THE SCHOLAR’S LIBRARY
General Editor: —Guy Boas, M.A.
POEMS OLD AND NEW
AN ANTHOLOGY
POEMS"OED‘“ANt) TSTEW
AN ANTHOLOGY
Selected and Edited by
A. S. GAIRNCROSS
M.A., D.LITT.
MACMILLAN AND GO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN’S STREET, LONDON
COPYRIGHT
First Edtiion 1933 «
Reprinted Septemher and December 1934, June a.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN
BY R. & R. CLARK, LIMITED, EDINB
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The compiler wishes to acknowledge his indebted¬
ness to the following for permission to reprint the
copyright poems included in this volume: Mr.
Stephen Vincent Benet and Messrs. Doubleday, Doran
& Go. for “ Portrait of a Boy ” from Young Adventure ;
Mr. Edmund Blunden and Messrs. Sidgwick &
Jackson, Ltd., for “ The Pike ” frona The_ Waggoner ;
the Literary Executor and Messrs. Sidgwick & Jack-
son, Ltd., for “The Dead,” by Rupert Brooke;
Messrs. Ghatto & Windus for “ The Vagabond ” and
“ Romance,” by Robert Louis Stevenson; Mr.
G. K. Ghesterton and Messrs. J. M. Dent & Sons,
Ltd., for “ The Donkey ” ; the Glarendon Press for
“ A Passer-by ” from The Poetical Works of Robert^
Bridges ; Mr. Walter de la Mare for “ Tit for Tat ”
and “ I met at Eve ” ; the author’s Executors and
Messrs. Martin Seeker, Ltd., for “ The Old Ships
from Collected Poems, by James Elroy Flecker , Mr.
W. W. Gibson for “ Prometheus ” from Collected, Poems
190H—IQ25 ; Gaptain Harry Graham and Messrs.
Edward Arnold & Go., Ltd., for ‘ Waste from
Ruthless Rhymes ; Messrs. William Heinemann, Ltd.,
for “ Itylus,” by Algernon Gharles Swinburne Mr.
Ralph Hodgson for “Stupidity Street ” from his
Poems ; the Owners of the Gopyright for “ Pied
Beauty,” by Gerard Manley Hopkins; Messrs. John
Lane, The Bodley Head, Ltd., for “ The Hawk,” by
A. G. Benson ; Mr. John Masefield for “ Gargoes
V
from Collected Poems by John Masefield (Heinemann) ;
Messrs. Methuen & Go., Ltd., for “Jack’’ from The
Open Road, by Mr. E. V. Lucas ; Mr. John Murray for
“ Herve Riel,” by Robert Browning ; Sir Henry
Newbolt for “ Hawke,” ‘‘ He Fell Among Thieves,”
and “ Drake’s Drum ” from Poems New and Old (John
Murray) ; Mr. Alfred Noyes and Messrs. William
Blackwood & Sons, Ltd., for “ The Highwayman ”
from The Collected Poems of Alfred Noyes ; the Poetry
Bookshop for “ Star Talk ” from Over the Brazier, by
Mr. Robert Graves, and “ The Changeling ” from
The Farmer's Bride, by Charlotte Mew ; the Pro¬
prietors of Punch for “ Roundabouts and Swings,” by
Mr. P. R. Chalmers ; Mr. Grant Richards for “A
Runnable Stag ” from Holiday and Other Poems, by
John Davidson ; Mr. Siegfried Sassoon and Messrs.
William Heinemann, Ltd., for “ Everyone Sang ” ;
Sir John Squire and Messrs. William Heinemann,
Ltd., for “ The Ship ” from Poems in One Volume ; Sir
William Watson for “ The Ballad of Semmerwater ” ;
and Mr. W. B. Yeats for “ The Lake Isle of Innis-
free ” from Poems (Ernest Benn), and “ The Scholars ”
from The Wild Swans at Coole.
CONTENTS
BALLADS
PAGE
Sir Patrick Spens
Anonymous
3'
Helen of Kirconnell
Anonymous
6
^osabelle
Sir Walter Scott
7
Proud Maisie
55
8
Bishop Hatto
Robert Southey
9
La Belle Dame sajisJ^ixi---^—
^hriJbueais --—
_ 14
'“'TlrelSiighPsL
Charles" Kingsley
13
jHoratius
Lord Macaulay
15
Shameful Death
William Morris
24
The Ballad of Semmerwater
Sir William Watson
25
NARRATIVE
POEMS
Hart-Leap Well
William Wordsworth
29
The Destruction of Sennacherib
Lord Byron
35
The Armada
Lord Macaulay
3^
Morte d’Arthur
Lord Tennyson
40
^he Lady of Shalott
55
47
Herve Riel
Robert Browning
53
P-Q
.The Pied Piper of Hameiin
55
Christina Rossetti
58
Goblin Market
67
A Runnable Stag
John Davidson
83
Hawke
Sir Henry NewboU
86
0*-*
He Fell Among Thieves
55
87
The Highwayman
vii
Alfred Noyes
89
CONTENTS
LYRICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE POEMS
PAGE
The Passionate Shepherd to his
Christopher Marlowe
97
Love
Winter
William Shakespeare
98
Fidele
55
98
Character of a Happy Life
Sir Henry Wottoti
99
To Celia
Ben Jonson
100
Hymn to Diana
55
lOI
jThe Village Preacher and School-
Oliver Goldsmith
lOI
master (from The Deserted Village)
Khc Tiger
William Blake
104
•^he Solitary Reaper
William Wordsworth
105
Upon Westminster Bridge
>5
106
She Dwelt Among the Untrodden
55
106
Ways
Lullaby of an Infant Chief
Sir Walter Scott
107
Soldier, rest !
5 5
107
Coronach
55
109
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
5 5
109
Kubla Khan
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
; I n
The Parrot
Thomas Campbell
112
She Walks in Beauty
Lord Byron
113
^To Night
Percy Bysshe Shelley
114
The Human Seasons
John Keats
115
On first looking into ChapmaiPT"
55
Homer ... - •*
To Autumn ..... ..
55 '
117
Autumn'
John Clare
118
TEUlagle
Lo^'d Tennyson
119
Blowj Bugle, blow
55
119
Home-thoughts, from Abroad
Rcbcrt Browning
120
Captain I my Captain 1
IE-// Whitman
120
CONTENTS
Scholar Gipsy
Matthew Arnold
PAGE
I 2 I
Itylus
A. C. Swinburne
130
Pied Beauty
Gerard Manley
Hopkins
132
A. Passer-by
Robert Bridges
133
The Vagabond
R, L. Stevenson
134
Romance
J 5
135
Drake’s Di'um
Sir Henry Mewholt
135
The Hawk
A. C. Benson
136
The Lake Isle of Innisfree
W. B. Teats
137
The Scholars
5 ?
137
Jack
E. V. Lucas
138
The Changeling
Charlotte Mew
142
Stupidity Street
Ralph Hodgson
144
Roundabouts and Swings
Patrick R. Chalmers
145
Tit for Tat
Walter de la Mare
146
I met at Eve
?5
147
The Donkey
G. K. Chesterton
148
Cargoes
John Masefield
149
Prometheus
Wilfrid Gibson
149
The Ship
Sir John Squire
150
The Old Ships
James Elroy Flecker
150
Everyone Sang
Siegfried Sassoon
The Dead
Rupert Brooke
152
The Pike
Edmund Blunden
152
Portrait of a Boy
Stephen Vincent Benet
154
WIT AND HUMOUR
Sir Hudibras and his Squire
Samuel Butler
157
(from Hudibras)
The Character of Shaftesbury
John Dryden
159
(from, Absalom and Achitophel)
Epitaph on Charles 11
Earl of Rochester
159
IX
CONTENTS
I
PAGE
Tlie Combat (from The Rape of
the Lock)
Alexander Pope
i6o
On a certain Lady at Court
162
Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog
Oliver Goldsmith
163
Fred
Anonymous
164
The Colubriad
William Cowper
164
The desired Swan-Song
Samuel Taylor Coleridge i66
The Jackdaw of Rheims
R. H. Barham
166
King Canute
W. M. Thackeray
171
Tou are old, Father William
Lewis Carroll
174
Waste
Harry Graham
175
Star Talk
Robert Graves
176
Sfotes to the Poems
179
2 uestions on the Poems
217
INTRODUCTION
For some chosen spirits a love of poetry comes and
grows of itself. They pass without effort from the-
early delight in nursery rhymes to the works of the
great poets ; their natural interest is strong enough
to brush aside all obstacles that stand between them
and the pleasures of poetry.
But for others—and these are the majority—a taste
for poetry must be carefully tended and fostered.
Taste is for most of us a matter of slow growth and
continuous study and training. It cannot be formed
without knowledge, comparison, and analysis of the
best poetry : and this cannot be acquired without
assistance and guidance. A thorough acquaintance,
gained in this way, with even a few great poems, is
a sufficient foundation for a sound and lasting de¬
light. These few poems, however, must be treated
naturally. They must be read aloud, since poetry is
meant to appeal to the ear. They should be read, and
read again, and, best of all, committed to memory.
The sense of the poem and the intention of the poet
should be made perfectly clear, and any information
that will serve this end should be brought to bear.
A new light is often shed on a poem by some fact con¬
cerning the author, the age in which he lived, or the
circumstances in which he wrote.
Goldsmith’s simple nature, Macaulay’s retentive
memory, Keats’s ill-health, Pope’s deformity, Flecker’s
life in the East, lay bare the springs and direction of
INTRODUCTION
their poetry as a whole, and make its excellencies and
its limits intelligible. Without a knowledge of
Dryden’s dependence on court patronage and of the
political and religious struggle over the Exclusion
Bill, it is impossible fully to appreciate his satires,
especially Absalom and AchitopheL The dream in which
Coleridge composed Kubla Khan and the interruption
which prevented him from remembering the whole
poem, the description that inspired Wordsworth’s
Solitary Reaper^ explain much that would otherwise
be obscure, and effectively heighten our appreci¬
ation. To understand is to forgive : it is also to
appreciate.
It is often illuminating, too, if a comparison is made
between poems by two authors on the same theme,
or between a poem and the source on which it
is founded. To compare Tennyson’s Morte Arthur
with the original prose version of Malory is a valu¬
able lesson in criticism and appreciation : to read
Marlowe’s Passionate Shepherd to his Love along
with Stevenson’s Romance, Wotton’s Happy Life or
W. B. Yeats’s Lake Isle of Innisfree is to throw into
relief the characteristic qualities of each poet. But
the main thing is the poetry itself, and criticism and
commentary are justified only in so far as they add
to the enjoyment of the poetry : they must never be
allowed to usurp the main interest.
On such a foundation of reading, understanding,
and memory, good taste and appreciation may be
trusted to rise of themselves. A touchstone will have
been provided to which other poems may be brought
for judgment: a core will have been formed round
which will gather other poems that have been tried
and found worthy.
This^ anthology aims at providing material for the
formation of a sound poetic appreciation. While
avoiding more difficult and abstract poems, it con-
xii
INTRODUCTION
tains a representative selection of the best in English
poetry—not omitting that of the present day. It
supplies explanatory material and suggestions for
comparison and criticism that may remove difficulties
and clear the way for that delight in poetry which
is one of the most valuable and lasting acquisitions
in life.
For the characteristic of good poetry is that the
enjoyment of it is unfailing. It was a poet who wrote
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever,” and of no thing
is this more true than of a beautiful poem.
A. S. G.
BALLADS
SIR PATRICK SPENS
I. The Sailing
The king sits in Dunfermline town
Drinking the blude-red wine ;
“ O whare will I get a skeely skipper
To sail this new ship o’ mine ? ”
O up and spak an eldern knight.
Sat at the king’s right knee ;
Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor
That ever sail’d the sea.”
Our king has written a braid letter,
And seal’d it with his hand,
And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
Was walking on the strand.
“ To Noroway, to Noroway,
To Noroway o’er the faem ;
The king’s daughter o’ Noroway,
’Tis thou must bring her hame.”
The first word that Sir Patrick read
So loud, loud laugh’d he ;
The neist word that Sir Patrick read
The tear blinded his e’e.
POEMS OLD AND NEW
“ O wha is this has done this deed
And tauld the king o’ me.
To send us out, at this time o’ year.
To sail upon the sea ?
Be it wind, be it weet, be it hail, be it sleet.
Our ship must sail the faem ;
The king’s daughter o’ Noroway,
’Tis we must fetch her hame.”
They hoysed their sails on Monenday morn
Wi’ a’ the speed they may ; lo
They hae landed in Noroway
Upon a Wodensday.
ii. The Return
“ Mak ready, mak ready, my merry men a’ 1
Our gude ship sails the morn.”
“ Now ever alack, my master dear,
I fear a deadly storm.
I saw the new moon late yestreen
Wi’ the auid moon in her arm ;
And if we gang to sea, master,
I fear we’ll come to harm.” 20
They hadna sail’d a league, a league,
A league but barely three,
When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud.
And gurly grew the sea.
The ankers brak, and the topmast lap.
It was sic a deadly storm :
And the waves cam owre the broken ship
Till a’ her sides were torn.
4
SIR PATRICK SPENS
“Go fetch a web o’ the silken claith.
Another o’ the twine.
And wap them into our ship’s side,
And let nae the sea come in.”
They fetch’d a web o’ the silken claith.
Another o’ the twine.
And they wapp’d them round that gude ship’s side,
But still the sea came in.
O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords
To wet their cork-heel’d shoon ; lo
But lang or a’ the play was play’d
They wat their hats aboon.
And mony was the feather bed
That flatter’d on the faem ;
And mony was the gude lord’s son
That never mair cam hame.
O lang, lang may the ladies sit,
Wi’ their fans into their hand,
Before they see Sir Patrick Spens
Gome sailing to the strand 1 20
And lang, lang may the maidens sit
Wi’ their gowd kames in their hair,
A-waiting for their ain dear loves I
For them they’ll see nae mair.
Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour,
’Tis fifty fathoms deep ;
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi’ the Scots lords at his feet 1
Anonymous
5
POEMS OLD AND NEW
HELEN OF KIRCONNELL
I WISH I were where Helen lies.
Night and day on me she cries ;
O that I were where Helen lies^
On fair Kirconnell lea !
Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd Helen dropt,
And died to succour me !
O think na ye my heart was sair,
When my Love dropp’d and spak nae mair ! ic
There did she swoon wi’ meikle care.
On fair Kirconnell lea.
As I went down the water-side.
None but my foe to be my guide.
None but my foe to be my guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea ;
I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma’,
I hacked him in pieces sma’,
For her sake that died for me. 20
O Helen fair, beyond compare !
I’ll mak a garland o’ thy hair.
Shall bind my heart for evermair.
Until the day I die !
I wish I were where Helen lies !
Night and day on me she cries ;
And I am weary of the skies,
^ For her sake that died for me.
Anonymous
6
ROSABELLE
ROSABELLE
O LISTEN, listen, ladies gay 1
No haughty feat of arms I tell ;
Soft is the note, and sad the lay,
That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.—
'' Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant crew !
And, gentle ladye, deign to stay !
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,
Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.
The blackening wave is edged with white ;
To inch and rock the sea-mews fly ; lo
The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite,
Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh.
“ Last night the gifted Seer did view
A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay ;
Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch :
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day ? ”—
‘‘ ’Tis not because Lord Lindesay’s heir
To-night at Roslin leads the ball.
But that my ladye-mother there
Sits lonely in her castle-hall. 20
'' ’Tis not because the ring they ride,
And Lindesay at the ring rides well,
But that my sire the wine will chide
If his not fill’d by Rosabelle.”—
O’er Roslin all that dreary night
A wondrous blaze was seen to gleam ;
’Twas broader than the watch-fire’s light,
And redder than the bright moonbeam.
POEMS OLD AND NEW
It glared on Roslin’s castled rock.
It ruddied all the copse-wood glen ;
Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak,
And seen from cavern’d Hawthornden.
Seem’d all on fire that chapel proud.
Where Roslin’s chiefs uncoffin’d lie,
Each Baron, for a sable shroud.
Sheath’d in his iron panoply.
Seem’d all on fire within, around.
Deep sacristy and altar’s pale ; lo
Shone every pillar foliage-bound.
And glimmer’d all the dead men’s mail.
Blazed battlement and pinnet high,
Blazed every rose-carved buttress fair—
So still they blaze, when fate is nigh
The lordly line of high St. Glair.
There are twenty of Roslin’s barons bold
Lie buried within that proud chapelle ;
Each one the holy vault doth hold—
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle ! 20
And each St. Clair was buried there.
With candle, with book, and with knell ;
But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung.
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.
Sir Walter Scott
PROUD MAISIE
Proud Maisie is in the wood.
Walking so early ;
Sweet Robin sits on the bush,
Singing so rarely.
8
BISHOP HATTO
“ Tell me, thou bonny bird.
When shall I marry me ?
—When six braw gentlemen
Kirkward shall carry ye.”
Who makes the bridal bed,
Birdie, say truly ? ”
—The grey-headed sexton
That delves the grave duly.
stone
10
Scott
The glow-worm o’er grave and
Shall light thee steady ;
The owl from the steeple sing
Welcome, proud lady ! ”
Sir Walter
BISHOP HATTO
The summer and the autumn had been so wet
That in winter the corn was growing yet;
’Twas a piteous sight to see all around
The grain lie rotten on the ground.
Every day the starving poor
Crowded around Bishop Hatto’s door.
For he had a plentiful last-year’s store,
And all the neighbourhood could tell 20
His granaries were furnish’d well.
At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day
To quiet the poor without delay ;
He bade them to his great barn repair,
And they should have food for the winter there.
Rejoiced such tidings good to hear.
The poor folk flock’d from far and near ;
The great barn was full as it could hold
Of women and children, and young and old.
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Then when he saw it could hold no more,
Bishop Hatto he made fast the door,
And while for mercy on Christ they call.
He set fire to the barn and burnt them all.
“ r faith, ’tis an excellent bonfire ! ’’ quoth he,
“ And the country is greatly obliged to me.
For ridding it in these times forlorn
Of rats, that only consume the corn.”
So then to his palace returned he.
And he sat down to supper merrily, lo
And he slept that night like an innocent man.
But Bishop Hatto never slept again.
In the morning as he enter’d the hall.
Where his picture hung against the wall,
A death-like sweat all over him came ;
For the rats had eaten it out of the frame.
As he look’d there came a man from the farm.
He had a countenance white with alarm ;
“ My lord, I open’d your granaries this morn.
And the rats had eaten all your corn.” 20
Another came running presently.
And he was pale as pale could be ;
‘‘ Fly ! my Lord Bishop, fly,” quoth he,
“Ten thousand rats are coming this way—
The Lord forgive you for yesterday ! ”
“ I’ll go to my tower on the Rhine,” replied he ;
“ ’Tis the safest place in Germany ;
The walls are high, and the shores are steep.
And the stream is strong, and the water deep.”
10
BISHOP HATTO
Bishop Hatto fearfully hasten’d away,
And he cross’d the Rhine without delay,
And reach’d his tower, and barr’d with care
All the windows, doors, and loopholes there.
He laid him down and closed his eyes,
But soon a scream made him arise ;
He started, and saw two eyes of flame
On his pillow from whence the screaming came.
He listen’d and look’d ; it was only the cat;
But the Bishop he grew more fearful for that, lo
For she sat screaming, mad with fear.
At the army of rats that was drawing near.
For they have swum over the river so deep.
And they have climb’d the shores so steep,
And up the tower their way is bent.
To do the work for which they were sent.
They are not to be told by the dozen or score ;
By thousands they come, and by myriads and more ;
Such numbers had never been heard of before.
Such a judgment had never been witness’d of yore. 20
Down on his knees the Bishop fell.
And faster and faster his beads did he tell,
As louder and louder drawing near
The gnawing of their teeth he could hear.
And in at the windows, and in at the door,
And through the walls helter-skelter they pour,
And down from the ceiling, and up through the floor,
From the right and the left, from behind and before,
From within and without, from above and below.
And all at once to the Bishop they go. 30
POEMS OLD AND NEW
They have whetted their teeth against the stones.
And now they pick the Bishop’s bones ;
They gnaw’d the flesh from every limb, ^
For they were sent to do judgment on him.
Robert Southey
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI
Oh what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering ?
The sedge is wither’d from the lake,
And no birds sing.
“ Oh, what can ail thee, knight-at-arms.
So haggard and so woebegone ? lo
The squirrel’s granary is full.
And the harvest’s done.
“ I see a lily on thy brow
With anguish moist and fever dew ;
And on thy cheek a fading rose
Fast withereth too.”
“ I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child ;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild. 20
“ I made a garland for her head.
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone ;
She look’d at me as she did love.
And made sweet moan.
set her on my pacing steed
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sideways would she lean, and sing
A faery’s song.
12
THE KNIGHT’S LEAP
She found me roots of relish sweet.
And honey wild and manna dew.
And sure in language strange she said,
' I love thee true 1 ’
She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she wept, and sigh’d full sore ;
And there I shut her wild, wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dream’d—Ah ! woe betide ! lo
The latest dream I ever dream’d
On the cold hill’s side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all ;
Who cried—‘ La belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall ! ’
I saw their starved lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gapM wide,
And I awoke and found me here
On the cold hill’s side. 20
‘‘ And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is wither’d from the lake.
And no birds sing.”
John Keats
THE KNIGHT’S LEAP
“ So the foemen have fired the gate, men of mine ;
And the water is spent and gone ?
Then bring me a cup of the red Ahr-wine :
I never shall drink but this one.
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And reach me my harness, and saddle my horse
And lead him me round to the door :
He must take such a leap to-night perforce,
As horse never took before.
CI have fought my fight, I have lived my life,
w I have drunk my share of wine ;
From Trier to Coin there was never a knight
Led a merrier life than mine.
I have lived by the saddle for years two score,
n And if I must die on tree, i o
Then the old saddle-tree, which has borne me of yore.
Is the properest timber for me.
“ So now to show bishop, and burgher, and priest,
How the Altenahr hawk can die :
If they smoke the old falcon out of his nest,
He must take to his wings and fly.”
He harnessed himself by the clear moonshine,
And he mounted his horse at the door ;
And he drained such a cup of the red Ahr-wine,
As man never drained before. 20
He spurred the old horse, and he held him tight.
And he leapt him out over the wall—
Out over the cliff, out into the night.
Three hundred feet of fall.
They found him next morning below in the glen.
With never a bone in him whole—
A mass or a prayer now, good gentlemen.
For such a bold rider’s soul !
Charles Kingsley
HORATIUS
HORATIUS
They held a council standing
Before the River-Gate ;
Short time was there^ ye well may guess.
For musing or debate.
Out spake the Consul roundly :
“ The bridge must straight go down ;
For, since Janiculum is lost,
Nought else can save the town.’’
Just then a scout came flying,
All wild with haste and fear : lo
To arms ! to arms ! Sir Consul :
Lars Porsena is here.”
On the low hills to westward
The Consul fixed his eye,
And saw the swarthy storm of dust
Rise fast along the sky.
And nearer fast and nearer
Doth the red whirlwind come ;
And louder still and still more loud.
From underneath that rolling cloud, 20
Is heard the trumpet’s war-note proud,
The trampling, and the hum.
And plainly and more plainly
Now through the gloom appears.
Far to left and far to right,
In broken gleams of dark-blue light.
The long array of helmets bright.
The long array of spears.
But the Consul’s brow was sad.
And the Consul’s speech was low, 30
And darkly looked he at the wall,
And darkly at the foe.
15
POEMS OLD AND NEW
“ Their van will be upon us
Before the bridge goes down ;
And if they once may win the bridge.
What hope to save the town ? ’’
Then out spake brave Horatius,
The Captain of the Gate :
To every man upon this earth
Death cometh soon or late.
And how can man die better
Than facing fearful odds, i<:
For the ashes of his fathers,
And the temples of his Gods?”
“ Hew down the bridge. Sir Consul,
With all the speed ye may ;
I, with two more to help me.
Will hold the foe in play.
In yon strait path a thousand
May well be stopped by three.
Now who will stand on either hand,
And keep the bridge with me ? ” 2c
Then out spake Spurius Lartius ;
A Ramnian proud was he :
“ Lo, I will stand at thy right hand.
And keep the bridge with thee.”
And out spake strong Herminius ;
Of Titian blood was he :
“ I will abide on thy left side,
And keep the bridge with thee.”
Horatius,” quoth the Consul,
As thou sayest, so let it be.” 3c
And straight against that great array
Forth went the dauntless Three.
16
HORATIUS
For Romans in Rome’s quarrel
Spared neither land nor gold,
Nor son nor wife, nor limb nor life.
In the brave days of old.
Now while the Three were tightening
Their harness on their backs.
The Consul was the foremost man
To take in hand an axe :
And Fathers mixed with Commons
Seized hatchet, bar, and crow, lo
And smote upon the planks above
And loosed the props below.
Meanwhile the Tuscan army,
Right glorious to behold,
Came flashing back the noonday light.
Rank behind rank, like surges bright
Of a broad sea of gold.
Four hundred trumpets sounded
A peal of warlike glee,
As that great host with measured tread, 20
And spears advanced, and ensigns spread.
Rolled slowly towards the bridge’s head.
Where stood the dauntless Three.
The Three stood calm and silent,
And looked upon the foes,
And a great shout of laughter
From all the vanguard rose :
And forth three chiefs came spurring
Before that deep array ;
To earth they sprang, their swords they 30
drew.
And lifted high their shields and flew
To win the narrow way.
17 G
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Stout Lartius hurled down Aunus
Into the stream beneath ;
Herminius struck at Seius,
And clove him to the teeth :
At Picas brave Horatius
Darted one fiery thrust;
And the proud Umbrian’s gilded
arms
Clashed in the bloody dust.
But now no sound of laughter
Was heard among the foes,
A wild and wrathful clamour
From all the vanguard rose.
Six spears’ lengths from the entrance
Halted that deep array,
And for a space no man came forth
To win the narrow way.
But hark ! the cry is Astur ! ”
And lo ! the ranks divide ;
And the great Lord of Luna
Gomes with his stately stride.
Upon his ample shoulders
Clangs loud the fourfold shield.
And in his hand he shakes the brand
Which none but he can wield.
He smiled on those bold Romans
A smile serene and high ;
He eyed the flinching Tuscans,
And scorn was in his eye.
Quoth he, “ The she-wolf’s litter
Stands savagely at bay :
But will ye dare to follow,
If Astur clears the way ? ”
i8
HORATIUS
Then, whirling up his broadsword
With both hands to the height^
He rushed against Horatius,
And smote with all his might.
With shield and blade Horatius
Right deftly turned the blow.
The blow, though turned, came yet too nigh ;
It missed his helm, but gashed his thigh :
The Tuscans raised a joyful cry
To see the red blood flow. lo
He reeled, and on Herminius
He leaned one breathing-space ;
Then, like a wild cat mad with wounds.
Sprang right at Astur’s face.
Through teeth, and skull, and helmet.
So fierce a thrust he sped.
The good sword stood a hand-breadth out
Behind the Tuscan’s head.
And the great Lord of Luna
Fell at that deadly stroke, 20
As falls on Mount Alvernus
A thunder-smitten oak.
Far o’er the crashing forest.
The giant arms lie spread ;
And the pale augurs, muttering low,
Gaze on the blasted head.
On Astur’s throat Horatius
Right firmly pressed his heel.
And thrice and four times tugged amain,
Ere he wrenched out the steel. 30
“ And see,” he cried, ‘‘ the welcome,
Fair guests, tjiat waits you here !
What noble Lucumo comes next
To taste our Roman cheer ? ”
POEMS OLD AND NEW
But at his haughty challenge
A sullen murmur ran.
Mingled of wrath, and shame, and dread,
Along that glittering van.
There lacked not men of prowess,
Nor men of lordly race ;
For all Etruria’s noblest
Were round the fatal place.
But all Etruria’s noblest
Felt their hearts sink to see
On the earth the bloody corpses,
In the path the dauntless Three :
And, from the ghastly entrance,
Where those bold Romans stood,
All shrank, like boys who unaware.
Ranging the woods to start a hare.
Gome to the mouth of the dark lair
Where, growling low, a fierce old bear
Lies amidst bones and blood.
Was none who would be foremost
To lead such dire attack :
But those behind cried Forward ! ”
And those before cried “ Back ! ”
And backward now and forward
Wavers the deep array :
And on the tossing sea of steel,
To and fro the standards reel ;
And the victorious trumpet-peal
Dies fitfully away.
But meanwhile axe and lever
Have manfully been plied ;
And now the bridge hangs tottering
Above the boiling tide.
HORATIUS
Gome back, come back, Horatius ! ’’
Loud cried the Fathers all.
Back, Lartius ! back, Herminius I
Back, ere the ruin fall ! ’’
Back darted Spurius Lartius ;
Herminius darted back :
And, as they passed, beneath their feet
They felt the timbers crack.
But when they turned their faces.
And on the farther shore lo
Saw brave Horatius stand alone.
They would have crossed once more.
But with a crash like thunder
Fell every loosened beam.
And, like a dam, the mighty wreck
Lay right athwart the stream :
And a long shout of triumph
Rose from the walls of Rome,
As to the highest turret-tops
Was splashed the yellow foam. 20
And, like a horse unbroken
When first he feels the rein,
The furious river struggled hard,
And tossed his tawny mane.
And burst the curb, and bounded.
Rejoicing to be free.
And whirling down, in fierce career.
Battlement, and plank, and pier,
Rushed headlong to the sea.
Alone stood brave Horatius, 30
But constant still in mind ;
Thrice thirty thousand foes before,
And the broad flood behind.
21
POEMS OLD AND NEW
** Down with him 1 ” cried false Sextus,
With a smile on his pale face.
Now yield thee,’’ cried Lars Porsena,
Now yield thee to our grace.”
Round turned he, as not deigning
Those craven ranks to see ;
Nought spake he to Lars Porsena,
To Sextus nought spake he :
But he saw on Palatinus
The white porch of his home ; lo
And he spake to the noble river
That rolls by the towers of Rome.
“ Oh, Tiber ! father Tiber !
To whom the Romans pray,
A Roman’s life, a Roman’s arms,
Take thou in charge this day ! ”
So he spake, and speaking sheathed
The good sword by his side,
And with his harness on his back
Plunged headlong in the tide. 20
No sound of joy or sorrow
Was heard from either bank ;
But friends and foes in dumb surprise.
With parted lips and straining eyes,
Stood gazing where he sank ;
And when above the surges
They saw his crest appear.
All Rome sent forth a rapturous cry,
And even the ranks of Tuscany
Could scarce forbear to cheer. 30
But fiercely ran the current,
Swollen high by months of rain :
And fast his blood was flowing ;
And he was sore in pain.
22
HORATIUS
And heavy with his armour,
And spent with changing blows :
And oft they thought him sinking.
But still again he rose.
Never, I ween, did swimmer.
In such an evil case,
Struggle through such a raging flood
Safe to the landing-place ;
But his limbs were borne up bravely
By the brave heart within, so
And our good father Tiber
Bare bravely up his chin.
“ Curse on him 1 ’’ quoth false Sextus ;
'' Will not the villain drown ?
But for this stay, ere close of day
We should have sacked the town 1 ”
Heaven help him I ” quoth Lars Porsena,
“ And bring him safe to shore ;
For such a gallant feat of arms
Was never seen before.” 20
And now he feels the bottom ;
Now on dry earth he stands ;
Now round him throng the Fathers
To press his gory hands ;
And now, with shouts and clapping,
And noise of weeping loud,
He enters through the River-Gate,
Borne by the joyous crowd.
And still his name sounds stirring
Unto the men of Rome, 3 °
As the trumpet-blast that cries to them.
To charge the Volscian home ;
23
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And wives still pray to Juno
For boys with hearts as bold
As his who kept the bridge so well
In the brave days of old.
Lord Macaulay
SHAMEFUL DEATH
There were four of us about that bed ;
The mass-priest knelt at the side,
I and his mother stood at the head.
Over his feet lay the bride ;
We were quite sure that he was dead,
Though his eyes were open wide. lo
He did not die in the night.
He did not die in the day,
But in the morning twilight
His spirit pass’d away.
When neither sun nor moon was bright.
And the trees were merely grey.
He was not slain with the sword,
Knight’s axe, or the knightly spear,
Yet spoke he never a word
After he came in here ,* 20
I cut away the cord
From the neck of my brother dear.
He did not strike one blow.
For the recreants came behind,
In a place where the hornbeams grow,
A path right hard to find.
For the hornbeam boughs swing so,
That the twilight makes it blind.
24
THE BALLAD OF SEMMERWATER
They lighted a great torch then.
When his arms were pinion’d fast,
Sir John the knight of the Fen,
Sir Guy of the Dolorous Blast,
With knights threescore and ten,
Hung brave Lord Hugh at last.
I am threescore and ten,
And my hair is all turn’d grey.
But I met Sir John of the Fen
Long ago on a summer day, lo
And am glad to think of the moment when
I took his life away.
I am threescore and ten.
And my strength is mostly pass’d,
But long ago I and my men,
When the sky was overcast,
And the smoke roll’d over the reeds of the fen,
Slew Guy of the Dolorous Blast.
And now, knights all of you,
I pray you pray for Sir Hugh, 20
A good knight and a true,
And for Alice, his wife, pray too.
William Morris
THE BALLAD OF SEMMERWATER
North-Country Legend
Deep asleep, deep asleep,
Deep asleep it lies.
The still lake of Semmerwater
Under the still skies.
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And many a fathom, many a fathom,
Many a fathom below.
In a king’s tower and a queen’s bower
The fishes come and go.
Once there stood by Semmerwater
A mickle town and tall ;
King’s tower and queen’s bower,
And the wakeman on the wall.
Game a beggar halt and sore :
‘‘I faint for lack of bread.” lo
King’s tower and queen’s bower
Cast him forth unfed.
He knocked at the door of the herdman’s cot,
The herdman’s cot in the dale.
They gave him of their oatcake,
They gave him of their ale.
He has cursed aloud that city proud,
He has cursed it in its pride ;
He has cursed it into Semmerwater
Down the brant hillside ; 20
He has cursed it into Semmerwater,
There to bide.
King’s tower and queen’s bower,
And a mickle town and tall ;
By glimmer of scale and gleam of fin,
Folk have seen them all.
King’s tower and queen’s bower.
And weed and reed in the gloom ;
And a lost city in Semmerwater,
Deep asleep till Doom. 30
Sir William Watson
26
NARRATIVE POEMS
HART-LEAP WELL
: Knight had ridden down from Wensley Moor
h the slow motion of a summer’s cloud,
[ now, as he approached a vassal’s door,
ing forth another horse 1 ” he cried aloud.
nother horse ! ”—That shout the vassal heard
L saddled his best steed, a comely grey ;
Walter mounted him ; he was the third
Lch he had mounted on that glorious day.
sparkled in the prancing courser’s eyes ;
: horse and horseman are a happy pair ;
, though Sir Walter like a falcon flies,
:re is a doleful silence in the air.
3ut this morning left Sir Walter’s hall,
It as they galloped made the echoes roar ;
horse and man are vanished, one and ail ;
h race, I think, was never seen before.
Walter, restless as a veering wind.
Is to the few tired dogs that yet remain :
nch. Swift, and Music, noblest of their kind,
low, and up the weary mountain strain.
i Knight hallooed, he cheered and chid them <
h suppliant gestures and upbraidings stern ;
breath and eyesight fail ; and, one by one,
^ dogs are stretched among the mountain fern,
2Q
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Where is the throng, the tumult of the race ?
The bugles that so joyfully were blown ?
—This chase it looks not like an earthly chase ;
Sir Walter and the hart are left alone.
The poor hart toils along the mountain-side ;
I will not stop to tell how far he fled,
Nor will I mention by what death he died ;
but now the Knight beholds him lying dead.
Dismounting, then, he leaned against a thorn ;
He had no follower, dog, nor man, nor boy : n
He neither cracked his whip, nor blew his horn.
But gazed upon the spoil with silent joy.
Close to^ the thorn on which Sir Walter leaned
Stood his dumb partner in this glorious feat;
Weak as a lamb the hour that it is yeaned ; ’
And white with foam as if with cleaving sleet.
Upon his side the hart was lying stretched :
His nostril touched a spring beneath a hill.
And with the last deep groan his breath had fetched
The waters of the spring were trembling still. 2c
And now, too happy for repose or rest,
(Never had living man such joyful lot !)
Sir Walter walked all round, north, south, and west
And gazed and gazed upon that darling spot.
And climbing up the hill—(it was at least
Four roods of sheer ascent) Sir Walter found
Three several hoof-marks which the hunted beast
Had left imprinted on the grassy ground.
Sir Walter wiped his face, and cried, “ Till now
Such sight was never seen by human eyes : 30
Three leaps have borne him from this lofty brow
Down to the very fountain where he lies.
30
HART-LEAP WELL
I’ll build a pleasure-house upon this spot.
And a small arbour, made for rural joy ;
’Twill be the traveller’s shed, the pilgrim’s cot,
A place of love for damsels that are coy.
A cunning artist will I have to frame
A basin for that fountain in the dell 1
And they who do make mention of the same.
From this day forth, shall call it Hart-leap Well.
“ And, gallant stag ! to make thy praises known.
Another monument shall here be raised ; lo
Three several pillars, each a rough-hewn stone.
And planted where thy hoofs the turf have grazed.
‘‘ And in the summer-time, when days are long,
I will come hither with my paramour ;
And with the dancers and the minstrel’s song
We will make merry in that pleasant bower.
Till the foundations of the mountains fail
My mansion with its arbour shall endure ;—
The joy of them who till the fields of Swale,
And them who dwell among the woods of Ure 1 ” 20
Then home he went, and left the hart stone-dead.
With breathless nostrils stretched above the spring.
—Soon did the Knight perform what he had said ;
And far and wide the fame thereof did ring.
Ere thrice the moon into her port had steered,
A cup of stone received the living well ;
Three pillars of rude stone Sir Walter reared.
And built a house of pleasure in the dell.
And, near the fountain, flowers of stature tall
With trailing plants and trees were intertwined,— 30
Which soon composed a little sylvan hall,
A leafy shelter from the sun and wind.
31
POEMS OLD AND NEW
\nd thither, when the summer days were long,
>ir Walter led his wondering paramour ;
\nd with the dancers and the minstrel’s song
Made merriment within that pleasant bower.
The Knight, Sir Walter, died in course of time,
\nd his bones lie in his paternal vale.—
But there is matter for a second rhyme,
\nd I to this would add another tale.
Part Second
The moving accident is not my trade ;
Fo freeze the blood I have no ready arts :
'Tis my delight, along in summer shade,
Fo pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.
As I from Hawes to Richmond did repair,
[t chanced that I saw standing in a dell
Fhree aspens at three corners of a square ;
And one, not four yards distant, near a well.
What this imported I could ill divine :
And, pulling now the rein my horse to stop,
[ saw three pillars standing in a line,—
Fhe last stone-pillar on a dark hill-top.
Fhe trees were grey, with neither arms nor head ;
Half wasted the square mound of tawny green ;
io that you just might say, as then I said,
' Here in old time the hand of man hath been.”
[ looked upon the hill both far and near,
More doleful place did never eye survey ;
[t seemed as if the spring-time came not here.
And Nature here were willing to decay.
32
HART-LEAP WELL
I stood in various thoughts and fancies lost.
When one, who was in shepherd’s garb attired.
Game up the hollow :—him did I accost.
And what this place might be I then inquired.
The Shepherd stopped, and that same story told
Which in my former rhyme I have rehearsed.
A jolly place,” said he, ‘‘ in times of old 1
But something ails it now : the spot is curst.
“ You see these lifeless stumps of aspen wood—
Some say that they are beeches, other elms— lo
These were the bower ; and here a mansion stood,
The finest palace of a hundred realms 1
“ The arbour does its own condition tell ;
You see the stones, the fountain, and the stream ;
But as to the great Lodge I you might as well
Hunt half a day for a forgotten dream.
“ There’s neither dog nor heifer, horse nor sheep.
Will wet his lips within that cup of stone ;
And oftentimes, when all are fast asleep.
This water doth send forth a dolorous groan. 20
Some say that here a murder has been done,
And blood cries out for blood : but, for my part,
I’ve guessed, when I’ve been sitting in the sun,
That it was all for that unhappy hart.
What thoughts must through the creature’s brain
have past I
Even from the topmost stone, upon the steep,
Are but three bounds—and look, Sir, at this last
O Master ! it has been a cruel leap.
33
D
POEMS OLD AND NEW
“ For thirteen hours he ran a desperate race ;
And in my simple mind we cannot tell
What cause the hart might have to love this place,
And come and make his death-bed near the well. ’
“ Here on the grass perhaps asleep he sank,
Lulled by the fountain in the summer-tide ;
This water was perhaps the first he drank
When he had wandered from his mother’s side.
“ In April here, beneath the flowering thorn.
He heard the birds their morning carols sing ; i
And he perhaps, for aught we know, was born
Not half a furlong from that self-same spring.
“ Now, here is neither grass nor pleasant shade;
The sun on drearier hollow never shone ;
So will it be, as I have often said.
Till trees, and stones, and fountain, all are gone.”
Grey-headed shepherd, thou hast spoken well ;
bmall difference lies between thy creed and mine r
This beast not unobserved by Nature fell •
His death was mourned by sympathy divine. ac
‘‘ The Being that is in the clouds and air,
That is in the green leaves among the groves.
Maintains a deep and reverential care
For the unoffending creatures whom he loves.
The pleasure-house is dust :—behind, before.
This is no common waste, no common gloom ;
But Nature, in due course of time, once more "
ihall here put on her beauty and her bloom.
‘ She leaves these objects to a slow decay.
That what we are, and have been, may be known ; 30
iut at the coming of the milder day
These monuments shall all be overgrown.
34
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB
One lesson, shepherd, let us two divide.
Taught both by what she shows, and what conceals ;
Never to blend our pleasure or our pride
With sorrow of the meanest thing that feels.”
William Wordsworth
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green.
That host with their banners at sunset were seen : lo
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath
blown,
That host on the morrow lay wither’d and strown.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast.
And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass’d ; ^
And the eyes of the sleepers wax’d deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew
still 1
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide.
But through it there roll’d not the breath of his
pride ;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. 20
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail :
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail.
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; '
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword
Math melted like snow in the glance of the Lord 1
Lord Byron
THE ARMADA
Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England’s
praise ;
I tell of the thrice-famous deeds she wrought in
ancient days,
When that great fleet invincible against her bore in
vain
The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of
bpain.
D was about the lovely close of a warm summer day,
Ihere came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to
Plymouth Bay ;
Her crew had seen Castile’s black fleet beyond
Aurigny’s Isle,
^a^m^l^ twilight, on the waves lie heaving many
A.t sunrise she escaped their van, by God’s especial
grace ;
^nd the tall Pmta, till the noon, had held her close
in chase.
Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along
the wall ; ^
Edgecumbe’s
36
THE ARMADA
With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old sheriff
comes ;
Behind him march the halberdiers ; before him sound
the drums ;
His yeomen round the market cross make clear an
ample space ;
For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her
Grace.
And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance
the bells, 5
As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon
swells.
Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient
crown.
And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies
down.
So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed
Picard field,
Bohemia’s plume, and Genoa’s bow, and Caesar’s
eagle shield. m
So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned
to bay.
And crushed and torn beneath his claws the princely
hunters lay.
Ho ! strike the flagstaff deep. Sir Knight : ho I
scatter flowers, fair maids :
Ho 1 gunners, fire a loud salute : ho 1 gallants,
draw your blades :
Thou sun, shine on her joyously ; ye breezes, waft
her wide ;
Our glorious semper eadem, the banner of our pride.
The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner’s
massy fold ;
The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty
scroll of gold ;
Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple
sea,
37
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Such night in England ne’er had been, nor e’er again
shall be.
From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to
Milford Bay,
That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day;
For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly war-
flame spread.
High on St. Michael’s Mount it shone : it shone on
Beachy Head. ^
Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each
southern shire.
Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling
points of fire.
The fisher left his skiff to rock on Tamar’s glittering
waves :
The rugged miners poured to war from Mendip’s
sunless caves :
O’er Longleat’s towers, o’er Cranbourne’s oaks, the
fiery herald flew : lo
He roused the shepherds of Stonehenge, the rangers
of Beaulieu.
Right sharp and quick the bells all night rang out
from Bristol town.
And ere the day three hundred horse had met on
Clifton Down ;
The sentinel on Whitehall gate looked forth into
the night.
And saw o’erhanging Richmond Hill the streak of
blood-red light ;
Then bugle’s note and cannon’s roar the death-like
silence broke,
And with one start, and with one cry, the royal city
woke.
At once on all her stately gates arose the answering
fires ;
At once the wild alarum clashed from all her reeling
spires ;
38
THE ARMADA
From all the batteries of the Tower pealed loud
the voice of fear ;
And all the thousand masts of Thames sent back
a louder cheer ;
And from the furthest wards was heard the rush
of hurrying feet,
And the broad streams of pikes and flags rushed
down each roaring street ;
And broader still became the blaze, and louder still
the din, 5
As fast from every village round the horse came
spurring in :
And eastward straight from wild Blackheath the
warlike errand went,
And roused in many an ancient hall the gallant
squires of Kent.
Southward from Surrey’s pleasant hills flew those
bright couriers forth ;
High on bleak Hampstead’s swarthy moor they
started for the north ; lo
And on, and on, without a pause, untired they
bounded still :
All night from tower to tower they sprang ; they
sprang from hill to hill :
Till the proud Peak unfurled the flag o’er Darwin’s
rocky dales.
Till like volcanoes flared to heaven the stormy hills
of Wales,
Till twelve fair counties saw the blaze on Malvern’s
lonely height, 15
Till streamed in crimson on the wind the Wrekin’s
crest of light.
Till broad and fierce the star came forth on Ely’s
stately fane,
And tower and hamlet rose in arms o’er all the
boundless plain ;
Till Belvoir’s lordly terraces the sign to Lincoln sent,
39
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And Lincoln sped the message on o’er the wide vale
of Trent ;
Till Skiddaw saw the fire that burned on Gaunt’s
embattled pile.
And the red glare on Skiddaw roused the burghers
of Carlisle.
, Lord Macaulay
MORTE D’ARTHUR
So all day long the noise of battle roll’d
Among the mountains by the winter sea ;
Until King Arthur’s table, man by man,
Had fall’n in Lyonnesse about their lord,
King Arthur : then, because his wound was deep,
The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him,
Sir Bedivere, the last of all his knights,
And bore him to a chapel nigh the field,
A broken chancel with a broken cross.
That stood on a dark strait of barren land.
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one
Lay a great water, and the moon was full.
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere :
The sequel of to-day unsolders all
The goodliest fellowship of famous knights
Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep
They sleep—the men I loved. I think that we
Shall never more, at any future time,
Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds,
Walking about the gardens and the halls
Of Camelot, as in the days that were.
I perish by this people which I made,—
Tho’ Merlin sware that I should come again
To rule once more—but let what will be, be,
I am so deeply smitten thro’ the helm
That without help I cannot last till morn.
40
MORTE D’ARTHUR
Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur,
Which was my pride : for thou rememberest how
In those old days, one summer noon, an arm
Rose up from out the bosom of the lake,
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
Holding the sword—and how I row’d across
And took it, and have worn it, like a king :
And, wheresoever I am sung or told
In aftertime, this also shall be known :
But now delay not : take Excalibur, lo
And fling him far into the middle mere :
Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me word.”
To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere :
It is not meet. Sir King, to leave thee thus.
Aidless, alone, and smitten thro’ the helm.
A little thing may harm a wounded man.
Yet I thy best will all perform at full.
Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word.”
So saying, from the ruin’d shrine he stept.
And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, 20
Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men.
Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang
Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down
By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock.
Came on the shining levels of the lake.
There drew he forth the brand Excalibur,
And o’er him, drawing it, the winter moon.
Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth
And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt :
For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks, 30
Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work
Of subtlest jewellery. Fie gazed so long
That both his eyes were dazzled, as he stood,
This way and that dividing the swift mind,
In act to throw : but at the last it seem’d
Better to leave Excalibur conceal’d
There in the many-knotted waterflags,
41
POEMS OLD AND NEW
That whistled stiff and dry about the marge.
So strode he back slow to the wounded king.
Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere ;
“ Hast thou perform’d my mission which I gave
What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ? ^
And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere :
“ I heard the ripple washing in the reeds,
And the wild water lapping on the crag.”
,, To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale
Thou hast betray’d thy nature and thy name,
Not rendering true answer, as beseem’d
Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight :
For surer sign had follow’d, either hand,
Or voice, or else a motion of the mere.
This is a shameful thing for men to lie.
Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again
As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing
I bad thee, watch, and lightly bring me word.”
Then went Sir Bedivere the second time
Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere
Counting the dewy pebbles, fix’d in thought;
But when he saw the wonder of the hilt.
How curiously and strangely chased, he’smote
His palms together, and he cried aloud :
And if indeed I cast the brand away.
Surely a precious thing, one worthy note.
Should thus be lost for ever from the earth.
Which might have pleased the eyes of many men.
What good should follow this, if this were done ?
What harm, undone ? deep harm to disobey,
Seeing obedience is the bond of rule
Were it well to obey then, if a king dentand
An act_unprofitable, against himself?
Th^e King is sick, and knows not what he does.
What record, or what relic of my lord
Should be to aftertime, but empty breath
And rumours of a doubt ? but were this kept.
42
MORTE D’ARTHUR
Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings.
Some one might show it at a joust of arms,
Saying, ' King Arthur’s sword, Excalibur,
Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake.
Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps
Upon the hidden bases of the hills.’
So might some old man speak in the aftertime
To all the people, winning reverence.
But now much honour and much fame were lost.”
So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, lo
And hid Excalibur the second time.
And so strode back slow to the wounded King.
Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily :
What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ? ”
And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere :
I heard the water lapping on the crag,
And the long ripple washing in the reeds.”
To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath :
“ Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue,
Unknightly, traitor-hearted I Woe is me 1 20
Authority forgets a dying king.
Laid widow’d of the power in his eye
That bow’d the will. I see thee what thou art.
For thou, the latest-left of all my knights.
In whom should meet the offices of all.
Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt;
Either from lust of gold, or like a girl
Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes.
Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice.
And the third time may prosper, get thee hence : 30
But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur,
I will arise and slay thee with my hands.”
Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran.
And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged
Among the bulrush-beds, and clutch’d the sword,
. And strongly wheel’d and threw it. The great brand
Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon,
43
rUiiMb UJLJJ AND NEW
And flashing round and round, and whirl’d in an arch,
Shot like a streamer of the northern morn,
Seen where the moving isles of winter shock
By night, with noises of the northern sea.
So flash’d and fell the brand Excalibur :
But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
And caught him by the hilt, and brandish’d him
Three times, and drew him under in the mere.
And lightly went the other to the King. lo
Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker breath :
Now see I by thine eyes that this is done.
Speak out : what is it thou hast heard, or seen ? ”
And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere :
“ Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems
Should blind my purpose, for I never saw.
Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die,
Not tho’ I live three lives of mortal men.,
So great a miracle as yonder hilt.
Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him ; 20
But when I look’d again, behold an arm,
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful,
That caught him by the hilt, and brandish’d him
Three times, and drew him under in the mere.”
And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard :
“ My end draws nigh ; ’tis time that I were gone.
Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight.
And bear me to the margin ; yet I fear
My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die.”
So saying, from the pavement he half rose, 30
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm.
And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes
As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere
Remorsefully regarded thro’ his tears.
And would have spoken, but he found not words,
Then took with care, and kneeling on one knee,
O’er both his shoulders drew the languid hands’
44
MORTE D’ARTHUR
And rising bore him thro’ the place of tombs.
But, as he walk’d, King Arthur panted hard.
Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed
When all the house is mute. So sigh’d the King,
Muttering and murmuring at his ear, Quick, quick !
I fear it is too late, and I shall die.”
But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge,
Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk’d.
Larger than human on the frozen hills.
He heard the deep behind him, and a cry lo
Before. His own thought drove him, like a goad.
Dry clash’d his harness in the icy caves
And barren chasms, and all to left and right
The bare black cliff clang’d round him, as he based
His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang
Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels—
And on a sudden, lo 1 the level lake.
And the long glories of the winter moon.
Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, .
Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern, 20
Beneath them ; and descending they were ware
That all the decks were dense with stately forms,
Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream—by these
Three Queens with crowns of gold—and from them
rose
A cry that shiver’d to the tingling stars,
And, as it were one voice, an agony
Of lamentation, like a wind, that shrills
All night in a waste land, where no one comes,
Or hath come, since the making of the world.
Then murmur’d Arthur, Place me in the barge,” 30
And to the barge they came. There those three
Queens
Put forth their hands, and took the King, and wept.
But she, that rose the tallest of them all
And fairest, laid his head upon her lap,
And loosed the shatter’d casque, and chafed his hands,
45
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And caird him by his name, complaining loud,
And dropping bitter tears against his brow
Striped with dark blood : for all his face was white
And colourless, and like the wither’d moon
Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east ;
And all his greaves and cuisses dash’d with drops
Of onset ; and the light and lustrous curls—
That made his forehead like a rising sun
High from the dais-throne—were parch’d with dust;
Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, lo
Mix’d with the knightly growth that fringed his lips.
So like a shatter’d column lay the King ;
Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest,
From spur to plume a star of tournament.
Shot thro’ the lists at Camelot, and charged
Before the eyes of ladies and of kings.
Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere :
Ah ! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go ?
Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes ?
For now I see the true old times are dead, 20
When every morning brought a noble chance,
And every chance brought out a noble knight.
Such times have been not since the light that led
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh.
But now the whole round table is dissolved
Which was an image of the mighty world ;
And I, the last, go forth companionless,
And the days darken round me, and the years.
Among new men, strange faces, other minds.”
And slowly answer’d Arthur from the barge : 30
‘ The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
\nd God fulfils Himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Lomfort thyself: what comfort is in me ?
L have lived my life, and that which I have done
vPay He within Himself make pure ! but thou,
■f thou shouldst never see my face again.
THE LADY OF SHALOTT
Yay for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice
Hse like a fountain for me night and day.
^or what are men better than sheep or goats
That nourish a blind life within the brain,
f, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer
5oth for themselves and those who call them friend ?
!^or so the whole round earth is every way
^ound by gold chains about the feet of God.
3ut now farewell. I am going a long way lo
Yith these thou seest—if indeed I go—
Tor all my mind is clouded with a doubt)
To the island-valley of Avilion ;
Adhere falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
^or ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies
Deep-meadow’d, happy, fair with orchard-lawns
And bowery hollows crown’d with summer sea,
iVhere I will heal me of my grievous wound.”
So said he, and the barge with oar and sail
Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan 20
That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere
Revolving many memories, till the hull
Look’d one black dot against the verge of dawn.
And on the mere the wailing died away.
Lord Tennyson
THE LADY OF SHALOTT
Part I
On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye.
That clothe the wold and meet the sky ;
And thro’ the field the road runs by 30
To many-tower’d Camelot ;
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And up and down the people go.
Gazing where the lilies blow
Round an island there below,
The island of Shalott.
Willows whiten, aspens quiver.
Little breezes dusk and shiver
Thro’ the wave that runs for ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Gamelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers.
Overlook a space of flowers.
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott,
By the margin, willow-veil’d.
Slide the heavy barges trail’d
By slow horses ; and unhail’d
The shallop flitteth silken-sail’d
Skimming down to Gamelot:
But who hath seen her wave her hand ?
Or at the casement seen her stand ?
Or is she known in all the land.
The Lady of Shalott ?
Only reapers, reaping early
In among the bearded barley.
Hear a song that echoes cheerly
From the river winding clearly,
Down to tower’d Gamelot :
And by the moon the reaper weary.
Piling sheaves in uplands airy.
Listening, whispers ’Tis the fairy
Lady of Shalott.”
48
THE LADY OF SHALOTT
Part II
There she weaves by night and day
A magic web with colours gay.
She has heard a whisper say,
A curse is on her if she stay
To look down to Gamelot.
She knows not what the curse may be,
And so she weaveth steadily,
And little other care hath she.
The Lady of Shalott.
And moving thro’ a mirror clear lo
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
Winding down to Gamelot :
There the river eddy whirls.
And there the surly village-churls,
And the red cloaks of market girls.
Pass onward from Shalott.
Sometimes a troop of damsels glad,
An abbot on an ambling pad, 20
Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad.
Or long-hair’d page in crimson clad,
Goes by to tower’d Gamelot ;
And sometimes thro’ the mirror blue
The knights come riding two and two :
She hath no loyal knight and true.
The Lady of Shalott.
But in her web she still delights
To weave the mirror’s magic sights,
For often thro’ the silent nights 30
A funeral, with plumes and lights
And music, went to Gamelot :
4Q E
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Or when the moon was overhead.
Came two young lovers lately wed ;
I am half sick of shadows,” said
The Lady of Shalott.
Part III
A bow-shot from her bower-eaves.
He rode between the barley-sheaves,
The sun came dazzling thro’ the leaves,
And flamed upon the brazen greaves
Of bold Sir Lancelot.
A red-cross knight for ever kneel’d
To a lady in his shield.
That sparkled on the yellow field
Beside remote Shalott.
The gemmy bridle glitter’d free,
Like to some branch of stars we see
Hung in the golden Galaxy.
The bridle bells rang merrily
As he rode down to Gamelot
And from his blazon’d baldric slung
A mighty silver bugle hung,
And as he rode his armour rung.
Beside remote Shalott.
All in the blue unclouded weather
Thick-jewell’d shone the saddle-leather,
The helmet and the helmet-feather
Burn’d like one burning flame together,
As he rode down to Gamelot.
As often thro’ the purple night.
Below the starry clusters bright,
Some bearded meteor, trailing light,
Moves over still Shalott.
THE LADY OF SHALOTT
His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d ;
On burnish’d hooves his war-horse trode
From underneath his helmet flow’d
His coal-black curls as on he rode,
As he rode down to Gamelot.
From the bank and from the river
He flash’d into the crystal mirror,
“ Tirra lirra,” by the river
Sang Sir Lancelot.
She left the web, she left the loom,
She made three paces thro’ the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom.
She saw the helmet and the plume.
She look’d down to Gamelot.
Out flew the web and floated wide ;
The mirror crack’d from side to side ;
The curse is come upon me,” cried
The Lady of Shalott.
Part IV
In the stormy east-wind straining.
The pale yellow woods were waning, ^
The broad stream in his banks complain
Heavily the low sky raining
Over tower’d Gamelot ;
Down she came and found a boat
Beneath a willow left afloat.
And round about the prow she wrote
The Lady of Shalott,
And down the river’s dim expanse—
Like some bold seer in a trance.
Seeing all his own mischance—
rutSMS OLD AND NEW
With a glassy countenance
Did she look to Camelot.
And at the closing of the day
She loosed the chain, and down she lay •
I he broad stream bore her far away,
The Lady of Shalott.
robed in snowy white
That loosely flew to left and right_
The leaves upon her falling light_
Thro’ the noises of the night lo
A j floated down to Camelot :
And as the boat-head wound along
The willowy hills and fields among!
Ihey heard her singing her last song
The Lady of Shalott.
Heard a carol, mournful, holy.
Chanted loudly, chanted lowly.
Till her blood was frozen slowly,
And her eyes were darkened wholly,
_ to tower’d Camelot; 20
Lor ere she reach’d upon the tide
1 he first house by the water-side.
Singing in her song she died,
The Lady of Shalott.
Under tower and balcony.
By garden-wall and gallery,
A gleaming shape she floated by.
Dead-pale between the houses high.
Silent into Camelot.
Out upon the wharfs they came,
night and burgher, lord and dame
And round the prow they read her name,
The Lady of Shalott.
52
30
HERVE RIEL
Who is this ? and what is here ?
And in the lighted palace near
Died the sound of royal cheer ;
And they cross’d themselves for fear,
All the knights at Camelot :
But Lancelot mused a little space ;
He said, ‘‘ She has a lovely face ;
God in his mercy lend her grace,
The Lady of Shalott.”
Lord Tennyson
hervE riel
3n the sea and at the Hogue, sixteen hundred ninety-
two, ^ ^
Did the English fight the French,—woe to France !
knd, the thirty-first of May, helter-skelter thro’ the
blue.
Like a crowd of frightened porpoises a shoal of
sharks pursue.
Came crowding ship on ship to St. Malo on the
Ranee,
With the English fleet in view.
’Twas the squadron that escaped, with the victor
in full chase ;
First and foremost of the drove, in his great ship,
Damfreville ;
Close on him fled, great and small,
Twenty-two good ships in all ;
And they signalled to the place 20
“ Help the winners of a race !
Get us guidance, give us harbour, take us quick—
or, quicker still,
Here’s the English can and will ! ”
53
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Then the pilots of the place put out brisk and leapt
on board ; ^
“ Why, what hope or chance have ships like these
to pass ? laughed they :
“ Rocks to starboard, rocks to port, all the passage
scarred and scored, ^
Shall the Formidable here with her twelve and eio-htv
guns ' ^ ^
Think to make the river-mouth by the sinde
narrow way, ^
Trust where his ticklish for a craft of twenty
And with flow at full beside ?
Now, his slackest ebb of tide.
flooring ? Rather say.
While rock stands or water runs.
Not a ship will leave the bay !
Then was called a council straight.
Brief and bitter the debate :
“ Here’s the English at our-heels ; would you have
them take m tow
together stern and
For a prize to Plymouth Sound ?
Better run the ships aground 1 ”
(Ended Damfreville his speech).
Not a minute more to wait 1
Let the Captains all and each
i'”'” ““ “f- “
France must undergo her fate.
Give the word ! ” But no such word
Was ever spoke or heard ;
aU these ’ for in struck amid
54
HERVE RIEL
—A Captain ? A Lieutenant ? A Mate—first, second,
third ?
No such man of mark, and meet
With his betters to compete 1
But a simple Breton sailor pressed by Tourville for
the fleet,
A poor coasting-pilot he, Herve Riel the Croisick-
ese.
And, What mockery or malice have we here ? ’’
cries Herve Riel :
Are you mad, you Malouins ? Are you cowards,
fools, or rogues ?
Talk to me of rocks and shoals, me who took the
soundings, tell
On my fingers every bank, every shallow, every
swell
'Twixt the offing here and Greve where the river
disembogues ? . ^ °
Are you bought by English gold ? Is it love the
lying’s for ?
Morn and eve, night and day.
Have I piloted your bay,
Entered free and anchored fast at the foot of
Solidor.
Burn the fleet and ruin France ? That were worse
than fifty Hogues !
Sirs, they know I speak the truth I Sirs, believe
me there’s a way !
Only let me lead the line,
Have the biggest ship to steer.
Get this Formidable clear,
Make the others follow mine, 20
And I lead them, most and least, by a passage I
know well,
Right to Solidor past Greve,
55
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And there lay them safe and sound ;
And if one ship misbehave,
.—Keel so much as grate the ground,
Why, I ve nothing but my life,—here’s my head ! ”
cries Herve Riel.
Not a minute more to wait.
Steer us in, then, small and great !
Take the helm, lead the line, save the squadron ! ”
cried its chief.
Captains, give the sailor place !
He is Admiral, in brief”
Still the north-wind, by God’s grace ! lo
See the noble fellow’s face.
As the big ship with a bound,
Clears the entry like a hound.
Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide
seas profound I
See, safe thro’ shoal and rock.
How they follow in a flock,
Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the
ground.
Not a spar that comes to grief 1
The peril, see, is past.
All are harboured to the last, 20
And just as Herve Riel hollas “ Anchor ! ’’—sure as
fate
Up the English come, too late !
So, the storm subsides to calm :
They see the green trees wave
On the o’erlooking Greve.
Hearts that bled are stanched with balm,
‘'Just our rapture to enhance,
Let the English rake the bay,
Gnash their teeth and glare askance,
As they cannonade away 1
56
30
HERVE RIEL
'Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the
Ranee 1 ” ^ ^
How hope succeeds despair on each Captain’s coun^
tenance 1
Out burst all with one accord,
This is Paradise for Hell 1
Let France, let France’s King
Thank the man that did the thing ! ”
What a shout, and all one word,
Herve Riel ! ”
As he stepped in front once more,
Not a symptom of surprise ^eo
In the frank blue Breton eyes,
Just the same man as before.
Then said Damfreville, My friend,
I must speak out at the end.
Though I find the speaking hard.
Praise is deeper than the lips :
You have saved the King his ships.
You must name your own reward.
'Faith our sun was near eclipse 1
Demand whate’er you will, ^ 20
France remains your debtor still.
Ask to heart’s content and have ! or my name’s not
Damfreville.”
Then a beam of fun outbroke
On the bearded mouth that spoke.
As the honest heart laughed through
Those frank eyes of Breton blue :
“ Since I needs must say my say.
Since on board the duty’s done, ^ ^ ^ _
And from IHalo Roads to Groisic Point, what is it
but a run ?—
Since ’tis ask and have, I may— 3°
Since the others go ashore—
57
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Come ! A good whole holiday !
Leaw to go and see my wife, whom I call the
Belle Aurore ! ”
That he asked and that he got,—nothing more.
JMame and deed alike are lost :
Not a pillar nor a post
In his Croisic keeps alive the feat as it befell •
Not a head in white and black
On a single fishing smack.
In memory of the man but for whom had gone to
wrack
All that France saved from the fight whence
England bore the bell.
Go to Paris : rank on rank
Search the heroes flung pell-mell
On the Louvre, face and flank !
You shall look long enough ere you come to
Herve Riel.
So, for better and for worse,
Herve Riel, accept my verse !
In my verse, Herve Riel, do thou once more
Save the squadron, honour France, love thy wife, the
Belle Aurore !
Robert Browning
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN
A Child’s Story ^
Hamelin Town’s in Brunswick,
By famous Hanover city ;
The river Weser, deep and wide.
Washes its wall on the southern side ;
A pleasanter spot you never spied ;
58
THE PIED PIPER OF HA^^iELIN
But, when begins my ditty,
Almost five hundred years ago,
To see the townsfolk suffer so
From vermin, was a pity.
Rats !
They fought the dogs, and killed the cats.
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats.
And licked the soup from the cooks’ own ladles.
Split open the kegs of salted sprats, lo
Made nests inside men’s Sunday hats.
And even spoiled the women’s chats
By drowning their speaking
With shrieking and squeaking
In fifty different sharps and flats.
At last the people in a body
To the Town Hall came flocking :
'' ’Tis clear,” cried they, “ our mayor’s a noddy;
And as for our Corporation—shocking
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine 20
For dolts that can’t or won’t determine
What’s best to rid us of our vermin 1
You hope, because you’re old and obese.
To find in the furry civic robe ease ?
Rouse up. Sirs ! Give your brains a racking
To find the remedy we’re lacking.
Or, sure as fate, we’ll send you packing ! ”
At this the Mayor and Corporation
Quaked with a mighty consternation.
An hour they sate in council ; 30
At length the Mayor broke silence :
For a guilder I’d my ermine gown sell,
I wish I were a mile hence 1
It’s easy to bid one rack one’s brain—
59
X'NJLjVV
TW ! again
I ve scratched zt so, and all in vain
Oyor a trap, a trap, a trap!”
“ Bless "/T*' ^ ?
(Mth the that ? ”
1 with the Corporation as he sat,
No^k"^ ® though wondrous fat •
Than a-
Q an a too-long-opened oyster
rra”pSs srt'ir”" H f'"
“ o^y a scrapiag'a'S
f“ »fTari?dXK
^nd he himself was tall and thil ’
“ftn; bl'-^yes. «c£ lil “ pia
^nd light loose hair, yet swarthy skin
£Sg '^tZ’Trhp
the council-table ;
^ ) Please your honours,” said he “ T= i i
means of a secret charm, to draw ’ ^ ^
That''crl"“
ihat creep or swim or fly or run,
6o
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN
After me so as you never saw !
And I chiefly use my charm
On creatures that do people harm,
The mole and toad and newt and viper ;
And people call me the Pied Piper.”
(And here they noticed round his neck
A scarf of red and yellow stripe,
To match with his coat of the self-same cheque ;
And at the scarf’s end hung a pipe ;
And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying lo
As if impatient to be playing
Upon this pipe as low it dangled
Over his vesture so old-fangled.)
“ Yet,” said he, “ poor piper as I am.
In Tartary I freed the Cham,
Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats :
I eased in Asia the Nizam
Of a monstrous brood of vampyre-bats :
And as for what your brain bewilders.
If I can rid your town of rats 2°
Will you give me a thousand guilders ? ”
“ One ? fifty thousand ! ’’—was the exclama¬
tion
Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.
Into the street the piper stept.
Smiling first a little smile.
As if he knew what magic slept
In his quiet pipe the while ;
Then, like a musical adept.
To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled.
And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled 30
Like a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled ;
And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered.
You heard as if an army muttered ; ^
And the muttering grew to a grumbling ;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling ,
61
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats
Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats,’
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fa&ers, mothers, uncles, cousiiis.
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers.
Families by tens and dozens.
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives—
Followed the Piper for their lives.
From street to street he piped advancing,
And step for step they followed dancing.
Until they came to the river Weser
Wherein all plunged and perished !
—Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar,
Swam across and lived to carry
(As he, the manuscript he cherished)
To Rat-land home his commentary •
Which was, “ At the first shrill notes of the
pipe,
I heard a sound as of scraping tripe.
And putting apples, wondrous ripe,
Into a cider-press’s gripe :
And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards.
And a leaving ajar of conserve-cup-boards.
And a drawing the corks of train-oil flasks,
^d a breaking the hoops of butter-casks :
And It seemed as if a voice
^weeter far than by harp or by psaltery
Is breathed) called out, ‘ Oh rats, rejoice !
Ine world is grown to one vast drysaltery '
bo munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon.
Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon ! ’
And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon.
All ready staved, like a great sun shone
Glorious scarce an inch before me
Just as inethought it said, = Come,’bore me ! ’
■I round the Weser rolling o’er me.”
62
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN
You should have heard the Hamelin people
Ring-the bells till they rocked the steeple.
“ Go,” cried the Mayor, “ and get long poles !
Poke out the nests and block up the holes !
Consult with carpenters and builders,
And leave in our town not even a trace
Of the rats ! ”—when suddenly, up the face
Of the Piper perked in the market-place,
With a, “First, if you please, my thousand guilders! ”
A thousand guilders ! The Mayor looked blue ; lo
So did the Corporation too.
For council dinners made rare havoc
With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Graye, Hock ;
And half the money would replenish ^
Their cellar’s biggest butt with Rhenish.
To pay this sum to a wandering fellow
With a gipsy coat of red and yellow !
“ Besides,” quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink,
“ Our business was done at the river’s brink ;
We saw with our eyes the vermiii sink, _ 20
And what’s dead can’t come to life, I think.
So, friend, we’re not the folks to shrink
From the duty of giving you something for drink.
And a matter of money to put in your poke ;
But as for the guilders, what we spoke
Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.
Besides, our losses have made us thrifty !
A thousand guilders ! Gome, take fifty 1 ”
The piper’s face fell, and he cried,
“No trifling ! I can’t wait, beside ! 3*^
I’ve promised to visit by dinner time
Bagdat, and accept the prime
Of the Head-Cook’s pottage, all he’s rich m.
For having left, in the Caliph s kitchen.
Of a nest of scorpions no survivor ;
63
POEMS OLD AND NEW
With him I proved no bargain-driver.
With yoji, don’t think I’ll bate a stiver !
And folks who put me in a passion
May find me pipe after another fashion.”
“ How ? ” cried the Mayor, “ d’ye think I’ll brook
Being worse treated than a Cook ?
Insulted by a lazy ribald
With idle pipe and vesture piebald ?
You threaten us, fellow ? Do your worst.
Blow your pipe there tiU you burst ! ” ’ lo
Once more he stept into the street;
And to his lips again
Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane ;
And ere he blew three notes (such sweet
Soft notes as yet musician’s cunning
Never gave the enraptured air)
There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling
Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling,
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, 20
And, like fowl in a farm-yard when barley is scattering,
Out came the children running.
All the little boys and girls.
With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
And sparkling eyes and teeth hke pearls.
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood
As if they were changed into blocks of wood.
Unable to move a step, or cry '
To the children merrily skipping by_
And could only follow with the eye
That joyous crowd at the Piper’s back.
But how the Mayor was on the rack,
64
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN
And the wretched Council’s bosoms beat,
As the Piper turned from the High Street
To where the Weser rolled its waters
Right in the way of their sons and daughters .
However he turned from South to West,
And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed,
-And after him the children pressed ;
Great was the joy in every breast.
Pie never can cross that mighty top 1
He’s forced to let the piping drop,
And we shall see our children stop • ^
When, lo, as they reached the mountain’s side,
A wondrous pprtaj. opened wide,
As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed ;
And the Piper advanced and the children followed,
And when all were in to the very last.
The door in the mountain-side shut fast.
Did I say, all ? No 1 One was lame.
And could not dance the whole of the way ;
And in after years, if you would blame 20
His sadness, he was used to say,—
“ It’s dull in our town since my playmates lelt .
I can’t forget that I’m bereft
Of all the pleasant sights they see.
Which the Piper also promised me.
For he led us, he said, to a joyous land.
Joining the town and just at hand,
Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew.
And flowers put forth a fairer hue.
And everything was strange and new ?
The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here,
And their dogs outran our fallow deer,
And honey-bees had lost their stings,^
And horses were born with eagles wings .
And just as I became assured
My lame foot would be speedily cured.
The music stopped and I stood still,
65
F
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And found myself outside the Hill,
Left alone against my will,
To go now limping as before.
And never hear of that country more 1 ’’
Alas, alas for Hamelin !
There came into many a burgher’s pate
A text which says that Heaven’s Gate
Opes to the Rich at as easy rate
As the needle’s eye takes a camel in 1
The Mayor sent East, West, North, and South, lo
To offer the Piper, by word of mouth,
Wherever it was men’s lot to find him.
Silver and gold to his heart’s content,
If he’d only return the way he went,
And bring the children iDehind him.
But when they saw ’twas a lost endeavour.
And Piper and dancers were gone for ever.
They made a decree that lawyers never
Should think their records dated duly
If, after the day of the month and year, 20
These words did' not as well appear.
And so long after what happened here
On the Twenty-second of July,
Thirteen hundred and seventy-six ” :
And the better in memory to fix
The place of the children’s last retreat.
They called it, the Pied Piper’s Street—
Where any one playing on pipe or tabor
Was sure for the future to lose his labour.
Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern 30
To shock with mirth a street so solemn ;
But opposite the place of the cavern
They wrote the story on a column.
And on the great Church-Window painted
The same to make the world acquainted
How their children were stolen away;
GOBLIN MARKET
And there it stands to this very day.
And I must not omit to say
That in Transylvania there’s a tribe
Of alien people that ascribe
The outlandish ways and dress
On which their neighbours lay such stress,
To their fathers and mothers having risen
Out of some subterraneous prison
Into which they were trepanned
Long time ago in a mighty band
Out of Hamelin town m Brunswick land,
But how or why, they don’t understand.
lO
So Willv, let you and me be wipers
Of scores out with all men— especially pipers^:
And whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice
If we’ve promised them aught, let us keep our promise,
itweveproii c Browning
GOBLIN MARKET
Morning and evening
Maids heard the goblins cry
“ Gome buy our orchard fruits,
Come buy, come buy ;
Apples and quinces.
Lemons and oranges.
Plump unpecked cherries.
Melons and raspberries,
Bloom-down-cheeked peaches.
Swart-headed mulberries.
Wild free-born cranberries.
Crab-apples, dewberries.
Pine-apples, blackberries.
Apricots, strawberries ;
67
POEMS OLD AND NEW
All ripe together
In summer weather,—
Morns that pass by,
Fair eves that fly ;
Gome buy, come buy :
Our grapes fresh from the vine.
Pomegranates full and fine.
Dates and sharp bullaces.
Rare pears and greengages.
Damsons and bilberries.
Taste them and try :
Currants and gooseberries,
Bright-fire-like barberries.
Figs to fill your mouth,
Citrons from the South,
Sweet to tongue and sound to eye ;
Come buy, come buy.”
Evening by evening
Among the brookside rushes,
Laura bowed her head to hear,
Lizzie veiled her blushes :
Crouching close together
In the cooling weather.
With clasping arms and cautioning lips,
With tingling cheeks and finger tips.
“ Lie close,” Laura said.
Pricking up her golden head :
“ We must not look at goblin men.
We must not buy their fruits :
Who knows upon what soil they fed
Their hungry thirsty roots ? ”
“ Come buy,” call the goblins
Hobbling down the glen.
“Oh,” cried Lizzie, “Laura, Laura,
You should not peep at goblin men.”
Lizzie covered up her eyes,
68
GOBLIN MARKET
Covered close lest they should look ;
Laura reared her glossy head,
And whispered like the restless brook :
Look, Lizzie, look, Lizzie,
Down the glen tramp little men.
One hauls a basket.
One bears a plate,
One lugs a golden dish
Of many pounds weight.
How fair the vine must grow
Whose grapes are so luscious ;
How warm the wind must blow
Through those fruit bushes.”
No,” said Lizzie : “ No, no, no ;
Their offers should not charm us,
Their evil gifts would harm us.”
She thrust a dimpled finger
In each ear, shut eyes and ran :
Curious Laura chose to linger
Wondering at each merchant man. 20
One had a cat’s face,
One whisked a tail,
One tramped at a rat’s pace,
One crawled like a snail.
One like a wombat prowled obtuse and furry.
One like a ratel tumbled hurry skurry.
She heard a voice like voice of doves
Cooing all together :
They sounded kind and full of loves
In the pleasant weather. 3 ^
Laura stretched her gleaming neck
Like a rush-imbedded swan,
Like a lily from the beck,
Like a moonlit poplar branch,
Like a vessel at the launch
When its last restraint is gone.
bo
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Backwards up the mossy glen
Turned and trooped the goblin men •
With their shrill repeated cry,
“ Gome buy, come buy.”
W^hen they reached where Laura was
They stood stock still upon the moss.
Leering at each other.
Brother with queer brother ;
Signalling each other,
Brother with sly brother. ic
One set his basket down,
One reared his plate ;
One began to weave a crown
Of tendrils, leaves, and rough nuts brown
(Men sell not such in any town) ;
One heaved the golden weight
Of dish and fruit to offer her ;
“ Gome buy, come buy,” was still their cry.
Laura stared but did not stir,
Longed but had no money : 20
The whisk-tailed merchant bade her taste
In tones as smooth as honey.
The cat-faced purr’d.
The rat-paced spoke a word
Of welcome, and the snail-paced even was heard ;
One parrot-voiced and jolly
Cried “ Pretty Goblin ” still for Pretty Polly ” •—
One whistled like a bird.
But sweet-tooth Laura spoke in haste :
Good folk, I have no coin ,*
To take were to purloin :
I have no copper in my purse,
I have no silver either.
And all my gold is on the furze
That shakes in windy weather
Above the rusty heather.”
70
GOBLIN MARKET
“ You have much gold upon your head.”
They answered all together :
“ Buy from us with a golden curl.”
She clipped a precious golden lock,
She dropped a tear more rare than pearl,
Then sucked their fruit globes fair or red :
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine.
Clearer than water flowed that juice ;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use ?
She sucked and sucked and sucked the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore ;
She sucked until her lips were sore ;
Then flung the emptied rinds away
But gathered up one kernel stone.
And knew not was it night or day
As she turned home alone.
Lizzie met her at the gate
Full of wise upbraidings ; ■
“ Dear, you should not stay so late.
Twilight is not good for maidens ;
Should not loiter in the glen
In the haunts of goblin men.
Do you not remember Jeanie,
How she met them in the moonlight.
Took their gifts both choice and many.
Ate their fruits and wore their flowers
Plucked from bowers
Where summer ripens at all hours ?
But ever in the noonlight
She pined and pined away ;
Sought them by night and day,
Found them no more but dwindled and grew giey ;
Then fell with the first snow.
While to this day no grass will grow
71
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Where she lies low :
I planted daisies there a year ago
That never blow.
You should not loiter so.’’
Nay, hush,” said Laura :
Nay, hush, my sister :
I ate and ate my fill,
Yet my mouth waters still;
To-morrow night I will
Buy more ” : and kissed her : m
Have done with sorrow ;
I'll bring you plums to-morrow
Fresh on their mother twigs,
Cherries worth getting ;
You cannot think what figs
My teeth have met in,
What melons icy-cold
Piled on a dish of gold
Too huge for me to hold,
What peaches with a velvet nap, 20
Pellucid grapes without one seed :
Odorous indeed must be the mead
Whereon they grow, and pure the wave they drink
With lilies at the brink.
And sugar-sweet their sap.”
Golden head by golden head.
Like two pigeons in one nest.
Folded in each other’s wings,
They lay down in their curtained bed :
Like two blossoms on one stem, 30
Like two flakes of new-fall’n snow,
like two wands of ivory
Tipped with gold for awful kings.
Moon and stars gazed in at them,
Wind sang to them lullaby,
Lumbering owls forbore to fly.
'70
GOBLIN MARKET
Not a bat flapped to and fro
Round their nest :
Cheek to cheek and breast to breast
Locked together in one nest.
Early in the morning
When the first cock crowed his warning,
Neat like bees, as sweet and busy,
Laura rose with Lizzie
Fetched in honey, milked the cows,
Aired and set to rights the house,
Kneaded cakes of whitest wheat.
Cakes for dainty mouths to eat,
Next churned butter, w'hipped up cream.
Fed their poultry, sat and sewed ;
Talked as modest maidens should ;
Lizzie with an open heart,
Laura in an absent dream.
One content, one sick in part -u*
One warbling for the mere bright day s delight.
One longing for the night.
At length slow evening came;
They went with pitchers to the reedy brook ;
Lizzie most placid in her look,
Laura most like a leaping flame. _
They drew the gurgling water from its deep ;
Lizzie plucked purple and rich gol^n flags
Then turning homewards said ; The sunset flushe
Those furthest loftiest crags ;
Come, Laura, not another maiden lags, ^
No wilful squirrel wags, 3 °
The beasts and birds are fast asleep.
But Laura loitered still among the rushes
And said the bank was steep.
And said the hour was early still.
The dew not fall’n, the wind not chill :
73
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Listening ever, but not catching
The customary cry,
Gome buy, come buy,’’
With its iterated jingle
Of sugar-baited words :
Not for all her watchinar
O
Once discerning even one goblin
Racing,''vyhisking, tumbling, hobbling ;
Let alone the herds
That used to tramp along the glen.
In groups or single.
Of brisk fruit-merchant men.
Till Lizzie urged, '' O Laura, come ;
I hear the fruit-call, but I dare not look :
You should not loiter longer at this brook :
Come with me home.
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc.
Each glowworm winks her spark.
Let us get home before the night grows dark :
For clouds may gather
Though this is summer weather,
Put out the lights and drench us through ;
Then if we lost our way what should we do ? ”
Laura turned cold as stone
To find her sister heard that cry alone,
That goblin cry,
Gome buy our fruits, come buy.”
Must she then buy no more such dainty fruit ?
Must she no more such succous pasture find,
Gone deaf and blind ?
Her tree of life drooped from the root :
She said not one word in her heart’s sore ache ;
But peering thro’ the dimness, nought discerning
Trudged home, her pitcher dripping all the way
So crept to bed, and lay
74
GOBLIN MARKET
Silent till Lizzie slept;
Then sat up in a passionate yearning,
And gnashed her teeth for baulked desire, and wept
As if her heart would break.
Day after day, night after night,
Laura kept watch in vain
In sullen silence of exceeding pain.
She never caught again the goblin cry :
“ Come buy, come buy ”
She never spied the goblin men
Hawking their fruits along the glen ;
But when the noon waxed bright
Her hair grew thin and grey ;
She dwindled, as the fair full moon doth t1!^rn
To swift decay and burn
Her fire away.
One day remembering her kernel-stone
She set it by a wall that faced the south ;
Dewed it with tears, hoped for a root,
Watched for a waxing shoot, ‘
But there came none ;
It never saw the sun,
It never felt the trickling moisture run :
While with sunk eyes and faded mouth
She dreamed of melons, as a traveller sees
False waves in desert drouth
With shade of leaf-crowned trees.
And burns the thirstier in the sandful breeze.
She no more swept the house,
Tended the fowls or cows.
Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
Brought water from the brook .
But sat down listless in the chimney-nool<
And would not eat.
7.S
OLD AND NEW
Tender Lizzie could not bear
To watch her sister’s cankerous care
i et not to share.
She night and morning
Caught the goblins’ cry :
“Come buy our orchard fruits,
(--ome buy, come buy ” ;_
Beside the brook, along'the glen.
She heard the tramp of goblin mL,
Ihe voice and stir
Poor Laura could not hear •
Longed to buy fruit to comfort her.
But feared to pay too dear.
Wif ^ of Jeanie in her grave
Who should have been a bride ; ’
Bu who for joys brides hope to have
hell sick and died
y her gay prime,
In earliest Winter time.
With glazing rime.
With the first snow-fall of crisp Winter tim,
Till Laura dwindling
door :
no more
Eetter and worse *
Kis^S T a purse,
Sfoir clump
At twiligh^t, halted by the brook •
And for the first time in her life
Began to listen and look.
Laughed every goblin
When they spied her peeping •
Came towards her hobbling,^ '
%ing, running, leaping, ^
76
GOBLIN MARKET
Puffing and blowing.
Chuckling, clapping, crowing,
Clucking and gobbling.
Mopping and mowing,
Full of airs and graces,
Pulling wry faces,
Demure grimaces,
Cat-like and rat-like,
Ratel- and wombat-like.
Snail-paced in a hurry.
Parrot-voiced and whistler,
Helter skelter, hurry skurry.
Chattering like magpies.
Fluttering like pigeons,
Gliding like fishes,—
Hugged her and kissed her :
Squeezed and caressed her :
Stretched up their dishes,
Panniers, and plates :
Look at our apples
Russet and dun.
Bob at our cherries,
Bite at our peaches.
Citrons and dates.
Grapes for the asking.
Pears red with basking
Out in the sun.
Plums on their twigs ;
Pluck them and suck them,
Pomegranates, figs.”—
Good folk,” said Lizzie,
Mindful of Jeanie :
“ Give me much and many ’
Held out her apron.
Tossed them her penny.
“ Nay, take a seat with us.
Honour and eat with us,”
They answered grinning :
beginning.
Night yet is early,
Warm and dew-pearly,
Wakeful and starry :
Such fruits as these
No man can carry j
Half their bloom would fly
Half their dew would dry, ’
Half their flavour would pass by
Sit down and feast with us
Be welcome guest with us, ’
you and rest with us.”_
Thank you,” said Lizzie •
At home alone for me •
So without further parleying
^you will not sell me any
f your fruits though much and many
G verne back my silver penny „
I tossed you for a fee.”_
They began to scratch their pates,
IT T^Sing, purring.
But visibly demurring,
Grunting and snarling.
One called her proud.
Gross-grained, uncivil ,•
Their tones waxed loud,
•Iheir looks were evil.
Bashing their tails
They trod and hustled her,
£ bowed and jostled her.
Clawed with their nails,
parking, mewing, hissing, mockinv
Stamped upon her tender feet, ’
78
10
30
GOBLIN MARKET
Held her hands and squeezed their fruits
Against her mouth to make her eat.
White and golden Lizzie stood,
Like a lily in a flood,—
Like a rock of blue-veined stone
Lashed by tides obstreperously,—
Like a beacon left alone
In a hoary roaring sea.
Sending up a golden fire,—
Like a fruit-crowned orange-tree lo
White with blossoms honey-sweet
Sore beset by wasp and bee,—
Like a royal virgin town
Topped with gilded dome and spire
Close beleaguered by a fleet
Mad to tug her standard down.
One may lead a horse to water.
Twenty cannot make him drink.
Though the goblins cuffed and caught her,
Coaxed and fought her, 20
Bullied and besought her.
Scratched her, pinched her black as ink,
Kicked and knocked her.
Mauled and mocked her,
Lizzie uttered not a word ;
Would not open lip from lip
Lest they should cram a mouthful in :
But laughed in heart to feel the drip
Of juice that syrupped all her face,
And lodged in dimples of her chin, 30
And streaked her neck which quaked like curd.
At last the evil people
Worn out by her resistance
Flung back her penny, kicked their fruit
Along whichever road they took,
79
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Not leaving root or stone or shoot ;
Some writhed into the ground,
Some dived into the brook
With ring and ripple,
Some scudded on the gale without a sound,
Some vanished in the distance.
In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie went her way ;
Knew not was it night or day ;
Sprang up the bank, tore thro’ the furze,
Threaded copse and dingle.
And heard her penny jingle
Bouncing in her purse,—
Its bounce was music to her ear.
She ran and ran
As if she feared some goblin man
Dogged her with gibe or curse
Or something worse :
But not one goblin skurried after.
Nor was she pricked by fear ;
The kind heart made her windy-paced
That urged her home quite out of breath with
haste
And inward laughter.
u . Laura,” up the garden,
Did you miss me ?
Gome and kiss me.
Never mind my bruises.
Hug me, kiss me, suck my juices
Squeezed from goblin fruits for you,
Croblin pulp and goblin dew.
Eat me, drink me, love me ;
Laura, make much of me : ’
For your sake I have braved the glen
And had to do with goblin merchant men.”
8 o
GOBLIN MARKET
Laura started from her chair,
Flung her arms up in the air,
Clutched her hair :
Lizzie, Lizzie, have you tasted
For my sake the fruit forbidden ?
Must your light like mine be hidden,
Your young life like mine be wasted.
Undone in mine undoing
And ruined in my ruin.
Thirsty, cankered, goblin-ridden ? ”— lo
She clung about her sister.
Kissed and kissed and kissed her :
Tears once again
Refreshed her shrunken eyes,
Dropping like rain
After long sultry drouth ;
Shaking with aguish fear, and pain.
She kissed and kissed her with a hungry mouth.
Her lips began to scorch.
That juice was wormwood to her tongue, 20
She loathed the feast :
Writhing as one possessed she leaped and sung,
Rent all her robe, and wrung
Her hands in lamentable haste,
And beat her breast.
Her locks streamed like the torch
Borne by a racer at full speed.
Or like the mane of horses in their flight.
Or like an eagle when she stems the light
Straight toward the sun, 30
Or like a caged thing freed.
Or like a flying flag when armies run.
Swift fire spread through her veins, knocked
at her heart,
Met the fire smouldering there
81 G
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And overbore its lesser flame ;
She gorged on bitterness without a name :
Ah ! fooij to choose such part
Of soul-consuming care !
Sense failed in the mortal strife :
Like the watch-tower of a town
Which an earthquake shatters down.
Like a lightning-stricken mast,
Like a wind-uprooted tree
Spun about, lo
Like a foam-topped waterspout
Cast down headlong in the sea.
She fell at last ;
Pleasure past and anguish past.
Is it death or is it life ?
Life out of death.
That night long Lizzie watched by her.
Counted her pulse’s flagging stir.
Felt for her breath.
Held water to her lips, and cooled her face 20
With tears and fanning leaves :
But when the first birds chirped about their
eaves,
And early reapers plodded to the place
Of golden sheaves.
And dew-wet grass
Bowed in the morning winds so brisk to pass,
And new buds with new day
Opened of cup-like lilies on the stream,
Laura awoke as from a dream.
Laughed in the innocent old way, 30
Hugged Lizzie but not twice or thrice ;
Her gleaming locks showed not one thread of
gJ^ey,
Her breath was sweet as May
And light danced in her eyes.
82
A RUNNABLE STAG
Days, weeks, months, years
Afterwards, when both were wives
With children of their own ;
Their mother-hearts beset with fears,
Their lives bound up in tender lives ;
Laura would call the little ones
And tell them of her early prime,
Those pleasant days long gone
Of not-returning time :
Would talk about the haunted glen,
The wicked, quaint fruit-merchant men,
Their fruits like honey to the throat
But poison in the blood ;
(Men sell not such in any town ;)
Would tell them how her sister stood
In deadly peril to do her good,
And win the fiery antidote :
Then joining hands to little hands
Would bid them cling together,
“ For there is no friend like a sister
In calm or stormy weather ;
To cheer one on the tedious way,
To fetch one if one goes astray,
To lift one if one totters down.
To strengthen whilst one stands.”
Christina Rossetti
A RUNNABI.E STAG
When the pods went pop on the broom, green
broom.
And apples began to be golden-skinned.
We harboured a stag in the Priory coomb.
And we feathered his trail up-wind, up-wind.
We feathered his trail up-wind—
83
POEMS OLD AND NEW
A stag of warrant, a stag, a stag,
A runnable stag, a kingly crop.
Brow, bay and tray and three on top,
A stag, a runnable stag.
Then the huntsman’s horn rang yap, yap, yap.
And “ Forwards ” we heard the harbourer shout;
But ’twas only a brocket that broke a gap
In the beechen underwood, driven out.
From the underwood antlered out
By warrant and might of the stag, the stag, lo
The runnable stag, whose lordly mind
Was bent on sleep, though beamed and tined
He stood, a runnable stag.
So we tufted the covert till afternoon
With Tinkerman’s Pup and Bell-of-the-North ;
And hunters were sulky and hounds out of tune
Before we tufted the right stag forth.
Before we tufted him forth.
The stag of warrant, the wily stag.
The runnable stag with his kingly crop, 20
Brow, bay and tray and three on top.
The royal and runnable stag.
It was Bell-of-the-North and Tinkerman’s Pup
That stuck to the scent till the copse was drawn.
Tally ho 1 tally ho ! ” and the hunt was up.
The tufters whipped and the pack laid on.
The resolute pack laid on.
And the stag of warrant away at last.
The runnable stag, the same, the same.
His hoofs on fire, his horns like flame, 30
A stag, a runnable stag.
‘‘ Let your gelding be : if you check or chide
He stumbles at once and you’re out of the hunt ;
84
A RUNNABLE STAG
For three hundred gentlemen, able to ride,
On hunters accustomed to bear the brunt,
Accustomed to bear the brunt.
Are after the runnable stag, the stag,
The runnable stag with his kingly crop.
Brow, bay and tray and three on top,
The right, the runnable stag.’’
By perilous paths in coomb and dell,
The heather, the rocks, and the river-bed,
The pace grew hot, for the scent lay well, lo
And a runnable stag goes right ahead.
The quarry went right ahead—
Ahead, ahead, and fast and far ;
His antlered crest, his cloven hoof.
Brow, bay and tray and three aloof.
The stag, the runnable stag.
For a matter of twenty miles and more,
By the densest hedge and the highest wall.
Through herds of bullocks he baffled the lore
Of harbourer, huntsman, hounds and all, 20
Of harbourer, hounds and all—
The stag of warrant, the wily stag.
For twenty miles, and five and five.
He ran, and he never was caught alive.
This stag, this runnable stag.
When he turned at bay in the leafy gloom.
In the emerald gloom where the brook ran deep.
He heard in the distance the rollers boom,
And he saw in a vision of peaceful sleep,
In a wonderful vision of sleep, 3 ^
A stag of warrant, a stag, a stag,
A runnable stag in a jewelled bed,
Under the sheltering ocean dead,
A stag, a runnable stag.
85
POEMS OLD AND NEW
So a fateful hope lit up his eye,
And he opened his nostrils wide again,
And he tossed his branching antlers high
As he headed the hunt down the Charlock glen
As he raced down the echoing glen ^
For five miles more, the stag, the stag,
For twenty miles, and five and five.
Not to be caught now, dead or alive,
The stag, the runnable stag.
Three hundred gentlemen, able to ride, ic
Three hundred horses as gallant and free,
Beheld him escape on the evening tide.
Far out till he sank in the Severn Sea,
Till he sank in the depths of the sea—
The stag, the buoyant stag, the stag
That slept at last in a jewelled bed
Under the sheltering ocean spread.
The stag, the runnable stag.
John Davidson
HAWKE
In seventeen hundred and fifty-nine.
When Hawke came swooping from the West, 20
The French King’s Admiral with twenty of the line^
Was sailing forth, to sack us, out of Brest.
The ports of France were crowded, the quays of
France a-hum
With thirty thousand soldiers marching to the drum
For bragging time was over and fighting time was
come
When Hawke came swooping from the West.
Twas long past noon of a wild November Day
When Hawke came swooping from the West ;
86
HE FELL AMONG THIEVES
[e heard the breakers thundering in Quiberon Bay
But he flew the flag for battle, line abreast,
lown upon the quicksands roaring out of sight
iercely beat the storm-wind, darkly fell the night,
,ut they took the foe for pilot and the cannon’s glare
for light
When Hawke came swooping from the West.
:he Frenchmen turned like a covey down the wind
When Hawke came swooping from the West ;
Dne he sank with ail hands, one he caught and
pinned,
And the shallows and the storm took the rest. lo
The guns that should have conquered us they rusted
on the shore,
rhe men that would have mastered us they drummed
and marched no more.
For England was England, and a mighty brood she
bore
When Hawke came swooping from the West.
Sir Henry Newbolt
HE FELL AMONG THIEVES
‘‘ Ye have robbed,” said he, “ ye have slaughtered
and made an end,
Take your ill-got plunder, and bury the dead : ^
What will ye more of your guest and sometime
friend ? ’’
Blood for our blood,” they said.
He laushed : If one may settle the score for five, ^
I am ready ; but let the reckoning stand till
j 20
day : r »
I have loved the sunlight as dearly as any alive.
“ You shall die at dawn,” said they.
87
POEMS OLD AND NEW
He flung his empty revolver down the slope,
He climbed alone to the Eastward edge of the trees •
All night long in a dream untroubled of hope ^
He brooded, clasping his knees.
He did not hear the monotonous roar that fills
The ravine where the Yassin river sullenly flows ;
He did not see the starlight on the Laspur hills,
Or the far Afghan snows.
He saw the April noon on his books aglow',
The wistaria trailing in at the window wide ; lo
He heard his father s voice from the terrace below
Galling him down to ride.
He saw the gray little church across the park.
The mounds that hide the loved and honoured
dead ;
The Norman arch, the chancel softly dark,
The brasses black and red.
He saw the School Close, sunny and green,
The runner beside him, the stand by the parapet
wall, ^
The distant tape, and the crowd roaring between
His own name over all, o©
He saw the dark wainscot and timbered roof,
The long tables, and the faces merry and keen ;
trainer dining aloof.
The Dons on the dais serene.
He watched the liner’s stem ploughing the foam,
He felt her trembling speed and the thrash of her
screw ;
He heard her passengers’ voices talking of home
He saw the flag she flew.
88
THE HIGHWAYMAN
And now it was dawn. He rose strong on his feet.
And strode to his ruined camp below the wood ;
He drank the breath of the morning cool and sweet ;
His murderers round him stood.
Light on the Laspur hills was broadening fast,
The blood-red snow-peaks chilled to a dazzling
white ;
He turned, and saw the golden circle at last.
Gut by the Eastern height.
“ O glorious Life, who dwellest in earth and sun,
I have lived, I praise and adore Thee.” lo
A sword swept.
Over the pass the voices one by one
Faded, and the hill slept.
Sir Henry Newbolt
THE HIGHWAYMAN
Part I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty
trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy
seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple
moor,
And the highwayman came riding—
Riding—riding,
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
He’d a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of
lace at his chin,
A coat of claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe¬
skin.
89
POEMS OLD AND NEW
They fitted with never a wrinkle ; his boots were up
to the thigh ;
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark
inn-yard ;
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all
was locked and barred ;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be
waiting there
But the landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Bess, the landlord’s daughter.
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair, i o
And dark in the dark old inn-yard a stable wicket
creaked,
Where Tim the ostler listened ; his face was white
and peaked ;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy
hay,
But he loved the landlord’s daughter.
The landlord’s red-lipped daughter—
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber
say—
One kiss, my bonnie sweetheart. I’m after a prize
to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the
morning light ;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through
the day,
Then look for me by moonlight, 20
Watch for me by moonlight,
I 11 come to thee by moonlight, though hell should
bar the way.”
90
THE HIGHWAYMAN
He rose upright in the stirrups ; he scarce could reach
her hand.
But she loosened her hair i’ the casement 1 His face
burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over
his breast ;
And he kissed the waves in the moonlight
(Oh, sweet black waves in the moon¬
light) ;
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and
galloped away to the west.
Part II
He did not come in the dawning ; he did not come at
noon ; . 5
And out o’ the tawny sunset, before the rise o the
moon.
When the road was a gipsy’s ribbon, looping the
purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching— 10
Marching—marching.
King George’s men came marching, up to the old
inn-door.
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale
instead.
But they g^gg^d his daughter and bound her to the
foot of her narrow bed ;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at
their side !
There was death at every window ;
And hell at one dark window ;
For Bess could see, through her casement, the road
that he would ride.
91
POEMS OLD AND NEW
They had tied her up to attention, with many a
sniggering jest ;
They had bound a musket beside her, with the barrel
beneath her breast !
Now keep good watch ! ” and they kissed her. She
heard the dead man say—
Look for me by moonlight;
Watch for me by moonlight ;
ril come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the
way !
She twisted her hands behind her ; but all the knots
held good !
She writhed her hands till her fingers were wet with
sweat, or blood,
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the
hours crawled by like years.
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight, lo
Gold, on the stroke of midnight.
The tip of one finger touched it ! The trigger at least
was hers !
The tip of one finger touched it ; she strove no more
for the rest !
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath
her breast.
She would not risk their hearing ; she would not strive
again ;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight ;
Blank and bare in the moonlight ;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed
to her love’s refrain.
Tlot-Uot; tlot-tlot ! Had they heard it ? The horse-
hoofs ringing clear ;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance ! Were they deaf that
they did not hear ?
92
THE HIGHWAYMAN
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding.
Riding, riding !
The red-coats looked to their priming ! she stood up,
straight and still 1
Tlot-tlot^ in the frosty silence ! Tlot-tlot^ in the echoing
night 1
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment ; she drew one last
deep breath.
Then her finger moved in the moonlight.
Her musket shattered the moonlight.
Shattered her breast in the moonlight, and warned
him—with her death. lo
He turned ; he spurred to the Westward ; he did not
know who stood
Bowed, with her head o’er the musket, drenched with
her own red blood !
Not till the dawn he heard it, and slowly blanched to
hear
How Bess, the landlord’s daughter.
The landlord’s black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died
in the darkness there.
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to
the sky.
With the white road smoking behind him and his
rapier brandished high 1
Blood-red were his spurs i’ the golden noon ; wine-
red was his velvet coat ;
When they shot him down on the highway, so
Down like a dog on the highway :
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with the bunch
of lace at his throat.
93
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in
the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor
A highwayman comes riding —
Riding — riding,
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard *
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked
and barred ;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be
waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter, lo
Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.
Alfred Noyes
LYRICAL AND DESCRIPTIVE
POEMS
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO
HIS LOVE
Gome live with me and be my Love,
And we v/ill all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field.
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies, lo
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider’d all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull.
Fair lined slippers for the cold.
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs :
And if these pleasures may thee move.
Come live with me and be my Love.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
97
H
X and new
Fnr^tf and sin?
ff fj ^ fMay-morning : ®
If these delights thy mind may move,
Ihen live with me and be my Love.
Christopher Marlowe
WINTER
icicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail.
And Torn bears logs into the hall
j ^°nie in pail.
When blood IS nipp’d and ways be foul
Then mghtly sings the staring owl
To-whit ! ’
To-who I—a merry note
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow
An^tirdTst ®aw,
Ar,S S brooding in the snow.
And Marian s nose looks red and raw
^en roasted crabs hiss in the bowl ’
Then mghtly sings the staring oM ’
To-whit !
To-who !—a merry note
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
William Shakespeare
^ NorThT^ ‘be sun,
Nor the furious winter’s rages •
Tlmu thy worldly task hast done
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages
98
CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE
Golden lads and girls all must.
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o’ the great.
Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke ;
Care no more to clothe and eat ;
To thee the reed is as the oak :
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning-flash.
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ;
Fear not slander, censure rash ;
Thou hast finish’d joy and moan :
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
William Shakespeare
CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE
How happy is he born or taught
That serveth not another’s will ;
Whose armour is his honest thought,
And silly truth his highest skill 1
Whose passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepared for death;
Untied unto the world with care
Of princely love or vulgar breath ;
Who hath his life from rumours freed.
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make accusers great;
99
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Who envieth none whom chance doth raise
Or vice ; who never understood
How deepest wounds are given with praise
Nor rules of state, but rules of good ;
Who God doth late and early pray
More of his grace than gifts to lend :
Who entert3,ins the h3,rniless day
With a well-chosen book or friend ;
—This man is free from servile bands
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands ;
And having nothing, he hath all.
Sir Henry Wotton
TO CELIA
Drink to me only with thine eyes.
And I will pledge with mine ;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup,
And ni not look for wine.
Tl^ thirst that from the souk doth rise.
iJoth ask a drink divine !
But might I of Jove’s nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath
Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope that there '
It could not withered be.
But thou thereon didst only breathe
And sent’st it back to me :
Since when it grows, and smells, I sw
Not of Itself, but thee.
20
100
Ben Jonson
THE VILLAGE PREACHER
HYMN TO DIANA
Queen and huntress, chaste and fair.
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep :
Hesperus entreats thy light.
Goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose ;
Cynthia’s shining orb was made
Heaven to clear when day did close : lo
Bless us then with wished sight.
Goddess excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart.
And thy crystal-shining quiver ;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever :
Thou that mak’st a day of night—
Goddess excellently bright.
Ben Jonson
THE VILLAGE PREACHER
Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,
And still where many a garden flower grows wild; 20
There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,
The village preacher’s modest mansion rose.
A man he was to all the country dear,
And passing rich with forty pounds a year ;
Remote from towns he ran his godly race.
Nor e’er had changed, nor wished to change, his place ;
lOI
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Unpractised he to fawn, or seek for power,
By doctrines fashioned to the varying hour ;
Far other aims his heart had learned to prize.
More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise.
His house was known to ail the vagrant train.
He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain •
The long-remembered beggar was his guest.
Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ;
The ruined spendthrift, now no longer proud.
Claimed kindred there, and had his claims allowed •
The broken soldier, kindly bade ,to stay, ii
Sat by his fire, and talked the night away.
Wept o’er his wounds, or, tales of sorrow done.
Shouldered his crutch and showed how fields were
won.
Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to
glow.
And quite forgot their vices in their woe ;
Garelps their merits or their faults to scan.
His pity gave ere charity began.
. Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride,
And e’en his failings leaned to Virtue’s side ; 20
But in his duty, prompt at every call.
He watched and wept, he prayed and felt, for
all ;
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies,
He tried each art, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
Beside the bed where parting life was laid.
And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismayed,
The reverend champion stood. At his control
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; 30
Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorned the venerable place ;
102
THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER
ruth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
nd fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray,
he service past, around the pious man,
/ith steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ;
ven children followed, with endearing wile,
,nd plucked his gown, to share the good man’s smile ;
[is ready smile a parent’s warmth expressed,
heir welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed ;
0 them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,
,ut all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven. lo
,s some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,
wells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,
‘’hough round its breast the rolling clouds are spread
hernal sunshine settles on its head.
Oliver Goldsmith
THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER
Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
Vith blossomed furze unprofitably gay,
There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule.
The village master taught his little school ;
^ man severe he was, and stern to view ;
; knew him well, and every truant knew ; 20
Yell had the boding tremblers learned to trace
fhe day’s disasters in his morning face ;
Tull well they laughed with counterfeited glee
Vt all his jokes, for many a joke had he ;
Tull well the busy whisper, circling round,
Honveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned :
f et he was kind ; or if severe in aught,
fhe love he bore to learning was in fault,
fhe village all declared how much he knew ;
Twas certain he could write and cypher too ; 30
Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
A.nd e’en the stoiy ran that he could gauge.
lOg
POEMS OLD AND NEW
In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill,
For e’en though vanquished, he could argue still ;
While words of learned length and thund’ring sound
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around.
And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew
That one small head could carry all he knew.
But past is all his fame. The very spot,
Where many a time he triumphed, is forgot.
Oliver Goldsmith
THE TIGER
Tiger ! Tiger ! burning bright
In the forests of the night, lo
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry ?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes ?
On what wings dare he aspire ?
What the hand dare seize the fire ?
And what shoulder, and what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart ?
And, when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand forgM thy dread feet ? 20
What the hammer ? what the chain ?
In what furnace was thy brain ?
What the anvil ? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp ?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And water’d heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see ?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee ?
104
THE SOLITARY REAPER
Tiger 1 Tiger 1 burning bright
In the forests of the night.
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry ?
William Blake
THE SOLITARY REAPER
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass !
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass !
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain ; lo
O listen 1 for the Vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No Nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt.
Among Arabian sands :
A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard
In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides. 20
Will no one tell me what she sings ?—
Perhaps the plaintive numbers -Row
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago :
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day ?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again ?
lOR
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Whatever the theme, the Maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending ;
I saw her, singing at her work.
And o’er the sickle bending ;—
I listen’d, motionless and still ;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in nay heart I bore.
Long after it was heard no more.
William Wordsworth
UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE
Earth has not anything to show more fair ;
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by lo
A sight so touching in its majesty ;
The City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning ; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields and to the sky ;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill ;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep !
The river glideth at his own sweet will ; 20
Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep ;
And all that mighty heart is lying still !
William Wordsworth
SHE DWELT AMONG THE UNTRODDEN
WAYS
She d\Yelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love :
106
SOLDIER, REST I
A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye !
—Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be ;
But she is in her grave, and oh.
The difference to me !
William Wordsworth
LULLABY OF AN INFANT CHIEF
O, HUSH thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight,
Thy mother a lady both lovely and bright ; lo
The woods and the glens, from the tower which we see,
They all are belonging, dear baby, to thee.
O, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows.
It calls but the warders that guard thy repose ;
Their bows would be bended, their blades would be
red,
Ere the step of a foeman drew near to thy bed.
O, hush thee, my baby, the time will soon come
When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum ;
Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may,
For strife comes with manhood, and waking with
day. 20
Sir Walter Scott
SOLDIER, REST !
Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o’er.
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking ;
Dream of battled fields no more,
Days of danger, nights of waking.
107
POEMS OLD AND NEW
In our isle’s enchanted hall
Hands unseen thy couch are strewing,
Fairy strains of music fall,
Every sense in slumber dewing.
Soldier, rest ! thy warfare o’er.
Dream of fighting fields no more :
Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
Morn of toil, nor night of waking.
No rude sound shall reach thine ear.
Armour’s clang, or war-steed champing, lo
Trump nor pibroch summon here
Mustering clan, or squadron tramping.
Yet the lark’s shrill fife may come
At the daybreak from the fallow,
And the bittern sound his drum.
Booming from the sedgy shallow.
Ruder sounds shall none be near.
Guards nor warders challenge here,
Here’s no war-steed’s neigh and champing.
Shouting clans or squadrons stamping. 20
Huntsman, rest 1 thy chase is done ;
While our slumbrous spells assail ye,
Dream not, with the rising sun.
Bugles here shall sound reveille.
Sleep ! the deer is in his den ;
Sleep ! thy hounds are by thee lying ;
Sleep ! nor dream in yonder glen.
How thy gallant steed lay dying.
Huntsman, rest I thy chase is done.
Think not of the rising sun, 30
For at dawning to assail ye.
Here no bugles sound reveille.
Sir Walter Scott
PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU
CORONACH
He is gone on the mountain,
He is lost to the forest,
Like a summer-dried fountain,
When our need was the sorest.
The font, reappearing,
From the raindrops shall borrow,
But to us comes no cheering,
To Duncan no morrow !
The hand of the reaper
Takes the ears that are hoary, lo
But the voice of the weeper
Wails manhood in glory.
The autumn winds rushing
Waft the leaves that are searest.
But our flower was in flushing,
When blighting was nearest.
Fleet foot on the correi.
Sage counsel in cumber.
Red hand in the foray,
How sound is thy slumber ! 20
Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the fountain.
Thou art gone, and for ever !
Sir Walter Scott
PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU
Pibroch of Donuil Dhii,
Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew,
® Summon Clan-GonuiL
109
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Gome away, come away,
Hark to the summons 1
Come in your war array,
Gentles and commons.
Come from deep glen, and
From mountain so rocky,
The war-pipe and pennon
Are at Inverlochy.
Gome every hill-plaid, and
True heart that wears one.
Come every steel blade, and
Strong hand that bears one.
Leave untended the herd.
The flock without shelter ;
Leave the corpse uninterr’d.
The bride at the altar ;
Leave the deer, leave the steer,
Leave nets and barges :
Gome with your fighting gear,
Broadswords and targes.
Come as the winds come, when
Forests are rended,
Come as the waves come, when
Navies are stranded :
Faster come, faster come,
Faster and faster.
Chief, vassal, page and groom,
Tenant and master.
Fast they come, fast they come
See how they gather 1
Wide waves the eagle plume,
Blended with heather. *
KUBLA KHAN
Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
Forward, each man, set 1
Pibroch of Donuii Dhu,
Knell for the onset !
Sir Walter Scott
KUBLA KHAN
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground lo
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh, that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover ! 20
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced ;
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail :
And ’mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, 30
Then reach’d the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean :
III
runivis UJLJJ AiNJJ INJiW
And ’mid this tumult Kubia heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war 1
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway oh the waves ;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice 1
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she play’d,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Gould I revive within me
Her symphony and song.
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long
I would build that dome in air.
That sunny dome 1 those caves of ice 1
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry. Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair 1
Weave a circle round him thrice.
And close your eyes with holy dread.
For he on honey-dew hath fed.
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
THE PARROT
A PARROT from the Spanish main,
Full young and early caged, came o’er,
With bright wings, to the bleak domain
Of Mullah’s shore.
II2
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY
To spicy groves where he had won
His plumage of resplendent hue.
His native fruits, and skies, and sun,
He bade adieu.
For these he changed the smoke of turE
A heathery land and misty sky.
And turned on rocks and raging surf
His golden eye.
But petted in our climate cold.
He lived and chattered many a day : lo
Until with age, from green and gold
His wings grew grey.
At last when blind, and seeming dumb,
He scolded, laugh’d, and spoke no more,
A Spanish stranger chanced to come
To Mullah’s shore ;
He hail’d the bird in Spanish speech,
The bird in Spanish speech replied ;
Flapp’d round the cage with joyous screech,
Dropt down, and died. 20
Thomas Campbell
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies.
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
113 I
POEMS OLD AND NEW
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress.
Or softly lightens o’er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek and o’er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
Lord Byron
TO NIGHT
Swiftly walk over the western wave.
Spirit of Night !
Out of the misty eastern cave.
Where, all the long and lone daylight,
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear
Which make thee terrible and dear,—
Swift be thy flight !
Wrap thy form in a mantle grey, 2c
Star-inwrought 1
Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day,
Kiss her until she be wearied out,'
Then wander o’er city, and sea, and land,
Touching all with thine opiate wand—
Come, long-sought !
When I arose and saw the dawn,
I sigh’d for thee ;
When light rode high, and the dew was gone,
114
THE HUMAN SEASONS
And noon lay heavy on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turn’d to his rest,
Lingering like an unloved guest,
I sigh’d for thee.
Thy brother Death came, and cried,
Wouldst thou me ? ”
Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmur’d like a noontide bee,
“ Shall I nestle near thy side ?
Wouldst thou me ? ”—And I replied.
No, not thee ! ”
Death will come when thou art dead.
Soon, too soon—
Sleep will come when thou art fled ;
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, beloved Night—
Swift be thine approaching flight,
Gome soon, soon !
Percy Bysshe Shelley
THE HUMAN SEASONS
Four seasons fill the measure of the year ;
There are four seasons in the mind of man : :
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span :
He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring’s honey’d cud of youthful thought he
loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven : quiet coves
POEMS OLD AND NEW
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
He furleth close ; contented so to look
On mists in idleness—to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature.
Or else he would forgo his mortal nature.
John Keats
ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN’S
HOMER
Much have I travelFd in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen ;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. ic
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow’d Homer ruled as his de¬
mesne ;
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and
bold :
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken ;
Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific—and all his men
Look’d at each other with a wild surmise—
Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 2c
John Keats
116
TO AUTUMN
TO AUTUMN
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness !
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun ;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves
run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core ;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees.
Until they think warm days will never cease, lo
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy
cells.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store ?
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind ;
Or on a half-reap’d furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and ail its twined flowers;
And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep
Steady thy laden head across a brook ; 20
Or by a cider-press, with patient look.
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring ? Ay, where are
they ?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too,—
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day.
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue ;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies ;
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn *
Hedge-crickets sing ; and now with treble soft ^
The redbreast whistles from a garden-croft ;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
John Keats
AUTUMN
I LOVE the fitful gust that shakes
The casement all the day,
And from the glossy elm tree takes
The faded leaves away,
Twirling them by the window pane
With thousand others down the lane.
I love to see the shaking twig
Dance till the shut of eve,
The sparrow on the cottage rig.
Whose chirp would make believe
That Spring was just now flirting by
In Summer’s lap with flowers to' lie.
I love to see the cottage smoke
Curl upwards through the trees,
The pigeons nestled round the cote
On November days like these ;
The cock upon the dunghill crowing,
The mill sails on the heath a-going.
The feather from the raven’s breast
Falls on the stubble lea,
The acorns near the old crow’s nest
Drop pattering down the tree ;
The grunting pigs, that wait for all,
Scramble and hurry where they fall.
John Clare
TTfi
BLOW, BUGLE, BLOW
THE EAGLE
He clasps the crag with crooked hands ;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ring’d with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls ;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
Lord Tennyson
BLOW, BUGLE, BLOW
The splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story :
The long light shakes across the lakes.
And the wild cataract leaps in glory. lo
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going !
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing !
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying :
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky.
They faint on hill or field or river : 20
Our echoes roll from soul to soul,
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
Lord Tennyson
POEMS OLD AND NEW
HOME^THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD
Oh, to be in England
Now that ApriPs there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf
Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf,
While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough
In England—now !
And after April, when May follows,
And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows 1 lo
Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover
Blossoms and dewdrops—at the bent spray’s edge—
That’s the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over.
Lest you should think he never could recapture
The first fine careless rapture !
And though the fields look rough with hoary dew,
All will be gay when noontide wakes anew
The buttercups, the little children’s dower
—Far brighter than this gaudy melon-flower ! 20
Robert Browning
O CAPTAIN ! MY CAPTAIN !
O Captain ! my Captain ! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we
sought is won.
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all
exulting.
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim
and daring ;
120
THE SCHOLAR GIPSY
But O heart ! heart ! heart !
O the bleeding drops of red !
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain ! my Captain ! rise up and hear the bells ;
Rise up—-for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle
trills.
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—-for you the
shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces
turning ;
Here, Captain ! dear father !
This arm beneath your head ! lo
It is some dream that on the deck
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still.
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor
will ;
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage
closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with obiect
won ;
Exult, O shores ! and ring, O bells !
But I, with mournful tread.
Walk the deck my Captain lies.
Fallen cold and dead. 20
Walt Whitman
THE SCHOLAR GIPSY
[There was very lately a lad in the University of Oxford, who
was by his poverty forced to leave his studies there ; and at last
to join himself to a company of vagabond gipsies. Among these
extravagant people, by the insinuating subtilty of his carriage,
he quickly got so much of their love and esteem as that they
discovered to him their mystery. After he had been a pretty
121
POEMS OLD AND NEW
while well exercised in the trade, there chanced to ride by a couple
of scholars, who had formerly been of his acquaintance. They
quickly spied out their old friend among the gipsies ; and he gave
them an account of the necessity which drove him to that kind of
life, and told them that the people he went with were not such
impostors as they were taken for, but that they had a traditional
kind of learning among them, and could do wonders by the power
of imagination, their fancy binding that of others : that himself
had learned much of their art, and when he had compassed the
whole secret, he intended, he said, to leave their company, and
give the world an account of what he had learned.— Glanvil’s
Vanity of Dogmatizing^
Go, for they call you, shepherd, from the hill ;
Go, shepherd, and untie the wattled cotes !
No longer leave thy wistful flock unfed,
Nor let thy bawling fellows rack their throats,
Nor the cropp’d herbage shoot another head.
But when the fields are still.
And the tired men and dogs all gone to rest.
And only the white sheep are sometimes seen
Gross and recross the strips of moon-blanch’d
green.
Come, shepherd, and again begin the quest ! lo
Here, where the reaper was at work of late—
. In this high field’s dark corner, where he leaves
His coat, his basket, and his earthen cruse.
And in the sun all morning binds the sheaves.
Then here, at noon, comes back his stores to
use—
Here will I sit and wait.
While to my ear from uplands far away
The bleating of the folded flocks is borne,
With distant cries of reapers in the corn—
All the live murmur of a summer’s day. jso
Screen’d is this nook o’er the high, half-reap’d field.
And here till sun-down, shepherd ! will I be.
Through the thick corn the scarlet poppies peep,
122
THE SCHOLAR GIPSY
And round green roots and yellowing stalks I see
Pale pink convolvulus in tendrils creep ;
And air-swept lindens yield
Their scent, and rustle down their perfumed
showers
Of bloom on the bent grass where I am laid,
And bower me from the August sun with shade;
And the eye travels down to Oxford’s towers.
And near me on the grass lies GlanviPs book—
Gome, let me read the oft-read tale again 1
The story of the Oxford scholar poor, lo
Of pregnant parts and quick inventive brain,
Who, tired of knocking at preferment’s door,
One summer-morn forsook
His friends, and went to learn the gipsy-lore.
And roam’d the world with that wild brother¬
hood.
And came, as most men deem’d, to little good,
But came to Oxford and his friends no more.
But once, years after, in the country-lanes.
Two scholars, whom at college erst he knew,
Met him, and of his way of life enquired ; 20
Whereat he answer’d, that the gipsy-crew,
His mates, had arts to rule as they desired
The workings of men’s brains,
And they can bind them to what thoughts they
will.
And I,” he said, “ the secret of their art,
When fully learn’d, will to the world impart;
But it needs heaven-sent moments for this skill.”
This said, he left them, and return’d no more.—
But rumours hung about the country-side,
That the lost Scholar long was seen to stray, 30
Seen by rare glimpses, pensive and tongue-tied,
POEMS OLD AND NEW
In hat of antique shape, and cloak of grey,
The same the gipsies wore.
Shepherds had met him on the Hurst in spring ;
At some lone alehouse in the Berkshire moors.
On the warm ingle-bench, the smock-frock’d boors
Had found him seated at their entering,
But, ’mid their drink and clatter, he would fly.
And I myself seem half to know thy looks,
And put the shepherds, wanderer ! on thy trace;
And boys who in lone wheatfields scare the rooks
I ask if thou hast pass’d their quiet place ; 11
Or in my boat I lie
Moor’d to the cool bank in the summer-heats,
’Mid wide grass meadows which the sunshine fills.
And watch the warm, green-muffled Gumner hills.
And wonder if thou haunt’st their shy retreats.
For most, I know, thou lov’st retired ground 1
Thee at the ferry Oxford riders blithe,
Returning home on summer-nights, have met
Grossing the stripling Thames at Bab-lock-hithe,
Trailing in the cool stream thy fingers wet, 21
As the punt’s rope chops round ;
And leaning backward in a pensive dream.
And fostering in thy lap a heap of flowers
Pluck’d in shy fields and distant Wychwood
bowers.
And thine eyes resting on the moonlit stream.
And then they land, and thou art seen no more !—
Maidens, who from the distant hamlets come
To dance around the Fyfield elm in May,
Oft through the darkening fields have seen thee
roam, 30
Or cross a stile into the public way.
Oft thou hast given them store
IQA
THE SCHOLAR GIPSY
Of flowers—the frail-IeaCd, white anemony,
Dark bluebells drench’d with dews of summer
eves,
And purple orchises with spotted leaves—
But none hath words she can report of thee.
And, above Godstow Bridge, when hay-time’s here
In June, and many a scythe in sunshine flames.
Men who through those wide fields of breezy
grass
Where black-wing’d swallows haunt the glittering
Thames,
To bathe in the abandon’d lasher pass.
Have often pass’d thee near lo
Sitting upon the river bank o’ergrown ;
Mark’d thine outlandish garb, thy figure spare,
Thy dark vague eyes, and soft abstracted air—
But, when they came from bathing, thou wast
gone !
At some lone homestead in the Gumner hills,
Where at her open door the housewife darns,
Thou hast been seen, or hanging on a gate
To watch the threshers in the mossy barns.
Children, who early range these slopes and late
For cresses from the rills, 20
Have known thee eying, all an April-day,
The springing pastures and the feeding kine ;
And mark’d thee, when the stars come out and
shine,
Through the long dewy grass move slow away.
In autumn, on the skirts of Bagley Wood—
Where most the gipsies by the turf-edged way
Pitch their smoked tents, and every bush you see
With scarlet patches tagg’d and shreds of grey,
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Above the forest-ground call’d Thessaly—
The blackbird, picking food,
Sees thee, nor stops his meal, nor fears at all ;
So often has he known thee past him stray,
Rapt, twirling in thy hand a wither’d spray,
And waiting for the spark from heaven to fall.
And once, in winter, on the causeway chill
Where home through flooded fields foot-travellers
go,
Have I not pass’d thee on the wooden bridge.
Wrapt in thy cloak and battling with the snow, lo
Thy face tow’rd Hinksey and its wintry ridge ?
And thou hast climb’d the hill,
And gain’d the white brow of the Gumner range ;
Turn’d once to watch, while thick the snowflakes
fall.
The line of festal light in Christ-Ghurch hall—
Then sought thy straw in some sequester’d
grange.
But what—I dream ! Two hundred years are flown
Since first thy story ran through Oxford halls.
And the grave Glanvil did the tale inscribe
That thou wert wander’d from the studious walls
To learn strange arts, and join a gipsy-tribe ; 21
And thou from earth art gone
Long since, and in some quiet churchyard laid—
Some country-nook, where o’er thy unknown
grave
Tall grasses and white flowering nettles wave.
Under a dark, red-fruited yew-tree’s shade.
—No, no, thou hast not felt the lapse of hours !
For what wears out the life of mortal men ?
’Tis that from change to change their being rolls;
’Tis that repeated shocks, again, again, 30
126
THE SCHOLAR GIPSY
Exhaust the energy of strongest souls,
And numb the elastic powers.
Till having used our nerves with bliss and teen,
And tired upon a thousand schemes our wit.
To the just-pausing Genius we remit
Our worn-out life, and are-—what we have
been.
Thou hast not lived, why should’st thou perish, so ?
Thou hadst one aim, one business, one desire ,
Else wert thou long since number’d with the
dead !
Else hadst thou spent, like other men, thy fire ! lo
The generations of thy peers are fled.
And we ourselves shall go ;
But thou possessest an immortal lot,
And we imagine thee exempt from age
And living as thou liv’st on Glanvil’s page.
Because thou hadst—what we, alas ! have not.
For early didst thou leave the world, with powers
Fresh, undiverted to the world without.
Firm to their mark, not spent on other things ;
Free from the sick fatigue, the languid doubt, 20
Which much to have tried, in much been baffled,
brings.
O life unlike to ours !
Who fluctuate idly without term or scope.
Of whom each strives, nor knows for what he
strives.
And each half lives a hundred different lives ;
Who wait like thee, but not, like thee, in hope.
Thou waitest for the spark from heaven ! and we,
Light half-believers of our casual creeds.
Who never deeply felt, nor clearly will’d.
Whose insight never has borne fruit in deeds, 30
127
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Whose vague resolves never have been fulfiird;
For whom each year we see
Breeds new beginnings, disappointments new;
Who hesitate and falter life away,
And lose to-morrow the ground won to-day-
Ah ! do not we, wanderer ! await it too ?
Yes, we await it !—but it still delays,
And then we suffer ! and amongst us one,
Who most has suffer’d, takes dejectedly
His seat upon the intellectual throne ; lo
And all his store of sad experience he
Lays bare of wretched days ;
Tells us his misery’s birth and growth and signs.
And how the dying spark of hope was fed.
And how the breast was soothed, and how the
head.
And all his hourly varied anodynes.
This for our wisest ! and we others pine.
And wish the long unhappy dream would end,
And waive all claim to bliss, and try to bear ;
With close-lipp’d patience for our only friend, 20
Sad patience, too near neighbour to despair—
But none has hope like thine !
Thou through the fields and through the woods
dost stray,
Roaming the country-side, a truant boy,
Nursing thy project in unclouded joy,
And every doubt long blown by time away.
O born in days when wits were fresh and clear,
And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames ;
Before this strange disease of modern life.
With its sick hurry, its divided aims, 30
Its heads o’ertax’d, its palsied hearts, was rife—
Fly hence, our contact fear !
128
THE SCHOLAR GIPSY
Still fly, plunge deeper in the bowering wood !
Averse, as Dido did with gesture stern
From her false friend’s approach in Hades turn,
Wave us away, and keep thy solitude !
Still nursing the unconquerable hope.
Still clutching the inviolable shade.
With a free, onward impulse brushing through,
By night, the silver’d branches of the glade—
Far on the forest-skirts, where none pursue,
On some mild pastoral slope lo
Emerge, and resting on the moonlit pales
Freshen thy flowers as in former years
With dew, or listen with enchanted ears,
From the dark dingles, to the nightingales !
But fly our paths, our feverish contact fly 1
For strong the infection of our mental strife.
Which, though it gives no bliss, yet spoils for rest;
And we should win thee from thy own fair life.
Like us distracted, and like us unblest.
Soon, soon thy cheer would die, ' 20
Thy hopes grow timorous, and unfix’d thy powers,
And thy clear aims be cross and shifting made;
And then thy glad perennial youth would fade,
Fade, and grow old at last, and die like ours.
Then fly our greetings, fly our speech and smiles !
—As some grave Tyrian trader, from the sea.
Descried at sunrise an emerging prow
Lifting the cool-hair’d creepers stealthily.
The fringes of a southward-facing brow
Among the dEgaean isles ; 30
And saw the merry Grecian coaster come.
Freighted with amber grapes, and Chian wine.
Green, bursting figs, and tunnies steep’d in brine—
And knew the intruders on his ancient home,
129
K
POEMS OLD AND NEW
The young light-hearted masters of the waves—
And snatch’d his rudder, and shook out more
sail ;
And day and night held on indignantly
O’er the blue Midland waters with the gale,
Betwixt the Syrtes and soft Sicily,
To where the Atlantic raves
Outside the western straits ; and unbent sails
There, where down cloudy cliffs, through sheets
of foam,
Shy traffickers, the dark Iberians come ;
And on the beach undid his corded bales. lo
Matthew Arnold
ITYLUS
Swallow, my sister, O sister swallow.
How can thine heart be full of the spring ?
A thousand summers are over and dead.
What hast thou found in the spring to follow ?
What hast thou found in thine heart to sing ?
What wilt thou do when the summer is
shed ?
O swallow, sister, O fair swift swallow,
Why wilt thou fly after spring to the south.
The soft south whither thine heart is set ?
Shall not the grief of the old time follow ? 20
Shall not the song thereof cleave to thy mouth ?
Hast thou forgotten ere I forget ?
Sister, my sister, O fleet sweet swallow.
Thy way is long to the sun and the south ;
But I, fulfilled of my heart’s desire,
X30
ITYLUS
Shedding my song upon height, upon hollow,
i^rom tawny body and sweet small mouth
Feed the heart of the night with fire.
I the nightingale all spring through,
O swallow, sister, O changing swallow,
All spring through till the spring be done,
Clothed with the light of the night on the dew,
while the hours and the wild birds follow.
Take flight and follow and find the sun.
Sister, my sister, O soft light swallow, lo
Though all things feast in the spring’s guest-
chamber,
How hast thou heart to be glad thereof yet ?
For where thou fiiest I shall not follow.
Till life forget and death remember.
Till thou remember and I forget.
Swallow, my sister, O singing swallow,
I know not how thou hast heart to sing.
Hast thou the heart ? is it all past over ?
Thy lord the summer is good to follow.
And fair the feet of thy lover the spring :
But what wilt thou say to the spring thy
lover ?
O swallow, sister, O fleeting swallow.
My heart in me is a molten ember
And over my head the waves have met.
But thou wouldst tarry or I would follow,
Gould I forget or thou remember,
Gouldst thou remember and I forget.
O sweet stray sister, O shifting swallow.
The heart’s division divideth us.
Thy heart is light as a leaf of a tree ;
30
i'UEMS OLD AND NEW
But mine goes forth among sea-gulfs hollow
To the place of the slaying of Itylus,
The feast of Daulis, the Thracian sea.
O swallow, sister, O rapid swallow,
I pray thee sing not a little space.
■Axe not the roofs and the lintels wet ?
The woven web that was plain to follow,'
The small slain body, the fiowerlike face,
Can I remember if thou forget ?
O sister, sister, thy first-begotten ! jo
T^ hands that cling and the feet that follow
The voice of the child^s blood cryin^r yet
Who hath remembered me ? who hath forgotUn ?
Thou hast forgotten, O summer swallow,
But the world shall end when I forget.
A. C. Swinburne
PIED BEAUTY
Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow ■
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that
swim ;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls ; finches’ wings •
Landscape plotted and pieced-fold, fallow, and
plough
And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim.'
All things counter, original, spare, strange ;
Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how
^ swift slow 1 sweet, sour ; adazzle, dim ;
He fathera-forth whose beauty is past change •
Praise Him.
Gerard Manley Hopkins
132
DRAKE’S DRUM
ROMANCE
I WLL make you brooches and toys for your delight
Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.
I will make a palace fit for you and me
Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.
I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,
Where white flows the river and bright blows the
broom,
And you shall wash your linen and keep your body
In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.
And this shall be for music when no one else is near
The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear ! i o
That only I remember, that only you admire.
Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.
R. L. Stevenson
DRAKE’S DRUM
Drake he s in his hammock an’ a thousand mile away,
(Capten, art tha sleepin’ there below ?),
Slung atween the round shot in Nombre Dios Bay,
An’ dreamin’ arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe.
Yarnder lumes the Island, yarnder lie the ships,
Wi’ sailor-lads a-dancin’ heel-an’-toe.
An the shore-lights flashin’, an’ the night-tide dashin’.
He sees et arl so plainly as he saw et long ago. 20
Drake he was a Devon man, an’ ruled the Devon seas,
(Gapten, art tha sleepin’ there below ?),
Rovin’ tho’ his death fell, he went wi’ heart at ease,
An’ dreamin’ arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe.
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Take my drum to England, hang et by the shore,
Strike et when your powder’s runnin’ low ;
If the Dons sight Devon, I’ll quit the port o’ Heaven
An’ drum them up the Channel as we drummed
them long ago.”
Drake he’s in his hammock till the great Armadas
come,
(Capten, art tha sleepin’ there below ?),
Slung atween the round shot, listenin’ for the drum,
An’ dreamin’ arl the time o’ Plymouth Hoe.
Call him on the deep sea, call him up the Sound,
Call him when ye sail to meet the foe ; lo
Where the old trade’s plyin’ an’ the old flag fiyin’
They shall find him ware an’ wakin’, as they found
him long ago !
Sir Henry Newbolt
THE HAWK
The hawk slipt out of the pine, and rose in the sunlit air:
Steady and still he poised ; his shadow slept on the
grass :
And the bird s song sickened and sank : she cowered
with furtive stare
Dumb, till the quivering dimness should flicker and
shift and pass.
Suddenly down he dropped : she heard the hiss of
his wing,
Fled with a scream of terror : oh, would she had
dared to rest !
For the hawk at eve was full, and there was no bird
to sing.
And over the heather drifted the down from a bleed¬
ing breast.
ig6
A. C. Benson
THE SCHOLARS
THE-LAKE ISLE OF INNISFREE
I WILL arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles
made ;
Nine bean rows will I have there, a hive for the
honey bee,
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes
dropping slow.
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where
the cricket sings ;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple
glow.
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.
I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the
shore; lo
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements
gray,^
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.
W. B. Yeats
THE SCHOLARS
Bald heads forgetful of their sins,
Old, learned, respectable bald heads
Edit and annotate the lines
That young men, tossing on their beds,
Rhymed out in love’s despair
To flatter beauty’s ignorant ear.
137
POEMS OLD AND NEW
They’ll cough in the ink to the world’s end ;
Wear out the carpet with their shoes
Earning respect; have no strange friend ;
If they have sinned nobody knows.
Lord, what would they say
Should their Catullus walk that way ?
W. B. Yeats
JACK
I
Every village has its Jack, but no village ever had
quite so fine a Jack as ours :—
So picturesque,
Versatile,
Irresponsible,
Powerful,
Hedonistic,
And lovable a Jack as ours.
II
How Jack lived none know, for he rarely did any work.
True, he set night-lines for eels, and invariably
caught one.
Often two,
Sometimes three ;
While very occasionally he had a day’s harvestino" or
hay-making. ^
And yet he always found enough money for tobacco
With a little over for beer, though he was no soaker. 20
in
Jack had a wife.
A soulless, savage woman she was, who disapproved
volubly of his idle ways.
But the only result was to make him stay out longer
(Like Rip Van Winkle). ^ /
138
jack
IV
Jack had a big black beard, and a red shirt, which
was made for another.
And no waistcoat.
His boots were somebody else’s ;
He wore the Doctor’s coat^
And the Vicar’s trousers.
Personally, I gave him a hat, but it was too small.
V
Everybody liked Jack.
The Vicar liked him, although he never went to
church.
Indeed, he was a cheerful Pagan, with no temptation
to break more than the Eighth Commandment,
and no ambition as a sinner.
The Curate liked him, although he had no simpering
daughters. lo
The Doctor liked him, although he was never ill.
I liked him too~chiefly because of his perpetual
good temper, and his intimacy with Nature, and
his capacity for colouring cutties.
The girls liked him, because he brought them the
first wild roses and the sweetest honeysuckle ;
Also, because he could flatter so outrageously.
VI
But the boys loved him.
They followed him in little bands :
Jack was their hero.
And no wonder, for he could hit a running rabbit
with a stone.
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And cut them long, straight fishing-poles and equi
lateral catty forks ; ^
And he always knew of a fresh nest.
Besides he could make a thousand things with hi<
old pocket-knife.
V XX
How good he was at cricket too !
On the long summer evenings he would saunter to
the green and watch the lads at play,
And by and by someone would offer him a few
knocks.
Then the Doctor’s coat would be carefully detached
tTe^baT^ brandish
And away the ball would go, north and south and
east and west,
And sometimes bang into the zenith.
For Jack had little science :
Upon each ball he made the same terrific and magni¬
ficent onslaught, . ®
hop, or leg
break, or off break, or shooter, or yorker
And when the stumps fell he would cheerfully set
them up again, while his white teeth flashed in
the recesses of his beard.
Viir
The only persons who were not conspicuously fond
^he schoolmaster,
and the head-keeper.
The schoolmaster had an idea that if Jack were
hanged there would be no more truants ;
IS wife would attend the funeral without an extra-
ordinary show of grief *
I yi n
JACK
IX
Jack was quite as much a part of the village as the
church spire ;
And if any of us lazied along by the river in the dusk
of the evening—
Waving aside nebulae of gnats,
Turning head quickly at the splash of a jumping fish.
Peering where the water chuckled over a vanishing
water-rat—
And saw not Jack’s familiar form bending over his
lines.
And smelt not his vile shag,
We should feel a loneliness, a vague impression that
something was wrong.
X
For ten years Jack was always the same,
Never growing older, jo
Or richer.
Or tidier,
Never knowing that we had a certain pride in possess-
ing him.
Then there came a tempter with tales of easily
acquired wealth, and Jack went away in his
company.
XI
He has never come back,
And now the village is like a man who has lost an eye.
In the gloaming, no slouching figure, with colossal
idleness in every line, leans against my garden
wall, with prophecies of the morrow’s weather ;
And those who reviled Jack most wonder now what
it was they found fault with.
We feel our bereavement deeply.
141
POEMS OLD AND NEW
The Vicar, I believe, would like to offer public prave
for the return of the wanderer. ’
And the Doctor, I know, is a little unhinged, an.
curing people out of pure absence of mind.'
For my part, I have hope ; and the trousers I dh
carded last week will not be given away just yel
E- V. Lucas
THE CHANGELING
Toll no bell for me, dear Father, dear Mother
Waste no sighs ; ’
There are my sisters, there is my little brother
Who plays in the place called Paradise,
Your children all, your children for ever :
But I, so wild.
Your disgrace, with the queer brown face, was never
JNever, I know, but half your child ! ij
In the garden at play, all day, last summer.
Far and away I heard
T]^ sweet ‘‘ tweet-tweet ” of a strange new-comer,
I he dearest, clearest call of a bird.
It lived down there in the deep green hollow,
My own old home, and the fairies say
The word of a bird is a thing to follow,
So I was away a night and a day.
One evening, too, by the nursery fire.
We snuggled close and sat round so still,
When suddenly as the wind blew higher,
Something scratched on the window-sill,
A pinched brown face peered in—I shivered *
No one listened or seemed to see ;
The arnis of It waved and the wings of it quivered,
Whoo—I knew it had come for me 1
Some are as bad as bad can be !
20
142
THE CHANGELING
All night long they danced in the rain.
Round and round in a dripping chain,
Threw their caps at the window-pane,
Tried to make me scream and shout
And fling the bedclothes all about :
I meant to stay in bed that night,
And if only you had left a light
They would never have got me out !
Sometimes I wouldn’t speak, you see,
Or answer when you spoke to me, lo
Because in the long, still dusks of Spring
You can hear the whole world whispering ;
The shy green grasses making love.
The feathers grow on the dear grey dove.
The tiny heart of the redstart beat,
The patter of the squirrel’s feet,
The pebbles pushing in the silver streams,
The rushes talking in their dreams,
The swish-swish of the bat’s black wings,
The wild-wood bluebell’s sweet ting-tings, 20
Humming and hammering at your ear.
Everything there is to hear
In the heart of hidden things.
But not in the midst of the nursery riot.
That’s why I wanted to be quiet.
Couldn’t do my sums, or sing.
Or settle down to anything.
And when, for that, I was sent upstairs
I did kneel down to say my prayers ;
But the King who sits on your high church steeple
Has nothing to do with us fairy people ! 31
’Times I pleased you, dear Father, dear Mother,
Learned all my lessons and liked to play,
And dearly I loved the little pale brother
Whom some other bird must have called away.
143
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Why did they bring me here to make me
Not quite bad and not quite good.
Why, unless They’re wicked, do They want, in spite
to take me ’
Back to Their wet, wild wood ?
Now, every night I shall see the windows shin¬
ing,
The gold lamp’s glow, and the fire’s red gleam,
While the best of us are twining twigs and the rest
of us are whining
In the hollow by the stream.
Black and chill are Their nights on the wold
And They live so long and They feel no pain : lo
I shall grow up, but never grow old,
I shall always, always be very cold,
I shall never come back again !
Charlotte Mew
STUPIDITY STREET
I SAW with open eyes
Singing birds sweet
Sold in the shops
For the people to eat,
Sold in the shops of
Stupidity Street.
I saw in vision
The worm in the wheat.
And in the shops nothing
For people to eat ;
Nothing for sale in
Stupidity Street.
Ralph Hodgson
144
ROUNDABOUTS AND SWINGS
ROUNDABOUTS AND SWINGS
It was early last September nigh to Framlin’am-on-
Sea,
An’ ’twas Fair-day come to-morrow, an’ the time was
after tea,
An’ I met a painted caravan a - down a dusty
lane,
A Pharaoh with his waggons cornin’ jolt an’ creak an’
strain ;
A cheery cove an’ sunburnt, bold o’ eye and wrinkled
up, _
An’ beside ’im on the splashboard sat a brindled
tarrier pup.
An’ a lurcher wise as Solomon an’ lean as fiddle-
strings
Was joggin’ in the dust along ’is roundabouts and
swings.
“ Goo’-day,” said ’e ; “ Goo’-day,” said I ; an’
’ow d’you find things go.
An’ what’s the chance o’ millions when you runs a
travellin’ show ? ” lo
“ I find,” said ’e, “ things very much as ’ow I’ve
always found.
For mostly they goes up and down or else goes round
and round.”
Said ’e, “ The job’s the very spit o’ what it always
were.
It’s bread and bacon mostly when the dog don’t
catch a ’are ; .
But lookin’ at it broad, an’ while it ain’t no merchant
king’s.
What’s lost upon the roundabouts we pulls up on the
swings ! ”
L -
145
ruCMS OLD AND NEW
“ Goo’ luck,” said ’e ; “ Goo’ luck,” said I ; “ You’ve
put it past a doubt ;
An’ keep that lurcher on the road, the gamekeepers
is out.” ^
’E thumped upon the footboard an’ ’e lumbered on
again
To meet a gold-dust sunset down the owl-light in the
lane ;
An’ the moon she climbed the ’azels, while a night¬
jar seemed to spin ^
That Pharaoh s wisdom o’er again, ’is sooth of lose-
and-win ;
For “ up an’ down an’ round,” said ’e, “ goes all
appointed things,
An losses on the roundabouts means profits on the
swings! ”
Patrick R. Chalmers
TIT FOR TAT
Have you been catching offish, Tom Noddy ?
Have you snared a weeping hare ?
Have you whistled, “ No Nunny,” and gunned a
poor bunny,
Or a blinded bird of the air ?
Have you trod like a murderer through the green
woods, “
‘Singles and glooms,
While every small creature screamed shrill to Dame
Nature,
“ He comes—and he comes ! ” ?
Wonder I very much do, Tom Noddy,
If ever, when you are a-roam.
An Ope from space will stoop a lean face.
And lug you home :
146
20
I MET AT EVE
Lug you home over his fence, Tom Noddy,
Of thorn-stocks nine yards high,
With your bent knees strung round his old iron gun
And your head dan-dangling by :
And hang you up stiff on a hook, Tom Noddy,
From a stone-cold pantry shelf.
Whence your eyes will glare in an empty stare,
Till you are cooked yourself !
Walter de la Mare
I MET AT EVE
I MET at eve the Prince of Sleep,
His was a still and lovely face, lo
He wandered through a valley steep,
Lovely in a lonely place.
His garb was grey of lavender.
About his brows a poppy-wreath
Burned like dim coals, and everywhere
The air was sweeter for his breath.
His twilight feet no sandals wore.
His eyes shone faint in their own flame,
Fair moths that gloomed his steps before
Seemed letters of his lovely name. 20
His house is in the mountain ways,
A phantom house of misty walls,
Whose golden flocks at evening graze.
And witch the moon with muffled calls.
Ups welling from his shadowy springs
Sweet waters shake a trembling sound.
There flit the hoot-owFs silent wings,
There hath his web the silkworm wound.
147
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Dark in his pools clear visions lurk.
And rosy, as with morning buds.
Along his dales of broom and birk
Dreams haunt his solitary woods,
I met at eve the Prince of Sleep,
His was a still and lovely face.
He wandered through a valley steep.
Lovely in a lonely place.
Walter de la Mare
THE DONKEY
When fishes flew and forests walked
And figs grew upon thorn.
Some moment when the moon was blood
Then surely I was born ;
With monstrous head and sickening cry
And ears like errant wings,
The devil’s walking parody
On all four-footed things.
The tattered outlaw of the earth.
Of ancient crooked will,
Starve, scourge, deride me : I am dumb,
I keep my secret still.
Fools ! For I also had my hour ;
One far fierce hour and sweet :
There was a shout about my ears,
And palms before my feet.
G. K. Chesterton
148
PROMETHEUS
CARGOES
QuiNquiREME of Nineveh from distant Ophir
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine^
With a cargo of ivory,
And apes and peacocks,
Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.
Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green
shores.
With a cargo of diamonds.
Emeralds, amethysts.
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores. lo
Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days.
With a cargo of Tyne coal.
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.
John Masefield
PROMETHEUS
All day beneath the bleak indifferent skies,
Broken and blind, a shivering bag of bones,
He trudges over icy paving-stones
And Matches ! Matches / Matches I Matches ! cries.
And now beneath the dismal dripping night 20
And shadowed by a deeper night he stands—
And yet he holds within his palsied hands
Quick fire enough to set his world alight.
Wilfrid Gibson
IzLQ
POEMS OLD AND NEW
the ship
There was no song nor shout of joy
Nor beam of moon or sun, ’
When she came back from the’voyase
Long ago begun ;
But twilight on the waters
Was quiet and grey.
Over the open bay.
Her sails were brown and ragged.
And her crew hollow-eyed
But their silent lips spoke content ’
And their shoulders pride ,•
Though she had no captives ori her deck
And m her hold ’
There were no heaps of corn or timber
Or silks or gold.
Sir J. C. SquiRE
the old ships
LvtS r*" asleep
^yond the village which men still call Tyre
With leaden age o’ercargoed, dipping deep ’
For Famagusta and the hidden sun ® ^
An?« 7 wf ^ a lake of fire •
And all those ships were certainly so old ’
Who knoi^ how oft with squat and noisv eun
Questing brown slaves or sVian oranS ’
The pirate Genoese ^ ’
Hell-raked them till they roUed
00 , water, fruit, and corpses up the hold.
150
20
EVERYONE SANG
But now through friendly seas they softly run.
Painted the mid-sea blue or shore-sea green,
Still patterned with the vine and grapes in gold.
But I have seen,
Pointing her shapely shadows from the dawn
And image tumbled on a rose-swept bay,
A drowsy ship of some yet older day ;
And, wonder’s breath indrawn,
Thought I—who knows—who knows—but in that
same
(Fished up beyond Aeaea, patched up new lo
—Stern painted brighter blue—)
That talkative, bald-headed seaman came
(Twelve patient comrades sweating at the oar)
From Troy’s doom-crimson shore.
And with great lies about his wooden horse
Set the crew laughing, and forgot his course.
It was so old a ship—^who knows, who knows ?
—And yet so beautiful, I watched in vain
To see the mast burst open with a rose,
And the whole deck put on its leaves again. 20
James Elroy Flecker
EVERYONE SANG
Everyone suddenly burst out singing ;
And I wasriilled with such delight
As prisoned birds must find in freedom
Winging wildly across the white
Orchards and dark-green fields ; on ; on ; and
out of sight.
ruiiMti OLD AND NEW
Everyone’s voice was suddenly lifted.
And beauty came like the setting sun.
My heart was shaken with tears ; and horror
Drifted away. . . . O but everyone
Was a bird ; and the song was wordless ; the
will never be done.
singing
Siegfried Sassoon
THE DEAD
of human joys and cares
Washed marvellously with sorrow, swift to mirth’
The years had given them kindness. Dawn was theirs
And sunset, and the colours of the earth
I hese had seen movement, and heard music; known lo
frkndedT
Felt the quick stir of wonder ; sat alone •
^ end'e? cheeks.’ All this is
I^dTitT "If"’*' u to laught,
And ht by the rich skies, all day. And after.
And w!’ "" gesture, stays the waves that dance
And wandering loveliness. He leaves a white
A gio’T, a gathered radiance,
A width, a shimng peace, under the night.
Rupert Brooke
.er
the pike
From shadows of rich oaks outpeer
Fhe moss-green bastions of the weir
Where the quick dipper forages
In elver-peopled crevices,
152
THE PIKE
And a small runlet trickling down the sluice
Gossamer music tires not to unloose.
Else round the broad pool’s hush
Nothing stirs.
Unless sometime a straggling heifer crush
Through the thronged spinney whence the pheasant
whirs ;
Or martins in a flash
Gome with wild mirth to dip their magical wings,
While in the shallow some doomed bulrush swings
At whose hid root the diver vole’s teeth gnash. lo
And nigh this toppling reed, still as the dead
The great pike lies, the murderous patriarch,
Watching the waterpit sheer-shelving dark.
Where through the plash his lithe bright vassals
thread.
The rose-finned roach and bluish bream
And staring ruffe steal up the stream
Hard by their glutted tyrant, now
Still as a sunken bough.
He on the sandbank lies.
Sunning himself long hours 20
With stony gorgon eyes :
Westward the hot sun lowers.
Sudden the grey pike changes, and quivering poises
for slaughter ;
Intense terror wakens around him, the shoals scud
awry, but there chances
A chub unsuspecting ; the prowling fins quicken,
in fury he lances ;
And the miller that opens the hatch stands amazed at
the whirl in the water.
Edmund Blunden
153
POEMS OLD AND NEW
PORTRAIT OF A BOY
After the whipping, he crawled into bed ;
Accepting the harsh fact with no great weeping.
How funny uncle’s hat had looked striped red !
He chuckled silently. The moon came, sweeping
A black frayed rug of tattered cloud before
In scorning ; very pure and pale she seemed.
Flooding his bed with radiance. On the floor
Fat motes danced. He sobbed ; closed his eyes and
dreamed.
Warm sand flowed round him. Blurts of crimson
light
Splashed the white grains like blood. Past the cave’s
mouth 10
Shone with a large fierce splendour, wildly bright,
The crooked constellations of the South ;
Here the Cross swung ; and there, confronting Mars,
The Centaur stormed aside a froth of stars.
Within, great casks like wattled aldermen
Sighed of enormous feasts, and cloth of gold
Glowed on the walls like hot desire. Again
Beside webbed purples from some galleon’s hold,
A black chest bore the skull and bones in white
Above a scrawled Gunpowder ! ” By the flames, 20
Decked out in crimson, gemmed with syenite.
Hailing their fellows by outrageous names
The pirates sat and diced. Their eyes were moons.
“ Doubloons ! ” they said. The words crashed gold.
“ Doubloons 1 ”
Stephen Vincent Benet
l^A
WIT AND HUMOUR
SIR HUDIBRAS AND HIS SQUIRE
SIR HUDIBRAS AND HIS SQUIRE
(From Hudibras)
When civil dudgeon first grew high,
And men fell out they knew not why;
When hard words, jealousies, and fears
Set folks together by the ears ;
When Gospel trumpeter, surrounded
With long-ear’d rout, to battle sounded ;
And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic.
Was beat with fist instead of a stick ;
Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling,
And out he rode a-colonelling. lo
A wight he was, whose very sight would
Entitle him Mirror of Knighthood,
That never bow’d his stubborn knee
To anything but chivalry,
Nor put up blow but that which laid
Right worshipful on shoulder blade ;
Chief of domestic knights and errant.
Either for cartel or for warrant ;
Great on the bench, great in the saddle
That could as well bind o’er as swaddle ; 20
Mighty he was in both of these,
And styl’d of war, as well as peace :
(So some rats of amphibious nature.
Are either for the land or water).
But here our authors make a doubt
Whether he were more wise or stout :
Some hold the one and some the other.
But, howsoe’er they make a pother,
The difference was so small, his brain
Out-weigh’d his rage but half a grain ;
Which made some take him for a tool
That knaves do work with, call’d a Fool,
157
30
POEMS OLD AND NEW
For’t has been held by many, that
As Montaigne, playing with his cat,
Complains she thought him but an ass.
Much more she would Sir Hudibras :
(For that’s the name our valiant knight
To all his challenges did write).
But they’re mistaken very much ;
’Tis plain enough he was not such.
We grant, although he had much wit,
H’ was very shy of using it, ic
As being loth to wear it out,
And therefore bore it not about ;
Unless on holy days or so,
As men their best apparel do.
For rhetoric he could not ope
His mouth but out there flew a trope ;
And when he happen’d to break off
r th’ middle of his speech, or cough,
H’ had hard words ready to show why,
And tell what rules he did it by ,* 20
Else, when with greatest art he spoke,
You’d think he talk’d like other folk ;
For all a rhetorician’s rules
Teach nothing but to name his tools.
A Squire he had whose name was Ralph,
That in th’ adventure went his half.
Though writers for more stately tone.
Do call him Ralpho, ’tis all one ;
And, when we can with metre safe,
We’ll call him so ; if not, plain Ralph ; 30
(For rhyme the rudder is of verses,
With which, like ships, they steer their courses) :
An equal stock of wit and valour
He had laid in, by birth a tailor.
Samuel Butler
158
EPITAPH ON CHARLES II
THE CHARACTER OF SHAFTESBURY
(From Absalom and Achitophel)
Of these the false Achitophel was first,
A name to all succeeding ages curst :
For close designs and crooked counsels fit,
Sagacious, bold, and turbulent of wit.
Restless, unfixed in principles and place.
In power unpleased, impatient of disgrace :
A fiery soul, which working out its way,
Fretted the pigmy body to decay
And o’er-informed the tenement of clay.
A daring pilot in extremity, ic
Pleased with the danger, when the waves went high,
He sought the storms ; but, for a calm unfit.
Would steer too nigh the sands to boast his wit.
Great wits are sure to madness near allied
And thin partitions do their bounds divide ;
Else, why should he, with wealth and honour blest,
Refuse his age the needful hours of rest ?
Punish a body which he could not please.
Bankrupt of life, yet prodigal of ease ?
And all to leave what with his toil he won 2c
To that unfeathered two-legged thing, a son.
John Dryden
EPITAPH ON CHARLES II
Here lies our sovereign Lord the King,
Whose word no man relies on.
Who never said a foolish thing
Nor never did a wise one.
Earl of Rochester
159
POEMS OLD AND NEW
THE COMBAT
(From The Rape of the Lock)
[As Belinda is taking coffee during a party at Hampton Court
the Baron obtains from Clarissa a pair of scissors, with which he
cuts off a lock of Belinda’s hair. She makes a moving speech
At the instigation of Thalestris, a general struggle ensues.]
She said : the pitying audience melt in tears,
But fate and Jove had stopped the Baron’s ears.
In vain Thalestris with reproach assails,
For who can move when fair Belinda fails ?
To arms, to arms ! ” the fierce virago cries,
And swift as lightning to the combat flies.
All side in parties, and begin the attack ;
Fans clap, silks rustle, and tough whalebones crack ;
Heroes’ and heroines’ shouts confusedly rise, ^
And base and treble voices strike the skies. lo
No common weapons in their hands are found.
Like gods they fight, nor dread a mortal wound.
So when bold Homer makes the gods engage.
And heavenly breasts with human passions rage ;
’Gainst Pallas, Mars ; Latona, Hermes arms ;
And all Olympus rings with loud alarms :
Jove’s thunder roars, heaven trembles all around,
Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing deeps resound :
Earth shakes her nodding towers, the ground gives
way,
And the pale ghosts start at the flash of day ! 20
While through the press enraged Thalestris flies,
And scatters death around from both her eyes,
A beau and witling perished in the throng,
One died in metaphor, and one in song.
“ O cruel nymph 1 a living death I bear,”
Cried Dapperwit, and sunk beside his chair.
A mournful glance Sir Fopling upwards cast,
‘‘ Those eyes are made so killing ”—was his last,
160
THE COMBAT
Thus on Maeander’s flowery margin lies
The expiring swan, and as he sings he dies.
When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down,
Ghloe stepped in, and killed him with a frown ;
She smiled to see the doughty hero slain.
But, at her smile, the beau revived again.
Now Jove suspends his golden scales in air,
Weighs the men’s wits against the lady’s hair ;
The doubtful beam long nods from side to side ;
At length the wits mount up, the hairs subside. lo
See, fierce Belinda on the Baron flies,
With more than usual lightning in her eyes :
Nor feared the chief the unequal fight to try,
Who sought no more than on his foe to die.
But this bold lord with manly strength endued,
She with one finger and a thumb subdued :
Just where the breath of life his nostrils drew,
A charge of snuff the wily virgin threw ;
The gnomes direct, to every atom just.
The pungent grains of titillating dust. 20
Sudden, with starting tears each eye o’erflows.
And the high dome re-echoes to his nose.
“ Now meet thy fate,” incensed Belinda cried,
And drew a deadly bodkin from her side.
(The same, his ancient personage to deck.
Her great great grandsire wore about his neck,
In three seal-rings ; which after, melted down,
Formed a vast buckle for his widow’s gown :
Her infant grandame’s whistle next it grew.
The bells she jingled, and the whistle blew ; 30
Then in a bodkin graced her mother’s hairs.
Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)
“ Boast not my fall ” (he cried) insulting
foe !
Thou by some other shalt be laid as low,
Nor think, to die dejects my lofty mind :
All that I dread is leaving you behind !
161 M
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Rather than so, ah let me still survive,
And burn in Cupid’s flames—but burn alive ”
. “ Restore the lock! ” she cries ; and all around
Restore the lock ! the vaulted roofs rebound.
iNlot fierce Othello in so loud a, strain
Roared for the handkerchief that caused his pain
But see how oft ambitious aims are crossed '
And chiefs contend till all the prize is lost '
The lock, obtained with guilt, and kept with pain
In every place is sought, but sought in vain • ’
With such a prize no mortal must be blest
So heaven decrees ! with heaven who can’contest ?
But trust the Muse—she saw it upward rise.
Though marked by none but quick, poetic ey^s •
gi Romes great founder to the heavens withdrew
1 o Proculus alone confessed in view) ’
A sudden star,_ it shot through liquid air.
And drew behind a radiant trail of hair.
Alexander Pope
10
ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT
I KNOW the thing that’s most uncommon •
(Envy be silent and attend !)
I know a reasonable woman.
Handsome and witty, yet a friend.
Nor warped by passion, awed by rumour,
Not grave through pride, nor gay through folly
An equal mixture of good humour,
And sensible soft melancholy.
Has she no faults then,” (envy says,) Sir ?
■vAri ^ must aver :
When all the world conspires to praise her.
The woman’s deaf, and does not hear. 30
Alexander Pope
162
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG
ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A
MAD DOG
Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song ;
And if you find it wond’rous short.
It cannot hold you long.
In Islington there was a man,
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran.
Whene’er he went to pray.
A kind and gentle heart he had.
To comfort friends and foes ;
The naked every day he clad.
When he put on his clothes.
And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound.
And curs of low degree.
This dog and man at first were friends ;
But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends.
Went mad and bit the man.
Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wond’ring neighbours ran.
And swore the dog had lost his wits,
To bite so good a man.
The wound it seem’d both sore and sad
To every Christian eye ;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.
163
POEMS OLD AND NEW
But soon a wonder came to light,
That show’d the rogues they lied :
The man recover’d of the bite,
The dog it was that died.
Oliver Goldsmith
FRED
(Quoted in The Four Georges by Justin McCarthy)
Here lies Fred,
Who was alive and is dead.
Had it been his father,
I had much rather ;
Had it been his brother,
Still better than another ;
Had it been his sister,
No one would have missed her ;
Had it been the whole generation,
Still better for the nation.
But since it is only Fred,
Who was alive and is dead,
There’s no more to be said.
Anonymous
THE COLUBRIAD
Close by the threshold of a door nail’d fast
Three kittens sat : each kitten look’d aghast.
I, passing swift and inattentive by, s
At the three kittens cast a careless eye ;
Not much concern’d to know what they did there,
Not deeming kittens worth a poet’s care.
164
THE COLUBRIAD
But presently a loud and furious hiss
Caused me to stop, and to exclaim—what’s this ?
When, lo ! upon the threshold met my view.
With head erect, and eyes of fiery hue,
A viper, long as Count de Grasse’s queue.
Forth from his head his forked tongue he throws,
Darting it full against a kitten’s nose ;
Who having never seen in field or house
The like, sat still and silent, as a mouse :
Only, projecting with attention due lo
Her whisker’d face, she ask’d him—who are you ?
On to the hall went I, with pace not slow.
But swift as lightning, for a long Dutch hoe ;
With which well arm’d I hasten’d to the spot
To find the viper. But I found him not,
And, turning up the leaves and shrubs around.
Found only, that he was not to be found.
But still the kittens, sitting as before.
Sat watching close the bottom of the door.
I hope—said I—the villain I would kill 20
Has slipt between the door and the door’s sill ;
And if I make despatch, and follow hard.
No doubt but I shall find him in the yard :—
For long ere now it should have been rehears’d
’Twas in the garden that I found him first.
E’en there I found him ; there the full-grown cat
His head with velvet paw did gently pat,
As curious as the kittens erst had been
To learn what this phenomenon might mean.
Fill’d with heroic ardour at the sight, 30
And fearing every moment he would bite,
And rob our household of our only cat
That was of age to combat with a rat.
With out-stretch’d hoe I slew him at the door.
And taught him never to gome there no more.
William Cowper
POEMS OLD AND NEW
THE DESIRED SWAN-SONG
Swans sing before they die—’twere no bad thins
Should certain persons die before they sing.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS
The Jackdaw sat on the Cardinal’s chair !
Bishop, and abbot, and prior were there ;
Many a monk, and many a friar,
Many a knight, and many a squire.
With a great many more of lesser degree,_
In sooth a goodly company ;
And they served the Lord Primate on bended knee.
Never, I ween.
Was a prouder seen.
Read of in books, or dreamt of in dreams.
Than the Cardinal Lord Archbishop of Rheims !
In and out
Through the motley rout.
That little Jackdaw kept hopping about *
Here and there
Like a dog in a fair,
Over comfits and cates.
And dishes and plates,
Cowl and cope, and rochet and pall.
Mitre and crosier ! he hopp’d upon all !
With saucy air,
He perch’d on the chair
Where, in state, the great Lord Cardinal sat
In the great Lord Cardinal’s great red hat;
And he peer’d in the face
Of his Lordship’s Grace,
166
THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS
With a satisfied look, as if he would say,
‘‘ We two are the greatest folks here to-day ! ”
And the priests, with awe.
As such freaks they saw.
Said, '' The Devil must be in that little Jackdaw 1 ’’
The feast was over, the board was clear’d,
The flawns and the custards had all disappear’d.
And six little Singing-boys,—dear little souls I
In nice clean faces, and nice white stoles.
Came, in order due, lo
Two by two.
Marching that grand refectory through 1
A nice little boy held a golden ewer,
Emboss’d and fill’d with water, as pure
As any that flows between Rheims and Namur,
Which a nice little boy stood ready to catch
In a fine golden hand-basin made to match.
Two nice little boys, rather more grown.
Carried lavender-water, and eau de Cologne ;
And a nice little boy had a nice cake of soap, 20
Worthy of washing the hands of the Pope.
One little boy more
A napkin bore.
Of the best white diaper, fringed with pink,
And a Cardinal’s Hat mark’d in “ permanent ink.”
The great Lord Cardinal turns at the sight
Of these nice little boys dress’d all in white :
From his finger he draws
His costly turquoise ;
And, not thinking at all about little Jackdaws, 30
Deposits it straight
By the side of his plate.
While the nice little boys on his Eminence wait ;
Till, when nobody’s dreaming of any such thing.
That little Jackdaw hops off with the ring 1
167
Jr-UJiMS OLD AND NEW
There’s a cry and a shout.
And a deuce of a rout,
And nobody seems to know what they’re about
But the Monks have their pockets all turn’d inside out
ine Friars are kneeling.
And hunting, and feeling
The carpet, the floor, and the walls, and the ceilin?
The Cardinal drew
Off each plum-colour’d shoe.
And left his red stockings exposed to the view • lo
He peeps, and he feels
In the toes and the heels ;
They turn up the dishes,—they turn up the plates,-
They take up the poker and poke out the grates
—They turn up the rugs,
They examine the mugs :—
But, no !—no such thing ;—
They can’t find the ring 1
And the Abbot declared that/' when nobody twigged it
Some rascal or other had popp’d in, and prigg’d it ' ’’
Ihe Cardinal rose with a dignified look, ,,
He call’d for his candle, his bell, and his book !
In holy anger, and pious grief,
He solemnly cursed that rascally thief !
He cursed him at board, he cursed him in bed •
rom the sole of his foot to the crown of his head :
He cursed him m sleeping, that every night
He should dream of the devil, and wake in a fright •
He cursed him in eating, he cursed him in drinking,’
He cursed him m coughing, in sneezing, in winking :
He cursed him m sitting, m standing, in lying ; 31
He cursed him in walking, in riding, in flyin|.
He cursed him in living, he cursed him in dying !-
Never was heard such a terrible curse ! !
But what gave rise
To no little surprise,
Nobody seem’d one penny the worse !
168
THE JACKDAW OF RHEIMS
The day was gone,
The night came on,
The Monks and the Friars they search’d till dawn ;
When the Sacristan saw,
On crumpled claw,
Come limping a poor little lame Jackdaw 1
No longer gay.
As on yesterday ;
His feathers all seem’d to be turn’d the wrong
way ;—
His pinions droop’d—he could hardly stand,— lo
His head was as bald as the palm of your hand ;
His eye so dim,
So wasted each limb,
That, heedless of grammar, they all cried, ‘‘ That’s
HIM !—
That’s the scamp that has done this scandalous thing !
That’s the thief that has got my Lord Cardinal’s
Ring ! ”
The poor little Jackdaw,
When the Monks he saw,
Feebly gave vent to the ghost of a caw ;
And turn’d his bald head, as much as to say 20
Pray, be so good as to walk this way ! ”
Slower and slower
He limp’d on before,
Till they came to the back of the belfry door,
Where the first thing they saw,
Midst the sticks and the straw,
Was the ring in the nest of that little Jackdaw !
Then the great Lord Cardinal call’d for his
book,
And off that terrible curse he took ;
The mute expression 30
Served in lieu of confession,
i6p
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And, being thus coupled with full restitution,
The Jackdaw got plenary absolution !
—When those words were heard,
That poor little bird
Was so changed in a moment, ’twas really absurd.
He grew sleek, and fat ;
In addition to that,
A fresh crop of feathers came thick as a mat !
His tail waggled more
Even than before ;
But no longer it wagg’d with an impudent air,
No longer he perch’d on the Cardinal’s chair.
He hopp’d now about
With a gait devout ;
At Matins, at Vespers, he never was out ;
And, so far from any more pilfering deeds,
He always seem’d telling the Confessor’s beads.
If any one lied,—or if any one swore,—
Or slumber’d in pray’r-time and happen’d to snore.
That good Jackdaw 20
Would give a great “ Caw ! ”
As much as to say, Don’t do so any more ! ”
While many remark’d, as his manners they saw,
That they “ never had known such a pious Jackdaw! ”
He long lived the pride
Of that country-side,
And at last in the odour of sanctity died ;
When, as words were too faint
His merits to paint.
The Conclave determined to make him a Saint ; 30
And on newly made Saints and Popes, as you know.
It’s the custom, at Rome, new names to bestow.
So they canonized him by the name of Jim Crow !
R. H. Barham
KING CANUTE
KING CANUTE
King Canute was weary-hearted ; he had reigned
for years a score.
Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much
and robbing ^ore ;
And he thought upon his actions, walking by the
wild sea-shore.
Twixt the chancellor and bishop walked the king
with steps sedate,
Chamberlains and grooms came after, silversticks
and goldsticks great,
Chaplains, aides-de-camp, and pages—ail the officers
of state,
Sliding after like his shadow, pausing when he chose
to pause ;
If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers
dropped their jaws ;
If to laugh the king was minded, out they burst in
loud hee-haws.
But that day a something vexed him, that was clear
to old and young : lo
Thrice his grace had yawned at table, when his
favourite gleemen sung.
Once the queen would have consoled him, but he
bade her hold her tongue.
'' Something ails my gracious master,” cried the
keeper of the seal.
“ Sure, my lord, it is the lampreys served at dinner,
or the veal ? ”
“ Pshaw ! ” exclaimed the angry monarch. “ Keeper,
’tis not that I feel.”
T TT
POEMS OLD AND NEW
’Tis the hearty and not the dinner^ fool, that doth my
rest impair :
Gan a king be great as I am, prithee, and yet know
no care ?
Oh, Fm sick, and tired, and weary.’’—Some one
cried, “ The king’s arm-chair ! ”
• ■
Then towards the lackeys turning, quick my lord the
keeper nodded,
Straight the king’s great chair was brought him, by
two footmen able-bodied ;
Languidly he sank into it : it was comfortably
wadded.
“ Leading on my fierce companions,” cried he, over
storm and brine,
I have fought and I have conquered ! Where was
glory like to mine ? ”
Loudly all the courtiers echoed : “ Where is glory
like to thine ? ”
What avail me all my kingdoms ? Weary am I now
and old ; lo
Those fair sons I have begotten, long to see me dead
and cold ;
Would I were, and quiet buried, underneath the
silent mould ! ”
Nay, I feel,” replied King Canute, “ that my end
is drawing near.”
Don’t say so,” exclaimed the courtiers (striving
each to squeeze a tear).
“ Sure your grace is strong and lusty, and may live
this fifty year.”
IV2
KING CANUTE
“ Live these fifty years ! ” the bishop roared, with
actions made to suit.
“ Are you mad, my good lord keeper, thus to speak
of King Canute !
M^en have lived a thousand years, and sure his maiestv
will do’t.
“ Did not once the Jewish captain stay the sun upon
the hill.
And, the while he slew the foemen, bid the silver
moon stand still ?
So, no doubt, could gracious Canute, if it were his
sacred will.”
Might I stay the sun above us, good Sir Bishop ? ”
Canute cried ;
Could I bid the silver moon to pause upon her
heavenly ride ?
If the moon obeys my orders, sure I can command
the tide.”
Will the advancing waves obey me, bishop, if I
make the sign ? ” lo
Said the bishop, bowing lowly, '' Land and sea, my
lord are thine.”
Canute turned towards the ocean—Back ! ” he
said, “ thou foaming brine 1 ”
But the sullen ocean answered with a louder, deeper
roar.
And the rapid waves drew nearer, falling sounding on
the shore ;
Back the keeper and the bishop, back the king and
courtiers bore.
17^
POEMS OLD AND NEW
And he sternly bade them never more to kneel to
human clay,
But alone to praise and worship That which earth and
seas obey :
And his golden crown of empire never wore he from
that day.
W. M. Thackeray
YOU ARE OLD, FATHER WILLIAM
^'You are old, Father William,” the young man
said,
“ And your hair has become very white ;
And yet you incessantly stand on your head—
Do you think, at your age, it is right ? ”
In my youth,” Father William replied to his son,
'' I feared it might injure the brain ;
But now that Fm perfectly sure I have none, lo
Why, I do it again and again.”
You are old,” said the youth, as I mentioned
before,
And have grown most uncommonly fat;
Yet you turned a back-somersault in at the door—
Pray, what is the reason of that ? ”
In my youth,” said the sage, as he shook his grey
locks,
“ I kept all my limbs very supple
By the use of this ointment—one shilling the box—
Allow me to sell you a couple ? ”
You are old, said the youth, “ and your jaws are
too weak
For anything tougher than suet ;
V4
WASTE
Yet you finished the goose, with the bones and the
beak—
Pray, how did you manage to do it ? ”
In my youth/’ said his father, I
law,
And argued each case with my wife ;
And the muscular strength, which it
jaw,
Has lasted the rest of my life.”
took to the
gave to my
“ You are old,” said the youth, “ one would hardly
suppose ^
That your eye was as steady as ever ;
Yet you balance an eel on the end of your
nose—
What made you so awfully clever ? ” lo
“ I have answered three questions, and that is
enough,”
Said his father ; don’t give yourself airs !
Do you think I can listen all day to such stuff?
Be off, or I’ll kick you downstairs ! ”
Lewis Carroll
WASTE
I HAD written to Aunt Maud,
Who was on a trip abroad.
When I heard she’d died of cramp
Just too late to save the stamp.
Harry Graham
17c;
POEMS OLD AND NEW
STAR TALK
Are you awake, Gemelli,
This frosty night ?
We’ll be awake till reveille,
Which is Sunrise,” say the Gemelli,
It’s no good trying to go to sleep :
If there’s wine to be got we’ll drink it deep.
But rest is hopeless to-night,
But rest is hopeless to-night.”
Are you cold too, poor Pleiads,
This frosty night ? ” lo
“ Yes, and so are the Hyads :
See us cuddle and hug,” say the Pleiads,
“ All six in a ring : it keeps us warm :
We huddle together like birds in a storm :
It’s bitter weather to-night.
It’s bitter weather to-night.”
‘‘ What do you hunt, Orion,
This starry night ? ”
“ The Ram, the Bull and the Lion,
And the Great Bear,” says Orion, 20
With my starry quiver and beautiful belt
I am trying to find a good thick pelt
To warm my shoulders to-night.
To warm my shoulders to-night.”
“ Did you hear that, Great She-bear,
This frosty night ? ”
'' Yes, he’s talking of stripping me bare
Of my own big fur,” says the She-bear.
“ I’m afraid of the man and his terrible arrow :
The thought of it chills my bones to the marrow,
And the frost so cruel to-night ! 31
And the frost so cruel to-night ! ”
176
STAR TALK
“ How is your trade, Aquarius,
This frosty night ? ”
'' Complaints are many and various
And my feet are cold,” says Aquarius,
There’s Venus objects to Dolphin-scales,
And Mars to Crab-spawn found in my pails,
And the pump has frozen to-night.
And the pump has frozen to-night.”
Robert Graves
177
N
NOTES TO THE POEMS
Sir Patrick Spens.
The poet has confused the two following incidents :—
1. In 1281, in the reign of Alexander III, a number
of Scottish nobles accompanied Alexander’s daughter
Margaret to Norway, where she was to be married to
King Eric. On the return voyage, a storm came on,
and many of the nobles were drowned.
2. On the death of Alexander III, an expedition
was sent to Norway to bring over Margaret, the Maid
of Norway, Alexander’s granddaughter, heiress to the
Scottish throne. On the voyage to Scotland, she died
at Orkney in 1290.
P. 3, 1 . I. Dunfermline : then capital of Scotland.
1. 3. Skeely : skilful.
1 . 9. Braid: broad, i.e. important, probably a letter-
patent, or open letter, with the royal seal.
1. 19. Neist: next.
P. 4, 1 . 9. Hoysed : hoisted.
1. 17. Yestreen : yesterday evening.
1. 19. Gang : go.
1 . 23. Lift : sky.
1. 24. Guriy : dark, stormy.
1. 25. Lap : leapt, sprang.
P. 5, 1 - 3. Wap : to knock or stuff the material into the
ship’s side, by way of caulking the seams.
1 . 12. Aboon : above.
1 . 25. Aberdour : a port on the north shore of the Firth
of Forth, about 5 miles from Dunfermline.
Helen of KirconnelL
Sir Walter Scott gives the following account of the
occurrence on which this poem is founded :—
“ A lady of the name of Helen Irving, or Bell (for
this is disputed by the two clans), daughter of the laird
of Kirkconnell, in Dumfriesshire, and celebrated for
her beauty, was beloved by two gentlemen in the
neighbourhood. The name of the favoured suitor was
I 7 Q
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Adam Fleming, of Kirkpatrick ; that of the other h.,
escaped tradition, although it has been alleged that ^
was a Bell of Blacket-house. The addresses of thf
latter were, however, favoured by the friends of thf
lady, and the lovers were therefore obliged to meet W
secret, and by night, in the churchyard of Kirkconne l
a romantic spot surrounded by the river Kirtle
During one of these private interviews, the jealous ant
despised over suddenly appeared on the opposite
bank of the stream, and levelled his carbine at the
breast of his rival. Helen threw herself before her
lover, received in her bosom the bullet, and died in hh
arms. A desperate and mortal combat ensued be¬
tween Fleming and the murderer, in which the latter
was cut to pieces. The graves of the lovers are stil]
shown m the churchyard at Kirkconnell ”
P. 6, 1 . 7. Burd : maid.
1. II. Meikle : much.
Rosabelle.
Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832). Born at Edinburgh and
educated at the High School and Edinburgh Uni¬
versity, Scott was trained to the law, and called to the
hrom several years’ residence in the Border
district m his childhood, and from later visits he
amassed an.^ enormous collection of ballad material
of which he published in “ The Minstrelsy of the
Scottish Border (1802). The interest thus fostered in
teudal history found expression in a number of vigorous
narrative poems, such as ‘‘ The Lady of the Lake ”
and Marmion.’’ When Byron began to write the same
type of poems, better, as Scott imagined, than himself,
bcott turned to the novel, beginning with “ Waverley ”
(1014),^ published anonymously. In 1826 Scott be-
canie involved in his publishers’ bankruptcy, but
by his writing, had succeeded in clearing off a great
SSo'tsford when he died at his country house at
• best in short poems, where his diffuseness
is restrained by limit of form.
* -’ a- large, strong castle, now ruined,
situated between Kirkcaldy and Dysart, on a steep
crag washed by the Firth of Forth. ^
1 . 10. Inch : island.
' 2. spirit, whose screams were sup¬
posed to be an omen of disaster.
180
NOTES TO THE POEMS
1. 13. Seer : a man with second sight, or power to see
into the future.
1. 18. Roslin: a castle, now in ruins, on the river North
Esk, a few miles south of Edinburgh. It was founded
about 1450 by Sir William St. Glair (Sinclair), baron
of Roslin and Earl of Orkney.
1 . 21. The ring they ride : to charge on horseback past
a suspended ring and try to carry it off on the point of
a lance.
1 . 23. Sire : father.
P. 8, i. 3. Dryden's groves : an estate a mile north of Roslin.
1 . 4. Hawthornden : the glen that runs north from Roslin
Castle. Its steep sides, between which flows the Esk,
are dotted with caves.
1. 5. Chapel proud: beside the ruins of Roslin Castle,
stands the chapel. It contains a famous carved
pillar. Cf. 1. II.
1 . 8. Panoply : complete armour.
1 . 10. Sacristy : the apartment where vestments, sacred
books, etc., were kept.
Pale : rail, boundary.
1 . 13. Pinnet: pinnacle.
1 . 22. With candle, book, and knell: regularly—a common
formula.
Proud Maisie.
P. 8, 1 . 25. Maisie : Mary.
P. 9, 1 . 3. Braw : handsome.
Bishop Hatto.
Robert Southey (1774-1843) belongs, with Wordsworth
and Coleridge, to the group known as the ‘‘ Lake
Poets.'’ Pie was a greater scholar than poet ; and so
voluminous and detailed a writer that the very wealth
of his information stifles his ideas. Hence only his
slighter works now survive—his “ Life of Nelson ”
(1813) and such short poems as “ The Inchcape Rock ”
and ‘^After Blenheim.”
The story of this poem is a legend of an island in
the Rhine, on which stands the Mouse Tower, and
which is not far from Bingen.
La Belle Dame sans Merci.
John Keats (1795-1821) was born in London and
apprenticed to a surgeon. He was a friend of Shelley
and Leigh Hunt. His first long poem, “ Endymion ”
181
POEMS OLD AND NEW
(i8i8), illustrates the strength and weakness of Keats *
it excels in rich sensuous descriptions and happv
phrases but the story is lost (and remains unfinished!
among the wealth of detail. The influence of Spenser
IS deeply marked. In his next volume, “Lamia
Isabella, and Other Poems” (1820), Keats illustrates
the statement that he went to school with the great
English poets. “ Lamia ” is in the style of Dryden
“ Hyperion ” is a Miltonic fragment, while many of
the sonnets are Shakespearean in tone. These poems
show a rapid development and his “ Letters ” prove
that he was even more mature in mind than some of
the poems might allow us to suspect. Pie was attain¬
ing to something of the literary perfection of his
favourite Greece, when he died of consumption in
Rome. Keats at his best is master of a Shakespearean
felicity of phrase, and his early death robbed England
of one of her potentially greatest poets.
P. 12, 1 . 22. : girdle, belt.
1. 23. As : as if.
P. 13, 1 . 2. Manna dew : cf. Exodus xvi. 15.
The Knighfs Leap,
Charles Kingsley (1819-1875), Rector of Eversley, was
keenly interested in social reform, and in his early
novels, “ Alton Locke ” and “ Yeast,” he advocates
a type of Christian socialism. His best novels, “ West¬
ward Ho 1 ” and “ Hereward the Wake,” deal with his¬
torical adventure and the sea, in which as a Devonshire
man he naturally delighted. Plis best poetic work is
found in a few short lyrics like “ The Sands of Dee ” *
while of his prose work “ The Heroes,” a group of
Greek legends, and “ The Water Babies ” are still
popular with the young.
P. 13, 1 . 27. Ahr : a western tributary of the Rhine, famous
lor the red wine produced in its valley.
3* ^ Harness : armour.
^ the Sine Moselle, a tributary of
Coin . Cologne, on the Rhine, in Germany.
Horatius.
Thomas Babington Macaulay (1800-1859) was educated
at Cambridge and, after being called to the Bar,
entered Parliament and held several political posts.
182
NOTES TO THE POEMS
A retentive memory and enormous reading and infor¬
mation, together with a style rhetorical but of extreme
lucidity and brilliance, qualified him to excel in
historical writing. He first made his name at twenty-
five with his Essay on Milton, published in the Edin¬
burgh Review.” The “ Lays of Ancient Rome ”
(1842) have the same qualities as his prose.
The Tarquin dynasty, expelled from Rome for the
crime of Sextus Tarquinius, got support from the
peoples of the surrounding districts, including Clusium,
■Tusculum, Veii, and Luna, and marched against
Rome.
P- 15? 1 - 5* Consul: one of the two chief magistrates of
Rome.
1. 12. Lars Porsena : King of Clusium.
P. 16, 11 . 22-26. Ramnian, Titian : the Ramnes and the
Titles were two of the three old patrician tribes of
Rome. The third, the Luceres, was represented by
Horatius.
P. 17, 1 . 9. Fathers : the Senate, the Roman parliament.
1. 13. Tuscan [army) : belonging to Etruria (Tuscany).
P. 18, 1 . 7. Umbria : the province north of Rome, and east
of Etruria.
1. 19. Luna : a town in the extreme north of Etruria.
1 . 29, The she-wolf^s litter: the Romans. According to
the legend, Romulus and Remus, the founders of Rome,
were suckled by a she-wolf.
P. 19, 1 . 21. Mount Alvernus : a peak in the Apennines, in
Etruria.
1 . 25. Augurs: Roman officials who foretold future
events from omens.
1 . 33. Lucumo : a title of honour bestowed on Etruscan
kings, nobles and priests.
P. 20, 1 . 7. Etruria : a province north of Rome, now
Tuscany.
P. 22, 1 . I. Sextus : the son of Tarquinius Superbus, King
of Rome, through whose crime Tarquinius was de¬
posed and banished from the city,
1 . 9. Palatinus: one of the seven hills on which Rome
was built.
1. 13. Father Tiber : Rome stands on the river Tiber.
P. 23, 1 . 32. Volscian : the Volsci lived in Latium, the
province just to the south of Rome.
P.24,1. I. Juno: the queen of the gods, and wife of
Jupiter.
183
OLD AND NEW
Shameful Death.
William Morris (1834-1896), after an education at
Marlborough and Oxford, began his career as an
architect. His artistic temperament revolted from the
monotonous drabness of an age of machinery, and he
devoted himself to restoring something of the inspired
craftsmanship of the Middle Ages. He joined the Pre
Raphaelite Brotherhood, founded for a similar purpose
by D. G. Rossetti, Holman Hunt, and Millais, and in¬
cluded among his enterprises hand-printing, paintine
poetry, and designs for wall-papers and house-decora¬
tion. In ‘ ‘ The Life and Death op ason ” he approaches
GliEiiccr in the ense nnei limpidity of his nnrmtivc
while in his lyrics he gives evidence of dramatic
power.
P. 24, 1. 25. Hornbeams : a small tree commonly used for
hedges.
P. 25, 1. 3. Fen : flat, marshy land.
1. 4. Dolorous : mournful.
The Ballad of Semmerwater.
Sir William Watson (b. 1858) came of a Yorkshire
His numerous volumes of poetry, beginning
with The Prince’s Quest” (1880), were written
chiefly under_ the influence of Swinburne. His best
work is done in the more simple ballad stvle
P. 26, 1. 6. Mickle : great.
1 . 8 . Wakeman : watchman.
1 . 20. Brant : steep.
Hart-Leap Well.
William Wordsworth (1770-1850) was born and educated
in the Lake District, where he spent a free and happy
childhood. After a short period at Cambridge Uni¬
versity, he travelled abroad, chiefly in France, just
after the outbreak of the Revolution. His enthusiasm
lor r ranee and the ideas of the Revolution suffered a
sewre shock with the September Massacres in 1792,
and for the next few years he was in a state of deep
depression and uncertainty. These years were spent at
Nether Stowey, in Somerset, in the society of his sister
Dorothy and his friend Coleridge. Through their
innuence and by his renewed contact with Nature, he
gradually returned to his healthy youthful outlook, and
in 179^ began the great period of his poetic production.
184
NOTES TO THE POEMS
In that year he issued “ Lyrical Ballads,” in collaboration
with Coleridge. The book is a turning-point in literary
history. Wordsworth discarded the artificial style of Pope
and Johnson, and wrote of ordinary men and their prim¬
ary emotions in the natural language of everyday life.
Both emotions and language he found in their purest
state in the country : hence his poems deal almost
entirely with incidents and characters taken from
country life.
P. 29, 1 . I. Wemley Moor : in the Pennines round the
head-waters of the River Ure.
1 . 13. Rout: company.
P. 30, 1 . 15. Teaned : weaned.
p. 31, 11. 19-20. Swale^ Ure: tributaries of the Ouse, in
Yorkshire.
P. 32, 1 . 13. Hawes : a town near the source of the River
Ure.
Richmond : a town on the River Swale.
The Destruction of Sennacherib.
George Noel Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824), was born
in London and educated at Harrow and Trinity
College, Cambridge. He travelled much on the
Continent, settling first in Switzerland, and afterwards
in Italy. His travels are recorded in “ Childe Harold’s
Pilgrimage.” A rebel by personal and social cir¬
cumstances, he favoured the French ideas of liberty
and attacked fiercely the restrictions then imposed in
England on social and political freedom. In 1823
he put his ideals into practice by fitting out a ship to
help the Greeks in their war of liberation against the
Turks. He was seized with fever and died at Mis-
solonghi. His bravery in the cause of freedom,
his resolute and romantic personality, as much as the
force and romantic gloom of his poetry, made and
have long kept him a European hero.
“ Now in the fourteenth year of king Hezekiah did
Sennacherib king of Assyria come up against all the
fenced cities of Judah, and took them. . . . And the
king of Assyria sent Tartan and Rabsaris and Rab-
shakeh from Lachish to king Hezekiah with a great
host against Jerusalem. And. they went up and
came to Jerusalem. . . . And it came to pass that night,
that the angel of the Lord went out, and smote in the
camp of the Assyrians an hundred fourscore and five
185
POEMS OLD AND NEW
thousand : and when they arose early in the morning
behold, they were all dead corpses. So Sennacherib
king of Assyria departed, and went and returned, and
dwelt at Nineveh.”—2 Kings xviii. and xix. ^
P. 35, 1 . 5. Assyria : an ancient country in the valley of
the river Tigris : now Iraq.
1 . 6. Cohorts : regiments, troops.
1. 8. Deep Galilee : the Lake of Galilee, in Palestine.
P. 36, 1 . I. Ashur : one of the chief towns of Assyria, and
on the river Tigris. ’
1 . 2. Baal: a Phoenician god.
1 . 3. Gentile : any one who was not a Jew.
The Armada.
P. 36, 1. 11. Castile : the more important half of Spain :
here = Spain.
Aurignfs Isle : a small island in the English Channel
just off Gape de la Hogue : Alderney. ’
1 . 16. Edgecumbe : a peak near Plymouth (facing Ply¬
mouth Hoe). ^
P. 37, 1 . 2. Halberdiers : soldiers armed with the halberd
—a long pole surmounted by an axe-head on one side
and a hook on the other.
1 . 3. Teomen : freeholders, a grade below gentlemen.
1 . 4. Her Grace : Queen Elizabeth.
1 . 7. Lion : the emblem of England.
1 . 8. Gay lilies : the emblem of France. On the English
royal arms of that day the lilies of France still appeared
in the quartering beneath the lion.
1 . 9. That famed Picard field : Crecy (1346), in Picardy,
where Edward III defeated the French king, Philip VI.
1 . 10. Bohemia's plume: the King of Bohemia, fighting
for France, was slain at Crecy. His triple feather cresb
with the motto Ich dien, was adopted by the Black
Prince, Edward’s eldest son, who won his spurs in the
battle.
^ Genoa's bow : the Genoese archers on the French
side at Crecy,
Caesar's eagle shield : the imperial eagle of the Flouse
of Austria.
1 . II. Agincourt: the battle in the North of France,
where Henry V, in 1415, turned on the French and
defeated them.
1 . 16. Semper eadem : Lat. always the same : the motto
on the English royal standard.
P. 38, 1. 2. Eddystone : a rock to the south of Plymouth.
186
NOTES TO THE POEMS
There is now a lighthouse on it.
Lynn : in Norfolk, in the east of England.
Wales, in the extreme west of
rwin^ivi^) uiuU AINU iNJiW
E Mount: in Mount’s Bay, east of Land’s
1. 8. Tamar: the river in Cornwall (Plymouth stands nn
Its estuary).
1. 9 . Mendip'ssunless caves: the lead-mines, now
in the Mendip Hills. ^ nausted,
1. 10. Longleafs towers : in Wiltshire.
Cranbourne : an abbey in the north of Dorset.
1. u. ^ Stonehenge : the famous Druid circle on Salisbury
Beaulieu : a town on the borders of the New Forest
Hampshire. ^
1. 13. Clifton Down : near Bristol.
1. 14. Whitehall Gate : in London.
L 15. Richmond Hill: just south of London.
P. 39, 1. I. The Tower : i.e. of London.
1. Blackheath : now in London, near Greenwich
1. 10. Hampstead: Flampstead Heath, London.
1. 13. Peak : the mountain at the south end of the
Pennine Chain.
Darwin : in north Lancashire.
1. 15. Malvern : hills in Worcestershire just west of the
Severn.
1. 16. Wrekln : a peak near Shrewsbury.
1. 17. Elf s stately fane: the cathedral of Ely, near
Cambridge.
Beevor) in Leicestershire, 7 miles
S.W. of Grantham.
P. 40, 1. I. Trent: a tributary of the Humber.
1. 2. Skiddaw : one of the chief peaks in Cumberland.
Gaunt s embattled pile : Lancaster castle, restored bv
John of Gaunt. ^
Embattled: furnished with battlements.
Morte d^Arthur.
Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892) was the son of a
clergyman and born at Somersby, in Lincolnshire.
At irinity College, Cambridge, he made the acquaint¬
ance of Arthur Henry Hallam, on whose death he*
T Memoriam.” His early work, “ Poems,
chiefly Lyrical ; (1830), shows him already a master
ot sound and rhythm, in the .tradition of Spenser and
rP volumes, this power was increased
and combined with a. growing vein of serious thought on
me social and religious questions of the day. “ The
Princess (1847) dealt with the position and education
188
NOTES TO THE POEMS
of women, and “ In Memoriam ” (1850) with religious
problems. Tennyson’s poetry at its finest approaches
the poetry of Virgil in perfection of language and
emotional effect, and his acute powers of observation
are reflected in the accuracy of his descriptions and
character-studies. Tennyson is perhaps at his best
in his lyrics, such as those in “ The Princess,” and in
dramatic monologues, like “ Ulysses,” or poems like
the ode “To Virgil ” or “ The Lotos-Eaters,” where
an atmosphere has to be created. His limitations—
a straining, at times over-conscious, after effective ex¬
pression, a vein of sentimentality, and a linaited power
of purely original thought—explain the decline which
he has suffered from his first enthusiastic popularity.
In the Morte d'Arthur King Arthur had been mortally
wounded in his last battle, and was now attended only
by the last of his knights. Sir Bedivere. The following is
Malory’s account on which Tennyson’s poem is based:—
“ ‘ But my time hieth fast,’ said King Arthur unto
Sir Bedivere, ‘ therefore take thou Excaiibur, my good
sword, and go with it unto yonder water-side ; and
when thou comest there, I charge thee, throw my
sword into that water, and come again and tell me
what thou shalt see there.’ ‘ My lord,’ said Sir Bedi¬
vere, ‘ your command shall be done, and lightly bring
you word again.’ And so Sir Bedivere departed,
and by the way he beheld that noble sword, where
the pommel and the haft were all of precious stones.
And then he said to himself, ‘ If I throw this rich
sword into the water, thereof shall never come good,
but harm and loss.’ And then Sir Bedivere hid
Excaiibur under a tree, and as soon as he might, he
came again unto King Arthur, and said he had been
at the water, and had thrown,)the sword into the
water. ‘ What sawest thou there ? ’ said the king.
‘ Sir,’ said he, ‘ I saw nothing but waves and wind.’
‘ That is untruly said of thee,’ said King Arthur,
‘ therefore go thou lightly and do my command,^ as
thou art to me lief and dear, spare not but throw it in.’
Then Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword
in his hand ; and then he thought it sin and sharne
to throw away that noble sword ; and so after he hid
the sword, and returned again, and told^ to the king
that he had been at the water and done his command.
* What saw ye there ? ’ said the King. ‘ Sir,’ said
189
rUiLMb OLD AND NEW
‘ I saw nothing but the waters wap and the waves wan ’
‘Ah ! traitor, untrue/ said King Arthur, ‘ now hast
thou betrayed me two times, who would have weened
that thou that hast been unto me so lief and dear
and thou art named a noble knight, and wouldest
betray me for the rich sword. But now go again
lightly, for thy long tarrying putteth me in great
jeopardy of my life, for I have taken cold ; anci but
if thou do as I command thee, and if ever I may see
thee, I shall slay thee with mine own hands, for thou
wouldst for my rich sword see me dead.’ Then
Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the sword, and
lightly took it up and went to the water’s side^ and
there he bound the girdle about the hilts. And’ then
he threw the sword into the water as far as he might
and there came an arm and a hand above the water’
and met it and caught it, and so shook it thrice and
brandished. And then the hand vanished away with
the sword in the water.
“ So Sir Bedivere came again to the King, and told
him what he had seen. ‘ Alas ! ’ said the King ‘ heb
me from hence ; for I dread me I have tarried over
long. Then Sir Bedivere took King Arthur upon his
back, and so went with him to the water’s side • and
when they were at the water’s side, even fast by the
(Dank hovered a little barge, with many fair ladies in
It : and aniong them ail was a queen, and all they had
black hoods ; and they wept and shrieked when
they saw King Arthur.
“ ‘ Now put me into the barge,’ said the King. And
so he did softly, and there received him three queens
with great mourning ; and so these three queens sat
thern down, and in one of their laps King Arthur laid
his head. And then that queen said, ‘ Ah ! dear
mother, why have ye tarried so long from me ? Alas I
this wound on your head hath taken overmuch cold.*’
And so then they rowed from the land ; and Sir
Bed were beheld all those ladies go from him. Then
Sir Bedivere cried, ‘ Ah 1 my lord Arthur, what shall
become of me now ye go ffom me, and leave me
here alone among mine enemies!’ ‘Comfort thy-
selt,^ said King Arthur, ‘ and do as well as thou mayest •
lor in me is no trust for to trust in : fori will into the
vab of Avilion, for to heal me of my grievous wound :
and. It thou never hear more of me, pray for my soul.’
190
NOTES TO THE POEMS
But evermore the queens and the ladies wept and
shrieked, that it was pitiful for to hear them : and, as
soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge, he
wept and wailed, and so took the forest, and so he went
all the night.”
P. 40, 1 . 6. Table : the Round Table, at which sat King
Arthur’s knights.
1 . 7. Lyonesse : the land (now submerged) west of
Gamelot whence Arthur was supposed to have come.
1 . 24. Camelot: a legendary place in England where
Arthur was said to have his palace and court.
1 . 26. Merlin : the wizard who guided Arthur’s fortunes.
P. 41, 1 . 5. Samite : silk.
L II. Middle mere : the middle of the lake.
1 . 12. Lightly : quickly.
1. 34. Dividing the swift mind : hesitating.
P. 42, 1 . 10. Betray'd thy . . . name: Bedivere, verus,
1. 12. Fealty: fidehty, loyalty.
1. 17. Lief: dear.
P. 43, 1 . 10. Conceit: imagination, idea.
P. 44, 1 . 2. The northern morn : the Aurora Borealis.
P. 45, 1 . 35. Casque : helmet.
P. 46, 1 . 6. Greaves : armour for the legs (below the knee).
Cuisses : armour for the thighs.
P. 47, 1 . 13. Avilion : Avalon, the legendary “ island of the
blest,” the supposed abode near Glastonbury of King
Arthur. Tennyson calls it Avilion (“ the apple island ”).
The Lady of Shalott.
Shalott : a secluded island in which the action of the
poem takes place.
P.47,1.31. Camelot: See Note on “ Morte d’Arthur ”
above, P. 40, 1 . 24.
P. 48, 1 . 17. Shallop : a light open boat.
P. 50, 1 . 9. Sir Lancelot: the most famous of the Knights
of the Round Table.
1 . 16. The Golden Galaxy : the Milky Way.
Herve Riel.
Robert Browning (1812-1889) began his poetic career
with “Pauline” (1833), written under the mfluence
of Shelley. ■“ Paracelsus ” (1835) followed. His work
gradually became more dramatic in intention, with
“ Strafford ” and other dramas, “ Dramatic Lyrics ”
i v_yxjxvxu INjJiW
(1842), “ Dramatic Romances and Lyrics ” j
“Men and Women” (rBsg). “ tL Rinjll?] ^
Book,” his longest poem 1868-1869), is perW V
masterpiece. The main event of an othirwise^S^S
life was his elopement m 1846, with Elizabeth Barrett
the poetess, to whom he was devotedly attached
her death, which took place in Florence. Most 0^},^
later themes are drawn from Italian sources. Browning’s
poetry excels in fertility of ideas, in grasp of psycholorifa
subtleties, in power of delineating queer abnormal char
actere, and in dramatic quality, but suffers from ob
scunty and irregularity of syntax, and lack of poetic-
though never of mental—quality. ^
P. 53, 1. 10 The Hogue: Cape de la Hogue, in Normandy.
1 . 14. 6/. Malo : a seaport in Brittany. ^
Ranee : the river that flows into the Bay of St. Main
P. 55, 1. 4. Breton : of Brittany, in N.W. France.
1. 5. Crouickese : a native of Le Croisic at the mouth of
the Loire, where this poem was written
1 . 7. Malouins : natives of St. Malo.
1 . 10. Offing : the part of the sea nearer the horizon than
the coast.
Grande '^
Disembogues : enters the sea.
1 . 14. Solidor : the Tower and Port of Solidor are at
St’ mTiT^’ P-ance, a short distance south of
P- 57 ? I- Rampired: fortified.
victorious^'''
af a mreum.^
The Pied Piper of Hamelin.
inscribed to, a little son
of the actor, William Macready.
?: 59:1: = J
P. 61, 1. 15 Tarffiry : now Turkestan, in Asia.
Lham (from Kam) .• sovereign, ruler
1 . 17- Nizam : the ruler of an Indian state.
yliue a“w';s.8d!^™"
192
NOTES TO THE POEMS
P. 62, 1 . 14. Julius Caesar . . . commentary: this took place
at Alexandria.
I. 30. Muncheon : literally, noon-draught : a light re¬
freshment taken at or after noon ; luncheon.
I. 32. Puncheon : a large cask (72-120 gallons).
P. 63, 1 . 13. Claret^ etc. : four well-known varieties of wine.
1 . 15. Rhenish: Rhine wine. •
1. 34. Caliph: the chief ruler in a Mohammedan
country.
P. 64, 1 . 2. Stiver : any small coin.
L 5. Brook : endure.
P. 66, 1 . 7. A text: “ It Is easier for a camel to go
through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter
into the kingdom of God.”— St. Matt. xix. 24.
P. 67, 1 . 3. Transylvania : a province, formerly in Hun¬
gary, now in Rumania.
1 . 9. Trepan : to trap, ensnare, decoy.
Goblin Market.
Christina G. Rossetti (1830-1894), sister of Dante
Gabriel, was born in London. “ Goblin Market ”
(1862) and “The Prince’s Progress” (1866) have a grace
and sweetness partly due to the writer’s acquaintance
with Italian, and a colour that calls to mind her
association with the Pre-Raphaelite group of painters.
Her later poetry is devoted to religious themes.
The formation of the narrative is as follows :—the
goblins tempt women to eat their luscious but un¬
canny fruits; a first taste produces a rabid craving
for a second taste ; but the second taste^ is never
accorded, and, in default of it, the woman pines away
and dies. Laura having tasted the fruits once, and
being at death’s door through inability to get a second
taste, her sister Lizzie determines to save her at all
hazards ; so she goes to the goblins, refuses to eat
their fruits, and beguiles them into forcing the fruits
upon her with so much insistency that her face is
all smeared and steeped with the juices; she gets
Laura to kiss and suck these juices off her^ face, and
Laura, having thus obtained the otherwise impossible
second taste, rapidly recovers.
From W. M. Rossetti’s Notes to the “ Poems.”
P. 67, 1 . 21. Quince: a hard, acid, yellowish fruit used for
flavouring.
P. 68, 1 . 8. Bullace : a small wild plum, allied to the
damson.
193
O
POEMS OLD AND NEW
P. 69, L 25. Wombat: an animal like a small bear.
1. 26. Ratel: a nocturnal animal allied to the badger.
P. 72, 1 . 21. Pellucid : very clear
P. 74j 1 . 29. Succous : succulent, juicy.
p. 75^ 1. 3. Baulked : disappointed, hindered.
P. 78^ 1 . 24. Demur : to hesitate, object.
P. 81, 1 . 20. Wormwood : a bitter plant, bitterness.
p] 83,^ 1 . 17. Antidote : a counteracting medicine.
A Runnable Stag.
John Davidson (1857-1909), born in Renfrewshire, was
for some time a schoolmaster, and later a journalist in
London. His volumes of poetry, “ Fleet Street
Eclogues ” (1893, 1896), “ Ballads and Songs ’’ (1894),
“ New Ballads ” (1897), “ Last Ballads ” (1899), and
his series of “ Testaments,” not sufficiently known,
display high and daring imaginative power. Fie was
drowned at Penzance.
P. 83, 1 . 28. Harboured: tracked to its refuge.
Coomb : deep valley.
1 . 29. Feathered: a hunting term for “ put the hounds
direct on the trail.”
P. 84, 1 . 3. Brow, bay and tray: the first, second, and
third antlers.
1 . 7. Brocket: a stag in his second year.
1 . 12. Beamed and lined: the two main horns are called
the beams, and the branches from them are called tines.
1. 14. Tufted: beat.
1. 26. Tufter : beater. In stag-hunting, hounds trained
to drive the stag out of cover.
Hawke.
Sir Henry Newbolt {b. 1862), educated at Clifton
College and Corpus Christi College, Oxford, was
called to the Bar in 1887 and became editor of
“ The Monthly Review.” His poetry, which deals
almost entirely with war by land and sea, is full of
energy and catching rhythms. No poet has better ex¬
pressed the spiritual ideals of the English public school.
In 1759, during the Seven Years’ War with France,
Admiral Hawke gained a decisive victory over the
French fleet in Quiberon Bay. The action took place
during a storm and on a very rocky and dangerous
shore. This naval victory, the most important since
the Armada, averted a threatened invasion of England.
P. 86, 1 . 21. Twenty of the line : i.e. battleships.
194
NOTES TO THE POEMS
1. 22. Brest: the most important French naval station
on the Atlantic coast.
He fell among thieves.
P. 87, 1 . 17. Sornetime : former.
P. 88, 11 . 6-7. Tassin river : Laspur hills : in the Ghitral
district, in the extreme north-west of India, on the
borders of Afghanistan. A native rising took place in
the district in 1895.
1 . 10. Wistaria : a climbing shrub (with lilac-coloured
flowers).
1. 23. College Eight: the boat crew.
1 . 24. Dons : fellows or tutors of the college, who dine
on a dais or slightly raised platform.
The Highwayman.
Alfred Noyes {h. 1880) was born at Wolverhampton and
educated at Exeter College, Oxford. He has dealt
poetically with great historical actions, as in “ Drake ’’
(igo8) and “ The Torchbearers ” (1922-25-30).
Such shorter poems as “ The Highwayman ” and
“ The Barrel-Organ ” have achieved wide popularity.
The Passionate Shepherd to his Love.
Christopher Marlowe (1563-1593) was born at Canter¬
bury and educated at Cambridge. While still at the
University, he began to write for the London stage.
He belonged to the group of University Wits, who
derived a precarious living from literature. He was
killed at the age of twenty-nine in a tavern brawl at
Deptford. His most famous play, perhaps, is “Dr.
Faustus.” His contributions to the growth of the
secular drama were his stately yet elastic blank verse
and his conception of the tragic protagonist. He also
wrote a narrative poem, “ Hero and Leander,” com¬
pleted by Chapman, and a few exquisite lyrics.
P. 97, 1 . 8. Madrigal: a kind of part-song, unaccom¬
panied, in the pastoral style.
1. 11. Kirtle : gown, petticoat.
Winter. . , . , r
William Shakespeare (1564-1616). Litde is known for
certain about the facts of Shakespeare’s life. He was born
in Stratford-on-Avon, educated probably at the local
grammar school, may have gone to London as early as
1584 to seek his fortune, and became actor and drama¬
tist. About 1610, having made sufficient money out
of the success of his plays, Shakespeare retired to
Stratford and bought New Place, a solid country house.
IQR
POEMS OLD AND NEW
^ Shakespeare is the greatest poet of the world and
m his works the human heart in every mood’finHc
perfect expression. ^
This lyric is sung by Winter at the end of “ Love’q
Labour’s Lost.”
P. 985 1 . 13. Keel: to skim, clean.
1 . 15. Saw : saying, sermon,
i. 18. Crabs : crab-apples.
Fidele.
This song is sung over the body of Imogen in ‘‘ Gvm
beline.” ^
P.99,1. 10. Thunder stone : thunderbolt.
1 . II. Censure: opinion, judgement.
1 . 14. Consign : seal (the bond of death).
Character of a Happy Life.
Sir Henry Wotton (1568-1639), born near Maidstone in
Kent, and educated at Winchester and Oxford
entered the Middle Temple and later held various
diplomatic appointments. He left little in the way of
literature except a few graceful and polished lyrics
P. 99, 1 . 18. Silly : simple. ^ '
1 . 20. Still : always.
P. 100, 1. 7. Entertains : whiles away.
To Celia.
Ben Jonson (1573-1637) was educated at Westminster
and was successively bricklayer’s apprentice, soldier’
actor, and dramatist. He was an erudite classical
scholar, and bestowed great pains on his dramas
which are largely founded on classical models. His
chief contribution to English drama was his develop¬
ment of the comedy of Humours,” characters in
Whom one peculiar quality is exaggerated to the extent
of ca.ncature, as in “Every Man in his Humour”
Volpone,” and “ The Alchemist.” His lyrics are
lull or grace and sweetness.
P. loOj h 19- Jove : Jupiter, the king of the gods.
Nectar : the drink of the gods.
Hymn to Diana.
This song is sung by Hesperus in “ Cynthia’s Revels ”
(I boo).
P. 101, 1 5. Hesperus : the evening star.
1. 9 * Cynthia : another name for Diana, the goddess of
the moon. °
NOTES TO THE POEMS
The Village Preacher and The Village Schoohnaster.
Oliver Goldsmith (1728-1774) was the son of an Irish
clergyman—the kindly Mr. Primrose of “ The Vicar
of Wakefield.” After desultory studies at Dublin,
Edinburgh, and Leyden, he travelled on foot over
France, Switzerland, and Italy, earning his living by
his flute. On his return to London, he produced
various types of work : essays, collected in “ The
Citizen of the World ” ; a novel, “ The Vicar of
Wakefield ” ; two plays, “ The Good-natured Man ”
and “ She Stoops to Conquer ” ; and a few poems,
including “ The Traveller ” and “ The Deserted
Village.” ^ His kindly humour and universal good¬
nature shines through all he wrote, and a natural
and limpid style of exquisite charm has placed his
work among the classics.
P. loi, 1 . 24. Passing : very (surpassingly).
P. 102, 1 . 5. The vagrant train : beggars,
1 . 7. Long-remembered: here meaning ‘ with a long memory;
store of memories.’
P. 103, 1 . 30. Cypher : to count, do arithmetic.
1 . 32. Gauge : to measure (volume).
The Tiger.
William Blake (1757-1827) was born in London and
became an engraver and printer. He issued and
illustrated his own poems, of which the best known are
“Songs of Innocence” (1787) and “Songs of Ex¬
perience” (1794). At his best Blake combines a
childlike simplicity with the vivid imagery and pene¬
trating vision of a fervid mystic.
The Solitary Reaper,
This poem was suggested by the following sentence from
Wilkinson’s “ Tour of Scotland ” :—
“ Passed a female who was reaping alone : she sung
in Erse as she bended over her sickle ; the sweetest
human voice I ever heard ; her strains were tenderly
melancholy, and felt delicious, long after they were
heard no more.”
Upon Westminster Bridge,
This poem should be compared with the prose descrip¬
tion of the same scene in Dorothy Wordsworth’s
“Journal”:
“We mounted the Dover coach at Charing Gross.
IQ7
rujiMb OLD AND NEW
Sle a’ °f
Westminster Bridge The hnT,<if.= , ® crossed
by tteir cloud .nTS
endlessly yet the sun shone so brightly and
a fierce light, that there was even somethfn^ liV
purity of one of Nature’s own grand specfades!’’®
She dwelt among the untrodden ways.
P. io6, 1. 24. Dove: there is a river in ri u 1 •
and a Dove Crag in Westmoreland.
Soldier^ rest!
^oftirLateT “The Lady
ntf. ■■ ploughed but unsown.
1 * o^' n ^ evading bird of the heron family
1. 24. Devezlle : a morning signal for soldiers to rwe.
Coronach.
Coronach : dirge, lament.
^ on a hiiiside!^”*' ^ steep-sided circular hollow
1 * 18. Cumber : trouble.
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu.
a very ancient pibroch belonging to Clan
DonaM^BaHith‘^e®^xpedition
Isles wt h ^ “.'431, launched from the
With a considerable force, invaded Lochaber
of defeated and put to flight the Earls
of Mar and Caithness, though at the head of an armv
P own.”— Sir Walter Scott. ^
P‘ i ia 1 "lyfic on the bagpipe.
shire.^' Tort William, in Inverness-
1. 20. Targes : shields.
Kubla Khan.
son of the Vicar
nu • . Mary, Devonshire, was educated at
Christ Hospital and Jesus College, CaXiSe ft
settlement in Anierica, but he was too unpractical ever
WorlfLrwih wh'oSte
198
NOTES TO THE POEMS
in 1798, Coleridge treating supernatural subjects and
Wordsworth themes from everyday life. He lived for
some time near Wordsworth, at Keswick ; and later he
moved to London, where he lectured on Shakespeare.
Towards the end of his life he became a victim to
opium, which deadened his intellectual powers. He
successfully overcame this habit, however, and spent
the last years of his life contentedly at Highgate.
Coleridge gives the following account of the com¬
position of this poem :—
“ In the summer of the year 1797, the Author, then
in ill-health, had retired to a lonely farm-house be¬
tween Porlock and Linton, on the Exmoor confines of
Somerset and Devonshire. In consequence of a slight
indisposition, an anodyne had been prescribed, from
the effects of which he fell asleep in his chair at the
moment that he was reading the following sentence, or
words of the same substance, in ‘ Purchases Pilgrim¬
age ’ : ‘ Here the Khan Kubla commanded a palace
to be built, and a stately garden thereunto. And thus
ten miles of fertile ground were enclosed by a wall.’
The Author continued for about three hours in a pro¬
found sleep, at least of the external senses, during w^hich
time he has the most vivid confidence, that he could
not have composed less than from tw^o to three hundred
lines ; if that indeed can be called composition in
which all the images rose up before him as things, with
a parallel production of the corresponding expressions,
without any sensation or consciousness of effort. On
awaking _ he appeared to himself to have a distinct
recollection of the whole, and taking his pen, ink, and
paper, instantly and eagerly wrote down the lines that
are here preserved. At this moment he was unfortun¬
ately called out by a person on business from Porlock,
and detained by him above an hour, and on his return
to his room, found, to his no small surprise and mor¬
tification, that though he still retained some vague and
dim recollection of the general purport of the vision,
yet, with the exception of some eight or ten scattered
lines and images, all the rest had passed away like the
images on the surface of a stream into which a stone
has been cast, but alas ! without the after restoration
of the latter ! ”
The following is the actual passage that Coleridge
was reading when he fell asleep :—
199
POEMS OLD AND NEW
“ In Xamdiu did Cublai Can build a stately Palace
encompassing sixteene miles of plaine ground with a
wall wherein are fertile Meddowes, pleasant Springs
dehghtfull Streames, and all sorts of beasts of chlse
and game, and in the middest thereof a sumptuous
house of pleasure.” ^
P. Ill, 1. 5. Xanadu : Shandu.
Kubla _ (1216-1294) : founder of the Mongol
dynasty m China. He built Pekin as his capital.
P. 112,1. 13. Abora : Abba Yared, a mountain in Abvs-
sima. ^
The Parrot,
Thomas Campbell (1777-1844) was born in Glasgow
and educated there and in Edinburgh. After travel-
ling on the Continent, he settled in London and took
Pleasures
ot Mope, Gertrude of Wyoming ” and “ Theodric ”
have lost their popularity, which his shorter poems bv
their energy and occasional felicity of phrase and
rhythm, have retained.
P. 1 . 27. The Spanish main: the northern mainland
OT South America, especially that part bordering the
Caribbean Sea. ®
1 . 30. Mullah : the island of Mull.
To Night.
Percy Bysshe Shelley (1792-1822) w^as educated at
Eton and Oxford. He early adopted the rationalist
Ideas of William Godwin, whose daughter he afterwards
married. With her he settled in Italy near to his
friend Byron. _ On the death of Keats he wrote the
e egy Adonais. Like Keats, he died prematurelv
being drowned while sailing in the Gulf of Spezzia!
Shelley and Keats are both buried in the Protestant
Cemetery m Rome.
Matthew Arnold said of Shelley that his proper sphere
was not poetry but music. Certainly the superb rhythm
and cadence of his verse are in essence musical, but
when, as in The Cenci,” he set himself to treat a con-
crete theme his work is as thoughtful as such lyrics as
Ihe Skylark and the “Ode to the West Wind”
are musical. Shelley’s early death deprived England
of one of the finest, if not the finest, of her lyric poets.
The Human Seasons.
P. 115, 1. 25. Ruminate : to chew the cud.
200
NOTES TO THE POEMS
P. i'i6, 1 . 5. Misfeature: distortion or ugliness — a word
coined by Keats.
On first looking into Chapman^s Homer.
P. 116, 1. 14. ^ Chapman : an Elizabethan dramatist and
poet. His translation of Homer, in heptameters,
captures something of the spirit and movement of the
original.
1. 17.^ Cortez: the conqueror of Mexico (1519-1521).
This allusion is a mistake : the Pacific was first seen
by Vasco Balboa (1513).
To Autumn.
P. 117, 1 . 28. Sallow : a kind of willow.
P. 118,1. I. Bourn: boundary, limit. Keats uses thew'ord
here to mean “ region.”
Autumn.
John Clare (1793-1864), the Northamptonshire peasant-
poet, wrote his earlier poems in the intervals of hard
manual labour in the fields, and his later work in
lucid intervals in a mad-house, to which ill-health,
over-work, and drink had brought him. His best
poems describe with clear natural simplicity and de¬
tailed accuracy the life of the country as he knew it.
P. 118, 1 . 13. Rig: ridge.
1 . 19. Cote : dovecote.
1 . 24. Lea : field.
Blow, bugle, blow.
This song is taken from “ The Princess.”
P. 119, 1 . 15. Scar : crag.
Home Thoughts, from Abroad.
P. 120, 1 . 6. Bole : trunk of a tree.
1 . 10. Whitethroat: a small warbler.
1. 19. Dower: dowry.
0 Captain I My Captain !
Walt Whitman (1819-1892) was born at Huntingdon,
Long Island. He began work in a printing office,
and after a varied career, became editor of “ The
Brooklyn Eagle ” in 1846. In 1855 appeared his great
work, ‘‘ Leaves of Grass.” In the Civil War he acted
as nurse in the Federal army, an experience reflected
in “ Drum Taps.” He then retired to New Jersey.
His outlook is optimistic without being weak or blind—
201
POEMS OLD AND NEW
what William James called “ healthy-minded.” He
tried free verse with varying success.
The Captain was President Lincoln, who held office
during the American Civil War and was assassinated
just when he had achieved victory.
The Scholar Gipsy.
Matthev/ Arnold (1822-1888), eldest son of Dr. Arnold
the famous Headmaster of Rugby, was educated at
Winchester, Rugby, and Balliol College, Oxford. After
serving four years as private secretary to Lord Lans-
downe, he was appointed an Inspector of Schools.
During the thirty-five years which he held this Inspector¬
ate he was sent on various occasions by the Government
to inquire into methods of Continental education
and his reports had considerable influence in England!
One of Matthew Arnold’s greatest qualities was his
desire to regard the culture of the world as a whole
and in criticism to avoid insularity. He was equally
accomplished as a critic—his “ Essays in Criticism ”
earned him the title of the English Sainte-Beuve—and
as a poet—his best poetry, classic in style and beauty
wears as well as that of any of the Victorian poets. ’
For ten years he was Professor of Poetry at Oxford.
He is buried where he was born, at Laleham, near
Staines.
P. 122, 1 . 2. Wattled : of wicker-work.
Cotes : sheep-folds.
1 . 10. The quest: the search for truth or certainty.
1 . 13. Cruse: jar, jug.
P. 123, 1. 5. Bent grass : a rush-like grass with a stiff stem.
1 . 8 . Glanvil: an English churchman (1636-1680)
who wrote various theological works developing the
ideas of Descartes.
1 . II. Parts : accomplishments, ability.
1 . 19. Erst: formerly.
P. 124, 1 . 3. The Hurst: a wooded hill S.W. of Oxford.
1 . 5. Ingle : fire-side.
1 . 25. Wychwood: Wychwood Forest, north of Witney,
about 14 miles N.W. of Oxford.
P. 125, 1. 9. Lasher : the pool below a weir.
P. 126, 1. 6.^ The spark : i.e. of inspiration.
1 . m. Hinksey : North and South Hinksey lie between
Oxford and Cumnor (see Map ).
P. 127, 1. 3. Teen : trouble.
1 . 5. The just-pausing Genius : the attendant spirit sup-
202
NOTES TO THE POEMS
posed to preside over each man’s life and destiny.
It pauses, or delays, long enough to give him a chance to
show his powers, before putting an end to his career.
1 . II. Peers: equals, companions.
P. 128, 11 . 8-9. One, who most has suffered: this can hardly
apply to anyone but Goethe, the greatest of German
writers (1749-1832), who in his youth wrote “The
Sorrows of Werther,” a novel chiefly autobiographical.
Arnold considered him the greatest “ modern man,”
and learnt from him many of his leading ideas, in¬
cluding that of Culture.
20q
POEMS OLD AND NEW
1 . 16. Anodynes : remedies to soothe or MU pain.
P. 129, 1 . 2. Averse : turning away.
As Dido did: Dido, Queen of Carthage, who killed
herself for love of her “ false friend,” Aeneas.
Ilia solo fixos bculos aversa tenebat. . . .
Tandem corripuit sese, atque inimica refugit.
Virgil, “ Aeneid,” vi. 469, 472.
1 . 26. Tyrian : of Tyre, on the coast of Palestine.
1. 30. Mgcean Isles : a number of small islands between
Greece and Asia Minor.
1 . 32. Chian : of Chios, one of the Aegean Islands.
1. 33. Tunnies : a large Mediterranean sea-fish.
P. 130, 1 . 5. Syrtes : two bays on the north coast of
Africa, now known as the Gulf of Sydra and the Gulf
of Gabes. Also : the sandbanks north of these bays.
1 . 9. Iberians the early inhabitants of Spain, the
Iberian peninsula.
Itylus,
Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837-1909) was born in
London, and educated at Eton and Balliol College,
Oxford. With “ Atalanta in Calydon ” (1865) he
achieved poetic fame. His poetry shows a matchless
command of rhythm and sound, and much of it was
inspired by sympathy with the cause of political liberty
abroad.
P. 130, 1 . II. Swallow, my sister : According to the Greek
legend, Pandius, king of Athens, had two daughters,
Philomela and Procne. He called in against his
enemies the assistance of Tereus, king of the Thracians
in Daulis, and afterwards gave him his daughter
Procne in marriage. Later, wishing to marry her sister
Philomela, Tereus concealed Procne in the countrv
and gave out that she was dead. At the same time he
deprived Philomela of her tongue. Philomela, how¬
ever, discovered the truth and made it known to her
sister by a few words woven into a web. Procne there¬
upon killed her son Itys, and served up the flesh to
Tereus. The sisters then filed, pursued by Tereus.
When overtaken, they prayed to the gods to change
them into birds. Procne became a swallow, Philomela
a nightingale.
Swinburne has confused Itys with Itylus.
P. 132, 1 . 2. Itylus: Aedon, wife of Zethus, king of Thebes,
had one child, Itylus. Being envious of the twelve
20 A.
NOTES TO THE POEMS
children of her sister-in-law Niobe, she resolved to
kill the eldest of them, but in mistake slew her own
son. ^ Zeus, to avert her husband’s vengeance, turned
her into a nightingale.
1 . 3. Daulis : a town about ten miles north of the Gulf
of Gornith, but not near the Thracian Sea.
Thracian Sea: the northern part of the Aegean Sea.
Pied Beauty.
Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889) lived and wrote in
the Victorian era, but his poems were not published
until 1918. He combined a vivid sense of the beauty
of the external world with a deep insight into the soul.
The experiments in metre and language that have
prevented his popularity, are yet the sign of a vital
imaginative energy conspicuous among the Victorians.
In the Preface to his Poems,” Father Hopkins
calls “ Pied Beauty ” a Gurtal-Sonnet, that is a sonnet
“ constructed in proportions resembling those of the
sonnet proper, namely 6 + 4 instead of 8 + 6, with,
however, a half-line tailpiece (so that the equatiori
is rather ^ + | = ^ = io|).”
A Passer-By.
Robert Bridges (1844-1930) was educated at Eton and
Corpus Christi College, Oxford, and studied medicine.
In 1913 he was appointed Poet Laureate. His works
include various plays, critical essays, and “ The Testa¬
ment of Beauty.” His interest in the mechanics of
his craft and verse experiment is evident in his study,
“ Milton’s Prosody,” and in the exquisite workman¬
ship of his own poetry. On its appearance “ The
Testament of Beauty ” was hailed as likely to become a
classic in English poetry.
The Vagabond.
Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) was born and edu¬
cated in Edinburgh. In 1875 called to the
Bar, but never practised. He was forced to travel
for his health, and finally settled in Samoa. His
fame rests chiefly on “ Treasure Island,” “ Kidnapped,”
“ The Black Arrow,” and other tales of adventure,
told in a style carefully polished to a French clearness
and precision.
20R
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Drakis Drum.
P- 135? 1 - 15* Round shot: used to sink the body of a sailor
buried at sea.
Nombre Dios Bay: near Porto Bello (in Central
America), on the Isthmus of Panama.
1 . 16. Plymouth Hoe : the stretch of flat ground (now an
esplanade) at the head of Plymouth Sound.
1. 17. The Island: Drake’s Island, in Plymouth Sound.
P. 136, 1. 3. The Dons : the Spaniards.
1 . 11. The old trade : buccaneering.
1 . 12. Ware: aware, watching.
The Hawk.
Arthur Christopher Benson (1862-1925), an Eton house¬
master _ and later President of Magdalene College,
Cambridge, is chiefly known by his essays and con¬
templative work. He wrote also studies of Pater
and FitzGerald in the “ English Men of Letters ” series.
The Lake Isle of Innisfree.
William Butler Yeats_ {b. 1865), born in Dublin and edu¬
cated at Godolphin School, Hammersmith, took to
art, but left it for literature. He took a prominent
part in the revival of Irish drama at the beginning of
the century. His prose work includes '' The Celtic
Twilight” (1893) and Ideas of Good and Evil”
(1903). The beauty—and the weakness—of his poetry,
lies in its magical and romantic atmosphere.
P. 137, 1 . I. Innisfree : an island in Lough Gill, near Sligo.
1. 3. nine : the perfect number.
The Scholars.
P. 137, 1. 15. Annotate : to write notes on.
P. 138, 1. 6. Catullus : a Roman poet of the first century
B.G., who lived a riotous life and wrote the finest
Latin love-poetry.
Jack.
Edward Verrall Lucas {b. 1868) was born at Brighton and
educated at University College, London. After much
journalistic experience, he became chairman of
Methuen’s. The main trend of his versatile writings
is toward fancy and humour. He writes well of travel,
onfi
NOTES TO THE POEMS
art, and literature, has made numerous anthologies,
and is an authority on Charles Lamb.
P. 138, 1 . 12. Hedonistic : pleasure-loving.
1. 24. Rip Van Winkle : the hero of Washington Irving’s
story, who was henpecked, went hunting in the moun¬
tains, and slept there for twenty years.
P. 139, 1 . 12. Cutties : short clay tobacco pipes.
P. 140, 1 . I. Catty forks : forked pieces of stick used to
make catapults.
L 9. Zenith : the point of the heavens directly overhead.
1 . 12. Half volley, etc. : cricketing terms.
P. 141, 1 . 3. Nebulae : clouds, mists.
1. 7. Shag : coarse tobacco.
The Changeling.
Charlotte Mew (1870-1928) lived a life of hardship,
poverty, and ill-health, and finally committed suicide.
Her life is reflected in her two volumes of poetry,
“The Farmer’s Bride” (1916) and “The Rambling
Sailor” (1929).
Changeling : a child substituted, generally by fairies, for
another child.
P. 143, 1 . 15. Redstart: a small singing bird, allied to
the redbreast and the nightingale.
P. 144, 1 . 9. Wold: open country, downland.
Stupidity Street.
Ralph Hodgson [b. 1871) is best known by poems ex¬
pressing sympathy for animals, and indignation with
those who ill-treat them. “ The Bull ” is one of his
most notable longer poems.
Roundabouts and Swings.
Patrick R. Chalmers {b. 1872) was educated at Rugby,
and is the managing director of a private banking firm.
He has written two volumes of verse, “ Green Days
and Blue Days” (1912) and “A Peck o’ Maut ”
(1914), and has contributed frequently to “ Punch.”
P. 145, 1 . 4. Pharaoh : gipsy {i.e. Egyptian).
1 . 7. Lurcher : a dog, half collie, half greyhound.
P. 146, 1 . 5. Night-jar : the goatsucker.
Tit for Tat.
Walter de la Mare {h. 1873) is best known by his “ Pea¬
cock Pie ” and similar poems for ‘ the young of all ages.’ /
207 /
POEMS OLD AND NEW
His delicate fancy excels in the treatment of super¬
natural or fairy subjects which require the creation of
an atmosphere of mystery or romance.
The Donkey.
Gilbert Keith Chesterton {b. 1874) was born in Kensing¬
ton and studied at St. Paul’s School and the
Slade School of Art. He gives the impression of
abounding energy and spontaneity, and there is
usually sound sense beneath the glitter of his paradox.
His work is mainly directed against the narrow^ness of
Puritanism, and finds expression through such various
channels as the Father Brown detective stories, his¬
torical works, novels, poems, and essays. He has
written lively studies of his favourite authors, Dickens,
Browning, and Chaucer.
P. 148, 11 . 23-24. See St. Matt. xxi. i-g.
Cargoes.
John Masefield {b. 1878) in his youth ran away to sea,
where he acquired, under compulsion, the faculty of
telling a good yarn, shown in “A Tarpaulin Muster.”
“The Everlasting Mercy” (1911) created a sensation
by its realism and narrative power. It v/as followed
by “ The Widow in the Bye Street ” (1912), “ Dauber,”
“Reynard the Fox” (1919), and other volumes.
Masefield has also written several novels—“ Captain
Margaret,” “ Sard Harker ”—and dramas—“ Nan,”
“ Philip the King.” The popularity of his work
was recognised in his appointment as Poet Laureate,
in 1930.
P. 149, 1 . I. Quinquireme : a galley v/ith five banks of oars.
Nineveh : the ancient capital of Assyria : on the
Tigris.
Ophir : a region possibly in S. Arabia, whence the
Jews obtained gold and precious stones.
11 . 3-5. See I Kings x.
1 . 6. Isthmus : i.e. of Panama.
1 . 10. Moidore : a Portuguese gold coin, now obsolete.
Prometheus.
Wilfrid Wilson Gibson {b. 1878) shows the romantic influ¬
ence of Tennyson in his early volumes, “ Urlyn the
Harper” (1900) and “The Queen’s Vigil” (1902).
With “Daily fcead ” (1910) his attitude became
realistic, and his theme the lives of ordinary men and
908
NOTES TO THE POEMS
women. He has also written several plays, including
“ Between Fairs ” (1928).
Prometheus : a Greek who stole fire from heaven for the
use of men.
P. 149, 1 . 22. Palsied : paralysed, helpless.
1 . 23. Qidck: live, as in “quicksilver,” “the quick and
the dead.”
The Ship,
Sir John Squire {b, 1884), educated at BlundelFs
School and St. John’s College, Cambridge, is editor of
the “ London Mercury,” and contributes literary
criticism regularly to the “ Sunday Times ” and the
“ Daily Telegraph.” He is also editor of the “ English
Men of Letters ” series. Critic, essayist, poet, and
athlete, chairman of the Architecture Club, and
secretary of the Stonehenge Preservation Society,
his interests are wide as they are vital, and his
influence is always on the side of sanity in letters and art.
The Old Ships,
James Elroy Flecker (1884-1915) entered the Consular
Service in 1910, and was appointed to Constantinople.
His close acquaintance with the East produced the
rich imagery of his play “ Hassan ” and “ The
Golden Journey to Samarkand” (1913). In 1913 his
health obliged him to go to Switzerland. He died of
consumption at Davos.
P. 151, 1 . 12. That bald-headed seaman : Ulysses, who, on
his return from the siege of Troy to his native island
of Ithaca, wandered for long in the Mediterranean.
His adventures are described in the “ Odyssey ” of
Homer.
1 . 15. Wooden horse: A device of Ulysses. The Greek
army pretended to abandon the siege ; but left behind
a wooden horse. The Trojans dragged it into the
town. In the night, the Greeks returned, the gates
were opened by men who had been concealed within
the horse, and Troy was taken.
Everyone Sang.
Siegfried Loraine Sassoon {b. 1886) was educated at
Marlborough and Cambridge. He served with dis¬
tinction in France and later in Palestine. His revul¬
sion from war found vent in his “ Collected War Poems ”
(1919), “Satirical Poems” (1926), and “Memoirs
of an Infantry Officer” (1930). His love of the
20Q P
POEMS OLD AND NEW
English countryside runs through the ‘‘ Memoirs of a
Fox-Hunting Man ” (1928).
The Dead.
Rupert Brooke (1887-1915), educated at Rugby and
Cambridge, joined the R.N.V.R. at the outbreak of
war in 1914, served at Antwerp, and died of blood
poisoning from an insect bite at Skyros, on his way to
the Dardanelles. His “Poems” (1911) and “1914
and Other Poems” (1915) express poignantly and
vividly the joys, sorrows, and aspirations of youth.
The Pike.
Edmund Charles Blunden {b. 1896) was Professor of
English Literature at Tokio University (1924-1927)
His poems, informed by a love of the English country¬
side, include “The Waggoner” (1920), “The Shep-
herd” (1922) “To Natury* (1923), “ Masks of
Time’ (1925), and “English Poems” (1928). He
has also written a volume of war reminiscences
“ Undertones of War.” ’
P. 152, 1. 2i._ Bastion : a kind of tower at the angles of a
fortification.
1 . 22. Dipper : a diving bird.
1 . 23. Elver : a young eel.
P. 153, 1. 6. Spinney : a copse.
1 . 10. Vole : the water-rat.
1.21. Gorgons: three sisters, one of whom. Medusa,
by her fearful appearance, turned to stone everyone
who looked at her.
Portrait of a Boy.
Stephen Vincent Benet, born at Bethlehem, Pennsyl-
vania (1898), and a graduate of Yale University.,
comes of a family of army officers. “ John Brown’s
Body ” (1928) deals with the American Civil War.
P. 154, 1. 13. {Southern) Cross: a constellation of the
Southern hemisphere.
Mars : one of the planets.
1. 14. Centaur : a constellation.
1 . 15. Wattled : with flesh under the throat, like a turkey.
1.21. Syenite : a granular igneous rock.
1. 24. Doubloons : a Spanish gold coin, worth about a
guinea.
Sir Hudibras and his Squire.
Samuel Butler (1612-1680) was a satirical poet of the
Restoration, and his greatest poem, “ Hudibras,”
9X0
NOTES TO THE POEMS
was an effective satire on the Puritans in the style of
Don Quixote. By its mock-heroic effects, it is com¬
parable, though at a distance, with “ The Rape of
the Lock,” and by its satire with ‘‘Absalom and
Achitophel.”
P. 157, 1 . I. Dudgeon : anger, a quarrel; here, the Civil
War, 1642-6.
11 . 5~6. Gospel trumpeter^ long-eafd rout: the Puritans.
Rout: company.
11 . 15-16. Blow . . . shoulder-blade: the accolade; the
light blow or touch on the shoulder with the fiat of a
drawn sword, with which the king or queen confers
a knighthood. The knight was addressed as “ Right
worshipful.”
1. 17. Errant: wandering.
1 . 18. Cartel : a challenge.
Warrant: a document conferring certain powders, e.g.
that of arresting a suspected person.
1 . 19. On the bench : as a magistrate, in the Courts.
1 . 20. Bind o^er: a legal term, meaning “ to make an
accused person promise to keep the peace, or to appear
in the court on another day.”
Swaddle: to wrap in bandages^ as was formerly done
with new-born children.
1 . 22. StyVd of war , . . peace : a soldier and a Justice of
the Peace.
1 . 23. Amphibious : able to live either on land or in
w^ater.
1 . 28. Pother : fuss, turmoil.
1 . 30. Grain : a very small unit of weight.
P, 158, 1 . 2. Montaigne : a great French writer of the
sixteenth century. His Essays, the first of their kind,
are notable for their tolerant and practical wisdom.
1 . 16. Trope : a figure of speech.
1 . 23. Rhetorician : orator.
The Character of Shaftesbury.
John Dryden (1631-1700). In an age when authors of
no independent means depended largely on the
patronage of the Court, Dryden was put to many
political shifts to maintain his position. He began by
writing verses in praise of Cromwell. With the
Restoration (1660) he turned to drama, a taste for
which Charles II had acquired during his exile in
France. He wrote “ heroic plays,” and blank verse
POEMS OLD AND NEW
tragedies, of which his best is “ All for Love ” W
was appointed Poet Laureate in 1670. He excelUH
m satiric poetry and found scope for his talent in the
political controversies that arose round the Earl ef
Shaftesbury and the Duke of Monmouth’s succesL^
to the throne. He satirued Shaftesbury (in favour of
Charless brother, the Duke of York) in “Absalom
and Achitophel” (1681). Perhaps with an eye to
iuture of politics (James was a Catholic),^Dryden
tecame a Catholic in the same year and wrote “The
Hmd and the Panther ” defending the Church of
Rome _ against the Church of England. Dryden°s
prose^ sported clearness and precision from France
"r" Dramatic Poesie ” (1668), with
to his poems, earned him the title of
Ihe Father of English Prose.”
Achitophel was the counsellor of Absalom, in his
rebellion against his father David. See 2 Samuel
xv-xvii. ‘D'Axnuei
^^^’'‘tles II, Absalom the
Morimouth, and Achitophel the Earl of
fnd fV' Charles II, Shaftesbury
and his followers, who were nicknamed Whigs, wished to
exclude James (Charles’s brother) from th? succession
since he was an avowed Catholic. For this purpose
they introduced, m 1679, the Exclusion Bill. Charles
sawd h^ brother by dissolving Parliament.
Ihe Duke of Monmouth was proposed as successor
to the throne by Shaftesbury and the Whigs, and on
Charles s death he made an unsuccessful attempt to
seize the throne, being defeated at Sedgemoor. ^
Epitaph on Charles II.
John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (1647-1680), was one of
in toe Charies II and distinguished himself
m the Dutch wars. For wit, versatility, and intellectual
vitality he stands high above the level of the age.
The Combat (from The Rape of the Lock)
Alexander Pope (1688-1744) attained early to great
perfection^ of rhythm and expression—he “ lisp’d in
Stofacts tbTt’r received an odd twist from
the facts that he was practically a cripple and that he
He fmind being a Catholfc
thi us^nl- toft satire. He excelled in
the use of the heroic couplet, which he perfected as a
NOTES TO THE POEMS
satirical weapon in the mock-heroic “ Rape of the
Lock” (1712) and “The Dunciad ” (1728). His
“Essay on Criticism” (1711) and “Essay on Man”
(1734) are clever re-statements of other men’s ideas.
Pope completed verse translations of Homer’s “ Iliad ”
(1720) and “Odyssey” (1726), which made his
fortune. His poetry has a matchless glitter and, after
Shakespeare, his poetic aphorisms are probably more
often quoted than those of any other English poet.
P. 160, 1. 15. Pallas : the Greek goddess of wisdom.
Mars : the Roman god of war„
Latona : daughter of the Titan Coeus and Phoebe,
and mother of Apollo.
Hermes : Mercury, the herald and messenger of the
gods.
1. 16. Olympus : a mountain in Greece, supposed to be
the home of the gods.
1. 18. Neptune : the god of the sea.
P. 161, 1. I. Maeander : a river in Asia Minor.
P. 162, 1. 5. Othello : the Shakespearean protagonist whose
jealousy of Desdemona, his wife, was aggravated by
seeing her handkerchief in the possession of another.
1. 13. The Muse : the goddess of poetry.
1. 16. Proculus : a Roman senator, to whom Romulus,
after his death, is said to have appeared, and whom
he informed that the Roman people were thereafter
to honour him as a god.
Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog,
P. 163, 1. 5. Islington : now a district of London ; for¬
merly a village outside the city.
1. 18. Pique : ill-feeling, quarrel.
Fred.
P. 164,1.5. Fred: Frederick, Prince of Wales, son of
George 11.
1. 13. The whole generation : the Hanoverians.
The Colubriad.
William Cowper (1731-1800), the son of a clergyman of
Great Berkhampstead, was educated at Westminster
School, and articled to the law. His serious, melan¬
choly temper which turned at times into madness,
appears in “ The Castaway ” and “ On the Receipt
of my Mother’s Picture.” Occasionally he turned
for relief to lighter humorous themes, as in “John
Gilpin.” His quiet years of retirement are mirrored
21Q
POEMS OLD AND NEW
°P his various pets, “Epitaph on a Hare”
Xhe Retired Gat, and in his chief poem “
Task.” In order to divert his mind fron? mel’anclSv
he undertook a blank verse translation of HomeJ
Pits Letters ’ are notable.
In a letter dated August 3, 1782, Gowper gives the
Xollowmg prose account of this incident •—
“Passing from the greenhouse to the barn, I saw
three kittens . . . looking with fixed attention at some
thing which lay on the threshold of a door, coiled un
I took but little notice of them at first ; but a loud
hiss engaged me to attend more closely, when behold
—a viper! the largest I remember to have seen
rearing itself, darting its forked tongue, and ejaculatine
the aforementioned hiss at the nose of a kitten almost
m contact with his lips. I ran into the hall for a
hoe with a long handle, with which I intended to
assail him, and returning in a few seconds missed
cim ■ ^ feared had escaped me
btili, however, the kitten sat watching immoveablv
upon the same spot. I concluded, therefore, that
sliding between the door and the threshold, he had
found his way out of the garden into the yard I
went round immediately, and there found him' in
close conyerption with the old cat, whose curiosity
being excited by so novel an appearance, inclined her
to pat his head repeatedly with her fore foot; with her
claws, however, sheathed, and not in anger ; but in the
way ol philosophical inquiry and examination. To
prevent her falling a victim^ to so laudable an exercise
01 her talents, I interposed in a moment with the hoe
and performed upon him an act of decapitation!
the end*°'^®^ immediately mortal, proved so in
poetical narrative about a viper, as the
Iliad IS the poetical narrative of Ilion, or Troy
5 - Count (k Grasse: A French admiral who
defeated Howe in the West Indies during the War of
American Independence.
Queue : pigtail.
1. 29. Phenomenon : wonder.
The Jackdaw of Rheims.
Richard Harris Barham (1788-1845), born at Canterbury
Md educated at St. Paul’s School and Brasenose College
Oxford, was ordained in 1813. His series of humor-
214
NOTES TO THE POEMS
ous poems, “ The Ingoldsby Legends,” half narrative,
half parody, appeared mostly in the “ Miscellany ”
begun in 1837 by his old schoolfellow Richard Bentley.
P. 166, 1. 9. Lord Primate : the Cardinal Lord Archbishop.
1. 21. Rochet: a close-fitting linen vestment worn by
bishops.
Pall: cloak, mantle.
1. 22. Mitre : a head-dress worn by bishops.
Crosier : the staff of a bishop.
P. 167, 1. 7. Flawn : custard, p^ancake.
1. 9. Stole : a long robe reaching to the feet.
1. 12. Refectory : the place where meals are taken, especi¬
ally in a monastery.
1.14. Emboss'd ornamented with raised work.
1. 15. Rheirns : in N, France : famous for its cathedral.
Namur : in Belgium.
1. 19. Eau de Cologne : a perfumed spirit.
1. 24. Diaper : unbleached linen cloth woven in slightly
defined figures.
1. 29. Turquoise : a precious stone, bluish green.
King Canute,
William Makepeace Thackeray (1811-1863), born in
India, was sent at five to England and educated at
Charterhouse and Cambridge. His first novel was
“ Barry Lyndon ” (1842). “ Vanity Fair ” (1847) was
his first great success. “ The Newcomes,’’ “ Pendennis,”
and “ Henry Esmond ’’ are among his greatest works.
P. 173, 1. 4. The Jewish captain : Joshua.
“ Then spake Joshua to the Lord in the day when
the Lord delivered up the Amorites before the children
of Israel, and he said in the sight of Israel, Sun, stand
thou still upon Gibeon ; and thou. Moon, in the valley
of Ajalon.
“ And the sun stood still, and the moon stayed, until
the people had avenged themselves upon their enemies,’’
—Joshua X. 12-13.
Tou are old, Father William,
Lewis Carroll (Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, 1832-1898)
was a mathematical lecturer at Christ Church, Oxford,
and wrote mathematical treatises. “ Alice in Wonder¬
land ” (1865) and a number of similar fantasies are
only another expression of his logical genius ; in verbal
logical absurdity he has probably never been surpassed.
215
POEMS OLD AND NEW
Waste.
(Captain) Harry J. G. Graham (&. 1874) is a journalist,
a trustee of the British Museum, and a prolific writer of
sporting literature, light fiction, and humorous verse
of which ‘‘ Ruthless Rhymes ’’ is one of the most
characteristic volumes.
Star Talk.
Robert Ranke Graves {b. 1895) was educated at Oxford
and has issued several books of poetry and prose. His
best work is the autobiography, “ Good-bye to All
That ” (1929), which includes, like many of his poems,
his reminiscences of the War.
The zodiac is the belt of the heavens which the sun
traverses during the year. It was anciently divided
into twelve equal parts called the signs of the zoiac,
which corresponded to twelve constellations : most
of these went by the name of an animal (Greek—
zoon), the shape of which the stars in that constellation
resembled by their arrangement.
The twelve signs were :—Aries (the Ram), Taurus
(the Bull), Gemini (the Twins), Cancer (the Grab),
Leo (the Lion), Virgo (the Virgin), Libra (the Bal¬
ance), Scorpio (the Scorpion), Sagittarius (the Archer),
Gapricornus (the Goat), Aquarius (the Water-bearer),
and Pisces (the Fishes).
P. 176, 1. I. Gemelli : Gemini, the Twins.
1. 9. Pleiads : a group of seven stars in the shoulder of
the constellation Taurus.
1. 11. Hyads : a cluster of five stars in the constellation
Taurus.
1. 17. Orion : a hunter placed among the stars at his
death. His figure is formed by seven very bright
stars, three of which, in a straight line, form the
hunter’s belt (1. 21).
L 20. The Great Bear : a constellation.
1. 22. Pelt: skin, hide.
P. 177, 1. 5. Venus : the most brilliant of the planets.
1. 6. Mars : a planet.
216
QUESTIONS ON THE POEMS
Sir Patrick Spens.
1. This ballad is a condensed drama : divide it into
scenes and expand into a short play. Where do gaps
occur in the story ?
2. What ballad devices are here used ?
3. Compare this with any modern ballad. Which do
you consider superior and for what reasons ?
4. Quote two passages in the ballad that suggest that the
author was a blunt, satirical fellow.
5. Write a short ballad on {a) the wreck of the White
Ship, {h) Alfred and the cakes, (c) Canute and the waves,
(d) any similar incident, real or legendary.
Helen of Kirconnell.
1. Expand the story as a connected narrative or as a
short play.
2. If you were setting this poem to music, what would be
the chief qualities of your setting ?
3. What is meant by “ realism ” in description ? Write
a note on the realism of this ballad and of the old ballads
generally.
Rosabelle.
1. In what respects does this poem resemble an ancient
ballad ?
2. Scott relates several of the incidents indirectly. Point
these out. Consider how far this method is necessary and
effective.
3. Does Scott introduce the supernatural element
effectively ? Mention other poems in which the super¬
natural is introduced and compare them with “ Rosabelle.”
4. Comment on Scott’s use of {a) proper names, {b) vowel-
music.
Proud Maisie.
1. How does Scott emphasise the pride of Maisie ?
2. Mention other ballads in which a bird speaks or acts
217
POEMS OLD AND NEW
like a human being. Does Scott succeed, in this poem in
making the device seem natural ? ’
Bishop Hatio.
1. Point out any respect in which this poem seems far¬
fetched or unnatural.
2 . Tell briefly any other story that would serve as the
theme of a similar poem—a story in which animals carry
out a just revenge. ^
La Belle Dame sans Merci.
1. How has Keats departed from the usual ballad stanza ^
2. What features of the ballad does he retain ?
3. Point out words and phrases by which he builds up an
atmosphere of magic. Compare the poem and its effect
with “ The Listeners ’’ by Walter de la Mare.
4. Name other poems that deal with supernatural events
How do they resemble or differ from this poem ?
5. Quote phrases to show that Keats was a master of the
horrible. Compare these with similar descriptions by any
other poet. ^
6. Compare the first two stanzas with the descrintion
in the “ Ode to Autumn ” (p. 117).
7. Draw a picture of the “ Belie Dame sans Merci.’’
The Knighfs Leap,
1, What is the grim joke in the poem? What lio-ht
does It throw on the knight’s character ? Is the knio-ht a
real hero ?
2. How is the style of the poem in keeping with the
character of the knight ?
^ description of the life of knights in the
Middle Ages, and of the manner of this knight ir/particular.
Horatius.
1. What is meant by “ suspense ” in a story ? At what
point in this poem is the suspense most acute ? Is it
handled effectively ?
2. Write a paragraph describing Roman society as
Macaulay pictures it.
3. Comment on Macaulay’s similes. Are they effective ?
4. WritQ an argument defending or attacking The
Brave Days of Old.”
Shameful Death.
I. Does the poet’s departure from the chronological
order ol events* improve the narrative ?
218
QUESTIONS ON THE POEMS
2 . How does Morris create an open-air feeling in this
)oem ?
3. Comment on the conclusion. Why does it differ in
hythm and style from the rest of this poem ?
4. Point out any specially expressive words and phrases
n this poem.
The Ballad of Semmerwater.
1. What contrast forms the central subject of this poem ?
2. How does the poet invest the submerged city with an
atmosphere of romance ?
3. What ballad devices are used in the poem ?
4. Comment on the use made of (a) long vowels, {b)
alliteration, (c) repetition.
5. What kind of tune would best suit the poem?
6. Mention any other legends about the regions under
the sea.
Hart-Leap Well.
1. Wordsworth says that his purpose was “ to imitate,
and, as far as possible, to adopt the very language^ of men.”
How far has Wordsworth succeeded in this poem in writing
the ordinary speech of men ?
2. “ The moving accident is not my trade ;
To freeze the blood I have no ready arts :
’Tis my delight, alone in summer shade.
To pipe a simple song for thinking hearts.”
From this, or any other narrative poem of Wordsworth’s,
illustrate this statement of his purpose.
3. Wordsworth draws his similes from Nature. Illus¬
trate from this poem.
4. What is the moral of this poem ? Compare it with
the moral of “ The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.”
The Destruction of Sennacherib.
1. Point out details that emphasise {a) the greatness and
wealth of the Assyrians, {b) the sudden and complete de¬
struction that overtook them. ^ ^
2. Comment on use of {a) simile, {h) antithesis.
3. Does the metre suit the subject of the poem ?
The Armada.
1. Discuss the effectiveness of Macaulay’s plan for
showing how the alarm spread over England.
2. Do you think the use of proper names in this poem
effective ? Compare it with the use made of them by Scott
219
POEMS OLD AND NEW
in “ Rosabelle ” What might be said against Macaulavb
introduction of so much geographical detail ? ’
Morte d’Arthur. .
_i. Compare Tennyson’s impression of the Age of Chivalrv
with that of Morns in “ Shameful Death.” Which dn
you think is nearer the truth ? Compare also Sir Walter
Scott s, as in Ivanhoe.” ^
2. Quote passages where onomatopoeia is used effectively
3. Tennyson has been accused of straining after effect
Point out any expressions that might justify this charge bv
seeming forced or artificial. ® ^
4. Compare Tennyson’s account with Malory’s Cd iSot
What has Tennyson added or altered ?
The Lady of Shalott.
1. Point out passages where Tennyson uses a number
of bright coloims together. If you can, examine any of
the pictures of Burne-Jones, Rossetti, or Morris, and notice
similarity : or compare with Rossetti’s “The Blessed
Damozel or Morris’s lyrics.
2. Conti ast the atmosphere at the bemnninsr of the
poem with that at the end (§ 4). How is each built up ^
3 Write a paragraph describing (^) the castle of Shalott
{b) the surrounding country. ’
4. Relate briefly any other story of a curse or a charm
and the effect of breaking it.
5. Is the curse reasonable? How does Tennyson make
us accept it ? / v.
6. Write a short appreciation of Tennyson’s descriptions
of landscape and people. Quote specially vivid phrases or
passages.
Herve Riel.
^ fhe metre and rhyme of this poem.
2. Point out examples of abruptness of style and in-
sent^ces. Do these obscure the meaning ^
What is their effect on the narration ?
3. Contrast the deed and the reward.
days work.” Write a short story under
this title. ^
The Pied Piper of Hamelin.
I. What devices does Browning use for humorous effect ?
Point out rhymes that produce humour.
A' short appreciation of Browning’s description
of [a) the Piper, {b) the rats, {c) the children.
220
QUESTIONS ON THE POEMS
3. Quote from this poem to show that Browning was a
[over of music. Mention other narratives or legends that
illustrate the power of music.
4. Work out, in two columns, the parallel facts in the
balance betv/een the rats and the children.
5. Draw a picture of the Pied Piper with the children
following him.
Goblin Market.
1. Write an appreciation of the descriptions. Refer to
particular passages.
2. Mention other poems dealing with fairies or goblins
and compare them with this poem.
3. Write a note on the similes of this poem and the metre.
A Runnable Stag.
1. Relate briefly the story told in this poem.
2. Mention any other English poems that describe a
hunt. Are they more, or less, exciting than this ? Gan you
account for the difference ?
3. Write a note on the metre and its appropriateness to
the subject.
4. How does the poet arouse our sympathy and ad¬
miration for the stag ?
5. Quote expressions that seem to you specially poetical,
vivid, or imaginative, and say why they appeal to you.
Hawke.
1. Draw a rough plan of Quiberon Bay, showing the
direction of the wind and the positions of Hawke’s and
the French fleets at the beginning of the battle.
2. What pun adds to the effect of the poem ? How is it
sustained ? What use is made of onomatopoeia to reinforce
the pun ?
He fell among Thieves.
1. Write out fully the narrative of the man who had
fallen among thieves.
2. What is the source of the title ?
3. Write a connected account of the hero’s life in England.
4. Write a paragraph on the poet’s descriptions of Nature.
Point out specially effective words and phrases.
The Highwayman.
I. Compare the moonlight descriptions with those in
{a) Morte d’Arthur ” (p. 40), and [b) “ Hymn to Diana
(p. 101).
221
POEMS OLD AND NEW
2. What use does the poet make of colour in Part I ?
3. Point out figurative phrases that are specially vivid.
4. Where is the most exciting point in the story ?
5. Mention any other poems dealing with similar ad¬
ventures. Compare them with this poem.
6. Draw a picture of the Highwayman.
The Passionate Shepherd to his Love.
1. What is a '‘pastoral” poem? Is the pastoral con¬
vention justified ? Compare its use in this poem with its
use in “ The Scholar Gipsy ” (p. 121).
2. Is the shepherd’s vision true to life ?
3. Point out examples of alliteration, and of the use of
musical language.
Winter.
1. What winter scenes does Shakespeare suggest ?
2. Point out words denoting {a) movement, {b) inaction.
3. How does Shakespeare emphasise the impression of
cold ?
4. What information about country life in Shakespeare’s
day can be gathered from the poem ?
5. Write a short description, preferably in verse, of a
winter scene in town or village.
Fidele.
1. What is a dirge ? Is this a good example ? Compare
it with “Soldier, rest!” (p. 107). What Consolation has
Shakespeare to offer in view of death ?
2. From this poem illustrate Shakespeare’s knowledge of
{a) the Old Testament, {b) Aesop’s “ Fables.”
3. Comment on the use of [a) metonymy, (b) pun.
What is the finest epithet in the poem ?
Character of a Happy Life.
1. Compare this ideal of a happy life with those out¬
lined in “ The Passionate Shepherd ” (p. 97) and “ Innis-
free” (p. 137). How does this differ in character from the
others ?
2. Write a paragraph (or a short poem) describing your
own ideal of a happy life.
To Celia.
1. What is a “ conceit ” ? Point out one in this poem.
2. Rewrite the substance of this poem in prose.
222
QUESTIONS ON THE POEMS
]^mn to Diana.
1. Comment on the music of this poem.
2. Write an appreciation of the personification of the
oon.
he Village Preacher and The Village Schoolmaster.
1. Is Goldsmith’s a fair or a flattering description of a
pical schoolmaster ? Compare his ^ description with
lat of any other famous schoolmasters in fiction
2. Compare the Preacher with Mr. Primrose in “The
Icar of Wakefield.”
3. Write a note on the humour of these sketches. Gom-
are them with “Jack ” (p. 138).
4. Write a similar sketch of a modern preacher or school-
laster.
Hie Tiger.
1. What points does Blake select for emphasis in the
iger ?
2. Follow out the simile of the smith and the anvil.
3. Write a paragraph on Blake’s peculiarities of language
”^^4. ^Name a few other poems that describe animals. How
lo they differ in treatment from this poem ? n t ,,
5. Read Francis Thompson’s poem “ To a Snowflake,
md compare the main idea with that of “ The Tiger.”
The Solitary Reaper.
I. How does Wordsworth emphasise the idea of loneli¬
ness ?
^ Summarise briefly in prose the subject of this poem.
o' Quote lines or phrases in which Wordsworth seems
to have captured “ magic ” of description and expression.
Westminster Bridge.
1 Compare Wordsworth’s description with that of his
sistCT (p. 197), in respect of {a) the picture drawn, {b) the
langu^M^)^th^ide^a^. poems that deal with
London. What aspects have they chosen ? , . ^
3. Write an essay on the aspect of London that most
Whatsis a sonnet ? Attempt a sonnet on one of the
following : {a) a landscape, {b) one of the seasons, [c) your
favourite author, {d) the flight of time.
223
POEMS OLD AND NEW
She dwelt among the untrodden ways.
1. Write a note on the simplicity of the idea and of the
style of this poem. Does the poem gain or lose by it ?
2. Are the similes characteristic of Wordsworth ?
Lullaby.
1. What is a lullaby ? Does this poem conform to the
ordinary type of lullaby ?
2. Compare it in subject and style with any other lullabies
you know, e.g. that sung by the fairies in “ A Midsummer
Night’s Dream,” How is the subject of this lullaby un¬
usual ?
Soldier, rest!
1. How does this poem differ from others on similar
subjects, e.g. “ Fidele ” (p. 98), “ Coronach ” (p. 109) ?
2. What do you gather from this poem about its author ?
3. Collect the words that describe sounds and remark on
their appropriateness.
Coronach.
1. What is a coronach ?
2. What information about Duncan can you gather from .
this poem ?
3. Point out and comment on the figures of speech which
occur in the poem.
4. What is the most memorable line in the poem ?
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu.
I- How does the metre suggest speed and the urgency
of the summons ? By what similes and details does Scott
suggest this idea ?
2. Name some other poems where {a) similar metre,
{b) similar devices, are used to produce a similar effect.
3. Write a stanza in this style, similar in subject to the
third.
Kubla Khan
1. Describe with a diagram the course of the River Alph,
and the position of the palace.
2. In your own words, give briefly the general meaning
of the last section (A damsel . . . end).
3. How does Coleridge suggest {a) the richness, {b) the
romance, {c) the savage aspect, of the scenery ?
4. Write a note on the metrical movement of the poem.
5. Write a short note on Coleridge’s powers of descrip¬
tion and command of language as exemplified in this poem.
224
QUESTIONS ON THE POEMS
The Parrot.
1. Quote details of the contrasts made between (^2) Mull
and America, {b) the parrot on its arrival and later.
2. How is the bird treated by the poet as a human being ?
3. Tell any similar anecdote, preferably in verse, about a
parrot or any other pet.
She walks in beauty.
1. Whence does Byron draw the similes in this poem?
To what poet’s influence would you attribute this ?
2. Collect details that bring out the contrast.
To Night.
1. Illustrate from this poem Shelley’s {a) love of Nature,
(Jb) abstract description.
2. Write a note on Shelley’s use of personification.
3. Comment on Shelley’s vowel-music and his use of
liquid-consonants (/, m, n, r,), the movement of his verse,
and his use of alliteration and figures of speech.
4. ‘‘ Shelley’s proper sphere was music.” Does this
poem bear out the criticism ?
5. Compare this poem with a poem by Scott or Byron.
What quality do you find lacking in Shelley or in the other
poet you have compared with him ?
The Human Seasons.
1. Comment on the form of this sonnet. Compare its
form with that of the following sonnet (p. 116).
2. Which season did Keats favour ? Contrast the
view of autumn given here with those given in “ Autumn ”
(p. 117) and in “ La Belle Dame sans Merci.” (p. 12).
3. What famous passage in Shakespeare deals with the
same subject—the stages of man’s life? Compare and
contrast the two.
On first Looking into Chapman’’s Homer.
1. What is the most effective phrase in the poem ?
2. Write a short appreciation of the two similes used in
the sonnet.
3. Write a paragraph on the book or poem that has most
affected you in a similar way.
Autumn.
I. Does Keats give a full and true picture of autumn ?
Compare his description with that given in {a) Glare’s
225 Q,
POEMS OLD AND NEV/
“ Autumn,” {b) the first stanza of Shelley’s “ Ode to the
West Wind.” ^
2. From this poem give examples of Keats s delight in
richness of (a) sound, (b) colour, (c) taste.
3. Comment on the use of personification in the second
stanza of this poem.
Autumn.
1. Contrast the aspects of autumn described by Clare
and Keats.
2. Write a paragraph on Clare’s descriptions of Nature.
3. Write a note on the language of this poem, and quote
expressive phrases.
4. Using as a basis the details given by Keats and Glare,
write a description of autumn in the country, or describe
an autumn country scene based on your own observation
during one of your walks.
5. Paint a picture of an autumn landscape.
The Eagle.
1. Write a note on the use, in this poem, of {a) simile,
{h) onomatopoeia, {c) expressive verbs and adjectives.
2. How does Tennyson here give the impression of
space ?
Blow, Bugle, blow.
1. Write a note on the glamour of this poem. How is it
achieved ?
2. Work out the contrast between the echoes of Nature
and of the Soul.
3. How is the impression of distance created by the poet ?
4. Write a short moonlight description in the same style.
(Cp. “The Merchant of Venice,” “How sweet the moon¬
light . . .”).
Home-Thoughts, fro 7 n Abroad.
I. By what details does Browning suggest the freshness of
England in spring ?
2- Quote from the poem to show that Browning was fond
of {a) flowers, {b) birds, (c) music.
3. Compare the appreciation of England with Yeats’s
appreciation of Ireland (p. 137)*
0 Captain I My Captain I
1. Write a note on the metaphor of the ship of state.
2. Criticise the rhymes. Write a note on the stanza
scheme.
226
QUESTIONS ON THE POEMS
The Scholar Gipsy.^
1. When Arnold wrote this poem he was still compara¬
tively young. What light does the poem throw on his
state of mind at that time ?
2. It has been said that Arnold and his friends lived at
Oxford as in a great country house. How does this poem
confirm that statement ?
3. Arnold speaks of poetry having “ natural magic.”
Point out adjectives and phrases in which he achieves this
magic in his own descriptions of Nature.
4. Compare the stanza-form with that used in Keats’s
“ Ode to a Nightingale ” or “ Autumn ” (p. 117).
Itylus.
1. Comment on the vowel-music and poetical devices
{e.g. alliteration) in this poem. Do they injure the sense ?
2. Write a note on the rhymes and stanza-form.
3. Mention other English poems on the nightingale.
What do they say, and what does Swinburne here say,
about the bird ?
Pied Beauty.
1. Comment on {a) the metre, {h) the language, (c) the
p )wer of description, in this poem.
2. Compare this with other “catalogue” poems, e.g.
R. Brooke’s “ Great Lover ” and “ The Dead ” (p. 152).
A Passer-By.
1. Are the poet’s descriptions drawn from intimate
knowledge or are they only conventional ?
2. Quote words and expressions by which Bridges
emphasises {a) the dignity, {h) the “ tidiness,’’ of the ship.
3. Mention other poems describing a sailing-ship and
compare with this.
4. Write a note on the metre and stanza-form of this poem.
The Vagabond.
1. Mention any other poems of the open road, and com¬
pare their ideal of life with Stevenson’s. Do you think
Stevenson’s account adequate or formed from experience ?
2. Quote any specially effective expressions.
Romance.
I. Compare this poem with “ The Passionate Shepherd
to his Love ” (p. 97). Contrast the inducements of the two
lovers.
227
POEMS OLD AND NEW
2. How does this poem illustrate Stevenson’s love of
open-air life and wide spaces ?
Drake^s Drum.
1. What information can you gather about Drake from
this poem alone ?
2. Point out expressions that are specially appropriate
in the mouth of a sailor.
3. Write a short note on {a) the use of dialect, {b) the
refrain, (c) the metre.
4. Mention other poems on Drake and the Armada.
5. Write a parody of the poem.
The Hawk.
1. This poem shows “Nature, red in tooth and claw.”
Compare this view of Nature with Wordsworth’s. How
far is each true ?
2. Write a short appreciation of the poet’s description of
{a) the atmosphere of the moors, {b) the terror of the bird.
The Lake Isle of Innisfree.
1. Write a paragraph bringing out the contrast of the
city and the country stated in this poem.
2. Comment on the poet’s use of words expressing, (a)
sound, (b) colour. How does he suggest (^z) the beauty of
water, (b) peace ? How far are his effects assisted by the
use of repetition, onomatopoeia, and alliteration ?
3. Compare this as a poem of the simple life with
Wotton’s “ Character of a Happy Life ” (p. 99) and Rogers’s
poem “ A Wish ” (Golden Treasury).
4. There is a legend that this poem was composed by the
poet while he was standing on an island in Charing Cross while
attempting to cross the street blocked with traffic. Comment.
The Scholars.
1. Is this a fair estimate of the scholar’s life and work ?
2. Read Southey’s poem, “ The Scholar,” and Browning’s
“ The Grammarian’s Funeral,” and contrast the views of
these two poets with the view of Yeats.
3. Write a paragraph expressing your own view of the
scholar’s life.
Jack.
1. How^ is Jack’s character reflected in the attitude
towards him of {a) his wife, {b) the village children, {c) the
doctor, (d) the parson, {e) the schoolmaster, (/) the head-
keeper ?
228
QUESTIONS ON THE POEMS
2. What (a) good qualities, (b) weaknesses, make Jack
a lovable character ? What is to be said in defence of his
way of life ?
3. Write a paragraph on E. V. Lucas as a humorist.
Compare him with Goldsmith (p. loi).
4. Write a similar sketch, either in prose or in verse, of
a village worthy you have known.
The Changeling.
1. Compare the fairies in this poem with the goblins in
‘‘ Goblin Market ’’ (p. 67).
2. Write a note on the descriptions of Nature in the
fourth stanza.
3. Comment on the attitude.of {a) the child to its parents,
{b) the parents to the child. What justifies the applica¬
tion to the child of the name “ changeling ” ?
4. Write a short note on {a) the stanza-form, {b) poetical
devices used in this poem, e.g. alliteration, middle rhyme.
Stupidity Street.
1. How does the poet emphasise his astonishment and
disgust ?
2. Express in a sentence the moral of this poem. Com¬
pare it with the argument put forward in ‘‘Tit for Tat ”
(p. 146).
Roundabouts and Swings.
1 . What information about gipsies can you get from this
poem ?
2. The gipsy is evidently contented. Compare his ideal
of a happy life with the ideals of e.g. Wotton (p. 99), “ The
Vagabond ” (p. 134), or “ Innisfree ” (p. 137).
3. Write a short essay from experience or imagination,
describing life in a caravan.
4. Mention any other poem or book dealing with the
gipsy life. Compare the gipsies there with this one.
5. Write a short paragraph describing the scene of the
meeting in the lane.
6. Draw a picture of gipsies.
Tit for Tat.
1 . What is the poet’s argument against cruelty to animals ?
Is it a good one ? Compare it with the arguments used in
Wordsworth’s “ Hart-Leap Well ” (p. 29) and Coleridge’s
“ The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.”
2. Using the arguments given in this poem and in
229
POEMS OLD AND NEW
“ Stupidity Street ” (p. 144) and adding others of your
own if possible, write a short statement of the case against
cruelty to animals.
I TTlCt dt 6 V 6 ^
I Is this an effective personification of sleep ? Mention
others in English poetry : compare and contrast them with
^^2.* Does this poem include all that might be said of
Sleep ? What aspects are omitted ?
3. How does the sound of the poem increase the mam
impression of <^uiet and restfulness ?
The Donkey.
1. Point out any phrases or passages where the lan£ y e
seems exaggerated or strained. Is the exaggeration juo li¬
fted ?
2. Explain ^'’walking parody on all foui-footed things,
'' of ancient crooked will,” and “ I had my hour.”
3. Write a poem on Balaam’s Ass.
Cargoes.
1. Compare the descriptions of (^) the movement, {b) the
cargoes, of the three ships.
2. Which ship has the poet’s preference ?
9, Write a note on the use of consonants to assist the sense.
4. Write a paragraph on Masefield as a poet of the sea.
Prometheus.
I. Do you think that the introduction of Prometheus is
fitting in this poem about a match-seller ?
The Ship.
1. What impression does the poet wish to convey?
How does the metre reinforce this impression ? Show how
all the details of description are appropriate.
2. Write an account of what you think these sailors had
accomplished.
The Old Ships.
1. Describe the appearance and cargo of the old ships
the poet saw beyond Xyre. How is their present contrasted
with their past condition ? _ t i •
2. Write a paragraph describing fully the older ship as
the poet saw it. Quote words or phrases to show how old
230
QUESTIONS ON THE POEMS
Comment on (a) Flecker’s use of compound adjec¬
tives, (b) the metre of the poem.
4. Read the story of Ulysses in Lamb’s “ Adventures
of Ulysses ” or in Butcher and Lang’s translation of the
“ Odyssey.” Is Flecker’s version of the origin of Ulysses’
wanderings in keeping with the character of Ulysses ?
Everyone Sang.
1. What state of feeling does the poet describe ? VV’ hat
occasion may have suggested the subject to him ?
2. Comment on the rhythm.
The Dead.
I. Is Brooke realistic or idealistic in his account of the
’ -- 1 ?
i. Point out any particularly happy phrases in the poem.
3. Write a note on the parallel used in the last six lines.
The Pike.
1. Write an appreciation of the descriptions in this poem.
Quote specially vivid metaphors and expressions.
2. How does the poet create an atmosphere of quietness,
coolness, and greenness ? What does he contrast with it ?
Portrait of a Boy.
1. Contrast this portrait and its method with those
given in‘‘Jack” (p. 138), and “The Village Preacher
and “ The Village Schoolmaster’’ (pp. 101-104).
2. Is this a characteristic portrait of a boy ? ^
3. Illustrate from the second section the poet s sense 01
colour and sound. _ ^ 1 *
4. Comment on the use of simile and metaphor in the
poem.
Sir Hudibras and his Squire.
1. What is meant by irony ? Point out the various
examples used in the description of Sir Hudibras.
2. Write a note on Butler’s use of rhyme.
3. This poem is a satire on the Puritans or Roundheads.
What Puritan qualities are criticised in ^r Hudibras .
In what other literary works have the Puritans been
satirised ?
4. Explain the word satire.
The Character of Shaftesbury.
I. What adjective or phrase in this extract would sum up
Dryden’s' idea of Shaftesbury ?
231
POEMS OLD AND NEW
2. Point out and remark on the force and appropriate¬
ness of the several metaphors used by Diyden.
3. Write a note on the epigrammatic quality of Dryden’s
vcrsG
4. What is an allegory ? Mention other famous allegories
in English. r a + j
^ Mention other examples of Great wits ... to mad-
nei near allied.” How did this description apply to
Shaftesbury ?
Epitaph on Charles II.
I Basinet your poem on a similar paradoxical remark
about some famous historical (or fictitious) character {e.g
James I-—the wisest fool in Christendom), write his epitaph
in the style of that on Charles II.
TheCojnhat. ^ o
1. What is meant by calling a poem mock-heroic
Show how this poem deserves the name, e.g. how it preserves
the heroic pretence and how it introduces the mock
element. Name other mock-heroic poems in English.
2. Express in your own words what precisely happened
in this extract.
Q. It was said of Pope that he turned Pegasus into a
rocking-horse ” : from an examination of this extract,
would you agree or disagree ? Illustrate your answer from
particular couplets.
On a Certain Lady at Court.
1. What is meant by the “ point ” of a story or descrip,
tion ? Where should it be placed for effect ? Does tin:
poem lead up to and place it effectively ?
2. In what way is this poem a satire on woman t
Elegy on the Death of a Mad Dog.
I . What is an elegy ? How far does this poem agree witJ
the definition ? ^ , 1 u . n
2 What ‘device does Goldsmith use throughout witJ
humorous effect ? Point out all the examples of its use.
3. What was the '' wonder,” and what does it imply
Fred {p. 164), The Desired Swan-Song {p. 166), and WaSi
I ] What is an epigram ? Which of these epigrams seen
to you most {a) humorous, (i) sarcastic ? Compare th
different methods by which they achieve their purpose.
QUESTIONS ON THE POEMS
2. Make an epigram in verse or prose on the subject of
motor cars or the wireless.
The Colubriad.
I. By what tricks of style and language does Cowper turn
this serious narrative into a humorous one ? Jn what lines
does he adopt the mock-heroic tone ?
The Jackdaw of Rheims. _ _
1. How is a humorous effect produced in this poem by
(a) repetition, (b) accumulation of petty detail, (r) slang,
(d) exaggeration? Is the poem as a whole humorous :
2. D?lw a picture of the Jackdaw of Rheims in one of his
exploits.
King Canute.
1. What is a caricature ? How is this poem a caricature
of (a) the King’s conceit, _{b) the flattery of the courtiers .
How is it faithful to historical truth ? ^ of
2 . Point out passages where humour ^ is the result o
placing side by side the lofty_ and the trivial.
3. Draw a caricature of King Canute.
You are old, Father William. ^ o ivu'
I. What is the wittiest passage in
of the lokes are rather boyish and obvious . At what
points does the poet produce humour from circumstances
that are totally improbable ?
Star Talk. ^
1. Write a paragraph in appreciation of the personihca-
tions on which this poem is based trivial de-
2. What touches of human feeling and what trivial he
tails make up the humorous effect ?
3. Write a humorous poem on Moonshine iaiK.
Printed in Great Britain h' R- &
Clark, Limited, jtLciinourgft.
THE SCHOLAR’S LIBRARY
Fcap. 8 vo. 2S. 6 d. each,
NORTHANGER ABBEY. By Jane Austen.
Edited by Mrs. Frederick Boas. Illus¬
trated by Hugh Thomson.
DR. JOHNSON ; A Selection from Boswell’s
Biography. Edited by M. Alderton Pink,
M.A.
A TALE OF TWO CITIES. By Charles
Dickens. With an Introduction by G. K.
Chesterton, and Notes by Guy Boas, M.A.
Illustrated.
SYBIL, OR THE TWO NATIONS. By Ben¬
jamin Disraeli. Edited by Victor Cohen.
Illustrated by F. Pegram.
FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD. By
Thomas Hardy. Edited by Cyril Aldred.
THE MAYOR OF CASTERBRIDGE. By
Thomas Hardy. Edited by Prof. Vivian de
Sola Pinto.
THE RETURN OF THE NATIVE. By
Thomas Hardy. Edited by Cyril Aldred.
With an Introduction by Sylvia Lynd.
STORIES AND POEMS OF THOMAS
HARDY. Selected and Edited by N. V.
Meeres, B.A.
UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE. By
Thomas Hardy. Edited by Adrian
Alington.
THE WOODLANDERS. By Thomas Hardy.
Edited by Cyril Aldred.
THE ILIAD AND THE ODYSSEY : Extracts
from the Translations by Lang, Leaf and
Myers, and Butcher and Lang. Edited by
H. M. King and H. Spooner.
EOTHEN. By A. W. Kinglake. Edited by
Guy Boas, M.A.
PARADISE LOST. Books I. and II. By John
Milton. Edited by G. C. Irwin, M.A.,
B.L.S. With an Introduction by Guy
Boas, M.A.
MODERN ENGLISH PROSE. Selected and
Edited by Guy Boas, M.A.
MODERN POETRY 1922-1934: An Anthology.
Selected and Edited by Maurice
WOLLMAN, M.A.
THE DIARY OF SAMUEL PEPYS : SELEC¬
TIONS. Edited by N. V. Meeres, B.A.
POEMS FOR YOUTH. Selected and Edited
by A. S. Cairncross, M.A., D.Litt.
POEMS OLD AND NEW: An Anthology.
Selected and Edited by A. S. Cairncross,
M.A., D.Litt.
LONGER POEMS OLD AND NpW. Selected
and Edited by A. S. Cairngross, M.A.,
D.Litt.
A “PUNCH” ANTHOLOGY. Selected and
Edited by Guy Boas, M.A.
AN ANTHOLOGY OF WIT. Selected and
Edited by Guy Boas, M.A.
READINGS FROM THE SCIENTISTS.
Selected and Edited by Edward Mason,
M.A., M.Ed.
SHORT MODERN PLAYS. Selected and
Edited by Guy Boas, M.A.
kidnapped. By Robert Louis Stevenson.
Edited by Jan Struther. Illustrated by
C. E. Brock, R.I.
treasure island. By Robert Louis
Stevenson. Edited by Mrs Frederick
Boas. Illustrated by H. M. Brock, R.L
“THE TIMES”: An Anthology. Sekcted
and Edited by M. Alderton Pink, M.A.
Shakespeare
ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. Edited by Guy
Boas, M.A.
AS YOU LIKE IT. Edited by Cicely Boas.
CORIOLANUS. Edited by Prof. Vivian de
Sola Pinto.
CYMBELINE. Edited by Guy Boas, M.A.
PIAMLET. Edited by Adrian Alington.
HENRY IV.. Parts I. and II. Edited by*
M. Alderton Pink, M.A.
HENRY V. Edited by Dorothy Margaret
Stuart and E. V. Davenport.
JULIUS C^SAR. Edited by F. Allen, M.A.
KING LEAR. Edited by F. E. Budd, B.A., Ph.D.
MACBETH. Edited by M. Alderton Pink, M.A.
THE MERCHANT OF VENICE. Edited by
P. H. B. Lyon, M.A.
A MIDSUMMER-NIGHT’S DREAM. Edited
by Cyril Aldred. With an Introduction
by Walter de la Mare.
MUCFI ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Edited by
F. E. Budd, B.A., Ph.D.
OTHELLO. Edited by Guy Boas, M.A.
RICHARD 11. Edited by Lionel Aldred. With
an Introduction by St.John Ervine.
RICHARD III. Edited by Lionel Aldred.
ROMEO AND JULIET. Edited by Guy
Boas, M.A.
THE TEMPEST. Edited by Edward Thompson,
M.A., Ph.D.
TWELFTH NIGHT. Edited by N. V. Meeres,
B.A.
THE WINTER’S TALE. Edited by Guy
Boas, M.A.
MACMILLAN AND CO. LTD., LONDON
Live Music Archive
Librivox Free Audio
Metropolitan Museum
Cleveland Museum of Art
Internet Arcade
Console Living Room
Books to Borrow
Open Library
TV News
Understanding 9/11