy feet!
Mine be the doom which they dared
Since our country, our God — Oh! not to meet.
my sire
Demand that thy daughter expire Farewell to others, but never we
Since thy triumph was bought by thy part.
vow, Heir to my royalty, son of my heart
Strike the bosom that's bared for Bright is the diadem, boundless the
thee now sway.
Or kingly the death, which awaits
And the voice of mymoumingis o'er, us to-day 1

And the mountains behold me no Bybon.

more
If the hand that I love lay me low.
There cannot be pain in liie blow I CASSIUS.
And of this, oh, my father be Well, honor is the subject of my
sure.
!

story. —
That the blood of thy child is as I cannot tell, what you and other
pure men
 :
; ; ; ! ; :

204 PAHNASSUS.

Think of this life ; but, for my sin- As a sick girl. Te gods, it doth
gle self amaze me,
I had as lief not be, as live to be A man of such a feeble temper
In awe of such a thing as I myself. should
I was born free as Cresar so were ; So get the start of the majestic woi-ld,
you: And bear the palm alone.
We both have fed as well ; and we Why, man, he doth bestride the
can both narrow world,
Endure the winter's cold, as well as Like a Colossus and we petty men ;

he. Walk under his huge legs, and peep

For once upon a raw and gusty day, about
The troubled Tiber chafing with her To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
shores, Men at some time are masters of
Csesar said to me, "Dar'st thou, Cas- their fates
sius, nolo The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our
Leap in with me into this angry flood, stars
And swim to yonder point ? " Upon But in ourselves, that we are under-
the word, lings.
Accoutred as I was, I plungfed In, Brutus and Cassar What should be :

And bade him follow: so, indeed, inthat Csesar?

he did. Why should that name be sounded
The torrent roared, and we did more than yours ?
buffet it Write them together, yours is as fair
With lusty sinews throwing it aside.
; a name
And stemming it with hearts of con- Sound them, it doth become the
troversy. mouth as well
But ere we could arrive the point Weigh tliem, it is as heavy conjure ;

proposed, with them,

Csesar cried, "Help me, Cassius, or Brutus will start a spirit as soon as
I sink:' Csesar.
I. as iEneas, our great ancestor, Now in the names of all the gods at
Did from the flames of Troy upon once.
his shoulders Upon what meat doth this our Cas-
The old Anchises bear, so, from the sar feed.
waves of Tiber That he is grown so great? Age,
Did I the tired Csesar : and this man thou art shamed
Is now become a god ; and Cassius is Rome, thou hast lost the breed of
A wretched creature, and must bend noble bloods
his body, When went there by an age, since
If Csesar carelessly but nod on him. the great flood,
He had a fever when he was in But it was famed with more than
Spain with one man ?
And when the fit was on him, I did When could they say, till now, that
marlc talked of Rome,
How he did shake 'tis true, this god
: That her wide walls encompassed
did shake: but one man ?
His coward lips did from their color Kow is it Rome indeed, and room
fly; enough,
And that same eye, whose bend When there is in it but one only
doth awe the world, man,
Did lose his lustre ; I did hear him O ! you and I have heard our fathers
groan say.
Ay, and that tongue of his, that There was a Brutus once, that would
bade the Romans have brooked
Mark him, and write his speeches in The eternal devil to keep his state
their books, in Rome,
Alas ! it cried, " Give me some drink, As easily as a king.
Titinius," Shakspeabe.
 ;; ;: ; : : ;; ;; : ) ! ; ; :;

HEROIC. 205
K.
ANTONY OVER THE DEAD And I must pause till it come back
BODY OF C-S;SAR. to me.
But yesterday, the word of Caesar
Antony. —
Fkiestds, Romans, coun- might
trymen, lend me your ears Have stood against the world : now
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise he there.
lies
him. And none so poor to do him rever-
The evil that men do lives after them ence.
The good is oft interred with their masters! if I were disposed to
bones stir
So let it be with Csesar. The noble Your hearts and minds to mutiny
Brutus and rage,
Hath told you C«sar was ambitious 1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cas-
If it were so, it was a grievous fault. sius wrong,
And grievously hath Csesar answered AVho, you all know, are honorable
it. men:
Here, under leave of Brutus, and I will not do them wrong ; I rather
the rest, choose
(For Brutus is an honorable man; To wrong the dead, to wrong myself,
So are they all, all honorable men ;) and you.
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. Than I will wrong such honorable
He was my friend, faithful and just men.
to me: But here's a parchment, with the
But Brutus says he was ambitious seal of Csesar,
And Brutus is an honorable man. Ifound it in liis closet, 'tis his will
He hath brought many captives Let but the commons hear this tes-
home to Rome, tament,
Whose ransoms did the general (Which, pardon me, I do not mean
coffers fill to read,
Did seem ambitious ?
this in Csesar And they would go and kiss dead
When that the poor have cried, Cse- Caesar's wounds.
sar hath wept And dip their napkins in his sacred
Ambition should be made of sterner blood:
stuff: Yea, beg a hair of him for memory.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious. And, dying, mention it within their
And Brutxis is an honorable man. wills.
You all did see, that on the Lu- Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy.

percal Unto their issue.

I thrice presented him a kingly Citizen. — We'll hear the will
crown, Read Mark Antony.
it,
Which he did thrice refuse. Was Citizen. — The the we will, will;
this ambition ? will hear Caesar's will.
Yet Brutus says he was ambitious Antony. — Have patience, gentle
And, sure, he is an honorable man. friends, I must not read it
I speak not to disprove what Brutus It is not meet you know how Csesar
spoke loved you.
But here I am to speak what I do You are not wood, you are not
know. stones, but men
You alldid love him once, not with- And being men, hearing the will of
out cause Caesar,
What cause withholds you, then, to It will inflame you, it will make you
mourn for him ? mad
judgment, thou art fled to brutish 'Tis good you know not that you
beasts. are his heirs,
And men have lost their reason I
— For if you should, O, what would
bear with me come of it
My heart is in the coffin there with at. —
Read the will ; we will
Csesar, hear it, Antony,
 ! ; ! :: ! : ! ; ; ;; ; : ;

206 PAENASSUS.

You shall read us the will ; Caesar's Quite vanquished him: then burst
will. his mighty heart
Antony. —
Will you be patient? And, in his mantle muffling up his
Will you stay awhile ? face.
I have o'ershot myself, to tell you Even at the base of Pompey's
of it. statue,
I fear I wrong the honorable men, Which all the while ran blood, great
Whose daggers have stabbed Csesar: Caesar fell.
I do fear it. O, what a fall was there, my country-
Git.— They were
traitors Honor- : men!
able men Then I,and you, and all of us, fell
at. — The will the testament ! down,
at. — They were villains, mur- Whilst bloody treason flourished
derers: the will! read the over us.
will! O, now you weep! and 1 perceive
Ant. — You will compel me then you feel
to read the will, The dint of pity : these are gracious
Then make a ring about the corse drops.
of Cffisar, Kind weep you when
souls, what,
And let me show you him that you but behold
made the will. Our Caesar's vesture wounded?
Shall I descend ? And will you give Look you here.
me leave ? Here is himself, marred, as you see,
at. — Come down. with traitors.
Ant. — Nay, press not so upon
me stand far off.
at. — Stand back
;

room bear ! ! Good friends, sweet friends, let me

back not stir you up
Ant. — If you have tears, prepare To such a sudden flood of mutiny.
to shed them now. '
They that have done this deed are
You all do know this mantle: I honorable
remember What private griefs they have, alas,
The first time ever Caesar put it on I know not,
'Twas on a summer's evening in his That made them do it they are wise ;

tent; and honorable,

That day he overcame the Nervii :
— And will, no doubt, with reasons
Iiook! in this place ran Cassius' answer you.
dagger through I come not, friends, to steal away
See what a rent the envious Casca your hearts
made: I am no orator, as Brutus is,
Through this, the well-beloved Bru- But as you know me all, a plain
tus stabbed blunt man,
And, as he plucked his cursfed steel That love my friend and that they
:

away, know full well

Mark how the blood of Csesar fol- That gave me public leave to speak
lowed it of him.
As rushing out of doors, to be For I have neither wit, nor words,
resolved nor worth,
IfBrutus so unkindly knocked, or no Action, nor utterance, nor the
For Brutus, as you know, was Cse- power of speech.
angel
sar' s To stir men's blood: I only speak
Judge, O you
gods, how dearly Cae- right on
sar loved him I tell you that which you yourselves
This was the most unkindest cut of all. do know
For when the noble Caesar saw him Show you sweet Caesar's wounds,
stab, poor, poor dumb mouths.
Ingratitude, more strong than trai- And bid them speak for me: But
tors' arms, were I Brutus,
 ; ; ; ; : : — ;

HEROIC. 207
A.nd Brutus Antony, there were an Have I not heard these islanders
Antony shout out,
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put Vive le roy! as I have banked their
a tongue towns ?
In every wound of CsBsar, that Have I not here the best cards for
should move the game,
The stones of Kome to rise and To win this easy match played for a
mutiny. crown ?
Shakspeabe. And shall I now give o'er the jrielded
set?
No, on my soul, it never shall be
SPEECH OF THE DAUPHIN. said.
Outside or inside, I will not re-
Dauphin. —
Your grace shall par- turn
don me, I will not back Till my attempt so much be gloria
I am too high-born to be propertied, fled
To be a secondary at control. As to my ample hope was promisfed
Or useful serving-man and instru- Before I drew this gallant head of
ment, war,
To any sovereign state throughout And culled these fiery spirits from
the world. the world.
Your breath first kindled the dead To outlook conquest, and to win re-
coal of wars. nown
Between this chastised kingdom and Even in the jaws of danger and of
myself. death.
And brought in matter that should Shakspeakb: King John.
feed this fire
And now 'tis far too huge to be
blown out HOTSPUR'S QUARREL WITH
With that same weak wind which HENRY IV.
enkindled it.
You taught me how to know the Hotspur. — The king is kind ; and
face of right, well we know, the king
Acquainted me with interest to this Knows at what time to promise, when
land. to pay.
Yea, thrust this enterprise into my My father, and my uncle, and my-
heart self.
And come you now to tell me, John Did give him that same royalty he
hath made wears
His peace with Rome ? What is that And, — when he was not six and
peace to me ? twenty strong.
I, by the honor of my marriage-bed. Sick in the world's regard, wretched
After young Arthur, claim this land and low,
for mine A poor unminded outlaw sneaking
And, now it is half conquered, must home, —
I back. My father gave him welcome to the
Because that John hath made his shore
peace with Rome? And, — when he heard him swear,
Am I Rome's slave? What penny and vow to God,
hath Rome borne, He came but to be Duke of Lancas-
What men provided, what munition ter,
sent. To sue his livery, and beg his peace
To underprop this action ? Is't not I, With tears of innocency, and terms
That undergo this charge? Who of zeal,
else but I, My father in kind heart and pity
And such as to my
claim are liable. moved,
Sweat in this business, and maintain Swore him assistance, and performed
this war? it too.
 ; ; ;

208 PARNASSUS,

Now when the lords and barons of Disgraced me in my happy victo-

the realm ries;
Perceived Northumberland did lean Sought to entrap me by intelligence;
to him, Rated my uncle from the council-
The more and less came In with cap board ;

and knee, In rage dismissed my father from

Met him in boroughs, cities, villages the court;
Attended him on bridges, stood in Broke oath on oath, committed
lanes. wrong on wrong.
Laid gifts before him, proffered him And, in conclusion, drove us to seek
their oaths, out
Gave him their heirs as pages; fol- This head of safety and, withal, to ;

lowed him. pry

Even at the heels, in golden multi- Into his title, the which we find
tudes. Too indirect for long continuance.
He presently,
itself, ——
as greatness knows Shakspeaee King Henry IV. :

Steps me a little higher than his vow

Made to my father, while his blood HOTSPUR.
was poor.
Upon the naked shore at Eavens- King Henry. — Send us your pris-
purg; oners, or you'll hear of it.

And now, forsooth, takes on him to \Exit.

reform Hotspur. — And if the devil come
Some certain edicts, and some and roar for them,
strait decrees, I will not send them: I will after —
That too hep,vy on the common-
lie straight,
wealth : And tell him so for I will ease my
:

Cries out upon abuses, seems to heart,

weep Although it be with hazard of my
Over his country's wrongs; and by head.
this face. Not speak of Mortimer ?
This seeming brow of justice, did he Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let
win my soul
The hearts of all that he did angle Want mercy, if I do not join with
for. him:
Proceeded farther; cut me off the Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these
heads veins.
Of all the favorites, that the absent And shed my dear blood drop by
king drop in the dust
In deputation left behind him here, But I will lift the down-trod Morti-
When he was personal in the Irish mer
war. As high in the air as this unthankful
Then to the point. — king,
In short time after, he deposed the As this ingrate and cankered Boung-
king; broke.
Soon after that, deprived him of his He will, forsooth, have all my prison-
life: ers.
And, in the neck of that, tasked the And when I urged the ransom once
whole state again.
To make that worse, suffered his Of my wife's brother, then his cheek
kinsman, March, looked pale
(Who is, if every owner were well And on my face he turned an eye of
placed, death,
Indeed his king), to be incaged in Trembling even at the name of Mot-
Wales, timer.
There without ransom to lie for- . . I cannot blame his cousin
.

feited:
 ; ) ; ; — : ! '

HEKOrC. 209
That wished him on the barren No, if a Scot would save his soul, he
mountains starved, shall not
But shall it be, that you, — that set I'll keep them, by this hand.
—
the crown I will; that's flat:
Upon the head of this forgetful man, He he would not ransom Morti-
said
And, for his sake, wear the detested mer;
blot Forbade my tongue to speak of Mor-
Of murderous subornation, — shall it timer ;

be. But I will find him when he lies

That you a world of curses undergo,
Being the agents, or base second And
asleep.
in his ear I'll holla "Morti- —
means. mer!"
The cords, the ladder, or the hang- Nay,
man rather? — I'll have a starling shall be taught to
(O, pardon me, that I descend so low, speak
To show the line,and the predicament. Nothing but Mortimer, and give it
Wherein you range under this subtle him.
king, — To keep his anger still in motion.
Shall it, for shame, be spoken in All studies here I solemrtly defy.
these days. Save how to gall and pinch this Bo-
Or fill up chronicles in time to come. lingbroke :

That men of your nobility and power, And that same sword-and-buckler
Did gage them both in an unjust be- Prince of Wales, —
half,— But that I think his father loves him
As both of you, God pardon it! have not.
done, — And would be glad he met with
To put down Kichard, that sweet some mischance,
lovely rose, I'd have him poisoned with a pot of
And plant this thoni, this canker, ale.
Bolingbroke ? Why, look you, I am whipped and
scourged with rods.
Send danger from the east unto the Nettled, and stung with pismires,
west. when I hear
So honor cross it from the north to Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
south. In Richard's time, What do you —
And let them grapple ; O the blood ! call the place ?
more stirs A plague upon't it is in Gloucester-
To rouse a lion than to start a hare. shire ;
— !

By heaven, methinks, it were an 'Twas where the madcap duke his

easy leap. uncle kept;
To pluck bright Honor from the pale- His uncle York; — where I first
faced moon bowed my knee
Or dive into the bottom of the deep. Unto this king of smiles, this Bo-
Where fathom-line could never touch lingbroke,
the ground. When you and he came back from
And pluck up drownfed honor by the liavenspurg.
locks Why, what a candy deal of courtesy
So he that doth redeem her thence, This fawning greyhound then did
might wear.
Without coni'-al, all her dignities : Look,— whenme
proffer
his infant fortune came
But out upon this half-faced fellow- to age.
ship! And, gentle Harry Percy, — and
Worcester. —
Those same noble MnS, cousin, —
Scots, The devil take such cozeners! —
That are your prisoners, — Heaven forgive me! —
Hot. — I'll keep them all Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have
By heaven, he shall not have a Scot done.
of them: Shakspeabk King Henry IV. :

14
 : : : : — ; : ; : —;

210 PAENASSTJS.

HENRY V.'S AUDIENCE OP We never valued this poor seat of

FRENCH AMBASSADORS. England
And therefore, living hence, did give
Henry V. —
Call in the messen- ourself
gers sent from the Dauphin. To barbarous license; as 'tis ever
[Exit an Attendant. 2'he King common.
ascends his throne. |
That men are merriest when they
Now are we well resolved: and, are from home.
hy God's help, But tell the Dauphin, I will keep —
And yours, the noble sinews of our my state
power, — Be like a king, and show my sail of
Prance being ours, we'll bend it to greatness.
our awe. When do rouse me in my throne
I
Or break it all to pieces: or there France
of
we'll sit, For that I have laid by my majesty.
Ruling in large and ample empery. And plodded like a man for working-
O'er France, and all her almost days;
kingly dukedoms. But I will rise therewith so full a
Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, glory.
Tombless, with no remembrance That I will dazzle all the eyes of
over them France,
Either our history shall, with full Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to
mouth. look on us.
Speak freely of our acts ; or else our And tell the pleasant prince, this —
gi-ave, mock of his
Like Turkish mute, shall have a Hath turned his balls to gun-stones
tongueless mouth, and his soul
Not worshipped with a waxen epi- Shall stand sore charged for the
taph. wasteful vengeance
Enter Ambassadors op Prance. That shall flywith them for many :

Now are we well prepared to know a thousand widows

the pleasure Shall this his mock mock out of their
Of our fair cousin Dauphin ; for we dear husbands
hear Mock mothers from their sons, mock
Your greeting is from him, not from castles down
the king. And some are yet ungotten, and un-
[And as the Dauphin sends us ten- born.
nis-balls,] That shall have cause to curse the
We are glad the Dauphin is so pleas- Dauphin's scorn.
ant with us But this lies all within the will of
His present, and your pains, we God,
thank you for To whom I do appeal and in whose;

When we have matched our rackets name.

to these balls, Tell you the Dauphin, I am coming
We will, inFrance, by God's grace, on.
play a set. To venge me as I may, and to put
Shall strike his father's crown into forth
the hazard My rightful hand in a well-hallowed
Tell him, he hath made a match cause.
with such a wrangler. So get you hence in peace ; and tell
That all the courts of France will be the Dauphin,
disturbed His jest will savor but of shallow
With chaces. And we understand wit,
him well, Wlien thousands weep, more than
How he comes o'er us with our wild- did laugh at it. —
er days. Convey them with safe conduct.
Not measuring what use we made Fare you well.
of them. Shakspeabe.
 : : :
: : : ! ; ; ;: : :

3^x6
roic. 211
BATTLE ON ST. CRISPIAN'S He that shall live this day, and see
DAY. old age,
Win yearly on the vigil feast his
Westmoreland. O that we — now friends,
had here And say —
To-morrow is Saint
{Enter King Henky) Crispian
But one ten thousand of those men Then will he strip his sleeves, and
in England show his scars.
That do no work to-day And say, these wounds I had on
K. Henry. —
What' s he that wishes Crispian' s day.
so? Old men forget; yet all shall be
My cousin Westmoreland ? — No, forgot.
my fair cousin But he'll remember, with advan-
If we are marked to die, we are tages.
enough What feats he did that day: then
To do our country loss; and if to shall our names.
live, Familiar in their mouths as house-
The fewer men, the greater share of hold words, —
honor. Harry the king, Bedford, and Exeter,
God's will! I pray thee, wish not Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and
one man more. Gloster, —
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold Be in their flowing cups freshly re-
Nor care I who doth feed upon my membered :

cost; This story shall the good man teach

It yearns me not, if men my gar- his son
ments wear: And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go
Such outer things dwell not in my
desires From this day to the ending of the
But, if it he a sin to covet honor, world,
I am the most offending soul alive. But we in it shall be rememberfed
No, 'faith, my coz,
wish not a man We few, we happy few, we band of
from England brothers
God's peace! I would not lose so For he, to-day, that sheds his blood
great an honor. with me.
As one man more, methinks, would Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so
share from me, vile,
For the best hope I have. O, do not This day shall gentle his condition
wish one more And gentlemen in England, now
Bather proclaim it, Westmoreland, abed.
through my host, Shall think themselves accursed
That he who hath no stomach to they were not here,
this fight, And hold their manhood cheap,
Let him depart; his passport shall while any speaks
be made, That fought with us upon Saint
And crowns for convoy put into his Crispin's day.
purse Shaespeake.
We would not die in that man's
company,
That fears his fellowship to die with KING RICHARD'S SOLILOQUY.
us.
This day is called the feast of— Richard III. —
Now is the winter
Crispian of our discontent
He that outlives this day, and comes Made glorious summer by this son
safe home, of York;
Will stand on tip-toe when this day is And all the clouds, that lowered
named, upon our house,
A.nd rouse him at the name of In the deep bosom of the ocean
Crispian buried.
 —
: ; ; ; ; ; —
!; :

212 PARNASSUS.

Now are our brows bound with And, if King Edward be as true and
victorious wreaths; just
Our hung up for mon-
bruisfed arras As I am subtle, false, and treacher-
uments ;
ous.
Our stern alarums changed to merry This day should Clarence closely be
meetings, mewed up;
Our dreadful marches to delightful About a prophecy, which says —
measures. that G
Grim-visaged war hath smoothed Of Edward's heirs the murderer
his wrinkled front shall be.
And now, — instead of mounting Dive, thoughts, down to my soul:
barbed steeds. here Clarence comes.
To fright the souls of fearful adver- Shakspeabe.
saries, —
He capers nimbly in a lady's cham-
ber. BOADICEA.
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, —
that am not shaped for When the British warrior queen,
sportive tricks, Bleeding from the Roman rods,
Nor made to court an amorous look- Sought, with an indignant mien.
ing-glass ; Counsel of her country's gods,
I, that am rudely stamped, and want
love's majesty. Sage beneath the spreading oak
To strut before a wanton ambling Sat the Druid, hoary chief
nymph, Every burning word he spoke
I, that am curtailed of this fair Full of rage and full of .grief.
proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling " Princess our aged eyes
! if
nature. Weep upon thy matchless wrongs,
Deformed, unfinished, sent before 'Tis because resentment ties
my time All the terrors of our tongues.
Into this breathing world, scarce
half made up, Eome shall perish : write that word
And that so lamely and unfashion- In the blood that she has spilt,
able Perish, hopeless and abhorred,
That dogs bark at me as I halt by Deep in ruin as in guilt.
them ;
—
Why I,iu this weak piping time of Eome, for empire far renowned,
peace, Tramples on a thousand states
Have no delight to pass away the Soon her pride shall kiss the ground
time; Hark the Gaul is at her gates
!

Unless to spy my shadow in the sun.

And descant on mine own deformity Other Romans shall arise.
And therefore, since I cannot prove Heedless of a soldier's name
a lover, Sounds, not arms, shall win the
To entertain these fair well-spoken prize,
days, Harmony the path to fame.
Iam determined to prove a villain.
And hate the idle pleasures of these Then the progeny that springs
days, — From the forests of our land,
Plots have I laid, inductions danger- Armed with thunder, clad with
ous. wings,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and Shall a wider world command.
dreams.
To set my brother Clarence, and the Regions Cajsar never knew
king Thy posterity shall sway
In deadly hate the one against the Where his eagles never flew.
other None invincible as they."
 ; ; : ; :
; ; : : ;

HEROIC. 213
Such the bard's prophetic words, Put out our holy fires; no timbrel
Pregnant with celestial fire, ring;
Bending as he swept the chords Let's home and sleep ; for such great
Of his sweet but awful lyre. overthrows
A candle burns too bright a sacrifice
She, with all a monarch's pride, Aglow-worm's tail too full a flame.
Felt them in her bosom glow You say, I doat upon these Ro-
Rushed to battle, fought, and died mans ;
—
Dying, hurled them at the foe. Witness these wounds, I do; they
were fairly given
RuflSans ! pitiless as proud, I love an enemy, I was born a sol-
Heaven awards the vengeance due dier;
Empire is on us bestowed. And he that in the head of 's troop
Shame and ruin wait for you. defies me,
CoWPEB. Rending my manly body with his
sword,
I make a mistress. Yellow-tressfed
BONDUCA. Hymen
[Bonduca BritiBh queen, taking
tlie Ne'er tied a longing virgin with
occasion from a defeat of the Romans to more joy.
impeach their valor, is rebulied by Ca- Than I am married to that man that
ratac.]
wounds me
Queen Bonduca, I do not grieve And are not all these Roman ? Ten
your fortune. struck battles
If I grieve, 'tis at the bearing of I sucked these honored scars from,
your fortunes and all Roman.
You put too much wind to your sail Ten years of bitter nights and heavy
discretion marches.
And hardy valor are the twins of When many a frozen storm sung
honor. through my cuirass,
And nursed together, make a con- And made it doubtful whether that
queror ;
or I
Divided, but a talker. 'Tis a truth, Were the more stubborn metal,
That Rome has fled before us twice, have I wrought through,
and routed ;
— And to try these Romans.
all Ten
A truth we ought to crown the gods times a night
for, lady, I have swum the rivers, when the
And not our tongues. stars of Rome
You call the Romans fearful, fleeing Shot at me as I floated, and the bil-
Romans, lows
And Roman girls :
— Tumbled their watery ruins on my
Does become a doer? are they
this shoulders,
such? Charging my battered sides with
Where is your conquest then ? troops of agues.
Why are your altars crowned with And still to try these Romans;
wreaths of flowers, whom I found
The beast with gilt horns waiting As ready, and as full of that I
for the fire ? brought,
The holy Druid^s composing songs (Wliich was not fear nor flight,) as
Of everlasting life to Victory ? valiant.
Why are these triumphs, lady? for As vigilant, as wise, to do and
a May-game ? sufEer,
For hunting a poor herd of wretched Ever advanced as forward as the
Romans ? •
Britons
Is it no more ? shut up your temples, Have I not seen these Britons
Britons, Run, run, Bonduca ? —
not the quick
And letthe husbandman redeem his rack swifter;
heifers The virgin from the hated ravisher
 !:; ; ;: ; :; ; ;

214 PARNASSUS.

Not half so fearful; — not a flight My helm still on my head, my

drawn home, sword my prow.
A round stone from a sling, a lover's Turned to my foe my face, he cried
wish, out nobly,
E'er made that haste they have. By " Go, Briton, bear thy lion's whelp
heavens off safely
I have seen these Britons that you Thy manly sword has ransomed
magnify, thee : grow strong,
Kun as they would have out-run And me meet thee once again
let
time, and roaring, — arms:
in
Basely for mercy, roaring ; the light Then if thou stand'st, thou art
shadows, mine." I took his offer,
That in a thought scour o'er the And here I am to honor him.
fields of corn.
Halted on crutches to them. Yes, There's not a blow we gave since
Bonduca, Julius landed.
I have seen thee run too, and thee, That was of strength and worth, but
Nennius like records
Yea, run apace, hoth; then when They file to after-ages. Our Registers
Penyus, The Romans are, for noble deeds of
The Roman girl, cut through your honor
armfed carts, And shall we burn their mentions
And drove them headlong on ye with upbraidings ?
down the hill ;
— Had we a difference with some petty
Then when he hunted ye like Isle,
Britain foxes. Or with our neighbors? lady, for
More by the scent than sight : then our landmarks.
did I see The taking in of some rebellious
These valiant and approved men of Lord,
Britain, Or making a head against commo-
Like boding owls, creep into tods of tions.
ivy. After a day of blood, peace might
And hoot their fears to one another be argued
nightly. But where we grapple for the
I fled too. ground we live on.
But not so fast; your jewel had The Liberty we hold as dear as life.
been lost then. The gods we worship, and next
Young Hengo there ; he trasht me, those, our honors.
Nennius And ttiose swords that know no
with
For when your fears outrun him, end of battle
then stept I, Those men beside themselves allow
And head of all the Romans'
in the no neighbor
fury Those minds that, where the day is,

Took him, and, with my tough belt claim inheritance

to my back, And where the sun makes ripe the
I buckled him; — behind him, my fruits, their harvest
sure shield ;
— And where they march, but measure
And then I followed. If I say I out more ground
fought To add to Rome, and here in the
Five times in bringing off this bud of bowels on us
Britain, It must not be no, as they are our
;

Nennius. Neither had ye

I lie not, foes,
heard And those that must be so until we
Me speak this, or ever seen the child tire 'em,
more, Let's use the peace of Honor, that's
But that the son of Virtue, Penyus, fair dealing;
Seeing me steer through all tiiese But in our ends, ovu- swords.
storms of danger, Beaumoni and Flbtcheb.
 ! ; : : ; ; ! :

HEROIC. 215
THE BAED. Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy
bed:
I. 1. Mountains ye mourn in vain
!

" Runsr seize thee, ruthless king! Modred, whose magic song
Made huge Plinlimmon bow his
Confusion on thy banners wait cloud-topped head.
Though fanned by Conquest's crim- On dreary Arvon's shore they
son wing, lie.
They mock the air with idle state. Smeared with gore, and ghastly
Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail, pale:
Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall Far, far aloof the afirighted ravens
avail
sail;
To save thy secret soul from night-
The famished eagle screams, and
ly fears,
passes by.
From Cambria's curse, from Cam- Dear lost companions of my
tuneful
bria's tears!"
art,
Such were the sounds that o'er the Dear as the light that visits these
crested pride
Of the first Edward scattered wild
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm
dismay, my heart.
As down the steep of Snowdon's Ye died amidst your dying coun-
shaggy side
He wound with toilsome march
try's cries —
No more I weep. They do not
his long array. sleep.
Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,
speechless trance I see them sit, they linger yet.
"To arms!" cried Mortimer, and Avengers of their native land
couched his quivering lance. With me in dreadful harmony they
join,
r. 2.
And weave with bloody hands the
tissue of thy line.
On a rock, whose haughty brow
Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming
flood, II. 1.

Kobed in the sable garb of woe,

" Weave the warp, and weave the
With haggard eyes the poet stood
(Loose his beard, and hoary hair woof.
Streamed, like a meteor, to the trou- The winding sheet of Edward's race.
bled air). Give ample room, and verge
And with a master's hand, and enough
prophet's fire. The characters of hell to trace.
Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. Mark the year, and mark the night.
" Hark, how each giant-oak, and When Severn shall re-echo with
desert cave, affright
Sighs to tlie torrent's awful voice The shrieks of death, through Berk-
beneath ley's roof that ring,
O'er thee, oh King! their hundred Shrieks of an agonizing king!
arms they wave. She-wolf of France, with unrelent-
Revenge on thee in hoarser mur- ing fangs.
murs breathe That tear' St the bowels of thy
Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal mangled mate.
day. From thee be bom, who o'er thy
To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft country hangs
Llewellyn's lay. The scourge of heaven. What tei^
rors round him wait
I. 3.
Amazement in his van, with flight
combined,
" Cold is Cadwallo's tongue. And sorrow's faded form, and soli-
That hushed the stormy main tude behind.
 : : ; ; ! ! ) : ! ! ;

216 PAENASSUS.

n. 2. III. 1.

" Mighty mighty lord

victor, " Edward, to sudden fate
lo !

Low on his funeral couch he lies (Weave we the woof. The thread is
No pitying heart, no eye, afford spun.
A tear to grace his obsequies. Half of thy heart we consecrate.
Is the sable warrior fled ? (The web is wove. The work is
Thy son is gone. He rests among done.)
the dead. Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
The swarm, that in thy noontide Leave me unblessed, unpitied, here
beam were born ? to mourn
Gone to salute the rising mom. In yon bright track, that fires the
Fair laughs the morn, and soft the western skies.
zephyr blows. They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
While proudly riding o' er the azure But oh! what solemn scenes on
realm Snowdon's height
In gallant trim the gilded vessel Descending slow their glittering
skirts unroll ?
Youth on the prow, and Pleasure Visions of glory, spare my aching
at the helm sight I
Regardless of the sweeping whirl- Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my
wind's sway, soul! «
That, hushed in grim repose, expects No more our long-lost Arthur we
his evening prey. bewail.
All hail, ye genuine kings, Britan-
nia's issue, hail
II. 3.

" high the sparkling bowl.

Fill in. 2.
The rich repast prepare
" Girt with many a baron bold,
Keft of a crown, he yet may share
the feast
Sublime their starry fronts they rear
Close by the regal chair And gorgeous dames, and states-
Fell Thirst and Famine scowl
men old
A baleful smile upon their baffled
In bearded majesty, appear.
In the midst a form divine
guest.
Heard ye the din of battle bray, Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-
line;
Lance to lance, and horse to horse ?
Long years of havoc urge their Her lion-port, her awe-commanding
face.
destined course.
And through Attempered sweet to virgin-grace.
the kindred squadrons
mow their way.
What strings symphonious treihble
in the air.
Te towers of Julius, London's
lasting shame,
What strains of vocal transport
With many a foul and midnight round her play
murder fed, Hear from the grave, great Talies-
Kevere his consort's faith, his sin, hear;
father's fame.
They breathe a soul to animate
And spare the meek usurper's holy thy clay.
head. Bright Rapture calls, and soaring as
Above, below, the rose of snow. she sings,
Twined with her blushing Waves in the eye of heaven her
foe, we many-colored wings.
spread
The bristled boar in infant-gore
III. 3.
Wallows beneath the thorny shade.
Now, brothers, bending o'er the ac- " The
verse adorn again
cursed loom. Fierce war, and faithful love.
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and And truth severe, by fairy fiction
ratify his doom. drest.
 ! : ! ; ; !; ; ! ; : ! !

HEROIC. 217
In buskined measures move A steed comes at morning : no rider
Pale grief, and pleasing pain, is there
With horror, tyrant of the throbbing But bridle is red with the sign of
its
breast. despair.
A voice, as of the cherub-choir. Weep, Albin ! to death and captivity
Gales from blooming Eden bear; led.!
And distant warblings lessen on my Oh weep but thy tears cannot num-
!

ear. ber the dead

That lost in long futurity expire. For a merciless sword on CuUoden
Fond impious man, think'st thou shall wave,
yon sanguine cloud. CuUoden that reeks with the blood
!

Raised by thy breath, has quenched of the brave.

the orb of day ?
To-morrow he repairs the golden Lochiel. — Go, preach to the cow~
flood. ard, thou death-telling seer
And warms the nations with re- Or, if goiy CuUoden so dreadful ap-
doubled ray. pear,
Enough for me with joy I see
; Draw, dotard, around thy old waver-
The different doom our fates ing sight
assign. This mantle, to cover the phantoms
Be and sceptred care
thine despair, of fright.
To triumph, and to die, are mine."
He spoke, and headlong from the Wizard. — Ha! laugh' st thou, Lo-
mountain's height chiel, my vision to scorn ?
Deep in the roaring tide he plunged Proud bird of the mountain, thy
to endless night. plume shall be torn
Gray. Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly
forth.
From his home, in the dark rolling
clouds of the north ?
LOCHIEL'S WARNING. Lo! the death-shot of foemen out-
speeding, he rode
WIZABD. — LOCHIEL. Companlonless, bearing destruction
abroad
Wizard. — Lochiel ! Lochiel, be- But down let him stoop from his
ware of the day havoc on high I
When the Lowlands shall meet thee Ah home let him speed for the
I —
in battle array spoiler is nigh.
For a field of the dead rushes red on Why flames the far summit ? Why
my sight, shoot to the blast
And the clans of CuUoden are scat- Those embers, like stars from the
tered in fight firmament cast ?
They rally, they bleed, for their 'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all
kingdom and crown dreadfully driven
Woe, woe to the riders that trample From his eyry, that beacons the
them down darkness of heaven.
Proud Cumberland prances, insult- Oh, crested Lochiel the peerless in I

ing the slain. might,

And their hoof-beaten bosoms are Whose banners on the battle-
arise
trod to the plain. ment's height.
But hark through the
! fast-flashing Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast
lightning of war, and to burn
What steed to the desert flies frantic Return to thy dweUing! all lonely
and far? return
'Tis thine. Oh Glenullin! whose For the blackness of ashes shall
bride shall await. mark where it stood,
Like a love-lighted watch-fire, all And a wild mother scream o'er her
night at the gate. famishing brood.
 ;! : ;; !! ! ! ! ; : ; ! ; ! : ; ;

218 PARNASSUS.

LocMel. —
False wizard, avaunt! I The war-drum is muffled, and black
have marshalled my clan: is the bier
Their swords are a thousand, their His death-bell is tolling ; oh mercy,
!

bosoms are one dispel

They are true to the last of their
, Yon sight, that it freezes my spirit
blood and their breath, to tell
And like reapers descend to the har- Life flutters convulsed in his quiv-
vest of death. ering limbs.
Then welcome be Cumberland's And his blood-streaming nostril in
steed to the shock agony swims.
Let him dash his proud foam like a Accursed be the fagots that blaze
wave on the rock at his feet.
But woe to his kindred, and woe to Where his heart shall be thrown, ere
his cause. itceases to beat,
When Albin her claymore indig- With the smoke of its ashes to poi-
nantly draws son the gale —
When her bonnetted chieftains to
victory crowd, Lochiel. —Down, soothless insult>
Clanrauald the dauntless, and Mo- er ! I trust not the tale
ray the proud Though my perishing ranks should
All plaided and plumed in their tar- be strewed in their gore,
tan array — Like ocean-weeds heaped on the
surf-beaten shore,
Wizard. —
Lochiel, Lochiel, be- Lochiel, untainted by flight or by
ware of the day chains.
For, dark and despairing, my sight While the kindling of life in his
I may seal. bosom remains,
But man cannot cover what God Shall victor exult, or in death be
would reveal laid low.
'Tis the sunset of life gives me mys- With his back to the field, and his
tical lore. feet to the foe
And coming events cast their sha- And leaving in battle no blot on his
dow before. name.
I tell thee, CuUoden's dread echoes Look proudly to heaven from the
shall ring death-bed of fame.
With the bloodhounds, that bark for Campbell.
thy fugitive king.
Lo! anointed by Heaven with the
vials of wrath,
Behold ; where he flies on his deso- DEFIANCE.
path
late
Now, in darkness and billows, he The unearthly voices ceased.
sweeps from my sight And the heavy sound was still
Rise! rise! ye wild tempests, and It died on the river's breast.
cover his flight And died on the side of the hill
it
'Tis finished. Their thunders are But round Lord David's tower
hushed on the moors The sound still floated near.
Culloden is lost, and my coimtry For it rung in the Lady's bower.
deplores And it rung in the Lady's ear;
But where is the iron-bound pris- She raised her stately head,
oner ? Where ? And her heart throbbed high with
For the red eye of battle is shut in pride, —
despair. " Tour mountains shall bend.
Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, ban- And your streams shall ascend.
ished, forlorn, Ere Margaret be our foeman's
Like a limb from his country cast bride."
bleeding and torn ? Sib Walter Scott: Lay of Last
Ah, no for a darker departure is near
! Minstrel.
 ! ;! ! ! ! ;; !!! : ; ;; ;;

HEEOIC. 219
BANNOCKBURN. He wove a net of such a scope.
That Charles himself might
ROBERT BBUCB'S ADDRESS TO HIS chase
ABldY. To Carisbrook's narrow case
That thence the royal actor borne,
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled The tragic scaffold might adorn.
Scots, wham Bruce has af ten led While round the armfed bands.
Welcome to your gory bed. Did clap their bloody hands,
Or to victorie. He nothing common did, or mean.
Upon that memorable scene.
Now's the day, and now's the hour; But with his keener eye
See the front o' battle lower; The axe's edge did try
See approach proud Edward's power: Nor called the gods, with vulgar spite,
Chains and slaverie To vindicate his helpless right;
But bowed his comely head
Wha will be a traitor knave ? Down, as upon a bed.
Wha can fill a coward's grave? Marvbll.
Wha sae base as be a slave ?
Let him turn and flee
THE VISION.
Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw. As I stood by yon roofless tower,
Freeman stand, or freeman fa' ? Where the wa' -flower scents the
Let him follow me dewy air.
Where the howlet mourns in her ivy
By oppression's woes and pains bower,
By your sons in servile chains And tells the midnight moon her
We will drain our dearest veins. care
But they shall be free
The winds were laid, the air was still,
Lay the proud usurpers low The stars they shot alaug the sky
Tyrants fall in every foe The fox was howling on the hill,
Liberty's in every blow And the distant-echoing glens re-
Let us do, or die 1 ply-
Burns. •
The stream, adown
hazelly path,
its
Was rushing by the ruined wa's.
CEOMWELL AND KING Hasting to join the sweeping Nith,
CHARLES. Whose distant roaring swells and
fa's.
'Tis madness to resist or blame
The force of angry heaven's flame; The cauld blue north was streaming
And if we would speak true. forth
Much to the man is due. Her lights, wi' hissing eerie din
Who from his private gardens, where Athort the lift they start and shift.
He lived reserved and austere. Like fortune's favors, tint as win.
As if his highest plot
To plant the bergamot. By heedless chance I turned mine
Could by industrious valor climb eyes.
To ruin the great work of Time, And by the moonbeam shook to see
And cast the kingdoms old. A stem and stalwart ghaist arise.
Into another mould. Attired as minstrels wont to be.
What the civil war.
field of all
Where his were not the deepest scar? Had I a statue been o' stane,
And Hampton shows what part His daurin' look had daunted me
He had of wiser art And on his bonnet graved was plain,
Where, twining subtile fears with —
The sacred posy Libertie!
hope, Burns.
 ;: ; ; ! ; ;; ; —
; ! : ! ! ;;

220 PAEKASSUS.

SCOTLAND. Like the hurricane eclipse

Of the sun. — ,

I MIND it weel, in early date,

When I was beardless, young, and Again! again! again!
blate. And the havoc did not slack.
And could thresh the bam
first Tilla feeble cheer the Dane
Or hand a yokin' at the pleugh To our cheering sent us back ;
—
An' though forfoughten sair eneugh, Their shots along the deep slowly
Tet unco proud to learn boom: —
Then ceased — and all is wail.
Even then, a wish (I mind its power), As they strike the shattered sail
A wish that to my latest hour Or, in conflagration pale,
Shall strongly heave my breast — Light the gloom. —
That I for poor auld Scotland's sake
Some usefu' plan or book could Outspoke the victor then.
make, As he hailed them o'er the wave,
Or sing a sang at least. " Te are brothers ye are men
The rough burr-thistle spreading And we conquer but to save
!

:
—
wide So peace instead of death let us
Amang thebearded bear, bring.
I turned the weedin'-heuk aside, But yield, proud foe, thy fleet,
An' spared the symbol dear. With the crews, at England's feet.
Burns. And make submission meet
To our king." —
BATTLE OP THE BALTIC. Then Denmark blest our chief.
That he gave her wounds repose
Of Nelson and the North, And the sounds of joy and grief,
Sing the glorious day's renown. From her people wildly rose,
When to battle fierce came forth As death withdrew his shades from
All the might of Denmark's crown, the day
^d her arms along the deep proudly While the sun looked smiling bright
shone O'er a wide and woful sight.
By each gun the lighted brand. Where the fires of funeral light
In a bold determined hand. Died away. —
And the Prince of all the land
Led them on, — Now joy, old England, raise
For the tidings of thy might,
Like leviathans afloat. By the festal cities' blaze.
Lay their bulwarks on the brine While the wine cup shines in light;
While the sign of battle flew And yet amidst that joy and up-
On the lofty British line roar,
It was ten of April mom by the Let us think of them that sleep,
chime Full many a fathom deep.
As they drifted on their path. By thy wild and stormy steep
There was silence deep as death Elsinore !
—
And the boldest held his breath.
For a time. — Brave hearts to Britain's pride
!

Once so faithful and so true.

But the might of England flushed On the deck of fame that died, —
To anticipate the scene With the gallant good Eiou
And her van the fleeter rushed Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er
O'er the deadly space between. their grave
"Hearts of oak," our captains cried; While the billow mournful rolls.
when each gun And the mermaid's song condoles.
From its adamantine lips Singing glory to the souls
Spread a death-shade round the Of the brave!
ships, CAMPBKI/I.
 ; ! ! :; ;; ! ;
;; ; : ! ; ;

HEROIC. 221
YE MARINEES OF ENGLAND. In both from age to age, thou didst
rejoice.
Ye mariners of England They were thy chosen music, Lib-
That guard our native seas erty !
Whose flag has braved a thousand There came a tyrant, and with holy
years glee
The battle and the breeze Thou foughtst against him, but hast
Your glorious standard launch again, vainly striven
To match another foe Thou from thy Alpine holds at
And sweep through the deep, length art driven,
While the stormy tempests blow Where not a torrent murmurs heard
While the battle rages loud and long. by thee.
And the stormy tempests blow. Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been
bereft
The spirit of your fathers Then cleave, O cleave to that which
Shall start from every wave still is left;
For the deck it was their field of fame, For, high-souled maid, what sorrow
And ocean was their grave would it be
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, That mountain floods should thunder
Your manly hearts shall glow, as before,
As ye sweep through the deep, And ocean bellow from his rocky
While the stormy tempests blow shore.
While the battle rages loud and long, And neither awful voice be heard
And the stormy tempests blow. by thee
WOBDSWOBTH.
Britannia needs no bulwark.
No towers along the steep
Her march is o'er the mountain SONNET.
waves.
Her home is on the deep. Alas what boots the long,
! laborious
With thunders from her native oak quest
She quells the flood below, — Of moral prudence, sought through
As they roar on the shore. good and ill

When the stormy tempests blow Or pains abstruse, to elevate the

When the battle rages loud and long. will.
And the stormy tempests blow. And lead us on to that transcendent
rest
The meteor flag of England Where every passion shall the sway
Shall yet terrific burn, attest
Till danger's troubled night depart. Of Eeason, seated on her sovereign
And the star of peace return. . hill?
Then, then, ye ocean warriors. What is it but a vain and curious
Our song and feast shall flow skill,
To the fame of your name. If sapient Germany must lie de-
When the storm has ceased to blow
When the fiery fight is heard no more, Beneath the brutal sword? Her
And the storm has ceased to blow. haughty schools
Campbell. Shall blush; and may not we with
sorrow say,
A few strong instincts and a few
,

THOUGHT OF A BEITON ON plain rules,

THE SUBJUGATION OF Among the herdsmen of the Alps,
SWITZEELAND. have wrought
More for mankind at this unhappy
Two voices are there, — one of is day.
the sea. Than all the pride of intellect and
One of the mountains, — each a thought.
mighty voice WOKDSWOBTH.
 : ; ; —
: ; ! ; : :

222 PARNASSUS.

SCHILL. No sleep till mom, when youth and

pleasure meet
Bbave SchiU ! by death- delivered, To chase the glowing hours with
take thy flight flying feet.
From Prussia's timid region. Go, But, hark! —that heavy sound
and rest breaks in once more.
With heroes, 'mid the Islands of the As if the clouds its echo would
Blest, repeat.
Or in the fields of empyrean light. And nearer, clearer, deadlier than
A meteor wert thou crossing a dark before
night; Arm! arm! it is — it is — the can-
Tet shall thy name, conspicuous non's opening roar!
and sublime,
Stand in the spacious firmament of Within a windowed niche of that
time. high hall
Fixed as a star: such glory is thy Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain
right. he did hear
Alas ! it may not be : for earthly fame That sound the first amidst the
Is fortune's frail dependent; yet festival.
there lives And caught
its tone with death's
A Judge, who, as man claims by prophetic ear;
merit, gives And when they smiled because he
To whose all-pondering mind a deemed it near,
noble aim, His heart more truly knew that
Faithfully kept, is as a noble deed peal too well -
In whose pure sight all virtue doth
Which stretched his father on a
succeed. bloody bier.
WOEDSWOKTH. And roused the vengeance blood
alone could quell
He rushed into the field, and, fore-
most fighting, fell.
WATERLOO.
These was a sound of revelry by
Ah ! then and there was hurrying
to and fro.
night,
And Belgium's capital had gath-
And gathering tears, and trem-
blings of distress.
ered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and And all pale, which, but an
cheeks
hour ago,
bright
women Blushed at the praise of their own
The lamps shone o'er fair
loveliness
and brave men ,

A thousand hearts beat happily; And there were sudden partings,

such as press
and when
Music arose with its voluptuous The life from out young hearts,

swell.
and choking sighs
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which
Which ne'er might be repeated:
spake again,
who could guess
If ever more should meet those
And all went merry as a marriage
•
'
' bell;
mutual eyes,
But hush hark a deep sound strikes Since upon night so sweet such
!

like a rising knell

!

1
awful mom could rise ?
Did ye not hear it? No; 'twas And there was mounting in hot
but the wind. haste : the steed.
Or the car rattling o'er the stony The mustering squadron, and the
street clattering car.
On with the dance I let joy be Went pouring forward with impet-
unconfined uous speed,
 ;; ; ! !;
'
: ! ! !

HEROIC. 223
And swiftly fonning in the ranlcs Commanding firesof death to light
of war The darkness of her scenery.
And tlie deep thunder peal on peal
afar; By torch and trumpet fast arrayed,
And near, the beat of the alarming Each horseman drew his battle blade,
drum And furious every charger neighed.
Roused up the soldier ere the To join the dreadful revelry.
morning star
While thronged the citizens with Then shook the hills with thunder
terror dumb, riven.
Or whispering, with white lips, " The Then rushed the steed to battle
foe They come they come
! ! I
'
driven,
Byeon. And louder than the bolts of heaven
Far flashed the red artillery.

m THE FIGHT. But redder yet

glow
that light shall

Thy voice is heard through rolling On Linden's hills of stainM snow,

drums And bloodier yet the torrent flow
That beat to battle where he Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
stands
Thy face across his fancy comes, 'Tis mom, but scarce yon lurid sun
And gives the battle to his hands Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling
A moment, while the trumpets blow. dun.
He sees his brood about thy knee Where furious Frank and fiery Hun
The next, like he meets the foe,
fire Shout in their sulphurous canopy.
And strikes him dead for thine
and thee. The combat deepens. On, ye brave,
TBSrifYSON. A^o rush to glory, or the grave
Wave, Munich, all thy banners wave
And charge with all thy chivalry!
MURAT.
Ah! few shall part where many
Thbke, where death's brief pang meet
was quickest, The snow shall be their winding-
And the battle's wreck lay thickest. sheet,
Strewed beneath the advancing ban- And every turf beneath their feet
ner Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
Of the
eagles' burning crest — Campbell.
There with thunder-clouds to fan her
Victory beaming from her breast
While the broken line enlarging SONNET.
along the plain:
Fell, or fled —
There be sure Murat was charging It not to be thought of that the
is
There he ne'er shall charge again 1 flood
Bybon. Of British freedom, which, to the
open sea
Of the world's praise, from dark
HOHENLINDEN. antiquity
Hath flowed, " with pomp of waters
On Linden, when the sun was low, unwithstood,"
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, Roused though it be full often to a
And dark as winter was the flo* mood
Of Iser, rolling rapidly. Which spurns the check of salutary
bands.
But Linden saw another sight That most famous stream in
this
When the drum beat, at dead of bogs and sands
night, Should perish, and to evil and to good
 ; ; ! ; ; ; ! ; ! !

224 PARNASSUS.

Be lost forever. In our halls is hung Him shall no sunshine from the
Annory of the invincible knights of fields of azure.
old: No drum-beat from the wall.
We must be free or die, who speak No morning gun from the black
the tongue forts' embrasure.
That Shakspeare spake the faith — Awaken with their call 1

and morals hold

Which Milton held. In every thing No more, surveying with an eye
we are sprung impartial
Of Earth's first blood, have titles The long line of the coast.
manifold. Shall the gaunt figure of the old field-
WOBDSWORTH. marshal
Be seen upon his post

THE WAEDEN OF THE CINQUE For in the night, unseen, a single

PORTS. warrior.
In sombre harness mailed.
A MIST was driving down the British Dreaded of man, and surnamed the
Channel Destroyer,
The day was just begun The rampart wall has scaled
And through the window-panes, on
floor and panel, He passed into the chamber of the
Streamed the red autumn sun. sleeper, —
silent room
The dark and
It glanced on flowing flag and rip- And, as he entered, darker grew,
pling pennon. and deeper
Andthe white sails of ships The silence and the gloom.
And, from the frowning rampart,
the black cannon He did not pause to parley, or dis-
Hailed it with feverish lips. semble,
But smote the warden hoar —
Sandwich and Romney, Hastings, Ah I what a blow! that made all
Hithe, and Dover, England tremble
Were all alert that day. And groan from shore to shore.
To see the French war-steamers
speeding over Meanwhile, without, the surly can-
When the fog cleared away. non waited,
The sun rose bright o'erhead, —
Sullen and silent, and like couchant Nothing in Nature's aspect inti-
lions. mated
Their cannon, through the night. That a great man was dead
Holding their breath, had watched Longfellow.
in grim defiance
The seacoast opposite

And now they roared, at drum-beat,

THE LOST LEADER.
from their
stations
On every citadel
Each answering each, with morning Just for a handful of silver he left
salutations, us;
That all was well Just for a ribbon to stick in his
coat;
And down the coast, all taking up Pound the one gift of which fortune
the burden. bereft us,
Replied the distant forts — Lost all the others she lets us
As if to summon from his sleep the devote.
warden They, with the gold to give, doled
And lord of the Cinque Ports. him out silver,
 !!! ! ; ! ; !; ! ; : — ! ; :; ; ;

HEROIC. 225
So much was theirs who so little Westward the course of Empire
allowed. takes its way.
How all our copper had gone for his The four acts already past,
first
service A fifth shall close the drama with
Eags — were they purple, his the day
heart had been proud Time's noblest offspring is the last.
We that had loved him so, followed Bishop Geobge BEKKELEy.
him, honored him,
Lived in his mild and magnificent
eye, ENTEANCE OF COLUMBUS
Learned his great language, caught INTO BARCELONA.
his clear accents,
Made him our pattern to live and Lo on his far-resounding path
!

to die Sink crucifix and crown.

Shakspeare was of us, Milton was And from high tower and balcony
for us, The light of Spain looks down, —
Bums, Shelley, were with us, For Beauty's dark, dark virgin eyes
they watch from their graves Gleam ceaseless round him now.
He alone breaks from the van and As stars from still upheaving skies
the freemen Would new-bom from the waves
He alone sinks to the rear and the arise
slaves On his advancing prow.
Gbenvillb Mellen.

We shallmarch prospering, not — INDIANS.

through his presence Alas for them, their day is o'er.
Songs may inspirit us, not from- — !

Their fires are out on hill and shore

his lyre
— No more for them the wild deer
Deeds will be done while he boasts bounds.
his quiescence, The plough is on their hunting
Still bidding crouch whom the grounds
rest bade aspire.
The pale man's axe rings through
Blot out his name, then, — record their woods.
one lost soul more. The pale man's sail skims o'er their
One task more declined, one more floods
foot-path untrod. Their pleasant springs are dry
One more triumph for devils, and
sorrow for angels.
Their children, —
look, by power
opprest.
One wrong more to man, one Beyond the mountains of the west.
more insult to God Their children go to die.
Life's night begins; let him never Charles Spbague.
come back to us
There would be doubt, hesitation,
and pain. THE LANDING OF THE PIL-
Forced praise on our part, the — GRIM FATHERS IN NEW
glimmer of twilight. ENGLAND.
Never glad confident morning
again The breaking waves dashed high
Best fight on well, for we taught On a stem and rockbound coast,
him, —
strike gallantly, And the woods against a stormy sky
Aim at our heart ere we pierce Their giant branches tossed.
through his own
Then him receive the new knowl-
let And the heavy night hung dark
edge and wait us. The
hills and waters o'er,
Pardoned in Heaven, the first by AVheK a band of exiles moored their
the throne bark
KOBEBT BBOWNIK0. On the wild New England shore.
15
 ; !: ! ! ! :; ! !

228 PAEKASSirS.

Not as the conqueror comes, GEORGE WASHINGTOl*.

They, the true-hearted, came;
Not with the roll of the stirring By broad Potomac's silent shore
drums. Better than Trajan lowly lies.
And the trumpet that sings of fame. Gilding her green declivities
With glory now and evermore
Art to his fame no aid hath lent;
Not as the flying come. His country is his monument.
In silence and in fear ; — AsoM
They shook the depths of the desert
gloom BUNKER HILL.
With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Now deeper roll the maddening
drums.
Amidst the storm they sang, The mingling host like Ocean heaves,
And the stars heard, and the While from the midst a horrid wail-
sea: ing comes,
And the sounding aisles of the dim And high above the fight the lonely
woods rang bugle grieves.
To the anthem of the free! Gbenvillb Mellen.

The ocean eagle soared

From his nest by the white wave's OLD IRONSIDES.
foam:
And the rocking pines of the forest
Ay, tear her tattered ensign down!
roared, — Long has it waved on high.
And many an eye has danced to
This was their welcome home
see
That banner in the sky - ;

Beneath it rung the battle-shout,

There were men with hoary hair And
Ajnidst that pilgrim band :
— burst the cannon's roar:
The meteor of the ocean air
Why had they come to wither Shall sweep the clouds no more
there,
Away from their childhood's land ? Her deck, once red with heroes'
blood.
Where knelt the vanquished foe.
There was woman's fearless eye, When winds were hurrying o'er the
Lit by her deep love's truth flood.
There was manhood's brow serenely And waves were white below,
high. No more shall feel the victor's
And the fiery heart of youth. tread,
Or know the conquered knee
The harpies of the shore shall
What sought they thus afar? pluck
Bright jewels of the mine ? The eagle of the sea
The wealth of seas, the spoils of
war? — O better that her shattered hulk
riiey sought a faith's pure shrine Should sink beneath the wave
Her thunders shook the mighty
deep.
Ay, holy ground.
call it And there should be her grave:
The where first they trod
soil Nail to the mast her holy flag,
They have left unstained what there Set every threadbare sail.
they found, — And give her to the god of storms,
Freedom to worship God. The lightning and the gale
Hemaks. O. W. HoLMEa
 !! ; :; !! ! ! ; .

HEROIC. 227
ICHABOD! GEEETIKG TO "THE GEORGE
GRISWOLD."
So fallen! so lost! the light with- [The ship which bore to the Mersey the
drawn contribution of the United States to the
Which once he wore relief of Lancashire.]

The glory from his gray hairs gone

Forevermore
Bbfobe thy stem smooth seas were
curled.
Soft winds thy sails did move,
Revile him not, —
the tempter hath Good ship, that from the Western
A snare for all world
And pitying tears, not scorn and Bore freight of brothers' love.
wrath,
Befit his fall 'Twixt starving here and thriving
there.

Oh dumb be passion, stormy rage. When wrath flies to and fro.

!
Till all seems hatred everywhere.
When he who might How fair thy white wings show
Have lighted up and led his age.
Falls back in night.
O'er the great seas thy keel ploughed
thi'ough
Scorn! would the angels laugh, to Good ships have borne the chain
mark That should- have knit old world and
A bright soul driven. new
Fiend-goaded, down the endless Across the weltering main.
dark,
From hope and heaven The chain was borne, — one kindly
wave
Of speech pulsed through its coil
Let not the land, once proud of him. Then dumb and dead in ocean's
Insult him now, grave
Nor brand with deeper shame his Lay hope and cost and toil.
dim
Dishonored brow. But thou, good ship, again hast
brought
But let its humbled sons, instead, O'er these wide waves of blue,
From
sea to lake, The chain of kindly word and
A long lament, as for the dead, thought
In sadness make. To link those worlds anew.
Punch.
Of all we loved and honored, nought
Save power remains, — JOHN BROWN OF OSAWA-
A fallen angel's pride of thought, TOMIE.
Still strong in chains.
A BALLAD OF THE TIMES.
All else is gone; from those great [Containing ye True History of ye Great
eyes Virginia Fright.]
The soul has fled
When faith is lost, when honor dies, John Bbown in Kansas settled, like
The man dead 1 a steadfast Yankee farmer.
is
Brave and godly, with four sons —
all stalwart men of might.
Then pay the reverence of old days There he spoke aloud for Freedom,
To his dead fame and the Border-strife grew
(Valk backward, with averted gaze. warmer.
And hide the shame Till theRangers fired his dwelling,
Whittibb. in his absence, in the night;
 ; ; ; ; ;! ; ; ;; ! ;

228 PARNASSUS.

And Old Brown, Would so pursue

— — so
its footsteps,
Osawatomie Brown, blow for blow
return it
Came homeward in the morning to — That Old Brown,
find his house burned down. Osawatomie Brown,
Should be a name to swear by, in
Then he grasped his trusty rifle, and backwoods or in town
boldly fought for Freedom
Smote from border unto border the Then his beard became more griz-
fierce, invading band zled, and his wild blue eye
And he and his brave boys vowed — grew wilder.
so might Heaven help and And more sharply curved his
speed 'em! — hawk's-nose, snufiing battle
They would save those grand old from afar
prairies from the curse that And he and the two boys left, though
blights the land the Kansas strife waxed mild-
And Old Brown, er.
Osawatomie Brown, Grew more sullen, till was over the
Said, "Boys, the Lord will aid us!" bloody Border War,
and he shoved his ramrod And Old Brown,
down. Osawatomie Brown,
Had gone crazy, as they reckoned by
And the Lord did aid these men and ; his fearful glare and frown.
they labored day and even.
Saving Kansas from its peril, So he left the plains of Kansas and
and their very lives seemed their bitter woes behind him,
charmed Slipt off into Virginia, where the
Till the ruffians killed one son, in statesmen all are born,
the blessed light of Heaven — Hired a farm by Harper's Perry, and
In cold blood the fellows slew him, no one knew where to find
as he journeyed all unarmed him.
Then Old Brown, Or whether he'd turned parson, oi
Osawatomie Brown, was jacketed and shorn
Shed not a tear, but shut his teeth, For Old Brown,
and frowned a terrible frown Osawatomie Brown,
Mad as he was, knew texts enough
Then they seized another brave boy, to wear a parson's gown.
—
not amid the heat of battle.
But in peace, behind his plough- He bought no ploughs and harrows,
share, —
and they loaded him spades and shovels, or such
with chains. trifles
And with pikes, before their horses, But quietly to his rancho there
even as they goad their cattle. came, by every train,
Drove him, cruelly, for their sport, Boxes full of pikes and pistols, and
and at last blew out his brains his well-beloved Sharpe's ri-
Then Old Brown, fles;
Osawatomie Brown, And eighteen other madmen joined
Haised his right hand up to Heaven, their leader there again.
calling Heaven's vengeance Says Old Brown,
down. Osawatomie Brown,
"Boys, we've got an army large
And he swore a fearful oath, by the enough to march and whip the
name of the Almighty, town!
He would hunt this ravening evil
that had scathed and torn him " Take the town, and seize the mus-
so; — kets, free the negroes, and then
He would seize it by the vitals ; he arm them
would crush it day and night; Carry the County and the State^
he ay, and all the potent South;
 ; ; ; "
;! — ; ; ! ! !

HEROIC. 229
On their own heads be the- slaughter, Then was riding and railroading and
If their victims rise to harm expressing here and thither;
them — And the Martinsburg Sharpshoot-
These Virginians! who believed ers and the Charlestown Vol-
not, nor would heed the warn- unteers, ;

ing mouth." And the Shepherdstown and

Says Old Brown, Winchester Militia hastened
Osawatomie Brown, whither
" The world shall see a Republic, or Old Brown was said to muster his
my name is not John ten thousand grenadiers
Brown!" General Brown,
Osawatomie Brown
'Twas the sixteenth of October, on Behind whose rampant banner all
the evening of a Sunday :
the North was pouring down.
" This good work," declared the
captain, " shall be on a holy
night!" But at last, 'tis said, some prisoners
It was on a Sunday evening, and, be- escaped from Old Brown's
fore the noon of Monday, durance.
With two sons, and Captain Ste- And the effervescent valor of the
phens, fifteen privates — black • Chivalry broke out.
. and white, When they learned that nineteen
Captain Brown, madmen had the marvellous
Osawatomie Brown, assurance —
Marched across the bridged Potomac, —
Only nineteen thus to seize the
and knocked the sentry place and drive them straight
down; about
And Old Brown,
Took the guarded armory-building,
Osawatomie Brown,
and the muskets and the can-
Found an army come to take him,
non; encamped around the town.
Captured all the county majors
and the
colonels, one by one
Scared to death each gallant scion of
But to storm with all the forces
Virginia they ran on,
we have mentioned, was too
risky;
And before the noon of Monday, So they hurried off to Richmond
I say, the deed was done.
for the Government Ma-
Mad Old Brown,
rines
Osawatomie Brown,
Tore them from their weeping ma-
With his eighteen other crazy men,
trons, fired their souls with
went in and took the town.
Bourbon whiskey.
Till they battered down Brown's
Very noise and bluster, little
little castle with their ladders and
smell of powder, made he machines
It was all done in the midnight, And Old Brown,
like the emperor's coup d' Osawatomie Brown,
Mat Received three bayonet stabs, and a
" Cut the wires stop the rail-cars
! cut on his brave old crown.
hold the streets and bridges !

said he.
Then declared the new Republic, Tallyho! the old Virginia gentry
with himself for guiding gather to the baying
In they rushed and killed the game,
This Old Brown, shooting lustily away;
Osawatomie Brown And whene'er they slew a rebel,
A.nd the bold two thousand citizens those who came too late for
ran off and left the town. slaying,
 !; ; ; ;; ; ! !!! ! !:!: ; ;::!

230 PAKNASSUS.

Not to lose a share of glory, fixed
their bullets in his clay
And Old Brown,
Osawatomie Brown,
Saw his sons fall dead beside him, and
between them laid him down.
I have seen him in the watch-fires
of a hundred circling camps
They have builded him an altar in
the evening dews and damps
I have read his righteous sentence
by the dim and flaring lamps
His day is marching on.

How the conquerors wore their

laurels; how they hastened I have read a fiery gospel writ in
on the trial burnished rows of steel
How Old Brown was placed, half- " As yfe deal with my contemners, so

on the Charlestown
dying, with you my grace shall deal
court-house floor; Let the Hero, born of woman, crush
How he spoke his grand oration, in the serpent with his heel.
the scorn of all denial Since God is marching on."
What the brave old madman told
—
them these are known the
He has sounded forth the trumpet
country o'er.
" Hang Old Brown, that shall never call retreat
Osawatomie Brown," He is sifting out the hearts of men
before his judgment-seat;
Said the judge, "and all such
Oh be swift my soul, to answer him
rebels!" with his most judi-
be jubilant, my feet
cial frown.
Our God is marchii)g on.

But, Virginians, don't do it! for I In the beauty of the lilies Christ was
tell you that the flagon. born across the sea.
Filled with blood of Old Brown's With a glory in his bosom that
was first poured by
offspring, transfigures you and me
Southern hands As he died to make men holy, let us
And each drop from Old Brown's die to make men free.
the red gore of
life-veins, like While God is marching on.
the dragon. Julia Waed Howe.
May spring up a vengeful Fury,
hissing through your slave-
worn lands
And
Old Brown, MARYLAND.
Osawatomie Brown,
May trouble you more than ever, The despot's heel is on thy shore,
when you've nailed his coffin Maryland
down! His torch is at thy temple door,
E. C. Stedmaw. Maryland
November, 18S9.
Avenge the patriotic gore
That flecked the streets of Baltimore,
And be the battle-queen of yore,
Maryland ! My Maryland
BATTLE HYMN OF THE RE-
PUBLIC. Hark to thy wandering son's appea
Maryland
Mine eyes have seen the glory of My mother State to thee I kneel,
I

the coming of the Lord Maryland

He is trampling out the vintage where For life and death, for woe and weal,
the grapes of wrath are stored Thy peerless chivalry reveal.
He hath loosed the fateful lightning And gird thy beauteous limbs with
of his terrible swift sword steel,
His truth is marching on. Maryland ! My Maryland
 !!!
! ! !! !! : : ! :! ; !; : ; ; :

HEEOIC. 231
Thou wilt not cower in the dust, Better the fire upon thee roll.
Maryland Better the blade, the shot, the bowl.
Thy beaming sword shall never rust, Than crucifixion of the soul,
Maryland Maryland ! My Maryland
Remember Carroll's sacred trust;
Remember Howard's warlike thrust; I hear the distant thunder hum,
And all thy slumberers with the just, Maryland
Maryland ! My Maryland The old Line's bugle, fife and drum,
Maryland
Come ! 'tis the red dawn of the day, She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb
Maryland Huzza! she spurns the Northern
Come with thy panoplied
! array, scum!
Maryland She breathes —
she burns! she'll
With Ringgold's spirit for the fray, come ! she'll come
With Watson's blood, at Monterey, Maryland ! My Maryland
With fearless Lowe, and dashing James R. Randall.
May, POINTE COUPilB,
April
Maryland ! My Maryland 26, 1861.

Come !for thy shield is bright and AT PORT ROYAL.

strong,
Maryland The tent-lights glimmer on the land,
Come! for thy dalliance does thee The ship-lights on the sea
wrong, The night-wind smooths with drift-
Maryland ing sand
Come to thine own heroic throng,
! Our track on lone Tybee.
That stalks with Liberty along.
And give a new key to thy song,* At last our grating keels outslide,
Maryland ! My Maryland Our good boats forward swing
And while we ride the land-locked
Dear Mother! burst the tyrant's tide,
chain, Our negroes row and sing.
Maryland
Virginia should not call in vain, For dear thebondman holds his gifts
Maryland Of music and of song
She meets her sisters on the plain The gold that kindly Nature sifts
" Sic semper" 'tis the proud refrain, Among his sands of wrong
That baffles minions back amain,
Maryland The power to make his toiling days
Arise in majesty again, And poor home-comforts please
Maryland ! My Maryland The quaint relief of mirth that plays
With sorrow's minor keys.
I see the blush upon thy cheek,
Maryland Another glow than sunset's fire
But thou wast ever bravely meek, Has filled the West with light.
Maryland Where field and garner, barn and byre ,

But lo ! there surges forth a shriek Are blazing through the night.
Prom hill to hill, from creek to creek
Potomac calls to Chesapeake, The land is wild with fear and hate,
Maryland ! My Maryland The rout runs mad and fast;
From hand to hand, from gate to
Thou wilt not yield the Vandal toll, gate,
Maryland The flaming brand is passed.
Thou wilt not crook to his control,
Maryland The lurid glow falls strong across
* The Star-Spangled Banner was written Dark faces broad with smiles
during the war of 1812 by FranoiB Key ot Not theirs the terror, hate, and loss
Maryland. That fire yon blazing piles.
 ; ; ; ;: ; !!; : :; :; ; ; ! :

232 PARNASSUS.

With oar-strokes timing to tlieir song, We know de promise nebber fail,

Tliey weave in simple lays
The pathos of remembered wrong,
The hope of better days,
The triumph-note that Miriam sung,
The joy of uncaged birds
Softening with Afric's mellow tongue
Their broken Saxon words.
SONG OP THE NEGRO BOATMEN.
O, praise an' tanks! De Lord he
come
To set de people free
An' massa tink it day ob doom.
An' we ob jubilee.
De Lord dat heap de Red Sea waves
He jus' as 'trong as den;
He say de word: we las' night
slaves
To-day, de Lord's freemen.
De yam will grow, de cotton
blow,
We'll hab de rice an' com;
O nebber you fear, if nebber you
hear
De driver blow his horn
Ole massa on he trabbels gone
He leaf de land behind:
De Lord's brefE blow him furder on.
Like corn-shuck in de wind.
We own de hoe, we own de plough,
We own de hands dat hold
We sell de pig, we sell de cow.
But nebber cliile be sold.
De yain will grow, de cotton
blow.
We'll hab de rice an' corn:
O nebber you fear, if nebber you
Au' nebber lie de word
So like de 'postles in de jail.
— We waited for de Lord
An' now he open ebery door.
An' trow away de key;
He tink we lub him so before,
We lub him better free.
De yam will gi"ow, de cotton
blow,
He'll gib de rice an' com
O nebber you fear, if nebber you
hear
De driver blow his horn
So sing our dusky gondoliers
And with a secret pain.
And smiles that seem akin to tears.
We hear the wild refrain.
We dare not share the negro's trust.
Noryet his hope deny
We only know that God is just.
And every wrong shall die.
Rude seems the song ; each swarthy
face.
Flame-lighted, ruder still
We start to think that hapless race
Must shape our good or ill
That laws of changeless justice bind
Oppressor with oppressed
And, close as sin and suffering joined,
We march to Pate abreast.
Sing on, poor hearts! your chant
shall be
Our sign of blight or bloom, —
The Valar-song of Liberty,
Or death-rune of our doom I

hear Whittier.
De driver blow his horn

We pray de Lord : he gib us signs NEVER OR NOW.

Dat some day we be free
De norf-wind tell it to de pines, In vain the common theme mj
De wild-duck to de sea; tongue would shun,
We tink it when de clmrch-bell ring. All tongues, all thoughts, all heart?
We dream it in de dream can find but one.
Pe rice-bird mean it when he sing, Our alcoves, where the noisy world
De eagle when he scream. was dumb,-
De yam will grow, de cotton Throb with dull drum-beats, and the
blow, echoes come
We'll hab de rice an' com: Laden with sounds of battle and wild
O nebber you fear, if nebber you cries.
hear That mingle their discordant sym-
De driver blow his horn phonies.
 :
! — ! " ! ! !! ;
! !! —! ! ! ;

HEROIC. 233
Old books from yonder shelves are Better the fairest flower of all our
whispering, " Peace culture
This is the realm of letters, not of Should cram the black maw of the
strife." Southern vulture,
Old graves in yonder field are say- Than Cain act o'er the murder of his
ing, "Cease! brother
Hicjacet ends the noisiest mortal's Unum on our side pluribus on the
life." other
— Shut your old hooks ! What says Each of ds owes the rest his best
the telegraph ? endeavor
We want an Extra, not an epitaph. Take these few lines, — we call them
Old Classmates, (Time's unconscious
almanacs, NOW OR NEVER.
Counting the years we leave behind
our backs. Listen, young heroes your country !

And wearing them in wrinkles on is calling

the brow Time strikes the hour for the brave
Of friendship with his kind "How and the true
are you now ?") Now, while the foremost are fighting
Take us by the hand, and speak of and falling,
times that were. — Fill up the ranks that have opened
Then comes a moment's pause: for you
" Pray tell me where
Your boy is now! Wounded, as I You whom the fathers made free
am told." — and defended.
"Twenty?" "What — bless me! Stain not the scroll that emblazons
twenty-one years old !
their fame
"Yes, — time moves fast." "That's You whose fair heritage spotless de-
so. Old classmate, say, scended,
Do you remember our Commence- Leave not your children a birth-
ment Day ? right of shame
Were we such boys as these at
twenty?" Nay, Stay not for questions while Freedom
God called them to a nobler task stands gasping!
than ours. Wait not till Honor lies wrapped
And gave them holier thoughts and in his pall!
manlier powers, — Brief the lips' meeting be, swift the
This is the day of fruits and not of hands' clasping. —
flowers " Off for the wars " is enough for
These "boys" we talk about like them all
ancient sages
Are the same men we read of in old Break from the arms that would
pages, — fondly caress you
The bronze recast of dead heroic Hark ! 'tis the bugle blast ! sabres
ages! are drawn
We grudge them not, — our dearest, Mothers shall pray for you, fathers
bravest, best, shall bless you.
Let but the quarrel's Issue stand Maidens shall weep for you when
confest you are gone
'Tis Earth's old slave-God battling
for his crown, Never or now ! cries the blood of a
And Freedom fighting with her visor nation
down! Poured on the turf where the red
rose should bloom
Better the jagged shells their flesh Now is the day and the hour of sal-
should mangle, — vation ;

Better their bones from Rahab-necks Never or now ! peals the trumpet
should dangle, of doom
 ! ; ! :! ; :

234 PAENASStrS.

Never or now! roars the hoarse- Each torn flag wavin' chellenge ez it
throated cannon went,
Through the black canopy blotting An' each dumb gun a brave man's
the skies moniment.
Never or now ! flaps the shell-blasted Than seek sech peace ez only cowards
pennon
,
crave
O'er the deep ooze where the Cum- Give me the peace of dead men or of
berland lies brave
«

From the foul dens where our THE MONIMEITT.

brothers are dying,
Aliens and foes in the land of their I say, ole boy, it ain't the Glorious
birth, Fourth
From the rank swamps where our You'd oughto lamed 'fore this wut
martyrs are lying talk wuz
worth.
Pleading in vain for a handful of It ain't our nose thet gits put out o'
earth; jlnt;
It's England thet gives up her dear-
From the hot plains where they est pint.
perish outnumbered. We've gut, I tell ye now, enough to
Furrowed and ridged by the bat- du
tle-field's plough, In our own fem'ly fight, afore we're
Comes the loud siimmons too long ; thru.
you have slumbered. I hoped, las' spring, jest arter Sum-
Hear the last Angel-trump — Never ter's shame, »
or Now When every flagstafE flapped its
O. W. Holmes. tethered flame.
An' all the people, startled from their
doubt,
MASON AND SLIDELL: A TAJST- Come must'rin' to the flag with sech
KEE IDYLL. a shout, —
I hoped to see things settled 'fore
this fall.
CONCORD BBIDGE.
The Rebbles licked, Jeff Davis
hanged, an' all;
Heabken in your ear, — Then come Bull Kun, an' sence then
I'm older'n you, —
Peace wun't keep I've ben waitin'
house with Fear: Like boys in Jennooary thaw for
Ef you want peace, the thing you've skatin',
gut to du Nothin' to du but watch Shad- my
Is jes' to show you're up to fightin', der's trace
tu. Swing, like a ship at anchor, roun'
I recollect how sailors' rights was , my base.
won With daylight's flood an' ebb: it's
Yard locked in yard, hot gun-lip gitting slow.
kissin' gun: An' I 'most think we'd better let 'em
Why, afore thet, John Bull sot up go-
thet he I tell ye wut, this war's agoin to
Hed gut a kind o' mortgage on the cost —
sea;
You'd thought he held by G-ran'ther THE BBroGE.
Adam's will.
An' ef you knuckle down, lie'll think An' I tell you it wun't he money
so still. lost;
Better thet all our ships an' all their We wun't give up afore the ship goes
crews down:
Should sink to rot in ocean's dream- It's a stiff gale, but Providence wun't
less ooze, drown
 ; : "" " !

HEEOIC. 235
A.n'G-od wun't leave us yit to sink I put some thoughts thet bothered
or swim, mein rhyme
Ef we don't fail to du wut's right by I hain't bed time to fairly try 'em on,
him. But here they be —
it's —
This land o' ourn, I tell ye, 's gut to
be
A better country than man ever JONATHAN TO JOHN.
see.
I feel my sperit swellln' with a cry It don't seem hardly right, John,
Thet seems to say, "Break forth an' When both my hands was full,
prophesy!" To stump me to a fight, John,
strange New World, thet yit wast Your cousin, tu, John Bull
never young, Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess
Whose youth from thee by gripin' We know it now," sez he,
need was wrung. " The lion's paw is all the law,
Brown foundlin' o' the woods, whose Accordin' to J. B.,
baby-bed Thet's fit for you an' me !

Was prowled roun' by the Injuns'

cracklin' tread. Blood ain't so cool as ink, John;
An' who grew' St strong thru shifts It's likely you'd ha' wrote,
an' wants an' pains, An' stopped a spell to think, John,
Nussed by stern men with empires Arter they'd cut your throat?
in their brains. Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess
Who saw in vision their young Ish- He'd skurce ha' stopped, "sezhe,
mel strain " To mind his p's an' q's ef thet
With each hardhandavassal ocean's weasan'
mane, He'd b'longed to ole J. B.,
Thou, skilled by Freedom an' bygret Instid o' you an' me !

events
To pitch new States ez Old-World Ef / turned mad dogs loose, John,
men pitch tents. On your front-parlor stairs,
Thou, taught by Fate to know Jeho- Would it jest meet your views, John,
vah's plan, To wait an' sue their heirs ?
Thet man's devices can't unmake a Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess,
man, I on'y guess," sez he,
An' whose free latch-string never "Thet, ef Vattellon his toes
was drawed in fell,
Against the poorest child of Adam's 'Twould.kind o' rile J. B.,
kin, — Ez wal ez you and me !

The grave's not dug where traitor

hands shall lay Who made the law thet hurts, John,
In fearful haste thy murdered corse —
Heads I win ditto, tails f
away! "J. B." was on his shirts, John,
1 see — Onless my memory fails.
Jest here some dogs begun to Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess,
bark, (I'm good at thet,") sez he,
So thet I lost old Concord's last re- " Thet sauce for goose ain't jest
mark: the juice
I listened long ; but all I seemed to For ganders with J. B.,
hear No more than you or me 1

Was dead leaves goss'piu' on some

birch-trees near When your rights was our wrong,
But ez they hedn't no gret things to John,
say. Tou didn't stop for fuss, —
An' sed 'em often, I come right Britanny's trident-prongs, John,
away, Was good 'nough law for us.
^n', walkin' home'ards, jest to pass Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess,
the time, Though physic's good," sez he.
 ; "" : : "" " ; "
:

2S6 PARNASSUS.
I
"It doesn't f oiler thet he can We know we've gut a cause, John,
swaller Thet's honest, just, an' true;
Prescriptions signed ' J. B.' We thought 'twould win applause;
Put up by you an' me !
John,
Ef nowheres else, from you.
We own the ocean, tu, John Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess
Youmus'n' take it liard, His love of right," sez he,
Ef we can't think with you, John, " Hangs by a rotten fibre o'cotton;
It's jest your own back-yard. There's natur' in J. B.,
Ole Uncle S. sez he, "I guess, Ez wal ez you au' me !

Ef thet's his claim," sez he,

" Thefencin'-stuff'U cost enough
To bust up friend J. B.,
Ez wal ez you an' me "
Why talk so dreffle big,
Of honor, when it meant
You didn't care a fig, John,
But jest for ten per cent f
Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess,
He's like the rest," sez he:
"When all is done, it's number
The South says, " Poor folks down !
John,
! An' " All men up !" say we, —
White, yaller, black, an' brown, John
John, Now which is your idee ?
Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess,
John preaches wal," sez he:
" But, sermon thru, an' come to
du,
Why, there's the ole J. B.
A-crowdin' you an' me I

one
Thet's nearest to J. B., Shall it be love or hate, John ?
Ez wal ez you an' me !
It's you thet's to decide:
Ain't your bonds held by Fate, John,
We give the critters hack, John, Like all the world's beside?
Coz Abra'm thought 'twas right; Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess
It warn't your buUyin' clack, John; Wise men forgive," sez he,
Provokin' us to fight. "But not forget; an' sometime
Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess yet.
We've a hard row," sez he, The truth may strike J. B.,
"To hoe just now: but thet, Ez wal ez you an' me !

somehow.
May happen to J. B., God means to make this land, John,
Ez wal ez you an' me !
Clear thru, from sea to sea.
Believe an' understand, John,
We ain't so weak an' poor, John, The wuth o' bein' free.
With twenty million people, Ole Uncle S, sez he, " I guess,
An' close to every door, John, God's price is high," sez he:
A school-house an' a steeple. " But nothin' else than wut he
Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess sells
It is a fact," sez he, Wears long, an' thet J. B.
" The surest plan to make a Man May larn like you an' me !

Is,Think him so, J. B., J. R.Lowell Mason and Slidell.

:

Ez much ez you or me " !

Our folks believe in Law, John THE FLAG.

An'
it's for her sake, now.
They've left the axe an' saw, John, Theki;'s a flag hangs over my
The anvil an' the plough. threshold, whose folds are
Ole Uncle S. sez he, " I guess, more dear to me
Eft wam't for law," sez he, Than the blood that thrills in my
"There'd be one shindy from bosom its earnest of liberty
here to Indy And dear are the stars it harbors in
An' thet don't suit J. B., its sunny field of blue
(When 'tain't 'twixt you an' As the hope of a further heaven that
me! "J •
lights all our diiu lives through.
 , ; ;
;: ; ! : ::;! ; :;
! ! ;

HEROIC. 237
But now should my guests be merry, Take down now your flaunting ban-
the house is in holiday guise, ner, for a scout comes breath-
Looking out, through its burnished less and pale.
windows like a score of wel- With the terror of death upon him
coming eyes. of failure is all his tale
Come hither, my brothers who wan- " They have fled while the flag
der in saintliness and in sin waved o'er them! they have
Come hither, ye pilgrims of Nature turned to the foe their back
my heart doth invite you in. They are scattered, pursued, and
slaughtered the fields are all
My wine not of the choicest, yet
is
rout and wrack!"
!

bears it an honest brand

And the bread that I bid you lighten Pass hence, then, the friends I gath-
I break with no sparing hand
ered, a goodly company
But pause, ere you pass to taste it,
All ye that have manhood in you,
one act must accomplished be go, perish for Liberty!
Salute the flag in its virtue, before
But I and the babes God gave
ye sit down with me. me will wait with uplifted
The flag of our stately battles, not hearts.
struggles of wrath and greed With the firm smile ready to kindle,
Its stripes were a holy lesson, its and the will to perform our
spangles a deathless creed parts.
'Twas red with the blood of free-
men, and white with the fear When the last true heart lies blood-
of the foe, less, when the fierce and the
And the stars that fight in their have won,
false
courses 'gainst tyrants its I'll my bosom each
press in turn to
symbols know. daughter and either son
Bid them loose the flag from its
Come hither, thou son of my moth- bearings, and we'll lay us
er! we were reared in the down to rest
selfsame arms With the glory of home about us,
Thou hast many a pleasant gesture, and its freedom locked in our
thy mind hath its gifts and breast.
charms Julia Wakd Howk.
But my heart is as stem
to question
as mine eyes are of sorrows
full:
Salute the flag in its virtue, or pass THE WASHERS OF THE
on where others rule. SHROUD.
Thou lord of a thousand acres, with
heaps of uncounted gold.
Alokg a river-side, I know not
where,
The steeds of thy stall are haughty,
I walked one night in mystery of
thy lackeys cunning and bold
dream
I envy no jot of thy splendor, I rail
at thy follies none: A chill creeps curdling yet beneath
Salute the flag in its virtue, or leave
my hair.
my poor house alone.
To think what chanced me by the pal-
lid gleam
Fair lady with silken trappings, high Of a moor-wraith that waned through
waving thy stainless plume. haunted air.
We welcome thee to our numbers, a
flower of costliest bloom Pale fire-flies pulsed within the mead-
Let a hundred maids live widowed ow mist
to furnish thy bridal bed Their halos, wavering thistle-downs
But pause where the flag doth ques- of light;
tion, and bend thy triumphant The loon, that seemed to mock some
head. goblin tryst,
 : ;; : : !!

238 PABNASStrS.

Laughed ; and the echoes, huddling "What make we, murmur' st thou,
In affright, and what are we ?
Like Odin's hounds, fled baying When empires must be wound, we
down the night. bring the shroud.
The time-old web of the implacable
Then all was silent, till there smote Three:
my ear Is it too coarse for him, the young
A movement stream that
in the and proud ?
checked my breath Earth's mightiest deigned to wear
Was it the slow plash of a wading it; why not he?"
deer?
But something said, " This water is "Is there no hope?" I moaned.
of Death! "So strong, so fair!
The Sisters wash a Shroud, ill — Our Fowler, whose proud bird would
thing to hear!" brook erewhile
No rival's swoop in all our western
I,looking then, beheld the ancient air!
Three, Gather the ravens, then, in funeral file
Known to the Greek's and to the For him, life's morn-gold bright yet
Norseman's creed, in his hair
That in shadow of the mystic
sit
Tree, " Leave me not hopeless, ye unpity-
Still crooning, as they weave their ing dames
endless brede. I see, half seeing. Tell me, ye who
One song: "Time was. Time is, and scanned
Time shall be." The stars, Earth's elders, still must
noblest aims
No wrinkled crones were they, as I Be traced upon oblivious ocean-
had deemed, sands ?
But fair as yesterday, to-day, to-mor- Must Hesper join the wailing ghosts
row. of names?"
To mourner, lover, poet, ever
seemed "When grass-blades stiffen with red
Something too high for joy, too deep battle-dew,
for sorrow. Te deem we choose the victor and
Thrilled in their tones, and from the slain
their faces gleamed. Say, choose we them that shall be
leal and true
" men and nations reap as they
Still To the heart's longing, the high
have strawn;" faith of brain ?
So sang they, working at their task Yet there the victory lies, if ye but
the while knew.
" The fatal raiment must be cleansed
ere dawn " Three roots bear up dominion:
For Austria? Italy? the Sea-Queen's Knowledge, Will;
Isle? These twain are strong, but stronger
O'er what quenched grandeur must yet the third —
our shroud be drawn ? Obedience, 'tis the great tap-root,
that still,
"Or is it for a younger, fairer Knit round the rock of Duty, is not
corse. stirred,
That gathered States for children Though Heaven -loosed tempests
round his knees. spend their utmost skill.
That tamed the wave to be his post-
ing-horse. "Is the doom sealed for Hesper?
Feller of forests, linker of the seas. 'Tis not we
Bridge-builder, hammerer, youngest Denounce it, but the Law before aL
son of Thor's? time:
 ; ! : ; ;! "

HEROIC. 239
The brave makes danger opportu- The sunset shuts the world with
nity; golden bar —
The waverer, paltering with the Not yet his thews shall fail, his eye
chance sublime, grow dim
Dwarfs it to peril which : shall Hes-
per be? "His shall be larger manhood, saved
for those
" Hath he let vultures climb his That walk unblenching through the
eagle's seat, trial-fires
To make Jove's bolts purveyors of Not suffering, but faint heart, is
their maw? worst of woes.
Hath he the Mauy's plaudits found And he no base-bom son of craven
more sweet sires,
Than Wisdom? held Opinion's wind Whose eye need blench, confronted
for Law ? with his foes.
Then let him hearken for the doom-
ster's feet " Tears may be ours, but proud, for
those who win
" Kough are the steps, slow-hewn in Death's royal purple in the foeman's
flintiest rock, lines
States climb to power by; slippery Peace, too, brings tears, and 'mid the
those with gold, battle-din.
Down which they stumble to eternal The wiser ear some text of God
mock; divines
No chafferer's hand shall long the For the sheathed blade may rust
sceptre hold, with darker sin.
Who, given a Fate to shape, would
sell the block. "God, give us peace! not such as
lulls to sleep.
But sword on thigh, and brow with
" We sing old sagas,' songs of weal
purpose knit!
and woe, And let our Ship of State to harbor
Mystic because too cheaply under- sweep.
stood ; Her ports all up, her battle-lanterns
Dark sayings are not ours ; men hear lit,
and know. And her leashed thunders gathering
See Evil weak ; see strength alone in for their leap 1
Good,
Yet hope to stem God's fire with I, with clinched hands and
So cried
walls of tow. passionate pain.
Thinking of dear ones by Potomac's
"Time Was unlocks the riddle of side:
Time Is, Again the loon laughed, mocking,
That ofiers choice of glory or of and again
gloom The echoes bayed far down the
The solver makes Time Shall Be night, and died.
surely his. While waking, I recalled my wan-
But hasten, Sisters! for even now dering brain.
the tomb J. R. Lowell.
Grates its slow hinge, and calls from
the abyss."
THE CUMBERLAND.
"But not for him," I cried, "not
yet for him. At anchor in Hampton Roads we lay,
Whose large horizon, westering, star On board of the Cumberland,
by star sloop-of-war;
Wins from the void to where ou And at times from the fortress across
Ocean's rim the bay
 ! ! ; ! : ! . —

240 PAENASSUS
The alarum of drums swept past, Ho !brave hearts that went down in
Or a bugle blast the seas
From the camp on the shore. Ye are at peace in the troubled
stream.
Then far away to the south uprose Ho! brave land! with hearts like
A little feather of snow-white these.
smoke, Thy flag, that
rent in twain.
is

And we knew that the iron ship of Shall be one again.

our foes And without a seam
Wassteadily steering its course Longfellow.
To try the force
Of our ribs of oak.
SUNTHIN IN A PASTORAL
Down upon us heavily runs,
LINE.
Silent and sullen, the floating fort;
Once a smell o' musk into a
git
Then comes a pufE of smoke from draw,
her guns.
And leaps the terrible death, An' it clings hold like precerdents in
law:
With fiery breath,
Tour gra'ma'am put it there,
From each open port.
when, goodness knows, —
To jes' this-worldify her Sunday-
We are not idle, but send her clo'es
straight But the old chist wun't sarve her
Defiance back in a full broadside gran' son's wife, .,,
As hall rebounds from a roof of (For, 'thout new funnitoor, wut
slate,
good in life ?)
Rebounds our heavier hall
An' so ole clawfoot, from the pre-
From each iron scale cinks dread
Of the monster's hide.
O' the spare phamber, slinks into
the shed,
"Strike your flag!" the rebel cries. Where, dim with dust, it fust or last
In his arrogant old plantation subsides
strain. To holdin' seeds, an' fifty things be-
"Never!" our gallant Morris re- sides;
plies :
But better days stick fast in heart
"It is better to sink than to an' husk,
yield!" An' all you keep in't gits a scent o'
And
the whole air pealed musk.
With the cheers of our men.
Jes' so with poets: wut they've
Then, like a kraken huge and black. airly read
She crushed our ribs in her iron Gits kind o' worked into their, heart
grasp an' head,
Down went the Cumberland all a So's't they can't seem to write but
wrack, jest on sheers
With a sudden shudder of death. With furrin countries or played-out
And the cannon's breath ideers,
For her dying gasp. Nor hev a feelin', ef it doosn't
smack
Next mom, as the sun rose over the O' wut some critter chose to feel
bay. 'way back
Still floated our flag at the main- This makes 'em talk o' daises, larks,
mast-head. an' things,
Jjord, how beautiful was thy day Ez though we'd nothin' here that
Eveiy waft of the air
Was a whisper of prayer,
blows an' sings, —
(Why, I'd give more for one live
Or a dirge for the dead. bobolink
 ; ; : — ; ! —

HEROIC. 241
Than a square mile o' larks in print- But these are jes' Spring's pickets;
er's ink,) — sure ez sin.
This makes 'em think our fust 'o The rebble frosts'U try to drive 'em
May is May, in;
Which't ain't, for all the almauicks For half our May's so awfully like
can say. Mayn't,
'T would rile a Shaker or an evrige
O little city-gals! don't never go it saint
Blind on the word o' noospaper or Though I own up I like our back'ard
poet! springs
They're apt to puff, an' May-day Thet kind o' haggle with their
seldom looks greens an' things.
Up in the country ez it doos in An' when you 'most give up, 'ithout
books more words
They're no more like than hornets' Toss the fields full o' blossoms,
nests an' hives. leaves, an' birds:
Or printed sarmons be to holy lives. Thet's Northun natur', slow, an' apt
I, with my trouses perched on cow- to doubt.
hide boots, But when it doos git stirred, ther's
Tuggin' my foundered feet out by no gin-out
the roots,
Hev seen ye come to fling on April's Fust come the blackbli'ds clatt'rin'
hearse in tall trees.
Your muslin nosegays from the An' settlin' things in windy Con-
milliner's,
Puzzlin' to find dry ground your Queer politicians, though, for I'll be
queen to choose, skinned
An' dance your throats sore in mo- Ef all on 'em don't head against the
rocker shoes wind.
I've seen ye, an' felt proud, thet, 'Fore long the trees begin to sho^
come wut would. belief, —
Our Pilgrim stock wuz pithed with The maple crimsons to a coral-reef,
hardihood. Then saffern swarms swing off from
Pleasure doos make us Yankees all the willers
kind o' winch, So plump they look like yaller cater-
Ez though 'twuz sunthin' paid for by pillars,
the inch Then gray hoss-ches'nuts leetle
But yit we du contrive to worry hands unfold
thru, Softer'u a baby's be at three days
Ef Dooty tells us thet the thing's to old:
du, Thet's robin-redbreast's almanick;
An' kerry a hollerday, ef we set he knows
out, Thet arter this ther's only blossom-
Ez stiddily ez though 'twuz a re- snows ;

doubt. So, choosin' out a handy crotch an'

spouse,
I, country-born an' bred, know He goes to plast'rin' his adobe house.
where to find
Some blooms thet make the season Then seems to come a hitch,
suit the mind. things lag behind,
An' seem to metch the doubtin' Till some fine mornin' Spring makes
bluebird's notes, up her mind.
Half-vent'riu' liverworts in furry An' when snow-swelled i-ivers
ez,
coats, cresh their dams
ploodroots, whose rolled-up leaves Heaped-up with ice thet dovetails in
ef you oncurl. an' jams,
Each on 'em's cradle to a baby- A leak comes spirtin' thru some
pearl, — pin-hole cleft,
16
 ; ;: : ; ; ; —: :

242 PARNASSUS.

Grows stronger, fercer, tears out Thet drive me, when I git a chance,
li^t an' left, to walk
Then all the waters bow themselves Off by myself to hev a privit talk
an' come, With a queer critter thet can't seem
Suddin, in one great slope o' shed- to 'gree
derin' foam, Along o' me like most folks, — Mis-
Jes' so our Spring gits every thin' in ter Me.
tune. Ther' istimes when I'm unsoshle ez
An' gives one leap from April into a stone,
June: An' sort suffocate to be alone,
o' —
Then all comes crowdin' in; afore I'm crowded jes' to think thet folks
you thinlf, are nigh.
Young oak-leaves mist the side-hill An' can't bear nothin' closer than
woods with piuk the sky
The cat-bird in the laylock-bush is Now the wind's full ez shifty in the
loud; mind
The orchards turn to heaps o' rosy Ez wut it is ou' -doors, ef I ain't
cloud blind.
Ped-cedars blossom tu, though few An, sometimes, in the fairest sdu'-
folks know it, west weather.
A.n'look all dipt in sunshine like a My inward vane pints east for weeks
poet; together,
The lime-trees pile their solid stacks My natur' gits all goose-flesh, an'
o' shade. my sins
An' drows'ly simmer with the bees' Come drizzlin' on my conscience
sweet trade sharp ez pins
In ellum-shrouds the flashin' hang- Wal, et sech times I jes' slip out o'
bird clings sight,
An' for the summer vy'ge his ham- An' take it out in a fair stan' up fight
mock slings With the one cuss 1 can't lay on the
All down the loose-walled lanes shelf.
bowers
in archin' The crook' dest stick in all the
The barb'ry droops its strings o' heap, — myself.
golden flowers,
Whose shrinkin' hearts the school- 'Twuz so Sabbath arter meetin'-
las'
gals love to try time:
With pins, — they'll worry youm so, Eindin' my feelin's wouldn't noways
boys, bimeby! rhyme
But I don't love your cat'logue style, With nobody's, but off the hendle
—
do you? — flew
Ez ef to sell off Natur' by vendoo An' took things from an east-wind
One word with blood in't's ez twice pint o' view,
ez good ez two I started ofE to lose me in the hills
'NufE sed, June's bridesman, poet Where the pines be, up back o'
o' the year, Slab's Mills
Gladness on wings, the bobolink, is Pines, ef you're blue, are the best
here; friends I know.
Half-hid in tip-top apple-blooms he They mope an' sigh an' sheer your
swings. feelin's so,
Or climbs aginst the breeze with They hesh the ground beneath so,
quiverin' wings. tu, I swan,
Or, givin' way to't in a mock de- You gut a body on.
half-forgit you've
spair. Ther's a small skool'us' there where
Runs down, a brook o' laughter, four roads meet.
thru the air. The door-steps hollered out by little
I ollus feel the sap start in my veins feet.
In Spring, with curus heats an' An' side-post carved with names
prickly pains, whose owners grew
 : ; ; — : ; ; ; :

HEROIC. 243
To gret men, some on 'em an' dea- Thinkin' o' nothin', I've heerd ole
cons, tu; folks say.
'Tain't used no longer, coz the town Is a hard kind o' dooty in its way
hez gut It's thinkin' every thin' you ever
A high-school, where they teach the knew.
Lord knows wut Or ever hearn, to make your feelins
Three-story larnin's pop'lar now; I blue.
guess I sot there tryin' thet on for a spell:
We thrlv' ez wal on jes' two stories I thought o' the Rebellion, then o'
less. Hell,
For it strikes me
ther's sech a Which some folks tell ye now is jes'
thing ez sinnin' a metterfor,
By overloadin' children's underpin- (A the'ry, p'raps, it wun't feel none
nin' the better for)
Wal, here it wuz I lamed A, B, C, my I thought o' Reconstruction, wut
An' it's a kind o' favorite spot with we'd win
me. Patchin' our patent self-blow-up
agin:
We're curus critters Now ain't jes'
: I thought ef this 'ere milkin' o' the
the minute wits.
That ever fits us easy while we're So much a month, wam't givin'
in it; Natur' fits, —
Long ez 'twuz futur', 'twould be Ef folks warn't druv, findin' their
perfect bliss, own milk fail,
Soon ez it's past, thet time's wuth To work the cow thet hes an iron tail,
ten o' this An' ef idees 'thout ripenin' in the
An' yit there ain't a man thet need pan
be told Would send up cream to humor ary
Thet Now's the only bird lays eggs man:
o' gold. From this to thet I let my worryin'
A knee-high lad, I used to plot an' creep.
plan Till finally I must ha' fell asleep.
An' think 'twuz life's cap-sheaf to
be a man Our lives in sleep are some like
Now, gittin' gray, there's nothin' I streams thet glide
enjoy 'Twixt flesh an' sperrit boundin' on
Like dreamin' back along into a each side.
boy: Where both shores' shadders kind
So the ole school'us' is a place I o' mix an' mingle
choose In sunthin' thet ain't jes' like either
Afore all others, ef I want to muse single
I set down where I used to set, an' An' when you cast off moorin's
git from To-day,
My boyhood back, an' better things An' down towards To-morrer drift
with it, — away.
Faith, Hope, an' sunthin', ef it isn't The imiges thet tengle on the stream
Cherrlty, Make a new upside-down' ard world
It's want o' guile, an' thet's ez gret o' dream:
a rerrity. Sometimes they seem like sunrise-
streaks an' warnin's
Now, 'fore I knowed, thet Sabbath C wut'U be in Heaven on Sabbath-
arternoon mornin's.
Thet I sot out to tramp myself in An', mixed right in ez ef jest out o'
~tune, spite,
I found me in the school'us' on my Sunthin' thet says your supper ain't
seat, gone right.
Drummln' the march to No-wheres I'm gret on dreams, an' often, when
with my feet. C I wake,
 : —
: : ; — ;; "

244 PAEKASSUS.

I've lived so much it makes my Though mos' folks write ez ef they

mem'ry ache, hoped jes' quickenin'
An' can't skurce take a cat-nap in The churn would argoo skim-milk
my cheer into thickeuin'
'Thout hevin' 'em, some good, some But skim-milk ain!t a thing to
bad, all queer. change its view
O' wut it's meant for more'n a smoky
Now I wuz settin' where I'd ben, it flue.
seemed, But du pray tell me, 'fore we furder
An' ain't sure yit whether I r'ally go.
dreamed, How in all Jfatur' did you come to
Nor, ef I did, how long I might ha' know
slep'. 'Bout our affairs," sez I, "in King-
When I hearn some un stompin' up dom Come?" —
the step. "Wal, I worked round at sperrit-
An' lookin' round, ef two an' two rappin' some.
make four, An' danced the tables till their legs
I see a Pilgrim Father in the door. wuz gone,
He wore a steeple-hat, tall boots, an' In hopes o' larnin' wut wuz goin'
spurs on,"
With rowels to 'em big ez ches'nut- Sez he, "but mejums lie so like all-
burrs. split
An' his gret sword behind him sloped Thet I concluded it wuz best to quit.
away But, come now, ef you wun't con-
Long'z a man's speech thet dunno fess to knowin',
wut to say. — You've some conjectures how the
" Ef your name's Biglow, an' your thing's a-goin'. " —
given-name " Gran'ther," sez I, "a vane warn't
Hosee," sez he, " it's arter you I never known
came; Nor asked to hev a jedgment of its
I'm your gret-gran'ther multiplied own;
by three." — An' yit, ef 'tain't gut rusty in the
"My wut?" sez I. "Tour gret- — jints,
gret-gret," sez he : It's safe to trust its say on certin
" You wouldn't ha' never ben here pints
but for me. Itknows the wind's opinions to a T,
Two hundred au' three year ago this An' the wind settles wut the
May weather'll be."
The ship I come in sailed up Boston "I never thought a scion of our
Bay; stock
I'd been a cunnle in our Civil War, Could grow the wood to make a
But wut on airth hev you gut up weathercock
one for ? AVhen I wuz younger'n you, skurce
Coz we du things in England, 'tain't more'n a shaver.
for you No airthly wind," sez he, " could
To git a notion you can du 'em tu make me waver !

I'm told you write in public prints: (Ez he said this, he clinched his jaw
ef true. an' forehead,
It's nateral you should know a thing Hitchin' his belt to bring his sword-
or two." — hilt forrard.)
'Thet an argymunt
ah-'s I can't " Jes' so it wuz with me," sez I,
endorse, — " I swow.
'Twoukl prove, coz you wear spurs, When I wuz younger'n what you
you kep' a horse see me now, —
For brains," sez I, " wutever you Nothin' from Adam's fall to Huldy's
may think. bonnet,
Ain't boun' to cash the drafs o' pen- Thet I warn't full-cocked with my
an'-ink, — jedgment on it
 ; ; —"
: !;! ; ; — ——
; ;; ; ;
:

HEROIC. 245
But now I'm gittin' on in life, I find We hain't to punish only, but to
It's a sight harder to make up my keep.
mind, — An' the cure's gut to go a cent'ry
Nor I don't often try tu, when deep."
events "Wal, milk-an' -water ain't the best
Willdu it for me free of all expense. o' glue,"
The moral question's ollus plain Sez he, " an' so you'll find before
enough, you're thru
the human-natur' side thet's
It's jes' IJf reshness venters sunthin', shilly-
tough shally
Wut's best to think mayn't puzzle Lozes ez often wut's ten times the
me nor you, — vally.
The pinch comes in decidin' wut to Thet exe of ourn, when Charles's
du neck gut split,
Ef you read History, all runs Opened a gap thet ain't bridged over
smooth ez grease, yit:
Coz there the men ain't nothin' Slav'ry's your Charles, the Lord hez
more'n idees, — gin the exe" —
But come to make it, ez we must to- " Our Charles," sez I, " hez gut
day, eight million necks.
Th' idees hev arms an' legs, an' stop The hardest question ain't the black
the way man's right.
It's easy fixin' things in facts an' The is to 'mancipate the
trouble
white
They can't resist, nor wam't One's chained in body an' can be sot
brought up with niggers free.
But come to try your the'ry on, But t' other's chained in soul to an
why, then idee:
Your facts an' figgers change to It's a long job, but we shall worry
ign'ant men thru it
Actin' ez ugly" "Smite 'em hip — Ef bag'nets fail, the spellin'-book
an' thigh
!
must du it."
Sez gran'ther, "an' let every man- "Hosee," sez he, "I think you're
child die goin' to fail
Oh for three weeks o' Crommle an' The rettlesnake ain't dangerous in
the Lord the tail
Up, your tents an' grind
Isr'el, to This 'ere rebellion's nothin' but the
the sword!" — rettle,
" Thet kind 6' thing worked wal in You'll stomp on thet an' think
ole Judee, you've won the bettle;
But you forgit how long it's ben It's Slavery thet's the fangs an''
A.D.; thinkin' head.
You think thet's ellerkence, —I An' ef you want solvation, cresh it
call it shoddy, dead,
A thing," sez I, " wun't cover soul An' cresh it suddin, or you'll larn
nor body by waitiu'
I like the plain all-wool o' common- Thet Chance wun't stop to listen to
sense, debatin' —
Thet warms ye now, an' will a "God's truth!"
!

sez I,
— "an' ef I
twelvemonth hence. held the club.
You took to foUerin' where the An' knowed jes' where to strike, —
Prophets beckoned. but there's the rub " !
—
An,' fust you knowed on, back come " Strike soon," sez he, " or you'll be
Charles the Second deadly ailin', —
Now wut I want' s to hev all we gain Folks thet's af eared to fail are sure
stick. o' failin'
An' not to start Millennium too God hates your sneakin' creturs thet
quick; believe
 ;
! " ; :

246 PARNASSUS.

He'll settle things they run away an' " O'er dusky faces, seamed and old,
leave ! And hands horn-hard with unpaid
He brought his foot down fercely, toil.
ez he spoke, With hope in every rustling fold.
An' give me sech a startle thet I We saw your star-dropt flag uncoil.
woke.
J. E. Lowell : Biglow Papers. " And, struggling up through sounds
accursed,
A grateful murmur clomb the air,
WHAT THE BIRDS SAID. '
A whisper scarcely heard at first.
It filled the listening heavens with
The birds, against the April wind. prayer.
Flew northward, singing as they
flew; "And sweet and far, as from a star.
They "The land we leave
sang, Replied a voice which shall not
behind cease.
Has swords for corn-blades, blood Till, drowning all the noise of war.
for dew." It sings the blessed song of
peace!"
"O wild-birds, flying from the
South, So to me. In a doubtful day
What saw and heard ye, gazing Of chill and slowly-greening
down?" spring,
"We saw the mortar's upturned Low stooping from the cloudy gray.
mouth. The wild-birds sang or seemed to
The sickened camp, the blazing sing.
town!
They vanished in the misty air,
"Beneath the bivouac's starry The song went with them in their
flight;
We saw your march-worn children But lo ! they left the sunset fair.
die; And in the evening there was
In shrouds of moss, in cypress light.
swamps. Whither.
We saw your dead uncofBned lie.
"We heard the starving prisoner's A LOYAL WOMAN'S NO.
sighs
And saw, from line and trench, No! is my answer from this cold
your sons bleak ridge
Follow our flight with home-sick eyes Down to your valley: you may
Beyond the battery's smoking you there
rest
guns." The gulf is wide, and none can build
a bridge
" And heard and saw ye only wrong That your gross weight would
And pain," I cried, " O wing-worn safely hither bear.
flocks?"
"We heard," they sang, "the Pity me, if you will. I look at you
Freedman's song, With something that is kinder far
The crash of Slavery's broken than scorn,
locks And think, "Ah well! I might have
grovelled too
" We saw from new, uprising States I might have walked there, fet-
The treason -nursing mischief tered and forsworn."
spurned,
Ml crowding Freedom's ample gates, I am of nature weak as others are;
The long-estranged and lost re- I might have chosen comfortable
turned. ways;
 ! : : !;
; !; : ; ; ! :

HEKOIC. 247
Once from these heights I shrank, Whether man's thought can find too
beheld afar, lofty steeps
In the soft lap of quiet, easy For woman's scaling, care not I
days, to know;
But when he falters by her side, or
I might — (I will not hide it) — creeps,
once I might She must not clog her soul with
Have in the warm whirlpools
lost, him to go.
of your voice.
The sense of Evil, the stern cry of Who weds me must at least witk
Right; equal pace
But truth has steered me free, and Sometimes move with me at my
I rejoice being's height:
To follow him to his more glorious
Xot with the triumph that looks place,
back to jeer His purer atmosphere, were keen
At the poor herd that call their delight.
misery bliss
But as a mortal speaks when God is You lure me to the valley: men
near, should call
I drop you
this : —down my answer; it is Up to the mountains,
air is clear.
where the

Win me and help me climbing, if at

I am not yours, because you seek in all!
me Beyond these peaks rich harmo-
What is the lowest in my own es- nies I hear, —
teem:
Only my flowery levels can you The morning chant of Liberty and
see, Law!
Nor of my heaven-smit summits The dawn pours in, to wash out
do you dream. Slavery's blot
Fairer than aught the bright sun
I am not yours, because you love ever saw
yourself Kises a nation without stain or
Your heart has scarcely room for spot.
me beside.
I could not be shut in with name The men and women mated for that
and pelf time
I spurn the shelter of your narrow Tread not the soothing mosses of.
pride the plain
Their hands are joined in sacrifice
Ifot yours because you are not man
; sublime
enough Their feet finn set in upward paths
To grasp your country's measure of pain.
of a man
If such as you, when Freedom's Sleep your thick sleep, and go your
ways are rough. drowsy way
Cannot walk in them, learn that You cannot hear the voices in the
women can air!
Ignoble souls will shrivel in that
Not yours, because, in this the nar day:
tion's need, The brightness of its comiug can
Youstoop to bend her losses to you bear?
your gain,
A.nd do not feel the meanness of For me, I do not walk these hills
your deed alone
I touch no palm defiled with such Heroes who poured their blood out
a stain .'
for the Truth,
 ! : : ! ! ; "

248 PARNASSUS.

Women whose hearts bled, martyrs Fresh from the forest solitudes.
all unknown, Unchallenged of his sentry lines, —
Here catch the sunrise of Immor- The burstingof his cypress buds,
tal youth And the warm fragi'ance of his
pines.
On their pale cheeks and consecrat-
ed brows Ah, never braver bark and crew.
It charms me not, — your call to Nor bolder Flag a foe to dare,
rest below Had left a wake on ocean blue
I press their hands, my lips pro- Since Lion-Heart sailed Trenc-Ie-
nounce their vows mer!*
Take my life's silence for your an-
swer: No. But gain by that dark ground
little
LUCT Lakcom. Was save, sometime, freer
ours,
breath
For friend or brother strangely
THE BAY FIGHT.* found,
'Scaped from the drear domain of
" On the forecastle, Ulf the Bed
Watched the lashing of the ships — death.
'
If the Sei'pent lies so far ahead,
We shall have hard work of it here,* And venture for the bold.
little
Said he." Or laurel for our valiant Chief,
Save some blockaded British thief.
Thkee days through sapphire seas
Full fraught with murder in his
we sailed, hold,
The steady Trade blew strong and
free,
Caught unawares at ebb or flood.
The Northern Light his banners
paled,
Or dull bombardment, day by day.
With fort and earth-work, far away.
The Ocean Stream our channels wet.
We rounded low Canaveral's lee. Low couched in sullen leagues of
And passed the isles of emerald set
mud.
In blue Bahama's turqubise sea.
A weary time, — but to the strong
The day at last, as ever, came
By reef and shoal obscurely mapped, And the volcano, laid so long.
And hauntiugs of thegray sea-wolf, Leaped forth in thunder and in
The palmy Western Key lay lapped
flame!
In the warm washing of the Gulf.
" Man your starboard battery !

But weary
The
to the hearts of all
burning glare, the barren
Kimberly shouted ; —
reach
The ship, with her hearts of oak.
Of Santa Rosa's withered beach, Was going, 'mid roar and smoke.
And Pensacola's ruined wall.
On to victory
None of us doubted.
And weary was the long patrol. No, not our dying, —
•Farragut's Flag was flying!
The thousand miles of shapeless
strand,
From Brazos to San Bias that roll Gaines growled low on our left,
Their drifting dunes of desert sand. Morgan roared on our right ;
—
Before us, gloomy and fell.
Yet coast-wise as we cruised or lay. With breath like the fume of hell,
The land-breeze still at nightfall Lay the Dragon of Iron shell.
bore. Driven at last to the fight
By beach and fortress-guarded bay,
Sweet odors from the enemy's Ha, old ship ! do they thrill,

shore, The brave two hundred scars

• Mobile Bay, Aug. 5, 1864. * The flag-ship of Bichaid I.

 ; ! ;! ! ! ! ! ! ! —

HEEOIC. 249
Tau got in the River-Wars? Meshed in a horrible net,
That were leeched with clamorous And baited villanous well,
sldll, Right in our path were set
(Surgery savage and hard,) Three hundred traps of hell
Splinted with holt and beam,
Probed in scarfing and seam, And there, O sight forlorn
Rudely linted and tarred There, while the cannon
With oalium and boiling pitch, Hurtled and thundered, —
And sutured with splice and hitch, (Ah, what ill raven
At the Brooklyn Navy-Yard Flapped o'er the ship that !) mom —
Caught by the under-death,
Our lofty spars were down, In the drawing of a breath
To bide the battle's frown, Down went dauntless graven,
(Wont of old renown) — He and his hundred
But every ship was drest
In her bravest and her best,
As if for a July day A moment we saw her turret,
Sixty flags and three,
A little heel she gave.
As we floated up the bay — And a thin white spray went o'er
her,
At every peak and mast-head flew
The brave Red, White, and Blue, — Like
wave
the
—crest of a breaking
We were eighteen ships that day. ;

In that great iron coffin,

With hawsers strong and taut,
The weaker lashed to port.
On we sailed two by two
That if either a bolt should feel
Crash through caldron or wheel.
Fin of bronze, or sinew of steel,
Her mate might bear her through.
Forging boldly ahead,
The great Flag-Ship led.
Grandest of sights
On her lofty mizzen flew
Our Leader's dauntless Blue,
The channel for their grave.
The fort their monument,
— (Seen afar in the
Ten fathom deep
ofling,)
lie Craven
And the bravest of our brave.
Then, in that deadly track,
A little the ships held back,
Closing up in their stations ; —
There are minutes that fix the fate
Of battles and of nations,
(Christening the generations)
When valor were all too late,

That had waved If a moment's doubt be har-

fights
o'er twenty
bored ;
—
So we went, with the first of the From the main-top, hold and brief.
Came the word of our grand old
tide.
Slowly, 'mid the roar chief, —
Of the rebel guns ashore "Go on!" — 'twas all he said,
And the thunder of each full broad- Our helm was put to starboard.
side. And the Hartford passed ahead.

Ah, how poor the prate Ahead lay the Tennessee,

Of statute and state On our starboard bow he lay.
We once held with these fellows With his mail-clad consorts three,
Here, on the flood's pale-green, (The rest had run up the Bay,) —
Hark how he bellows, There he was, belching flame from
Each bluff old Sea-Lawyer his bow.
Talk to them Dahlgren, And the steam from his throat's
Parrott, and Sawyer
Was a Dragon's maddened hiss —
On, in the whirling shade In sooth a most cursed craft ! —
;

Of the cannon's sulphury breath, In a sullen, ring, at bay,

We drew to the Line of Death By the Middle Ground they Jay,
That our devilish Foe had laid, — Raking us, fore and aft.
 ! !
250
Trust me, our berth was hot,
Ah, wickedly well they shot
How their death-bolts
stung
And the water-batteries played
With their deadly cannonade
Till the air around us rung
So the battle raged and roared
Ah, had you been aboard
To have seen the fight we made
How they leaped, the tongues
flame.
From the cannon's fiery lip!
How the broadsides, deck and frame.
Shook the great ship
And how the enemy's shell
Came crashing, heavy and oft,
Clouds of splinters flying aloft
And falling in oaken showers
But ah, the pluck of the crew
Had you stood on that deck of ours.
You had seen what men may do.
Still,as the fray grew louder,
Boldly they worked and well
Steadily came the powder,
Steadily came the shell.
And if tackle or truck foimd hurt.
Quickly they cleared the wreck
And the dead were laid to port,
All a-row, on our deck.
Never a nerve that failed.
Never a cheek that paled,
Not a tinge of gloom or pallor;
There was bold Kentucky's grit,
And the old Virginian valor,
And the daring Yankee wit.
There were blue eyes from turfy
Shannon,
There were black orbs from palmy
Niger, — Each brawny arm and chest
But there, alongside the cannon,
Each man fought like
A little, once, it looked
Our consort began to burn
They quenched the flames with a will.
But our men were falling still.
And still the fleet was astern.
Eight abreast of the Fort
In an awful shroud they lay.
Broadsides thundering away,
AJid lightning from every port;
; ! ! ! !! ! ! !!
PAENASSUS.
Scene of glory and dread
— A storm-cloud all aglow
howled and With flashes of fiery red,
The thunder raging below,
And the forest of flags o'erhead
So grand the hurly and roar,
;
— So fiercely their broadsides blazed,
The regiments fighting ashore
Forgot to fire as they gazed.
of There, to silence the Foe,
Moving grimly and slow,
They loomed in that deadly wreath,
Where the darkest batteries
frowned, —
Death in the air all round,
And the black torpedoes beneath
And now, as we looked ahead,
— All for'ard, the long white deck,
;
Was growing a strange dull red —
But soon, as once and again
Fore and aft we sped,
(The firing to guide or check,)
You could hardly clioose but tread
— On the ghastly human wreck,
(Dreadful gobbet and shred
That a minute ago were men !)
— Bed, from main-mast to bitts
Red, on bulwark and wale,
Bed, by combing and hatch,
Bed, o'er netting and vail
And with steady con,
ever,
— The ship forged slowly by, —
And ever the crew fought on.
And their cheers rang loud and high.
Grand was the sight to see
How by their guns they stood.
Bight in front of our dead,
Fighting square abreast, —
All spotted with black and red.
a tiger I Chrism of fire and blood
ill. Worth our watch, dull and sterile,
— Worth all the weary time,
Worth the woe and the peril,
To stand in that strait sublime
Fear 1A forgotten form
Death ? A dream of the eyes
We were atoms in God's great storm
That roared through the angrj
skies.
 — ; "
! !

HEROIC. 251
One only doubt was ours, With the lessening smoke and thun-
One only dread we knew, — der.
Could the day that dawned so well Our glassesaround we aim, —
Go down for the Darker Powers ? What isthat burning yonder ?
Would the fleet get through ? Our Philippi —
aground and in
And ever the shot and shell flame!
Came with the howl of hell,
The splinter-clouds rose and fell, Below, 'twas still all a-roar,
And the long line of corpses As the ships went by the shore.
grew, But the fire of the Fort had slacked,
Would the fleet win through ? (So fierce their volleys had been) —
And now, with a mighty din.
They men that never will fail,
are The whole fleet came grandly in,
(How aforetime they've fought!) Though sorely battered and
But Murder may yet prevail, — wracked.
They may sink as Craven sank.
Therewith one hard fierce thought. So,up the Bay we ran,
Burning on heart and lip,
— The Flag to port and ahead —
Ran like fire through the ship, And a pitying rain began
F%ght her, to the last plank I To wash the lips of our dead.
A dimmer renown might strike
If Death lay square alongside, — A And
league from the Fort we lay,
deemed that the end must
But the Old Flag has no like.
She must fight, whatever betide ;
— When lag,—
lo looking down the Bay,
When the War is There flaunted the Rebel Rag —
!
a tale of old,
And this day's story is told,
The Ram is again under way
;

They shall hear how the Hartford And heading dead for the Flag
died!

But we ranged ahead,

as Steering up with the stream,
And the leading ships worked In, Boldly his course he lay.
Losing their hope to win. Though the fleet all answered his
The enemy turned and fled — fire,

And one seeks a shallow reach And, as he still drew nigher.

And another, winged in her flight, Ever on bow and beam
Our mate, brave Jouett, brings Our Monitors pounded away ;
—
in; — How the Chickasaw hammereiV
And one, all torn in the fight, away!
Runs for a wreck on the beach,
Where her flames soon fire the Quickly breasting the wave.
night. Eager the prize to win.
First of us all the brave
And the Ram, when well up the Bay, Monongahela went in
And we looked that our stems Under full head of steam ;
—
should meet, Twice she struck him abeam.
(He had us fair for a prey,) Till her stem was a sorry work,
Shifting his helm midway. (She might have run on a crag !)
Sheered off, and ran for the fleet; The Lackawana hit fair.
There, without skulking or sham. He flung her aside like cork,
He fought them, gun for gun. And still he held for the Flag.
And ever he sought to ram.
But could finish never a one. High in the mizzen shroud,
(Lest the smoke his sight o'er-
From the first of the iron shower whelm,)
Till we
sent our parting shell, Our Admiral's voice rang loud,
'Twas just one savage hour " Hard-a-starboard your helm
Of the roar and the rage of hell. Starboard and run him
! down !
 ; ! " !! ! :!
! ! ! !; ! ! ; !

252 PARNASSUS.

(Starboard it was, —
and so, A wreck, as it looked, we lay, —
Like a black squall's lifting frown. (Rib and plank shear gave way
Our mighty bow bore down To the stroke of that giant wedge
On the iron beak of the Foe. Here, after all, we go — !|

The old ship is gone ah, no.! —

We stood on the deck together,
Men that had looked on death
In battle and stormy weather,
Yet a little we held our breath,
When, with the hush of death,
The great ships drew together.
Our Captain strode to the bow,
Drayton, courtly and wise.
Kindly cynic, and wise,
(You hardly had known him now.
The flame of fight in his eyes
His brave heart eager to feel
How the oak would tell on the
But, as the space grew short,
A little he seemed to shun us.
Out peered a form grim and lanky.
And a voice yelled — '
Hard-a-port'
Hard-a-port! —
here's the damned
Yankee
Coming right down on us
But cut to the water's edge.
— Never mind then, — at him again
His flurry now can't last long;
He'll never again see land, —
Try that on him, Marchand
On him again, brave Strong
Heading square at the hulk.
Full on his beam we bore
But the spine of the huge Sea-Hog
!)
— Lay on the tide like a log,
He vomited flame no more.
steel
By this, he had found it hot ;
—
Half the fleet, in an angry ring.
Closed round the hideous Thing,
Hammering with solid shot,
And bearing down, bow on bow, —
He has but a minute to choose
Life or renown ? —
which now
!
Will the Rebel Admiral lose?

He sheered, but the ships ran foul Cruel, haughty, and cold,
With a gnarring shudder and growl He ever was strong and bold ; —
He gave us a deadly gun Shall he shrink from a wooden
But, as he passed in his pride, stem?
(Rasping right alongside!) He will think of that brave band
The Old Flag) in thunder-tones. He sank in the Cumberland — ;

Poured in her port broadside. Ay, he will sink like them.

Rattling his iron hide.
And cracking his timber bones Nothing left but to fight
Boldly his last sea-fight
Just then, at speed on the Foe, Can he strike? By Heaven, 'tis
With her bow all weathered and true!
brown. Down comes the traitor Blue,
Thegreat Lackawana came down
Full for another blow;
tilt, — And up goes the captive White
We were forging ahead,
She reversed —
but, for all our Up went the White ! Ah, then
pains. The hurrahs that, once and again.
Bammed the old Hartford, instead, Rang from three thousand men
Just for'ard the mizzen chains AH flushed and savage with fight!
Our dead lay cold and stark.
Ah how the
! masts did buckle and But our dying, down in the dark.
bend. Answered as best they might,
And the stout hull ring and reel, Lifting their poor lost arms.
As sbe took us on end
right And cheering for God and Right!
(Vain were engine and wheel.
She was under full steam ) — Ended the mighty noise,
With the roar of a thunder-stroke Thunder of forts and ships.
Her two thousand tons of oak Down we went to the hold, —
Brought up on us, right abeam Oh, our dear dying boys
 ! ! )! ! ; !!!
; ! ! ! ;

HEROIC. 253
How we pressed their poor brave To break on the cruel shore ;
—
lips, But Craven is gone,
(Ah, so pallid and cold !) He and his hundred are gone.
And held their hands to the last
(Those that had hands to hold.) The flags flutter up and down
At sunrise and twilight dim,
Stillthee, O woman heart The cannons menace and frown, —
(So strong an hour ago) — But never again for him,
If the idle tears must start, Him and the hundred.
'Tis not in vain they flow.
The Dahlgrens are dumb.
They died, our children dear, Dumb are the mortars
On the drear berth -deck they Never more shall the drum
died, — Beat to colors and quarters, —
Do not think of them here — The great guns are silent.
Even now their footsteps near
The immortal, tender sphere — O brave heart and loyal
(Land of love and cheer Let all your colors dip ; —
Home of the Crucified !) Mourn him, proud ship
From main deck to royal.
And the glorious deed survives. Grod rest our Captain,
Ourthreescore, quiet and cold, Rest our lost hundred
Lie thus, for a myriad lives
And treasure-millions untold, — Droop, and pennant
flag
(Labor of poor men's lives. What your pride for?
is
Hunger of weans and wives, Heaven, that he died for,
Such is war- wasted gold. Best our Lieutenant.
Rest our brave threescore
Our ship and her fame to-day
Shall float on the storied Stream O Mother Land ! this weary life
When mast and shroud have crum- We led, we lead, 'long of thee
is
bled away. Thine the strong agony of strife,
And her long white deck is a And thine the lonely sea.
dream.
Thine the long decks all slaughter-
One daring leap in the dark. sprent,
Three mortal hours, at the most, — The weary rows of cots that lie
And hell lies stiff and stark With wrecks of strong men, marred
On a hundred leagues of coast. and rent,
'Neath Pensacola's sky.
For the mighty Gulf is ours, —
The bay is lost and won. And thine the iron caves and dens
An Empire is lost and won Wherein the flame our war-fleet
Land, if thou yet hast flowers, drives
Twine them in one more wreath The whose breath
fiery vaults, is
Of tenderest white and red, men's
(Twin buds of glory and death !) Most dear and precious lives
For the brows of our brave dead, —
For thy Kavy's noblest Son. Ah, ever, when with storm sublime
Dread NSiture clears our murky
Joy, O Land, for thy sons, air.
Victors by flood and field Thus in the crash of falling crime
The traitor walls and guns Some leaser guilt must share.
Have nothing lef f but to yield ;
—
^Even now they surrender !) Full red the furnace fires must glow
That melt the ore of mortal kind:
And the ships shall sail once more. The Mills of God are grinding slow,
And the cloud of war sweep on But ah, how close they grind 1
 ; ;; ! ; ; : ; ;

254 PARNASSUS.

To-Day the Dahlgren and the drum You, whose smart pen backed up the
Are dread Apostles of His Name pencil's laugh,
His Kingdom here can only come Judging each step as though the
By chrism of blood and flame. way were plain
Reckless, so it could point its para-
Be strong already slants the gold
: graph
Athwart these wild and stormy Of chief's perplexity, or people's
skies pain:
From out this blackened waste, be-
hold Beside this corpse, that bears for
What happy homes shall rise winding-sheet
The Stars and Stripes he lived to
But see thou well no traitor gloze, rear anew.
No striking hands with Death and Between the mourners at his head
Shame, / and feet,
Betray the sacred blood that flows 3ay, scurrile jester, is there room
So freely for thy name. for you ?

And never fear a victor foe — : Yes : he had lived to shame me from
Thy children's hearts are strong my sneer,
and high To lame my pencil, and confute
Nor mourn too fondly; — well they my pen ;
—
know To make me own this hind of princes
On deck or field to die. peer.
This rail-splitter a true-born king
Nor Shalt thou want one willing of men.
breath.
Though, ever smiling round the My shallow judgment I had learned
brave, to rue.
The on to death.
blue sea bear us Noting how to occasion's height
The green were one wide grave. he rose
How his quaint wit made home-truth
U. S. Flag-ship Hartford, Mobile Bay, seem more true
August, 1864.
How, iron-like, his temper grew by
H. H. Bbownell. blows.

How humble, yet how hopeful he

ABRAHAM LINCOLN. could be
How ill good fortune and in ill, the
FOULLY ASSASSINATED APRIL 14, same:
1869. Nor bitter in success, nor boastful
he.
You lay a wreath on murdered Lin- Thirsty for gold, nor feverish for
coln's bier, fame.
You, who with mocking pencil
wont
to trace. He went about his work, — such work
Broad for the self-complacent British as few
sneer. Ever had laid on head and heart
His length of shambling limb, his and hand, —
furrowed face. As one who knows, where there's a
task to do,
His gaunt, gnarled hands, his un- Man's honest will must Heaven's
kempt, bristling hair. good grace command
His garb uncouth, his bearing ill
at ease. Who tmsts the strength will with the
His lack of we
prize as debonair.
all burden grow.
Of power or will to shine, of art That God makes instruments to
to please work his will,
 : ! : ; ; ;

HBKOIO. 255
[f but that will we can aniye to The words of mercy were upon his
know,
Nor tamper with the weights of Forgiveness in his heart and on his [
good and ill. pen.
When this vile murderer brough^
So he went forth to battle, on the swift eclipse
side To thoughts of peace on eartl^,
That he felt clear was Liberty's good-will to men.
and Right's,
As in his peasant boyhood he had The Old World and the New, fnjm
plied sea to sea,
His warfare with rude Nature's Utter one voice of sympathy and
thwarting mights, — shame!
Sore heart, so stopped when it at last
The uncleared forest, the imbroken beat high
soil. Sad life, cut short just as its tri-
The iron-bark, that turns the lum- umph came.
berer's axe.
The rapid, that o'erbears the boat-
man's toil,
A deed accurst ! Strokes have been
struck before
The prairie, hiding the mazed wan-
derer's tracks,
By the assassin's hand, whereof
men doubt
'-ifhe ambushedIndian, and the
If more of horror or disgrace they
prowling bear ;
— bore;
But thy foul crime, like Cain's,
Such were the deeds that helped
stands darkly out.
his youth to train
Rough culture, — but such trees \a,Tge
fruit may bear, Vile hand, that brandest murder on
If but their stocks be of right a strife,
girth and grain. Whate'er its grounds, stoutly and
nobly striven
So he grew up, a destined work to And with the martyr's crown crown-
do, est a life
And lived to do it: four long-suf- With much to praise, little to be
fering years' forgiven.
Ill-fate, ill-feeling, ill-report, lived Tom Taylob in Punch,
through.
And then he heard the hisses
change to cheers.
IN STATE.
The taunts to tribute, the abuse to
praise, I.

And took both with the same un-

wavering mood O Keeper of the Sacred Key,
rill, ashe came on light, from dark- And the Great Seal of Destiny,
Ung days. Whose eye is the blue canopy.
And seemed to touch the goal from Look down upon the warring world,
where he stood, and tell us what the end will
be.
A felon hand, between the goal and
him, "Lo, through the wintry atmos-
Reached from behind his back, a phere,
trigger prest, — On the white bosom of the sphere,
And those perplexed and patient A cluster of appear
five lakes
eyes were dim. And all the land looks like a conch,
Those gaunt, long-laboring limbs or warrior's shield, or sheeted
were laid to rest bier.
 ' ; ; : ; ; ; !!

256 PARNASSUS.

"And on that vast and hollow " And over her, and over all. —
field, For panoply and coronal, —
With both lips closed and both The mighty Immemorial,
eyes sealed, And everlasting Canopy and Starry
A mighty Figure is revealed, — Arch and Shield of All."
Stretched at full length, and stiff
and stark, as in the hollow of
a shield.
" Three cold, bright moons have
" The winds have tied the drifted marched and wheeled
snow And the white cerement that re-
Around the face and chin and lo, ;
vealed
The sceptred Giants come and go. A Figure stretched upon a Shield,
And shake their shadowy crowns Is turned to verdure and the Land ;

and say We always feared it

:
' is now one mighty Battle-
would be so ! field.

" And lo, the children which she

"She came of an heroic race:
bred.
A giant's strength, a maiden's
And more than all -Ise cherishfed.
grace.
Like two in one seem to embrace,
To make them trii in heart and
head.
And match, and blend, and thor- Stand face to face, as mortal foes,
ough-blend, in her colossal
with their swords crossed
form and face.
above the dead.
" Where can her dazzling falchion " Each hath a mighty stroke and
be? stride
One hand
The Gulf-Stream
is fallen in the sea
drifts it far and
One true, — the more that he is
tried;
free; The other dark and evil-eyed ; —
And hand her shining brand
in that And by the hand of one of them, his
gleams from the depths re- own dear mother surely died
splendently.
'
A stealthy step, a gleam of hell, —
" And by theother, in its rest. It
'

is the simple truth to tell, —

The starry banner of the West The Son stabbed and the Mother
Is clasped forever to her breast fell:
And of her silver helmet, lo, a soar- And so she lies, all mute and pale,
ing eagle is the crest. and pure and irreproachable

"And then the battle-trumpet

"And on her brow, a softened blew;
light.
As of a star concealed from sight
And the true brother sprang and
drew
By some thin veil of fleecy white. His blade to smite the traitor
Or of the rising moon behind the through
raining vapors of the night.
And so they clashed above the bier,
and the Night sweated bloody
" The Sisterhood that was so dew.
sweet.
The Starry System sphered com- "And all their children, far and
plete, wide.
Which the mazed Orient used to That are so greatly multiplied,
Rise up in frenzy and divide
The Four and Thirty fallen Stars And choosing, each whom he will
glimmer and glitter at her serve, unsheathe the sword and
feet. take their side.
 ! " ; :;; ;

HEROIC. 257
" ^d in the low sun's bloodshot The tens of thousands that are
rays, slain.
Portentous of the coming days, And all the speechless suffering and
The Two great Oceans blush and agony of heart and brain.
blaze.
With the emergent continent be- " I see the dark and bloody spots.
tween them, wrapt in crimson The crowded rooms and crowded
haze. cots,
The bleaching bones, the battle
" Now whichsoever stand or fall, blots, —
As God is great, and man is small, And writ on many a nameless grave,
The Truth shall triumph over all a legend of forget-me-nots.
Forever and forevermore, the Truth
shall triumph over all
! " I see the gorgfed prison-den.
The dead line and the pent-up pen.
The thousands quartered in the fen,
The living-deaths of skin and bone
" I see the champion sword-strokes that were the goodly shapes
flash; of men.
I see them fall and hear them clash
I hear the murderous engines crash "And still the bloody Dew must
I see a brother stoop to loose a foe- fall!
man-brother's bloody sash. And His great Darkness with the
Pall
"I see the torn and mangled corse, Of His dread Judgment cover all.
The dead and dying heaped in Till the Dead Nation rise Trans-
scores, formed by Truth to triumph
The headless rider by his horse. overall!"
The wounded captive bayoneted
through and through without "And Last — and Last I see —
remorse. The Deed."
Thus saith the Keeper of the Key,
" I hear the dying sufferer cry. And the Great Seal of Destiny,
With his crushed face turned to Whose eye is the blue canopy.
the sky, And leaves the Pall of His great Dark-
I see him crawl in agony ness over all the Land and Sea,
To the foul pool, and bow his head FOBCEYTHB WlLLSON.
into its bloody slime, and die.

"I see the assassin crouch and REQUIEM.

fire,
I see his victim fall, — expire Breathe, trumpets, breathe slow
I see the murderer creeping nigher notes of saddest wailing
To strip the dead. He turns the Sadly responsive peal, ye mufiled
head, —
the face! The son drums.
beholds his sire Comrades, with downcast eyes and
muskets trailing.
" I hear the curses and the thanks Attend him home: the youthful
I see the mad charge on the flanks. warrior comes,
The rents, the gaps, the broken
ranks, Upon his shield, upon his shield re-
The vanquished squadrons driven turning,
headlong down the river's Borne from the field of battle where
bridgeless banks. he fell.
Glory and grief together clasped in
" I see the death-gripe on the plain, mourning,
The grappling monsters on the His fame, his fate, with sobs exult-
main, ing tell.

17
 : ! ! ! ! : ; ; :

258 PARNASSUS.

Wrap round his breast the flag his COMMEMORATION ODE.

breast defended, —
His country's flag, in battle's front HABVAED UnrVTEKSITY, JULY 21,
unrolled 1865.

For it he died, —
on earth forever
ended,
His brave young life lives in each Life may be given in many ways,
sacred fold. And loyalty to Truth be sealed
As bravely in the closet as the field,
With proud, proud tears, by tinge of So generous is Fate
shame untainted. But then to stand beside her.
Bear him, and lay him gently in his When craven churls deride her.
To front a lie in arms, and not to
grave.
Above the hero write, the young, yield, —
half-sainted, This shows, methinks, God's
" His country asked his life, his life plan
he gave." And measure of a stalwart man.
Geoboe Lunt. Limbed like the old heroic
breeds.
Who stand self-poised on man-
hood's solid earth.
ODE. Not forced to frame excuses for
his birth.
[Sung on the occasion of decorating the
graves of the Confederatedead, at Mag- Fed from within with all the strength
nolia Cemetery, Charleston, S.C.] he needs.

Sleep sweetly in your humble Such was he, our Martyr-Chief,

graves, — Whom late the Nation he had
Sleep, martyrs of a fallen cause led.
Though yet no marble column craves With ashes on her head.
The pilgrim here to pause. Wept with the passion of an angry
grief
In seeds of laurel in the earth Forgive me, if from present things I
The blossom of your fame is blown. turn
And somewhere, waiting for its birth, To speak what in my heart will beat
The shaft is in the stone and burn.
And hang my wreath on his world-
honored urn.
Meanwhile, behalf the tardy years
Nature, they say, doth dote,
Which keep in trust your storied
tombs.
And cannot make a man
Save on some worn-out plan,
Behold! your sisters bring their
Repeating us by rote
tears.
And these memorial blooms.
For him her Old-World moulds aside
she threw.
And, choosing sweet clay from
Small tributes ! but your shades will the breast
smile Of the unexhausted West,
More proudly on these wreaths to- With stuff untainted shaped a hero
day. new.
Than when some cannon-mouldered Wise, steadfast in the strength of
pile God, and true.
Shall overlook this bay. How beautiful to see
Once more a shepherd of mankind
Stoop, angels, hither from the skies indeed,
There is no holier spot of ground Who loved his charge, but never
Than where defeated valor lies. loved to lead
By mourning beauty crowned One whose meek flock the people
Henby Timbod. joyed to be,
 ;; ; : ! ; : ; ;; ! ; ;

HEROIC. 259
Not lured by any cheat of Our children shall behold his
birth, fame.
But by his clear-grained humau The Wndly-eamest, brave, foresee-
worth, ing man.
And brave old wisdom of sincerity Sagacious, patient, dreading praise,
They knew that outward grace not blame.
is dust New birth of our new soil, the first
They could not choose but American.
trust
In that sure-footed mind's unfalteiv
ing skill,
And supple-tempered will
That bent like perfect steel to spring We sit here in the Promised
again and thrust. Land
His was no lonely mountain-peak That flows with Freedom's honey
of mind, and milk
Thrusting to thin air o'er our But 'twas they won it, sword in
cloudy bars, hand,
A seamark now, now lost in va- Making the nettle danger soft for us
pors blind as silk.
Broad prairie rather, genial, We welcome back our bravest and
level-lined. our best; —
Fruitful and friendly for all Ah me not
, ! all ! some come not
human kind. with the rest.
Yet also nigh to Heaven and loved of Who went forth brave and bright as
loftiest stars. any here I

Nothing of Europe here, I strive to mix some gladness with

Or, then, of Europe fronting mom- my strain.
ward still. But the sad strings complain.
Ere any names of Serf and And will not please the ear
Peer I sweep them for a paean, but they
Could Nature's equal scheme wane
deface Again and yet again
Here was a type of the true elder Into a dirge, and die away in pain.
race, In these brave ranks I only see the
And one of Plutarch's men talked
with us face to face. Thinking of dear ones whom the
I praise him not; it were too dumb turf wraps.
late; Dark to the triiunph which they died
And some iunative weakness there to gain
must be Fitlier may others greet the liv-
In him who condescends to victory ing,
Such as the Present gives, and can- For me
the past is unforgiving
not wait. I with uncovered head
Safe in himself as in a fate. Salute the sacred dead.
So always finnly he Who went, and who return not. —
He knew to bide his time. Say not so
And can his fame abide. 'Tis not the grapes of Canaan that
Still patient in his simple faith sub- repay,
lime. But the high faith that failed not by
Till the wise years decide. the way
Great captains, with their guns Virtue treads paths that end not in
and drums. the grave
Disturb our judgment for the No bar of endless night exiles the
hour, brave
But at last silence comes*. And to the saner mind
These all are gone, and, standing We rather seem the dead that staid
like a tower. behind.
 ;: !; :; ! ! ; ! ! ! ! ! — ! ;

260 PAENASStrS.

Blow, txnmpets, all your exultations Feeling his soul spring up divinely
blow! tall.
For never shall their aureoled pres- Touched but in passing by her
ence lack mantle-hem.
I see them muster in a gleaming row, Come back, then, noble pride, for
With ever-youthful brows that 'tis her dower
nobler show How could poet ever tower.
We find in our dull road their shin- If his passions, hopes, and fears.
ing track If his triumphs and Ms tears,
Id every nobler mood Kept not measure with his peo-
We feel the orient of their spirit ple?
glow, Boom, camion, boom to all the winds
Part of our life's unalterable good, and waves
Of all our saintlier aspiration Clash out, glad bells, from every
They come transfigured back, rocking steeple
Secure from change in their high- Banners, adance with triumph, bend
hearted ways, your staves
Beautiful evermore, and with the And from every mountain-peak
rays Let beacon-fire to answering
Of mom on their white Shields of beacon speak,
Expectation Katahdin tell Monadnock, White-
face he,
And so leap on in light from sea
to sea,
Not in anger, not in pride, Till the glad news be sent
Pure from passion's mixture Across a kindling continent.
rude Making earth feel more firm and air
Ever to base earth allied, breathe braver :

But with far-heard gratitude. " Be proud for she is saved, and all
!

with heart and voice re-

Still
newed.
To heroes living and dear martyrs
dead,
The strain should close that conse-
crates our brave.
Lift the heart and lift the head
Lofty be its mood and grave.
Not without a martial ring.
Not without a prouder tread
And a peal of exultation
Little right has he to sing
Through whose heart in such an
hour
Beats no march of
power,
Sweeps no tumult of elation
'Tis no Man we celebrate.
By his country's victories great,
A hero half, and half the whim of
Fate,
But the pith and marrow
Nation
Drawing force from all
Highest, humblest,
all.
For her day of need, and then
Pulsing it again through them.
Fill the basest can no longer cower
have helped to save her
She that lifts up the manhood
of the poor.
She of the open soul and open
door,
With room about her hearth for
all mankind
The fire is di-eadful in her eyes
no more
From her bold front the helm
she doth unbind,
Send all her handmaid armies
back to spin.
And bid her navies that so lately
conscious hurled
Their crashing battle, hold their
thunders in.
Swimming like birds of calm
along the unharmful shore.
No challenge sends she to the
elder world.
of a That looked askance and hated
a light scorn
her men. Plays on her mouth, as round
weakest, her mighty knees
She calls her children back, and
waits the morn
Of nobler day, enthroned between
her subject seas."
 ! !! !

HEROIC. 261
Bow down, dear Land, for thou CHICAGO.
hast found release
OCT. 10, 1871.
Thy God, in these distempered
days, Blackened and bleeding, helpless,
Hath taught thee the sure wis- panting, prone,
dom of his ways, On the charred fragments of her
And through thine enemies hath shattered throne
wrought thy peace Lies she who stood but yesterday
Bow down In prayer and praise alone.
O Beautiful my Country ours
! !

once more Queen of the West! by some en-

Smoothing thy gold of war-di- chanter taught
shevelled hair To lift the glory of Aladdin's court.
O'er such sweet brows as never Then lose the spell that all that
other wore. wonder wrought.
And letting thy set lips.
Freed from wrath's pale Like her own prairies by some
eclipse, chance seed sown,
The rosy edges of their smile lay Like her own prairies in one brief
bare. day grown.
What words divine of lover or of Like her own prairies in one fierce
poet night mown.
Could tell our love and make
thee know it, She lifts her voice, and in her plead-
Among the Nations bright be- ing call
yond compare ? We hear the cry of Macedou to
What were ovi lives without Paul,
thee? The cry for help that makes her kin
What all our lives to save to all.
thee?
We reck not what we gave But haply with wan fingers may she
thee; feel
We will not dare to doubt The silver cup hid in the proffered
thee, meal,
But ask whatever else, and we will The gifts her kinship and our loves
dare! reveal.
J. B. Lowell. Bbei Habte.
PORTRAITS. - PERSONAL.
PICTURES.

* Who will not honor hoble nnmoeiB, when

Veises outUve ttte hisvest deeds of men? " —Hebbiok.
 : :

POETEAITS.-PEESOI^AL.-PICTXJEES.

NEBUCHADNEZZAR. But thisthy countenance, still

locked in steel,
There was a king that much might, I never saw till now.
Who Nabugodoiiosor hight. Let an old man embrace thee
To his empire and to his laws, And, worthy warrior, welcome to
As who saith, all iu thilke dawes our tents.
Were obeisaut, and tribute bear, Shakspbabe.
As the' God of earth he were
Till that the high king of kings
Which seeth and knoweth all things. CORIOLANUS. i^'
Whose eye may nothing asterte,
The privates of man's heart Cominius. —
I shall lack voice; the
They speken and sound in his ear deeds of Coriolanus
As though they loud winds were, — Should not be uttered feebly. It is —
He took vengeance of his pride. held.
GowBB Confessio Amantis.
: That valor is the chiefest virtue,
and
Most dignifies the haver if it be,:

l/ The man I speak of cannot in the

NESTOR TO HECTOR. world
Be singly counterpoised. At sixteen
Nestor. — I have, thou gallant Tro- years.
jan, seen thee oft, When Tarquin made a head for
Laboring for destiny, make cruel Rome, he fought
way Beyond the mark of others: our
Through ranks of Greekish youth: then dictator.
and I have seen thee, Whom with all praise I point at,
As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian saw him fight
steed. When with his Amazonian chin he
Despising many forfeits and subdue- drove
ments, The bristled lips before him he : be-
When thou hast hung thy ad- strid
vanced sword i' the air, An o'erpressed Roman, and in the
Not letting it decline on the de- consul's view
clined : Slew three opposers Tarquin' s self
:

That I have said to some my stand- he met.

ers-by, And struck him on his knee in that :

Lo, Jupiter is yonder, dealing life ! day's feats.

And I have seen thee pause, and take When he might act the woman in
thy breath the scene.
When that a ring of Greeks have He proved best man of the field, and
hemmed thee in, for his meed
Like an Olympian wrestling: This Was brow-bound with the oak. His
have I seen pupil age
265
 : ; : — !; !; ; : : :

266 PAENASStrS.

Man-entered thus, he wax&d like a, Or Jove for his power to thunder.

sea; His heart's his mouth
And, in the brunt of seventeen bat- What his breast forges, that his
tles since, tongue must vent
He lurched all swords o' the garland. And, being angry,does forget that ever
For this last, He heard the name of death.
Before and in Corioli, let me say, Shasspeabe.
I cannot speak him home. He
stopped the fliers CORIOLANUS AT ANTIUM. i^
And, by his rare example, made the
coward Coriolanus. — Hear'st thou, Mars!
Turn terror into sport : as waves be- Ai^dius. Name not— — the gpd,
fore thou boy of tears
. A vessel under sail, so men obeyed. Cor.— Ha!
And fell below his stem : his sword Auf, — No more.
(death's stamp), Cor. — Measureless liar, thou hast
Where it did mark it took; from made my heart
face to foot Too great for what contains it. Boy!
He was a thing of blood, whose every O slave !

motion Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time

Was timed with dying cries ; alone that ever
he entered I was forced
to scold. Tour judg-
The mortal gate o' the city, which ments, my grave lords.
he painted Must give this cur the lie : and his
With shunless destiny, aidless came own notion
off. (Who wears my stripes impressed on
And with a sudden re-enforcement him that must bear
;

struck My beating to his grave) shall join to

Corioli, like a planet: now all's his thmst
When by and by the din of war 'gan The lie unto him.
pierce Cut me to pieces, Volsces ; men and
His ready sense: then straight his lads.
doubled spirit Stain all your edges on me. — Boy!
Ee-quickened what in flesh was fati- False hound
gate. If you have writ your annals true,
And to the battle came he; where 'tisthere,
he did That like an es^le in a dove-cote, I
Run reeking o'er the lives of men, Fluttered your Volsces in Corioli
as if Alone I did it. Boy —
'Twere a perpetual spoil; and till we Shakspeare.
called
Both field and city ours, he never /
stood THE BLACK PRINCE.
To ease his breast with panting.
Our spoils he kicked at. King.
JPVencfe —
Think we King
And looked upon things precious, as Harry strong
they were And, princes, look you strongly arm
The common muck o' the world he ; to meet him.
covets less The kindred of him hath been
Than misery itself would give; re- fleshed upon us
wards And he is bred out of that bloody
His deeds with doing them and is ; strain,
content That haunted us inour familiar paths
To spend the time to end it. Witness our too much memorable
His nature is too noble for the shame.
world When Cressy battle fatally was struck,
He would not flatter Neptune for his And all our princes captived, by the
trident, hand
 ; ; ; ; : :; ; ; ; :

POETRAITS. — PERSONAL. — PICTURES. 26T

Of that black name, Edward, black List his discourse of war, and you
prince of Wales shall hear
Whiles that his mountain sire, on — A fearful battle rendered you in
mountain standing, music
Up in the air, crowned with a golden Turn him to any cause of policy,
sun, — The Gordian knot of it he will un-
Saw his heroical seed, and smiled to loose.
see him Familiar as his garter; that, when
Mangle the work of nature, and deface he speaks,
The patterns that by God and by The air, a chartered libertine, is
French fathers still,
Had twenty years been made. This And the mute wonder lurketh in
is a stem men's ears,
Of that victorious stock; and let us To and honeyed sen-
steal his sweet
fear tences ;
The native mightiness and fate of So that the air and practic part of
him. life
Shakspease. Must be the mistress to this theoric
Which a wonder, how his grace
is

HENET v. ^ should glean it,

Since his addiction was to courses
. vain
Canterbury. —
The king is full of His companies unlettered, rude, and
grace and fair regard. shallow;
Ely. — And a true lover of the His hours filled up with riots, ban-
holy church. quets, sports,
Cant. —The courses of his youth And never noted in him any study.
promised it not. Any retirement, any sequestration
The breath no sooner left his father's From open haunts and popularity.
body, Shakspeabe.
But that his wildness, mortified in
him, L^
Seemed to die too ;
yea, at that very SPENSER AT COURT.
moment.
Consideration like an angel came. Full little knowest thou, that hast
And whipped the offending Adam not tried,
out of him What hell it is, in suing long to bide
Leaving his body as a paradise. To loose good dayes that might be
To envelop and contain celestial better spent;
spirits. To waste long nights in pensive dis-
Never was such a sudden scholar content;
made: To speed to-day, to be put back to-
Never came reformation in a flood. morrow ;

With such a heady current, scouring To feed on hope, to pine with feare
faults and sorrow;
Nor never hydra^headed wilfulness To have thy prince's grace, yet want
So soon did lose his seat, and all at her peers
once, To have thy asking, yet waite many
AS in this king. yeares
Hear him but reason in divinity. To fret thy soule with crosses and
And, all-admiring, with an inward with cares
wish To eate thy heart through comfort-
You would desire, the king were less despairs
made a prelate To fawn, to crouch, to wait, to ride,
Hear him debate of commonwealth to run.
affairs, To spend, to give, to want, to be
You would say, —
it hath been all- undone.
in-all hia study: Spbnseb.
 ; ! ; ; : !

268 PAENASSUS.

/ ON LUCY, COUNTESS OF BED- EPITAPH ON SHAKSPEARE.

FORD.
What needs my Shakspeare for his
This morning, timely rapt with honored bones,
holy fire, The labor of an age in piled stones ?
I thought to form unto my zealous Or that his hallowed relics should
Muse be hid
What kind of creature I could most Under a star-y-pointing pyramid ?
desire Dear son of Memory, great heir of
To honor, serve, and love, as poets use. fame.
I meant to make her fair, and free, What need' St thou such weak wit-
and wise. ness of thy name ?
Of greatest blood, and yet more Thou in our wonder and astonish-
good than great ment
I meant the Day-Star should not Hast built thyself a live long monu-
brighter rise. ment.
Nor lend like Influence from his lu- For whilst, to the shame of slow-
cent seat. endeavoring art
I meant she should be courteous, Thy easy numbers flow, and that
facile, sweet, each heart
Hating that solemn vice of great- Hath from the leaves of thy un-
ness, pride; valued book
I meant each softest virtue there Those Delphic lines with deep im-
should meet pression took,
Fit in that softer bosom to reside. Then thou, our fancy of itself be-
Only a leamfed and a manly soul reaving,
I purposed her, that should, with Dost make us marble with too much
even powers. conceiving
The rock, the spindle, and the shears And so sepulchred in such pomp'
control .
dost lie.
Of Destiny, and spin her own free That kings for such a tomb would
hOTlTS. wish to die.
Such when I meant to feign, and Milton.
wished to see.
My Muse bade Bedford
that was she. "
write, and
/ EPITAPH.
Ben Jonson. Underneath this stone doth lye
As much beauty as could dye
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. Which in life did harbor give
To more virtue than doth live.
A SWEET, attractive kind of grace, If at all she had a fault.
A full assurance given by looks, Leave buried in this vault.
it
—
Continual comfort in a face. One name was Elizabeth
The lineaments of Gospel books The other, let it sleep with death
I trow, that countenance cannot Fitter, where it dyed to tell.

lie Than that it lived at all. Farewell

Whose thoughts are legible in Ben Jonson.
the eye.

Was ever eye did see that face, TRANSLATION OF COWLEY'S

Was ever ear did hear that tongue. EPIGRAM ON FRANCIS DRAKE.
Was ever mind did mind his grace
That ever thought the travel long ? The stars above will make thee
But eyes and ears, and every known.
thought, If man were heresilent ;

Were with his sweet perfections The sun himself cannot forget
caught. His fellow-traveller.
Matthew Eoyden. Ben Jonson.
 ) ; ! ; ; : ;

PORTRAITS. — PERSONAL. -PICTURES. 269

ty
EPITAPH. TO WILLIAM SIDNEY, ON HIS
BIRTHDAY.
Undeeneath this sable hearse
Lies the subject of all verse, — Give me my cup, but from the Thes-
Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother. pian well.
Death ere thou hast killed another
! That I may tell to Sidney, what
Fair, and learned, and good as she. This day doth say.
Time shall throw a dart at thee. And he may think on that
Ben Jonson. Which I do tell
When all the noise
Of these forced joys

EPIGRAM. ^^ Are fled and gone.

And he with his best genius left alone.
UvEDALE, thou piece of the first 'Twill be exacted of your name whose
times, a man son,
Made for what Nature could, or Whose nephew, whose grandchild
Virtue can you are
Both whose dimensions lost, the And men will then
world might find Say you have followed far.
Restored in thy body, and thy mind When well begun
Who sees a soul in such a body set. Which must be now they : teach you
Might love the treasure for the cabi- how; a

net. And he that stays

But I, no child, no fool, respect the To live until to-morrow, hath lost
kind two days.
The the glowing graces there
full, Then
enshrined. The birthday shines, when logs not
Which, (would the world not miscall burn, but men.
it flattery, Ben Jonson.
I could adore, almost to idolatry.
Ben Jonson.
PRAYER TO BEN JONSON.
When I a verse shall make,
TO THE COUNTESS OP RUT- Know I have prayed thee,
LAND. For old religion's sake,
Saint Ben, to aid me.
These, like a rich and golden pyra-
mid, Make the way smooth for me,
Borne up by statues, shall I rear When I, thy Herrick,
your head Honoring thee, on my knee
Above your under-carvfed ornaments, Offer my lyric.
And show how to the life my soul
presents Candles I'll give to thee,
Tour form imprest there, not with And a new altar
tickling rhymes And thou. Saint Ben, shalt be
Or common-places filched, that take Writ in my psalter.
these times, Hebbick,
But high and noble matter, such as
flies
From brains entranced, and filled TO LIVE MERRILY, AND TO
with ecstasies. TRUST TO GOOD VERSES.
t
Moods which the god-like Sidney oft
did prove. Now the time for mirth.
is
And your brave friend and mine so Nor cheek or tongue be dumb
well did love. For the flowry earth.
Ben Jonson. The golden pomp is come.
 ;; ; ;; ; ! ; :: ;

270 PAKNASSirS.

The golden pomp is come SONNET.

For now
each tree does wear,
Made of her pap and gum, ON HIS BEING ABRIVED TO THE AGE
Rich beads of amber here.
OP rWENTY-THBEB.
How soon hath Time, the subtle
Now reigns the Rose, and now . thief of youth,
The Arabian dew besmears Stolen on his wing my three and
My uncontrollfed brow. twentieth year
And my retorted hairs. My hasting days fly on with full
career.
Homer 1 this health to thee.
But my late spring no bud or
In sack of such a kind, blossom show'th. '

That It would make thee see,

Perhaps my semblance might deceive
Though thou wert ne'er so blind. the truth.
Next, Virgil I'll call forth. That I to manhood am arrived so
To pledge this second health near.
In wine, whose each cup's worth And inward ripeness doth much
An Indian commonwealth. less appear,
That some more timely-happy
A goblet next I'll drink spirits indu'th.
To Ovid and suppose
; Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow.
Made he the pledge, he'd think It shall be still in strictest meas-
The woiid had all one nose. ure even
To that same lot, however mean
Then this immensive cup or high.
Of aromatic wine, Toward which Time leads me, and
Catullus, I quaff up the will of Heaven
To that terse muse of thine. All Is, if I have grace to use it so.
As ever in my great Task-master's
Wild I am now with heat, eye.
O Bacchus cool thy rays
!
Milton.
Or frantic I shall eat
Thy Thyrse, and bite the Bays.
Round, round, the roof does run
ODE TO BEN JONSON. ^
And being ravlsht thus. Ah Ben!
Come, I win drink a tun Say how or when
To my Propertius. Shall we, thy guests,
Meet at those lyric feasts,
Now, to TibuUus next. Made at the Sun,
This flood I drink to thee The Dog, the Triple Tun;
But stay, I see a text. Where we such clusters had
That this presents to me. As made us nobly wild, not mad
And yet each verse of thine
Behold! TibuUus lies Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic
Here burnt, whose small return wine.
Of ashes scarce suflBce
To fill a little urn. My Ben!
Or come again.
Trust to good verses then Or send to us
They only will aspire. Thy wit's great overplus
When pyramids, as men. But teach us yet
Are lost in the funeral Are. Wisely to husband it.
Lest we that talent spend
A^nd when bodie^meet
all And having once brought to an end
In Lethe, to be drowned That precious stock, the store
Then only numbers sweet, Of such a wit, the world should have
With endless life are crowned. no more,
Hbbbick. Hebbick.
 ; : ; : ; : ; ; ;

PORTEAITS. —PERSONAL. — PICTURES. 271

TO SIE HENRY VANE. And post o'er land and ocean
without rest
Vane, youug in years, but in sage They also serve who only stand
counsel old. and wait."
Than whom a better senator Milton.
ne'er held
The helm of Rome, when gowns, SONNET. 1^
not arms, repelled
The fierce Epirot, and the Afri- O, FOB my sake do you with Fortune
can bold, chide.
Whether to settle peace, or to unfold The guilty goddess of harmful my
The drift of hollow states, hard deeds.
to be spelled That did not better for life pro- my
Then to advise how War may, vide.
best upheld. Than public means, which public
Move by her two main nerves, manners breeds.
iron and gold, Thence comes it that my name re-
In all her equipage: besides to ceives a brand.
know And almost thence my nature is
Both spiritual power and civil, subdued
what each means, To what it works in, like the dyer's
What severs each, thou hast hand:
learned, which few have done Pity me then, and wish I were re-
The bounds of either sword to thee newed ;

we owe Whilst, like a willing patient, I will

Therefore on thy firm hand drink
Religion leans Potions of eyesell, 'gainst my strong
In peace, and reckons thee her infection
eldest son. No bitterness that I will bitter think.
Milton.- Nor double penance, to correct cor-
rection.
Pityme then, dear friend, and I
ON HIS BLINDNESS. assure ye.
Even that your pity is enough to
When I consider how my light ia cure me.
spent. Shasspeabe.
Ere half my days, in this dark
world and wide.
And that one talent which is PORTRAIT OF ADDISON.
death to hide,
Lodged with me useless, though Peace to all such! but were there
my soul more bent one whose fires
To serve therewith my Maker, and True genius kindles, and fair fame
present mspires
My true account, lest he returning Blest with each talent and each art
chide to please.
"Doth God exact day-labor, light And born to write, converse, and
denied?" live with ease
I fondly ask: But Patience, to Should such a man, too fond to rule
prevent alone.
That murmur, soon replies, "God Bear, like the Turk, no brother near
doth not need the throne.
Either man's work, or his own View him with scornful, yet with
gifts ; who best jealous eyes,
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him And hate for arts that caused him-
best: his state self to rise
Is kingly; thousands at bis bidding Damn with faint praise, assent with
speed, civil leer,
 ; :; ; : ;: ; : ; : :: !

272 PAKKASSUS.

And, without sneering, teach the Pleased Vsiga echoes through hei
rest to sneer winding bounds.
Willing to wound, and yet afraid to And rapid Severn hoarse applause
strike. resounds.
Just and hesitate dislike
hint a fault, Who hung with woods yon moun-
Alike reserved to blame, or to com- tain's sultry brow?
mend, From the dry rock who bade the
A timorous foe, and a suspicious waters flow ?
friend Not to the skies in useless columns
Dreading even fools, by flatterers tost.
besieged. Or in proud falls magnificently lost,
And so obliging that he ne'er obliged But clear and artless, pouring
Like Cato, give his little senate laws, through the plain
And sit attentive to his own applause Health to the sick, and solace to the
Whilst wits and Templars every sen- swain.
tence raise. Whose causeway parts the vale with
And wonder with a foolish face of shady rows ?
praise :
— Whose seats the weary traveller re-
Who but must laugh, if such a one pose?
there be? Who taught that heaven-directed
Who would not weep, if Atticus spire to rise ?
were he ? " The Man of Ross," each lisping
Pope. babe replies.
Behold the market-place with poor
o'erspread!
LINES TO ALEXANDER POPE. The Man of Ross divides the weekly
bread
While malice. Pope, denies thy page
He feeds yon almshouse, neat, hut
Its own celestial fire
void of state.
While critics, and while bards in rage, Where age and want sit smiling at
Admiring, won't admire the gate
While wayward pens thy worth as-
Him portioned maids, apprenticed
sail,
orphans blest.

And envious tongues decry The young who labor, and the old
These times, though many a friend who rest.

bewail, Is any sick ? The Man of Ross re-

lieves.
These times bewail not I.
Prescribes, attends, the medicine
But when the world's loud praise is makes and gives.
thine. Is there a variance? enter but his
And spleen no more blame
shall door.
When with thy Homer thou shalt Balked are the courts, and contest is
shine no more
In one unclouded fame Despairing quacks with curses fled
the place,
WTien none shall rail, and every lay And vile attorneys, now a useless race.
Devote a wreath to thee Thrice happy man enabled to pur-
!

That day, (for come it will,) that day sue

Shall I lament to see. What all so wish but want the
David Levhs. power to do
Oh say, what sums that generous
hand supply?
THE MAN OF ROSS. What mines to swell that boundless
charity ?
But all our praises why should lords Of debts and taxes, wife and children
engross ? clear.
Rise, honest muse! and sing the This man possessed — five hundred
Man of Ross pounds a year.
 ; ; ; ;: : :

PORTRAITS. — PERSONAL. - PICTURES. 273

Blush grandeur, blush ! proud courts, And see all things despoiled of
withdraw your blaze fallacies
Ye little stars ! hide your diminished Thou shalt not peep through lat-
rays. tices of eyes,
And what? no monument, inscrip- Nor hear through labyrinths of ears,
tion, stone, nor learn
His race, his form, his name almost By circuit or collections to discern ;

unknown ? In heaven then straight know'st all

Who builds a church to God, and concerning it.
not to fame And what concerns it not, shall
Will never mark the marble with his straight forget.
name. There thou but in no other school
POPB. mayst be
Perchance as learned and as full as
she;
ELEGT ON MISTRESS ELIZA- She, who all libraries had thoroughly
BETH DEURY. read
At home in her own thoughts, and
She, of whose soul, if we may say, practisM
'twas gold. So much good as would make as
Her body was the Electrum, and did many more.
hold
Many degrees of that; we understood Up, up, my
drowsy soul where thy !

Her by her sight ; her pure and elo- new ear

quent blood Shall in the angels' songs no discord
Spoke in her cheeks, and so dis- hear;
tinctly wrought. Where thou shalt see the blessed
That one might almost say, her body Mother-maid
thought. Joy in not being that which men
She, she thus richly, largely housed, have said
is gone, Where she's exalted more for being
And chides us slow-paced snails who good.
crawl upon Than for her interest of Motherhood
Our prison's prison, Earth, nor Up to those Patriarchs, who did
think us well longer sit
Longer than whilst we bear our Expecting Christ, than they've en-
little shell. joyed him yet:
Up those Prophets, who now
to
What hope have we to know our- gladly see
selves, when we Their prophecies grown to be history
Know not the least things which Up to the Apostles, who did bravely
for our use be ? run
What Csesar did, yea, and what All the sun's course, with more
Cicero said, light than the sun
Why grass is green, or why our Up to those Martyrs, who did calmly
blood is red. bleed
Are mysteries which none have Oil to the Apostles' lamps, dew to
reached unto their seed
In this low form, poor soul, what Up to those Virgins, who thought
wilt thou do ? that almost
O when wilt thou
shake off this They made joint-tenants with the
pedantry Holy Ghost,
Of being caught by sense and fan- If they to any should his Temple
tasy? give:
Thou look'st through spectacles; Up, up, for in that squadron there
small things seem great doth live
Below; but up into the watch-tower She who hath carried thither new
get, degrees,
18
 : :: :; : ; : ! ; ;

274 PARNASSUS.

(As to their number,) to their digni- Of inward happiness. We are selfish

ties. men;
Oh raise us up, return to us again
!

She whom we celebrate is gone be- And give us manners, virtue, free-
fore: dom, power.
She who had here so much essential Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt
joy. apart:
As no chance could distract, much Thou hadst a voice whose sound
less destroy was like the sea:
Who with God's presence was ac- Pure as the naked heavens, majestic,
quainted so, free.
(Hearing and speaking to him,) as So didst thou travel on life's common
to know way,
His face in any natural stone or tree In cheerful godliness; and yet thy
Better than when in images they be heart
Who kept by diligent devotion The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
God's image in such reparation WOKDSWORTH.
Within her heart, that what decay
was grown
Was her first Parent's fault, and not WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS IN-
her own TENDED TO THE CITY.
Who, being solicited to any act,
Still heard God pleading his safe Captain or Colonel, or Enight in
pre-contract arms,
Who, by a faithful confidence was Whose chance on these defenceless
here doors may
seize.
Betrothed to God, and now is mar- If deed of honor did thee everplease,
ried there Guard them, and him within pro-
Whose twilights were more clear tect from harms.
than our mid-day He can requite thee, for he knows
Who dreamed devoutlier than most the charms
use to pray That call fame on such gentle acts
Who being here filled with grace, as these,
yet strove to be And he can spread thy name o'er
Both where more grace and more lands and seas.
capacity Whatever clime the sun's bright
At once is given. She to Heaven is circle warms.
gone. Lift not thy spear against the Muses'
Who made this world in some pro- bower:
portion The great Emathian conqueror
A Heaven, and here became unto us bid spare
all The house of Findarus, when
Joy, (as our joys admit,) essential. temple and tower
DONNIi. Went to the ground and the repeated
;

air
Of sad Electra's poet had the power
TO MILTON. To save the Athenian walls from
ruin bare.
Milton thou ! shouldst be living at Milton.
hour
this
England hath need of thee : she is a
fen ROB ROY'S GRAVE.
Of stagnant waters altar, sword, :

and pen. A FAMOUS man is Robin Hood,

Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall The English ballad-singer's joy!
and bower, And Scotland has a thief as good,
Have forfeited their ancient English An outlaw of as daring mood
dower She has her brave Rob Roy
 ; ! !! :
; ; !: ; ;! ; :: ;;

PORTRAITS. — PERSONAL. — PICTURES. 275

Then clear the weeda from ofE his '
All f reakishness of mind is checked
'

grave, He tfimed, who foolishly aspires

And let us chant a passing stave While to the measure of his might
In honor of that hero brave Each fashions his desires.

Heaven gave Rob Roy a dauntless " All kinds, and creatures, stand and
heart, fall
And wondrous length and strength By strength of prowess or of wit
of arm: 'Tis God's appointment who must
Nor craved he more to quell his foes, sway,
Or keep his friends from harm. And who is to submit.

Tet was Rob Roy as wise as brave "Since, then, the rule of right is
Forgive me if the phrase be strong ;
— plain.
A poet worthy of Rob Roy And longest life is but a day
Must scorn a timid song. To have my ends, maintain my rights,
I'll take the shortest way."
Say, then, that he was wise as brave
As wise in thought as bold in deed And thus among the rocks he lived.
For in the principle of things Through summer's heat and winter's
He sought his moral creed. snow:
The eagle, he was lord above,
Said generous Rob, " What need of And Rob was lord below.
books?
Bum all the statutes and their —
So was it would, at least, have been.
shelves But through untowardness of fate;
They stir us up against our kind For polity was then too strong
And worse, against ourselves. He came an age too late.
" We have a passion, make a law, Or shall we say, an age too soon ?
Too false to guide us or control For, were the bold man living now.
And for the law itself we fight How might he flourish in his pride.
In bitterness of soul. With buds on every bough
" And, puzzled, blinded thus, we lose Then rents and factors, rights of
Distinctions that are plain and few: chase.
These find I graven on my heart Sheriffs, and lairds and their do-
That tells me what to do. mains,
Would all have seemed but paltry
"The creatures see of flood and things,
field. Kot worth a moment's pains.
And those that travel on the wind
With them no strife can last : they Rob Roy had never lingered here.
live To these few meagre vales confined;
In peace, and peace of mind. But thought how wide the world,
the times
"For why? — because the good old How fairly to his mind.
rule
Sufliceth them, the simple plan. And to his sword he would have said,
That they should take who have the " Do thou my sovereign will enact
power. From land to land through half the
And they should keep who can. earth 1

Judge thou of law and fact!

"A lesson which is quickly learned; " 'Tis
A signal this which all can se« that we should do our part
fit

Thus nothing here provokes the Becoming, that mankind should learn
strong That we are not to be surpassed
To wanton cruelty. In fatherly concern.
 ! — ! ! ! ;; ; ;; ;

276 PARNASSUS.
" Of old things all are over old, TO CAMPBELL.
Of good things none are good
enough : True bard and simple, as the race —
We'll show that we can help to frame Of heaven-born poets always are.
A world of other stuff. When stooping from their starry
place
" I, too, will have my kings that take They're children near, though gods
From me the sign of life and death afar.
Kingdoms shsdl shift about like MOOEE.
clouds,
Obedient to my breath."
STANZAS TO * * *
And, the word had been fulfilled,
if
As might have been, then, thought Though the day of my destiny's
of joy! over,
France would have had her present And the star of my
fate hath de-
boast. clined.
And we our brave Rob Roy Thy soft heart refused to discover
The faults which so many could
Oh say not so compare them not
! ; find.
I would not wrong thee, champion
brave Though human, thou didst not de-
Would wrong thee nowhere; least ceive me
of all Though woman, thou didst not
Here standing by thy grave. forsake
Though loved, thou foreborest to
For thou, although with some wild grieve me
thoughts. Though slandered, thou "never
Wild chieftain of a savage clan couldst shake.
Hadst this to boast of thou didst love ;

The liberty of man. Though trusted, thou didst not dis-

claim me
And, had it been thy lot to live Though parted, it was not to fly;
With us who now behold the light. Though watchful, 'twas not to de-
Thou wouldst have nobly stiiTed thy- fame me.
self, Nor mute that the world might
And battled for the right. belie.

For thou wert still the poor man's In the desert a fountain is spring-
stay. ing.
The poor man's heart, the poor man's In the wild waste there still is a
hand! tree.
And all the oppressed who wanted And a bird in the solitude singing,
strength •
Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
Had thine at their command. Bybon.
Bear witness many a pensive sigh
Of thoughtful herdsman when he OUTWARD BOUND.
strays
Alone upon Loch Veol's heights, Is thy face like thy mother's, my
And by Loch Lomond's braes fair child I

Ada sole daughter of my house

!

And far and near, through vale and and heart?

hill, When last I saw thy young blue
Are faces that attest the same, eyes, they smiled.
And kindle, like a fire new stirred, And then we parted, — not as now
At sound of Eob Roy's name. we part.
WOBDSWOBTH. But with a hope. —
 ; ; ! !! — : ! : !

PORTRAITS. — PERSONAL. — PICTURES. 277.

Awaking with a start, Unbodied choose a sanctuary. I

The waters heave around me and ; twine
on high My hopes of being remembered in
The winds lift up their voices I : my line
depart, With my land's language; if too
Whither I Icnow not; but the fond and far
hour's gone by, These aspirations in their scope
When Albion's lessening shores incline, —
could grieve or glad mine eye. If my fameshould be as my for-
tunes are.
Once more upon the waters! yet Of hasty growth and blight, and dull
once more Oblivion bar
And the waves bound beneath me
as a steed My name from out the temple
That knows his rider. Welcome where the dead
to their roar Are honored by the nations let —
Swift be their guidance, where- itbe, —
soe'er it lead And on a loftier
light the laurels
Though the strained mast should head!
quiver as a reed, And be the Spartan's epitaph on
And the rent canvas fluttering, me,
strew the gale, "Sparta hath many a worthier
Still must I on; for I am as a son than he."
weed. Bybon.
Flung from the rock, on ocean's
foam, to sail
Where'er the surge may sweep, the FARE THEE WELL.
tempest's breath prevail.
Btbon. Fabe thee well ! and if forever.
Still forever, fare thee well
Even though unforgiving, never
LOVE OF ENGLAKD. 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.
Would that breast were bared before
I've taught me other tongues, — thee
and in strange eyes Where thy head so oft has lain.
Have made me not a stranger to ; While that placid sleep came o'er
the mind thee
Which is itself, no changes bring Which thou ne'er canst know
surprise again
Nor is it harsh to make, nor hard Would that breast, by thee glanced
to find over.
A country with, — ay, or without Every inmost thought could show
mankind Then thou wouldst at last discover
Yet was I born where men are 'Twas not well to spurn it so.
proud to be. Though the world for this commend
Not without cause ; and should I thee, —
leave behind Though it smile upon the blow.
The inviolate island of the sage Even its praises must oifend thee,
and free. Founded on another's woe.
And seek me out a home by a re- Though my many faults defaced me.
moter sea, — Could no other arm be found
Than the one which once embraced
Perhaps I loved it well; and me.
should I lay To a cureless wound ?
inflict
My ashes in a soil which is not Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not;
mine, Love may sink by slow decay,
My spirit shall resume it, — if we But by sudden wrench, believe not
may Hearts can thus be torn away
 — ; ;;;; ! ; !: ! !! !

278 PARNASSUS.

Still thine own its life retaineth Hived in our bosoms like the bag o'
Still must mine, though bleeding, the bee.
beat; Think'st thou the honey with
And the undying thought which those objects grew ?
paineth, Alas 'twas not in them, but in thy
— that we no more may meet.
!

Is power.
These are words of deeper sorrow To double even the sweetness of a
Than the wail above the dead flower.
Both shall live, but every morrow
Wake us from a widowed bed. No more — no more — Oh! never
And when thou wouldst solace more, my heart,
gather. Canst thou be my sole world, my
When our child's first accents flow. universe
Wilt thou teach her to say " Fath- Once all in all, but now a thing
er!" apart.
Though his care she must forego ? Thou canst not be my blessing, or
AVTien her little hands shall press my curse
thee, The illusion's gone forever.
When her lip to thine is pressed, Bybon,
Think of him whose prayer shall
bless thee,
Think of him thy love had blessed TO A MOUSE.
Should her lineaments resemble ON TUBNING HKB UP IN HBE NEST,
Those thou never more mayst see. WITH THB PLOUGH, NOVEMBBK,
Then thy heart will softly tremble 1786.
With a pulse yet true to me.
All my faults perchance thou know- Web, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beas-
est, tie,
All my madness none can know; O, what a panic's in thy breastie
All my hopes, where'er thou goest. Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Whither, —
yet with thee they go. Wi' bickering brattle
Every feeling hath been shaken I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Pride, which not a world could Wi' murd'ring pattle!
bow.
—
Bows to thee, by thee forsaken, I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Even my soul forsakes me now Has broken Nature's social union.
But 'tis done, —
all words are idle, — An' justifies that ill opinion,
Words from me are vainer still Which makes thee startle
But the thoughts we cannot bridle At me, thy poor, earth-born com-
Force their way without the will. panion,
Fare thee well thus disunited,
! An' fellow-mortal!
Torn from every nearer tie.
Seared in heart, and love, and blight- I doubt na, whyles, but thou may
ed, thieve
More than this I scarce can die. What then? poor beastie, thou maun
Btbon. live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request:
NO MORE. I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
And never miss't!
No more — no more — Oh! never
more on me Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin
The freshness of the heart can fall wa's the win's are strewin!
Its silly
dew,
like An' naething, now, to big a new
Which out of all the lovely things ane,
we see, O' foggage green I
Extracts emotions beautiful and An' bleak December's winds ensuin,
new, Baith snell an' keen
 ! : :! !!
:! ! ; ! !! ;

PORTRAITS. — PERSONAL. — PICTURES. 279

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth
waste, Amid the storm,
An' weary winter comin' fast, Scarce reared above the parent-
An' cozie here, beneath the blast, earth
Thou thought to dwell, Thy tender form.
Till, crash! the^iruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell. The flaunting flowers our gardens
yield
That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stib- High sheltering -woods and wa's
ble maun shield
Has cost thee mony
a weary nibble But thou, beneath the random bield
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy O' clod, or stane,
trouble. Adorns the histie stibble-field,
But house or hald, Unseen, alane.
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch eauld 1 There, in thy scanty mantle clad.
Thy suawy bosom sunward spread.
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane. Thou lifts thy unassuming head
In proving foresight may be vain In humble guise
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' But now the share uptears thy bed.
men. And low thou lies
Gang aft a-gley.
An' lea'e us nought but grief and Such is the fate of artless Maid,
pain, Sweet floweret of the rural shade
For promised joy. By love's simplicity betrayed,
And guileless trust,
Stillthou art blest, compared wi' me Till she, like thee, all soiled, is laid
The present only toucheth thee Low in the dust.
But, Och I backward cast my e'e
!

On prospects drear!
Such is the fate of simple Bard,
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear
On life's rough ocean luckless
starred
BUKNS. Unskilful he to note the card
Of prudent lore,
Till billows rage, and gales blow
hard.
TO A MOUNTAIN DAIST. And whelm him o'er!
OHf TUKNING ONE DOWN WITH THE
PLOUGH, IN APBIL, 1786. Such fate to suffering worth is given,
Who long with wants and woes has
Wee, modest, crimson-tippM flower, striven.
Thou's met me in an evil hour; By human pride or cunning driven
For I maun crush amang the stoure To misery's brink,
Thy slender stem Till, wrenched of every stay but
To spare thee now is past my power. Heaven,
Thou bonnie gem. He, ruined, sink!

Alas it's no thy neebor sweet.

! Even thou who mourn'st the daisy's
The bonnie lark, companion meet fate.
Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet That fateis thine —
no distant date;
Wi' spreckled breast. Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives,
When upward-springing, blythe, to elate.
greet Full on thy bloom.
The purpling east. Till crashed beneath the furrow's
weight
Cauld blew the bitter-biting north Shall be thy doom
Upon thy early, humble birth; BuBNS.
 ; :;

280 PARNASSUS.

SANTA PILOMENA. THE FIPTIETH BIRTHDAY OF

AGASSIZ.
Whenb'eb a noble deed is wrought,
Whene'er is spoken a noble thought, MAY 28, 1897.

Our hearts, in glad surprise,

To higher levels rise. It was fifty years ago,
In the pleasant month of May,
The tidal wave of deeper souls In the beautiful Pays de Vaud,
Into our inmost being rolls, A child in its cradle lay.
And lifts us unawares
Out of all meaner cares. And Nature, the old nurse, took
child upon her knee,
The
Honor to those whose words and deeds Saying, " Here is a story-book
Thus help us in our daily needs, Thy Father has written for thee.''
And by their overflow
" Come, wander with me,'' she said
Raise us from what is low.
" Into regions yet untrod,
Thus thought I, as by night I read And read what is still unread
Of the great army of the dead, In the manuscripts of God."
The trenches cold and damp.
The starved and frozen camp, — And he wandered away and away.
With Nature, the dear old nurse,
The wounded from the battle-plain. Who sang to him night and day
In dreary hospitals of pain. The rhymes of the universe.
The cheerless corridors,
The cold and stony floors. And whenever the way seemed long.
Or his heart began to fail,
Lo ! in that house of misery She would sing a more wonderful
A lady with a lamp I see Or
song,
tell a more marvellous tale.
Pass through the glimmering
gloom.
And flit from room to room. So she keeps him still a child.
And will not let him go,
And slow, as in a dream of bliss, Though at times his heart beats
The speechless sufferer turns to kiss wild
Her shadow as it falls , For the beautiful Pays de Vaud
Upon the darkened walls.
Though at times he hears in his
As a door in heaven should be
if dreams
Opened, and then closed suddenly, The Ranz des Vaches of old,
The vision came and went, And the rush of mountain streams
The light shone, and was spent. From glaciers clear and cold

OnEngland's annals, through the long And the mother at home says,
Hereafter of her speech and song. "Hark!
That light its rays shall cast For his voice I listen and yearn
From portals of the past. It is growing late and dark.
And my boy does not return !"
The lady with a lamp shall stand Longfellow.
In the great history of the laud,
A noble type of good
Heroic womanhood.
THE WANTS OF MAN. .

Nor even shall be wanting here

The palm, the lily, and the spear, — " Man wants but little here below,
The symbols that of yore Nor wants that little long."
Saint Pilomena bore. 'Tis not with me exactly so;
Longfellow. But 'tis so in the song.
 : ; ; ; ; ; ,

POETEAITS. — PEESONAL. — PICTTJEES. 281

My wants are many, and, if told. Nor crown nor sceptre would 1 ask,
Would muster many a score But from my country's will.
And were each wish a mint of gold, By day, by night, to ply the task
I still should long for more. Her cup of bliss to fill.
What first I want is daily bread —
And canvas-backs — and wine — I want the voice of honest praise
To follow me behind.
And all the realms of nature spread And to be thought in future days
Before me, when I dine. The friend of human kind.
Four courses scarcely can provide That after ages, as they rise,
My appetite to quell;
Exulting may proclaim
With four choice cooks from France
In choral union to the skies
beside
Their blessings on my name.
To dress my dinner well.

What next I want at princely cost. These are the wants of mortal man,
Is elegant attire I cannot want them long
Black sable furs for winter's frost, For life itself is but a span.
And silks for summer's fire. And earthly bliss — a song.
And Cashmere shawls, and Brussels My last great want, absorbing all —
lace Is,when beneath the sod,
My bosom's front to deck, — And summoned to my final call,
And diamond rings my hands to grace, The "mercy of my God."
And rubies for my neck. John Quinct Adams.
Washinqtoit, Aug. 31, 1841.

I want (who does not want) a wife —

Affectionate and fair
To solace all the woes of life,
And all its joys to share. LINES WRITTEN EST A LADY'S
Of temper sweet, of yielding will, ALBUM BELOW THE AUTO-
Of firm yet placid mind, — GKAPH OF JOHN ADAMS.
With all my faults to love me still
With sentiment refined. Deab lady, I a little fear
'Tis dangerous to be writing here.
And as Time's car incessant runs, His hand who bade our eagle fly.
And fortune fills my store, Trust his young wings, and mount
I want of daughters and of sons the sky, —
From eight to half a score. Who bade across the Atlantic tide
I want (alas can mortal dare
! New thunders sweep, new navies
Such bliss on earth to crave?) ride.
That all the girls be chaste and fair, Has traced in lines of trembling
The boys all wise and brave. age
His autograph upon this page.
I want a warm and faithful friend, Higher than that eagle soars.
To cheer the adverse hour; Wider than that thunder roars.
Who ne'er to flattery will descend. His fame shall through the world be
Nor bend the knee to power, — sounding,
A friend to chide me when I'm wrong, And o'er the waves of time be bound-
My inmost soul to see ing.
And that my friendship prove as Though thousands as obscure as I,
strong Cling to his skirts, he still will fly
For him as his for me. And leap to immortality.
If by his name I write my own.
Iwant the seals of power and place, He' 11 take me where I am not known
The ensigns of command The cold salute will meet my ear,
Charged by the People's unbought " Pray, stranger, how did you come
grace here?"
To rule my native land. Daniel Webstek.
 ! ): ;:! !
; : ; ; ;

282 PARNASSUS.

TO GEORGE PKABODT. THE DESTRUCTION OF SEN-

NACHERIB.
Bankbupt — our pockets inside
out! The Assyrian came down like the
Empty of words to speak his
wolf on the fold,
praises
And his cohorts were gleaming in
Worcester and Webster up the spout! purple and gold
Dead broke of laudatory phrases And the sheen of their spears was
But why with flowery speeches tease, like stars on the sea.
With vain superlatives distress When the blue wave rolls nightly on
him? deep Galilee.
Has language better words than
these ? Like the leaves of the forest when
The friend of all his race, God bless
summer is green,
him! That host with their banners at sun-
A simple prayer — but words more set were seen
sweet Like the leaves of the forest when
By human lips were never uttered, autumn hath blown.
Since Adam left the country seat That host on the morrow lay with-
Where angel wings around him ered and strewn.
fluttered.
The old look on with tear-dimmed For the Angel of Death spread his
eyes, wing on the blast.
The children cluster to caress him, And breathed in the face of the foe
And every voice unbidden cries. as he passed
The friend of all his race, God bless And the eyes of the sleepers waxed
him! deadly and chill,
O. W. Holmes. And their hearts but once heaved,
and forever grew still.

A KING.
And there lay the steed with his nos-
A KING lived long ago.
tril all wide,
In the morning of the world,
But through it there rolled not the
When Earth was nigher Heaven breath of his pride
than now
And the foam of his gasping lay
And the King's locks curled white on the turf.
Disparting o'er a forehead full
As the milk-white space 'twlxt
And cold as the spray of the rock-
beating surf.
horn and horn
Of some sacrificial bull.
Only calm as a babe new-bom And there lay the rider distorted and
For he was got to a sleepy pale,
mood, With the dew on his brow, and the
So safe from all decrepitude. rust on his mail
Age with its bane so sure gone by, And the tents were all silent, the
(The gods so loved him while he banners alone.
dreamed, The lances unlifted, the trumpet un-
That, having lived thus long, there blown.
seemed
No need the King should ever die. And the widows of Ashur are loud
in their wail.
Among the rocks his city was And the idols are broke in the temple
Before his palace, in the sun, of Baal;
He sat to see his people pass. And the might of the Gentue, un-
And judge them every one smote by the sword,
From its threshold of smooth Hath melted like snow in the glance
stone. of the Lord
ROBEBT BbOWNING. Btbon.
 ! : : ;
;;

PORTRAITS. — PERSONAIi. - PICTURES. 283

CLEOPATRA. THE GLADIATOR.
The barge she sat In, like a burnished I SEE before me the gladiator lie

throne,
He leans upon his hand; — his
Burned on the water the poop was
:
manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers
beaten gold,
agony.
Purple the sails, and so perfumfed,
And his drooped head sinks grad-
that
The winds were love-sick with them: ually low —
the oars were silver;
And through his side the last drops,
ebbing slow
Which to the tune of flutes kept
and made
stroke,
From the red gash, fall heavy,
one by one.
The water, which they beat, to follow
Like the first of a thunder-shower
faster.
and now
As amorous of their strokes. For — he
her own person.
The arena swims around him
gone,
is
It beggared all description : she did
lie
Ere ceased the inhuman shout which
hailed the wretch who won.
In her pavilion, (cloth-of-gold, of
tissue,)
O'er-picturing that Venus, where we He heard it,but he heeded not, —
his eyes
see,
The fancy out-work nature on each :
Were with his heart, and that was
far away;
side her.
Stood pretty boys, like smiling Cu-
He recked not of the life he lost,
nor prize,
pids,
whose But where his rude hut by the
With diverse-colored fans,
Danube lay.
wind did seem There were his young barbarians
To glow the delicate cheeks which
all at play.
they did cool
And what they undid, did.
There was their Dacian mother, —
he, their sire.
Her gentlewomen, like the Nerei-
Butchered to make a Roman holi-
des,
day;—
So many mermaids, tended her
the eyes,
i'
All this rushed with his blood; —
Shall he expire,
And made
the
their bends
helm
adomings : at —
And unavenged? Arise ye Goths, !

and glut your ire

A seeming mermaid steers ; the silken
Btkon.
tackles
Swell with touches of those
the
flower-soft hands,
That yarely frame the oflice. From
THE PRISONER OF CHILLON.
the barge
A strange invisible perfume hits the
I MADE a footing in the wall,
was not therefrom to escape,
It
sense
For I had buried one and all.
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city Wholoved me in a human shape
cast
Her people out upon her; and An- And the whole earth would hence-
forth be
tony,
Enthroned in the market-place, did
A wider prison unto me
But I was curious to ascend
sit alone.
Whistling to the air; which, but for
To my barred windows, and to bend
vacancy,
Once more upon the mountains high.
The quiet of a loving eye.
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra
too,
And made a gap in nature.
I saw them — and they were the same
They were not changed like me in
Shaespeabe. frame;
 : ; ; ; !
; ;; " : ; —

284 PAENASSUS.

I saw their thousand years of snow And the headsman with his bare arm
On high, — their wide long lalse be- ready.
low, That the blow may be both swift and
And the blue Rhone in fullest flow steady,
I heard the torrents leap and gush Feels if the axe be sharp and true
O'er channelled rock and broken Since he set its edge anew
bush; While the crowd in a speechless cir-
Isaw the white- walled distant town, cle gather.
And whiter sails go skimming down To see the son fall by the doom of
And then there was a little isle, the father.
Which in my very face did smile,
The only one in view It is a lovely hour as yet
A small green isle, it seetaied no Before the summer sun shall set,
more. And his evening beams are shed
Scarce broader than my dungeon Full on Hugo's fated head.
floor. As, his last confession pouring.
But in it there were three tall trees. To the monk his doomdeploring.
And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, In penitentialholiness,
And by it there were waters flowing, He bends to hear his accents bless
And on it there were young flowers With absolution such as may
growing. Wipe our mortal stains away.
Of gentle breath and hue.
Thefish swam by the castle-wall. He died, as erring man should die.
And they seemed joyous each and Without display, without parade
all; Meekly had he bowed and prayed.
The eagle rode the rising blast As not disdaining priestly aid,
Methought he never flew so fast Nor desperate of all hope on high.
As then to me he seemed to fly, — Btkon.
And then new tears came in my
eye,
And I felt troubled, — and would fain
I had not left my recent chain. FROM THE SIEGE OF COR-
Btkon. INTH.
The night is past, and shines the
sun
FROM PAEISINA. As if that morn were a jocund
one.
BXBCUnON. Lightly and brightly breaks
away
The convent-bells are ringing, The morning from her mantle
But mournfully and slow; .
gray.
In the gray square turret swinging, And the noon will look on a
With a deep sound, to and fro. sultry day.
Heavily to the heart they go Hark to the trump, and the
Hark the hymn is singing
!
— drum.
The song for the dead below,
-
And the mournful sound of the bar-
Or the living, who shortly shall be
'
*"
barous horn.
so! And the flap of the banners, that flit
For a departing being's soul as they're borne.
The death-hymn peals, and the hol- And the neigh of the steed, and the
low bells knoll multitude's hum.
He is near his mortal goal And the clash, and the shout, " They
Kneeling at the friar's knee come, they come !

Sad to hear, —
and piteous to see, — The horse-tails are plucked from the
Kneeling on the bare cold ground, ground, and the sword
With the block before and the guards From its sheath; and they form, and
around ;
— but wait for the word.
 ;; ! :: ;: ; ; ! : :

PORTRAITS. — PERSONAL. — PICTURES. 285

Tartar, and Spahi, and Turcoman, ENTRANCE OF BOLINGBEOKE
Strike your tents, and throng to liie INTO LONDON.
van;
Mount ye, spur ye, skirr the plain, Duchess. —
My lord, you told me
That the fugitive may flee in vain, you would tell the rest.
When he breaks from the town ; and When weeping made you break the
none escape. story off.
Aged or young, in the Christian Of our two cousins coming into Lon-
shape don.
While your fellows on foot, in fiery York. —Where did I leave ?
mass. Duch. —At that sad stop, my lord,
Bloodstain the breach through which Where rude misgoverned hands,
they pass. from windows' tops,
The steeds are all bridled, and snort Threw dust and rubbish on King
to the rein Richard's head,
Curved is each neck, and flowing York. —Then as I said, the duke,
each mane great Bolingbroke, —
White is the foam of their champ Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed,
on the bit Which his aspiring rider seemed to
The spears are uplifted ; the matches know, —
are lit With slow but stately pace, kept on
The cannon are pointed and ready to his course.
roar, While all tongues cried, " God save
And crush the wall they have crum- thee, Bolingbroke!"
bled before Tou would have thought the very
Forms in his phalanx each Janizar; windows spake.
Alp at their head ; his right arm is So many greedy looks of young and
bare. old
So is the blade of his scimitar Through casements darted their de-
The Khan and his pachas are all at siring eyes
their post Upon his visage, and that all the
The vizier himself at the head of walls.
the host. With painted imagery, had said at
When the culverin's signal is fired, once, —
then On " Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bo-
Leave not in Corinth a living one — lingbroke!"
A priest at her altars, a chief in her Whilst he, from one side to the other
halls, turning.
A hearth in her mansions, a stone Bareheaded, lower than his proud
on her walls. steed's neck,
God and the prophet Alia Hul — Bespake them thus, —
"I thank you,
Up to the skies with that wild halloo 1 countrymen:"
" There the breach lies for passage, And thus still doing, thus he passed
the ladder to scale along.
And your hands on your sabres, and Duch. — Alas, poor Richard, where
how should ye fail ? rides he the while ?
He who first downs with the red cross York. — As in a theatre, the eyes
may crave of men.
His heart's dearest wish; let him After a well-graced actor leaves the
ask it, and have!" stage,
Thus uttered Coumourgi, the daunt- Are idly bent on him that enters next.
less vizier; Thinking his prattle to be tedious
The reply was the brandish of sabre Even so, or with much more con-
and spear. tempt, men's eyes
And the shout of fierce thousands Did scowl on Richard no man cried,
in joyous ire :
— God save him I
;

Silence — haxk to the signal fire — No joyful tongue gave him his wel-
Bybon. come home
 ;! ; ;

286 parStassus.

But dust was thrown upon his sa- Breathless and faint, leaning upon
cred head, my sword.
Which with such sorrow he Came there a certain lord, neat,
shook off, — gentle trimly dressed,
His face combating with tears
still Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin,
and
smiles, new reaped,
The badges of his grief and pa- Showed like a stubble-land at har-
tience, — vest-home ;
That, had not God, for some strong He was perfumed like a milliner;
purpose, steeled And 'twixt his finger and his thumb
The hearts of men, they must per- he held
force have melted. A pouncet-box, which ever and
And barbarism itself have pitied anon
him. He gave his nose, and took't away
Shakspeaeb King Bichard II.
: again ;
—
Who therewith angry, when it next
came there,
THE CALIPH'S ENCAMPMENT. Took itin snuff: —
and still he
smiled and talked
Whose are the gilded tents that And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies
crowd the way. by,
Where all was waste and silent yes- He called them untaught knaves,
terday ? unmannerly.
This City of War, which, in a few To bring a slovenly unhandsome
short hours. corse
Hath sprung up here, as if the Betwixt the wind and his nobility.
magic powers With many holiday and lady terms
Of Him who, in the twinkling of a He questioned me; among the rest
star. demanded
Built the high-pillared walls of Ohil- My prisoners, in your majesty's be-
minar, half.
Had conjured up, far as the eye can I then, all smarting, with wounds my
see. being cold.
This world of tents, and domes, and To be so pestered with a popinjay.
sun-bright armory :
— Out of my grief and my
impatience.
Princely pavilions, screened by many Answered neglectingly, I know not
a fold what;
Of crimson cloth, and topped with
— He should, or he should not; — for
balls of gold : he made me mad
Steeds, with their housings of rich To see him shine so brisk, and smell
silver spun, so sweet.
Their chains and poltrels glittering And talk so like a waiting-gentle-
in the sun woman.
And camels, tufted o'er with Te- Of guns, and drums, and wounds,
men's shells (God save the mark!)
Shaking in every breeze their light- And telling me, the sovereign'st
toned bells thing on earth
MOOBE. Was parmaceti, for an inward bruise
And that it was great pity, so it
was,
FOP. 1/ That villanous saltpetre should be
digged
Hotspur. —My liege, I did deny no Out of the bowels of the harmless
prisoners. earth.
But I remember, when the fight was Which many a good tall fellow had
done^ destroyed
When I was dry with rage, and ex- So cowardly ; and but for these vile
treme toil, guns,
 ; — !: ; ! ! ; :; ; !; ;

PORTRAITS. — PERSONAL. — PICTURES. 287

He would himself have been a sol- A hailing fount of struck at
fire is
dier. every squashing blow.
This bald unjointed chat of his, my The leathern mail rebounds the
lord, hail, the rattling cinders strew
I answered indirectly, as I said The ground around at every bound
;

And I beseech you, let not his re- the sweltering fountains flow,
port And thick and loud the swinking
Come current for an accusation, crowd at every stroke pant
Betwixt my love and your high "Ho!"
majesty.
Shakspeabe. Leap out,leap out, my masters-,
leap out, and lay on load I

Let's forge a goodly anchor; a —

THE FORGING OF THE AN- bower thick and broad
CHOR. For a heart of oak is hanging on
every blow, I bode,
Come, see the Dolphin's anchor And I see the good ship riding, all
forged, — 'tis at a white-heat in a perilous road, —
now: The low reef roaring on her lee, —
The bellows ceased, the flames de- the roll of ocean poured
creased, though on the forge's From stem to stern, sea after sea;
brow the mainmast by the board
The little flames still fitfully play The bulwarks down, the rudder
through the sable mound, gone, the boats stove at the
And fitfully you still may see the chains
grim smiths ranking round. But courage still, brave mariners
All clad in leather panoply, their the bower yet remains.
broad hands only bare, — And not an inch to flinch he deigns,
Some restupon their sledges here, save when ye pitch sky high
some work the windlass there. Then moves his head, as though he
said, "Fear nothing here —
The windlass strains the tackle am L"
chains, the mound
black
heaves below. Swing in your strokes in order, let
And red and deep a hundred veins foot and hand keep time
burst out at every throe Tour blows make music sweeter far
It rises, roars, rends all outright, — than any steeple's chime.
.O Vulcan, what a glow But while you sling your sledges,
sing, — and let the burthen be.
'Tis blinding white, 'tis blasting The anchor is the anvil king, and
bright, —the high sun shines royal craftsmen we
not so I Strike in, strike in —
the sparks be-
The high sun sees not, on the earth, gin to dull their rustling red
such a fiery fearful show; Our hammers ring with sharper din,
The roof-ribs swarth, the candent our work will soon be sped.
hearth, the ruddy lurid row Our anchor soon must change his
Of smiths that stand, an ardent bed of flery rich array,
band, like men before the foe. For a hammock at the roaring bows,
As, quivering through his fleece of or an oozy couch of clay
flame, the sailing monster, Our anchor soon must change the
slow lay of merry craftsmen here,
Sinks on the anvil; —
all about the For the yeo-heave-o', and the heave-
faces fiery grow. away, and the sighing sea-
" Hurrah !" they shout, "leap out — man's cheer;
leap out;" bang, bang, the When, weighing slow, at eve they go
sledges go — far, far from love and home
Hurrah I the jetted lightnings are And sobbing sweethearts, in a row,
hissing high and low ; wail o'er the ocean foam.
 ! ; ; ; ; ;; : ! ! ! ;

288 PARNASSUS.

In livid and obdurate gloom he dark- O lodger in the sea-king's halls!

ens down at last couldst thou but understand
A shapely one he is, and strong, as Whose be the white bones by thy
from cat was cast.
e'er side, —
or who that dripping
O and trustworthy guard, if
trusted band,
thou hadst life like me, Slow swaying in the heaving wave,
What pleasures would thy toils re- that round about thee bend.
ward beneath the deep green With sounds like breakers in a dream,
sea! blessing their ancient friend ;
—
O deep sea-diver, who might then O, couldst thou know what heroes
behold such sights as thou ? glide with larger steps round
The hoary monster's palaces me- ! thee.
thinks what joy 'twere now Thine iron side would swell with
To go plumb plunging down amid pride, —
thou'dst leap within
the assembly of the whales, the sea
And feel the churned sea round me
boil beneath their scourging Give honor to their memories who
tails left the pleasant strand
Then deep in tangle-woods to fight To shed their blood so freely for the
the fierce sea-unicorn, love of father-land, —
And send him foiled and bellowing Who left their chance of quiet age
back, for all his ivory horn and grassy churchyard grave
To leave the subtile sworder-flsh of So bed amid the
freely, for a restless
bony blade forlorn tossing wave
And for the ghastly-grinning shark O, though our anchor may not be all
to laugh his jaws to scorn I have fondly sung.
To leap down on the kraken's Honor him for their memory whose
back, where 'mid Norwegian bones he goes among
isles Samtjbl Fkbguson.
He a lubber anchorage for sud-
lies,
den shallowed miles
Till snorting, like an under-sea vol- THE ICE PALACE.
cano, off he rolls
Meanwhile to swing, a-buffeting the Less worthy of applause, though
far astonished shoals more admired.
Of his back-browsing ocean-calves; Because a novelty, the work of man,
or, haply in a cove. Imperial mistress of the fur-clad
Shell-strewn, and consecrate of old Kuss,
to some Undine's love, Thy most magnificent and mighty
To find the long-haired maidens ; or, freak.
hard by icy lauds. The wonder of the North. No forest
To wrestle with the sea-serpent, upon fell
cerulean sands. When thou wouldst build no quarry ;

sent its stores

O broad-armed fisher of the deep, To enrich thy walls ; but thou didst
whose sports can equal hew the floods,
thine? And make thy marble of the glassy
The Dolphin weighs a thousand wave.
tons, that tugs thy cable Silently as a dream the fabric rose
line; No sound of hammer or of saw was
And night by night, 'tis thy delight, there
thy glory day by day, Ice upon ice,the well-adjusted parts
Through sable sea and breaker white, Were soon conjoined, nor other cem-
the giant game to play, — ent asked
But shamer of our little sports for- Than water interfused to make
give the name I gave, —
!

them one.
A fisher's joy is to destroy, — thine Lamps gracefully disposed, and of all
office is to save. . hues,
 : ; ; "
;! : :

POETRAITS. — PERSONAL. -PICTURES. 289

Illumined every side : a watery light 'Twas autumn; and sunshine arose
Gleamed through the clear trans- on the way
parency, that seemed To the home of my fathers, that
Another moon new risen, or meteor welcomed me back.
fallen
From Heaven to Earth, of lambent I flew to the pleasant fields traversed
flame serene. so oft
So stood the brittle prodigy : though In life's morning march, when
smooth my bosom was young
And slippery the materials, yet frost- I heard my own mountain-goats
bound bleating aloft,
Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught And knew the sweet strain that
within, the corn-reapers sung.
That royal residence might well befit.
For grandeur or for use. Long wavy Then pledged we the wine-cup, and
wreaths fondly I swore
Of flowers, that feared no enemy but From my home and my weeping
warmth, friends never to part
Blushed on the panels. Mirror My little ones kissed me a thousand
needed none times o'er,
Where all was vitreous but in order ; And my wife sobbed aloud in her
due fulness of heart.
Convivial table and commodious seat,
(What seemed at least commodious " Stay, stay with us — rest, thou art
seat, ) were there weary and worn :

Sofa and couch and high-built And fain was their war-broken
throne august. soldier to stay
The same lubricity was found in all. But sorrow returned with the dawn-
And was moist to the warm
all ing of morn.
touch ; a scene And the voice in my dreaming ear
Of evanescent glory, once a stream. melted away.
And soon to slide into a stream again. Campbell.
COWPBB.

THE SOLDIER'S DREAM. THE PALM AND THE PINE.

OtTB bugles sang truce; for the
night-cloud had lowered,
Beneath an Indian pahn a girl
And the sentinel stars set their
Of other blood reposes
watch in the sky Her cheek is clear and pale as pearl,
And thousands had sunk on the Amid that wild of roses.
ground overpowered.
Beside a northern pine a boy
The weary to sleep, and the
Is leaning fancy-bound,
wounded to die.
Nor listens where with noisy joy
When reposing that night on my Awaits the impatient hound.
pallet of straw,
By the wolf-scaring fagot that Cool grows the sick and feverish
guarded the slain. calm, —
At the dead of the night a sweet Relaxed the frosty twine, —
vision I saw, The pine-tree dreameth of the palm,
And , thrice ere the morning I The palm-tree of the pine.
dreamt it again.
As soon shall nature interlace
Methought from the battle-field's Those dimly visioned boughs.
dreadful array As these young lovers face to face
Par, far I had roamed on a deso- Renew their early vows
late track MiLNES,
19
 : ; ;:
290
BUiaAL OF MOSES.
" And he buried him in a valley in the
land of Moab, over against Beth-peor; but
no man knoweth of his Sepulchre unto this
day." — DjsDT. xxxiv. 6.
By Nebo's lonely mountain,
On this side Jordan's wave,
In a vale in the land of Moab,
There lies a lonely grave
But no man built that sepulchre.
And no man saw it e'er;
For the angels of God upturned the
sod,
And laid the dead man there.
That was the grandest funeral
That ever passed on earth;
Yet no man heard the trampling,
Or saw the train go forth
Noiselessly as the daylight
Comes when the night is done.
And the crimson streak on ocean's
cheek
Grows into the great sun
Noiselessly as the spring-time
Her crown of verdure weaves.
And all the trees on all the hills
Unfold their thousand leaves
So without sound of music
Or voice of them that wept.
Silently down from the mountain's
crown
The great procession swept.
Perchance the bald old eagle
On gray Beth-peor' s height
Out of his rocky eyry
Looked on the wondrous sight
Perchance the lion stalking
Still shuns that hallowed spot
For beast and bird have seen and
heard
That which man knoweth
But, when
the warrior dieth.
His comrades of the war.
With arms reversed and muffled
drums.
Follow the funeral car
They show the banners taken
They tell his battles won.
And after him lead his masterless
steed,
While peals the minute-gun.
: ; ;; ! !; :;
PARNASSUS.
Amid the noblest of the land
Men lay the sage to rest,
And give the bard an honored place,
With costly marbles drest,
In the great minster transept
Where lights like glories fall.
And the sweet choir sings, and the
organ rings
Along the emblazoned hall.
This was the bravest warrior
That ever buckled sword
This the most gifted poet
That ever breathed a word
And never earth's philosopher
Traced with his golden pen,
On the deathless page, truths half so
As he wrote down for men.
And had he not high honor?
The hillside for his pall
To lie in state while angels wait
With stars for tapers tall
And the dark rock pines like tossing
plumes
Over his bier to wave.
And God's own hand, in that lonely
land.
To lay him in his grave ! —
In that deep grave without a name,
Whence his uncoffined clay
Shall break again, —
O wondrous
thought 1
Before the judgment-day,
And stand, with glory wrapped
around.
On the hills he never trod.
And speak of the strife that won our
life
With the incarnate Son of God.
not.
Oh lonely tomb in Moab's land!
Oh dark Beth-peor' s hill! •
Speak to these curious hearts of
ours,
And them to be still
teach
God hath his mysteries of grace.
Ways that we cannot tell.
He hides them deep, like the secret
Of him he loved so well.
Mes. C. F. Alexander.
 vn.

NAREATIYE POEMS
AUTD

BALLADS.

"Fragments of the lofty stisdn

float dovn
the tide of years,
As hnoyant on the stormy main
A parted wreck appears."— Soott.
 ; ;: ; ;

liJ^AEEATIYE POEMS ANJ) BALLADS.

HOUSE OF BUSTRANE. (Ah! man, beware how thou those

darts behold!)
Kings, queens, lords, ladies, knights, A wounded dragon under him did lie,
and damsels great Whose hideous tail did his left foot
Were heaped together with the vul- infold.
gar sort. And with a shaft was shot through
And mingled with the rascal rabble- either eye
ment That no man forth might draw, nor
Without respect of person or of port, no man remedy.
To show Dan Cupid's power and
great efEort And underneath his feet was written
And round about a border was thus:
entrailed " Unto the Victor of the gods this be;"
Of broken bows and arrows shivered And all the people in that ample
short, house
And a long bloody river through Did to that image bow their humble
them rayled knee,
So lively and so like that living scene And committed foul idolatry.
oft
it failed. That wondrous sight fair Britomart
amazed,
And at the upper end of that fair Nor seeing could her wonder satisfy,
room But evermore and more upon it gazed
There was an altar built of precious The while the passing brightness
stone her frail senses dazed.
Of passing value and of great renown,
On which there stood an image all Though as she backward cast her
alone. busy eye.
Of massy gold, which with his own To search each secret of that goodly
light shone stead.
And wings it had with sundry colors Over the door thus written she did
dight, — spy,
More sundry colors than the proud Be bold:" she oft and oft it over-
pavone read,
Bears in his boasted fan, or Iris Yet could not find what sense it
bright figured
When her discolored bow she spreads But whatso were therein, or writ, or
through heaven bright. meant,
She was thereby no whit discouraged
Blindfold he was and in his cruel fist
; From prosecuting of her first intent.
A mortal bow of arrows keen did But forward with bold steps into
hold, the next room went.
With which he shot at random when
him list Much fairer than the former was
Some headed with sad lead, some that room.
with pure gold And richlier by many parts arrayed;
293
 : ; : ;; :

294 PAENAssrrs.

For not with arras, made in painful By any riddling skill, nor common
loom, wit.
But with pure gold, it all was over- At last she spied at that room's
laid. upper end
Wrought with wild antics, which Another iron door, on which was
their follies played writ,
In the rich metal as they living were " Be not too bold " whereto though
A thousand monstrous forms therein she did bend
were made, Her earnest mind, yet wist not what
Such as false Love doth oft upon it might intend.
him wear Spenser
For love in thousand monstrous
forms doth oft appear.
THE GATE OF CAMELOT.
And ahout the glistering walls
all
were hung So, when their feet were planted on
With warlike spoils and with victo- the plain
torious prayes That broadened toward the base of
Of mighty conquerors and captains Camelot,
strong, Far off they saw the silver-misty
Which were whilom captived in their morn
Rolling hersmoke about the Royal
To cruel love, and wrought their mount.
own decays. That rose between the forest and
Their swords and spears were broke, the field.
and hauberks rent, At times the summit of the high
And their proud garlands of trium- city flashed
phant bays At times the spires and turrets half-
Trodden to dust with fury insolent. way down
To show the victor's might and Pricked through the mist: at times
merciless intent. the great gate shone
Only, that opened on the field below
The warlike maid, beholding earnest- Anon, the whole fair city had dis-
ly appeared.
The goodly ordinance of this rich
place. Then those who went with Gareth
Did greatly wonder, nor did satisfy were amazed.
Her greedy eyes by, gazing a long One crying, "Let us go no further,
space. lord.
But more she marvelled that no Here a city of Enchanters, built
is
footing's trace By fairy Kings." The second echoed
Kor wight appeared, but wasteful him,
emptinessi " Lord, we have heard from our wise
And solemn silence over all that men at home
space To Northward, that this King is not
Strange thing it seemed that none the King,
was to possess But only changeling out of Fairyland,
So rich purveyance, nor them keep Who drave the heathen hence by
with carefulness. sorcery
And Merlin's glamour." Then the
And as she looked about, she did first again,
behold "Lord, there is no such city any-
How over that same door was like- where,
wise writ, But all a vision."
"Be bold, be bold," and everywhere,
"Be bold;" Gareth answered them
That much she mused, yet could With laughter,
swearing he had
not construe it glamour enow
 : ; ; :

NABRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 295

In his own blood, his princedom, Out of the city a blast of music pealed.
youth and hopes, Back from the gate started the three,
To plunge old Merlin in the Arabian to whom
sea; From out thereunder came an an-
So pushed them all unwilling toward cient man.
the gate. Long-bearded, saying, "Who be ye,
And there was no gate like it under my sons?"
heaven.
For barefoot on the keystone, which Then Gareth, "We be tillers of
was lined the soil.
And rippled like an ever-fleeting Who leaving share in furrow, come
wave, to see
The Lady of the Lake stood : all her The glories of our King: but these,
dress my men
Wept from her sides as water flow- (Your city moved so weirdly in the
ing away; mist),
But like the cross her great and Doubt if the King be King at all, or
goodly arms come
Stretched under all the cornice, and From fairyland; and whether this
upheld be built
And drops of water fell from either By magic, and by fairy Kings and
hand; Queens
And down from one a sword was Or whether there be any city at all.
hung, from one Or all a vision and this music now
:

A censer, either worn with wind Hath scared them both but tell thou
;

and storm these the truth."

And o'er her breast floated the sacred
fish; Then that old Seer made answer
And in the space to left of her and playing on him
right. And saying, " Son, I have seen the
Were Arthur's wars in weird devices good ship sail
done, Keel upward and mast downward in
New things and old co-twisted, as if the heavens.
Time And solid turrets topsy-turvy in air
Were nothing, so inveterately, that And here is truth but an it please
;

men thee not.

Were giddy gazing there ; and over Take thou the truth as thou hast
all told it me.
High on the top were those three For truly, as thou sayest, a Fairy
Queens, the friends King
Of Arthur, who should help him at And Fairy Queens have built the
his need. city, son;
They came from out a sacred moun-
Then those with Garetli for so long tain-cleft
a space Toward the sunrise, each with harp
Stared at the figures, that at last it in hand.
seemed And built it to the music of their
The dragon-boughts and elvish em- harps.
blemings And as thou sayest it is enchanted,
Began to move, seethe, twine and son.
curl : thfey called For there is nothing in it as it seems.
To Gareth, "Lord, the gateway is Saving the King ; though some there
alive." be that hold
The King a shadow, and the city real:
And Gareth likewise on them fixt Yet take thou heed of him, for so
his eyes thou pass
So long, that even to him they Beneath this archway, then wilt
seemed to move. thou become
 : ; ; ;

296 PARNASSUS.

A thrall to his enchantments, for With all good cheer

the King He spake and laughed, then entered
Will bind thee by such vows, as is a with his twain
shame Camelot, a city of shadowy palaces
A man should not be bound by, yet And stately, rich in emblem and the
the which work
No man can keep ; but, so thou dread Of ancient kings who did their days
to swear. in stone;
Pass not beneath this gateway, but Which Merlin's hand, the Mage at
abide Arthur's court,
Without, among the cattle of the field, Knowing all arts, had touched, and
For, an ye heard a music, like enow everywhere
They are building still, seeing the At Arthur's ordinance, tipt with
city is built lessening peak
To music, therefore never built at all. And pinnacle, and had made it spire
And therefore built forever." to heaven.
And ever and anon a knight would
Gareth spake
Angered, " Old Master, reverence Outward, or inward to the hall his :

thine own beard arms

That looks as white as utter truth, Clashed and the sound was good to
;

and seems Gareth' s ear.

Well-nigh as long as thou art statured And out of bower and casement
tall! shyly glanced
Why mockest thou the stranger that Eyes of pure women, wholesome
hath been stars of love
To thee fair-spoken? " And all about a healthful people
stept
But the Seer replied, As in the presence of a gracious
" Know ye not then the Riddling of king.
the Bards? Tennysoh.
'
Confusion, and illusion, and rela-
tion,
Elusion, and occasion, and evasion' ?
I mock thee not but as thou mockest THE CROWNING OF ARTHUR.
me.
And all that see thee, for thou art Thekk came to Cameliard,
not who With Gawin and young Modred, her
Thou seemest, but I know thee who two sons.
thou art. Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney,
And now thou goest up to mock the Bellicent
King, Whom as he could, not as he would,
Who cannot brook the shadow of the King
any lie." Made feast for, saying, as they sat
at meat,
Unmockingly the mocker ending
here " A doubtful throne is ice on
Turned to the right, and past along summer seas.
the plain Ye come from Arthur's court. Vic-
Whom Gareth looking after, said, tor his men
" My men. Report him! Yea, but ye, think
— —
Our one white lie sits like a little ye this king,
So many those that hate him, and
Here on the threshold of our enter- so strong.
prise. So few his knights, however brave
jjct love be blamed for it, not she, they be, —
nor I Hath body enow to hold his foemen
Well, we will make amends." down?"
 ; : ;

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 297

' O King," she cried, " and I will Of loyal vassals tolling for their liege.
thee few,
tell : "And near him stood the Lady
Few, but all brave, all of one mind of the Lake,
with him Who knows a subtler magic than
For I was near him when the savage his own, —
yells Clothed in white samite, mystic,
Of Uther's peerage died, and Arthur wonderful.
sat She gave the King his huge cross-
Crowned on the dais, and his war- hilted sword.
riors cried, Whereby to drive the heathen out:
'
Be thou the king, and we will work a mist
thy will Of incense curled about her, and
Who love thee.' Then the King in her face
low deep tones, Well-nigli was hidden in the minster
And simple words of great author- gloom
ity, But there was heard among the
Bound them by so strait vows to his holy hymns
own self, A voice as of the waters, for she
That when they rose, knighted from dwells
kneeling, some Down in a deep, calm, whatsoever
Were pale as at the passing of a storms
ghost, May shake the world, and when the
Some flushed, and others dazed, as surface rolls.
one who wakes Hath power to walk the waters like
Half-blinded at the coming of a light. our Lord.

" But when he spake and cheered " There likewise I beheld Excali-
his Table Round bur
With large, divine and comfortable Before him at his crowning borne,
words the sword
Beyond my tongue to tell thee, I — That rose from out the bosom of the
beheld lake.
From eye to eye through all their And' Arthur rowed across and took
Order flash it, —
rich
A momentary likeness of the Kii^ With jewels, elfin Urim, on the
And ere it left their faces, through hilt,
the cross Bewildering heart and eye, — the
And those around it and the Cruci- blade so bright
fied, That men are blinded by it; — on
Down from the casement over Ar- one side,
thur, smote Graven in the oldest tongue of all
Flame-color, vert and azure, in three this world,
rays, 'Take me;' but turn the blade and
One upon each of three fair
falling ye shall see.
queens. And written in the speech ye speak
Who stood in silence near his throne, yourself,
the friends 'Cast me awayl' And sad was
Of Arthur, gazing on him, tall, with Arthur's face
bright Taking it, but old Merlin counselled
Sweet faces, who will help him at him,
his need. '
Take thou and strike I the time to
cast away
Is yet far-off.'So this great brand
"Andthere I saw mage Merlin, the king
whose vast wit Took, and by this will beat his foe-
And hundred winters are but as the men down."
hands Tennyson.
 ; ;j ; ; ; ! ! ;

298 PAENASSTJS.

ALFRED THE HARPER. Of many a Danish lord.

But thirty brows, inflamed and stern,
Dabk fell the night, the watch was Soon bent on him their gaze.
set, While calm he gazed, as if to learn
The host was idly spread. Who chief deserved his praise.
The Danes around their watchfires
met. Loud Guthrum spake, — " Nay, gaze
Caroused, and fiercely fed. not thus,
Thou Harper weak and poor
"The chiefs heneath a tent of leaves, By Thor who bandy looks with
! us
And Guthrum, king of all, Must worse than looks endure.
Devoured the flesh of England's Sing high the praise of Denmark's
beeves,- host,
And laughed at England's fall. High praise each dauntless Earl
Each warrior proud, each Danish The brave who stun this English
earl, coast
In mail and wolf-skin clad, With war's unceasing whirl."
Their bracelets white with plundered
pearl, The Harper slowly bent his head.
Their eyes with triumph mad. And touched aloud the string;
Then raised his face, and boldly
From Humber-land to Severn-land, said,
And on to Tamar stream, " Hear thou my lay, O king!
Where Thames makes green the High praise from every mouth of
towery strand. man
Where Medway's waters gleam, — To all who boldly strive,
With hands of steel and mouths of Who fallwhere first the fight began,
flame And ne'er go back alive.
They raged the kingdom through
And where the Norseman sickle " Fill high your cups, and swell the
came, shout,
Xo crop but hunger grew. At famous Regnar's name!
Who sank his host in bloody rout.
They loaded many an English horse When he to Humber came.
With wealth of cities fair His men were chased, his sons were
They dragged from many a father's slain.
corse And he was left alone.
The daughter by her hair. They bound him in an iron chain
And English slaves, and gems and Upon a dungeon stone.
gold,
Were gathered round the feast "With iron links they bound him
Tillmidnight in their woodland hold. fast
Oh ! never that riot ceased. With snakes they filled the hole,
That made his flesh their long re-
In stalked a warrior tall and rude past.
Before the strong sea-kings And bit into his soul.
"Ye Lords and Earls of Odin's
brood, " Great chiefs, why sink in gloom
Without a harper sings. your eyes ?
He seems a simple man and poor, Why champ your teeth in pain?
But well he sounds the lay Still lives the song though Regnar
And well, ye Norseman chiefs, be sure. dies!
Will ye the song repay." Fill high your cups again.
Te too, perchance, O Norsemen
In trod the bard with keen cold look. lords
And glanced along the board, Who fought and swayed so long.
That with the shout and war-cry Shall soon but live in minstrel words,
shook And owe your names to song.
 ! ; ; " ; ; ; ; : : "
; s

NAEEATIVE POEMS AND BAI/LADS. 299

" This land has graves by thousands It seemed two crashing hosts were
more nigh,
Thanthat where RegnaFHes. Whose shock aroused the song.
When conquests^fade, and rule is o'er, A golden cup King Guthrum gave
The sod must close your eyes. To him. who strongly played
How soon, who knows ? Not chief, And said, " I won it from the slave
nor bard Who once o'er England swayed."
And yet to me 'tis given.
To see your foreheads deeply scarred, King Guthrum cried, "'Twas Al-
And guess the doom of Heaven. fred's own
Thy song befits the brave
" I may not read or when or how, The King who cannot guard his
But, Earls and Kings, be sure throne
I see a blade o'er every brow, Nor wine nor song shall have."
Where pride now sits secure. The minstrel took the goblet bright,
Fill high the cups, raise loud the And said, " I drink the wine
strain To him who owns by justest right
When chief and monarch fall, The cup thou bid'st be mine.
Their names in song shall breathe
again^ " To him, your Lord, Oh shout ye
And thrill the feastful hall." all!
His meed be deathless praise 1

Grim sat the chiefs; one heaved a The King who dares not nobly fall.
groan, Dies basely all his days."
And one grew pale with dread.
His iron mace was grasped by one, " The praise thou speakest," Guth-
By one his wine was shed. rum said,
And Guthrum cried, "Nay, bard, no " With sweetness fills mine ear;
more For Alfred swift before me fled.
We hear thy boding lay; And left me monarch here.
Make drunk the song with spoil and The royal coward never dared
gore! Beneath mine eye to stand.
Light up the joyous fray ! Oh, would that now this feast he
shared.
" Quick throbs my brain," — so burst And saw me rule his land !

the song, —
" To hear the strife once more. Then stern the minstrel rose, and
The mace, the axe, they rest too long spake,
Earth cries, My thirst is sore. And gazed upon the King, —
More blithely twang the strings of " Not now the golden cup I take,
bows Nor more to thee I sing.
Than strings of harps in glee Another day, a happier hour.
Bed wounds are lovelier than the rose, Shall bring me here again
Or rosy lips to me. The cup shall stay in Guthrum'
power
" Oh ! than a field of flowers,
fairer Till I demand it then."
When flowers in England grew,
Would be the battle's marshalled The Harper turned and left the
powers, shed,
The plain of carnage new. Nor bent to Guthrum' s crown;
With all its deaths before my soul And one who marked his visage said
The vision rises fair It wore a ghastly frown.
Raise loud the song, and drain the The Danes ne'er saw that Harper
bowl! more,
I would that I were there!" For soon as morning rose,
Upon their camp King Alfred bore,
Loud rang the harp, the minstrel' s eye And slew ten thousand foes.
Boiled fiercely round the throng John Steblins,
 ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; —
300 PAENASSUS.

GAECI PEREZ DE VAEGAS. " My liege," quoth he, " seven Moors
I see a-coming from the wood,
King Ferdinand alone did stand one Kow bring they all the blows they
day upon the hill, may, I trow they'll find as
Surveying all his leaguer, and the good;
ramparts of Seville For it isDon Garci Perez, if his —
The sight was grand when Ferdinand cognizance they know,
by proud Seville was lying, I guess it will be little pain to give
O'er tower and tree far off to see the them blow for blow."
Christian banners flying.
The Moors from forth the greenwood
Down chanced the king his eye to came riding one by one,
fling, where far the camp be- A gallant troop with armor resplen-
low dent in the sun
Two gentlemen along the glen were Full haughty was their bearing, as
riding soft and slow o'er the sward they came
As void of fear each cavalier seemed But the calm Lord of Vargas, his
to be riding there. march was still the same.
As some strong hound may pace
around the roebuck's thicket They stood drawn up in order, while
lair. past them all rode he
But when upon his shield they saw
the sable blazonry.
It was Don Garci Perez; and he
would breathe the air. And the wings of the Black Eagle,
that o'er his crest were spread,
And he had ta'en a knight with him They knew Don Garci Perez, and
that as lief had been else-
never word they said.
where :

For soon this knight to Garci said,

"Eide, ride, or we are lost!
He took the casque from off his brow,
I see the glance of helm and lance, — "
and gave it to the squire
My friend," quoth he, "no need I
it is the Moorish host!"
see why I my brows should
tire."
The Lord of Vargas turned him But as he doffed the helmet he saw
round, his trusty squire was his scarf was gone,
near; "I've dropped it, sure," quoth Gar-
Jhe helmet on his brow he bound, ci, "when I put my
helmet
his gauntlet grasped the spear on."
With that upon
plauted him
his saddle-tree
right steady, —he He looked around and saw the scarf,
"Now come," quoth he, "whoe'er for still the Moors were near.
they be, I trow they'll find us And they had picked it from the
ready." sward, and looped it on a spear.
"These Moors," quoth Garci Perezj
By this the knight that rode with uncourteous Moors they be,
'
'

him had turned his horse's Now, by my soul, the scarf they
head, stole, yet durst not question
And up the glen in fearful trim unto me!
the camp had fled.
"Ha! gone?" quoth Garci Perez: Now reach once more my helmet."
he smiled, and said no more. The esquire said him nay,
But slowly on with his esquire rode " For a silken string why should ye
as he rode before. fling perchance your life
away?"
Itwas the Count Lorenzo, just then "I had it from my lady," quoth
i t happened so, Garci, " long ago,
He took his stand by Ferdinand, and And never Moor that scarf, be sure;
with him gazed below in proud Seville shall show."
 ; : ; ; : :

NAEEATIVE POEMS AKD BALLADS. 301

But when the Moslem saw him, they The great Earl in his stirrups
stood in firm array stood,
He rode among their armfed throng, That Highland host to see
he rode right furiously " Now here a knight that's stout and
"Stand, stand, ye thieves and rob- good
bers, lay down my lady's May prove a jeopardie
pledge!"
He cried ; and ever as he cried they " What wouldst thou do, my squire
felt his falchion's edge. so gay.
rides beside my reyne,
That —
That day the Lord of Vargas came Were ye Glenallan's Earl the day.
to the camp alone And I were Roland Cheyne ?
The scarf, his lady's largess, around
his breast was thrown " To turn the rein were sin and
Bare was his head, his sword was red, shame.
and from his pommel strung To fight were wondrous, peril, —
Seven turbans green, sore hacked I What would ye do now, Roland
ween, before Don Garcl hung. Cheyne,
LocKHABT : Spanish Ballads. Were ye Glenallan's Earl? "
"Were I Glenallan's Earl this
tide,
BATTLE OF HAELAW. And ye were Roland Cheyne,
The spur should be in my horse's
Now baud your tongue, baith wife side.
and carle, And the bridle upon his mane.
And listen great and sma'.
And I will sing of Glenallan's , "If they hae twenty thousand
Earl blades.
That fought on the red Harlaw. And we twice ten times ten,
Yet they hae but their tartan
The cronach's on Bennachie,
cried plaids,
And down the Don and a'. And we are mail-clad men.
And hieland and lawland may mourn-
fu' be "My horse shall ride through ranks
For the sair field of Harlaw. sae rude.
As through the moorland fern, —
They saddled a hundred milk-white Then ne'er let the gentle Normau
steeds. blude
They hae bridled a hundred Grow cauld for Highland kerne.''
black. Scott.
With a chafron of steel on each
horse's head.
And a good knight upon his back. KINMONT WILLIE.
They hadna ridden a mile, a mile, Oh, have ye na heard o' the fause
A mile but barely ten. Sakelde ?
When Donald came branking down Oh, have ye na heard o' the keen
the brae Lord Scroope ?
Wi' twenty thousand men. How they hae ta'en bauld Kinmont
Willie,
Their tartans they were waving On Haribee to hang him up ?
wide.
Their glaives were glancing Had Willie had but twenty men,
clear. But twenty men as stout as he, •

The pibrochs rung frae side to Fause Sakelde had never the Kin-
side. mont ta'en,
Would deafen ye to hear. Wi' eightscore in his compauie.
 : ;! :; ;

802 PAKNASSUS.

They band his legs beneath the steed, Or my arm a ladye's lilye hand,
They tied his hands behind his That an English lord sets light by
back; me!
They guarded him, fivesome on each
side. " And have they ta'en him, Kinmont
And they brought him ower the Willie,
Liddel-rack. Against the truce of Border tide?
And forgotten that the bauld Buc-
They led him through the Liddel- cleuch
rack, Is keeper here on the Scottish side ?
And also through the Carlisle
sands "And have they e'en ta'en him,
They brought him to Carlisle castell. Kinmont Williff,
To be at my Lord Scroope's com- Withouten either dread or fear?
mands. And forgotten that the bauld Buc-
cleuch
" My hands are tied, but my tongue Can back a steed, or shake a
is free, spear ?
And whae will dare this deed
avow? " O were there war between the
Or answer by the Border law ? lands,
Or answer to the bauld Buc- As well I wot that there is none,
cleuch?" I would slight Carlisle castell high,
Though It were builded of marble
"Now baud thy tongue, thou rank stone.
reiver
There's never a Scot shall set thee " I would set that castell in a low,*
free ,
And sloken it with EngUsh
Before ye cross my castle yate, blood!
.

I trow ye shall take farewell o' me." There's never a man in Cumber-
land,
" Fear na ye that, my lord," quoth Should ken where Carlisle castell
Willie. stood.
" By the faith o' my body, Lord
Scroope," he said, "But since nae war's between the
" I never yet lodged in a hostelrie. lands.
But I paid my lawlng before I And there is peace, and peace
gaed." — should be
I'll neither harm English lad or
Now word is gane to the bauld lass,
Keeper, And yet the Kinmont freed shall
In Branksome Ha', wher that he be!"
lay,
That Lord Scroope has ta'en the He has called him forty Marchmen
Kinmont Willie, bauld,
Between the hours of night and day. Were kinsmen to the bauld Bue-
cleuch
He has ta'en the table wi' his hand, With spur on heel, and splent on
He garr'd the red wine spring on spauld,
hie, — And gleuves of green, and feath-
"Now Christ's curse on my head," ers blue.
he said,
" But avenged erf Lord Scroope, There were five and five before them
I'll be! a',
Wi' hunting-horns and bugles
"O my basnet a widow's curch?
is bright
Or my lance a wand of the wlUow-
tree? • Flame.
 ; ; !; ; " ;

NAKEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 303

Aiid five and five came wi' Buc- The water was great and meikle of
cleuch, spait.
Like warden's men, arrayed for But the nevir a horse nor man
fight. we lost.

And five and five, like a mason gang. And when we reached the Stane-
That carried the ladders lang and shaw-bank,
hie; The wind was rising loud and hie
And five and five, like broken men And there the laird garr'd leave our
And so they reached the Wood- steeds,
houselee. For fear that they should stamp
and nie.
And as we crossed the Bateable Land,
When to the English side we held, And when we left the Staneshaw-
The first o' men that we met wi', bank,
Whae sould it be but fause Sa- The wind began full loud to blaw
kelde? But 'twas wind and weet, and fire
and sleet.
"Where be ye gaun, ye hunters When we came beneath the castle
keen?" wa'.
Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell to
me!" — We crept on knees, and held our
" We go to hunt an English stag, breath,
Has trespassed on the Scots coun- Till we placed the ladders against
trie." the wa'
And sae ready was Buccleuch him-
"Where be ye gaun, ye marshal sell
men?" To mount the first before us a'.
Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell
me true!" He has ta'en the watchman by the
" We go to catch a rank reiver. throat.
Has broken faith wi' the bauld He flung him down upon the lead —
Buccleuch." " Had there not been peace between
our lands,
" Where are ye gaun, ye mason lads, Upon the other side thou hadst
Wi'a' your ladders, lang and hie ?
" gaed I

" We gang to herry a corbie's nest.

That wons not far frae Wood- "Now sound out, trumpets!" quo'
houselee." Buccleuch;
"Let's waken Lord Scroope right
" Where be ye gaun, ye broken merrilie !

men?" Then loud the warden's trumpet

Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell blew —
to me !
" — O wha dare meddle wi' me f
Kow Dickie of Dryhope led that band.
And the nevir a word of lore had he. Then speedilie to wark we gaed.
And raised the slogan ane and a'.
"Why trespass ye on the English And cut a hole through a sheet of
side? lead,
Kow-footed outlaws, stand " quo' !
And so we wan to the castle ha'.
he;
The nevir a word had Dickie to say, They thought King James and a' his
Sae he thrust the lance through men
his fause bodie. Had won the house wi' bow and
spear
Then on we held for Carlisle toun. It was but twenty Scots and ten,
And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden That put a thousand in sic a
we crossed stear
 :
!! "; — ;

804 PARNASSUS.

Wi' coulters, and wi' forehammers, We scarce had won the Staneshaw-
We garr'd the bars bang merrilie, bank.
Untill we came to the inner prison. When a' the Carlisle bells were
Where Willie o' Kinmout he did rung.
lie. And a thousand men on horse and
foot.
A.nd when we cam to the lower Cam wi' the keen Lord Scroope
prison.
Where Willie o' Kinmont he did
lie, — Buccleuch has turned to Eden Wa-
"O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont ter,
Willie, Even where it flowed f rae bank to
Upon the mom that thou's to brim,
die?" And he has plunged in wi' a' his
band.
-' OIsleep saft, and I wake aft; And safely swam them through
It's lang since sleeping was fley'd the stream.
f rae me
Gie my
service back to wife and my He turned him on the other side.
bairns. And at Lord Scroope his glove
And a' gude fellows that spier for flung he —
me." "If ye like na my visit in merry
England,
Then red Rowan has hente him up, In fair Scotland come visit me!"
The starkest man in Teviotdale —
" Abide, abide now, Ked Rowan, All astonished stood Lord
sore
Till of my Lord Scroope I take Scroope,
farewell. He stood as still as rock of stane
He scarcely dared to trust his eyes,
" Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord When through the water they had
Scroope gane.
My gude Lord Scroope, farewell !

he cried — "He is either himsell a devil frae

" I'll pay you for my lodging maill. hell.
When first we meet on the Border Or else his mother a witch maun
side." be;
I wadna have ridden that wan watei
Then shoulder high, with shout and For a' the gowd in Christentie."
cry, Scott's Bobdeb Minsteelst
We bore him down the ladder lang
At every stride Red Rowan made,
I wot the Kinmont' s aims played SKIPPER IRESON'S RIDE.
clang I

Or all the rides since the birth of

"O mony a time," quo' Kinmont time.
Willie, Told in story or sung in rhyme,
" I've ridden horse baith wild and On Apuleius's Golden Ass,
wood; Or one-eyed Calendar's horse of
But a rougher beast than Red Rowan brass.
I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode. Witch astride of a human back,
Islam's prophet on Al-Bordk, —
"And mony a time," quo' Kinmont The strangest ride that ever was sped
Willie, Was Ireson's, out from Marblehead!
"I've pricked a horse out cure Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard
the furs heart.
But sinc& the day I backed a steed, Tarred and feathered and carried
I never wore sic cumbrous in a cart
spurs I" By the women of Marbleheull
 ! ! : "
! : : ! !;

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 305

Body of turkey, head of owl, Of the cruel captain who sailed
Wings a-droop like a raiued-oii fowl, away? —
Feathered and ruffled in every part, Old Floyd Ireson for his hard heart.
Skipper Ireson stood in the cart. Tarred and feathered and carried
Scores of women, old and young. in a cart
Strong of muscle, and glib of tongue, By the women of Marblehead
Pushed and pulled up the rocky lane.
Shouting and singing the shrill re- Through the street, on either side.
frain :

" Here's Flud Oirson, fur Uis horrd

Up flew windows, doors swung wide
Sharp-tongued spinsters, old wives
horrt,
gray,
Torr'd an' futherr'd an corr'd in a Treble lent the fish-horn's bray.
corrt
Sear-worn grandsires, cripple-bound,
By the women o' Morble'ead!" Hulks of old sailors run aground.
Shook head, and fist, and hat, and
Wrinkled scolds with hands on hips, cane.
Girls in bloom of cheek and lips, And cracked with curses the hoarse
Wild-eyed, free-limbed, such as chase refrain
Bacchus round some antique vase, " Here's Flud Oirson fur his horrd
Brief of skirt, with ankles bare, horrt,
Loose of kerchief and loose of hair, Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a
With conch-shells blowing and fish- corrt
horns' twang, By the women o' Morble'ead!"
Over and over the Maenads sang
"Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd
horrt, Sweetly along the Salem road
Torr'd an' futherr'd an* corr'd in a Bloom of orchard and lilac showed.
corrt Little the wicked skipper knew
By the women o' Morble'ead!" Of the fields so green and the sky so
blue.
Small pity for him ! — He sailed away Riding there in his sorry trim.
Like an Indian idol glum and grim.
From a leaking ship, in Chaleur
Bay,- Scarcely he seemed the sound to hear
Sailed away from a sinking wreck, Of voices shouting, far and near
" Here's Flud Oirson, fur his horrd
With hisown town's-people on her
deck! horrt,
"Lay by! lay by!" they called to Torr'd an' futherr'd an' corr'd in a
him. corrt
Back he answered, "Sink or swim! By the women o' Morble'ead!"
!
Brag of your catch of fish again
^nd off he sailed through the fog " Hear me, neighbors " at last he
!

and rain cried, —

Old Floyd Ireson, for his hard " me is this noisy ride ?
What to
heart, What the shame that clothes the
is
Tarred and feathered and carried skin
in a cart To the nameless hon-or that lives
By the women of Marblehead within ?
Waking or sleeping, I see a wreck.
Fathoms deep in dark Chaleur And hear a cry from a reeling deck
That wreck shall lie forevermore. Hate me and curse me, —
I only
Mother and sister, wife and maid. dread
Looked from the rocks of Marble- The hand of God and the face of tht?
head dead!"
Over the moaning and rainy sea, — Said old Floyd Ireson, for his hard
Looked for the coming that might heart.
not be Tarred and feathered and carried
What did the winds and the sea-birds in a cart
say By the women of Marblehead 1
20
 " ! ; "" ;

306 PARNASSUS.

Then the wife of the skipper lost at " I hold him an archer," said Clou-
sea desld,
Said, " Grod has touched him why ! — "That yonder wande cleaveth in
should we?" two."
Said an old wife mourning her only "Here is none such," said the king,
sou, " Nor none that can so do."
" Cut the rogue's tether and let him
run!" " I shall assay, sir," said Cloudesle',
So with soft relentings and rude ex- " Or that I farther go."
cuse, CloudesM with a bearing arrow
Half scorn, half pity, they cut him Clave the wand in two.
loose,
A.nd gave him a clpak to hide him in, " Thou art the best archer," then
And left him alone with his shame said the king,
and sin. " Forsooth that ever I see " ;
—
Poor Floyd Ireson, for his hard " And yet for your love," said Wil-
heart, liam,
Tarred and feathered and carried "I will do more mastery.
in a cart
By the women of Marblehead " I have a son is seven years old,
Whittiek. He is to me
dearfull
I will him tie to a stake
All shall see that be here.
WIILLIAM OP cloudesl:]^. "And lay an apple upon; his head.
The king called his best archers And go six score paces him fro.
To the buttes with him to go, And I myself with a broad arrow.
"I will see these fellows shoot," he Shall cleave the apple in two."
said,
" In the north have wrought this "Now haste thee then," said the
wo." king,
"
By him that died on a tree
The king's bowmen busk them blyve, But if thou do not as thou hast said,
And the queen's archers alsoe. Hanged shalt thou be.
So did these three wight yeomen
With them they thought to go. " And thou touch his head or gown,
In sight that men may see.
There twice or thrice they shoot By all the saints that be in Heaven,
about I shall hang you all three !

For to assay their hand.

There was no shot these yeomen shot " That I have promised," said Wil-
That any prick might them stand.
liam,
" I will never forsake
it ;

Then spake William of Cloudesl^,

" By him that for me died, And there even before the king,
In the earth he drove a stake.
I hold hun never no good archer
That shooteth at buttes so wide."
And bound thereto his eldest son.
"Whereat?" then said our king, And bade him stand still thereat.
" I pray thee tell me : And turned the child's head frou
" At such a butte, sir," he said, him.
"As men use in my couutree." Because he should not start.

William went into a field. An apple upon his head he set.

And his two brethren with him, And then his bow he
bent;
There they set up hazle rods, Six score paces were out-met,
Twenty score paces between. And thither CloudesW went.
 : ; ;! ;; ; :
: ;

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BATJ.ADS. 307

There he drew out a fair broad arrow, His father had a keen stewarde.
His bow was great and long, And John o' the Scales was callM
He set that arrow in his bow. he:
That was both stiff and strong. But John is become a gentel-man.
And John has gott both gold and fee.
He prayed the people that was there,
That they would still stand, Sayes " Welcome, welcome. Lord of
"For he that shooteth for such a Linne,
wager, Let nought disturb thy merry cheer:
Behoveth a steadfast hand." If thou wilt sell thy landes so broad.
Good store of gold I'll give thee
Much people prayed for Cloudesle, here."
That
his life saved might be.
And when he made him ready to "My gold is gone, my money is
shoot spent
There was many a weeping eye. My lande nowe take it unto thee
Give me the golde, good John o' the
Thus CloudesM cleft the apple in two Scales,
That many a man might see And thine for aye my lande shall
" Over-gods forbode," then said the be."
king,
" That thou should shoot at me Then John he did him to record
draw.
" I give thee eighteen pence a day, And John he cast him a gods-
And my bow shalt thou bear. pennie
And over all the north country But for every pound that John
I make thee chief rider." agreed.
Anon. The lande, I wis, was well worth
three.
THE HEIR OP lillSrsrE.
He told him the gold upon the borde.
PAST THB riBST. He was right glad his land to winne
" The gold is thine, the land is mine,
Lithe and listen, gentlemen. And now I'll be the lord of Linne."
To sing a song I will beginne
It is of a lord of f aire Scotland, Thus he hath sold his land so broad.
Which was the unthrifty heire of Both hill and holt, and moor and
Linne. fen.
All but a poor and lonesome lodge.
His father was a right good lord, That stood far off in a lonely glen.
His mother a lady of high degree
But they, alas were dead him froe.
! For so he to his father hight.
And he lov'd keeping companie. " My son, when I am gone," said he,
" Then thou wilt spend thy land so
To spend the day with merry cheer. broad,
To drink and revel! every night. And thou wilt spend thy gold so free.
To card and dice from eve to mom.
It was, I ween, his heart's delight. " But swear me now upon the rood,
That lonesome lodge thou'lt never
To ride, to run, to rant, to roar, spend
To alway spend and never spare, For when all the world doth frown
I wott, an' it were thfc king himself, on thee.
Of gold and fee he mote be bare. Thou there shalt find a faithful
friend."'
So fares the unthrifty lord of Linne,
Till all his gold is gone and spent: The heir of Linne is full of gold
And he maun sell his landes so broad, "And come with me, my friends,"
His house, and laudes, and all his rent. said he,
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308 PAENASSPS.

"Let's drink, and rant, and merry He looked up, he looked down.
make, In hope some comfort for to win
And he tliat spares, ne'er mote be But bare and lothly were the walls
thee." " Here's sorry cheer," quo' the heir
of Linne.
They ranted, drank, and merry
made. The little window, dim and dark.
Till all his gold it waxed thin Was hung with ivy, brere and yew
And then his friends they slunk No shimmering sun here ever shone,
away; No halesome breeze here ever blew.
They left the unthrifty heir of
Linne. No chair, ne table he mote spy,
No cheerful hearth, ne welcome bed,
He had never a penny left in his Nought save a rope with reuuing
purse, noose.
Kever a penny left but three, That dangling huug up o'er his head.
And one was brass, another was lead.
And another it was white mon^y. And over it in broad letters
These words were written so plain
" Now well-a-day " said the heir of to see
Linne, "Ah! gracelesse wretch, hast spent
" Now well-a^day, and woe is me, thine all.
For when I was the lord of Linne, And brought thyself to penurie ?
I never wanted gold nor fee.
" All this my
boding mind misgave,
" Butmany a trusty friend have I, I therefore left this trusty friend
And why should I feel dole or care ? Let it now shield thy fottl disgrace.
I'll borrow of them all by turhs, And all thy shame and sorrows end."
So need I not be never bare."
Sorely shent wi' this rebuke.
But one I wis, was not at home Sorely shent was the lieire of Linne
Another had paid his gold away His heart I wis, was near to brast
Another called him thriftless loon. With guilt and sorrow, shame and
And bade him sharply wend his way. sin.

"Now well-a-day," said the heir of Never a word spake the heir of
Linne, Linne,
"Now well-a-day, and woe is me; Never a word he spake but three
For when I had my landes so broad, " This isa trusty friend indeed.
On me they lived right merrily. And is right welcome unto me."

" To beg my bread from door to door, Then round his neck the cord he
I wis, were a burning shame
it drew.
To rob and steal it were a sin And sprang aloft with his bodie,
To work, my limbs I cannot frame. WTien lo the ceiling burst in twain,
!

And to the ground came tumbling he.

"Now I' away to the lonesome lodge.
11

For theremy father bade me wend
When all the world should frown on
me
I there should find a trusty friend."
PAET THE SECOND.
Away then hied the heir of Linne,
O'er hill and holt, and moor and fen.
Until he came to the lonesome lodge.
That stood so low in a lonely glen.
Astonyed lay the heir of Linne,
He knew if he were live or dead
At length he looked, and sawe a bille,
And in it a key of gold so red.
He took the bill, and lookt it on.
Straight good comfort found he
there
It told him of a hole in the wall.
In which there stood three chests in-
fere.
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NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 309

Two were full of the beaten golde, Then bespake a good fellowe,
The third was full of white mondy Which sat at John o' the Scales his
And over them in broad letters bord;
These words were written so plain Said, "Turn again, thou heir of
to see. Linne
Some time ^hou wast a well good lord.
" Once more, my sonne, I set thee
" Some time a good fellow thou hast
clere
Amend thy life and follies past been.
For but thou amend thee of thy life, And sparedst not thy gold and fee
That rope must be thy end at last." Therefore I'll lend thee forty pence.
And other forty if need be.
" And let it be " said the heire of
Linne,
"And ever I pray thee, John o' the
" And let it be, but if I amend Scales,

For here I will make mine avow, To let him sit in thy companie
This reade shall guide me to the
For well I wot thou hadst his land,
end."
And a good bargain it was to thee."
Up then spake him John o' the Scales,
Away then went with a merry All wood he answered him againe
eheare. " Now Christ's curse on my head "
Away then went the heire of Linne he said,
I wis, he neither ceased ne blanne. " But I did lose by that barg^ine.
Till John o' the Scales house he did
winne. And here I proffer thee, heir of
Linne,
And when he came to John o' the Before these lords so f aire and free,
Scales, Thou shalt have it backe again bet-
Up at the speere then lookfed he ter cheape
There sate three lords upon a rowe. By a hundred markes than I had it
Were drinking of the wine so free. of thee."

And John himself sate at the bord- " I draw you to record, lords," he said.
head, With that he cast him a gods-pennie
Because now lord of Linne was he " Now by my fay " said the heire of
"I pray thee" he said, "good John Linne,
o' the Scales, " And here, good John, is thy
One forty pence for to lend me." mon^y."

"Away, away, thou thriftless loone; And he pulled forth three bagges of
Away, away, this may not be gold,
For Christ's curse on my head" he And laid them down upon the bord
said, All woe begone was John o' the
" If ever I trust thee one pennie." Scales,
So shent he could say never a word.
Then bespake the heir of Linne,
To John o' the Scales' wife then He told him
forth the good red gold.
spake he He forth with mickle dinne.
told it
"Madame, some almes on me be- "The gold is thine, the land is mine.
stowe, And now Ime againe the lord of
I pray for sweet saint Charitie." Linne."

"Away, away, thou thriftless loone, Says, "Have thou here, thou good
I sweare thou gettest no almes of fell6we.
me; Forty pence thou didst lend me
For if we should hang any losel here. Now I am again the lord of Linne,
The first we wold begin, with thee." And forty pounds I will give thee.
 ; : ; ; ; !!!!
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310 PARNASSUS.
" He make thee keeper of my forrest, "Friends! ye have, alas! to know
Both of the wild deere and the tame Of a most disastrous blow.
For but I reward thy bounteous heart, That the Christians, stern and bold,
I wis, good fellowe, I were to blame." Have obtained Alhama's hold."
Woe is me, Alhama 1

"Now welladay!" sayth Joan o'

the Scales Out then spake old Alfaqui,
" Now welladay, and woe is my life With his beard so white to see,
Yesterday I was lady of Linne, " Good king, thou art justly served,
Now Ime but John o' the Scales his Good king, this thou hast deserved.
wife." Woe is me, Alhama!
"Now fare thee well " said the heire "By thee were slain, in evil hour.
of Linne, The Abencerrage, Granada's flower;
" Farewell now, John o' the Scales," And strangers were received by thee
said he Of Cordova the chivalry.
" Christ's curse light on me, if ever Woe is me, Alhama!
again
I bring my lands In jeopardy." " And for this, O king! is sent
Pkbcy's Reliques. On thee a double chastisement.
Thee and thine, thy crown and
realm,
SIEGE AND CONQUEST OF One last wreck shall overwhelm.
ALHAMA. Woe is me, Alhama!"

The Moorish king rides up and Fire flashed from out the old Moor's
down eyes.
Through Granada's royal town The monarch's wrath began to rise,
From Elvira's gates to those Because he answered, and because
Of Bivarambla on he goes. He spake exceeding well of laws.
Woe is me, Alhama Woe is me, Alhama!
Letters to the monarch tell " There is no law to say such things
How Alhama's city fell As may disgust the ear of kings : " —
In the fire the scroll he threw. Thus, snorting with his choler, said
And the messenger he slew. The Moorish king, and doomed him
Woe is me, Alhama dead.
Woe is me, Almaha
He quits his mule, and mounts his
horse. Moor Alfaqui Moor Alfaqui
!

And through the street directs his Though thy beard so hoary be,
course The king hath sent to have thee
"
Through the street of Zacatin seized.
To the Alhambra spurring in. For Alhama's loss displeased.
Woe is me, Alhama Woe is me, Alhama!

When the AUiambra walls he gained, And to fix thy head upon
On the moment he ordained High Alhambra's loftiest stone
That the trumpet straight should That this for thee should be the
sound. law.
With the silver clarion round. And others tremble when they saw.
Woe is me, Alhama Woe is me, Alhama'

Out then spake an aged Moor " Cavalier and man of worth
!

In these words the king before, Let these words of mine go forth
"Wherefore call on us, O king? Let the Moorish monarch know.
What may mean this gathering?" That to him I nothing owe.
Woe is me, Alhama Woe is me, Alhamal
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NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 311

But on my soul Alhama weighs,
" It was smoke and roar and powder-
And on my inmost spirit preys stench.
And if tlie Iting his land hath lost, And hopeless waiting for death
Yet others may have lost the most." And the soldier's wife, like a full-
Woe is me, Alhama tired child,
Seemed scarce to draw her breath.
And as these things the old Moor
said, I sank to sleep; and I had my
They severed from the trunk his dream
head; Of an English village-lane.
And to Alhambra's wall with speed And wall and garden; but one —
'Twas carried as the king decreed. wild scream
Woe is me, Alhama Brought me back to the roar again.

And from the windows o'er the There Jessie Brown stood listening
walls Till a sudden gladness brol^e
The sable web of mourning falls All over her face ; and she caught my
The king weeps as a woman o'er hand
His loss, for it is much and sore. And drew me near as she spoke :
—
Woe is me, Alhama!
BYBOlf. " The Hielanders O ! dinna ye hear
!

The slogan far awa ?

The McGregor's. O I ken it weel !

THE RELIEF OP LUCKNOW. It's the grandest o' them a'

Oh, that last day in Lucknow fort " God bless the bonny Hielanders
We knew that it was the last We're saved! we're saved!" she
That the enemy's lines crept surely cried;
on. And fell on her knees ; and thanks
And the end was coming fast. to God
Flowed forth like a full flood-tide.
To yield to that foe meant worse
than death Along the battery-line her cry
And the men and we all worked Had fallen among the men.
on; And they started back ; they — were
It was one day more of smoke and there to die
roar, But was life so near them, then?
And then it would all be done.
They listened for life; the rattling
There was one of us, a corporal's fire
, wife, Far off, and the f ar-ofE roar.
A fair,
young, gentle thing. Were all ; and the colonel shook his
Wasted with fever in the siege. head.
And her mind was wandering. And they turned to their guns
once more.
iShe lay on the ground, in her Scot-
tish plaid, But Jessie said, " The slogan's done;
And
I took her head on my knee But winna ye hear it noo.
•'
When my father comes hame frae The Campbells are comin' f It's no a
the pleugh," she said, dream
" Oh ! then please wauken me." Our succors hae broken through !

She slept like a child on her father's We heard the roar and the rattle
floor, afar.
In the flecking of woodbine-shade. But the pipes we could not hear
When the house-dog sprawls by the So the men plied their worlc of hope-
open door. less war,
And the mother's wheel is stayed. And knew that the end was near.
 ; : —
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312 PARNASSUS.

It was not long e*e it made Its way, " O ye are welcome, rich merchants,
A thriling, ceaseless
sound Good saylors, welcome unto me :

It was no noise from tlie strife afar, They swore by the rood, they were
Or the sappers under ground. saylors good.
But rich merchants they could not
It was the pipes of the Highlanders be.
And now they played Auld Lang "To France nor Flanders dare we
Syne. pass.
It came to our men like the voice of Nor Bordeaux voyage dare we fare.
God, And all for a robber that lyes on the
And they shouted along the line. seas.
Who robs us of our merchant
ware."
And they wept, and shook one an-
other's hands,
And the women sobbed in a crowd King Henry frowned, and turned
And every one knelt down where he him round,
stood.
And swore by the Lord that was
mickle of might,
And we all thanked God aloud. " I thought he had not been in the
world.
That happy time, when we welcomed Durst have wrought England such
them, unright."
Our men put Jessie first The merchants sighed and said,
And the general gave her his hand, "Alas!"
and cheers And thus they did their answer
Like a storm from the soldiers frame
burst. " He is a proud Scot that robs on
the seas.
And the pipers' ribbons and tartan And Sir Andrew Barton is his
streamed. name."
Marching round and round our
line; The king looked over his left shoul-
^And our joyful cheers were broken der.
with tears, And anangiy look then lookfed he
As the pipes played Auld Lang " Have I never a lord in all my realm
Syne. Will fetch yond traitor unto me ? "
RoBEET Lowell. "Tea, that dare I," Lord Charles
Howard says
" Yea, that dare I with heart and
hand;
SIR ANDREW BARTON. If it please your grace to give me
leave,
THE FIBST PAET. Myself will be the only man."

When Flora with her fragrant flow- "Thou art but young," the king
ers replied,
Bedeckt the earth so trim and " Yond Scot hath numbered many
gaye. a year:"
And Neptune with his dainty show- " Trust me, my liege, I'll make him
ers quail.
Came to present the month of Or before my prince I'll never
Maye, appear."
King Henry rode to take the air. "Then bowmen and gunners thou
Over the River Thames past he shalt have.
When eighty merchants of London And chuse them over my realm so
came. free;
And down they knelt upon their Besides mariners and good sea-boys
knee. To guide the great ship on the sea."
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NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 313

The man that Lord Howard
first " Thou must tell me," Lord Howard
chose, said,
Was the ablest gunner in all the " Now who thou art, and what's
realm, thy name
Though he was threescore years and And show me where thy dwelling is,
ten; And whither bound, and whence
Good Peter Simon was his name. thou came."
"Peter," says he, "I must to the "My name is Henry Hunt," quoth
sea he.
To bring home a traitor live or With a heavy heart and a careful
dead; mind;
Before all others I have chosen thee. "I and my ship do both belong
Of a hundred gunners to be the To the Newcastle that stands upon
head." Tyne."
" If you, my lord, have chosen me " Hast thou not heard, now, Henry
Of a hundred gunners to be the Hunt,
head. As thou hast sailed by day and by
Then hang me up on your main- night.
mast tree, Of a Scottish robber on the seas
If I miss my mark
one shilling '
Men call him Sir Andrew Barton,
bread." * knight?"
My lord then chose a bowman rare, Then ever he sighed, and said,
Whose active hands had gainfed "Alas!"
fame; With a grievfed mind and well-
In Yorkshire was this gentleman away,
born. " But over-well I know that wight
And William Horseley was his I was his prisoner yesterday.
name.
"As I was sailing upon the sea,
"Horseley," said he, "I must with A Bordeaux voyage for to fare,
speed To his hachborde he clasp&d me.
Go seek a traitor on the sea, And robbed me of all my merchant
|lnd now of a hundred bowmen ware.
brave And mickle debts, God wot, I owe.
To be the head I have chosen And every man will have his own,
thee." And I am now to London bound.
"If you," quoth he, "have chosen Of ourgraciouskingtobegaboon."
me
Of a hundred bowmen to be the " Thou shalt not need," Lord How-
head. ard says
On your mainmast I'll hanged be, " Let me but once that robber see.
If I miss twelvescore one penny For every penny tane thee fro
bread." It shall be doubled shillings
three."
With pikes, and guns, and bowmen "Now God forfend," the merchant
bold. said,
This noble Howard is gone to the "That you should seek so far
sea; amiss
With a valiant heart and a pleasant God keep you out of that traitor's
cheer. hands I

Out at Thames mouth sailed he. Full little ye wot what a man he is.
^d days he scant had sailfed three,
Upon the journey he took in hand, " He brass within, and steel with-
is
But there he met with a noble ship. out.
And stoutly made it stay and With beams on his topcastle strong;
stand. And eighteen pieces of ordinance
• Broad. He carries on each side along.
 : ; ! ; : ;

314 PAENASSUS.
" And he hath a pinnace dearly " Take in your ancients, standards
dight, eke.
St. Andrew's cross, that is his To close that no man may them
guide; see;
His pinnace beareth ninescore men, And put me forth a white willow
And fifteen cannons on each side. wand.
As merchants use to sail the sea."
" Were ye twenty ships, and he but But they stirred neither top nor
one, mast;
I swear by Idrk, and bower, and Stoutly they passed Sir Andrew by
hall, "What English churls are yonder,"
He would overcome them every one. he said,
If once his beams they do down- " That can so little curtesie?
fall."
" This is cold comfort," said my " Now by the rood, three years and
lord, more
"To welcome a stranger thus to I have been admiral over the sea,
the sea And never an English or Portugal,
Yet I'llbring him and his ship to Without my leave can pass this
the shore. way."
Or to Scotland he shall carry me." Then called he forth his stout pin-
nace;
"Then a noble gunner you must " Fetch back yon peddlers now to
have, me:
And he must aim well with his ee, I swear by the mass, yon English
And sink his pinnace into the sea. churls
Or else he never overcome will be. Shall all hang at my mainmast
And if you chance his ship to board, tree."
This counsell I must give withal,
Let no man to his topcastle go With that the pinnace it shot off
To strive to let his beams down- Full well Lord Howard might it

fall. ken;
For it stroke down my lord's fore-
"And seven pieces of ordinance, mast.
I pray your honor lend to me, And killed fourteen of his men.
On each side of my ship along. " Come hither, Simon," says my lord,
And I will lead you on the sea. "Look that thy word be true,
A glass I'll get, that ihay be seen, thou said:
Whether you sail by day or night, For at the mainmast shalt
thou bang,
And to-morrow, I swear, by nine of If thou miss thy mark one shilling
the clock, bread."
You shall meet with Sir Andrew
Barton, knight." Simon was old, but his heart was
bold:
THE SECOND PART. His ordinance he laid right love
He put in chain full nine yards long,
The merchant sette my lord a glass. With other great shot less and
So well apparent in his sight. moe,
And on the morrow, by nine of the And he let go his great gun's shott;
clock. So well he settled it with his ee,
He showed him Sir Andrew Bar- The first sight that Sir Andrew saw,
ton, knight. He saw his pinnace sunk in the sea.
His hacheborde it was hached with
gold. And when he saw his pinnace sunk.
So dearly dight it dazzled the ee Lord, how his heart with rage did
" Now, by my faith," Lord Howard swell
said, " Now, cut my ropes, it is time to be
" This is a galiant sight to see. gone;
 ;
: ; ; ;; ; : ! ;; ; ;!

SAERATIVB POEMS AND BALLADS. 315

m fetch yon peddlers back
sell."
my- " Come
bilton.
hither to me, James Ham-

When my lord saw Sir Andrew loose, my only sister's son;

Thou art
Within his heart he was full fain If thou wilt let my beams downfall,
"Now spread your ancients, strike Six hundred nobles thouhast won."
up drums, With that he swarved the mainmast
Sound all your trumpets out tree,
amain." He swarvfed it with nimble art;
But Horsely with a broad arrow
"Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew Pierced the Hambilton through
says, the heart
" Weale, howsoever this gear will
sway And down he fell upon the deck.
It is my lord
admiral of England, That with his blood did stream
Is come to seek me on the sea." amain
Simon had a son who shot right well. Then every Scot cried, " Walaway
That did Sir Andrew mickle scare Alas, a comely youth is slain '' !

In at his deck he gave a shot, All wo begone was Sir Andrew then.
Killed threescore of his men of war. With grief and rage his heart did
swell
Then Henry Hunt, with vigor hot, " Go fetch me forth my armor of
Camebravely on the other side proof.
Soon he drove down his foremast tree. For I will to the topcastle mysell.
And killed fourscore men beside.
" Now, out alas " Sir Andrew cried,
!
" fetch me forth my armor of
Go
" What may a man now think or proof,
say? That gilded is with gold so clear
Yonder merchant thief that pierceth God be with my brother, John of
me, Barton
He was my prisoner yesterday. Against the Portugalls he it ware.
And when he had on this armor of
" Comehither to me, thou Gordon proof,
good. He was a gallant sight to see
That aye was ready at my call Ah ne'er didst thou meet with
! liv-
I will give thee three hundred ing wight.
pounds My dear brother, could cope with
If thou wilt let my beams down- thee."
fall." •

Lord Howard he then called in haste, " Come hither, Horsely," says my
"Horsely, see thou be true in lord,
stead " And look your shaft that it go
For thou shalt at the mainmast hang, right;
If thou miss twelvescore one pen- Shoot a good shot in time of need.
ny bread." And for it thou shalt be made a
knight."
Then Gordon swarved the mainmast " I'll shoot my best," quoth Horsely
tree. then,
He swarvfed it with might and " Your honor shall see, with might
main; and main
But Horsely with a bearing arrow But if I were hanged at your main-
Stroke the Gordon through the mast,
brain I have now left but arrows twain."
And he fell unto the haches again,
And sore his deadly wound did Sir Andrew he
did swarve the tree.
bleed With
right goodwill he swarved it
Then word went through Sir An- then.
drew's men, Upon his breast did Horsely hitt,
How that the Gordon he was dead. But the arrow bounded back again.
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316 PARNASSUS.

Then Horsely spied a private place, " Sir Andrew's ship I bring with me,
With a perfect eye, in a secret part A braver ship was never none
Under the spole of his right arm Now hath your grace two ships of
He smote Sir Andrew to the heart. war.
Before in England was but one."
"Fight on, my men,'' Sir Andrew King Henry's grace with royal
says, cheer
" A little I'm hurt, but yet not Welcomed the noble Howard
slain home
I'll but lie down and bleed awhile. "And where," said he, "is this ro-
And then I'll rise and fight again. ver stout,
Fight on, my men," Sir Andrew That I myself may give the
says, doom?"
"And never flinch before the foe;
And stand fast by St. Andrew's "The rover, he is safe, my liege,
cross, Full many a fathom in the sea
Until you hear my whistle blow." If he were alive as he is dead,
I must have left England many a
They never heard his whistle blow. day.
Which made their hearts wax sore And your grace may thank four men
adread in the ship.
Then Horsely said, "Aboard, my For the victory we have won
lord. These are William Horsely, Henry
For well I wot Sir Andrew's Hunt,
dead." And Peter Simon, and his son."
They boarded then his noble ship.
They boarded it with might and " To Henry Hunt," the king then
main; said,
Eighteen score Scots alive they "In lieu of what was from thee
found. taen,
The rest were either maimed or A noble a day now thou shalt have.
slain. Sir Andrew's jewels and his
chain.
Lord Howard took a sword in hand, And Horsely thou shalt be a knight,
And ofE he smote Sir Andrew's And lands and livings shalt have
head; store
" I must have left England many a Howard shall be Earl Suriy hight.
day. As Howards erst have been before.
If thou wert alive as thou art
dead." " Now Peter Simon, thou art old,
He caused his body to be cast I will maintain thee and thy son
Over the hatchbord into the sea, And the men shall have five hun-
And about his middle three hundred dred marks
crowns For the good service they have
" Wherever thou land, this will done."
bury thee." Then in came the queen with ladies
fair.
Thus from the wars Lord Howard To see Sir Andrew Barton, knight;
came. They weened that he were brought
And back he sailM o'er the main on shore.
With mickle joy and triumphing And thought to have seen a gal-
Into Thames' mouth he came lant sight.
again.
Lord Howard then a letter wrote. But when they see his deadly face,
And sealed it with seal and ring: And eyes so hollow in his head,
" Such a noble prize have I brought " I would give," quoth the king, " a
to your grace thousand marks.
As never did subject to a king. This man were alive as ha is dead.
 ;; ;: " ! ! ; !

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 317

Yet for the manful part he played, " Ye Scottishmen spend a' our king's
Which fought so well with heart gowd
and hand, And a' our queene's fee."
His men shall have twelvepence a day, " Ye lie, ye lie, ye liars loud
Till they come to my brother Fu' loud I hear ye lie
king's high land."
" For I hae brought as much white
monie
SIR PATRICK SPENS. As gane my men and me,
And I hae
brought a half-fou o'
The king sits in Dunfermline town, gude red gowd
Drinking the blude-red wine Out owre the sea wi' me.
" O where will I get a skeely skipper
To sail this new ship of mine?" " Make ready, make ready, my merry
men a'
O up and spake an eldern knight. Our gude ship sails the morn."
Sat at the king's right knee: " Now, ever alake my master dear, !

" Sir Patrick Spans is the best sailor I fear a deadly storm I
That ever sailed the sea."
" I saw the new moon, late yestreen,
Our king has written a braid letter^ Wi' the auld moon in her arm;
And sealed it with his hand. And if we gang to sea, master,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens, I fear we'll come to harm."
Was walking on the strand.
They hadna saileda league, a league,
" To Noroway, to Noroway, A league, but barely three.
To Noroway o'er the faem; When the lift grew dark, and the
The king's daughter of Noroway, wind blew loud.
'Tis thou maun bring her hame !
And gurly grew the sea.

The first word that Sir Patrick read, The ankers brak, and the topmasts
Sae loud, loud laughed he lap.
The neist word that Sir Patrick It was sic a deadly storm
read, And the waves came o'er the broken
The tear blindit his e'e. ship
Till a' her sides were torn.
" O wha is this
has done this deed.
And tauld the king o' me, " O where
will I get a gude sailor
To send us out at this time of the Totake my helm in hand.
year. Till I get up to the tall topmast
To sail upon the sea ? To see if I can spy land ? "
" Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be " O here amI, a sailor gude.
it sleet. Totake the helm in hand.
Our ship must sail the faem Till you go up to the tall topmast, —
The king's daughter of Noroway, But I fear you'll ne'er spy land."
'Tis we must fetch her hame."
He hadna gane a step, a step,
They hoysed their sails on Monen- A step, but barely ane.
day mom When a boult flew out of our goodly
Wi' a' the speed they may ship.
They hae landed in Noroway And the salt sea it came in.
Upon a Wodensday.
" Gi-ae fetch a web o' the silken
They hadna been a week, a week claith.
In Noroway, but twae. Another o' the twine.
When that the lords o' Noroway And wap them into our ship's side
Began aloud to say: And let ua the sea come in."
 — ; !! ;" ! : ;! ; ! ; ;

318 PAENASSUS.

They fetched a web o' the silken And he took the helm intil his hand,
claith, And he steered the ship sae free
Another o' the twine, Wi' the wind astarn, he crowded sail,
And they wapped them roun' that And stood right out to sea.
gude ship's side,
But still the sea came in. Quo the king, "There's treason in
this, I vow
O laith, laith were our gude Scots This is something underhand
lords 'Bout ship!" Quo the skipper,
To weet their cork-heeled shoon " Yer grace forgets
But lang or a' the play was played, Ye are king but o' the land " !

• They wat their hats aboon.

And still he held to the open sea
And mony was the feather-bed And the east wind sank behind;
That floated on the faem And the west had a bitter word to
And mony was the gude lord's son say,
That never mair came hame. Wi' a white-sea roarin' wind.

The ladyes wrange their fingers And he turned her head into the
white. north.
The maidens tore their hair Said the king: "Gar fling him
A' for the sake of their true loves, — o'er."
For them they'll see na mair. Quo the fearless skipper: "It's a'
ye're worth
O lang, lang, may the ladyes sit, Ye'll ne'er see Scotland more."
Wi' their fans into their hand.
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens The king crept down the cabin-stair.
Come sailing to the strand To drink the gude French win^.
And up she came, his daughter fair,
And lang lang may the maidens sit, And luikit ower the brine.
Wi' their gowd kaims in their hair,
A' waiting for their ain dear loves, She turned her face to the drivin'
For them they'll see na mair. hail, t

To the hail but and the weet

O forty miles off Aberdeen Her snood it brak, and, as lang 's
fathoms deep.
'Tis fifty hersel'.
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens Her hair drave out i' the sleet.
Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
Anonymous. Slie turned her face frae the drivin'
win' —
"What's that ahead? " quo she.
THE EARL O' QUARTERDECK. The skipper he threw himsel' frae
the win',
A NEW OLD BALLAD. And he drove the helm a-lee.
The wind it blew, and the ship it " Put to yer hand, my lady fair!
flew; Put to yer hand," quoth he;
And it was " Hey for hame "Gin she dinna face the win' the
And ho for hame " But the !
skip- mair,
per cried, It's tlie waur for you and me."
" Haud her oot o'er the saut sea
faem." For the skipper kenned that strength
is strength,
Then up and spoke the kinghimsel' Whether woman's or man's at last
"
Haud on for Dumferline !
To the tiller the lady she laid her
Quo 'he skipper, "Ye're king upo' han',
the land And the ship laid her cheek to the
I'm king upo' the brine." blast.
 ; :;; :; ; — : ; "; ! ; ";

NAEEATIVE POEMS AJSTD BALLADS. 319

For that slender body was full o' " I canna mak ye a king," said he,
soul, "For the Lord alone can do that;
And the will is mair than shape And besides ye took it intil yer ain
As the skipper saw when they cleared han',
the berg, And crooned yersel' sae pat
And he heard her quarter scrape.
" But wi' what ye will I redeem my
Quo the skipper: "Te are a lady ring;
fair, For ance I am at your beck.
And a princess grand to see And first, as ye loutit Skipper o'
But ye are a woman, and a man wad Doon,
sail Else up Yerl o' Quarterdeck."
To hell in yer company."
The skipper he rose and looked at
She liftit a pale and a queenly face the king
Her een flashed, and syne they In his een for all his croon
swam. Said the skipper, " Here is yer grace's
" And what for no to heaven ? " she ring.
says, And yer daughter is my boon."
And she turned awa' frae him.
The reid blude sprang into the king's
But she took na her han' frae the face,
good ship's helm, A wrathful man to see
Until the day did daw "The rascal loon abuses our grace;
And the skipper he spak, but what Gae hang him upon yon tree."
he said
It was said atween them twa. But the skipper he sprang aboard his
ship,
And then the good ship, she lay to, And he drew his biting blade
With the land far on the lee And he struck the chain that held
And up came the king upo' the her fast.
deck, But the iron was ower weel made.
Wi' wan face and bluidshot ee.
And the king he blew a whistle loud
The skipper he louted to the king And tramp, tramp, down the
" Gae wa', gae wa'," said the king. pier,
Said the king, like a prince, " I was Cam' twenty riders on twenty steeds,
a' wrang. Clankin' wi' spur and spear.
Put on this ruby ring."
" He saved your life " cried the lady
!

And the wind blew lowne, and the fair;

stars cam cot. " His life ye daurna spill !

And the ship turned to the shore "Will ye come atween me and my
A.nd, afore the sun was up again. hate ? "
They saw Scotland ance more. Quo the lady, " And that I will !

That day the ship hung at the pier- And on cam the knights wi' spur
heid, and spear.
And the king he stept on the land. For they heard the iron ring.
"Skipper, kneel down," the king he " Gin ye care na for yer father's
said, grace.
" Hoo daur ye afore me stand ? " Mind ye that I am the king."
The skipper he louted on his knee. " I kneel to my father for his grace,
The king his blade he drew Eight lowly on my knee
Said the king, " How daured ye cen- But I stand and look the king in the
me ?
tre face.
I'm aboard my ain ship noo. For the skipper is king o' me."
 ; "'
;: :

820 PAENASSTJS.

She turned and she sprang upo' the " When she took the ground,
deck. She went to pieces like a lock of hay
And the cable splashed in the sea. Tossed from a pitchfork. Ere it
The good ship spread her wings sae came to that,
white, The captain reeled on deck with
And away with the skipper goes two small things,
she. One in each arm — his little lad and
lass.
Now was not this a king's daughter, Their hair was long and blew before
And a brave lady beside ? his face,
And a woman with whom a man Or else we thought he had been
might sail saved ; he fell,
Into the heaven wi' pride ? But held them fast. The crew, poor
GeOBGB MACDOBTAiD. luckless souls 1
The breakers licked them off; and
some were crushed,
Some swallowed in the yeast, some
WRECK OF "THE GRACE OP flung up dead,
SUNDERLAND." The dear breath beaten out of them:
not one
"He's a rare man, Jumped from the wreck upon the
Our parson ; half a head above us all. reef to catch
The hands that strained to reach,
" That's a great gift, and notable,'' but tumbled back
said I. With eyes wide open. But the cap-
tain lay
'
Ay, Sir ; and when he was a younger And clung — the only man alive.
'

man They prayed —

He went out in the life-boat very oft, '
For God's sake, captain, throw the
Before '
The Grace of Sunderland children here!'
was wrecked. 'Throw them!' our parson cried;
He's never been his own man since and then she struck
that hour And he threw one, a pretty two
For there were thirty men aboard of years' child,
her, But the gale dashed, him on the
Anigh as close as you are now to me. slippery verge,
And ne'er a one was saved. And down he went. They say they
They're lying now, heard him cry.
With two small children, in a row
the church '
" Then he rose up and took the other
And yard are full of seamen's graves, one,
and few And all our men reached out their
Have any names. hungry arms,
And cried out, * Throw her, throw
She bumped upon the reef her !
' and he did.
Our parson, my young son, ana He threw her right against the par-
several more son's breast,
Were lashed together with a two-inch And all at once a sea broke over them,
rope, And they that saw it from the shora
And crept along to her ; their mates have said
ashore It struck the wreck, and piecemeal
Ready to haul them in. The gale scattered it.
was high. Just as a woman might the lump of
The sea was all a boiling seething salt
froth. That 'twixt her hands into the
And God Almighty's guns were kneading-pan
going off, She breaks and crumbles on hei
And the land trembled. rising bread.
 ;: ; ;; ; ; ;: ;
; ; ; ; ;

NAKEATIVE POEMS AND BAUL-ADS. 321

"We hauled our men two of As he rade ower yon high, high hill,
them were dead — in: And down yon dowie den,
The sea had beaten them, their The noise that was in Clyde's water
heads hung down Wou'd fear'd five hunder men.
Our parson's arms were empty, for
the wave " Ye're roaring loud, Clyde water.
Had torn away the pretty, pretty Tour waves seem ower Strang
lamb Make me your wreck as I come back,
We often see him stand beside her But spare me as I gang."
grave
But 'twas no fault of his, no fault Then he is on to Meggie's bower,
of his." And tirlM at the pin
Jbabt Ingelow. " O sleep ye, wake ye, Meggie," he
said,
" Te'll open, lat me come in."

THE DEOWCiTED LOVERS. " O wha is this at my bower door.

That calls me by my name? "
WlLUB stands in his stable door, " It is your first love, sweet Willie,
And clapping at his steed This night newly come hame."
And looldng o'er his white fingers.
His nose began to bleed. "I hae few lovers thereout, there-
out.
my horse, mother
" Gie corn to As few hae I therein
And meat to my young man : The best an' love that ever I had,
And I'llawa' to Meggie's bow«r, Was here just late yestreen."
I'll win ere she lie down."
" The warstan stable in a' your
" O bide this night wi' me, Willie, stables.
bide this night wi' me For my puir steed to stand
The best an' cock o' a' the reest. The warstan bower in a' your
At your supper shall be." bowers,
For me to lie therein
" A' your cocks, and a' your reests, My boots are fu' o' Clyde's water,
1 value not a prin I'm shivering at the chin."
For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower,
I'll win ere she lie down." " My bams are fu' o' corn, Willie,
My stables are fu' o' hay;
" Stay this night wi' me, Willie, My bowers are fu' o' gentlemen — ;

stay this night wi' me They'll nae remove till day."

The best an' sheep in a' the flock
At your supper shall be." " Ofare-ye-well, my
fause Meggie,
O farewell, and adieu
" A' your sheep, and I've gotten my mither's malison,
a' your flocks,
This night coming to you."
1 value not a prin
For I'll awa' to Meggie's bower,
I'll win ere she lie down."
As he rode ower yon high, high
hill.

" O an' ye g;ang to Meggie's bower

And down yon dowie den
The rushing that was in Clyde's
Sae sair against my will, water
The deepest pot in Clyde's water. Took Willie's cane fra him.
My malison ye's feel."
He lean'd him ower his saddle bow.
" The guid steed that I ride upon To catch his cane again
Costme thrice thretty pound; The rushing that was in Clyde's
And I'll put trust in his swift feet, water
Tc hae me safe to land." Took Willie's hat frae him.
21
 ; ; ; ; ;; ; :

322 PAENASSUS.

He lean'd him ower his saddle bow, WINSTANLET.

To catch his hat thro' force
The rushing that was in Clyde's Winstanley's deed, you kindly
water folk.
Took Willie frae his horse. With it I fill my lay.
And a nobler man ne'er walked the
His brlther stood upo' the bank, world,
Says, " Fye, man, will ye drown ? Let his name be what it may.
Ye'U turn ye to your high horse
head. The good ship "Snowdrop" tarried
And learn how to sowm." long.
Up at the vane looked he
" How can I turn to my horse head, " Belike," he said, for the wind had
And learn how to sowm ? dropped,
I've gotten my mither's malison. " She lieth becalmed at sea."
!"
It's here that I maun drown
The lovely ladies flocked within.
The very hour this young man sank And still would each one say,
Into the pot sae deep. " Good mercer, be the ships come
Up it waken' d his love, Meggie, up?"
Out o' her drowsy sleep. But still he answered, " Nay."
" Come here, come here, my mither Then stepped two mariners down the
dear. street.
And read this dreary dream With looks of grief and fear
Idream'd my love was at our gates, "Now, if Winstanley be your name.
And nane wad let him in." We bring you evil cheer!
" Lye still, lye still now, my Meg- "For the good ship f Snowdrop'
gie, struck, —
she struck
Lye and tak your rest
still —
On the rock, the Eddystone,
Sin' your true love was at your gates. And down she went with threescore
It's but twa quarters past." men.
We two being left alone.
Nimbly, nimbly raise she up,
And nimbly pat she on " Down in the deep, with freight and
And the higher that the lady cried, crew,
The louder blew the win'. Past any help she lies.
And never a bale has come to shore
The first an' step that she stepp'd in, Of all thy merchandise."
She stepped to the queet
" Ohon, alas !" said that lady, "For cloth o' gold and comely
" This water's wondrous deep." frieze,"
Winstanley said, and sighed,
The next an' step that she wade in, " For velvet coif, or costly coat,
She wad it to the knee They fathoms deep may bide.
Says she, " I cou'd wade farther in.
If I my love cou'd see." " O thou brave skipper, blithe and
kind,
The next an' step that she wade in. O mariners, bold and true,
She wadit to the chin ; Sori-y at heart, right sorry am I,
The deepest pot in Clyde's water. A-thinking of yours and you.
She got sweet Willie in.
" Many long days Winstanley's breast
" You've had a cruel mither, Willie, Shall feel a weight within.
And I have had anlther; For a waft of wind he shall be
But we shall sleep in Clyde's water. 'feared,
Like sister an' like brlther." And trading count but sin.
 ; ;
NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS.
" To him no more it shall be joy-
To pace the cheerful town,
And see the lovely ladies gay
Step on in velvet gown."
The "Snowdrop" sank
tide,
All under the yeasty spray
On Christmas Eve the brig
tent "
Was also cast away.
He little thought o' New Year's night.
So jolly as he sat then,
While drank the- toast and praised
the roast
The round-faced Aldermen,
While serving lads ran to and fro,
Pouring the ruby wine.
And jellies trembled on the board.
And towering pasties fine,
While loud huzzas ran up the roof
Till the lamps did rock o'erhead.
And holly-boughs from rafters hung
Dropped down their berries red,
He thought on Plymouth Hoe,
little
With every rismg tide,
How the wave washed in
lads.
And laid them side by
There stepped a stranger to the board
"Now,stranger, wlio be ye?"
He looked to right, he looked to left.
And " Rest you merry, 'i quoth he
Foryoudidnotsee the brig go do wn,
Or ever a storm had blown
For you did not see the white wave
rear
At the rock, — the Eddystone.
" She drave at the rock with stern-
sails set
Crash went the masts in twain
She staggered back with her mortal
blow.
Then leaped at it again.
" There rose a great cry, bitter
strong
The misty moon looked out
And the water swarmed with
men's heads.
And the wreck was strewed about.
;; ! ; ;
: : ; ; ! ;;
323
" I saw her mainsail lash the sea
As I clung to the rock alone
Then she heeled over, and down she
went,
And sank like any stone.
at Lammas
" She was a fair ship, but all's one
For naught could bide the shock."
"Con- " I will take horse," Winstanley said,
" And see this deadly rock.
" For never again shall bark o' mine
Sail over the windy sea.
Unless, by the blessing of God, for
this
Be found a remedy."
—
Winstanley rode to Plymouth town
All in the sleet and the snow
And he looked around on shore and
sound,
— As he stood on Plymouth Hoe.
Till a pillar of spray rose far away,
And shot up its stately head.
Reared, and fell over, and reared
— again
" Tis the roek the rock " he said.
! I
Straight to the Mayor he took his way
his sailor " Good Master Mayor," quoth lie,
" I am a mercer of London town.
side. And owner of vessels three, —
" But for your rock of dark renown,
I had five to track the main."
" You are one of many," the old
Mayor said,
" That on the rock complain.
"An ill rock, mercer! your words
ring right,
Well with my thoughts they chim e.
For my two sons to the world to come
It sent before their time."
"Lend me a lighter, good Master
Mayor,
And a score of shipwrights free,
For I think to raise a lantern tower
On this rock o' destiny."
and The old Mayor laughed, but sighed
also:
" Ah, youth," quoth he, " is rash
sea- Sooner, young man, thou'lt root it
out
From the sea that doth it lash.
 ; ; ; ;; : :; ; ;

324 PAENASSUS.
" Who sails too near its jagged teeth, Then he and the sea began their strife,
He shall have evil lot And worked with power and might."
For the calmest seas that tumble there Whatever the man reared up by day
Froth like a boiling pot. The sea broke down by night.
" And the heavier seas few look on He wrought at ebb with bar and beam.
nigh, He sailed to shore at flow
But straight they lay him dead And at his side, by that same tide.
A seventy-gun-ship, sir! they'll — Came bar and beam also.
shoot
Higher than her masthead. " Give in, give in," the old Mayor
cried,
" Oh, beacons sighted in the dark. " Or thou wilt rue the day."
are right welcome things.
They "Yonder he goes," the townsfolk
And pitchpots flaming on the shore sighed.
Show fair as angel wings. But the rock will have its way.

"Hast gold in hand? then light the " For all his looks that are so stout.
land, And his speeches brave and fair.
It 'longs to thee and me He may wait on the wind, wait on
But let alone the deadly rock the wave.
In God Almighty's sea." But he'll build no lighthouse
there."
Tet said he, ''
Nay, — I must away.
the rock to set my feet
On In fine weather and foul weather
My debts are paid, my will I made, The rock his arts did flout,
Or ever I did thee greet. Through the long days and the short
days,
"HI must die, then let me die Till all that year ran out.
By the rock, and not elswhere
If I may live, O let me live With fine weather and foul weather
To mount my lighthouse stair." Another year came in
" To take his wage," the workmen
The old Mayor looked him in the face. said,
And answered, " Have thy way; " We almost count a sin."
Thy heart is stout, as if round about
It was braced with an iron stay: Now March was gone, came April in,
And a sdk-fog settled down.
" Have thy will, mercer! choose thy And forth sailed he on a glassy sea,
men. He sailed from Plymouth town.
Put offfrom the storm-rid shore
God with thee be, or I shall see With men and stores he put to sea,
Thy face and theirs no more." As he was wont to do
They showed in the fog like ghosts
Heavily plunged the breaking wave, full faint, —
And foam flew up the lea, A ghostly craft and crew.
Morning and even the drifted snow
Fell into the dark gray sea. And the sea-fog lay and waxed alway.
For a long eight days and more
Winstanley chose him men and gear; " God help our men," quoth the
He said, " My time I waste," women then;
For the seas ran seethingup the shore. " For they bide long from shore."
And the wrack drave on in haste.
They paced the Hoe in doubt and
But twenty days he waited and more. dread
Pacing the strand alone. " Where may our mariners beV"
Or ever he sat his manly foot But the brooding fog lay soft as dowa
—
On the rock, the Eddystone. Over the quiet sea.
 : " ;; ;; : : ; — ; ; ; ;

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 325

A. Scottish schooner made the port, " Yet were I fain still to remain,
The thirteenth day at e'en; Watch my in tower to keep,
" As I am a man," the captain cried, And tend my light in the stormiest
" A strange sight I have seen night
That ever did move the deep
"And a strange sound heard, my
masters all, " And if it stood, why then 'twere
At sea, in the fog and the rain. good.
Like shipwrights' hammers tapping Amid their tremulous stirs.
low, To count each stroke when the mad
Then loud, then low again. waves broke.
For cheers of mariners.
"And a stately house one instant
showed. " But then this were well,
if it fell,
Through a rift, on the vessel's lee ThatI should with it fall
What manner of creatures may he Since, for my
part, I have built my
those heart
That built upon the sea ? " In the courses of its wall.

Then sighed the folk, " The Lord be " Ay I were fain, long to remain,
!

praised !
Watch in my tower to keep.
And they flocked to the shore And tend my light in the stormiest
amain night
All over the Hoe that livelong night. That ever did move the deep."
Many stood out in the rain.
Witt that Winstanley went his way,
It ceased ; and the red sun reared his And left the rock renowned.
head. And summer and winter his pilot star
And the rolling fog did flee Hung bright o'er Plymouth Sound.
And, lo in the oflSng faint and far
!

Winstanley's house at seal But it fell out, fell out at last.

That he would put to sea.
In fair weather with mirth and cheer To scan once more his lighthouse
The stately tower uprose tower
In foul weather, with hunger and On the rock o' destiny.
cold.
They were content to close And the winds broke, and the storm
broke,
Till up the Winstanley went,
stair And wrecks came plunging in
To fire the wick afar; None in the town that night lay down
And Plymouth in the silent night Or sleep or rest to win.
Looked out, and saw her star.
The great mad waves were rolling
Winstanley set his foot ashore graves,
Said he, " My work is done And each flung up its dead
I hold it strong to last as long The seething flow was white below,
As aught beneath the sun. And black the sky o'erhead.
"But if it fail, as fail it may. And when the dawn, the dull, gray
Borne down with ruin and rout. dawn,
Another than I shall rear it high. Broke on the trembling town.
And brace the girders stout. And men looked south to the harbor
mouth.
" A better than I shall rear it high, The lighthouse tower was down.
For now the way is plain
had though I were dead," Winstanley Down in the deep where he doth
said, sleep,
" The light would shine again. Who made it shine afar,
 : ; ; ! ; ; : ;; ; :; : ! ; ; ;

326 PAENASSTJS.

And then In the night that drowned Not free from boding thoughts, a
its light, while
Set, with his pilot star. The shepherd stood then makes hit
;

way
Many fair tombs in the glorious Towards the dog, o'er rocks and
glooms stones.
At Westminster they show As quickly as he may;
The brave and the great lie there in Nor far had gone before he found
state A human skeleton on the ground
Winstanley lieth low. The appalled discoverer with a sigh
jBAlf iNGEIiOW. Looks round, to learn the history.
From those abrupt and perilous rocks
FIDELITY. The man had fallen, that place of
fear!
A BAKKiNG sound the shepherd At length upon the shepherd's mind
hears, It breaks, and all is clear:
A cry as of a dog or fox He instantly recalled the name.
He halts, and searches with his eyes And who he was, andwhence he came
Among the scattered rocks Remembered, too, the very day
And now at distance can discern On which the traveller passed this
A stirring ina brake of fern way.
And instantly a dog is seen But hear a wonder, for whose sake
Glancing from that covert green.
This lamentable tale I tell

The dog is not of mountain breed

A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well.
Itsmotions, too, are wild and shy;
With something, as the shepherd
The dog, which still was hovering
nigh,
thinks.
Kepeating the same timid cry,
Unusual in its cry:
This dog had been through three
Nor is there any one in sight months' space
All round, in hollow or on height
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear A dweller in that savage place.
What is the creature doing here ? Yes, proof was plain that since the
day
It was a cove, a huge recess. On which the traveller thus had died
That keeps till June December's The dog had watched about the spot,
snow Or by his master's side
A lofty precipice in front, How nourished here through such
A silent tarn below long time
Far in the bosom of Helvellyn, He knows, who gave that love sub-
Kemote from public road or dwelling, lime.
Pathway, or cultivated land, And gave that strength of feeling,
From trace of human foot or hand. great
Above all human estimate.
There sometimes doth a leaping fish WOEDSWOBTH.
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer
The crags repeat the ravens' croak
In symphony austere HELVELLYN.
Thither the comes — the
cloud — rainbow I CLIMBED the dark brow of the
A.nd mists that spread the flying mighty Helvellyn,
shroud Lakes and mountains beneath me
And sunbeams: and the sounding gleamed misty and wide
blast. All was still, save by fits, when the
That,if it could, would hurry past. eagle was yelling.
But that enormous barrier binds it And starting around me the
fast. echoes replied.
 : ; : :

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALI^ADS. 327

On the right, Strlden-edge round the Par adown the long aisle sacred
,

Eed-tarn was bending, music is streaming.

And Catchedicam its left verge was Lamenting a Chief of the People
defending, should fall.
One huge nameless rock in the
front was ascending, But meeter for thee, gentle lover of
When I marked the sad spot nature,
where the wanderer had died. To lay down thy head like the
meek mountain lamb.
Dark green was that spot 'mid the When, wildered, he drops from
some cliff huge in stature.
brown mountain heather,
Where the Pilgrim of Nature lay And draws his last sob by the side
of his dam.
stretched in decay,
Like the corpse of an outcast aban-
And more stately thy couch by this
desert lake lying.
doned to weather,
Till the mountain-winds wasted
Thy obsequies sung by the gray
plover flying.
the tenantless clay.
Nor yet quite deserted, though lone- With one faithful friend but to wit-
ness thy dying.
ly extended.
For, faithful in death, his mute
In the arms of Helvellyn and
Catchedicam.
favorite attended,
Scott.
The much-loved remains of her
master defended.
And chased the hill-fox and the GEORGE NIDIVEE.
raven away.
Men have done brave deeds.
How long didst thou think that his And bards have sung them well
silence was slumber ? I of good George Nidiver
When the wind waved his gar- Now the tale will tell.
ment, how oft didst thou
In Califomian mountains
start ?
How many long days and long weeks A hunter bold was he
didst thou number.
Keen his eye and sure his aim
Ere he faded before thee, the
As any you should see.
friend of thy heart ?
And, oh, was it meet, that, no re-
A little Indian boy
Followed him everywhere.
quiem read o'er him, — Eager to share the hunter's joy,
No mother to weep, and no friend to The hunter's meal to share.
deplore him.
And thou, little guardian, alone And when the bird or deer
stretched before him, — Fell by the hunter's skill.
Unhonored the Pilgrim from life The boy was always near
should depart ? To help with right good-will.

When a Prince to the fate of the

One day as through the cleft
Between two mountains steep,
Peasant has yielded.
Shut in both right and left,
The tapestry waves dark round Their questing way they keep.
the dim-lighted hall
With scutcheons of silver the coffin They see two grizzly bears,
is shielded. With hunger fierce and fell.
And pages stand mute by the can- Rush at them unawares
opied pall Right down the narrow dell.
Through the courts, at deep mid-
night, the torches are gleam- The boy turned round with screams,
ing; And ran with terror wild :

In the proudly-arched chapel the One of tlie pair of savage beasts

Pursued the shrieking child.
 ; : :; :: : ; ; : ;

328 PAKNASStrS.

The hunter raised his gun, — Then expect Svend Vonved home
He linew one charge was all, — In all my days, I will never come."
And through the hoy's pursuing foe Look out, look out, Svend Vonved
He sent his only ball.
His mother took that in evil part:
The other on George Nidiver "I hear, young gallant, that mad
Came on with dreadful pace thou art
The hunter stood unarmed, Wherever thou goest, on land or sea,
And met him face to face. Disgrace and shame shall attend on
thee."
I sayunarmed he stood Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
Against those frightful paws
The rifle butt, or club of wood. He kissed her thrice with his lips of
Could stand no more than straws. fire:

George Nidiver stood still,

"Appease, O mother, appease thine
ire!
And looked him in the face
The wild beast stopped amazed. Ke'er wish me any mischance to
Then came with slackening pace. know.
For thou canst not tell how far I may
firm the hunter stood,
Still go."
Although his heart beat high Lookout, lookout, Svend Vonved.
Again the creature stopped,
And gazed with wondering eye. "Then I will bless thee, this very
day;
The hunter met his gaze, Thou never shalt perish in any fray
Nor yet an inch gave way Success shall be in thy courser tall.
The bear turned slowly round, Success in thyself which is best of
And slowly moved away. all.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
What thoughts were in his mind
It would be hard to spell
" Success in thy hand, success in thy
What thoughts were in Greorge
foot.
Nidiver
In struggle with man, in battle with
I rather guess than tell.
brute
But sure that aim.
rifle's
The Holy God and Saint Drotten dear
Shall guide and watch thee through
Swift choice of generous part,
thy career."
Showed in its passing gleam
The depths of a brave heart. Look out, lookout, Svend Vonved.
E. H.
Svend Vonved took up the word
SVEND VONTED. again —
"I'll range the mountain, and rove
[From the old Danish.] the plain.
SvEND VoNVED binds his sword to Peasant and noble I'll wound and
his side slay;
He fain will battle with laiights of All, all, for my father's wrong shall
pride. pay."
" When may I look for thee once Lookout, lookout, Svend Vonved.
more here ?
When roast the heifer, and spice the His helm was blinking against the
beer?" sun.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. His spurs were clinking his heels
upon,
"When stones shall take, of them- His horse was springing, with bridle
selves, a flight, ringing.
A.nd ravens' feathers are woxeu While sat the warrior wildly singing
white, Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
 ; ; ; ; " ;

NAJBKATIVE POEMS AKD BALLADS. 329

He rode and lilted, he rode and And soon, full soon, shalt thou pay
for him.
Then met he by chance Sir Thul^ With the flesh hackt off from thy
!
"Vang; every limb
Sir Thule Vang, with his twelve Lookout, look out, Svend Vonved.
sons bold,
All cased in iron, the bright and cold. They drew a circle upon the sward
Look out, lookout, Svend Vonved. They both were dour, as the rocks
are hard
Svend Vonved took his sword from Forsooth, I tell you, their hearts
his side, were steeled, —
He fain would battle with knights so The one to the other no jot would
tried yield.
The proud Sir ThuW he first ran Look out, lookout, Svend Vonved.
through.
And then, in succession, his sons he
slew.
They fought for a
for two, — day, — they fought
Lookout, look out, Svend Vonved. And so on the third they were fain
to do;
But ere the fourth day reached the
Svend Vonved binds his sword to
night.
his side,
It lists him farther to ride, to ride
The Brute-carl fell, and was slain
outright.
He rode along by the gren^ shaw.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
The Brute-carl there with surprise
he saw. Svend Vonved binds his sword to
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. his side.
Farther and farther he lists to ride
A wild swine sat on his shoulders He rode at the foot of a hill so steep,
broad, There saw he a herd as he drove the
Upon his bosom a black bear snored sheep.
And about his fingers with hairo'er- Lookout, look out, Svend Vonved.
hung.
The squirrel sported and weasel " Now listen. Herd, with the fleecy
clung. care;
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. Listen, and give me answers fair.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
'Now, Brute-carl, yield thy booty
to me, "What is rounder than a wheel?
Or I will take it by force from thee. Where do they eat the holiest meal ?
Say, wilt thou quickly thy beasts Where does the sun go down to his
forego. seat?
Or venture with me to bandy a And where do they lay the dead
blow?" man's feet?
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.

"Much rather, much rather, I'll " What fills the valleys one and all ?
with thee.
fight What is clothed best in the mon-
Than thou my booty should get from arch's hall?
me: What cries more loud than cranes
I never was bidden the like to do, can cry?
Since good King Esmer in fight I And what in whiteness the swan out-
slew." vie?
Lookout, look out, Svend Vonved. Lookout, lookout, Svend Vonved.

"And didst thou slay King Esmer " Who on his back his beard doth
fine? wear?
Why, then thou slewest dear father Who 'neath his chiu his nose doth
mine; bear?
 ; ;

830 PARNASSUS.

What's more black than the blackest "Now tell me, Rider, noble anj
sloe ? good.
And what is swifter than a roe ? Where does the fish stand up in the
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. flood?
Where do they mingle the best, best
" Where is the bridge that is most wine?
broad ? And where with his knights does
What is, by man, the most ab- Vidrick dine ?
horred ? Look out, look out, Svend Vonved."
Where leads, where leads, the high-
est road up ? " The fish in the East stands up in
And say where the hottest of drink the flood.
they sup?" They drink in the North the wine
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. so good.
In Hallaud's hall does Vidrick dine,
" The sun is rounder than a wheel. With his swains around, and hit
They eat at the altar the holiest warriors fine."
meal. Lookout, lookout, Svend Vonved.
The sun in the West goes down to
his seat: Prom his breast Svend Vonved a
And they lay to the East the dead gold ring drew,
man's feet. At the foot of the knight the gold
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. ring he threw
"Go! say thou wert the very
" Snow fills the valleys, one and all. last man
Man is clothed best in the monarch's Who gold from the hand of Svend
hall. Vonved wan."
Thunder cries louder than cranes Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
can cry.
Angels in whiteness the swan out- Then in he went to his lonely bow-
vie. er.
Lookout, lookout, Svend Vonved. There drank he the wine, the wine
of power;
" His beard on his back the lapwing His much-loved harp he played
wears. upon
His nose 'neath his chin the elfin Till the strings were broken every
bears. one.
More black is sin than the blackest Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
sloe: Translated from the old Danish by
And thought is swifter than any roe. Geobge Borrow.
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved.
" Ice of bridges the bridge most
is
broad. THE WILD HUNTSMAN.
The toad is, of all things, the most
abhorred. The Wildgrave winds his bugle-horn,
To paradise leads the highest road To horse, to horse ! halloo, halloo!
up: His fiery courser snuffs the morn,
And in hell the hottest of drink they And thronging serfs their lord
sup." pursue.
Look out, lookout, Svend Vonved.
The eager pack, from couples freed.
Svend Vonved binds his sword to his Dash through the bush, the brier,
side, the brake
him farther
It lists to ride, to ride: While answering hound, and horn,
He found upon the desolate wold and steed.
A burly knight, of aspect bold. The mountain echoes startling
Look out, look out, Svend Vonved. wake.
 ;: !; ;
; ; ; ! "s

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 331

Th", beams of God's own hallowed The Wildgrave spurred his ardent
day steed.
Had painted yonder spire with And, launching forward with a
gold, bound,
And, calling sinful man to pray, "Who, for thy drowsy priestlike
Loud, long, and deep the bell had rede.
tolled Would leave the jovial horn and
hound?
But still the Wildgrave onward rides
Halloo, halloo and, hark again
!
" Hence, if our manly sport offend 1
When, spurring from opposing sides. With pious fools go chant and
Two Stranger Horsemen join the pray !
—
train. Well hast thou spoke, my dark-
browed friend
Who was each Stranger, left and right, Halloo, halloo and, hark away !
!

Well may I guess, but dare not tell

The right-hand steed was silver The Wildgrave spurred his courser
white. light.
The left, the swarthy hue of hell. O'er moss and moor, o'er holt and
hill;
The right-hand Horseman, young And on the left, and on the right.
and fair. Each Stranger Horseman followed
His smile was like the mom of still.
May;
The left, from eye of tawny glare, Up springs, from yonder tangled
Shot midnight lightning's lurid thorn,
ray. A stag more white than mountain
snow;
He waved his huntsman's cap on And louder rung the Wildgrave'
high, horn,
Cried, " Welcome, welcome, noble "Hark forward, forward! holla,
lord! ho!"
What sport can earth, or sea, or sky.
To match the princely chase, af- A heedless wretch has crossed the
ford?" way;
He gasps, the thundering hoofs
"Cease thy loud bugle's clanging below ;
—
knell," But, live who can, or die who may,
Cried the fair youth, with silver Still, "Forward, forward!" on
voice they go.
" And for devotion's choral swell.
Exchange the rude unhallowed See, where yon simple fences meet,
noise. A field with autumn's blessings
crowned
"To-day the ill-omened chase for- See, prostrate at the Wildgrave's feet,
bear. A husbandman with toil em-
Yon bell yet summons to the fane browned :

To-day the Warning Spirit hear,

To-morrow thou mayst mourn in " O mercy, mercy, noble lord
vain." — Spare the poor's pittance," was
his cry,
"Away, and sweep the glades "Earned by the sweat these brows
along I" have poured
The Sable Hunter hoarse replies In scorching hour of fierce July."
" To muttering monks leave matin-
song. Earnest the right-hand Stranger
And bells, and books, and mys- pleads.
teries." The left still cheering to the prey;
 ; ; ; ;:
; ; —
;: : ; ! —
;

332 PARNASSUS.

The impetuous Earl no warning " Unmannered dog ! To stop my

heeds, sport.
But furious holds the onward way. Vain were thy cant and beggar
whine.
" Away, thou hound so basely born,
! Though human spirits, of thy sort.
Or dread the scourge's echoing Were tenants of these carrion
blow!" — > kine!" —
Then loudly mug his bugle-horn,
"Hark forward, forward! holla, Again he winds his bugle-hom,
ho!" " Hark forward, forward, holla,
ho!"
So said, so done : —A
single bound And through the herd, in ruthless
Clears the poor laborer's humble scorn.
pale; He cheers his furious hounds to go.
Wild follows man, and horse, and
hound, In heaps the throttled victims fall
Like dark December's stoimy gale. Down sinks their mangled herds-
man near
And man and horse, and hound and The murderous cries the stag appal,
horn. Again he starts, new-nerved by
Destructive sweep the field along fear.
While, joying o'er the wasted corn.
Fell Famine marks the maddening With blood besmeared, and white
throng. with foam,
Willie big the tears of anguish pour.
Again uproused, the timorous prey He seeks, amid the forest's gloom.
Scours moss and moor, and holt The humble hermit's hallowed
and hill bower.
Hard run, he feels his strength de-
cay, But man and horse, and horn and
And trusts for life his simple skill. hound,
Fast rattling on his traces go;
Too dangerous solitude appeared The sacred chapel rung around
He seeks the shelter of the crowd With, "Hark away! and, holla,
Amid the flock's domestic herd ho!"
His harmless head he hopes to
shroud. All mild,amid the rout profane,
The holy hermit poured his
O'er moss and moor, and holt and prayer
hill. " Forbear with blood God's house to
His track the steady bloodhounds stain
trace Revere his altar, and forbear
O'ermoss and moor, unwearied still,
The furious Earl pursues the "The meanest brute has rights to
chase. plead.
Which, wronged by cruelty, or
Full lowly did the herdsman fall ;
— pride.
" O spare, thou noble Baron, spare Draw vengeance on the ruthless
These herds, a widow's little all; head :

These flocks, an orphan's fleecy Be warned length, and turn

care!" — aside." —at
Earnest the right-hand Stranger Stillthe Fair Horseman anxious
pleads. pleads
The left still cheering to the prey The
Black, wild whooping, points
The Earl nor prayer nor pity heeds. the prey
But furious keeps the onward Alas the Earl no warning heeds.
!

way. But frantic keeps the forward way

 ; ; ; ; ; ;
; ; "
; ;: :

KAREATIVE POEMS AKD BALLADS. 333

" Holy or not, or right or wrong, "'Twas hushed: one flash, of som-
Thy altar, and its rites, I spurn bre glare,
Not sainted martyrs' sacred song, With yellow tinged the forests
Kot God himself, shall make me brown
turn!" Up rose the Wildgrave's bristling
hair.
He spurs his horse, he winds his And horror chilled each nerve and
horn, bone.
"Hark forward, forward holla, I

ho!" Cold poured the sweat in freezing

But ofif, on whirlwind's pinions rill;
borne, A rising wind began to sing;
The stag, the hut, the hermit, go. And louder, louder, louder still.
Brought storm and tempest on its
And horse and man, and horn and wing.
hound,
And clamor of the chase, were gone Earth heard the call; — her entrails
For hoofs, and howls, and bugle rend;
sound, From yawning rifts, with many a
A deadly silence reigned alone. yell,
Mixed with sulphureous flames, as-
Wild gazed the affrighted Earl cend
around The misbegotten dogs of hell.
Hestrove in vain to wake his horn,
In vain to call : for not a sound What ghastly Huntsman next arose,
Could from his anxious lips be Well may I guess, but dare not tell
borne. His eye like midnight lightning
glows,
He listens for his trusty hounds His steed the swarthy hue of hell
No distant baying reached his ears
His courser, rooted to the ground, The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and
The quickening spur unmindful thorn.
bears. With many a shriek of helpless
woe;
Still dark and darker frown the Behind him hound, and horse, and
shades. horn,
Dark
as the darkness of the grave And, " Hark away, and holla, ho !

And not a sound the still invades.

Save what a distant torrent gave. With wild Despair's reverted eye.
Close, close behind, he marks the
High o'er the sinner's humbled head throng,
At length the solemn silence With bloody ifangs, and eager cry
broke In frantic fear he scours along. —
And from a cloud of swarthy red,
The awful voice of thunder spoke. Still, still shall last the dreadful
chase,
" Oppressor of creation fair! Till time itself shall have an end
Apostate Spirit's hardened tool! By day, they scour earth's caverned
Scorner of God! Scourge of the space,
poor! At midnight's witching hour, as-
The measure of thy cup is full. cend.

"Be chased forever through the This is the horn, and hound, and
wood; horse,
Forever roam the affrighted wild That oft the lated peasant hears
And let thy fate instruct the proud, Appalled he signs the frequent cross,
God's meanest creature is his When the wild din invades his
•vhild." ears.
 ; ; " ;

334 PAENASStrS.

The wakeful priest oft drops a tear 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, ih good green
For human pride, for human woe, wood.
When, at his midnight mass, he hears So blithe Lady Alice is singing;
The infernal cry of, " Holla, ho !
On the beech's pride, and oak's
Scott trans, front Bubgeb.
: brown side.
Lord Richard's axe is ringing.

ALICE BKAND. Up spoke the moody Elfin King,

Who woned within the hill, —
Meeet it is in the good greenwood, Like wind in the porch of a ruined
When the mavis and merle are church.
singing, His voice was ghostly shrill.
When the deer sweeps by, and the "Why sounds yon stroke on beech
hounds are in cry. and oak.
And the hunter's horn is ringing. Our moonlight circle's screen?
Or who comes here to chase the deer.
" O Alice Brand, my native land Beloved of our Elfin Queen ?
you
Is lost for love of Or who may dare on wold to wear
And we must hold by wood and The fairies' fatal green?
wold,
As outlaws wont to do. " Up, Urgan, up to yon mortal hie.
!

For thou wert christened man

" O Alice, 'twas all for thy locks so For cross or sign thou wilt not fly,
bright, For muttered word or ban."
And 'twas all for thine eyes so
blue, 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good green-
That on the night of our luckless wood.
flight. Though the birds have stilled their
Thy brother bold I slew. singing;
The evening blaze doth Alice raise.
"Now must I teach to hew the And Richard is fagots bringing.
beech
The hand that held the glaive. Up Urgan starts, that hideous dwarf,
For leaves to spread our lowly bed, Before Lord Richard stands.
And stakes to fence our cave. And, as he crossed and blessed him-
self,
"And for vest of pall, thy fingers "I fear not sign," quoth the grisly
small, elf,
That wont on harp to stray, " That is made with bloody
A cloak must shear from the slaugh- hands."
tered deer.
To keep the cold away." — But out then spoke she, Alice Brand,
That woman void of fear, —
" O Richard if my brother died, " And if there's blood upon his hand,
'Tis but the blood of deer." —
!

'Twas but a fatal chance

For darkling was the battle tried,
And fortune sped the lance. " Now loud thou liest, thou bold of
mood!
" If pall and vair no more I wear. It cleaves unto his hand.
Nor thou the crimson sheen. The stain of thine own kindly blood,
As warm, we'll say, is the russet The blood of Ethert Brand."
gray.
As gay the forest green. Then forward stepped she, Ali««
Brand,
" And, Richard, if our lot be hard. And made the holy sign, —
And thy native land.
lost " And if there's blood on Richard
Still Alice has her own Richard, hand,
And he his Alice Brand." A spotless hand is mine.
 ; ! ; ! ! !

KAKKATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 335

" And I conjure thee, Demon elf, Away Swamp he
By Him whom Demons fear,
to the
speeds, — Dismal
To show us whence thou art thyself, His path was rugged and sore,
And what thine errand here? " — Through tangled juniper, beds of
reeds.
" It was between the night and day, Through many a fen where the ser-
When the Fairy King has power. pent feeds.
That I sunk down in a sinful fray, And man never trod before
And, 'twixt life and death, was
snatched away
To the joyless Elfin bower. And when on the earth he sunk to
sleep,
" But wist I of a woman bold. If slumber his eyelids knew,
Who thrice my brow durst sign, He lay where the deadly vine doth
I might regain my mortal mould, weep
As fair a form as thine." Its venomous tear, and nightly
steep
She crossed him once —
she crossed The flesh with blistering dew
him
twice —
That lady was so brave
The fouler grew his goblin hue. And near him the she-wolf stirred
the brake,
The darker grew the cave. And the copper-snake breathed in
his ear.
She crossed him thrice, that lady
Till he starting cried, from his
bold;
dream awake,
He rose beneath her hand " O when shall I see the dusky
The fairest knight on Scottish mould. Lake,
Her brother, Ethert Brand
And the white canoe of my dear ? "
Merry it is in good greenwood.
When the mavis and merle are He saw the Lake, and a meteor
singing. bright
But merrier were they in Dunferm- Quick over its surface played, —
line gray, "Welcome," he said " my dear one's
When all the bells were ringing. light!"
Scott. And the dim shore echoed for many
a night
The name of the death-cold maid t

THE LAKE OP THE DISMAL

SWAMP. Tillhe hollowed a boat of the birch-
en bark,
" They made her a grave too cold Whichcarried him off from shore
and damp Far he followed the meteor spark.
For a soul so warm and true The wind was high and the clouds
And she's gone to the Lake of the were dark,
Dismal Swamp, And the boat returned no more.
Where all night long, by a firefly
lamp.
She paddles her white canoe. But from the Indian hunter's
oft,
camp.
And her firefly lamp I soon shall see. This lover and maid so true
And her paddle I soon shall hear; Are seen, at the hour of midnight
Jjong and loving our life shall be. damp,
And I'llhide the maid in a cypress- To cross the Lake by a firefly
tree, lamp,
When the footstep of death is And paddle their white canoe
near!" MOOBE.
 — ; ) " ;: ;

336 PARNASSUS.

CHILD DYRINU. That heard the wife under the eard

that lay
Child Dyking has ridden him up " For sooth maun I to my bairnies
under 6e, gae I

(And O gin I were young!)

There wedded he him sae fair a may. That wife can stand up at our Lord's
(I' the greenwood it lists me to ride. knee,
And " May I gang and my bairnies
Thegither they lived for seven lang see?"
year,
(And O, &c.) She prigged sae sair, and she prigged
And they seven baimes hae gotten sae lang.
in fere. That he at the last gae her leave to
(I' the greenwood, &c.) gang.

Sae Death's come there intill that "And thou sail come back when the
stead, cock does craw
And that winsome lily flower is dead. For thou nae langer sail bide
awa."
That swain he has ridden him up
under ofe. Wi' her banes sae stark a bowt she
And syne he has married anither gae;
may. She's riven baith wa' and marble
gray.
He's married a may, and he's fessen
her hame When near to the dwalling she can
But she was a grim and a laidly gang.
dame. The dogs they wow'd till the lift it
rang.

When into the castell court drave she, When she came till the castell
The seven bairnes stood wi' the yett,
tear in their ee.
Her eldest dochter stood thereat.

The bairnes they stood wi' dule and "Why stand ye here, dear dochter
doubt ;
mine?
She up wi' her foot, and she kicked How are sma and
them out. thine?" —brithers sisters

Nor ale nor mead to the baimes she " For sooth ye' re a woman baith fair
gave: and fine
" But hunger and hate me But ye are nae dear mither of
have."
frae ye's
mine." —
" Och how should I be fine or
She took frae th^m the bowster blae,
!

And fair?
said, " Ye sail ligg the bare
i'
My cheek is pale, and the ground's
my lair." —
strae!"

She took frae them the groff wax- "My mither was white, wi' cheek
light: sae red.
Says, "Now ye sail ligg i' the mirk But thou art wan, and liker atie
a' night!" dead?"
'Twas lang i' the night, and the "Och, how should I be white and
bairnies grat: red;
Their mither she under the mools Sae lang as I've been cauld and
heard that; dead?"
 ; ; ; ; ;;: ; ;

NAERATIVE POEMS AND BAIiADS. 337

When
in,
she came till the chalmer CHILDREN m THE WOOD.
Being a true relation of the inhuman
Down the bairns' cheeks the tears murder of two children of a deceased gen-
did rlu. tleman in Norfolk, England, whom he left
to the care of his brother: but the wicked
She buskit the tane, and she brushed uncle, in order to get the children's estate,
contrived to have them destroyed by two
it there ruffians whom he hired for that purpose
She kem'd and plaited the tither's with an account of the heavy judgments
hair. of God, which hefeU him, for this inhuman
deed, and of the untimely end of the two
bloody ruffians. To which is added a
Till her eldest dochter syne said word of advice to executor's, &c.
she,
" Ye bid Child Dyring come here to Now ponder well, you parents dear,
me." These words which I do write
A doleful story you shall hear,
In time, brought forth to light.
When he cam till the chalmer in,
Wi' angry mood she said to him
A gentleman of good account
In Norfolk lived of late.
" I you routh o' ale and bread
left Whose fame and credit did sur-
^y baimes quail for hunger and mount
need. Most men of his estate.

"I left ahind me braw bowsters So he was, and like to die,

sick
blae; No help he then could have
Jly baimes are ligging i' the bare His wife by him as sick did lie.
strae. And both possess one grave.
"I left ye sae mony a grofE wax- No love between these two was lost.

light; Each was to other kind

My bairnes ligg i' the mirk a' In love they lived, in love they
died,
two babes behind; —
night.
And left

" Gin aft I come back to visit thee,

The one a fine and pretty boy,
Wae, dowy, and weary thy luck Not passing three years old
shall be."
The other a girl more young than he.
And made of beauteous mould.
Up spak little Kirstin in bed that
lay: The father left his little son.
" To thy baimies I'll do the best I As plainly doth appear.
may." When he to perfect age should come,
Three hundreds pounds a year.
Aye when they heard the dog nirr
and bell, And to his little daughter Jane
Sae gae they the bairnies bread and Two hundred pounds in gold.
ale. For to be paid on marriage day.
Which might not be controlled.
Aye when the dog did mow, in
But, if these children chanced to die
They cross'd and sain'd themselves' Ere they to age did come,
frae the ghaist. The uncle should possess the wealth',
For so the will did run.
Aye whan the little dog yowl'd, with
fear " Now, brother," said the dying man,
They shook at the thought that the " Look to my children dear.
dead was near. Be good unto my boy and girl
Scott. No friend else have I here.
22
 ; ; ::
338
" To God and you I do commend
My children night andday
A little while be sure we have
Within this world to stay.
"You must be father, mother both,
"And uncle, all in one;
God knows what will become of them
When I am dead and gone."
With that bespoke the mother dear,
" O brother kind ! " quoth she,
"Tou are the man must bring my
babes
To wealth or misery.
" If you do keep them carefully,
Then God will you reward
If otherwise you seem to deal,
God will your deeds regard."
With lips as cold as any stone.
She kissed her children small
"God bless you both, my children
dear!"
With that the tears did fall.
These speeches then the brother
spoke
To the sick couple there
" The keeping of your children dear.
Sweet sister, never fear.
''
God never prosper me nor mine,
Nor aught else that I have,
If I do wrong your children dear.
When you're laid in the grave."
The parents being dead and gone.
The children home he takes.
And brings them home untohls house.
And much of them he makes.
He had not kept these pretty babes
A twelvemonth and a day,
But for their wealth he did devise
To make them both away.
He bargained with two ruffians rude,
Who
were of furious mood,
That they should take these children
young,
And slay them in a wood
And told his wife and all he had,
He did those children send.
To be brought up in fair London,
With one that was his friend.
; : ; ;;
PARNASSUS.
Away then went these pretty babes,
Kejoicing at the tide.
And smiling with a merry mind,
They on cock-horse should ride.
They prate and prattle pleasantly
As they rode on the way.
To them that should their butchers be.
And work their lives' decay.
So that the pretty speech they had
Made murderers' hearts relent;
And they that took the deed to do.
Full sore they did repent.
Yet one of them, more hard of heart,
Did vow to do his charge.
Because the wretch that hired him
Had paid him very large.
The other would not agree thereto.
So here they fell in strife
With one another they did fight
About the children's life.
And he that was of mildest mood
Did slay the other there,
Within an unfrequented wood.
Where babes do quake for fear.
He took the children by the hand.
When tears stood in their eye.
And bid them come, and go with
him,
And see they did not cry.
And two long miles he led them thus,
While they for bread complain
"Stay here," quoth he: "I'll bring
you bread
When I do come again."
These pretty babes, with hand in
hand.
Went wandering up and down
But never more they saw the man
Approaching from the town.
Their pretty lips with blackberries
Were all besmeared and dyed
But, when they saw the darksome
night.
They sat them down and cried.
Thus wandered these two little babes
Till death did end their grief:
In one another's arms they died,
As babes wanting relief.
 ; ; ; : ; :; ! ;

NAERATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 339

No burial these pretty babes Sooty black his rags and skin,
Of any man receives But the child is fair within.
But robin red-breast painfully
Did cover them with leaves. Ice and cold are better far
Than his master's curses are.
And now the heavy wrath of God
Upon the uncle fell Mother of this little one.
Tea, fearful fiends did haunt his Could' St thou see thy little son!
house,
His conscience felt a hell. Sweep ho ! Sweep ho I

He trudges on through sleet and snow.

His barns were fired, his goods con-
sumed, At the great man's door he knocks.
His lands were barren made Which the servant maid unlocks.
His cattle died within the field,
And nothing with him staid. Now let in with laugh and jeer,
In his eye there stands a tear.
And in a voyage to Portugal,
Two of his sons did die He is young, but soon will know
And to conclude, himself was How to bear both word and blow. '

brought
Unto much misery. Sweep ho ! Sweep ho
In the chimney sleet and snow.
He pawned and mortgaged all his
lands Gladly should his task be done,
Ere seven years came about; Were't the last beneath the sun.
And now at length, this wicked act
By this means did come out Faithfully it now shall be.
But, soon spent, down droppeth he.
The fellow that did take in hand
These children for to kill Gazes round as in a dream,
Was for a robbery judged to die. Very strange, but true, things seem.
As was God's blessed will.
Led by a fantastic power
Who did confess the very truth Which sets by the present hour,
That is herein expressed
The uncle died, where he, for debt. Creeps he to a little bed,
Did in the prison rest. Pillows there his aching head.

A WORD OP ADVICE TO KXECUTOKS. And, poor thing he does not know

!

There he lay long years ago

All ye who be executors made.
E. S. H.
And overseers eke,
Of children that be fatherless.
And infants mild and meek,
THE BOT OF EGREMOND.
Take you example by this thing,
" What is good for a bootless bene f "
And yield to each his right With these darli words begins my
Lest God, by such like misery,
tale;
Tour wicked deeds requite. And their meaning is, " Whence can
Anon. comfort spring,
When prayer of no avail ? "
THE CHIMNET-SWEEP. is

Sweep ho Sweep ho
! '.
" What is good for a bootless beni f "
He trudges on through sleet and snow. The falconer to the lady said
And she made anstver, " Endless
Tired and hungry both is he, sorrow!"
And he whistles vacantly. For she knew that her son was dead.
 ! ! : : ; ! ! : ; ;

340 PARNASSUS.

She knew it by the falconer's words, She weeps not for the wedding-day
And from the look of the falconer's Which was to be to-morrow
eye; Her hope was a farther-looking hope,
And from the love which was m ner And hers is a mother's sorrow.
soul
For her youthful Eomilly. He was a tree that stood alone.
And proudly did its branches wave:
— Young Eomilly through Harden And the root of this delightful tree
Woods Was in her husband's grave!
Is ranging high and low;
And holds a greyhound in a leash, Long, long in darkness did she sit,
To let slip up on buck or doe. And her first words were, " Let
there be
In Bolton, on the field of Wharf,
The pair have reached that fearful
chasm, A stately Priory!"
How tempting to bestride The stately Priory was reared
For lordly Wharf is there pent in
With rocks on either side.
And Wharf, as he moved along.
To matins joined a mournful voice.
" the
Nor failed at evensong.
This striding-place is called
Strid," And the lady prayed in heaviness
A name which it took of yore That looked not for relief
A thousand years hath it borne that But slowly did her succor come,
name, And a patience to her grief.
And shall, a thousand more.
Oh ! never sorrow of heart
there is
And hither is young Eomilly come, That shall lack a timely end.
And what may now forbid It but to God we turn and ask
That he, perhaps for the hundredth Of Him to be our friend i
time. WOEDSWORTH.
Shall bound across " the Strid " ?

He sprang in glee, — for what cared THE HIGH TIDE ON THE

COAST OF LINCOLNSHIEE.
he
That the river was strong, and the
rocks were steep (1571.)
— But the greyhound in the leash
hung back, • The old mayor climbed the belfry
And checked him in his leap. tower.
The ringers ran by two, by three
The boy is in the arms of Wharf,
"Pull, if ye never pulled before;
And strangled by a merciless force
Good ringers, pull your best,"
For never more was young Eomilly quoth he.
seen
"Play uppe, play uppe, O Boston
bells
Till he rose a lifeless corse.
Ply allyour changes, all your swells.
Play uppe 'The Brides of En-
Now there is stillness in the vale.
derby!'"
And long unspeaking sorrow
Wharf shall be, to pitying hearts, Men say it was a stolen tyde, —
A name more sad than Yarrow. The Lord that sent it. He knows
all;
If fora lover the lady wept, But in myne ears doth still abide
A solace she might borrow The message that the bells let
From death, and from the passion fall:
of death; And there was nought of strange,
Old Wharf might heal her sorrow. beside
 ;; — ;; ; ; ; ; :

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 341

The flights of mews and peewits pied, The swannerds where their sedges
By millions crouched on the old are
sea wall. Moved on in sunset's golden breath,
The shepherde lads I heard af arre.
I sat and spun within the doore, And mySonne's wife, Elizabeth;
My thread brake off, I raised myne Till floating o'er the grassy sea
eyes; Came downe that kyndly message
The level sun, like ruddy ore. free,
Lay sinking in the barren skies The " Brides of Mavis Enderby."
And dark against day's golden death
She moved where Lindis wan- Then some looked uppe into the
dereth, sky,
My Sonne's faire wife, Elizabeth. And along where Lindis flows
all
To where the goodly vessels lie,
"Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, And where the lordly steeple
Ere the early dews were falling, shows.
Farre away I heard her song. They sayde, '• And why should this
"Cusha! Cusha!" all along; thing be,
Where the reedy Lindis floweth, What danger lowers by land or sea ?
Floweth, floweth, "They ring the tune of Enderby I

From the meads where melick

groweth " For evil news from Mablethorpe,
Faintly came her milking song. — Of pyrate galleys warping down
For shippes ashore beyond the
" Cusha! Cusha! Cusha!" calling, scorpe,
" For the dews will soone be falling They have not spared to wake the
Leave your meadow grasses mellow, towne
Mellow, mellow; But while the west bin red to see.
Quit your cowslips, cowslips yel- And storms be' none, and pyrates
low; flee;
Come uppe WTiitefoot, come uppe Why ring 'The Brides of Ender-
Lightfoot, by?'"
Quit the stalks of parsley hollow.
Hollow, hollow; I looked without, and lo ! my sonne
Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow. Came riding dowue with might
From the clovers lift your head and main.
Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe He raised a shout as he drew on.
Lightfoot, Till all the welkin rang again,
Come uppe Jetty, rise and follow, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"
Jetty, to the milking shed." (A sweeter woman ne'er drew breath
Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth.)
If it be long, aye, long ago.
When I beginue to think howe long, "The olde sea wall (he cried) is
Againe I hear the Lindis flow, . downe.
Swift as an arrowe, sharpe and The rising tide comes on apace,
strong And boats adrift in yonder towne
And all the aire it seemeth mee Go sailing uppe the market-place."
Bin full of floating bells (sayth shee). He shook as one that looks on death
That ring the tune of Enderby. "God save you, mother!" straight
he saith
AUe fresh the level pasture lay. " Where is my wife, Elizabeth ? "
And not a shadowe raote be seene,
Save where full f yve good miles away "Good Sonne, where Lindis winds
The steeple towered from out the away
greene With her two bairns I marked her
And lo the great bell farre and wide
! long;
Was heard in all the country side And ere yon bells beganne to play.
That Saturday at eventide. Afar I heard her milking song."
 ; ;; ; ; !: : !; ; ! ;

342 PARNASStrS.

He looked across the grassy sea, And didst thou visit him no more ?
To right, to left, " Ho Enderby !" Thou didst, thou didst my daugh-
They rang ''The Brides of Ender- ter deare
by!" The waters laid thee at his doore.
Ere yet the early dawn was clear.
With that he cried and beat his Thy pretty bairns in fast embrace,
breast The lifted sun shone on thy face,
For lo ! along the river's bed Downe drifted to thy dwelling-place.
A mighty eygre reared his crest,
And uppe the Lindis raging sped. That flow strewed wrecks about the
It swept with thunderous noises
loud That ebbe swept out the flocks to
Shaped lilte a curling snow-white sea; .

cloud. A fatal ebbe and flow, alas

Or lilce a demon in a shroud. To manye more than myne and
me:
And rearing Lindis backward But each will moum his own, (she
pressed. saith).
Shook all her trembling baukes And sweeter woman ne'er drew
amaine breath
Then madly at the eygre's breast Than my Sonne's wife, Elizabeth.
Flung uppe her weltering walls
again.
I shall never hear her more
Then bankes came downe with ruin
and rout, — By the reedy Lindis' shore,
"Cusha, Cusha, Cueha !" calling.
Then beaten foam flew round
about, — Ere the early dews be falling;
I shall never hear her song,
Then all the mighty floods were out.
"Cusha, Cusha!" all along,
So farre, so fast the eygre drave,
Where the sunny Lindis floweth,
Goeth, floweth
The heart had hardly time to
beat,
From the meads where melick grow-
eth.
Before a shallow seething wave
Sobbed in the grasses at our feet When the water winding down.
The feet had hardly time to flee Onward floweth to the town.
Before it brake against the knee.
And all the world was in the sea. I shall never see her more
Where the reeds and rushes quiver,
Upon the roofe we sate that night, Shiver, quiver:
The noise of bells went sweeping Stand beside the sobbing river,
by: Sobbing, throbbing, in its falling,
I marked the lofty beacon light To the sandy lonesome shore;
Stream from the church tower, I shallnever hear her calling,
red and high, — " Leave your meadow grasses mel-
A lurid mark and dread to see low.
And awsonie bells they were to Mellow, mellow;
mee, Quit your cowslips, cowslips yellow
That in the dark rang "Enderby." Come uppe Whitefoot, come uppe
Lightf oot
They rang the sailor lads to guide Quit your pipes of parsley hollow.
From roofe to roofe who fearless Hollow, hollow;
rowed Come uppe Lightfoot, rise and fol-
And I, — my sonne was at my side. low;
And yet the ruddy beacon glowed Lightfoot, Whitefoot,
And yet he moaned beneath his From your clovers lift the head;
breath, Come uppe Jetty, follow, follow.
" O come in life, or come in death Jetty, to the milking shed."
lost! my love, Elizabeth." Jean Ingelow
 ; ; ! ;;: : ;

NAERATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 348

BEISTOWE TRAGEDY; OR, THE
DEATH OF SIR CHARLES
BAWDIN.
The feathered songster chanticleer
Had wound his bugle horn,
And told the early villager
The coming of the morn.
King Edward sawe the ruddy streaks
Of light eclipse the grey
And heard the raven's
throat
Proclaim the fated day.
"Thou'rt right," quoth he, "for,
by the God
That sits enthroned on high
Charles Bawdin, and his fellows
twain,
To-day shall surely die."
"I grieve to tell, before yon sun
Does from the welkin fly.
He hath upon his honor sworn,
That thou shalt surely die."
" We must die," quoth brave Sir
all
Charles,
" Of that I'm not affeared
What boots to live a little space ?
Thank Jesu, I'm prepared
croaking
"But tell thy king, for mine he's
not,
I'd sooner die to-day
Than live his slave, as many are,
Though I should live for aye."
Then Canterlone he did go out,
To tell the mayor straight
To get all things in readiness
For good Sir Charles's fate.

, XII.

Then with a jug of nappy ale Then Master Canning sought the
His knights did on him wait. king.
" Go tell the traitor, that to-day And fell down on his knee
" I'm come," quoth he, " unto your
He leaves this mortal state."
grace
To move your clemency."

Sir Canterlone then bended low, xui.

With heart brimful of woe Then quoth the king, "Your tale
He journeyed to the castle-gate, speak out,
And to Sir Charles did go. You have been much our friend
Whatever your request may be,
We will to it attend."

But when he came, his children XIV.

twain,
And eke his loving wife,
" My noble liege ! all my request
With briny tears did wet the floor, Is for a noble knight,
For good Sir Charles's life. Who, though mayhap he has done
wrong.
He thought it still was right

" O good !
Sir Charles " said Canter-
lone, "He has a spouse and children
" Bad tidings dc I bring." twain.
"Speak boldly, man," said brave Sir All ruined are for aye,
Charles, If that you are resolved to let
" What says thy traitor king ? " Charles Bawdin die to-day."
 ; ; ;
: ;; ; ; ; ;

344 PAENASStTS.

XTI. xxrv.
" Speak not of such a traitor vile," " Canning, away By God in Heav<
!

The king in fury said en.

"Before the evening star doth That did my
being give,
shine, I will not taste a bit of bread
Bawdin shall loose his head Whilst this Sir Charles doth live.

"Justice does loudly for him call,
And he shall have his meed
Speak, Master Canning What thing
else
At present do you need ? "
XXV.
" By Mary and all Saints in Heaven,
This sun shall be his last;"
! Then Canning dropped a briny tear,
And from the presence passed.

With heart brimful of gnawing grief,

"My noble liege," good Canning He to Sir Charles did go,
said, And sat him down upon a stool.
" Leave justice to our God, And teares began to flow.
And lay the iron rule aside
Be thine the olive rod.

" We all must die," quoth brave Sir

Charles
" Was God to search our hearts and " What boots it how or when;
reins, Death is the sure, the certain fate
Thebest were sinners great Of all we mortal men.
Christ's vicar only knows no sin,
In all this mortal state. xxvm.
"Say, why, my friend, thy honest
soul
"Let mercy rule thine infant reign, Euns over at thine eye
'Twill fast thy crown full sure; Is it for my most welcome doom
From race to race thy family That thou dost child-like cry ? "
All sovereigns shall endure
XXIX.
Quoth godly Canning, " I do weep.
"But if with blood and slaughter That thou so soon must die.
thou And leave thy sons and helpless
Begin thy infant reign, wife;
Thy crown upon thy children's 'Tis this that wets mine eye."
brows
Will never long remain."
" Then dry the tears that out thine
eye
" Canning, away this traitor vile
! From
godly fountains spring
Has scorned my power and me Death I despise, and all the power
How canst thou then for such a man Of Edward, traitor king.
Intreat my clemency ? "

"When through the tyrant's wel.

" My noble liegethe truly brave
! come means
Will val'rous actions prize, I shall resign life, my
Respect a brave and noble mind. The God I serve will soon provide
Although in enemies." For both my sons and w&e.
 ; ; ;; ; :; ; ;; :; ; :

NAKRATIVE POEMS AJSD BALLADS. 345

xxxn. And eke he taught me how to know
" Before I saw the lightsome sun,
The wrong cause from the right
This was appointed me
Shall mortal man repine or grudge
"Wh&t God ordains to be ? " He taught me with a prudent hand.
To feed the hungry poor.
xxxm. Nor let my servant drive away
" How oft in battle have I stood, The hungry from my door
When thousands died around
When smoking streams of crimson XLn.
blood
Imbrued the fattened ground "And none can say but all my life
I have his wordys kept
And summed the actions of the
day
" How did I know that every dart Each night before I slept.

That cut the aity way.

Might not find passage to my heart.
And close mine eyes for aye ? " I have a spouse, go ask of her,
If I defiled her bed?
I have a king, and none can lay
"And shall I now, for fear of death. Black treason on my head.
Look wan and be dismayed ?
No from my heart fly childish fear.
!

Be all the man displayed. " In Lent, and on the holy eve,
From flesh I did refrain
Why should I then appear dismayed
" Ah Godlike Henry
! God forfend.
! To leave this world of pain?
And guard thee and thy son,
If 'tis His will; but if 'tis not, XLY.
Why then His will be done.
"No! hapless Henry! I rejoice,
I shall not see thy death
MostwiUingly in thy just cause
"My honest friend, my fault has been Do I resign my breath.
To serve God and my prince
And that I no time-server am, XL VI.
My death will soon convince.
"Oh, fickle people! ruined land!
Thou wilt ken peace nae moe
While Richard's sons exalt them-
" In London city was I bom. selves.
Of parents of great note Thy brooks with blood will flow.
My father did a noble arms
Emblazon on his coat: XLvn.
" Say, were ye tired of godly peace.
And godly Henry's reign.
" I make no doubt but he is gone That you did chop your easy days
Where soon I hope to go For those of blood and pain?
Where we forever shall be blest,
From out the reach of woe:
" What though I on a sled be drawn,
And mangled by a hind ?
'He taught me justice and the laws I do defy the traitor's power,
With pity to unite He can not harm my mind
 ; ; ;: ! : ! ; : :; : :

346 PARNASSUS.

"What though, uphoisted on a pole, "Sweet Florence! why these briny

My limbs
shall rot in air. tears ?
And no rich monument of brass They wash my soul away.
Charles Bawdin's name shall bear j And almost make me wish for life,
With thee, sweet dame, to stay.

"Yet in the holy book above. Lvni.

Which time can't eat away, " 'Tis but a journey I shall go
There with the servants of the Lord
Unto the land of bliss
My name shall live for aye.
Now, as a proof of husband's love,
Eeceive this holy kiss."
LI.

" Then welcome death ! for life

eteme
I leave this mortal life Then Florence, faltering in her say,
Farewell, vain world, and all that's Trembling these wordys spoke,
dear. " Ah, cruel Edward bloody king!
!

My sons and loving wife My heart is well liigh broke

Ln. LX.

"Now death as welcome to me "Ah, sweet Sir Charles! why wilt

comes, thou go,
As e'er the month of May; Without thy loving wife I

Nor would I even wish to live, The cruel axe that cuts thy neck,
With my dear wife to stay." It eke shall end'my life."

LIII.

Quoth Canning, "'Tis a goodly And now the officers came in

thing To bring Sir Charles away.
To be prepared to die Who turned to his loving wife,
And from thisj world of pain and And thus to her did say
grief
To God in Heaven to fly."

" I go to life, and not to death;

And now the bell began to
And clarions to sound
Sir Charles he heard the horses' feet
A prancing on the ground
Trust thou in God above,
toll.
And teach thy sons to fear the Lord,
And in their hearts Him love

LV. " Teach them to run the nohle race

And That I their father run
just before the officers
His loving wife came in, Florence should death thee take,
!
^
Weeping unfeigned tears of woe, adieu
With loud and dismal din. Ye officers, lead on."

LXIV.
" Sweet Florence now I pray, for- Then Florence raved as any mad,
bear, — !

And did her tresses tear

In quiet let me die "Oh! stay, my husband! lord! and
Pray God that every Christian soul life!" —
May look on death as I. Sir Charles then dropped a tear.
 ;: : : : ; ; ; ; ! ;: ;

KAEEATIVE POEMS AJSTD BALLADS. 347

Behind their backs six minstrels
came,
Till tiredout with raving loud,
She felleii on the floor Who tuned the strung bataunt:
Sir Charles exerted all his might,
LXXIV.
And inarched from out the door.
Then came the mayor and aldermen.
LXVI. In cloth of scarlet decked
A.nd their attending-men each one.
Upon a sled he mounted then, Like Eastern princes trickt.
With looks full brave and sweet;
Looks that enshone ne more concern
Than any in the street.
And after them a multitude
Of citizens did throng:
Before him went the council-men, The windows were all full of heads,
In scarlet robes and gold,
As he did pass along.
, And tassels spangling in the sun,
Much glorious to behold
And when he came to the high cross,
Lxvni. Sir Charles did turn and say,
" O Thou, that savest man from sin.
The friars of Saint Augustine next
Appearfed to the sight,
Wash my soul clean this day!"
All clad in homely russet weeds,
Of godly monkish plight
At the great minster window sat
LXIX. The king in mickle state.
In different parts a godly psalm
To see Charles Bawdin go along
Most sweetly did they chant; To his most welcome fate.

Behind their backs six minstrels

came.
Who tuned the strung bataunt. Soon as the sled drew nigh enough.
That Edward he might hear.
txx. The brave Sir Charles he did stand
Then five and twenty archers came up.
Each one the bow did bend, And thus his words declare
From rescue of King Henry's friends
Sir Charles for to defend.
"Thou seest me, Edward! traitor
vile!
Bold as a lion came Sir Charles, Exposed to infamy
Drawn on a cloth-laid sled. But be assured, disloyal man
By two black steeds in trappings I'm greater now than thee.
white,
With plumes upon their head
" By foul proceedings, murder, blood.
Thou wearest now a crown
Behind him five and twenty more And hast appointed me to die.
Of archers strong and stout, By power not thine own.
With bended bow each one in hand,
Marchfed in goodly rout I/XXXI.
" Thou thinkest I shall die to-day
I have been dead now,
till
Saint James's Friars marchfed next, And soon shall live towear a crown
Each one his part did chant; For aye upon my brow
 ! ; "
:: ; ; ;; ; ; ; ; ;

348 PABNASSUa

Lxxxn. Tour sons and husbands shall be

"Whilst thou, perhaps, for
iew years,
Shall rule this fickle land,
To let them know how wide the rule
'Twixt king and tyrant hand:
Lxxxin.
"Thy power unjust, thou traitor
slave
Shall fall on thy own head "
From out of hearing of the king
Departed then the sled.
King Edward's soule rushed
face,
He turned his head away,
And to his brother Gloucester
He thus did speak and say
" To him that so-much-dreaded death
No ghastly terrors bring;
Behold the man he spake the truth.
!
!
He's greater than a king
LXXXVl.
" So lethim die " Duke Richard said
!
slain,
some And brooks with blood shall flow.
"You leave your good and lawful
king.
When in adversity
Like me, unto the true cause stick,
And for the true cause die."
—
Then he, with priests, upon his knees,
A prayer to God did make.
Beseeching Him unto Himself
His parting soul to take.
to his
Then, kneeling down, he laid his head
Most seemly on the block
Which from his body fair at once
The able headsman stroke
xciv.
And out the blood began to flow,
And round the scaffold twine
And tears, enough to wash't away,
Did flow from each man's eyne.

" And may each one our foes xcv.

Bend down their necks to bloody axe,
Ajid feed the carrion crows." The bloody axe his body fair
Into four partes cut
Lxxxvn. And every part and eke his head,
Upon a pole was put.
And now the horses gently drew
Sir Charles up the high hill
The axe did glister in the sun,
His precious blood to spill. One part did rot on Kynwulft-hill,
One on the minster tower,
And one from off the castle-gate
The crowen did devour
Sir Charles did up the scaffold go.
As up a gilded car XCVII.
Of victory, by val'rous chiefs
Gained in the bloody war The other on St. Powle's good gate,
A dreary spectacle
His head was placed on the high cross.
And to the people he did say, In high-street most nobel.
" Behold you see me die.
For serving loyally my
king, xcvm.
My king most rightfully. Thus was the end of Bawdin's fate:
God prosper long our king,
Andgranthemay, with Bawdin's soul,
"As long as Edward rules this land, In heaven God's mercy sing!
No quiet will you know Thomas Chattebtob;
 ; ;: ;; ; ;; ; ; :: ; ! ; ! ;

KAEBATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS.

THE MASS. What power shall be the sinner's
stay?
With naked foot, and sackcloth vest, How shall he meet that dreadful
And arms infolded on Ms breast, day?
Did every pilgrim go
The standers-by might hear uneath, When, shrivelling like a parchfed
Footstep, or voice, or high-drawn scroll.
breath, The flaming heavenstogether roll
Through all the lengthened row When louder yet, and yet more
No lordly look, nor martial stride, dread,
Gone was their glory, sunk their pride. Swells the high trump that wakes
Forgotten their renown the dead
Silent and slow, like ghosts, they glide
To the high altar's hallowed side. Oh! on that day, that wrathful
And there they knelt them down day.
Above the suppliant chieftains wave When man .to judgment wakes from
The banners of departed brave clay.
Beneath the lettered stones were laid Be Thou the trembling sinner's
The ashes of their fathers dead stay,
From many a garnished niche around. Though heaven and earth shall pass
Stern saints and tortured martyrs away!
frowned. Scott.

And slow up the dim aisle afar,

With sable cowl and scapular, FRIAE OF ORDERS GRAT.
And snow-white stoles, in order due,
The holy Fathers, two and two. "And whither would you lead me
In long procession came then?"
Taper, and host, and book they bare. Quoth the Friar of orders gray;
And holy banner, flourished fair And the ruffians twain replied again,
With the Redeemer's name. " By a dying woman to pray." —
Above the prostrate pilgrim band
The mitred Abbot stretched his hand, "I see," he said, " a lovely sight,
And blessed them as they kneeled A sight bodes little harm,
With holy cross he signed them all. A lady as a lily bright,
And prayed they might be sage in hall, With an infant on her arm." —
And fortunate in field.
Then mass was sung, and prayers " Then do thine office, Friar gray,
were said. And see thou shrive her free
And solemn requiem for the dead Else shall the sprite that parts to-
And bells tolled out their mighty peal. night.
For the departed spirit's weal Fling all its guilt on thee.
And ever in the office close
The hymn of intercession rose " Let mass be said, and trentals read,
And far the echoing aisles prolong When thou'rt to convent gone,
The awful burden of the song, — And bid the bell of St. Benedict
Dies ir^. Dies illa Toll out its deepest tone."
SOLVET S^CLUM IN FA VILLA
While the pealing organ rung The shrift is done, the Friar is gone.
Were it meet with sacred strain Blindfolded as he came ;
—
To close my lay, so light and vain. Next morning all, in Littlecot Hall
Thus the holy Fathers sung :
— Were weeping for their dame.

HYMN FOB THE DEAD. Wild Darrell is an altered man,

The village crones can tell
That day of wrath, that dreadful day. He looks pale as clay, and strives to
When heaven and earth shall pass pray,
away, If he hears the convent bell.
 : ;; ! ; : ; ; !
: ; ; !!

360 PAEXASSUS.

If prince or peer cross Darrell's way, He'a ta'en his ain horse amangtliem
He'll beard him in his pride ; — a',
If he meet a Friar of orders gray, And hame he rade sae manfullie.
He droops and turns aside.
Scott, ''Welcome, my auld father!" said
Christie Graeme,
" But where sae lang frae hame
GK^ME AND BEWICK. were ye? " —
" It's I hae been at Carlisle town.
Gdde Lord Grseme is to Carlisle And a baffled man by thee I be.
gane
Sir Robert Bewiclc there met he " I hae been at Carlisle town.
And arm in arm to the wine they Where Sir Robert Bewick he met
did go. me;
And they drank till they were He says ye're a lad, and ye are but
baith merrie. bad.
And biUie to his son ye canna be.
Gude Lord Graeme has ta'en up the
cup, " I sent ye to school, and ye wadna
" Sir Robert Bewick, and here's learn
to thee I bought ye books, and ye wadna
And here's to our twae sons at hame read;
For they like us best in our ain Wherefore my blessing ye shall
countrie." — never earn,
Till I see with Bewick thou save
" O were your son a lad like mine. thy head.'
And learned some books that he
could read, "Now, God forbid, my auld father;
They might hae been twae brethi-en That ever sic a thing suld be
bauld, Billie Bewick was my master, and
And they might hae bragged the 1 was his scholar,
Border side. And aye sae weel as he learned
me." —
"But your son's a lad, and he is
but bad. "O hald thy tongue, thou limmer
And billie to my son he canna be loon,
And of thy talking let me be
If thou does na end me this quarrel
"Ye him to
sent school, and he soon.
wadna learn There my fight wi'
Ye bought him and he thee."
is
— glove, I'll

wadna read." —books,

" But my blessing shall he never Then Christie Graeme he stoopM
earn. low
Till I see how his arm can defend Unto the ground, you shall under-
his head." — stand ;
—
" O father, put on your glove again,
Gude Lord Graeme has a reckoning The wind has blown it from your
called hand?" —
A reckoning then called he
And he paid a crown, and it went " What's that thou says, thou limmer
roun' loon?
It was all for the gude wine and How dares thou stand to speak to
free. me?
If thou do not end this quarrel
And he has to the stable gane, soon.
Where there stude thirty steeds There's my right hand, thou shall
and three fight with me." —
 ! ; ; ! ; ; ! ;!

NABRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 351

Then Christie Grrseme's to his cham- " My father's gane to Carlisle town,
ber gane, Wi' your father Bewick there
To consider weel what then should met he:
be; He says I'm a lad, and I am but bad,
Whether he should fight with his And a baffled man I trow I be.
auld father,
Or with his billie Bewick, he. " Hesent me to school, and I wadna
learn;
" If I suld kill my billie dear, He gae me books, and I wadna
God's blessing I shall never win; read;
But if I strike at my auld father, Sae my father's blessing I'll never
I think 'twald be a mortal sin. earn.
Till he see how my arm can guard
" But if I kill my
billie dear. my head." —
It is God's will, so let it be;
But I make a vow, ere I gang frae " O God forbid, my billie dear,
hame. That ever such a thing suld be
That I shall be the next man's We'll take three men on either side.
— And
die." see if
agree." —we can our fathers

Then he's put on's back a gude auld

jack. " O
hald thy tongue, now, billie
And on his head a cap of steel, Bewick,
And sword and buckler by his side And of thy talking let me be
gin he did not become them weel But if thou'rt a man, as I'm sure
thou art.
We'll leave off talking of Christie Come o'er the dyke, and fight wi'
Graeme, me." —
And talk of him again belive
And we will talk of bonny Bewick, " But I hae nae harness, billie, on
Where he was teaching his my back,^
scholars five. As weel I see there is on thine." —
" But as little harness as is on thy
When he had taught them well to back.
fence, As little, billie, shall be on
And handle swords without any mine." —
doubt.
He took his sword under his arm. Then he's thrown aff his coat o'
And he walked his father's close mail
about. His cap of steel away flung he
He stuck his spear into the ground.
He looked atween him and the sun. And he tied his horse unto a tree.
And a' to see what there might be.
Till he spied a man in armour bright. Then Bewick has thrown aff his
Was riding that way most hastilie. cloak,
And's psalter-book frae's hand
" O wha is yon that came this way, flung he
Sae hastilie that hither came ? He laid his hand upon the dyke,*
I think it be my brother dear And ower he lap most manfullie.
1 think it be young Christie
Graeme. — O they hae fought for twae lang
hours
" Te're welcome here, my billie dear When twae lang hours were come
And thrice ye're welcome unto and gane.
me!" — The sweat drapped fast frae aff them
" But I'm wae to say, I've seen the baith.
^ ^*y'
When I am come to fight wl' thee.
But a drap
seen.
of blude could not be
 : ;; ; ; ! ; !

352 PABN-ASSUS.

Till Graeme gae Bewick an ack- " Alacklawae!" auld Bewick cried.
ward stroke, " Alack was I not much to blame ?
!

Ane ackward stroke strucken I'm sure I've lost the liveliest lad
sickerlie That e'er was born unto my
He has hit him under the left hreast, name."
And dead-wounded to the ground
fell he. " Alack a wae " quo' gude Lord
!
!

Graeme,
" Bise up, rise up, now, hillie dear! " I'm sure I hae lost the deeper
Arise and speak three words to lack!
me! — I durst hae ridden the Border
Whether thou's gotten thy deadly through.
wound. Had Christie Graeme been at my
Or if God and good leeching may back.
succour thee ? " —
" Had I been led through Liddesdale,
" O horse, O horse, now, billie And thirty horseman guarding me.
Graeme, And Christie Graeme been at my
And
get thee far from hence with back,
speed Sae soon as he had set me free
And get thee out of this country,
That none may know who has " I've lost my
hopes, I've lost joy, my
.

done the deed." — I've lost the key but and the lock:
I durst hae ridden the world round.
" O hae slain thee, billie Bewick,
I Had Christie Graeme been at my
If this be true thou tellest to me back."
But I made a vow, ere I came frae Scott's Bordeb Minstkelsy.
hame.
That aye the next man I wad be."

He has pitched his sword in a KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT

moodie-hill. OF CA]S[TEEBURY.
And he has leaped twenty lang
feet and three. An ancient story I'll tell you anon
And on his ain sword's point he lap. Of a notable prince that was called
And dead upon the ground fell he. King John
And he ruled England with main
'Twas then came up Sir Eobert and with might.
Bewick, For he did great wrong, and main-
And his brave son alive saw he tained little right.
" Rise up, rise up, my son," he said,
"For I think ye hae gotten the And tell you a story, a story so
I'll
victorie." — merry
Concerning the Abbot of Canter-
" O hald your tongue, my father dear bury;
Of your prideful talking let me be I How for his house-keeping and high
Ye might hae drunken your wine in renown.
peace. They rode poste for him to fair Lon-
And let me and my billie be. don towne.
" Gae dig a grave, baith wide and An hundred men the king did heare
deep, say.
And a grave to hald baith him The abbot kept in his house every
and me day;
But Christie Graeme on the
lay And golde chaynes without any
fifty
sunny side, doubt.
"For I'm sure he wan the vic- In velvet coates waited the abbot
torie." about.
 ;; ; ; ; ; ;

NAKEATIVB POEMS AND BALLADS. 353

" How now, father abbot, I heare it For ifthou dost not answer my
of thee, questions three.
Thou keepest a farre better house Thy lands and thy livings are fore
than mee feit to mee."
And for thy house-keeping and high
renowne, Away rode the abbot all sad at that
I feare thou work'st treason against word,
my crown." And he rode to Cambridge, and
Oxenf ord
"My liege" quo' the abbot, "I would But never a doctor there was so
itwere knowne wise,
I never spend nothing, but what is That could with his learning an
my owne answer devise.
And I trust your grace will doe me
no deere. Then home rode the abbot of com-
For spending of my
owne true-gotten fort so cold,
geere." And he met his shepheard a-going to
fold:
"Tes, yes, father abbot, thy fault " How now, mylord abbot, you are
it is highe, welcome home
And now for the same thou needest What newes do you bring us from
must dye good King John ? "
For except thou canst answer me
questions three. "Sad news, sad news, shepheard, I
Thy head shall be smitten from thy must give.
bodie. That I have but three days more to
live;
"And first," quo' the king, "when For ifI do not answer him questions
I'm in this stead, three,
With my crowne of golde so faire on My head will be smitten from my
my head, body.
Among all my liege-men so noble of
birthe. " The
first is to tell him, there in
Thou must tell me to one penny that stead.
what I am worthe. Withhis crowne of golde so fair on
his head.
"Secondly, tell me, without any Among all his liege-men so noble of
doubt, birth,
How soone I may ride the whole To within one penny of what he is
world about worth.
And at the third question thou must
not shrink. "The seconde, to tell him without
But tell me here truly what I do any doubt.
think." How soone he may ride this whole
world about
" O these are hard questions for my And at the third question I must
shallow witt. not shrinke,
Nor I cannot answer your grace as But tell him there truly what he
yet: does thinke,"
But you will give me but three
if
weeks space. " Now cheare up, sire abbot, did you
He do my endeavour to answer your never hear yet,
grace." That a fool he may learne a wise
man
witt ?
" Now three weeks space to thee Lend me horse, and serving men,
will I give. and your apparel,
And that is the longest time thou And He ride to Londou to answere
hast to live your quarrel.
23
 ; !: : ! ; ;

354 PARNASSUS.

"Nay frowne not, if it hath bin And then your grace need not make
told unto me, any doubt
I am like your lordship, as ever may But in twenty-four hours you'll ride
be; it about."
And if you will but lend me your
gowne, The king he laughed, and swore by
There is none shall know us at fair St. Jone,
London tpwne." " I did not think it could be gone so
soone
" Now horses and serving-men thou — Now from the third question thou
shalt have, must not shrinke,
With sumptuous array most gallant But tell me
here truly what I do
and brave, thinke."
With crozier, and miter, and rochet,
and cope. " Yea, that shall I do, and make
Fit to appear 'fore our fader the your grace merry
pope." You thinke I'm the abbot of Canter-
bury;
"Now welcome, sire abbot," the But I'm his poor shepheard, as plain
king he did say, you may see,
"Tis well thou'rt come back to That am come to beg pardon for
keepe thy day him and for me."
For and if thou canst answer my
questions three. The king he laughed, and swore by
Thy life and thy living both savfed the Masse,
'

shall be. " He make thee lord abbot this day

in his place!"
" And first, when thou seest me here ^Now naye, my liege, be not in
in this stead, such speede,
With my crowne of golde so fair on For alacke I can neither write ne
my head, reade."
Among all my liege-men so noble of
birthe, "Four nobles a week, then I will
Tell me to one penny what I am give thee,
worth." For this merry jest thou hast showne
unto me
" For thirty pence our Saviour was And tell the old abbot when thou
sold comest home,
Among the false Jewes, as I have Thou hast brought him a pardon
bin told from good King John."
And twenty-nine is the worth of Peecy's Eeliques.
thee,
For I thinke thou art one penny
worser than he." THE SALLY FROM COVEN-
TRY.
The king he laughed, and swore by
St. Bittel, "Passion o' me!" cried Sir Richard
"I did not think I had been worth Tyrone,
so littel Spurning the sparks from the broad
— Now secondly tell rae, without paving-stone,
any doubt, "Better turn nurse and rock chil-
How soone I may ride this whole dren to sleep.
world about!" Than yield to a rebel old Coventry
Keep.
" You must rise with the sun, and No, by my halidom, no one shall
same
ride with the say,
Until the next morning he riseth Sir Richard Tyrone gave a citj
agaiue away."
 ! ; ; : ; ; ;

NAERATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 355

Passion o' me ! how he pulled at his Curses and cries and a gnashing of
beard teeth,
Fretting and chafing if any one A grapple and stab on the slippery
sneered, heath.
Clapping his breastplate and shak- And Sir Richard leaped up on the
ing his fist, fool that went down.
Giving his grizzly moustachios a Proud as a conqueror donning his
twist, crown.
Running the protocol through with They broke them away through a
his steel. .flooding of fire.
Grinding the letter to mud with his Trampling the best blood of London
heel. to mire,
When suddenly rising a smoke and
Then he roared out for a pottle of a blaze,
sack, Made all " the dragon's sons " stare
Clapped the old trumpeter twice on in amaze
the back, "O ho!" quoth Sir Richard, "my
Leaped on his bay with a dash and city grows hot,
a swing, I've left it rent-paid to the villainous
Bade allthe bells in the city to ring. Scot."
And when the red flag from the G. "W. Thoenbobt.
steeple went down.
Open they flung every gate in the
town. HOW THEY BROUGHT THE
GOOD NEWS FROM GHENT
To boot! and to horse! and away TO AIX.
like a flood, SPBANG to the stirrup,' and Joris
I
A fire in their eyes, and a sting in
and he
their blood
I galloped, Dirck galloped, we gal-
Hurrying out with a flash and a loped three
all
flare,
"Good speed!" cried the watch as
A roar of hot guns, a loud trumpet- the gate-bolts undrew,
er's blare.
"Speed!" echoed the wall to us
And first,sittingproud as a king on galloping through
his throne,
Behind shut the postern, the lights
At the head of them all dashed Sir sank to rest,
Richard Tyrone. And into the midnight we galloped
abreast.
Crimson, and yellow, and purple
and dun, Not a word to each other we kept :

Fluttering scarf, flowing bright in the great pace

the sun. Neck and neck, stride by stride,
Steel like a mirror on brow and on never changing our place.
breast. I turned in my saddle and made its
Scarlet and white on their feather girths tight.
and crest. Then shortened each stirrup and set
Banner that blew in a torrent of red, the pique right.
Borne by Sir Richard, who rode at Re-buckled the check-strap, chained
their head. slacker the bit
Nor galloped less steadily Roland a
The "trumpet" went down with — whit.
a gash on his poll,
Struck by the parters of body and 'Twas moonset at starting, but while
soul. we drew near
Forty saddles were empty; the Lokeren, the cocks crew, and twilight
horses ran red dawned clear
With foul Puritan bluod from the At Boom, a great yellow star came
slashes that bled. out to see,
 ; !; ! ;; ) ;;

S56 PAKNASSUS.

At Diiffeld, 'twas morning as plain "How they'll greet us!" — and all

as could be in a moment his roan

And from Mecheln church-steeple Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead
we heard the half chime as a stone.
So Joris hrolte silence with "Yet And there was my Koland to bear
there is time." the whole weight
Of the news, which alone could save
of a sudden
Aix from her fate.
At Aerschot, up leaped
the sun.
With his nostrils like pits full of
blood to the brim,
And against him the cattle stood And with circles of red for his eye-
black every one
socket's rim.
To stare through the mist at us gal-
loping past,
And I saw my stout galloper, Koland, Then I cast loose my buff coat, each
at last, holster let fall.
With resolute shoulders each but- Shook off both my jack-boots, let go
ting away belt and all.

The haze, as some bluff river head- Stood up in the stirrup, leaned,
land its spray. patted his ear.
Called my Roland his pet name, my
horse without peer
And hislow head and crest, just one
sharp ear bent back Clapped my hands, laughed and sang,
For my voice, and the other pricked any noise bad or good,
Till at length into Aix Roland gal-
out on his track
And one eye's black intelligence, — loped and stood.
ever that glance
O'er its white edge at me, its own And all I remember is friends flock-
master, askance ing round,
And the thick heavy spume-flakes, As I sate with his head 'twixt my
which aye and anon knees on the ground.
His fierce lips shook upwards in gal- And no voice but was praising this
loping on. Roland of mine,
As I poured down his throat our
last measure of wine.
By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and
cried Joris, " Stay spur
Which, (the burgesses voted by com-
Your Roos galloped bravely, the mon consent,
Was no more than his due who
fault's not in her,
news from
We'll remember at Aix; " for one — brought
Ghent.
good
heard the quick wheeze
Of her chest, saw the stretched
Robert Browning.
neck and staggering knees.
And sunk tail, and horrible heave of
the flank,
As down on her haunches she shud- LOCHINVAR.
dered and sank.
O, YOUNG Lochinvar is come out of
So we were and I,
left galloping, Joris the west.
Past Looz and past Tongres, no Through all the wide Border his
cloud in the sky; steed was the best
The broad sun above laughed a piti- And save his good broadsword, he
less laugh, weapon had none,
'Neath our feet broke the brittle He rode all unarmed, and he rode all
bright stubble like chaff alone.
Till over by Dalhelm a dome-spire So faithful in love, and so dauntless
sprang white, in war,
^nd " Gallop," gasped Joris, " for There never was knight like the
Aix is in sight!" young Lochinvar.
 ; ; —) ; : ! ; ;; : ;

NAERATIVB POEMS AOT5 BALIADS. 357

He staid not for brake, and he And the bridegroom stood dangling
stopped not for stone, his bonnet and plume
He swam the Eske river where ford And the bride-maidens whispered,
there was none " 'Twere better by far.
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate. To have matched our fair cousin
The bride had consented, the gallant with young Lochinvar."
came late
For a laggard in love, and a dastard One touch to her hand, and one word
in war, in her ear.
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave When they reached the hall-door,
Lochinvar. and the charger stood near
So light to the croupe the fair lady
So boldly he entered the Netherby he swung.
Hall, So light to the saddle before her he
Among bridesmen, and kinsmen, and sprung
brothers and all "She is won! we are gone, over

Then spoke the bride's father,
hand on his sword,
(For the poor craven bridegroom said
never a word,
" O come ye in peace here, or come
ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord
Lochinvar?"
" long wooed your daughter, my
I
suit you denied ;
Love swells like the Solway, but
ebbs like its tide
And now am I come, with this lost
love of mine.
To lead but one measure, drink one
cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more
lovely by far.
That would gladly be bride to the
young Lochinvar."
The kissed the goblet: the
bride
knight took it up,
his bank, bush, and scaur
They'll have fleet steeds that fol-
low," quoth young Lochinvar.
There was mounting *mong Graemes
of the Netherby clan
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves,
they rode and they ran
There was racing and chasing on
Cannobie Lee,
— But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er
did they see.
— So daring in
in war,
love, and so dauntless
Have ye e'er heard of gallant- like
young Lochinvar?
Scott.
EHOTEUDA.
In the golden reign of Charlemagne
the king,
The three and thirtieth year, or
. thereabout.
.

He quaffed off the wine, and he Young Eginardus, bred about the
threw down the cup. court,
She looked down to blush, and she (Left mother-naked at a postern-
looked up to sigh. door,)
With a smile on her lips, and a tear Had thence by slow degrees ascended
in her eye. up; —
He took her soft hand, ere her
mother could bar, — First page, then pensioner, lastly the
king's knight
.

"Now tread we a measure !" said And secretary; yet held these steps
young Lochinvar. for naught
Save as they led him to the Princess'
So stately his form, and so lovely her feet.
face. Eldest and loveliest of the regal
That never a hall such a galliard did three.
grace Most gracious too, and liable to love :
While her mother did fret, and her For Bertha was betrothed; and she,
father did fume. the third,
 ; ; ; ; ; ; ; — ; : !; !

358 PAENASStrS.

Giselia, would not look upon a man. Yet strong in this, — that, let the
So, bending Ma whole heart unto world have end.
this end, He had pledged his own, and held
He watched and waited, trusting to Khotruda's troth.
stir to fire
The Indolent interest in those large But liOve, who had led these lovers
eyes, thus along.
And the languid hands beat in
feel Played them a trick one windy night
his own. and cold
Ere the new spring. And well he For Eginardus, as his wont had
played his part been.
Slipping no chance to bribe, or brush Crossing the quadrangle, and under
aside, dark,
All that would stand between him No faint moonshine, nor sign of any
and the light star, —
Making fast foes in sooth, but feeble Seeking the Princess' door, such
friends. welcome found,
But what cared he, who had read of The knight forgot his prudence in
ladies' love. his love
And how young Launcelot gained For lying at her feet, her hands in
his Guinevere his.
A foundling too, or of uncertain And telling tales of knightship and
strain ? emprise.
And when one morning, comiijg And ringing war while ; up the
from the bath, smooth white arm
He crossed the Princess on the pal- His fingers slid insatiable of touch,
ace-stair. The night grew old still of the hero-
:

And kissed her there in her sweet deeds

disarray. That he had seen, he spoke; and
Nor met the death he dreamed of, in bitter blows
her eyes, — Where the land seemed driven
all
He knew himself a hero of (old) into dust
romance Beneath fair Pavia's wall, where
Not seconding, but surpassing, what Loup beat down
had been. The Longobard, and Charlemagne
laid on.
And so they loved ; if that tumultu- Cleaving horse and rider; then, for
ous pain dusty drought
Be love, —
disquietude of deep de- Of the fierce tale, he drew her lips
light. to his.
And sharpest sadness: nor though And silence locked the lovers fast
he knew her heart and long,
His very own, —
gained on the in- Till the great bell crashed One into
stant too. their dream.
And like a waterfall that at one leap
Plunges from pines to palms, shat- — The castle-bell! and Eginard not
tered at once away 1

To wreaths of mist, and broken With tremulous haste she led hiiR
spray-bows bright. to the door.
He loved not less, nor wearied of When, lo ! the courtyard white with
her smile fallen snow,
But through the daytime held aloof Wliile clear the night hung over it
and strange with stars.
His walk; mingling with knightly A dozen steps, scarce that, to his
mirth and game own door
Solicitous but to avoid alone A dozen steps ? a gulf impassable
Aught that might make against him What to be done? Their secret
in her mind must not lie
 ; ! ; ; ; ; ;

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 359

Bare to the sneering eye with the To greet these mummers," softlythe
first light window closed.
She could not have his footsteps at And so went back to his corn-tax
her door again.
Discovery and destruction were at
hand: But, with the morn, the king a meet-
And, with the thought, they kissed, ing called
and kissed again Of all his lords, courtiers and kin-
When suddenly the lady, bending, dred too.
drew And squire and dame, in the great —
Her lover towards her half-unwil- Audience Hall
lingly, Gathered; where sat the king, with
And on her shoulders fairly took him the high crown
there, — Upon his brow beneath a drapery
;

Who held his breath to lighten all That fell around him like a cataract,
his weight, — With flecks of colour crossed and can-
And lightly carried him the court- cellate
yard's length And over this, like trees about a
To his own door ; then, like a fright- stream.
ened hare. Rich carven-work, heavy with wreath
Fled back in her own tracks unto and rose.
her bower. Palm and palmirah, fruit and fron-
To pant awhile, and rest, that all dage, hung.

And more the high Hall held of rare

and strange
But Charlemagne the king, who had For on the king's right hand Lesena
risen by night
bowed
To look upon memorials, or at In cloudlike marble, and beside her
ease
crouched
To read and sign an ordinance of
the realm, — The tongueless lioness
side.
; on the other
The Fanolehen, or Cunlgosteura And poising this, the second Sappho
For tithing corn, so to confirm the
same.
stood, —
Young Erexc^a, with her head dis-
And stamp it with the pommel of
his sword, — crowned.
The anadema on the horn of her
Hearing their voices in the court lyre;
below.
And by the walls there hung in
Looked from his window, and beheld sequence long
the pair. Merlin himself, and Uterpendragon,
With all their mighty deeds down ;

Angry, the king; yet laughing-half to the day

to view When all the world seemed lost in
The strangeness and vagary of the wreck and rout, —
feat; A wrath of crashing steeds and men
Laughmg indeed with twenty minds
! and, in
to call The broken battle fighting hope-
From his inner bed-chamber the lessly.
Forty forth, King Arthur, with the ten wounds
Who watched all night beside their on his head I

monarch's bed,
With naked swords and torches in But not to gaze on these, appeared
their hands. the peers.
And test this lover' s-knot with steel Stem looked the king, and, when the
and fire court was met, —
But with a thought, " To-morrow The lady and her lover in the
yet will serve midst, —
 ; : : ; "
! ;; ! " "

360 PARNASSUS.

Spoke to his lords, demanding them Wonderful glimpse of woman's wit

of this and love
" What merits he, the servant of the And worthy to be chronicled with
liing, hers
Forgetful of his place, his trust, his Who to her lover dear threw down
oath, her hair.
Who, for his own bad end, to hide When the garden glanced with
all
his fault. angry blades
Makes use of her, a Princess of the Or like a picture framed in battle-
realm. pikes
As mule — a beast of burthen
of a And bristling swords, it hang? before
— borne
;

our view ;
—
Upon her shoulders through the The palace-court white with the
winter's night. fallen snow.
And wind and snow ? " " Death — !
The good king leaning out into the
said the angry lords night
And knight and squire and minion And Ehotrude bearing Eginard on
murmured, "Death!" her back.
Kot one discordant voice. But TUCKEKMAN.
Charlemagne,
Though to his foes a circulating
sword, GLENLOGLE.
Yet, as a king, mild, gracious,- exora-
ble. Thbee score o' nobles rade up the
Blest in his children too, with but king's ha',
one bom But bonnie Glenlogie's the flower o'
To vex his flesh like an ingrowing them a',
nail, — Wi' his milk-white steed and his
Looked kindly on the trembling pair, bonnie black e'e,
and said " Glenlogie, dear mither, Glenlogie
"Yes, Eginardus, well hast thou for me!"
deserved
Death for this thing for, hadst thou ; "O haud your tongue, daughter,
loved her so. ye'U get better than he ;

Thou shouldst have sought her "O say nae sae, mither, for that
Father's will in this, — canna be
Protector and disposer of his child, — Though Doumlie is richer, and
And asked her hand of him, her lord greater than he,
and thine. Yet if I maun tak him, I'll certain-
Thy life is forfeit here but take it, ly dee.
thou! — ;

Take even two lives for this forfeit " Wherewill I get a bonnie boy, to
one; win hose and shoon.
And thy fair portress — wed her; Will gae to Glenlogie, and come
honour God, again soon?"
Love one another, and obey the " O here am I a bonnie boy, to win
king." hose and shoon.
Will gae to Glenlogie and come
Thus far the legend; but of Rho- again soon."
trude's smile,
Or of the lords' applause, as truly When he gaed to Glenlogie, 'twas
they " wash and go dine ;

Would have applauded their first 'Twas " wash ye, my pretty boy, wash
judgment too. and go dine,"
We nothing learn : yet still the story " O 'twas ne'er my father's fashion,
lives and it ne'er shall be mine
Shines like a light across those dark To gar a lady's hasty errand wait till
old days, I dine."
 ; " ";
; ;; " ; ; ; ; ; ; ;

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 361

" But there is, Glenlogie, a letter for Te sail carry a letter to my love.
thee;" Bring an answer back to me."
The line that he read, a low
first
smile gave he, " But how sail I your true love find,
The next line that he read, the tear Or how suld I her know ?
blindithis e'e; I bear a tongue ue'er wi' her spake,
But the last line that he read) he An eye that ne'er her saw."
gart the table flee.
" O weel sail ye my true love ken,
"Gar saddle the black horse, gar Sae sune as ye her see
saddle the brown For, of a' the flowers of fair Eng-
Gar saddle the swiftest steed e'er land,
rade frae a town ;
The fairest flower is she.
But lang ere the horse was drawn
and brought to the green, " The red, that's on my true love's
O bonnie Glenlogie was twa mile his cheek.
lane. Is like blood-drops on the snaw
The white, that is on her breast
When he came to Glenfeldy's door, bare.
mirth was there
little Like the down o' the white sea^maw.
Bonnie Jean's mother was tearing
her hair; " And even at my love's bouer-door
"Te're welcome, Glenlogie, ye're There grows a flowering birk
welcome," said she, And ye maun sit and sing thereon
"Te're welcome, Glenlogie, your As she gangs to the kirk.
' Jeanie to see."
" And four and twenty fair ladyes
Pale and wan was she, when Glenlo- Will to the mass repair
gie gaed ben. But weel may ye my ladye ken.
But red and rosy grew she, whene'er The fairest ladye there."
he sat down
She turned awa' her head, but the Lord William has written a love-let-
smile was in her e'e, ter.
" O binna feared, mither, I'll maybe Put it under his pinion gray
no dee." And he is awa to southern land
Smith's Scottish Minstrel. As fast as wings can gae.

And even at the ladye' s bouer

THE GAT GOSS-HAWK. There grew a flowering birk;
And he sat down and sung thereon
" O WALT, waly, my gay goss-hawk, As she gaed to the kirk.
Gin your feathering be sheen !

" And waly, waly, my master dear, And weel he kent that ladye fair
Gin ye look pale and lean !
Amang her maidens free
For the flower that springs in May
" O have ye tournament,
tint, at morning
Tour sword, or yet your spear? Was not sae sweet as she.
Or mourn ye for the southern lass,
Whom ye may not win near ? " He lighted at the ladye's gate.
And sat him on a pin
" I have not tint, at tournament. And sang fu' sweet the notes o' love,
My sword nor yet my spear Till a' was cosh within.
But sair I mourn for my true love,
Wi' mony a bitter tear. And first he sang a low, low note,
And syne he sang a clear;
"But weel's me on ye, my gay goss- And aye the o'erword o' the sang
hawk, Was — "Tour love can no win
Te can baith speak aad flee here," —
 ; ;; ; ; "
;; ; ;
; ;

362 PARNASSUS.
" Feast on, feast on, my maidens a', And pale, pale, grew her rosy cheek,
The wine flows you amang, That was sae bright of blee,
While I gang to my shot-window, And she seemed to be as surely dead
And hear yon bonny bird's sang. As any one could be.
" Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird. Then spake her cruel step-minnie,
The sang ye sung yestreen " Tak ye the burning lead,
For weel I lien, by your sweet sing- And drap a drap on her bosome.
ing, To try if she be dead."
Ye are frae my true love sen."
They took a drap o' boiling lead,
O first he sang a merry sang. They drapped it on her breast;
And syne he sang a grave •
" Alas alas " her father cried.
!
!

And syne he picked his feathers gray. She's dead without the priest."
To her the letter gave.
She neither chattered with her teeth,
" Have there a letter from Lord Wil- Kor shivered with her chin
liam; "Alas! alas!" her father cried,
He says he's sent ye three " There is nae breath within."
He canna wait your love langer.
But for your sake he'll die." — Then up arose her seven brethren.
And hewed to her a bier
" Gae bid him balie his bridal bread, They hewed it frae the solid aik.
And brew his bridal ale; Laid it o'er wi' silver clear.
And I shall meet him at Mary's
kirk, Then up and gat her seven sisters.
Lang, lang ere it be stale." And sewed to her a kell
And every stitch that they put in
The lady's gane to her chamber. Sewed to a siller bell.
And a moanfu' woman was she
As gin she had ta'en a sudden brash. The first Scots kirk that they cam to,
And were about to die. They garr'd the bells be rung;
The next Scots kirk that they cam to.
" A boon, a boon, my father deir, They garr'd the mass be sung.
A boon I beg of thee " — !

" Ask not that haughty Scottish lord. But when they cam to St. Mary's
For him you ne'er shall see: kirk,
There stude spearmen all in a raw
"But, for your honest asking else, And up and started Lord William,
Weel granted it shall be." — The chieftane amang them a'.
" Then gin I die in Southern land.
In Scotland gar bury me.
'
" Set down, set down the bier," he
said,
" And the kirk that ye come to,
first " Let me look her upon :

Ye's gar the mass be sung; But as soon as Lord William touched
And the next kirlt that ye come to, her hand.
Ye's gar the bells be rung. Her colour began to come.

" And when you come
kirk,
Ye's tarry there till night."
And so her father pledged his word.
And so his promise plight.
She has ta'en her to her bigly bouer
As fast as she could fare
And she has drank a sleepy draught,
That she had mixed wi' care.
to St. Mary's She brightened like the lily flower.
Till her pale colour was gone
With rosy cheek, and ruby lip.
She smiled her love upon.
" A morsel of your bread, my lord,
And one glass of your wine
For I hae fasted these three lang
days,
All for your sake and mine. —
 : ;! ! !; ;
! — ! ; ; ; !: ; ; :; ; ; ;

NAEEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 363

"Gae hame, gae hame, my seven Allen-a-Dale to his wooing is come
bauld brothers, The mother, she asked of his house-
Gae hame and blaw your horn hold and home
I trow ye wad hae gi'en me the " Though the castle of Richmond
skaitb, stand fair on the hill.
But I've gi'en you the scorn. My hall," quoth bold Allen, " shows
gallanter still
" Commend me to my grey father, 'Tis the blue vault of heaven, with
That wished my saul gude rest its crescent so pale.
But wae to my cruel step-dame, And with all its bright spangles!"
Garr'd bum me on the breast." said Allen-a-Dale.

" Ah woe to you, you light woman

!
The father was steel, and the mother
An ill death may ye die was stone
For we left father and sisters at hame They lifted the latch, and they bade
Breaking their hearts for thee." him be gone
Scorr's Bobdee Minstrelst. But loud, on the morrow, their wail
and their cry
He had laughed on the lass with his
ALLEN-A-DALE. bonny black eye,
And she fled to the forest to hear a
Allen-a-Daie has no fagot for love-tale.
burning, And the youth it was told by was
Allen-a-Dale has no furrow for turn- AUen-a^Dale
ing, Scott.
AUen-a^Dale has no fleece for the
spinning, GLEMARA.
Tet AUen-a-Dale has red gold for the
winning. O, HEABD ye yon pibroch sound sad
in the gale.
Come, read me my riddle! come,
hearken my tale Where a band cometh slowly with
And tell me the craft of bold Allen- weeping and wail ?
'Tis the chief of Glenara laments
a-Dale.
for his dear
The Baron of Eavensworth prances And her sire and her people are
called to her bier.
in pride.
And he views his domains upon Glenara camefirst, with the mourn-
Arkindale side.
and shroud
ers
The mere for his net, and the land
Her kinsmen they followed, but
for his game, mourned not aloud
The chase for the wild, and the park Their plaids all their bosoms were
for the tame folded around
Yet the fish of the lake, and the deer They marched all in silence, — they
of the vale, looked on the ground.
Are less free to Lord Dacre than
Allen-a/-Dale In silence they reached, over moun-
tain and moor.
Allen-a-Dale was ne'er belted a To a heath where the oak-tree grew
knight, lonely and hoar
Though his spur be as sharp, and his " Now here let us place the gray
blade be as bright stone of her cairn ;
—
AUen-arDale is no baron or lord. Why speak ye no word ? " said Glen-
Yet twenty tall yeomen will draw at ara the stem.
his word
And the best of our nobles his bon- " And tell me, I charge ye, ye clan
net will vail, of my spouse.
Wlio at Rere-cross on Stanmore Why fold ye your mantles, why
meets Allen-a-Dale. cloud ye your brows ?
"
 "; ; ; ; ;; ; ; ;;:; ; !

364 PAIMfASSTJS.

So spake the rude chieftain no an- ; Yet so the sage had hight to play his
swer is made, part.
But each mantle, unfolding, a dagger That he should see her form in
displayed. life and limb,
And mark, if still she loved, and still
" I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of she thought of him.
her shroud,"
Cried a voice from the kinsmen, all Dark was the vaulted room of gram-
wrathful and loud arye,
" And empty that shroud and that To which the wizard led the gal-
coffin did seem lant knight.
Glenara ! Grlenara ! now read me my Save that before a mirror, huge and
dream!" high,
A hallowed taper shed a glimmer-
O, pale grew the cheek of that chief- ing light
tain, I ween, On mystic implements of magic
Whenthe shroud was unclosed and might
no lady was seen On cross, and character, and talis-
When a voice from the kinsmen man,
spoke louder in scorn, — And almagest, and altar, nothing
'Twas the youth who had loved the bright
fair Ellen of Lorn, For fitful was the lustre, pale and
wan.
" I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of As watchlight by the bed of some
her grief, departing man.
I dreamt that her lord was a barbar-
ous chief But soon, within that mirror huge
On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did and high.
seem; Was seen a self-emitted light to
Glenara Glenara
! ! now read me my gleam
dream !
And forms upon its breast the earl
'gan spy,
In dust low the traitor has knelt to Cloudy and indistinct, as feverish
the ground. dream
And the desert revealed where his Till,slow arranging, and defined,
lady was found they seem
From a rock of the ocean that beauty To form a lordly and a lofty room,
is borne Part lighted by a lamp with silver
Now joy to the house of fair Ellen beam.
of Lorn. Placed by a couch of Agra's silken
Campbell. loom,
And part by moonshine pale, and
part was hid in gloom.

FITZ TRAVEE'S SONG. Fair the pageant,

all but how pass- —
ing fair
'Twas All-soul's eve, and Surrey's The slender form which lay on
heart beat high couch of Ind
He heard the midnight bell with O'er her white bosom strayed her
anxious start. hazel hair.
Which told the mystic hour, ap- Pale her dear cheek, as if for love
proaching nigh. she pined
When wise Cornelius promised, by All in her night-robe loose she lay
his art. reclined,
To show to him the ladye of his And, pensive, read from tablet
heart. eburnine.
Albeit betwixt them roared the Some strain that seemed her inmost
ocean grim soul to find: —
 : : : ; ;; ::

NARRATIVE POEMS AKD BALLADS. 365

That favored strain was Surrey's Lady Clara Vere de Vere,
raptured line, You put strange memories In my
That fair and lovely form, the Lady head.
Geraldine. Not thrice your branching limes
have blown
Slow rolled the clouds upon the Since I beheld young Laurence
lovely form. dead.
And swept the goodly vision Oh your sweet eyes, your low replies
away ;
— all
A great enchantress you may be
So royal envy rolled the murky storm But there was th^t across his throat
O'er my beloved Master's glorious Which you had hardly cared to see.
day.
Thou jealous, ruthless tyrant! Lady Clara Vere de Vere,
Heaven repay When thus he met his mother's
On thee, and on thy children's view.
latest line. She had the passions of her kind.
The wild caprice of thy despotic She spake some certain truths of
sway. you.
The gory bridal bed, the plundered Indeed I heard one bitter word
shrine. That scarce is fit for you to hear
The murdered Surrey's blood, the Her manners had not that repose
tears of Geraldine I Which stamps the caste of Vere
Scott. de Vere.

Lady Clara Vere de Vere,

There stands a spectre in your hall
LADY CLARA VERE DE VERB. The guilt of blood is at your door :

You changed a wholesome heart

Lady Clara Vere de "Vere, to gall.
Of me you shall not win renown You held your course without re-
You thought to break a country morse.
heart To make him trust his modest
For pastime, ere you went to town. worth.
At me you smiled, but unbeguiled And, last, you fixed a vacant stare,
I saw the snare, and I retired And slew him with your noble birth.
The daughter of a hundred Earls,
You are not one to be desired. Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere,
From yon blue heavens abov^ us
Lady Clara Vere de Vere, bent,
I know you proud to bear your The gardener Adam and his wife
name. Smile at the claims of long descent.
Your pride is yet no mate for mine. Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
Too proud to care from whence I 'Tis only noble to be good.
came. Kind hearts are more than coronets,
Nor would I break for your sweet And simple faith than Norman
sake blood.
A heart that dotes on truer charms.
A simple maiden in her flower I knowyou, Clara Vere de Vere
Is worth a hundred coats-of-arms. You pine among your halls and
towers
Lady Clara Vere de Vere, The languid light of your proud eyes
Some meeker pupil you must find, Is wearied of the rolling hours.
For were you queen of all that is, In glowing health, with boundless
I could not stoop to such a mind. wealth.
You sought to prove how I could love. But sickening of a vague disease.
And my disdain is my reply. You know so ill to deal with time.
The lion on your old stone gates You needs must play such pranks
Is not more cold to you than L as these.
 !; : ! :
;
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366 PAKNASSUS.

Clara, Clara Vere de Vere, I was only a poor poet, made for
If Time be'heavy on your hands, singing at her casement.
Are there no beggars at your gate, As the finches or the thrushes, while
Nor any poor about your lands ? she thought of other things.
Oh teach the orphan-boy to read,
! Oh, she walked so high above me,
Or teach the orphan-girl to sew, she appeared to my abasement,
Fray Heaven for a human heart, In her lovely silken murmur, like an
And let the foolish yeoman go. angel clad in wings
Tennyson.
Many vassals bow before her as her
carriage sweeps their door-
LADY GERALDINE'S COURT- ways;
SHIP. She has blest their little children, —
as a priest or queen were she.
A poet writes to his friend. — Place, Par too tender, or too cruel far, her
a room in Wycombe Hall. — Time, smileupon the poor was.
late in the evening. For it was the same smile
I thought
which she used to smile on me.
Dkak my friend and fellow-student,
I would lean my spirit o' er you She has voters in the commons, she
Down the purple of this chamber, has lovers in the palace, —
tears should scarcely ran at And of all the fair court-ladies, few
will: have jewels half as fine
I am humbled who was humble! Oft the prince has named her beau-
Friend, —
I bow my head be- ty, 'twixt the red wine and
fore you the chalice
You should lead me to my
peasants Oh, and what was I to love her? my
— but their faces are too still. Beloved, my Geraldine

There's a lady, —
an earl's daughter Yet I could not choose but love her,—
she is proud and she is noble I was born to poet uses, —
And she treads the crimson carpet, To love things set above me, all
all
and she breathes the perfumed of good and all of fair
air; Kymphs of mountain, not of valley,
And a kingly blood sends glances up we are wont to call the Muses,
her princely eye to trouble. And in nympholeptic climbing, poets
And the shadow of a monarch's pass from mount to star.
crown is softened in her hair.
And because I was a poet, and be-
She has halls among
the woodlands, cause the people praised me,
she has castles by the breakers. With their critical deduction for the
She has farms and she has manors, modern writer's fault;
she can threaten and com- I could sit at rich men's tables,
mand, though the courtesies that
And the palpitating engines snort in raised me.
steam across her acres. Still suggested clear between us the
As they mark upon the blasted hear pale spectrum of the salt.
ven the measure of her land.
And they praised me In her pres-
There are none of England's daugh- ence: —
"Will your book ap-
ters who can show a prouder pear this summer ? "
presence Then returning to each other, " Yes,
Upon princely suitors praying, she our plans are for the moors ;
has looked in her disdain Then with whisper dropped behind
She has sprung of English nobles, I me, —
" There he is the latest
!

was born of English peasants comer

What was I that I should love her, — Oh, she only likes his verses I what
save for competence to pain is over, she endures.
 —
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NAEEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 367

"Quite low born! self-educated 1 " I invite you, Mr. Bertram, to no
somewhat gifted though by scene for worldly speeches, —
nature, — Sir, I scarce should dare, —
but only
And we make a point by asking him, where God asked the thrushes
of being very kind ; — first,
You may speak, he does not hear And if you will sing beside them, in
you ; and besides, he writes no the covert of my beeches,
satire, .
I will thank you for the woodlands,
All these serpents kept by charmers, . . . for the human world at
leave their natural sting be- worst."
hind."
Then she smiled around right child-
I grew scornfuller, grew colder, as I then she gazed around
ly,
stood up there among them. right queenly
Till, as frost intense will bum you, —
And I bowed, I could not answer
the cold scorning scorched my Alternate light and gloom, —
brow; While as one who quells the lions,
When a sudden silver speaking, with a steady eye serenely.
gravely overrung
cadenced, She, with level fronting eyelids,
them, passed out stately from the
And a sudden silken stirring touched
my inner nature through.
Oh, the blessed woods of Sussex, I
I looked upward and beheld her! can hear them still around me.
With a calm and regnant With their leafy tide of greenery
spirit. still rippling up the wind
Slowly round she swept her eye- Oh, the cursed woods of Sussex!
lids, and said clear before where the hunter's arrow
them all, found me.
" Have you such superfluous honor, When a fair face and a tender voice
sir, that able to confer it. had made me mad and blind
Ton will come down, Mr. Bertram,
as my guest to Wycombe In that ancient hall of Wycombe,
Hall?" thronged the numerous guests
invited,
Here she paused, — she had been And the lovely London ladies trod
paler at the first word of her the floors with gliding feet
speaking And low with fashion,
their voices
But because a silence followed it, not with feeling, softly freight-
blushed somewhat as for ed
shame All the air about the windows, with
Then, as scorning her own feeling, elastic laughters sweet.
resumed calmly " I am seek- —
ing Forat eve, the open windows flung
More distinction than these gentle- their light out on the terrace,
men think worthy of my Which the floating orbs of curtains
claim. did with gradual shadow
sweep
" Kevertheless, you see, I seek it — While the swans upon the river, fed
not because I am a woman," at morning by the heiress.
I
Here her smile sprang like a foun- Trembled downward through their
tain, and, so overflowed her snowy wings at music in their
mouth,) sleep.
" But because my woods in Sussex
have some purple shades at And there evermore was music, both
gloaming of instrument and singing
Which are worthy of a king in state, Till the finches of the shrubberies
or poet in his youth. grew restless iu the dark;
 ; : : : !) ! : !

368 PAENASSUS.

But the cedars stood up motionless, Thus she drew me the first morning,
each in a moonlight ringing, out across into the garden
And the deer, half in the glimmer, And I walked among her noble
strewed the hollows of the friends, and could not keep
park. behind
Spake she unto all and unto me, —
And though sometimes she would " Behold, I am the warden
bind me with her silvei'-cord- Of the song-birds in these lindens,
ed speeches, which are cages to their mind.
To commix my words and laughter
with the converse and the jest. "But within this swarded circle,
Oft I sat apart, and gazing on the into which the lime-walk
river through the beeches. brings us, —
Heard, as pure the swans swam Whence the beeches rounded green-
down it, her pure voice o'er- ly, stand away in reverent
float the rest. fear;
I will let no music enter, saving
In the morning, horn of huntsman, what the fountain sings us.
hoof of steed, and laugh of Which the lilies round the basin
rider may seem pure enough to hear.
Spread out cheery. from the court-
yard till we lost them in the
hills
"The live air that waves the lilies
While herself and other ladies, and waves this slender jet of water,
Like a holy thought sent feebly, up
her suitors left beside her,
from soul of fasting saint!
Went a-wandering up the gardens
through the laurels and abeles.
Whereby lies a marble Silence, sleep-
ing! (Lough the sculptor
new-mown wrought her,
Thus, her foot upon the
So asleep she
grass, —
bareheaded, with the — Hitsft .'
is forgetting to say
— a fancy quaint
flowing
Of the virginal white vesture gath-
ered closely to her throat ;
'

"Mark how heavy white her eye-

With the golden ringlets in her neck lids! not a dream between
just quickened by her going, them lingers
And appearing to breathe sun for And the hand's index droppeth
left
and doubting to float, — from the lips upon the cheek:
air, if
And the right hand, with the sym- —
With a branch dewy maple, which bol rose held slack within the
her right
of
hand held above her. fingers, —
And which trembled a green shar Has fallen back within the basin, —
dow in betwixt her and the yet this Silence will not speak
skies,
As she turned her face in going, "That the essential meaning grow-
thus, she drew me on to love ing may exceed the special
her, symbol,
And to worship the divineness of Is the thought as I conceive it: it
the smile hid in her eyes. applies more high and low.
Our true noblemen will often through
For her eyes alone smile constantly right nobleness grow humble,
her lips have serious sweetness. And assertan inward honor by de-
And her front is calm, the dimple— nying outward show."
rarely ripples on her cheek
But her deep blue eyes smile con- "Kay, your Silence," said I, "truly
stantly, — as if they in discreet- holds her symbol rose but
ness slackly,
Kept the secret of a happy dream Yet s^e holds it — or would scarcely
she did not care to speak. be a Silence to our ken 1
 ; ; . —
;; ! ; ; —

NAUKATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 369

And your nobles wear their ermine
on the outside, or walk' blackly
In the presence of the social law, as
most ignoble men.
" Let the poets dream such dream-
ing Madam, in these British
!
Islands,
'Tis the substance that
'tis the symbol that exceeds
Soon we shall have nought but sym-
bol! and for statues like this
Silence,
Shall accept the rose's image, in
another case, the weed's."
'"Not so quickly!" she retorted,
I confess where'er you go,you
'
'
And thus, morning after morning,
spite of vows and spite of sor-
row.
Did I follow at her drawing, while
the week-days passed along
Just to feed the swans this noontide,
or to see the fawns to-morrow,
Or to teach the hill-side eclio some
wanes ever, sweet Tuscan in a song.
Ay, for. sometimes on the hill-side,
while we sat down in the
gowans.
— With the forest green behind us,
and its shadow cast before
And the river running under; and
across It from the rowans

— A brown partridge whirring near us,

Find for things, names
actions,
shows for
and pure gold for
;
till we felt the air it bore, —
honor clear There, obedient to her praying, did
But when all is run to symbol in the
I read aloud the poems
throw you
Social, I will
Made by Tuscan flutes, or instru-
The world's book which now reads ments more various of our
dryly, and sit down with Si-
own;
lence here." Read the pastoral partsof Spenser, —
Half in playfulness she spoke, I or the subtle interflowings
thought, and half in indigna- Found in Petrarch's sonnets, here's —
the book —
the leaf is folded
Friends
tion;
who listened laughed her down! —
• words off while her lovers
deemed her fair Or at times a modern volume,
A fair woman — flushed with feeling, Wordsworth's solemn-
thoughted idyl,
in her noble-lighted station
Near the statue's white reposing, — Howitt's ballad-verse, or Tennyson's
—
and both bathed in sunny air enchanted revery,
Or from Browning some "Pome-
With the trees round, not so distant granate," which, if cut deep
but you heard their vernal down the middle.
murmur. Shows a heart within blood-tinc-
And beheld in light and shadow the tured, of a veined humanity.
leaves in and outward move
And the little fountain leaping Or at times I read there, hoarsely,
toward the sun-heart to be some new poem of mak- my
warmer, ing,—
And recoiling in a tremble from the Poets ever fail in reading their own
too much light above. verses to their worth, —
For the echo in you breaks upon the
'Tis a picture for remembrance and ! words which you are speaking.
thus, morning after morning, And the chariot-wheels jar' in the
Did I follow as she drew me by the gate through which you drive
spirit to her feet, — them forth.
Why, her greyhound followed also 1

dogs —
we both were dogs for After, when we were grown tired of
scorning, — books, the silence round us
To be sent back when she pleased it, flinging
and her path lay through the A slow arm of sweet compression,
wheat. felt with beatings at the breast,
21
 — ;
370
She would break out on a sudden,
in a gush of woodland singing.
Like a child's emotion in a god, a —
naiad tired of
Oh, to see or hear her singing scarce
I know which is divinest,
For her looks sing too, she modu-
lates her gestures on the tune
And her mouth stirs with the song,
like song and when the notes
; —
are finest,
'Tis the eyes that shoot out vocal
light, and seem to swell them
on.
Then we talked, — oh, how we talked
her voice, so cadenced in the
talking.
Made another singing
a music without bars,
While the leafy sounds of wood-
lands, humming round where
we were walking.
Brought interposition worthy sweet,
— as skies about the
And she spake such good thoughts
natural, as if she always
thought them,
And had sympathies so rapid, open,
free as bird on branch,
Just as ready to fly east as west,
whichever way besought them.
In the birchen wood a chirrup, or a
cock-crow in the grange.
In her utmost Tightness there is truth,
— and often she speaks lightly.
Has a grace in being gay, which even
mournful souls approve,
For the root of some grave earnest
thought Is under-struck
rightly.
As to justify the foliage and the
waving flowers above.
And she — we talked, rath-
talked on,
er upon things — sub-
all
stance — shadow —
!
Of the sheep that browsed the
grasses, — of the reapers In the
corn,
Of the little children
schools, seen winding through
the meadow, — certes,
Of the poor rich world beyond them,
still kept poorer by its scorn.
! :
PARNASSUS.
So of men, and so of letters, — books
are men of higher stature.
And the only men that speak aloud
rest. for future times to hear
So, of mankind in the abstract, which
grows slowly into nature,
!
— Yet will lift the cry of " progress," as
— it trod from sphere to sphere.
And her custom was to praise me
when I said, " The Age culls
simples.
With a broad clown's back turned
broadly to the glory of the
stars —
We are gods by our own reck'ning, —
and may well shut up the
temples.
And wield on, amid the incense-
— of the soul! steam, the thunder of our cars.
—
" For we throw out acclamations of
self-thanking, self-admiring,
With, at every mile run faster, —
O the wondrous, wondrous
'
stars. age!'
Little thinking if we work our souls
as nobly as our iron,
Or if angels will commend us at the
— goal of pilgrimage.
" Why, what is this patient entrance
into nature's deep resources.
But the child's most gradual learn-
ing to walk upright without
bane?
When we drive out from the cloud
of steam, majestical white
horses.
Are we greater than the first men
who led black ones by the
mane?
so
" If we trod the deeps of ocean, if
we struck the stars in rising,
If we wrapped the globe intensely
with one hot electric breath,
'
Twere but power within our tether, —
no new spiritpower compris-
ing,
And in life we were not greater men,
nor bolder men in death."
from the She was patient with my talking;
and I loved her, loved her
As I loved all Heavenly objects,
with uplifted eyes and hands;
 : — : ; —

NAEKATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 371

As I loved pure inspirations, loved — Very finely courteous, —
^far too proud
the graces, loved the virtues. doubt his domination
to
In a Love content with writing his Of the common people, —
he atones
own name on desert sands. for grandeur by a bow.

Or at least I thought so purely! — High, straight forehead, nose of

thought no idiot Hope was eagle, cold blue eyes, of less
raising expression
Any crown to crown Love's silence, Than
silent Love that sat alone, — resistance, coldly casting off
the looks of other men,
Out, alas ! the stag is like me, he, — As steel, arrows, —
unelastic lips,
that tries to go on grazing which seem to taste posses-
With the great deep gun-wound in sion.
his neck, then reels with sud- And be cautious lest the common
den moan. air should injure or distrain.

Itwas thus I reeled I told you that

her hand had many suitors
!

— For the rest, accomplished, upright,

ay, and standing by his order
But she smiles them down imperial-
ly, as Venus did the waves —
;
With a bearing not ungraceful fond
of art, and letters too
;

And with such a gracious coldness,

Just a good man made a proud man,
that they cannot press their
as the sandy rocks that border
futures
On the present of her courtesy,
A wild coast, by circumstances, in a
regnant ebb and flow.
which yieldingly enslaves.

And morning, as I sat alone Thus I knew that voice, —

I heard
this
within the inner chamber. it — and I could not help the
With the great saloon beyond it lost hearkening
in pleasant thought serene, — In the room I stood up blindly, and
For I had been reading Camoens — my burning heart within
Seemed to seethe and fuse my senses,
that poem you remember,
till they ran on all sides dark-
Which his lady's eyes are praised in,
ening,
as the sweetest ever seen;
And weighed like melted
scorchfed,
And the book lay open, and my metal round my feet that stood
thought flew from it, taking therein.
from it
A vibration and impulsion to an end And that voice, I heard it pleading,

beyond its own, for love's sake, —

for wealth,
As the branch of a green osier, when position.
a child would overcome it. For the sake of liberal uses, and
Springs up freely from his clasping great actions to be done, —
and goes swinging in the sun. And she interrupted gently, "Nay,
my lord, the old tradition
As I mused I heard a —
murmur, it Of your Normans, by some worthier
grew deep as it grew longer — hand than mine is, should be
Speakers using earnest language, — won."
" Lady Geraldine, yonwould! "
And I heard a voice that pleaded "Ah, that white hand," he said,
ever on, in accents stronger, quickly, — and iu his he either
As a sense of reason gave it power drew it
to make its rhetoric good. Or attempted — for with gravity and
instance she replied, —
Well I knew that voice, — it was an "Nay, indeed, my lord, this talk is
of soul that matched
earl's, vain, and we had best eschew
his station — it.
Soul completed into lordship, might — And pass on like friends, to other
and right read on his brow points less easy to decide."
 —
! ; :!
:;
: ! ; — ! ;

372 PARNASSUS.

What he said again, I know not. It I plucked up her social fictions,

is likely that his trouble bloody-rooted though leaf -ver-
Worked his pride up to the surface, dant.
for she answered in slow Trod them down with words of
scorn, — shaming, —
all the purple and
"And your lordship judges rightly. the gold.
Whom I marry, shall be noble, All the " landed stakes " and lord-
Ay, and wealthy. I shall never blush ships, —
all that spirits pure
to think how he was bom." and ardent
Are cast out of love and honor be-
There, I maddened her words stung
! cause chancing not to hold.
me! Life swept through me
into fever. "For myself I do not argue," said I,
And my soul sprang up astonished " though I love you, madam
sprang f ull-statured in an hour But for better souls that nearer to
Know you what it is when anguish, the height of yours have trod.
with apocalyptic never, And this age shows to my thinking,
To a Pythian height dilates you, — stillmore infidels to Adam,
and despair sublimes to power ? Than directly, by profession, simple
infidels to God.
From my brain the soul-wings bud-
ded! —
waved a flame about
"Yet, O God," I said, "O grave," I
my body, said, "O mother's heart and
Whence conventions coiled to ashes
I felt self-drawn out, as man.
bosom.
From amalgamate false natures and With whom first and last are equal,
;
saint and corpse and little
I saw the skies grow ruddy
child
With the deepening feet of angels,
and I knew what spirits can.
We are fools to your deductions, in
these figments of heart-clos-
I was mad, — inspired, — say either We
ing!
are traitors to your causes, in
anguish worketh inspiration,
these sympathies defiled
Was —
aman or beast perhaps so; for
the tiger roars when speared
And I walked on, step by step, along "Learn more reverence, madam, not
the level of my passion — rank or wealth,
for that
Oh my soul and passed the doorway needs no learning
!

to her face, and never feared. That comes quickly —

quick as sin
does, ay, and culminates to
He had left her, — peradventure, sin;
when my footstep proved my But for Adam's seed, man! Trust
coming, — me, 'tis a clay above your
But for her, — she half arose, then sat scorning,
— grew scarlet and grew pale With God's image stamped upon it,
Oh she trembled — ! so always 'tis and God's kindling breath
with a worldly man or woman within.
In the presence of true spirits, what — "
else can, they do but quail? What right have you, madam, gaz-
ing in your palace-mirror
'
Oh, she fluttered like a tame bird, in daily.
among its forest brothers Getting so by heart your beauty,
Far too strong for then drooping,
it ! which all others must adore,
bowed her face upon her Wliile you draw the golden ringlets
hands, — down your fingers, to vow
And I spake out wildly, fiercely, bru- gayiy
tal truths of her and others You will wed no man that's only
I, she planted in the desert, swathed good to God, —
and nothing
her, windlike, with my sands. more?
 ; " !

NAEEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 373

"Why, what right have you, made But at last there came a pause. I
fair by that same God, the — stood all vibrating with thun-
woman
sweetest der
Of all women He has fashioned, — Which my soul had used. The
with your lovely spirit-face, silence drew her face up like
Which would seem too near to van- a call.
ish if its smile were not so Could you guess what word she
human, uttered ? She looked up, as if
And your voice of holy sweetness, in wonder,
turning common words to With tears beaded on her lashes, and
grace, said " Bertram!" it was all.

" What right can you have, God's If she had cursed me, and she —
other works to scorn, despise, might have, —
or if even, with
revile them queenly bearing
In the gross, as mere men, broadly, Which at needs is used by women,
—
not as noble men, for- she had risen up and said,
sooth, — " Sir, you are my guest, and therefore
As mere Pariahs of the outer world, I have given you a full hear-
forbidden to assoil them ing,—
In the hope of living, dying, near Now, beseech you, choose a name
that sweetness of your mouth ? exacting somewhat in- less
stead," —
" Have you any answer, madam ?
my spirit were less
If
I had borne — but that "Bertram "
it !

If its instrument were

earthly.
gifted with a
—why there on the
it lies
paper,
I
better silver string,
would kneel down where I stand, A mere word, without her accent, —
and say, —
Behold me! I am and you cannot judge
weight
the
worthy
Of the calm which crushed my pas-
Of thy loving, for I love thee I am !
sion! I seemed drowning in
worthy as a king.
a vapor, —
And her gentleness destroyed me
"As it is, — your ermined
swear, shall
pride, I
feel this stain
whom her scorn made deso-
her, —
late.
upon
That /, poor, weak, tost with pas- So, struck backward and exhausted
sion, scorned by me and you by that inward flow of passion
again. Which had rushed
Love you. Madam, dare to love — on, sparing noth-
ing, into forms of abstract
you, —
to my grief and your
dishonor, — With
truth.
a logic agonizing through un-
To my endless desolation, and your seemly demonstration.
Impotent disdain! And with youth's own anguish turn-
ing grimly gray the hairs of
More mad words like these, more — youth, —
madness friend, I need not
!

write them fuller By the sense accursed and instant,

And I hear my
hot soul dropping that if even I spake wisely,
on the lines in showers of I spake basely, —
using truth, —
tears — what I spake
if
Indeed was
Oh, a woman ! friend, a woman true, —
Why, a beast had scarce been To avenge wrong on a woman, — her,
duller who sat there weighing nicely
Than roar bestial loud complaints A full manhood's worth, found
•

against the shining of the guilty of such deeds as I could

spheres. do I
—
 —; ! : !: : :! ;

374 PARJfASSUS.

With sucli wrong and woe exhausted There's no room for tears of weak-
— what I suffered and occa- ness in the blind eyes of a
sioned, — Phemius
As a wild horse through a city runs Into work the poet kneads them, —
with lightning in his eyes, and he does not die till then.
And then dashing at a church's cold
and passive wall, impassioned. CONCLUSION.
Strikes the death into his burning
brain, and blindly drops and Bertram finished the last pages,
dies, while along the silence ever
hot and heavy splashes, fell
Still in
So I struck down before her!
fell, the tears on every leaf
Do you blame me friend, for Having ended, he leans backward in
weakness ? his chair, with lips that quiver
'Twas my strength of passion slew From the deep unspoken, ay, and deep
me! — fell before her like a unwritten thoughts of grief.
stone
Fast the dreadful world rolled from Soh! how still
the lady standeth 'tis !

me, on its roaring wheels of a dream! —

a dream of mer-
blackness cies,'
When the light came I was lying in 'Twixt the purple lattice-curtains,
this chamber — and alone. how she standeth still and
pale!
Oh, of course, she charged her lack- 'Tis a vision, sure, of mercies, sent
eys to bear out the sickly to soften his self-curses —
burden, Sent to sweep a palSent quiet o'er
And to cast it from her scornful the tossing of his wail.
sight, —
but not beyond the
gate — "Eyes," he said, "now throbbing
She was too kind to be cruel, and too through me are ye eyes that
!

haughty not to pardon did undo me ?

Such a man as I, —
'twere something Shining eyes, like antique jewels set
to be level to her hate. in Parian statue-stone
Underneath that calm white fore-
But for me, — you now are conscious head, are ye ever burning
why, my friend, I write this torrid
letter. O'er the desolate sand-desert of my
How my life is read all backward, heart and life undone? "
and the charm of life undone
I shall leave her house at dawn; I — With a murmurous stir uncertain, in
would to-night, if I were bet- the air, the purple curtain
ter ; — Swelleth in and swelleth out around
And I charge my
soul to hold my her motionless pale brows
body strengthened for the sun. While the gliding of the river sends
a rippling noise forever
When the sun has dyed the oriel, I Through the open casement whitened
depart with no last gazes. by the moonlight's slant re-
No weak raoanings one woi-d only — pose.
left in writing for her hands,
Out of reach of all derision, and some Said he —
"Vision of a lady! stand
unavailing praises, there silent, stand there steady \

To make front against this anguish Now I see it plainly, plainly now I
in the far and foreign lands. cannot hope or doubt —;

There, the brows of mild repression,

Blame me not, I would not squander —
there, the lips of silent pas-
life in grief ;
—
I am abstemious sion,
1 but nurse my
spirit's falcon, that Curved like an archer's bow to send
its wings mayssoar again the bitter arrows out."
 ; ! ; ""
; ;; ""
!

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 375

Ever, evermore the while in a slow (ENONE, OK THE CHOICE OF
silence she kept smiling, PARIS.
And approached him slowly, slowly,
in a gliding measured pace " Dear mother Ida, harken ere I
With her two white hands extended, die.
as praying one offended.
if
He and opening out his
smiled,
And a look of supplication, gazing milk-white palm
earnest in his face. Disclosed a fruit of true Hesperian

Said he,— " Wake me by no gesture, gold,

That smelt ambrosially, and while I
— sound of breath, or of stir looked
vesture And listened, the full-flowing river
Let the blessfed apparition melt not of speech
yet to its divine Came down upon heart. my
—
No approaching, hush no breath- ! " My own (Enone, '

ing or my heart must swoon

!
Beautiful-browed (Enone, my own
to death in
That too utter life thou bringest — Behold
soul.
this fruit, whose gleaming
O thou dream of Geraldine !
rind ingraven
" For the most fair," would seem to
Ever, evermore the while in a slow
silence she kept smiling — As
award
lovelier
it
than
thine.
whatever Oread
But the tears ran over lightly from haunt
her eyes, and tenderly The knolls of Ida, loveliest in all grace
" Dost thou, Bertram, truly love me ?
Of movement, and the charm of
Is no woman far above me married brows.'
Found more worthy of thy poet-heart
than such a one as.X? " Dear mother Ida, harken ere I
die.
Said he —
"I would dream so ever, He prest the blossom of his lips to
like the flowing of that river. mine.
Flowing ever in a shadow greenly And added, This was cast upon the
'

onward to the sea board,

So, thou vision of all sweetness — When all the full-faced presence of
princely to a full complete- the Gods
ness, — Ranged in the halls of Peleus;
Would my heart and flow on- life whereupon
ward — deathward — through Rose feud, with question unto whom
this dream of Thbe !
'twere due:
But light-foot Iris brought it yester-
Ever, evermore the while in slow eve.
silence she kept smiling. Delivering, that to me, by common
While the silver tears ran faster down voice.
the blushing of her cheeks Elected umpire, Her^ comes to-day,
Then with both her hands enfolding Pallas and Aphrodite, claiming each
both of his, she softly told him, This meed of fairest. Thou, within
" Bertram, if I say I love thee, • . . . the cave
'tis the vision only speaks." Behind yon whispering tuft of oldest
pine,
Softened, quiolcr^ned to adore her, on Mayst well behold them unbeheld,
his knee he fell before her, — unheard
And she whispered low in triumph, Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of
— "It shall be as I have sworn Gods.'
Very rich he is in virtues, very —
noble —
noble, certes; "Dear mother Ida, h.irken ere I
And I shall not blush in knowing die.
that men call him lowly born I It was the deep midnoon one : silvery
E. B. Bbowning. cloud
 ;

376 PARNASSUS.

Had lost his way between the piney Failfrom the sceptre-staff. Such
sides boon from me.
Of this long glen. Then to the From me. Heaven's Queen, Paris,
bower they came, to thee king-born,
Naked they came to that smooth- A shepherd all thy life, but yet king-
swarded bower, born,
And at their feet the crocus brake Should come most welcome, seeing
like fire, men, in power.
Violet, amaraciis, and asphodel, Only, are likest gods, who have at-
Lotos and lilies : and a wind arose. tained
And overhead the wandering ivy Rest in a happy place and quiet seats
and vine. Above the thunder, with undying
This way and that, in many a wild bliss
festoon In knowledge of their own suprem-
Kan riot, garlanding the gnarled acy.'
boughs
With bunch and berry and flower '
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
'

through and through. She ceased, and Paris held the costly
fruit
" O mother Ida, barken ere I die. Out at arm's-length, so much the
On the tree-tops a crested peacock lit, thought of power
And o'er him flowed a golden cloud, Flattered his spirit; but Pallas where
and leaned she stood
Upon him, slowly dropping fragrant Somewhat apart, her clear and bared
dew. limbs
Then first I heard the voice of her, O'erthwarted with the brazen-
to whom headed spear
Coming through Heaven, like a light Upon her pearly shoulder leaning
that grows cold,
Larger and clearer, with one mind The while, above, her full and ear-
the Gods nest eye
Rise up for reverence. She to Paris Over her snow-cold breast and angry
made cheek
Proffer of royal power, ample rule Kept watch, waiting decision, made
Unquestioned, overflowing revenue reply.
Wherewith to embellish state, ' from
many a vale " 'Self-reverence, self-knowledge,
And river-sundered champaign self-control,
clothed with corn, These three alone lead life to sover-
Or labored mines undrainable of ore. eign power.
Honor,' she said, and homage, tax
'
Yet not for power (power of herself
and toll, Would come uncalled for), but to
From many an inland town and live by law,
haven large. Acting the law we live by without
Mast-thronged beneath her shadow- fear;
ing citadel And, because right is right, to follow
In glassy bays among her tallest • right
towers.' Were wisdom in the scorn of conse-
quence.'
" mother Ida, barken ere I die.
Still she spake on and still she spake " Dear mother Ida, harken ere I
of power, die.
'
Which in all action is the end of all Again she said I woo thee not
: '

Power fitted to the season wisdom- ; with gifts.

bred Sequel of guerdon could not alter me
And throned of wisdom — from all To fairer. Judge thou me by what
neighbor crovms I am.
Alliance and allegiance, till thy hand So shalt thou find me fairest.
 ! : : ;

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 377

Yet, indeed, The fairest and most loving wife in
If gazing on divinity disrobed Greece,'
Tliy mortal eyes are frail to judge She spoke and laughed I shut : my
of fair, sight for fear
Unbiased by self-proflt, oh! rest But when I looked, Paris had raised
thee sure his arm.
That I shall love thee well and cleave And I beheld great Herd's angry
to thee. eyes,
So that my vigor, wedded to thy As she withdrew into the golden
blood, cloud,
Shall strike within thy pulses, like a And I was left alone within the
God's, bower,
To push thee forward through a life And from that time to this I am
of shocks. alone,
Dangers, and deeds, until endurance And I shall be alone until I die."
grow
Sinewed with action, and the full-
grown will, Tennyson.
Circled through all experiences, pure
law,
Commeasure perfect freedom.' THE ISLAND.
" Here she ceased.
And Paris pondered, and I cried, ' O How pleasant were the songs of
Paris, Toobonai,
Give it to Pallas ! ' but he heard me When summer's sun went down the <

not, coral bay

Or hearing would not hear me, woe Come let us to the islet's softest
is me! shade.
And hear the warbling birds! the
" O mother Ida, many-fountalned damsels said
Ida, The wood-dove from the forest
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. depth shall coo.
Idalian Aphrodite beautiful, Like voices of the gods from Bolo-
Fresh as the foam, new-bathed in too;
Paphian wells. We'll cull the flowers that grow
With rosy slender fingers backward above the dead.
drew For these most bloom where restr
From her warm brows and bosom the warrior's head
her deep hair And we will sit in twilight's face,
Ambrosial, golden round her lucid and see
throat The sweet moon dancing through
And shoulder from the violets her
: the tooa-tree.
light foot The lofty accents of whose sighing
Shone rosy- white, and o'er her bough
rounded form Shall sadly please us as we lean be-
Between the shadows of the vine- low;
bunches Or climb the steep, and view the
Floated the glowing sunlights, as ^ surf in vain
she moved. Wrestle with rocky giants o'er the
main.
"Dear mother Ida, harken ere I Which spurn in columns back the
die. baffled spray.
She with a subtle smile in her mild How beautiful are these, how happy
eyes. they,
The herald of her triumph, drawing Who, from the toil and tumult of
nigh their lives,
Half-whispered in his ear, 'I promise Steal to look down where nought
thee but ocean strives I
 ; ; ;; ;

378 PAENASSUS.

Even he too loves at times the blue True, they had vices, —such are
lagoon, nature's growth, —
And smooths his ruffled mane be- But only the barbarians' —we have
neath the moon. both;
The sordor of civilization, mixed
Yes — from the sepulchre we'll gath- With all the savage which man's fall
er flowers, hath fixed.
Then feast like spirits in their AVho hath not seen dissimulation's
promised bowers. reign.
Then plunge and revel in the rolling The prayers of Abel linked to deeds
surf, of Cain ?
Then lay our limbs along the tender Who such would see, may from his
turf, lattice view
And wet and shining from the spor- The old world more degraded than
tive toil, the new, —
Anpint our bodies with the fragrant Now new no more, save where
oil. Columbia rears
And plait our garlands gathered Twin giants, born by freedom to
from the grave. her spheres.
And wear the wreaths that sprung Where Chlmborazo, over air, earth,
from out the brave. wave.
But lo! night comes, the Mooa Glares with his Titan eye, and sees
wooes us back. no slave.
The sound of mats is heard along Btkon.
our track
Anon the torchlight-dance shall fling THE SEA-CAVE.
its sheen
In flashings mazes o'er the Marly's YorNG Neuha plunged into the deep,
green and he
And we too will be there we too re- ; Followed: her track beneath her
call native sea
The memory bright with many » Was as a native's of the element.
festival, So smoothly, bravely, brilliantly she
Ere Fiji blew the shell of war, when went,
foes Leaving a streak of light behind her
For the first time were wafted in heel.
canoes. Which struck and flashed like an
Strike up the dance, the cava bowl amphibious steel.
fill high. Closely, and scarcely less expert to
Drain every drop! — to-morrow we trace
may die. The depths where divers hold the
In summer garments be our limbs pearl in chase,
arrayed Torquil, the nursling of the North-
Around our waist the Tappa's white ern seas.
displayed Pursued her liquid steps with art
Thick wreaths shall form our coro- and ease.
nal, like spring's. —
Deep deeper for an instant Neuha
And round our necks shall glalnce led
the Hooni strings The way —
then upward soared —
So shall their brighter hues contrast and, as she spread
the glow Her arms, and flung the foam from
Of the dusk bosoms that beat high off her locks.
below. Laughed, and the sound was an-
swered by the rocks.
Thus the harmony of
rose a song, — They had gained a central realm of
times earth again.
Before the winds blew Europe o'er But looked for tree, and field, and
these climes. sky, in vain.
 ; ; ; ; ;

NAERATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 379

Around sie pointed to a spacious And led him into each recess, and
cave, showed
Whose only portal was the Iceyless The secret places of their new abode.
wave, Nor these alone, for all had been
(A hollow archway by the sun un- prepared
seen, Before, to soothe the lover's lot she
Save through the billows' glassy shared
veil of green, '
The mat for rest ; for dress the fresh
In some transparent ocean holiday, gnatoo.
When all the finny people are at The sandal-oil to fence against the
play), dew;
Wiped with her hair the brine from For food the cocoa-nut, the yam,
Torquil's eyes, the bread
And clapped her hands with joy at Born of the fruit; for board the
his surprise. plantain spread
Forth from her bosom the young With its broad leaf, or turtle-shell
savage drew which bore
A pine torch, strongly girded with A banquet in the flesh if covered o'er
gnatoo The gourd with water recent from
A plantain leaf o'er all, the more to the rill.
keep The ripe banana from the mellow
Its latent sparkle from the sapping hill;
deep. A pine torch pile to keep undying
This mantle kept it dry then from ; light;
a nook And she herself as beautiful as night,
Of the same plantain leaf, a flint To fling her shadowy spirit o'er the
she took, scene,
A few shrunk withered twigs, and And make their subterranean world
from the blade serene.
Of Torquil's knife struck fire, and She had foreseen, since first the
thus an-ayed stranger's sail
The grot with torchlight. Wide it Drew to their isle, that force or
was and high. flight might fail.
And showed a self-born Gothic can- And formed a refuge of the rocky
opy; den
The arch upreared by Nature's archi- For Torquil's safety from his coun-
tect. trymen.
The architrave some earthquake Each dawn had wafted there her
might erect; light canoe.
The buttress from some mountain's Laden with all the golden fruits that
bosom hurled. grew;
When the poles crashed and water Each eve had seen her gliding
was the world through the hour
There, with a little tinge of phan- With all could cheer or deck their
tasy. sparry bower
Fantastic faces moped and mowed And now she spread her little store
on high. with smiles.
And then a mitre or a shrine would The happiest daughter of the loving
fix isles.
The eye upon its seeming crucifix.
Then Nature played with the sta- 'Twas morn; and Neuha, who by
lactites. dawn of day
And built herself a chapel of the seas. Swam smoothly forth to catch tlie
rising ray.
And Neuha took her Torquil by the And watch if aught approached the
hand, amphibious lair
And waved along the vault her kin- Where lay her lover, saw a sail in
dled ^jrand, air:
 —
; ; : ;

380 PAENASSUS.

It flapped, it filled, then to the grow- Who shall mourn when red with
ing gale slaughter,
Bent its broad arch : her breath be- Finow sits on the funeral stone ?
gan to fail Who shall weep for his dying daugh-
With her heart beat
fluttering fear, ter?
thick and high, Who shall answer the red chief's
While yet a doubt sprung where its moan?
course might lie
But no! it came not; fast and far He shall cry unheard by the funeral
away, stone,
The shadow lessened as it cleared He shall sink unseen by the split
the bay. canoe.
She gazed, and flung the sea-foam Though the plantain-bird be his
from her eyes. alone,
To watch as for a rainbow in the And the thundering gods of Fanfon-
skies. noo.
On the horizon verged the distant
deck. Let us not think 'tis but an hour
Diminished, dwindled to a very Ere the wreath shall drop from the
speck warrior's waist;
Then vanished. All was ocean, all Let us not think 'tis but an hour
was ]oy We have on our perfumed mats to
Bybon. waste.

SONG OF THE TOKGA-ISLAND- Shall we not banquet, though Ton-

ga's king
ERS. To-morrow may hurt the battle-
spear ?
Come to Licoo ! the sun is riding
Let us whirl our torches, and tread
Down hills of
bowers
gold to his coral
the ring, —
He only shall find our foot-prints
Come where the wood-pigeon's moan here.
ischiding
The song of the wind, while we
gather flowers. We will dive, — and the turtle's track
shall guide
Let us plait the garland, and weave Our way to the cave where Hoonga
the chi, dwells,
While the wild waves dance on our Where under the tide he hides his
iron strand bride.
To-morrow these waves may wash And lives by the light of its starry
our graves. shells.
And the moon look down on a ruined
land. Come in yellow skies
to Licoo !

The sun shines bright, and the wild

Let us light the torches, and dip our waves play;
hair To-morrow for us may never rise ;
—
In the fragrant oil of the sandal- tree Come to Licoo, to-day, to-day.
Strike the bonjoo, and the oola share, Anonymous.
Ere the death-gods hear our jubilee.

Who are they that in floating towers

Come with their skins of curdled AMY WENTWORTH.
snows ?
They shall see our maidens dress our Her fingers shame the ivory keys
bowers. They dance so light along;
While the hooni shines on their sun- The bloom upon her parted lips
ny brows, Is sweeter than the song.
 ; ; : !! ! ;! !; ; : : :;

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 381

perfumed suitor, spare thy smiles And on her, from the wainscot old,
Her thoughts are not of thee Ancestral faces frown, —
She better loves the salted wind, And this has worn the soldier's
The voices of the sea. sword.
And that the judge's gown.
Her heart is an outbound ship
like
That at its anchor swings But, strong of will and proud as they,
The murmur of the stranded shell She walks the gallery-floor
Is in the song she sings. As if she trod her sailor's deck
By stormy Labrador
She sings, and, smiling, hears her
praise, The sweet-brier blooms on Kittery-
But dreams the while of one side.
Who watches from his sea-blown And green are Elliot's bowers
deck Her garden is the pebbled beach.
The icebergs in the sun. The mosses are her flowers.
She questions all the winds that blow, She looks across the harbor-bar
And every fog-wreath dim. To see the white gulls fly
And bids the sea-birds flying north His greeting from the Northern sea
Bear messages to him. Is in their clanging cry.

She speeds them with the thanks of She hums a song, and dreams that he,
men As in its romance old.
He perilled life to save. Shall homeward ride with silken
And grateful prayers like holy oil
To smooth for him the wave. And masts of beaten gold

Brown Viking of the fishing-smack O, rank is good, and gold is fair.

Fair toast of all the town
The skipper's jerkin ill beseems
The lady's silken gown!
But ne'er shall Amy Went worth
wear
For him the blush of shame
Who dares to set his manly gifts
Against her ancient name.
The stream is brightest at
And blood is not like wine
Nor honored than he who heirs
less
Is he who founds a line.
Full lightly shall the prize be won,
If love be Fortune's spur;
And never maiden stoops to him
Who lifts himself to her.
Her home is brave in Jaffrey Street,
With stately stairways worn
By feet of old Colonial knights
And ladies gentle-born.
green about its ample porch
Still
The English ivy twines.
Trained back to show in English oak
The herald's car van. signs.
!
— Andhigh and low mate ill
But love has never known a law
Beyond its own sweet will
Whittiee.
LADY CLARE.
It was the time when lilies blow.
Andclouds are highest up in air,
its spring, Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe
To give his cousin, Lady Clare.
Itrow they did not part in scorn
Lovers long-betrothed were they
They two will wed the morrow mom
G-od's blessing on the day
" He does not love me for my birth,
Kor for my lands so broad and fair
He loves for my own true worth.
me
And that is well," said Lady Clare.
In there came old Alice the nurse.
"Who was this that went
Said,
from thee ? "
"It was my cousin," said Lady
Clare,
" To-morrow he weds with me."
 ; ! :! : ! : : ;:

382 PAEJS-ASSTTS.

" O G-od be thanked " said Alice the

!
"O mother, mother, mother," she
nurse, said,
" That all comes round so just and " So strange it seems to me.
fair:
Lord Eonald is heir of all your lands, "Yet here' s a kiss for my mother dear,
And you are not the Lady Clare." My mother dear, if this be so.
And lay your hand upon my head,
"Are ye out of your mind, my And bless me, mother, ere 1 go."
nurse, my nurse? "
Said Lady Clare, "that ye speak She clad herself in a russet gown.
so wild?" She was no longer Lady Clare
"As God's above," said Alice the She went by dale, and she went by
nurse, down.
"I speak the truth: you are my With a single rose in her hair.
child.
The Lord Eonald had
lily-white doe
" The old Earl's daughter died at my brought
breast Leapt up from where she lay,
I speak the truth, as I live by bread Dropt her head in the maiden's hand.
I buried her like my own sweet child. And followed her all the way.
And put my child in her stead."
Down stept Lord Ronald from his
" Falsely, falsely have ye done, tower
O mother," she said, " if this be "O Lady Clare, you shame your
true. worth
To keep the best man under the sun Why come you drest like a village
So many years from his due." maid,.
That are the flower of the earth ? "
"Nay now, my child," said Alice
the nurse, " If I come drest like a village maid,
" But keep the secret for your life, I am but as my fortunes are
And all you have will be Lord Ron- I am a beggar born," she said,
ald's, " And not the Lady Clare."
When you are man and wife."
'•Play me no tricks," said Lord
" If I'm a beggar bom," she said, Eonald,
" I will speak out, for I dare not lie. " For I am yours in word and in
Pull off, pull off, the brooch of gold. deed.
And fling the diamond necklace Play me no tricks," said Lord Eonald,
by." " Your riddle is hard to read."

" Kay now, my child," said Alice the O and proudly stood she up
nurse, Her heart within her did not fail
" But keep the secret all ye can." She looked into Lord Ronald's eyes.
She said, " Not so but I will know
: And told him all her nurse's tale.
If there be any faith in man."
He laughed a laugh of merry scorn
" Nay now, what faith?" said Alice He turned and kissed her where
the nurse, she stood
"The man will cleave unto his " If you are not the heiress born,
right." And I," sa'd he, "the next In
"And he shall have it," the lady re- blood —
plied,
" Though I should die to-night." " If you are not the heiress born.
And I," said he, "the lawful heir
" Yet give one kiss to your mother We two will wed to-morrow morn,
dear! And you shall still be Lady Clare."
Alas, my child, I sinned for thee." Tennyson.
 ; ; ; , ; ; ; ; ; !;

NABKATrVE POEMS AND BAXjLADS. 383

AULD ROBIN GRAY. I wish I were dead, but I'm nae like
to dee
Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and And why do I live to say. Oh, waes
he sought me for his bride, me!
But saving a crown he had naething I gang like a ghaist, I carena to
else beside spin,
To make that crown a pound, my I darena think on Jamie, for that
Jamie gaed to sea, wad be a sin
And the crown and the pound were But I'll do my best a gude wife for to
baith for me. be.
He had na been awa a week but only For auld Robin Gray is kind unto
twa, me.
When my mither she fell sick, and Lady Anne Lindsay.
the cow was stown awa,
My father brak his arm, and my
Jamie at the sea.
And auld Robin Gray cam' a-court- WALY, WALY, BUT LOVE BE
ing to me. BONNY.
O, WALY, waly up the bank,
My father cou'dna work, and my
mither cou'dna spin;
And waly, waly down the brae.
I toiled baith day and night, but
And waly, waly yon burn-side,
their bread I cou'dna win
Where I and my love wont to gae.
Auld Rob maintained them baith,
my back unto
I leaned an aik,
and wi' tears in his ee
I thought itwas a trusty tree
Said, Jenny, for their sakes, oh, will
you marry me ? But first it bowed, and syne it brak, —
My heart it said nay I looked for
;
Sae my true love did light by me
Jamie back
O, waly, waly, but love be bonny,
But the wind it blew high, and the
ship it proved a wrack
A little time while it is new
But when 'tis auld it waxeth cauld,
The ship it proved a wrack, why — And fades away like the morning
didna Jenny dee?
dew.
And why do I live to say, Oh, waes
me!
O, wherefore should I busk my head ?
Or wherefore should I kame my hair ?
Auld Robin argued sair, though my For my true love has me forsook.
mither didna speak. And says he'll never love me mair.
She looked in my face till my heart
was like to break Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed
So they gied him my hand, though The sheets shall ne'er be fyled by
my heart was at the sea, me;
And auld Robin Gray is a gudeman St. Anton's well shall be my drink.
to me. Since my true love has forsaken me.
I hadna been a wife a week but only
four. Martinmas wind, when wilt thou
When sitting sae mournfully ae day blaw.
at the door, And shake the green leaves off the
I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I cou'd- tree?
na think it he, O gentle death , when wilt thou come ?
Until he said, Jenny, I'm come to For of my life I'm weary.
marry thee.
'Tis not the frost that freezes fell.
Oh, sair did we greet, and muckle Nor blawing thaw's inclemency;
did we say, 'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,
We took but ae kiss, and tore our- But my love's heart grown cauld to
selves away: me.
 ; ; ; ; ; ; ;! !; ; ; ; ;

384 PAENASStrS.

When we came in by Glasgow town. " Come up, come up, my eldest son,
We were a comely sight to see And look o'er yon sea-strand,
My love was clad in the black vel- And see your father's new-come
vet, bride.
And I mysel in cramasie. Before she come to land." —
But had I wist before I kissed, " Come down, come down, my
That love had been sae ill to win, mother dear.
I'd locked my heart in a case of Come the castle wa'
f rae
gold, I fear, if langer ye stand there,
And pinned it with a silver pin. Ye'll let yoursell down fa'." —
O, O, my young babe were born,
if And she gaed down, and farther
And set upon the nurse's knee, down.
And I mysel were dead and gane Her love's ship for to see
And the green grass growin' ower And the topmast and the mainmast
me! Shone like the silver free.
AifoirrMOTJs.
And she's gane down, and farther
down.
The bride's ship to bcliold;
FAIR ANNIE. And the topmast and the mainmast
They shone just like the gold.
"It's narrow, narrow, make your
bed. She's ta'en her seven sons in her
And learn to lie your lane; hand;
For I'm gaun o'er the sea, Fair Annie, Iwot she did'na fail
A braw bride to bring hame. She met Lord Thomas and his bride.
Wi' her I will get gowd and gear; As they came o'er the dale.
Wi' you I ne'er got nane.
"You're welcome to your house.
"But wha will bake my bridal bread. Lord Thomas
Or brew my bridal ale ? You're welcome to your land
And wha will welcome my brisk You're welcome, with your fair
bride. ladye.
That I bring o'er the dale ? " — That you lead by the hand.
" It's I will bake your bridal bread. " You're welcome to your ha's ladye,
And brew your bridal ale You're welcome to your bowers
And I will welcome your brisk bride, You're welcome to your hame, ladye,
That you bring o'er the dale." — For a' that's here is yours." —
" But she that welcomes my brisk " I thank thee, Annie ; I thank thee,
bride Annie
Maun gang like maiden fair Sae dearly as I thank thee
She maun lace on her robe sae jimp. You're the likest to my sister Annie,
And braid her yellow hair." — That ever I did see.

" But how can

I gang maiden-like. "There came a knight out o'er the
When maiden I am nane ? sea,
Have I not born seven sons to thee, And stealed my sister away
And am with child again ? " — The shame scoup in his company
And land where'er he gae " !
—
She's ta'en her young son in her
arms. She hang ae napkin at the door.
Another in her hand Another in the ha'
And she's up to the highest tower. And a' to wipe the trickling tears,
To see him come to land. Sae fast as they did fa'.
 — ; ; ! ; ; ; : ; ; " ;

NAKEATIVE POEMS AND BAT.T.ADS. 385

And aye she served the lang tables Has your wine barrells cast the girds.
With white bread and with wine Or is your white bread gone ?
And aye she drank the wan water,
To baud her colour fine. "O wha was't was your father, Annie,
Or wha was't was your mother ?
And aye she served the lang tables, And had you ony sister, Annie,
With white bread and with brown Or had you ony brother ? " —
And ay she turned her round about,
Sae fast the tears fell down. " The Earl of Wemyss was my father.
The Countess of Wemyss my mother
And he's ta'en down the silk napkin, And a' the folk about the house,
Hung on a silver pin To me were sister and brother." —
And aye he wipes the tear trickling
Adown her cheek and chin. " If the Earl of Wemyss was your
father,
And aye he turned him round about. I wot sae was he mine
And smiled amang his men, And it shall not be for lack o'gowd,
Says —
" Like ye best the old ladye. That ye your love sail tyne.
Or her that's new come hame ? " —
" Come to your bed, my sister dear,
When bells were rung, and mass was It ne'er was wranged for me.
sung. But an ae kiss of his merry niouth,
And a' men bound to bed. As we cam owre the sea."
Lord Thomas and his new-come bride,
To their chamber they were gaed. " Awa, awa, ye forenoon bride,
Awa, awa frae me
Annie made her bed a little forbye, I wudna hear my Annie greet.
To hear what they might say For a' the gold I got wi' thee."
" And ever alas " fair Annie cried,
!

" That I should see this day " O I have seven ships o' mine ain,
A' loaded to the brim
" Gin my seven sons were seven And I will gie them a' to thee,
young rats. Wi' four to thine eldest son.
Running on the castle wa', But thanks to a' the powers in heaven
And I were a grey cat mysell, That I gae maiden hame !

I soon would worry them a'. Scott's Vbesion.

" Grin my seven sons were seven

young hares. GRISELDA.
Running o'er yon lilly lee,
And I were a grew hound mysell. THE CLEKKES TAiE.
Soon worried they a' should be." —
Ther is right at the West side of
And wae and sad fair Annie sat, Itaille
And drearie was her sang Doun at the rote of Vesulus the cold,
And ever, as she sobbed and grat, A lusty plain,
abundant of vitaille,
" Wae to the man that did the Ther many a toun and tour thou
wrang " !
maist behold.
That founded were in time of fa-
" Mygown is on," said the new-come thers old.
bride, And many another delitable sighte.
" My shoes are on my feet, And Saluces this noble contree
And I will to fair Annie's chamber. highte.
And see what gars her greet.
A markis whilom lord was of that
"What ails ye, what ails ye. Fair land.
Annie, As were his worthy elders him before,
That ye make sic a moan ? And obeysant, ay redy to his hand.
25
 : : : : : .

386 PARNASSUS.

Were all his lieges, bothe lesse and Al have I not to don in this mat-
more: ere
Thus in delit he liveth, and hath More than another man ha,th in this
done yore, place,
Beloved and drad, thurgh favour of Yet for as moch as ye, my lord so
fortune, dere
Both of his lordes, and of his com- Han alway shewfed me favour and
mune. grace,
I dare the better aske of you a space
Therwlth he was, to speken of Of audience, to shewen our request.
linage. And ye, my lord, to don right as you
The gentilest yborne of Lombardie, lest.
A faire person, and strong, and yong
of age, For certes, lord, so wel us liketh you
And ful of honour and of curtesie And all your werke, and ever have
Discret ynough, his contree for to gie, don, that we
Save in som thinges that he was to Ke couden not ourself devisen how
blame, We mighten live in more felicitee
And Walter was this yongS lorde's Save one thing, lord, if it your wilM
name. be.
That for to be a wedded man you lest,
blame him thus, that he consid-
I
Then were your peple in soverain
ered nought
berths rest.
In time coming what might him be-
tide,
Boweth your nekke under the
But on his lust present was all his
blisful yok
thought,
Of soveraintee, and not of servise.
And for to hauke and hunt on every Which that men clepen spousalile or
side:
wedlok
Wei neigh all other cur^s let he slide,
And thinketh, lord, among your
And eke he n'old (and that was thought^s wise.
worst of all) How that our dayes passe in sondry
Wedden no wif for ought that might wise;
befall.
For though we slepe, or wake, or
Only that pointhispeplebare so sore, rome, or ride.
That flockmel on a day to him they Ay fleth the time, it wol no man
abide.
went.
And one of them, that wisest was of
lore,
And though your gren^ youthe
floure as yet.
(Or that the lord wold best as-
elJes
sent In crepeth age alway as still as stone,
That he shuld tell him what the And deth menaceth every age, and
peple ment. smit
Or elles coud he wel shew suich In eche estat, for ther escapeth none
matere) And al so certain, as we knowe eche
He to the markis said as ye shall here. one
That we shul die, as uncertain we
" O noble markis, your humanitee all
Assureth us and yeveth us hardiuesse, Ben of that day whan deth shal on
As oft as time is of necessitee. us fall.
That we to you may tell our hevi-
nesse Accepteth then of us the trewe
Accepteth, lord, then of your gen- entent.
tillesse. That never yet refus^den your best,
That we with pitous herte unto you And we wol, lord, if that ye wol aS'
plaiue, sent,
A.nd let your ere's not my vols dis- Chese you a wife in short time at the
daine. mest,
 : : :

NABEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 387

Botne of the gentillest and of the My mariage, and min estat, and
best rest
Of all this lond, so that it oughte I him betake, he may do as him
seme lest.
Honour to God and you, as we can
deme. "Let me alone in chosing of my
wife,
Deliver us out of all this besy That charge upon my bak I wol en-
drede, dure:
And take a wif, for highd Godd^s But I you pray, and charge upon
sake: your life,
For if it so befell, as God forhede. That what wif that I take, ye me
That thurgh your deth your linage assure
shulde slake. To worship her while that her life
And that a strange successour shuld may dure,
take In word and work both here and
Your heritage, o! wo were us on elles where.
live: As she an emperourfis daughter
Wherfore we pray you hastily to were.
wive."
" And forthermore this shuln ye
Hir mek6 prai^re and hir pitous swere, that ye
chere Again my chois shal never grutch ne
Made the markis for to han pitee. strive.
"Ye wol," quod he, "min owen For sith I shal forgo my libertee
peple dere. At your request, as ever mote I
To that I never ere thought con- thrive.
strainen me. Where as min herte is set, ther wol
I me rejoyced of my libertee, I wive
That selden time is found in mar- And but ye wol assent in such man-
iage: ere,
Thar I was free, I moste ben in ser- I pray you speke no more of this
vage. matere."

"But natheles I see your trewe With hertly will they sworen and
enteut, assenten
And trust upon your wit, and have To thing, ther saide not one
all this
don ay wight nay.
Wherfore of my free will I wol as- Beseching him of grace, or that
sent they wenten,
To wedden me, as sone as ever I That he wold granten them a cer-
may. tain day
But ther as ye han profred me to- Of his spousaile, as soqn as ever he
day may,
To chesen me a wife, I you relese For yet alway the peple somwhat
That chois, and pray you of that dred,
profer cese. Lest that this markis wolde no wif
wed.
" For God it wot, that children of-
ten ben He granted hem a day, such as
Unlike hir worthy eldres them be- him lest,
fore, On which he wold be wedded sikerly.
Bountee cometh al of God, not of And said he did all this at hir re-
the stren. quest.
Of which they ben ygendred and And they with humble herte ful
ybore buxumly
I trust in Godd^s bountee, and ther- Kneliug upon their knees ful rever-
fore ently
 : ; : : : : : :

388 PAENASSTJS.

Him thanked all, and thus they had But though this mayden temdre
an end were of age,
Of their entente, and home agen they Yet in the brest of her virginitee
wend. Ther was enclosed sad and ripe
corage :

And hereupon he
to his oflBceres And in great reverence and charitee
Commandeth for the f est^ to purvay. Her olde poure father f ostred she
And to his privet l^nightes and A few sheep spinning on the feld she
squieres kept,
Such charge he gave, as him list on She wolde not ben idel til she slept.
them
lay
And they to his command^ment obey, And whan she homeward came,
And eche of them doth all his dili- she wolde bring
gence Wortes and other herb^s times oft,
To do unto the feste all reverence. The which she shred and sethe for
her living,
PAKS SECUNDA. And made her bed ful hard, and
nothing soft :

Nought far fro thilke paleis hon- And ay she kept her f adres life on
ourable, loft
Wher as this markis shope his mar- With every obeisance and diligence,
iage, That child may don to f adres rever-
Ther stood a thorpe, of sighte denia- ence.
ble,
In which that pour^ folk of that Upon Grisilde, this pour^ creature,
village Ful often sithe this markis sette his
Hadden their bestfis and their her- eye,
bergage, As he on hunting rode paraventure
And of hir labour toke hir suste- And whan it fell that he might hire
tenance, espie.
After that the erthe gave them He not with wanton loklng of folie
abundance. His eyen cast on her, but in sad
wise
Among this pour6 folk ther dwelt Upon her chere he wold him oft
a man. avise,
Which that was holden poorest of
them all Commending in his herte her
But highe God somtim^ senden can womanhede,
His grace unto a litel oxes stall And eke her vertue, passing any
Janicola men of that thorpe him call. wight
A doughter had he, f aire enough to Of so yong age, as wel in chere as
sight. dede.
And Grisildis this yonge maiden For though the peple have no great
bight. insight
In virtue, he considered ful right
But for to speke of vertuous beau- Her bountee, and disposed that he
tee, wold
Then was she one the fairest under Wedde her only, if ever he wedden
Sonne shold.
Ful pourMy yfostred up was she
Ko likerous lust was in hire herte The day of wedding came, but no
yronne wight can
Wei ofter of the well than of the Tellen what woman that it shnld^
tonne be,
She dranke, and for she wolde vertue For which mervaill^ wondred many
plese, a man.
She knew wel labour, but none idel And saiden, whan they were in pri-
vetee.
 ! : :

NAEEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 389

Wol not our lord yet leve his vanitee ? She thought, "I wol with other
Wol he not wedde? alas, alas the maidens stond,
while That ben my felawes, in our dore,
Why wol he thus himself and us and see
begile ? The markisesse, and therto wol I fond
To don at home, as soon as it may be,
But natheles this markis hath do The labour which that longeth unto
make me,
Of gemmes, sette in gold and in And than I may at leiser her behold,
asure, If she this way unto the castel hold."
Broches and ringes, for Grisildes
sake, And as she wolde over the thres-
And of her clothing toke he the wold gon,
mesure The markis came and gan her for to
Of a maiden like unto her stature. call,
And eke of other ornamentfes all. And she set doun her water-pot anon
That unto swiche a wedding shuld^ Beside the threswold in an oxes stall,
fall. And doun upon her knees she gan to
fall,
The time of underne of the same And with sad countenance kneleth
day still.
Approcheth, that this wedding Til she had herd what was the lordes
shuld6 be. will.
And all the paleis put was in ar-
ray, This thoughtful markis spake unto
Both halle and chambres, eche in this maid
his degree, Ful soberly, and said in this manere
Houses of oflBce stuffed with plen- "Wher is your fader, Grisildis?" he
tee said.
Ther mayst thou see of dainteous And she with reverence in humble
vitaille. chere
That may be found, as far as lasteth Answered," Lord, he is al redy here."
Itaille. And in she goth withouten lenger
lette,
This real markis ricMly arraide, And to the markis she hire fader
Lordes and ladies in his compagnie, fette.
The which unto the fest^ weren
praide, He by the hand than toke this
And of his retenue the baohelerie. poure man,
With many a sound of sondry mel- And saide thus, whan he him had
, odie. aside
of the which I told.
Unto the village, " Janicola, I neither may nor can
In this array the rights way they Longer the plesance of mine herte'
hold. hide.
If that thou vouchesauf, what so
Grisilde of this (God wot) ful inno- betide,
cent. Thy doughter wol I take or that I
That for her shapen was all this wend
array. As for my wif, unto her lives end.
To fetchen water at a welle is went.
And Cometh home as sone as ever " Thou lovest me, that wot I wel
she may. certain.
For wel she had Jierd say, that thilk^ And art my faithful liegeman ybore.
day And all that llketh me, I dare wel
The markis shuld^ wedde, and, if sain
she might, It liketh thee, and specially therfore
She wold6 fayn han seen some of Tell me that point, that I have said
that sight. before.
 : : : :

390 PARNASSUS.

If that thou wolt unto this purpos "Grisilde," he said, "yeshulnwel

drawe, understond,
To taken me as for thy son in lawe." It liketh to your fader and to me.
That I you wedde, and eke it may so
This soden cas this man astoned stond
so, As I suppose, ye wol that it so be
That red he wex, abaist, and al But thise demaundfe aske I first
quaking (quod he)
He stood, unnethfes said he wordes That sin it shal be don in hasty wise,
mo. Wol ye assent, or elles you avise ?
But only thus; "Lord," quod he,
" my willing " I say this, be ye redy with good
Is as ye wol, ne ageins your liking herte
I wol no thing, min owen lord so To all my lust, and that I freejy may
dere. As me best thinketh do you laugh or
Right as you list, governeth this smerte.
matere." And never ye to grutchen, night ne
day.
"Than wol I," quod this markis And eke whan I say yea, ye say not
softely, nay,
" That in thy chambre, I, and thou, Neither by word, ne frouning coun-
and she. tenance ?
Have a collation, and wost thou why ? Swere this, and here I swere our alli-
For I wol ask her, if it her wille be ance."
To be my wif, and rule her after
me: Wondring upon this thing, quak-
And all thisshal be done in thy ing for drede,
presence, She saide, " Lord, indigne and un-
I wol not speke out of thine au- worthy
dience." Am I, to thilke honour, that ye me
bede.
And in the chambre, while they But as ye wolyourself, right so wol I
were about And here I swere, that never will-
The tretee, which as ye shul after ingly
here, In werk, ne thought, I n'ill you dis-
The peple came into the hous with- obeie
out. For to be ded, though me were loth
And wondred them, in how honest to deie."
manere
Ententifly she kept hire fader dere "This is ynough, Grisilde min,"
But utterly Grisildis wonder might. quod he.
For never erst ne saw she swiche a And forth he goth with a ful sobre
sight. chere.
Outat the dore, and after then came
No wonder is though that she be she.
astoued. And to the peple he said in this
To see so gret a gest come in that manere
place. "This is my wif," quod he, "that
She never was to non such gestes stondeth here.
woned, Honoureth her, and loveth her, I
For which she loked with ful pale pray,
face. Wlio so me loveth, ther n'is no more
But shortly forth this matere for to to say." »

chace.
These are the worde's that the And for that nothing of her olde
markis said gere
To this benign^, veray, faithful She shulde bring into his hous, he
maid. bad
 :: : :

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 391

That women shuld despoilen her She doughter n'as, for as by conjec-
right there, ture
Of which thise ladies weren nothing Hem thoughte she was another crea-
glad ture.
To handle her clothes wherin she
was clad For though that ever vertuous
But natheles this maiden bright of was she.
hew She was encresM in swiche excel-
Fro foot to hed they clothed han all lence
new. Of thewes good, yset in high boun-
tee,
Her heres han they kempt, that And so discrete, and faire of elo-
lay untressed quence,
Ful rudely, and with her fingres smal So benigne, and so digne of rev-
A coroune on her hed they han erence,
ydressed. And coud^ so the peples herte em-
And sette her ful of
nouches gret brace.
and smal That eche her loveth that loketh on
Of her array what shuld I make a her face.
tale?
TJnneth the peple her knew for her Nor only of Saluces in the toun
fairnesse, Published was the bountee of her
Whan she transmewfed was in swiche name.
richesse. But eke beside in many a regioun.
If one saith wel, another saith the
This markis hath her spousfed with same:
a ring So spredeth of her hie bountee the
Brought for the same cause, and than fame.
her sette That men and women, yong as wel
Upon an hors snow-wliite, and wel as old,
ambling, Gon to Saluces upon her to behold.
And to his paleis, or >.„ lenger lette,
(With joyful peple, that her lad and Thus Walter lowly, nay but really.
mette) Wedded with fortuuat honestetee,
Conveyed her, and thus the day they In Goddes peace liveth ful esily
spende At home, and grace ynough outward
In revel, til the sonn^ gan descende. had he
And forhe saw that under low de-
And shortly forth this tale for to gree
chace, Was honest vertue hid, the peple
I say, that to this new6 markisesse him held
God hath swiche favour sent her of A prudent man, and that is seen ful
his grace, seld.
That it ne semeth not by likelinesse
That she was borne and fed in rude- Not only this Grisildis thurgh
nesse. her wit
As in a cote, or in an oxes stall, Coude all the fete of wifly homli-
But nourished in an emperoures hall. nesse.
But eke whan that the cas required
To every wight she waxen is so dere. it.

And worshipful, that folk ther she The comun^ profit coude she re-
was bore dresse
And fro her birthd knew her yere by Ther n'as discord, rancour, ue
yere, hevinesse
Unnethes trowed they, but dorst han In all the lond, that she ne coude
swore, appese.
That to Janicle, of which I spake And wisely bring hem all in herte's
before. ese.
 : ; : : : ;

392 PARNASSUS.

Though that her husbond absent And sayde thus " Grisilde " (quod
:

were or non, ' he) "that day

If gentilraen, or other of that contree That I you toke out of your poure
Were wroth, she wolde bringen them array,
at one, And put you in estat of high noblesse,
So wise and ripe wordes hadde she, Ye han it not forgotten, as I gesse.
And jugement of so gret equitee,
That she from heven sent was, as "I say, Grisilde, this present dig-
men wend, nitee,
Peple to save, and every wrong to In which that I have put you, as I
amend. trow,
Maketh you not forgetful for to be
Not longe time after that this That I you toke in poure estat ful
Grisilde low.
Was wedded, she a doughter hath For ony wele ye mote yourselven
ybore. know.
All had hire lever han borne a knave Take hede of every word that I you
child say,
Glad was the markis and his folk Ther is no wight that hereth it but
therfore, we tway.
For though a maiden childe come
all before. "
Te wote yourself wel how that
She may unto a knave child atteine ye came here
By likelyhed, sin she n'is not bar- Into this hous, it is not long ago.
reine. And though to me ye be right lefe
and dere,
PABS TEBTIA. Unto my gentils ye be nothing so
Ther fell,as it befalleth tim^s mo, They say, to hem it is gret shame
Whan that this childe had soukfed and wo
but a throwe, For to be suggetes, and ben in ser-
This markis in his hert^ longed so vage
To tempt his wif, her sadnesse for To thee, that borne art of a smal
to knowe, linage.
That he ne might out of his herte
" And namely since thy doughter
throwe
This marveillous desir his wif to was ybore,
assay, These wordes han they spoken
Needles, God wot, he thought hire douteles.
to affray. But I desire, as I have don before.
To live mylif with them in rest and
He had assaied her enough before, peace
And found her ever good, what I may not in this case be reccheles
nedeth it I mote do with thy doughter for the
Her and alway more
for to tempt, best.
and more ? Not as I wold, but as my gentils lest.
Though some men praise it for a
subtil wit, "And yet, God wote, this is ful
But as for me, I say that evil it sit loth to me
To assay a wife when that it is no But natheles withouten youre weting
nede. I wol nought do, but thus wol I
And putten her in anguish and in (quod he)
drede. That ye to me assenten in this thing.
Shew now youre patience in youre
For which this markis wrought in werking
this manere That ye me hight and swore in youre
He came a-night alone ther as she lay village
With sternd face, and with ful trouble The day that makfed was our mari-
chere. age."
 : : : ) : :

NAEEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 393

Whan she had herd all this, she That lordds hest^s may not ben
not aiiieved yfeined.
Neyther in word, in chere, ne They may wel be bewailed and com-
countenance, plained.
( For as it semed, she was not agreved But men mote nedes to their lust
She sayde: "Lord, all lith in your obey.
plesance, And so wol I, ther n'is no more to
My child and I, with hertely obei- say.
sance
Ben youres all, and ye may save or " This child I am commanded for
spill. to take."
Tour owen thing: werketh after And spake no more, but out the
your will. child he hent
Despiteously, and gan a chere to
Ther may no thing, so God my make,
soule save, As though he wold have slain it, or
Like unto you, that may displesen he went.
me: Grisildis must al suffer and al con-
Ne I desire nothing for to have, sent :
Ne drede for to lese, sauf only ye And as a lambe, she sitteth meke
This will is in myn herte, and ay and still.
shal be. And let this cruel sergeant do his
No length of time, or deth may this will.
deface,
Ne change my
corage to an other Suspecious was the diffame of this
place." man.
Suspect his face, suspect his word
Glad was this markis for her also.
answering. Suspect the time in which he this
But yet he f eined as he were not so, began
Al drery was his chere and his Alas ! her doughter, that she lovM
loking. so.
Whan that he shuld out of the cham- She wende he wold han slai6n it
bre go. right tho.
Sone after this, a furlong way or two. But natheles she neither wept ne
He prively hath told all his entent siked,
Unto a man, and to his wif him sent. Conforming her to that the markis
liked.
A maner sergeant was this priv^
man. But at the last to speken she began.
The which he faithful often founden And mekely she to the sergeant praid
had (So as he was a worthy gentil man)
In thinges gret, and eke swiche folk That she might kiss her child, or
wel can that it deid
Don execution on thinges bad And in her barme this litel child she
The lord knew wel, that he him loved leid.
and drad. With ful sad face, and gan the child
And whan this sergeant vrist his to blisse.
lordes will. And lulled it, and after gan it kisse.
Into the chambre he stalked him ful
still. And thus she sayd in her benigne
vols:
"Madame," he sayd, "ye mote "Farewel, my child, I shal thee
forgive it me. never see,
Though I do thing, to which I am But sin I have thee marked with
constreined the crois.
Ye ben so wise, that right wel Of thilke fader yblessed mote thou
knowen ye, be,
 : ' :
; ;
:

394 PARNASSUS.

That for us died upon a crois of tree He shuld it take, and shew hire this
Thy soule, litel child, I him betake, matere,
Fof this night shalt thou dien for Beseching hire to don her besinesse
my sake." This child to fostren in all gentillesse,
And whos child that it was he bade
I trow that to a norice in this case her hide
Ithad ben hard this routhe for to From every wight, for ought that
see: may betide.
Wei might a moder than han cried
alas, This sergeant goth, and hath ful-
But natheles so sad stedfast was she, filde this thing.
That she endured all adversitee, But marquis now retorii^ we
to this
And to the sergeant mekely she sayde, For now goth he ful fast imagining,
" Have here agen your litel yonge If by his wives chere he mights see,
mayde. Or by her word6s apperceive, that she
Were changed, but he never coud
"Goth now" (quod she) "and hire finde.
doth my lordes hest But ever in one ylike sad and kinde.
And one thing wold I pray you of
your grace. As
glad, as humble, as besy in
But if my lord forbade you at the lest, service
Burieth this litel body in some place, And eke in love, as she was wont to
That bestes ne no birdies it to-race." be.
But he no word to that purpos wold Was she to him, in every manner wise
say. Ne of her doughter not a word spake
But toke the child and went upon she:
his way. Non accident for non adversitee
Was seen in her, ne never her
This sergeant came unto his lord doughter's name
again, Ne nevened she, for emest ne for
And of Grisildes word^s and her chere 1 game.
He told him point for point, in short
and plain. PARS Q0ABTA.
And him presented with his doughter
dere. In this estat ther passed ben foure
Somwhat this lord hath routhe in yere
his manere. Er she with childe was, but, as God
But natheles his purpos held he still, wold,
As lordes don, whan they wol han A knave childe she bare by this
hir will. Waltere
Ful gracious, and fair for to behold
And bad this sergeant that he And whan that folk it to his fader
prively told.
Shulde this child ful softe wind and Not only he, but all his contreemery
wrappe, Was for this childe, and God they
With alle circumstances tendrely. thonke and hery.
And carry it in a coffer, or in a lappe
But upon peinehis had off for to Whanit was two yere old, and
swappe from the brest
That no man shulde know of his Departed of his norice, on a day
entent, This markis caughte yet another lest
Ne whence he came, ne whither that To tempte his wif yet ofter, if he
he went; may.
O nedeles was she tempted in assay.
!

But
at Boloigne, unto his sister But wedded men ne connen no
dere. mesure.
That thilke time of Pavie was Whan that they finde a patient crea-
countesse, ture.
 : : :

NAEEATIVE POEMS AJSTD BALLADS, 395

"Wif," quod this markis- ye For as I left at home al my clothing
ban herd or this Whan I came first to you, right so
My peple sikely beren our mariage, (quod she)
And namely sin my
son yboren is, Left I my will and al my libertee.
Now is it worse than ever in all our And toke your clothing wherfore I :

age: you prey.

The murmur sleth myn herte and Doth your plesance, I wol youre
mycorage, lust obey.
For to mine eres cometb the vois so
smerte, " And certes, if I hadde prescience
That it wel nie destroyed hath my Your will to know, er ye your lust
herte. me told,
I wold it do withouten negligence
" Now say they thus, whan Walter But now Iwote your lust, and what
is agon, ye wold.
Than shal the blood of Janicle suc- All your plesance ferme and stable
cede, I hold.
And ben our lord, for other ban we For wist I that my deth might do
none: you ese,
Swiche wordes sayn my peple, it is Eight gladly wold I dien, you to
no drede, plese.
Wel ought I of swiche murmur
taken hede, " Deth may not maken no compari-
For certainly I drede al swiche sen- soun
tence, Unto your love." And whan this
Though they not plainen in myn markis say
audience. The Constance of his wif, he cast
adoun
"I wolde live in pees, if that I His eyen two, and wondreth how
might she may
Wherfore I am disposed utterly, In patience suffer al this array:
As I his suster served er by night, And forth he goth with drery con-
Right so thinke I to serve him tenance,
prively. But to bis herte it was ful gret ples-
This warne I you, that ye not sod- ance.
enly
Out of yourself for no wo shuld This ugly sergeant in the same
outraie, wise
Beth patient, and thereo^I you praie.'' That he her doughter caughte, right
so he
"I have," quod she, "sayd thus (Or werse, if men can any werse de-
and ever shal, vise)
I wol no thing, ne n'ill no thing Hath bent her son, that ful was of
certain. beautee
But as you list not greveth me at al.
: And ever in on so patient was she.
Though that my doughter and my That she no chere made of hevi-
sone be slain nesse.
At your commandement that is to : But kist her sone and after gan it
sain, blesse.
I have not had no part of children
twein, Save this she praied him, if that
But firstsikenesse, and after wo and he might.
peine. Her litel sone he wold in erth€
grave,
" Ye ben my lord, doth with your His tendre limmds, delicat to sight.
owen thing Fro f oules and fro bestes for to save.
Right as you list, asketh no rede of But she non answer of him mights
me: have.
 : : ; : : ;

396 PARNASSUS.

He went his way, as him no thing For which it semed thus, that of
ne rought, them two
But to Boloigne he tendrely it Ther was but one will for as Wal- ;

brought. ter lest.

The same lust was hire plesance also
This markis wondreth ever lenger And God be thanked, all fell for the
the more best.
Upon her patience, and if that he She shewed wel, for no worldly un-
Ne hadde sothly Icnowen tlierbefore. rest
That parfitly her children loved she, A wif, as of hirself, no thing ne
He wold han wend that of som sub- sholde
tiltee Wille in effect, but as her husbond
And of malice, or for cruel corage, wolde.
That she had sufEred this with sad
visage. The sclandre of Walter wonder
wide spradde.
But wel he knew, that next him- That of a cruel herte he wikkedly.
self, certain For he a poure woman wedded hadde.
She loved her children best in every Hath murdred both his children
wise. prively
But now of women wold I askeu Such murmur was among them
fayn. comunly.
If thise assaies migliten not suffise No wonder is : for to the peples' ere
What coud a sturdy husbond more Ther came no word, but that they
devise murdred were.
To preve her wifhood, and her sted-
fastnesse. For which ther as his people ther-
And he continuing ever in sturdi- before
iiesse ? Had loved him wel, the sclandre of
his diffame
But ther be folk of such condi- Made them that they him hateden
tion, therfore
That, whan they han a certain pur- To ben a murdrour is an hateful
pos take. name.
They can not stint of their inten- But natheles, for ernest ne for game,
tion. He of his cruel purpos n'olde stente,
But, right as they were bounden to To tempt his wif was sette all his
entente.
They wol not of their firste purpose
slake Whan that his doughter twelf yere
Eight so this markis fully hath pur- was of age,
posed He to the court of Rome, in subtil
To tempt his wif, as he was first dis- wise
Enformed of his will, sent his mes-

He waiteth, if by word or conte- Commanding him, swiche billes to

nance devise,
That she to him was changed of As to his cruel purpos may su,ffise.
corage How that the pope, as for his peples
But never coud he finden variance. rest.
She was ay one in herte and in vis- Bade him to wed another, if him lest.
age.
And ay the further that she was in I say he bade, they shulden con-
age. trefete
The more trewe (if that were possi- The popes buUes, making mention
ble) That he hath leve his firste wif to
She was to him in love, and more lete,
penible. As by the popes dispensation,
 : : :; : ;

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 897

To stinten rancour and dissension Toward Saluces shaping their jour-
Betwix his peple and him: thus nay •

spake the bull, Fro day to day they riden in their

The which they han published at way.
the full.
PABS QUINTA.
The rude peple, as no wonder is,
Wenden ful wel, that it had ben Among al this, after his wicked
right so usage,
But whan thise tidings came to Grri- This markis yet his wif to tempten
sildis, moi-e
I deme that her herte was ful of wo To the uttereste proof of hire corage.
But she ylike sad for evermo Fully to have experience and lore.
Disposed was, this humble creature, If that she were as stedefast as be-
The adversitee of fortune al to en- fore.
dure ;
He on a day in open audience
Ful boistously hath said her this
Abiding ever his lust and his ples- sentence
ance,
To whom that she was yeven, herte " Certes, Grisilde, I had ynough
and al. plesance
As to hire veray worldly suffisance. To han you to my wif, for your
But shortly if this storie tell I shal, goodnesse,
This markis writen hath in special And for your trouthe, and for your
A lettre, in which he sheweth his en- obeysance,
tente, Not for your linage, ne for your ricli-
And secretly he to Boloigne it sente. esse,
But now know I in v.eray sothfastr
To the erl of Pavie, which that nesse.
hadde tho That in gret lordship, if I me wel
Wedded his suster, prayed he spe- avise,
cially Ther is gret servitude in sondry wise.
To bringen home agein his children
two " I may not do, as every ploughman
In honourable estat al openly may:
But one thing he him prayfed utterly, My peple me constreineth for to
That he to no wight, though men take
wold enquere, Another wif, and crien day by day
Shulde not tell whos children that And eke the pope rancour for to
they were, slake
Consenteth it, that dare I under-
But say, the maiden shuld ywedded take :

be And trewely, thus moche I wol you

Unto the markis of Saluces anon. say.
And as this erl was prayed, so did he. My newe wif is coming by the way.
For at day sette he on his way is gon
Toward Saluces, and lordes many on "Be strong of herte, and voide
In rich arraie, this maiden for to gide. anon hire place,
Her yonge brother riding hire beside. And thilke dower that ye broughten
me
Arraied was toward her manage Take it agen, I grant it of my grace,
This fresshe maiden, ful of gemmes Eeturneth to your fadres hous,
clere, (quod he)
Her brother, which that seven yere No man may al way have prosperitee.
was of age, With even herte I rede you to en-
Arraied eke ful fresh in his manere dure
And thus in gret noblesse and with The stroke of fortune, or of aven-
glade chare ture."
 ; : ;

398 PAENASStrS.

And she agen answerd in pa- That whilom weren all myn berths
tience : rest,
" My lord," quod she, " I wote, and That I shal gon, I wot go whan you
wist alway, lest.
How that betwixen your magnifi-
cence " But ther as ye me profer swiche
And my poverte no wight ne can ae dowaire
may As it is wel in my
I first brought,
Malcen comparison, it is no nay mind,
I ne held me never digne in no man- It were my wretched clothes, noth-
ere ing faire,
To be your wif, ne yet your cham- The which to me were hard now for
berere. to find.
O goode God how ! gentil and how
"And in this hous, therye me lady kind
made, Ye semed by your speche and your
(The highe God take I for my wit- visage.
nesse, The day that maked was cure mar-
And all so wisly he my
soule glad) riage !

I never held me lady ne maistresse,

But humble servant to your worthi- " But soth is said, algate I find it
nesse, trewe.
And ever shal, while that my lif may For in effect it preved is on me.
dure, Love is not old, as whan that it is
Aboven every worldly creature. newe.
But certes, lord, for non adversitee
" That ye so longe of your benigni- To dien in this cas, it shal not be
tee That ever in word or werke I shal
Han holden me in honour and no- repent.
bley, That I you yave min herte in whole
Wlieras I was not worthy for to be. entent.
That thanke I God and you, to whom
I prey " My lord, ye wot, that in my fa-
Foryelde it you, ther is no more to ther's place
sey: Ye did me stripe out of my poure
Unto my fader gladly wol I wende, wede.
And with him dwell unto my liv^s And richely ye clad me of your
ende; grace;
To you brought I nought elles out
"TherI was fostred of a childe of drede.
ful smal, But faith and nakednesse, and mai-
Till I be dead my life there will I denhede
lead, And here agen your clothing I re-
A widew clene in body, herte andal. store.
For sith I gave to you my maiden- And eke your wedding ring for ever-
hede. more.
And am your trewe wif, it is no drede,
God shilde such a lordfis wif to take "The remenant of your jeweles
Another man to husbond or to make. redy be
Within your chambre, I dare it safly
" And of your newe wif, God of sain;
his grace Naked out of my father's hous
So graunte you wele and prosperite (quod she)
For I wol gladly yelden her my place. I came,and naked I mote tume again.
In which that I was blisful >vont to AH your plesance wolde I folwefain'.
be. But yet I hope it be not your entent,
For sith it liketh you, my lord, That I smockless out of your paleis
(quod she) went.
 ; :

KAKRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 399

"Te coude not do so dishonest a For out of doute this olde poure
thing, man
That wombe, in which your
thilke Was ever in suspect of her mariage
children lay, For ever he demed, sin it first began.
Shulde before the peple, in my walk- That whan the lord fulfilled had his
ing, corage.
Be seen wherfore I you
al bare: Him wolde tliinke it were a dispar-
pray age
Let me not like a worme go by the Tohis estat, so lowe for to alight.
way: And voiden her as sone as ever he
Remembre you, min owen lord so might.
dere,
I was your wif though
, I unworthy Agein his doughter hastily goth he,
were. (For he by noise of folk knew her
coming)
" Wherfore in guerdon of my maid- And with her olde cote, as it might
enhede, be.
Which that I brought and not agen He covereth her ful sorwefuUy wep-
I bere, ing:
As vouchesauf to yeve me to my But on her body might he it not
mede bring,
But swiche a smok as I was wont to For rude was the cloth, and more of
were, age
That I therwith may wrie the wombe By dales fele than at her mariage.
of her
That was your wif and here
: I take Thus with her fader for a certain
my leve space
Of you, min owen lord, lest I you Dwelleth this flour of wifly patience,
greve." That nother by her wordes ne her
face,
" The smok," quod he, " that thou Befom the folk, ne eke in her ab-
hast on thy bake. sence,
Let it be still, and bere it forth with Ne shewed she that her was don
thee." offence,
But wel unnethes thilke word he Ne of her high estat no remembrance
spake, Ne hadde she, as by hire contenance.
But went his way for routhe and for
pitee. No wonder is, for in her gret estat
Before the folk hireselven stripeth Her gost was ever in pleine humili-
she. tee;
And in her smok, with foot and hed No tendre mouth, no herte delicat,
al bare. No pompe, no semblant of realtee
Toward her fadres hous forth is she But ful of patient benignitee.
fare. Discrete, and prideles, ay honoura-
ble.
The folk her folwen weplng in hir And to her husbond ever meke and
wey, stable.
And fortune ay they cursen as they
gon: Men speke of Job, and most for
But she fro weping kept her eyen his humblesse,
drey, As clerkes, whan hem list, can wel
Ne in this time word ne spake she endite.
non. Namely of men, but as in sothf ast-
Her that this tiding herd
fader, nesse,
anon, Though clerkes preisen women but
Curseth the day and time, that na- a lite,
ture Ther can no man in humblesse him
Shope him to ben a lives creature. acquite
 ; : : ; : : :

400 PAENASStrS.

As woman can, ne can be half so Not only, lord, that I am glad

trewe (quod she)
As women ben, but it be falle of To don your lust, but I desire also
newe. You for to serve and plese in my
degree,
PAES SEXTA. Withouten fainting, and shal evermo
Ne never for no wele, ne for no wo,
Fro Boloigne is this erl of Pavie Ne shal the gost within myn herte
come, stente
Of which the fame up sprang to To love you best with all my trewe
more and lesse entente."
And to the peples eres all and some
Was couth eke, that a newe mar- And with that word she gan the
kisesse hous to dight,
He with him brought, in swiche And tables for to sette, and beddes
pomp and richesse. make.
That never was ther seen with And peined hire to don all that she
mannes eye might,
So noble array in al West Lumbardie. Praying the chambereres for Goddes'
sake
The markis, which that shope and To hasten hem, and faste swepe and
knew all this, shake.
Er that this erl was come, sent his And she the moste serviceable of all
message Hath every chambre arraied, and his
For thilke poure sely Grisildis hall.
And she with humble herte and glad
visage, Abouten undern gan this erl alight.
Not with no swollen thought in her That with him brought thise noble
corage. children twey;
Came at his best, and on her knees For which the peple ran to see the
her sette, sight
And reverently and wisely she him Of hir arrayed, so richely besey:
grette. And than at erst amonges them they
sey,
"Grrisilde," (quod he) "my will is That Walter was no fool, though
utterly, that him lest
This maiden, that shal wedded be to To change his wif ; for it was for the
me, best.
Received be to-morwe as really
As it possible is in myn hous to be For she is fairer, as they demen
And eke that every wight in his all.
degree Than is Grisilde, and more tendre
Have his estat in sitting and service. of age.
And high plesance, as I can best And fairer fruit betwene hem shulde
devise. fall.
And more plesamt for hire high
" I have no woman sufHsant certain linage
The chambres for to array in ordi- Hire brother eke so faire was of
nance visage,
After my lust, and therfore wolde That hem to seen the peple hath
I fain, caught plesance.
That thin were all swiche raanere Commending now the markis gover-
governance nance.
Thou kuowest eke of old all my
plesance O stormy peple; unsad and ever
Though thin array be bad, and evil untrewe.
besey. And undiscrete, and changing as a
Do thou thy devoir at the leste wey. fane,
 : ; :; :

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 401

Delighting ever in rombel that Is But at the last whan that thise lordes
newe, wend
For like the mone waxen ye and To sitten doun to mete, he gan to call
wane: Grisilde, as she was besy in the hall.
Ay ful of clapping, dere ynough a
jane, " Grisilde, (quod he, as it were in
Your dome is fals, your Constance his play)
evil preveth, How liketh thee my wif, and hire
A ful gret fool is he that on you beautee?"
leveth. "Eight wel, my lord, (quod she,) for
in good fay,
Thus saiden sade folk in that citee. A fairer saw I never non than she
Whan that the peple gased up and I pray to God yeve you prosperitee
doun: And so I hope, that he wol to you
For they were glad, right for the send
noveltee, Plesance ynough unto your lives
To have a newe lady of Mr toun. end."
No more of this make I now men-
tioun, " O thing beseche I you and warne
But to Grisilde agen I wol me dresse, also.
And telle hire Constance, and hire That ye ne prikke with no turment-
besinesse. ing
This tendre maiden as ye han do mo
Ful besy was Grisilde in every For she is fostred in her norishing
thing. More tendrely, and to my supposing
That to the feste was appertinent She mighte not adversitee endure.
Eight naught was she abaist of hire As coude a poure fostred creature."
clothing,
Though it were rude, and somdel eke And when this Walter saw her
to-rent, patience.
But with glad chere to the yate is Her glade chere, and no malice at
went all.
With other folk, to grete the mar- And he so often hadde her don
offence.
And after that doth forth hire And she ay sade and constant as a
besinesse. wall.
Continuing ever her innocence over
With so glad chere his gestes she all.
receiveth. This sturdy markis gan his herte
And conningly everich in his degree. dresse
That no defaute no man apper- To rewe upon her wifly stedefast-
ceiveth, nesse.
But ay they wondren what she
mighte be. " This is ynough, Grisilde min,
That in so poure array was for to (quod he,)
see, Be now no more agast, ne evil apaid,
And coude swlche honour and rever- I have thy faith and thy benign itee.
ence, As wel as ever woman was, assaid
And worthily they preisen hire pru- I gret estat, and pourelich arraied :

dence. Now know I, dere wif, thy stedefast-

nesse,
In all this mene while she ne stent And her in armes toke, and gan to
This maide and eke hire brother to kesse.
commend
With hire herte in ful benigne
all And she for wonder toke of it no
entent. kepe.
So wel, that no man coud hire preise She herde not what thing he to her
amend said:
26
 : ; ; :

402 PARNASSUS.

She ferde as she had stert out of a " O tendre, o dere, o yonge children
slepe, mine.
Til she out of her masednesse abraid. Tour wof ul mother wened stedf astly.
" Grisilde, (quod he,) by God that That cruel houndes, or some foul
for us deid, vermine
Thou art my
wif non other I ne have,
, Had eten you but God of his mercy
;

Ne never had, as God my

soule save. And your benigne fader tendrely
Hath don you kepe:" and in that
" This is thy doughter, which thou same stound
hast supposed Al sodenly she swapt adoun to
To be my wif ; that other faithfully ground.
Shal be min heir, as I have ay dis-
And in her swough so sadly hold-
Thou bare hem of thy body trewely eth she
At Boloigne have I kept hem prively Her children two, whan she gan hem
Take hem agen, for now maist thou embrace,
not say. That with gret sleight and gret diffi-
That thou hast lorn non of thy chil- cultee
dren tway. The children from her arm they gan
arrace
" And folk, that otherwise han O! many a tere on many a pitous
said of me, face
I warne hem wel, that I have don Doun ran of hem that stodeu her
this dede beside,
For no malice, ne for no crueltee. Unnethe abouten her might they
But for to assay in thee thy woman- abide.
hede :

And not to slee my children (God for- Walter her gladeth, and her sorwe
bede) slaketh.
But for to kepe hem prively and still. She riseth up abashed from her
Til I thy purpos knew, and all thy trance.
will." And every wight her joye and feste
maketh.
Whan she this herd aswoune doun Til she hath caught agen her conte-
she falleth nance.
For pitous joye, and after her swoun- Walter hire doth so faithfully ples-
ing ance,
She both her yonge children to her Thet it was deintee for to seen the
calleth, chere
And weping
in her armes pitously Betwix hem two, sin they ben met
Embraceth hem, and tendrely kissing in fere.
Ful like a moder with her salte teres
She bathed both her visage and her Thise ladies, whan that they her
heres. time sey,
Han taken her, and into chambre gon.
O, which a pitous thing it was to see And stripen her out of her rude arrey.
Her swouning, and her humble vols And in a cloth of gold that brighte
to here 1 shone.
" Grand mercy, lord, God thank it With a coroune of many ariche stone
you (quod she) Upon her hed, they into hall her
That ye han saved me my children broughte
dere: And ther she was honoured as her
Now rekke I never to be ded right ought.
here.
Sin I stond in your love, and in your Thus hath this pitous day a blis-
grace, end
f ul
N'o force of deth, ne whan my spirit For eveiy man, and woman, doth
pace. his might
 : : :; : :;

NAEEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 403

This day in mirth and revel to dis- And suffreth us, as for our exer-
pend, cise,
Til on the welltin shone the sterres With sharpe scourges of adversitee
bright Ful often to be bete in sondry wise
For more solempne in every mannes Not for to know our will, for certes
sight he
This feste was, and greter of cost- Or we were borne, knew all our
age, f reeletee
Than was the revel of her mariage. And for our best is all his govern-
ance;
Ful many a yere in high prosperi- Let us than live in vertuous suffrance.
tee
Liven thise two in concord and in But one word, lordings, herkeneth,
rest, ere I go
And richely his doughter maried he It were ful hard to flnden now
Unto a lord, on of the worthiest adayes
Of all Itaille, and than in pees and In all a toun Grisildes three or two:
rest For if that they were put to swiche
His wives fader in his court he assayes.
kepeth. The gold of hem hath now so bad
Til that the soule out of his body
crepeth. With bras, that though the coine be
f aire at eye,
His sone succedeth in his heritage. It wolde rather brast atwo than plie.
In rest and pees, after his fadres
day: For which here, for the wives love
And fortunat was eke in mariage, of Bathe,
AI put he not his wif in gret assay: Whos lif and al hire secte God main-
This world is not so strong, it is no tene
nay. In high maistrie, and elles were it
As it hath hen in olde times yore. scathe,
And herkneth, what this auctour I wol with lusty herte fresshe and
saith therfore. grene.
Say you a song to gladen you, I
This story is said, not for that wene:
wives shuld And let us stint of ernestful matere.
Folwe Grisilde, as in hurailitee. Herkneth my song, that saith in this
For it were importable, tho they manere.
wold;
But for that every wight in his degree Grisilde is ded, and eke her pa-
Shulde be constant in adversitee. tience.
As was Grisilde, therfore Petrark And both at ones buried in Itaille
writeth For which I crie in open audience.
This storie, which with high stile he No wedded man so hardy be to
endlteth. assaille
His wives patience, in trust to find
For sith a woman was so patient Grisildes, for in certain he shal faille.
Unto a mortal man, wel more we
ought O noble wives, ful of high pru-
Receiven all in gree that God us sent. dence.
For gret skill is he preve that he Let non humilitee your tonges naile
wrought Ne let no cleric have cause or dili-
But he ne tempteth no man that he gence
bought To write of you a storie of swiche
As saith seint Jame, if ye his pistell mervaille,
rede; As of Grisildis patient and kinde,
He preveth folk al day, it is no Lest Chichevache you swalwe in her
drede entraille.
 : : : ;: :

404 PARNASSUS.

Folweth ecco, that holdeth no Six abeles i' the churchyard grow on
silence, the northside in a row.
But ever answereth at the countre- Toll slowly.
taille And the shadows of their tops rock
Beth notbedafEed for your innocence, across the little slopes
But sharply taketh on you the gov- Of the grassy graves below.
ernaille
Emprenteth wel this lesson in your On the south side and the west, a
minde, small river runs in haste,
For comun profit, sith it may availle. Toll slowly.
And between the river flowing and
Ye archewives, stondeth ay at the fair green trees a-growing
defence. Do the dead lie at their rest.
Sin ye be strong, as is a gret camaille,
Ne suffreth not, that men do you On the east I sate that day, up
offence. against a willow gray
And sclendi;e wives, feble as in Toll slowly.
bataille, Through the rain of willow-branches,
Beth egre a tigre yond in Inde
as is I could see the low hill-ranges,
Ay clappeth as a mill, I you coun- And the river on its way.
saille
There I sate beneath the tree, and
Ne drede hem not, doth hem no the bell tolled solemnly.
reverence. Toll slowly.
For though thin husbond armfed be While the trees' and river's voices
flowed between the solemn
noises, —
in maille.
The arwes of thy crabbed eloquence
Shal perce his brest, and eke his Yet death seemed more loud to
aventaille me.
In jalousie I rede eke thou him
binde.
There I read this ancient rhyme,
while the bell did all the time
And thou shalt make him couche as Toll slowly.
doth a quaille.
And the solemn knell fell in with
the tale of life and sin,
If thou be faire, ther folk ben in
presence
Like a rhythmic fate sublime.
Shew thou thy visage, and thin ap-
paraille :
THE RHYME.
If thou be foule, be free of thy dis- Broad the forest stood (I read) on
pence, the hills of Linteged —
To get the f rendes ay do thy travaille Toll slowly.
Be ay of chere as light as lefe on And three hundred years had stood
linde, mute adown each hoary wood.
And let himcare, and wepe, and Like a full heart having prayed.
wringe, and waille.
Chaucbe. And the birds sang east, and
little
the birds sang west.
little
Toll slowly.
And but little thought was theirs, of
RHYME OF THE DUCHESS the silent antique years.
MAY. In the building of their nest.

To the belfry, one by one, went the Down the sun dropped large and red,
ringers from the sun, on the towersof Linteged, —
Toll slowly. Toll slowly.
And the oldest ringer said, "Ours is Lance and spear upon the height,
music for the Dead, bristling strange in fiery light,
When the rebecks are all done." While the castlestood in shade.
 — "
:

NAEEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 405

There, the castle stood up hlack, "Good my niece, that hand withal
with the red sun at its back, — looketh somewhat soft and
Toll slowly: small.
Like a sullen smouldering pyre, with For so large a will, in sooth."
a top that flickers Are,
When the wind is on its track. She, too, smiled by that same sign,
—but her smile was cold and
And five hundred archers tall did fine, — Toll slowly.
besiege the castle wall, " Little hand clasps muckle gold or ;

Toll slowly. it were not worth the hold

And the castle, seethed in blood, Of thy son, good uncle mine !

fourteen days and nights had

stood, Then the young lord jerked his
And to-night was near its fall. breath, and sware thickly in
his teeth. Toll slowly.
Yet thereunto, blind to doom, three " He would wed his own betrothed,
months since, a bride did an she loved him, and she
come, — Toll slowly. loathed,
One who proudly trod the floors, Let the life come or the death."
and softly whispered in the
doors, Up she rose with scornful eyes, as
"May good angels bless our her father's child might rise.
home." Toll slowly.
"Thy hound's blood, my Lord of
Oh, a bride of queenly eyes, with a Leigh, stains thy knightly
front of constancies, — heel," quoth she,
Toll slowly. "And he moans not where he
Oh, a bride of cordial mouth, — lies,
where the untired smile of
youth '
But a woman's will dies hard, in
Did light outward its own sighs. the hall or on the sward !
—
Toll slowly.
'Twas a Duke's fair orphan-girl, and By that grave, my lords, which
her uncle's ward, the Earl made me orphaned girl and
Toll slowly. dowered lady,
Who betrothed her, twelve years old, I deny you wife and ward."
for the sake of dowry gold.
To his son Lord Leigh, the Unto each she bowed her head, and
churl. swept past with lofty tread.
Toll slowly.
But what time she had made good Ere the midnight-bell had ceased, in
all her years of womanhood. the chapel had the priest
Toll slowly. Blessed her, bride of Linteged.
Unto both those Lords of Leigh,
spake she out right sovranly, Fast and fain the bridal traki along
" My will runneth as my blood. the night-storm rode amain
Toll slowly.
" And while this same blood makes Hard the steeds of lord and serf struck
red this same right hand's their hoofs out on the turf,
veins," she said, — In the pauses of the rain.
Toll sloioly.
" 'Tis my
will as lady free, not to Fast and fain the kinsmen's train
wed a Lord of Leigh, along the storm pursued
But Sir Guy of Linteged." amain Toll slowly.
Steed on steed-track, dashing off —
The old Earl he smilfed smooth, then thickening, doubling hoof on
he sighed for wilful youth. — hoof,
Toll slowly. lu the pauses of the rain.
 —" — '

406 PAENASSUS.

Aiid the bridegroom led the flight Cried aloud —

"So goes the day,
on his red-roan steed of might, bridegroom fair of Duchess
Toll slowly. May! Toll slowly.
And tlie bride iay on his arm, still Look thy last upon that sun. If
as if she feared no harm, thou seest to-morrow's one,
Smiling out into the night. 'Twill be through a foot of clay.

" Dost thou fear ? " he said at last ;

"Ha, fair bride! Dost hear no
" Nay " she answered him in
!
sound, save that moaning of
haste, — Toll slowly. the hound ? —
" Not such death as we could find — Toll slowly.
Thou and I have parted troth, yet —
only life with one behind — I keep my vengeance-oath.
Ride on fast as fear —
ride fast !

And the other may come round.

Up the mountain wheeled the steed
— girth to ground, and fet-
locks spread, — Toll slowly.
Headlong bounds, and rockingflanks,
—
down he staggered down
the banks,
To the towers of Linteged.
" Ha! thy will is brave to dare, and
—
thy new love past compare,
Toll slowly.
— Yet thine old
is
love's falchion brave
as strong a thing to have,
As the will of lady fair.

High and low the serfs looked out, "Peclt on blindly, netted dove! — if

red the flambeaus tossed a wife's name thee behove.

about, —Toll slowly. Toll slowly.
In the courtyard rose the cry Thou shalt wear the same to-mor-
" Live the Duchess and Sir row, ere the grave has hid the
Guy!" sorrow
But she never heard them shout. Of thy last ill-mated love.

On the steed she dropped her cheek, " O'er his fixed and silent mouth,
kissed his mane and kissed his thou and I will call back troth.
neck, — Toll slowly. Toll slowly.
" I had happier died by thee, than He shall altar be and priest, —
and
livedon a Lady Leigh," he will not cry at least
Were the first words she did speak. '
I forbid you, —
I am loath
!

But a three months' joyaunce lay "I will wring my fingers pale in the
'twixt that moment and to- gauntlet of my mail,
day, Toll slowly. Toll slowly.
When five hundred archers tall stand '
Little hand and muckle gold ' close
beside the castle wall shall lie within my
hold,
'
To recapture Duchess May. As the sword did, to prevail."
And the castle standeth black, with Oh the little birds sang east, and the
the red sun at its back, — little birds sang west,
Toll slowly. Toll slowly.
And a fortnight's siege is done — Oh, and laughed the Duchess May,
and, except the Duchess, none and her soul did put away
Can misdoubt the coming wrack. All his boasting, for a jest.

Then the captain, young Lord Leigh, In her chamber did she sit, laughing
with his eyes so gray of blee, low to think of it, —
Toll slowly. Toll slowly.
And thin lips that scarcely sheath "Tower strong and will is free
is —
the cold white gnashing of his thou canst boast, my Lord of
teeth Leigh,
G-nashed in smiling, absently, But thou boasteth little wit."
 ! — — : —
NAEEATIVE POEMS AJST> BALLADS. 407
In her tire-glass gazed she, and she
blushed right womanly.
"If we met them at the wall,
should singly, vainly fall, —we
Toll slowly. Toll slowly.
She blushed half from her disdain — But if /die here alone, — then I die,
half, her beauty was so plain, who am but one.
—
" Oath for oath, my Lord of And die nobly for them all.
Leigh!"
" Five true friends lie for my sake,
Straight she called her maidens in — in the moat and in the brake,
" Since ye gave me blame here- Toll slowly.
in. Toll slowly. Thirteen warriors lie at rest, with a
That a bridal such as mine should black wound in the breast.
lack gauds to make it fine. And not one of these will wake.
Come and shrive me from that
sin. "So no more of this shall be! —
heart-blood weighs too heavi-
" It is three months gone to-day, ly Toll slowly.
since I gave mine hand away. And I could not sleep in grave, with
Toll slowly. the faithful and the brave
Bring the gold and bring the gem, we Heaped around and over me.
will keep bride-state in them.
While we keep the foe at bay. " Since young Clare a mother hath,
and young Ealph a plighted
"On your arms I loose my hair; — faith. Toll slowly.
> comb it smooth and crown it Since my" pale young sister's cheeks
fair. Toll slowly. blush like rose when Ronald
I would look in purple pall from this
lattice down the wall, Albeit never a word she saith —
And throw scorn to one that's
there!" "These shall never die forme — life-
blood falls too heavily
Oh, the birds sang east, and the
little Toll slowly.
little birds sang west.
Toll slowly.
And if I die here apart, — o'er my
dead and silent heart
On the tower the castle's lord leant They shall pass out safe and free.
in silence on his sword,
With an anguish in his breast. " When the foe hath heard it said —
'Death holds Guyof Linte-
With a
lean
spirit-laden weight, did
down passionate.
he
ged,' — Toll slowly.

Toll slowly.
That new corse new peace shall
bring; and a blessed, blessed
They have almost sapped the wall, thing.
they will enter there withal.
Shall the stone be at its head.
With no knocldng at the gate.
Then the sword he leant upon,
" Then my friends shall pass out free,
shivered —
snapped upon the and shall bear my
memory, —
stone, — Toll slowly.
Then my
Toll slowly.
foes shall sleek their pride,
'"Sword," he thought, with inward
laugh, " ill thou servest for a soothing fair mywidowed
staff
bride
When thy nobler use is done Whose sole sin was love of me.

" Sword, thy nobler use is done! — " With their words all smooth and
tower is lost, and shame be- sweet, they will front her and
gun ; Toll slowly. entreat Toll slowly.
If we met them in the breach, hilt to And their purple pall will spread
hilt, or speech to speech. underneath her fainting head
We should die there, each for one. While her tears drop over it.
 ! " ; !
;

408 PARNASSUS.
" She will weep her woman's tears, — "'Las! the noble heart," they
she will pray her woman's thought, —
" he in sooth is
prayers, — Toll slowly. grief-distraught.
But her heart is young in pain, and Would we stood here with the
her hopes will spring again foe!"
By the suntime of her years.
But afire flashed from his eye, 'twixt
"Ah, sweet May! — ah,
sweetest their thought and their re-
grief ! — once I vowed thee my ply, — Toll slowly.
belief, Toll slowly. "Have ye so much time to waste!
That thy name expressed thy sweet- We
who ride here, must ride
ness, —
May of poets, in com- fast,
pleteness ! As we wish our foes to fly."
Now my May-day seemeth brief."
They have fetched the steed with
All these silent thoughts did swim care, in the harness he did
o'er his eyes grown strange wear. Toll slowly.
and dim, —
Toll slowly. Past the court and through the
Till his true men in the place, wished doors, across the rushes of the
they stood there face to face floors
With the foe instead of him. But they goad him up the stair.

Then from out her bower chambfere,

." One last oath, my friends that wear did the Duchess May repair.
faithful hearts to do and
dare !
— Toll slowly. "Tell me now what is
Toll slowly.
your need,"
Tower must fall, and bride be lost! said the lady, " of this steed.
— swear me service worth the That ye goad him up the stair ? "
cost,"
— Bold they stood around to Calm she stood unbodkined through,
;

swear. fell her dark to her hair

"Each man clasp my hand and swear,

shoe, — Toll slowly.
And the smile upon her face, ere she
by the deed we failed in there, left the tiring-glass.
Toll slowly. Had not time enough to go.
Not for vengeance, not for right, will
ye strike one blow to-night " Get thee back, sweet Duchess May
—
I

Pale they stood around to — hope is gone like yesterday, —

swear. Toll slowly-
One half-hour completes the breach
" One last boon, young Ralph and and thy lord grows wild of
Clare! faithful hearts to do speech.
and darel Toll slowly. Get thee in, sweet lady, and pray.
Bring that steed up from his stall,
which she kissed before you " In the east tower, high'st of all, —
all. loud he cries for steed from
Guide him up the turret-stair. stall. Toll .slowly.
He would ride as far," quoth he, " as
" Ye shall harness him aright, and for love and victory.
lead upward to this height Though he rides the castle wall.
Toll slowly.
Once in love and twice in war, hath " And we fetch the steed from stall,
he borne me strong and far. up where never a hoof did
He shall bear me far to-night." fall. — Toll slowly.
Wifely prayer meets deathly need!
Then his men looked to and fro, may the sweet Heavens hear
when they heard him speaking thee plead.
so. Toll slowly. If he rides the castle-wall."
 — : : !

NAEEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 409

Low she dropped her head, and lower, Quoth he, " Get thee from this strife,
till her hair coiled on the — and the sweet saints bless
floor, — Toll slowly. thy life !
—
Toll slowly.
And tear after tear you heard fall In this hour, I stand in need of my
distinct as any word noble red-roan steed —
Which you might be listening for. But no more of my noble wife."
" Get thee in, thou soft ladle — here
is never a place for thee
!

—
!
Quoth she, "Meekly have
thy biddings under sun
I done all

Toll slowly.
Toll slowly.
Braid thy hair and clasp thy gown,
that thy beauty in its moan
But by all my womanhood, — which
is proved so true and good,
May find grace with Leigh of
I will never do this one.
Leigh."

She stood up in bitter case, with a " Now by womanhood's degree, and
pale yet stately face, by wifehood's verity,
Toll slowly. Toll slowly.
Like a statue thunderstruck, which, In this hour if thou hast need of thy
though quivering, seems to noble red-roan steed,
look Thou hast also need of me.
Eight against the thunder-place.
"By this golden ring ye see on this
And her foot trod in, with pride, lifted hand pardie,
her own tears i' the stone be-
side, — Toll slowly.
Toll slowly.
If this hour, on castle-wall, can be
" Go to, faithful friends, go to ! — room for steed from stall,
Judge no more what ladies Shall be also room for me.
do,
No, nor how their lords may " So the sweet saints with me be "
ride!"
(did she utter solemnly,)
Then the good steed's rein she took, Toll slowly.
and his neck did kiss and "If a man, this eventide, on this
stroke Toll slowly. castle-wall will ride.
Soft he neighed to answer her ; and He shall ride the same with me."
then followed up the stair,
Oh, he sprang up in the selle, and he
For the love of her sweet look.
laughed out bitter well, —
Oh, and steeply, steeply wound-up Toll slowly.
the narrow stair around, — "Wouldst thou ride among the
Toll slowly. leaves, as we used on other
Oh, and closely speeding, step by eves.
To hear chime a vesper-bell ? "
step beside her treading,
Did he follow, meek as hound.
She clang closer to his knee " Ay, —
On the east tower, high'st of all, — beneath the cypress-tree !
—
there, where never a hoof did Toll slowly.
fall, — Toll slowly. Mock me not for otherwhere than
Out they swept, a vision steady, — ;

along the greenwood fair.

noble steed and lovely lady, Have I ridden fast with thee
Calm as if in bower or stall I

"Fast I rode with new-made vows,

Down she knelt at her lord's knee, from my angry kinsman's
and she looked up silently, — house 1 Toll slowly.
Toll slowly. What! and would you men should
And he kissed her twice and thrice, reck that I dared more for
for that look within her eyes love's sake
Which he could not bear to see. As a bride than as a spouse ?
 ! !; ! ! ; ;—
410 PARNASSUS.

" Wiat, and would you it should fall, " Friends and brothers, save my
as a proverb, before all. wife —
Pardon, sweet, in
Toll slowly.
!

change for life, —

That a bride may keep your side But I ride alone to God."
while through castlegate you
ride, Straight as if the Holy name had up-
castle- wall ?
" breathed her like a flame,
Tet eschew the
Toll slowly.
Ho the breach yawns into ruin, and She upsprang, she rose upright, —in
!

roars up against her suing, — his selle she sat in sight

Toll slowly. By her love she overcame.
With the inarticulate din, and the
dreadful falling in — And her head was on his breast,
Shrieks of doing and undoing where she smiled as one at
rest, — Toll slowly.
Twice he wrung her hands in twain "King," she "O
vesper-bell,
cried,
but the small hands closed in the beech-wood's old cha-
again. Toll slowly. pelle
Back he reined the steed — back, But the passing-bell rings best."
back ! but she trailed along his
track They have caught out at the rein,
With a frantic clasp and strain which Sir Guy threw loose —
in vain. Toll slowly.
Evermore the foemen pour through For the horse in stark despair, with
the crash of window and his front hoofs poised in air,
door, — . Toll slowly. On the last verge rears amain.
And the shouts of Leigh and Leigh,
and the shrieks of '' kill " and!
Now he hangs, he rocks between —
"flee!" and his nostrils curdle in, —
Strike up clear amid the roar. Toll slowly.
And he shivers head and hoof — and
Thrice he wrung her hands in twain, the flakes of foam fall off
—
but they closed and clung And his face grows fierce and
again, — Toll slowly. thin!
Wild she clung, as one, withstood,
clasps a Christ upon the rood, And a look of human woe from his
In a spasm of deathly pain. staring eyes did go.
Toll slowly.
She clung wild and she clung mute, And a sharp cry uttered he, in a
—
with her shuddering lips foretoldagony
half-shut. Toll slowly. Of the headlong death below, —
Her head fallen as half in swound,
— hair and knee swept on the And "Ring, ring, — thou passing-
ground, bell," still she cried, i' the
She clung wild to stirrup and old chapelle !
—
foot. Toll slowly.
Then back-toppling, crushing back,
Back he reined his steed back-thrown a dead weight flung out to
on the slippery coping-stone. wrack.
Toll slowly. Horse and riders overf ell
Back the iron hoofs did grind on the
battlement behind, Oh, the birds sang east, and
little
Whence a hundred feet went the birds sang west,
little
down. Toll slowly.
And I read this ancient Rhyme in
And his heel did press and goad on the churchyard, while the
the quivering flank bestrode, chime.
Toll slowly. Slowly tolled for one at rest.
 — — : ! ! ; !; :

NAERATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 411

The abeles moved In the sun, and When the trumpet of the angel blows
the river smooth did run, eternity's evangel.
Toll slowly. Time will seem to you not long.
And the ancient Rhyme rang strange,
with its passion and its change, Oh, the little birds sang east, and
Here, where all done lay undone. the little birds sang west,
Toll slowly.
And beneath a willow tree, I a little And I said in underbreath, — all our
grave did see, mixed with death,
life is
Toll slowly. And who knoweth which is
Where was graved, — Heke xjnbb- best?
FILED,LIETH MAUD, A
THREE-YBAB CHILD, Oh, the littlebirds sang east, and
ElGHTEBN HUNDBED FOBTY- the birds sang west.
little
THBEE. Toll slowly.
And I smiled to think God's great-
Then, O Spirits —
did I say — ye ness flowed around our incom-
who rode so fast that day, pleteness, —
Toll slowly. Round our restlessness, his rest.
Did star-wheels and angel-wings, E. B. Bbowning.
with their holy winnowings.
Keep beside you all the way ?

Though in passion ye would dash, FAIR HELEN.

with a blind and heavy crash.-
Toll slowly. IWISH I were where Helen lies
Up against the thick-bossed shield Night and day on me she cries
of God's judgment in the O that I were where Helen lies
field, On fair Kirconnell lea
Though your heart and brain
were rash, — Curst be the heart that thought the
thought.
Now, your will is all unwilled — now And curst the hand that fired the
your pulses are all stilled,— shot.
Toll slowly. When in my arms hurd Helen dropt,
Now, ye lie as meek an d mild ( where- And died to succor me 1

so laid) as Maud the child.

Whose small grave was lately think na but my heart was sair
filled. When my love dropt down and spake
nae mair
Beating heart and burning brow, ye 1 laid her down wi' meikle care
are very patient now, On fair Kirconnell lea
Toll slowly.
And the children might be bold to As I went down to the water-side,
pluck the kingcups from your None bvit my foe to be my guide,
mould None but my foe to be my guide.
Ere a month had let them grow.
On fair Kirconnell lea
And you the goldfinch sing in the
let
alder near in spring. I lighted doun my sword to draw,
Toll slowly I hackfed him in pieces sma',
Let her build her nest and sit all the I hacked him in pieces sma',
three weeks out on it. For her sake that died for me.
Murmuring not at any thing.
O Helen fair, beyond compare
In your patience ye are strong cold ; I'll make
a garland of thy hair
and heat ye take not wrong Shall bind my heart forevermair
Toll slowly. Until the day I die.
 ; ! ! ! ;! ' ;! !!

412 PAENASStrS.

O that I were where Helen lies "For she has tint her lover, lover
Night and day on me she cries dear.
Out of my bed ishe bids me rise, Her lover dear, the cause of sor-
Says, Haste and come to me row;
!
'

And I hae slain the comeliest swain

O Helen fair O Helen chaste
! That e'er pu'd birks on the Braes
If Iwere with thee, I were blest, of Yarrow.
Where thou lies low and takes thy
rest "Why runs thy stream, O Yarrow,
On fair Kirconnell lea. Yarrow, red?
Scott. Why on thy braes heard the voice
of sorrow?
And why yon melancholious weeds
THE BRAES OF YARROW. Hung on the boimie birks of Yar-
row?
' Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bon-
nie bride "What's yonder floats on the rueful,
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome rueful flood ?
marrow What's yonder floats ? O, dule and
Busk ye, busk ye, my bonnie, bonnie sorrow
bride. 'Tis he, the comely swain I slew
And think nae mair of the Braes Upon the dulefu' Braes of Yar-
of Yarrow." row.

" Where gat ye that bonnie, bonnie "Wash, O wash his wounds, his
bride. wounds in tears,
Where gat ye that winsome mar- His wounds in tears o' dule and
row?" sorrow
" I gat her where I dauma weel be And wrap his limbs in mourning
seen, weeds,
Pu'ing the birks on the Braes of And lay him on the banks of Yar-
Yarrow. row.

"Weep not, weep not, my bonnie, " Then build, then build, ye sisters,
bonnie bride. sisters sad.
Weep not, weep not, my winsome Ye sisters sad, his tomb wi' sor-
marrow row;
Nor let thy heart lament to leave And weep around, in waeful wise,
Pu'ing the birks on the Braes of His hapless fate on the Braes of
Yarrow." Yarrow

"Why she weep, thy bonnie,

does " Curse ye, curse ye, his useless, use-
bonnie bride ? less shield.
Why does she weep, thy winsome The arm that wrought the deed of
marrow ? sorrow.
And why daur ye nae mair weel be The fatal spear that, pierced his
seen breast.
Pu'ing the birks on the Braes of His comely breast, on the Braes of
Yarrow?" Yarrow
"Lang maun she weep, lang maun " Did I not warn thee not to, not to
maun she weep —
she, love.
Lang maun she weep wi' dule and And warn from fight ? But, to my
sorrow sorrow,
^nd lang maun I nae mair weel be Too rashly bold, a stronger arm thou
seen met' St,
Pu'ing the birks on the Braes of Thou met'st, and fell on the
Yarrow. Braes of Yarrow.
 !;! ;
; ;! ! ;; !! ; ; —! ;!

NARRATIVE POEMS AKD BALLADS. 413

" Sweet smell the birk green grows,
;
" The boy took out his milk-white,
green grows the grass milk-white steed.
Yellow on Yarrow's braes the Unmindful of my dule and sorrow
gowan But ere the too fa' of the night.
Fair hangs the apple frae the rock; He lay a corpse on the banks of
Sweet the wave of Yarrow flowan Yarrow 1

"Flows Yarrow sweet? As sweet, " Much I rejoiced that waefu', wae-
as sweet flows Tweed fu' day;
As green its grass; its gowan as I sang, my voice the woods return-
yellow ing;
As sweet smells on its braes the But lang ere night the spear was
birk; flown.
The apple ^rae its rock as mellow That slew my love, and left me
mourning.
" Fair was thy love fair, fair indeed
!

thy love!
" What can my barbarous, barbarous
In flowery bands thou didst him father do,
fetter But with his cruel rage pursue me ?
Though he was fair, and well-beloved My lover's blood is on thy spear,
again, How canst thou, barbarous man,
Than I he never loved thee better. then woo me ?

"Busk ye, then, busk, my bonnie,

" My happy sisters may be, may be
bonnie bride proud
Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome With cruel and ungentle scoffln,
marrow May bid me seek, on Yarrow Braes,
Busk ye, and lo'e me on the banks My lover nailed in his coffin.
of Tweed
And think nae mair on the Braes • " My brother Douglas may upbraid.
of Yarrow." And strive, with threatening
words, to move me
" How can I busk a bonnie, bonnie My lover's blood is on thy spear, —
bride? How can thou ever bid me love
How can I busk a winsome mar- thee?
row?
How love him on the banks of " Yes, yes, prepare the bed, the bed
Tweed, of love!
That slew my love on the Braes of With bridal-sheets my body cover
Yarrow ? Unbar, ye bridal-maids, the door
Let in the expected husband-lover I
" O Yarrow fields, may never, never
rain, " But who the expected husband,
Nor dew, thy tender blossoms husband Is?
cover His hands, methinksy are bathed
For there was basely slain my love. in slaughter!
My love, as he had not been a Ah me ! what ghastly
spectre's yon
lover Comes in his pale shroud, bleeding
after?
" The boy put on his robes, his robes
of green. " Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him
His purple vest, 'twas my ain — down;
sewing Oh lay his cold head on my pillow I

Ah, wretched me! I little, little Take off, take off these bridal weeds,
kenned And crown my careful head with
He was, in these, to meet his ruin. willow.
 ;! ! ! ; ! :; ; ; ; !;

414 PARNASSUS.
" Pale though thou art, yet best, yet " 'Tis not because the ring they ride,
best beloved, And Lindesay at the ring rides
Oh could my warmth to life restore well.
thee! But that my sire the wine will chide
Yet lie all night within my arms — If 'tis not filled by Rosabelle."
No youth lay ever there before
thee! O'er Roslin all that dreary night
A
wondrous blaze was seen to
" Pale, pale indeed, O lovely, lovely gleam
youth 'Twas broader than the watch-fire's
Forgive, forgive so foul a slaughter, light.
And lie all night within my arms. And redder than the bright mooUT
No youth shall ever lie there beam.
after!"
It glared on Roslin's castled rock.
"Keturn, return, O mournful, It ruddied all the copse-wood glen
mournful bride 'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of
Return, and dry thy useless sorrow I oak.
Thy lover heeds nought of thy sighs And seen from caverned Haw-
He lies a corpse on the Braes of thornden.
Yarrow."
William Hamilton. Seemed all on fire that chapel proud
Wliere Roslin's chiefs uncoflSned
lie.
ROSABELLE. Each baron, for a sable shroud,
Sheathed in his iron panoply.
Oh listen, gay
listen, ladies
No haughty feat of arms I tell Blazed battlement and pinnet high,
Soft the note, and sad the lay.
is Blazed every rose-carved buttress
That mourns the lovely Rosabelle. fair, —
.So still they blaze when fate is nigh
"Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant The lordly line of high Saint Clair.
crew,
And, gentle lady, deign to stay There are twenty of Roslin's barons
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch, bold
Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day. Lie buried within that proud
chapelle
" The blackening wave is edged with Each one the holy vault doth hold.
white But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle
To inch and rock the sea-mews fly
The fishers have heard the Water- And each Saint Clair was buried
Sprite, there
Whose screams forebode that With candle, with book, and with
.wreck is nigh. knell;
But the sea-caves rung, and the wild
•Last night the gifted Seer did view winds sung
A wet shroud swathed round lady The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.
gay; Scott.
Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravens-
heuch ;

Why cross the gloomy firth to- TELLING THE BEES.

day?"
Herb is right over the hill
the place ;

" 'Tis not because Lord Lindesay's Runs the path took I
heir You can see the gap in the old wall
To-night at Roslin leads the ball, still.
But that my lady-mother there And the stepping-stones in th«
Sits lonely in her castle-haU. shallow brook.
 ; ; ; ; ; . ; : "

NAEKATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 415

There is the house, with the gate Before them, undier the garden wall,
red-barred, Forward and back,
And the poplars tall Went drearily singing the chore-girl
And the barn's brown length, and small.
the cattle-yard, Draping each hive with a shred
And the white horns tossing above of black.
the wall.
Trembling, I listened: the summer
There are the beehives ranged in sun
the sun Had the chill of snow
And down by the brink For I knew she was telling the bees
Of the brook are her poor flowers, of one
weed-o'errun, Gone on the journey we all must
Pansy and daffodil, rose and pink. go!

A year has gone, as the tortoise goes. Then I said to myself, "My Mary
Heavy and slow weeps
And the same rose blows, and the For the dead to-day:
same sun glows, Haply her blind old grandsire sleeps
And the same brook sings of a The fret and the pain of his age
year ago. away."

There's the same sweet clover-smell But her dog whined low; on the
in the breeze doorway sill,
And the June sun warm With his cane to his chin.
Tangles his wings of fire in the trees, The old man sat ; and the chore-girl
Setting, as then, over Fernside still
farm. Sung to the bees stealing out and
in.
I mind me how with a lover's care
From my Sunday coat And the song she was singing ever
I brushed off the burrs, and smoothed since
my hair. In myear sounds on : —
And cooled at the brookside my " Stay at home, pretty bees, fly not
brow and throat. hence!
Mistress Mary is dead and gone !

Since we parted, a month had Whittieb.

To love, a year
Down through the beeches I looked
at last BRUCE AND THE ABBOT.
On the little red gate and the
well-sweep near. The Abbot on the threshold stood.
And in his hand the holy rood
I can see it all now, — the slantwise Then, cloaking hate with fiery zeal.
rain Proud Lorn first answered the ap-
Of light through the leaves, peal ;
—
The sundown's blaze on her window- " Thou comest, O holy man,
pane. True sons of blessfed church to greet.
The bloom of her roses under the But little deeming here to meet
eves. A wretch, beneath the ban
Of Pope and Church, for murder
Just the same as a month before, — done
The house and the trees. Even on the sacred altar-stone ! — -

The barn's brown gable, the vine by Well mayst thou wonder we should
the door, — know
Nothing changed but the hive of Such miscreant 'here, nor lay him
bees. low, • '
 —" !; ;: —
;; " : : ! ;

416 PARNASSUS.

Or dream of greeting, peace, or trace, "Thrice vanquished on the battle

With excommunicated Bruce
Tet will I grant to end debate,
Thy sainted voice decide his fate."
The Abbot seemed with eye severe
The hardy chieftain's speech to hear
Then on King Robert turned the
Monlc, — blessed!
But twice his courage
sunk.
Confronted with the hero's look;
Twice fell his eye, his accents shook
Like man by prodigy amazed.
Upon the £ing the Abbot gazed
Then o'er his pallid features glance
Convulsions of ecstatic trance
His breathing came more thick and
fast.
And from his pale blue eyes
cast
Strange rays of wild and wandering
light;
Uprise his locks of silver white.
Flushed is his brow ; through every
plain, —
Thy followers slaughtered, fled, or
ta'en, —
A hunted wanderer on the wild,
On foreign shores a man exiled.
Disowned, deserted, and distressed, —
I bless thee, and thou shalt be
came and Blessed in the hall and in the field,
Under the mantle as the shield.
Avenger of thy country's shame,
Eestorer of her injured fame.
Blessed in thy sceptre and thy
sword, —
De Bruce, fair Scotland's rightful
Lord,
Blessed in thy deeds and in thy fame,
What lengthened honors wait thy
were name!
In distant ages, sire to son
Shall tell thy tale of freedom won.
And teach his infants, in the use
Of earliest speech, to falter Bruce.
Go, then, triumphant sweep along !

vein Thy course, the theme of many a

In azure tide the currents strain. song!
And undistinguished accents broke The Power, whose dictates swell my
The awful silence ere he spoke. breast,
Hath blessed thee, and thou shalt
"De Bruce! I rose with purpose be blessed !

dread Scott.
To speak my curse upon thy head,
And give thee as an outcast o'er
To him who bums to shed thy VISION OF BELSHAZZAE.
gore;—
But, like the Midianite of old. The king was on his throne.
Who stood on Zophim, heaven-con- The satraps thronged the hall
trolled, A thousand bright lamps shone
I feel within mine aged breast O'er that high festival.
A power that will not be repressed. A thousand cups of gold.
It prompts my voice, it swells my In Judah deemed divine, —
veins. Jehovah's vessels hold
It burns, it maddens, it constrains I The godless heathen's wine
De Bruce, thy sacrilegious blow
Hath at God's altar slain thy foe In that same hour and hall,
O'erraastered yet by high behest, The fingers of a hand
I bless thee, and thou shalt be Came forth against the wall,
blessed ! And wrote as if on sand
He spoke, and o'er the astonished The fingers of a man — ;

throng A solitary hand

Was silence, awful, deep, and long. Along the letters ran.
And traced them like a wand.
Again that light has fired his eye,
Again his form swells bold and high. The monarch saw, and shook,
The broken voice of age is gone, And bade no more rejoice
'Tis vigorous manhood's lofty All bloodless waxed his look,
tone :
And tremulous his voice.
 !;
: ; " "
;;;; ; ; ; ;

NAEKATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 417

" Let the men of lore appear,
The wisest of the earth,
And expound the words of fear,
Which mar our royal mirth."
Chaldsea's seers are good.
But here they have no
And the unknown letters stood,
Untold and awful still.
And Babel's men of age
Are wise and deep in lore
But now they were not sage.
They saw, —
but knew no more.
A captive in the land,
A stranger and a youth, —
He heard the king's command.
He saw that writing's truth
The lamps around were bright,
The prophecy in view
He read it on that night,
The morrow proved
" Belshazzar's grave is made.
His kingdom passed away.
He in the balance weighed,
and worthless clay.
Is light
The shroud, his robe of state
His canopy, the stone
The Mede is at his gate
The Persian on his throne
" Who Cometh in such haste?"
" Sir Pavon, late, I hight.
Of all the land around
The stanchest, mightiest knight.
" My foes — they dared not face —
skill Beset me at my back
In ambush. Fast and hard
They follow on my track.
" Now wilt thou let me in.
Or shall I burst the door?"
The grating bolts ground back; the
knight
Lay swooning in his gore.
As children, half afraid.
Draw near a crushfed wasp.
Look, touch, and twitch away
Their hands, then lightly grasp, —
—
it true. Him to their spital soon
The summoned brethren bore.
And searched his wounds. He woke.
And roundly cursed and swore.
The younger friar stopped his ears
The elder chid. He flung
His gummy plasters at his mouth.
And bade him hold his tongue.
!

Bybon. But, faint and weak, when, left

Upon couch alone,
his
He viewed the valley, framed with-
SIR PAVON AND ST. PAVON. in
His window's carven stone.

He learned anew to weep,

St. Mabk's hushed abbey heard. All as he lay along,
Through prayers, a roar and din To see the smoke-wreaths from his
A brawling voice did shout, towers
" Knave shaveling, let me in ! Climb up the clouds among.

The cagM porter peeped. The abbot came to bring

All fluttering, through the grate, A balsam to his guest.
Like birds that hear a mew. On soft feet tutored long
Aknight was at the gate. To break no sufferer's rest.
His left hand reined his steed. And heard his sobbing heart
Still smoking from the ford in draughts of woe
Drink deep
His crimson right, that dangled, Then " Benedicite, my son,"
clutched He breathed, in murmurs low.
Half of his broken sword.
Mght sharply turned the knight
His broken plume flapped low Upon the unwelcome spy
His charger's mane with mud But changed his shaggy face, as
Was clogged he wavered in his seat j
; when,
His mail dropped drops of blood. Down through a stormy sky,
27
 ;! ; ;

418 PARNASSUS.

The quiet autumn sun " (I was a new-breeched boy,

Looks on a landscape grim. And sat upon her knee,
He crossed himself before the priest, Less mindful of the story than
And speechless gazed on him. Of cates she gave to me.)
His brow was large and grand, " But then I thought a flood
And meet for governing Came down to drown them all,
The beauty of his holiness And that they only now in stone
Did crown him like a king. Stood on the minster wall,

His mien was high, yet mild " Or painted in the glass
His deep and reverent eye Upon the window high,
Seemed o'er a peaceful past to Where, swelled with spring-tides,
gaze, — breaks the sea
A blest futurity. Beneath, and leaves them dry,

His stainless earthy shell " Quite out of danger's way,

Was worn so pure and thin, And breathed and walked no more
That through the callow angel Upon tlie muddy earth, to do
showed, The deeds they did of yore,
Half-hatched that stirred within.
" When still the sick were healed
The cloisters when he paced Where e'en their shadows fell;
At eve, the brethren said. But here is one that's living yet,
E'en then a shimmering halo dawned And he shall make me well."
Around his saintly head.
The patient priest benign
he went, the street
If forth His watch beside him kept.
Became a hallowed aisle. Until he dropped his burning lids,
Men knelt and children ran to seek
;
And like an infant slept.
The blessing of his smile
PABT n.
And mothers on each side came out, Some weary weeks were spent
And stood at every door, In tossing and in pain,
And held their babies up, and put Before the knight's huge frame was
The weanlings forth before. braced
With strength and steel again.
As pure white lambs unto
Men sickening unto death (He had his armor brought
Their sweet infectious health give The day he left his bed.
out. And iitted on by novice hands,
And heal them with their breath, " To prop him up," he said.)

His white and thriving soul,

Soon janglin,^ then he stamped,
In heavenly pastures fed.
Amazed with all he saw,

Still somewhat of its innocence

Through cell and through refectory.
On all around him shed. With little grace or awe.
Unbidden at the board
SirPavon's scarce-stanched wounds He sat,a mouthful took.
He bound
with fearless skill, And shot it spattering through his
Wlio lay and watched him, meek beard.
and mute, Sprang up, and cursed the cook.
And let him work his will,
If some bowed friar passfed by,
While in his fevered brain He chucked him 'neath the chin-
Thus mused his fancy quaint: And cried, "What cheer?" or
'
My grandam told me once of saints, " Dost thou find
And this is, sure, a saint That hair-cloth pricks the skinf
 ;;
! : ; ; : ;; ;;

NAEEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 419

Or if he came on one Through shadowy aisle, 'neath
In meditation meet, vaulted roof,
Or penance, mute, he kindly vowed His faltering steps were led
To cheer his lone retraat. Beside him was the living saint.
Beneath, the sainted dead.
" Poor palsied sire," he cried,
" How fares thy stiffened tongue ? Bespread with nun-wrought tapestry,
Let mine suffice for both," and — The holy altar stood
trolled Above it, carved by martyr hands.
A lusty drinking-song. Arose the Holy Eood

One softly in his cell Burned round it, tipped with tongues
Did scourge his meagre hide, of flame,
When Pavon on his rounds came in, Vowed candles white and tall
And stood, well pleased, beside And frosted cup and patine, clear,
In silver, painted all.
" What, man Lay on lay on
! !

Nay, hast thou tired thine arm ?
G-ive me thy hempen bunch of
cords.
And I will make
With doubtful thanks agreed
The monk. Him Pavon whipped
Bight deftly, through the
till
For aid he cried and skipped.
The prisoned giant Music in
The rumbling organ rolled.
And roared sweet thunders up to
thee warm." heaven,
Through all its pipes of gold.
He started. 'Mid the prostrate throng
cloister, Upright, he heard the hymn
With fallen chin and lifted eye
That searched the arches dim

In brief, within the house For in the lurking echoes there

Of holy Quiet, all Responding, tone and word,
Where'er Sir Pavon went or came A choir of answering seraphim
Was outcry, noise, and brawl Above he deemed he heard.

Until the abbot said, They saw him thus when all was done,
"Anon this coil must cease. Still rapt and pale as death
To-morrow is the Truce of God So passed he through the banging
Then let him go in peace. gate.
Then drew a long-drawn breath.
" But call him
hither first.
To render thanks to-night As he turned
to the priest
For life restored for now we go;
"I cannot go in peace,'
'

To do our vesper rite." Nor find elsewhere a man like thee.

With tamfed mien abashed,
The wild, unruly guest
His hest obeyed, and mutely moved
Beside the solemn
Unto a noiseless pace
He strove to curb his stride.
And blushed to hear his jack-boots'
clang
Amid the sandals' slide.
The censer waved around
sweet perfume,
Its misty,
Nor hear such strains as these!"
" This is no place for knights."
" Then I a monk will be." *
priest. "Kneel down upon thy knee, fair son.
And tell thy sins to me."
* "Henry de Joyeuse, Comte du Bou-
chage, Prtee putn* du Due de JoyeiJse, tni
k Coutras. * Un jour qu'il pasBoit k Paris
& quatre heures du matin, prfes du Couvent
des CapuoiiiB, apr^s avoir paas^ la nuit en
d^bauohe, il B'imagina que les AngeS
chantoient Matines dans le Couvent.
Frapp^ de cette id4e, il se flt Capucin, sous
le nom de Frtoe-Ange.' . Cette anecdote
. .

A.S over him the minster great eat tirie des Notes snr I'Henriade." Mi- —
Came with its awful gloom. moires de Sully, Livre Dixl^me, Note 67.
 ! !
; !! ! !

420 PAENASStrS.

" My knee is stiff with
And will not bend it well.
'
Mysins 1 ' A
peerless knight like
What should he have to tell ?
" I never turned in fight
Till treason wrought my harm,
Nor then, before my shattered sword
Weighed down my shattered arm.
" I never broke mine oath.
Forgot my friend or foe,
Nor left a benefit unpaid
With weal, or wrong with woe.
steel, The abbot beat his breast:
" Alack, the man is lost
me, Erewhile he must have grieved away
The warning Holy Ghost
" His guardian angel he
Hath scared from him to heaven
Who cannot mourn, nor see, his sin.
How can he be forgiven ?
"E'en Patmos' gentle seer.
Doth he not say, in sooth.
He lies who saith, I have no sin.
Quite empty of the truth

" Keep thee from me * I said,

' !
"Search thou this sacred tome."
Still, ere my blows began,
'

" 'Sblood Saints

! — —A
knight to
!

Nor gashed mine unarmed enemy, t read!"

Nor smote a felled man, The abbot read. The novice strove,
With duteous face, to heed,
" Observing every rule
Of generous chivalry; But heard a hunt sweep by,
And maid and matron ever found And to the door did leap,
A
champion leal in me. Cried, "Holla, ho!" and then,
abashed.
" What gallantly I won Sat down and dropped asleep.
In war; I did not hoard.
But spent as gallantly in peace. " Such novice ne'er I saw
With neighbors round my board." Sweet Mary be my speed
For sure the sorer is my task,
" Thy neighbors, sou ? The serfs The sorer is his need."
For miles who tilled thy ground ?"
" Tush, father, nay 1 The high-bom He gazed upon him long.
knights With pondering, pitying eyes.
For many a league around. As the leech on the sick whose hid-
den ail
" They were my brethren sworn. All herbs and drugs defies
In battle and in sport.
'Twere wondrous shame, should one And, "Hath thy heart might," at
like me last, " to-night,"
With beggar kernes consort He to Sir Pavon said,
" When all men sleep, thy vigil to
" Clean have I made my shrift," keep.
He said and so he ceased.
; In the crypt among the dead ?
And bore a blithe and guileless cheer.
That sore perplexed the priest. "Night hath many a tongue, her
black hours among,
With words both soft and keen. Less false than the tongues of Day,
He searched his breast within. While Mercy the prayer hath full
Still said he, "So I sinnfed not," leisure to hear.
Or,"" That is, sure, no sin." Of all who wake to pray.

* The regular form of announcement

that a single combat had begun between " The mute swart queen hides many
knigbtB. a sin.
" To smyte a wounded man that may
t But oft to the sinner's heart
not stonde, God deffende me from Buch a
Khame." " Wyt thou well, Syr Gawayn, I Eemorse, with the tale, she sends
wyl neuer amyte a fellyd knight." Prose — to wail,
Bomance qf King Arthw. And thus atones in part."
 ; ; ; ; ; ; ;! : ;; ; ;

NAEEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 421

Well-nigh laughed the knight, " Ay, knocked against the roof.
Till it
and many a night. And his
ears they rang and beat
Good father, do not spare. The hard walls throbbed around,
Ne'er yet have I found, on or under above,
the ground, And the stones crept under his feet
The venture I could not dare.
And when it fell away.
" Ten years I've quelled in war lively He reeled and almost fell
warriors, near and far And fast for aid he gasped and
Shall I shun a dead clerk's bones prayed.
to see ? Till he heard the matin-bell.
Ne'er till now I pledged my hand to
serve in the band The monk who came to let him out
Of captain I loved like thee." Scarce knew him. In that night,
His nut-brown beard and crispM hair
PAST m. Had turned to snowy white.
Sir Pavon sat upon his shield. PAST rv.
And breathed the earthy damp.
And strained his empty ear to hear Like to a hunted beast.
The simmering of his lamp. To Abbot Urban' s cell
He rushed and with a foamy
; lip
It made a little tent of light, Down at his feet he fell
Hung round with shadows dim.
That drooped as if the low-groined " I heard a voice, — a voice — !

roof father, help ! It said

Did crouch to fall on him. That I the Lord of life
Had scourged and buffeted,
The stunted columns, thick and
short. " Spit in his face, and mocked,
Like sentry gnomes stood round And sold him to his foes
And lettered slabs, that roofed the Then, through the hollow earth,
dead, In dreary triumph rose
Lay thickly on the ground.
" Up, till the words I snatched,
He watched to hear the midnight A fiendish chorus dim,
lauds. '
He did it unto one of his !

But heard them not until He did it unto him!' "

He deemed it dawn. They swelled
at last.
And ceased and ; all
The Future towards him marched
no more •
The Past was dead and gone
Time dwindled to a single point
The convent-clock tolled One.
Then the door was oped and
But by no human hand
And there entered in a Cry,
And before him seemed to stand, —
A viewless, bodiless Cry,
That lifted the hair on his head
'Twas small as a new-born babe's
first.
But straightway It
" My son, what meaneth this ? "
was still. " My father, on my word.
In court or camp, abroad, at home,
1 never knew the Lord
" I do remember once
I had a hunchback slave.
Who to the beggars round my door
From his own trencher gave,
closed,
" And made them swarm the more,
Despite the porter's Mows,
And broke into my banquet-hall,
With tidings of their woes.
;
— " Him I chastised and sold,
at But thought no harm, nor knew
The Lord so squalid minions had,
rose and spread. Among his chosen few
 ; !
422
" But if the man was his,
freely give thee thrice,
I'll
In broad, bright rounds of ruddy gold,
The pittance of his price."
" Gold buys this world, not heaven.
This cannot make thee whole.
Each stripe that rends the slave's
poor flesh,
It hurts his Master's soul
"And if the slave doth die,"
He said beneath his breath,
" 1 fear the Master's sprite for aye
Rots in the second death.
" But be of better cheer.
Since thou thy sin canst see,
'Tis plain thy guardian angel back
Hath flown from heaven to thee.
" The soul benumbed by sin,
Andlimb that's numb with frost,
Are saved by timely aches. If first
They reach the fire, they're lost.
" The Sun of righteousness.
Whose beaming smile on high,
With light, and life, and love doth
fill
The mansions of the sky,
"And kindles risen souls
Unto a rapturous glow,
Who duly sought his scattered rays,
To bask in them below,
" Seems but a hideous glare
Of blazing pangs untold.
To those whom death hath made
more pale.
But could not make more
" Full many a man like thee,
Unless by devils driven,
Would never turn his laggax'd steps
To hurry unto heaven.
" Thank God, who oped thine ear
Unto their dreary lay.
Ere came the night that summoned
thee
To chant with them for aye
" That holy text, which through
Their gnashing teeth they laughed
And screamed, I read thee yester eve,
And they with wonted craft
: ;
: ;! ;
PAENASSUS.
"Told o'er, their fright and pain
That thou shouldst come to share,
As birds by hissing serpents scared
Drop down, through sheer despair.
" But in its two pure hands
Each holy Scripture still
Doth bear a blessing for the good,
A
curse unto the ill.
" Heed thou, but do not fear
Too much their threatening voice,
Who tremble and believe. Thou yet
Believing mayst rejoice.
" Take up thy cross with speed.
This penance shalt thou do
Thyself in sad humility
To seek Christ's servant go,
" Both near and far; and dry
His tears with thine, if still
His limbs the toil-exacting earth
In misery tread and till."
His forehead from his hands
Upraised the haggard guest
' And even here, and even yet,
For me no heavenly rest " !
The abbot shook his head
" God help thee now, poor son
The heavenly rest is but for those
Who heavenly work have done.
" Strife is the bridge o'er hell
'Twixt sin and sin forgiven
Still purgatory lies between
The wicked world and heaven.
" The priceless pearl is worth
cold. The plunge through whelming
floods.
The t)itter years man loathes are but
Eternity's green buds.
"Thou hast, in Satan's ranks,
To harm been brisk and brave
Thou wilt not shrink, when sent bj
Christ
To suffer and to save."
Sir Pavon's gallant steed was dead
Sir Pavon's sword was broke.
On foot he went ; and in his hand
The abbot's staff he took,
 !; ; ;! ; ! : ; ; ! ! :; : ;
!

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 423

A.nd many an hour fared patiently, "Lay down, — accept, and do not
Beneath the parching sun, scorn
That eyed him through his riven wall The beaten losel me,
Before the day was done. Who, worthless for thy service, come
For shelter unto thee."
The shattered casements gaped and
stared Walked with him flagging Weariness
Black charcoal paved the floor And Famine spun his head
Up rose his hunger-maddened hound, " I would, of all my feasts, were left
And bit him in the door. One little crust of bread."

He climbed the scathed and tottering When maids and stars their tapers lit.
stair He reached a wooden hut
Unto the sooty tower The chinks were gilt by light therein.
His upside down
rifled coffers But close the door was shut.
Lay in his secret bower.
What seemed an aged woman's voice
With heavy heart and tread he trod Within, with sob and groan.
The banquet-hall below Entreated Heaven in agony
The hoUow-voicfed echoes chid To send her back her son
Each other, to and fro.
" The day is night that shows me not
A jeering face peeped in ; he heard His face, — the voice of joy
A titter and a shout Mere heart-break till his laugh I hear
In rushed his rabble rout of hinds, O, send me back my boy!
And round him danced about
"In pity send some tidings soon!
"Ho, worthy master, welcome home! If thus I grieve, I dread
Where hast thou left thy sword. Lest, when he hurries back to me, —
Thy kingly port, and lusty blows ? Poor youth ! —
he find me dead.
We serve another lord."
" Let them not tell me he is dead.
They strove to trip him as he went And buried anywhere
They drove him from his door: What has the ground or brine to do
" Now fare ye well, my fathers' halls With his dear mouth and hair,
We part to meet no more.
"That I have kissed and stroked so
" Farewell my pride and pomp and oft
power There by his empty chair ?
Farewell, my slippery wealth, Yon doublet new, I've wrought for
That bought my soul's sore malady, him.
Nor stayed to buy my health He'll soon come back to wear.

" Farewell, my sturdy strength, that " I brushed the very flies away.
did That with his brows did toy.
The Devil's work so well. When tired he slept. How coujd
All blasted by God's thunderbolts. the worms
That on my spirit fell Or fishes eat my boy ?

"And thou, O brave and loyal Christ, " O

Father, who thine only Son
Who, 'mid the sordid Jews, Didst yield to pain and death.
By love, not fear, coustrainfed couldst And know'st 'tis deadlier pain todo't,
At Satan's hands refuse Thau give the rattling breath,
" The crown and sceptre of the world. " If notmy boy, let unto me
And
choose the cross and rod, — His faith and trust be given.
Thy more than earthly manhood iu. That I may clasp him yet again,
Its glory unto God If not on earth, in heaven."
 ! ! ! ; ! ;!

424 PARNASSUS.

She ceased. Sir Pavon softly "I knew not half my guilt!" he
knocked; shrieked.
The door flew open wide. And on his brow did strike
"Fear not, good mother," he be- These mothers are like God, then, —
gan. love
" O, is it thou? " she cried. Ugly and fair alike

Then turned away and wrung her ''

T was I. Thou art avenged on me.
'

hands. To find him is my quest;

" If thou wilt give to me Nor till 'tis done, in life or death.
A morsel, and a cup of wine, For me is any rest.
Perchance thy charity,
" God's heaviest hand is for his sake
" When ended is my present quest, Meanwhile upon me laid.
I may full
well requite. For his deliverance pray, and mine
If lives thy son, and bring him And take me in his stead.
back.
I am a famous knight, — "A duteous son I'll be to thee
Until I give him back.
"Although of late mine ambushed I've many friends would give us
foe steeds
me
Despoiled traitorly, — To bear us on his track."
And maid and matron ever found
A champion leal in me." PABT VI.

" Alack, I have no wine nor flesh, " Who may yon man be, who on foot
Nor yet a crust of bread Comes in his iron coat.
Herbs for my noontide meal I culled, And, with an old wife at his side.
Untasted still," she said; Toils towards the castle-moat ?

"And water from the brook I'll " He looketh as Sir Pavon should
bring, — If thirty years were o'er;
hungry guest
Scant fare for !
— But he is dead, they say. We'll
But sit thee down at least, and feed know.
Thy weariness with rest. Ho, there 1 The drawbridge lower
"Thou hast seen other lands per- " What, Pavon ! Hast thou come to
chance ? " life?
" Good mother, many a one. Thou lookest like a ghost."
I pray you fill my cup once more." "Nigh slain was I by treachery:
" O, hast thou seen my son ? " My sword and all is lost.

"Went he a soldier?" "Nay, but " And I was ill, and worse. Alas
he With thee I may not bide.
Was seized and sold away, But day and night, by fiends pursued.
I know not where. No news of him Upon a quest must ride,
Has reached me from that day.
"To free my soul, that erst I sold
" He bade me still with wajrfarers To bondage with a slave.
His scanty portion share. My merry life is dead in me
Thou eatest from his platter now. Myself a haunj:ed grave I
And sittest in his chair.
" Of thy dear love, long pledged and
"He was so good!" "Who used sworn,
him so?" Some food and drink I pray
"Sir Pavon was his name." For this poor dame, and gold and
His platter dropped, and over him steeds.
Adeadly sickness came. To bear us on our way."
 ; ! ; : : " ;"
;

NAUEATIVB POEMS AND BALLADS. 425

He reeled with weakness: "He is " Out ! " roared the host, " ye serving
starved. men,
Lead heuce, and feed him well What make ye gaping here,
And when our feast is done to-night,
His tale we'll hear him tell. " To swallow what concerns you not ?
Such ravings if they hear.
"He's crazed with shame, as erst They'll rave themselves. I saw them
with pride, — all
Perchance 'twill please my guests Prick up each meddling ear.
To list. My fool is growing old.
And oft repeats his jests." " Your pardon, noble comrades all
A very sorry jest
Scarce were they at the burdened Was this to make you sport withal
hoard He told me of a quest."
Banged by the seneschal.
When Pavon fed and calmed came in, " My quest it is to find and free
And stood before them all, The hunchback, whom of old.
When thou wert wassailing with me
And clasped each slackened hand, At Christmastide, I sold.
and smiled
In manya well-known face, " Look not so darkly on me, friends,
And fell upon some cooling hearts I will not mar your feast;
Once mqre in kind embrace: But, Raymond, for the red-roan
steeds
" Dear mates, how good it is to stand I lent thee, give at least
Again among you here.
Though 'neath my ruined towers no "To me one jennet, mule, or ass,
mere That I thereon may lead
We make our wonted cheer His blister-footed mother hence.
And make the better speed."
" I must not stay ; but a word.
list
And mark it well, before " Poor man, his case is pitiful.
I look my last upon you all, If madman e'er I saw.
Perchance, forevermore. He's mad What say ye ?
! Let him
go?
" Among the tombs I sat, and heard Or give him chains and straw 1

Within me or without,
I know not which, —
a horrid voice
It drives me still about.
"A wondrous thing it told to me.
As terrible as new.
Undreamed of to that hour by me,
To this, I ween, by you.
"Christ 'mid the serfs
whom he
Dear as himself doth hold
Thus he who sells his Christian slave.
His master, Christ, hath
" For from the very book of peace
The fiends have learned a hymn,
'Who did it unto one of his.
Hath done it unto him,' "
Each in his neighbors' faces looked;
And some were pale with fear;
—
" He was a gallant champion late !
" He's harmless ; let him go."
"Nay, if he stirreth up the serfs
I cannot count him so."
Then rage brought back Sir Pavon's
strength
He dashed the casement through,
hath men, Leaped headlong down, and all in steel
He swam the moat below.
Forth swarmed the varlets sent, for
sold, him.
But soon returned without,
So hotly with the abbot's staS
— He 'mongst them laid about.
His comrades from the battlements
Looked wondering down td see
The knight the hobbling crone await,
With pity and with glee.
 ! ; ; ; ! ! ! ; "

426 PAENASSUS.

He paced to meet her courteously; They stood beneath the snowy pole.
He propped her with his arm, Where, quenched, the heavenward
And with his staff, and bent as if eye,
To soothe her weak alarm Sinks dizzy back to earth, beneath
The crumbUng, sinking sky.
But with a hitter laugh he said,
" Sure, he who findeth out PABT Tin.
How fickle are the world's sweet
smiles, " O, sail-borne trader, hast thou seen,
Can do its smiles without." In lands beneath the sun.
Or in the shadow of the pole,
MyAnselm? O my son!"
Long years of hunger, cold, and "A pilgrim, dame?" slave." "A
heat.
— " A
slave
And home-sick toil in vain ; Ask, have I seen a sheep
Long years of wandering up and Ay, flocks and flocks, where'er I go.
down.
— Yon Moors their hundreds keep, —
O'er inland, coast, and main ;

Iiong years of asking still for one.

"The lazy tawny dog* beyond. !
—
And longing day and night. Where 'twixt these fronting lands
The writhing sea his pent-up way
Who, ever present with the soul, Tears 'twixt the rocks and sands."
Hath vanished from the sight
The freeman like a growing tree
" He is like no one else. His face
Thrives, rooted in his place Is wondrous mild and fair
The bondman, like a withered leaf. His eyes are kind and bright; and
Flits on and leaves no trace. fine
And silky is his hair."
SirPa von' s armor rusted off;
He seemed no more a knight " Ha, ha ! So whines the shepherd
Yet ever to himself he said. lad
While raged his inward fight, Whose petted ewe hath strayed !

" He bore a hump upon his back,"

"How quickly may a wrong be done. Sir Pavon softly said, —
How slowly done away
Shall all eternity repair " Was helpful to the poor beyond
My trespass of a day ? " The custom of mankind."
Before the statelier questioner
While some said, " East," and some The merchant searched his mind.
said, " West,"
And most, "I cannot tell," " Such slave I saw in Barbary,
They ate the stranger's crusts, and
drank A twelvemonth scarce agone.
A fever-smitten sailor there
At many a stranger's well.
We left to die alone ;
—
He ever walked, or stood, or sat.
Between her and the blast. "It grieved me much. We could
She cheered him with forgiving not choose.
words, Our venture had been lost,
And begged his scant repast. Had we not seized the first fair gale
To sweep us from the coast.
In penitent and pardoning woe.
Thus went they hand in hand, " I hurried back. I thought to see
I'he master and the slave. They His living face no more,
trod But haply give him burial.
The cactus-hatching sand. He met me on the shore.
 !; "
; " ; " ;

KAKEATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 427

" Thin as this blade, and white as is " And, merchant, if he fly with me
This handle of my knife. Wilt bear him hence?" "My
A slave, he said, had ta'en him in head,
And nursed him like a wife, And thine, were lost belike! Art
mad?
"A hunchback, for he showed me 'T would surely cost my trade.
him.
How called you yours ? " " His " I buy and sell, but steal not,
name slaves !

Was Anselm." "Ay, and so was "Thou'rt known to Hassan?"

his, "Ay."
It is the very same. " Then lead me to him ; and the
Lord,
" Old Hassan's steward in the sun I think, the slave shall buy.
Doth beat him to and fro
He limps with water from the tanks " Then wilt thou bear him hence,
To make the melons grow. and her?"
"Ay, on mine honest word.
"See how my Sea-gull flaps her
Oft as I may, I gladly do
wings.
Impatient for the deep
Apleasure to the Lord."
Anon shall she to Tripoli
So lightly dart and leap Turbaned and robed old Hassan sat.
An
atmosphere of rest
"And for that bounteous deed of his Hung brooding o'er his soft divan.
His mother shall he see ;
— His beard slept on his breast.
What costs a good turn now and
then? — His rolling eyes upon the floor
Embark and sail with me, Did round about him fall,
To thread the mazy arabesques
" For nothing, — if ye nothing have. Paved in his marble hall.
They'll call for little food.
On landlocked billows, sickened by They shone and glimmered moist
The tossing of the flood." with dew.
While, robed in spangled spray,
The anchor climbed. The wind Amidst them high a fountain danced
blew fair. In whispering, tittering play.
But ere they neared the pier
The old wife on death's threshold No joy, grief, awe, nor doubt looked
lay,
through
Distraught with hope and fear.
His features swart and still
" How canst thou free him from his
"I ought" had ne'er been written
woes? But petrified, " I will."
Thou hast nor friends nor gold.
How may I even crawl to him
"
His misery to behold ? What wouldst thou, merchant?
"Nothing, I;
" O master, trail me through the dust This godly man would speak,
And leave me at his feet ! A very godly man — Methinks !

"Nay, thou wert patient all those His wits are somewhat weak."
years.
Here, sheltered from the heat, " Good Hassan, for thy hunchback
slave
" A little longer wait and pray; I've sought through dreary years
It may be but an hour. Wilt give him up?" "In change
Our Lord, who bade to succor him, for what?"
I think shall give the power. " Our prayers and grateful tears*"
 ; " ! ; — ! : ;! ; !

428 PARNASSUS.
" I want them not." "Thou mayst He oped his mouth to call on him
one day 1 Amazed,, he did but choke
When misbelievers stand For with its mighty wrath and joy.
Amazed in judgment, he shall plead His great heart almost broke.
For thee at God's right hand;
He darted on his track, and
" His mother, too; — they're dear to wrenched
Christ His pitcher from his hand.
know it all too well
I The slave dropped back his drooping
And I up from my lower place head.
Will cry aloft and tell, And strove to understand,

" That thou art he my sinking soul With bony fingers interlaced
Who lifted out of hell His dazzled eyes above.
Till all the saiiits shall join with me, Why came the tall mute man to him.
O blessed infidel !
In enmity or love.

"Hast nothing else to offer?" "Ay, Then muttered he, " This scorching
To serve thee faithfully, sun
Another slave I'll give, myself, — At last hath fired my brain
As stout a wight as he." I seem to see one far away,

" Nought hast thou of his look; yet

Perchance long dead again, —
sure " Sir Pavon! 'Tis some fancy, bred
He is thy son or brother? "
" Of famine, wild and weak.
My serf of yore." " 'Tis strange,
Or fever. Wherefore gaze on it?
if true!
Most Christians hate each other.
If 'twas a man 'twould speak."

"I take thy proffer, false or fair; Then Pavon in a stonn of tears
But if to me thou liest, Fell crying on his breast
" Forgive me, brother, if thou canst
And seek'st to steal thyself away.
E'en in my
gates thou diest." I've known no peace nor rest,

He clapped his hands ; and in there " For years or ages, but to right
rushed The wrong I did to thee.
A
turbaned menial throng. And mine own soul, roamed o'er the
Strange words he spake. A dusky earth
Moor From henceforth thou art free."
Good Pavon led along.
"Sir Pavon! Is it thou? — and
With bounding heart, and beaded here?"
brow. " Ay and I hold thee fast
;

And paling, glowing cheek. In verity, as oft in dreams.

And trembling lips compressed, that When, as my slumber past,
strove
To brace themselves to speak. "'Mid fading forms I clutched at
thine,
Through cool, dank courts, and sul- 'Mid fading yisioned lands,
try paths, And shouting woke, with bloody
Tj'tJl, 'twixt the twinkling twigs nails
Of citron, and of orange-trees. Clenched in mine empty bands."
And sun-bathed purple figs.
" God ! Heardst thou then my hope-
He saw the fattening melons bask less prayers ?
On beds both long and broad. He's saved ! — And am I free ? "
And Anselm staggeringforth to them,
,
" Ay, go thy ways in joy, poor friend,
Bent 'ueath his watery load. Kor cease to pray for me.
 ; ;

NARRATIVE POEMS AND BALLADS. 429

" The merchant Andrew on the The new slave let the melons thirst
shore Till, through the twinkling twigs
Awaits thee, in his bark. Of citron, and of orange-flowers.
His homeward voyage bears him by And sun-bathed purple figs.
The abbey of St. Mark.
He saw the hunchback hurry o'er
" The monks, for Abbot Urban's sake, The beach, and scale the deck.
Will house and feed thine age Towards outstretched arms, that
When thou hast told to them the end Uke a trap
Of Pavon's pilgrimage, Did spring and catch his neck.
" By him enjoined. Though he be Then out he let his pent-up breath,
dead, Which seemed to blow away.
He must remembered be In one great sigh, his life's great
By novices he nurtured." " Sir, woe.
Dost thou not come with me ? And to himself did say,
'
' wilt thou tarry ? "
Long "Be con- "Howe'er, where'er now, in this
tent." world
"Not to forsake thee here, Or that, my
lot may fall,
ril serve thee in this homesick land I bear this scene in memory.
For love, as erst from fear." And I can bear it all."
"Go thou. I stay." A change Then to his task he turned, with
came o'er mien
The hunchback's raptured face: As eager and as bold
"Why stays he, Selim, know'st?" As when his brethren's blood plashed
"To draw round
Our water in thy place." His iron march of old.

He tore his hair; he turned away; Joy drained his lees of life nigh-
He spake " It shall not be spent
All in one brimming cup, —
: I

All blessings bless thee for the

thought. One wasteful draught of feverish
But 'twere not meet for thee 1 strength, —
And bade him drink it up.
" Few years are me on the earth
left
And God hath taught to me He dragged the sinking waters out:
That willing bondage borne in Christ He dashed them on the ground
Is loftier liberty." He panted to and fro well-nigh ;

The melons swam or drowned.

" Then grudge it not unto thy lord,"
St. Pavon following said. Sly women's jet and diamond eyes
The slave took up his water-pots. Did near the lattice lurk.
Moved on, and shook his head. And twinkle through its screen, to
see
" This is my penance I must do. The Christian madman work.
Or be for aye abhorred
Of Heaven." " I'll help thee bear The steward cried, " By Mahmoud's
it." beard,
"Nay, stint not mine earned re- Some demon toils within
ward!" Ton unbeliever, or a troop
Of slaves in one's shnmk skin."
St. Pavon's eyes and hands on his
He and joyously
fixed, Above him like a vulture came
Cried, "Laggard son, thy mother The noontide sun, and beat
waits Upon his old bald head, and pricked
Among the ships for thee !" Through all his frame with heat;
 ! ; ";
: ;! ; ; : " ;! : ;

430 PAENASSUS.

but spurs unto his zeal

It set "In mercy put me back to toil
" O Christ, and didst thou see And scorch, nor bid me brook.
My brother in this torment gasp, Ere I've avenged him well on me,
And through my cruelty !
Mine outraged Master's look!"

His short-lived might sank with the A tender smile glowed through them
light; all.
Black turned the red-hot day " Brave martyr, do not fear.
He scarce could drag to Anselm's Our Master calls He waits for thee
!

lair To share his bridal cheer

His heavy limbs away.
" Full many a weary year is told,
He heard a sound he felt a light ; As mortals tell their years.
He deemed it was the dawn. Since loud we struck our harps, and
He oped his eyes and, lo the veil
; 1 sang
Of glory was withdrawn Thy triumph o'er thy tears."
A radiance brighter than the sun, Before him, spreading welcoming
And sweeter than the moon. arms,
Showed earth a part of heaven ! He A shining Urban stood
sighed, " God gave thee grace to overcome
" 'Tis a God-granted boon, — Thine evil with thy good.

"A vision sent to cheer my soul, — "My lesson, brother, hast forgot? —
A glimpse of Paradise I taught to thee of yore,
O, fade not yet ! A moment more, That blessings hid, their threats
Ere to my toil I rise." amid.
The awful Scriptures bore."
A quivering fanned the air; and
shapes Then Pavon to his dear embrace
Like wingfed Joys stood round. In wildered transports sprang
"Arise!" they said. He rose and And up the sunny morn they soared.
left The dwindling earth did hang
His body on the ground,
Beneath. The air flapped, white with
His weariness and age. Surprised wings
With sudden buoyancy That thickened all about
And ease, he turned and saw aghast And wide a song of triumph pealed
His ghastly eflSgy. And rang this burden out
'"Tis but a dream!" '"Tis heav- " To wrest him out of Satan's hands
en." "Forme? His charity sufficed
Not yet not yet " he said
!
!
He did it unto one of Ohbist's,
" I am a traitor Give me time
1 He did it unto Chbist !

.O, let me not be dead! Saba H. Paifbbt. [E. Foxton.

 vm.

SONGS.
 : : : ; — ! :

SOE-GS.

MASQUE OF PLEASURE AND Begin, begin for look, the pair

;

VIRTUE. Do longing listen to what air

You form your second touch
SONS I. That they may vent their murmuring
hymns
CoMi: on, come on, and where you go Just to the tune you move your limbs.
So interweave the curious knot And wish their own were such.
As even the Observer scarce may Make haste, make haste, for this
know The labyrinth of Beauty is.
Which lines are pleasure, and which
not: SONG m.
First figure out the doubtful way
At which awhile the youth should It follows no* you are to prove
stay The subtlest maze of all, — that's
Where she and Virtue did contend Love,
Which should have Hercules to And, if you stay too long.
friend. The fair will think you do them
Then mankind
as all actions of wrong.
Are but a labyrinth or maze. Go choose among them, with a mind
So let your dances be entwined, As gentle as the stroking wind
Tet not perplex men unto gaze Runs o'er the gentler flowers,
But measured, and so numerous too, And so let all your actions smile,

As men may read each act they do -. As if they meant not to beguile
And, when they see your graces The ladies, but the hours.
meet, Grace, laughter, and discourse
Admire the wisdom of your feet may meet,
For dancing is an exercise And yet the beauty>not go less
Not only shows the mover's wit. For what is noble should be sweet.
But maketh the beholder wise. But not dissolved in wantonness.
As he hath power to rise to it. Will you that I give the law
To all your sport, and sum it
It should be such should envy draw.
SONO n.
But overcome it.

O more and more, this was so well Ben Jonson

As praise wants half his voice to tell.
Again yourselves compose,
And now put all the aptness on
Of figure, tliat proportion
Or color can disclose
That, if those silent arts were lost.
Design and Picture, they might boast
From you a newer ground
Instructed by the heightening sense
Of dignity and reverence
In their true motions found.
SONG. ly
Shake off your heavy trance,
And leap into a dance.
Such as no mortals use to tread.
Fit only for Apollo
To play to, for the moon to lead.
And all the stars to follow
O blessed youth ! for Jove doth pause,
Laying aside his graver laws
133
 : ! ; ! ; ;; ; ; ; : :; ! ;! !; ; ;

434 PARNASSUS.

For this device And evermore I'm whistling or

And at the wedding such a pair lilting what you sung
Each dance is taken for a prayer, Tour smile is my heart,
always in
Each song a sacrifice. your name beside my tongue
You should stay longer if we durst But you've as many sweethearts as
Away Alas that he that first
! ! you'd count on both your h ands,
Gave Time wild wings to fly away, And for myself there's not a thumb
Has now no power to make him stay. or little finger stands.
Beaumont and Flbtchbk.
Oh, you're the flower of womankind
in country or in town
MART DONNELLY. The higher I exalt you, the lower
I'm cast down.
Oh ! lovely Mary Donnelly, it's you If some great lord should come this
I love the best way, and see your beauty bright,
If girls were round you, I'd
fifty And you to be his lady, I'd own it
hardly see the rest. was but right.
Be what it may the time of day, the
place be where it will, Oh might we live together in a lofty
Sweet looks of Mary Donnelly, they palace hall.
bloom before me still. Where joyful music rises, and where
scarlet curtains fall
Her eyes like mountain water that's Oh might we live together in a cottage
flowing on a rock. mean and small
How clear they are, how dark they With sods of grass the only roof, and
are ! and they give me many a mud the only wall
shock.
Red rowans warm in sunshine and Oh! lovely Mary Donnelly, your
wetted in a shower. beauty's my distress.
Can ne'er express the charming lip It's far too beauteous to be mine,
that has me in its power. but I'll never wish it less.
The proudest place would fit your
Her nose is and handsome,
straight face, and I am poor and low
her eyebrows lifted up But blessings be about you, dear,
Her chin is very neat and pert, and wherever you may go
smooth like a china cup Allingham.
Her hair's the brag of Ireland, so
weighty and so fine SONG.
^
It's rolling down upon her neck, and
gathered in a twine. Spring all the graces of the age,
And the Loves of time
all

The dance o' last Whit-Monday Bring all the pleasures of the stage,
night exceeded all before And relishes of rhyme
No pretty girl for miles about was Add all the softnesses of Courts,
missing from the floor The looks, the laughters, and the
But Mary kept the belt of love, and sports
O but she was gay And mingle all their sweats
and salts
She danced a jig, she sang a song, That none may say the trii^ph halts.
that took my heart away. Ben Jonson: Neptune's Triumph.
Wlien she stood up for dancing, her
steps were so complete. SONG TO CERES.
The music nearly killed itself to Thou that art our Queen again,
listen to her feet And may in the sun be seen again.
The fiddler moaned his blindness, Come, Ceres, come,
he heard her so much praised, For the War's gone home.
But blessed himself he wasn't deaf And the fields are quiet and green
when once her voice she raised. again.
 ! ; ; ; !

SONGS. 436
The air,dear Goddess, sighs for thee, The happiest there, from their pas-
The brooks arise for thee,
llght>-heart time returning.
And the poppies red At sunset, still weep when thy
On their wistful bed story is told.
Turn up their dark blue eyes for thee.
The young village maid, when with
Laugh out in the loose green jerkin flowers she dresses
That's fit for a Goddess to work iu. Her dark flowing hair, for some
With shoulders brown. festival day,
And the wheateu crown Will think of thy fate, till, neglect-
About thy temples perking. ing her tresses.
She mournfully turns from her
And with thee came Stout Heart in, mirror away.
And Toil that sleeps his cart in,
Brown Exercise, Nor shall Iran, beloved of her hero
forget thee
The ruddy and wise.
His bathfed forelocks parting.
Though tyrants watch over her
tears as they start
Close, close by the side of that hero
And Dancing too, that's lither
she'll set thee.
Than willow or birch, drop hither,
To thread the place Embalmed in the innermost shrine
of her heart.
With a finishing grace,
And cany our smooth eyes with her. Around thee shall glisten the Iwe-
Leigh Hunt. liest amber
That ever the sorrowing sea-bird
has wept;
AKABY'S DAUGHTER With many a shell, in whose hollow
Fake WELL — farewell to thee, Ara-
wreathed chamber
by's daughter
We, Peris of Ocean, by moonlight
(Thus warbled a Peri beneath the have slept.

dark sea,) We'll dive where the gardens of

No pearl ever lay under Oman's coral lie darkling,
green water, And plant all the rosiest stems at
More pure in its shell than thy thy head
spirit in thee. We'll seek where the sands of the
Caspian are sparkling.
Oh! fair as the sea-flower close to
And gather their gold to strew over
thee growing,
thy head.
How light was thy heart till love's
witchery came. Farewell —
farewell —
until Pity's
Like the wind of the South o'er a sweet fountain
summer lute blowing. Is lost in the hearts of the fair and
And hushed all its music, and the brave.
withered its frame. They'll weep for the chieftain who
died on that mountain,
But long upon Araby's green sunny They'll weep for the maiden who
highlands.
sleeps in this wave.
Shall maids and their lovers re-
member the doom MOOKE.
Of her who lies sleeping among the
Pearl Islands, THE HARP THAT ONCE
With nought but the sea-star to THROUGH TARA'S HALLS.
light up her tomb.
The harp that once through Tara's
And still when the merry date-season halls
isburning, The soul of music shed,
And calls to the palm-groves the Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls
young and the old, As if that soul were fled.
 ; ! ; ; ! ; : :

436 PARNASSUS.

So sleeps the pride of former days, THE SAILOE.

So glory's thrill is o'er,
Aiid hearts that once beat high for A BOMAIC BAIiliAD.
praise
Now feel that pulse no more Thou that hast a daughter
to woo and wed,
For one
No more to chiefs and
ladies bright Give her to a husband
The harp of Tara swells With snow upon his head
The chord alone that breaks at night Oh, give her to an old man,
Its tale of ruin tells. ,
"Though little joy it be.
Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, Before the best young sailor
The only throb she gives That sails upon the sea
Is when some heart indignant breaks,
To show that still she lives. How luckless is the sailor
MOOBE. When sick and like to die
He sees no tender mother,
No sweetheart standing by.
Only the captain speaks to him, —
CANADIAN BOAT-SONG. Stand up, stand up, young man,
And steer the ship to haven,
[Written on the Kiver St. Lawrence ]
'

As none beside thee can.

Faintly as tolls the evening chime Thou says't to me, "Stand, stand
Our voices keep tune and our oars up;"
keep time. I say to thee, take hold.
Soon as the woods on shore look Lift me a little from the deck.
dim. Myhands and feet are cold.
We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting And let myhead, I pray thee,
hymn. With handkerchiefs be bound
Kow, brothers, row, the stream runs There, take my love's gold handker-
fast, chief,
The rapids are near and the day- And tie it tightly round.
light's past.
Now bring the chart, the doleful
Why should we yet our sail unfurl ? chart
There is not a breath the blue wave See, where these mountains meet —
to curl. The plouds are thick around their
But, when the wind blows off the head.
shore. The mists around their feet
Oh, sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Cast anchor here; 'tis deep and safe
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream nms Within the rocky cleft
fast, The little anchor on the right,
The rapids are near and the day- The great one on the left.
light's past.
And now to thee, O captain,
Utawas' tide this trembling moon
! Most earnestly I pray.
Shall see us float over thy surges That they may never bury me
soon. In church or cloister gray ;
—
Saint of this green isle! hear our But on the windy sea-beach,
prayers. At the ending of the land,
Oh, grant us cool heavens and favor- All on the surfy sea-beach.
ing airs. Deep down into the sand.
Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs
fast, For there will come the sailors,
The rapids are near and the day- Their voices I shall hear.
light's past. And at casting of the anchor
MOOKE. The yo-ho loud and clear;
 ;
! ; ;; ; ;; ; ;

SONGS. 437
And at hauling of the anchor THERE'S NAE LUCK ABOUT
The yo-ho and the cheer, — THE HOUSE.
Farewell, my love, for to thy hay
I never more may steer But are ye sure the news is true ?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is this a time to think o' wark ?
Te jauds, fling bye your wheel!
For there's nae luck about the
THE BOATIE ROWS. house,
There's nae luck at a'
Oh, weel may the boatie row. There's nae luck about the
And better may she speed house.
And liesome may the boatie row When our gudeman's awa.
That wins the balrnies' bread.
The boatie rows, the boatie rows. Is this a time to think o'wark.
The boatie rows indeed When Colin' s at the door?
And weel may the boatie row Eax down my cloak — I'll to the
That wins the bairnies' bread. quay,
And see him come ashore.
I coost my line in Largo Bay,
And fishes
I catched nine Rise up and make a clean fireside.
'Twas three to boil, and three to Put on the muckle pot;
fry, Gie little Kate her cotton gown.
And three to bait the line. And Jock his Sunday's coat.
The boatie rows, the boatie rows,
The boatie rows indeed. Make their shoon as black as slaes.
And happy Their stockings white as snaw
Wha
be the lot o' a'
wishes her to speed. pleasure our gudeman
It's a' to —
He likes to see them braw.
Oh, weel may the boatie row.
There are twa hens into the crib
That fills a heavy creel. Hae fed this month or mair
And deeds us a' frae tap to tae,
Mak haste and thraw their necks
And buys our parritch meal. about.
The boatie rows, the boatie rows. That Colin weel may fare.
The boatie rows, indeed.
And happy be the lot o' a'
My Turkey slippers I'll put on.
That wish the boatie speed.
My stockins pearl-blue, —
It's a' to pleasure our gudeman.
When Jamie vowed he wad be mine. For he's baith leal and true.
And wan frae me my heart.
Oh, muckle lighter grew my creel — Sae sweet his voice, sae smooth his
He swore we'd never part. tongue.
The boatie rows, the boatie rows. His breath's like cauler air;
The boatie rows fu' weel His very foot has music in't.
And muckle lighter is the load As he comes up the stair.
When love bears up the creel.
And will I see his face .again.
My kurtch I put upo' my head. And' will I hear him speak ?
And dressed mysel' fu' braw I'm downricht dizzy wi' the thought,
I trow my heart was dough and In troth I'm like to greet.
wae, There's nae luck about the
When Jamie gade awa'. house.
But weel may the boatie row. There's nae luck at a'
And lucky be her part. There's nae luck about the
And lightsome be the lassie's care house.
That yields an honest heart. When our gudeman's awa.'
ASOSYHOVB. William Julius Micklb.
 ! ;; ;; ;;! ; ; ! ! !

i38 'PAENASSUS.

JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO. JEANIE MOREISON.

John Andekson, my jo, John, DEAR, dear Jeanie Morrison,
When we were first acquent, The thochts o' bygane years
Your locks were like the raven, Still fling their shadows ower my
Your bonnie brow was brent path,
But now your brow is held, John, And blind my een wi' tears
Your locks are like the snaw They blind my een wi' saut, saut tears,
But blessings on your frosty pow, And sair and sick I pine.
John Anderson, my jo. As Memory idly summons up
The blythe blinks o' langsyne.
John Anderson, my jo, John,
We clamb the hill theglther 'Twas then we luvit ilk ither weel,
And mony 'Twas then we twa did part;
a canty day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither: Sweet time, sad time twa bairns
! —
at schule,
Now we maun totter down, John
Twa bairns, and but ae heart
But hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep thegither at the foot, 'Twas then we sat on ae laigh bink.
John Anderson, my jo. To leir ilk ither lear
Burns. And tones, and looks, and smiles
were shed,
Remembered evermair.

1 wonder, Jeanie, aften yet,

OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT. Wlien sitting on that bink.
Cheek touchin' cheek, loof locked In
Oft in the stilly night. loof.
Ere Slumber's chain has bound What our wee heads could think
me, When baith bent down ower ae braid
Fond Memory brings the light page
Of other days around me Wi' ae bulk on our knee.
The smiles, the tears, Thy lips were on thy lesson, but
. Of boyhood's years. My lesson was in thee.
The words of love then spoken
The eyes that shone. Oh, mind ye how we hung our heads.
Now dimmed and gone. How cheeks brent red wi' shame.
The cheerful hearts now broken Whene'er the schule-weaus laughin'
Thus in the stilly night. said.
Ere Slumber's chain has bound We cleek'd thegither hame?
me. And mind yethe Saturdays
o'
Sad Memory brings the light (The schule then skail't at noon).
Of other days around me. When we ran aff to speel the braes —
The broomy braes o' June ?
When I remember all
The friends, so linked together, Oh, mind ye, luve, how aft we left
I've seen around me fall. The deavin' dinsome toun.
Like leaves in wintry weather, To wander by the green burnside.
I feel like one And hear its water croon ?
Who
treads alone The simmer leaves hung ower our
Some banquet hall deserted. heads.
Whose lights are fled. The flowers burst round our feet.
Whose garlands dead, And in the gloamin' o' the wud
And all but he departed The throssil whusslit sweet.
Thus in the stilly night,
Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, The throssil whusslit in the wud.
Sad Memory brings the light The burn sung to the trees,
Of other days around me. And we, with Nature's heart iu tuue,
MOOBE. Concerted harmonies
 !! ;; ; ; ! : ;! ; ; ! ;

SONGS. 439
And on the knowe abune the burn And surely ye' 11 be your pint-stoup.
For hours thegither sat sure as I'll be mine
As
In the silentness o' joy, till balth And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
Wl' very gladness grat. For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear.
O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, For auld lang syne.
we were sindered young,
Since We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet.
I've never seen your face, nor heard For auld lang syne
The music o' your tongue BUBNS.
But I could hug all wretchedness,
'
And happy could I dee,
Did I but ken your heart still
^
dreamed COME AWAY, COME AWAY,
O' bygane days and me
DEATH.
William Mothebwell.
Come away, come away, death,
AULD LANG SYNE. And in sad cypress let me be laid
Fly away, away, breath
fly
Should auld acquaintance be for- I am slain by a maid.
fair cruel
got, My shroud of white, stuck all with
And never brought to min' ? yew,
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, O prepare it
And days o' lang syne ? My part of death no one so true
For auld lang syne, my dear. Did share it.
For auld lang syne.
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne
Not a flower, not a flower sweet,
We twa hae run about the braes. On my black cofiin let there be
And pu't the go wans fine strewn
But we've wandered mony a weary Not a friend, not a friend greet
foot, My poor corse, where my bones shall
•
Sin' auld lang syne. be thrown.
For auld lang syne, my dear. A thousand thousand sighs to save.
For auld lang syne, Lay me, O where
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet. Sad true lover never find my grave.
For auld lang syne To weep there
Shakspeaee.
We twa hae the bum,
paidl't i'

Frae mornin' sun till dine

But seas between us braid
roared.
Sin' 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
And here's a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o' thine
And we'll take a right guid willie-
wauglit,
hae
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
! !

For auld lang syne. green holly:

For auld lang syne, my dear, Most friendship is feigning, most
For auld lang syne. loving mere folly
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet, Then, heigh-ho the holly
!

For auld lang syne This life is must jolly.

 : : ; : ! ; ! ! :

440 PARNASoJS.

u.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky, When shepherds pipe on oaten
That dost not bite so nigh straws,
As benefits forgot: And merry larks are ploughmen's
Though thou the waters warp, clocks.
Thy sting is not so sharp When turtles tread, and rooks, and
As friend remembered not. daws.
Heigh-ho sing, heigh-ho! unto the
1 And maidens bleach their summer
green holly smocks,
Most friendship is feigning, most The cuckoo then, on every tree,
loving mere folly Mocks married men for thus sings
;

Then, heigh-ho! the holly! he.

This life is most jolly. Cuckoo
Shakspeabe. Cuckoo, cuckoo, —
O word of fear
Unpleasing to a married ear

/ UNDEK THE GKEENWOOD-

TKEE. When icicles hang by the wall.
And Dick the shepherd blows his
nail.
Undek the greenwood-tree
And Tom bears logs into the hall.
Who loves to lie with me. And milk comes frozen home in
And tune his merry note pail.
Unto the sweet bird's throat, When blood is nipped, and ways be
Come hither, come hither, come foul,
hither
Here shall he see
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;
No enemy. To-whlt, to-who, a merry note.
But winter and rough weather.
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Who doth ambition shun, When all aloud the wind doth blow.
And loves to live i' the sun.
And coughing drowns the parson's
Seeking the food he eats,
saw.
And pleased with what he gets. And birds sit brooding in the snow.
Come hither, come hither, come And Marian's nose looks red and
hither:
raw.
Here shall he see When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl.
No enemy. Then nightly sings the staring owl,
But winter and rough weather. To-who
Shakspeabe. To-whit, to-who, a merry note.
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Shakspeabe.
SONG. 1/

ly
When daisies pied, and violets blue. ARIEL'S SONG.
And lady-smocks all silver-white.
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue. Where the bee sucks, there suck I
Do paint the meadows with de- In a cowslip's bell I lie;
light. There I couch when owls do cry.
The cuckoo then, on every tree. On the bat's back I do fly
Mocks married men for thus sings
; After summer, merrily.
he, Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Cuckoo Under the blossom that hangs on the
Cuckoo, cuckoo, — O word of fear! bough.
Unpleasing to a married ear Shakspeare.
 : ;; ; :: ; ;; ; ! ; ; ;

SONGS. 441
TELL ME WHERE IS FANCY And in the violet-embroidered vale,
BRED. Where the love-lorn nightingale
Nightly to thee her sad song moum-
Teli- me where is fancy bred, eth well
Or in the heart, or in the head ?
How begot, how nourished ?
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle
pair
Reply, reply.
That likestthy Narcissus are ?
It is engendered in the eyes. O, if thou have
With gazing fed ; and fancy dies Hid them in some flowery cave,
In the cradle where it lies. Tell me
but where.
Let us all ring fancy's knell Sweet queen of parley, daughter of
I'll begin it,— Ding-dong, bell,
the sphere
Chorus. —
Ding-dong, bell.
So mayst thou be translated
the skies,
to
Shakspbabe. And give resounding grace to all
heaven's harmonies.
FULL FATHOM FIVE THY ^ Milton.
FATHER LIES.
Full fathom five thy father lies HARK! HARK! THE LARK. i^
Of his bones are coral made
Those are pearls that were his eyes Habk! hark! the lark at heaven's
Nothing of him that doth fade, gate sings,
But doth suffer a sea-change And Phoebus 'gins arise,
Into something rich and strange. His steeds to water at those springs
Sea-nymphs hourly sing his knell : On chaliced flowers that lies
Hark I now I hear them, Ding- —
dong, bell. And winking Mary-buds begin
Bicrden. — Ding-dong. To ope their golden eyes
Shakspeabe. With every thing that pretty bin.
My lady sweet, arise
Arise, arise.
SONG OF ECHO. Shakspeabe.
Slow, slow, fresh fount, keep time
with my salt tears THE BUGLE-SONG.
Yet slower, yet, O
faintly gentle
springs
The splendor falls on castle walls
List to the heavy part the music bears.
And snowy summits old in story:
Woe weeps out her division, when The long light shakes across the
she sings.
lakes,
Droop herbs and flowers And the wild cataract leaps in
Fall grief in showers
glory.
Our beauties are not ours Blow, bugle, blow, set the wilu
O, I could still, echoes flying.
Like melting snow upon some crag-
Blow, bugle answer, echoes, dying,
;

gy hill. dying, dying.

Drop, drop, drop, drop
Since Nature's pride is now a with-
ered daffodil.
O hark, O hear how thin and clear,
!

And thinner, clearer, farther

Ben Jonson. going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
SONG. The horns of Elfland faintly
blowing I

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph that Blow, letus hear the purple glens
liv'st unseen replying:
Within thy airy shell, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying
By slow Meander's margent green. dying, dying.
 ; ; : ; :
; .

442 PAENASStrS.

O love, they die in yon rich sky, SONG FROM JASON.

They faint on hill or field or river
Our echoes roll from soul to soul. I KNOW a little garden close
And grow forever and forever. Set thick with lily and red rose,
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild Where I would wander if I might
echoes flying. From dewy dawn to dewy night,.
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, And have one with me wandering.
dying, dying. And though within it no birds sing,
Tennyson. And thougli no pillared house is there,
And though the apple-boughs are bare
Offruit and blossom, would to God
COUKTT GUT. Herfeet upon the green grass trod,
And I beheld them as before.
Ah ! County Guy, the hour is nigh, There comes a murmur from the
The sun has left the lea. shore,
The orange-flower perfumes the And in the place two fair streams are.
bower, Drawn from the purple hills afar.
The breeze is on the sea. Drawn down unto the restless sea;
The lark, his lay who trilled all day, The hills whose flowers ne'er fed the
Sits hushed his partner nigh bee.
Breeze, bird, and flower confess the The shore no ship has ever seen.
hour, beaten by the billows green.
Still
But where is County Guy ? Whose murmur comes unceasingly
Unto the place for which I cry.
The village maid steals through the For which I cry both day and night.
, shade For which I let slip all delight,
Her shepherd's suit to hear; That maketh me both deaf and blind.
To beauty shy, by lattice high. Careless to win, unskilled to find,
Sings high-born Cavalier; And quick to lose what all men seek.
The star of Love, all stars above, Yet tottering as I am and weak.
Now reigns o'er earth and sky. have I left a little breath
Still
And high and low the influence To
know, —
seek within the jaws of death
An entrance to that happy place,
But where is County Guy ? To seek the unforgotten face
Scott. Once seen, once kissed, once reft
from me
Anigh the murmuring of the sea.
EIVER SONG. W11.UAM MOBBIS.
Comb to the river's reedy shore.
My maiden, while the skies.
With blushes fit to grace thy cheek,
Wait for the sun's uprise: OF A' THE AIRTS.
There, dancing on the rippling wave.
My boat expectant lies, Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
And jealous flowers, as thou goest by, I dearly like the west
Unclose their dewy eyes. For there the bonnie lassie lives,
The lassie I lo'e best.
As slowly down the stream we glide, There wild woods grow, and rivers
The lilies all unfold row,
Their leaves, less rosy white than Wi' mony a hill between
thou, Baith day and night my fancy's flight
And virgin hearts of gold Is ever wi' my Jean.
The gay birds on the meadow elm
Salute thee blithe and bold, I see her in the dewy flowers
While I sit shy and silent here, Sae lovely fresh and fair,
A.nd glow with love untold. I hear her voice in ilka bird
F. B. Sanborn. Wi' music charm the air
 ; : ; :! ! : ! : :
!

SONGS. 443
There's not a boiinie flower that As fair art thou, my bonnie lass.
springs So deep in luve am I
By fountain shaw or green And I will luve thee still, my dear,
There's not a bonnie bird that sings Till a' the seas gang dry.
But minds me o' my Jean.
BUBNS. Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
Andthe rocks melt wi' the sun
I will luve thee still, my dear.
GOLDILOCKS. While the sands o' life shall run.

Goldilocks sat on the grass, And fare thee weel, my only luve
Tying up of posies rare And fare thee weel awhile
Hardly could a sunbeam pass And I will come again, my luve.
Through the cloud that was her Though it were ten thousand mile.
hair. BUBNS.
Purple orchis lasteth long,
Primrose flowers are pale and
clear GO, LOVELY ROSE.
O the maiden sang a song
'
It would do you good to hear Go, lovely rose
Tell her that wastes her time and
Sad before her leaned the boy, me.
" Goldilocks that I love well, That now she knows.
Happy creature fair and coy. When I resemble her to thee,
Think o' me, sweet Amabel." How sweet and fair she seems to
Goldilocks she shook apart, be.
Looked with doubtful, doubtful
eyes : Tell her that's young,
Like a blossom in her heart, And shuns to have her graces
Opened out her first surprise. spied.
.-! That hadst thou sprung
As a gloriole sign
grace. o' In deserts where no men abide.
Goldilocks, ah fall and flow, Thou must have uncommended
On the blooming, childlike face, died.
Dimple, dimple, come and go.
Give her time on grass and sky
: Small is the worth
Let her gaze if she be fain. Of beauty from the light retired
As they looked ere he drew nigh. Bid her come forth.
They will never look again. Suffer herself to be desired,
And not blush so to be admired.
Ah !the playtime she has known,
While her goldilocks grew long. Then die that she
!

a nestling flown.
Is it like The common fate of
Childhood over like a song? May read in thee, — i

Yes, the boy may clear his brow, How small a part of time they
Though she thinks to say him nay, share
When she sighs, " I cannot now. That are so wondrous sweet and
Come again some other day." fair.
Jean Ingblow. Walleb.

O MY LUVE'S LIKE A RED, TO THE ROSE. L^

RED ROSE.
GoE, happy Rose, and interwove
MY luve's like a red, red rose. With other flowers, bind my love.'
That's newly sprung in June Tell her, too, she must not be,
my luve's like the melodie. \
Longer flowing, longer free.
That's sweetly played in tune. That so oft has fettered me;
 ; ; ;; ; ; ; ;

444 PAKNASSUS.

Say, if she's fretful, I have bands Till a silence fell with the waking
Of pearl and gold, to bind her hands bird,
Tell her, if she struggle still, And a hush with the setting moon.
I have myrtle rods at will,
For to tame, though not to kill.

I said to the lily, " There is but one

Take thou my blessing thus, and goe With whom she has heart to be gay.
And tell her this, but doe not so,
When will the dancers leave her
Lest a handsome anger flye
alone ?
Like a lightning from her eye.
She
is weary of dance and play."
And burn thee up, as well as L Now half to the setting moon are
Hbbrick.
gone,
And half to the rising day;
Low on the sand and loud on the stone
TAKE, O, TAKE THOSE LIPS The last wheel echoes away.
AWAY.
V.
Take, O, take those away.
lips
I said to the rose, " The brief night
That so sweetly were foresworn
goes
And those eyes, the break of day, In babble and revel and wine.
Lights that do mislead the mom
But my kisses bring again, bring — O young lord-lover, what sighs are
those.
again,
Seals of love, but sealed in vain, — For one that will never be thine ?
But mine, but mine," so I sware to
sealed in vain.
the rose,
Shakspeabe. " For ever and ever, mine."

VI.
GARDEN SONG.
And the soul of the rose went into
my blood.
As the music clashed in the hall
Come into the garden, Maud, And long by the garden lake I stood,
For the black bat, night, has flown, For I heard your rivulet fall
Come into the garden, Maud, From the lake to the meadow and
I am here at the gate alone on to the wood.
And the woodbine spices are wafted Our wood, that is dearer than all;
abroad.
And the musk of the rose is blown.
VII.

From the meadow your walks have

left so sweet
For a breeze of morning moves,
And the planet of Love is on high, That whenever a March- wind sighs
Beginning to faint in the light that
He sets the jewel-print of your feet
In violets blue as your eyes.
she loves
To the woody hollows in which we
On a bed of daffodil sky. meet
To faint in the light of the sun she
loves,
And the valleys of Paradise.
To faint in his light, and to die.

m. The slender acacia would not shake

All night have the roses heard One long milk-bloom on the tree
The flute, violin,bassoon The white lake-blossom fell into the
All night has the casement jessamine lake
stirred As the pimpernel dozed on the
To the dancers dancing in tune lea;
 " " ; ; ; ; ;; ; : ;;
; ; ;;
;

SONGS. 445
But the rose was awake all night for When flowing cups run swiftly round
your sake, With no allaying Thames,
Knowing your promise to me Our carelessheads with roses crowned,
The lilies and roses were all awake, Our hearts with loyal flames
They sighed for the dawn and thee. When thirsty grief in wine we steep,
When healths and draughts go free,
Fishes that tipple in the deep
IX.
Know no such liberty.
Queen rose of the rosebud garden
of girls, Wten, linnet-like confinfed, I
Come hither, the dances are done. With shriller throat shall "sing
In gloss of satin and glimmer of The sweetness, mercy, majesty,
pearls. And glories of my King
Queen lily and rose in one When I shall voice aloud how good
Shine out, little head, sunning over He is, how great should be.
with curls. Enlarged winds, that curl the flood.
To the flowers, and he their sun. Know no such liberty.
Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage
Minds innocent and quiet take
There has fallen a splendid tear That for an hermitage
From the passion-flower at the If I have freedom in my love,
gate. And in my soul am free,
She is coming, my dove, my dear Angels alone, that soar above,
She is coming, my life, my fate Enjoy such liberty.
The red rose cries, " She is near, Lovelace.
;
she is near
And the white rose weeps, " She
;
is late TO CELIA.
The larkspur listens, " I hear, I
hear," Deink to me only with thine eyes,
And the lily whispers, " I wait." 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 my soul doth rise
She is coming, my own, my sweet; Doth ask a drink divine
Were it ever so airy a tread, But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
My heart would hear her and heat, I would not change for thine.
Were it earth in an earthy bed
My dust would hear her and heat. I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
Had I lain for a century dead Not so much honoring thee,
Would start and tremble under her As it a hope that there
giving
feet. would not withered be
It
And blossom in purple and red. But thou thereon didst only breathe,
Tennyson. And sent it back to me
Since then itgrows and smells, Iswear,
Not of itself, but thee,
TO ALTHEA. Ben Jonson.
When Love with unconflnfed wings ly
Hovers within my gates, THE NIGHT PIECE: TO JULIA.
And my divine Althea brings
To whisper at the grates Heb eyes the glow-worme lend thee.
When I lie tangled in her hair The shooting stars attend thee
And fettered to her eye, And the elves also.
The birds that wanton in the air Whose little eyes glow,
Know no such liberty. Like the sparks of Are, befriend thee.
 ;; ; ; ; !
! ; ; ; ;

446 PAENASSUS.

No Will-o'-th'-Wispe mislight thee, THE MANLY HEART.

Nor snake nor slow-worme bite thee
But on, on thy way, Shall I, wasting in despair,
Not making a stay, Die because a woman's fair?
Since ghost there's none to affright Or my cheeks make pale with care
thee. 'Cause another's rosy are?
Be she fairer than the day,
Let not the dark thee cumber. Or the flowery meads in May —
What though the moon do slumber ? If she be not so to me.
The starres of the night What care I how fair she be ?
Will- lend thee their light,
Like tapers cleare, without number. Shall my foolish heart be pined
'Cause I see a woman kind;
Then, Julia, let me wooe thee, Or a well disposed nature
Thus, thus to come unto me Joinfed with a lovely feature ?
And when I shall meet Be she meeker, kindfer, than
Thy silvery feet. Turtle-dove or pelican.
My soule I'll poure into thee.
Hebbick.
If she be not so to me, —
What care I how kind she be ?
Shall a woman's virtues move
DISDAIN EETUKNED. Me to perish for her love ?
He that loves a rosy cheek, Or her merit's value known
Or a coral lip admires. Make me quite forget mine own ?
Or from star-like eyes doth seek Be she with that goodness blest
Fuel to maintain his fires
Which may gain her name of Best;
As old Time makes these decay. If she seem not such to me.
So his flames must waste away. What care Ihow good she be ?
But a smooth and steadfast mind, 'Cause her fortune seems too high.
Gentle thoughts and calm desires, Shall I play the fool and die?
Hearts, with equal love combined. Those that bear a noble mind
Kindle never-dying fires. Where they want of riches find.
Where these are not, I despise Think what with them they would
Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes. do
Thomas Cabew. Who without them dare to woo
And unless that mind I see,
'What care I though great she be ?
LOVE. 1/
Great or good, or kind or fair,
Love is a sickness full of woes. I will ne'er the more despair;
All remedies refusing If she love me, this believe,
A plant that most with cutting grows. I will die ere she shall grieve
Most barren with best using. If she slight me when I woo,
Why so? I can scorn and let her go
More we enjoy it, more it dies. For if she be not for me.
If not enjoyed, it sighing cries What care I for whom she be ?
Heigh-ho G. Wither.

Love a torment of the mind,

is
A
tempest everlasting LOVE'S YOUNG DEEAM.
And Jove hath made it of a kind
Not well, nor full, nor fasting. O, THE days are gone, when Beauty
Why so? bright
More we enjoy it, more it dies My heart's chain wove;
If not enjoyed, it sighing cries When my dream of life, from morn
Heigh-ho till night.
Samuei. Daniel. Was love, still love.
 !. ; ; ; !! ; " ; ; " ;

SONGS. 447
New hope may bloom, Through all the land of Xeres and
Anddays may come, banks of Guadalquiver
Of milder, calmer beam Rode forth bridegroom so brave as
But there's nothing half so sweet in he, so brave and lovely never.
life Yon tall plume waving o'er his brow,
As love's young dream. of purple mixed with white,
MOOBE. I guess 'twas wreathed by Zara,
whom he will wed to-night.
THEKLA'S SONG. Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the
golden cushion down
The clouds are flying, the woods are Rise up, come to the window, and
sighing, gaze with all the town !

A maiden is walking the grassy

shore. The Zegrl lady rose not, nor laid her
And as the wave breaks with might, cushion down.
with might, Nor came she to the window to gaze
She singeth aloud in the darksome with all the town
night. But though her eyes dwelt on her
But a tear is in her troubled eye. knee, in vain her fingers strove,
For the world
And though her needle pressed the
feels cold, and the
silk, no flower Xarifa wove
heart gets old,
One bonny rose-bud she had traced
And reflects the bright aspect of
Nature no more
before the noise drew nigh —
That bonny bud a tear effaced, slow
Then take back thy child, holy Vir- drooping from her eye —
gin, to thee
I have plucked the one blossom
" No, no " she sighs
!
—
" bid me not
rise, nor lay my cushion down,
that hangs on earth's tree,
To gaze upon Andalla with all the
I have lived, and have loved,
gazing town I"
and die.
ANONTMOirs.
" Why rise ye not, Xarifa —
Trajislated frvm ScMller.
your cushion down — nor lay
THE BRIDAL OF ANDALLA.
Why gaze ye not, Xarifa — with all
the gazing town ?
Hear, hear the trumpet how it swells,
"Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the and how the people cry:
golden cushion down
Else up, come to the window, and
He stops at Zara's palace-gate why —
sitye still, oh, why!"
gaze with all the town
From gay guitar and violin the silver
— "At Zara's gate stops Zara's
mate ; in him shall I discover
notes are flowing. The dark-eyed youth pledged me his
And the lovely lute doth speak be- truth with tears, and was my
tween the trumpet's lordly lover 1
blowing. I will not rise, with weary eyes, nor
And banners bright from lattice light lay my cushion down.
are waving everywhere. To gaze on false Andalla with all the
And the tall, tall plume of our cou- gazing town !

sin's bridegroom floats proudly

LOCKHABT.
in the air.
Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the
golden cushion down
Rise up, come to the window, and
THE BANKS OF BOON.
gaze with all the town
Te banks and braes o' bonnie Boon,
"Arise, arise, Xarifa! I see Andal- How can ye bloom sae fresh and
la's face — fair.
He bends him to the people with a How can ye chant, ye little birds,
calm and princely grace And I sae weary, f u' o' care I
 ;: ;; ; ; ;; ; : ! ";
;: ;

448 PARNASSTJS.

Thou'lt break my heart, thou war- And the young moon dropped from
bling bird, heaven,
That wantons thro' the flowering And the lights hid one by one.
thorn
Thou minds me o' departed joys, All silently their glances
Departed — never to return. Slipped down the cruel sea,
And "Wait," cried the night, an(>
Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon, wind, and storm,
Tosee the rose and woodbine " Wait till I come to thee !

twine Haebiet Pbescott Spoffokd,

And ilka bird sang o' its luve,
And fondly sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pii'd a rose,
Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree
And my fause luver stole my rose, HERO TO LEANDER.
But, ah he left the thorn wi' me.
!

Burns. Oh ! go not yet my love.

The night is dark and vast
The white moon is hid in her heaven
above.
A WEARY LOT IS THINE. And the waves climb high and fast.
Oh kiss me, kiss me, once again.
!

A WJBARY lot is thine, fair maid, Lest thy kiss should be the last.
A weary lot is thine Oh kiss me ere we part
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid, Grow closer to my heart.
And press the rue for wine. My heart is warmer surely than the
A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien, bosom of the main.
A feather of the blue,
A doublet of the Lincoln green, — Thy heart beats through thy rosy
No more of me you knew, love my limbs.
No more of me you knew.
So gladly doth it stir
This morn is merry June, I Thine eye in drops of gladness swims,
trow,
I have bathed thee with the pleasant
The rose is budding fain
But it bloom in winter snow
shall
myrrh;
Ere we two meet again.
Thy locks are dripping balm
He turned his charger as he spake Thou shalt not wander hence to-
night,
Upon the river shore
He gave his bridle-reins a shake, I'll stay thee with my kisses.
Said, Adieu forevermore, my love To-nigit the roaring brine
Will rend thy golden tresses
And adieu forevermore.
The ocean with the morrow light
Scott.
Will be both blue and calm
And the billow will embrace thee
with a kiss as soft as mine.
THE NIGHT-SEA. No western odors wander
On the black and moaning sea.
In the summer even. And when thou art dead, Leander,
While yet the dew was hoar, My soul must follow thee
I went plucking purple pansies. Oh ! go not yet, my love,
Till my love should come to shore. Thy voice is sweet and low
The deep salt wave breaks in above
The fishing lights their dances Those marble steps below.
Were keeping out at sea. The turret stairs are wet
And "Come," I sung, " my true love. That lead into the sea.
Come hasten home to me." The pleasant stars have set
Oh go ! not, go not yet,
But the sea a-moaning.
it fell Or I will follow thee.
And the white gulls rocked l^ereon, TElfNYSOlf,
 ; ;! ; : ;! ; ! ;

SONGS. 449
BRIGNAXL BANKS. " And, O ! though Brignall banks be
fair.
0, Bbignall banks are wild and And Greta woods be gay,
fair, Tet mickle must the maiden dare.
And Greta woods are green, Would reign my Queen of May
And you may gather garlands there,
Would grace a summer queen. " Maiden a nameless life I lead,
!

And as I rode by Dalton Hall, A

nameless death I'll die;
Beneath the turrets high, The whose lantern lights the
fiend,
A maiden ou the castle wall mead.
Was singing merrily, — Were better mate than I
" O, Brignall banks are fresh and And when I'm with my comrades
fair, met.
And Greta woods are green Beneath the greenwood bough,
I'd rather rove with Edmund there, What once we were we all forget.
Than reign our English queen." — Nor think what we are now.
" Tet Brignall banks are fresh and
" If,Maiden, thou wouldst wend fair,
with me. And Greta woods are green.
To leave both tower and town. And you may gather garlands there
Thou must guess what life lead
first Would grace a summer queen."
we. Scott.
That dwell by dale and down.
And if thou canst that riddle read,
As read full well you may.
Then to the greenwood shalt thou BONNT DUNDEE.
speed.
As blithe as Queen of May." — To the Lords of Convention 'twas
Tet sung she, "Brignall banks are Claver'se who spoke,
fair. "Ere the King's crown shall fall
And
Greta woods are green there are crowns to be broke
I'd rather rove with Edmund there, So let each Cavalier who loves honor
Than reign our English queen. and me
Come follow the bonnet of Bonny
'
' by your bugle-horn.
I read you, Dundee.
And by your palfrey good, Come fill up my cup, come fill

I read you for a Ranger sworn, up my can,

To keep the king's greenwood." Come saddle your horses, and
" A Ranger, lady, winds his horn, up your men
call
And at peep of light;
'tis Come open the West Port, and
Pis blast is heard at merry mom, let me gang free.
And mine at dead of night." — And it's room for the bonnets of
yet sung she, " Brignall banks are Bonny Dundee.
fair.
And Greta woods are gay Dundee he is mounted, he rides up
I would I were with Edmund there, the street,
To reign his Queen of May The bellsare rung backward, the
drums they are beat
" With burnished brand and muske- But the Provost, douce man, said,
" Just e'en let him be,
toon,
So gallantly you come, The gude town is weel quit of that
I read you for a bold Dragoon, Deil of Dundee."
That lists the tuck of drum." —
'
I list no more the tuck of drum, With sour-featured Whigs the Grass-
No more
the trumpet hear market was crammed.
But when the beetle sounds his hum. As if half the West had set tryst to
My comrades take the spear. be hanged
29
 ; ! ' ! " !! ! ;;
! ! ;

450 PARNASSrrS.

There was spite in each look, there Proudly our pibroch has thrilled in
was fear in each ee, Glen Fruin,
As they watched for the bonnets of And Bannachars' groans to our
Bonny Dundee. slogan replied
Glen Luss and Boss dhu, they are
These cowls of Kilmarnock had spits' smoking in ruin,
and had spears, And the best of Loch-Lomond lie
And lang-hafted gullies to kill Cava- dead on her side.
liers ; Widow and Saxon maid
But they shrunk to close-heads, and Long shall lament our raid,
the causeway was free. Think of Clan-Alpine with feat
At the toss of the bonnet of Bonny and with woe
Dundee. Lennox and Leven-glen
" Away to the Shake when they hear again,
hills, to the caves, to
the rocks, — "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho!
ieroe !

Ere I own an usurper, I'll couch

with the fox;
Row, vassals, row, for the pride of
And tremble false Whigs, in the the Highlands
midst of your glee.
Stretch to your oars for the ever-
You have not seen the last of my green Pine
bonnet and me."
Scott.
O that the rosebud that graces yon
islands
SONG OF CLAN-ALPINE. Were wreathed in a garland around
him to twine
Hael to the Chief who in triumph O that some seedling gem.
advances Worthy such nobfe stem.
Honored and blessed be the ever- Honored and blessed in their shadow
green Pine might grow
Long may- the tree, in his banner Loud should Clan- Alpine then
that glances, Ring from her deepmost glen,
Flourish, the shelter and grace of "Roderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho!
our line ieroe!"
Heaven send it happy dew. Scott.
Earth lend it sap anew,
Gayly to bourgeon, and broadly
to grow. PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU.
While every Highland glen
Sends our shout back again, Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,
"Koderigh Vich Alpine dhn, ho! Pibroch of Donuil^
ieroe!" Wake thy wild voice anew,
Summon Clan Conuil.
Ours is no sapling, chance-sown by Come away, come away.
the fountain, Hark to the summons
Blooming at Beltane, in winter to Come in your war array,
fade Gentles and commons.
When the whirlwind has stripped
every leaf on the mountain. Come from deep glen and
The more shall Clan-Alpine exult From mountain so rocky,
in her shade. The war-pipe and pennon
Moored in the rifted rock, Are at Inverlochy.
Proof to the tempest's shock, Come every hill-plaid.
Firmer he roots him the ruder it And true heart that wears one
Wow: Come every steel blade,
Menteith and Breadalbane, then. And strong hand that bears one!
Echo his praise again,
"Eoderigh Vich Alpine dhu, ho! Leave untended the herd.
ieroe!" The flock without shelter;
 ; :! :! ; : ; ; ; ! ; !

SONGS. 451
Leave the corpse uninterred, For soon shall be lifeless the eye and
The bride at the altar; the tongue.
Leave the deer, leave the steer, That viewed them with rapture, with
Leave nets and barges rapture that sung.
Come with your fighting gear.
Broadswords and targes.

Thy sons, Dinas Emlinn, may march

Come as the winds come in their pride,
When forests are rended And chase the proud Saxon from
Come as the waves come Prestatyn's side
When navies are stranded But where is the harp shall give life
Faster come, faster come, to their name ?
Faster and faster, And where is the bard shall give
Chief, vassal, page, and groom, heroes their fame ?
Tenant and master.

Fast they come, fast they come

See how they gather
And oh, Dinas Emlinn ! thy daugh-
ters so fair,
Wide waves the eagle plume
Blended with heather.
Who heave the white bosom, and
Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
wave the dark hair
Forward each man set What tuneful enthusiast shall wor-
ship their eye.
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu,
Knell for the onset 1
When half of their' charms with
Cadwallon shall die ?
Scott.

Then adieu, silver Teivi ! I quit thy

THE DYING BAKD. loved scene.
To join the dim choir of the bards
who have been
With Lewarch, and Meilor, and Mer-
DiNAS Emlinn, lament for the mo- ; lin the Old,
ment is nigh, And sage Taliessin, high harping to
When mute in the woodlands thine hold.
echoes shall die
No more by sweet Teivi Cadwallon
shall rave.
And mix his wild notes with the And adieu, Dinas Emlinn ! still green
wild dashing wave. be thy shades,
Unconquered thy warriors, and
matchless thy maids
And thou, whose faint warblings my
In spring and in autumn thy glories weakness can tell.

of shade Farewell, my loved Harp! my last

Unbonored shall flourish, unhonored treasure, farewell
shall fade Scott.
 IX.

DIRGES AND PATHETIC

POEMS.

"For when sad thoughts possess the mind of man,

There is a plummet in the heart that weighs
And polls ns living to the dust we came from."— Beacmont and FIiEIOHEB.
 !; : ; ; ;;

DIRGES AI^D PATHETIC POEMS.

t^
LACHEIM^; OR, MIRTH And nothing may we use in vain
TURNED TO MOURNING. Even beasts must be with justice slain,
Else men are made their deodands.
Call me no more, Though they should wash theii
As heretofore. guilty hands
The music of a feast; In this warm life-blood which doth
Since now, alas, part
The mirth that was From thine, and wound me to the
heart.
In me, is dead or ceast.
Yet could they not be clean, their
stain
Before I went
To banishment Isdyed in such a purple grain.
Into the loathed west,
There is not such another in
I could rehearse
The world, to offer for their sin.

A lyric verse. Itis a wondrous thing how fleet

And speak it with the best.
'Twas on those little silver feet;
But time, ay me With what a pretty skipping grace
Has laid, I see. would challenge me the race
It oft
My organ fast asleep And, when it had left me far away,
And turned my voice 'Twould stay and run again and
stay;
Into the noise
Of those that sit and weep. For was nimbler much than hinds,
it

Hebbick. And trod as if on the four winds.

I have a garden of my own.
But so with roses overgrown.
THE NYMPH MOURNING HER And lilies, that you would it guess
FAWN. To be a little wilderness.
And all the spring time of the year
The wanton troopers, riding by, It only lovfed to be there.
Have shot my fawn, and it will die.
Ungentle men ! they cannot thrive Among the beds of lilies I
Who killed thee. Thou ne'er didst Have sought it oft, where it should
alive lie,
Them any harm, alas nor could ! Yet could not, till itself would rise,
Thy death yet do them any good. Find it, although before mine eyes
I'm sure I never wished them ill For, in the flaxen lilies' shade.
Nor do I for all this, nor will It like a bank of lilies laid.
But, if my simple prayers may yet Upon the roses it would feed.
Prevail with Heaven to forget Until its lips e'en seemed to bleed,
Thy murder, I will join my tears. And then to me 'twould boldly trip.
Rather than fail. But, O my fears I And print those roses on my lip.
It cannot die so. Heaven's King But all its chief delight was still
Keeps register of every thing, On roses thus itself to fill,
465
 ; : : ; : ;: ! ; ! ! ; ;; ;! ;! ! :

456 PARNASSUS.

And its pure virgin limbs to fold I was the Queen o' bonnie France,
In whitest sheets of lilies cold Where happy I hae been,
Had it lived long, it would have been Fu' lightly rase I in the morn.
Lilies without, roses within. As blythe lay down at e'en:
Mabvkll. And I'm the so v' reign of Scotland,
And mony a traitor there
Yet here I lie in foreign bands,
THE LABOKEK. And never ending care.

ToiUNG in the naked fields. But thou false woman.

as for thee,
Where no bush a shelter yields, My and my f ae.
sister
Needy Labor dithering stands, Grim vengeance yet shall whet a
Beats and blows his numbing hands. sword
And upon the crumping snows That through thy soul shall gae
Stamps in vain to warm his toes. The weeping blood in woman's breast-
Was never known to thee
Though all's in vain to keep him Nor the balm that draps on wounds
warm, of woe
Poverty must brave the storm. Frae woman's pitying e'e.
Friendship none its aid to lend, —
Constant health his only friend, My son my son may kinder stars
! !

Granting leave to live in pain, Upon thy fortune shine

Giving strength to toil in vain. And may those pleasures gild thy
John Clare. reign.
That ne'er wad blink on mine!
God keep thee frae thy mother's faes.
LAMENT OF MARY QUEEN OF Or turn their hearts to thee
SCOTS, ON THE APPROACH And where thou meet'st thy moth-
OF SPRING. er's friend,
Remember him for me
Now Nature hangs her mantle green
On every blooming tree, Oh ! soon, to me, may summer suns
And spreads her sheets o' daisies Nae mair light up the morn
white Nae mair, to me, the autumn winds
Out owre the grassy lea Wave o'er the yellow corn
Now Phoebus cheers the crystal And in the narrow house o' death
streams, Let winter round me rave
And glads the azure skies And the next flowers that deck the
But nought can glad the weary wight spring.
That fast in durance lies. Bloom on my peaceful grave
Burns.
Now laverocks wake the merry mom,
Aloft on dewy wing
The merle, in his noontide bower, THE BRAES OF YARROW.
Makes woodland echoes ring;
The mavis mild, wi' many a note, Thy brass were bonnie. Yarrow
Sings drowsy day to rest stream,
In love and freedom they rejoice, When first on them I met my lover'
Wi' care nor thrall opprest. Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow
stream,
Now blooms the lily by the bank. When now thy waves his body
The primrose down the brae cover
The hawthorn's budding in the glen. Forever, now, O Yarrow stream 1

And milk-white isthe slae: Thou art to me a stream of

The meanest hind in fair Scotland sorrow
May rove their sweets amang For never on thy banks shall I
But I, the Queen of a' Scotland, Behold my love, the flower of
Maun lie in prison Strang, Yarrow
 !: ; ; ; ; !;! ! ; ;; ; :

DIRGES AND PATHETIC POEMS. 457

He promised me a milk-white steed, They little knew, who loved him
To bear me to his father's bowers so,
He promised me a little page, The fearful death he met.
To squire me to his father's towers When shouting o'er the desert snow,
He promised me a wedding-ring — Unarmed, and hard beset
The wedding-day was fixed to-
morrow : Nor how, when round the frosty
Now he is wedded to his grave, pole
Alas, his watery grave in Yarrow The northern dawn was red,
The mountain wolf and wildcat
His mother from the window looked, stole
With all the longing of a mother; To banquet on the dead
His little sister weeping walked
The greenwood path to meet her Nor how, when strangers found his
brother bones.
They sought him east, they sought They dressed the hasty bier.
him west. And marked his grave with nameless
They sought him all the forest stones,
thorough Unmoistened by a tear.
They only saw the cloud of night.
They only heard the roar of Yarrow. But long they looked, and feared,
and wept,
No longer from the window look Within his distant home
Thou hast no son, thou tender And dreamed, and started as they
mother slept.
No longer walk, thou lovely maid For joy that he was come.
Alas thou hast no more a brother
!

No longer seek him east or west, So long they looked; but never
No longer search the forest thor- spied
ough; His welcome step again.
For wandering in the night so dark, Nor knew the fearful death he died
He fell a lifeless corse in Yarrow. Far down that narrow glen.
John Logan. Bbyant.

THE MURDERED TRAVELLER. THE DESERTED HOUSE.

When spring, to woods and wastes
around.
Brought bloom and joy again,
The murdered traveller's bones were
found,
Far down a narrow glen.
The fragrant birch above him hung
Her tassels in the sky
And many a vernal blossom
And nodded careless by.
The red-bird warbled as he wrought
His hanging nest o'erhead,
And fearless, near the fatal spot.
Her young the partridge led.
But there was weeping far
And gentle eyes, for him,
With watching many an anxious
Were sorrowful and dim.
Life and thought have gone away
Side by side.
Leaving door and windows wide
Careless tenants they
All within is dark as night:
In the windows is no light
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.
sprung.
Close the door, the shutters close,
Or through the windows we
shall see
The nakedness and vacancy
Of the dark deserted house.
Come away: no more of mirth
away; Is here, or merry-making sound.
The house was builded of the
day, earth.
And shall fall again to ground.
 ; ! ; ! ! ! ; ; ! ; ! ;!;!

458 PARNASSUS.

Come away for Life and Thought

: Come join, ye Nature's sturdiest
Here no longer dwell bairns.
But in a city glorious, My wailing numbers '.

A great and distant city, have bought

A mansion incorruptible. Mourn, ilka grove the cushat kens
Would they could have staid with Te haz'lly shaws and briery dens
us! Te bumies, whimplin' down your
Tennyson.
Wi' todliu' din.
Or foaming Strang, wi' hasty stens,
LAMENT FOE JAMES, EAKL OF Frae lin to lin
GLENCAIEN.
Te scattered birds that faintly
Mourn, little harebells owre the
lea;
sing.
The reliques of the vernal choir
Te stately foxgloves fair to see
Te woods that shed on a' the winds
Te woodbines hanging bonnilie.
The honors of the aged year In scented bowers
A few short months, and glad and Te roses on your thorny tree.

gay,
The first o' flowers.

Again ye' 11 charm the ear and

e'e; Moum, ye wee songsters o' the
But nocht In all revolving time wood;
Can gladness bring again to me. Te grouse that crap the heather
bud;
The bridegroom may forget the Te curlews calling through a clud
bride Te whistling plover;
Was made wedded wife And moum, ye whirring paitrick
treen ;
his yes-
brood !
—
The monarch may crowu
forget the He's gane forever!
That on his head an hour has
been Go to your sculptured tombs, ye
The mother may forget the child great.
That smiles sae sweetly on her In a' the tinsel trash o' state
knee: But by thy honest turf I'll wait.
But I'll remember thee, Gleucairn, Thou man of worth
And a' that thou hast done for me And weep the ae best fellow's fate
Burns. E'er lay in earth.
Burns.

HE'S GANE.
TO HIS WINDING-SHEET.
He's gane ! he's gane ! he's frae us Come thou, who art the wine and
torn. wit
The ae best fellow e'er was bom! Of all I've writ;
Thee, Matthew, nature's sel' shall The grace, the glorie, and the best
mourn Piece of the rest
By wood and
wild. Thou art of what I did intend
Where, haply, pity strays forlorn, The all, and end
Frae man exiled. And what was made, was made to
meet
Ye hills, near neebors o' the starns, Thee, thee, my sheet;
That proudly cock your cresting Come then, and be to my chaste
cairns side
Ye cliffs,the haunts of sailing Both bed and bride.
yearns, We two, as reliques left, will have
Where Echo slumbers, One rest, one grave;
 ! ! ; ;;
;! ;

DIRGES AND PATHETIC POEMS. 459

hugging close, we will not f eare
A.nd, Of the unsteady planets. O 'tis well
Lust entering here With him ! but who knows what the
Where all desires are dead or cold, coming hour
As is the mould Veiled in thick darkness brings for
And are forgot,
all affections
Or trouble not.
Here needs no court for our request, That anguish will be wearied down,
Where all are best I know
All wise, all equal, and all just AVhat pang is permanent with man ?
Alike i' th' dust. from the highest
Nor need we here to f eare thefrowne As from the vilest thing of every day
Of court or crown He learns to wean himself for the ;

Where fortune bears no sway o'er strong hours

things, Conquer him. Yet I feel what I
There all are kings. have lost
And for a while lye here concealed, In him. The bloom is vanished
To be revealed, from.my life.
Next, at that great platonick yeere, For O he stood beside me, like my
!

And then meet here. youth.

Hebbick. Transformed for me the real to a
dream.
Clothing the palpable and familiar .

ODE. With golden exhalations of the

dawn.
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest. Whatever fortunes wait my future
By alltheir country's wishes blessed toils,
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, The beauUful is vanished — and re-
Returns to deck their hallowed turns not.
mould. Colebidge: Wallenstein.
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung LTKEWAKE DIRGE.
By forms unseen their dirge is sung
There Honor comes, a pilgrim gray. This ae night, this ae night,
To bless the turf that wraps their Every night and alle.
clay; Fire and sleet and candle-light,
And Freedom shall a while repair. And Christ receive thy saule.
To dwell a weeping hermit there
Collins.
When thou from hence away art
past.
Every night and alle.
DIRGE. To Whinny-Muir thou comest at

He is gone — is dust.
And
laste.
Christ receive thy saule.
He, the more fortunate ! yea he hath
finished
For him there is no longer any fu- If ever thou gavest hoseil and shoon.
ture. Every night and alle.
His life is bright, — bright without Sit thee down and put them on.
spot it was And Christ receive thy saule.
And cannot cease to be. No omi-
nous hour If hosen and shoon thou never gar'st
Knocks at his door with tidings of none.
mishap. Every night and alle,
Far off is he, above desire and fear; The whinnes shall prick thee to the
Ko more submitted to the change bare bone.
and chance And Christ receive thy saule.
 ; ; ; : :
;

460 PAENASSTJS.

From Whinny-Muir when thou And thou repose beneath the whis-
mayest passe, pering tree.
Every night and alle, One tribute more to this submis-
To Purgatory Are thou comest at sive ground; —
last, Prison thy soul from malice, bar out
'
And Christ receive thy saule. pride,
Nor these pale flowers nor this still
K ever thou gavest meat or drink, field deride
Every night and alle.
The fire shall never make thee shrink, Rather to those ascents of being
And Christ receive thy saule. turn,
Where a ne'er-setting sun illumes
If meat or drink thou never gavest the year
none, Eternal, and the incessant watch-
Svery night and alle. fires bum
The bum thee to the bare Of unspent
—holiness and goodness
fire will
bone, clear,
And Christ receive thy saule. Forget man's littleness, deserve the
best,
rhis ae night, this ae night, God's mercy in thy thought and
{Ivery night and alle, life confest.
Pire and sleet and
candle-light. Channing.
And Christ receive thy saule.
Anon.
DIRGE IN CYMBELINE.
SLEEPT HOLLOW. To fair Fidele's grassy tomb
Soft maids and village hinds shall
No abbey's gloom, nor dark cathedral bring
stoops, Each opening sweet of earliest
No winding torches paintthe mid- bloom.
night air And rifle all the breathing spring.
Here the green pines delight, the as-
pen droops No wailing ghost shall dare appear
Along the modest pathways, and To vex with shrieks this quiet
those fair grove
Pale asters of the season spread their But shepherd lads assemble here.
plumes And melting virgins own their love.
Around this field, fit garden for our
toiubs. No withered witch shall here be seen
No goblins lead their nightly crew
And shalt thou pause to hear some The female fays shall haunt the
funeral bell green.
Slow stealing o'er thy heart in this And dress thy grave with pearly
calm place, dew!
N^ot with a throb of pain, a feverish
kuell, The redbreast oft, at evening hours,
Butin its kind and supplicating Shall kindly lend his little aid,
grace, With hoary moss, and gathered'flow-
it says, Go, pilgrim, on thy march, ers.
be more To deck the ground where thou
Friend to the friendless than thou art laid.
wast before
When howling winds and beating rain
Learn from the loved one's rest se- In tempests shake the sylvan cell,
renity ; Or 'midst the chase, on every plain,
To-morrow that soft bell for thee The tender thought on thee shall
shall sound, dwell
 ; ;; ; ; !;;
! ! ! ! ! ;: ;

DIEGES AND PATHETIC POEMS. 461

Each lovely scene shall thee restore, Sleep with thy beauties here, while wa
For thee the tear be duly shed Will show these garments made by
Beloved till life can charm no more, thee;
And mourned till Pity's self be These were the coats, in these are read
dead. The monuments of Dorcas dead
Collins. These were thy acts, and thou shalt
have

DIRGE FOR DORCAS. u These hung, as honors o'er thy grave,

And after us, distressed.
Should fame be dumb,
Come pitie us, all ye who see Thy very tomb
Our harps hung on the willow-tree Would cry out. Thou art blessed
Come pitie us, ye passers-by, Hebbick.
Who see or hear poor widows crie
Come pitie us, and bring your eares
And eyes to pitie widows' teares.
And when you are come hither, CORONACH.
Then we will keep
A fast, and weep He is gone on the mountain,
Our eyes out all together, He is lost to the forest,
Like a siunmer-dried fountain.
For Tabitha, who dead lies here, When our need was the sorest.
Clean washt, and laid out for the bier. The fount, re-appearing,
O modest matrons, weep and waile From the raindrop shall borrow,
For now the come and wine must But to us comes no cheering.
faile To Duncan no morrow
The basket and the bynn of bread,
Wherewith so many soules were fed. The hand of the reaper
Stand empty here forever; Takes the ears that are hoary
And ah the poore.! But the voice of the weeper
At thy wome doore, Wails manhood in glory.
Shall be relieved never. The autumn winds rushing
Waft the leaves that are searest;
But ah, the almond-bough
alas ! But our flower was in flushing
And olive-branch is withered now; When blighting was nearest.
The wine-presse now is ta'en from
us. Fleet foot on the correi,
The saffron and the calamus Sage counsel in cumber,
The spice and spiknard hence is Red hand in the foray.
gone. How sound is thy slumber
The storax and thecynamon Like the dew on the mountain,
The caroU of our gladnesse Like the foam on the river,
Has taken wing. Like the bubble on the f oimtain.
And our late spring Thou art gone, and forever
Of mirth is turned to sadnesse. Scott.

How wise wast thou in all thy waies

How worthy of respect and praise l^
How matron-like didst thou go drest I FEAR NO MORE THE HEAT
How soberly above the rest O' TH' SUN.
Of those that prank it with their
plumes, Feab no more the heat o' th' sun,
And jet it with their choice per- Nor the furious winter's rages
fumes ! Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Thy vestures were not flowing Home art gone, and ta'en thy
Nor did the street wages.
Accuse thy feet Golden lads and girls all must.
Of mincing in their going. As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
 ; ::; :; ;

462 PARNASSUS.

Fear no more the frown o' th' great, ODE ON THE DEATH OV
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke: THOMSON.
Care no more to clothe and eat
To thee the reed is as the oak: In yonder grave a Druid lies,
The sceptre, learning, physic, must Where slowly winds the stealing
All follow this, and come to dust. wave;
The year's best sweets shall duteous
Fear no more the lightning-flash, rise
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone To deck its poet's sylvan grave.
Fear not slander, censure rash
Thou hast finished joy and moan
In yon deep bed of whispering reeds
All lovers young, all lovers must
His airy harp shall now be laid.
Consign to thee, and come to dust. That he, whose heart in sorrow
Shakspeaee.
bleeds.
May love through life the soothing
shade.
ODE ON THE CONSECEATION
OF SLEEPY-HOLLOW CEME-
'
Then maids and youths shall linger
TERY. here,
And while its sounds at distance
Shine kindly forth, September sun. swell.
From heavens calm and clear. Shall sadly seem in Pity's ear
That no untimely cloud may run To hear the woodland pilgrim's
Before thy golden sphere,
knell.
To vex our simple rites to-day
With one prophetic tear. Remembrance oft shall haunt the
shore
With steady voices let us raise When Thames
The fitting psalm and prayer; — is drest.
in summer wreaths
Remembered grief of other days And oft suspend the dashing oar,
Breathes softening in the air
To bid'hls gentle spirit rest.
Who knows not Death
— — who
mourns no loss
He has with us no share. And oft, as ease and health retire
To breezy lawn, or forest deep,
To holy sorrow — solemn joy, The friend shall view
spire,
you whitening
W'y consecrate the place
Where soon shall sleep the maid And 'mid the varied landscape
and boy. weep.
The father and his race,
The mother with her tender babe. But thou, who own'st that earthy
The venerable face. bed.
Ah what will every dirge
1 avail
These waving woods —
these valleys Or which love and pity shed.
tears,
That mourn beneath the gliding
low
Between these tufted IcnoUs, sail?
Year after year shall dearer grow
To many loving souls Yet whose heedless
lives there one,
And flowers be sweeter here than blow eye
Elsewhere between the poles. Shall scorn thy pale shrine glim-
mering near ?
For deathless Love and blessfed Grief With him, sweet bard, may fancy die,
Shall guard these wooded aisles, And joy desert the blooming year.
When Autumn casts the
either leaf,
Or blushing Summer smiles, But thou, loni stream, whose sullen
Or Winter whitens o'er the land, tide
Or Spring the buds uncoils. No sedge-crowned sisters now e^
F. B. Sanbobn. tend.
 ! : ! !; ! ! ; !; ; !;! ;

DIEGES AND PATHETIC POEMS. 463

Now waft me from the green hill's Toll for the brave
side Brave Kempenfelt is gone
Whose cold turf hides the hurled His last sea-fight is fought,
friend His work of glory done.

And see the fairy valleys fade It was not

in the battle
Dun night has veiled the solemn No
tempest gave the shock
view! She sprang no fatal leak
Yet once again, dear parted shade, She ran upon no rock.
Meek Nature's child, again adieu!
His sword was in its sheath;
Thy genial meads, assigned to bless His fingers held the pen,
Thy life, shall mourn thy early When Kempenfelt went down
doom; With twice four hundred men.
There hinds and shepherd-girls shall
dress Weigh the vessel up,
With simple hands thy rural tomb. Once dreaded by our foes
And mingle with our cup
Long, long, thy stone and pointed The tear that England owes.
clay
Shall melt the musing Briton's Her timbers yet are sound.
And she may float again,
O! vales and wild woods, shall he Full charged with England's thunder,
say, And plough the distant mf in.
In yonder grave a Druid lies
Collins. But Kempenfelt is gone, —
His victories are o'er;
And he and his eight hundred
EPITAPH FROM SIMONIDES. Shall plough the waves no more.
COWPEE.
Where Timarchus gone?
is
His father's hands were round
him, LINES.
And when he breathed his life away.
The joy of youth had crowned him. WBTTTEN AT GBASMEKE, ON TID-
Old man thou wilt not forget
! INGS OP THE APPEO ACHING
Thy lost one, when thine ej-e DEATH or CHARLES JAMES FOX.
Gazeth on the glowing cheek
Of hope and piety. Loud is the Vale! the voice is up
Anon. With which she speaks when storms
are gone,
ON THE LOSS OF THE " ROY- A mighty unison of streams
AL GEORGE." Of all her Voices, One

Toll for the brave — Loud is the Vale ;

—
this inland Depth
The brave that are no more In peace is roaring like the sea;
All sunk beneath the wave, Yon star upon the mountain-top
Fast by their r""tive shore Is listening quietly.

Eight hundred of the brave. Sad was I, even to pain deprest,

Whose courage well was tried, Importunate and heavy load 1

Had made the vessel heel, The Comforter hath found me here,
And laid her on her side. Upon this lonely road

A land breeze shook the shrouds, , And many thousands now are sad —
And she was overset Wait the fulfilment of their fear;
Down went the " Royal George," For he must die who is their stay.
With all her crew complete. Their glory disappear.
 ; ;; : :: ! : ;

464 PAENASSrrS.

A Power is passing from the earth Mourn for the man of long-enduring
To breathless Nature's dark abyss blood,
But when the great and good depart The statesman-warrior, moderate,
What is it more than this — resolute.
Whole in himself, a common good.
That Man, who is from God sent Mourn for the man of amplest influ
forth, ence,
Doth yet again to God return ? — Yet clearest of ambitious crime.
Such ebb and flow must ever be, Our greatest yet with least pretence,
Then wherefore should we mourn ? Great in council and great in war.
WOBDSWOBTH. Foremost captain of his time.
Rich in saving common-sense.
And, as the greatest only are.
ODE ON THE DEATH OF THE In his simplicity sublime.
DUKE OF WELLINGTON. O good gray head which all men
knew,
O voice from which their omens all
BuBY the Great Duke men drew,
With an empire's lamentatipn. O iron nerve to true occasion true,
Let us bury the Great Duke
O fallen at length that tower of
strength
To the noise of the mourning of a Which stood four-square to all the
mighty nation,
winds that blew
Mourning when their leaders fall.
Warriors carry the warrior's pall.
Such was he whom we deplore.
And sorrow darkens hamlet and hall. The long self-sacrifice of life is o'er.
The great World- victor's victor will
be seen no more. *
n.
Wliere shall we lay the man whom
we deplore ? Allis over and done
Here, in streaming London's central Render thanks to the Giver,
roar. England, for thy son.
Let the soimd of those he wrought Let the bell be tolled.
for. Render thanks to the Giver,
And the feet of those he fought for. And render him to the mould.
Echo round his bones forevermore. Under the cross of gold
•That shines over city and river.
There he shall rest forever
Lead out the pageant sad and : slow.
Among the wise and the bold.
Let the bell be tolled
As fits an universal woe, And a reverent people behold
Let the long long procession go,
The towering car, the sable steeds
And let the sorrowing crowd about Bright let it be with its blazoned
it grow, deeds,
And let the mournful martial music
Dark in its funeral fold.
blow;
Let the bell be tolled
The last great Englishman is low.
And a deeper knell in the heart be
knolled
And the sound of the sorrowing an-
Mourn, for to us he seems the last, them rolled
Kemembering all his greatness in the Thro' the dome of the golden cross
Past. And the volleying cannon thunder
No more in soldier fashion will he his loss
greet He knew their voices of old.
With lifted hand the gazer in the For many a time in many a clime
street. His captain's-ear has heard them
friends, our chief state-oracle is boom
mute: Bellowing victory, bellowing doom:
 ; ; ; ; ; ;; ! ; ; ! ; ;;!

DIEGES AND PATHETIC POEMS. 465

When he with those deep voices Followed up in valley and glen
wrought, With blare of bugle, clamor of men,
Gruarding realms and kings from Roll of cannon and clash of arms.
shame And England pouring on her foes.
With those deep voices our dead cap- Such a war had such a close.
tain taught Again their ravening eagle rose
The tyrant, and asserts his claim In anger, wheeled on Europe-shadow-
In that dread sound to the great name, ing wings.
Which he has worn so pure of hlame. And barking for the thrones of kings
In praise and in dispraise the same, Till one that sought but Duty's iron
A man of well-attempered frame. crown
O civic muse, to such a name, On that loud sabbath shook the
To such a name for ages long, spoiler down
To such a name. A day of onsets of despair
Preserve a broad approach of fame, Dashed on every rocky square
And ever-echoing avenues of song. Their surging charges foamed them-
selves away;
Last, the Prussian trumpet blew
Through the long-tormented air
Who is he that cometh, like an hon- Heaven flashed a sudden jubilant ray,
ored guest. And down we swept and charged
With banner and with music, with and overthrew.
soldier and with priest. So great a soldier taught us there.
With a nation weeping, and breaking What long-enduring hearts' could do
on my rest ? In that world-earthquake, Waterloo
Mighty Seaman, this is he Mighty SeamaUj tender and true,
Was great by land as thou by sea. And pure as he from taint of craven
Thine island loves thee well, thou guile,
famous man, O saviour of the silver-coasted isle,
The greatest sailor since our world O shaker of the Baltic and the Nile,
began. If aught of things that here befall
Kow, to the roll of muffled drums, Touch a spirit among things divine.
To thee the greatest soldier comes If love of country move thee there
For this is he at all.
Was great by land as thou by sea Be glad, because his bones are laid by
His foes were thine he kept us free
; thine
O give him welcome, this is he And thro' the centuries let a people's
Worthy of our gorgeous rites. voice
And worthy to be laid by thee In full acclaim,
For this is England's greatest son. A people's voice.
He that gained a hundred fights. The proof and echo of all human
Nor ever lost an English gun fame,
This is he that far away A people's voice, when they rejoice
Against .the myriads of Assaye At civic revel and pomp and game.
Clashed with his fiery few and won Attest their great commander's
And underneath another sun. claim
Warring on a later day, With honor, honor, honor, honor to
Round affrighted Lisbon drew him,
The treble works, the vast designs Eternal honor to his name.
Of his labored rampart-lines.
Where he greatly stood at bay.
Whence he issued forth anew.
And ever great and greater grew. Remember him who led your hosts
Beating from the wasted vines He bade you guard the sacred coasts.
Back to France her banded swarms. Your cannons moulder on the sea-
Back to France with countless blows. ward wall
Till o'er the hills her eagles flew His voice is silent in your council-
Beyond the Pyrenean pines, hall
30
 ; ;; : ;; ; : : ; ; ; ; ; :; !

466 PARNASSUS.

Forever; and, whatever tempests Not a soldier discharged his farewell

lower, shot
Forever silent even if ; they broke O'er the grave where our hero we
In thunder, silent yet remember all ;
buried.
He spoke among you, and the Man
who spoke We buried him darkly at dead of night,
Who never sold the truth to serve The sods with our bayonets turn-
the hour, ing;
Nor paltered with Eternal God for By the struggling moonbeam's misty
power Ught
Who let the turbid streams of rumor And the lantern dimly burning.
flow
Thro' either babbling world of high No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
and low Not in sheet nor in shroud we
Whose life was work, whose lan- wound him
-guage rife But he lay like a warrior taking his
With rugged maxims hewn from life rest
Who never spoke against a foe With his martial cloak around him.
AVhose eighty winters freeze with one
rebuke Few and short were the prayers we
All great self-seekers trampling on said
the right An d we spoke not a word of sorrow.
Truth-teller was our England's Al- But we steadfastly gazed on the face
fred named of the dead,
Truth-lover was our English Duke And we bitterly thought of the
Whatever record leap to light, morrow.
He never shall be shamed.
We thought, as we hollowed his nar-
row bed.
Hush, the Dead March wails in the And smoothed down his lonely
people's ears pillow,
The dark crowd moves, and there are That the foe and the stranger would
sobs and tears tread o'er his head,
The black earth yawns the mortal : And we far away on the billow
disappears
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust Lightly they'll talk of the spirit
He gone who seemed so great.
is — that's gone,
Gone but nothing can bereave him
; And o'er his cold ashes upbraid
Of the force he made his own him;
Being here, and we believe him But little he'll reck, If they let him
Something far advanced in State, sleep on
And that he wears a truer crown In the grave where a Briton has
Than any wreath that man can laid him.
weave him.
Speak no more of his renown. But half of our heavy task was done,
Lay your earthly fancies down,' When the clock tolled the hour
And in the vast cathedral leave him. for retiring
God accept him, Christ receive him. And we heard the distant random
Tennyson. gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.

THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
MOORE AT CORUNNA. From the field of his fame fresh
and gory
Not drum was We carved not
—a line, we raised
a heard, not a funeral not
note, a stone,
As his corse to the rampart we But we left him alone with his glory.
hurried Chables Wolfe.
 : ; ; :

DIEGES Ami PATHETIC POEMS. 467

ON Sm PHILIP SIDNEY. Heart's ease and onely I, like para-
leles run on.
Silence augmenteth griefe, writing Whose equall length, keepe equall
encreaseth rage, bredth and never meete in one.
Staid are my thoughts, which loved Yet for not wronging him, my
and lost, the wonder of our thoughts, my sorrowes' cell.
age, Shall not run out, though leake they
Yet quickened now with fire, though will, for liking him so well.
dead with frost ere now,
Enraged I write I know not what Farewel to you my hopes, my wont-
dead, quick, I know not how. ed waking dreames,
Farewel sometime enjoyM joy
Hard hearted mindes relent, and eclipsfed are thy beams,
Kigor's tears abound, Farewel selfe-pleasing thoughts,
And Envy strangely rues his end, in which quietness brings forth.
whom no fault she found And farewel friendship's sacred
Knowledge his light hath lost. Valor league uniting minds of worth.
hath slaine her knight
Sidney is dead, dead is my friend, And farewel mery heart, the gift of
dead is the world's delight. guiltless mindes.
And all sports, which for live's re-
Place pensive wailes his fall, whose store, varietie assignes.
presence was her pride. Let all that sweet is voide? in me
Time crieth out, my ebbe is come, no mirth may dwell,
his life my spring-tide
was Philip the cause of all this woe, my
Fame mournes in that she lost, the life's content, farewel.
ground of her reports.
Each living wight laments his lacke, Now rime, the source of rage, which
and all in sundry sorts. art no kin to skill.
And endless griefe which deads my
He was — wo worth that word — to life, yet knows not now to kill.
each well thinking minde, Go seeke that haples tombe, which
A spotless friend, a matchless man, if ye hap to finde.
whose vertue ever shined. Salute the stones, that keep the
Declaring in his thoughts, his life, lines, that held so good a
and that he writ. minde.
Highest conceits, longest foresights, FuLKE Gbevillk, Lord Brooke.
and deepest works of wit.

He onely like himselfe, was second LYCIDAS.

unto none.
—
Where death though life we rue, — [Inthis monody, the author* bewails a
and wrong, and all in vaine do learned friend, unfortunately drowned in
his passage from Chester on the Irish
mone. seas, 1637, and by occasion foretells the
Their not him waile they, that
losse, ruin of our coiTupted clergy, then In
the world with cries.
fill their height.]
Death slue not him, but he made
death his ladder to the skies. Yet once more, O ye laurels, and
once more
Now sinke of sorrow I, who live, the Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never
more the wrong. sere,
Who wishing Death, whom death I come to pluck your berries liarsh
denies, whose thread is all too and crude.
long. And with forced fingers rude,
Who tied to wretched life, who look Shatter your leaves before the mel-
for no relief. lowing year.
Must spend my ever-dying days in Bitter constraint, and sad occasion
never-ending grief. dear,
 ! ! ;

468 PARNASSUS.

Compels me to disturb your season Now thou art gone, and never must
due: return
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere Ms Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods, and
prime, desert caves
Young Lycidas! and hath not left With wild thyme and the gadding
his peer. vine o'ergrown,
Who would not sing for Lycidas? And all their echoes mourn.
He knew The willows, and the hazel copses
Himself to sing, and build the lofty green.
rhyme. Shall now no more be seen,
He must not float upon his watery bier Fanning their joyous leaves to thy
Unwept, and welter to the parching soft lays.
wind. As killing as the canker to the rose,
Without the meed of some melodi- Or taint-worm to the weanling herds
ous tear. that graze,
Begin then. Sisters of the sacred Or frost to flowers, that their gay
well, wardrobe wear.
That from beneath the seat of Jove When first the white-thorn blows
doth spring, Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's
Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep ear.
the string. Where were ye, Nymphs, when
Hence with denial vain, and coy ex- the remorseless deep
cuse; Closed o'er the head of your loved
So may some gentle Muse Lycidas ?
With lucky words favor my destined For neither were ye playing on the
urn. steep,
And as he passes turn, Where your old Bards, *the famous
And bid fair peace be to my sable Druids, lie.
shroud. Nor on the shaggy top of Monahigh,
For we were nurst upon the self- Nor yet where Deva spreads her
same hill. wizard stream.
Fed the same flock, by fountain, Ay me, I fondly dream
shade, and rill; —
Had ye been there for what could
Together both, ere tie high lawns that have done ?
appeared What could the Muse herself, that
Under the opening eyelids of the Orpheus bore,
morn, The Muse herself, for her inchanting
yve dK 'ft a-field, and both together son,
heaid i
Whom universal nature did lament.
What time thg gray-fly winds her When by the rout that made the
sultry hdi'n, hideous roar.
Battening;- our flocks with the fresh His gory visage down the stream was
(Jews of night. sent,
Oft till the star that rose, at evening Down the swift Hebrus to the Les-
bright, bian shore ?
Toward heaven's descent had sloped Alas! what boots it with unces-
his westering wheel. sant care
Meanwhile the rural ditties were not To tend the homely slighted shep-
mute. herd's trade.
Tempered to the oaten flute, And strictly meditate the thankless
Eough Satyrs danced, and Fauns Muse?
with cloven heel Were it not better done as other.«
From the glad sound would not be use.
absent long, To sportwith Amaryllis in the
And old Damsetas loved to hear our shade,
song. Or with the tangles of Nesera's hair?
But O the heavy change, now thou Fame is the spur that the clear spirit
art gone, doth raise
 ; : ; ; ; ; !; ; ; ;

DIRGES A2ST> PATHETIC POEMS. 469

(That last Infirmity of noble mind) Next Camus, reverend sire, went
To scorn delights, and live laborious footing slow,
days; His mantle hairy, and his bonnet
But the fair guerdon when we hope sedge.
to find, Inwrought with figures dim, and on
And think to burst out into sudden the edge
blaze. Like to that sanguine flower in-
Comes the blind Fury with the ab- scribed with wo£.
horred shears, Ah! Who hath reft (quoth he) my
And the thin-spun life.
slits But dearest pledge ?
not the praise, Last came, and last did go.
Phoebus replied, and touched my The pilot of the Galilean lake
trembling ears Two massy keys he bore of metals
Fame is no plant that grows on mor- twain,
tal soil, (The golden opes, the iron shuts
Nor in the glistering foil amain)
Set off to the world, nor in broad He shook his mitred locks, and stern
rumor lies bespake
But lives and spreads aloft by those How well could I have spared for
pure eyes, thee, young swain.
And perfect witness of all-judging Enow of such as for their bellies' sake
Jove; Creep, and intrude, and climb into
As he pronounces lastly on each the fold?
deed. Of other care they little reckoning
Of so much fame in heaven expect make.
thy meed. Than how to scramble at the shear-
O fountain Arethuse, and thou er's feast.
honored flood, And shove away the worthy bidden
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned guest
with vocal reeds, Blind mouths! that scarce them-
That strain I heard was of a higher selves know how to hold
mood; A sheep-hook, or have learned aught
But now my oat proceeds. else the least
And listens to the herald of the sea That to the faithful herdman's art
That came in Neptune's plea; belongs
He asked the waves, and asked the What recks it them? What need
felon winds. they ? They are sped
What hard mishap hath doomed this And when they list their lean and
gentle swain ? flashy songs
And questioned every gust of rug- Grate on their scrannel pipes of
ged wings wretched straw.
That blows from off each beaked The hungry sheep look up, and are
promontory not fed.
They knew not of his story. But swoln with wind, and the rank
And sage Hippotades their answer mist they draw.
brings. Rot inwardly, and foul contagion
That not a blast was from his dun- spread
geon strayed Besides what the grim wolf with
The air was calm, and on the level privy paw
brine Daily devours apace, and nothiugsaid
Sleek Panop^ with all her sisters But that two-handed engine at the
played. door
It was that fatal and perfidious Stands ready to smite onc^ and
bark. smite no more.
Built in the eclipse, and rigged with Return, Alpheus, the dread voice
curses dark, is past.
That sunk so low that sacred head That shrunk thy streams; return,
of thine. Sicilian Muse,
 ; : ; ;

470 PAKJSASSUS.

And the vales, and bid them

call Weep no more, woful shepherds,
hither cast weep no more.
Their bells, and flowerets of a thou- For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead.
sand hues. Sunk though he be beneath the wa-
Ye valleys low, where the mild whis- tery floor
pers use So sinks the day-star in the ocean
Of shades, and wanton winds, and bed,
gushing brooks. And yet anon repairs his drooping
On whose fresh lap the swart star head,
sparely looks, And beams, and with new-
tricks his
Throw hither all your quaint enam- spangled ore
elled eyes. Flames in the forehead of the morn-
That on the green turf suck the ing sky.
honeyed showers, So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted
And purple all the ground with ver- high,
nal flowers. Through the dear might of Him that
Bring the rathe primrose that for- walked the waves.
saken dies, Where other groves, and other
The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessa- streams along,
mine, With nectar pure his oozy locks he
The white pink, and the pansy laves,
freakt with jet, And hears the unexpressive nuptial
The glowing violet, song.
The musk-rose, and the well-attired In the blest kingdoms meek of joy
woodbine. and love.
With cowslips wan that hang the There entertain him all the saints
pensive head. above.
And every flower that sad embroi- In solemn troops, and sweet socie-
dery wears ties.
Bid amaranthus his beauty shed,
all That sing, and singing in their glory
And daffodillies fill their cups with move.
tears. And wipe the tears forever from his
To strew the laureate hearse where eyes.
Lycid lies. Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep
For so to interpose a little ease, no more;
Let our frail thoughts dally with Henceforth thou art the Genius of
false surmise. the shore.
Ay me Whilst thee the shores and
! In thy large recompense, and shalt
sounding seas be good
Wash far away, where'er thy bones To all that wander in that perilous
are hurled. flood.
Whether beyond the stormy Hebri- Thus sang the uncouth swain to
des, the oaks and rills,
Where thou perhaps under the While the morn went out with
still
whelming tide sandals gray
bottom of the monstrous
Visit' St the He touched the tender stops of vari-
world ous quills.
Or whether thou, to our moist vows With eager thought warbling his
denied. Doric lay;
Sleep' St by the fable of Bellerus old, And now the sun had stretched out
Where the great vision of the guard- all the hills,
ed mount And now was dropt into the western
Looks toward Namaucos and Bayo- bay;
'na's hold; At he rose, and twitched his
last
Look homeward Angel now, and mantle blue ;
—
melt with ruth. To-morrow to fresh woods, and pas.
And, O ye dolphins, waft the hap- tures new.
less youth. Milton.
 ; ; ! : ; ; ; ; ; ! ;

DIRGES XSO PATHETIC POEMS. 471

DEPARTED. Lovely all times she lies, lovely to-
night.
A SLUMBER did my spirit seal Only, methinks, some loss of habit's
I had no human fears power
She seemed a thing that could not Befallsme wandering through this
feel upland dim.
The touch of earthly years. Once passed I blindfold here, at any
No motion has she now, no force hour,
She neither hears nor sees Now seldom come I, since I came
Rolled round in earth's diurnal with him.
course, That single elm-tree bright
With rocks, and stones, and trees. Against the west —
I miss it! is it
WOBDSWOETH. gone?
We prized it dearly ; while it stood,
we said.
THTRSIS. Our friend, the Scholar-Gypsy, was
not dead
[A monody to commemorate the au- While the tree lived, he in these
thor's friend, Arthur Hugh Clough, who fields lived on.
died at Florence, 1861.]

How changed is here each spot man Too rare, too rare, grow now my
makes or fills visits here
In the two Hinkseys nothing keeps But once I knew each field, each
the same flower, each stick.
The village-street its haunted man- And with the country-folk ac-
sion lacks. quaintance made
And from the sign is gone Sihylla's By barn in threshing-time, by new-
name. built rick.
And from the roofs the twisted Here, too, our shepherd-pipes we
chimney-stacks. first assayed.
Are ye, too, changed, ye hills ? Ah me ! this many
a year
See, 'tis no foot of unfamiliar men My pipe is lost,my shepherd's holiday.
To-night from Oxford up your Needs must I lose them, needs
pathway strays I with heavy heart
Here came I often, often, in old Into the world and wave of men
days; depart
Thyrsis and I; we still had Thyrsis But Thyrsis of his own will went
then. away.

Runs not here, the track hy Childs-

it It irked him to be here, he could not
worth Farm, rest.
Up past the wood, to where the elm- He loved each simple joy the country
tree crowns yields.
The hill hehind whose ridge the He loved his mates; but yet he
sunset flames ? could not keep.
The Signal-Elm, that looks on Ilsley For that a shadow lowered on the
Downs, fields.
The Vale, the three lone wears, Here with the shepherds and the
the youthful Thames ? — silly sheep.
This winter-eve is warm. Some lifeof men unblest
Humid the air leafless, yet soft as
; He knew, which made him droop,
spring, and filled his head.
The tender purple spray on copse He went his piping took a trou-
;

and briers bled sound

And that sweet City with her Of storms that rage outside our
dreaming spires, happy ground
She needs not June for beauty's He could not wait their passing, he
heightening. is dead.
 ; : ; ; ;! ; ; !;

472 PAHNASSTJS.

So, some tempestuous mom in early- Alack, for Corydon no rival now
June, But when Sicilian shepherds lost a
When the year's primal burst of mate.
bloom is o'er. Some good survivor with his flute
Before the roses and the longest would go.
day — Piping a ditty sad for Bion's fate.
When garden-walks, and all the And cross the unpermitted ferry's
grassy floor, flow.
With blossoms, red and white, of And unbend Pluto's brow.
fallen May, And make leap up with joy the beau-
And chestnut - flowers, are teous head
strewn — Of Proserpine, among whose
So have I heard the cuckoo's parting crownfed hair
cry. Are flowers, first opened on Sicil-
From the wet field, through the ian air
vexed garden-trees. And flute his friend, like Orpheus,
Come with the volleying rain and from the dead.
tossing breeze
The bloom is gone, and with the bloom
go I. O easy access to the hearer's grace,
When Dorian shepherds sang to
Too quick despairer, wherefore wilt Proserpine
thou go ? For she herself had trod Sicilian
Soon will the high Midsummer pomps fields.
come on. She knew the Dorian water's gush
Soon will the musk carnations divine.
break and swell. She knew each lily white which
Soon shall we have gold-dusted Enna yields.
snapdragon, Each rose with blushing face
Sweet-William with its homely She loved the Dorian pipe, the Dorian
cottage-smell. strain.
And stocks in fragrant blow ah, of our poor Thames she
But
Koses that down the alleys shine afar. never heard I

And open, jasmine-mufiled lattices. Her foot the Cumner cowslips

And groups under the dreaming never stirred
garden-trees. And we should tease her with our
And the full moon, and the white plaint in vain.
evening-star.

He hearkens not ! light comer, he is Well! wind-dispersed and vain the

gone! words will be.
What matters it? next year he will Yet, Thyrsis, let me give my grief its
return. .hour
And we shall have him in the In the old haunt, and find our tree-
sweet spring-days, topped hill
With whitening hedges, and un- Who, if not I, for questing here hath
crumpling fern. power ?
And blue-bells trembling by the I know the wood which hides the
forest^ways, daffodil,
And scent of hay
new-mown. I know the Fyfield tree,
But Thyrsis never more we swains I know what white, what purple
shall see fritillaries
See him come back, and cut a The grassy harvest of the river-
smoother reed. fields,
And blow a strain the world at last Above by Ensham, down by Sand-
shall heed, — ford, yields
For Time, not Corydon, hath con- And what sedged brooks are Thames's
quered thee. tributaries
 ; ; ; ! ! !

DIRGES AKD PATHETIC POEMS. 473

I know these slopes; who knows And long the way appears, which
them if not I ? — seemed so short
But many a dingle on the loved hill- To the unpractised eye of sanguine
side, youth
With thorns once studded, old, And high the mountain-tops, in
white-blossomed trees. cloudy air.
Where thick the cowslips grew, and, The mountain-tops where is the
far descried. throne of Truth,
High towered the spikes of purple Tops in life's somorning-sun
orchises, bright and bare.
Hath since our day put by Unbreachable the fort
The coronals of that forgotten time Of the long-battered world uplifts its
Down each green bank hath gone wall;
the ploughboy's team, And strange and vain the earthly
And only in the hidden brookside turmoil grows.
gleam And near and real the charm of
Primroses, orphans of the flowery thy repose,
prime. And Night as welcome as a friend
would fall.
Where is the girl, who, by the boat-
man's door. But hush the upland hath a sudden
!

Above the locks, above the boating loss

throng. Of quiet. Look! adown the dusk
Unmoored our skiff, when, through hillside
the Wytham flats. A troop of Oxford hunters going
Red and blond meadow-
loosestrife home.
sweet among. As in old days, jovial and talking,
And darting swallows, and light ride.
water-gnats. From hunting with the Berkshire
Wetracked the shy Thames hounds they come.
shore ? Quick let me fly, and cross
!

Where are the mowers, who, as the Into yon further field. 'Tis done;
tiny swell and see,
Of our boat passing heaved the Backed by the sunset, which doth
river-grass. glorify
Stood with suspended scythe to The orange and pale violet evening-
see lis pass ? sky.
They all are gone, and thou art gone Bare on its lonely ridge, the Tree
as well. the Tree

Yes, thou art gone, and round me I take the omen ! Eve lets down her
too the Night veil.
In ever-nearing circle weaves her The white fog creeps from bush to
shade. bush about,
I see her veil draw soft across the The west unflushes, the high stars
day, grow bright,
I feel her slowly chilling breath invade And in the scattered farms the lights
The cheek grown thin, the brown come out.
hair sprent with gray; I cannot reach the Signal-Tree to-
I feel her finger light night.
Laid pausefuUy upon life's headlong Yet, happy omen, hall
train Hear it from thy broad lucent Amo
The foot less prompt to meet the vale,
morning dew, (For there thine earth-forgetting
The heart less bounding at emo- eyelids keep
tion new, The momingless and unawakening
And hope, once crushed, less quick sleep
to spring again. Under the flowery oleanders pale,)
 ! ; ; ;; —
474 PARNASSUS.

Hear O Thyrsis,
it, still our Tree is A fugitive and gracious light he
there! — seeks,
Ah, vain These English fields, this
! Shy to illumine ;and I seek it too.
upland dim. This does not come with houses or
These brambles pale with mist with gold,
engarlanded. With place, with honor, and a flat-
That lone, sky-pointing Tree, are not tering crew
for him. 'Tis not in the world's market
To a boon southern country he is bought and sold.
fled, But the smooth-slipping weeks
And now in happier air. Drop by, and leave its seeker still
Wandering with the great Mother's untired.
train divine Out of the heed of mortals is he
(And purer or more subtle soul gone,
than thee, He wends unfoUowed, he must
I trow, the mighty Mother doth house alone
not see !) Yet on he fares, by his own heart
Within a folding of the Apennine, inspired.

Thou hearest the Immortal strains

Thou too, O Thyrsis, on this quest
wert bound,
of old.
Putting his sickle to the perilous
Thou wanderedst with me for a lit-
tle hour.
grain.
In the hot corn-field of the Phry-
Men gave thee nothing; but this
happy quest,
gian king,
For thee the Lityerses song again
If men esteemed thee feeble, gave
thee power.
Young Daphnis with his silver If men
procured thee trouble, gave
voice doth sing
thee rest.
Sings his Sicilian fold,
His sheep, his hapless love, his
And this rude Cumner ground,
Its fir-topped Hurst, its farms, its
blinded eyes
quiet fields.
And how a call celestial round him Here cam'st thou in thy jocund
rang,
youthful time.
And heavenward from the foun-
Here was thine height of strength,
tain-brink he sprang,
thy golden prime.
And all the marvel of the golden
And still the haunt beloved a virtue
skies.
yields.

There thou art gone, and me thou What though the music of thy rustic
leavest here, fiute
Sole in these fields; yet will I not Kept not for long its happy country
despair. tone;
Despair I will not, while I yet des- liost it too soon, and learnt a
cry stormy note
'Neath the soft canopy of English Of men contention-tost, of men who
air groan.
That lonely Tree against the west- Which tasked thy pipe too sore,
ern sky. and tired thy throat
Still, still these slopes, 'tis clear, It failed, and thou wert mute.
Our Gypsy Scholar haunts, outliving Yet hadst thou alway visions of our
thee light.
Fields where the sheep from cages And long with men of care thou
pull the hay. couldst not stay,
Woods with anemones in flower And soon thy foot resumed its
till May, wandering way,
Know him a wanderer still; then Left human haunt, and on alone till
why not me ? night.
 ; ! ! : ! ! !! ! ! ;
;

DIRGES AND PATHETIC POEMS. 475

Too rare, too rare, grow now my And oft his cogitations sink as low
visits liere As, through the abysses of a joyless
'Mid city noise, not, as with thee of heart,
yore, The heaviest plummet of despair
Thyrsis, in reach of sheep-bells is can go —
my home. But whence that sudden check ? that
Then through the great town's harsh, fearful start
heart-wearying roar, He hears an uncouth sound —
Let in thy voice a whisper often Anon his lifted eyes
come, Saw, at a long-drawn gallery's dusky
To chase fatigue and fear bound,
Why faintest thou ? 1 wandered till A shape of more than mortal size
I died. And hideous aspect, stalking round
Roam on ; the light we sought is and round
shining still. A woman's garb the Phantom
Dost thou ask proof f Our Tree yet wore.
crowns the kill, And fiercely swept the marble
Our Scholar travels yet the loved hill- floor, —
side. Like Auster whirling to and fro,
Matthew Abnoud. His force on Caspian foam to try
Or Boreas when he scours the snow
That skins the plains of Thessaly,
Or when aloft on Msenalus he stops
DION. His flight, 'mid eddying pine-tree
tops I

MoTTBN,hills and groves of Attica!

and mourn "Avaunt, inexplicable Guest! —
bending o'er thy classic urn
Ilissus, avaunt,"
Mourn, and lament for him whose Exclaimed the chieftain . . .

dreads
spirit But Shapes that come not at an
Tour once sweet memory, studious earthly call,
walks and shades Will not depart when mortal voices
For him who to divinity aspired. bid;
Not on the breath of popular ap- Lords of the visionary eye whose
plause. lid.
But through dependence on the Once raised, remains aghast, and
sacred laws will not fall
Framed in the schools where Wisdom
dwelt retired. Ill-fated Chief! there are whose
Intent to trace the ideal path of right hopes are built
|More fair than heaven's broad cause- Upon the ruins of thy glorious name
way paved with stars) WTio, through the portals of one
Wliich Dion learned to measure with moment's guilt,
delight Pursue thee with their deadly aim
But He hath overleaped the eternal O matchless perfidy ! portentous lust
bars; Of monstrous crime ! — that horror-
And, following guides whose craft striking blade.
holds no consent Drawn in defiance of the gods, hath
With aught that breathes the ethe- laid
real element, The noble Syracusan low in dust
Hath stained the robes of civil power Shuddered the walls, the marble —
with blood, city wept, —
Unjustly shed, though for the public And sylvan places heaved a pensive
good. sigh;
Whence doubts that came too late, But in calm peace the appointed
and wishes vain. Victim slept.
Hollow excuses, and triumphant As he had fallen, in magnanimity
pain; Of spirit too capacious to require
 ; ! :

476 PARNASSUS.

That Destiny her course should What's talk to them whose faith and
change too just; truth
To his own native greatness to desire On War's red touchstone rang true
That wretched boon, days lengthened metal,
by mistrust. Who ventured life and love and
So were the hopeless troubles, that youth
involved For the great prize of death in battle ?
The soul of Dion, instantly dissolved.
Keleased from life and cares of To him who, deadly hurt, again
princely state, Flashed on before the charge's thun-
He left this moral grafted on his der.
Fate: Tipping with fire the bolt of men
" Him only pleasure leads, and peace That rived the Eebel line asunder ?
attends,
Him, only him, the shield of Jove Come Peace, not like a mourner
defends, bowed
Whose means are fair and spotless For honor lost and dear ones wasted.
as his end." But proud, to meet a people proud.
WOBDSWOBTH. With eyes that tell of triumph tasted.
Come with hand gripping on the
HOSEA BIGLOW'S LAMENT. hilt.
And step that proves you Victory's
Beaveb roars hoarse with melting daughter
snows. Longing for you, our spirits wilt
And rattles diamonds from his gran- Like shipwrecked men on rafts for
ite; water.
Time was he snatched away my
prose, Come, while our Country feels the lift
And into psalms or satires ran it Of a great instinct shouting For-
But he, and all the rest that once wards,
Started my blood to contra dances And knows that Freedom's not a
Find me and leave me but a dunce gift
That has no use for dreams and fan- That tarries long in hands of cowards.

Come, such as mothers prayed for,

Rat-tat-tat-tattle through the street, when
I hear the drummers making riot. They kissed their cross with lips that
And I sit thinking of the feet quivered.
That followed once and now are And bring fair wages for brave men,
quiet, — A Nation saved, a Eace delivered.
White feet as snow-drops innocent. Lowell.
That never knew the paths of Satan,
Sad ears that listened as they went,
Lifelong to hear them come will wait OTHELLO'S LAST WOEDS.
Soft you a word or two before you
;

Have I not held them on my knee ? go-

Did I not love to see them growing. Ihave done the state some service,
Three likely lads as well could be. and they know it
Handsome and brave, and not too —
No more of that. I pray you, in
knowing? your letters.
When you shall these unlucky deeds
I sit and look into the blaze. relate.
Whose nature, just like theirs, keeps Speak of me as I am ; nothing ex- '

climbing tenuate,
Long as it lives in shining ways, Nor set down aught in malice: then
And half despise myself for rhyming. must you speak
 DIKGES AND PATHETIC POEMS. 477
Of one that loved, not wisely, but too Their medicinal gum. Set you down
well; this.
Of one not easily jealous, but, being And say, besides, that in Aleppo
wrought, once,
Perplexed In the extreme; of one Where a malignant and a turbaned
whose hand, Turk
Like the base Indian, threw a pearl Beat a Venetian, and traduced the
away state,
Richer than all his tribe; of one I took by the throat the circumcisfed
whose subdued eyes, dog.
Albeit unusfed to the melting mood. —
And smote him thus. [Stahs him-
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian self.
trees Shakspeabe.
 X.

COMIC AND HUMOROUS.

SATIRICAL.
 ; : ;

COMIC Ali^'D HUMOEOTJS.

HOLY -WILLIE'S PEAYEE. O Lord, thou kens what zeal I bear,

When drinkers drink, and swearers
Thou, wha in the Heavens dost swear.
dwell, And singing there, and dancing here,
Wha, as it pleases best thysel'. Wi' great and sma'
Sends ane to Heaven, and ten to For I am keepit by thy fear,
Hell, Free frae them a'.
A' for thy glory.
And no for onie guid or ill But yet, O Lord confess I must.
!
They've done afore thee! At times I'm fashed wi' fleshly lust,
An' sometimes, too, wi' warldly
1 and praise thy matchless
bless
might,
tmst, —
Vile self gets in
Whan thousands thou hast left in But thou remembers we are dust.
night.
Defiled in sin.
That I am here afore thy sight.
For gifts an' grace,
A burning an' a shining light.
To a' this place.
Maybe thou lets this fleshly thorn
Beset thy servant e'en and morn,
What was or my generation,
I,
Lest he owre high and proud should
That I should get such exaltation ? turn,
I, wha deserve such just damnation,
'Cause he's sae gifted:
For broken laws, If sae, thy hand maun e'en be
Five thousand years 'fore my crea-
borne.
tion.
Until thou lift it.
Through Adam's cause.

When frae my mither's womb I Lord, bless thy chosen in this place,
fell.
For here thou hast a chosen race
Thou might ha« plunged me into But God confound their stubborn
Hell, face,
To gnash my gums, to weep and And blast their name,
wail, Wha bring thy elders to disgrace,
In burnin' lake. An' public shame.
Where damned Devils roar and yell,
Chained to a stake. Lord, mind Gawn Hamilton's de-
serts.
Yet I am here a chosen sample. He drinks, an' swears, an' plays at
To show thy grace is great and am- cartes.
ple; Yet has sae monie takin' arts,
I'm here a thy temple,
pillar in Wi' great and sma',
Strong as a rock, Frae God's ain priests the people's
A guide, a buckler, an example hearts
To a' thy flock. He steals awa'.
481
 ; ; : : !: ; ;:; ; : )

482 PABNASStrS.

An' when, we chastened him there- Hear me, ye venerable Core,

fore, As counsel for poor mortals,
Thou kens how he bred sic a splore, That frequent pass douce Wisdom's
As set the warld in a roar door.
O' laughin' at us; — For glaiMt Folly's portals
Curse thou his basket and his store, I, for their thoughtless, careless sakes.
Eail and potatoes. Would here propone defences,
Their donsie tricks, their black mis-
Lord, hear my earnest cry an' prayer, takes,
Against that presbyt'ry o' Ayr Their failings and mischances.
Thy strong right hand. Lord, make
it bare, Ye see your state wi' theirs compared,
Upo' their heads And shudder at the nifEer,
Lord, weigh it down, and dinna But cast a moment's fair regard.
spare. What makes the mighty differ?
For their misdeeds. Discount what scant occasion gave
That purity ye pride in.
O Lord my God, that glib-tongued And ( what' s aft mair than a' the lave
Aiken, Your better art o' hidin'.
My very heart and saul are quakin',
To tliink how we stood sweatin', Think, when your castigated pulse
shakin'. Gies now and then a wallop.
An' swat wi' dread, What raging must his veins con-
While he wi' hinging lips gaed snak- vulse,
in', That still eternal gallop
An' hid his head. Wi' wind and tide f^r i' your tail.
Right on ye scud your sea-way
Lord, in the day o' vengeance try But in the teeth o' baith to sail.
him. It maks an unco leeway.
Lord, visit them wha did employ
him, See Social Life and Glee sit down,
And pass not in thy mercy by 'em, All joyous and unthinking.
Nor hear their prayer Till, quite transmugrifled, they're
But for thy people's sake destroy 'em. grown
And dinna spare. Debauchery and Drinking
O would they stay to calculate
But, Lord, remember me and mine Th' eternal consequences
Wi' mercies temp'ral and divine, Or your more dreaded hell to state.
That I for gear and grace may Damnation of expenses
shine,
Excelled by nane, Ye high, exalted, virtuous Dames,
An' a' the glory shall be thine, Tied up in godly laces,
Amen, Amen. Before ye gie poor Frailty names.
Bttbns. Suppose a change o' cases
A dear-loved lad, convenience snug,
A treacherous inclination —
TO THE UNCO GUID, OR THE But let me whisper i' your lug,
RIGIDLY RIGHTEOUS. Ye're aiblins nae temptation.

O re wha are sae guid yoursel', Then gently scan your brother Man,
Sae pious and sae holy, Still gentler sister Woman,
Ye've nought to do but mark and Though they may gang a kennie
tell wrang.
Tour Neebor's fauts aud folly! To step aside is human
Whase life is like a weel-gaun mill. One point niust still be greatly dark,
Supplied wi' store o' water. The moving Why they do it
The heapet happer's ebbing still. And just as lamely can ye mark
And still the clap plays clatter. How far perhaps they rue it.
 : ; ! ! — —— ! "" ; ; ; ;;

come AND HUMOROUS. 483

Who made the heart, 'tis He alone The Gods thought not it would
Decidedly can try us, amuse
He knows each chord — its various So much as Homer's Odyssees,
tone, But could not very well refuse
—
Each spring its varioiis hias: The properest of Goddesses
Then at the balance let's be mute. So all sat round in attitudes
We never can adjust it Of various dejection.
What's done we partly may com- As with a hem ! the queen of prudes
pute, Began her grave prelection.
But know not what's resisted.
BUBNS. At the first pause Zeus said, "Well
sung !

I mean — ask Phoebus, — he

TO THE DEVIL. knows."
Says Phoebus, "Zounds I a woU's
But you weel, auld Nickie-betil
fare
among
Admetus's merinos
O wad ye tak a thought an' men'
—
Ye aibUns might, I dinna ken.
—
Fine very fine but I must go
! I

They stand in need of me there

Still hae a stake
Excuse me!" snatched his stick,
I'm wae to think upon yon den,
Even for your sake and so
Plunged down the gladdened ether.
BUBNS.
With the next gap, Mars said, " For
me
THE ORIGIN OF DIDACTIC Don't wait, — nought could be
POETRY. finer.
But I'm engaged at half-past three, —
When wise Minerva still was young, A fight in Asia Minor !

And just the least romantic, Then Venus lisped, " How very
Soon after from Jove's head she thad!
flung. It rainth down there in torrinth
That preternatural antic, But I mutht go, becauthe they've
'Tis said to keep from idleness had
Or flirting, —
those twin curses, A thacrifithe in Corinth!"
She spent her leisure, more or less,
—
In writing po , no, verses. —
Then Bacchus, " With those slam-
ming doors
How nice they were ! to rhyme with I lost the last half dist — (hie !)
far, Mos' bu'ful se'ments! what's the
A kind star did not tarry Chor's?
The metre, too, was regular My voice shall not be missed —
As schoolboy's dot and carry; (hie!)"
And full they were of pious plums, His words woke Hermes " Ah " he !

So extra-super-moral, — said,
;

For sucking Virtue's tender gums "1 so love moral theses !

Most tooth-enticing coral. Then winked at Hebe, who turned

red,
A clean, fair copy she prepares. And smoothed her apron's creases.
Makes sure of moods and tenses,
With her own hand, for prudence — Just then Zeus snored, — the Eagle
spares drew
A man- (or woman) -uensis; His head the wing from under
Complete, and tied with ribbons Zeus snored, — o'er startled Greece
proud. there flew
She hinted soon how cosey a The many-volumed thunder;
Treat it would be to read them loud Some augurs counted nine, some, —
After next day's Ambrosia. ten,
 — ; ; ; ; ; !; : ; ;;!;
:

484 PARNASSUS.

Some said, 'twas war, some, fam- ( Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town sur~
ine, passes.
And all, mat other-minded men For honest men and bonnie lasses).
Would get a precious . O Tam ! hadst thou but been sae
wise.
Proud Pallas sighed, " It will not do As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice!
Against the Muse I've sinned, She tauld thee weel thou wast a
ohl" skellum,
And her torn rhymes sent flying A blethering, blusteriag, drunken
through blellunP;
Olympus' 3 back window. That frae November till October,
Then, packing up a peplus clean. Ae market-day thou was nae sober
She took the shortest path thence, That ilka melder, wi' the miller.
And opened, with a mind serene, Thou sat as lang as thou had siller
A Sunday school in Athens. That every naig was ca'd a shoe on.
The smith and thee gat roaring fou
The verses ? Some in ocean swilled, on;
Killed every fish that hit to 'em That at the Lord's house, even on
Some Galen caught, and, when dis- Sunday,
tilled. Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till
Found morphine the residuum Monday.
But some that rotted on the earth She prophesied that, late or soon.
Sprang up again in copies. Thou would be found deep drowned
And gave two strong narcotics in Doon
birth, — Or catched wi' warlocks i' the mirk,

Didactic bards and poppies. By AJloway's auld haunted kirk.

Ah, gentle dames! it gars me
Tears after, when a poet asked greet,
The Goddess's opinion, To think how mony counsels sweet.
As being one whose soul had basked How mony lengthened, sage advices,
In Art's clear-aired dominion, — The husband frae the wife despises
"Discriminate," she said, "be- But to our tale Ae market night,
:

times ; Tam had got planted unco right

The Muse is unforgiving Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely,
Put all your beauty in your rhymes, Wi' reaming swats, that drank di-
Tour morals in your living." vinely ;

Lowell. And at his elbow, Souter Johnny,

His ancient, drouthy crony
trusty,
Tam lo'ed him like
a vera brither;
TAM O' SHANTER. They had been fou for weeks the-
gither.
Wbeih chapman billies leave the The night drave on wi' sangs and
street. clatter
And drouthy neebors, neebors meet, And ay the ale was growing better
As market-days are wearing late, The landlady and Tam grew gra-
An' folk begin to tak the gate cious,
While we sit bousing at the nappy, Wi' favors, secret, sweet, and pre-
A.u' getting fou and unco happy, cious :
We thiukna on the lang Scots miles. The souter tauld his queerest stories;
The mosses, and stiles.
waters, slaps, The landlord's laugh was ready cho-
That between us and our hame,
lie rus:
Whare sits our sulky sullen dame, The storm without might rair and
Gathering her brows like gathering rustle,
storm, Tam did na mind the storm a whis-
Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. tle.
This truth fand honest Tarn O' Care, mad to see a man sae happy.
Shanter, E'en drowned himself amang the
As he frae Ayr ae night did canter nappy
 ;; ; ;; :: ; !
; ; !: ; ; ; ;; !
:; !;

COMIC AND HUMOROUS. 485

As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treas- And past the birks and meikle-stane,
ure, Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-
The minutes winged their way wi' b^ne;
pleasure And through the whins, and by the
Kings may be blessed, but Tam was cairn,
glorious. Whare hunters fand the murdered
O'er the ills o'
a' lifevictorious bairn
But pleasures are like poppies And near the thorn, aboon the well,
spread. Whare Mungo's mither hanged her-
You seize the flower, its bloom is sel.
shed; Before him Boon pours all his floods
Or like the snow falls in the river, The doubling storm roars through
A moment white then melts for- — the woods
ever; The lightnings flash from pole to pole
Or like the borealis race. Near and more near the thunders
That flitere you can point their roll:
place When, glimmering thro' the groan-
Or like the rainbow's lovely form ing trees,
Evanishing amid the storm. Kirk AUoway seemed in a bleeze
Nae man can tether time or tide ; — Through ilka bore the beams were
The hour approaches Tam maun glancing;
ride; And loud resounded mirth and dan-
That hour, o' night's black arch the cing.
key-stane, John Barleycorn
Inspiring bold
That dreary hour he mounts his What dangers thou canst make us
beast in scorn
And sic a night he taks the road in, Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil
As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. Wi' usquebae, we'll face the Devil!
The wind blew as 'twad blawn its The swats sae reamed in Tammie's
last; noddle.
The rattling showers rose on the Fair play, he cared na deils a boddle.
blast But Maggie stood right sair aston-
The speedy gleams the darkness ished.
swallowed Till, by the heel and hand admon-
Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder ished,
bellowed She ventured forward on the light
That night, a child might under- And, wow Tam saw an unco sight
!

stand, Warlocks and witches in a dance

The Deil had business on his hand. Nae cotillion brent new frae France,
Weel mounted on his gray mare. But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and
reels,
A better never lifted leg, Put life and mettle in their heels.
Tam skelpit on through dub and At winnock-biinker in the east,
mire, There sat auld Nick, in shape o'
Despising wind, and rain, and fire
Whiles holding fast his guid blue A towzie tyke, black, grim, and
bonnet large.
Whiles crooning o'er some anld Scots To giethem music was his charge
sonnet; He screwed the pipes and gart them
Whiles glowering round wi' prudent skirl.
cares, Till roofand rafters a' did dirl. —
Lest bogles catch him unawares Coflans stood round, like open
Kirk AUoway was drawing nigh, presses.
Whare ghaists and houlets nightly That shawed the dead in their last
cry. dresses
By this time he was cross the ford, And by some devilish cantrip slight,
Whare in the snaw the chapman Fach in its cauld hand held a
smoored Ught,—
 ; !;
: ! ; ;
! ;;; — ; ) ! ;!! ;!

486 PARNASSTTS.

By which heroic Tom was able And shook baith melkle corn and
To note upon the haly table, bear.
A murderer's banes in gibb^ aims And kept the country-side in fear,)
Twa span-lang, wee, unchristened Her cutty-sark, o' Paisley ham.
bairns That, while a lassie, she had worn.
A thief, new-cutted frae a rape, In longitude though sorely scanty.
Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape; It was her best and she was vaunts
rive tomahawks, wi' blude red ie.
rusted Ah! little kend thy reverend gran-
Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted nie.
A garter, which a babe had stran- That sark she coft for her wee Nan-
gled; nie,
A knife, a father's throat had man- Wi' twa pund Scots, ('twas a' her
gled, riches,
Wliora his ain son o' life bereft. Wad ever graced a dance o' witches
The gray hairs yet stack to the heft But here my muse her wing maun
Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu'. cour;
Which even to name wad be unlaw- Sic flights are far beyond her power;
fu'. To sing how Nannie lap and flang
As Tammie glowered, amazed and (A souple jade she was, and Strang),
curious. And how Tam stood, like ane be-
The mirth and fun grew fast and fu- witched.
rious : And thought his very e'en enriched
The and louder blew
piper loud Even Satan glowered, and fidged fu'
The dancers quick and quicker flew fain.
They reeled, they set, they crossed, And botched and blgw wi' might and
they cleekit, main:
Till ilka carlin sweat and reekit. Till first ane caper, syne anither,
And coost her duddies to the wark. Tam tint his reason a' thegither.
And linket at it in her sark And roars out, " Weel done, Cutty-
Now Tam, O Tam ! had thae been sark!"
queans, And in an instant all was dark;
A' plump and strapping in their And scarcely had he Maggie rallied,
teens When out the hellish legion sallied.
Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flan- As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke.
nen. When plundering herds assail their
Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder byke;
linnen As open pussie's mortal foes.
Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair. When, pop! she starts before their
That ance were plush, o' gude blue nose;
hair, As eager runs the market-crowd.
I wad hae gi'en them off my hur- When, " Catch the thief " resounds !

dles. aloud
For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies So Maggie runs, the witches follow,
But withered beldams, auld and Wi' monie an eldritch screech and
droll, hollow.
Rigwoodie hags, wad spean a foal, Ah, Tam ! ah, Tam ! thou'U get
Lowping and flinging on a crum- thy fairin
mock, In hell they'll roast thee like a her-
I wonder didna turn thy stomach. rin!
But Tam kend what was what fu' In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin
brawlie, Kate soon will be a woefu' woman
"There was ae winsome wench and Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg,
walie," And win the key-stane of the brig
That night enlisted in the core, There at them thou thy tail may
ILang after kend on Carrick shore toss,
For mony a beast to dead she shot. A running stream they dare ua
And perished mony a bonnie boat. cross.
 ; ; ;; :! ; ; ; ; ;

COMIC AND HUMOROUS. 487

But ere the key-stane she could " The first leet night, when the new
make, moon set,
The fient a tail she had to shake When all was doufEe and mirk,
For Nannie, far before the rest, We saddled our nags wi' the moon-
Hard upon noble Maggie prest. fern leaf.
And flew at Tarn wi' furious ettle And rode frae Kilmerrin kirk.
But little wist she Maggie's met-
tle— "Some horses were of the brmne-
Ae spring brought ofE her master cow framed.
hale, And some of the green bay tree
But left behind her ain gray tail But mine was made of ane hemlock
The carlin caught her by the rump, shaw.
And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. And a stout stallion was he.
Now, wha this tale o' truth shall
read. " We raide the tod doune on the hill,
Ilkman and mother's son, tak heed; The martin on the law
Whene'er to drink you are inclined. And we hunted the owlet out o'
Or cutty-sarks run in your mind. breath.
Think, ye may buy the joys o'er And forced him doune to fa'."
dear,
Remember Tam 0' Shanter's mare. " What guid was that, ye ill woman?
Btjbns. What guid was that to thee ?
Te would better have been in yer bed
at hame,
THE WITCH OF FIFE. Wi' yer dear little bairns and
me." —
"Where have ye been, ye ill wo-
man, '
'And aye we rode, as sae merrily rode,
These three lang nights frae Through the merkest glofEs of the
hame? night;
What gars the sweat drap frae yer And we swam the flood, and we
brow. damit the wood.
Like drops o' the saut sea-f aem ? Till we came to the Lommond
height.
"It fears me muckle ye have seen
What gude man never knew "And when we came to the Lom-
It fears me muckle ye have been, mond height,
Where the gray cock never crew. Sae lightly we lighted doune
And we drank frae the horns that
"But the spell may crack, and the never grew.
bridle break. The beer that was never browin.
Then sharp yer word will be
Ye had better sleep in yer bed at " Then up there rose a wee wee man,
hame, From neath the moss-gray stane
Wi' yer dear little bairns and His face was wan like the colliflower.
me." For he neither had blude nor bane.

"Sit dune, sit dune, my leal auld " He set a reed-pipe till his mouth;
man, And he played sae bonnily.
Sit dune, and listen to me Till the gray curlew, and the black-
I'll gar the hair stand on yer crown, cock flew
And the cauld sweat blind yer e' e. To listen his melodye.

" But tell nae words, my gude auld " It rang sae sweet through the green
man, Lommond,
Tell never a word again That the night- wind lowner blew;
Or dear shall be your courtesy. And it soupit alang the Loch Leven,
And driche and sair yer pain. And wakened the white searmew.
 ;; ; ; ! ; :

488 PARNASSUS.

" It rang sae sweet through the green We bored the breast of the bursting
Lommond, swale.
Sae sweetly and sae shrill, Or fluffed in the floating faem.
That the weasels leaped out of their
mouldy holes, "And when to the Norroway shore
And danced on the midnight hill. we wan.
We mounted our steeds of the wind.
" The corby crow came gledging near, And we splashed the floode, and we
The erne gaed veering bye darnit the wood.
And the trouts leaped out of the And we left the shore behind.
Leven Loch,
Charmed with the melodye. " Fleet is the roe on the green Lom-
mond,
" And aye we danced on the green And swift is the couryng grew
Lommond, The rein-deer dun can eithly run,
Till the dawn on the ocean grew: When the hounds and the horns
Nae wonder I was a weary wight pursue.
When I cam hame to you." —
" But neither the roe, nor the rein-
" What guid, what guid, my weird, deer dun.
weird wyfe. The hind nor the couryng grew,
What guid was that to thee ? Could fly o'er mountain, moor, and
Ye wad better have been in yer bed dale.
at hame, As our braw steeds they flew.
Wi' yer dear little bairns and
me." — "The dales were deep, and the Dof-
frins steep.
"The second night, when the new And we rose to the skies ee-bree
moon set. White, white was our road that was
O'er the roaring sea flew we never trode,
The cockle-shell our trusty bark. O'er the snows of eternity.
Our sails of the green sea-rue.
'*
And when we came to the Lapland
" And the bauld winds blew, and the lone.
fire-flauchts flew. The fairies were all in array.
And the sea ran to the sky For all the genii of the north
And the thunder it growled, and the Were keeping their holiday.
sea-dogs howled.
As we gaed scurrying by. " The warlock men and the weird
women.
" And aye we mounted the sea-green And the fays of the wood and the
hills. steep.
Till we brushed through the clouds And the phantom hunters all were
of heaven, there.
Then soused downright like the And the mermaids of the deep.
stern-shot light,
Fra the lift's blue casement driven. " Andthey washed us all with the
witch-water.
" But our tackle stood, and our bark Distilled frae the moorland dew.
was good. Till our beauty bloomed like the
And sae pang was our pearly prow Lapland rose,
When we couldna speil the brow of That wild in the foreste grew." —
the waves,
We needled them through below. " Te lee, ye lee, ye ill woman,
Sae loud as I hear ye lee
" As fast as the hall, as fast as the For the worsWaured wyfe on the
gale. shores of Fyfe
As fast as the midnight leme, Is comely compared wi' thee." —
 ! ; ; ; ;; ;; ;

COMIC A2SnD HtnaOKOUS. 489

" Then the mermaids sang, and the "Ah! little ye ken, my silly auld
woodlands rang, man.
Sae sweetly swelled the choir The dangers we maun dree
On every cltffe a harp they hang, Last night we drank of the bishop's
On every tree a lyre. wine,
Till near near taen were we.
" And
aye they sang, and the wood-
lands rang. " Afore
And we drank, and we drank sae we wan to the sandy ford.
deep;
The gor-cocks nichering flew
The lofty crest of Ettrick Pen
Then soft in the arms of the warlock Was waved about with blue.
men,
We laid vis dune to sleep." — And, flichtering
fand
through the air, we
,

" Away, away, ye ill woman. The chill chill morning dew.
An ill death might ye dee
When ye hae proved sae false to yer " As we flew o'er the hills of Braid,
God, The sun rose fair and clear
Ye can never prove true to me." — There gurly James, and his barons
braw.
"And there we learned frae the fairy
Were out to hunt the deer.

folk.
And frae our master true,
" Their bows they drew, their aiTows
The words that can bear us through flew.
the air. And pierced the air with speed,
And locks and bars undo. Till purple fell the morning dew
With witch-blude rank and red.
" Last night we met at Maisry's cot;
Right well the words we knew " Little ye ken, my silly auld man.
And we set a foot on the black The dangers we maun dree
cruik-shell. Ne wonder I am a weary wight
And out at the lum we flew. When I come hame to thee." —
" And we flew o'er hill, and we flew "But tell me the word, my gude
o'er dale. auld wyfe.
And we flew o'er firth and sea, Come tell it me speedily
Untill we cam to merry Carlisle, For I long to drink of the gude red
Where we lighted on the lea. wine.
And to wing the air with thee.
" We gaed to the vault beyond the
tower, "Ter hellish horse I willna ride,
Where we entered free as air; Nor sail the seas in the wind
And we drank, and we drank of the But I can flee as well as thee.
bishop's wine And
Till we could drink nae malr." — I'll drink ye be blind."
till

" Gin that be true, my gude auld " O fy O fy my leal

1 auld man,
!

wyfe, That word I darena tell;

Whilk thou hast tauld to me. It would turn this warld all upside
Betide my death, betide my lyfe, down.
I'll bear thee company.
And make it warse than hell.

" Next time ye gang to merry Car- " For all the lasses in the land
lisle Wald mount the wind and fly
To drink of the blude-red wine, And the men would doff their dou-
Beshrew my heart, I'll fly with thee, blets syde,
If the deil should fly behind." — And after them would ply." —
 ; ; ; ; ;; ; ; ;' :

490 PAUITASSUS.

But the auld gude man was a cun- The kerlyngs drank of the bishop's
ning auld man, wine
And a cunning auld man was he Till they scented the morning
And he watched and he watched wind;
for mony a night, Then clove again the yielding air.
The witches' flight to see. And left the auld man behinde.

One night he darnit in Maisry's cot And aye he slept on the damp damp
The fearless hags came in floor.
And he heard the word of awesome He slept and he snored amain
weird He never dreamed he was far frae
And he saw their deeds of sin. hame.
Or that the auld wives were gane.
Then ane by ane, they said that word,
As fast to the fire they drew And aye he slept on the damp damp
Then set a foot on the black cruik- floor.
shell,
Till past the mid-day heighte.
And out at the lum they flew.
When wakened by five rough Eng-
lishmen,
The auld gudeman came frae his hole That trailed him to the lighte.
With fear and muckle dread,
But yet he couldna think to rue,
For the wine came in his head. " Now wha are ye, ye silly auld man,
That sleeps sae sound and sae
He set his foot in the black cruik- weel?
shell, How gat ye into the. bishop's vault
Through locks and bars of steel ?
'
With a fixed and a wawling ee
And he said the word that I darena
say, The auld gudeman he tried to speak.
And out at the lum flew he. But ane word he couldna finde
He to think, but his head
tried
The witches scaled the moon-beam whirled round,
pale; And ane thing he couldna minde
Deep groaned the trembling wind "I cam frae Fyfe," the auld man
But they never wist that our auld cried,
gudeman "And I cam on the midnight
Was hovering them behind. winde."

They flew to the vaults of merry

They nicked the auld man, and they
Carlisle,
pricked the auld man,
Where they entered free as air
And they yerked his limbs with
And they drank, and they drank of
twine.
the bishop's wine
Till the red blude ran in his hose
Till they coulde drink nae mair.
and shoon,
The auld gudeman he grew But some cried it was wine.
sae
crouse.
He danced on the mouldy ground, They man, and they
licked the auld
And he sang the bonniest songs of pricked the auld man.
Fife, And they tyed him till ane stone
And he tuzzlit the kerlyngs round. And they set ane bele-firehim about,
To burn him skin and bone.
And aye he pierced the tither butt.
And he sucked, and he sucked sae " O wae to me !
" said the puir auld
lang, man,
fill his een they closed, and his " That ever I saw the day!
voice grew low, And wae be to all the ill women
And his tongue would hardly gang. That lead puir men astray I
 ;; ;! ; ; : ; ; ; ;

COMIC AXD HUMOROUS. 491

" Let nevir ane auld man after this His arms were spread, and his heade
To lawless greede incline was highe.
Let never ane auld man after this And his feet stuck out behinde
Kin post to the deil for wine." And the laibies of the auld man's
coat
The reeke flew up in the auld man's Were waufBng in the wind.
face,
And choked him bitterlye And aye he neicherit, and aye he flew.
And the low cam up with an angry For he thought the play sae rare
blaze, It was like the voice of the gander
And he singed his auld.breek-nee. blue.
When he flees through the aire.
He looked to the land frae whence
he came. He lookfed back to the Carlisle men
For looks he coulde get ne mae As he bored
the norlan sky
And he thoughte of his dear little He nodded his heade, and gave ane
bairns at hame, girn
And O the auld man was wae But he never said gude-bye.

But they turned their faces to the They vanished far 1' the lift's blue
sun, wale,
With gloffe and wonderous glare, Nae maire the English saw.
For they saw ane thing baith large But the auld man's laughe came on
and dun, the gale.
Comin sweeping down the aire. With a lang and a loud gaffaw.

That bird it cam frae the lands o' May everilke man in the land of Fife
Fife, Read what the drinker's dree;
And it cam right tymeouslye, And never curse his puir auld wife,
For who was it but the auld man's Kighte wicked altho she be.
wife. HoG&.
Just corned his death to see.

She put ane red cap on his heade, COLLUSION BETWEEN A ALE-
And the auld gudeman looked fain. GAITER AND A WATER-SNAIK.
Then whispered ane word intil his
lug. TBIUMPH OP THE WATER-SNAIK:
And toved to the aire again. DETH or THE ALEGAITEB.
The auld gudeman he gae ane bob " Thebe is a niland on a river lying,
r the midst o' the burning lowe Which runs into Gautimaly, a warm
And the shackles that bound him to country,
the ring, Lying near the Tropicks, covered
They fell frae his arms like towe. with sand
Hear and their a symptum of a,
He drew his breath, and he said the Wilow,
word. Hanging of its umberagious limbs
And he said it with muckle glee. & branches
Then set his feet on the burning Over the clear streme meandering
pile. far below.
And away to the aire new he. home of the now silent
This was the
Alegaiter,
Till ance he cleared the swirling When not in his other element con-
reeke, fine'd
He lukit baith feared and sad Here he wood set upon his eggs
But when he wan to the light blue asleep
aire, With 1 ey observant of flis and
He laughed as he'd been mad. other passing
 ; ! : ;

492 PARNASSUS.

Objects a while it It ept a going on so

: Besides squeazing him awfully into
Fereles of danger was the happy his stomoc.
Alegaiter Just then, by a fortinate turn in his
But a las! in a nevil our he was affairs.
fourced to He ceazed into his mouth the care-
Wake! that dreme of Blis was two less tale
sweet for him. Of the
unreflecting water-snaik!
1 morning the sun arose with un- Grown
desperate
usool splender He, finding that his tale was fast
Whitch allso did our Alegaiter, com-
ing from the water, Terrible while they roaled all over
His scails a flinging of the rais of the the Hand.
son back,
To the fountain-head which tha It was a well-conduckted Affair; no
originly sprung, noise
But having not had nothing to eat Disturbed the harmony of the seen,
for some time, he ecsept
Was slepy and gap'd, in a short Onct when a Wilow was snaped into
time, widely. by the roaling.
Unfoalding soon a welth of perl- Eeach of the combatence hadn't a
white teth. minit for holering.
The rais of the son soon shet his So the confliclc was naterally tremen-
sinister ey jous!
Because of their mutool splendor But soon by grate force the tale was
and warmth. bit complete-
The evil Our (which I sed) was now Ly of ; but the eggzeration was too
come much
Evidently a good chans for a water For his delicate Constitootion : he
snaik felt a compression
Of the large specie, which soon Ontohis chest and generally over
appeared
,
his body
Into the horison, near the bank When he ecspress'd his breathing,
where repos'd it was with
Calmly in slepe the Alegaiter before Grate difficulty that he felt inspired
spoken of, again onct more.
About 60 was his Length (not
feet Of course this State must suffer a
the 'gaiter) revolootion.
And he was aperiently a well-pro- So the Alegaiter give but one yel,
portioned snaik. and egspired.
When he was all ashore he glared The water-snaik realed hisself off,
upon & survay'd
The Hand with approval, but was soon For say 10 minits, the condition of
'Astonished with the view and lost His fo then wondering what made
:

to wonder' (from Wats) his tail hurt,

(For jest then he began to see the He sloly went off for to cool."
Alegaiter) J. W. MOKKIS.
Being a nateral enemy of his'n, he
worked hisself
Into a fury, also a ni position. THE DEACON'S MASTERPIECE,
Before the Alegaiter well could ope OR THE WONDERFUL "ONE-
His eye (in other words perceive his HOSS-SHAY."
danger)
The Snaik had enveloped his body A LOGICAL STORY.
just 19
Times with foalds voluminous and
'
Have you heard of the wonderful
vast' (from Milton) one-ho8s-shay,
And had tore off several scails in the That was built in such a logical way
confusion. It ran a
hundred years to a day,
 — ; : — ; ;; ; ; !

COMIC AND HUMOROUS. 493

And then, of a sudden, it — ah, but So the Deacon inquired of the village
stay, folk
I'll tell you what happened without Where he could find the strongest oak,
delay. That couldn't be split nor bent nor
Scaring the parson into fits, broke, —
Frightening people out of their That was for spokes and floor and
wits, — sills
Have you ever heard of that, I say ? He sent for lancewood to make the
thills;
Seventeen hundred and fifty-five. The crossbars were ash, from the
Geore/ius Secundus was then alive, — straightest trees
Snuffy old drone from the German The panels of white-wood, that
hive. cuts like cheese,
That was the year when Lisbon-town But lasts like iron for things like
Saw the earth open and gulp her these
down, The hubs of logs from the "Settler's
And Braddock's army was done so ellum," —
brown, Last of its timber, — they couldn't
Left without a scalp to its crown. sell 'em.
It was on the terrible Earthquake-day Never an axe had seen their chips,
That the Deacon finished the one- And the wedges flew from between
hoss-shay. their lips.
Their blunt ends frizzled like celery-
Now in building of chaises, I tell tips;
you what, Step and prop-iron, bolt and screw,
There is always somewhere a weakest Spring, tire, axle, and linchpin too,
spot, — Steel of the finest, bright and blue
In hub, tire, felloe, in spring or thill. Thoroughbrace bison-skin, thick and
In panel, or crossbar, or floor, or sill. wide
In screw, bolt, thoroughbrace, Boot, top, dasher, from tough old
lurking still. hide
Find it somewhere you must and Found in the pit when the tanner
will, — died.
Above or below, or within or with- That was the way he "put her
out, through." —
And that's the reason, beyond a "There!" said the Deacon, "napw
doubt, she'll dew I"
A chaise breaks down, but doesn't
wear out. Do ! I tell you, I rather guess
She was a wonder, and nothing less
But the Deacon swore, (as Deacon's Colts grew horses, beards turned
do. gray.
With an " 1 dew vum," or an " I tell Deacon and deaconess dropped away,
yeou") Children and grandchildren where —
He would build one shay to beat the were they?
taown But there stood the stout old one-
n' the keountry 'n' all the kentry hoss-shay
raoun' As fresh as on Lisbon-earthquake-
It should be so built that it couldn' day!
break daown
— "Fur," said the Deacon, "'t's Eighteen hundred; — it came and
mighty plain found
Thut the weakes' place mus' stan' The Deacon's masterpiece strong
the strain; and sound.
'n' the way t' fix it, uz I maintain, Eighteen hundred increased by
Is only jest ten; —
T' make that place uz strong uz the "Hahnsum kerridge" they called it

rest." then.
 ) ! !!; ! !

494 PAENASSUS.

Eighteen hundred and twenty came At what the — Moses — was coming
Running as usual much the same.
; next.
Thirty and Forty at last arrive, All at once the horse stood still.
And then come Fifty and Fifty-five. Close by the meet'n' -house on the
hill.
we value here
Little of all — First a shiver, and then a thrill,
Wakes on the morn of its hundredth Then something decidedly like a
year —
spill,
Without both feeling and looking And the parson was sitting upon a
queer. rock,
,

In fact, there's nothing that keeps At haJf past nine by the meet'n'-
Its youth. house clock, —
So far as I know, but a tree and truth. Just the hour of the Earthquake
(This is a moral that runs at large; shock
Take It. You're welcome. No ex- — What do you think the parson
tra charge. found,
When he got up and stared around ?
First of Novembbb, — the Earth- The poor old chaise in a heap or
quake-day. — mound.
There are traces of age in the one- As if it had been to the mill and
hoss-shay, ground
A general flavor of mild decay, Tou see, of course, if you're not a
But nothing local as one may say. dunce.
There couldn't be, —
for the Dear How it went to pieces all at once, —
con's art All at once, and nothing first, —
Had made it so like in every part Just as bubbles do when they burst.
That there wasn't a chance for one
to start. End of the wonderful one-hoss-shay.
For the wheels were just as strong as Logic is logic. That's all I say.
the thills. O. W. Holmes.
And the floor was just as strong as
the sills.
And the panels just as strong as THE COURTIN.'
the floor.
And the whippletree neither less nor
Zbkle erep' up quite unbeknown,
An' peeked in thru' the winder,
more.
An' there sot Huldy all alone,
And the back-crossbar as strong as
'Ith no one nigh to hender.
the fore.
And spring and axle and hub encore. Agin the chimbley crook-necks hung
And yet, as a whole, it is past a
An' in amongst 'em rusted
doubt The ole queen's-arm thet gran'ther
In another hour it will be worn out Young
Fetched back from Concord busted.
November, Fifty-five
First of
This morning the parson takes a The very room, coz she was in.
drive. Seemed warm from floor to ceilin'.
Now, small boys, get out of the way An' she looked full ez rosy agin
Here comes the wonderful one-hoss- Ez the apples she was peelin'.

Drawn by a rat-tailed, ewe-necked 'Twas kin' o' kingdom-come to look

— Off A On
bay. sech a blessed cretur,
" Huddup " said the parson.
!
dogrose blushin' to a brook
went they. Ain't modester nor sweeter.

The Parson was working his Sun- But long o' her his veins 'ould run
day's text, — All crinkly like curled maple,
Fad got to fifthly, and stopped per- The side she breshed felt full o' sua
plexed Ez a south slope In Ap'il.
 ; "; ; : ; ;

COMIC AND HUMOEOtrS. 495

She thought no v'ice hed sech a For she wasjes' the quiet kind
swing Whose
naturs never vary.
Ez hisn in the choir Like streams that keep a summer
My when he made Ole Hunderd ring,
! mind
She knowed the Lord was nigher. Snowhid in Jenooary.
An' she'd hlush scarlit, right in The blood clost roun' her heart felt
prayer, glued
When her new meetin'-hunnet Too tight for all expressin'.
Felt somehow tliru' its crown a pair Tell mother see how metters stood.
O' blue eyes sot upon it. And gin 'em both her blessin'.

Thet night, I tell ye, she looked some ! Then her red come back like the tide
She seemed to've gut a new soul. Down to the Bay o' Fundy,
For she felt sartin-sure he'd come, An' all I know is they was cried
Down to her very shoe-sole. In meetin' come nex' Sunday.
Lowell : Biglow Papers.
She heered a foot, an' knowed it tu,
A-raspin' on the scraper, —
All ways to once her feelin's flew HEE LETTER.
Like sparks in burnt-up paper.
I'm sitting alone by the fire,
He kin' o' I'itered on the mat, Dressed just as I came from the dance.
Some doubtfle o' the sekle, In a robe even you would admire, —
It cost a cool thousand in France
His heart kep' goin' pity-pat.
But hern went pity Zelde. I'm bediamonded out of all reason,
My hair is done up in a cue
III short, sir, "the belle of the sea-
An' yit she gin her cheer a jerk
Ez though she wished him furder, son"
Is wasting an hour on you.
An' on her apples kep' to work,
Parin' away like murder. A dozen engagements I've broken;
I left in the midst of a set
" You want to see my Pa, I s'pose ? " Likewise a proposal, half spoken.
"Wal ... no ... I come da-
signiu' " — That waits —
on the stairs for me —
yet.
"To see my Ma? She's sprinklin' They say he'll be rich, — when he
clo'es grows up, —
Agin to-morrer's i'nin'." And then he adores me indeed.
And you,sir,are turning your nose up.
To say why gals act so or so. Three thousand miles off, as you read.
Or don't, 'ould be presumin'
Mebby to mean yes an' say no " And how do I like my position ? "
Comes nateral to women. "And what do I think of Ifew
York?"
He stood a spell on one foot fust, " And now, in my higher ambition.
stood a spell on t'other.
Then With whom do I waltz, flirt, or talk ? "
An' on which one he felt the wust "And isn't it nice to have riches.
He couldn't ha' told ye nuther. And diamonds and silks, and all
that?"
Says he, "I'd better call agin
;
"And aren't it a change to the
Says she, " Think likely. Mister;" ditches
That last word pricked him like a pin. And tunnels of Poverty Flat?"
An' Wal, he up an' kist her.
. . .

Well yes, —
if you saw us out driving

WTien Ma bimeby upon 'em slips, Each day in the park, four-in-hand
Huldy sot pale ez ashes, If you saw poor dear mamma con-
^11 kin' o' smily roun' the 'ips triving
An' teary roun' the lashes. To look supematurally grand, —
 ; ; ; ; ; ; !

496 PARl^ASSUS.

If picture, as taken
you saw papa's But goodness! what nonsense I'm
By Brady, and tinted at that, — writing
You'd never suspect he sold bacon (Mamma says my taste still is low,)
And flour at Poverty Flat. Instead of my triumphs reciting,
I'm spooning on Joseph, heigh-ho! —
And yet, just this moment, when And I'm to be "finished" by travel.
sitting Whatever' s the meaning of that, —
In the glare of the grand chandelier. O, why did papa strike pay gravel
In the bustle and glitter befitting In drifting on Poverty Flat ?
The "finest soiree of the year," — — here's the
In the mists of a gaze de chambfiry Good-night, end of my
And hum the smallest of paper
the
— of
Good-night, — the if longitude
please, —
tallf ,
Somehow, Joe, I thought of "The
Ferry," For maybe, while wasting my taper.
And the dance that we had on " The Your sun's climbing over the trees.
Fork;" But know, if you haven't got riches.
And are poor,dearest Joe, and all that,
Of Harrison's barn, with its muster That my heart's somewhere there in
Of flags festooned over the wall the ditches.
Of the candles that shed their soft And you've struck it, — on Poverty
lustre Flat.
And tallow on head-dress and shawl Beet Hakte.
Of the steps that we took to one fid-
dle;
Of the dress of my queer vis-a-vis HIS ANSWER TO "HER LET-
And how I once went down the TER."
middle BEPOETED BY TEUTHFUL JAMES.
With the man that shot Sandy
McGee Being asked by an intimate party —
Which the same I would term as a
Of the moon that was quietly sleep- friend —
ing Which his health it were vain to call
On the hill, when the time came to hearty,
go; Since the mind to deceit it might
Of the few baby peaks that were lend;
peeping For his arm it was broken quite re-
From under their bed-clothes of cent,
snow; And has something gone wrong
Of that ride, — that to me was the with his lung, —
rarest Which is why it is proper and decent
Of — the something you said at the I should write what he runs off
gate: his tongue.
Ah, Joe, then I wasn't ai heiress
To "the best-paying lead in the First, he says. Miss, he's read through
State." your letter
To the end, — and the end came
Well, well, it's all past yet it's funny
; too soon.
To think, as I stood in the glare That a slight illness kept him your
Of fashion and beauty and money, debtor
That I should be thinking, right (Which for weeks he was wild as a
there. loon).
Of some one who breasted highwater, That his spirits are buoyant as yours
And swam the North Fork, and is;
all that, That with you. Miss, he challen-
Just to dance with old Folinsbee's ges Fate,
daughter. ( Which the language that invalid uses

The Lily of Poverty Plat. At times it were vain to relate).

 )
; ; ; ; ;; ;

COMIC AND HUMOEOUS. 497

A.nd he says that the mountains are He's asleep —
which the same might
fairer seem strange. Miss,
For once being held in your Were it not that I scorn to deny
thought That I raised his last dose for a,
That each rock holds a wealth that change. Miss,
rarer
is In view that his fever was high,
Than ever by gold-seeker sought — But he lies there quite peaceful and
(Which are words he would put in pensive
these pages, And, now, my respects. Miss, to
By a party not given to guile you;
Which thj same not, at date, paying Which, my language, although com-
wages, prehensive.
Might produce in the sinful a Might seem to be freedom — it's
smile. true.

He remembers the ball at the Ferry, Which I have a small favor to ask
And the ride, and the gate, and you.
the vow. As concerns a bull-pup, which the
And the rose that you gave him — same —
that very would not overtask you
If the duty —
Same rose he is treasuring now You would please to procure for
(Which his blanket he's kicked on me, game,
his trunk. Miss, And send per express to the Flat,
And insists on his legs being free Miss,
And his language to me from his Which they say Tork is famed for
bunk. Miss, the breed,
Is frequent and painful and free.) Which though words of deceit may
be that — Miss,
He hopes you are wearing no willows, I'll trust to your taste, Miss, in-
But are happy and gay all the deed.
while
That he knows —
(which this dodg- P. S. — Which this same interfering
ing of pillows In other folks' ways I despise —
Imparts but small ease to the style. Yet, if so be I was hearing
And the same you will pardon) — That it's just empty pockets as
he knows, Miss, lies
That, though parted by many a Betwixt you and Joseph it follers —
mile, That, having no family claims.
Tet, were he lying under the snows. Here's my pile —
which it's six hun-
Miss, dred dollars.
They'd melt into tears at your As is, yours, with respects, —
smile. Tbuthful James.
Bbet Haetb.
And you'll still think of him in your
pleasures,
In your brief twilight-dreams of ATHEISM.
the past.
In this green laurel-spray that he "There is no God," the wicked
treasures. saith,
It was plucked where your parting "And truly it's a blessing.
was last. For what he might have done with us
In this specimen — but a small tri- It's better only guessing."
fle-
It will do for a pin for your shawl "There is no God," a youngster
IWhich the truth not to wickedly thinks,
stifle. " Or really if there may be.
Was his last week's " clean up " — He surely didn't mean a man
and his all.) Always to be a baby."
32
 ;; ; ; ! ; ; ! ; ; ! ;— :

498 PARNASSUS.

" WTiether there be," the rich man Who the painter was none may tell,
thiuks, One whose best was not over well
' It matters very little, Hard and dry, it mdst be confessed,
("or I and mine, thanlc somebody. Flat as a rose that has long been
Are not in want of victual." pressed
Yet in her cheek the hues are bright.
Some others also to themselves Dainty colors of red and white
Who scarce so much as doubt it, And in her slender shape are seen
Think there is none, when they are Hint and promise of stately mien.

And
well.
do not think about it.
Look not on her with eyes of scorn, —
Dorothy Q. was a lady born
Ay! since the galloping Normans
But country-folks who live beneath came,
The shadow of the steeple England's annals have known her
The parson, and the parson's wife. name;
And mostly married people And still to the three-hilled rebel
town
Youths green and happy in first love, Dear is that ancient name's renown,
So thankful for illusion; For many a civic wreath they won,
And men caught out in what the The youthful sire and the gray-
world haired son.
Calls guilt and first confusion
O damsel Dorothy ! Dorothy Q.
And almost every one when age. Strange is the gift that I owe to you;
Disease, and sorrow strike him, — Such a gift as never a king
Inclines to think there is a God, Save to daughter or son might
Or something very like him. bring —
A. H. Clough. All my tenure of heart and hand.
All my title to house and land
Mother and sister, and child and
wife.
DOROTHY Q. And joy and sorrow, and death and
life!
A FAMILY PORTRAIT.
What a hundred years ago
if
Grandmother's mother; her age, Those close-shut lips had answered,
I guess, No,
Thirteen summers, or something When forth the tremulous question
less; came
Girlish bust, but womanly air. That cost the maiden her Norman
Smooth, square forehead, with up- name
rolled hair. And under the folds that look so still
Lips that lover has never kissed. The bodice swelled with the bosom's
Taper fingers and slender wrist, thrill?
Hanging sleeves of stiff brocade — Should I be I, or would it be
So they painted the little maid. One-tenth another to nine-tenths
me?
On her hand a parrot green
Sitsuinnoving and broods serene Soft is the breath of a maiden's Yes
Hold up the canvas full in view — Not the light gossamer stirs with
Look! there's a rent the light shines less;
through. But never a cable that holds so fast
Dark with a century's fringe of Through all the battles of wave and
dust, — blast.
That was a Red-Coat's rapier-thrust! And never an echo of speech or song
Such is the tale the lady old, That lives in the babbling air so
Dorothy's daughter's daughter, told. Ions
 ;; !! ; ; );

COMIC AND HUMOROUS. 499

There were tones In the voice that Honors are silly toys, I know.
whispered then And titles are but empty names —
You may hear to-day in a hundred I would, perhaps, be Plenipo, — ;

men! But only near St. James ; —

I'm very sure I should not care
lady and lover, how faint and far To fill our Gubernator's chair.
Your images hover, and here we are,
Solid and stirring in flesh and bone, —
Edward's and Dorothy's —
all their
Jewels are baubles 'tis a sin ;

own — Tocare
things
for such unfruitful
—
A goodly record for time to show ;

—
Of a syllable spoken so long ago ! — One good-sized diamond in a pin,
Some, not so large, in rings, —
Shall I bless you, Dorothy, or forgive.
me A ruby, and a pearl, or so.
For the tender whisper that bade
live?
Will do for me I laugh al show.
; —
It shall be a blessing, my
little maid My dame should dress in cheap
1 will heal the stab of the Red-Coat's attire
blade. (Good, heavy silks are never
And freshen the gold of the tar- dear;) —
nished frame, Iown perhaps I mlyht desire
And gild with a rhyme your house- Some shawls of true cashmere, —
hold name, Some marrowy crapes of China silk.
So you shall smile on us brave and Like wrinkled sldns on scalded milk.
bright
As first you greeted the morning's I would not have the horse I drive
light. So fast that folks must stop and
And live untroubled by woes and fears stare
Through a second youth of a hun- An easy gait —
two, forty-five —
dred years. Suits me I do not care -
; ;

O. W. Holmes. Perhaps, for just a duple spun.

Some seconds less would do no hurt.
CONTENTMEN-T. Of pictures, I should like to own
" Man wants but little here below." Titians and Raphaels three or
four, —
Little I ask my wants are few
; I love so much their style and tone, —
I only wish a hut of stone, One Turner, and no more, —
(A very plain brown stone will do,)
— (A landscape, — foreground golden
That I may call my own ; dirt;
And close at hand is such a one. The sunshine painted with a squirt.
In yonder street that fronts the sun.

Plain food is quite enough for me

Of books but few, —
some fifty score
Three courses are as good as ten ;
— For daily use, and bound for wear
The rest upon an upper floor; —
If Nature can subsist on three, Some luxury there
little
TTiank Heaven for three. Amen
I always thought cold victual nice ;
— Of red morocco's gilded gleam.
And vellum rich as country cream.
My choice would be vanilla ice.
I care not much for gold or land ;
— Busts, cameos, gems, — such things
Give me a mortgage here and as these.
there, — Which others often show for pride,
Some good — some note
bank-stock, I value for their power to please.
of hand, And selfish churls deride —
railroad share —
;

Or trifling ; One Stradivarius, I confess.

I only ask that Fortune send Two Meerschaums, I would fain
A little more than I shall spend.
 ; — ! ; — : ; ;

500 PAENASSUS.

Wealth's wasteful tricks I will not Mott came mild as new milk, with
learn, gray hairs under his broad
Nor ape the glittering upstart brim.
fool ;
— Leaving the first chop location and
Shall not carved tables serve my water privilege near it.
turn, Held by his fathers of old on the
But all must be of buhl ? willow-fringed banks of Ohio.
Give grasping pomp its double Wrathy Covode, too, I saw, and
share, — Montgomery ready for mis-
I ask but one recumbent chair. chief.
Who against these to the floor led on
Thus humble let me live and die, the Lecomptonite legions ?
Jfor long for Midas' golden touch, Keitt of South Carolina, the clear
If Heaven more generous gifts deny, grit, the tall, the ondaunted —
I shall not miss them much, — Keitt, and Reuben Davis, the ra'al
Too grateful for the blessing lent boss of wild Mississippi
Of simple tastes and mind content Barksdale, wearer of wigs, and
O. W. Holmes. Craige from North Carolina
Craige and scomy McQueen, and
Owen, and Lovejoy, and La-
mar,
THE FIGHT OVER THE BODY These Mississippi sent to the war,
OF KEITT. " tres juncti in uno."
A fragment from the great American epic, Long had raged the warfare of
the WaBhingtoniad. words; it was four in the
morning
SiNQ, O goddess, the wrath, the on- Whittling and expectoration and
tamable dander of Keitt liquorin' all were exhausted,
Keitt of South Carolina, the clear When Keitt, tired of talk, bespake
grit, the tall, the ondaunted — Ecu. Davis, " O Reuben,
Him that hath wopped his own nig- Grow's a tarnation blackguard, and
gers till Northerners all unto I've concluded to clinch him."
Keitt This said, up to his feet he sprang,
Seem but as niggers to wop, and hills and loos'ning his choker,
of the smallest potatoes. Straighted himself for a grip, as a
Late and long was the fight on the bar-hunter down in Arkan-
Constitution of Kansas sas
Daylight passed into dusk, and dusk Squares to go in at the bar, when
into lighting of gas-lamps ;
— the dangerous varmint is cor-
Still on the floor of the house the nered.
heroes unwearied were fight- " out, Grow," he cried, " you
Come
ing. Black Republican puppy.
Dry grew palates and tongues with Come on the floor, like a man, and
exciteraeut and expectoration, darn my eyes, but I'll show
Plugs were becoming exhausted, and you "
Representatives also. Him answered straight-hitting Grow,
Who led on to the war the anti- " Waal now, I calkilate, Keitt,
Lecomptonite phalanx? No nigger-driver shall leave his plan-
Grow, hitting straight from the tation in South Carolina,
shoulder, the Pennsylvania Here to crack his cow-hide round
Slasher; this child's ears, if he knows
Him followed Hickman, and Potter it."
the wiry, from woody Wiscon- Scarce had he spoke when the hand,
sin; the chivalrous five fingers of
Washburue stood with his brother, — Keitt,
Cadwallader stood with Elihu Clutched at his throat, — had they
Broad Illinois the one, and
sent Grow
closed, the speeches of
woody Wisconsin the other. had been ended, —
 ; —
COMIC
Never more from a stump had he
stirred up the free and en-
lightened;
But though smart Keitt's mauleys,
the mauleys of Grow were still
smarter
Straight from the shoulder he shot,
not Owen Swift or Ned Adams
Ever put in his right with more del-
icate feeling of distance.
As drops hammer on anvil,
dropped Grow's right
Keitt
Just where the jugular runs to the
point at which Ketch ties his
drop-knot ;
— the thick of the n/i&Ue,
Prone like a log sank Eeitt, his dol-
lars rattled about him.
Forth sprang his friends o'er the
body first, Barksdale, waving-
; London Punch.
wig-wearer,
Craige and McQueen and Davis, the
ra'al hoss of wild Mississippi
Fiercely they gathered round Grow,
catawampously up as to
him;
'
But without Potter they reckoned,
the wiry from woody Wiscon-
sin;
He, striking out right and left, like
a catamount vannint and
vicious.
Dashed to the rescue, and with him
the Washbumes, Cadwallader,
Elihu;
Slick into Barksdale' s bread-basket
walked Potter's one, two,
hard and heavy;
Barksdale fetched wind in a trice,
dropped Grow, and let out at
Elihu.
Then like a fountain had flowed the
claret of Washbume the elder,
But for Cadwallader's care, —
Cad-
wallader, guard of his brother.
Clutching at Barksdale' s nob, into
Chancery soon would have
drawn it.
Well was it then for Barksdale, the
wig that waved over his fore-
head:
Off in Cadwallader's hands it came,
and, the wearer releasing,
Left to the conqueror nought but the
scalp of his baldheaded foe-
man.
Meanwhile hither and thither, a dove
on the waters of trouble,
—; !;
AND HUMOROUS. 501
Moved Mott, mild as new milk, with
his gray hair under his broad
brim.
Preaching peace to deaf ears, and
getting considerably damaged
Cautious Covode in the rear, as du-
bious what it might come to,
Brandished a stone-ware spittoon
'gainst whoever might seem to
deserve it,—
so Little it mattered to him whether
into Pro or Anti-Lecompton,
So but he found in the Hall a f oeman
worthy his weapon
So raged this battle of men, till into
Like to the heralds of old, stepped
the Sergeant-at-Arms and the
Speaker.
PURITANS.
chaw Cue brethren of New England use
Choice malefactors to excuse.
And hang the guiltless in their stead.
Of whom the churches have less
need;
As late it happened in a town
Where lived a cobbler, and but one.
That out of doctrine could cut use.
And mend men's lives as well as shoes.
This precious brother having slain
In times of peace an Indian,
Not out of malice, but mere zeal.
Because he was an infidel
The mighty Tottipotimoy
Sent to our elders an envoy.
Complaining loudly of the breach
Of league held fortl^ by brother
Patch,
Against the articles in force
Between both churches, his and
ours;
For which he craved the saints to
render
Into his hands, or hang the offender.
But they maturely having weighed
They had no more but him of the
trade,
A man that served them in the double
Capacity to teach and cobble,
Resolved to spare him yet to do
;
The Indian Hogan Mogan too
Impartial justice, in his stead did
Hang an old weaver that was bedrid.
BUTLEB.
 : ! ; ; ; ;; );

602 PARNASSUS.

THE OLD COVE. For I reckon, before you and I are

done,
" All we ask Ib to be let alone." You'll wish you had let honest folks
As vonce I valked by a dismal svamp, alone."
There sot an Old Cove in the dark The Old Cove stopped, and the
and damp, t'other Old Cove
And at everybody as passed that road He sot quite still in his cypress grove.
A stick or a stone this Old Cove And he looked at his stick revolvin'
throwed. slow
And Vhether 'twere safe to shy it or
venever he flung his stick or
his stone, no, —
He'd set up a song of "Let me And he grumbled on, in an injured
alone." tone,
" All that I axed vos, let me alone."
" Let me alone, for I loves to shy H. H. Bbownbll.
These bits of things at the passers
by-
Let me alone, for I've got your tm JOVE AKD THE SOULS.
And lots of other traps snugly in — ;

Let me alone, I'm riggin a boat Amazed, confused, its fate un-
To grab votever you've got afloat ;
— known.
In a veek or so I expects to come The world stood trembling at Jove's
And turn you out of your 'ouse and throne
'ome; — While each pale sinner hung his head,
I'm a quiet Old Cove," says he, vith Jove nodding shook the heavens,
a groan and said
" All I axes is —
Let me alone." " Offending race of human kind,
By nature, reason, learning, blind
Just then came along on the self- You who through frailty stepped
same vay. aside.
Another Old Cove, and began for to And you who never erred through
say — pride
" Let you alone You who in different sects were
strong — That's comin'! it
shammed,
— a darned sight
I

You've ben let alone And come to see each other damned
too long — ; (So some folks told you, but they
Of all the sarce that ever I heerd knew
Put down that stick! (You may No more of Jove's designs than you.
well look skeered.) The world's mad business now is o'er.
Let go that stone! If you once And I resent your freaks no more
show flght, I to such blockheads set my wit,
knock you higher than ary kite.
I'll I damn such fools — go, go, you're
You must hev a lesson to stop your bit!"
tricks, Swift.
And cure you of shying them stones
and sticks, — CHIQUITA.
An I'llhev my hardware back and
my cash. Beautiftjl! Sir, you may say so.
And knock your scow into tarnal Thar isn't her match in the
smash. county.
And if ever I catches you 'round Is thar, old gal, —
Chiquita, my
my ranch, darling, my
beauty ?
I'll string you up to the nearest Feel of that neck, sir, —
thar's vel-
branch. vet! Whoa!
Steady, —
ah, will you, you vixen!
The best you can dois to go to bed, Whoa! I say. Jack, trot her out,
&.nd keep a decent tongue in your let the gentleman look at hei
head; paces.
 ;! ! ; ! , ; : ;! "

COMIC AND HUMOEOFS. 503

Morgan! —
She ain't nothin' else, Would ye b'lieve it ? that night that
and I've got the papers to hoss, that ar' filly, Chiquita,
prove it. Walked herself into her stall, and
Sired by Chippewa Chief, and twelve stood there, all quiet and
hundred dollars won't buy her. dripping
Briggs of Tuolumne owned her. Did Clean as a beaver or rat, with nary
you know Briggs of Tuo- a buckle of harness.
lumne ? — Just as she swam to the Fork, that —
Busted hisself in White Pine, and hoss, that ar' filly, Chiquita.
blew out his brains down in
'Frisco? That's what I call a hoss! and —
What did you say? O, the —
Hedn't no savey hed Briggs.— nevey?
Thar, Jack! that'll do, quit — Drownded, I reckon, —
leastways,
that foolin' he never kem back to deny It.
Nothin' to what she kin do, when Ye see, the domed fool had no seat,
she's got her work cut out — ye couldn't have made him
before her. a rider;
Hosses bosses, you know, and
is And then, ye know, boys will be
likewise, too, jockeys is jock- boys, and hosses well, —
eys; hosses is hosses
And 'tain't ev'ry man as can ride as Bbet Habte.
knows what a boss has got in
him.
RUDOLPH THE HEADSMAN.
Know the old ford on the Fork, that
nearly got Flanigan's leaders? Rudolph, professor of the heads-
Nasty in daylight, you bet, and a man's trade.
mighty rough ford in low Alike was famous for his arm and
water blade.
Well, ain'tsix weeks ago that me
it One day a prisoner Justice had to
and the Jedge and his nevey kill
Struck for that ford in the night, in Knelt at the block to test the artist's
the rain' and the water all skill.
round us Bare armed, swart-visaged, gaunt,
and shaggy-browed,
Up to our flanks in the gulch, and Rudolph the headsman rose above
Rattlesnake Creek just a bilin' the crowd.
Kot a plank left in the dam, and His falchion lightened with a sudden
nary a bridge on the river. gleam,
I had the gray, and the Jedge had As the pike's armor flashes in the
his rnan, and his nevey, Chi- stream.
quita He sheathed his blade he turned as
;

And after us trundled the rocks jest if to go

loosed from the top of the The victim knelt, still waiting for
cafLon. the blow.
"Why strikest not? Perform thy
Lickity, lickity, switch, we came to murderous act,"
the ford, and Chiquita The prisoner said. (His voice was
Buckled right down to her work, slightly cracked.)
and afore I could yell to her "Friend, I have struck," the artist
rider, straight replied
Took water jest at the ford, and " Wait but one moment, and your-
there was the Jedge and me self decide."
standing, He held his snuff-box, " Now —
^id twelve hundred dollars of hoss- then, if you please !

flesh afloat, and a driftin' to The prisoner sniffed, and, with a

thunder crashing sneeze,
 ; ; ! ; ; ; !

504 PABNASSUS.

Off his head tumbled, bowled along — This poor old hat and breeches, as
the floor, — you see, were
Bounced down the steps; the — Tom in a scuffle.
prisoner said no more
O. W. HOLMBS. Constables came up for to take me
into
Custody; they took me before the
THE FRIEND OF HUMAOTTT justice
AND THE KNIFE-GRINDER. Justice Oldmlxon put me in . the
parish-
FBIEND OF HUMANITY. Stocks for a vagrant.

Needy knife-grinder! whither are I should be glad to drink your

you going? honor's health in
Rough is the road; your wheel is A pot of beer, if you will give me
out of order. sixpence
Bleak blows the blast; your hat — But for my part, I never love to
has got a hole in 't meddle
So have your breeches 1 With politics, sir.

Weary knife-grinder ! little think the PHIEND OF HUMAJTITT.

proud ones.
Who in their coaches roll along the I give thee sixpence
turnpike- damned first, —I will see thee
!

Road, what hard work 'tis crying all Wretch! whom no sense of wrong
day, " Kjiives and can rouse to vengeance, —
Scissors to grind O." Sordid, unfeeling, reprobate, de-
graded,
Tell me, knife-grinder, how came Spiritless outcast
you to grind knives ?
Did some rich man tyrannically use [Kicks the knife-grinder, overturns
you? his wheel, and exit in a transport of
republican enthusiasm and imivei'sal
Was it the squire ? or parson of the
philanthropy.]
parish ? Geobge Canning.
Or the attorney ?

Was the squire for killing of his

it
game ?
or PLAIN LANGUAGE FROM
Covetous parson for his tithes dis- TRUTHFUL JAMES.
training ?
Or roguish lawyer made you lose (table mountain, 1870.)
your little
All in a lawsuit ? Which I wish to remark —
And my language is plain —
(Have you not read the Rights of That for ways that are dark.
Man by Tom Paine ?) And for tricks that are vain.
Drops of compassion tremble on my The heathen Chinee is peculiar.
eyelids, Which the same I would rise to
Peady to fall as soon as you have explain.
told your
Pitiful story. Ah Sin was his name
And I shall not deny
KNIFB-QRINDEB. In regard to the same
What that name might imply.
Story ! God bless you ! I have none But his smile it was pensive and
to tell, sir childlike,
Only, last night, a drinking at the As I frequent remarked to Bill
Chequers, Nye.
 ; ;; ;: ; : ; ; ;

come AND HUMOROUS. 505

ftwas August the third Whichis why I remark.
And
quite soft was the skies And my language is plain.
Which it might he inferred That for ways that are dark,
That Ah Sin was hkewise And for tricks that are vain.
Yet he played it that day upon Wil- The heathen Chinese is peculiar —
liam Which the same I am free to
And me in a way I despise. maintain.
Bbet Habie.
Which we had a small game,
And Ah Sin took a hand
It was euchre. The same
He
did not understand
But he smiled as he sat hy the table, THE COSMIC EGM3-.
With the smile that was chUdlike
and bland. Upon a rock yet uncreate.
Amid a chaos inchoate.
Yet the cards they were stocked An imcreated being sate
In a way that I grieve. Beneath him, rock.
And my feelings were shocked Above him, cloud.
At the state of Nye's sleeve; And the cloud was rock.
Which was stuffed full of aces and And the rock was cloud.
bowers, The rock then growing soft and
And the same with intent to de- warm.
ceive. The cloud began to take a form,
But the hands that were played
A form chaotic, vast and vague.
Which issued in the cosmic egg.
By that heathen Chinee, Then the Being uncreate
And the points that he made. On the egg did incubate.
Were quite frightful to see — And thus became the incubator
Till at last heput down a right bower,
And of the egg did allegate,
Which the same Nye had dealt And thus became the alligator
unto me. And the incubator was potentate.
Then I looked up at Nye, But the alligator was potentator.
And he gazed upon me Ajstonymous.
And he rose with a sigh.
And said, " Can this be?
We are ruined by Chinese cheap
labor " — MIGNONETTE.
And he went for that heathen
Chinee.
,

As I sit atmy desk by the window,

In the scene that ensued
I did not take a hand
But the floor it was strewed
Like the leaves on the strand
With the cards that Ah Sin had been
hiding.
In the game " he did not under-
stand."
In his sleeves, which were long.
He had twenty-four packs
Which was coming it strong.
Yet I state but the facts
And we found on his nails, which
were taper.
What is frequent in tapers — that's
wax.
when the garden with dew is
wet,
On the morning incense rises the
breath of the mignonette,
Laden with tender memories of thir-
ty years ago,
When she gave me her worthless
promise, and we loved each
other so.
Till her tough old worldly mother
let her maiden charms be sold
— To a miser, as hard and yellow as
his hoard of shining gold.
As in Central Park I met them on
their cheerful morning ride.
As she snarled at her henpecked hus-
band who was crouching by
her side,
506 PAKNASSUS.
I thought in the dust of the path-
way, " I have the best of you
yet!"
Far better the dream of a fadeless
love in the breath of the mign-
onette,
And Alice and Mabel, and the
little
children that might have been.
Come dancing out on the paper at a
twirl of the magic pen,—
Not a horrid boy among them, but a
bevy of little girls
With great brown eyes, love-shining,
'mid a halo of golden curls.
They never grow old or naughty;
and in them I fail to see
The slightest fault or taint of sin
which could have been charged
to me.
They are mine, all mine forever!
No lover to them can come.
To away their loving hearts to
steal
grace a doubtful home.
And when the tender evening or
so,
morning with dew is wet,
I dream of my vanished darlings in
the breath of the mignonette.
Oeobgi; B. Babtlett.
 XI.

POETRY OF TERROR.

There are points from which we can command our life,

When the soul sweeps the Future like a glass.
And coming things full freighted with our fate
Jut out dark on the offlng of the mind."— Bailet: Feitut.
 ; : !
;

POETET OF TEEEOR

TURNER. In what distant deeps or skies

Burned the fire of thine eyes ?
He works in rings, in magic rings of On what wings dare he aspire?
chance What the hand dare seize the fire ?
He knows that grand effects oft run
askance, And what shoulder, and what art,
And so he prays to Nature, color- Could twist the sinews of thine
queen. heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
He works
artist,
in chaoses, — you are no What dread hand ? and what dread
feet?
Tou medium-man who power to
write impartest;
Suffice to know he loveth Chaos old,
What the hammer? what the chain ?
In what furnace was thy brain?
Because than aught created she's
more bold
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp ?
And so he worketh ruleless, not to fix.
And freeze and stiffen, but to weld
and mix. When the stars threw down their
That many elements thus got together
May struggle into light. — And watered heaven with their tears,
And she loves possibility, and hence Did he smile his work to see ?
He goes far back into Confusion's Did He, Who made the Lamb, make
dance. thee?
So the old Temeraire, (ah England
long Tiger ! Tiger burning bright.
!

That happiness shall live within In the forests of the night.

thy song,) What immortal hand or eye
Lets natural ways rush through him Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
so may you. William Blake.
If you have brain and strength and
dare to do.
Believe me, there are ways of paint- THEA.
ing things
That are allied to the great Morn- Lbantng with parted lips, some
ing's wings. words she spake
J. J. G. Wilkinson. In solemn tenor and deep organ
tone:
Some mourning words, which, in
THE TIGER. our feeble tongue,
Would come in these like accents;
TigbbI Tiger! burning bright. O how frail
In the forests of the night; To that large utterance of the early
What immortal hand or eye Gods I

Could frame thy fearful symmetry? Eeats.

609
 ; ; : : ; —
510 PARNASSUS.

SONG OF THE PAECJ3. So sang the dark sisters

The old exile heareth
IPHIGBNIA. That terrible music
WiTHm my ears resounds that an- In cavern's of darkness, —
cient song, — Bemembereth his children,
Forgotten was it, and forgotten And shaketh his head.
gladly, — Goethe : Trans, by Frothingham,
Song which they shud-
of the Parcse,
dering sang, ly
When Tantalus fell from his golden CRIME.
seat.
They suffered with their noble Between the acting of a dreadfu\
friend; iudignant thing
Their bosom was, and terrible their And the first motion, all the interim is
song. Like a phantasma, or a hideous
To me and to my sisters, in our youth. dream
The nurse would sing it; and I The genius and the mortal instru-
marked it well. ments
Are then in council and the ; state
" The Gods be your terror, of man.
Ye children of men 1
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then
They hold the dominion The nature of an insurrection.
In hands everlasting. Shakspeajece Julius Coesar.
:

All free to exert it

As listeth their will. To beguile the time,
Look like the time.
" Let him fear them doubly Shakspeabe: Macbeth.
Whome'er they've exalted!
On crags and on cloud-piles
REMORSE.
^
The couches are planted
Around the gold tables. Mbthotjght I heard a voice cry,
" Sleep no more !
" Dissension arises
Then tumble the f casters, Macbeth doth murder sleep," — the
innocent sleep.
Reviled and dishonored,
Sleep that knits up the ravelled
In gulfs of deep midnight; sleeve of care.
And look ever vainly
The death of each day's life, sore
In fetters of darkness labor's bath.
For judgment that's just.
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's
second course,
" But they remain seated
Chief nourisher in life's feast,
At feasts never failing Still it cried, " Sleep no more ! " to
Around the gold tables. all the house
They stride at a footstep " Glamis hath murdered sleep; and
From mountain to mountain
therefore Cawdor
Through jaws of abysses Shall sleep no more, Macbeth shall
Steams towards them the breathing sle^ no more!"
Of suffocate Titans,
Shakspeabe: Macbeth.
Like offerings of incense,
A light-rising vapor. Macbeth
ty
and the powers
" They turn — the proud masters — Is ripe for shaking,
above
From whole generations Put on their instruments.
The eye of their blessing;
Nor will in the children, When we in our viciousness grow
The once well-beloved. hard,
eloquent features
Still O misery on't! the wise gods seal our
Of ancestor see." eyes;
 ; ! ;: !
! !

POETRY OF TEREOR. 511^

In our own filth, drop our clear And was embarked to cross to Bur-
judgments make us ; gundy;
Adore our errors, laugh at us, while And in my company, my brother
we strut Gloster
To our confusion. Who from my cabin, tempted me to
Antony and Cleopatra. walk
Upon the hatches thence : we looked
I SEE men's judgments are toward England,
A parcel of their fortunes; and And cited up a thousand heavy
things outward times.
To draw the inward quality after During the wars of York and Lan-
them caster
To sufEer all alike. That had befallen us. As we paced
Antony and Cleopatra, iii. sc. 2. along
Upon the giddy footing of the
hatches,
The gods are just, and of our pleas-
Methought that Gloster stumbled;
ant vices
and, in falling.
Hake instruments to scourge ns. Struck me, that thought to stay him,
K. Lear. overboard,
Into the tumbling billows-of the main.
Mebchttl Heaven ^^^ !
O heaven methought what pain it
!

Thou rather, with thy sharp and was to drown

sulphurous bolt What dreadful noise of water in
Split' st the unwedgeable and gnarlfed mine ears
oak. What sights of ugly death within
Than the soft myrtle ; — O, but mine eyes
man, proud man Methought I saw a thousand fearful
Drest in a little brief authority, wrecks
Most ignorant of what he's most A thousand men, that fishes gnawed
assured, upon;
His glassy essence, — like an angry Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps
ape. of pearl.
Plays such fantastic tricks before Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels.
high heaven. All scattered in the bottom of the
As make the angels weep. sea.
Measure for Measure. Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and
in those holes
i/ Where eyes did once inhabit, there
CLARENCE'S DREAM. were crept
(As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflect-
Clarence. —
O, I have ing gems.
miserable night. That wooed the slimy bottom of the
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly deep,
sights, And mocked the dead bones that lay
That, as I am a Christian faithful scattered by.
man, Brdk. —Had you such leisure in
I would not spend another such a the time of death
night, To gaze upon these secrets of the
Though 'twere to buy a world of deep?
happy days Clar. —Methought I had and :

Bo full of dismal terror was the often did I strive

time. To yield the ghost but still the en-
Brakenbury. —
What was your vious flood
:

dream, my lord ? I pray you, Kept in my soul, and would not let
tell me. it forth
Clar. —Methought that I had bro- To seek the empty, vast, and wan-
ken from the Tower, dering air;
 ; "; ! ; ! ; ;

'512 PAJEINASSTJS.

But smothered it within my panting Art not without ambition ; but with-
bulk, out
Which almost burst to belch it in The illness should attend it. What
the sea. thou wouldst highly,
Brak. —Awaked you not with this That wouldst thou holily; wouldst
not play false,
Clar. — agony?
sore
O, no, my dream was And yet wouldst wrongly win;
lengthened after life, thou'dst have, great Glamis,
O, then began the tempest to my soul That which cries, Thus thou must
I passed, methought, the melancholy do, if thou have it

flood. And that which rather thou dost

With that grim ferryman which fear to do.
poets write of. Than wishest should be undone.
Unto the kingdom of perpetual Hie thee hither.
night. That I may pour my spirits in thine
The first that there did greet my ear;
stranger soul. And chastise with the valor of my
Was my great father-in-law, re- tongue
nowned Warwick, All impedes thee from the
that
Who cried aloud, — "What scourge golden round.
for perjury Which fate and metaphysical aid
Can this dark monarchy afford false doth seem
Clarence?" To have thee crowned withal..
And so he vanished then came wan-
: Shasspeabe: Macbeth.
dering by
A shadow like an angel, with bright This army
hair Led by a delicate and tender prince.
Dabbled in blood; and he shrieked Whose spirit, with divine ambition
out aloud, — puffed,
"Clarence is come, — —
false, fleeting, Makes mouths at the invisible event.
perjured Clarence, Exposing what is mortal and unsure
That stabbed me in the field by To all that fortune, death, and dan-
Tewksbury ;
— ger dare.
Seize on him. Furies, take him to Even for an egg-shell.
your torments !
Shakspeabe: Hamlet.
With that, methought, a legion of
foul fiends
Environed me, and howlfed in mine THE COKSAIR.
ears
Such hideous cries, that with the These was a laughing devil in his
very noise, sneer,
I trembling waked, and, for a season That raised emotions both of rage
after, and fear
Could not believe but that I was in And where his frown of hatred
hell, darkly fell,
Such teiTible impression made my Hope withering fled, — and Mercy
dream. sighed farewell
Shaespeabe. Btbon.

HESITATION. y MANFRED.
Lady Macbeth. — Yet do I fear thy INCANTATION.
nature
It is o' the milk of human
too full When the moon is on the wave.
kindness. And the glow-worm in the grass,
To catch the nearest way: thou And the meteor on the grave.
wouldst be great And the wisp on the morass
 ; ; ;; ; ;; ; ; ! ! ;

POETRY OP TEEEOE. 513

When the falling stars are shooting, And on thy head I pour the vial
And the answered owls are hooting, Which doth devote thee to this trial;
And the silent leaves are still Nor to slumber, nor to die,
In the shadow of the hill. Shall be in thy destiny
Shall my upon thine,
soul be Though thy death shall still seem
With a power and with a sign. near
To thy wish, but as a fear;
Though thy slumber may be deep. Lo! the spell now works around
Yet thy spirit shall not sleep thee.
There are shades which will not And the clankless chain hath bound
vanish. thee;
There are thoughts thou canst not O'er thy heart and brain together
banish Hath the word been passed now —
By a power to thee unknown. wither
Thou canst never be alone Btbon.
Thou art wrapt as with a shroud.
Thou art gathered in a cloud
And forever shalt thou dwell MANFRED.
In the spirit of this spell.
The spirits I have raised abandon
Though thou see'st me not pass by. me —
The spells which I have studied baf-
Thou shalt feel me with thine eye
As a thing that, though unseen. fle me —
Must be near thee, and hath been The remedy I recked of tortured
And when in that secret dread
me;
I lean no more on superhuman aid.
Thou hast turned around thy head
It hath no power upon the past, and
Thou shalt marvel I am not for
As thy shadow on the spot.
And die power which thou dost feel
The future, till the past be gulfed it
darkness,
Shall be what thou must conceal.
It is not of my search. — My mothc
earth
And a magic voice and verse And thou, fresh breaking day, and
Hath baptized thee with a curse you, ye mountains.
And a spirit of the air Why are ye beautiful ? I cannot love
Hath begirt thee with a snare ye.
In the wind there is a voice And thou, the bright eye of the
Shall forbid thee to rejoice universe,
And to thee shall night deny That openest over all, and unto all
All the quiet of her sky;
And the day shall have a sun.
Art a delight, —
thou shinest not on
my heart.
Which shall make thee wish it done. And you, ye crags, upon whose ex-
treme edge
From thy false tears I did distil I stand, and on the torrent's brink
An essence which hath strength to beneath
kill; Behold the tall pines dwindled as to
Prom thy own heart I then did shrubs
wring In dfzziness of distance; when a
The black blood in Its blackest leap,
spring; A stir, a motion, even a breath,
From thy own smile I snatched the would bring
snake, My breastupon its rocky bosom's
For there it coiled as in a brake bed
From thy own lip I drew the charm To rest forever, — wherefore do I
Which gave all these their chiefest pause ?
harm;
In proving every poison known,
I feel the impulse
plunge;
— yet I do not
I found the strongest was thine own. I see the peril — yet do not recede;
 ! : ; ; ;
! ; ; ! !

514 PAENASSUS.

And my brain reels — and yet my My soul would drink those echoes. —
foot is firm Oh that I were
There is a power upon me which The viewless spirit of a lovely sound,
withholds, A living voice, a breathing harmony,
And makes it my fatality to live A bodiless enjoyment, —
bom and
If it be life to wear within myself dying
This barrenness of spirit, and to be With the blest tone which made me!
My own soul's sepulchre, for I have Te toppling crags of ice
Te avalanches, whom a breath draws
To justify my deeds unto myself, — down
The last infirmity of evil. Aye, In mountainous o'erwhelming, come
Thou winged and cloud-cleaving and crush me
minister, I hear ye momently above, beneath,
[An eagle passes.] Crash with a frequent conflict but ;

Whose happy flight is highest into ye pass,

heaven, And only fall on things that still
Well mayst thou swoop so near me would live
— I should be On the young flourishing forest, or
Thy prey, and gorge thine eaglets the hut
thou art gone And hamlet of the harmless villager.
Where the eye cannot follow thee The mists boil up around the gla-
but thine ciers; clouds
Yet pierces downward, onward, or Rise curling fast beneath me, white
above, and sulphury,
With a pervading vision. — Beauti- Like foam from the roused ocean of
ful! deep hell.
How beautiful is all this visible Whose every wave breaks on a liv-
world ing shore,
How its action and
glorious in it- Heaped with the damned like peb-
self— bles. — I am giddy.
But we, who name ourselves its BVEON.
sovereigns, we.
Half dust, half deity, alike unfit
To sink or soar, with our mixed es-
sence make THE APPARITION.
A conflict of its elements, and
breathe I SEE a dusk and awful figure rise
The breath of degradation and of Like an infernal god from out the
pride. earth
Contending with low wants and lof- His face wrapt in a mantle, and Lis
ty will form
our mortality predominates,
Till Robed as with angry clouds; he
—
And men are what they name not stands between
—
td themselves. Thyself and me but I do fear him
And trust not to each other. Hark not.
the note,
[The shepherd's pipe in the distance Why doth he gaze on thee, and thou
is heard.] on him ?
The natural music of the mountain Ah! he unveils his aspect; on his»
rfeed, — brow
For here the patriarchal days are not The thunder-scars are graven from
A pastoral fable, — pipes in the lib- his eye
;

eral air. Glares forth the immortality of hell.

Mixed with the sweet bells of the Avaunt!
sauntering herd Byron
 xn.

OBACLES AND COUNSELS.

GOOD COUNSEL. — SUPKEME HOURS.

For woids must sparks be of tboee fires they strike." — Loed Bmootsa,
 : ; ; ;

OEAOLES AST> 0OUI<5"SELS.

Thebe is a mystery in the soul of And that, unless above himself he

state. can
Which hath an operation more di- Erect himself, how poor a thing is
vine man!
Than breath or pen can give expres- Daniel.
sion to.
Shakspbabb. The recluse Hermit ofttlmes more
doth know
Thebe Is a history in all men's Of the world's inmost wheels, than
lives, worldlings can;
Figuring the nature of the times As man is of the world, the Heart Of
deceased man
The which observed a man may Isan epitome of God's great book
prophesy. Of creatures, and men need no far-
With a near aim of the main chance ther look.
of things Donne.
As yet not come to life, which in
their seeds,
And weak beginnings, lie intreas- O HOW feeble is man's power, <^
That, good fortune fall,
if
ured.
Shaksfeabe. Cannot add another hour.
Nor a lost hour recall
But, come bad chance.
OPPORTUNITY. And we join to it our strength,
And we teach it art and length,
Itself o'er us to advance.
These is a tide in the affairs of men,
Donne.
Which, taken at the flood, leads on
to fortune
Omitted, all the voyage of their life If men
be worlds, there is in every
Is bound in shallows, and in mis- one
eries. Something to answer in proportion
Shaksfeabe : Julius Ccesar. All the world's riches : and in good
men this ,

Knowing the Heart of Man is set to Virtue our form's form, and our
be soul's soul is.

The centre of this world, about the Donne.

which
These revolutions of disturbances
Still roll; where all the aspects of BEWARE.
misery
Predominate; whose strong effects Look not thou on beauty's charm-
are such ing,
As he must bear, being helpless to Sit thou still when kings are arm-
redress ing,
617
 ; :: ; ; ;;

518 PARNASSUS.

Taste not when the wine-cup glis- THE NOBLY BOEN.

tens,
Speak not when the people listens, Who counts himself as nobly born
Stop thine ear s^ainst the singer, Is noble in despite of place.
From the red gold keep thy finger. And honors are but brands to
one
Vacant heart, and hand, and eye, Who wears them not with nature's
Easy live and quiet die. grace.
Scott.
The prince may sit with clown or
churl,
SATUKN. Nor feel himself disgraced thereby
But he who has but small esteem
So Saturn, as he walked into the Husbands that little carefully.
midst.
Felt faint, and would have sunk- Then, be thou peasant, be thou peer,
among the rest, Count it still more thou art thine
But that he met Enceladus's eye. own;
Whose mightiness, and awe of him, Stand on a larger heraldry
at once Than that of nation or of zone.
Came like an inspiration.
Keats. What though not bid to knightly
halls?
GOOD HEART. Those halls have missed a courtly
guest;
It's no in titles or in rank; That mansion is not privileged.

It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank. Which is not open to thg best.
To purchase peace and rest;
Give honor due when custom asks,
It's no in makin' muckle mair;
It's no in books; it's no in lear Nor wrangle for this lesser claim
It is not to be destitute.
To make us truly blest
Ifhappiness hae not her seat
To have the thing without the
And centre in the breast. name.
We may be wise, or rich, or great. Then dost thou come of gentle blood,
But never can be blest
Disgrace not thy good company
Nae treasures, nor pleasures,
If lowly born, so bear thyself
Could make us happy lang
The heart ay's the part ay, That gentle blood may come of
thee.
That makes us right or
wrang.
Strive not with pain to scale the
BUBlfS.
height
Of some fair garden's petty wall.
FAITH. But climb the open mountain side,
Whose summit rises over all.
Better trust all, and be deceived. E. S. H.
And weep that trust and that deceiv-
ing,
L
Than doubt one heart that if be- ULYSSES AND ACHILLES.
lieved
Had blessed one's life with true es. —
Time hath, my lord, a
believing. wallet at his back,
Wherein he puts alms for oblivion,
Oh ! mocking world too fast
in this A great-sized monster of ingrati-
The doubting fiend o'ertakes our tudes :

youth Those scraps are good deeds: past:

Better be cheated to the last which are devoured
Than lose the blersed hope of truth. As fast as they are made, forgot as
Mbs. Kemble. soon
 : ; :;; ; ; : : ;

ORACLES AND COtTNSELS. 519

As done: Perseverance, dear my Since things in motion sooner catch
lord, the eye.
Keeps honor bright : to have done is Than what not stirs. The cry went
to hang once on thee
Quite out of fashion, lilje a rusty And still it might ; and yet it may
mail again.
In monumental mockery. Take the If thou wouldst not entomb thyself
instant way alive,
For honor travels in a strait so nar- And case thy reputation in thy tent;
™ '°^'
Where one but goes abreast: keep
Whose glorious deeds, but in these
fields of late.
then the path Made emulous missions 'mongst the
For emulation hath a thousand sons, gods themselves.
That one by one pursue if you give : And drave great Mars to faction.
way, Shakspeabe,
Or hedge aside from the direct forth-
right,
Like to an entered tide they all rush ANTONY AND THE SOOTH-"
SATER.
And leave you hindmost; —
Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first Anton.}/. — Say to me.
rank, Whose fortunes shall rise higher;
Lie there for pavement to the abject Caesar's, or mine ?
rear, Soothsayer. —
Csesar's.
O'er-run and trampled on: then Therefore, O Antony, stay not by
what they do in present, his side
Though less than yours in past, must Thy daemon, that's thy spirit which
o'ertop yours keeps thee, is
For Time is like a fashionable host. Noble, courageous, high, uimiatchar
That slightly shakes his parting ble.
guest by the hand Where Caesar's is not; but near him,
And with his arms outstretched, as thy angel
he would fly, Becomes a Fear, as being o'er-
Grasps in the comer : Welcome ever powered; therefore
smiles, Make space enough between you.
And farewell goes out sighing. O, Ant. —
Speak this no more.
let not virtue seek Soothsayer. —
To none but thee;
Remuneration for the thing it was no more, but when to thee.
For beauty, wit. If thou dost play with him at any
High birth, vigor of bone, desert In game,
service. Thou art sure to lose ; and of that
Love, friendship, charity, are sub- natural luck.
jects all He beats thee 'gainst the odds ; thy
To envious and calumniating Time. lustre thickens.
One touch of nature makes the whole When he shines by: I say again, thy
world kin, — spirit
That with one consent, praise
all, govern thee near him
Is all afraid to
new-bom gawds. But, he away, 'tis noble.
Though they are made and moulded Ant. —
Get thee gone
of things past Say to Ventidius, I would speak with
And give to dust, that is a little gilt. him:
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. [Exit Soothsayer.]
The present eye praises the present He shall to Parthia. —
Be it art, or
object hap.
Then marvel not, thou great and He hath spoken true : the very dice
complete man. obey him;
That the Greeks begin to worship
all And, in our sports, my better cun-
Ajaz; ning faints
 :! ; ;

520 PARNASSUS.

Under his chance if we draw lots, : Unlawful ever. O be wiser. Thou !.

he speeds Instructed that true knowledge leads

His cocks do win the battles stiU of to love
mine, True dignity abides with him alone
When it is all to nought; and his Who, in the silent hour of inward
quails ever thought,
Beat minCj inhooped at odds. Can still suspect, and still revere
Shakspeabe. himself.
In lowliness of heart.
WOBDSWOETH.
MOTHER'S BLESSING. A'
Be thou blest, Bertram and ! succeed
EACH AND ALL.
uy
thy father
In manners, as in shape thy blood,
and virtue,
!
Heaven doth with us as we with
torches do,
Contend for empire in thee ; and thy
goodness
Not light them for themselves for if ;

our virtues
Share with thy birthright! Love Did not go forth of us, 'twere all
all trust a few
;
alike
Do wrong to none be able for thine
:
As if we had them not. Spirits are
enemy
not finely touched
Bather in power, than use ; and keep
thy friend
But to fine issues nor Nature never
:

lends
Under thy own life's key : be checked
for silence
The smallest scruple of Jier excel-
lence,
But never taxed for speech. What
But, like a thrifty goddess, she deter-
heaven more will,
mines
That thee may furnish, and my Herself the glory of a creditor.
prayers pluck down,
Fall on thy head
Both thanks and use.
Shakspeabe :
Shakspbaee :

All's Well that Ends Measure for Measure.

Well.

The flighty purpose never is o'ertook

TRUE DIGNITY. Unless the deed go with it: from,
this moment.
If thou be one whose heart the holy The very firstlings of my heart shall
forms be
Of young imagination have kept The firstlings of my hand.
pure. Shaesfeabe: Macbeth.
Stranger henceforth be warned ; and
!

know that pride,

Howe'er disguised in its own majes-
ty. COURAGE. <^
Is littleness ; that he who feels con-
tempt To be furious
For any living thing hath faculties Is to be frighted out of fear; and, in
Which he has never used; that that mood,
thought with him The dove will peck the ostrich ; and
Is in its infancy. The man whose I see still
eye A diminution in our captain's brain
Is ever on himself doth look on one Restores his heart. When valor
The least of Nature's works, one preys on reason.
who might move It eats the sword it fights with.
. The wise man to that scorn which Shakspeabe :

wisdom holds Antony and Cleopatra,

 ; :

OKACLES AND COUNSELS. 521

Enobarbus. —
Mine honesty and I FIRMNESS.
begin to square
The loyalty, well held to fools, does We must not stint
make Our necessary actions in the fear
Our faith mere folly To cope malicious ceusurers which ;

Tet, he that can endure ever,

To follow with allegiance a fallen As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow
lord, That is new trimmed but benefit no
;

Does conquer him that did his mas- farther

ter conquer, Than vainly longing. What we oft
And earns a place in the story. do best,
Antony and Cleopatea. Bysick interpreters,once weakones, is
Not ours, or not allowed; what
worse, as oft.
Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up
CLEOPATRA.'S RESOLUTION. For our best act. If we shall stand
still.
Iras.— Royal Egypt Empress, In fear our motion will be mocked or
Cleopatra. — No more, but e'en a
!

carped at,
woman and commanded
; We should take root here where we
By such poor passion as the maid sit, or sit
that milks, State statues only.
And does the meanest chores. It Shaespeabe.
were for me
To throw my sceptre at the injurious
GUIDANCE. '^
gods.
To tell them that this world did equal Rashly, —
Till
theirs.
they had stolen our jewel.
And praised be rashness for it. —Let
us know
Then is it sin Our indiscretion sometime serves us
To rush into the secret house of well.
death When our deep plots do pall: and
Ere death dare come to us ? that should teach us
Our lamp is spent, it's out. Good There's a Divinity that shapes our
sirs, take heart ends.
We'll bury him: and then, what's Rough-hew them how we will.
brave, what's noble, Shakspeabe: Hamlet.
Let's do it after the high Roman
fashion,
And make death proud to take us. TRUST.
Come away.
The case of that huge Spirit now is If this great world of joy and pain
cold. Revolve in one sure track.
If Freedom, set, will rise again.
My desolation does begin to make And Virtue fiown, come back;
A better life. 'Tis paltry to be Cae- Woe to the purblind crew who fill
sar; The heart with each day's care.
Not being Fortune, he's but For- Nor gain from Past or Future, skill
tune's knave, To bear and to forbear.
A minister of her wUl. And it is WOEDSWOBTH.
great
To do that thing that ends all other
deeds, HUMAN LIFE. C^
Which shackles accidents, and bolts
up change; OUB revels now are ended : these oui
Which sleeps, and never palates more actors,
the dung. As I foretold you, were all spirits^
The beggar's nurse and Caesar's. and
 ;

522 PAItNASSUS.

Are melted into air, into thin air And, like this insubstantial pageant
And, like the baseless fabric of this faded,
vision, Leave not a rack behind we are such:

The cloud-capped towers, the gor- stufe

geous palaces, As dreams are made of, and our little
The solemn temples, the great globe life
itself, Is rounded with a sleep.
Tea, all which it inherits, shall dis- Tempest, act. iv. sc. 4.
solve.
 —

INDEX OF FIEST LmES.

FAOk
A barking sound the shepheid hears , wobdswoeth 326
Abou Ben Adhem, may his tribe increase I Leigh Hunt 168
A famous nian: is Robin Hood wobdswoeth 274
Again returned the scenes of youth > i Scott . 122
Ah Ben Hesbick . 270'
Ah, County Ouy! the hour is nigh : , , Scott . 4^
Ah, God, for a man with heart, head, hand Tekhyson 198
Ah, suunowert weary of time . . ^ . W. Blake . 29
A king lived long ago BRowTsisa 282
Alas ioi them tneir day is o'er .
I t t . Chables Spbaoite 225
Alas what boots the long, laborious quest
I wobdswobth 221

All the world's a stage

All things that are
..,..'
AIlen-a-Dale has no fagot for burning . ." Scott .

Shakspeaee
Shae'speare
.

.
.

.
383 ,^/
151^
All thoughts, alLpassions, all delights * colebidqe . 73
Along a river-side, X know not where Lowell 237.
A man prepared against all ills to come i Heebioe , 198*
A man there came, whence none could tell W. Allikqham . 158
Amazed, confused, its fate unknown . Swift 502
A mist was driving down the British Channel Longfellow 224
An ancient story PU tell you anon . , Febcy's Beliques
And also, beau sire, of other things . . . ' Chauoee .

And here the hermit sat and told his beads OHANirmo 7
And I shall sleep, and on thy side . . Beyant 25
And passing here through evening dew . William Baenes 76
And sooth to say, yon vocal grove wobdswoeth 34
And whither would you lead me? , . . Scott .

An empty sky, a world of heather Jeak Inoelow

Appeared the princess with that merry child . Heney Tayloe . 70
Art is long, and time is fleeting . longkellow 149
A shadie grove- not far away they spied . Spensee 30i-
As heaven and earth are fairer . Keats 143
As 1 in hoary winter's night BoBEBT Southwell 191
As I sit at my desk by the window G. B. Baetlett 505
As I stood by yon roofless tower Burns . 219
As it befell wobdswoeth IT
As it fell upon a day B. Babnefield .

Ask ye me why I send you here? . Hebeick . 32^

A shunber did my spirit seal . . . . WoBDSWOETH . 471
As Memnon's marble harp, renowned of old Akekside
As ships becalmed at eve A. H. Clough .

As unto blowing roses summer dews . D. A. Wasson

As vonce 1 valked by a dismal svamp H. H. Beownell 502
A sweet, attractive kind of grace . Matthew Eoydon 268
A sweet disorder in the dress , , , . Hebeick 87^
At anchor in Hampton Koads we lay . Lonqpellow . 239
At summer eve, when Heaven's atrial bow . Campbell . 45
At the approach of extreme peril
At the King's gate the subtle noon
O Lord,
.

.... COLEEiDGB (Trans.

H. H.
Milton
. .
195
202
Avenge,
A voice by the cedai-tiee
Awake, awake, my lyre . .
. ,

.
,...
thy slaughtered saints whose bones

.... TEmrysoN
COWLEV
.

.
.
195
72
129
Away, ye ga^ landscapes Byeon , 26
A weary lot is fhine, stir maid . . . SOOTT U8
625
 .

U6 INDEX OF PIKST LIKES.

A wet sheet and a flowing eea A.ComnirGHAM

Ay, but to die, we know not where
and
Ay tear her tattered ensign down
1
go,
.... . . Shakspeabb
O.W.Holmes
.

Bankrupt, our pockets inside out Holmes

Beautiful! sir, you may say so Bbet Haete ,

Beaver roars hoarse with melting snows , Lowell

Before the starry threshold of Jove's court MiLTOK .

Before thy stem, smooth seas were curled PUMOH .

Behold a silly tender babe , . bobebt southttell

Being asked Dy an intimate party Bbet Habte
Beneath an Indian palm, a girl . MiLNES .

Below the bottom of the great abyss . BiCHABD CBASHAW

Be thou blest, Bertram and succeed thy father
! Shakspeabe
Better trust all, and be deceived . . . Mbs. Kemble .

Between the dark and the dayli^t Longfellow .

Between the acting of a dreadf fl thing Shakspeabe

Birdie, birdie, will you, pet . W. Allingham
Blackened and bleeding, helpless, panting, prone Bbet Habte
Blow, blow, thou winter wind Shakspeabe .

Blue crystal vault and elemental fires Sib W. Jokes ^Trans.'

Bonny Kilmeny gaed up the glen James Hogg .

Brave Schill, by death delivered Wobdswoeth .

Break, Fantasy, from tby cave of cloud Ben Jonson .

Breathe, trumpets, breathe slow notes . Geoboe Lunt

Bright tlag at yonder tapering mast Willis .

Bury the Great Duke Teknyson .

Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny, bonny bride . Hamilton , .

But aU our praises, why should lords engross . Pope .

But are ye sure the news is true? MiOKLE .

But fare you weel, auld Nickie-Ben . Bubns .

But for ye speken of such gentilesse . Chauoeb .

But 1 wol turn againe to Ariadne CHA0CEE

But souls that of his own good life partake Henby More
By broad Potomac's silent shore
By Nebo's lonely mountain .... Anonymous
Mrs.C. F. Alexander

Call in the messengers sent from the Daupliln Shakspeabe

Call me no more Hebbick .

Calm and still light on yon great plain Tennyson .

Captain or Colonel^ or Kniglit in arms Milton .

Child Dyrine; has ndden him up under ije Scott .

Clothed with state, and girt with might Sib Philip Sidney
Come away, come away, death . . . Shakspeabe
Come into the garden, Maud . Tennyson
Come on, come on, and where you go Ben Jonson
Come on, sir, here's the place stand still : Shakspeabe .

Come pitie us, all ye who see Herbiok

Come seeling night Shakspeabe .

Come, see the Dolphin's anchor forged . S. Ferguson

Come thou who art the wine and wit . , Hebbioe .

Come to Licoo the sun is riding

! Anonymous
Come to the river's reedy shore . F. B. Sanboen
Comrades, leave me here a little Tennyson .

Consolers of the solitary hours S. G. W. . .

Dark tell the night, the watch was set

Dear lady, 1 a little fear
Dear mother Ida, barken ere I die
.... .
. J. Stebling
Daniel Webster
Tennyson .

Dear my friend and fellow-student Mbs. Bbowning

Deep in the waves is a coral grove . J. G. Pergival .
Dinas Emliun, lament, for the moment is nigh Scott .• .
Drink to me only with thine eyes Ben Jonson
Each care-worn face is but a book . • Jones Very .

Ethereal minstrel pilgrim of the sky

! Wobdswoeth
Ever a current of sadness deep . • . Mbs. Hemans
Faintly as tolls the evening chime . . T. Moobe .
Faire DatEodills, we weep to see . . Hebbick .

Fair pledges of a fruitful tree . . . Hebbick

Fare thee well and if forever
!

Farewell, ye lofty spires

. .

....
Caxewell, farewell to thee, Araby'e daughter
. Bybon
E. B. Emebson
T. Moobe
 INDEX OF FIKST LINES. 527
Far have I clambered In my mind Henry Mobe .

Fear no more the heat o' the Bun

Fleet the Tartar's reinless steed
Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend
....
me
. . .

your ears
. Shaespeakb
Wordsworth
Shakspeare
From hannony, from heavenly harmony Drydeh .

From you have I been absent in the spring

Full fathom five thy father lies
Full knee-deep lies the winter snow
....
....
Shakspeaee
Shakspeare
Tennyson .
.

Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried Spenser .

Full many a glorious morning have 1 seen Shakspeare

Get up, get up for shame, the blooming mom . . Hebrick ,

Give me a spirit that on life's rough sea . . . O. Ghapkan

Give me my cup, but from the Thespian well
Give me my scallop's shell of quiet
Give place, ye ladies, and begone
.... , . Ben Jonson
Sir W. Raleioh.
Hetwood
.

God moves m
a mysterious way Gowper
God of science and of light Chaucer .

Goe, happy rose, and interwove . . . Herrick

Goldilocks sat on the grass Jean Ingelow
Go, lovely rose Waller
Go, soul, the body's guest Sib W. Baleioh
Grandmother's mother; her age I guess . . . O.W. Holmes .

Great God, greater than greatest TOUNO

Great Ocean I strongest of Creation's sons
Gude Lord Grseme is to Carlisle gane .... . , Pollok
SOOTT

Hail to the chief who in triumph advances Scott

Happy, happier far than thou Mrs. Heuans
Happy those early days when 1 Vauohan
Hark, hark the lark at heaven's gate sings
Hark, how
!

I'll bribe you

Hath this world without me wrought?
...... . Shakspeare
Shakspeare
F. H. Hedqe
.

Have you heard of the wonderful one-hoss-shay? . O.W. HOLllIES

Hearken in your ear Lowell
He clasps the crag with hookM hands Tennyson
He is gone — is dust CoLEBIDQE (Trans.]
He is gone on the mountains Scott
He leaves the earth, and says enough S. W.
G.
Hence, all you vain delights 1 Beaumont and Fletches
Hence, loatbM melancholy! Milton .

Hence, vain deluding joys j Milton .

Here is the place right over the hill

; Whittier
Here let us live, and spend away our lives Channing .

Here might 1 pause and bend in reverence Wordsworth

Her eyes the glow-worme lend thee
Her lingers shame the ivory keys
Her linger was so small the ring
..... . . . Herrick
Whittier
Sir John Suckono
Her house is all of echo made Ben Jonson .

He's a rare man Jean Inoelow

He's gane he's gane he's f rae us torn .
! ! Burns
He that loves a rosy cheek T. Caeew .

He works in rings, in magic rings of chance . J. J. G. Wilkinson

Hope smiled when your nativity was cast Wordsworth
How changed is here each place man makes or tills! Matthew Arnold
How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean! Herbert
How happy is he bom and taught . . . . WOTTON .

How many a time have I Byron .

How many thousand of my poorest

How near to good is what IS fair!
subjects

How oft when thou my music, music play'st

.... Shakspeare
Ben Jonson
Shakspeare
.

How pleasant were the songs of Toobonai ! . Byron .

How seldom, friends, a good great man inherits colebidge

How sleep the brave who sink to rest Collins
How soon hath time, the subtle thief of youth . Milton .

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bonk ! . Shakspeare

How they g* by, those strange and dreamlike men! E, S. H .

How vainly men themselves amaze ! . , . . Mabvbll .

How young and fresh am I to-night! Ben Jonson

I am holy while I stand ....
I called on dreams and visions to disclose
Herrick
Wordsworth
I came to a laund of white and green , Chaucer
 . . .. 1

528 INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

I challenge not the oracle SiDKET H. Mouse

I oUmbed the dark brow o£ the mighty Helvellyn . Scott . 326
If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral 80ng : '. Collins . «
122*^
It I may trust the flattering eye of sleep Shakspeabe
m
If menbe worlds, there is every one
If this great world of joy and pain .... DOHNE
wokdsworth ,
517^-
521
If thou be one whose heart the holy forms
If thou wert by my side, my love
If with light head erect I smg
.... Wordsworth
B. Hebek
Thobeau .
.
520
53
94
Igot me flowers to strew thy way Herbert 192''
Iha
_ have done
" one braver thing Donne 154
1 have learned to look on nature Wordsworth . 29
I have ships that went to sea , . , . E. B. Coffin . 122
I have, thou gallant Trman Shakspeare 265 i-
I have woven shrouds of air Channing 27
1 hear thy solemn anthem fall . . . ... Channing . 92
I know a little garden close William Morris 442
I made a footing in the wall Byeon . 283
I made a posie while the day ran by , . . Herbert . 151^
I mind it weel, in early date Burns . 220
I'm by the Are
sitting alone . . . ... Bret Harte . 495
I must go furnish up Arthur Boak . 36
Inland, within a hollow vale I stood Wordsworth . 144
In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest • Tennyson . 92
In the frosty season, when tiie sun Wordsworth 22
In the golden reign of Charlemagne, the king . . , tuckebblan 357^
In the hour of my distress Herrick .
186*^
In the summer even Harriet Pbesoott Spoffobd 448 ^
In this world, the islO of dreams . 1
'

. . Herbick . 123 -^
In vain the conimon theme my tongue would shun O. W. Holmes 232,
In what torn ship soever I embark , .
'.

Donne 180 1^
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan . . , '. . golebidqe . 126
In yonder grave a Druid lies
I see a dusk and awful figure rise
I see before me the gladiator lie ,
. .

.... ^ . ^ Collins
Bybon
Byeon
.
. 462
514
283
I see men's judgments are Shakspeabe 5ir
I shall lack voice the deeds of Goriolanus .
: Shakspeabe . 265"^
I sift the snow on the mountains below . Shelley 46
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers Hebbick . 3/-
Beowsino
Is there for honest poverty ....'.
I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris and he .
BUBNS
. 355
147
Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child?
It don't seem hardly right, John .... . Byron
Lowell
.

.
276
235
It follows now you are to prove
It happed that I came on a day
I think not on my father . '..
.... . .
Ben Jonson
Chaucer
Shakspeabe
433*^
60
62/^
It is not to be thought Of that the flood '.
woedswoeth 223
It little proflts that an idle king Tennyson . 101
It's narrow, narrow make your bed SOOTT 384.
It's no in titles or in rank
It was fifty years ago ..... . .

It was the season, when through all the land'

. . '

^.
BUENS
Longfellow
Longfellow
.

.
518
280-
11
It was thS time when lilies blow . . . '. TennVson 381
It was the winter wild Milton . 187
It was thy feai;, or else some transient wind W. Congeeve 133
I wandered lonely as a cloud woedswoeth
I watched her face, suspecting germs . Fatmobe
I wish I were where Helen lies Scott . 411
I would that thou might always be . .
'

. N. P. Willis . 57
I've taught ine other tongues Bykon . 277

John Anderson, my jo, John Burns

John Brown in Kansas settled like a steadfast . Stedman 227
Just for a handful of silver he left us . . Bbowninq 224
Just now I've ta'en a fit of rhyme , .
,'
. BUBNS . 95

Kings, queens, lords, ladies, knights, and damsels

great . . . SPENSEB . 293i/
Knowing the heart of man is set to,be . .
'.
Daniel , . . . 517
King Ferdinand alone did stand one day upon the Mil Spanish Bal-
^'J^'*"'^'^ 300

Lady Clara Vere De Vere . Tennyson

Lady, there is a hope that all -men have Chanhino 153
 , . . ' . '' .

INBEX OF FIEST LINES. 529

Lately, alaa I knew a gentle boy ~ .
! . ., Thoruac .

i<eaiimg with p'&rted lips, some words" she spake Keats .

Less worthy Or ap'plause, tiioiigh more iidinired COWPEK .

Ijet me not to the marriage of true miuds , Shakspeabe

Let the bird lof loudest lay" . . ,',".*, Shakspeake .

Life and thought haVe gone away . Tennysoh

Life, I knownot what fliou art . Mrs. Baubauld
Lite may he given in many ways . Lowell .

Light-wmged smoke ! loarian bird .' Thoreac .

Like a poet hidden Shelley
Like as the' waves make towards the pebbled shore Shakspeare .

Ijike to the clear hi highest sphere . .' ." Lodge .

Lithe and listen, gefltfemen Percy's Eeltques

Little I ask. my wants'are few 0. W. Holmes
Little was Kin^Laurin . . Warton .

liOchiel, "Lochiel, beware of the day Campbell

" Lo,"-quoth he; " Cast up tliine eye "' Chaucer .

Lo! on his far resounding path . ,' G. Mellen .

Look not thou on bSauty's charming Scott

Lord, when
I quit this earthly stage . Watts .

liOrd, with"what care hast thou begirt us round Herbert .

Loud is the tale, the toice is up .

Love is a sickness full of woes
Low-anchored cloud
.... Wordsworth
Da VIES
Thoreau
.

Lo, when the Lord made North and South Patmore

Lo, where she comes &long with portly pace Spenser
Macbeth is ripe fbr shaking . . '
. ' . Shakspeabe
Man, thee behObveth oft to have this in mind Anonymous .

Man wants but little Here below . . ' J. Q. Adams

Men have done'braVe deeds . E. H.° .

Merciful Heaven J * . . .
' .
'
Shakspeabe
Merryit is In the gobd green wood Scott .

Methought I'heara a toice' 017, " Sleep iio more Shakspeabe

Methinks it is good to b^ here . . . ° H.Knowles
Milton, thou'shoUldst'be living at this horn- Wordsworth
Mine eyes have°seen the 'glory Mrs. Howe .

Mine honesty and I bcMu to square . Shakspeare

Most potent, gr&ve, and reverend signiors Shakspeabe
MounTfuUy, sinfe mtfumfully
Mourn, hiils and groves of Attica
....
Motions "and means, on land and sea at war Wordsworth
Mrs. Hemans
Wordswobth
My dear and'only'love, I pray
My gentle Puck, coibe hither
...
Much have I travelled in the realms of gold Keats
montbose
Shakspeare
.

My God,' I haard this day . . . '

. Herbert .

My liege, l"did deny no prisoners . Shakspeare

My lora,*you told me you would tell the rest Shakspeabe
My mihd to me a kingdom is Bybd .

My mifitz^sVeyeS'are nothing like the sun " Shai^speare

My mother, wh6n I learned that thou Wast dead COWPER
Mysterious night f when our first parent knew J. Blanco White

Naked on parents' knees, a new-bom child Sib W. Jones (Trans.)

Katurd Is madeljettfer by no mean .
Shakspeare .

Nay, you wrong her, nly friend Julia C. B. Dorr

Needy "kniffe-OTinder; \mither are you going? Canning .

Night is fair Virtfie's immemorial friend . Young .

No abbey's'gloota, nbr dark cathedral stoops Channinq

No! is my an^wei'from this cold bleak ridge Lucy Larcom
No man is the Idrd of any thing. Shakspeare
No more; no more, Oh never more on me
! . Byron .

North*ard1ie ttimeth through a little dpoi' . Keats

No screw, no "piercer can, . .'. .' Herrick
No splendor 'ne&th He sky's proud dome Patmore .

Not a drftm *a8 hfeard; uofa funeral note .

Wolfe .

Not mine ofrn fftars hor flie prophetic soul Shakspeabe

Nought loves another as itself . . W. Blake
NovembSr chtU blaws loud wi' angry sugh Burns ,

Now dsepef roirthe maddening drum^ 6. Mellen

Now baud yofir to'ngutf . . . . ' Scott
Now isthe time tor mirth . . . . HB{tKI0K
Now is the winter'of our discontent Shakspeare
Now Nature hangs her ma,ntle ^een . BUBNS
Now overhead a rainbow buistiug thrdugh Bveon
M
 ! .

530 INDEX OF FIRST UKES.

Now ponder well, yon parents dear ANOireMors 331
Now wol I tvim unto my taie agen CHA.DCEB . . 16

O Brignall Banks are wild and fair Scott .

O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon Milton .

O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison mothebwsll

O divine star of heaven Beaduont aud FliBTOHEIt
O draw me, Father, after thee John WEStET
O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea Btbok .

O'er western tides the fair spring day W. AliUNGHAM

Of a' the airts the wind can blaw . . . Bumrs .

Of all the rides since the birth of time WHITTrEB

Of Nelson and the North Campbell .
O for my sake do you with fortune chide ,
Often tniiing with a privilege
Oft in the stilly night
.... Shakspeabe
wordswobth
T. MOOBE
.

Of truth, of grandeur^ beauty, love, and hope wobdswobth

Oft when returning with her loaded bill Thomson .

O heavens, if you do love old men . Shakspeabe

O heard ye yon pibroch sound sad in the gale? Campbell
Oh, go not yet, my love . .. . Tenntson .

Oh, have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde . SOOTT . ,

Oh, how much more doth beauty beauteous 8e( Shakspeabe

Oh, lovely Mary Donnelly, it's you I love the best Alltctoham .

how feeble
Olu weelmaytheboatierow
is man's power ....
O how canst thou renounce the boundless store
....
Beattie
Donne
Anonymous
1 have passed a miserable night Shakspeabe
O joy hast thou a face
O keeper of the sacred key
O listen, listen^ ladies gay
.... H.H.
F. WlLIfiON
Scott
.

Old wine to dnnk Messinoeb

O Lord, in me there lieth nought . . Sidney.
O messenger, art thou the king, or I?
O my luve's like a red, red rose
Once git a smell o' musk into a draw
.... .

.
H.
BUBNa
H.
Lowell
.
.

Once more, Cesario Shakspeabe

Once we built our fortress where you see . Channinq
On the mountain peak CHANNINe
O never rudely will I blame his faith . COLEBtDOE . .
One day, nigh weary of the irksome way Spenseb
On Linden, when the sun was low Campbell
O Proserpina
Or if the soul of proper kind
Oipheus with his lute made trees
.... Shakspeabe
Chauoeb
Shakspeabe
.
*
. .

O Sacred Providence, who from end to end Hebbebt .

O than the fairest day thrice fairer night William Dbummohd

Oh that last day in Lucknow fort . Bobebt Lo'well .
-O that we now had here Shakspeabe .
O the days are gone when beauty bright T.MOOBE
O then what soul was his, when, on the tops wobdswobth .

....-.,
.

O then 1 see Queen Mab hath been with you Shakspeabe .

O thou goddess Shakspeabe

O thou who in the heavens dost dwell . Bubns
O thou that swing'st upon the waving ear Lovelace . .

O ! wondrous much
'tis
Our boat to the waves go free
Our brethren of New England use
.... Chapman
CHANNINe
Butleb .

Our revels now are ended

Out upon it: I have loved
;

....
Our bugles sang truce for the night cloud had lowered Campbell
Shakspeabe
Sib John SucELiNa
.

Out upon time, who will leave no more Bykon .

O waly, waly, my gay goss-hawk

O waly, waly, up flie bank
O ye wha are sae guid yoursel
....
....
Anonymous
Anonymous .
.

Bubns .
.

O young Lochlnvar is come out of the West Scott . . i

Passion
Peace such
o'me
to all
Pibroch of Donuil
1

......
cried Sir Richard Tyrone

Dhu
G. W.
Pope.
Scott
Thobnbdbt
.
.

•
.
«
.

Pleased we remember our august abodes

Praise to Ood, immortal praise .... . Landob
mbs.babbauld.
.

Queen Bonduca, I do not grieve your fortune Beaumont and Flbtoheb . 213,v
 .! , . .

INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 531

Rabia, sick upon her bed J. F. Clarke (Trans.)
Bambllng along the marahes
— . Channino . ...
Eashly , And praised be rashness for it .
Reason thus with life . .
. .

....
Shakspeabe
Shakspeajie
Remove yon skull from out the scattered heaps
Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky ....
Bybon
Tenhyson .
Rise up, rise up, Xarifa! lay the golden cushion down lockhakt
Round my own pretty rose T. H. Bayly
Royal Egypt! Empress Shakspeare
Rudolph, professor of the headsman's trade . O. W. Holmes
Ruin seize thee, ruthless king Gray
Rumble thy belly full spit fire spout rain
! ! ! . Shakspeare
Bun, shepherds, run where Bethlehem blest appears WiLLLAM DRCMMOKD
Say to me, whose fortunes shall rise higher . Shakspeare
Say, what is Honor?
Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled
See how the Orient dew
.... Wordsworth
Burks
Marvell.
.

See living vales by living waters blest

See the dbariot at hand nere of love
....
.... Charles Sprague
Ben Jokson .

See yonder souls set far within the shade Ben Jonsok
Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it Shakspeare .

Shake off your heavy trance

Shall L wastuig in despair?
She, of whose soul, if we may say, 'twas gold
Wither
DOKNE .
....
Beaumont aitd Fletcher

She's gaue to dwell in heaven, my lassie

She walks in beauty, like the night ....
....
A. Cunningham
Byron .

Shine kindly forth, September sun

Should aula acquaintance be forgot .... F. B. Sanborn
burns .

FULKE GREVILLE (LoRD

Silence augmenteth grief — wilting encreaseth rage .
Brooke) .

Silent,O Moyle^ be the roar of thy water

Since I am coming to that holy room
Since our country our God Oh, —
sire my
.... Moore
Donne
Byron
.

Since the sun

Sing, and let your song be new
\
..... , Wordsworth
Sib Philip Sidney
Sing, O Goddess, the wrath, the ontamable dander
of Keitt
Sitting in my window
Punch ....
Beaumont and Fletcher
Sleep IS like death, and after sleep Allingham
Sleep sweetly in your humble'graves . Henry Timbod
Slow, slow fresh fount, keep tune Ben Jonson
So am I as the rich, whose blessed key Shakspeare .

So every spirit as it is most pure Spenser

So fallen so lost the light withdrawn
! ! Whittier
Soft you; a word or two Defore you go
So Saturn, as he walked into the midst
So, when their feet were plauted on the plain
Shakspeare
Keats
Tennyson
.....

Spring all the graces of the age

St. Mark's hashed abbey heard
Star of the flowers and flower of the stars
.....

.
Ben Jonson
Miss S. H. Palfrey
3. J. G. Wilkinson
.

Stem daughter of the voice of God . Wordsworth

be neat, still to be drest
Still to . Ben Jonson .

Svend Tonved binds his sword to his side George Borrow (Trans.)
Sweep ho! Sweep ho! . . E.S. H
Sweet country lite, to such unknown
Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright .
Herrick
....
....
Herbert
Sweet echo, sweetest nymph that Bv'st unseen
Sweetness, truth, and every grace
Sweet peace, where dost thou dwell .
Milton
Waller
Herbert
....
Sweet scented flower, who art wont to bloom KiRKE White
Take along with thee Ben Jonson
Take, O take those lips away Shakspeare .

reach me, my God and King Herbert

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind Lovelace
Tell me where is fancy bred Shakspeare
Tell us, thou clear and heavenly tongue
Thanks for the lessons of this spot
ThAt instrument ne'er heard
.... . . . Herrick
Wordsworth
Drayton
.

That regal soul I reverence in whose eyes . . D. A. Wasson

That wliioh her slender waist confined
The Abbot on the threshold stood
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the
.... .

fold
.

.
E. Waller
Scott
Byron
.

The bsirge she sat in, like a buniislied thione . . Shakspeare

 ..

532 INDEX OF FIEST LINES.

The birds against tlie April wind

The breaking waves dashed high
.... Whittier
MB9. Hemaks 225
The bush that has most briars and bitter fruit Jokes Veby 32
The clouds are flying, the woods are sighiug Anonx^mous (Trans, 447
The convent-bells are ringing Byro» .

The curfew tolls the knell of pai-ting day . Gray .

The daughter of a king, how should I know? H. H .

The despot's heel is on thy shore J. B. BAm>ALi,

The destiny, minister general Chauoeb .

The earth goes on, the earth glittering in gold . Anonymous .

The fsery beam upon you

The feathered songster Chanticleer .... Bek Jonson
T. Chattekton
.

The flighty purpose never is o'ertook

The garlands vnther on your brow ....
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices .
Shakspeabe
James Shirley
Shakspeabe
.

Goethe: Trans. byPboth-

The gods be your terror INGHAM .

The harp that once through Tara's halls . Moore .

The house of Chivalry decayed

The king called his best archers ....
The king is full of grace and fair regard
Ben Jonson
Anonymous
Shaespeare
The king is kind; and well we know
The king sits in Dunfermline town
The king was on his throne
.... Shakspeabe
Anonymous
Byrok
The Lord descended from aho-ve
The melancholy days are coxne
The merry world did on a day
.... Sternhold
Bryant
Herbert
.
.

The minstrels played their Christmas tune Wordsworth

The moon is up, and yet it is not night Byron .

The Moorish king rides up and down Byron

The muse doth tell me where to borrow
The muse, nae poet ever fand her
The night is come like to the day
.... George Wither
Burks
Sib T. Browne
The night is made for cooling shade. J. T. Trowbridge
The night is past and shines me sun Byron .

The old man said, " Take thou this shield, my son *'
The old mayor climbed the belfry tower
S. G. W
Jean Ingelow
. .

The owl is abroad, the bat, the toad

The pmes were dark on Bamoth hill ....
There are points from which we can command our life
Ben Jonson
Whittier
P.Bailey
.
.

There came to Cameliard Tennyson .

The recluse hermit of ttimes more doth know . Donne

There is a hisiory in all men's lives....
There in the fane a beauteous creature stands . Pboe. Wilson
Shakspeare .
(Trans.

....
There is a mysteiy in the soul of state
There is an island on a river Mng
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods .
Shakspeabe
J. W. Mokbis
Bybon .
.

There is a stream, I name not its name

There is a tide in the affairs of men ....
There is a Yew-tree, pride of Lorton Vale
. A. H. Clough
Shakspeabe
Wobdswobth
.

There like a rich and golden pyramid . * . . Ben Jonson

" There is no God," the wicked saith Clough .

There's a flag hangs over my threshold Mbs. Howe .

There where death's brief pang was quickest Bykon

There was a king that much might ....
There was a boy ye knew him well, ye cliffs
;

There was a laughing devil in his sneer

Wobdswobth
GOWEB
Byron .
.

There was a sound or revelry by night Bykon .

There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream . Wordsworth

Ther is right at the West side of It^e . Chaucer
The sea rolls vaguely, and the stars are dumb . Allingham
The shadow on the dial's face J. Montgomery
The sky is changed; and such a change Byron .

The snows arise and foul and fierce

; Thomson
The spacious firmament on high Addison
The spirits I have raised abandon me Byron
The splendor falls on castle walls Tennyson
The stars above will make thee known
Th^ tent-lights glimmer on the land
The unearthly voices ceased
..... Cowley
Whittier
Soott
.

The wanton troopers riding by Marvell

The Wildgi-ave winds his bugle-horn
Ibe wind it blew, and the ship it flew
....
The weather leech of the topsail shivers . W. Mitchell
Scott .

George MaoDonald
 . . . .

INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 533

The wintry west extends his blast
The woods decay, the woods decay and fall
.... Bubns
Tennyson .

They made her a grave too cold and damp T. Moobb

They told me I was heir; I turned in haste H.H. . .

They that never had the use Edmund Walleb

Tliink we King Harry strong Shakspeabe
This ae night-, this ae night Southwell .

This army led by a delicate and tender prince . Shakspeabe

Tills bright wood-fire E. S. H. .

This castle hath a pleasant seat; the air . Shakspeabe

This knight a doughter hadde by his wif Ohauceb .

This morning, timely rapt with holy fire Ben Jonson

Thou art not gone, being gone Donne
Thou blossom bright with autumn dew Beyant
Though the day of my destiny's over Byeon .

Thounast learned the woes of all the world C. S. T. . .

Thou hast sworn by thy Grod, my Jeannie A.Cunningham

Thou hidden love of God whose height ! Wesley (Trans.)
Thou that art our queen again Leigh Hunt .

Thou that hast a daughter

Thou that hast given so much to me
Thou wast not bom for death. Immortal bird
.... ! .
W. Allinqham
Hebbebt
Keats .
.

.
.

Thou whose sweet youth and early hopes enhance Hebbebt

Three days through sapphire seas we sailed H. H. Beowuell
Three poets in three distant ages bom Dbyden .

Three score o' nobles rade up (he king's ha' Smith's Scottish Minstbel,
Three years she giew in sun and shower .
Thy braes were bonny, yarrow stream
Thy voice is heard through rolling drums
.... Wobdswobth
T. Logan
Tennyson
.

Tiger! Tiger! burning bright W. Blake .

Time hath, my lord, a wal&t at his back . Shakspeabe .

Tired nature's sweet restorw, balmy sleep . Young .

'Tis madness to resist or blame Maevell

',Tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more . Beattie
'Tis not every day that I Eebbiok .

'Tis not in battles that from youth we train Woedswobth

'Tis truth, although this truth's a star Patmobe .

To be furious . ». Shakspeabe
To beguile the time
—
To be no more sad cure ...... Shakspeabe
Milton
.

To be or not to be, that is the question .

To fair Fidele's grassy tomb
To heroism and holiness
...... Shakspeabe
Collins
Patmobe .
.

Toiling in the naked fields John Clabb

To keep the lamp alive COWPEE .

To me men are for what they are MiLNEB

Toll for the brave COWPEE .

To the belfry one by one, went the ringers from the sun Mes. Beowning
'To the Lords of Convention
Tme bard and simple, as the race —
Triumphal arch, that fill'st the sky
....
....
Scott
MOOBE
Campbell
.

'Twas All-Souls' eve, and Surrey's heart beat high . Scott .

'Twaa at the royal feast for Persia won

—
Two went to pray oh! rather say
Two voices are there one is of the sea .
;
.... . Dbyden
Biohabd Ceashaw
Woedswobth
.

Underneath this sable hearse Bes JOKSOir

Underneath this stone doth lye Ben Johson .

Under the greenwood tree Shakspeabe

Upon a rook yet unoreate
Uvedale, thou piece of the first times. .... Anohtmous
Ben Jonsoh
.

Vane, young In years, but in sage counsel old . Milton .

Vex not thou the poet's mind Tennyson .

WaU for Dsedalus, all that is fairest

Walking thus towards a pleasant grove .
.... . .
Steblino
Lobd Hebbebt
.

Warriors and chiefs should the shaft or sword

!

Wee, modest, crimson, tipped flower .... . Byeon

Bhens .

Wee, sleekit, cow'ring, timorous beastie

Well, honor is the subject of my story
We must not stint
. .

....
. Bdbns
Shakspeabe
Shakspeabe .

Westward the course of empire takes its way .

What is good for a bootless ben<
Whai needs my Shakspeare foi his honored bones
.... .

.
Bebkeley
Wobdswobth
Milton .
.
 . .

534 INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

When biting Boreas, fell and doure . Busks

Whence is it that the air so sudden clears Ben Jonson
When Chapman bUlies leave the street . Burns
When coldness wraps this suffering clay Bykon .

When daisies pied and violets blue . Shakspeare

Whene'er a noble deed is wrought Longfellow
When flrat thou didst entice to thee my heart Herbert
When Flora with her fragrant flowers . ANONYMOnS
When God at iirst made man . Herbert
When 1 a verse shall make . Hebbick
When I consider how my light is spent . Milton .

When I do count the clock that tells the time Shahspeabe

When I love as some have told . Herrick .

When Love with unconfinM wings Lovelace .

When Music, heavenly maid, was young Collins .

—
When spring
When the ~
to woods and wastes around
British warrior queen
. Bryant
COWPEB .

When the moon is on the wave , Byron .

When the radiant morn of creation broke Bryant .

When we in our viciousnesfe grow hard Shakspeare

When whispering strains with creeping wind William Strode
When wise Minerva still was young Lowell
When with the virgin morning thou dost rise Herrick .

Where dost thou careless lie . Ben Jonson

Where have ye been, ye ill woman?
Where is Timarchus gone?
Where like a pillow on a bed
.... . Hooo
From Simonides
Donne .

Where the bee sucks, there suck I Shakspeare

Where the remote Bermudas ride Marvell
Which I wish to remark Bret Haete
While from the piirpling east departs Wordsworth
Whither midst falling dew
Who counts himself as nobly bom
....
While malice, Pope, denies thy page . David Lewis
Bryant
B. S. H.
.

Wlio is the happy warrior

Who is the honest man
....
Who can divine what impulses from God
....
Wordsworth
Wordsworth
Herbert
.

Whose are the gilded tents that crowd the way Moore .

Whoso him betnoft Anonymous .

Why fearest thou the outward foe Anonymous

Willie stands in his stable door . Buchan's Ballads
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day . Shakspeare
Winstanley's deed, you kindly folk . Jean Ingelow
Goethe: Trans. BY Froth
Within my ears resounds that ancient song INGHAM
Within the mind strong fancies work Wordsworth
With joys unknown, with sadness unconfessed P. B. Sanborn
With naked foot and sackcloth vest Scott .

Witli sacritice before the rising mom . Wordsworth

Woof of the fen, etliereal gauze Thoeeau .

Would wisdom for herself be wooed . Patmore

Ye banks and braes of bonnie Doon Burns
Te mariners of England
Ye
....
Ve distant spires, ye antique towers
scattered birds that faintly sing
. Gray
Campbell
Burns
.

Yes, I answered you last night . Mrs. Browxino

Yet a few days, and thee
Yet do I fear thy nature
....
Ye sigh not when the sun his course fultllled Bryant
Bbyant
Shakspeare
.

Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Milton .

You lay a wreatli on murdered Lincoln's bier Tom Taylor

You meaner beauties of the night . Wotton .

Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and he sought me for his

bride Lady Anne Lindsay
Young- Neuha plunged into the deep
Your grace shall pardon me
You that can look through Heaven, and
.... tell the stars
Bybon
Shakbpeabe
.

Beaumont and Fletcher

Zekle crep' up quite unbeknown Lowell