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Full text of "The Oxford book of English verse, 1250-1900;"

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.^. 37.^ 




^I^arbarb Coflcge library 



FKOM 



.AuguBtUB. P.l«rlng Jr. 

^ Bob ton 



The 
Oxford Book 
Of English Verse 
T^5•o— 1900 



The 

Oxford Book 

Of English Verse 

115-0—1900 




FROWDE 

EDlNflURGM 
NEW VORK 



The 

Oxford Book 

Of English 7erse 

II yo- 1900 

Chosen & Edited by 
A. T. Qmller-Couch 



Oxford 

At the Oarendon Press 

I 901 



\0.H^H.31.'^ 




Printtd, crmpa Swi 

(an Imdinfaptr), , 

cdf 8i/a (on Ii 

Impreriion, 

ImfTtiih. 



tnan o-uoj Ftbrintiy igox 



OXKWD : Houo aua, tuirrai to nu uaii-iuitit 



TO 

THE PRESEDEin' 

FELLOWS AND SCHOLARS 

or 

TRINITY COLLEGE OXFORD 

A HOUSE OF LSARNING 

ANOEMT UKRAL HUMANE 

AND MY MOST KINDLY NURSS 



<-^ 




or 

nsorxn ^tj.;.i.i'.',> 'fizir.r 



PREFACE 



» 



FOR this Aodtflcf J 1 hare uied to range am ilie 
whdlr 6dd of EngGih Vene from tJ>c bc^iaonig, or 
froin tlie ThirtMnih Ccototy to ihtt cloang year of 
ihr Niaetccoth, aad to cboorsc itie brsi. Nor birc I »o<^ht 
m tb«r Isliaib only, but whemoi-Ter the Muw bu felloiKd 
ifce UogMT whicb unung Itriog tongue* tbe most dflights 
eo boaoor. To bring homr ■&(! rcudn so gmt a «]<oil com- 
frwftOQily b<B bees my c^ilul difficulty. It ii for ibe 
nw ia to judge if I tuiie » maatgvd it » lo wrrc those 
wIm idfudy [ore poetry and to imiibiit dm Iotc to Moie 
)nin4 niad* ooi yet initialed. 

My scbemr b HmjJe. I h»n vnngcd ibc poets tti 
^sfly «* potuble is wdet of bwth, «iifa tudt grospingt or 
woeynou fitcef >s scnBtd eoovmiem. Foe coovenirace, 
no^ am *eH ■> to iiold a dis]>ute-royal, I hive gathered the 
^■•t of tl» BatiMb into the middle of the Seientecnth 
Cnanry; «hrrc tbcy fill a Ungnid intrmi betvccn two 
«fads trf^ BfprMtoa — ibe lalian dying down wiili Mihoo 
aad tlic Pmcb fbllowtng at the Wis of the mtmvd 
Roya)t*ts. For commicnce, again, I baw set myself ontatD 
l^n of sicllitig. In the ivry eailicu poems bflectioa and 
tn Mrucuml, nd to mockniiie is to destroy, fiat 

*n 



I c&scntu]' — should breslhc of something rarer t 

limngRncQt cf type. But there &re sdioUrs <4 

M expect 10 »gtt€ witii me ; md u> coaciibtc thcia 

peed SpenMT aod Millon fn>ni llic rule. 

losKS of ucbuc und <iibcrwi*c difliculi wordi ai^ 

foot of tbe page: but tlic test hu not bem dil 

rerereDoe-Burk». And rtiher than make Lbv 

eldj 1 h»e eschewed ooies — reluctantly whni 

tire pottage or allusion seemed to avk for a timeljr 

\ note «^<»aimity when the tcRiptatiDn «■»» to c 

■ppKOaic/ For the fuoclioa of the anthologist i 

iiiing b silence. 

pre has beea taken with the text*. But I have sot 
Uu it comiucnt with the aim of the book to pre 
t beautiful to the better attested reading. I b«v 
ted neik or superlluous stanzas when »u(c thai i 
|ii improic; and have not hesitated to extract 
pu from a long poem when persuaded chat the 
I aJo«>e ai a lyric. The apology for such cxpt 
pnly lie io their success : but the risk is one w! 







PREFACE 

Ik mnbcn duMo are oiber Ijrncal or cfoj^uunatic. 
Uad I an iiiiiiihn if a uit|^ cptgraia iodudcd fiils to 
fB«it ir Ins MiDe tdati thiill of die «moQOO thioa^ 
•ikk it bad to foaa bdbn tbe Mum's Dps let it &li, wiili 
tenrn nu^ucute ddifaaAioo. But the lyrical siont b 
■Ue md DDianously ttaid to bind with ddatitiam ; and 
WIII0QW wiUn viih tbc jorb With the aotixilogiit— 
■ «k Ar fi**"""" wbo kaom tbe fi&h at ifac end of hh 
Ksfac— ibe ^&, if be bare it, cones by scom, nofitDTCd 
kf fmeitti. The d di a iti an, if be be derer eooogh to fnuae 
^ OBM bf afiM-(lisag)M> t don't know tiut ii hetps, 
ui an MR that it msy easily mi<lfiid. 

Birisg set iRjr bean on choonog the best, I lesolved not 
« k i1iiiiiiil<i1 t^ ooonaoo objcctaoos sgunst Rnthologics — 
ibtbcyRfcsieaesooithct uatil the ponth fit ^ rptt t& koAb 
Im d sffliesaoo— or penwfecid if my judgrmoit shooU 
A* i|^ nth that of good critics. The best is the best, 
^Blb a hiiliiit judges ban declared it so i aor had it 
ta ay fca. m scwtb o«t and inial the second-taie meiely 
^Vn it h q fyen t d to be recooditc To be sure, a nun 
■■ CMS IB such a ta&k as mat luunud by bii youth sad 
<^ fcwite a he lond io days wbm he bad nmch eoihusiasin 

'A deep0 teiport 
Larks In lb* Itpui told m; tntuu yean 
Tbas Um apoB that mth «■ llvi to Icam.' 

Pi* tt Vff caaiau]>oruies can erase— or would vi^b to 
-the dy« ibctt miods took from the bic N(r. Palgtavc's 



PREFACE 



fraiB Ms tiwB workt, lad Irtiv to use hh 
Qhm Amert Langnto i U Messn. MactnlUia lor i 
fMnnismo for xhe exinca (ram PitzGcrald, Cbrbtim Rosxo^ 
and T. E. Brown, md partimliirty for allowing me to ins 
the latett emendations m Lord TmnyMn'* non-copyrij 
[)o«i»ii to the proprietors of Mr. and Mrs. Browmag 
oopyrighu uid to Meura. Snuth, Elder ft Co. for a me 
fanwr, also for a copyright poem by Mrs. Btonraiag; 
Mr. George AUea for extracts from Ruskin and the autl 
of /wuea t to Messra. G. Bell ft Sons for poems by Tho 
Albe] U Mesm. Chatto ft Windus for poem* by Ar 
O'Shangbnessy and Dr. George MacDotnld, ititd for co 
firming Mr. Bret Hull's permission i to Mr. Elllin Matbe 
for a poem by Mr. Bliss Cxnnaai to Mr. John 
for two poems by William Brigbiy Rocdtj to the So 
for Promoting Christian Knowledge for two extracts fn 
Cbristiai Rossetti'e t^trjtt g and to Mr. Bertram Dobcll, ' 
allows me not only to select from James Thomson but to < 
a poem of Traheme's, a seventeenth -century singer 
covered by him. I mu« beg tho fot^vcoess of any one 1 
rights I hare orerlookcd. To mention all who in other waj 
have funlMTcd me b not possible m this short Prefacej 
which, however, muff not conclude without a woid 
special thanks to Professor F. York Powell, whose help and 
wise counsel have bera a; generously gircD m they wer 
eagerly sought, adding me to the number of those numy wh 
have (bund bis learning to be his friends' good fortune. 

A.T.Q.C. 



Cuckoo Song 

cna» 

CUMER is icumen in, 
*^ Lhude sing cuceu ! 
Groweth sed, and bloweth med, 
And sprittgth the wude nu — 
Sing cuccu! 



Awe bleteth after lorab, 
LhouCh after calve cu ; 

Bulluc steiteth, bucke Terteth, 
Murie sing cucu ! 



Cuccu, cuccu, well singes thu, cuccu i 

Ne swike diu narcr nu ; 
Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu, 

Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu I 



^«^\ lond. Bwe] ewe. Itiouth] loweth. Kerteth] leapi. 
iwiktjceajf. 



ANONYMOUS 

2. ^lisoti 

D YTIIENE Merahe SDt AtciiI 

When spray IngiaDcth to spring, 
The lutel foul hath hire wyl 

On hyic lud to synge: 
Ich libbe in loTC-lon^ng? 
For seinlokest of alle thjnge, 
He may me blisse bringe, 

Ichain in hire bandoun. 
An hendy hap idubbc y-bent, 
Ichot ftota hercfK h is me sent, 
From alle wymmen my lore is lent 

Ant lyht on Alisoun. 

Od hcB hire her is Ayr ynoh, 

Hire tvowe brotme, hire eye hlake; 

With lossom cbere he on me loh ; 
With middel tmal ant wel y-makei 

Bote he me wolle to hire take 

For to boen hire owen make, 

Long to lyren ichulle foreake 
Ant li^ iallen adotm. 

An heody hap, etc. 

Nihtes when I weode and wake, 
For-thi myn wonges waxeth won ; 

on hjn \nS\ in her language, Ich libbc] I lire. lemlokeit] 
■eemliett. he] ihe. baodoaiij thraldom. heud}'] giactoo). 
r-heni] (ciied, enjoyed. ichot] I wot Ijbt] aligbtcd. 

hire her] her hair. lonom] lomome. loh] laughed, 

bote he] luileis she. make] mate. feye] liLe to die. nihtes] 
at Digbt. wendc] tum. for-thi] on that accoiut, wongei 

waieth won] cheeki gioir win. 



ANONYMOUS 

LcTcdi, al for thine sake 

LoDginge is y-lent me on. 
Id world his oon so wyter mon 
That al hire bounti telle con ; 
Hire swyie is whittore than the swoo, 

Ant fcymt may in touae. 
An heady hap, etc. 

Icham for wowyng al for-wake, 

Wcry so water in wore ; 
Lest any reve me my make 
Ichabbe y-yemed yore. 
Beteie is tholien whyle sore 
Then moumen evennoie. 
Geynest under gore, 
Herkne to my roun— 
Aq heady hap, etc 



J. Spring-tide 

I ENTEN ys come with love to toune, 
^ With blosmen ant with briddes roune, 

That ai this blisse bryngethj 
Dayes-eyes in this dales, 
Notes suete of nyhtegales, 

Vch foul song sbgeth ; 

>. levedi] Udy. j-loil me on] arrived to me. lo wyter mon] to 
ue ■ man. >*T'e] neck. ma;] mild. for-vrakc] worn out 
ith vigiU. lo wMcr in woic] u water in ■ weir. rcvc] rob, 

■jreincd ^re] long bcm diilrcurd. Iholien] to enflure. ^tyuoit 
^er gore] comclieM under woman's appareL luuu] talc, la/. 
y to tooDCj in iu Eum. 

I 



. IJOU 



ANONYMOUS 

The ihrcttlfcoc him thretcih oo^ 
Away is liurrc vyatcr wo, 

When wodcreTC springrih; 
Tliis fouJcs tin^tth (ttly Mr, 
Ant wlytrtb on huere winter wcic, 

That al the wode ryngcUi 

The rose wylcih hire rode. 
The IvTCs on the lyhle wode 

Waxen al with willc ; 
The monc mxiidcih hire bleo, 
The lilie is luiaoni to xq, 

The fenyl ant the fillci 
Wcrwes lhi» wilde drakn, 
Milci mur^eth hucrc hiaIcc* ; 

Aw xtirm thai sti-ikcili ttille^ 
Mody moieth ; so doth mo 
(Ichot yc^iam on of tho) 

For loiK tim likes ille. 

The monc mandcth hire lyhi, 
So doUi the senily uiane biyht, 

When briddes HD^ctJi bremct 
Deaweit donketh the dounei, 
Deotcs with hucrc demc raunes 

Domes Tone deme; 

him tbitlelh oo] ii mjt chldisg lli«ni. hueic] Ibeir. (rodetove] 
woodrafl. fcr!y fdc] nmrrelloM many. «lyl«th3 whittle, or 

look. rajlelh hue Tode) dothci heneU in tod. maodclh lili« 
tileo]Mnd*fiiiili hci tight. louom tatco] liyrcMUne to mc ti\lt] 
thym*. w«w«tj •mfo. tnlln] loatM. iniir||;eth] make merry, 
makei] r»1«*> attikMli) Sowu triclilM. noily mcnettil ibe 

noodymanmakninoaa. to ilMhiDo] Mxlaiiuar. on of tho] 
iMenltiitm. bc<mc! Iiu'ily. dri<rcsld«vra. d«nkethlmake 
disk. ikorei] dean, 1c>ren. hucre dcme roocesl thcii tecict 
Ulc*. docaes forte dtmej lor to (ive (decide) their dcddoo*. 

4 



ANONYMOUS 

Wormes woweth under doude, 
Wymmeo waxeth wounder proude, 

So wel hit wol hem seme, 
Yef me ahal woDCe wilje of on, 
This wunne weole y woie forgon 

Aot wyht in wode be fleme. 



Blow^ Northern W^ind 



C IJOu 



TCHOT a butde in boure bryht, 
^ That fully seraly is on syht, 
MeDskiid maiden of myht ; 

Feir ant fre to foode; 
In al this wurhiiche won 
A burde of blod ant of bon. 
Never yew y nuste non 
Lussomore in londe. 
Blou northeme wynd ! 
Send thou me my suetyng ! 
Blou oortherne wynd i blou, blou, blou I 

With lokkes lefltche ant longe. 
With frount ant face feir to fonge. 
With murthes monie mote heo monge, 
That brid so breme in boure. 

J. clonde] clod. wozine weole] wealth of joy, y wolc forgon] 
I «ill foreo. wyht] wigbt. flenicl banithed. 

4. Ichot] I know. bunle] moideu. menikful] wonhipfal. 

feir] fair. focde] t*ke, proTc. wurhlicbe] noble. won] 

Dsllitiide. y niule] I knew not. laisomore in londej lorelier 
m euth. laetyngj iweeihe«rt, lefliche] lovely. foi>8*l 

uke between handi. murthe*] mirlhi. joyi. mote heo monge] 
duy ibe mingle. biid] bird. brcme] full of life. 

5 



ANONYMOUS 

With lossom eye grete ant gode, 
With bmwcD Uyafol noder hod^ 
He that reate him od the Rode^ 
That leflych Ijf honourc. 
Bloo Dortheme wynd, etc 

Hire line lumes liht 
Ase a laimtenie a njht, 
Hire bleo blykyeth ao biyht, 

So feyr heo is ant fyn. 
A snetly awyre heo hath to holde, 
With aitaea shuldre ase mon wolde, 
Ant Sngres feyie forte folde, 

God wolde hue were myo ! 
Elou Qortheme wynd, etc 

Heo is coral of godnesse, 
Heo is rubie of ryhtfiilaesse, 
Heo is crista] of clannesse, 

Ant baner of bealtS. 
Heo is lilie of largesse, 
Heo is parvenke of prouesse, 
Heo is solsecle of suetnesse, 

Ant lady of lealtS. 

For hire love y carke ant care. 
For hire love y droupoe ant dare, 
For hire love my hlisse is bare 
Ant al ich waxe won, 

Rode] the Ctok. Inie] face, lamei] beami. blco] colour 
fuctly swjie] dirling neck, forte] for to. hue, lieo].ihe. 

clanDcsse] cleumm, puity. parveuJcc] periwinkle. tolaedc] 

iunllowcr. won] wui. 

6 




ANONYMOUS 

For hire lore in slep y slake, 
For hire love al nyiit ich wake, 
For hire love moumynge y make 
More then eny mon. 

Blou northeme wynd! 

Send thou me my suetyng! 

Btou northeme wynd ! blou, blou, blou I 



c lyo 



;. This World's Joy 

W^TNTER wakenrth al my care, 
Nou this le»es waxeth barei 
Ofte I nke ant moume ure 

When hit cometh in my thoht 

Of this wotldes Joie, hou hit goth al to ooht, 

Nou hit is, and nou hit nys, 

Al so hit ner nere, ywys ; 

That mont mon seith, soth hit ys: 

Al goth bote Codes wille : 

AJIe we shule deye, ihah us like ylle. 

Al that gren me graueth grene 
Nou hit faleweth albydene : 
Jnu, help that hit be sene 

Ant shild us from helle ! 

For y not whider y shal, ne hou longe her duellc. 

/. thii lev»] tbete \t».ttx. aike] ligh. nys] is not. >1 so hit 
Mr ntre] ai though it hid nevei been. sothj looth. bote] but, 
ucept. tbih] though. bleweth] fadeth. albfdene] altogether. 
IMt whidei] 1 koow not whither. hei dnelle] beie dwell. 

1 



P" 


ANONYMOUS H 


^^^1 6. A Hymn n the Virgin ^| 




^^^H Bngtittr (bxi the day b light, ^^| 
^^^^B Partus It fiatlla t ^^^k 
^^^^K Ic crie to Uie^ thou «e« to me, ^^| 


^^^^H LcTcdjr, pnyc thi Sonc for ^^| 
^^^^P Tom ^^^k 
^^^H TbM ic note cooie to thM ^^| 


^^^^B Mono, ^H 


^^1 AJ tilts world wax far-loiv ^H 


^^^L^ Tyl our LonI ■vha y-bore ^H 


^^^^H ^f b gtnttrirt. ^H 
^^^^H With inv it vi»y ^^1 
^^^^P Thuiicr nyih and coinz ihv ilijr ^H 


^^^M The wclk spriogcth ut of thc^ ^H 


^^^^^B Lcndy, flour of allc thing, ^^M 


^^^H Thu brrc Jhew, hcvrnr king, ^H 


^^^^^ft Gratia i£vina t "^H 


^^^B Of xlle tliu ber'M the pris, ^H 


^^^^B Lvvvijy, tjucne uf pamdys ^^U 


^^^F Maydc milde, modcr tt ^^^ 


^^1 on] one. levtd; ) Udy, OiuiUrl duk. prii]prii«.^H 


^^L ^1 



ANONYMOUS 



'. Of a rost, a love!y nse. 

Of A rosf is al mjn smg. 

J ESTENYT, lordyngw, both tWc ud jynse, 
*-• How this rose began to sptyngc] 
Soycb ■ n>M M oiyn l;k)rnf;e 

Is a] tliik word ne knowe I nan. 

Tbc Autijtil onw Iro bevcnc tour. 
To grew Muyc *iih grei honour, 
And STfile Bcbe xuld bm- ttic flour 
Tim xuldr ttrcke U>e ijn^a bond. 

The flov qiroog in beyv BnUcm, 
Tint is botbe bryhl snd vchra: 
Tbr rose a Mary hnaie qwyn, 

Out of bm bourn ihc bloime sprang. 

TIn ftniK bnusclw b ftil of loyht, 
TbM fpoBS oa CyncctoMsc nybt, 
llv MTTTV Khon over Bedim brytit 
Tlut it boihe brad lod long. 

The tccunde hncnche »prong U> hellr, 
The fcndy* paver doun lo fellc: 
TlMTtia (Djht non wwie d<nlte; 

Btjruid be the liiiK tlie loee >proagl 

Tfx thrtddc bfaonche is £ood «bA iw-oce, 
Ii ifnnjt to be*«nc nop and rote. 
TWnrin to dwellyo ud ben out botet 
Efny di/ it (chcwit ia [«y«ct bood. 

:[ Mm. «imll mfU. nU) thoald. idiml bcMttful 
f*]«) hM*t»'« [| » ww . bMc) talnlMS. 



ANONYMOUS 

Prcf we to heie with gret honour, 
Che that bar the blyssid flowr, 
Che be our hdpe and our socoor 

And schyd ua fro the fyndei bood. 



ROBERT MANNYNG OF BRtJNNE 
8, Traise of ff^omm 

talo-i 

^JO thyng fs to man so deic 

^ ^ As wommanys lore in gode manure. 

A gode woounan b mannys bljrs, 

There her lore right and atedfast j^ 

There ys no solas under berene 

Of alle that a man may nevene 

That shulde a man so moche glew 

As a gode wonunan that lovi:th tnic. 

Ne derer ts none in Goddis hurde 

Than a chaste wonunan with lovely worde. 



JOHN BARBOUR 
p. Freedom 



di 



A I Fredome is a noble thing I 

Fredome mayse man to huif liking ; 
Fredome all sobce to man gitlis, 
He livis at ese that frely livis 1 
A noble hart may liair nane ese, 
Na eljys noeht that may him plese, 

8. nevene] name. glew] gladden. lianle] flock. ^. liLi 
libetlf. na city* nocht] not anj^ht elie. 



JOHN BARBOUR 

Gif hedoate Cui'th ; for (rt liluqg 
la jrfaaran owr M othir thing. 
Na be that ay lus lint &e 
Kay nocht kiuvr wcU iJie pn))>crti^ 
The angcf, na the wretcliit doooi 
That ii cuupGt to foul tlmldocne. 
Bat pi Ite lud asMjit it, 
Then all perqueT he suld it wit; 
And Mild think frnJotnc mar to prise 
ThaD all the guld in warld that a. 
TluM axxrar tbingis cvcnaar 
DiicowcriDgis of the tothif are. 

GEOFFREY CHAUCER 

RT Tie Lew Unfcig}Kd 

r'\ YONGE fi«she folli-s, lie or she, 

^^ lu which that lore up growtth with youf ^, 

Rej j eyiwh boom from worldly raniiM:, 

Awl of your bnte up-cuicth the viaage 

To ihilkc sod that afier his image 

Yuw madr, and thinketb al cuS but a fayre 

This world, that pasaetb nnc as dourci f^yrc. 

And Imcth him, tbe whkh that right for tove 

»Up(M a croa, oar sosles (or to beye, 
Ftnt siarf, and roos, and ail to hevene a-bo*e g 
For he nil lidieti tui wight, dar 1 stye, 
1'hat wol bis hcTtc J boolly on hini leyc 
Aad KD br best to love is, and laoiit imlur, 
¥rhat Dokth fcynvd loves fur to sekef 

yharatl] yoned lot. perqnei] ihotOBfhly, by bean. 

n{wyntb] n^MU y%, naifj dlsd. 



■HO M 400 



GEOFFREY CHAUCER 

U YD, Absokw, thy gUte tressea ckre ; 

^ ^ Eiter, ley thoa tbj ladcDesw al s-<Iaiui | 

Hyd, Jonatbas, al thy IrnuIIy nuDcre ; 

Penalopee, and Marda Catonn, 

Mak of your wyfhod do compuiMnn ; 

Hyde ye your beames, Isoode and Eleynei 

My lady cometh, that al thia may disteyDc. 

Thy faire body, lat hh nat qiperv, 

Lavyne; and thou, Lucrease of Rome toun, 

And Pdixene, that boghten lorc so den^ 

And Cleopatre, with al thy pasuoun, 

Hyde ye your trouthe of lore and your renotm t 

And thoo, Tisbe, that hast of Iotc swich peyne; 

My lady cometb, that al this may disteyne. 

Herro, Dido, Laudoniia, alle y-fere, 

And Phyllis, haoging for thy Demophoun, 

And Canace, cspyed by thy chere, 

Ysiphilc, betraysed with Jasoun, 

Makedi of your trouthe neydicr boost nc soun ; 

Nor Ypennistre or Adriane, ye tweyne j 

My lady cometh, that al this may disteyne. 

tz. tJMerciles Beaute 

A Triple Roundel 

I. CAPTIVITY 

VOUR eyen two wol slee me sodenly, 
■^ I may the bcautS of hem not sustene, 
So wouodeth hit through-out my herte kene. 

«, dUteyne] bedim. r-fere] tocetl'e''- 



GEOFFREY CHAUCER 

And htf jtMT wornl irol helen ImsIiI]' 
My hmn woundc, wbjl ibn hit b gncDr, 
Your qnm two wol slot mc 9odi.-iilj, 
I aaj the beauti of bem not aasuot. 

U[Oii tny iroatlw I tty yow fcithfiilly, 
Ttut yr bra of n; lyf ind dwili tlie tptoej 
For mill iBf dccth ifae troutbe ftlial be wac. 
Yoni r]ren tvo wol &1r iik Md«oly, 
J nuf the bcacii of Ikoi not tiuCcnc', 
So wpaodcth hit iJuou^h-oui my hcite kcne. 

9. KXJICTIOX- 

So hath fooi haatk fn four h«ne chaccd 
Peer, that mc oe anileth not to plcyor; 
Foe I>»nsR \iA your mncy in hh dbcyne. 

C3i]a tttf dccth thus bin ye rec purctuccdj 
t w/ yow tooth, roe nedeth not to fcyncj 
60 hath yauf bc;)utt (io your hrtir chKcd 
Fitec, that mc or arnlcth not to pkyw. 

Aflvl that DatuTT hath ia yow compaMrd 
8a pttt btauii^ lliat no man nuy aucyne 
To mercy, though he stnre for the fieyne. 
So luih your beauti fio your herte chaced 
Pit«, tliat oie oe araileth not 10 pleync; 
Ffir DxMign hah your mercy in his dieyne. 



U>1 



5. tSCAft. 

Sin I fro Lore eaca^cd am >o fat, 

I oevcf thei^ to ben in his priMo Icnei 

S«a I am fnc, 1 cuonte him 00c a beet. 



GEOFFREY CHAUCER 

He may answere, and seye tliis or that ; 

1 do no fors, I spekc right as I mene. 
Sin I fro LoTe escaped am so fat, 
I never thcnk to ben in his prison lene. 

Lore hadi my name y-strike out of hii idi^ 
And be is strike out of ray bakes dene 
For ercr-rao; ther is non other mene. 
Sin I fre Lore escaped un M fit, 
I nerer theak to ben in his pcison lenet 
Sin I am fret, 1 counte him not k beob 



THOMAS HOCCLEVE 

13. Lament fir Chancer t^%.^^ 

A LLAS ! my worthy maister honorable, 
■^^ This londes Tcrray tresour and riehesse I 
Dethe by thy dethe hath harm irreparable 
Unto us done : hir Tengcable duresse 
Despoiled bath this lond of the swetnesse 
Of rethoryk ; for unto Tulltus 
Was never man so like amonges us. 

Also who was heyr in philoso^ 

To Aristotle in our tunge but thou \ 

The steppes of Virgile in poesye 

Thou folwedest eke, men wote wel ynow. 

That combre-worlde that my maister slow — 

Wolde 1 slayn were I— Dethe was to hastyf 

To renne on thee and rere thee thy lyf . . . 

ra. aclat] ilate. j}. bert] heir. combie-worlde] 

encuiaberCT of earth. ilow] ilew. 



THOMAS HOCCLEVE 

She nught han tamed hir mgance ■ whyte 
Til that some mao had egd to thee be; 
Nay, let be that! she knew wel that this yle 
May nerer man brin^ fortfae like to thee. 
And her office cedes do mote she : 
God bade hir do so, I tmste (or the bestej 
O inaister, maister, God thy soule restel 

JOHN LYDGATE 
14. yex ultima Crucis 

^^ i|)o >-iMl 

■ I ^ARY DO longer; toward thyo heritage 
^ Haste OD thy way, and be of right good chere. 
Go cch day onward on thy |nlgrimage ; 
Thynk how short time thou shah abyde here. 
Tliy place is bigg'd above the sterres clere. 
None erthly paleys wrought in so statiy wyse. 
Come on, my frend, my brother most enterel 
For thee I otfred my blood io sacryfice. 

KING JAMES \ OF SCOTLAND 

IJ-. Spring Song of the Birds 

'WT'ORSCHIPPE ye that loveris bene this May, 

"^ For of your bUsse the Kalendis are begoaae. 
And BDg with us, Away, Winter, away! 

Cum, Somer, cum, the suete jesoEln and sonnet 
Awake for schame ! that have your hevynais woone, 
And amorously lift up your hedis all, 
Thank Lufe that list you to his merct call I 

14. bi£g'd] built. P^eji] palMC 'S- >°etc] iwccL 

LdrlLoTC 



MQ-I9W 



ROBERT HENRYSON 

irf, /tohin and K^iakyne 

ROBIN Mt on gud« Kiwa bill, 
Ktp>u)d a flock of fe : 
Miny Makyn uid him till 

* Robin, thou rew o« me : 
I Kiif thf« luvit, loud snd sull, 

Thir ytiris twa w thrcj 
My dulc in dcm bot gif thou dill, 
Douileu but drcid [ dc.' 

Robin answerit ' By the Rude 

N> ihing of luvc I knaw. 
But ktipi» mjr shrip undir yon wud ; 

Lo, <^ulutr ihi^y mik un raw. 
Quhit hu roarrit thee tn thy mudc 

Makyn to me thou shaw ; 
Or quhat is Iutc, or to be lude? 

Faia vrad I leii that law.' 

'At luiis liiir K'f^ ihoo will Irir 

Tak ihair aoc A DC; 
Be beynd, couium, and fair of (eir, 

Wy w, hardy, and free : 
So that Qo danjer do thee deir 

Quhat dule in dern thou drc; 
PiTuis thee with pain it all powdr 

Be patient and previe.' 

krp*nd} keeplnff. U\ tWp. otitic^ him tUll to 1 

tliiU III dern] tonow In m<iM. dill] loollie. but d<eld],i 
dttail, I- 1. Ihcre li do (e*i or dnuLi. rt!k os raw] <init« I 

TOW. lodcl loTetl. Iciil Icun. Uii] loit. hcjmdt e<Blte 
Wi) dtmeuioat. drill Oaonl. dn] <Di!urt. preiw) «ntIc»oa 
•a 



ROBERT HENRYSON 

RoUn answent hir ■gane, 

'I wti not qvhit is toTc; 
But I hut tntntl in cnaine 

Quliai makis ihn this wsnni&i 
*nw weddii' is ^, xod I mi &ioj 

My *bt<p gm> hail) aboif; 
And vre <nld ptry us in this plMM^ 

Tbef watd n bihh rrproif.' 

'Robin, tafc tent untu my ulc, 

An<l wirfc «lt M I icid. 
And thou sail luif my hurt all hail), 

Eilc and my maidra-hcid : 
Sen God miGs bute Tor bail!, 

And for mujnyng rnnnd. 
Id dcni vitb ihtK bot gif I iaJe 

Dowtlr» I wn bot dcid.' 

*Makyit, to-morn tlus \\\* tyde 

And ye wiD oiht mc heir, 
HcnvnHure my shop may gang btiyde 

Quhylc we haii* liggit (uQ oaf ; 
Bm mawjfc tiatf I, ud I byd«, 

Pn th«y bc^in to urir ; 
Quhu 1^ on hean I will nochl hyd ( 

Makyn, then mak gudc cheir.* 

'RoUq, thOQ rdna mc roitf and rent 

I lure boi thee aUane.' 
'Mikyn, ailinil ihr ww (qc* wett. 

The day it oett-hand giwe.' 

h) nnntt. hatUl beaJtbjr, «lii>t;. iboif) aborr, ap 

pMilir a»J] Ml, If. uk loii] gire bceiL ligie fo* balltl 

tmrn^f tM k«L bM fU] bu If, Mie**. aui«i[iei lUaill 

(•I Ua aMMo). itiib] rotiboL loifl] (|ulel. 



I sicht and that full s.iir.' 
' M^kyn, I half been here this (juhylc; 

At hanie God gif I weir.' 
'My huny, Robin, talk ane qubyll 

Gif thow will do na mair.' 
' Makyn, sum uthir man begyle, 

For hamewart I wUI fair.' 

Robin on his wayis went 

As light as Irif of ut i 
Makyn muniit in hir intent, 

And trowd him nerir to ae. 
Robin brayd attour the bent: 

Then Makyn cryit on hie, 
'Now may thow NOg, for I am scbentl 

Quhat alis lufe at me J' 

Makyn went hame withowttio fail, 

Full wery efUr cowth weip; 
Then Robin in a fUl fair daiU 

Assemblit all his scheip. 
Be that sum part of Makynig aill 

Out-throw his hairt cowd creip ; 
He fallowit hir fast thair till assaill, 

And till her tuke gude k«p. 

>eset Icmiaau] miitmi. licbt] ^gh. 

her inward thoueht briyd] itiode. beni] < 




ROBERT HENRTSON 

'Abfd, tbyd, tbow har Mabpi^ 

A word fat ony diing; 
For lU my Inrc, it sail be diyo^ 

irf xtDcytnim iipjfBitiiiFi 
All haiB tlij haiit fir dD huf myne 

Is ul tttf cuvAjag ; 
My schcip to-mom, qohjlc bouris nyn^ 

Will acid of ut kepiag.' 

'Robin, tbiTv lies hsrd sonng and ay, 

Id gcsas aod aoRis ndd, 
Tlw man thai win oodK qobni be way 

Sail haif nocht qnhm he wald. 
I pray to Jesu erery day, 

Mot eik thatr cairis cauld 
That first preissis with thee to yhy 

Be firth, foiT^st, or bM.' 

'Makyn, the nicht is soft attd dr-. 

The weddir is wantie and far, 
Aod the grene woid rycht ncir la ivi 

To walk attour all quhor: 
Thatr ma na janglour us e^. 

That is to lufc contnir; 
Thunn, Makyne, baith ye tai I, 

Unsene we ma repair.' 

* Robin, that warld is all rwrj. 

And quyt brocht till itjc cad : 
And nerir agane thneto, pM&r. 

Sail it be as thow wend; 



hard] heard. feitii] ro maae et arx iSt, mtj -tM H 

bt] by. jangloor] talebeam. -mnXl vteae'l. 




ROBERT HENRYSON 

For of my pane thow maid it play 

And all in vnne I spend : 
As thow hes done, sa sail I say, 

"Mume on; I think to mend." 

' Makyn, the howp of sll my bnt)^ 

My haiit qd thee u sett; 
And ninnair to thee be Idll 

QiMl I may leif but lett| 
Nerar to &ill as utheiu fall, 

Qnlutt grace that erir I getL* 
'Robin, with thee I will nocht dEtD) 

Adieu I for tha we men.* 

Makyn went hame biyth anneuche 

Attour the holttis hair} 
Rotno muniit, and MaVyn leache; 

Scho sang, he sichit sair: 
And 30 left him baith wo and wreuch, 

In dolour and in cair, 
Kepand his bird under a huche 

Amangts the holtis hair. 



17. The BluJy Serh 

■ymS binder yrir I hard be tald 
^ Thair was a worthy King % 
Dulcis, Erlis and Baironis bald. 
He had at his bidding. 

s6, howp] hope. but tett] witbont hindrance. ■luienc^l 

cnoDgh. holtlihair] gref wDodlandi, Icncbe] laag cd. 

wrench] peeriili. huche] heoch, difi^ 

ij. binder ]relr] lait yeat. 



ROBERT HENRYSON 

Tbe Lofd was anctan ml aid, 

Aad tntj yciris cowib ring; 
He had ■ il&chirr flit lo did, 

A luUf Lady yiug. 

OfT all fairtieid (cho bor th« flotiri 

And cik faif fadem airt 
Off lu«t^ bins and be boeour, 

Mrik, twt aod debonair: 
Scho wynmt in a tii^lj boor, 

On foU wcs nane $0 bir, 
Princis Ivrit lur pmnxHir 

Ib cuiiOMi our lUauhairi 

TbMT dwch a lyt buyde the King 

A feoU Gya&d of anc; 
StoUin he ha» llur Lady yii^, 

Away with hit » ganc, 
And knt her in his diinj^og 

Qiifaaii Ucht xho audit m: naoei 
HnD^ir aad cwld and £nt thristicg 

Sdio fan! into htr waioe. 

He wes the EaithBnt on to Mt 
Thai od tlie gmnd mycfat gang 1 

K« nailia wcs lyk ane heUia cruk, 
TWrwitli lyvc ijaaitcib Ungf 

ita^RlpL. UUi^atolA. TkicljtnDc. riUheld) bcinir- 
I kalr. bkk) naaMn. Kbo nyaalil ibe dmti. Iitclj) 
L l»U]aHth. puKDcwl 1»riael)r. o*r allipiliKlrl ■!) 
■odJom. alylbdj^ejaliitlc, |I.e. <lo*e)bcMr. of uie) 
■■7. fcartJoM. i>ui|;eiliii:) duui^coii. IMO hk «*1db| in 
rlodfiBc. hdUi cnk) bril<l>w. 




ROBERT HENRYSON 

Thair wea otat tim he ourtuJc, 

In rydit or irit in wnsg, 
Dot all ia iclvumlir he thasie schuk, 

Thv Cyjad wcs so uaog. 

He held the Lady diy Jind oycfat 

Within his dcq) duogcoun, 
He wald Docht glf of hir a siclit 

For g<^ not jrit ntoioim — 
Bot gif thv King mycht get a kaycht. 

To tedit wi:h hit pcrsouD, 
To fccht with him bcth day and nycht, 

Quhill anc wet duo^ doun. 

The King pit leik buth fa and oat, 

Beth be *c and bnd, 
Off ooj knycht gif he mychi heir 

Wild fccht with th« Gptad: 
A worthy Prince, tlmt had no peir, 

lies tine the ddd on haod 
For the luve of the Lady cldr, 

And held full trew cunnand. 

That Piince come ptowdly to the louil 

Of that Gyand W heir, 
Aod fjwcht witli liim, hh awin per»un. 

And tuke him pTMoneir, 
And kctt him in hi* awin duogcomi 

Alluic wiihoutcn fcir, 
With hungir, cJuld, and cooiuMoan, 

As full wciU worthy weir. 

■M^ <Tungin donn] IwaittQ down. lib «wla ptnonn] 
wiQiouleii Icitj wiliMut OMBpaoiiua. 



M 



ROBERT HENRYSON 

Syne bnk the boor, b*d hude the bricfat 

UiHo ha (adu he. 
Sa vTtll wondit wt« (be Knydtt 

Tlut he bchuvk to dc; 
UnluMm waa his lilunic diclii, 

His satk ms all bJudyi 
In all the wocM was thjur a wkh^ 

So pctcOttvi for to sef 

T)ir Lady muniyt and maid grit mane, 

Wiiii ill bcr mckill mycht— 
*I lurit anir [afv bot anr, 

That dulTully now is dichlf 
God erti ray lyfc w«e fia me tine 

Or I had wen yonc ncht, 
Or ellis in begging e<rir to gaoe 

Futfa with yooc cunvs linycht.* 

He said 'Fair bdy, now inoae I 

D« imlly yc me trow. 
Take jc my scrk thai is hUidy 

And hiflg h forrow yow, 
Ftm think on !t and sync or tne 

Quheo men cuims yuw lo wow,' 
The Lady caid * Be Mary fre, 

Thairto I mak a row.' 

Quhcii that Scbo lukit to the saA 

Scbo tbocht on the persouti, 
And ptajit for him with all htr hart 

That kwat hir of boculoaa, 

(bB faridrtl (h< Ulr OM. Ukanc] bod;. lowili hit U 

■] looNd hat from iknldom. 



ROBERT HENRYSON 

QuhatT scho we% woot n tit fiilt mctk 

InU) that 6af dttngraua; 
Atxl crtr <(dull iclio wcs in ({ucn, 

Tb» wcss htr a Icuoua. 

Si wcill t)ic L»dy luvit the Knycl* 

Thit no mta wild scho uk : 
Sa Bald we do our God of micht 

That did all Tor lu m.-ik; 
Quhitlc fullity to tlcid wajt dichl, 

For »d)uU manit salt, 
S> luld tre do brth iiy and nycfat, 

With prayans to him male 

This King i^ lyk the TrinitO, 

BaUh in hciin and heir ; 
The mania muJc u> the Ladj-, 

The Gyind lo Luccfuir, 
The Knyclit to Cbrysi, tliai delt oo ire 

And cofl our synnis deirt 
The {lit to Hde with panb fell, 

The Syn to the wowcir. 

Th« Lady was wowd, but a^o said nay 

With men that wa)d Mr wedt 
Sa mid we wryth all Stn away 

ThiU in our breist a bred. 
I pray to Jesu Chryst verray, 

For wa bis Uud that bled, 
To be our help on domisday 

Quliair tawia ar sttaitly led. 

•pert] priaoa. cnAJ bovgbL atontlr led] Mtktlj i 




ROBERT HENRYSON 

The saule is Godis ilrichtir drir. 

And eik his hanilewcrk. 
That was betnyit with Lucefeir, 

Quha sittis in hetl full mnk: 
BoiTowh with Chryiti* an^HI 'Inr, 

Hold men, will je ttitJM, iwnfe ^ 
And for his lufe that \01ntx m 'fatr 

Tbiok on the BcLbir ftusi 



WILLIAM UL'XftAK 

^WEET rots of TW*» Mfi '4 ^nAWrw,. 
*^ Delftsuin UI7 rf -r*-™ jiafj-wn. 

Richest in Iatjur wl jk 'nr^ ':*iif. 

And ererje »*r.rT vje .t ••rtir. Ira^ 
Except oolie trjc 74 uk xrs-.<-fv-. 

\wD yoor pri tii* ■ia^ I <uC y^ »-» ; 

There s»w I Zf.-^ra ^.x. ;"-j-^* n-r.' V i^n : 

Bahh C-J'.TV; km? r-^ iv,flf. i,-f.i nr^. /, r:'-^ 
And ia>V,«i- '.rr-j: i.^^. a-iJ.c ir-'*^'' - 

Yet leaf Bi6«- ii-w iv: vvjrt I iis#r -/ f^r. 

I itfJX. ''-^ 34trVj'- *-f:V HK '-rJ.i Jjki'j;. 4^:;1* 

Has iiji= ri^j jmr.; -jr-, '.■;rf- T -y iu«* 



WILLIAM DUNBAR 

ip. Tn Honour of the City of London 

T ONDON, thou art of townea A per u. 
^•^ SoTcraign of cities, seemliest in sight, 
Of high renouD, riches and royaltie ; 

Of lordis, barons, and many a goodly knyght; 

Of most deleoable lusty ladies bright ; 
Of famous prelatis, xa habhis dericall ; 

Of merdiauatis Itill of substaunce and of myghtt 
London, thou an th« flour of Cities all. 

Gladdiih anon, thou lusty Troy Doraunt, 

Citie that some tyme cleped was New Troy; 

In all the erth, imperiall as thou stant, 

Pryncesse of townes, of pleasure and of joy, 
A richer resdth under do Christen roy; 

For manly power, with craftis natural!, 

Fourmeth none fairer sith the flode of Noy : 

London, thou art the flour of Cities all. 





WILLIAM DUNBAR 



Vhm mattf s iugt doA faile tntJ row whh an g 
^Vkoc tnasf ■ ihip doth mt with top-iojrall. 

0, tDWTtE of towncs ! patraoe »d not compan', 
XiOadoo, tlioo art the floor of C'taa oil. 

Vfoa dij hitter Biiggc of pylm white 

Decn werchttMitfa Ml royiil] to behold; 
Upos thy nmts goth nusjr a fcnxlj knjntbt 

la *d*« go«i>cs <nd in cheyna of goJd. 

By Julyus Cnu ihy Tonr fooodrd of oU 
Ui; be the boos of Mars naorjiU, 

Whote aniUuy with toa|e may oot be told : 
Lwidaa, ibou an the fiooi of Cidc* all. 

Smog he ihy walEs ihK aboot the ttsndisi 
W(K be the people that witlun the dwellk; 

Fmh b thy lyvcf with hb luuy Mrandist 
BGib bv thy durchra, wcle fowByBg be thy bell!*] 
Rkh be thy iiMtebatiiuis in tJosuiact that rxceUif i 

Fitf be tbrir wires, lifltA lovHom, while lad ieuUi 
Ocre be ihy tiriiyns, latty under krlUs: 

L«Ddoci, ittfu an the flow of Cities alL 

Thy (tnMS Mciie, by peyocely f>0TenMUfice, 
tt'iih *«md of jnttice tbec nileth pnidently. 

Ho Lotd of Pwy«. Vrnyce, or FtonoDce 
In &spitym or honour g:>'ih to hym fitgh. 
He i» cxcBifJrr, loodc-Mer, and goyct 

Pnoopal) patranc and me oryjyulle, 

Abot* aU Mam* n mainer miMt vonhyi 

Loodoo, tboa art the Bour of Cidct alL 



Ml 



•mU] iloidw. 



ktlUi) hooda, hMd-dreMec 



The cleir Sodc, quhom no cloud dtvouris, 
Surmounting Phi-bus in ihf Est, 
Is cumin of his iK'vinly touris; — 
£l nobis Putr nalut est. 

Archaogellis, angellis and dompnationis, 

TroniSf potestatis and marteiris seir, 
And all ye hevinly operationis, 

Ster, planeit, fiimament, and sphelr, 

Fire, erd, air and water cleir, 
To Him gife \anag, most and lest. 

That come in to so roeik nianeiri 
Et nobu Putr ttatat ttl. 

SyDDacis be glad, and penance do. 
And thank your Maker hurtiully ; 

Pot he that ye micht nocht come to 
To you is cumin full humbly 
Your soulis with his blood to buy 

And loose you of the fiendis anest — 
And <mly of his own merc^; 
Pro Moiu Puer natu* uU 

AU dergy do to him ioclyne, 
And bow unto that bairn benyng, 

Aod do your obserrance diryne 
To him that is of kingis King: 



WILLIAM DUNBAR 

Encmse his altar, read and sing 
In holjr kirk, with mind degest, 
Him honouriog attour all thing 
Qui luHt Purr nattu at, 

CekMul foulis in the air, 

Sing wih your notris upOD hicht. 
In firthia and in foirestis fair 

Be myrthful now at al! your mycht| 

For pasut is your dully nicht, 
Aurora has the doudis perst, 

Tht Sone is risen with glaidsum licht, 
Et noiit Putr nahu at. 

Now spring up flouns fra the rate, 

Rerert you upward naturaly, 
Id honour of the blissit fnite 

That raiss up fro the rose Mary j 

Lay out your levis lustily, 
Fro deid take life now at the lest 

In wirschip of that Prince worthy 
Qui noiii Purr natal etl. 

Sing, henn imperial, most of hicht I 

Regions of air mak annony ! 
All fish in flud and fowl of flicht 

Be mirthful and mak melody ! 

All Gloria in rxerlj'it cry I 
HeaTen, erd, se, man, bird and best, — 

He that is crownit abone the sky 
Pro noiii Putr nalut al ! 

Utaa] oTcr, above. pei^t] pierced. rain' ttae. 




WILLIAM DUNBAR 



21, Lament for the Makers 

T THAT ID heill was and gladnfiss 

■^ Am tniblit now with great sickness 

And febiit with inlinnitie ; — .^^=^ 

Tmmt Mvr6t temturial mit ■ 



Oar jdesuce here is aU tob ^orf. 
This (bIb world is but tmistory, 
The flesh is brockle, the FeTod m dce^— 
Ihur Mtrtii trntiwriai me. 

The Btite of mm does change sad my. 
Now soond, now sick, now Uyth, now ^ij. 
Now danand nuciy, now tike to die:— 
Tmot Jaoflu toKtiffvat sv. 

No state ID Erd here standis sicker; 
As with the wynd wavis the wicker 
So wannis this world's vanitie : — 
Timor Morlu coiUurtal me. 

Unto the Death gois all Estatis, 
Pnncis, Prelattis, and Potestatis, 
Baith rich and poor of all degree: — 
Timor Morlii eeniurial me. 

He takis the knichtis in to the Reld 
Eoamiit under helm and scheild; 
Victor he is at all mellie : — 

Timor Mortit coBturhal me. 

beill] health. hmckle] biitcle, fteble. lice] 1)7. duuud] 
Atoaag. sickei] wait. wicker] willow. wannli] ' 

mellie] meiU^. 




WILLIAM DUNBAR 

">( KiDog aninercifiil tynod 
''^ en the motheris breast sowluod, 
^ babe full of beoignide: — 
Timer Mortis eonturbal me. 

"t tatis the camfHOD io the stour, 
''<' ca|)taia dosit in the tour, 
^ lady ui bour fiiU of bewtie : — 
'hmor Mortit conturhat me, 

™ ^airis no lord for hU piscencr 
fjl clerk for his iDtelligcace ; 
'"' awfui straik may no maD flee: — 
Tnwr Mortis toattirhaJ me, 

^''Va^QxiaA and astrologis, 
^'''Hiiis, logimnls, and theolo^s, 
ioetn helpis no conclusioms slee ; — 
Timor Mortis eonturbal me, 

'" niedeciiie the most practicianis, 
Lctchis, sarrigUnis and physicianis, 
Thtmself from Death may nocht supplee ! — 
Timar Mortii coaiurbai me, 

I )M that makaiis amang the lave 
rbyis here their padyoois, syne gois to grave t 
Sparit is nocht their facultie : — 
Timor Morlis eonturbal me. 

He has done petuously devour 
The noble Chaucer, of makaris flour, 
The Monk of Bury, and Gower, all three; — 
Timor Marlii eonturbal me. 

vkuid] fQckin^;. cnmpiun] champion. itour] figbL 

na] puiuance. ctraikj Biruke. npplee] i*<re. mukarii) 
I. the lavel ibc learc, Ibc reU. padyanii] pagcuiti. 



WILLIAM DXJNBAR 



The good Sir Hew of Egliatoun, 
Eurick, Htriot, and WiDtoun, 
He has tane out of this cuntrie :— 
Timor Moriit eenlurbat me. 

That scoT^ioD fell has done iofeck 
Maister John Clerk, and James AfHek, 
Fra ballat-making and tngedie; — 
Timor Mertit eonttiriaJ me. 

Holland and Bailiour he has berertt; 
Alas ! that he not mth us lerit 
Sir Mungo Lockart of the Lee:— 
Timor Moriit eonturtal me. 

Clerk of Tranent eke he has tane, 
That made the avenceris of Gawaine f 
Sir Gilbert Hay endit has he; — 
Timor Moriit conturhal me. 



He ha? Blind Harry and Sandy Traill 




WILLIAM DUNBAR 

Id Duafennline he faas taDc Broun 
With Maister Robert HenrysouD ; 
Sir John the Ross eobrasit has he:— 
Tmor Mortit eottlarbal me. 

And be has dot tane, last of a. 
Good geotil Stobo and Quintin Shaw, 
Of quhom all wichds hes pitie ; — 
Ttmor ifortit eonluriai me. 

Good Maister Waller Kennedy 
In point of Dedth Les verily ; 
Great ruth it were that so suld bei — 
Thur Moriit eon/uriai me. 

Sen be has all my brothers tane, 
He will nocht let me Uve alane; 
Of force I mon his next prey be; — 
Timor MorlU conturbal me. 

Since for the Death remeid is none, 
Best is that we for Death dispone 
Aiter our death that live may we :— 
Timor Murt'u eonlurbal me. 



ANONYMOUS 
^2 May in the Grem-lVaod 

IStb Cent. 

TN somer when the shawes be sheyne, 
* And leves be large and long. 
Hit b full merry in feyre foreste 
To here the foulys song. 

"■ irichtii] wighta, penoai. non] mnit di^mne] make 

'''■Mdoo, ai. ihejne] brifhL 

C 33 



ANONYMOUS 

To se the dcrc draw to the iLJe 

And leve the Wilts hee, 
And shadow him in the leves greoe 

Under the green-wode tree. 

Hit befell on Whitsontide 

Early ia a May mornyng, 
The Sonne up faire can shyae, 

And the briddis mery can syng. 

'This 15 a mery moi ipg,' said Liiulle John^ 

'Be Hym that dy^d on tre ; 
A more mery man tlian I am ons 

Lyres not in ChristianiS. 

'Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,* 

Litulle JohiK can say, 
'Aad thynk hit is a fulle fayre tjna 

In a momynge of May.' 



2}. Carol 

T SING of a maiden 
■* That is raakeles; 
King of all kings 

To her son she ehes. 



15th CaL 



He came al so still 

There his mother was, 
As dew in April 

That falleth on the grass. 



aj. makelet] nutchlcu. 



cliet]cbo*e. 



ANONYMOUS 

He csmc •] m uill 
To his aioilitt't hoar. 

As dew m April 
Tlxt &IIeih on the Bour. 

He came al lo stiD 
Tbnc hb tooUwt kj, 

A> dew in April 
Thai Eillcth OD Utt qmy. 

Mothtr snd BMidra 

Wai Dner none but she] 

Well nay sncb a bdy 
Codiks tnoiher be. 

&rAf AtnoTt t^Hgueo 

T N a nflcy of ibis intlcs mind 
^ I ioe0A In BiouDUin aad to mead, 
Trasttni a uw lotc for to (ind. 
Ufoo aa hiH then took I hord; 
A Toior 1 bard (aod neir I yedt) 
Id grtst doloof eomjilattiiRg ilio: 
Scci dor wol, bow vxf sides bleed 
Qtim mum £iRpwA 

tTjiOB tbia bin I feand > ttw, 
Undrr a tm a maa tiling i 
Vnm head to fcm woanilcd vas Kri 
Hit hem blood I saw blMdim>9 
A •nmly ma to be a king, 
A fradoas Utx lo look unta 
1 atUd wby be lud painiagt 
[He aiid,] QoM oMorr ^vb<v. 



ijibCtat.n 



ANONYMOUS 

I am true lore that fidse was nercrt 
My ^ster, man's soul, I lored ber thus. 
Because we would in do wise dissercr 
I left my kiogdom glorious. 
I puireyed her a palace full precious; 
She fled, I followed, I loved her so 
That I suffered this pain piteous 
Quia amort languen. 

Mj fair love and my spoose bright! 
I saved her from beadng, and she hath me bet) 
I clothed her in grace and heaTcnly light; 
This bloody shirt she hath on me set; 
For longing of love yet would I not let ; 
Sweete strokes are these ; lo I 
1 have loved her ever as I her bet 
Quia amen langueo. 



I crowned her with bliss and she me with thorn; 




ANONYMOUS 



1^7 «iU not off; I loose bera oouthti 
I woo ha mvb lurm whtnrtt slie go. 
Tbtae hands lor bcr so ^intd)/ fought 

Hand iXK, nun, ibousb I sit (tilL 
See, loTC bath shod me wonder stnit: 
BucUed mj feet, u was bcT will, 
WUli ifaifpE naiU {well tboa nay'st wait!). 
Id my lore wit nner desakt 
AD my menbtrt I hare opntcd her to} 
My bodf I made her bau*3 bak 
Qbm amort Itj^uto. 



til ray lide I hare nude her oesc; 
Look ID, ho* «m a would h here! 
Tliis 'a ber dorober, bcic chall she mt. 
Thai the B&d I may sleep ia (ere. 
Hnc laay the wash, if any S\lh wcie ; 
Here a seat for all her u-oc; 
Come when ahe will, she shall have cheer 
QaM wmrt Imgteo. 



I will abide ull sh« be ready, 
I will her Mte if slie say nayi 
If she be Rtchleu I will be sreedy, 
If she be dangeroia I sriQ ber ynj; 
If ifae wcqt, tbtn bide I ne mayi 
Mac armi ben tptvad lo ctip her cnc to. 
Cry oaoe, I cone: now, tod, auj 
Qwml mmtn tMgmm. 

Pair lotr, let u* go pby: 
Affiles bm ripe in my gardayoe. 



iMUtflacc 



la fan] tofttbrr. 



ANONYMOUS 

I iball tliH clothe in a ocw anay, 
Thy mtM shall be milk, hooey iind -mat. 
Fnir lore, let its go dinei 
Thy sualcnancc is in my crijipe, lot 
TtzTf ihou not, my dir ipousc miiM^ 
Qiiia emert hngtiet. 

If tliou be foul, I shall thee make clean; 
If thou be sick, I «1iaJI thee h«j i 
If thou mouti) oufiht, I nhalt Uicc mme i 
Why wih Uiou noi, fair lore, with me tieJI 
Foundeu thou ever lone so leal? 
What wilt thou, ioul, that t shall dof 
1 nay oot unkindly thee appeal 
Qum amert taipua. 

What shall I do now wiili my spouse 
But abide her of my gentleness, 
Till that shf look out of ber house 
Of fleshly alTeciion i lore mine she is j 
Her bed U made, he( bul.iIeT is blisn, 
Her chamber is chosen ; is there none mo. 
Look out on me at ihc window of kindcness 
Quia enwi laa^un. 

My loTc is in her chamber; Jiold yonr jMttM 
Make ]-e no noi»e, but let her sleep. 
My babe I would not were in dieeaw, 
I may not hear my di-ar child weep. 
With my pap I shall her keep; 
Ne nurtd ye not though I tend her to: 
This wound in my side had ne'ex be so deep 
But Quid amort tttnguet- 



cilppe] Ktip. 

St 



ntue] lan for. 



ANONmous 



Long tfaon for love nen r so high. 

My Ion b more than dune m»y be. 

Tbo« wwpect, tbcn {laddctt, I th thee by : 

Yet vouldst tliou once, iart, took uixo mt 1 

Sboald I atvnyi Tnde thee 

Wkh dnldfeQ mml Nar, lore, not w! 

I «ifl prove thy lore wnh ftdreniti 

W« not weaiy, mine own wife I 

What nnle b ap lu lire tn comfottF 

In nihtUliati I id^n more rife 

Ofter timei ihiii in dispott. 

In veal and in woe I am xj* u support; 

Mine own wife, go not me fro! 

Thy mrde » mukod, when thou tn raort: 



Tie NutBroum Maid 



ijlhCoL 



T^ it rigU ar vrmg, ttfM mth amn^ 
*-^ On OHMMN A ttn^am ; 
Afnmni ttu, b*a> tt«t ii u 
A kAeur ifan m imm 

Thty bnt m ad* ^m f 

TUr favttir to tium, 

Tt$ jT M urn* ft (j!«n ftrrtnr, 
TUrjCrit tnu lavtr it-ia 

H* U * lantiM mm. 



r«M^newr>UL 



lkia)tkcs. 



M 



ANONYMOUS 

Sir, J lej iwl najr, bM thai aU Jay 

li u htth writitn omJ itud 
Tina waan't faitb it, at vrh iMlt, 

AS Wnly dttaydi 
Bal ttevtriltihit, righl gw>J whaiil 

/■ ^ emt migil it Ud 
Tinl thty hw tne Mut ea^i'a^t 

Rtnrd lie Nitl-lnvin flfaiJ, 
iFtniL, witf btr hvt ttini btr to provr, 

7o tf to mail hit maait, 
WouiJ not lUf^l 1 for m itr bearl 

Sit hvcit iul Um aloBt. 

Iff, Tim ietwitti lu fit at £jaut 

Wha$ wu all tit maoirt 
BttvttH litm tw9: wv m/i eli» 

TtS (tU a< fmi in fm 
Tint lit mat in. Nov/ I tiginf 

S« that jt mt aaiwrrt .* 
Whrrifort oil ji that ftrtiaii it, 

I fraj jQU, givt an tar, 
I am lit Knight. I (omt ly n^glf, 

jfi ttml at I tan. 
Saying, AUa ! tliux standcth the cat, 

I am a boniiihed man. 

Sbe. And I your wU for to J*^ 

la lift will nM rtfiue t 
Trmliag to tbow, in v»rdet /tm, 

fiat mrti bavt an ill utt — 
To ibfir own thitrnt—womm t» tlaatt^ 

Alii cauttlrti ihtm atemt. 

4« 



ANONVMOU3 



AS wmva i» ncWM — 
Mine own bean ilnr, with yon wlut dicctf 

For, in my miad, of all nunluDd 
I lore but jou «lon& 

St. It nandnh lo: a deed b do 

Wtmvof gmt lunu stull grow i 
Mj doday b for to die 

A shdracfid tleath, I trow; 
Or eUe 19 Dec. Tlie t' one muM be;. 

None other way I know 
But to wiibdow H an outUw, 

And uke mc to my bow. 
TO wforv adieu, mine own heart true I 

None Other irde I can: 
For I must M ilW grem-wood go, 

Alone, a bamalm] man. 

Sht. O Lord, what is this worldia blisa, 

Tb» chaogctii u the mcoD I 
My umnier'a day io koty May 

Is darked bcfme die noon. 
I hear yog ny, farewell j Nay, nay, 

We dtpon not va uxsn. 
Why say )« Bof whiUicr will ye go J 

Alls! what hive yc doncf 
All my wdfire to «m>w and carv 

Shoold clun^e, if ye were gone i 
For, in my mnd, of all mantind 

1 loie but yoa alone. 



1 1 CMtl eowael I know. 



Ci 



41 



ANONYMOUS 

Bi. I cu believe it shall you gnerc, 

And somewhat you distnuo t 
But ifttTward, your poines httrd 

Withia a dxy or twain 
SbaJI toon ulake; aad ye (halt take 

Comfort to yon again. 
Why shoutd ye ought? for, to make thou 

Your labour wwe in rain. 
And thus I dot and pruy you lo, 

As kutely u I can: 
Pot I muM to the greca-wood go, 

Alone, a bwished man. 

Sh*> NoWf sith that ye hare showed to me 

The secret of your mind, 
I shall be plain to you again, 

Like as ye shall me find. 
Sith it is M) that ye wall go, 

I will DOC live behind. 
Shall neTCT be uid the Nut-brown Maid 

Was to her Iotc unkind. 
Make you rcad^, for so am I, 

Although it were anonc: 
For, b my miad, of all mankiad 

I lore but you alone. 



Ht. Yet I you rede to take good heed 
What men will think and say: 
Of young, of old, it shall be told 

That ye be gone away 
Your wanton will for to ful£l. 
In gtcenivood you to play ; 



ANONYMOUS 

And tliaC ye might for your delight 

No longer make delay. 
Hatber than ye should thus for me 

Be called an ill womin 
Yet would I to the green-wood go, 

Alone, a banished roan. 

™'- Though it be song of old and young 

That I should be to blame, 
Thdra be the charge that speak so large 

In hurting of my name: 
For I will prove that faithful love 

It is devoid of shame ; 
Id your distress and heaviness 

To part with you the same: 
And sure all tho that do not so 

True lovers are they none; 
For in my mind, of all mankind 

I love but you alone. 

^t. I counsel you, Remember how 

It is DO maiden's law 
Nothing to doubt, but to run out 

To wood with an outlaw. 
For ye must there in your hand bear 

A bow read^ to draw ; 
And as a thief thus must you live 

Ever in dread and awe; 
Whereby to you great hann might grow: 

Yet had I liever than 
That I had to the green-wood go. 

Alone, a banished man. 

PW •ith] ihaie with. tho] thoM 

43 




ANONYMOUS 

Shf. I think not n.iy but as ye sayj 
It is DO maiden's lore ; 
But love may make me for your sake, 

As I haye said before, 
To come on foot, to hunt and shoot, 
To net iw meat and Store ( 
r company 

Ik ao more. 



stone: 

of all mankind 

alone. 



s is the law, 

1'tiat men him take and bind : 
Without fntie, bang£d to be, 

And waver with the wind. 
If I had need (as God forbede!) 

What socours could ye find i 
Forsooth I trow, you and your bow 

For fear would draw behind. 
And no mervail ; for little avail 

Were in your counsel than : 
Wherefore I'll to the green-wood go, 

Alone, a banished man. 



She. Right well know ye that women be 
But feeble for to fight j 

No womanhede it is, indeed, 
To be bold as a knight: 

Yet in such fear if that ye were 
With enemies day and night, 



ANONYMOUS 

I would withstand, with bow in band, 
To griere them as I might, 

And you to save; as womcD have 
From death men many one: 

For, in mj mind, of all maokind 
1 love bat yoa alooe. 

"*' Yet take good hede; for ever I drede 

That ye could not sustain 
The thoray ways, the deep vallSys, 

The snow, the frost, the rain, 
The cold, the heat; for dry or wete, 

We most lodge od the plaint 
And, IB aboTe, no other roof 

But a brake bush or twain: 
Which loon shoiJd grieve you, I believe i 

And ye would gladly than 
That I had to the green-wood go, 

Alone, a banished man. 

«if. Sith I have here been partynere 

With you of joy and bliss, 
I must alsb part of your woe 

Enchire, as reason is: 
Yet I am sure of one pleasilre. 

And shortly it b this — 
That where ye be, me seemeth, pardf, 

I could not fare amiss. 
Without more speech I you beseech 

That we were shortly gone ; 
For, in my mind, of all mankind 

I love but you alone. 



ANONYMOUS 

Ht. If jre go thfder, ye roust consider, 

When ye h»ve bn to dine, 
There shall do meat be for to gete, 

Nctlict bcre, bIc, dc wine, 
Ne shetis clean, to lie t)etween, 

Made of thread and tu-ine j 
None other house, but leaves and boughs^ 

To cover youi head and mine. 
Lo, mine hc^n swnrt, this ill di^ 

Should make you [iilc snd waa: 
Whcrcibre I'll to the grt«fl'wood go, 

Atone, a tuaislied nao. 

Shr, Among the wild deer such an arclidre. 

As men uy (bit ye be, 
Ne may not FjU of good vriayle 

Where ja so greiil plenti; 
And water clear of the rivtre 

Shall be full sweet to rae| 
With which in hcle I skdl tight wcIq 

Endure, as ye skill sec; 
And, or we go, a bnj or two 

I cut provide 3none ; 
For, in my niiml, of all nianlcind 

1 love hut you alone. 

Ht. Lo yet, before, ye must do more, 

If yc will go with me : 
As, cut your hair up by your ear, 

Your kinle by the kneej 
With bow b h.iod for to withstand 

Your eoetnies, if need be i 

heU] health. 
4« 



ANONYMOUS 

Aod diis *uae lugbt, bdbrv diylighi, 
To «reodward will I ficc< 

If iluc je will all this fullil. 
Da it shortly >s ye can: 

Ebr wiH I to Uic gnco-wood go, 
A)<MM^ a htwjgliMl man. 



I thiU u now do more (or yoQ 

Than loRgeth to «-o«unhede; 
To iboit my luir, a bow to botr. 

To ihooc in time of nnd. 
ay swcn motlm f before ill oUm 

For yo« I kare most dndei 
B«S now, adieu I I man eooue 

Vhen Ibrtune doth me lewl. 
All thb make jei Now let us Bk; 

The diy cotaah fast upon : 
For, b my imnd, of all nunlund 

I lore bn yon alooc. 



Nty, aty, aot ao) ye shall not go, 

Aad I ahiU idl yoa w]iy — 
Yocr ifipcatc is to be light 

Of km, I well opy : 
For, n|tht u ye hate laid to me. 

In likewise hardily 
Ye would uttWRe wboMcrcr h were, 

Is wiy of corapao) : 
I) b said of old, Soon hot, soon cold i 

And to ia a wocnin: 
Whncbr* I u the w«od will go, 

Aloa>, a biaiihcd nan. 




ANONYMOUS 



Sit. If jt take heed, it is no need 

Such words to say to me ; 
For oft yc pmyed, and long assayed. 

Or I loved you, pard6; 
And though that I of ancestijj 

A baroti's draghter bo^ '•■ u- 

V A Mm yOQ pCOTn uOfW 1 TOV lOH^ 

A Bqnire of low dcpeei , , 

And ercr iball, vhxao be&]^ 

To <fie therefine moBoi 
For, ia qij miDdt of hD ■ M iiV " Ml 

I lo«e Iiut joo iloBCb " .J 

Ht. A baron's duld to W begQiled,: ' 
' It were a cunKd deed I 
To be ieliw with an outlaw — 

Almighty God forbede! 
Yet better were the poor squyere 

Alone to forest yede 
Than ye shall say another day 

That by my curaM rede 
Ye were betrayed. Whereiore, good maid, 

The best rede that I can, 
la, that I to the green-wood go, 

Alone, a banished man. 

She. Whaterer befall, I ne«r shall 

Of this thing be upbraid : 
But if ye go, and leave me so, 

Then have ye me betrayed. 
Remember you wele, how that ye deJej 

For if ye, as ye said, 

jede] went. 
4> 



r^^ 



ANONYMOUS 

Be M unkind to Inve behind 
Tour loTc, the Nut-brown Maid, 

Tiust me trul^ that I shall die 
Soon after ye be gone: 

For, in my mind, of all maolund 
I toTe but you alone. 

If that ye went, ye should repent; 

For in the forest now 
I have parreyed me of a maid 

Whom I lore more than you : 
Another more fair than ever ye were 

I dare it well avow \ 
And of you both each shoiUd be wroth 

Wth other, as I trow; 
It were mine ease to live in peace j 

So will I, if I can: 
Wherefore I to the wood will go, 

Alon^ a banished man. 



^ht. Though in the wood I understood 

Ye had a paramour, 
All this may nought remove my thought. 

But that I will be your* : 
And she shall find me soft and kind 

And coutteis every hour ; 
Glad to fulfil ail that she will 

Command me, to my power : 
For had ye, lo, an hundred mo, 

Yet would I be that one: 
For, in my mind, of all mankind 

I lore but you alone. 



ANONYMOUS 

Hi. hfine own dear lorcy I Me the prorc 

That y« be kind ttnd irxi 
or maid, of wile, in all avj life. 

The best ihal ever I knew. 
Be meiry sad glad) be do more s>d| 

The cue is cbtn^M neW) 
For it were rutli that for your truth 

Ye should hai-e came to rue. 
Be not dismayed, whatwercT I said 

To you when I began: 
I will not to the grveD-wood gO} 

I vn no banished roan. 



Sh<. These tidings be more ^ad to me 

Than to be made a queen, 
If I were sure ihey should endure t 

But it is often seen 
When men will break promvie they speak 

The wordis on the splcne. 
Te shape some wile me to beguile, 

And steal from mc, I ween : 
Then were the caKr wonw than it waa 

And I more wo-begone: 
For, in my mind, of all roaakiud 

I love but you alone. 

Hi. Ye ftbalj not ncde further to diede: 

I will not disjiarl^ 
You (God defcod), aith jou descend 

Of 90 great a linige. 
Now understand: to WestniKdand, 

Which is my hctitage, 

on the tplMie] that la, in bule. 



ANONYMOUS 

I win joo brinm mhI vritb « no£t 

By vntj of maniige 
I vill you xake, and lady nuke, 

Aa ihonly u I can: 
Tbiu hate you woo an Harlea son, 

Aad Dot A bmisbrd nun. 

Hirt maf ft Mt thai «F«aim tt 

h love m/ri, Uad, and ilMt; 
Lit nrvtr muti rrfmvt thtm liaa, 

Or call lim variaiUi 
But ntiber ftraj CeJ thitt we may 

To ibfm tr camfitriaiie I 
Witti mmtlimt fnvrth titth ai He hvtih. 

If tbij it eiariiaile. 
P»r illi mtn vmuU ibat wwn thvaid 

Bt Butt If ihem tath one; 
Myth mart tugtt ihij I9 G«d tUj, 

And lerot 6nl Km ahn*. 



As ye came from the Hoi/ Latitl 

■MCml 

AS ye cmx £rom the holy land 
' Of Wabrnghanie, 
Met yoo not with ny true Ime 
By the way as you came? 

How duiuld I know your tnw love, 

That hive met many « oee 
As I came from tlie holy laod, 

Thai hKTc come, that ha*e gooe \ 




She is neither wliite nor brown, 

But as the lieavens fair ; 
There is none hath her form dirine 

In tlic earth or the air. 

Sudi a qu di^ X meet, good nr, 
face, 

, like a queen, did ajipeai 
ler giace. 

eic alone 
known, 
me lead with heraelf, 
I her own. 

What 's the causic diat she leaves you a\oae 

And a new way doth take, 
That sometime did love you as her own, 

And her joy did you make? 

I have loved her all my youth, 

But now am old, as you see: 
Love likes not the falling fruit, 

Nor the withered tree. 

Know that Love is a careless child. 

And forgets promise past : 
He is blbd, he is deaf when he lis^ 
And in faith never fast. 

His desiie is a dureless content, 

And a trustless joyj 
He is won with a world of despur, 

And is lost with a toy. 

P 



ANONVMOUS 

or wofneoluod nch iadcrd b cbc luiv, 

Or the word Ion: abusid, 
Uadcr vhicti many cliUditJi deiiici 

And coDcctts ate exciuid. 

But true low u a dcrabic Sn, 

to thf mind ever bunung, 
Nctn sick, iKxtT dr>d, nem cold, 

Prom Uielf turcr luraiog. 



17. Tif Lever frt /f^/»/er Tlamtb for 

the Spjing 

ititkCan.n 
/-\ WESTERN wind, wbfn wiii titou blow 
^-^ Tlui the aiuU run down can n\a\ 
Clinst, that my lotc mtcc la my arms 
And I in icy bed a^tial 



23. BaJom 

lM>CtnL 

D ALOW, ny babe, lie uUI Kid sleep! 
^ It grieTM me tore to mc thee w«rp, 
Woiddst thou b« quiet I'se be glad, 
Thy miHreins Riak» my sorrow ud: 
Dilttw my boy, tfay motber's joy, 
Tliy (atber breeds me {real annoys 
Balow, b-Idw! 

Wbca be bcs>n to cocn my lore. 
And wjtb his Mtgttd words me move, 
Hri faynnigt (abc and flattering chcvt 
To me that tfnae did nU ap[«ar : 



ANONYMOUS 

But now I see most cruellye 
He cares oe for my babe nor me — 
Balow, la-low ! 

Lie Still, my darling, sleep awhile, 
And when thou wak'st ihou'le swecUy smile; 
But smile not as thy father did, 
To cozen maids : aay, God forbid ! 
But yet I fear thou wilt go near 
Thy father's heart and face to bear — 
Balow, la-low ! 

I cannot choose but ever will 
Be loving to thy father still ; 
Where'er he go, where'er he ride. 
My love with him doth Still abide ; 
In weal or woe, where'er he go, 
My heart shall ne'er depart him fro — 
Balow, U'low! 

But do not, do not, pretty mine. 
To faynings false thy heart incline! 
Be loyal to thy lover true, 
And never change her for a new: 
If good or fair, of her have caie 
For women's banning 's wondrous sare— 
Balow, la-low I 

B^m, by thy face I will beware ; 
Like Sirens' words, I'll come not near ; 
My babe and I together will live ; 
He'll comfort me when cares do grieve. 
My babe and I right soft will lie, 
And ne'et respect man's crueltyc — 
Balow, la-low 1 

H 




ANONYMOUS 

F»rewen, fiireweU, the falsest youth 
That rrer kist a womaa's mouth ! 
I wish all maids be wam'd by me 
Nctct to trust man's cuitesye ; 
For if «« do but chance to bow, 
They'll use us then they care not how — 
Balow, la-low! 



T 



i^- Tie Old Cloak 

ieUiCent.{Q 

^HIS winter's weather it waxeth cold, 
Aikd frost it freezeth on every hill, 
And Boreas blows his blast so bold 

Tlut all our cattle are like to spill. 
SeQ, my wife, she loves no strife; 

She said unto me tjuietlye, 
Rise up, and save cow Crumbock's life I 

Man, put thine old cloak about thee ! 

^*- Bell my wife, why dost thou flyte \ 

TftOO kens my cloak is very thin: 
It u so bare and over worn, 

A Clicks thereon cannot renn. 
Tien I'll no longer borrow nor lend ; 

For once I'll new appareli'd be; 
To-morrow I'll to town and spend; 

For I'll have a new cloak about me. 

^ Cow Crumbock is a very good cow: 

She has been always true to the pail ; 
She has helped us to butter and cheese, I trow, 
And other things she will not fail, 

^ajtejicold. 



ANONYMOUS 

I would be loth to see her pine. 

Good husband, counsel take of me: 

It is not for us to go so fine — 

Man, lake thioe old cloak about thee I 

He. M^ cloak it was a very good cloak, 

It liath been always true to the wear[ 
But now it is not wortli a groat: 

I hare had it four and forty year". 
Sometime it was of clotli in grain : 

Tis now but a sigh clout, as you may seei 
It will neither hold out wind nor rain ; 

And I'll liave a new cloak about me, 

.S&. It ii fixir and tacv] jean ago 

Sine the one of us the other cBd ken \ 
And we have bad, betmxt as two, 

Of children rither nine or ten : 
We have brought them up to women and men ; 

In the fear of Cod I trow they be. 
And why wilt thou thyself misken \ 

Man, take thine old cloak about thee I 

He. O Bell my wife, why dost thou flytc? 

Now is now, and then was then : 
Seek now all the world throughout, 

Thou kens not downs from gentlemen : 
They are clad in black, green, yellow and blue. 

So far above their own degree. 
Once in my life I'll take a view t 

For I'll have a new cloak fdx)ut me. 



dotb in grain] tculet cloth. 



*lgh clout] a rag foi tlniniiig. 



ANONYMOUS 

Eisj Suphen VMS a wodhj pecrt 

Ha breeches cost him bnu a crown i 
He hctd them KXpcoce *U too dnt, 

Therriarv he called the uiW 'Iowa.' 
He wxs a 1un| and van the crown. 

And thon'se but of a low drgrve i 
It'« prUe that puts this country down: 

Haa, take thy old cloak aboot thee I 



& Bell my wife, she lores not strife. 

Yet she will lead me, if she can; 
A*d to miiiitain an caxy life 

I oft mtat jncid, thoogh I'm goodiiMn. 
It's not ^ a man with a woman to thrc4[>, 

Unlet* bf Cm give o'er the pka i 
Ai «■ brxsiH to will we ktep, 

And 111 take my old dotk about tM, 



JOHN SKELTON 
•■ Tc Mistress Margery W^entvoottb 

1460 t-l Jig 

VW'ITH mMscraia gende, 
*^ The ftowo' of goodiibead, 
Emfaroidend the mantle 

I* of jour naiJcnbeadL 
Plainly, I cannot gtox; 

Ye be. as I diTinr, 
The pretty pcimhost. 

The goodly columbtoe. 

Ih«pl ai^ae. ^ na/ptato] narjorani. 




STEPHEN HAWES 

33. His Epitaph 

r~\ MORTAL folk, you may behoM Mil 
^-^ How I tic here, aammme a nughtjr fcnig 
The end of joy and all prospcritce 

Is dcMh M Use, thorough his course sad 
Aiter the day there comelh the dark fiigbi, 
For Ibouigb tlie dayc be orrcr M long, 
At last the bells ringetb to ereasoas. 



SIR THOMAS WYATT 
3^ Forget mt yet 

the Ltfvtr Buetehflb bit Mutrm mal tt Forget 
Suadfait Fnish and Trat IiaaH 

PORGET not yet the tried intent 

or tucli a truth as I hSTC meant| 
My great tnrail so gladly spent. 
Forget not yet ! 

Forgrt not yet when first began 
The weary life ye know, since whan 
The Ruit, the scrricc, none tell can; 
Forget not yet! 

Forget not yet the £rest assays. 
The eniel wronji, tiie scornful ways, 
The painful patience in delays, 
Forget not yetl 

Fwgct not! O, Torgct not thi»! — 
How long ago hath been, and is, 
The mind that never meant amiss — ■ 
Forget not yetl 



SIR THOMAS WYATT 

Forget oot then thine own approved, 
The which so Jong hath thee so loved, 
Whose steadfast faith yet oever moved: 
Forget not this! 



3T- 



The A^al 



Am Eanutt Suit la hu Uniind Miitreit, not la 
Ferjoii iim 

A ND wi]t thou leave me thus ? 
^^ Say nay, say nay, for shame I 
—To save thee from the blaroe 
Of all my grief and grame. 
And wilt thou leave me thus? 
Say nay ! say Day ! 

And wilt thou leave me thus, 
That hath loved thee so long 
In wealth and woe among: 
And is thy heart so strong 
A» for to Itave me thusi 
Say nay I say nay I 

And wilt than leave me thus, 
That hath given thee my heart 
Never for to depart 
Neither for pain nor smart: 
And wilt thou leave me thus I 
Say nayj lay nay I 



jf. £nme] knbow. 



6i 



SIR THOMAS WYATT 

And wilt thoo lean me tViat, 
And liave do more piijc 
Of liim llmi lowtli ihrtt 
Alaa, thy cruelty 1 
And wilt thou Inre me thus I 
Say nay I uy niyl 



jA y/ Jievocathn 

W/HAT should I wy? 

'^ — Sine* Fiiili » dnd. 
And Truth sway 
From you ii fled J 
Should I Ix- UA 
With doublcDCSsf 
Nay ! nay ! nristitM. 

I promised you, 

And you proniited me^ 
Ti> be u true 
As I would be. 
But since I sec 
Your double heart. 
Farewell my jani 

Tlioughi for to take 

Ta Dot niy mind ( 
But to forsake 
Ooe M unk-icd) 
And M I ficd 
So will I tnut. 
Farcwcllt unjust! 



SIR THOMAS WYATT 

Cm y« uj nay 

But thac jwt sbd 
Tliat I iJwty 

Should be oUjedf 
And— thus iKO^fd 
Or tlui 1 wis I 
Fvcwell, unkittl 



7. Vixi 'Puellh Nupn TJmms . . , 

'T'HEy (!« from me tii« somttune <!>d me tetV, 
^ 'Willi naknl foot nolking witlun my cbiiabcr; 

OfiC* hiTc I sen thtro penile, ume, sad ine«k, 
That BOW are wild, and do not onor mnmber 
Thitt KMaetune they tiatc pai thnnselTei in daaga 

To tike hnaA at my hand; and now they nngc, 

Buily Mckii^ ia comioual change. 

Tfaanlced be bftwie, ii hath been otherwise 
Twenty times better ; but odcc cf|iccial — 

la thin array: afcct a ]>leasuii ffaie, 
Wha her kMsc gown did &om ber sliouldtn lall, 
Aod sh» me caugbt ta her amis lon^ sad sruU, 

Aad thncwilhal id sweetly did rae kiss, 

Aod aoAJy laid, 'Dear heart, hov> Bit ym lUit' 

h wu tao dmini for I by broad awaking: 

Bat all is mm'd now, thronsh my gefllitiKa, 
Im ■ bitter bifaua of forsjl:ia]t i 
And I han leare to go of her goodoeast 
Aad abe al«o to use ncw-fxngleness. 
BtDoe that I itftkbdly «o am wrvM. 

Hit jam tiitf — *bat bath she bow deservM.* 



I 



SIR THOMAS WYATT 



iSt To His Lute 

IVA'y lute, awake 1 perform the last 
■^'■*- Labour that thou and I shall waste, 

And end that I have now begun ; 
For wheo this song is said and past, 

My lute, be stiiJ, for I have done. 



I 



As to be heud wbov or ia wwe^ ■--■• ' 
Aa lead to gnve in miUe .mdm^ , , 

Mf long mif pierce ber beut ■■ «MBi 
Should we then sing, <x Bgb, or mmnf 

No, no, my Intel fbr I have done. 

The rocks do not so cmelly 
Repulse the waves continually, 

As she my suit and aflecti^) 
So that I am past remedy j 

Whereby my lute and I have done. 

Proud of the spoil that thou hast got 
Of simple hearts thorough Love's shot. 

By whom, unkind, thou hast them won ; 
Think not he hath his bow forgot, 

Although my lute and I have done. 

Vengeance shall fall on thy disdain, 
That makest but game of earnest paini 

Trow not alone under the sun 
Unquit to cause thy lover's plain, 

Although my lute and I have done. 



H 



SIR THOMAS WYATT 

May chiK* tNw lie witber'd and old 
Hw winter nJshts tliai are m cold, 

Pttining in vain nolo the mooa: 
Thy wabes Uim dare not be told) 

Cam tbcn who list! for I lure done. 

Aod ibra may chaocv thee to repent 
Tlie titiie that then has lost and ^pent 

To ouae thy torer's lijth and awooa: 
Tliea shalt thou luiow beauty but Ictit, 

And wttb and want ai I hate done. 

Nov ccaie, my lutel this b the last 
Lihoor that tbou and I *hall vtiU, 

And enitd » that we br^uni 
Now is this soDg boOi sun^ and post — 

Hy lotr be sdll, for 1 km dooe. 



HEKRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY 
}f- Z>fscrifi/iett tf Spring 

Ifhirti* taih litKf rtntm, tavt «nJj lit Lever 

THE MKxe season, that bod and faloom forth brings, 

Vwk green huh clad the hill and rke the ntic: 
TW ii|{HfTyl^ with feathcra new she Mitgs i 
"■mk to her naake haih told hn tak-. 
'ma is exHoe, for e*eiy spcay now sprwjtsi 
tV btn huh bang Mb old head oo the pale t 
^ hati in htake his wbtcr coat be fKngs ; 
7k (shes Aete with new repiuid tcalc- 
Aiak^BBte, 

D ts 



HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURRE1 

Tlie adiler all htt flougb amy she Uiqgst 
Tlie swift swallow pursuitli tlic Bin smale; 
Tlie busy bee her honey now she mii^ ; 
Wlnur is worn tlut wm the flowers' bale. 

And thus I 5w among tlicsc pleasant things 
Each care dccayi, >od yet my sorrow sfiriqss. 



40. Cemplahit of the Absence of Hfr La 
being upon r&e Sea 

O HAPPY damest that may en 
The ffuil of your delight, 
Help to bewail the wotal cane 

And ckc the heavy plight 
Of mu, that wonted to rejoice 
The foclune of my plcitant choice: 
Good tadicTS, help to All my moumtn^ 

In ship, Irdght with rcmcmberaoce 

Of tliaughu and pleasures past, 
He uili that hath in ^venunce 

My life while it will last: 
With scalding sighs, for lack of gair, 
Funheting his hope, ilut b his sail, 
Tovanl me, the swete port of his aiaiL 

Alu ! how oft io drejms I kc 
Those eyes that were my food; 

Which sometime so delighted ne^ 
That yet they do me good:* 

ff. nUQp] mingle*, mues. 

tt 



HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY 

Wbnewhh I wake with his return 

Whose ^KCDt flame did make me bum: 

But when I find the lack, Lordi how I moural 

When other lovers in arms across 

Rejnce their chief delight, 
DfDwiiid in tears, to rooom my loss 

I stand the bitter night 
In my wiodow where I may see 
Before the winds how the clouds flee: 
Lo ! what a mariner lore hath made me 1 

Aod in green waves when the salt flood 

Doth rise by lage of wind, 
A thousand fancies in that mood 

Assail my restless mind. 
Alas! now drencheth my sweet foe, 
That with the spoil of my heart did go, 
Aod left me J but alas ! why did he so ? 

Aod when the seas wax calm again 

To chase fro me annoy, 
My doubtful hope doth cause me plain; 

So dread cuts off my joy. 
Thus is my wealth mingled with woe 
And of each thought a doubt doth grow ( 
—Now he comes! Will he come? Abs ! no, no, 

'■. The Means to attain Happy Life 

MARTIAL, the things that do attain 
The happy life be these, I find:— 
The richesse left, not got with pain ; 
The fruitful ground, the quiet mind \ 

B. ditacbetli] i.e. is drcncbed or drowned. 



HENRY HOWARD, EARL OF SURREY 

The equal friend ; no grudge, no strife { 
No charge of mie, nor govenwni.L- ; 

Without disease, the healthful life ; 
The household of continuance ; 

The mean diet, no delicate fare i 

True wisdom job'd with simplcntss ; 

The night discharged of all care, 

Where wine the wit may not oppress. 

The faithful wife, without debate ; 

Such sleeps as may beguile the night ■ 
Contented with thine own estate 

Nti wish for death, ne feu hts raw 



NICHOLAS GRIMALD 

42. j4 True Love 

■519-^ 

VVTHAT sweet relief the showere to thirsty plants 

** we see, 
What dear delight the blooms to bees, my true lore is 

to me! 
As fresh and lusty Ver foul Winter doth exceed — 
As morning bright, with scarlet sky, doth pass the 

CTcning's weed — 
As mellow pears above the crabs esteemed be — 
So doth my lore surmount them all, whom yet I h^ 

to seel 
The oak shall olives bear, the Iamb the lion fray, 
The owl shall match the nightingale in tuning of her lay, 

43. Inj] aflrighL 



NICHOLAS GRIMALD 

Or I my love let slip out of mine entire heart, 

So deep reposid in my breast is she for her desart! 

Fm- many Ues»M gifts, O happy, happy land ! 

Where Mars and Pallas stHve to make th«r glory most 

to stand I 
Yet, land, more is thy bliss that, in this cniel age, 
A Venus' imp tbon bast bnnight fbnh, so steadfast and 

so sage. 
Among the Muses Nine a tenth if Jove would make, 
And to the Graces Three a fourth, her would Apollo take. 
Let some for honour hunt, and hoard the massy gold : 
With her so I may live and die, my weal cannot be told 



ALEXANDER SCOTT 
43. A Bequest of His Heart 

LJ ENCE, heart, with her that must depan, 
^ ' And bald thee with thy soveraue I 
For I had liever want ane heart, 

Nor have the heart that dois me pain. 

Therefore, go, vnth thy luve remain, 
And let me leif thus unmolest ; 

And see that thou come not again, 
But Iride with her thou luvis best. 

Sen she that I have servit lang 

Is to depart so suddenly, 
Address thee now, for thou sail gang 

And bear thy lady company. 

4}. hald] keep. fen] lince 



ROBERT WEVER 
^X' ^^ ToHtb is TleasMTt 

TN • liaibour ipvnc atJepe whems I \ay, 

* Tbe tijnlm song xwctc in the middn of th* 

I dreamH fast of mirth and pUy: 

In jpouth U pleasure, in youth is [ileaauK. 

Mftliouglit I walked BiiU to and fro, 
And from her com|jany I could not p}— 
But when 1 wikcd it was not so : 

III yowit is plcasumr, in jrouth is plcisoit. 

Therefor* my hart b awrly pyghl 
Of her alone to have a tight 
Whidi is my joy and hartcK delight: 

Id youth is pleasure, tn youth 19 fktstn. 

RICHARD EDWARDES 
,^(f. Amantium Itae 

TN going to my naked bed as one that would liare slept, 
* I heard a wife sing to her child, thji long before had ' 
She sighed sore and sang full s*'eet, to bring the babe to rest, 
That would not cease but cried still, in sucking st bcr brri 
She was full weary of her wutcli, and grievid with her ch 
She rocki^d it and rated it, till that on her it smiled. 
Then did she ny, Now have I found this jirovcrb tnx to 1 
The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love. 

Thca took I paper, pen, and ink, this proverb for to wrii^ j 
Id rejpuer for to rcnwn of such a worthy wight : 
As sive proceeded thus in song uiito her little bnt. 
Much mattei uttet'd she of weight, in place whereas she 



RICHARD EDWARDES 

And prorM {Jain there was no beast, nor creature bearing life, 
Could well be known to live in love without discord and strife : 
Then kissM she her little babe, and sware by God above. 
The blliog out of faichfii] friends renewing is of lore. 

She Bid that neither king nor prince nor lord coutd live aright, 
Until their puissance they did proves their nunhood and their 

might. 
When manhood shall be matched so that fear can take no place. 
Then weaiy works ma^ warriors each other to embrace, 
Aod left their force that failed them, which did consume the rout. 
That nii^t before have lived their time, their strength and 

nature out: 
Tlien did she Mog as one that thou^t no man could her reprove, 
Tbc fdling out of faithful friends renewbg is of love. 

She said she saw no dsh nor fowl, nor beast within her haunt, 
l^t met a stranger in their kind, but could give it a taunt : 
Since flesh might not endure, but rest must wrath succeed, 
And force the 6ght to fall to play in pasture where they feed, 
So noble nature can well end the work she hath begun, 
And bridle well that will not cease her tragedy in some: 
Thns in song she oft rehearsed, as did her well behove. 
The falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love. 

I marvel much pardy (quoth she) for to behold the rout, 

To see man, woman, boy and beast, to toss the world about : 

Some kneel, some crouch, some beck, some check, and some 

can smoothly smile, 
And some embrace others in arm, and there think many a wile. 
Some stand aloof at cap and knee, some humble and i^ome stout. 
Vet ifv they never friends in deed until they once fall out i 
Thns ended she her song and said, before she did remove, 
Tt« falling out of faithful friends renewing is of love. 

"i n 



GEORGE GASCOIONE 

^, yi Lover's Luliab/ 

CING IvUdbf, u wotncD <lo, 

^ Whfrcvith thcf bring their btbcs to 

And lollabjr can I sing toot 

A> womanly u can the ben. 
With lullaby they iniU llie child; 
And if I be not much begoited. 
Full many a wmdkid babe bwc I, 
Which mult be still'd wkh lullaby. 

First lultaby my youthful y««. 
It is now Lime to go to bed: 

l-'or croottid age aad hoary bun 

Have won tlie haren irithin my head. 

With lullaby, tlicn, youili be still ; 

With lulLiby content iliy will; 

Since couiagc ^uailx and comes behind, 

Co »leqi, and to beguile thy mind! 

Next ludaby my gazing eyes, 
Which wonted were to glance apace i 

For cTi-ry gUus may now sulEce 
To show the furrows in thy face. 

With lullaby then wink awhile ; 

With lutlal^ youi look* beguile; 

Let no iux face, nor beauty bright, 

Emicc you eft with v^d delight. 

And lullaby my wanloa will ; 

Let rcaM>n'v rule now reign thy thought; 
Since all too late I iind by skill 

How dear I have thy fanden bought; 

N 



GEORGE GASCOIGNE 

With lulkby now uke thine ease, 
With lullaby thy doubts appease ; 
For trust to this, if thou be stilly 
My body shall obey thy will. 

Thus lullaby my youth, mine eyes, 
My will, iiiy ware, and all that wast 

I can DO more delays devise; 

But welcome pain, let pleasure pass. 

With lullaby now take your leave; 

With lullaby your dreams deceive; 

And when you rise with waking eye, 

Remember then this lullaby. 



ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE 
ff. The Night is Near Gone 

I5to!-iaio) 

T_J EY ! now the day dawis ; 
■^ * The jolly cock crawis; 
Now shroudis the shawls 

Thro' Nature anoo. 
The thissel-cock cryis 
On lovers wha lyis : 
Now skaiilis the skyis; 

The nicht is neir gone. 

The fieldis ouerflowis 
With gowans that growis, 
Quhair lilies Uke low is 
As red as the rone. 

4i. ihroadii] dreii themielvei. ihawit] woodi. ikaillii] 

don. £owui)] daUie*. low] flame. rone] lovan. 

73 



ALEXANDER M0^^^G0MER1E 

Tbe tunle tb» inw is, 
With notes that renewiii, 
Her furty punuii i 

Tlw iiicht n ocir gooc 

Now fiairtis with hmdia 
Cueruini to their Iciodis, 
Hie uu&is tlicir tyfxlis 

On grauod (|ubak they £roM. 
Now hnrdioni*, with hairi% 
Aye fosah in pairis; 
Quhilk dtJy dccUHs 

The nkht is nrif goee. 

The Ksson exc«'lli( 

Throng swocincv^ that smrllifi 

Now Captd cnnii«llis 

Our hoirtis «chone 
On Vtttm wha waikis, 
To muse on our maiki*. 
Syne sing for ibrir mIIus— 

' Thi nidit b oeir gpae I " 

Al] courageous knichtis 

Agtoil Oie day dichlis 

Tht brrin-pbic that bright is 

To fi^t with their fone. 
The stonid Keed Slanijiis 
Through courage, and crampci. 
Syne on the I.-mJ lampit : 

The niehl is ncir gone. 

palitj] pailsrr, tnal*. tnni*] cany. Ijmdlt] antltrt. 

BTOh] Erean, bdl . huicbonf i] hcdgthojp, ■ Brchiwu' mailtii) j 
iMt<i> fbae] (on. itoDed ttecd] ftanka. crHnpb] pc 
U»i4«] gallops. 



ALEXANDER MONTGOMERIE 

Tbr frcilcH on Mdis 
Tlat wight wapias weiktU 
With shymog bright ifaiel(& 

At Titaa in trone; 
Stiff «p«mi in ra>ti« 
Oacr eonem cit^b 
Arc bnkc on ilicir brcistisi 

Tlie mchl is neir gooc. 

So kird are th«ir bittis, 
Soae swejii, mok xittis, 
And lemF pc f fo t cg flittis 

On grounil qohilc they grooc 
Synt groamb ihjti giy n 
Oa blookis that bnyis 
Vtih SMordis uuyis: — 

Tbe tiicliL a oar £onc 

IW STILL. BISHOP OP BATH AND WELLS 

Jo//r Gt»d Ah and OU 

T CASTt'OT CM bat littk meu, 
' Mf ttonudi b nM goodi 
'£« anv I think that I caa driak 

With luiB ilut wnrs a hood. 
Though I £0 bare, tkkr ^ no ore, 

I nothing im i-told j 
I mtr mj (kin to full wiihio 
Of joDy (ood kIf and old. 

Back nd iid« f;o bare, go btref 
Doih hat ackd hand go coldi 

«ani««a. «i£til wapuu] ttuul weapmL 

TUan (^ ten), ot lud < m.' Hltlii] at* 

whtepdtefa. 



BISHOP STILL 

Htx, bftly, God send diw good ale enou{)^| 
Whether it be new or old. 

I lore no roa« but n nut-brown tout, 

And 1 crab laid in ihc £rr t 
A little bmd shall rfo mc stndt 

Much btrjid I not desire. 
No fro§i nor snoiu, no mod, I Kow, 

Can hurt mc if I wold; 
I am w wnpji'd and lliorau|;bly tapp'd 

Of jolljr ffiod ale and old. 

Back and xidc go bare, go bare, &c> 

And Tib, my wife, thit as her life 

Lovcth well got>d ale to seek. 
Full oft drinki she till ye may we 

The tcirt run down her check : 
Then doili she tmwl to me the bowl 

Eien as a nultworm should. 
And »ith, * Sweetheart, I took my pin 

Of this jolly good ale and old.' 

Back and side go bare, go bate, tec 

Now let them drtnk till they nod and wink. 

Even a* good fellows should do; 
They tball nnt miss to hatv the bliss 

Good ale doth bring men to; 
And all poor souls tb.it have Kour'd bowls 

Or have them lustily iroll'd, 
God save the liies of them and their wives. 
Whether they be younj> or old. 

Back and side go bare, go bare ; 

Both foot and hand go cold ; 

But, belly, God !cnd thee good ale cnou^i 

Whether it be new or old. 



ANONYMOUS (SCOTTISH) 
p. ff^ien Fhra bad O'er/ret t&c Firtb 

QimEN Flora had o'crfrct tbr &tb 
Id Ma; of mry moorth cjomo; 
QiAcn merle aed imvH sinfis nhh ntrlli 
Sweet nid&Dg in tlie sbawu ahmi; 
Otthm all luvaris rejotdt bene 
A»d most ilesirous of tbcir pre<r, 

I benrd a ktstjr juvar nene 
^'I IvTv, but I dare nocbt assay!' 

'Stnms m tlie fotDS I duily prove. 

But yet wiiti paiiaicc I tnncDe, 
I an so fetterit wkh the hite 

Only of ny lady sbrcn, 

QnhiUt fiir ber beauty midu be quce 
NiUre n craftily alwny 

Has done dcpaiot that cwect tcrtse: 
^iiQiihoni I luTv I dare nocht assay. 

' Sbe is w bricht of hyd and hue, 

I kive Ur hcf aloee, I ween) 
b Mtte her luve that nuy eschew, 

ThM blink)! of that duloe amenc ; 

80 ewndy ckir are bcr tva ceo 
Tbt ibe mae luTam dob aJTniy 

"nan ercr of Greece d>d fair Helene: 
— Qdbom 1 b*r I d.tre (Mcht a»ay ! * 

diawis] vo^t. kbcea) beaMUtl. «ca«l 
h}rf] ifcis. UioUi) set* a [llaipM. Oulce 

■d ploMM <■(• inae] mor. 



fl- 



ANONYMOUS (SCOTTISH) 
Luit/ May 



iMi< 



r\ LUSTY May, with Flora ([tKoi ! 
^-^ The baldly drDp» from Pboebut jhccn 

PrcluciAnd beanu bcfoK the daj: 
By thai Dissa growis grtvn 

Tlirough gbdness of ihU lusty Ma^. 

Then Espeni^ that U ao bricht, 
Til woliil hairtis caicis his light, 

With bankU that bioomi* on cnry bne; 
And Echouris »c shed forth of their licht 

Through gladness of this lusty May. 

Bitdis on bewb of erery birth, 
Kejoidng nods nukand their irartb 

Richt pleuntly u|>on the spray. 
With fiourishingis o'er field and fiith 

Tbiough gladness of this lusty May. 

All luvaris iloi an in care 
To their ladies they do rcfoir 

In fresh momtngli befoic the day, 
And ire io mirth ay mair and mair 

Through gUdness of this Iwtj May. 



J2, My Heart is Hieh Ahwc 

■6iSC«M.| 

Nil Y heart is hig^ abotv, my body U fidJ of blin, 
^" For I am set in lure as wtll as I would wi» 
I luve my lidy pure and shi: luiis tne again, 
1 am ha eerviturc, she i& my soTcrjne: 

f >■ ihecn] bright lit] into. Khoarii] ibowerti 
boti£b». Llnh] kind. %*. win] «i>b. 



A^•oNY^fous 



Shm b my trrj hnn, I ani her howp vid bdll, 

She u my joy innn, I iun licr lum Ital ; 

1 m bn bond and thnll, she a at my conunindj 

I TO peqwnul her nuo, both foot ifld hosd; 

Tbr ihing that nwy bn plcuc my body »all fulfil; 

Qoluivvcr har diMK. k dor* my body ill. 

My bird, toy bonsy anc, my trader babe tctium. 

My lilt, nty bff ■Unr, ray IJkiag and my luail 

Wc iuvrcbuijp our hairtis ia others armn soft, 

Sptnckw we tva dc|uirti», uaad our bvU oft. 

We mMrn when Ikfat day dawt, we plain tlie nichi » Hbofl, 

Vft cunr the cock that crawi*, that biodcru our diffort. 

I gluwlGn «p ^hast, qubra T brr tnit* on nicbi, 

AmI in ray oxter fut I find the bow^trr rkht; 

'DwB Uogyor on me Ties Itke Morplwiu tbc matr, 

QMk nmtt me tftiae lad to my tweet repair. 

Aad tbcQ b bU tbc Mrrow fattb of nnxmbnocc 

thai rrer I liad a-fonow in luris obKTvance. 

TliM BCrer I do icm, m lusty a life 1 lead, 

Qohen that 1 list to test the well of wtxnanhrid. 

Ltirarn in |>aiB, I pray Cod Mod you sic renicid 

Aa I bave nidK aad day, you U> dcfcod from drid I 

llnvlijfe be ever Inie unto your Ud>n free, 

And tbey will do yoa rue a» mine baa done on me. 



WI| h^bh. i*nn] Imnrd. vcnMl ddlKbtful. fjlowKn] 
UUfc^awkkioc^ oMaiiampiU a- [enow] aforetime. 





NUMBERS FROM 

ELIZABETHAN MISCELLANIES & SONG-BOOK 
BY UNNAMED OR UNCERTAIN AUTHORS 

Si. A Traise of His Lady 

TolUl'i Uiiallnir. ijjf ' 

/"* IVE place, you ladies, and begone I 
^~^ Boast not yourselTes at all I 
For liere at haod approachetli onc^ 
Whose face will stain you aU.] 

The viitae of her lively looks 

Excels the precious stone; 
1 wish to luTC none other books 

To read or look upon. 

In each of her two crystal eyei 

Sroileth a naked boy; 
It would you all in heart suffice 

To see that lamp of joy. 

I thbk Nature hath lost the mould 

Where she her shape did take; 
Or else I doubt if Nature could 

So &ir a creature make. 

She may be well compared 

Unto the Phceoix kind. 
Whose like was never seen or heard. 

That any man can find. 



ANONYMOUS 

In Efe she tt Duna "^^n*. 

Id troth rmdopcy; 
la word and c-fcc in dctd scexUbn. 

—Whit will ygu more we ay? 

If all tbe woHd were loaight m far, 

Who caaU £nd >ach a wight i 
Ho boKy twiitkkih likt a tiw 

Vnthia the bwj night. 

H«r rosol cokxv cotncx and gon 

With mch a cooidy gnct. 
More raddkr, too, than doth the rose, 

WiUiia her IJTciy face. 

At Bacchnt* leau none shall her mcc^ 

Ne It no wioUHt pby. 
Nor {umf is aa open ttrcct, 

Nor )p^'*'"£ as a tasf. 

The nodeft minh that «he doth use 
Ii mix'd with ihamelutneM i 

All vice she doth wliolljr tcfiae, 
And hateth idksen. 

O Lordl it b a wortd to «tt 

How Tirttw can Rfoir, 
And deck in her radi honesty, 

Wbon Nature made «o bir. 

Trelf the doth M far «««I 

Ow women nowadays, 
At doth tlic jdillower a weed ; 

And tDore a thousand way^ 



ANONYMOUS 

How might I do to get a giaff 

Of this unspotted tree? 
— For all the rest are plain but chaf^ 
Which seem good corn to be. 

This gift alone I ahal] her gi»ej 
When death doth what he can, 

Her iionest fame shall ever live 
Within the mouth of man. 

I by Jaiir Iftjv 



F4. To Her Sea-faring Lover 

Tsird'B Uitc«U4ny, V557' 

CHALL I thus ner long, and be no «1nt the semi 
^ And shall I still complaio to thee, the which me 

will not hear! 
Alas! say nay! say nay I and be no more so dumb, 
Uut open thou thy manly mouth and say that thou will 
come : 
Whereby my heart may think, although I see not thee, 
Tliat thou wiit come — thy word so sware — if thoo a live 
man be. 
The roaring hugy waves they threaten my poor ghost, 
And toss thee up and down the seas in danger to be lost. 
Shall they not make me fear that they hare swallowed 
thee? 
— But as thou art most sure alive, so wilt thou come to me. 

Whereby I shall go see thy ship tide on the strand, 
And think and say Lo where be eemet and Sitrt brrt mB 
he land: 

S4 ne«iel num. 



ANONYMOUS 

n>J then I shiU lift up to tfac« my Ijttk haod, 
tb(M ibak tbiak Uiioc bean in esse, in bolth to sc« 
nM uwd. 
Aokl if tbon come indrnl (u Christ th<« smd to do I) 
anta wbJcb mifx tltcc now xhill ihcn embrace [aiut 
hold] tbcc too: 
Eacb ran to tmy joint ihe liitrly blood sliall spread 
Which now for wiat of thy glad sight duth ahow full 
pkle and dead. 
Uut if tlMQ ilip thy troth, and do not cocne at ill, 
A» mniMM fai the dock do unite to call for dnth I sliall : 
To plcu* both (hy falte hcan and tid tnyarlf from woe, 
That railiir had to die ia iraih than I>tc forsaken so I 



//. TAe Faithlesj Sbepherifess 

^^HILE^ that the fun with hii heam« hot 

Scoecbld the fniiis in vale and nwuciaiii, 
PbUon tbe sbeplMTd, btc forgot, 
SiaiB{ beside a crynal fountain 

la shadow of a green oak lice, 
Upon hi* pipe thU *ong f lay'd be : 
Ad'iru, Love, adten. Love, untrue I.ove ! 
Uurae Love, niurtie Low, adieu. Lovei 
Yo«r mind ia light, won tost for new lore. 

So long as I was ta your ught 

I was your beait, your soul, your treasure i 
And evcTBiore you aobb'd and sigh'd 
Boming in llunn beyond nil meEunre; 

—Three day* endoml yoiir love to me. 
And it wn lost io other three! 



ANONYMOUS 



AdicUf Lorr, adi««, Lot?, vaxrot LonI 
Uncnie Love, anuve Love, adieu. Low! 
Yoiu luind a liglvc, Moa lost for nnv 

Anocber nhqihnd you did sw. 

To whom your hnn wss soon «oclwnid; 
Full toon your love wis Itajit ffom mc^ 
Fdl fiooD lay j^lacc lie hid oUaintd. 

Soon came a tliiiil your lore to win. 
And we were out and )ie was in. 
Adieu, Love, odteu, Love, unime Love ! 
Unlnie Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love I 
Vmir mind b light, soon lost for Dew loie. 

Sure you bare made rae passing glad 

Tlut you your mind so soon removM, 
Befote that I the leisure had 
To choa» yon fof my best beloTM: 

For all ray love was pass'd and done 
Two days before it was begun. 
Adieu, Lot«, adieu, Love, untrue Love! 
Uoimc LoTc, uDUuc Loiv, adieu, Love! 
Your mind is liglu, soon lost for new love 



fff. CraiM Age and Tourh 

CRABB^.D Age and Youth 
Cannot live together: 
Youth it full of pIcMancc, 
Age is full of care } 
Youtli like suntroer mote, 
Age like winter wtuberi 



ANONYMOUS 

Voutli like soauaer bnvc, 

Age lil;e winter \xat. 

Yovih IS full of »fort, 

Age's breath U ihort; 

Youih is ninibte. Age a bfflci 

Youth is Iioi and bold, 

Agt is wtalt «nd coldi 

Youth is wild, and Age it tame. 

Afe, I do aUiof thee; 

Yonih, I do aAon thet; 

O, my Lotr, ny Late i* jwongi 

Age, I do defy tbw: 

0, sweet ahrplicrd, hie tbcc! 

For mei hinlu thou mrfit too loajt- 

; by tfiHam Si^tfifiarr 

Tt^ 7hrUida's Lmx<:dl 

H^da. /^ORYDON, arise, my Cor7<k.Q I 

^-^ Titan thineth dear. 
CtTfJm. Who i» h that calleth Corydon i 
WTio is It that I htar? 
Pi^ Phyllida, ihy true Vm, cUletb thee, 
AHm itieii, arise ihcti, 

Arise and keep ihy flock with me I 
Ctr. Phyiltda, my iroe \att, is it she i 
I CORK tiled, I oome then, 

I come and keep toy flock with thee 

Pbjf. Here are chetrio rife for my Corydon| 
Eat them for my »ke. 
Here'r my mtcn pijw, my lovely one, 
Spon for thee to nuke. 

•r 



ANONYMOUS 

PI^L Here are threads, 107 true \an, fine u lilk. 
To knit thee, to knh thee, 

A pair of nockiDgs iriiite as milk. 
Cor. Here are renJs, ray true lore, fine and neat. 
To make thee, to make thee, 
A boDitet to withstand the faeat. 

Phjl. I will gather Sowers, my Corydoo, 
To set ■□ thy ca[). 
Cor. I will gather pears, my loTely one, 
To put in thy lap. 
Pbyl. I will buy my true lore garters gay, 
For Sundays, for Sundays, 

To wear about his legs w talL 
Cor, I will buy my true love yellow say, 
For Sundays, for Sundays, 

To wear about her middle small. 

PbjL When my Corydon sits on a hill 
Making melody — 




ANONYMOUS 

PbjI. Cynthia Eodymion had refused, 
Prefcning, preferring. 

My Corydon to play withal. 
Car. The Queen of Love had been excused 
Bequeathing, bequeathing, 

My Phyllida the golden balL 

PbjI. Yonder comes my mother, Corydon t 
Whidier shall I dy f 
Cor. Under yonder beech, my lovely one, 

While she passeth by. 
Phjl. Say to her thy true love was not here; 
Remember, remember, 

To-morrow b another day. 
Cor. Dvint me not, my tme love, do not fear; 
Farewell then, farewell then ! 
Heaven keep our loves alway! 

fS. A Tcdlar 

Jebo Dowlind*! Stce^i Batk tf 
S^rtjr or Airj, jooo 

T^INE knacks for ladies ! cheap, choice, brave, and new, 
* Good pennyworths— biit money cannot move: 
I keep a fair but for the Fair to view — 

A beggar may be liberal of love. 
Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true, 
The heart is true. 

Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again ; 

My trifles come as treasures from my mind : 
It b a precious jewel to be plain ; 

Sometimes in shell the orieni'st pearls we find; — 
Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain 1 

Of me a grain ! 



ANONYMOUS 



T9' 



Hey nmnf vof 

OriMCtwtt US. 
I_I EY noony do 1 

'' ^ Mrn ore fools thtt wuh lo die I 

Is 't not fioc to dance aad sing 

When the beDs of deuh do ring f 

Is't not fine to iwini ia wine. 

And nun upon the toe, 

And sing hejr nunny no I 

When the winds blow and Ae teas Sow* 

Hey nonny no ! 



Treparatioat 



So. 

VET if His Majesty, our >OKm£a lord, 
* Should of his own leoord 
Kricndfy himMlf inriie, 

And My ' I'll tif your gue« to-morrow ni^t,' 
How should we silr ourselves, c&II »o& cominuid 
All hands to woikl ' Let no man icSe Maadt 

'Set me fine Spanish tables ia tlie ballf 

Sec they tw lilted aU; 

Let there be loom lo est 

And order (.ilcen that there want no meat. 

Sec every Konce and candlestick made bright, 

That willioul tapers tliey may gire a hght. 

' Look to the presence : are (he carpets spi»d. 

The daxie o'er the head. 

The cukhionit in the chain. 

And all the candles lighted on the uairt i 

Perfiime the chambers and ia any caw 

Let each man give attendance in his place ! * 



ANONYMOUS 



I 



Thu*, !f > king wtn ramias, would wt do ; 

Asd \vnn good rrasnn loot 

For 'bs a d»Kous thing 

To sliow all hononr lo sa nrthly Idng, 

And after all oar tnmil and ottT cost. 

So Ik be plesoed, to think no labour lost 

Bat » the coming of Ihe Kbg of Hmwh 

All's wt at tix and WTcn; 

Wc wallow in our sin, 

Chitst unnot find a chamber in (he tnn. 

We ententia Htm always like a stranf>er. 

And, a* at fint, «tiU lodge Him in the tnanger. 

Tie Neva Jerusalem 

OtrtfKLvtAtn- B, JUM4, itoi 

HIERUSAtEM, my Iwppy Iwroe, 
iffbm ihall I come to thee >. 
Wbea duO mj sorrows hare an end, 
Tby joys whes thall I see ? 

happy hartionr of the Saints ! 

O sweet aad pleasant soil I 
la thM no Mrrow may be feoiid. 

No grief, DO csre, cw umI. 

IWe fast Mid Vacre cannot dwell. 

^Kn enry bean no sway ; 
l^ere is DO hnpger, heat, not coM, 

Bat pfeasurc every way. 

Tby walh art Bade of precious Monesi, 

Thy bulwarks diamonds sifuare: 
Tby £am are of nf^ onent pearly 

Exceeding rich and rue. 




Thy turrets and tliy pinnacles 

With carbuncles do shine ; 
Thy very streets are paved with gold, 

Surpassing clear and fine. 

Ah, my sweet home, HierusaJem, 

Would God I were in thee ! 
Would God my woes were at an end, 

Thy joys tliat I might see ! 

Thy gardens and thy galknc waUta 

Continually are green ; 
There grows such sweet and pleasant floWv'ts 

As nowhere else are seen. 

Qmte thnmgh the streets, in& nl*er waM, 

The flood of Life doth flow; 
Upon whose banks on every side 

The wood of Life doth grow. 

There trees for evermore bear ftuit. 

And evermore do spring; 
There evermore the angels VX, 

And evermore do sing. 

Our Lady sings M^tufieal 

With tones surpassing sweet ; 
And all the vir^ns bear their part, 

Sitting about her feet. 

Hierusalera, my happy home. 

Would God I were in thee! 
Would God my woes were at id end, 

Thy joys that I might seel 



ANONYMOUS 



d*i. 



fcaras 



ftetm }»•>'* Sftid Ifiti tf 



T OVE winu'd my Hopes and Unj^il i»c how to fly 
^ Far froa buK tunh, but not to moont loo k!^ ; 

For mie pknsure 

Lim in mr4<urf. 

Which if mm foreako, 
BGaded (facj into folly ran aad gricF Tor pleanire take. 

But my nin Hopes, (irowl uf theif new-tau^t diglM, 
EmixMir'd louglit to woo the nn's fiir light, 

Whow rich brightness 

Morrd thrtr lighians 

To upin 30 high 
Thu all Korcb't] ud coosiuard willi &e now dravm'd ui 
woe tlKy be. 

And none bat Love thetr woefiil hap did rer. 
For Love did know (hit their dctire* were tniCi 

Though fiu frawnCd, 

And oow drowoU 

Tfcej in sotTow dwell. 
It was tbc porttt tight of hcaVn for wliose fnr tore t}iey fell. 

Xjf y Lo«e io lier aitin doth show her wii, 
^*^ It doth BO veil become her ; 
For eroy season she hath dressings fit, 
For Winter, Spring, and SanniKr. 
Nft beosty the doth raiu 

When all her robe^ are oo ; 
But Beauty's tclf she it 
Wbeti all hn rob» are gone. 

n 




ANONYMOUS 



tf^. Hova can the Heart firget bcrl 

AT her fair hands how hate I grace cntnatcd 
■** With pnyera oft tq^ited ! 
Yet itUl my lore is iburaned: 
Hem, let her go, for slie'll Dot be coBrerted^ 

Say, itudl ihe gof 

O DO, no, no, no, no! 
She ts mott liir, tbough she be iiuible-beivtc^ 

How often haie my ughs declatvd my anguish, 

Vilierein I daily hnguiib! 

Yet still she doth procure it: 

Hc^n, let her go, for 1 can not eaduiv it— 

Sfiy, sh^l she go \ 

O no, DO, no, no, no! 
She gave the wound, and she alone must cue it. 

But shall I still a true aflcciion ou-e her, 
Which prayers, Kighs, tear* do show her, 
And sh^l she still ditdaia mc^ 
Heart, Jet her go, if they do grace cao gVQ 

Sjy, shall she gof 

O no, no, DO, no, no ! 
She ni&di; me bers, and hent she will retain me. 

But if the lore that hath and still doth bum bk 

No loTc at length rttutn mc, 

Out of my thoiighu I'U set her : 

Hcut, let her go, O lieart I pv^ tbee, let berl 

Say, shull she go \ 

O no, no, no, 00, DO I 
Fix'd in the heart, how can ibc heart forget brr! 

iF.otlV. Da 



ANONYMOUS 
</. Tears 

John l>HU)>ft rklf4tm4 Urn 
Out tfSmt' »r Airi. I«U1 

^V^EEP yoa oo more, wd feunlain*) 
'^ What n«d ywo flow M) &«t 
Look bow the snowy mouoiBint 

Heaven's sua dotb gntlj wuul 
B«t my Sun's bctvcnly eyes 
Virw not your wcqitng, 
Thu BOW lies slM[«ng 
Softly, BOW toft]/ lies 
SkcfiDg. 

Skep u a nconctlbg, 

A rtK tlui pracc begets; 
Dotb OM the sun rise ioiiling 
Whtt Cur at even he »«»? 
Re« you ibca, rcs^ sad cyesl 
Melt Dot in weeping, 
Wbik she lica sleeping 
Softly, now lofUy lies 
Slccftog. 



66. 



Mj Lady's Tears 



Batk ^Samgt «r AIn, ■«»] 



I SAW my L»dy weep. 
And Sorrow proi;<l to be advancM so 
Is those fair eyes «heie all polccttaiu keep. 

Ber boe was fiiU of woe ; 
Bill SkJ) a woe {believe me) is win more bcaits 
Tbu Hinfa can do with her ecdcing parts. 




Sorrow was there made fair, 
And Passion wise ; Tears a delightful thing ; 
Silence beyond all spt^ech, a wisdom rare : 

She made her sighs lo sing. 
And all things with so swtet a sadness move 
As made my heart at once both grieve and lore. 



The woiid can ibow, lam off Jnlinirto 
Enon^ taoa^t yoor jajtd look'vtecdii 

Teux kill die heM^ bdine. 
O itrire not to be excdlent ia an^.i . 
Which only breeds jour bnriqr*' (nathn*. 



ff7. Sister, Awake ! 

TlwiBU BXoob'i Fir^ SH »f 
EntUlX UadrigMls. itxt. 

C ISTER, awake \ close Dot yotir eyes 1 
^ The day her light discloses, 
And the bright moming doth arise 
Out of her bed of roses. 

See the clear sun, the worid's Inight eye, 

In at our window peeping: 
Lo, how he blusheth to espy 

Us idle wenches sleeping ! 

Therefore awake! make haste, I say, 

And let us, without staying. 
All in our gowns of green so gay 

lato the Park a-mayingi 
96 



ANONYMOUS 
<y. jDevoiim 

CatNaik TsUu Hbr>(-i T»t Fii^ 
l^rl^Atrt, O't., lOOj 

UAIN wodd t chaoj^ Uiat nute 

' To wtud) food Love huh cIuxtdM bk 

Loo];, long to sbg b/ rat^ 

FaDcying tb*t tluc hann'd nw; 

Vet whca thi* thought dodi cook, 

' Loit it liie pNfcct wa 
Of «ll dcUfihi,' 

I have DO other choice 

Either (or |icn of voice 
To sl8£ or write. 

Love 3 they^ wrong thrc IDUCfa 
Thu uy thy sweet is bitiCT, 
When thy rich fniit i» such 
As sothtng CMi be sweeter. 
Fair boute of joy and bliss, 
Wlieie ttuHt pleasure a, 

I ilo adure thee: 

1 know thee what tboa an, 
I Kife thee with my bean. 

And fUl bei'orc thee. 



rfy. Shtce First I saw j'our Face 

tiMMW rttttt ttutk tf 

Sift4r3 Kimdt,ttat 

CINCE fim I taw your face I Kaolied to hoaour aod 

■^ lesowti ye; 

If DOW I be disdained I wi^ my heart bad ne««T 



hMnm ye. 

\ that la«eil and yon that liked, sball we begin to 



WTUgle 



no, my botn b fast, md canaot dttentutglc 



W 



ANONYMOUS 

ir I admire or fruK you too m-jch, that fault 

ferpTc met 
Or if my bwuU lud itnj'd but a mtcb, then justly 

you leave me. 
1 atk'd you lean, you bade nx Ion; ts't now ■ time la 

diidie Rief 
No^ no, 00, I'll loK you sdll wlut fanaae e'a betide lar. 

The Sua, whose beams nost (lorious ire, rejecteth np 

beholder, 
Aod your sweet beauty post compare made my poor 

the boldec 
WIiCK beauty mo^ci and vh d<-)ight> and ug» of ki^ 

D«SS bind me, 
Tliete, thcrel where'er I go IH leare my heait 

me I 



70. Tiere h a Latfy svseet an J hind 

Tbomia Pirnl't Mmtiti 

■THERE is ■ Lady sweet and kind, 
■^ Was never (ace so plased my miod; 
I did but sec ber paMing by, 
And yet 1 tore tier till I die. 

Hex gesture, motjoa, and ber smiles, 
Her wit, her voioe my heart be{;ui}e3^ 
B<;giillci; my hurt, I know not why, 
And yet I love ber till I die. 

Cupid b ubgid aod doth range, 
Het counuy so my lore dotlt chaogt: 
But change ibe eanl^ or (liaage she bky, 
Yet will I love her till I die. 



ANONYMOUS 
7t. Lew not me far cornel/ grace 

I OVE tM tat for comely pKc, 
^ Pot my pluting eye or face, 
Nor (ut uty ouevvd part, 
No, Dot for iv coosUM bnrti 

For thcM nuy Tail ot luro to ttl. 

So ihov mti I ttull sever: 
Keep, ibcrefoK, ■ true votatm'* eye, 
And love me itill but know poi «hy— 
So 1)351 tliou tbe Hinr tuson still 

To dooi upoa rac ever I 

72. T^ ffaienmg 

i«hD AVTtt HfM Sttt t/Airt, l«M~ 

ON a time tbe snoroui Silvy 
Said to her shei^crd, ' SvMt, bow do ye .' 
Riu me thb once o&d Uicn Cnd be with yc, 

My sweetest denl 
Kiss m« ifiis oner aftd ih«n God be «itb ye. 
Far now ibe nonung dr^wi-ib Dear.' 

With that, ber fount bowm sboaing, 
Op'tiiaj; her lip, licfa pcTfumcs bluwing, 
She laid, * Now kiss me and be going. 

My iWMim dear I 
Kis> OK this i»c« and tbca be going, 
For now tbe tnomii^ diaweth near.' 

Wttb that the abcpbcrd waked from deepifi^ 
And Vfforg when the day wa* peeping. 
He said, 'Now talw my soul in keeping, 

My sweetest dear I 
Kiss ma and take ny M«l ia kM|N'ng. 
Since I mast go, now day is tutu' 

99 



NICHOLAS BRETON 



7J. Tbillida and Coridm 

TN the mercy idodiIi of May, 
^ In I mora b^ bnok of diy, 
FonJi 1 w.ilk'd l^- the wood-tide 
When as May was in hit pride: 
Hiete I spitd >U alone 
Phillidft ud CoridoD. 
Much ado Aere wai, God wot! 
He would love and iJic «-ould noc 
She Mid, Never nun wat tnie; 
He said, None wu falw to you. 
He jaid, tie had loved ha loitj ; 
&he said, Lore should hare no wionj. 
CotidoQ would kiss her then ; 
She said, ^taid5 must kiss no mea 
Till they did for good and ali ; 
Then ihe made the shepherd call 
All the heavens to witnexi tnKh 
Never loved a trocr youth. 
Thus with many a pmty oath, 
Yea ud nay, aad fiith and troth, 
Such as silly sheplictds use 
When tbey wili not Love abuse, 
Love, which had been loot; deltxloJ, 
Was with kLiKct nwrct concluded ; 
And Phillida, with garlands ^y, 
Wat made the Lady of the May. 



"«»■» 



NICHOLAS BRETON? 



74. ji CraJU Song 

Oniat, IJW4 

/^OME Idtk babe, come rilJy soul, 

^-' T^j &lher'» itiamr, thy modnr'a pie(; 

Bora u I <loaibt to all our dotr, 

And to tbficli' nnlurppy chiefs 

Siag lull«by, uxl lap it wvm. 

Poor soul tliat thialu ao creaUrc harm. 

Tim linJe tkink'tt and Ws dost know 
The caoM of this thy mocber's moao 1 
Tliou wMil'il tbt wit to wail her woe, 
And I myxir am all alone: 

Why dott tboa wcejtf why dost thou wall? 

And know'si not yet what thou don atl. 

Cork:, little wretch — ah, silly heaitl 
Mine oely joy, whoi caa I more? 
If there be any wroa£ diy smart, 
Tliat 8iay the destinies ii!n{ilore: 

Twu I, I say, qaiou my will, 

I wail the time, but be ihon still. 

AM dost tliou smtle? O, thy swnt lace! 
Would God Hhrnelf He might thee see!— 
No donbt thou woddst soon porchaM- gr^cc, 
I bww right well, for thee and me : 

But come to moilier, babe, and play, 

For ftlfaer Alse b fled away. 

Swm boy. If it by fomiK chance 
Thy &ih«T home agaia to send, 



NICHOLAS BRETON / 



If dcsth do strike me with hia laece, 
Yet nuyn tbou mc to him cORmKodi 
If any aalc thy moihcr'i taax, 
Tdl how by love ilie purchased blame. 

Thea will hi» gratle hurt loon ykid ; 

1 know him of a ooble mind : 

Although a Uoo in the (idd, 

A bmb in town tbou ilialt him linci) 
A^ blruing, babe, be not afrBid, 
His jugar'd words hath me betray 'd. 

Thrn mnytt thou j<iy and be nght glad; 

Alibough in woe I seem to nM»a, 

Thy father U no t»^i\ lad, 

A Doblc ymiih of blood and bome : 

Hu ilancing looks, if lie once smil^ 
Right honest women may bcgiulc. 

Come, little boy, and rock unlecpi 
Sing Icll.tby and be tliou stilt ; 
I, diat can do naught else but weep, 
Will sil by thee and wmI my fill; 

God bles* my babe, and lullaby 

From this thy father** quality. 

SIR WALTER RAT.FIGH 
T^ Silffit leaver 

PASSIONS are Uken'd be» to floods and stiraimi: 
The shallow murmur, but t)ie deep arc dumb; 
So, when aiTcction yields discourse, it secma 

Tlie bottom it but shallow whence lliey come. 
They that arc rich in wordi, in words discover 
That they are poor in that which make* a lover> 



SIR WALTER RALEIGH 

79. a 

VUTRONC not, swtvt wnprwi of my hran, 

** The merit of trne passioa, 
Whh tbioluDg that be feels oo snutt, 
Tlut met lor oo comjiusioa. 

Sileooe in lore bewnys raore woe 
I'hMD woid*, thoD^ orW m witty: 

A beggar tlut is dwnb, you koow, 
M«y dutUeoge <toDhle pity. 

Tbm wrong not, dnrest to my hcaitt 
My intr, though secret pusinn ; 

K« miAitcih now that hides his smart, 
And nrs for oo compasiioo. 



77. H'ti 'Pilgri'ma^ 

GIVn nw my sdllop-ihcD of quiet. 
My staff of haiix to walk upon, 
My (crip of ioy, immortal diet. 

My bottle of nlvatioD, 
My gown of ftlory, hope's imc j;Bgc ; 
And tlncS ill uIlc my folgttnuse. 

Blood most bt my body's twimcri 

No «ber babn will there be gifco i 
Wtnkt ny soul, Bk« ^uiet ptlmcr. 

Trvnlleth towuds the bnd of heaven ; 
OrtT the (ilnr mountain, 
U'hcTv spting the nectar fbaotains: 
There will I kins 
Tbt bowl of bll» c 



SIR WALTER RALEIGH 

And drink mine eTerhn!s£ fill 
Upoo tWTj milkcQ hill. 
My soul will be a-dry before ; 
But, after, it uitl (hirst do toon, 

7S, The Cwehsim 

CVEN such is Time, that talces tn tnist 
^ Our youlh, our joy^, our all wp hatr. 
And pays u» but with earth and duM ; 

Who in the dark and alcot gratv. 
When wc have wwdcr'd all our ways, 
Shuts ii]> iIm story of our days ) 
Bm from this eaiili, this gnive, this dust. 
My God ^lall raise me up, I tnisL 

EDMUND SPENSER 
7^. fVhiist it is pritne 

I^RESK Spring, ttie herald of loves mighty kiDg, 
^ In «'ho*e cote>antiour richly are dixpUyd 
All sorts of flowctf, the which 00 earth do spriss. 
Id jtoodiy colours j^oriously amyd — 
Goe to my low, where she is c«elcs*e Uyd, 
T« in her winters bowre not wril av-xke; 
Tell her the joyous time wil not be Maid, 
Uulcssc she doe him by the Eareloek take; 
Bid her therefore her selfe soone nady make. 
To wsyi oa Love amongst hii lorely crew ; 
Where ewiy one, ihi* misseth ihta her make^ 
Shill be by liim amnrst with pesance dew. 

Mike bast, tlietefore, s»-eet low, whilesi it is primr: ■ 
For none can call againe the passid ttrae. 
^. make] eiiM. 

Ml 



EDMUND SPENSER 



So. 



A nitty 



/■ fraiH if ESt^, Quiffi «/ lie ShphfrJt 

SEE where she sits apcm the grassie gmnr, 
(O KCDKljr Nghtl) 

Ycbd ia S<ailot, lik« a mayAea Queene, 

And ennines white: 
UfioB bcr bead a Cmnotin coronet 
With Daitu«k« roM^ and Dat&dillies leti 

Da]r luvn brtwccne'. 

And {nmroMs greroe, 
EmbcUisb the swcete Violet. 

Tcfl me, lure jre leeoe her aogelick boc 

Like Phicbo fayref 
Her bcMcnlj Wcosr, bo- pnace]/ ffice, 

Cm ]pou wtU coai|iu«? 
TV Reddc rose mtdJed wiih the Wlijie yfere, 
la ctllieT diedte depcuKtcs litd/ cheie: 

Her modest eje^ 

Her Majcttir, 
Whert han j<ou tccnc tbe like bat there! 

I « Calliope spcede her to the place, 

Where my Goddsx shines ; 
And after her the other Muse* trace 

Wiib their VioUnca. 

KBcM ihry not Day braunclies wluch they ilo beacr. 
All for EEsai in her hund to wearef 
So sveetely they pby, 
And sing all the way, 
^^at tt a heanrn b to hearc 
led] nlicd. jrfcrt] togelhcr. 

8i iM 




EDMUND SPENSER 

Lo, how fioftj thf Gncea am it fbote 

To the Instnuneot: 
They daaiicen deffly, and aiogoi loote, 

In their meriment. 
Wana not ■ fbnrth Gnce to meke the dinoce nm t 
Ln that rownw to my Lady be jevOb 

She ahal be a Gnce, 

To fyU die fourth place, 
And rogue «ith the rest in beafen. 

Bring hether the Pbcke and puij& Cullandao^ 

With Gelliflowreai 
Bring Coronationa, and Sops-in-wioe 

WonK of Faramourea: 
Strowe me the ground with Daf&downdiltws, / 
And Cowslips, and Kingcups, and Itnid Lillies; 

The pretie Pawnee, 

And the Chevisaunce, 
Shall match with the fayre flowre Delicc. 

Now lyse up, Elisa, deck^ as thou art 

In royall arayj 
And now ye dainde Damsells may depart 

Eche one her way. 
I feare I have troubled your troupes to longe : 
Let dame Elisa thanke you for her song : 

And if you come hether 

When Damsines I gethcr, 
I will pan them all you among. 

scole] sweet. coronations] ciimilions. sops-b-wint] striped 
pinks. pawnee] pansy. cheviiaunce] wallflower. flowie 

lit lice] irii. 



tot 



EDMUND SPENSER 



Hi. 



Tn/Aa/afnioH 



/'^ALME WIS tbe cLy, and tlirough the ttvmbling ajit 

^-' Swetee-bwathiiig Z^hyrn* did »ftljr play 

A imk tpirit, Uui tighiiy dxl dday 

Hot Tiuns btamo, which thcti did glysEtr &yn-i 

When I, (whom sutleiti eve, 

T>in>u£h ditcontnu of my long fniitlesae May 

la Priscn Coon, and cxpccutioci nyoe 

Of idtr hofm, which Kill doc iy away. 

Like rmftj ahaddown, did atEict my bnyiw,) 

Wallit fonh la caw my ppc 

Alcng llic itioare of alrcr nrcamtng Tiiemme*} 

WbuM may Banekr, llir which his Kirvt twntnrs. 

Wis payBtcd all with TviaUc llowcn. 

Aod all the nndrs adortid «-tih dainiie geianes 

Kit to ieAe maydiiis bowTtSi 

And CTOwnc tbrir Pannraun 

Againai the Brydale day, which is not lotiK; 

Swccic Tbniiaies! niaoe softly, till I end my Soaj^ 

Tbnc, in a Meadow, by the Rircn side, 

A Vlocke of Nymphn I chauncdd to es^-, 

AJI loTcty Dasj^lm uf the Flood theirby, 

Willi goodly greeniih locks, all loose iint)de, 

Aa ncfa had bmc a Biyde: 

And each oac had a Utile wicker basket, 

Mwie uf fine twigs, cntraylfd curiously, 

la vtuch they gallieted towat to 611 tliett fla»ktt, 

Aad with &oe Fmgeca crept full feauously 

!%« mdcT fulkc* on bye. 

Of ewf sort, which in that Meadow grew, 

They gufxTtd mdwi tha Violet, palBd blew, 




The little Dazie, that at evening closes. 

The virgin Lillic, and the Prinjrose Irew, 

With store of vermeil Roses, 

To decke their Bridegromes posies 

Against the Brydale day, which was not long: 

Sweete Themmes! mane softly, till I end my Song, 

With that I saw two Swannes of goodly hewe 

Come Softly swimming downs along the Lee ; 

Two fairer Birds I yet did never scej 

The snow, which doth the top of Pindus strew, 

Did never whiter shew ; 

Nor Jove himsclfe, when he a Swan would be, 

For love of Leda, whiter did appeare ; 

Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he. 

Yet not so white as these, nor nothing neare; 

So purely white they were, 

That even the gentle streame, the which them bare, 

Seem'd foule to them, and bad his biltowes spare 

To wet their silken feathers, least they might 

Soyle their fayre plumes with water not so fayre^ 

And marre their beauties bright, 

That shone as heavens light, 

Against their Brydale day, which was not long : 

Sweete Themmes! runne softly, til! I end my Song. 

Eftsoones the Nymphes, which now had Flowers their fill, 

Ran all in haste to see that silver brood. 

As they came floating on the Chrisial Flood; 

Whom when they sawe, they stood amazftd sull. 

Their wondring eyes to fill ; 

Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fayre. 

Of Fowles, so lovely, that they sure did deeme 

Them heavenly borne, or to be that same payre 

loS 



EDMUND SPENSER 



^hidi itinni|b the Slue draw Venus silver Tccmei 
Fot tare itwf did not netme 
|Ti) b befoc of any eaithly Seede, 

ruber Anprb, or of Ange]* bned*} 
''Yet were thry bred of t>oaicr»-lmt, tfaey t»y, 
Ib nmWM Scasoo, whrn mch Flower wd veede 
Tbe earth did frtA srayi 
(rath they sectn'd >s day, 
inra ts tbeir Brydak day, which wai not longt 
Sweece TbemnKs! ruone soMj, till I end my Song. 

[Then (brtb tbey all out of theii bukets drew 
•tJM More of Fluwen, the botiDur of tbe lield, 

'That U the loiae did fngiaot odoun yield, 
All which vpm tbose goodly Binb they threw 
Aoii all Uie Waiet did strew. 
That like old Prnciu Waicn they did iccnr, 
Wbeo dowoe alimj by plcxsun Tempn itbore, 
ScaHrtd with Flowres, through Theualy they sireenie, 
That they appcare, throogh miJCB pknicous non, 
Like a Brydes Chamber florc. 

Two of those N)tn|)hes, meaoe while, two Culands bound 
Of &eabesi Flowtes whicb to that Mead they found, 
The which presenbi^ all in trim Amy, 
Their soowie Porehead* thercwidull they crownd, 
WkiTat OCK <Sd sii^ this Lay, 
ntpv*d agaiaff that Day, 
Apin*^ ilieti Brjdale day, which was not long: 
Swnte Tbrranxsl raose softly, till I end my Sottf. 

'Ye gentle Binlc«! the worlds hm oraameni. 
And heavens glorv, whom thi» ha|i|iie hov-er 
i>oth ieadc unto your loren bliaiBll bower, 
■lay you have, ud foitle b«nta coMtnt 



EDMUND SPENSER 

Of yoDT loves coupleranit; 

And Id f«ire Venus, tlut u Qu«oe of low, 

With her heart-filing Sonne upon yoa untlr, 

WKo<« smik, they wy, hatlt vcrluc to m&ore 

An L.ovn dislike, and Tiicndships liwitie guile 

For e«T to Hssoilc. 

Let cndlctse Peace your sttadfast huns accotd, 

And blessM PlcniJc wdii upon your bordt 

And let your bed with [jluisuie^ chait abound, 

That fruitfiU isiue may to ymi aflbrd, 

Wliich may your iocs confound, 

And mike your joyn redound 

Upon yoor Brydole day, which is not long; 

Swccle Thcmnicsl runnc softlie, till I end my Song.* 



So ended ihci and all the rest around 
To her redoubled that her uodereong. 
Which said their brydalc diyc should not be- lofig: 
And gentle Eccho from the neighbour givand 
Their accents did resound. 
So forth those joyous Birdes did posse akng* 
Adowne the Lee, thai to them muraiunte low, 
As he would Kpeake, but that he lackt a tang, 
Yet did by >ignu hi^i gl.id affection ahow, 
Making his tireamc ma itow. 
And all the foiJe which in his flood did dwell 
Gan flock about thew iwaioc, that did excell 
The lot, so far as Cyniliia doth ^liend 
The IcMcr staires. So they, eniangid a«Il, 
Did on thoie two attend. 
And their bnt service lend 
Againit their u-odding day, which n-as not loog: 
Sweete Thonmctl niooc tohly, till I cad ny S«Dg> 



EDMUND SPENSER 




At IcDgO) tbej lit 10 mrry Londod aaae. 
To taay Loodoti, mjr most kysdly Nurw, 
Thu lo me five tlua Lifia fine niiivr wurw, 
Tboigb fion anotbcr pbce I uke my luitic. 
An Itouv of aaicient fame: 

Tbrrr wlwn ibcy aotr, wfacrtai ttwM brkky towm 
Thr which on Tbcreisn brode agM bicfcc do* rfde, 
Wtxre now tJir tiudioui Lawyers bife tlieir bowen, 
Thrrr whylome w«>i)t the Tempter Knights to faydc, 
ill thry (icc^rd tiuough pride: 
'rxi whtrcuuto there nandcft a stately plucc, 
oft I cyBM ffStn and goodly gnct 
f thai greu Lord, which tbereia wont to dwell, 
WboK waM too well now fecles my fttcndlen car; 
But ah I here 6u not weU 
Olde woes, bui joyet, to tell 
AjBui the Brydalc dajt, which b not lon^ : 

Thenmeal nione loftly, till I end my Sod^. 

"dkerein bow <toth ledge a aoble Peer, 

Eti^aodl glory, and the Worlds wide woada, 
dreadful] nune Uie throu]{h all Spabc did thundei, 
^Aad Hercnlea two piUon stmdiag oecre 
Vm make to ifoake and feare: 
Faire bnmch of Honor, flower of Chcralric! 
Tliai fillest England with thy trinmptics fame, 
Joy have tluHi of thy nobtc lictorie. 
And endlnw happncAse of iMk owoe name 
TbM |«miactfa the sunc) 

Thai thraagb thy prowesK, and Tictorioui armet. 
Thy ca unU y may be freed from fonainc haimcv ; 
Aad gnat Eli«ae« Kloriout name may ring 

a) ibe world, lil'd with thy wide AUrmes, 




EDMUND SPENSER 

Wliicb some brave maw taay ung 

To jgcs fuDowiitfi, 

Upon the Brydale dajr, which i* not ]iMg: 

Swecce Tliiiminn! mme soliljr till I cad my Soag, 

Frwn thMC high Towcra thb noble Lord bniing. 

Like Rxlitnt Hci]icr, wheo hit f;i>lilai hayrc 

In t)i' Ocean biliowcfi he hath hathid (ape, 

l>cKcaded 10 the Rivers open vewing, 

With 2 gncRt tnine ending. 

Abavc the test were goodly to bee weiw 

Two gentle Knights uf lovely face and Jeause, 

Beseeming wtU the bower of anie Qneene, 

With fffa of wit, and oniamems of Doure, 

Pit fix M) goodly vtature, 

Thiit like the twins of Jore they Mcm'd in sight, 

n'hich declce the Dauliiiicke of the Heaveas brt^t 

They two, foith paciag to the Rivets side, 

ReiTcived thow two fairs Bridct, their Loves delight; 

Which, at th' Bppoioied lyde, 

Each one did mitkc hU Bryde 

Agdost their Biydalc day, which is Dot long; 

Swede Tuiinincsl runoe softly, till I end my Song. 



S2. EpithaUfnim 

VE leamid sisters, whkh have oftentimes 
^ Becoe to me ayding, others to adonie. 
Whom yc thought worthy of your graccfull 
Thn tren the greatest did not gmily KMne 
To lieare dieyr Miues sung ia yoni simple byes, 
But joyid in theyr praise ; 
And when ye list j-oui ownc mish^ to moune^ 



EDMUND SPENSER 

Wbkh dead), or lofc, or foTttiDes wrtdc dkl nyie, 

Your ainag codd koodc to udilcr tenor lunie, 

Amd teach tbo wood* uid waien to latamt 

Ycxif tfeMaU dteriRiciK: 

Now bf thoM sonowfuU complunts aside; 
'And, luving all jrour Irnds with girttnds crownd, 

licl{« me raiM owne loi-o f>nysc» to rtsound; 

N« let [he same of any be envide : 

So Orplinii did for hi» awnc bride ! 
,So I unto mj (rife alone will wg; 
'Tbv woods ih«ll to me ansivr, and my Eccho ru)||. 

Eoly, before the worlds light-^ving lampe 
Hb {oldra bmnr upon the hiU doth speed, 
Hariog diipent tlie niglits uncbraiefull dctope. 
Doe yt avaket and, wiili fmh hai;-hed, 
Go tu tlic bime of my bdorM love, 
My ttvat tnrrle doni 
Bid ber awake; fut Hjrmeo b awake, 
' And lonj fince reader forth his ituUlc to more, 
Whh hii bright Tead that flames with many ■ flake. 
And noaity a bachelor to waite oo him, 
In ihcyr fitih ganiKii» trim. 
Bid ber awake ihcrcfbri, and soonc her digbt, 
For lot the wnhid day a come at Um, 
Tim shill, for all the paynn and aonuwcs past, 
Pay tu her uaury of long delight: 
And, whylest the doth her dight, 
Dor ye ro her of joy and solace sing, 
That >U the woods cuy luwcr, and your eccho ring. 

Brinf with jwi ad the Nympbet that )'ou can heaie 
Bodi of the riters and dx fotresis grceor, 



EDMUND SPENSKR 

And of the scji thRt nnghboun U> licr ntsitc: 

Al with gay f-irlaiids goodly wcl bcsrcoc. 

And let them itlso with them briag in hand 

An«her gay girUod 

Por my layre love, of lillyes and oF fokk, 

Bound trueloTc wize, with a blew >i!ke rihiad. 

And let them n»ke great sum of bridale pOK«, 

And let them eckc bring store of other flowen, 

To deck the bridale bowers. 

And let the ground whercts her foot shtU tmd, 

For fcaic th? »ones her tender foot should wron^ 

Be strewed with fbgruit Howera all aloog. 

And diaptcd lylce the discolored mcuL 

Which done, doe at her chamba dorc awayt, 

For she will waken scrayij 

The whiles doc ye thts soog unto hCT ttng, 

The woods shall to you answer, and your Ecctio ring. 

Ye Nymphes of MuUa, wiucli with caitfull Ineed 

The ^Tcr sctly trouts doe lead Ml well, 

And greedy pikcn which tine thereui to feed ; 

(Those troutx and pake* all othcnt doo excell ;) 

And ye likewise, which kccpe the ruslijr lake, 

Whnt none doo lishcs take; 

Bjnd up the Ini^ ihc which haog scatlerd lij;hl, 

Acd in his w'Alcrs, which your mirror make, 

Behold your faces as the christall bright, 

That when you come whcreu my love doth lie, 

No blemish she may spie. 

And eke, ye lightfoot tnayds, which keepe the deere, I 

That oa the hoary mounayne uted to towre ; 

And the wyldc wolres, which seeks them to deroure, 

With your sieelc darts doo chace front comming oesf 

Be also presi~Dt hcerc, 



EUMITND SPENSER 

Tn hdpr tu tlrcke her, aad to bdp to mig, 

ThK all ilw woods nuy aatwcr, and jroui cccho ring. 

Wake now, my ton, avakel for it is unet 

The Rovf Momc lonf- since left TUbono bcxi. 

All mdy to her iiilver coche la clyme ; 

Atnj Pturiws ^i to shew his glorious bed. 

Harkt how the chrrfcfull binis do chisnt thcyr inica 

And nmll of Lore« pwat. 

The firnny L«ilte hir mattira sings iMt; 

Thr Thniith replies j ibc Mnia descant playeS'i 

■ The OueD khrilli; the Rtxldock wvUes soft; 
So goodly all agivc, with tweet consent, 
To ifaii diyn mcminraL 

PAhl my decre lotc, why doc ye sleqw thas long? 
Wbm mMtcr wm Uut yc sbotdd bow awske, 
T* anyi the coaimiag of jour joyous make, 
And bearkeo to the lutds larc-kant&d song, 
^nc oesvy mst^s among ! 
Nor they of joy and pleaxance to you sing, 
Tha. all tlie woods tbcni answer, and ihcyr cccho ring. 

My kite is now awake' out of Iter dmmcs, 

■ And her hyn eye*, like star? lliat dimmM vt:n 
Wkh darksome cloud, now shew theyr goodly beams 
More bright then Hesperus bis bead doth rcir. 
Corae now, yc dmzcls, dan^iten of dchght, 
He^ quickly Iicr to diglit : 
Bat first come ye fiyrc boures, which wrrc begot 
In Jcno sweet paradice of Day and Nigli: ; 
Wbich doe the seasons of the ycaie allot, 
A*d al, thnt era- io this woHd is fayre, 
Dot Dukff atui still rqiayie: 
nUadt] icdUcut. 



EDMUND SPENSER 

And yt three handmiiyds of the Cyprian Qneenc, 

The wUich doc stiU adonie bcr bmudn pridr, 

Hdpe to Mldorce my brautifullrst btide: 

And, ss ye Im txrtiy, Mill tluow bctwc^ne 

Some gncet to be »eeiw; 

And, as ye use to Veniu, to bcr stag, 

The whiles the woods shal amva, and yoia' 

Now b my love all rudy focth to come: 

Let all tlie vii^gins therefore well awayt: 

And ye fresh boycs, that tend upon her grootne^' 

Prepare yovcr sdvc« ; fur he ts commiag sttayL 

Set all your thingrt in tccmdy good any, 

Pit for £0 joyfull day: 

Tlie joyiulsc day thai ever sunnc did see. 

Filre Sua I shew forth thy favourable rsy, 

And let thy lifull hrat not fcrrcot be, 

For fcare of buroing her sun^liyny face, 

Her b«auty to disgnce. 

O fayreit Phurbu* ! father of the Miwe ! 

If ever I did honour thee aright, 

Or ting the thing tlut mote thy mind delight, 

Doc Dot thy scmnts iunple boone refuse ; 

But kt this djiy. let this one day, be inync; 

Let all tlic rest be tlunc. 

Then I tliy soveniyne pniyses loud wil sing, 

Tliat all the woods shal answer, aod theyr eccho 

Harke! how the Minstrils gin to shrill aloud 
Tltdr roctij- Musick lliat resounds from far, 
The pipe, the ubot, and il>e trrmhliRg Croud, 
That well agree witfwuten breach or jar. 

CTond] rlella. 
lis 




I 



EDMUND SPENSER 

mast of all, itir Duimlt doe ddite 
Vfhm they thrir tymbreis imytt, 
And tbemuMo dor daitncc and unol sweet, 
T\m bU the scncH they doc nriih qulei 
Tbe «bfk« the boyn ran if and downe tlte sutct, 
Cijnag aknid with nroog coohuid DOfcv, 
A> if it vrn ooo roycr, 
HjiBcn, is HymcB, IlyiBtn, tbey do «hoct; 
Tlui even to Uie hnnoa ibeyi shooting shrill 
Doth reach, and oD the firnummt doth fill; 
Tu wbidi the prt^lc NCUMtinji all abcnit. 
As in appfonacc, dor thereto appbud, 
And loud adrsiiDce I« Uud ; 
Aad TTTTRiOfT tlicy Hytoen, Hjmm nnj;, 
That al the woods them an&wer, lod theyr eccho nag. 



Loet wAw ihc earner along with portly pace, 

Lykc Pbccbe, from hex chamber of the East, 

Aryttiix forth to run her mighty raor, 

Cbid all vo ifIiHc, Oiat sctenrs a ntpti best 

So well it her b»eenM9, that ye would wecoc 

Sone aogelJ the had bcene. 

Her beg loo<e yellow locks (jikc golden wyre, 

Sprinclded with |«rle, aad |>et^£ flowm atweene, 

Doe lyke a goldm suntfe her xtiyn;; 

And, beuif crownbJ with a girland gitme, 

Seme Ijke unne imydm Quceoe. 

Her nodctt eyei, atashM to behold 

So many gazen as on her do Kar^ 

Upon tlx lowty gtonnd affixM arc; 

Ne dare Bfi up W countciuRce too bold. 

But Uuah to beare ber prayws sung to load, 

So bm inm bdog prom). 

*9 



I 



EDMUND SPENSER 



Nathlcsse doe ye still loud her prayses sing. 

That all the woods may answer, and your eccho ring. 

Tell tne, ye merchants daughters, did ye see 

So fayrc a creature in your towne before ; 

So Sweet, so lovely, and so mild as she, 

Adornd with beautyes grace and Tertues store ? 

Her goodly eyes lyke Saphyres shining bright, 

Her forehead yvory white. 

Her cheekes lyke apples which the sun haih niJd<^ 

Her lips lyke cherryes charming men to byte. 

Her brest like to a bowic of creame uncrudded. 

Her paps lyke lyllies budded, 

Her snowic neeke lyke lo a martile towre ; 

And all her body like a pallace fayre, 

Asceudiag up, with many ■ aooeiy atmjwKf 

To honors seat and chastiues sweet bowre. 

Why stand ye still ye virgins la amaze, 

Upon her so to gaze, 

Whiles ye forget your former lay to sing. 

To which the woods did answer, and your eccho ring? 

But if ye saw that which do eyes can see, 

The inward beauty of her lively spright, 

Garnisht with heavenly guifts of high degree. 

Much more then would ye wonder at that sight, 

And stand astonisht lyke to those which ted 

Medusaes mazefot bed. 

There dwels sweet love, and constant chastity. 

Unspotted fayth, and comely womanhood, 

Regard of honour, and mild modesty ; 

There vertue raynes as Queene in royal throne. 

And giveth lawes alone, 

The which the base afiectioDS doe obay, 



CDMtmD SPENSBR 



I 



kml jrtckl thcyr scniccs nato ber wtD ; 

le thouglit of Uunjt uacumdj «Tcr may 
[Tbocta appracK (o tcrapt her mind u> ill. 
I Had f* oxwc nrrnc ihnc het cclcxUal thrnsarci, 
And unirmlM pJeuuKSi 
, Tlim »«olil jrc woedcr, and W pnysn nng, 
I TIm J ihc w<xk1» sbuukl answer, and jrcnu echo nag^ 

Open the temple g/on vato mjr lore, 

Open them wide that site tiuy enter in. 

And «ll the poitcN adontc as doih belMrf, 

Aed >il tbc fiiioan deck with gitUnds (rim. 

For lo iTVcyTc tlii» .Sajnt with honour dcW| 

l^ut co n wurt h in to yoo. 

With im&bling uqis and humble rttatace, 

She commeih b, before tli' Almighties view} 

Of her jt rirKiiu Icunc obedience, 

WbcD M> Jt cuoie into tbuw holy (Ikci;. 

To bumble your praud f^ces: 

Bring her Dp to th' high alar, that she imy 

The BL-Tcd ctremonirs there fonakc, 

The which do endlesse inatrinMny make ; 

And let the rorinj; Organs loudly play 

The pnbn of the Lord in lively otxes { 

The whiles, mth boUuw tbraitn, 

TW Choristers llie joyous Antberoe si^, 

l^ai al the wooils may answere, and their eccho ring. 

BehoU, whiles she before the altar uoods, 
Hcuini; ibe buly prtot that to her speakcs, 
Aad hlcsMth her with his two hap|>y hands, 
Hnr the ltd rose; flush up in her cheekes, 
Aad the pure saow, wkh goodly icrmUl suyne 
Lik« cTinuia dyde io grayne ; 



EDMUND SPENSER 

Thit cTcn th' Angels, which continually 

About the sacred Altarc doe remaine. 

Forget thdr Ktviee and about her fly, 

Ofte peeping in her face, that seems more fa^re, 

The more they on it stare. 

But her sad eyes, still fastened on the ground, 

Are governed with goodly modesty. 

That suiTcrs not one looke to ginunee awry. 

Which may let in a little thought unsownd. 

Why blush yc, love, to give to me your hand, 

Tht pledge of all our band ! 

Sing, ye sweet Angels, Allcluya sing, 

That all the woods may arswere, and your eccho rjfig. 



Now al is done: bring home the bride againe; ^^^| 

Bring home the triumph of onr Tictny: 

Bring home with you tlie glory of her gaine ; 

With joyance bring her and with jollity. 

Never had man more joyfiill day then this, 

Whom heaven would heape with blis, 

Make feast therefore now all thb live-long dayj 

This day for ever to me holy is. 

Poure out the wine without restraint or stay, 

Poure not by cups, but by the belly fiJl, 

Poure out to all that wull, 

And sprinkle al! the postes and wals with wine. 

That they may sweat, and drunken be witfaall. 

Crowne ye God Bacchus with a corona]]. 

And Hymen also crowne with wreathes of vine; 

And let the Graces daunce unto the rest, 

For they can doo it best ; 

The whiles the maydens doe theyr canoll ang, 

To which the woods shall answer, and theyr eccho ring. 



EDMUND SPENSER 



Ri»2 yt ibe beb, jt yong men of tiic uwnc, 
Aiiti Inve joar woMtd Ubon Ibr this day ; 
Tlui A*y b boly i <loe yt write it dowiK, 
ThM yr for cKt it Kneinber ituy. 

diy tlie ninne U in liu chirreM bight, 
BatTuby the bri^t, 
Pram «h«ncc declining duly by degrees, 
He wewwbit loscth of liis heat >nd light, 
Wbni iHice dx Cnb beliind his bock he sees. 
Bat (or Oiii tinw il ill onbinid was, 
To chote the lonj^ d«y ia all the yrwe. 
And Rhoncm nisht, wbco longm (tner wrairi 
Vrt iKTCT day m loctg, but bir would jihsc. 
Rm); yr the belt, to nuke it wure away, 

boneficn make all day, 
knil dmnce Aon them, and about them siog. 
That ilJ th* woods may answer, «nd your etdio riBf.. 

Ah ! when will ihi» long weary day liate end. 
And leode nie Itjie to come unto my lore? 
How slowly do the boures thcyi aunibers speed l 
How slowly does tad Time his fcaihen more i 
Hax thee, fjiyrett Planet, lo thy home, 
WitUn the Wcjicroe Ibme: 
Tliy tfiid steedcs long since hate need of rest. 
L«lf ibOdgfa it be, at lut 1 «ec it gloomr, 
Aad ih« bright evening-star with golden crcast 
Apfxare out of the Eatt. 

i^^rre cbilde of beauty ) glorious lampe of love ! 
aO the hott of hcaiTn in ranker doou lead. 
'And gnydcsi Iotcts through the Bights tad dread. 
How cbnrefully ihon lookesi from aboic. 
And secmn to Uugb atweenc thy nrioUing B^t, 
As joyins in the sight 



EDMUND SPENSITR 



Bat let the iiif>!>t be calroe, aai ({mettoinr, 
WtthcMt tem[>eaMus norms or »d sfiny: 
Lykr M whrn Jan with fnfn Alcmena by, 
Whco he htgfH the greit Tiiyntbisn groomrt 
Or lyke u whrn he with xitj telk did lie 
And bfg« Majcwy. 

And IpC thr majds and jong men ctaae to iin)tt 
Nc let the woods than aiuwn nor tbeyr cccbo rinf. 

Let fu> bmenting cryn, nor doIcfiJI icaies, 

fir hewd all ciiglit widun, nor yet withoot: 

Ne trt fjlte whhpm, bnvdinj hidden fl■am^ 

Bcckkr fmtle slcrjie with miicimcvivid dout. 

Let BO dekulicg dreamn, nor ditadful] lights 

HUkt lodden lad alfrighti ; 

tie bt hoiac-iym, nor lightnings hdpelesM harmn, 

Nir bt U» pQuke, oor other crill sprighu, 

Ke let nnxhiToiis witches with theyr charme*, 

Nc let hob GobHn, dudcs wiiosc teiK« we tee ivot, 

Pray Bi with things that be aot: 

L«t CMX the ahriech Oule not the Siorke be heard, 

Nv the night Elirtn, that »ill de»dlr yebi 

Nor dunotd ghoou, catd up with na^tj tpels, 

Nor piEiIy raltum, make m once ifleard: 

Ke let th' mpleiBnt Quyre of Progs tiill croking 

Make n to wi>h thcyr choking. 

Let none of the«e thcyr diery accents sing ; 

Ne let the woods then answer, nor theyr eccho rii^. 

Brt In nil Silence Irew night-wxtchcs heepe, 
That sacrrd Pcttcc may in assuiaacc raync, 
Aad tytnely Sleep, when it ia tymc to alrepe, 
Hty poure bh hob) forth on your plea»iit pUynei 
Tl« whiles an hundred Btde wtnghJ lores, 



EOMUKD SPENSER 

Like dirers-rttbercd dom, 

Shall fly ind flutter rouad about year bed, 

And in the seem darke, tlut none re(>roT««, 

Tbrir prcty steolthn thai worke, and snam thai 

To fil^ away nwrrt xnatcbct of ddight. 

Coftcrald tlirough co?cn ni^t. 

Ye SfXtiivi of Venus, pl«y j^ur t^ns at wMt 

Pot grwd]r (>luaniie, cvpI»k of /our loyes, 

Thinks more apaa her i>mdi«e of joyes, 

Then wiiu ye do, albe it good or ill. 

All night therefore attend your merry plsy^ 

For tl will *oone be day: 

Now none doth hinder you, that uy or MOjt 

Ne will the woods now a&»wer, nor your Eccbo tittg. 



Who is the nmc, wliich K my window pee p s? 

Or whose is that fnire f«ce that shines so blight : 

1ft it uot Cinthia. ;hc that never slci'iics, 

But walked about higli heaven al t!ie night I 

Ol fayrest goddcMC, do thou not entj 

My love with me to spy : 

For thou likewise didtt lore, though now nnthoughi. 

And for a fleece of wooll, which pritily 

The Laimian shepherd once onto ihec brought, 

His jilessuies with thee wiouglit. 

Therefore to os be farorable now i 

Add sith of wcmcn^ Ubours thou liaat chxT][e, 

And generation goodly dost enlarge, 

Endinc ihy will t'c£.-ct our wishfull eow. 

And thr chast wombe informe with timely need, 

That may out coml'ott teecd j 

Till which we cease our h<7>efail hap to sing; 

Ne let the woods us inswerc, nor our Eccbo ring. 



!*• 



EDMUND SPENSER 

Anil lliaa, gnat Jono! whnch with nrful migtit 

The bwc* of wtdlock still do« pMroniic ; 

AmI tbc nrbgioa of the &hh (inx plight 

Wnfa s«ercd rites hut uughl lo toleainizc i 

AtuJ nkc for confort oftco callM an 

Of wwmh in Uxir staam 

EmnsUjr bind thou this lorrly bood. 

And ftll tliy blruingx unco tu impatt. 

And thou, gbd Ccniut ! in whose gentle hin%l 

The bniblic bowre aad gmiill bnl rcnuine, 

WttJioui Uraiish or Maine: 

And the ai>vec {ilntwres of theyr lores delight 

With Moet ajde doest tnccour ind supply, 

110 tliey bring fbtth the Iruiifull ^mgenji 

Seod u* the litndy fruit of thi's umc night. 

And thou, Uyn Hebe I aad tlwu, lijnxn free! 

Gnat thai ii may so be. 

Til which w* cease your funlier praysc to sing; 

Ne any voods shall answer, nor your Eccho ring. 

And yc h>£h bnrtns, tlie temple of the gods, 

ta which ■ thousand torches flamiog bri^t 

Doe borne, that to ns wictchrd earthly doda 

la divadful darkneaae lend dcarM light ; 

And bU ye powen wlucb ia the same rcmaync. 

Mora then we ram can fayne ! 

PiMiK out yow blestang on us pleotiauAly, 

Aad htffy tnilumM apoa us raioe, 

lliat wo may raise a brge posterity, 

WUdi tntm the earth, which tbcy may loog posKSse 

\^di lasting happinesK:, 

Up to jooT baughgF palbces may mount; 

Aad, lor the guerdoa of tbcyr glorious merit, 

•« 



EDMUND SPENSER 

May heavenly tabernacles there inherit, 

Of blessed Saints for 10 increase the counL 

So let us rest, sweet love, in hope of this, 

And cease till then our tymely joyes to sing ; 

The woods no more us answer, nor our eccho ring I 

Song I made in lica if many ornamailt, 

tt^Ji tahich my love ihauU duly have been dect, 

IVhicIt culi'mg ajf through hasty atciJenls, 

Te toauld nol stay your dew time le exfeel, 

Bui promiit lolh to ncomftni; 

St unio her a goodly ornament, 

And Jar short that an endksie momntrnt. 



Sj. From 'J}aphna!dA' 

jtn Elegy 

CHE fell away in her first ages spring, 

"-^ Whil'st yet her leafe was grecne, and fresh her rinde, 

Aad whil'st her braunch faire blossomes foorth did Uing, 

She fell away against all course of kinde. 

For age to dye is right, but youth is wrong ; 

She fel away like fruit blowne downe with winde. 

Weepe, Shephcard ! weepe, to make my undersong. 

Yet fell she not as one enforst to dye, 
Ne dyde with dread and grudging discontent, 
But as one toyld with travaile downe doth lye, 
So lay she downe, as if to sleepe she went, 
And closde her eyes with carelesse (juietaesse; 
The wliiles soft death away her spirit hent. 
And soule assoyld from sinfull fleshlinesse. 



EDMUND SPENSER 

How WF*' "^ ^ when I saw bo- Icude 
The Sbrphcinls <liKt];hteR daunctng in a rowwl ! 
Huw uiialy «rouU lihc uace aod tofUjr trad 
Tlir Kixla gnne, with ratie g>Hand crowodi 
Aad wlica she Gsi idTaBoe Iwr bencoly royce, 
So(h N^pbcs opd MusM nigli she nude oacownd, 
And fiocks and ibcpbunb Ciiud&l to rcjoyce. 

Dot now, ye Shepbcsrd Luscsl who »liuU lead 
Yoor wwndring uoufM, or ling jroui vuclayn i 
Or who kloU dijtht your bowrcm sitli ihc is ikod 
That was the Lady of your holydayra? 
Let now yon bttuc be tumid Inui bolc^ 
Aad iato (Jsicu cgnwn your joyous p)ayc9> 
Aad wiih tlie sasK £11 every htU md dale. 

For I will walb tins wsndring pilgrimage, 

Tlutiughont ilic worid from one to otiter rnd, 

Aad in afiltcDon «»i my better age: 

My txcad &lull ix tlie anguish of luy nind, 

My drink tlic tistes vliicb fio mitw eyts do tvnCf 

My bed ibe grtnuxl ihot hanieit I may fiodet 

So will I will'utly iocidac my painc. 

Ne *Iccpe (tlie harbei^er oF wearie wights) 
Shall ncr lod^ upoa mine ey>lida more; 
Kr ihail with rest refreth my timing uprights. 
Nor failing force lo fomier sin-n|ih rritorc; 
But I wilt wake and sorrow all tlie night 
IVilii PliilisDOic, my fortune to dcjilurcj 
With i^hinKnc, the janner of my plight. 

And trcT aa I see the starre* to fall, 

And tmJeJ' £njunl to got to give than light 



EDMUND SPENSER 

Which dwell in darknes, I to minde will call 
How my fair Starre (that shiode on me so brigUt) 
Fell sodainly and faded under ground ; 
Since wliosc departure, day is turnd to night, 
And night without a Veous stanc is found. 

And she, my love that was, my Saint that is, 
When she beholds from her celestiall throni: 
(In which shee joyeth in etemall blis) 
My bitter penance, will my case bcmone. 
And pitie me that living dius doo die ; 
For heavenly spirits have compassion 
On mortall men, and rue thetr miserie. 

So when I have with sorowe satisfide 
Th' impoitune fates, which vengeance on me seeke, 
And th' heavens with long languor pacilide. 
She, for pure pitie of my suflerance meeke. 
Will send for me; for which I daylie longj 
And will ull then my piunful penance eeke. 
Weep, Shepheardl weep, to make laj undersong! 



S4. Easter 

jlJOST glorious Lord of Lyfcl that, od this day, 
■'■''■ Didst make Thy triumph orer death aod sin ; 

And, having harrowd hell, didst bring away 
Captivity thence captive, us to mn : 
This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin j 
And grant that we, for whom thou diddest dye, 
B«ng with Thy deare blood dene washt from sin, 
May live for ever in felicity 1 



1 



EDMUND SPENSER 

And that Thy Ion we weighing wontiil^, 
H17 likcwae lore Thee for the nnic agunct 
Aad for Th; sake that all Ijriw dcsrc didst buy, 
With lore may ODc atuAhvT mccrtaynr I 

80 In « love, drarc Love, lyttc as ve (x^ht, 
— L«Te a tlic Icboa uliicli tJic Lwd uj uught. 



JOHN LVLY 

fff. Car^s and Kisses 

/^UPID and my Campospe play'd 
^■^ At cards for ki»c« — Cu(im1 poidt 
He stakes bis qniier, bow, and arrows. 
Mis Riochcr's dom, and turn of spatTQursi 
Lcran ibm too; then down he ihiowa 
Tlie coral of his l!]i, the rose 
Crowing od's check (but none knows how); 
With ibwe, the ciysiil of liii Iwow, 
And tdeo the dtmjile of bis chia: 
All (hcK dkl my Compipe win. 
At last be set !*» both liis ej-cs— 
Sbe woo, and Cupid blind did tiite. 
O Lote! has she dortc this for ihcef 
What shall, alas 1 bccoRK of me } 



fftf. Springs H^eiteme 

Vy/HAT bird so sings, j« so does wal i 
"^ O 'tis ibe nvish'd ni^itinitate. 

■Ar» yw» M' /w. '"*" ' *■>• ^^^s 

Aad still her woes tt nudmgbt me. 




I 



JOHN LYLY 



Brave prick-song 1 Who is't now we hear ? 

None but the krk so shrill and clear ; 
Now Rt heaven's gate she ciaps her wings, 
The morn not wakJng till she sings. 
Hark, hark, with what a pretty throat 
Poor rohin redbreast tunes his note I 
cuckoos sing 



in the spring ! 
in ibe spring I 



r MUNDAY 
St. I Bathing 



'SSJ-lflM 



lathing by a spring, 
■*— Where faii«t shades did hide her; 
The winds blew calm, the birds did sing, 

The cool streams ran beside her. 
My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye 

To see what was forbidden : 
Bui better memory said Fie; 
So vain desire was chidden — 

Hey nonny nonny 1 
Hey nonny nonny ! 

Into a slumber then I fell. 

And fond imagination 
Secm&d to see, but could not tell. 

Her feature or her fashion : 
But ev'n as babes in dreams do smil^ 

And sometimes fall a-weeping, 
So I awaked as wise that while 

As when I fell a-sleeping. 

"JO 




ss. 



SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 
TJ!>e Ifar^aia 



tss»-i* 



[Y trar love hMli my heut, «k1 I hiTC M*, 
By ]cst exchaogc one fvr another gitCQ: 
hold his detr, aod mine he cannot nms, 
Tlwre nctcr WM a better hargata dritcn: 

My irue lore luth my heart, aod I have bis. 

Hb boft in nx kcq>« him aad mt in one. 

My hevi in htm his ihoajtJtts aod wbws icuidcsi 

He lora my heart, for ooce it was his own, 
I chemh his becaute in me it bidni 

My me low haih my hurt, and I hate bis. 



$g. Song 

VjmiO hath his fancy pinshi 
"^ With fiuits of happy nght, 
L« brrc hi» cyc« be raitid 

On Niiurc's nvccu-it %htj 
A li^t wliicb dotli diactvt 

And yet unrte tlic eyt*, 
A iigitt wUcfa, dying never, 

Is ause the looker dies. 

She nerer die% bat taitrth 

In life of toTei's hurt; 
lie ever din ilui wastedi 

la Inve his cluefcst pan : 
Tbts is ber Uic stitl saanUd 

In Deirer^yiog faaih i 
Tim is hit death mnrded, 

Siaoe the liir* in his di-i:h. 



w 




SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 

Look then, ind die! The pUasur» 

Doth answer well the p*io j 
Small loss of mortal treasure, 

Who may immortal gain I 
Immortal be her graces, 

Immortal is her mind i 
They, fit for heavenly places — 

This, bearen ia it doth bind. 

But eyes these beauties see not, 

Nor sense that grace descries; 
Yet eyes deprived be not 

From sight of her fair eyes — 
Which, as of inward glory 

They are the outward seal. 
So may they live still sorry, 

Which die not in that weal. 

But who hath fancies pleas^ 
With fruits of happy sight, 

Let here his eyes be raised 
On Nature's sweetest light ! 

ptj. F'aices at the fVmdow 

TJ/'ffO ii it that, ihit dari nigtl, 
* " Uniemiath my imndeio piaiiuti f 

It is one who from thy »ght 
Being, ah, exiled, disdaineth 

Every other vulgar light. 

WAf, alas, and are yati he f 

Be not jet ikoie fancie* (hanged* 

Dear, when you find change in me, 
Though from me you be estranged. 

Let my change to niin be. 




tl 



it. 



SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 

ffVA^ h tAstmtt iHt wHl At! 

Leavt U Mr, imd Itavt u «wintw. 
Afawnce vat irill bclfi, if t 

Cm Imn how myMlf ta suodcr 
Fnxn whn in mj iicart doth lie. 

SmI timr *viff thrie ihoiigbtt rtmtvi i 
7W ^h mork nial m» km* kntwtth. 

Tmc doth u the subject prove: 
With time tdll the ftUcctioo growetb 

In the fJurhfu) lunlc^ove. 

^kH '^ y WW ftoMlirf ittf 
lyiU mat thty itir iiw tfficrm f 

I wilt iliink ib«]r pklurcs be 
(lBuge*t<l:c, of sdms* pCTrcction) 

Poorly cDontRrniing thee 

Jirf j«Ut rtOM^i purtit h^U 

Bidt j«m /ctftv intb mmti M wwiii. 
Deaf, do reason do such apitel 

Nnrr doth iliy licauijr BomUt 
More Uiaa ia my msoo's MghL 



" I 'HE Niglitiiigalc, u >ooa n April hringctb 
* Uitto her rvKcA »ciwc a ptrfcct waking, 
Whik bu-bon H>nh, praod of mw clothing, springeth. 
Sing* out lirr wom, • thorn ber soog-bo^ iMkingt 
And iwwmjvlly bewuling, 
Hct throx in tones expr«>»eth 
Whn griff her breut opfreueth. 
For Temu' force on her chaste will prcTalliitg. 
law)' 



SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 

Pbihnfia /air, talt nmr ^aJntti 
Ttmt itrr ii jniler tatue ef ftaitilfiti tadmtil 

TUiK tarlh Rocv tfringt, mMt foJrihi 
tty iharn vnthml, my ihrn laj btari hvaJHi. 

Ala* I the haih no other ante of ingubh 

But Trrrus' Ion. on her bf urong hand wrolcen) 
Wherein »)ic sutTcnng. all her S^tia languish, 
Full womanlike complins )ier will w<& broken 
Dot 1, who, daily cnnag, 
CwioM hate lo content me, 
Ha*e more cause to lameiti me, 
Sirtoe wanting is moK woe than too nwch Iw 

Phil'imrla fair, Ukt Mmt gladnetj 

Thai hen it juiitr taat* »f fiainl/id smtuii f 

Ttiite earth note tfriiigt, miai fadtth i 
Tiij ihtni wilini, my (Awn my liMrt iiroadith. 

(f2. The HiglivcAj' 

T_I TGHWAY, since you aiy chief Pamavnis be, 
^ ^ And that my Muse, to some ean doc unswc 
Tcmpeis her nvords to inntpling horses' fm 
More oft than to a chiunbcr-nidoily, — 
Now blcsstd you bcAf onward blesUd mc 
To lier, where I my heart, Mfe-Ieft, shall inect; 
My Muse and I ntust you of duty freet 
With thank* and wislies, wiOitng tliankJnlly ; 
Be you still lair, honour'd by public heed( 
By no encroachment wrang'd, nor time forgot i 
Noi blamed for hlood, nor shamed for sinful deed; 
Aod that you kiMW I enry you no lot 

Of Uigjiest wish, I wisili you m much bliss. 
Hundreds of yean you Sldk's feet may kiasl 



SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 



93- 



His Laity s Cruelty 



I 



^ITH how «ad steps ^ nuxia, thou climb'si the slues ' 
How likntly, and with how wu a face I 
may it be tlui et«a b bnvcnlir pbce 
That bu^y vcher hii thaip arrows tn«^ 
Sm, if flat lons-inth-1ovr>ac({uaiai«d ey«s 
C«B judgB of kite, (hou ftcl'si a lortr's case: 
I md it m thf looks i ihy Usguisli'd grace 
To ne, that fed tKe lile, thy stale descna. 
Then, vfm of fellowship, O Mooo, tell me, 
b coBMaM Imv deetn'd there bgi waot of wit^ 
Are bemies tbn* u proud as here they be^ 
Do Uiey above lore to be loved, and yet 
'Rwee loim Korn wliom tliat lore doth postcstf 
Oo they caU 'tinse' iberc — ungntefulans f 



Pi- 



SUcp 



/~*OME, Sleeps O Sleep 1 the cemda knot of peace, 
^^ "nw bnting>fiace of wit, the balm of woe, 
The poor raan'a wealth, the prUoner's rrlcuc, 
Tb' iadii&raat jw^ between the high and low ; 
Wkh diield of proof shield me trom out the pcnsc 
Of tlune fierce dam I>e«piair at mc doth throw i 

mAr tn bk those citil wars to ceatej 

1 will good tribute foy, if thou do so. 

Take ihcm of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed, 

A dum ber draf to noue aod bBnd of bghi, 

A my gaibnd iml a wraiy hoMl; 

And if tbew things as being thiae by right, 
More not thy heavy {race, tlkov shall in ane, 
LirrlMt than dsewbcfc^ Stella's inuge see. 

M. pRaMlptoa. 



n 



SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 

Pf. SplenJi/iis longum valedico Nagts 

I EAVE me, O Loi«, which rcachest but lu dust, 
'-' Aod thou, my mind, upire to higbcr Uiing*( 
Crow rick id tlut which ncTcr okcih rust: 
^Vlutcvcr fndcs but fadiaf pJc^urc brings. 
Draw in ihy beams, acd humbit all ibf nujbt 
To that swMt jKike where Uuing fr««doiiu be; 
Which brc«ks liie clouds and opeiu Ibrth the light 
That doth both thine and f>ive ns fight to »cr- 
O lalcr fxKi hold! W that light be thy gwde 
In this small course which Intth diawB out to dcMh, 
And think how nil bccoin<^h hitn to slide 
^Vho aoeketh Huven, and comes of bcaraily breath. 
Then larewell, world \ thy uttermoxi I see i 
Eternal Love, maintain thy life io mc I 

FULKE GREVILLE, LORD BROOKE 
96. Affra 

T WITH whow colours Myra drcss'd her head, 
} I, that ware posies of her own hand-makiagi 

1, tliat Diinc own name in the vhitnneys read 
By Myra finely wrought ere I was waking) 

MuK I look 00, in hope time coming may 

With change bring back my turn a^in to pby } 

I, that on Sunday si the church-stile found 
A garland sweet with tnM-loi«-knots ia Bow«n^ 

Which I to wear about mine arms was bound 
TbM each cS u» might know that all was ouni 

Must I lead now an idle life in wishes, 

And follow Cupid for his loaves and &she*? 
$6. chimneys] <A<n(W<i, etiimiiry-sccKiu of tapestry wetfc. 



LORD BROOKE 

I, thu did wear tbe ring her iboiIxt left, 
1, for who*c loTc fhe gloncti u be MimM, 

I, with wbose ryes bor tyn committed theft, 
I, who did make her blu^ when I wu lumid -. 

Mum t lose ring, flowtn, blush, theft, ind go BikciJ, 

Wuchiȣ with li^hs liU deid love be uwufcMf 

Wm ii for this that I misht Myra Me 

Wabiog the witer with her beauty's white? 

Yet would sbe Dctei write her lore to me. 
Thinlu wit of change when thoughts are in delight f 

Mm! girU nuy uMy tore as they may leave ; 

No nun cu friM a kiu: line* may <leceive< 



THOMAS LODGE 

p7. £9jalht4fs Afat/ri^a/ 

f OVE in oiy boMm like a bee 

*~' Doth sock ht> sweet: 

Now with his wingt he plays with me. 

Mow with his fret. 
Within mine ej-es he makes his nest. 
His bed amids my tender brcaiti 
My ktMcs atv hi> daily feast, 
And yet he rob* roe of my rest: 

Ah ! wamon, will ye i 

And if 1 sleep, th«ti ftrcheth he 

With pretty flight. 
And makes his piUow of my knee 
The hfcioag night. 
, I*. Motive] beusf . 

»1 



itft>-i6is 



THOMAS LODGB 

fvirike I ray lute, be tunes the ftriogi 
He muMc plxys if to I ung -> 
He lends nie evrry lorciy lhin|;, 
Yet cnict he my hcut doth icuig: 
Wbist, vraoton, siill jtl 

EIm I whh rotct erery A^f 

Will whip you hence, 
And bisd jrou, when you long to pliy, 

Fm your offcoce. 
IV abut raioe eyes to keep jou int 
ni mike you fut it for your sin; 
III count your power not worth » pin, 
— AWI vtiat hrrcby thnll I win 

If he gsiii^y me ! 

What if I beat the wanton boy 

Wirfi many a rod? 
He will reply nie with ansoy, 

Because a god. 
Thco sit thou *aicly on my knecj 
Then tct thy bower my bosom be; 
Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee; 
O Cupid, so thou pty me, 

Spore not, but pby thee I 

p8. 'Pb'tUis I 

\Ji V Pbillis h;ith the morning Mm 
■^" At first to look upon herj 
And Phillis hath mom-waking buds 

Her ritiings uill to lionour. 
My Phillis hath piimc-feather'd flowen. 

That unilc whea slie ueads on thcmi 



THOMAS LODGE 

And PUIIii hath ■ pSUm flodc, 

Thii les)» sinc« »!k iloth own Uiein. 

Sui PbUlift tuth too hud a hnti, 
Ato tfan she should bin it I 

It jriekb no mercy to dt«cn. 
Nor gnce to those thic cnvc iL 



99- 



ThtVis 2 



I OVE purds the roecs of thy lips 
'^ And tfi» tboot them like a bw( 
If I >]ipro»ch he forward skip. 
And if I hiss lie stingetfa mt. 

iLovf in thine ejws doth build his bower. 

And slnps wiihia thdr pmty shine i 
And if I look tJie hoy will lower, 
A>d itom their ocbs shoot shifu dinnc. 



Late works thy heart within his fire, 
And in my tears doth Grm the same; 

And if I fcm|K it will retire, 
Aad of my pliiais doth nuke a game. 

Lote, let mc cull her choicest flowers j 
And pity mc, and calm her rye; 

Mike mB licr heart, di&solve her lowers; 
Thai will I praise ihy dciiy. 

6« if thou do BOt, Lovr, III miy *^rre her 
In spile of thee, and by (am faith dcsene hrr. 



THOMAS LODGE 



too. 



Rosaline 



T IKE 10 the cIpat in liighp« flptierr 
*-* Wiifrt all itn}}mil glor^- sJiiiie-i, 
or KliJMine colour U her hair 
Whether nnfoldcd or in tvrioec 
Heigh bi>, r.iir Roulinc! 
Her cyo are Mpphircs tct in soow, 

KcKinbling heaven by cTcry winkt 
'Ilif gods do fear whciua ilwy glow, 
And I do tremble nhen I think 

Hdgh ho, would she were mine I 

Her dietks tit like tbe bla^hing cbod 

That twautifiFS Aurora's face. 
Or like (be silrer crtmion shroud 

That Flx^ua' iniilm^ looks dotli grsoci 
Heigh ho, &ir Routine! 
Ha lip* are like two budded roses 

Whom tanks of lilies odshbour nigli. 
Within whose bouod; she balm codoses 

AfiC to entice a di-ity: 

Het^b ho, wodd she were mine I 

Her neck tike to a stately tower 

Wlicre Lore himself imprison'd tie!^ 
To watch for gianccs n-c/y how 

From bcr diiine and sacred eyes: 
Hdgh ho, fair Rosaline ! 
Her pups nic centres of delight, 

Hcf brcatis are orb« of hesveoly fnnw 
Where Nature moulds the dew of light 

To feed iKrHKiion with tlie same; 
Heigh bo^ would she were mine I 

MO 



THOMAS LODGE 

With orinu powl, wilh reby nd, 

Witli iiutbic wfaiiv, wiih Hpphirr blui^, 
Hrr body crrry my U Ted, 

Y« Mft (o utuch ami svett in linvi 
Hdgh has f"^ Roultne! 
Ntfuie hencif her shijw xlmim ; 

Tbe god» are woiukImI in lin sight i 
And Lmw fi)ruk«3 hif hc^iTctily lirc» 

And at ber ryes his brand doth Itghtt 
Hn£h bo, would she were mind 
Then nmae not, Nymphs, iboagh I brnMsa 

Tlw abieoc« of ftit RouJinc, 
SiDoe for a fnr dtcrc's IJiircr none, 

Nor for her vinvn m divine: 
Hei|th lio, £ur Roialine ! 
Heifh ho, my hurt ! would Cod tha the wxrc nine t 

GEORGE PEE1.E 

tot. Fair imd Fair 

<B-mt, CAIR aivd Fjir, and t«ice w fair, 
*■ Aa fiir aa iny nuy b«i 
The fairest sheylwrd oo our green, 
A lore for any lidy. 
Paris. Fair and fair, and twice *o &r, 
As fair aa any may be; 
Tliy low ia &ir for ihec alone, 
And for no other Udy. 
(Emat. My love ia fair, my lore b pef. 

As fteah as twi the dowers in May, 
AmI of my Ion my ronndeby, 
My nicny, meny, mnry roundeby. 

>(' 



GEORGE PEELE 

Concludes wttli Cupid's rarv, — 
'They that do change old lo*e lor fwvr, 
Prajr S^ ^^'y change for worse ! ' 
jfrnlt $imat. They chat do change <^ lore for new, 
Prajr godt ihcy change for worse I 

(Eaime. Pair «nd Tatr, etc. 
Pmt. Fair and fair, etc. 

Thy love is fair, elc. 
tEimu. My love can pipe, my love can sin|^ 
My lore can many n pretty thing. 
And of hh toTcly praise* ring 
My merry, m e n y, meny roundelays 

Amen to Cupid's curse, — 
'They tiiat do change,' etc 
Pari*. Tliey that do change, etc. 
^mh. Fair and fair, etc. 

Wi yf Farewell to Arms 

(to queik klikabbtb) 

LI IS golden loclu Time hath to silver lora'd) 

^ -^ O Time too swift, O swifinesa never ceaungt 

His youth 'gainst time and a^ hath ever spnm'd, 

But spum'd in vain; youth waceth by increasing: 
Beauty, strength, youth, are Howers but fading teeni 
Duty, faith, love, ate roots, and ever grccn. 

His helmet now shall make a hive for bees i 
And, lovcn' sonnets tura'd to holy poahns, 

A man-nt>aTms must now serre on his knees, 
And feed on prayer^ which arc Age his alntti 

But though from court to cotugc he depart, 

Hb Saint is suni of his unspotted hcati. 



GEORGE PEELE 

And wheti he ucM^si au in hoiofiy ceti. 

He'll tcKh his s«ains this carol lor m mi^, — 

'Bint be the hcAm thtt wuh my sorercign wdj, 
CwM be tbe souls tlut ttunJc ber any wroi^.' 

Goddess, allow this igid man his tight 

To be jrooT beadiouo bow ifaK was ypur koishi. 



ROBERT GREENE 

163' Same/a 

I IKE to Diaaa in her sutntnn weed, 

^ Girt with ■ crimMo robe of brightest dye. 

Goes &ir Sunela. 
Whiter than be the Bocks that stragglbg liml 
When wwh'd by Arethusa faint they Qc, 
Is ftir Samda. 
As bia Aurora io ber moniing grey, 

Dcck'tl with the ruddy glister of bn lore 
h fair Samda; 
Liie lordy Thetis on a calmM day 
WhcBM her brigluarsa Neptune's &ncy more, 
ShiDes fair SameU, 

Her tmws gold, her eyes like glassy wmins, 
Her teeth are pearl, the breasts are irory 
or fair Samela ; 
Her cbt^ like rose and Itly yield forth gleams; 
Her brows brtp.ht arches framed of ebony. 
Tbiu fair Samcb 
Pasvih fcir Veiwa in her bntvst hue. 
And J«n(> in tbc show of mafesty 
(Foe she's Samriil). 



ROBERT GREENE 

Falhs in vit, — all ihne. If yoa well view, 
For beauty, wh, stad muchlcss dignitjr. 
Yield to Sasidt. 



104, 



FmvHta 



AH ! were she piwfiil as ahe is fcir, 
■** Or Ui( as mild us she is swming 10, 
Then were mjr liopM ^tuxx than ray dcifair,' 
Tben all the world were bnren, nothing woe. 
Ah I were her heart relenting as her hand. 
That •ecniK 10 melt ctcn with the mtldrK tooch, 
Then knew I where to seat me in a bnd 
Under «ide heai'^ns, but y« there is not such. 
So M Mic shotrs she seems tlie buddiog rose, 
Yet sweeter Tar than ts an earthly Aower ; 
Sovnn of beauty, like the spray she grows) 
CotnpossM she is with thorns and eankei'd flower. 
Yet were she willing to be pitxk'd and worn, 
She wxiuld be gathcr'd, though she grew on the 

Ahl when she ainjp, all music else be still, 
For none most be comparM to ber aote i 
Ne'er breathed such glee from Phitomela's bill, 
Nor from the morning-singer's swelling thrtuu 
Ah 1 when she rifcth from lici blivtful bed 
Sbe comforts all the world as doth the sun. 
And at her Hght the night's fod fa{«UT's fled; 
When she is set the gladforac day is done. 
O glorious sun, iniagiae me the west, 
Shme io my iimts, and set thou In my breast t 



ROBERT GREENE 



«f. SepAestias LuUaby 

^^EEP not, my w.-tnion, snrile upon my kwc ; 
" Wbm thou vt cdd tbere *> grief eoough for tbre. 

Mother's wag, prrtty boy, 

PMborS sorrow, fathn's joy | 

Wbm thy ftibrr first did Me 

Such a bay by him and mc, 

He was gladi I wat woe; 

Fottstw changed nude him «o, 

Wh«i he IWi his pmiy boy. 

Last his sorrow, first hts joy. 
Wtep not, my wamoo, smDe u]<oa my kn«t 
WlicB iIkm an old tbere '> ijrM-f enough for thee. 

Stmnung mn that never *tiai, 

Ltke pcail-drops from a flint, 

Fell l^ co«nc frooi his ey«s. 

That ooe aaoihn'a pUcc sa))(.'4ics: 

Tbns he grieted in enry {an, 

Tean of blood fell from his hewt. 

When he left hi* pretty boy, 

Father's MfTOW, fuher's joy. 
Weep not, my wanton, smite vpm my knee; 
Whoi (hoD art old there 's grief enough for thee- 

The wanUM smiled, father wtjt, 

Mother cried, baby te^ i 

More he crow'd, more we cried, 

Natwc could BOt Koerow hide; 

Ht nun go, he mnn ki^ 

Olid and motlicr, baby bliss. 

Foe he left hb {iretiy boy. 

Father's sorrow, Etthcr's joy. 
Weep nor, my wamoo, smiJe upon my knee. 
When tbon ait old there '* grief enough for thee:, 

MS 



ALEXANDER HUMB 
fotf. A Summer 7>ti/ 

/^ PERFECT Lighi, which ihaid away 
^^ The darkoMs from the lighi, 
And KC a raler o'er the day, 
Aootbcr o'er the night— 

Ttiy (lory, when the day forth Bin, 

Mo(e vivdy doth appt^ir 
Than it mid day unto our eye* 

The thining sun is ctear. 

The shadow of tlie earth aooo 

Remores and draw!* by, 
White in the East, when it » gone, 

Appears a clearer xky. 

Which soon perceife the little latks, 

The lapwin); and the snipe. 
And tune their songs, like Nature's clettx, 

O'tt meadow, muir, and stripe. 

Our hemisphere is polish* dean, 
And tighien'd more and more, 

While everything i* clnrly seen 
Which seemit dim bctore ; 

Except the glistering astres bri^t, 
Which all the night were dear, 

OHinkit with a greater light 
No longer do appear. 

•haidl parted. iirlpel tili. oflnskii] duktad 

•46 



ALEX/V>rDCR HUME 

Tbr £oMri globe JoconMKnt 

Sru op hit shi&iDg hml, 
Aad o'er the c*rth and Smunxnt 

Olspbys his bmts abrcad. 

For pj dw bircb »-ith boulden tlirotu 

ApttM hh TiMge sbMtl 

Take up tbtir kiadlf musick ootcs 
lo woods lad £>rd<ns grcco. 

The dew u^n the tender oops, 

Like peariu white and Rnwd, 
Or Itte to melted aim- dropi, 

Reircthit all the grouod. 

TV muty reck, the clouds of nio, 

From t(^ of mousuins ikails, 
Citar are the highest hitU and plain, 

Tbe vapotm take the nJes. 

The ample heaven of Eibrick sure 

Id cleanness do«S Borpass 
The crynal ai>d the lilnr pure. 

Or ckoiest polbht gjaos. 

Tbe time so tTan<]uil a and still 

Thu Bovbffc shall ye find, 
8>Te oD a high md barren hill, 

An air of peeptng wind. 

All trees nd simples, great and small, 

That balmy leaf do bear, 
Tbaa tbey «-erc poinicd on a wrU 

No man tfacy mote of sieir. 
nliwoUta. tbcnilbrii-bL ikaiUI clean tlmptca] 



•tf 



E 



ALEXANDER HUMt: 

Calm t> the deep and purple su, 
Vca. smMsther than the und t 

The warn tJut weliering wont to be 
Are suble like the land. 

So siknt is the cnsle air 

ThK every cry and call 
The hi!l« and dales and forest fair 

Again repeats Uiem all. 

The lottrishcs and Iragrtnt flowers; 

Throogh Pbocbu* fMterin]| hcH, 
Refresht with dew and sUter shower* 

Cast up an <Mlour sweeL 

The doggit hitj hamming b*CT, 

Thai i*e\-eT think to drone, 
On 8o«f n and Scmrishes of um 
Collect their liquor brown. 

The Sun, nunt like a sfecdy post 
With ardent coarec asornds; 

The beauty of the beaTenly boot 
Up to our leniih tends. 

The burning bean» dnwn from hit face 

So fervently can beat, 
Tliat man and beast now Seek a plare 

To save them from ibe heat. 

The herds beneath some leaij tme 
Amidst the flowers ibey Kc; 

The stable ships iqwa the sea 
Tend up their nils to dry. 






floutUbn] Mwrcna. 



ALEXANDER HUMK 

Willi gilded eyes mi open win^ 
The «o«k his counge ibows ; 

With dapi of joy his bccaac be dings, 
And twcoiy times be crows. 

Tlie doTc with wlunii^g wiogs m Uuc 

Tlie winds ua fast collect; 
Her pujpte pens turn naaj a buc 

Agxiim th« sun direct. 

Now Boon is went; gene a mtddaj', 
Tbe beat do(b slake m lut ; 

Tbe tun descnds down W«t »vaj, 
Pot three of dock is past 

Tlie ra]rou of llie wn wc see 

Dtminub in their screogtbt 
Tbe sbide of every tower sad me 

£xiei)dtt is la Icogtli. 

Cksi is the alia, for everywbtft 

Tbe viad is selling downi 
The mk. throws rijbt tip ia the ait 

Fio*> nery tower aod town. 

Tbe gloming corks ; the day b sptM | 
The nra goes omt of sight ; 

And painted b tbe Occident 
Wiib pup Ic itnguiDc bri^t, 

Otff wen horizoQ circular 

Ftom time tbe bud be act 
Is all with rubies, as it tttxt, 

Ot rases red o'erfict. 



ALEXANDER HUME 

WhM pinsurt wen to wiik «nd Kf, 

Endlong a rirer dear, 
The perfect fonn of every tree 

Within the deep appear, 
O theo it were a scmtljr tiling, 

While all H still and c*Iin, 
The pruse of Cod to play and sing 

With cornrt and with ^alm ! 
All labourers draw home at even, 

And can lo other say, 
Thanks to the gracious God of btami, 

Wliich sent this summer day. 



GEORGE CHAPMAN 
107. Bridal Smg 

■5Aa-iAM 
/~\ COME, soft rest of carw! come. Ni^hi!, 
^^ Conw, naked Virtue's only tire, 
Tlie m\iid hsTTtst of tlie light 

Bound up in sliuaves of Mcted fire. 
Love calls lo u-ar: 
Sighs hit alarms, 
Lips his swoidt are. 
The Celd his arms. 
Conie, Night, and lay thy Telrel hatid 

Ob glartau» I>ay's outfacing face ; 
And sll thy cjou'dM flames command 
For torches to our nuptial grace. 
Love calls to war: 
Siglis Ills alarms, 
Lips his swwrds are, 
The field his arms. 



ROBERT SOUTHWELL 



(Of. 



Times go b/ Tutvs 



'*6<-« 



T'HE loppid tree in nnw may grow a^, 
* Mom taJuA pUnts kdcw boib ituit ud i1uw«ti 
Tlte MRSt wi|^t mty find release of pain, 
the dricu soil tuck in some mabt'ninj ibowct; 
"noKS go by turns snd chxncn dunge by course 
Fiwn fod to lair, from bcttn h>p to vronc. 

Tlie Ki of FonuDC doth not eter flow. 
She draws hef braun to the lowest ebb; 
Hcf linic huh e^ual dmcs lo cooe asd go^ 
H« looa doth wuTC llic fioe and corneal wcb| 
No joy s> gnat btit nutneth to aa end, 
Mo hap so baitl bat nay in fine amend. 

Not always ^ of leaf nor ever sprim;, 
No endless ai^t j«t d« etcroal dayj 
The saddest buds i sc^mio find to siitg, 
Tbe T c ai gbe st stocm a culm may soon atlayi 
'nan with succeeding tutns God tctnpcrtth all, 
ThK nan may hofc to rise, yn fear to £ill. 

A chance may win that by mischaDee was lost; 
The net ihot boldi no gteat, takes litde tail; 
tn tome things all, in all things none are cnnt, 
Pew all iliey rxnl, bu none hate all they wish; 
Unaeddled joys licrc to no nun befall : 
Wlio least, hath some; who most, hath oerer alL 



ROBERT SOUTHWELL 

lOQ. The Burning Babe 

AS 1 in hoxpf winter's oi^ 
**■ Stood ifaSvcring in the ukw, 
Sorpdwed I wis with sudden hcM 

Which made my htrart to slow) 
And lilting up a fviirfu] eye 

To view whxt lire was near, 
A ptctty bu^ all burning bright 

Did in the >ir appear ; 
Who, scorched witli cxccrare bat, 

Su<h floods of tcai^ did shed, 
A& though Hit floods iho«tld tpitnch His RnnR 

Which with His tesm vtic bred; 
■Alasl' ^uod> He, 'bot newly bota 

In fiery beau I fry, 
Yet nwie afjtfoafh to wann their h(aiu 

Or fee! my itre but II 



■My faultless breait the fimuct b; 

Th« fnel, wounding thegnM; 
Love is the &rc, and sighs the soioke t 

The ashes, thtmes aod scores j 
The fuel Justice layclh oo. 

And Mercy blows the coab, 
The metal in this furnace wnMgfat 

Arc men's defilid souls i 
For which, as now on fire I an 

To work tliem to thcii jood. 
So will I melt into s bath. 

To wash them tn my blood.' 
Willi this He nnish'd out of tight 

Aod swiftly shniak away, 



ROBERT SOUTHWELL 

Anil Knight I callM drIo mind 
Thai k wu Clirisunu Day. 

HENRY CONSTABLE 

119. Off fie *Deafb nj Sir 'Philip Sidttey 

r^ rVE psnlac^ Mx%ikA wul, to my )>old cnn, 
^^ If they, importune, iiitcmi|X iJiy song, 
\^'h>ch now with joj^ul nMn thou sing'st *tMiB^ 
Tbe Mifd-^iarisun of tb' licavrnly skies. 
Gin fwdon eke, swe«t soul, to my slow cyps, 
TIm Mnee I mw thee now it b so long, 
And yet tlie team that unto tbe« belong 
To thee at yet they did not aacHflcc. 
( did not know Uut thou wnt dead bcfotr; 
I did not fed ibc gikr I did sustain ; 
Tbr gieater mjofce HSioRishtth die moici 
Astonuhmni takes fnun us scnw of pua ) 
I Mood amazed when others' tears began. 
And now begin to weep when Ihcy haie done. 



SAt4UGL DANIEL 
HI. Lxnjc is a Sictnesi 

T OVE is a sickness full of woes, 
^ AD ranetfies itAinngt 
A plant thx wltb most ratting grows, 
Mott lamn with best uiiiig. 
Why »o? 
Mote wc a>)oy it, more it diest 
If not eojoy'd, h sigfaioft cries — 
Heigh bol 



■t6)-i6)9 



■s 



SAMUEL DANIEL 

No widows wait for our delights^ 
Our sports are without blood; 
The world we see by warlike wights 

Receives more hurt than good. 

Ulyijcs. But yet the state of things reqiure 
These motions of unrest : 
And these great Sjnrits of high desire 

Seem bora to turn them best: 
To purge the mischiefs that increase 

And all good order mar ; 
For oft we see a wicked peace 
To be well changed for war. 

Siren. Well, well, Ulysses, then I see 
I shall not hare thee here: 

And therefore I will come to thee, 
And take my fortune there. 

I must be won, that cannot win, 
Yet lost were I not won ; 




SAMimL DANlfvL 



Chncity and Bnuty, winch mtn dcMlljr fon^ 
Li*r rmidcitod fnt-nda within lirr brow t 
Anil lud ihe Pity to cunjoaa with those, 
T1»m who had bard the pLinis 1 utur now? 

Fur hail »lic not bcvn (sat, <nd Uiue unkind. 

My MuK liad ilcpi, and none liad known my nunJ. 



^Rbou 



y cpoUcw \ore hoftrs with pumt «ii^ 
It the tratpie of tbe [inmdnt frame. 
When blue thuw Bgho, faircu of catihly tiling 
Wbicb ckax ov cloudrd world wiUi brtgbmt iLune. 
Hy unbiticqu tJioughts, coafioH in b<t face, 
Afia no honour but what *hc cun (ive; 
My hopn da mt in limits of btr grace t 
I wiHgh DO comliin unlr«s she relicTe. 
For the, that cun my brjn impamdise, 
Holds b her fur^^si hand what drarMt b i 
My Fortwoe'j wSed'a die circle of her eye*. 
Wbuse nl&ag trace deign once a turn of blua. 

Ail my life's sweet cotisixu tn her alone j 
mach I kote the most Uidoving one. 



BXnd 
^Or b 



m 



yet I cannot rqin-hend tbe flight 
Or bjiune th' anetnpt prewuning w to soar| 
The touuntiitg feature for a high delight 
Did Bule tbe honour of tbe fall the more. 
For who gets wealth, that [mt$ not from the gbore? 
Danger haib bofmir. great dcsgna their fame: 
Glory dc*h follow, covrage goes before; 
And tbuugh th' etnt oli answers not tbe «aine— 
SoSce that Ugh alterapta baR nerer shame. 
Ttc mctB obserrer, wbora base safety keeps 



SAMUEL DANIEL 

Lives mthout honour, dies wldiout a name. 

And in eternal darkness ever sleeps. — 
And therefore, DeEa, 'tis to me no blot 
To have attempted, tho' attaio'd thee not. 

I* 
Wlieo men shall find thy flow'r, thy glory, pass^ 
And thou wiih careful brow, sitting alone, 
Received h;i5t this message from thy glass. 
That tcils the truth and says that All u goae: 
Fresh shalt thDu see in me the wounds thou mad'st, 
Though spent thy flame, in me the heat remaining! 
I that have loved thee thus before thou &d'st — 
My faith shall wax, when thou art in thy waning. 
The world shall lind this miracle in me. 
That fire c.nn burn when all the matter's spent: 
Then what my faith hath been thyself shalt see, 
And that thou wast unkind thou may'st repent. — 
Thou may'st repent that thou hast scom'd my tears, 




SAMUEL DANIEL 



* 



B«t ah, ao more!— -this muiA not be fbretoM, 
For momm grieve to tbiolc ibry iniui be old, 

-n 

I BUM DM giien my Love, whose cyci would mil 
Linn of delight, iriicreon her youth mi^ht cmtlci 
Flowers hare time before they coioe to seed. 
Ami she ii yomg, ind oow muit spon tlw while. 
Atxl sport, Sweet Miid, !n teoMo of these fvatu 
And leant to gubcr Ooucrs before tbey wUhet| 
And wltcn tlie sweetest blotsom bit appears. 
Ln Love and Youth conduct thy pleasures thiilicr. 
Lighten forlJi imQcft to dear the dnidcd air, 
AkI calm the leni[<st which my sigia do raiw ; 
Rty and biuIh do best become the fairt 
Pity and umlcs ntioi only yirld thee pnise. 
Hike me 10 uy wliro all my griefs are gone, 
Happy the bmt tlut siglied for such a one! 

vn 
Let othen dog of Knighis snd Paladines 
Ib ^Id acceau and sntimdy words, 
PaiBt shadows in inugisary linen, 
Which well the reach of tJicir high wit records s 
But I mnst SDg of tbce, and tliose fair eyes 
Amhrntie shall my tene in time to come; 
When yet ih* lurftcxii shall say, Lo, vitrt ibr Set I 
Wi^it ttanlj made Hm JfnJ, (kat tlte vaat ihaat / 
These are llie arc*, ibc utiphin I ciici. 
That fortify thy tame against old age ; 

tbtse tlty sacred linors must protect 
Rinst tlK Duk, and Tuar's consuming nge. 

th' error of my youth in them appear, 
Sofioc, they show I lived, aod loted d>ee denr- 



MARK ALEXANDER BOYD 
V4. Sonet 

I^RA bank to tunk, fra wood to wood I rin^ 
' Ourhailit witli my feeble tuoasie. 

Like til a leaf that follts from a tm. 
Or lil a Rcd oniblftwia with tho win. 

Tw> gods guide* me : the ane of thim b blla, 
Yea and a baim brocht op in nntue 1 
The ne« a wife ingnirit of llie sei, 

And Uchter nor a dauphin with her fio. 

Unhippy is the nua for rvcrraaif 
Thit tills tlie siod aad sawts in the aii| 
Bui twice unhappicr is he, I laitn, 
That fetdis in Iiis huJrt a road desire, 
And follows on a a-ocnan throw the fire, 
L«d by ■ blind and teachit by a baim. 



JOSHUA SYLVESTER 



"J-. 



Ubique 



W^ERE I as hue a« i> tltc Io«-ly plain, 

'• Acd you, my Love, as high as hea*eB abot*^ 
Yet should (he thoughts of me, your hnrable swain. 
Ascend to lieaTen in hoDour of my lore. 
Were I as high a« heareo above the plain. 
And you, my Luve, u humble aod oa low 
Ivs are the de^K bottom* of the miiii), 
WhctMoc'cr you wwr, with you my lore should {«. 
i4e 



JOSHUA SYLVESTER 

Vfttt JTM ibe nrth, dear Lore, and I the skits, 
M; totr *hould thine on you IiIk to tJtc Suo, 
Aod look upoo jrou with ten tbouusd eyes, 
TiD hcatm wsx'd blind, and till the worid were dooc. 
WIteresoc'w 1 am, — below, or else abovi; you— 
Whcrrsoc'cr you arc, tny farArt shall mJ)- Ion- you. 



MICHAEL DRAYTON 

tiff. To His Coy Love 

T PRAY ih«e, leare, love me bo more, 
' Call lioine llic heart you gafc me ! 
[ but la vain that saint adore 

That can but will not nw mr. 
Tbes« poof hJf-k!s<cs kill me ^lite — 

Was ever man thus tcrvCd i 
Amidst an ocean of delight 

For pkasure to he 9anhAi 

Show me do more those snowy breasts 

Whh azure Krems bnnchtd. 
Where, whilst mific eye with [ilcnty feisis, 

Yet ct my tlittst not stanched [ 
O TasLiliu, tJiy pains ni^'er tell I 

By me ihwii art prercnted: 
Tis o(xfabg to be plagued in Hril, 

Bat thus in Heoren lormcfiied. 

Clip me 00 moi« b thos« dear anns, 
Nor thy life's comfort call me, 

O these are bat too powerfol chaims. 
And do but mote cnihrnl me! 

all 



MICHAEL DRAYTON 

Bui see how patient I am grown 
Id bU this coil about thee : 

Come, nice thing, let my heart alone, 
I cannot live without tbe«! 



//7. T he Tart'm^ 

CINCE d ime let us kiss and pan- 

Nay, 1 get no more of me j 

And I an* ith all niy liearc, 

That thus f can free. 

Shake hanci' all our vows, 

And when Ime again, 

Be it not or brows 

That we c >Te retain. 

Now at the !a e's ktest breath, 

When, his pulse tdinug, ion speechless lies, 

When Faith is kneelbg by his bed of death, 

And Innocence is clo»ng up his eyes, 

— Now if thou woiJdst, when all have given him over. 
From death to life thou might'st him yet recover. 



iiS. Sirena 

'M'EAR to the alver Trent 
■*■ Sirena dwelleth ; 
She to whom Nature lent 

All that excelieth ; 
By which the Muses late 

And the neat Graces 
Have for their greater state 

Taken their places; 
Twisdng an anadem 

Wherewith to crown her. 



hnCHAEL DRAYTON 



Ai it bdDfig'il to thnn 
Mom to rawwD her. 
Om thj iaai. 
In a rani, 

Jfad wtfi thnr nmtk 

Akag Itt tbem bring ier, 

Ttig»t and Pactviu 

Are to the« debtor, 
Nor for tbnr gold ts u 

An they the better: 
Henctforth of all the re« 

Be ifam the River 
Which, u the diintiat. 

Puts iJiew dowa ever. 
For u my pvoous one 

O'er tbec doth tnvcl, 
She to pearl pm^fia 

Tameth thy gnvel. 

Oa ihj limi • . • 
Oar iDoumfttl Philomel, 

ThK nrcH tutier, 
Hcncefonh in Apeiil 

ShiU wake the sooatr. 
And to her shill cam[i«in 

From (be ihkk cotct, 
Redoubtiog cTcry Etnin 

Over and am: 
For whea ray \-att too long 

Htr dKUnlifr krvpetli. 
As ihou^ it Hillcr*d wrong. 

The Mondog «-e«peth. 

Om 1^ taai . . . 



•« 




Oft have I seen the Sun, 

To do her honour, 
Fix himself at hb ooon 

To look upon her ; 
And hath gilt every grove, 
Every hi!! near her, 

from iboi-e 
eer her : 
From his sight 
tumSd, 
een night, 
1 mounted. 
n ity hank 

ids are seen, 
ii view them, 
In lie!_ „ iant green 

Straight to renew them ; 
And every little grass 

Broad itself spreadeth, 
Proud ttiat thb bonny lasi 

Upon it treadeth : 
Nor flower is so sweet 

In this large cincture, 
But it upon her feet 
Leaveth some tincture. 

Oh thy hank , , 

The fishes in the flood, 
When she doth angle, 

For the hook strive a-good 
Them to entangle j 

And leaping on the land, 
From the clear water, 



MICHAEL DRAYTON 

Tbdr scales upon iha und 

LiTtilil/ s»ticr; 
TbnrwiUi to pave the mould 

Wherran ihe pwues, 
So henM la behoU 

Ai in h« gLs^x«. 

Om tiy Uj>a . . . 
Whn riit looks out by niglit, 

The sUn mnd §mng. 
Like comets to o«r tight 

FeariitUy bluing i 
As u-ood'ting M her eyes 

With ihcii tuuch brightnnSi 
Which so tfliaze the skiei, 

Dinining their lighlnest. 
The n(i*g tempeus are utoi 

When she spciktth, 
Such molt ddijhtioine balm 

FrotR her lips bmfcnh. 

Oh liy iatst . , . 
In all OQT Briitanj 

There's not a fairer. 
Not can you fit my 

Shmdd you compve her. 
Atigeb her eyelids kcep^ 

Ail hearts sarpriung i 
Whidi look whiNt she doth sleep 

Like the wn's mbx: 
She alone of hei kind 

Knowetn trae mesinre, 
And her tnmaichM mind 

I* bearen's treasure. 

0»tly l^ . . . 




MICHAEL DRAYTON 

Fxir Dtvt and Darvum ckar. 

Boast je your bcnuUM, 
To Trail your mistress hCK 

V« pay your dutin; 
My Low "ta highet bom 

Tow'rds ilie fiiU founuins. 
Ym she doUi moorliDd icoin 

AmI the Ptak mDunuinii ; 
Not would ^e dodc should ditam 

Where she abidcth, 
HamUe as b the Kmn 

Which by her didcth, 

On Ihj itat . . • 

Yet my poor nude Mum 

Nothing can more her* 

Nor the mcana I can vaQ, 

Thouijh her true kntrt 

Many a long wimer's night 

Ha»e t vraked for her. 
Yet this my pitcoui plight 

Nothing can stir her. 
All ihy unds, ailraf Trmt, 

Down to the HumUr, 
The tighs that I have spent 
Kv)LT can cninbcr. 
On thj bani, 
/a « miti, 

tM ihj ftaaiu ting her, 
AaJ ft-ili ihtir miitii 

AUtg lei ibtm triitf btr. 



•66 



MICHAEL DRAYTON 



'CA1R. ctood the wind Tor Pnnc« 
^ WIteo w« our sails mImrcc, 
Nof now to ]iro*o our chance 

LoQger will x»nj\ 
Bat putting to the main, 
At Caux, the mouUi of Seine, 
With alt hit manial train 

Lasded King Harry. 

And lakioK many a fort, 
Pnraiah'd in waHilie sort, 
Marcheth tow*ril« Agincourt 

Id happjr hour; 
Skinnislung day by day 
With ihoae that Mopp'd hi> way, 
Where the French gen'nl lay 

With ail his po^'cr. 

Wbkb, in hit height of pride^ 
King Hcofy to dende, 
His raiuMn to provide 

Unto him Modingi 
Which he neglecu the white 
Aa from a nation Tile, 
Yet with *n angry unit 

Their fall portending. 

And toraing to hi* mra, 
Qnoth our braTc Henry then, 
*TIkiu^ they to oat be leti 
fie not amaitd : 



I* 



MICHAEL DRAYTON 



Yet Htt we well begun i 
BatUcs so brnKly won 
HsTc ever to the sua 
fiy EiRie been maid. 

'And for tnyidf (quoth he) 
This at J full T^l ^atl be: 
England ne'er mourn for me 

Nor more nttt«ni mei 
Victor I will remain 
Or on thin earth Ik Aaa, 
Ncin shall she «asuin 

Loss to ndccm me. 

'Pmtjen and Cmsj idl, 
Wbeo ino>t their pride did swell. 
Under our nwords thcjr (ell : 

No lc» our ikill i* 
Tlian whcD our graodsire gicat. 
Claiming the rcgnl icat, 
fiy many » wsililw feat 

Lopp'd the Ftench lilies.' 

The Duke of York » dread 
The eager lawaid ted; 
With the nuia Heniy q>cd 

Among his hcnchmeD. 
Excesier had the rear, 
A bravci man cot tlierei 
Lord, how hot they were 

On the lalse Frenchmco I 

They now to Sght arc gone, 
Amour oo armour shoor. 
Drum now to dnuu <fid groan, 
To bear was woodcr; 



m 



MICHAEL DRAYTON 



Thjit with the cries they nulu 
The rery eanh did shik«: 
Tnunpet to inunprt spake, 
Thoodcr to thuoder. 

Well it llnne age became, 
O nobte Efpin^m, 
Which didic the ug&al aim 

To our bid ro4x«3l 
When (not a meadow bj. 
Like a uem sudden)/ 
The Enslah (fchcry 

Stack the French honej. 

Will) Sfoniah yew to stfOQg, 
Am>wi ■ cloth-yard loog 
Tliat Rke ui sei^nis uvng, 

Piercing tJic weather; 
Uaat from his fellow starts, 
Bui pUyiD2 mudy parts, 
Asd like me Eo£li»h hcans 

Stuck ctose together. 

When down their bows tbey threw, 
Aod forth their btlbos drew, 
And aa tlie French they flew, 

Not ooe was tardy ; 
Ara» wen (torn shoulders sent, 
SoJps to the teeth were rent, 
Down the French iitaaaaii weM— 

Our moo were hxrdy. 

This whik OBT DoUe king, 
Hi* broadsward biandiahiog, 



bOhwI twotd^ rtom Bilbo*. 



61 



ifc 




Down the French host did ding 
As to o'envhelm it j 

And many a deep wound lent, 

His irms with blood bL-spivni, 

And many a cruel dent 
Bruised bis helmet 



t so good, 

blood, 
md stood 
ive broihcr j 
so bright, 
iden knight, 
IS fight 
another. 



Warwick in blood did wade, 
Oxford the foe invade. 
And cniel slaughter made 

Still as they ran up; 
Suifolk his axe did ply, 
Beaumont and Willoughby 
Bare them eight doughtily, 

Ferrers and Fanhope. 

Upon Saint Crispin's Day 
Fought was this noble fray, 
Which fame did not delay 

To England to carry. 
when shall English men 
Vfith such acts fill a pen? 
Ot England breed again 

Such a King Harry? 

•70 



MICHAEL DRAYTON 

120. To the y'tr^iniaH f^eyaM 

VOU brare heroic miads 
* Worthy your country's nami;. 
That boeour still ptmoet 
Go lad subdue I 
WliOst loitenns IuimU 
Lwk here at hoaie witli shame 

BrilOM, )POu suy loo lon^: 
Qsickly tboord bettow yo^ 
Afid with a merry gale 
Swell yonT nretch'd «til 
With Towf a> scroDg 

As the winds that blow you. 

Yo«r coarse securety tteei, 
WcM aad by sooth fonh kn]il 
Rocks, ttMbores, nor shoits 
When Eolus howU 
Ym need ikpI l«ar; 
So absoluce ihc dct^w 

And chcctfully M sea 
Svcocsa you stjU entice 

To {et the pearl and gold. 
And ours lo buld 
Virptaa, 

Eanh'k only parw&scv 

Where BMBTT haifa m store 
Fowl, fcnisoo, and 6sh, 
And tbe fhniiiiU'st soB 
Without your toil 
Three harrnts more, 
AU grcsucr thw yooi with. 



MICHAEL DRAYTON 

And the ambitious riae 

Crowns with his purple mass 
Tlie cedar reaching high 
To kiss the sky, 
Tlie cypress, pine, 
Aod useful sassafras. 

dcQ Age 
s doth give, 
s attend, 
lefend 

doth Dot lire. 

lus smell 
land 
/Vt)D?e ui IS that flows 
The clear wind throws, 
Your hearts to swell 

Approaching the dear strand t 

In kenning of the shore 

^haaks to God first given) 
O you the happiest men, 
Be frolic then I 
Let cannons roar, 

Frighdng the wide heaven. 

And in regions far, 

Such heroes Iving ye forth 

As those from whom we caioei 
And plant our Dame 
Under that star 

Not known unto our North. 



m 



MICHAEL DRAYTON 

AimI at there pinwy grow* 
Of huid errtywhere — 
Apollo's s«cred urt— 
Vm it txaj Me 
A poel's brow* 

To crown, that nujr ting there. 

Thy f^oytgti attend, 
lodnstrious HiUuyt, 

Wbow leading thaS\ iaAunt 
Men to seek Tune, 
And much commeiul 
To after timet tliy wit. 



CHR[STOPHER MARLOWE 

121. The Tasiiemie SbcfhtrJ to His Love 

/"^OME lire with me >ad be my Love. 
^^ And ve will all the pleitMuvs prove 
Thu hills and nlleys, dales aod fieldi, 
Or wood* or Mcepy mouMain yields. 

And w« will sit opon the rocks, 
And we the shepherds feed ihdr flocks 
By shallow n*ets, to whose falk 
Melodious birds ting madHfials. 

And I will make tiwe beds of rows 
And a thousand fragrant pours t 
A cap of Sowers, and a kinle 
Einbroider'd aU with leaves of myrtle. 

m 



CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE 

A gown RUck of the Gtieit wool 
Which from oar pmty bmbt vrc pell; 
Fnif-linM slijipm far tlie cold, 
With buckler of tiic pureK gotd. 

A bell of snaw and ivy-haii 
WtA coral cliupn and ambc-r •tluds! 
And if thcM picasum m.ty thoc more, 
C<»nc tin with nw and be my Love. 

The shepherd svaiu almll djnce and sang 
For thy delight eadi May monuog: 
If these delights thy mind may move, 
Then live with roc and be my Late. 



122. Her Reply 

(wRinXN Bt SIX WALTZK XAtEIOH) 

IF alt the world and Iotc wn« yoong, 
^ And tmth in ei-ery shepherd's toogue, 
These ptelty pli-aaH« mijiht rac mote 
To live with thee and be thy Lore. 

Bill Time drives ilocks from field to foldi 
Wlivn riirrs ngc and tocks grow cold t 
And Ptiiioroel becoroelli dumbi 
The rett comphdos of cares to come. 

The flowers do fade, and waiKon lieldt 
To wayward Winter reckoning yields: 
A hoticy tongiK, a brin of gall, 
\% fancy's spring, but sorrow's falL 



(SIR WALTER RALEIGH) 

Thy gowu, thy sbon, thy beds of rases, 
Thy op, thy kinlc, and thy puan, 
SoM) bmk, MOO tritber — soon forgotun, 
la folly rij«, in reawn rotten. 

Thy beJt of straw Mid try-buds, 
Thy coral chsp and amber suids, — 
Ail these in ne 00 mestis can mure 
To come to thee and be thy Love. 

Bol could yo«tth last, and lore stUt bteed. 
Had )oy* no date, nor age no need, 
Then tbeic delight* my nind might more 
To lire with Uxc aod be thy Lore 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 
tsj. Sihra 

W^HO U Silm! What is she? 

** That all our swaiM oocimeml herf 
Holy, Gur, aad wHe » she; 

The bcavcn such grace did lead ba. 
That she might adaiuid be. 

Is she kiod aa she u fair? 

For beauty Iitcs with lundaess: 
Low dolh to Iier eyes repeir, 

To help Inin of Jus blindotssi 
Aad, bebg belp'd, inhaUts tbac 

Then to Silm let u> sing, 

That Silna is cxccUingt 
She excds e^tcli morul thing 

Upon the dull earth dwelling t 
To her Id u* garlands bring. 

m. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

li^ Tbt Blossom 

/^N I d»y — 3hck the day !— 

^^ Love, whose month U cvct May, 

Spied > blossom passing fiir 

Pbyiag in the wintoo lur : 

Througli tlic TcJvct Xattti the wifwl 

All unsKD 'gao jwsuge fiod ; 

ThM the lover, sick to death, 

Wish'd himself the heaven't brcaih. 

Ait, quoth he, thy riicck* may blow; 

Air, would I might triumph mI 

But, alack, my lund b awoni 

NeVr to pluck tli« from thy thoro: 

Vow, alack, for youth unmeet] 

Youth so apt to pluck a sweet! 

Do not call it sin in me 

That I am tbrswora (or thee; 

Thon for whom e'en Jov« would swear 

Juno but an Ethinp were; 

And deny himself for Jow, 

Turaing roorul for thy love. 



"^ 



Spring and fVinlrr 



VI/7HEN daisies pied and violets blue, 
'^ And lady-smocks all alm-whitc, 
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue 

I)o p^iiat the meadovs with deKght, 
The cuckoo then, on every tre«, 
Mocks married men; for thus niigi be. 
Cuckoo! 



•Jtf 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

CkIeocs cuckoo 1—0 word of ftv, 
Uapldoifij lo s manicd car I 

V/hn sbepbcfd* jiipe oa o»t«i tvrtrt, 
And merry briu are ploiighnwn's clocks, 

Wbrn otrtkt tmd, uid rooks, and daws. 
And maidens bleach their sununer imockt 

The cuckoo then, on ercry tree, 

Mocks manied mro; for thns aiitgt itt. 
Cuckoo! 

Cuckoo, cuckoo 1—0 word of fear, 

Uajikaa^g to a mamcd car I 



t2S. 



tl 



"WniEti icicles })»>{ by the wall, 

** And Dick the klie])licnl blows hi« 
Aod Tom bears togs into ihe hall, 

Asd milk comes frazeo home in |KiiI, 
When blood b sJpp'd, and w^s be foul, 
Then aighdy singt the suring owl, 

To-wWt 1 
To-wlio I — a ratrry note, 
While Sttavf Joan doth keel the pot. 

When all alood the wind doth blow, 
Ami cougluog drovas the parson's saw, 

And birds til brooding in the soow, 
Acut Marian's nose looks red and nw, 

When roaned ctab» hiss ia the bowl, 

Then mchtljr siags the staiiog owl, 
To-whit! 

To-wbo! — a mcTTy mie^ 

While gretuy Jowi doth ktd the pot. 
nt. bMtltUm. 



nail, 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



127. 



Fairy Land 



/~\VER bill, over dale, 

^-^ Thorough bush, thorough brier, 

Over park, over pale, 

Tliorough flood, thorough fire, 

1 do wander everywhere. 

Swifter than the moonfi'a sphere; . 

And I serve the f^ry quL-cn, 

To dew he' t\AyR nnnn thi- green ; 

The cowslij. oners bci 

In their goJ ou see; 

Those b UTS, 

!□ thostr savours: 

I must go >ps here, 

And hang a dip's ear. 



12B. ^ 

VOU spotted ■ tongue, 

■*■ Thorny he fen; 

Newts and blind ong; 

Come not near our lairy queen, 

Philomel, with melody, 
Sing in our sweet lullaby ; 
LuUa, lulls, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby! 

Never harm. 

Nor spell nor charm. 
Come our lovely lady nigh j 
So, good night, with lullaby. 

Weaving spiders, come not here ; 

Hence, you long-lcgg'd spinners, hencel 

«8 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

Bwtin liljck, ipproach not oear; 
Worm not mail, do do olience. 

Philomel, with melody, 
Sjng is our sweet luUabr; 
LuOa, lutU, lullabyi InlU, lulU, InUibyl 

Never kum. 

Nor sprll nov chaim, 
Conw our iordjr Udy nigh; 
So, good night, with lullab]^, 

i2fi. Hi 

/"^OME unlo thcM yeDow taitdt, 

^^ And then ukc htnds: 

Coiut'sied wbco yoti hare, aod ki&s'd,— 

The witd waves whist, — 
Poot ii fcatly here and durai 
And, iwcct sprites, the burthen bear. 
Huk, huri! 

Bow, wow, 
The watch-dogs bwki 

Bow, wow. 
Htti, hatkl I hear 
Tht atndB of stnuiing dianticlecr 
Oy, Coek-a-diddle-dow I 

i}0. h 

W^HERE the bcc sucks there nick I: 
" In a cowslip's bcU I lie; 
There I coudi when owk do cry. 
On the bat's back I do fly 
Aiier nuninet menily : 

Merrily, metrily, abail I lire now, 
Under the blosKno tlurt hangs ob the bough. 

'fit 



I3U 



i$z. 




CULL rathoin five diy father U«s; 

■*■ Of his bones are coral made ; 
Those are pearls that were his eyes; 

Notliing of him that doth fade, 
But doth suffer a sea-change 
Into som' itnnge. 

Sea-nymj s knell I 

g-dong. 
Hark! -a— 

beU! 



'ELL incy 

Or 10 tne neart »■ in the head? 
How begot, how nourish^ I 

Reply, reply. 
1 1 is engcnder'd in the eyes, 
With gazing fed j and Fancy die* 
lo the cradle where it lies. 

Let us all ring Fancy's kne!t : 
I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, belL 
All. Ding, dong, bdl. 



Ij^. Sweel-anJ-Twent/ 

^~\ MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming? 
^-^ O, stay and hear ! your true love '9 coming, 

That can sing both high and low : 
Trip no fUither, pretty sweeting; 
Journeys end in lovers meeting. 

Every wise man's son doth know. 

>8a 





™"^ 






WILLIAM SHAKESPCARE ^^| 




Wliu i« lore? 'tis not hemflcrt ^^^H 




PtneM minh huh prewM laughter t ^^^^H 




Whst's to come is nil) naiuic: ^^^^| 




In dcby there lw« no {tloniji ^^^^| 




Tttcn come kiss mc, swcct-and-twtntj 1 ^^^^| 




Youth's t stuff will not endure. ^^^H 


ti4- 


^^H 


c 


OME VHVf, come vna.j, deMli, ^^^^^^| 


And in s»i cypre* let me be laid; ^^^^H 


Pty 


•w«y, fljr awiy, breath ; ^^^^H 


I 


un slain by a fair cntd nitid. ^^^^H 


Mjr 


shrood of white, stuck all with yew, ^^^^H 




O pfefon iti ^^^^| 


M, 


pan of death, do one so true ^^^^| 




Did ahare it. ^^^H 


Not 


a Aowcr, not a flower sweet, ^^^^| 


On vaj black colSn let thure be strownt ^^^^| 


Not 


a fiicad, not a friend greet ^^^^| 


Mf poor corse, where my bones iluJl be tbrovm; ^H 


A thou&aad tfaousuid sighs to sin^ ^| 




Lay mc, 0, where ^H 


Sad 


trie lorer neitr find my grare ^^^^^ 




To Veep there I ^^^^| 


isr- 


t/n^er the Greenwood Tree ^^^| 


Amtm 


singa: ^^H 


^^ 


T TNDER the greenwood trre, ^^^| 
^ Who ioTt« to lie with me, ^^^^| 


^H 


^H 


And ittin his merry '■o^ ^^^^| 


^^ 


Umo the sweet bitd's throat, ^^^H 


r tw. nT""I*"P«- ^1 


1 


1 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

Came hither, come hither, come- hither : 

Here shall he sec 

No enemy 
But winter and rough wc^iihpr. 

Who doth ambition shuo. 
And lores to live i' the sun, 
Seeking the food he eats. 
And pleased with what he gets, 
Come hither, come hither, come hitlitr: 
Her ■ ■■ ■ 
No 
But winti iier. 



Jagiui 



replies: 


^^^^^ 


If it do 


^^^^H 


That 3 


^^^^^ 


Leay 


nse 


A St 1 


ie, 


Ducdaro i 


Ti6: 


M 




Gn . _ 





An if he will come to me. 



I3(f. Blow, blow, thou JVinter H^inti 

DLOW, blow, thou winter wind, 
-*~^ Thou art not so unkind 

As man's ingratitude ; 
Tliy tooth is not so keen. 
Because thou art not seen. 
Although thy breath be rude. 
lb 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

Hetgh bo ! sing, beigh bo ! unto the green holly : 
Hen ftieodship is fagaiag, most loving mere folly : 

Then bdgh bo, th« holly 1 

This life is most jolly. 

Freeze, freeze, thou Utter sky, 
That dost not bite so nigh 

As benefits forgot: 
Though thou the waters warp, 
Thy stiog is not so sharp 

As fiiend remember'd aot. 
Hdgh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green bolly: 
Host friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly : 

Then beigh ho, the holly 1 

This life is most jolly. 



I37> Tt was a Lover and his Lass 

TT was a lover and his lass, 

'' With a bey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 

That o'er the green cora-field did pass, 

la the spring time, the only pretty ring tirae, 
Wheo Inrds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ; 
Sweet loveis love the spring. 

Between the acres of the rye. 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 
These pretty country folks would lie. 

In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, 
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, dingj 
Sweet lovers love the spring. 

This carol they began that hour. 

With a bey, and a ho, and a bey nonino, 

"8j 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

How thst life was but ■ (lower 

Id Uie spring Ume, t)ie only prenjr rinj lime. 
When birds do sbg, hey ding a diag, dutgi 
Sweet loTcn lore the spring. 

And, th«rdor«, ukc the present time 

Willi a hc^, and b lio, and a hey nonino, 

For lone b crownM with the prime 

In tlic spring tinw, the only pretty ring time, 

Wlico birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ; 

Sweet lovrn lora the tpriDg. 

tjS. Take, O take those Lips avaay 

■yAKE, O ute ihoM lips a«ay, 
■^ That so sweetly were rorswomt 
And those eyes, the break of day, 

Lights lli.it do mislead the mom ! 
But my kisses bring agiin. 

Bring again ; 
Seab of love, but K-al'd in rain, 
SeaI'd in riiia I 



tip. ^uiade 

LI ARK! barki Uie laik at heaven's gate slnj 
*■ ' And Phabus 'gins arise. 
His steeds to water at thoic »prings 

On chaliced flowers that lies; 
And winking Mnry-buds bcg^n 

To ope their goldca cyts: 
With ererythiag that pretty bin. 

My lady sweet, arise I 
Arise, arise 1 

*S4 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



140. F'tiieh 

"CEAR no more the hpM o' il»e lue, 
* Nor the furious winw's r^^i 
TboD ihy worldly usk lust done, 

Home *rt gone, Mid ti'«i ihy wi^csi 
GoJdm Lids and |;iil» all imwt, 
As chiniDi7>sww]Kn, come to dust. 

Fear no more the frown o' the gieai, 
Tbou art past the tyrant's stroke t 

Care no more to clotlie and eat ; 
To thee the reed » as the oolt; 

The soeptir, leariKDg, phytic, must 

AJI follow this, and come to dutt. 

Fear no more the lighming-flash, 
Nor the ill-drtadcd tbundcr-stooe -, 

Fear not sbnder, censure tasii | 
Thoo h«M finisli'd joy and moan: 

An tonrs yoong, all lorcrs niust 

Consign to l2iee, and come to duSL 



No cxoTciscr hann thee! 
Nor no witchcraft charm ihecl 
Ghost unlaid forbear thee I 
Kothiog ill come near thee I 
Qwiet coDSummatioa hare) 
And renowaid be thy gnR! 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



141. Bridai Song 

D OSES, their shaip spines being gone, 
'■^ Not royaJ in their smells alone, 
But in their hue : 

iDi faint, 

t most quaint, 

true 1 

.Ud of Vert 
I rinoger, 

I! 

a growing, 
J :ds blowing, 



All dear Nature's children sweet 
Lie Tore bride aad bridegroom's feet, 

Blessing their sense! 
Not an angel of the air. 
Bird melodious or Urd fair, 

Be absent hence] 

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor 
lie boding raven, nor chough hoar. 

Nor chattering pye, 
May on our bride-house perch or sing. 
Or with them any discord bring. 

But from it fly I 

J or Jolin Fleiebfr, 



•M 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



14J. Virgf of the Three S^eetts 

URNS Kid odours briog a.tftj f 
Vapoun, aghSt dukn the dajrl 
Our dde raoce dodljr looks than dyioj;; 
Bilms and gams and heavy cbMn, 
Sacred ■mi* (ill'd with tore. 
And cUtnoors through the vitd air flying! 

Come, all sad aod soleoui shows, 
That are quick-rynl Plntsur«'s (besf 
We coatint naught clx but woe». 

I or Join FliUitr. 



i4St Orpbats 

/~\RPHEUS wWi hu lute made trees 
^-^ And the niountiiin (ops that fretM 

Bow tliemsrlTes when he did siogt 
To las music |>laat8 sod Sowcts 
Eret spnuigi « bob and sbowen 

There had made a bttkig sprn^ 

Everf thing diat bnrd lum ^j, 
Ekb the bilkws of the te». 

Hung their h«ada and then by hf. 
In swtct music b such art, 

KtlKni care and grief of heart 

Pall asleep, or hearing, die. 

; or Jobi flriihrr. 



4oI«I UtMDtatko*. 



CMTCBt] (unuaod. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPnARE 



144. Tie Pimix and the Turtle 

I ET th« bird of loudcM ky 
^ On tlie Kolc Arabun tree, 
Henld sad ud tnuupet be, 
To whose turand chaste win^s obey. 

But thou shrieking harfain^. 
Foul precurrer of the fiend, 
Aogur of the Ivwr's end, 

To this iroop come thou not am. 

From this sesuon interdict 
Enry fowl of tjmat wing 
Save tlie caglu, fcallier'd Itingi 

Keep tlie obseiiuy so siricL 

Let the priest in surplice white 
That dcfunctive muBc can. 
Be the death-divining (w.in, 

Lett the mjuicm Udi his right. 

Aod thou, treble-dated crow, 
Thai thy sible gender mak'si 
Widi t)ic bitJili tfiou Riv'n and tak'st, 

'MoDgst our raouTEten sliult thou )to. 

Here the anthem doth commence : — 
Love and constancy is dead ) 
Pbccnix and the turtle fied 

In • muOul flame from hence. 

So they lond, u love ic twain 

Had the estence but in one; 

Two distinct*, diiinon none 1 

Numbei there in love was slain. 

eanjlnow*- 



WILLbVM SHAKESPEARE 

Huits ronotc, yet not asuodci t 
DiMance, and oo space was *etti 
Twixt the turtle and his <]un:ni 

But b tlxm it were a wonder. 

So btnrecn tl^eni love did shiae, 
ThM the tunic taw lus rijiht 
Flmnng in the ^hctnix' sight | 

Either wn the other's mine. 

Pn>peny was thus sppiird, 

I'hst the self wu tioi the sunc ; 
Single nature's double name 

Ncnher two nor on« was oU'd. 

JUana, in iisctf oonrounded, 
Saw diiiswo {row together) 
To ihcmsclm yet either Btiitlieri 

Sinn{ie wtrt w well compounded, 

That k cried, 'How true a twna 
Seetneth this oocoordaiit one! 
Lore bath reasoo, rcaMm oooe 

If what parts cao so rcnuiiu' 

Whereupon it made thb threoe 
To the i)bcnix and the dove, 
Co-suj>nnte9 and stars of loi«, 

As cbonis to their tra^c scene. 



TBBSflOS 



DEAUTY, tniih, and rarity, 
"^ Grace in sU wnplicitj. 
Here encloKil m cinders lie. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

Utaih a BOW the fivxmx' nest; 
Aod the turtle'* loyt) brcMl 
To eternity doth mt, 

Leaving no postoitjri 
Twat not their infiraiity, 
It was matried chani^. 

Troth may tttat, but ctaaot bej 
Beauty brag, but 'tis tK)t she i 
Thith and beauty buried be. 

To thit urn let those rcpdr 
Thm arc cither true or fair) 
Fof thcM dead birds sigh a pnyer. 



SHALL I compare tliee to a Summer's ityi 
Thou art mure lovelj and mote icmpcntlc : 
Rough winds do ^hike the d:irlir)g buds of May 
And Suiumrr'a Icjsc haili all too short a date: 
Sometime too hoi tiu: eye of heaven shines. 
And often is his gold conplexion dintm'd; 
Ackd erery fair front bar sometime declines, 
By chance or nature's chao^ng coutw untnmm'd : 
But thy eternal Summer ihall not fade 
Nor lose ]««M3sioa of ibu fair thou oweu : 
Not shall Donh hng thou waiidcre&t in hU shade, 
When in eternal lines to time thou growesi : 
So long ts men can breathe, or cyrs can sec, 
So loi^ lives this, and tlus gives life la thct. , 



14^. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



tt 



^^fTHE'H, in ditgrMC wWi Fortune and men's tyn, 
^^ I ill (limr brw«cp my outcut sute, 
[And trouble deJ* hnrcn wiOi my bootless crits, 
I And look apon myictf, aod cune my fate, 
|Wiiliiog me like to one more rich i& lupc, 
featured like him, like bim with friends ^caaen, 
[DrkifiDj; tills mu's art aod that man'» icope, 
IWitli what I raoM enjoy contented leau; 
JYet IB thntc thouithu rayMlf almost dcsjNHng— ' 
lH;9ly I think on thee: and tlicn my stacci 
iLdic to th« Lark at bteak of day arismit 
[From (ullen tanh, slogs liyrans m Heaven's gate; 
For thy sivcct love rememb'itd itxh wealth brings 
That then I sconi to change my atatc with Kings. 



147. 



ttt 



> ''^A^^EN to the Sessions of sweet silent thought 
I smmMHi np reraerobnnce of things past, 
I sigh the lack of many a thbg 1 sought, 
Aod vith old woM new wail my dear time's waste: 
TbcB can I drawn an eye, uocwd to flow, 
Fur precious fneoils hid ta dc-Jth's dateless oight, 
Aod weep afresh lore's long-siDoe-caooetl'd woe. 
And moan tfa* expcate of many a Tonish'd sight: 
Tfcta can I gricre at grievances foregone. 
And heatily btm wo* to woe tell o'er 
The sad accomii of fbre-bemoanM moan, 
Which I «»cw ]uy as if not paid before. 

But if the whOe 1 think 00 tltec, dear friead, 
AS tosses an restored aod sorrows end. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

t48. rv 

'T'HY botom is cedcartd with al! heans 
^ Wliich I, l>y lacking, hive suppoijsl dcadi 
And there retails Love, aad all Love's lovbg (ons. 
And all those frieoda which I thought buriid. 
How many a holy aad obsequious tear 
Hath dear irlipous love stol'n Trom mine eye, 
As interest of the dead t — which now a]>pear 
But thing! removed that hiddrn in thee lie. 
Tbou an ihc grave where buried love doth live, 
Hung with the trophies of my \ovtn gone. 
Who all their ptrte of mc to thee &A give: 
— Tliat due of many now ts thine alone i 
Th<ir images I loved I view in thee. 
And tliou, sU tlicy, hast all the all of me. 



I4p. * 

VVTHAT b your substance, whereof are you made, 
'^ Tint miiliuns of stnnge shadows on you tend] 

Since crery one h;ith, etery one, otic xhadc, 

And you, but one:, cm every shadow lend. 

DcKTibc Adonis and the counterfeit 

Is poorly imuatcd alter you; 

On Hclen^ check all an of brwty set. 

And yvti in Grcciai tires lie [luntcd new: 

S[ieak of ilic Spring and foiion of the year. 

The one doiJi shadow of youf beamy show, 

The other as your bounty tloth appear; 

And you m every blcuiU shape we know. 
In all external grace you have «ome pan. 
But you like none, oooe yoo, for constant hcan. 
tij. toUon] plcnlf. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



/~\ HOW cnocb more doth beauty hauKcna itfm 
^-^ By lltu svmt onunKOt wfakh mull doth ^vc I 
Tbr Ro>« looks fair, but fuiier we it deem 
Fur tfait sweet odour which doth in it lii«. 
The CaBk«T-hlaofn.i have fiiU a> ikcp t dye 
As the perftimtd tiacturc of the Ko6irs 
Hang on such thonu, and plaj as wMtooly 
When wmmer'B hreMh thar ma^M bods discloses: 
Bun— for their nnue only >» tlieir show — 
Itiry lire UDWoo'd «id unteitpected bde, 
I)*e to ihciDK-lm. Sweet Roiei do BOt fo; 
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odotBS made 
And so of yoV) beitnraiut and loTcly youih, 
When tlut sluU nde, my rene disuU your trmh. 



///. 



vii 



DEINC your tbvc, what should I do but tend 
*^ Upon the hours and times of your desare? 
1 hare no precious time at all to spend, 
Noe ierricc* to do, iiii you re^iira. 
Nor Aaie I chide the worfd-witlwut-end hour 
Whi]M 1, my sorcTcigD, watcb the clock Itir you, 
Nor think the hittemess of absence mku 
When y<iu hare bid your fcmot once adieu; 
Nor due I question with ny jtalous thought 
Wl»etc you may be, or your aHiirs supT^se, 
But, like » tad sUre, suy aod diiok of nought 
Sire, where you are how b4ppy you make tliosel 
So trve » fool la love, tlut in your Wdl, 
Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



1^2. vm 

'T'HAT time of year thou ms/ti m mc belioJi) 
''' When yellow leave*, or Done, or few, do hang 
Upon UioM bouf;ht which shake against ihc cuM— 
Bare ruinM choin where laic the sweet birds saop 
In aie thou «ccV the twilight of such diy 
As after Suiuct fadcth in the West, 
Which by and by black night dotli take away, 
Dntb's secood y:\{, that smIs up all in mt. 
In me tliou sce'st the glowing of such fire 
That oa the uhes of his youlli doth lie, 
As the deatli-t)cd whereon it must expire. 
Consumed with that which it wu nouridi'd by. 

Thi» thou pcreeiv'st, which nukes thy lo»c ntore strong^ 
To loTc tlut well which thou must leave ere 



'Si- 



tx 



UAREWELLI thou an too dear lor my poe«esnng, 
*- And tike enough thou know'te tby cstimsic; 
Tbe choiter of thy wonh fym tbtc idosingg 
My bonds in thee are all detenninste. 
For bow do I hold thee but by thy ffrnxiagi 
And for that riches where is my deaerringi 
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting 
And V) my pitcnt back again is swcriing. 
Thyself thou rit'si, thy o«n worth then oot kno 
Or me, to whom tl)Ou gav'st it, else mistaking; 
So thy great gilt, ujxm mbpH&ion growiftf. 
Comes hcumc again, on better judgmeM makingi 
Thus have I had thev, as a dnam dotfa fisner 
I;i sleep a King; but waking do such mauer. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

IT4' V 

'T'HEM hate me wbcD thou wilt ; if ever, now ) 
^ Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross, 

Join with the spte of fortune, make me bow, 

Aod do not drop in for an afteit4oss: 

Ah I do not, when my heart hath 'scaped this sorrow, 

Come m the rearward of a conquer'd woej 

Gire not a vmdj night a rainy morrow. 

To linger o«it a purposed overthraw. 

If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last, 

When other petty griefs have done their spite. 

But in the onset come: so shall I taste 

Ai first the very worst of fortune's might; 

And other strains of woe, which now seem woe, 
Compared with loss of thee will not seem so 1 

///. xi 

'T'HEY that have power to hurt and will do none, 
^ That do not do the thing they most do show, 

Who, moving others, are themselves as stone, 

Uomov&l, cold, and to temptation slow — 

They rightly do inherit heaven's graces, 

Aod husband nature's riches from expense; 

They are the Lords and owners of their faces, 

Others, but stewards of their excellence. 

The summer's Sov/ec is to the summer sweet, 

Though to itself it only live and die ; 

But if that flower with base infection meet, 

The basest weed outJiraves his dignity ; 

For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds} 
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds. 

'95 



fs tinwi 
aw, 

Dc.inng the wintoa burden of Ae ftiate 
L.ik<: wutow'd tt'ocnbt alter ihcU Lord's dtccLisvj 
Yrt this Bbundant bsw wcm'd to mt 
But hope of orpliaas sod ua&ther'd fruit ; 
For Summer and his jileaaurM wait on thcc, 
And, tlxiu au'ay, the very birds arc mute: 
Or if they »ing, "lis with mi dull ii citeer 
TbK Itavo \ook pile, dreading tlw Winter 's 



tT7. 



XttI 



pKOM yoa have I been Aaetin in the spring, 
^ Wlicti pnwd-ped April, dnss'd b itl his irim, 
Hath put a tjiiril of y3a»i\ tn everything. 
That Itcary SaUtm bugh*d and kap'd with hini. 
Vet not the lays of bird*, nof the »«vet snril 
Of ^llcrent flowers in odour and in hue. 
Could make me any nunmer't sto^ tell, 
Or from their proud bp piMk ihem uheic they gmr 
Nor did 1 wonder si the Lil/s white, 
Nor praise the deep vermilion la the Rose) 
They weit but sweet, but figwvs of delight, 
Drawa aftet you, you pattern of all thoir. 
Vet sevm'd it Winter still, and, you away. 
As wiih your ehadow I with thne did pl^. 



M 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 
Y love is sbmgthen'd, though more weak in Kcmiag; 



I lore not less, though less the show a{^)ear: 
That iore is merchandised whose rich esteeming 
The owner's toogiie do^ publish everywhere. 
Our love was new, and then bat in the spring, 
Wbea I was wont to greet it with my lays; 
As Philomel in summer's front doth sing 
And 5t^« ber [npe in growth of riper days: 
Not that the summer is less pleasant now 
Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, 
Bat that wild music burthens every bough, 
And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. 
Therefore, like her, I sometime hold my tongue, 
Because I would not dull you with my song. 

■ 1 'O me, far friend, you never (an be old; 
^ For »5 you were when first your eye I eyed, 
Snch seems your beauty still. Three Winters cold 
Have from the forests shook three Summers' pride; 
Three beauteous springs to yellow Autumn lum'd 
In process of the seasons have I seen, 
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes burn'd. 
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green. 
Ah I yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand, 
Steal from Us figure, and no pa(% perceived ; 
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand. 
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived : 
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred : 
Ere you were bom was beauty's summer dead. 

•97 



IS9. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



xvr 



TW'HIvN in the chronide of wasted time 

"^ I wc ck-Kriptiom of the fatitst wight), 
And beauty nuking beautiful old ritne 
In pruH- of Ladies dead and loHy Knjgbt&i 
Then, in the blazoo of iwret bnuty's best. 
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow, 
I see tlvrir antique pen would hare exprest 
Ercn nich a beauty as you nutter now. 
So all their pniiics are but prophecies 
Of this oor umc, all you prcfignring ; 
And for they look'd but with dinning «yes, 
They had DOl skill enough your worth to mtgx 
Foe we, which now behold these pnacM days. 
Have eyes to wonder, but lack toiigues to praai 



i6i. 



xvrt 



/^ NEVER »y that I was false of beat, 
^-^ Though absence seem'd ray fiame to qcollfy ! 
As easy mi^t I from myself depart, 
As froRi my tod, which in ihy breast doth lie: 
That is my home of love i if I htTO r«tsed, 
Like him 'hat trarcU I return aj^n, 
JuM to tlie time, not with the time exchanged. 
So that myself briog water f(M my sain. 
Never hcliere:, though in my nature reign'd 
All (riiliiei that besiege all kinds of bloCN], 
That it conid so prepoit'rously be suua'd, 
To lesTC for Dothioj! all thy sum of good : 
For nothing this wide Uniivrsc I caU, 
Save thou, my Rose; in it thou in my all. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 



162. xviii 

I ET me not to the mirriage of me minds 

^ Adroit impedinents. Lore is not love 

Which alien when it altentioa findx, 

Or hends with Ac rcmoTcr to rcmore: 

O, Dol it is an ctcr-fixH mark. 

That looks 00 tcm{<sts and is ncrer shaketi | 

It h the wtf to cTtry WMHi'iiDS bark, 

Whott worth 's unknovrn, altbou^ bis height be taken. 

Lova'a not Time's fool, diovgh naj Upi aad cheeks 

Wrthin hn hatdiog sickle't oompaxi come; 

Lore alien not with hi* brief houn and weeks, 

But beare it out emi lo the edge of doon :— 

If thit be error aad upon tiic proved, 

I neter writ, Dor po num ever loved. 



'T^H' expcDse of Spirit in a w>5te of diarae 
^ II lut ia action! aad tiU action, last 

Ta fojared, mordcrous, bloody, full of bhnie, 

Sangf, txtremc, nidc, cruel, not to tnut; 

Enjoy'd ao sooner but detpisid Mraighi; 

Past reason honted | and, ao sooner had. 

Past reason baud, as a swaJlow'd bait 

Ob purpoie bid to make the laker nad: 

Mad is fannil, and in pOMcssioa so; 

Had, baviag, and in <)uest to hare, extitmet 

A bGss in proof, and pnwed, a very woe; 

Before, a joy proposed ; behind, a dmin. 

All tliis the woHd well knows ; yet nonr knows weD 
To shun the beawn that leads mca ta dtis hell. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 

164. XX 

pOOR soul, the centre of my rinfiil earth— 
* My Hnfu! eartli thwc rebel power? »m)y— 
Why dust thou pine witJiin and sutler <t«anh, 
Paintiojl thy outward walls M co»tIy gsyf 
Wliy M h.'^t ««. hnriflg w short ■ lease, 
Do« thou upoii thy fa<Un|t niafiiooa spend? 
Shnll wtirmx, mlierttor» of ilii« excess, 
Eat up thy chiirge \ Is tha thy body's end \ 
Then, soal, fire thou upon thy servintlt loss. 
And Icl that pine to ftggravate ihy store; 
Buy lerms divine in selling hours of dross ', 
Within be fed, without be tifh 00 more: 

So shalt thou feed on Dexih. that feeds on moi; 

And Desth onoe dead, tliere 's no more dying then. 



RICHARD ROWLANDS 
16$. Lullaby 

UPON my lap my soremj!" siw 
And sacks npon my bresM ; 
Mexitirne hu love maintains my life 
And gi»CT my sense her rest. 
Sing lullaby, my little boy, 
Sing lullaby, mine only joy! 

When ihou hast taken thy repast, 

RepoM. my babe, on mc; 

So may tliy mother and thy nurse 

Thy cndle also be. 

Sing lullaby, my little boy. 
Sing lullaby, nunc only joy I 



xsh-" 



RICHARD ROWLANDS 

I giien that duty doth not work 
All that my wishing would ; 
Because I would not be to thee 
But io the best I should. 

Stag lullaby, my litde boy, 
SiDg lullaby, mine only joyl 

Yet aa I am, and as I may, 
I must and will be thine, 
Though all too little for thyself 
Vouchsafing to be mine. 

Sing lullaby, my little boy, 
Siog luUal^, mine only joy I 



THOMAS NASHE 
iSS. Spring 

iSfi7-i6oi 

CPRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; 
*^ Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring. 
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do siog — 
Cuckoo, jug'jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! 

The palm and may make country houses gay, 
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day. 
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay — 
CntJcoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! 

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss oiu* feet. 
Young loreis meet, old wives a-sunning sit, 
In erery street these tunes our ears do greet — 
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! 
Spring, the sweet Spring I 

H 3 *>■ 



THOMAS NASHE 

lrf7. Tn Time of TestUence 

A DIBU, &rewdl euth'i bliu! 
^^ ThJB woild uncertain in; 
Pood arc life's lustful joys, 
DcaU) prmct Uu-m all but toyt. 
None from his daru cw Hyi 
I am sick, I must di«^ 

Lt^ havi mirtj m d// 

Rich mni, trust not in wealih, 
Gold cannot buy you health : 
Phync himself must fade ; 
All things to end arc made; 
The plague full swtit goes by; 
I am sick, I must die — 

LcrJ, havt tatrcj m ut ■ 

Beaulj is but a fiovivr 
Wlucii wrinkles will devour ( 
BfighUcn falls from the air; 
Quccoa have died yoaog >nd fair; 
I>asi haili closed Helen's eye; 
I am sick, I must die — 

l^rd, have mirpf en tu t 

Strmgdi stoops unto the gmv, 
Worms f«ed on Hector I^tc; 
Swords may doc figbt with feie; 
Eanh niU holds ope hrr gaw} 
Csme, tomt J the bellK do cry i 
1 am nek, I mnst die — 

L«rJ, hmit mmy m ujJ 



THOMAS NASHE 

Wk with hi* wunooocn 
Tastrth <lrMh'* bineracMt 
Hril's cxcnriooer 
Hath no cars for u besr 
Whu raUi an cm rrply; 
1 an sick, 1 must ilii:— 

Hanr tbrrcfW each dtgrte 
To wdcooic dntinjri 
Ham a our hrriuge, 
Eonh but a fhyn't »Mgr. 
Movnf we ttoto the sky i 
I am nek, I mua die— 



THOMAS CAMPION 

i6S. Cherr/Sipe 

INHERE i« a gankii in her face 
■*■ Where rosw and wWie lUirt Uow| 
A hraTMily puadiac b that pLice, 
Whcnin all plnsaot fruits do Bow : 
There cherries grw which none may buy 
Till • Cberry-fipe ' tbcmsclirs do cry. 

Tbotc cherries &irly do cdcIok 
Of oricm pearl a double row, 
Which when bcr lovely buj;hia' (ihows, 
They kkok Ukc rowbucU 6l]'d with «i>ov: 
Yet them nor peer nor prince can boy 
Till ' Cherjy-ripc ' thenisHees do cry. 



THOMAS CAMPION 

Her rjts like angels vrttch them stJO: 

Her brows like bended bows do susd, 
Tliii-at'ninjt with [liwcinj; ftowm to kill 
Ali th« attempt with eye or load 
Tlioie Mcred chenics to conte nigh, 
Till 'Cbcrry-ripe ' themselvn do cry. 

I(fp. JLaun 

DOSE-CHEEK'D Lat^a, coraei 
^^ Sing lliou smoothly with ihy beauty's 
Silent imisic, either othef 
Sweetly gncing. 

LoTcly (onai do Row 
From concent divinely (nmiA t 
Hea\-en is music, and thy beauty'* 
Dinh U hcavcoly. 

These dull notes we sing 
DtKords need for helps to grace them; 
Only beauty purely loring 
Knows no diKOid { 

But sttil mores del^ht, 
Like clear &i>rin;^ mew'd by fiowa^ 
Etw ]>crfect, ercr in tliem- 
scltes etertul. 

170. I 

COLLOW thy fair sun, unbnppy Asdow I 
* Though thou be black as night, 

And she made all of light, 
Yet follow thy fair «un, unhappy tbadowt 



THOMAS CAMPION 

FoOow ber, whose light thy light deprivethl 

Though hoc thou Hv'st disgraced, 

Asd she in heaven is placed, 
Yet fellow her whose light the worid revivethl 

Fdlow chose pore beams, whose beau^ buniethl 

That to have scoichM thee 

As thou still black must be, 
'no her kind beams thy Uack to brightness turoeth, 

FoBow her, while jet her glory shioeth! 

Tbtn comes a locUess oight 

That will dim all her light; 
Aod this the black unhaj^ shade dirinetli. 

FoDov itill, nnce so thy fates ordainSd] 

The son roost have his shade. 

Till both at ooce do fade, — 
The Sim still prored, the shadow sbll dlsd^n^ 

t7t. it 

P^OLLOW yonr saint, follow whh accents sweet ! 

Haste yon, sad notes, fall at her flying feet I 
There, wrapt in chnd of sorrow, pity move, 
And tell the raiisber of my soul I perish for her love : 
fiitf if she scorns my nerer-ceasiog pain. 
Them burst with sighing in her Mght, and ne'er return again ! 

AH that I song still to her praise did tend; 

Still she was first, still she my songs did end; 

Yet she my love and muuc both doth fly, 

The amsic that her echo is and beauty's sympathy: 

Then let my notes ponue her scorafiil flight! 

It shall suffice that they were breathed and died for her 

"9 



THOMAS CAMPION 



172. yobhcum est Tope 

YJ^HEN ihou must hone to shades of mKtergrou&u, 

*• And llitre arriwd, a new admirid guest, 
The bciutcous ipirits do vDgirt dice rouad, 
Wlutc Ic^v, bltUic Helen, and the rest, 
To hear the stories of thy fiAish'd lore 
Prom that smooth toogue whose imisic Itelt can mote;^ 

Theo wilt thou speak of han^eting delights, 

Of inm^uen and rvtcis which Sweirt youth did nuke, 

Of loumey* and great ehallenj;e9 of knights, 

And all these triumphs for thy bcuty's »ake; 

When thou hast told thoc honours done to thee, 

Then ttll, lell, how thou dJdat murdn me! 



i7i. yi H/mn in Tratst of Neptune 

iF Neptune's emprc let u* sing. 



o- 



At whose command the waves obey} 
To whom the riivrs uibuic pay, 
Down tlie high mouDlains sliding : 
To whom the scaly mtioa yields 
Homage for the crysta] Gelds 

Wherein tlicy dwell : 
And every sea-god pays a gem 
Ycaily out of his wat'ry ceil 
To deck great Neptune's diadem. 

The Tritons dancbg in a ring 
Before hit folace gates do make 
The water with their echoes quake, 
Like the great ihiioder sonodtng: 



tiA 



THOMAS CAMPION 

The sea-nymphs chaot thnr accents shiill. 
And the sirens, taught to kill 

With their sweet Toicc, 
Make v^ij echoiog rock reply 
Unto their gentle rounnuring lunse 
The piaise of Nepttme's empery. 

174. fVittter Nights 

^^OW winter nights enlarge 
^ " The number of their hours, 
And clouds their storms discharge 

Upon the airy towers. 
Let now the chimneys blaze 

And cups o'erflow with wioei 
Let weU-nined words amaze 

With harmony divine. 
Now yellow waxen lights 

Shall wait on honey love. 
While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights 

Sleep's leaden spells remove. 

This time doth well dispense 

With lovers' long discourse; 
Much speech haih some defence, 

Though beauty no remorse. 
All do not alt things well; 

Some measures comely tread, 
Some knotted riddles tell, 

Some poems smoothly read. 
The summer hath his joys, 

And winter his delights; 
Though love and all his pleasures are but toys, 

They shorten tedious nights. 

"07 



THOMAS CAMPION 



I7f. lateger Fitae 

T^HE man (rf life upright, 
^ Whofw guililcu Itnn is Tctv 
From ill dnhomcst deeds, 
Oi (hougbt of TUity ; 

T^ nsD whose lilrat days 
In hBrmteiS joys are sj^etit, 

Whom hopes cinnot delude, 
Nor sorrow discontent i 

That maa needs neither towere 
Nor Bnnoui for defence, 

Nor sfcra vaults to fly 
From thundci's violence: 

He only can behold 
With unaflrightcd eyes 

The horrors of the deep 
And terrors of the skies. 



Tliiis scorning all the cam 
That fute or fortune brings, 

Ho ma][cs the hcdteD his boolc, 
HU wi»Jom hetTCBly thinpi 

Good Ifaogghu his only friends, 
His weahh a wdl-spent ig^ 

The eanh hit wber inn 
And quiet pUgrimge. 



«< 



"niOMAS CAMPION 



I7tf. come quickly ! 

^JEVER wctther-leatea sail more willing bent to shore, 
^^ Never tiiM pilgrim's limbs adected slomber more, 
Thia my wmied sprite now longs to Ay out of my 

troubled breast; 
O come quickly, sweetest Lord, and take my soul to rest] 

EfB blooRung arc tbe joys of heaTcn's high Paradise, 
Cold ^e dcafs not there our ears nor vapour dims our eyes ; 
Glory there the sun outahines; whose beams the BtesskE 

only see: 
cone quickly, {^orions Loid, and raise my sprite to Thee I 



JOHN REYNOLDS 
177. A Noseg^jf 



SAY, crimson Rose and dainty Daffodil, 
With Violet blue; 
Since yon have seen the beauty of my saint, 

And eke her view; 
Did not her sight (fair sight!) you lonely (ill. 

With sweet delight 
Of goddess' grace and angels' sacred teint 
In fine, most bright? 

Say, golden Primrose, sanguine Cowslip fair. 
With Pink most fine; 

Since yoB beheld the visage of my dear. 
And eyes divine; 

177. tdat]tlnl,ltM^ 



letbCenl. 



JOHN REYNOLDS 

l>id not her floby trout, nnd gibtrring hair, 

With cl>c«ks most sweet. 
So gloriously like (bmasl: flowers appear, 

The gods to giwt? 

S»y, aaow-vhiit Lily, speckled GiUyQowcr, 

With Diisy gayj 
Since you htvr viewed the Queen of my dcMre, 

In her array; 
Did not her ivory pap^ (air Veoux' bower, 

With heavenly glee, 
A Juno's grace, conjure you to re<|mrc 

He/ face K> see? 

S»y Rose, »y Daffodil, and Violet blue, 

With Piiinrosc fair. 
Since yc have seen my nymph's svfccl dainty face 

And geswrc rare, 
I^d not (bright Cowslip, blooming Piak) her titw 

(Wlute Lily) shine— 
(Ab, Gillyflower, ah Daisy I) triih a grace 

Like stars dit-ine? 



SIR HENRY WOTTON 

17*, Elizabeth of Bobftnh 

I 
VOU meaner beauties of the ntglit, 
■^ That poorly satisfy our eyes 
Kfore by your number than your li^it, 
You common people of the skics: 
What are you when the moon shaU rise? 



SIR HENRT WOTTON 

Yoo corioas chanters of the wood, 

That warble forth Dame Nature's lays, 

Thinkiog your passions understood 

By your weak accents; what's your praise 
When Philomel her voice shall raise? 

You violets that first appear. 

By yow ptm purple mautles known 

Like the proud virgins of the year, 
As if die spring were all your own j 
What are you when the rose is blown t 

So, wbfta my mistress shall be seen 
In fbmi and beauty of her mind. 

By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, 
Tell roe, if she were not design'd 
Th' eclipse and glory of her kind. 



179. The Character of a Happy Life 

LJOW happy is he bom and taught 
** That serreth not another's willj 
Whose armour is his honest thought. 
And sirople tnith his utmost skill! 

Whose passions not his masters are; 
Whose sod is still prepared for death, 
Untied unto the world by care 
Of public fame or private breath ; 

Who envies none that chance doth raise, 
Nor rice ; who never understood 
How deepen wounds are given by praise; 
Not nles of state, but rules of good ; 



SIR HENRV worroN 

Who hath his lift From nunoure fired | 
WhoK coiucience is liii strong ittieui 
Whose stite can neither Outterers feed, 
Nor ruin nuke opprrtson great; 

Who God doth late nd early pny 
More of His grace than gifu to lendi 
And emertains the haimlen day 
With a religious book or friend ; 

— Thb man is frwd from sertile baods 
Of hope to rtw or fear to f«ll : 
Lord of himself, though not of lafld\ 
And having nothing, yet hath oU. 



180. (/pM the 2)eafJ> of Sir yf/krt 
Morton's IFife 

LJ E fim deceased ; she foe > little tried 

^ *• To liK wiUioiu him, liked ii not, asd died. 



SIR JOHN DA VIES 



T KNOW my said bath jxnw to know all thing 
^ Yet she is Uind and ^norani to all: 
I know I'm one of Nature's little kiagS) 
Yet to the leut and niest things am thiaU, 



SIR JOHN DAVIES 

I know my fife 's I pun utd but ■ span ; 
I know Taj aente is mock'd is ercrythingt 
And, to conclude, I know mysdf a Man — 
Wbidi is a proud and yet a wretched thing. 



SIR ROBERT AYTON 

itj. To His Forsaken Mistress 

T DO confesi thou'n smooth and fair, 

^ And I might have gone near to love thee. 

Had I not found the slightest prayer 

That lips could more, had power to move thee; 
But I can let thee now alone 
As woithy to be loved by none. 

I do confess thon'rt sweet; yet find 
Thee such an unthrift of thy sweets, 

Thy fannirs are but like the wind 
That kisseth everything it meets : 

And snce thou canst with more than one, 

Tbou'rt worthy to be kiss'd by none. 

The morning rose that untouch'd stands 

Ann'd with her briers, how sweet she smells 1 

Bat plnck'd and strain'd through ruder hands, 
Her sweets no longer with her dwells ; 

But scent and beauty both are gone. 

And leaves fall from her, one by one. 

Such fate ere long will thee betide 
When thou hast handled been awhile, 

"3 



SIR ROBERT AYTON 

With sere dowers to be thrown ande; 

And I shall sigh, while some will smiley 
To see thy Io*e to every one 
Hath brought thee to be loved b; oonc 



1S3. To an Inconstant One 

T LOVED thee once; I'll love no moi 

^ Thine be the grief as is the blame j 

Thou art not what thou wast before, 

What reason I should be the same? 

He that can love unloved again, 

Haih better store of love than bi^; 

God send me love my debts to pay, 

While unthrifts fool their love away I 

Nothing could have my love o'erthrowo 
If thou hadst still contioued mine; 

Yea, if thou hadsl rcmain'd thy own. 




SIR ROBERT AYTON 

Yet do thoa gioiy in ihy choice — 

Th^ chcHce of his good fortune boast i 
I'll Dcither gnere Dor yet rej<Hce 
To see iiim gain what I have lost ; 
The bei^t of mj disdain shall be 
To laugh at him, to blush for thee; 
To love thee still, but go no more 
A-beg^g at a beggar's door. 



BEN JONSON 
iS^ Hjrmn to 2)ian» 

iS7J-"*37 

QUEEN and hontress, 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 excejleatly bright. 

Earth, let not thy envious shade 

Dare itself to interpose; 
Cynthia's shining orb was made 

Heaven to clear when day did close : 
Bless us then with 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. 

115 



;Jj-. 



BEN JONSON 
To Celia 



■pXRINK to me only urith dune eyes, 
'-' And I will pledge with mine: 
Or leave a kiss but in the cup 

And 111 not look for wine. 
The ttunt that from the soul doth rise 

Doth ask a drink diTine; 
But might I of Jove's nectar sup, 

I would not change for thine. 

I sent thee late a rosy wreath, 

Not so much honouring thee 
As giving it a hope that there 

It could not wither'd be; 
But thou thereon didst otJy tveathe, 

And sent'st it back to mej 
Since when it grows, and smeUs, I swear. 

Not of itself but diee ! 




BEN JONSON 

187, The Shadow 

■pOLLOW a shadow, it stiU flies youj 
^ Seem to fly it, it will pursue: 
So court a mistress, she denies yoa ; 
Let her iloiie, she will court you. 
Say, are not womeo truly, then, 
Styled but the shadows of us men \ 

At mora and even, shades are longest) 
At nooD they are or short or none: 
So men at weakest, they are strongest, 
But grant us perfect, they're not known. 
Say, are not women truly, then. 
Styled but the shadows of us men \ 

iSS. The Triumph 

CEE the Chariot at hand here of Love, 

'-' Wherein my Lady rideth I 

Each that draws b a swan or a dove, 

And well the car Lore guideth. 
As ihe goes, all hearts do duty 

Unto her beauty j 
And enamour'd do wish, so they might 

But enjoy such a sght, 
That they still were to run by her side. 
Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride. 

Do but look OD her eyes, they do light 

All that Lore's world compriseth I 
Do bat look on her hair, it is bright 

As Lore's star when it riseth I 



BEN JONSON 

Do but mark, her forehead's smoother 

Than words that soothe her; 

And from her arch'd brows such a grace 
Sheds itself through the face, 

As alone there triumphs to the life 

All the gain, all the good, of the elements' strife. 

Have you seeo but a bright lily grow 

Before nide hands have touch'd it? 
Have you mark'd but the fall of the snov 

Before the schI hath smutch'd Iti 
Have you felt the wool of beaver, 
Or swaD's down ever ? 
Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier, 

Or the oard m the fire? 
Or have tasted the hag of the bee? 
O so white, O so soft, O so sweet is she I 



l8p. 



j4ff Elegy 




BEN JONSON 

But who should less expect from you? 

In whom alone Love lires again: 

By whom he is restored to men, 
And kept and tvcd and brought up tme. 

His falling temples you bare reai'd, 

The irither'd garlands ta'en away; 

His altais kept from that decay 
That envy wish'd, and nature feai'd: 

And on them burn so chaste a flame, 
With so much loyalty's expense. 
As Lon to ac(]uit such excellence 

Is gone himself into youi name. 

And yon are be — the deity 

To whom all lorers are design'd 
That would their better objects findi 

Among iriiich faithAd troop am I — 

Who as an ofTring at your shrine 

Have sung this hymn, and here entreat 
One spark of your diviner heat 

To light upon a lore of mine. 

Which if it kindle not, but scant 
Appear, and that to shortest view) 
Yet give me leave to adore in you 

What I in her am grieved to want ! 

Ipo. A Farewell to the fVorld 

X^KLSE world, good night I ^ce thou hast brought 
'' That hour upon my morn of age ; 
Henceforth I quit thee from my thought, 
My part is ended on thy stage. 

«9 



BEN JONSON 

Yes, threaten, do. Aiul I far 
As little as I hope from thee ; 

I know thou canst not show dot bear 
More hatred than thou hast to me. 

My tender, first, and simple years 
Thou didst abuse and then betray} 

Since stir'd'st up jealouNes and fears, 
When all the causes were away. 

Then in a soil hast planted me 

Where breathe the basest of thy fi>ols t 
Where envious arts profess^ be, 

And pride and ignorance the schools; 

Where nothing is examined, weigh'd. 
But as 'tis rumour'd, so believed; 

Where e»ery freedom is betrayed, 

And every goodness tax'd or grieved. 




BEN JONSON 

Nor for my peace will I go far, 

As wanderers do, that still do roam; 

But make my strengths, such as they aie, 
Here in my bosom, and at home. 



ipi. The Noble Balm 

LJ IGH-SPIRITED fnend, 

I xai nor balms nor cor'siTes to your wound : 

Your iate hath found 
A gentler and more agile hand to tend 
The cure of that which b but corporal ; 
And doubtful days, which were named critical. 

Have made their fairest Sight 

And DOW are out of sight. 
Yet doth some wholesome physic for the mind 

Wrapp'd in this paper lie, 
Which m the taking if you misapply, 

Yon are unkind. 

Yonr coTctous hand, 
Happy in that fair honour it hath gain'd. 

Must now be rein'd. 
True Talour doth her own renown command 
In one (iill action ; nor have you now more 
To do, than be a husband of that store. 

Think but how dear you bought 

This fame which you have caught ; 
Such thoughts will make you more m love with truth. 

'TIS wisdom, and that high, 
For men to use their fortune reverently, 

Even in youth. 



BEN JONSON 



Epitaphs 



tp2. On Elizabeth L, H. 

WrOULDST thou hear what Man can say 

'^ In a little? Reader, soy. 
Underneath this stone doth Iw 
As much Bnuty as could die: 
Which in life did hartmur ^re 
To more Vittue than doth lire. 
If at all she had a fauh, 
LeaTe it buried in this TSnlt. 
One name was ESxabetb, 
The other, let it sleep with death: 
Fitter, where it died, to tell 
Than that it lired at all. Fainrell. 




BEN JONSON 

And did act (what now we mou) 

Old men so duly, 
As sooth the Parcae thought him ooe, 

He pla/d so tnily. 
So, hy error, to his fate 

They all consented; 
But, TiewiDg him snce, aJas, too late I 

They hare repented ; 
And have sought, to ^ve new hirth, 

Id baths to steep him; 
But, herag so much too good for earth, 

Heaven vows to keep him. 



lp4. A Tart of an Ode 

to tie JmmorlaJ Memory md Fnendiiif tf that inble pair^ 
Sir JLueiiu Cory and Sir H. Moriton, 

TT is not growing tilte a tree 

^ In bulk, doth make man better be; 
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, 
To fall a log at last, diy, bald, and sere: 
A lily of a day 
Is fairer far in May, 

Although it fall and die that night; 

It was the plant and flower of light. 
In small proportions we just beauties see; 
And in ^ort measures, life may perfect be. 

Call, noble Luc'au, then for wine. 
And let thy looks with gladness shine i 
Accept this garland, plant it on thy head, 
Aad think — nay, know— thy Moritaa's not dead. 

"I 




He leap'd the present age, 
Possest with holy rage 
To see that bright eternal Day 
Of which we Priests and Poets say 
Such trutlis as we expect for liappy men ; 
And there he Jives with memory — and Bn 



Jonion 



Or ta: 



U 
V 



Were 



1 joy he meaot 

t 

sm 

I ship's schism — 

with U3 to tarry — 
» iwy 

iSCUlj, 

And k< om his Harry. 

But fate doth so alternate the design, 

Whilst that in HeaT'o, this light oa earth must shine. 

And shine as you exalted are! 

Two names of friendship, but one star : 
Of hearts the union : and those not by chance 
Made, or indenture, or leased out to advance 
The profits for a time. 
No pleasures vain did chime 

Of rimes or riots at your feasts. 

Orgies of drink or feign'd protests ; 
But simple love of greatness and of good, 
That knits brare minds and manners more than blood. 



This made you first to know the Why 
Tau fiied, then alter, to apply 



BEN JONSON 

That liking, and approach so one the t'other 
Till either grew a ponioa of the other: 
Each styled by his end 
The copy of his friend. 
You lived to be the great surnames 
And titles by which all made claims 
Unto the Virtue — oothiog perfect done 
But as a CjIRT or a MORISON. 

And such the force the fair example had 

As they that saw 
The good, and durst not practise it, were glad 
That such a law 
Was left yet to manluDd, 
Where they might read and find 
Friendship indeed was written, not in words, 
And with the heart, not pea. 
Of two so early men, 
Whose lines her rates were and records: 
Who, ere the first down bloomM on the chin, 
Had sow'd these fruits, >nd got the harvest in. 



JOHN DONNE 



•B73->*Si 



CTAY, O sweet, and do not riset 
'^ The light that shines comes from thine eyes; 
The day breaks not: it is my heart. 
Because that you and I must pait, 
Stayl or else my joys will die 
And perish in their infancy. 

1 uf 



ip6. 




GO and catch a falling star. 
Get with child a mandrake rout, 
Tell me where all past years are, 
*""■*" ■ Devil's foot; 

lermaids singiog, 
( 's stinging, 



honest mind. 

strange sights, 
) see, 

ays and Dights 
liii n.ge sno* iitp hairs on tht*; 
Thou, when thou retum'st, wilt tell me 
All strange wonders that befell thee, 
And swear 
No where 
Lives a woman true and fair. 

If thou find'st one, let me know g 

Such a pilgrimage were sweet. 
Yet do not; I would not go, 

Though at next door we might meet. 
Though she were true when you met her, 
And last till you write your letter, 
Yet she 
Will be 
False, ere I come, to two or three. 



■16 



JOHN DONNB 



Ip7. 

That Time mJ jihiaies prove* 
Rathtr btlp4 liam burl* to lovtt 

ABSENCE, bear thou my protestatioa 
■'^ AgUDSt thy strength, 

Discaoce and length: 
Do what thou canst for alteiadoo. 

For hearts of tiuest mettle 

Absence doth join and Time doth settle^ 

Who loves a mistress of such quality, 

His mind hath found 

Affecdoa'a ground 
Beyond time, place, and all mortality. 

To hearts that cannot vary 

Absence u present, Time doth tarry. 

My senses want their outward motion 

Which now within 

Reason doth win. 
Redoubled by her secret notion i 

Like rich men that take pleasure 

In hiding more than handling treasure. 

By Absence this good means I gun. 

That I can catch her 

Where noue can watch her, 
In some close comer of my brain: 

There I embrace and kiss her, 

And so enjoy her and none miss her. 



m 



198. 




WTHERE, like a pillow on a W, 

A pregnant bnnk swell'd up, 10 
The violet's reclining head. 

Sat we two, one anotber's best. 



Our •— '- 

3 
Or 

So 

Anr 
1 



Cemented 
h thence did spring i 

and did thread 
double string. 

s, as yet 

o make us out! i 

es to get 

[ion. 



As rmies Fate 

Suspends uncertain .ictory, 
Our souls — which to advance thor state 
Were gone out — hung 'twixt her and me. 

And whilst our souls negotiate there, 
We like sepulchral statues lay ; 

All day the same our postures were. 
And we said nothing, all tlie day. 



lp$. The Dream 

■r\EAR lore, for nothing less than thee 
^ Would I have broke this happy dream i 

It was a theme 
For reason, much too strong for fantasy. 
Therefore thou waked'st me wisely ; yet 
My dream thou brok'st not, but coatinued'st it. 



JOHN DONNE 

Thoo art so tne that thoughts of thee snJfice 
To make dreams truths and fables histories ; 
Enter these anns, for since thou thought'st it best 
Not to dream all my dream, let 'a aa the rest. 

As lightning, or a taper's lights 

Thiae eyes, and not thy noise, waked mej 

Yet I thought thee — 
For thou lov'si truth — an angel, at first sight| 
But when I saw thou saw'st my heart, 
And knew'st my thoughts beyond an angel's art, 
VHieo thon knew'st what I dreamt, when thou knew'st when 
Excess of joy would wake roe, and cam'st then, 
I must confess it could not choose but be 
Profane to think thee anything but thee. 

Coming and staying show'd thee thee, 
But rising makes me doubt that now 

Thou art not thou. 
That Love is weak where Fear's as strong as hej 
Tis not all sjMrit pure and brave 
If mixture it of Fear, Shame, Honour have. 
Perchance as torches, which must ready be, 
Men light and put out, so thou deal'si with me. 
Thou cam'st to kindle, go'st to come: then I 
Will dream that hope again, bat else would die. 



200. Tie Funeral 

VV/HOEVER comes to shroud me, do not harm 

** Nor question much 

That subtle wreath of hair about mine arm; 
The mystery, the sign you must not touch, 



JOHN DONNE 

Pot 'tis my outward soul, 
Viceroy to that which, unto heav'o being gone, 

Will lease this to control 
And k-ecp diesc limbs, her proTiDces, from dissoludun. 

For if the ^ewjr thread my brain lets fall 

Cao tie tho me one of all ; 

Those hairs iw, and strength and an 

H; b. 



Can better 
By 
As prisoner 



leant that I 

ly pain, 

'hen they're condemn'd to ( 



Whate'er she it with me, 

For siutu X ».. 
Love's martyr, it might breed idolatry 
If into other hands these reliques come. 

As 'twas humility 
T' afford to it all that a soul can do. 

So 'tis some bravery 
That, since you would have none of me, I bury some of you. 



201. A Hymn to God the Father 

VW'ILT Thou forgive that sin where I beguo. 

Which was my sin, though it were done before? 
Wilt Thou forgive that sin through which I run. 

And do rvn stiil, though still I do deplore \ 
When Thou fiast done, "Thou hast not donej 
For I have more. 



JOHN DONNE 

Wilt Thou fbrgive that ^d which I have won 
Others to sin, and made mf sins their door? 

Wilt Thou forgive that sin which I did shun 
A year or two, but wallow'd in a score? 

When Thou hast done, Thou hast not donet 
For I have more. 

I have a sia of fear, that when I're spun 
My last thread, I diall perish on the shore; 

But swear by Thyself thai at my death Thy Son 
Shall shine as He shines now and heretofore i 

And having done that. Thou hast donej 
I fear no more. 



202. 7>eath 

T^EATH, be not proud, though some have callM thee 
^^ Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so : 
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow 
Die not, poor Death ; nor yet canst thou kill me. 
From Rest and Sleep, which but thy picture be, 
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow; 
And soonest our best men with thee do go- 
Rest of their bones and souls' delivery ! 
Thou'rt slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, 
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell ; 
And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well 
And better than thy stroke. Why sweli'st thou then? 

One short sleep past, we wake eternally, 

And Death shall be no more: Death, thou shalt diet 



■Ji 



RICHARD BARNEFIELD 

20S. Philomel 

KS it Fell upon a da^ 
■'*■ In the merry monch of May, 
Sitd hade 

V rtlcs made, 

% irds did sing, 

*3 ilants did spring i 

1: moan 

SiVk. done : 

She, fofiom 

Leaii u iier brea< ill a thorn. 

And there sung olefiill'sl dilty, 

That to hear it was great pity. 
P'^t J'') J'^ - ooiv would she cryj 
Tereu, Tereu ! by and by ; 
That to hear her so complain 
Scarce I could from tears refrain ; 
For her griefs so lively shown 
Made me think upon mine own. 
Ah 1 thought I, thou mourn'st in vain. 
None takes pity on thy pin : 
Senseless trees they cannot hear thee, 
Ruthless beasts they will not cheer thee: 
King Paodion he is dead, 
All thy friends are lapp'd in leadt 
Ail thy fellow birds do sing 
Careless of thy sorrowing ; 
Even so, poor bird, like thee, 
None alive will pity me. 



"*• 



■S74"«*T 



THOMAS DEKKER 

204. Suicet Content 

K^T tbou i>oor, yet hut ihou soMni ■loi&bere i 
** O Kwwt contratl 

Art ibou rich, yet is thjr mind pcqJcx'd? 

puaisluiKTit ! 
Dost tbou Iau^ to tet Iww fools ire *nc'd 
To add to gtjdcn Dutnbcrs goldea uuBbera i 

O sweet ooatcnti O sweet, O sweet content I 
Work *I>ace, •jxtcc, apace, apace t 
HtMai bbour boHS \ VrnAy hsxi 
Then bey nomiy DOanif— -hey ouony nonny! 

CnK dxinJt the waters of tbc crii]4d ^riog f 

O s««et content I 
Swini'M then la wealth, yet aink'st la thtnc uwd tean^ 

O ininuhnieBtl 
Tlica be (hit pubnly want's burdeii burs, 
No bttnkn bean, bat is a king, a kiogl 

O sweet content i O nweet, sweet cootemt 
Work ipoce, Bi>ace, aincv, apace t 
Hoots Uboui bcaia a lordjr lace ; 
Tbca bey noany aoony — b^ iwnny notiny! 



THOMAS HETWOOD 



r. Malm Sang 

DACK, clouds, avayt and wclconie^ doyl 
^ With night we banish sorrow. 
S«-ect tit, blow soit; moont, bu^ akift 
To give my LoTe good-roonow I 



THOMAS HEYWOOD 

Wings from the wind to please her nuod. 

Notes from the lark I'U borrow; 
Bird, prune thy wing ! oighdagale, sing I 
To give my Love good-moirow ! 

To give my Lore good-morrow 
Notes from them all I'll borrow. 

Wake from thy nest, robin red-breast! 

Sing, birds, in every furrow ! 
And from each Hll let music sbriU 

Give my fair Love good-morrow I 
Blackbird aod thrash id eveiy bush, 

Stare, liDciet, aiid cocksparrow, 
You pretty elves, amoug yourselves 

Sing my fair Love good-morrow ! 

To give my Low good-morrow 1 
Sing, birds, in every furrow 1 



206. 



The Messa^ 




THOMAS HEYWOOD 

Go, pRtty Urds, and tell her bo, 
See that your doKs strain not too low, 
For stiU methiaks I see her frown; 
Ye pretty wantons, warble. 

Go tune your voices' harmony 

And sing, I am her lover; 
Strain loud and sweet, that every note 

With sweet content may mcme her: 

And she that hath the sweetest voice, 

Tell her I will not change my choice: 

—Yet still methinks I see her frown I 

Ye pretty wantons, warble. 

O fly t make haste 1 see, see, she ialls 

Into a pretty slumber ! 
Sing round ^ut her rosy bed 

That wakiog she may winder: 
Say to her, 'tis her lover true 
That sendeth love to you, to you I 
And when you hear her kind reply. 
Return with pleasant warbliogs. 



JOHN FLETCHER 

207, Sleep 

/"^OME, Sleep, and with thy sweet deceiving 
^^ Lock me in delight awhile; 
Let some pleasing dreams beguile 
All my fancies; that from thence 
I may feel an influence 
All my powers of care bereaving I 

■IS 



JOHN FLETCHER 

Though but a ihadow, but a sliding, 
Let roe know some little joy 1 
We that sutler long innoy 
Are contented with a thought 
Through an idle fancy wrought : 

O let my joys have some abiding I 

2oS. Bridal Song 

CYNTHIA, to thy power and thee 
We obey. 
Joy to this great company! 

And no day 
Come to BCeal this night away 

Till the rites of love are ended, 
And the lusty bridegroom say, 
Welcome, light, of all befriended ! 

Pace out, you watery powet? below; 

Let your feet, 




JOHN FLETCHER 

My love was false, bat I was fina 

Fraia my hour of birth. 
UpoD my buried body lie 

Lightly, gentle earth! 

210. Hymn to Tan 

CING bis pruses that doth keep 
^ Our flocks from harm, 
Pan, the father of our sheep { 

And arm in aim 
Tread we softly in a round. 
Whilst the hollow DnghboonDg ground 
Fills the music with her sound. 

Pan, O great god Pan, to thee 

Thus do we sing ! 
Thou who keep'st us chaste and free 

As the young spring : 
Ever be thy honour spoke 
From that place the mom is broke 
To that place day doth unyoke 1 

2u. Avaay^ Delights! 

yWAY, delights! go seek some other dwelling, 
^*- For I must die. 

Farewell, false love ! thy tongue is ever telling 

Lie after lie. 
For ever let me rest now from thy smarts; 
Alas, for pity go 
And fire their hearts 
That hare been hard to thee! Mine was not so. 

■37 



JOHN FLETCHER 

NcTcr again dclwidlng love tfaAlI know me, 

For I will diet 
And all tliOK griefs Uut thiak to orcrgrow me 

Hhill be ul: 
For tra will I sleep, wliile poor maids crv— 

'Alas, for piijr suy. 

And let us die 
Witli thee I Men cannot raock as in the ch;.* 



212. Lnve's Emblems 

^OW the lusty spring b )t*enj 
^ ~ Golden yellow, gaudy blue, 

Daintily intite the view t 
E»erywliere oo every green 
Roses hlusKini; as they Uow, 

And enticing men to pull, 
Lilies whiter than the snow, 

Woodbines of sweet honey full : 
All love's enihlcms, and all cry, 
' Ladies, if not pluck'd, we die.* 

Yet tlie lusty spring hath suy'dt 

Blushiag red and purest white 

Daintily to love invite 
Every woman, every maid ; 
Clicrries kJMJng as they grow, 

And inviting men to taste, 
Apples eren ripe below. 

Winding geotJy to the waist: 
Alt lore's emblems, and all cry, 
* L«dics, if not pluck'd, we d*c/ 



JOHN FLETCHER 

21$, //ear, ye ImUcs 

I_JEAR, ye ladies that despise 

^^ What the mighty Love has dosej 

Fear examples aad be wise: 

Fair CaUisto was a dudj 
Leda, sailing od the stream 

To deceive the hopes of nun. 
Love accounUng but a dream, 

Doted on a ^ter swan; 
Danae, in a bruen tower. 
Where no love was, loved ■ shower. 

Hear, ye ladies that are coy. 

What the mighty Love can doj 
Fear the fierceness of the boyi 

The chaste Mood he makes to woO) 
Vesta, kindling holy fiies, 

Circled round about with Sfnes, 
Never dreaming loose desires, 

Doting at the altar dies; 

Ilion, in a short hour, higher 
He can build, and once more fire. 

214. God Lyaeus 

/■""OD Lyaeus, ever yonng, 
^^ Ever honoor'd, ever sung, 
Stain'd with blood of lusty grapes, 
In a thousand lusty shapes 
Dance upon the mazer's brim, 
In the crimson liquor swim; 

at^. niBwr] ■ bowl of tuple-wood. 



JOHN FLETCHER. 

From thjr pleotNut hand (Criae 
Let a river run with «-in«: 
God of foutli, 1m this cUy here 
Eotcr neitbec cm not feu. 



B' 



2if, Beauty Char and Fair 

'EAUTY dear and fair, 
Wl>ctc the air 

Rathfrr like a pctfiiine dwclts; 
Where the I'vaUx. and the rax 
Theii blue veins and blusli disclMe, 

And come lo honour nothing else t 

WIiCTC to live n«r 
And planted there 
Is u live, and still live ncwi 
Where lo gala a favour is 
More than light, |>crpctujl bliss — 
Make me live by serving you I 

Pear, agnh) hack recall 
To this light, 

A sinngcr to bimsrlf and all I 
Both the wonder and ilie story 
Shall be youn, snd eke die glory; 

I am your servant, and your ttiralL 

2iff. Melanchoif 

I_|ENCE, all you vain deljghca, 

* ' As sliott as are the n»ghl« 

Wliemn you npend your fbtly I 

There's naught in this hie sweet. 



JOHN FLETCHER 

If men were wise to see 't, 

But 011I7 melancholy — 

O sweetest melancholy ! 
Welcome, folded aims and GxM eyes, 
A sight that piercing mortifies, 
A look that's fasten'd to the groimd, 
A tongue chain'd up without a sound I 

Fountain-heads and pathless groves, 
Places which pale pasaon loves 1 
Moonlight walka, when all the fowls 
Are wannly housed, save bats and owls I 
A midnight bell, a parting groan — 
These are the sounds we feed upon ; 
Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley, 
Nothing's 90 dainty sweet as loTely melancholy. 



217* ff^eep no more 

^^EEP no more, nor agh, nor groan, 
** Som)w calls no time that's gones 
Violets pluck'd, the sweetest rain 
Makes not fresh nor grow again. 
Trim thy locks, look cheerfully; 
Fate's lUd ends eyes cannot sec. 
Joy* as wingid dreams fly fast, 
Why should sadness longer last? 
Grief is but a wound to woe; 
Gentlest &ir, mourn, moum no moe. 



■»> 



JOHN WEBSTER 

218. A Dim 

('"'ALL for the robin -redbreast and the wren, 

^—* Since o*er shady groves they hover, 

And with leaves and flowers do cover 

The friendless bodies of usburied nteiu 

Call unto his funeral dole 

The ant, the fleld-mouse, and die mole, 

To rear htm hillocks that shall keep him wnrni, 

And (when gay tombs are robb'd) sustain no harm ( 

But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men, 

For with his nails he'll dig them up again. 

2/p. The Shnud'mg of the Duchess of Mai fi 

IJARKl Now everj^mg is still, 

'' ^ The screech-owl and the whistler shrill, 

Call upon our dame aloud, 

And bid her cmickly don her shroud I 




JOHN WEBSTER 

And — the foul fiend more to checks 
A crucifix let bless your neck: 
Tis now full tide 'tween night and dayt 
End your groan and corae away. 

220. fanitas Vanitatum 

A LL the dowers of the spring 
^^ Meet to perfume our burying i 
These have but their growing prime, 
And man does flourish but his time : 
Survey our progress from our birth — 
We are set, we grow, we tom to earth. 
Courts adieu, and all delights, 
All bewitching appetites ! 
Sweetest breath and clearest eye 
Like perfumes go out and die; 
And consequently this is done 
As shadows wait upon the sun. 
Vain the ambition of kings 
Who seek by trophies and dead things 
To leave a living name behind, 
And weave but nets to catch the mtxL 



WILLIAM ALEXANDER, EARL OF 
STIRLING 

221. Aurora 

i5So?-i&|a 
/^ HAPPY Tithon ! if thou know**! thy hap, 
^-^ And valuest thy wealth, as I my want, 

Then need'st thou not — which ah ! I grieve to grant — 
Repine at Jove, luU'd in his leman's lap: 



EARL OF STIRLING 

ThK golden shower m wWch be did rejwM — 

One dewy drap it stains 

Wliich thy Aaron rain 

Upon the runi plains, 
When from thy bed the patiionately goes. 

Then, waken'd with the music of the merles, 
She not remeraben Memaon wlieo she moutnat 
That faithful Dame wbieh b her bosom burns 
From crystal oooduits throws those Uqtiid pearls i 
Sad from thy sgbt so soon to be removed, 
She u) her grief delates. 
— O fti-ouc'd by the fates 
Above ilie happiest states, 
Who art of ooe so worthy well-helored I 



PHINEAS FLETCHER 

222. A Litmy 

DROI*, drop, slow tears, 
Aod bathe those bcwiteoi» ^ 
WWch brought from Hearea 

The news and Princ« of Peace t 
Cease not, wet eyes, 

His mercy to entmtt 
To cry for Tcngcance 

Sin doth never cease. 
Id your deep floods 

Drown all my Aults and fears t 
Mof let Hi« eye 

See sin, but ihrough my \aau 



SIR JOHN BEAUMONT 
£2}, Of it's Sear Son, Gervase 

Ii8j-i6i7 

r\EAR Lord, receive 1117 sod, whose winning lore 
'•^ To me wa» like a friendship, far above 
7^ course of nature or his tender age; 
Whose looks could all my tntter griefs assuage i 
Let his pure soul, ordain'd seven years to be 
In that frail body which was part of me, 
Keroain my pledge in Heaven, as sent to show 
How to this port at every step I go. 



WILLIAM DRUMMOND, OF HAWTHORNDEN 

22^ Invocation 

1385-1A19 

pHCEBUS, arise! 

''' And paint the sable slues 
With azure, white, and red ; 
Rou«e Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed, 
That she thy career may with roses spread ; 
The nightingales thy coming eacb-wbere sing; 
Make an eternal spring ! 

Give life to this dark world which Ueth dead; 
Spread forth thy golden hair 
In larger locks than thou wast wont before, 
And emperor-like decore 
With diadem of pearl thy temples fair: 
Chase hence the ugly night 
Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light. 

MS 



WILLIAM DRUMMONU 



This b that happy mom, 

Thit diy, long wishid day 

Of all my life m dark 

(If cruel sUrs lutt Dot my ruin nrocn 

And flics not hope betray), 

Which, only whtK, dcMms 

A diunond for ercr sbouM it nurki 

This is the mom should bring into tlus grore 

My Love, to hear and recompeoM my love. 

Fair Kinf;, who all preserm. 

But ihow thy l)Iu«hing beams, 

And ihon two sweeter eyes 

Shalt sec thtn ihofc which by Pcaius' streamB 

Did once thy heart surprise: 

Nay, SUDS, which sluoe as clear 

As thou when two thou did to Rome appear. 

Now, Plon, deck thyself in fairest guise i 

If that ye, winds, would hear 

A wfce surpwMng far Amphion's lyre, 

Your Momiy diiding stay; 

Let icphyr only breathe 

And with her ctrsses play, 

Kissing sosietimes these purple pons of dcadb 

The winds all ulent are ; 

And Phicbux in hi.s chair 

E^RHllconing sea and air 

Makes vanbh every star: 

Nighi like a dnmkard Itets 

Beyond the hilU to shun his Ihming wheels t 

The fielda with flowera are deck'd in e»ery bne, 

The clouds bespangle with bright gold their Unci 

Herv is the pleaitant phcc — 

And e*eryihing, an Her, who all should gncc. 



WILLIAM DRUMMOND 



T IKE the IdaliaD queeo, 

^ Her hair about her eyne, 
With neck and breast's ripe apples to be seeo, 

At first gUnce of the mom 
la Cyprus' gardens gathering those fair floVra 

Which of her blood were bom, 
I saw, but fainting saw, my paramours. 
The Graces naked danced about the place, 

The winds and trees amazed 

With silence on her gazed. 
The flowers did smile, like those upon her facet 
And as their aspen stalks those fingers band, 

That she might read my case, 
A hyacinth I wish'd me in her hand. 



226. Spring Bereaved l 

'X'HAT zephyr every year 
-^ So soon was heard to ^gh in forests here, 
It was for her : that wrapp'd in gowns of green 

Meads were so early seen. 
That in tlie saddest months oft sung the meries. 
It was for Iter; for her trees dropp'd forth pearls. 

That proud and stately courts 
Did envy diose our shades and calm resorts,** 
It was for her; and she is gone, O woe I 

Woods cut a^n do grow, 
Bud doth the rose and daisy, winter done; 
But we, once dead, no more do see the sun. 
»*U paiMBoanjvnag. panunou. baod] bound. 



Zt7. 



WILLIAM DRUMMOND 



S^ing Bereaved 2 



CWEET Spriog, ihou lum'st with all thy goodljr tnio, 

"^ Tliy head wjdi flimcs, ihy maQtlc brigln mtJi flow'rt : 

The z«|ihyTS curl the jrcea locks of the plui^ 

The clouds fiH- joy ia |mris wuep down tbtir ihow'ra. 

Thou Iuiti'm, swNt youth, but all I my pIcuHDl buurs 

And lu]i|>y diys with tiiee come not ajjain; 

The ud mciQorialK only of my pain 

Do with thcc turn, which turn my swccis in UMtn. 

Thou ait tlie same wliich &tJLl thou wast before, 

Delicious, waatoo, amiaUc, fjiir; 

But she, whose breath cmlxtlni'd thy wkolMotoe air, 

la gooc — nor gold ooi geins ber can icitorb 

Ne^lwted tirtuc, leaaooa go and come, 

While thine forgot lie dostd in a tomb. 



228. 



Spring Bereaved i 



A LEXIS, here she suy'd ; among these pines, 
■''■ Sweet hcrmitrcss, she did alone repair; 
Here did she spread the tteanre of her hair, 
More rich ihnn tliat braughi from the Colchian mints. , 
She set hn by these muskM cgUntinrs, 
— The happy place tlie pitnt seems yet to bear: 
Her roice did sweeten Itere thy sugar'd lino, 
To which winds, treeis, beans, birtb, did lend iheii ear" 
Me liere she lirs* perceived, and here a mom 
Of bright carnations did o'crq>rrad her face ; 
Here did she sigh, here first my hopes were bora. 
And I first gM a pledge of promised grace i 

But ahl what serrcd it to be lu^py su? 

Sitb pssiid pleastues double bat new woe I 



WILLIAM DRUMMOND 



22p, Her Passing 

TTHE beauty and the life 
-^ Of life's and beauty's fairest paragon 
— O tears ! O grief I — hung at a feeble thread 
To which pale Atropos had set her knife; 

The soul with many a groan 

Had left each outward part, 
And now did take his last leave of the heart: 
Naught else did want, save death, e/n to be dead; 
When the afflicted hand about her bed. 
Seeing so fair him come in lips, cheeks, eyea^ 
Cried, ^M! md eon Death enter Para£tit' 



w 



2}o. Inexorable 

I Y thoughts hold mortal strife | 
I do detest my life, 
And with lamenting cries 
Peace to my soul to bring 
Oft call that prince which here doth monarchise: 

— But he, grim-grinning King, 
Who caitiffs scoms, and doth the blest surprise, 
Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb. 
Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come. 



2^1. Change should breed Change 

'^EW doth the sun appear, 
^ " The mountains' snows decay, 
Crown'd with frail flowers forth comes the baby year. 
My loul, time posts away; 



WILLIAM DRUMMONU 

And thou )wt in tliat fmt 

Which Sower and fniit hMh Um, 
As If all herv immorul were, dost suy. 

For slumc! ihy powers awake, 
Look to iliat Hcai-ca whidi never night makes blick, 
And tlicre at ibu iminoirta] sun's bright rajrs, 
Deck thee with &oven which fear not rage of d«jrs I 

232. Saint yo&tt Baptist 

"T^HE I.m and greatest Herald of HcaTcn's King, 
^ Girt with loush skins, lues to the desens wild, 
Among tluit sivjge brood the woods forth bring. 
Which he than roan mote hannlcM found and mild. 
His food was locusts, and what young doth sprisg 
With hooey ihit from virgin hires lUstill'dt 
Parch'J body, hollow cy«, some uncouth tiling 
Made him appear, long since iioro earth exiled. 
There burst he ibrth : * All ye, whose hopes [dy 
On God, with me aoiidsi these deserts numm j 
Repent, repent, and from old errors turo ! ' 
— \\Tio lifteo'd to hi* voice, obcy'd his cry? 
Only the echoes, which he mndc rrlcnt, 
Rung ftom their marble caws ' Repent ! Repent I ' 



GILES FLETCHER 
233. iVmng ilwg 

I5S}-I6« 

T OVE i* the blofoom where there blows 
^ livery thing that Iitc* or grows; 
Lore doih make tile Heav'ns to more^ 
And the Sun doth bum in love : 



GILES FLETCHER 

Love the stroog and weak doth yoke, 
And makes che ivy climb the oak, 
Uoder whose shadows lions wild, 
Softeu'd by love, grow tame and mild : 
Love no med'cioe can appease. 
He burns the fishes in the seas : 
Not all the skill his wounds can stench, 
Not all the sea his fire can quench. 
Love did make the bloody spear 
Once a leavy coat to wear, 
While in his leaves there shrouded lay 
Sweet birds, for love that sing and play 
And of all love's joyfiJ flame 
I the bud and blossom am. 

Only bend thy knee to me. 

Thy wooing shall thy winning bel 

See, see the flowers that below 
Now as fresh as morning blow; 
And of all the virgin rose 
That as bright Aurora shows; 
How they all uoleavM die, 
Losing their virginity 1 
Like unto a summer shade. 
But DOW born, and now they fade; 
Every thing doth pass away; 
There if danger in delay: 
Come, come, gather then the roie^ 
Gather it, or it you lose 1 
All the sand of Tagus' shore 
Into my bosom casts his ore: 
All the valleys' swimming com 
To my house is yearly borne; 

•St 



GILES FLETCHER 

Every grape of crery rinc 
Is gUdly brvifcd (o mJilcc me vincj 
Whik t«ii tboBund kings, u proud. 
To cury op my Irain liaiv bow'd, 
Aod a world of hdin srod mc 
lo my cfaambcTs to antnd me: 
All the surs in Htav'o tliat sitise, 
Aoi (eo tlious^nd morr, are mioei 
Only beiKl thy knee to tat, 
Thy wooing shall thy winincg be] 



FRANCIS BEAUMONT 

2^4- Off the Tombs in lycstrniitsteT ylbbe/ 

\K ORTAHTY, behold and fra ! 
'^*- Wliai a change of flesh U here I 
Think how mnity roy&l banes 
Steep withb this heap of nones i 
Here tlwy lie had realms and lands, 
Wlio now vract strength to stir their hndtj 
Where from tJieir pulpits scal'd vRth dsK 
Tbey pruclt, 'In ;;iurUie53 is oo trt^st.' 
Here 's an acre sown indeed 
With the richest, royall'st seed 
Thni the earth did e'er suck in 
Since the iiTSt roan died for nn t 
Here the bones of binh hare cried— 
'Though gods tbey were, ts RieB they dieiL' 
Here are sands, igoobJe things, 
Dnipt from the rvin'd sides of lungs | 
Here's a world of pomp aod state, 
Buried in dtnt, once dead by fate. 



JOHN FORD 



*iT' 



7)aiBn 



CLY hcDCe, sbadows, (hit do keep 

* Wuchiiil MMTowni chann'd id iltejit 

Tho' ibe eyw be ort-tulcco, 

Yet the httn dotb CTcr wakeD 

Thov{;hu chtia'd up in bmy vattt 

or connnusl wots lod «res : 

Love aad griefs an; so expren 

Ai they latlier sigh than rest. 

F]]r Ikocc, sh»dow», that d« Wp 
Watchful Mnaw* ckiim'd in i^lrcpl 



'J»*-'4i» 



GEORGE WITHER 

I LOVED > bn, > i»\x ooe, 
' As (air ft* e'er was sroi 
She was indeed a rare one, 

Another Slvba Qvceni 
Bw, fool as then I was, 

I thought «he lored me loo I 
Bat DOW, alu! die's left mt, 

Paltn, Itro, Utl 

Her hair like gold did glitter, 

Each eye was like a sUr, 
She did surpist her tnter, 

Which pou'd all others farj 
SIk would me hooey cill, 

She-d-O she'd kias me loo! 
Bm now, alas I she 's left me, 

Fniera, tim, hof 



•lCS-146; 



GEORGE ';VITHER 

Many ■ merry mtcdng 

Mjr love uid I have hxlt 
She was my ooly swMfinn, 

Slie made my heart full gUdi 
Tbc lean stood in ber eyes 

Like to the nMrning dew: 
Bvt now, ainsi ihe'i left vat, 

Faire, trrVf 1*9 1 

Her checks were like the dieny, 
HcT skio was wfiite as snow; 

When the tuts bikhe and nwrry 
She angcl-lilLe did show} 

Her wu« exceeding Kmall, 
The fives did lit her shoei 

But mw, alas! she's left me, 

In tummer lime or winter 

She h»d her bean's dewr; 
I stiU did scorn to sdM her 

From sugBr, SMk, or 6n% 
The world went round sboui, 

No case* we ever koewi 
But now, alas! she's left me, 

FaliTv, lira, h»l 

To maidens' vows and swearing 

Hcncvforth oo Otdil give; 
You may give llicm the hearing 

But never them belicve( 
They are » false as liiir, 

UocoDMaDl, frail, untrve: 
For mine, alas I hath left me, 

FaJiro, lav, bo / 



«l 



GEORGE WTTHER 



iJ7. The Lover^s Resolution 

CHALL I, wasdng in despair, 
^ Die because a woman's fair? 
Or make pale my cheeks with care 
'Cause another's rosy are J 
Be she &ireT than the day, 
Or the flow'ry meads in May, 
If she think not well of me, 
What care I how feir she be! 

Shall my ^y heart be pined 
"Cause I see a woman kindf 
Or 3 well disposed nature 
Jmnid with a lovely feature? 
Be she meeker, kinder, than 
Turtle-dove or pelican, 
If she be not so to me. 
What care I how kind she be? 

Shall a woman's virtues move 
Me to perish for her love ? 
Or her well-deservings known 
Make me quite forget my own ? 
Be she with that goodness blest 
Which may merit name of Best, 
If she be not such to me. 
What care I how good she be? 

•Cause her fortune seems too high, 
Shall I play the fool and die? 
She that bears a noble mind. 
If not outward helps she find, 

m 



GEORGE WITHER 

Thinks what with them he would do 
That without them daies her wooj 
And unless that mind 1 see. 
What care I how great she bet 

Great, or good, or kind, m fair, 
I will ne'er the more despair; 
If she ioTC me, this believe, 
I will die ere she shall grieve} 
If she slight me wheo 1 woo, 
I can scorn and let her go ; 
For if she be not for me. 
What care I for whom she be i 



238. The Choice 

A^E so oft my fancy drew 

■•■'^ Here and there, that I ne'er knew 

Where to place desire before 




GEORGE WITHER 

Next the Pansy seems to woo him, 
Then Cantatioas bow unto faim; 
Which whilst that cDunour'ti swaia 
From the stalk inteods to strain, 
(As half-fearing to be seen) 
Prettily her (eaves between 
Peeps the Violet, pale to see 
That her nrtues ^hted be; 
Which so much his Uking wins 
That to sou her he beg^ 

Yet before he stoop'd so low 
He bis wanton eye did throw 
On a stem that grew more high, 
And the Rose did there espy. 
Who, beside her prerious scent. 
To procure his eyes content 
Did display her goodly breast. 
Where he found at full exprest 
All the good that Nature showers 
On a thousand other flowers; 
Wherewith be ai^cxed takes it. 
His betovM Bower he makes it. 
And without dntrs of more 
Walks through al] be saw before. 

So I wand'ring but erewhile 

Through the garden of this Isl^ 

Saw rich beauties, I confess, 

And in number numberless. 

Yea, so differing lovely too, 

That I had a world to do 

Ere I could set up my rest. 

Where to choose and choose the best. 



GEORGE WITHER 

Tliia I fbadly ftu'A, tiU Fxie 
(Wlucb I must confess in that 
Did a p«tef fnvour lo me 
Tlian ilir woHd cu) rnalioe <k> me) 
Show'd to me that matcblcu flower, 
Subject for this wag of oui ; 
Whose periectloo tuiing ty^i 
RnwMi innantty esjHed 
That Desire, which fsinged abroad. 
There would find a period: 
And no roatrel if it might, 
For it there balh aJI delight. 
And in her hat]] ciaiute placed 
What each MvenI fair otie grxoed. 

Let who tin, for mc, adnoce 
The admirM flowers of Frano^ 
L<t who will pTMfc and behold 
The rcsenid Marigold ; 
Let Oie Bweet-brcach'd Violet now 
XJaut whom she jiWseth bawi 
And the fairest Lily spread 
Where she will her golden bead| 
I have such a flower to wear 
That for tho»c I do not ore. 



Let the young and happy xwains 
mayifig OD the Britain plains 
Court uabianied their diepherdnses, 
And with their gold ctulid tresses 
Toy uneensuied, until I 
Gmdge u their ptos|XTi^. 



GEORGE WITHER 

Let all times, boih present, past, 
And the age that shall be last, 
VauDt the beauties they bring forth. 
I have found in one such worth. 
That content I anther care 
What the best before me were; 
Nor desire to live and see 
Who shall fair hereafter be; 
For I know the hand of Nature 
Will not make a fjuret creature. 



sjff. A H^idow's Hjmn 

LJ OW near me came the hand of Death, 
*■ ■* When at my wde he struck my dear, 

And took away the precious breath 
Which (juicken'd my bclovM peert 
How helpless am I thereby made! 
By day how grieved, by night how sad I 
And now my life's delight is gone, 
— Alas! how am I left alone 1 

The voice which I did more esteem 

Than music in her sweetest key, 

Those eyes which unto me did seem 

More comfortable than the day ; 

Those now by me, as they have been, 
Shall never more be heard or seen; 
But what I once cnjoy'd in them 
Shall seem hereafter as a dream. 

tjg. peer] companion. 

4B 



GEORGE WITHER 

Lord! keep me fahhfiil to the trust 

Which my dear spouse reposed in me: 
To him now dead preserve me just 
Jo all that should performM be! 
For though our being man and wife 
Extendeth only to this life, 
Yet neither life nor death should end 
The being of a faitfafiil ftiend. 

WILLIAM BROWNE, OF TAVISTOCK 

2^0. A JVelcome 

TJTELCOME, vidcomc ! do I liag, 
r ' Far more •welcomt than lit ipringi 
fft thai partdh from jou luver 
Stall enjoj a rfring for mer. 

He tliat to the TOce is near 
Breaking from your iv'iy pole, 




WILLIAM BROWNE 

He to whom your soft lip yields, 
And perceives your breath in IcisHDg, 

All the odouis of the fields 
Never, never shall be missing. 

W^tonu, welcfme, ihen . . , 

He that quesdon would anew 

What fair Eden was of old. 
Let him lighdy study you, 

And a brief of that behold. 

Welcome, welcome, ihea ... 

241. The Sirens' Song 

CTEER, hither steer your wingM piaesi 

^ All beaten mariners 1 

Here lie Lore's uodiscover'd mines, 

A prey to passengers — 
Perfumes far sweeter than the best 
Which make the FhoEnix' urn and nest. 

Fear not your ships. 
Nor any to oppose you save our lips; 

But come OB shore, 
Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more. 

For swelling waves our panting breasts, 

Where never storms arise, 
Exchange, and be awhile our guests: 

For stars gaze on our eyes. 
The compass Love shall hourly sing, 
And as he goes about the ring, 

We will not miss 
To tell each point he nameth with a k'iss. 

— Then come on shore, 
Where no joy dies till Love hath gotten more. 

itfi 



i4^. 



WILLIAM BROWNE 



T6e Rost 



A ROSn, Bi bir M erer law titf Nonh, 
** Grew ia ■ liltlc gaMcD ill alooci 
A sweeter 8owcr did Natunr ne'er j«t forth, 
Nor fiiitr ganlrti yet was never known i 
The nuiiden) dancnl aboui it morn and noon, 
And leunM bardn of it tlieir diuies made; 
The nimble fnirics by the pdi^-faced moon 
Waier'd the toot and kU«'d her prrtty shade. 
B«I well-a^yl — the gardener cirrlc^s grewj 
The nuids sod fairies both were kepe awjy. 
And in a drought the caterpillars threw 
Tbcmi«lTes upon the bud nid every Bpnjr. 
God shield the stock! If heaven send no n^Ges, 
The fiifCR bloMOiB of the guden dies. 



T7OR her gait, if she be walking; 

^ Bv she siuini, I desire her 

For her state's fake; and admire her 

For her wit if she be talking: 

Gait and state and wit ip|«ive bet[ 
For which all and each I lore her. 

Be slie sullen, I commend her 

For ft modest. Be she mavft 

For a kind one ber prder I. 

Briefly, ererydiing doth lead her 

So much gmcv, and »o ipprwre btr, 
That for ererylhii^ I lore her. 



*f#- 



WILUAU BSOWKB 



Monti^ 




Te MOB firv lirdt bid 

Maferf At I Fa 




«^ case Ir 



1 eft BlIC LUfU I 

TVhd^ An«r 

"d Ion I ssd try vfetf UiLuv 
To art* BK ln« te 1^ fan 



^r. ia Obi* JKi. X' JC9. i«f« 

MAY t B* tbea arm {nod «cb ««* 
Kor Fkn^f'vfel 



WILLIAM BROWNE 

24J6, On tit CtuiUett Damper ef Patinie 

T JNDERNEATH thb mWc hcrw 
*— ' Lies Uic subject of >lt Tcrec: 
Sidneys ^stcr, Pembroke's mother: 
Death, ere thou l^ast slua another 
Fair and kani'd and good ts she, 
Ibae ahall throw a dm at thc«. 



ROBERT HERRICK 
j^. Corimta's going tt'Maying 

C^ ET «p, get up for thanic ! The blooming mom 
^^ Upon her wing* presents the god uuhont. 
Sec how AuTOia throws her fair 
Frwhijui]ttd colours tlirough the air: 
Gel up, «wect slug-H'bed, and m« 
Th« dew bespangling herb and trw 1 
Each flower has wept and bow'd toward the eatl 
Above an hoiu' Mnce, yet you not ditst; 
Nay! not 30 much u out of bed^ 
When all the bird* hare matins said 
And suog their thsakJiil hymiu, 'in ia. 
Nay, profanation, lo keep in. 
Whereas a thou^nnd virgins on this dajr 
Spri&g sooner than the laik, 10 fetch in May. 

Rbc and put on your foliaj^, and be ae«n 

To come forth, like the sprinft-time, fruh and ^;ftv^ 

And sweet as Flora. Take no cart 

For jewels for your gown or hoiri 

Fear not; the Icavo will strew 

Gems in abondancc upon yoai 

•4 



ROBEKT HEMMXX. 

BcfiaOi Ok andbood cv ^3k 3V sh vejc* 
Against ytn cacac. scoae odac srm'r urvst. 
Coroe. sd mxive agg noe ae I^c 
Hu^ oo dK dev^jcxs it ^ mg^c: 
And Tcan on :fae cxss;i i£I 

"nil j-on con* fcri ; Wik- ±ts. * aTg it aErm; 
Few beads ac bes «!^ abs -^ pi wH^rm^ 

Come, mT CoricsL racy ; lod "^yw^r nsrv 
How each field t ^^ -^s » sJ-bk, eai^ setk » i^K. 

Made green lod cias'd w2= =ss 1 ^ iE<« 

Derodoa gins eadi faoae & xniii. 

Or branch ! cko jaxii. ae& dxe; ss 3& 

An ark, a tabenade h. 
Made np of white-tbcco acarfr ggwr a ra. 
As if here wen thtxe ockmt •iadea :x ^r^^ 

Can such deiigbts be b dx m eet 

AikI <^>eD tdis, tad wc acc see'?; 

Come, well abroid: sad Set's a«T 

The proclamadon made foi Mst. 
And sin no more, as we hare dcoEL 'ty sanaj; 
But, my Comma, come, let's go »'Mi3=^ 

There's not a buddbg bor or pri tris iy 
But is got up and gone to bn^ b Hit. 

A deal of youth ere Aia u coee 

Back, and with whi^e-tlara h^t^ •go e . 

Some hare despatch'd their cues *3d ^ser. 

Before that we hate left :o {L-a=: 
And some have wept aad woo'd, lai ■^ti^.rxz r::-:^ 
And chose their piicst, en we cs ca^e •.— ly.-ru : 

besuli] prijen. 

K3 *fe 



ROBERT HERRICK 

Mmy a gTcai-gown lias been prco, 

Many a tuss, both odd and «reii: 

Many a glance, too, bts bn& <cot 

From out the cyt, love's finnamcnti 
Maoy a j«t lotd of tlie keys betrajring 
Tfai* night, and locks pick'di yet weVe not 

Come, let us go, while we are in our ptime, 
And taktt the harmless folly of the time I 

We shall grow tiii apice, and die 

licfore we know our liberty. 

Our life is s^ort, sad our days rua 

As fiUt away as does the sua. 
And, as a -ntfom or a drop of raii^ 
Once lost, can ne'er be found agdn, 

So when or you or I arc raxde 

A Cibic, song, or llecting thade^ 

All love, all liking, all delight 

Lies drown'd with os in endless mght. 
Then, while time serecs, sod we are but decaytng^ 
Come, my Coriona, corner let's go a-Maybg. 

2^S. To the yirgins, to make much of Time 

GATHER ye rosebuds while j-c may, 
Old Time is Mil! 3-i!yio£ : 
And this same Dower tiiat Hniles to^y 
To-morrow will be dying. 

^e ^orious lamp of hoiren, the sui^ 

The higher he's a-gctting, 
The Moner will hit race be ran, 

And nearer he's to setting. 

x/7. greec-gQwn] twntile on ilie Biai*. 



Tex tft s acK ■■icn m 2fc ias. 

"ttk— eS. *f' ^T ^ '""'■— 



Tc^ be id: =0*.. ac. ^ 




To girt P — — 17-j 't ijj 1 r»ai 

Brl^g at b-j: ?3^ IT ifl o miE tint. 

Thy ■V=.^S «■'--" 'le i-m-anr'r ot ae, 

Aad ill bcMs -ktj. auvta. 



2fO, To Electn 

T DARE not a^ s k», 
'^ I d^re not beg s "imiU, 
Lest haTing that, or diis, 

I might groT proud the wliDe. 

Kd, do, the inmost share 
Of my desire shall be 

Only to kiss that aii 
That lately kissid dxc 



ROBERT HERRICK. 

ift. To F'hlett 

VWELCOME, maids of tonour' 
'' Yon do bring 
Id the spriog. 
And wait upon ber. 

She bS9 vifgios nunjr, 

Freah nd (airt 

Yet you ire 
More swMt than Tay. 

You're the maiden posies, 

Aod so j[raced 

To be placed 
'Fore damaxk ro»e>. 

Yet, though thus rcspcctc<l, 

By-and'bj 

Ye do lie, 
Poor sirls, negiected. 



2^3. 



To 3)affUih 

CAIR <l3fii»dils, we <ireep to sec 

^ You haste awajt so tooot 

As yet the early'ri;ii|g sod 

Has not ituio'd his noocu 

Suy, siay 

Uotil the haaiias day 

Ha& ma 
But to the ereosoog) 
And, luring pray'd together, we 
Will go with yoa along. 



lAI 



ROBERT HERRICK 

We lute tboct ume u stay, as )t>u> 

Wc haTc u «bon a spciiqi 
As i{uick a growib lo meet decay, 
As Tou, or Boytbic^. 
We die 
A* jroor boun do, and dry 

Away 
Like to the summer's nsn; 
Or K tbc pearls of monring's deW| 
Ne'n 10 be foBod agua* 



2fi. To ff/osswns 

FAIR {iledses of a fnutful me, 
Why do ye M so teti 
Your date is dm so past 
But yoa may say yet here awbUe 
To Uusb and genily saiHe, 
And go at lasL 

What! wen ye bora to be 
An bost or bsiCs ddtj>bt, 
Aad >o to bid good night? 

*T«as pity Nature brovght )-ou forth 
Merely to show yonr wonii 
And loae you i}uite. 

Dot yon are lonly learcs, where we 
May read bow soon thing; have 
Thtir end, tbou(;h ne'er so braft: 

And after ibcy bave shown tbdr pride 
Like you awhile, they fjide 
Into the giai'c. 



ROBERT HORRICK 
if^ The Trimrosf 

A SK me why I send you ben 
■**■ Thi» »w«t Infioia of ihe ycl^^ 
Ask mc vhy I send to jrou 
This primrose, thus bcpcait'd with dcwf 
I will whisper to your ears : — 
The sweets of love uc inix'd with tears 

Ask me why this 6ower does tJiow 
So yellow-green, and rickly too? 
Ask me why iKc sulk is weak 
And bending (yet it doth not break] F 
I will answer: — These discorer 
What faiating hopes are in a lorcr. 

2ff. The Funeral Rites of the Rose 

'T^HE Rose w^ sick and snuling diedt 
■* And, bein?, to be sanctified. 
About the bed there sdghing stood 
The sweet and ilnwery Msicrfaood ; 
Some hung the head, white some did brin^ 
To wash her, water from the sprin;;: 
Some Lud her forth, while others wept, 
But all a solemn fast there kept: 
The holy sisters, some among, 
I'he siCTcd dirge nod iTental mng. 
But ah I what sweets smelt etery*heiv. 
As Hearen bad spent all pcrtiuiws there. 
At last, when pnyers for the dad 
And rtlex were all accompUshid, 
They, weeping, spread a lawny loom, 
And dosed her op as b a lomb. 
US- IrteUl] MtYlcc* for the dead, of thirtr I 



ROBERT HERRICK 



Zf6. Qtcrry-Ripe 

/^HERRY-RIPE. ripe, ripe, I cry, 
v> puU aad fjjf ones J come knd buy. 
If so be you Hsk vba where 
They do £'<""• ^ answer: There 
Wtwre ray JulU's lips do Btnlei 
There ^ tlie land, or cberryiale, 
Whote planudoDii fully show 
All the yev whoe chenries grow. 



If?. A Meditation for bis Mistress 

VOU ue R tulip Kcn to^y, 
^ Bm, deatcst, of w short a suty 
ThM where you £rrw scarce nun can uy. 

YoH ate a krnly Julyfiower, 

Yet one rude wind or milling shower 

Will force yoo hence, and m aa boor. 

Yo« are a S{vlcliDg rose J* tfa' hud, 
Yet loot ere that chaste fle»h and blood 
Can show where you or grew or stood. 

Yo< are a full-cpmd, fair-set tim, 
Aad caa whh teodriU lore eotwiat^ 
Yet dried ere you distil your wice. 

Yds are like balm enclosed well 

In ambei or tame crystal shell, 

Vet lost en you tmufiise your mkU. 



ROBERT HERRICK 

You arc a duaiy riolct, 

Yet wiilicr'd ere you can be set 

Within the wgio's coronei. 

You an the queen all flowers among; 
But die you must, f»r maid, ere long, 
As he, the maker of this soqg. 

2S8- 'Delight m 2>iserJer 

A SWEET dhordcr in the drew 
^'' Kindle* ia dothes a wantoontu 1 
A lawn about the shoulders thrown 
Imo a fine diuraciion: 
Ad ciring lace, whkli liere and there 
Enthrals the cnmson Monuchert 
A cuir neglectful, and thereby 
Ribbands to flow coattisedly: 
A winning wave, dewrriog note, 
In thi- CcmpMUiout pccdooat ; 
A carclnt shoc-sttiog, in whose tie 
I see a wild ciriliiy: 
!>□ moic bewitch me than when art 
Is too precipe in ctery pan. 



3f9. Upon Julians Chtbes 

W/'HENAS b ailb my Julia goe^ ^ 

''' Then, then, methtnks, how sweetly flows 
The liquefadioo of her clothes ! 

Next, when I cast nuoe eyes and eec 
That brate vibration each way freo, 
— O how that glittering t^eth me I 



ROBERT HERRICK 



360. The Bracelet: To Julm 

YWHY I tie ibow thy wrist, 
** Jnlb, this lidun twis; 
For whM oUkt reason is*t 
But to abow tht« liow, in pan, 
Thou Rty ptrtty captive tni 
But thy bond-sbre it my hurt: 
Tis ImiI silk that bindcth ihce, 
Kiup the thread and thoa art frect 
Bn 'ds otbctvisc with me: 
—I un bouad and Fut bouBd, so 
That boat thee I cuinot go; 
If I fiould, I would Dot so. 



261. To daisies f not to shut so soon 

C HUT not so soon ; the duU'Cyed night 
"^ Has DM as yet beguo 
To mtke a setzsrc on the li^i, 
Or to seal up the sbil 

No mai^ds yet closU arc. 

No shadows great vpfctx \ 
Nor doth the culy shepherd's star 

Sfaioe like a cpoglc here. 

Stay bat till my Jdia doM 

Her lifc-begrning eye, 
And let the whole world thm dispose 

Itscir to li*e or <fie. 



ROBERT HERRICK 

Z62. The Ni^ht-piece: To Julia 

Tjr ER eyes the gt<w>wonn Inid that, 
^ ^ The shooting Van aUeod thect 

And the dvcs also, 

WbiMc ill lie eyes glow 
Lilce the sparks of (tn, befriend UiM^ 

No Will-o'-thc'wii^p mislight thee. 
Nor «aike or slow-worm bite thn; 

But 00, on thy way 

Not muking a stay, 
Since ghost there's Dune to aflHght tbnk 

Let not the dark thee cumber: 
What though the mooo does slumber f 
The staix of llie night 
Will lend Uice their light 
Like tapen cleur without Duiaber. 

Tbeo, Julia, lee me voo thee, 
Tbuii, thus to conw unto mei 

And when I shall meet 

Thy siU'ry feet, 
My Mul I'll pour into thee. 

iff}. To Musk, to becalm his Fever 

/'^HARM me asle^ and melt mc SO 
^^ With thy delicious numbers, 
That, being ravish'd, hence I go 
Away in cuy Humbert. 

Ease my >idt bead. 

And make inj bed. 



ROBERT HERRICK 

Tboo power th» ca»«t ttnw 
Fnxn me ihis ilt, 
And quickJj siill, 
Tliougli thou not kill 
Mjf fever. 

Thou *w<rctJy cinst cortcr the wiio 

From 4 coiuumiog fife 
Into ■ gaa\t Ikliidg Same, 
And nuke it thui expire. 
Then mike tnc weep 
My pain* ulnpi 
AimI gfrt me such repoaci 
Tliat I, poor I, 
Uif think thenbj 
I Ere and die 
"Mongst rojM. 



FaQ oo iBC like the sOrnt dev. 
Or like those nuidcn shown* 
Which, by the peep of day, do smw 
A baptim o'er the Sovnn, 
Melt, melt my peins 
With thy solt sinuas) 
That, haring ease me given, 
With full delight 
I kwK tlua light, 
Aod tdu my flight 
For Heaven. 



JlTf 



ROBERT HERRICK 



To Tiianeme 



CWEET, be not proud of those two eyes 
"^ Which stailike sparkle in their skies; 
Nor be you proud that you cas see 
All hearts your ciptives, yours yet inti 
Be you not ytanA of clini rich hair 
Which wanions with Die loir-sick jur| 
Whouu that ruby which you irear. 
Sunk from the tip of your soft ai, 
Will bst to be s precious none 
When bU your world of bctiuiy's gone. 



26y. 



To (Enow 



^^THAT conscience, say, is it in ihee^ 

'^ When I a heart had one, 
To take auniy that heart from me^ 
And to retain thy own i 

For »hame or pity now incline 

To play a loving part; 
Either to send mc kindly thine, 

Or give mc twck my heart. 

Coret not both ; but if thou doit 

RcsoItc to part aitli ndther, 
Why, yet to show that thou art just, 

Take mc and nune together! 



ROBERT HERRICK 

266. To Anthea, wio may commmd 
him Anything 

on) IDC to Utc, and I will Un 
■^ Thy Protntant to be; 
Or bid me love, and I will gjve 
A lonog heart to thee> 

A bean u soft, a heart as kiad, 
A heart as sound and fiee 

As ID the whole world thou canst find, 
That heart 111 give to thee. 

Bid that heart stay, and it will st^ 

To hoaour thy decree: 
Or bid it languish quite away, 

And't shall do so for thee. 

Bid roe to weep, and I will weep 
While I have eyes to see: 

And, having none, yet will I keep 
A heart to weep for thee. 

Bid me despair, and I'll despair 

Under that cypress-tree : 
Or bid me die, and' I will dare 

E'cD death to die for thee. 

Thou art my life, my lore, my heait. 

The very eyes of me ; 
And hast command of every part 

To live and die for thee. 



ROBERT HERRICK 



i67. Tff the ff^illovB-nte 

•yHOU art lo all lost love ihc bcsi, 
^ The only tnic jilaai found, 
Wherewith y*xag men aod nutd* diMmt, 
And left of loTe, are crowa'd. 

When once the lonr's rote it dead, 

Or laid REidc forlorn : 
Then wllow-guUnds iMut the head 

fiedew'd whJi tears art wore. 

Vihta with neglect, the loTcre' brne^ 

Poor maids rewarded be 
For tiieir love lost, thor only gaia 

Is but a wteaili from tliee. 

And underneath thy oootine slude, 

When weary of tlic ligtit, 
The love-spcDt youtii and lov«-sick luatd 

Come to weep out the nijht. 



368. Th Mad Maitfj Smg 

/^OOD-MORROW to tbe day «o Cur, 
'^ Good-moming, sir, lo you; 
Good-morrow to mine own torn hair 
Bedabbled witli the dew. 

Good-monung to thix jirimroK too, 

Good-morrow to eich maid 
That will with flotttra the tomb beitiew 

Wlierein ray love is hid. 



ROBERT HERRICK 

Ahl woe is me, woe, woe is mel 

Alack and well-a-day! 
For pity, ur, fiod oat that bee 

Which bore my love away. 

I'll seek him in your bonnet brar^ 
I'D seek him b your eyes; 

Nay, now I think thejr'Te made his grave 
I' th' bed of strawbenies. 

Ill seek him there; I koow ere this 

The cold, cold earth doth shake himj 
But I will go, or send a kiss 

By you, ar, to awake him. 
Pray huit him not; though he be dead. 

He knows well who do love him, 
And who with green turfs lear his head. 

And who do rudely mow him. 

He's soft and tender (pray take heed); 

With bands of cowslips bind him, 
And bring him home — but 'tis decreed 

That I shall oerer find him I 

2(Jg. Comfort to a Toutb that had lost 

bis Love 

W7HAT needs complaints, 
W When she a pbce 
Has with the race 
Of saints? 

In endless mirth 
She thinks not on 
What's sMd or done 
Id Earth. 




No more. 



270. T'o Meadows 

VE hare been fresh and green, 
■^ Ye have been fill'd with flowers, 
And ye the walks have been 

Where maids have spent their hours. 

You have beheld how they 
With wicker arks did come 

To kiss and bear away 
The richer cowslips home. 

You've heard them sweetly sing, 
And seen them in a round : 

Each virgin hke a spring, 
With hooeysuekles crown'd. 



ROBERT HERRICK 

But now we see none here 

Whose silv'ry feet did tread 
And with dishevell'd hair 

Adom'd this smoother mead. 
Like uDthrifts, hxnag spent 

Your stock and needy grow% 
You're left here to lameat 

Yoor poor estates, aloae. 

271. A ChiWs Grace 

OERE a litde child I stand 

* ■* Healing v^ my either band; 
Cold aa paddocks though tbey b^ 
Here I lift them op to The^ 

For a benison to fall 

On our meat and on us all. Amen. 

Z72, Epitaph 

vptm a Child ihat £id 
LJERE she lies, a pretty bud, 

* ^ Lately made of flesh and blood : 
Who as soon fell fast asleep 

As her little eyes did peep. 
Give her strewings, but not stir 
The earth that lightly covers her. 

27}' Another 

LJERE a pretty baby lies 
■*■ ■*■ Sung asleep with lullaHes t 
I^y be silent and not stir 
Th' easy earth that covers her. 



ROBERT HERRICK 



^74. Hit fVinJing-sheer 

COME thou, who an the wine and wk 
Of all IV writ : 
Thi! grace, the glory, aod the best 

Piece of the rest. 
Tboti an of whn I did intend 

The nil and end ; 
And what WM madr, was nude to meet 

Thee, tliee, my shnt. 
Come then nnd be to my chaste Mde 

Both bed and bride: 
We two, » Kli(|un lelt, will have 

One rest, one grave : 
And hugging date, wc will not (ear 

Lust entering here; 
Whne all dcsim are dead aod c«ld 

As i:t the mould; 
And aU alTcctions are forgot. 

Or trouble not. 
Here, here, the slaves and prisootrs be 

Prom sbackks free 1 
And weeping widows long ofjuess'd 

Do here £nd rest. 
The wnxigM client ends his laws 

Here, and his cia^. 
Here those long suits of Chaocery Be 

Quiet, or die: 
And alt Star-Chnmber bills do cease 

Or hold thrir pence. 
Here needs no Court for oui Re^uea 

Where all arc best, 
All wise, all equal, and all Just 

Alike i' th' dust. 



ROBERT HERRICK 

K« need we here to for the firowa 

Of court Of nown : 
Where fotrone bnn oo sway o'ef things, 

There all an lun|8. 
In tins securer jilace we'll ke«p 

As luU'd ta\etpi 
Or for a little time irtil lie 

As robes U*d bir; 
To be UMther dty rcwom, 

TnraM, but not torn : 
Of like old tcKonwots engmx'd, 

Lock'd up, tio« l(«t. 
And for » while b'e hnr concnl'd, 

To be rerral'd 
Next « ilie jre« riatonick yew, 

Aad tlien meet here. 

£7f. UtatTf to the Hoi/ Spirit 
TN the bow of my dintress, 
^ When tempt^iliOB* mc oppreu, 
And when I mj litis confci%. 

Sweet Spirit, comforr mcl 
When I Ik whhia my bed. 
Sick ia hean aixt ncIc io bead, 
Aod with doibts dtsoomfoned, 

Sweet Spirit, comfort me I 
When the hoote doth ttglt and weep, 
Afid the worid is drown'd in sleep, 
Yet nunc eyes the wittch do keep^ 

Sweet Spirit, cooifon mel 

W74' PUt«Bick ]Kw] tiie peifect cr crtlk yew, what the mn, moon, 
•Old fit* fluiR* ttA their t«Kl«tion* tOG«tbet sod ittn knew. 
See 7te«M, p. 3». 



ROBERT HERRICK 

Wheo the passing bdl doth toll, 
And the Furies io ft shoal 
Come to fright a parting soul, 

Sweet Spirit, comfoit met 

When the tapers new born bln^ 
And the comfbnns are few. 
And that miinber mon than tnie, 
Sweet S[uit, comfort mel 

When the priest his last hath pray'd. 
And I nod to what is said, 
'Cause my speech is now decay'd, 
Sweet Spirit, comfort mel 

When, God knows, I'm toss'd about 
Either with despair or doubt; 
Yet before the glass be out. 

Sweet Spirit comfort me t 




FRANCIS QUARLES 

3?S, A divine Rapture 

■p'EN like two little bank-dindiDg brooks, 
^ That wash the pebbles with their wanton streams, 
And hanng ranged and search'd a thousand nooks, 
Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames, 
Where in a greater corrent they conjoin; 
So I my Best-belovSd's aro; so He is mine. 

E'en so we met; and after long [wrsiiit, 
E'en so we joined; we both became entire t 

No need for either to renew a suit, 

For I was flax, and He was flames of fire: 
Our iirm-united souls did more than twine; 

So I my Best-bdoT^d's am ; so He is mine. 

If all those glittering Monarchs, that command 
The servile quarters of this earthly ball. 

Should tender in exchange thnr shares of land, 
I would not change my fortunes for them all ; 
Their wealth is but a counter to my coin; 

The world's but theirs; but my BelovM's mine. 



277, Epigram 

Rei^e Finem 

^^Y soul, sit thou a patient looker-on; 

■i'-l Judge not the play before the play is done : 

Her jJot hath many changes ; every day 

Speaks a new scene; the last act crowns the play. 



HENRY KING 

From thy grieved fiiend, whom thoa im^t*st set 
Quite melted mto tean &r thee. 

Dear loss! since thy uotimely fate, 
My task hath been to meditate 
On thee, on thee I Thon art the book, 
The library whereon I look, 
Tho' almost blind. For thee, loved clay, 
I languish out, not Utc, the day. . . . 
Thou hast benighted me; thy set 
This ere of blackness did beget. 
Who wast my day (tho' overcast 
Before thou hadst thy noontide past)t 
And I remember must in tears 
Thou scarce hadst seen so many years 
As day tells hours. By thy dear SUD 
My love and fortune first did run ; 
But thou wilt never more appear 
Folded within my hemisphere. 
Since both thy light and motion, 
Like a fled star, is fall'n and gone, 




HENRY KING 



B« w m«cb blest as lo dncry 
A sliin)>M of iJicc. till tlut diy conic 
Wlucb ifciU tbe rjnfa to cioden docra. 
And » date fri w most calcine 
Tbe body of thn world— lile ihiiK, 
My little wofid 1 That fit of (re 
Oocc off, our bo(Ga shill Mpire 
To onr wult' bGss : tlien we ihtl) tm 
And ticv oiit*«l*«i with ckwcr eye* 
In tlui calm rcgioa where rto night 
Can hide as front each otber's sight. 

Mntntitne thou hait bcr, eanh i much goiid 
May my harm do thee ! Since k stood 
With Hnren's will I nu^bt nix call 
Her loofot mine. I ^Te tbtc all 
My shion-lived right and inwmt 
In hex wbooi li*iag I loTed best. 
Be kind to hef, aad pmhte look 
Thou write bto Uiy Doomsday booli 
Each pared of ttus nricy 
Whtcli in thy culcet bhriatd doth lie, 
Ai tbm wilt snswo' Him that lent — 
Not gave — thee my dnr monumenL 
So cloK the groond, and "boot her sh-vle 
Black curtan draw: my bride n l^d. 

Sleep 00, my Lore, to thy tdd bed 
Nrvn to be disquieted I 
My Law good-night! Thou wilt oot wake 
tHi I thy fate thai! oteruke: 
TtU age, or grief, or ikknr&s must 
Many my body to that du&t 
It M much lotesi and liU the room 
Uy hetn keeps empty in thy tomb. 

L a. 



HENRY KINO 

Stay for me there; I xriU not fail 

To meet thee in that hollow vale. 

And think not much of mj delay i 

I am already on the way, 

And follow thee with dl the speed 

Desire can make, or sorrows breed. 

Each minute is a ^ort degree 

And every hour a step towards thee. . . ■ 

'Tis true — with shame and giief I yield- 
Thou, like the ran, first took'st the field; 
And gotten hast the Tictawy 
In thus adventunng to die 
Before me, whose more y«ars might cran 
A just precedence b the grsTe. 
But hark ! my pulse, like a goft drum. 
Beats my approach, tells thee I comet 
And slow howe'er my marches be 
1 shall at last ut down by thee. 

The thought of this bids me go on 
And wait my dissolution 




GEORGE HERBERT 

Sweet rose, whose hue ugry and brave 
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye^ 
Thy root is ever in its grave, 
And thoD must dic^ 

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, 
A box where sweets compacted lie, 
My music shows ye have your closes, 
And all must die. 

Only a sweet and virtuous soul. 
Like season'd timber, never ^ves; 
But though the whole worid turn to coal, 
Then chiefly lives. 

282. Enster 

T GOT me flowers to straw Thy way, 

I got me boughs olT many a tree ; 
But Thou wast up by break of day. 

And branght'st Thy sweets along with Thee. 

Yet though my flowers be lost, they say 
A bean can never come too late; 

Teach it to sing Thy praise this day, 
And then this day my life shall date. 

2tl. 2>iscipUne 

'FHROW away Thy rod, 
■^ Throw away Thy wrath; 
O my God, 
Take the gentle path! 




For my heart's 

Unto Thine is 


desire 

benCi 


I aspire 
To a M coase[it. 


Koi 3 word or look 




book, 
alone. 


1 
1. 


I weep J 
in pace, 
■eep 
af grace, 


1 n le 

Love wil. 1 

For will 

Stony hearts wi 


remove ; 
ic deed ; 
1 love 
]| bleed. 



Love is swift of foot [ 

Love 's a man of war, 

And can shooi, 

And can hit from far. 

Who can 'scape his bow ? 
That which wrought on Thee, 

Brought Tliee low, 
Needs must work on me. 



Throw away Thy rod; 
Though man frailties hath. 

Thou art God: 
Throw away Thy wrath ! 



»9» 



GEORGE HERBERT 

284. A Dialog 

Mm. CWEETEST Sanour, if my soul 
*-* Were but worth the having, 
Quiclcty should I then coDtrol 

Any thought of waving. 
But when all my care and puns 
Cannot give the name of g^ns 
To Thy wretch so fiill of stains, 
What delight or hope remuns ? 

Saviour. What, child, is the balance thine^ 
Thine the poise and mcasnre? 

If I say, 'Thou shalt be Mine," 
Finger Dot My treasure. 

What the gains in having thee 

Do amount to, only He 

Who for man was sold can see ; 

That transferr'd th' accounts to Me. 

Man. But as I can see no merit 
Leading to this favour. 
So the way to fit me for it 

Is beyond my savour. 
As the reason, then, is Thine, 
So the way is none of mine j 
I disclaim the whole design ; 
Sin disclaims and I resign. 

Saviour. That is all : if that I could 
Get without repining; 
And My day. My creature, would 
Follow My resigning ; 

JS4. tsvooi] lavoii, kaowiiig. 



28y. 




That aa I did freely pan 
With My glory and desert. 
Left all joys lo feel all smaiT 

Moh. Ah. no more! Thou brcak'st ray heart 1 



w 



Let us (said 
Let the world's 
Contract i 



St made Man, 

of blessings standing by — 

nl! we can ; 
dispereed lie, 



I 



So strength first j & way. 

Then bejuty flow'c!, then wisuom, hononr, pleasuie : 
When almost all was out, God made a stay, 
Perceiving that, alone of al! His treasure, 

Rest in the bottom lay. 

For if I should (said He) 
Bestow this jewel also on My creatiur, 
He would adore My gifts instead of Me, 
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature ; 

So both should losers be. 

Yet let him keep the rest, 
But keep them with repining restlessness ; 
Let him be rich and weary, that at least, 
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness 

May toss him to My breast. 



«» 



2S6. 



GEORGE HERBERT 



I QVE bade tat wdcomc; yet taj soul drew buck, 

^ Giultjr of ixen and sin. 

Boi <inck-eyed Lore, obsem^g me grow sbck 

FiOiu mf £t»t eotnace in, 
Dtew Demer to me, sweetly quctboning 

If I lack'd anjibifig. 

'A guett.' I laswcr'd, 'worthy lo be here:* 

LoK said, 'Yoa shaU be he' 
'I, the unkind, ungraufulJ Ah, tnjr Aeai, 

I uiiDot look oa Tbce.' 
LoK took my bind aod tmiliag did rqily, 

'Who nude the cyM but I." 

'Tnitb, Lord; but I bive aurr'd them: let my thxme 

Go where tt dodi deserre.' 
' A»d kflow y«u not,' uyi Lote, ' Who bore the bJime V 

'My dew, tbea I will Mr*e/ 
*Yoa imn tk down,' uys Lote, 'and uate my men.' 

So I did tit lod cat. 



JAMES SHIRLEY 
287. A Hymn 

OFLY, my Soul ! What hug« ^^mmi 
Tliy dioopir.g wiags, 
And wti^l Uxm down 
Wnb lote of ffudy monal things \ 

Tbe Sun ia now i' ibe eut: each &liade 

At he doth rile 

U ibotttf nude, 
Tbit earth may lessen 10 ouf eyea. 



JAMES SHIRLEY 

O be DM coT^u tbCD and jAaf 

Unlil the Scar of Peace 
Hide all his bcaim m dark tccc» ! 
Poor ptlgrimt ncedt must lo«e their way, 
Wbm aU the shadows do tncmsr. 



288. 7>ealh the Levtlhr 

'X'HE glories of our blood md >iate 
^ Are sbKlowd, not sututaatial thiogx ; 
There U do armour against Fatej 
Death luys bis icy hand on kiogi: 
Sceptre and Crown 
Must tumble down, 
And hi the dust be equal made 
With ilie j>oor crool&d scythe aod spade. 

Some men witJi swords msy r«ap the field, 
Acd plaDt fresh laurels where tikey kill : 
But tlicir itroDg nenes M Ixst must yield ; 
They lame but one another still : 
Early or late 
They noop to fate, 
And muM give up their murmuririg brtMii 
When they, pale captires, creep to death. 

The gulaods viiUier on your brow; 

Then boast no more your mifb^ dectUi 
Upon I>eatl)'s purple altar now 
See where the victot-iiciim blKtla. 
Your heads must coow 
To the cold tomb: 
Only the uctiona of the just 
Siudl sweet and blossom in ihetr dnK. 



TH0I.1AS CA&EV 

2S9. Smg ^ 

ASK me no mort »kcfc Jotv faeaws, 
^^ Wbeo Jaae b fas, Ae &Ai( raoej 
Hot in your beaoiy'i oant 6eef 
These dowcn, as in dnr ooio, ^ecjk 

Aitk me ao cnocc wlutho da vmf 
The golden atonu of the ittj i 
Fo< in pare lote faeaiKa did firtpNC 
Thow [nvdcT* to cnnch ymr tuir. 

Ailc OK 00 more wUtbtr doth hkUe 
The snjjitugak when U>j is paui 
For in yo«r sweet din<£i)( throat 
She viottn and keeps tnim her soit. 

Ask me do more «-lier« thiMe «vi \0a 
That downwrards &U id dead of m^ ; 
For in <faui eya they sit, mhI tbm 
Fwid beoone as hi their sphere. 

Ask me 00 more if cnti or wot 
The PboaU b«U* her spicy aesct 
For uato jpou at bat slie ftio, 
And in jour bt/fftttl bosom do. 

290, 'Persuasions ft J^^ .• a S^ar 

TP the q«kk tptiu to jwf «7c 

Nov langiiiih and aooa nnat iSe) 
If erety sweet and cvny (nee 
Mu« ftjr frau that forsaken &ee; 



THOMAS CAREW 

Then, Cclii, let us mp our joys 
Ere Time such goodlj fnut desuoys. 

Or if tliAt golden flccc« musi grow 

For ever free from agid tnow; 

If th(Mc bri^t (uns niuu Icnow no shade, 

Kor your frcsfi bciutics rvrr ftdti 
Then fear not, Cdui, to bcMow 
What, still being gathcr'd, sUU must grov. 

Thus cither "nme his sickle brings 
la vain, or else in vaio his wings. 



3fii, To His FtKxnstmt Mistreu 

'VWHEN tbou, poor Exoomrtiutilcue 

" From all the joys of Low, shall 9tt 
the full reward and glorious fat« 

Which my strong faith sliall purcbue me, 
Then cuise thine own ioconManEy ! 

A fairer hand than thioe shall cure 

That hean which thy faint oaths did woufidt 

And to my soul a soul more pure 

Than tlune shall by Love's band be bound, 
And both with t^^ual glory cnnvn'd. 

Then shall thou weep, cnirtat, compbin 
To LoTe, as I did onoe to ihee; 

When all thy tear* *haii be as vain 
As mine were then : for thou shah be 
X)amn'd for thy false ^toataiy. 



THOMAS CAREW 



2^2. The Unfa^m^ Beauty 

LJ E that loTcs I ro»y chmk, 
' '' Or a con! Ep ailmim. 
Or Utm (Is^like eyn doth wcic 

Fud to manuaia }a% Urs: 
As old Tnne wak.t\ ihcxc denf. 
So hii flaaes tram wimc away. 

But a naooih snd sttad&st tninil. 
Gentle tttoD^u and calm dcsiiirt, 

HcHts with ctfii\ \iort corabiatid, 
Ki&dJr ncTCT-dyiiig fire*. 

Wbrre tlicsc arc not, I disfuse 

Loiely chMlu or lips ot ejcs. 



^9i' Tn^ateful Btnut/ threateneti 

I/NOW, Cdia, liocc thoa art lo proud, 
^* Twas I thai gate ihrc (Jij- trnown. 
Thou badst in the fofgottcn crovd 

Of commoa bcauiin Uvcd tiaknown. 
Had not my icnc extoti'd thy name. 
And with it iiapM the win^s of Ftnw. 

That killing povn tx none of thine t 
I gave n to thy voice and eye? ; 

TTiy sw«t^ thy graces, all are mine: 
Thou on my sur, »hin'« in my iki'et; 

Thru dan tioi from ihy borrow'd y/bsK 

Lighceisg on hifli that fix'd thee tbera. 

«f>f. Uip'ilJ gnlUd with Ofw CaUhcn. 



THOMAS CAREW 

Tempt me with «uch alfrightn oa more, 
Lest whjt I nude I uncrcite ; 

Let iooh thy m^tic rotoi adore, 
I know thcc in thy mortal sute. 

Wise portSi tint wrapt Tnilli ta uht, 

Knew bcr ihemsclTes through all her reils. 

JP4. Epitaph 

On dr Lady Mary ViUiiri 

'T^HE Lady Mary VaUets lies 
* Under this «one; wilh wr«ptiig eyea 
The fnrenta thut lint gare her bitth, 
Arid ihcit ud frii-nd.-i, laid her in eutb. 
If any of them. Reader, were 
Known unto thee, »hcd a tern; 
Or if iliyM'If pottcM a gem 
Alt dcu to thee, » this to them, 
Though a stranger to this place. 
Bewail in their* thin« own lurd case : 
For thou pcrhnps al thy return 
Ma/st £nd thy Darling in an urn. 

ifff. ^nether 

TPHIS little vault, ihi» omow room, 
^ Of Loie and Beauty is llic tixiiti| 
The dawning beam, that 'gan to clcu 
Oui cloudrd «ky, lies darken'd here, 
For cTtr set u> us: by Death 
Sent to <n£inic the Worid Ocneath. 
'TwBS but a bud, yci did contain 
More sweetness than shall spting aguin \ 

JOB 



THOMAS CAREW 

A budifing Star, thai mi^ lu<* growo 
Into 1 Sun wbcn it had bfewn. 
Thia hopeful B««viy did cmte 
Ktw life ti) Lore's dtdiaiitg sute; 
B« BOW hi* m;ntr irnds, ud we 
' From fifc aad wounding dnts arc fmi 
Hix brand, his bow. let mo man l«ar: 
The flamet, the arrows, all lie here. 



T' 



JASPER MAYNE 

2pf, Timf 

MMI- is ihc ft-nbcT'd tluug, 
And, ivfailst I pnisc 
The ftpMklifigs of thj looks nd call Uiem raj^ 
Takn wbg, 
LeniBf bcfcnad him as he Hies 
An ur.pocfWM dimacM la liiine e}C9. 
Kb minotnL wUist they're told. 

Do make ua old ) 
Ami erery sand of his Aeet glaM, 
IiKTeaiitig age as it doth pOM, 
latmsihly sows wrinkles there 
Where Bowers and rotes do iipptar. 
WhiJ« we do spcJc, o«r fire 
Doth into ice expire, 

Ptunes mm to frost; 
And ere we can 
Koow how our crow i»nu swaa, 
Or bow % silfer snow 
Spriots there where jet did grow, 
Our fMfiiif ipting b in dall wiater lost. 



JASPER MAYNE 

Since then the Niglit h>th hnrrd 

Datkncs.'S Lo»e's shade. 
Over its toemy the Diiy, snd made 

The worid 
Jtat SDCb a blicd and shapelesa thiaj; 
As 'twu before light did from darkiKSs spriag, 
Let us employ its treasure 
And mi](c shade plcssitfc: 
Let's number out du liours by blisses, 
And count the minutes by our kisses i 
Let the heavens new moikiiu feci 
And by otir embraces wheel ( 
And wtiil« we try the way 
By which Love doth coarey 
Soul unto Mul, 
And min^iitji sa 
Makn them ^uctl npnircs know 
As makes them incranced lie 
In rauwal ecstasy, 
Let the bannonious spheres in mustc roll ! 



WILLL\M HABLVCTON 
297. To £oses m the Bosom of Castar^ 

t6ay4 

VE biusliing yirgins happy arc 
* In iJie clusic Dunncry of her breasts — 
For he'd protime no cliaste a liir, 

Whoe'er shodd call tlicm Cupkl's nesls. 

TrenspUntcd thus how bright ye grow 1 
How rich a perfume do ye yield ! 

In some close garden cowslips 10 
Are iweeter than i' th' open licld. 

so* 



WILLIAM HABINGTON 

In those white clcusters live secure 

From the nide blasts of waDton breath i 

Each hour more umocent and ptue. 
Till jaa shall wither into death. 

Then that which linng gave you rooni. 
Your glorious sepulchre shall be. 

There wants no marble for a tomb 
Whose breast hath marble been to me. 



W 



2p8. Nox Nocti Indkat Scientiam 

'"HEN I snney the bright 
Celestial sphere; 
So rich with jewels hung, that Mght 
Doth like aa Ethiop bride appear: 

My soul her wings doth spread 
And heavenward flies, 
Th' Almighty's mysteries to read 
In the large volumes of the skies. 

For the bright Brmament 

Shoots forth no flame 
So ulent, but is eloquent 

Id speaking the Creator's name. 

No unregarded star 

Contracts its light 
Into so small a character, 

Removed far from our human sight, 

But if we steadfast look 
We shall discern 
In it, as m some holy book, 

How man may heavenly knowledge learn. 



WILLIAM HABINCTON 

It tdb ibe conqueror 

Thu f>r-stretcb'd powtr, 
Which h» [iroud dingers traffic for. 
Is but the triuBiph of an hour : 

That front the farthmt Notth, 
Some nadon nujr, 
Yet undiscowr'd, bsue fiirtli, 

Aod o'a bis new-got conqunt swiyi 

Some nation yet tliut in 
With hiU* of Kx 
May be let oat to Hcourge hit sio, 
"TUl they iliill e^ual biro in vice. 

And then they likcwiK thai] 
Tbcic ruin twrt; 
For as yoursclte* your empires f»ll, 
And erery kingdom bath a grave 

Tbns thow cde«iil fires, 

Though sMsuDji nraie. 
The fiUacy of our desim 
And all the )iride of Uie confute: — 

For they hare vatch'd since lirsi 
Tlie World bad birth: 
And found tia in itself accurst. 
And ootbing f«nnaticnt on Eanli. 




THOMAS RANDOLPH 
jpp. yt 7>evout Lover 

••0S-l«]S 

T HAVE a imsuns, for pcTfrciicms rare 

* In cTerj cyr, bul in my thouj^bcs mou fair. 

Like tj]wn oo the altar shine her eyes ; 

Her breath n the |)erfume of McnRcci 

And wbere»oe'ct my faocy wouM bcpn. 

Still bcT perfKtioB leu r^gioa ia 

We nt and talk, a&d luss amy the houn 

As duslely as the roorniag dews kiss flowers: 

I tooch her, like my beads, with deroat care^ 

And come onto my courtship at my pr^wr. 



300. An Ode to Master Anthm/ SlaJfarJ 

to haittm Km tato tht CvtiHry 

r^OME, ipdr sway, 
^-^ I hate BO patieace for ■ toDger stay, 
But hmK go down 
And lesre the duigcahle eoije of thb great towni 
I will the country see, 
When <M simplicity, 
Tbowgh hid in gray. 
Doth lode more gay 
Thui fofpny in plush and scarlet clad. 
FamvU, yoa cny wits, that arc 
Almoat at dnl wv — 
i time that I grow wise, when all the world grows mid. 

f>3 



THOMAS RANDOLPH 

More of my days 
1 will not spend to gain m idiot's pniw) 

Or to make spon 
For some sligbi Puisne of the Inns of Coart. 
Then, worthy SulTorcI, say, 
Hour shdl we ^end the diy^ 
With what delijthts 
Shorten the aighai 
When from this tumult u-c we got tccure. 
Where mirth with all ber freedom gorf, 
Yet shall no fmgtr lo6c( 
Where every word is thoiigbt, and crery thought is purtf 

There from the tree 
We'll cherries pluck, and [nek the ttnwberryT 

And cTcry day 
Go see the wht^esome country girls maltc bay, 
Whose btowD hatb lordier grace 
Than any painted face 
That I do know 
Hyde Park cin sliow: 
Where I had latber giin a kiss than fflcct 
(Though M>rae of them in greater sate 
Might court my love witli plate) 
The beauties of the Cheap, and wiveii of Lombard Slrce 

But think upon 
Some other pleasures: these to mc are none. 

Why do I prate 

Of women, that ar« things against my fate I 

I nera mean to wed 

That tortore to my bedi 

My Muse Li xhe 

My tote shall be^ 




If I 



THOMAS RANDOLPH 

Let down* get veahh and bein : vhm I tn> 
Aod tfaM great b«)gb«8r, gri.ity Death, 
Shill ukc this idle broth, 
t ponu Irsvc, ihat poem b my 900. 

Of this no more ! 
We'll mhft tnxte the bright Pomooa's store. 

No fruit sbail 'scape 
Our |>alaic&, from the damton to the grape. 
ThcD, fall, well seek a shade, 
And hru what music's mdet 
How Philomel 
Her Lilc doth tell, 
And how the other birds do fin the ^iie; 
The thrush and blackbird lend tlwit throats, 
Warbling melodious Botes ; 
wiD all sports enjoy which others btX desire. 

Ours is the tky, 
VhtTT Rt what fowl wc pinsc our hawk shall fly; 

Nor will we spare 
To huat tli« cnfty fox or timorous han; 
Bat let our hounds run loose 
In aay grouod they'll choose [ 
The buck diaU &1I, 
Tbe stag, and aD. 
Out pleanucs must from their own wirraDU be. 
For to my Miwc, if not 10 mc, 
I'm sure sU gome is Im: 
^Hctnii, earth, nv aO but parts of her great royalty. 

And when we mean 
To taMc of Bacchu' blessings oow ud tbcti, 

And driiik by stt-alth 
A cup or two 10 noble Barfcley's health, 



THOMAS RANDOLPH 

III uke 01)' pipe and tfj 
The PhrygUn melody ; 
Which be that hean. 
Lets throogh his can 
A madness to diMem]>er all the bnuni 
Tfae« I another fn\K will uke 
And Doric music make, 
To civilize with graver notes our whs agitD. 



SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT 

joi. Aubade 

'T'HE Iirk now Iwvc* hi* w*i'ry ne«, 
^ And climbing shikcs his dewy wings. 
He ukea this window for the Kast, 

And to implore your light he sings — 
Aw*ke, awoke I the mom will nerw riw 
Till she can dress her btaitty at your eyes. 

The merchant bows unto the MOfliao's stsr. 

The ploughman from the ■sua his tea^ton takes) 

But slill the lover wonders what they are 

Who look for day before bi> mixtress wake«. 

Awake, awake I break thro* your veils of lawn! 

11ien draw your curtuns, and be^o the dawn t 

^62. Te a Mistress 7>/htg 

Lever. VOVH. beauty, ripe and calm and fiesli 
^ As eauem summers are, 
Must now, forsaktog tine and lesh, 
Add lij^t to aonx aaull aur. 




SIR WILLIAM DAVENANT 



PiAitfitr. WbHat Ae jvt Uto, woe stin decay'd, 

Tbeir light by hen refief might find) 
But Duih will lead her lo 3 shade 
Wbnc LoTc a coM >nd Beauty bliMl. 

Lmrr, Lorcn, whose pnnts all pocu are, 

Think every luMieM, when abe dies. 
It changed at least JMo a Mat: 

Afid who dires dot^ the poets wbe? 

PiiiMficr. But Mk not hodin dooni'd to die 
To whw ahodc they gO( 
Since Knowlojgc w but Sorrow't spy, 
It ti D(X **it to know. 



303. 



Traia and Tra/er 



DRAISE is derotion fit for mifhty minds, 
' The difPriog world's agneing sacrifiee) 
Whcte Heaven divided faiths united finds : 
But Pnyer la vuioos disootd upward dicx. 

For Ptayrr ihc ocean b where diitrsdy 
Men steer their cotne, esch 10 a Mv'ral couti 

Where iB ov tntemts so ifiscordBM ov 
That half faeig wiads by which the rest are lost. 

By PtniUBce when we ourselves forsake, 
Tb but in wbc dciiga on piteous Hmca 1 

II Pniw we Dobly [lie whut God mty take. 
And ar^ srtihout a beggar's hlooh, fbrpTen. 



EDMUND WALLER 

jo^. On a GirJU 

'T'HAT whi(h her slcoder waist coaiiacd 
*■ Shall now my joyful temples btndt 
No tnoiurch but would gi*e his orown 
Hit orais might <lo what this ku dooe;. 

It was my Heaivn** extretnesi spfaere. 
The pate which hrU that lordj deer! 
M]r joy, my grief, my hope, my ]om, 
Did aU within this circle moTc. 

A ntrrow compa&s! aod yet there 
Dwelt all tbit's sood, und alt that's fiir! 
Gii« me but what this nbhand bound, 
Talce all ihe reit the sua goes round I 

50;. Go, lovely Sose 

^^ O, loi'cly Rose— 

^*-* Trll bar that vastrs her time aod me, 

'!"hai now she knows. 
When I resemble her to thw. 
How sweet and fur she »ccia» to b«. 

Tell her that's young, 
And ^huns to hxnt hec graces ^cil» 

That bad9.t thou s|>tuq|{ 
In deseiti where no men abide, 
Tbou mutt have tmeommendtd died. 

Small is the worth 
Of hcauty fimn the light mired : 

Bid her come fonh. 
Sutler bcr^lf to be desired. 
And not blush so 10 be admired. 



3f><f. 



EDMUND WALLER 

Then die — that she 
Tfac coinnKio fate of all UuBjs nre 

M<y naA in ^htt\ 
How Miull a ]>ut of time they iharc 
That are lo woadroos *we« mi fair ! 

OU Age 



^T^HE Mu «rc <)det when ibe winds give o'eri 
^K~ So calm itr wc when paitiom are oo more. 
^■Por ibrfl wc Icnow how viiti it was to boMt 
Hpf fleeting tkiogs, so cctt^ to be lost. 
HCIouds of aJTrction from our youn^ eyes 
^RoQceal that e ra p d aesa which igt Aetata.. 

Tbe sool's dark cotu^ hMter'd «ad drcay'd. 
Lr> in arw light tlirougb chinks that Time hath lude: 
Stronger by wcaknc&s. wiser ibcd bKome 
As they draw ncir to tlieir eternal home. 
Leaiing the old, both worlds at oocc they view 
That stiod 141OD the threshold of tbe new. 



I JOHN MILTON 

i07. ffyma on the Morning of Christ's 
Nativity 

TT was the Winter wilde, 

^ Wliilc the Ileal 'a-born-childe, 

AD meanly wrap* in the r«de manger lies; 
Nature in aw to him 
Had dolTt her gawdy trim, 

With bei great Mai.ter so to symjiuhiix: 
It WM DO »ca*oii then for her 
To wanion with the Sun her Itnty Paramour. 

J" 



JOHN MIL'TON 

Oelji with ipKchcs bir 
She voo's the gttitic Air 

To Wuk ho Kulty froot wiih innocent Snow, 
AnJ on bet cuketl ihkine. 
Pill lute with HiifvU Uune, 

The Saintly Vail of Maiden white to throw, 
Confuunilod, that her Makera eyes 
Should look BO oecr upon her foul defetmitM. 

But he ber fan to cea«e, 
Sent down th« roeek-eyd Pcxr, 

She crown'd with Olhc green, came ioftly sliding 
Down through the tuttiiag sphiir 
H» mdy Harbinger, 

Will) Turtle wing the amorous clouds 
And wiving wide her metJe waod, 
She strikes a universall Peace through Sea and 

No Wir, or Bsniils sound 
W'm hnrd the Woild nround. 

The idJc spear and shield were high np hung; 
The hookid Chariot stood 
Unosin'd with hostile blood, 

Th« Tiui»i«t »[akc aot to the arniM thiot^, 
And Kings iatc still wiUi iwfull ej*. 
As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. 

But peacefuU w» the iiigiit 
Wherin the Priacc of light 

ilia ruga of pcacv upon the earth began: 
The Windcs vrith wonder wlusi, 
Smoothly the waters kist, 

Wbisperii^ new joyes b> the milde Oceto, 
Who now bath (juitc forgot to rate, 
While Birds of Calm at brooding on the cbarmid ' 




I 



• 



t 



JOHN MILTON 



The Stan with deep amnx 
Scaod £xt in tudtist gate. 

Bending one way tbdr preuous indutooey 
And will not take their flisht, 
Fm all the ■noming light. 

Or Lncifn that often vxro'd ihein thence; 
Bu ia their glimmenng Otl» did glow, 
Uniill tlieit Lord himself besj^kc, and bid them go. 

And though the shad; gloom 
H>d giTRi day hcT loom, 

The SuQ hinnctr nritb-bcid hh wonted speed. 
And hid his head for shame, 
As hb iaierioui Suae, 

The new enltghta'd world no more ibooU need; 
He »aw a greater Sua appear 
Then hit bright Throoe, or buning Axletm coold bear. 

The Shepherds on the Lawn, 
Or ne the point of dawn, 

Snc (unply cluning in a ruMick row; 
Full little liioaght they than, 
That the migbiy Pu 

Was ktndlj com to llic with tbem below i 
Peth^ thcii lam, M da their Ab«ep, 
Wan lil that did their aiUj thoughts to buiie keep. 

Wbn such raosick sweet 
Their hems and ears did greet. 

As ncTcr w» by mortall finger sttook, 
Di*iodj-wiriilcd voice 
Aflswoiog the sttiagM noise, 

A« all their wula in blisfull rapture took: 
The Air such pleasnv loth to lose, 
With thouiaad echo's still prolongs r*eh bcav'nljr close. 



JOHN MILTON 



N«ure that botd »uch M«nl 
Beneath the hollow round 

Of Cyoifcii's tKat, the AIrr ■^■■>i> tttrilling, 
Now wu almoM won 
To think hcT part was don, 

And th« her nign b>d hene its lui fullillinsi 
She knew such hamiooy alone 
Could hold all Huv*!) and Eattb m happier union. 

At last surround* tlieir sight 
A Globe of circular tight, 

That with long bcanvi the tha^le^ac^ night irrsy'd. 
The hctmtd Cherubim 
And Bworded Seraphim, 

Are una ia ^Hoetiag ranks with winp di^plaid, 
Harjnqg b loud and solemn ^uiie, 
Wkh anex{m«!UT« notes to Heai'ns new-boni Hdr. 

Such musick (as 'tis sud) 
Before was never nude, 

But when of old the mos of noming smg. 
White the Cmtor Great 
His cotutdlationa set, 

And d)o vclMitlluict world on hinges buog. 
And d» the dutk fouDdiiiom deep> 
And bid the weltnii}; waves their ooty cbaoae) luep.^ 

Ring out ye Cry»iall nphears, 
Once bless our human eart, 

(If ye have power to loudi our tenses to) 
And let your sili-cr cbimc 
MoiT ia melodious time; 

And let the Base of Heav'ns deep Oifinn blow, 
Aixl with your ninefold biirmony 
Make up fiilJ consort to tb'A&gelike sympbosy. 



H 



JOHN MILTON 



p^ 



P 



W 



For if 9kI) boty Soag 
Eawnp OUT fiacj toog, 

TLriK will na fatKk, and fetch (lie ige of gold, 

ml (pcdd'd Txnky 

ill uckra toon and die, 

Ami Irprocn sin will lorlt from urtbly mould, 
And Hrll it self will pass iway, 
And Inn ber doloro« siMuiods to the peering dnj. 

Yea Tdith, uxl Jtiuice tbea 
Will down rctoro to nmi, 

Tb'enaineld Arru of the IUi»-bow wrinng, 
And Mctcy set beliveca, 
Tlin>n*d ia Cc!e»iiilt sfacoi. 

With radiant feet the timed cloudx down nearing, 
Aad Hea«*ti » at Mm fe«i*>ll, 
Wni open wide the G»m of hn high Pahc« Hall. 

But witett Fate uyn no, 
This mnsi not yet be so, 

Tbe Babe lies yet in smiling In&ncy, 
Thit «D the bitter cto*s 
hliisX redeem our lou; 

So both hinudf and ■( to glodliei 
Y<i fine to thote ychain'd b sleep, 
Tbr wikefvll trump of doom must tbuadet through ihe deep. 

With MCb a honid dang 
As OB mount Siaai rang 

While the red fire, md sBWuldring douds out brilce: 
The igtd Eaith agasi 
With terrouc of Uut blast, 

Shall from the mt&m to the center shike) 
Wbeo at the wethfo hit sntnoo, 

7^ drvjidluQ Judge in middle Air shall spread hi* throne. 

S'S 




JOHN MILTON 

And theo « lut out bliss 
Full tad perfect is, 

But now begins I lor from this ha{ij>)i dty 
Tb'old I>ragDn under ground 
In ncrntcr limits bound, 

Noi half so fu casts his usurped swaj, 
And wrath lo see his Kingdom fiil. 
Swindles the scaly liorroui of bis foulded tail. 

Tix Oracles ate duimn. 
No Toice or hideouK bumm 

Runs through the archtd roof in words decdvios- 
Apollo from his shrine 
Can no more diiinc, 

With hollow shicik the steep of Delpbus leaving. 
No nightly tnaat, or brcuhdd spell, 
In^tt's the pale-ey'd Priest froiq the pcoplietsc celL 

The lonely mount.'iiiis o'rc, 
And the resounding shore, 

A itiicc o( vmfiing beaid, and loud lameM; 
From haunted spring, and dale 
Edg'd iifith poplar pale. 

The patting Genius Is with sighing sent, 
Wiih liowfc-inwor'n tressc* torn 
The Nimphs in twilight shade of tangled ifatdtets i 

In consecrated Earrh, 
And on the holy Htnrlh, 

The Lars, and Lemurvs moon with nudnight 
In Urns, and Altars round, 
A drear, and dying sound 

Atfiights the FIjuiuns at thdr serrice <iuain(; 
And thr chill Matble sernvs to sweat, 
While each peculiar power forgoes his woaied seal. 



JOHN MILTON 

Pear, uxl Eulim, 

Forsike tbdr TcmptM dim, 

Whb tbit twiie-batta'd god of Palotiae^ 
And inooDid Asburotb, 
Hm»'i» Quc«i «nd Moih*T btxh. 

Now sits not gin viih Tiipcrs holy sfaiae, 
TtM Lib]^ Hviunon shrinks liis ham, 
Is Tiin ihc Tyriaa Maids their woundtd Tlumtn mourn. 

And ssUdi Moloch 6ed, 
Hath kit in shwiows dnd. 

His bnmuig Idol M of blaclteit hue. 
Id «un with CymbaN ting, 
They call the grnly Uag, 

In dianull daaev about the furaaat blew i 
The hniti^ god« i>r Nile ia fast. 
Ins aad Ona, and the Dog Aaiibts hast. 

Nof is Okri. teen 

Id Hcrapbian Groir, or Gcem, 

TcMD^Iitig liw un^lwwr'd Crassc with lowii^s loud: 
Not can Iw be at test 
Within bis acted chevi. 

Naught but ptobuadat Hell can be hU shroud. 
In rain with Timbtd'd Aoihcmi dark 
The sahle-notM Sorccrcrt bcu his WDtshipt Axk. 

He fccb BotR JudaS Laod 
The dredded Inlaaa hand. 

The nyti of Bethlehem bJiod ba dusky ejni 
Nor aD tlie gods beside, 
Lander dare abide, 

Not Typboo hvge ending in snaky twine i 
Our Babe la «hew his Godhead tnie, 
Cm ia h» vndling faoidt coatronl the daniDM crew. 



JOHN MILTON 

So wbcD the SuD ia bed, 
Cunaia'd with cloudy red, 

TiUows his chin ufoa an Orwot wira, 
Tht floclung sliadows pale. 
Troop to th'bfvmall jatl, 

EkIi fetter'd Ghost slip* to his lercnll grtn. 
And the yellow-skirted Fayet, 
Ply aiitt the Nighi-tuxdt, Iciviog their Moon-lov'd 

But we The Vtr^ b1r«, 
Hath laid faer Babe to rest. 

"nine b our tedioui Song should here h3i« cndlB 
Hea**ns yotrngnt teeinid Star, 
Hath lixt her polisbt Car, 

Her slcc|4ng Lord with Haadmakl Lamp uxeadiagj 
And ftU about the Courtly Stable. 
Brigbt-bameat Apgela sin in oirdei seri-iceable. 



30S. 



Ott Time 



CLY envious Time, till thoii ran oct thy rac^ 

^ Coll on ilji- lazy Icadcn-^iepping hour^ 

Wbow speed t* but the iieaiy Planuntta p»c; 

And glut thy self with what thy womb derours, 

Which is DO more then what b £>lse and •naa. 

And mecrly mortal dross t 

So little is our Iom, 

So little It thy gaio. 

For vhco as each thing bod (boa but oMnAA^ 

And last of all, thy grredy i>elf consinii'd. 

Then long l^ternity shall greet our bim 

With an ifldicidua] kiss; 

And Joy shall ovcttake us » a flood, 

When every ibic^ that is sincerely good 

SI* 



JOHN MILTON 

And pnfecdy dinnc, 

With Tnsfa, tad Peace, and Love stuO ever sUk 

About the nipnnw Tbtooe 

Of him, t'wboM luiipy-nukipg sifhl alooe, 

When once our hekv'nly-gHclBd Mwl thiD clime. 

Then bU this Eanhjr groiaet <|iiit, 

Aitii'«l with Stan, we «hall foi ever sit, 

Trium^bg Ota Doth, and Cbtoec, aod tlwe O Time. 



jop. 



At a &!emn Mustek 



DLEST Fotr of Siren*, pledge* tS Heav'ns jojr, 
^^ Sptiear-bom hamionioiis Si«ters, Voice, and Vcrf, 

, Wrd yoor diTine souads, aod mixt pcnm employ 

'Dead tkiaga with inbnath'd sense able lo pierce, 
And u> our higb-rab'd pbntasie pre«eat, 
Tbm WMwuitPW Song of pure coBtent, 
Ay rang before the saplure-colour'd thraoe 
To him tliat &iii theron 
nntb Saiady shout, ind »olomi Jub3y, 
Where ihe bright Scraphini ia burainf! row 
Their load up-ltftcd Angd tnnnpets Uaw, 
And the Qienbick hon in thoutand quire* 
Toodi their immocial Hntpi of golden wim, 

^ With iboM jain Spirits iha: wear nooriotis Palnif, 

' Hjmna devout asd holy Pwlma 
Koging emlasiiDgly ; 

, Tlat we OD Earth with undlsoording voice 
May rifbdy aatwcr tlmt iiKlodioD» noise j 
As oooe we did, till disproponioo'd sin 
Jarr'd againit Dainru chime, and with hanh din 
Brake the Eiir masiek tlut all cnatiucs made 
To their great Lord, wfaue lo*e their notioD tway'd 



JOHN MILTON 

la prifcci Diapason, whilst ibey stood 

la fine obedience, sod thcii mat o( good. 

O aay ve mod again reonv duit Soag, 

And keep in tune with Heai'o, till God ere Ions 

To hit celestial ooomr iu unite, 

To tire with him, and sing in codlei morn of B^t. 



3 10. L'yf//fgro 

OENCE loathed Melancholy 

* * Of Cerlieni) and blacken midnight bora, 

la Stfgian Catc foiloro 

'Monpt bonid shapes, a&d sbmks, and a^ats unholy, 
Fiod out son) uncouth cell. 

Where brooding darkncs sprotds his jciJoDS wings, , 
Aod the aight-Katcn sings; 

Thcrr, under Ebon shsdn, mi iow'brow'd Rocks, 
fijt ni|u;<^ ^ ^y Locks, 

In diirk Cimmtrian dt-sert erer dwcU. 
Buc com thou Godden fur and free, 
In HeaT'n ydeap'd Eu|Arotyne, 
And by men, hcait-eaiing Mirth, 
Whom lovely Vcnns, at a birth 
With two sister Gmces more 
To Iry-crowtiM Bacchus bore; 
Of whclbn (as som Siger sing) 
The frolick Wind that breathes the Spring, 
Zrpbif with Aurora playiog, 
A^ he met ber once a Mnying, 
There on Beds of Violets hleur, 
And freih-blowQ Rums wasbt in dew, 
Fill'd her with thee a dau^ktet fair, 
So bucksom, blitb, and debooaii. 



JOHN MILTON 



Hute tbee n)-mpfa, and briRg «jth Uit« 
Jot and jrouthftti JoUitjr, 
Qidps tad Cnokst md waoton Wiln. 
Nods, Bad Becks, sad Wreatbid Sinilcs, 
Such as tuDg on Hebe'i chnk, 
And lotc lo live in dimple sleek) 
Spott that wriocled Care dcride«, 
And Lmf^ter boUiag both fab sides. 
Com, and iiiji it u yc go 
Oo the light faDUstick tov. 
And 13 iby right hand Ir^d with tbce, 
I'hc Mououin Nymph, sweet Libcnyi 
And if 1 give thee homur due, 
Mink, sdinit mc of thy cruc 
To live with her, and lire with tlice^ 
In uorrpravid fleasutei fieej 
To bear ibe Laik begin his flight, 
And stDgiag startle tfae dull ni^u, 
FiuiD his watch>towre in the skies, 
Till the fUfipled dawn doth riset 
Then to com in spight of torrow, 
And at lay window bid good marrow, 
Thro«gh tbc Sweet-Briar, or the Vine, 
Or the twisiod E^antiae. 
While the C«ck with livdj din, 
Scatters the rear of daikoes thin, 
And to the K*ck, or the Bam doic, 
Stowtlj strais his I^unes before 
Oh list'ain); bow ibe Ho«»ds and bora 
Cheaily rouse the slmnbriog mora, 
Prom the side of som Hoar Hill, 
Tbtvugh the h^b wood ccfaoing shrilL. 
Som lime walking not unseen 



JOHN MILTON 



By Hed^row Elms, «o Hillocks grren, 
Rigbt igMDst the EasteiT) gut, 
Wbcr the gnat Sud htpia ba state, 
Rob'd in finnes, nnd Amber light, 
The clouds i& thouund Liwrin di^it. 
While the Plowman ant at hud, 
Whistles ore the Furrow'd L«fld, 
And tht MiUmakl ungeth Utthe, 
And the Mower whets bis sitbe. 
And ever)' Shej^ierd telb his tale 
Under the Hawtboro in the dile. 
Streit mine eye hath caught dcw pleawrcs 
Whilst the Lantskiji roimd it Tneasares, 
Russet Lawn^, and Fallows Gray, 
Where the nibling flocks da siny, 
Mountaias oa whose barren hrest 
The kbouriDg douds do often tcst; 
Mcadowi trini with Daisies pidc, 
Shallow Brooks, and Rivers vidt. 
Towers, and Dattleniecis it sees 
Boosom'd high in tufted Trees, 
WhcT perhaps som beauty lies, 
The Cynoiurc of neighbouring eyes. 
Hard by, a Cottage chimney smokes, 
Prom betwixt two agM Olits, 
Where Coiydon and Thynis met, 
Are at their savory dinner sti 
Of Hearbs, and otbcr Country Messes, 
Which the neat-banded Piullis dresses i 
And then m ba%ie bet Bowre she leaves, 
With Tbestylts to bind the Sheaves; 
Or if the earlier season lead 
To the taan'd Haycock b the Mead, 



JOHN MILTON 



Soa Apk* vish temre cMight 
The cp-land Hamleu wiH invite, 
Whes the vaerty Bdls ring roond, 
And die jocoad rebrcks soand 
To nuay a yonli, and msof a idm), 
DaDciog ID the Chc^cr'd ahMlc; 
And yonng tad old com fbrth to pby 
On X Scnahinc Holiday, 
Till the live-long iLi>-light fsil, 
TIkii to the Spicy Nut-brawn Ak, 
With noriM lold of cuay a feat, 
How Factj Mab the junkets eat, 
Sbe «-2« pincht, aod puii'd the fed. 
And he by Frius Laiuhom led 
Tclk how the drudgiog Goblin smx, 
To era his Cnam-bowk duly mi, 
Wben in ooe night, tn gUntps of motn, 
Hb abadowy Flale hath ihmh'd the Com 
That ten it^labounm could not end, 
TbcQ lies him down the Lubtor Fettd, 
And fttmch'd out all the ChtcineyS leagth. 
Duk) at the fire bis hnry Mteogib) 
And Crop-fiill out of dores he ffiags, 
Eie the Snx Cock hs Maltio riop.i. 
That don the Talc*, to bed they cievp. 
By whispering Wiodes aoon luU'd uieep. 

Towred Chics please ns then, 
And the buM bumm of men. 
WbcR ibraogs of Koigbu and Btraca bold. 
Id wnla of Peace high triumphs hold. 
With tiote of Ladin, whose bright dcs 
Rain Rtflacnce, xid judge the ftix 
Of Wit, or AniB, while both contend 



JOHN MILTON 

To wb her Grace, whom all coinnxnd. 

Tbtrc let Hymca oft appm 

Id SafTnMi robe, irith Taper dcv, 

And pomp, nxl frost, aad rcvdry, 

With mask, aad antique Pagtaauf, 

Sacb n^ts as yowhfull Poots dnam 

Oa Somtiut eeva by bauoud sueam. 

Then to \be well-trad si^ anon, 

If Jouons leaniid Sock be oo, 

Or sweeleti ShakcKpcar fanciet ctiilde. 

Warble his native Wood-notes «ilde, 

And eva kgtatn eating Cares, 

Ltp nc in toft Lydias Aim, 

Marrinl to immortal tcr«e 

Such as the meeiiDg soul may pierce 

In notes, with maoy a winding bout 

Of lindtid svrectaei long dnvo out, 

With wanioD becd, and giddy cnmuog, 

Th« mdtiajt voice through mazes tunning; 

UntwiitiiiK ^ the chains that ty 

The hidden soul of hannoiny. 

That Orp hens K-If may heave his head 

From golden Klunihrr on a bed 

Of hcBpt Ely»taa Aowtrs and hear 

Such streias » would hare woo the eat 

Of Pluto, to have ijuitc wt free 

His half ttgain'd Eurydkt-. 

l^iese delights, if thou canSE give^ 

Mirth with thee, I mean to Uvc 



I* 




wo 



JOHN MILTON 



// Taiscnso 



l_IENCE Tain dclndin;; joyn, 

^^ Tbe brood of foUjr without latba broi^ 

How liltk you bested. 

Or fill ibc lixtd mind wtili sU your tofni 
l)w<-II b soBi kUo braio, 

And fimcics fond with gmdjr shifn poness, 
^Vs thick and mmibericsa 

Aa tbe gay motes that |)ei>ple the Sun Boamti 
Or likcii hinreriiig dican» 

Tb« 6cUe Pennooen of Motphmi iiaia. 
But hal thoa Godd«>, nge and holy, 
Hail divinea Mcbocboljr, 
WboK Saintly tbagt is too bn^ht 

'o hit the ScoM of humn sight \ 
And Uierfon n ov wnkrr view, 
Ore In! with black xaki Wadoiiu boe. 
Black, bat neb as in ctteem. 
Prince Meianons sister might bcscmi, 
Or that Stvr'd Ethiopc (^oecn that 6irore 
To Kt bcr beautits pn»r abore 
Tbe Sea Nrmpha, uA their powen olfcndeiL 
Yet thou an tugher hx deicefided, 
Thee brigbt-hair'd Vesta long of yoK^ 
To solitaiy Satorn bore j 
His dxughtrr sbc (in Swms taiga, 
Such mixture iras not held a stain) 
Oft m gUmmcriog Bowres, and glades 
He mtt h«r, wd in Koet shades 
Or woody Ida's intno» gm««, 
Whilst yet tben was do fear of Jotc. 
Com pc(»i*e Nun, derout and purr. 



JOHN MaTON 



Sober, sttcUast, and icimn, 

All in a robe of difkest |>rain, 

Flowing with nujcstick trala, 

Aad sible stole of Ciprcs Lawn, 

Over thy decent dodders dnnva. 

Com, but keep thf wonted tatt, 

With ee*'n «te|>, and musing gate, 

Aod looks commercing with the Kkie% 

Thy rapt toiil siting in thiae cyesi 

There held in holy pasikn ctilt, 

Forget thy f-rlf to Mtfbte, till 

With a sad Leaden dowDvaid cast, 

Thou dx. them on the earth as fast. 

And joyn with thee cahn Peace, and Quiet, 

Spue Fast, that oft with (oda doth diet. 

And heara the Muses in a ring, 

Ay round about Joves Allat sing. 

And adite to these tetirfid Leasute, 

That io tiiin Gardens takes hb jilcaaiirc t 

But first, and chteltst, with thee bring, 

Him that jxin Miars oa golden win^ 

Guiding the fiery-wbeelM throne. 

The Chcruh Contcmptniion, 

And the mute SiJence hist along, 

'Less Philomel will daign a Song, 

In her sweetest, saddest |ili{hl, 

Smoodiing the rugged brow of night. 

While Cynthia checks luci Dragoo yoke, 

Gently o'rc th'aocanani'd Okc; 

Swict Bird tliM shuan'it iJic noiw of follyi' 

Most musicaU, nmst melaadtolyl 

Tbrc CbauBims oft the Woods amoa^ 

I woo to bev thy ecven-Soog; 



JOHN MILTON 

And missmg thee, I walk taaem 

Od tbe dry smooth-stuTCD Green, 

To behold the wandring Moon, 

Riding Deer ber highest dood, 

Like one that bad bio led astray 

Through the Heav'ns wide pathles way; 

And oft, as if her head she bow'd, 

Stoofang through a fleecy cloud. 

Oft oo a Plat of li^ng ground, 

I hear the far-off Curfeu sotmd, 

0?er som wide-water'd shoar, 

Swinging slow with sullen roar) 

Or if the Ayr will not pennit, 

Soro still remorid place will fit, 

Where glowing Embers through the room 

Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, 

Far from all resoft of mirth, 

Save the Cricket on the hearth. 

Or the fielmans drousie charm, 

To bless the dores from nightly barm : 

Or let my Lamp at midnight hour, 

Be seen in soin high lonely Towr, 

Where I may oft out-watch the Bear, 

With thrice great Hermes, or unspbear 

The spirit of Plato to unfold 

What Worlds, or what vast Regions hold 

The immortal mind that hath forsook 

Her mansion in this fleshly nook: 

And of those Dzmons that are found 

In fire, air, flood, or under ground. 

Whose power hath a true consent 

With Planet, or with Element. 

Som time let Gorgeous Tragedy 

V7 



JOHN MILTON 



In ScepCcr'd Pall cum 5w«ep>iig by, 
PrL-sendag ThetM, or Pdopt tine, 
Or the u!e of Troy dlnne. 
Or wbai (though tatc) of Utcr age, 
EnnoblM hath the Buskind sugc. 

But, O *ad Virgin, that th;r i>o«vcr 
Might raisf Musxiis rrom his bower. 
Or bid tJie »oul of Orpheus sJag 
Such notes as waibled to the string, 
Drew Iron ton dotm Pluto's cheek, 
And m^dc Hdl grant what Lotc did teek. 
Or call up him that left half told 
Tlic story of Cambuscan bold, 
Of Cambill, and of Algarsife, 
And who had Canace to wife, 
That own'd die nnuous Ring and Glass, 
And of ihc woodrou* Hora of Brau, 
On which the Tartar Kin^ did ride | 
And if ought el«, great Bardi beside, 
In Mge and solemn tunc< have sung. 
Of Ttimcys and of Trofihic* hung j 
Of FoirstB, and inchanimcni!* drear, 
Where more is meant then meets the ear. 
Thus n^Jat oft sec me in thy pale career, 
Till civil-suited Mora appeer, 
Not trickt and frounc't as she was worn. 
With the Attick Boy to hunt, 
But Chcrehcf't in a comly Cloud, 
Whdie tocking Winds are Piping loud, 
Or n^cr'd witii a shower still, 
When the gust hath blown bis lilt, 
Ending on the russling Leaves, 
With mimile drops from olT the Eaves. 
pa 



JOHN MILTON 

And when the Sun begins to fling 
His flanng beams, me Godtlea bring 
To archid walks of twilight groves, 
And shadows brown that Sylvan loves, 
Of Pine, or mcmumental Oake, 
Where the nule Ax with heavSd stroke. 
Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, 
Or (right them from their hallow'd haunt. 
There in close covert by som Brook, 
Where no profaner eye may look. 
Hide me from Day's garish ae, 
While the Bee with Honied tide. 
That at her Sowry work doth sing. 
And the Waters murmuring 
With such consort as they keep, 
Entice the dewy-ieatber'd Sleep ; 
And let som strange mysterious dream, 
Wave at his Wings in Airy stream, 
Of lively portrature display'd. 
Softly on my eye-lids laid. 
And as I wake, sweet musick Ineath 
Above, about, or underneath. 
Sent by som spirit to mortals good, 
Or th'unseen Genius of the Wood. 

But let my due feet never fail, 
To walk the studious Cioysters pale, 
And love the high embow^ Roof, 
With aniick Pillars massy proof, 
And storied Windows richly dight. 
Casting a dimm religious light. 
There let the pealing Organ blow. 
To the full voic'd Quire below. 
In Service high, and Anthems deer. 



JOHN MILTON 

As may with svfHtoM, througb mine (of, 

Dissolic mp into cxunies. 

And brioj; all Hcav'n before mioc vyn. 

And may m Us my wmy ag<t 

Find out tbe peaceruU hniutage, 

The Hairy Gown and Moisy Cell, 

Where I nuy sit and rif>bdy spell 

Of etefy Sur that Hmv'o doth shew, 

And every Herb tbat sip the dewi 

Till old csjirriGOCC do attjMD 

To toinihing Itlw Propbctk Binin. 

These rlooons Melancholy pjt, 

And I with thee wiU cboox to liv«> 

3l£. From '^rc<tJes' 

O'RE the smooth enameld green 
Wb«rc no print of step b*th liMfl, 

Follow mc us I sing. 

And touch the warbled string- 
Under I be ^bady roof 
Of branching Ghi Star-proof, 

Follow me, 
I will brtng you where she iks 
Cbd m splendor as befits 

Her deity. 
Such a rtinil Queen 
All Arcadia bath not scou 

From 'Comas' 
3'3- > 

'T'HE Sur that bids the Shepherd foM, 
^ Now the top of Hcit'o doth liofd, 
no 



JOHN MILTON 

And the fflded Car of Day, 

His glowiog Axle doth alfajr 

In the steep Atkntick stream, 

And the slope Sun his upward beam 

Shoots against the dusky Pole, 

Pacing toward the other gole 

Of his Chamber in the East. 

Mean while welcom Joy, and Feast, 

Midnight shout, and revelry, 

Tipsie dance, and Jollity. 

Braid your Locks with rosie Twine 

Dropping odoura, dropping Wine. 

Rigor now is gon to bed, 

And Advice with scmpuloDS bead, 

Strict Age, and sowre Severity, 

With iheir grave Saws in slumber ly. 

We that are of purer fire 

Imitate the Starry Quire, 

Who in their nightly watchful! Sphears, 

Lead in swift round the Months and Years. 

The Sounds, and Seas with all their linny drove 

Now to the Moon in waTcring Morrice move. 

And on the Tawny Sands and Shelves, 

Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves; 

By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim. 

The Wood-Nymphs deckt with Daisies trim, 

Their merry wakes and pastimes keep: 

What hath night to do with sleep J 

Night hath better sweets to prove, 

Venus now wakes, and wak'ns Love. ... 

Com, knit hands, and beat the ground. 

In a light fantastick round. 



Ui 



JOHN MILTON 

314- a 

Echo 
CWEET Echo, swMten Nympti that lir'n 
'^ Within thy airy shdl 

By slow McJndct's nurgcot grcco, 
And in the violet uobroidci'd vJc 

Where the lorc-Iora Nighuogilc 
Nig)itly to thee her sad Song moitnwth well. 
CaoK thou not tell me of a gentle P^ 
That likest thy Narduua an} 

O if thou have 
Kid them in som Howry Care, 
Tel! me but when: 
Sweet Queen of Parly, Daughter of the Sphear ! 
So niai« tbou be trantlatcd to the !ikic«, 
And give resounding grace to all Hcav'u Hanuooies I 



3if. m 

Sabswa 

C ABRINA feir 

^ Listen where tbou an littiog 

Under the glatsic, cool, tnn^cent ware, 

In twisted braids of Lillica. Itniung 
llie loose train of thy ambcr>dtopfaag hair, 

Liatnt foi dear honour's sake, 

Goddew of the stlvn lake, 

Listen and save! 

Listen and appear to ua. 

In fianie of great Occanco, 

By the earth-shaking Kr)]lune''i mace. 

And Tcthys grave majcstick pice, 



JOHN MILTON 



By boaty Nncus wrinctod look, 
Asd ilie CiqailuMi viurds book. 
By «cJy TriioDX vinding abcll, 
Aod old sootifujrnig CIrdcus ^>cUr 
By Lncothca's lonly haads. 
And li«T lOQ thst roles the stmuls, 
By Th«is uii»cl-^])t«T'd feet, 
Aad die Soogs of Sireu swte^ 
By dead PanheiK>[«'t dear tomb, 
And fiir Lign'i sf^Mra comb, 
Wherwith ihe mia od dumood lock* 
Sleckiag ber K>ft sUuriBg locks 
By all the Nfmiibs that easily dance 
Upoa thy stmnu villi w3y ^»a<x. 
Rite, rise, »d beave thy rasie head 
Pram thy caral-|iaT'o bed, 
And bridle ia thy beadloof; ware, 
Till thorn our lununiina aniwend bare. 

Liitcn and uvcl 

By the mhy-fiiagM bank, 
Wbm grows the Willow aad the Oner d.iak. 

My sliding Chanoc suycs, 
Thick set WTlh Agat, and tbe aiuni abt«n 
or Tuikis blew, aod Ennuld green 

That in the chaoncU atreyes, 
White ttom off tbe waters Anrt 
ThiM I set my printlea feet 
O'lv the Cows!i]» Velvet bud, 

That benda not a» I ircad, 
Cmtle swain at Uiy rciiiicsi 
I am here. 



JOHN MILTON 



il6. 



n 



Tht Spirit ffikgahcfi r 

•T^ the Occ«n now I Sf, 
^ Aod those faapp/ dimes ihat If 
Where day octct shu» lus eyt, 
Vy in the bioad Tields of the &k]r t 
There I suck the lii^tiid ayr 
Ail imitlit the Gnrdccj hit 
Of Hesperus, and bis diughEcra three 
Th»t ting about the gnldcn tree: 
Along the crispM shades and bowTM 
Reikis the 9[in)ce and joeood SpHog, 
The Cnices, aod the rosie-boosom'd Homes, 
Thither all their bounties bring;. 
That iberc eternal Summer dmb, 
And West wiads, with musky wing 
Abutit the eedar'n alleys fling 
Natd, and CMsia'a bobny smels. 
Iris there with htsnid bow, 
Wnirra the odorous books that blow 
FlowcrM of more mingled hew 
Thin ber purfl'd scarf can shew, 
Aod drenches with Elysim dew 
(Let mortals, if your ears be tnie) 
Beds of Hyacinth, and roses 
Where youDfi Adonis oft reposes, 
Waxing well of his deep wound 
In slumber soit, and on the grouod 
Sadly sits th' Assyrian Qveeai 
But far above b jangled ittta 



JOHN MILTON 

Celestial Cufud her fam'd sod suivanc't, 
Holds his dear Psyche sweet intraac't 
After her waodring laboius long, 
Till free consent the gods among 
Make her his etenial Biide, 
And from her fair unspotted side 
Two blissful twins are to be bom, 
Youth Bod Joy I so Jo*e hath sworn. 

But DOW my task b smoothly doD, 
I can fly, or I can nm 
Quickly to the green earths end. 
Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend, 
And from thence can soar as soon 
To the comets of the Moon. 

Mortals that would follow me, 
LoTe vertue, she alone b free. 
She can teach ye how to clime 
Higher then the Spfaeary chime; 
Or if Vertue feeble were, 
Heav'n it self would stoop to her. 

A Lament for a friend dratimcd in bli pauagt fnm 
ChttUr on iht Ir'tih Scat, l6jy 

VET oace more, O ye Laurels, and ODce more 
■* Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy ne?er-sear, 
I com to pluck your Berries harsh and crude, 
And with forc'd fingers rude. 
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 
Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear. 
Compels me to disturb your season due : 
For Lyeidas is dead, dead ere his prime 

as 



JOHN MILTON 



Young Lycidjn, and huh not left his peer: 
Wio would not sing for LfcidasJ be knew 
Himself to niog, aad buUd the lofty ibynie. 
He nun not flote upon biit watry besir 
Unv'cpt, and wdtn to the forcbing wind, 
\^'ithoui the meed of fom iDclodious tear. 

Begin, then. Sitters of the SKnd well, 
That from benr;ilh the scat of Jore doth sjirins 
Begin, and somwhAt lowdly ntvy ih* strng. 
Henoe with dciu&l vain, and coy exciet, 
So mty MHK gentle Muse 
With lucky words Bvour my destb'd Um, 
And IS be posses turn, 
And bid lair peace be to my JuUe throwd. 
For we were nurst upon the tdr-tanic hill. 
Fed the xamc flock, by fountain, sludc. tnd rilt. 

TogfliiR both, ere the blgh Lawos appnr'd 
Under the opening eye^ida of the mom, 
Wc drore a field, And both together heard 
What lime the Gray-fly winds her tuliry hon, 
Batt'iung our flocks with the fresh dews of ii^tbt,^ 
Oft till the Star that row, at Ev'mng, bright 
Toward Hear'na descent bad slop'd his westcriag wbeel. 
Mean while the Rural ditties were not mute, 
Tcmpcr'd to th 'Oaten Flute ; 
Ro«]gb Sotyn d.-tnc'd, and Fauns with ctor'n bcel. 
From the glad sound would not be absent long. 
And old Damxtas lov'd to hear our *ong. 

But O the heavy change, now thou an gofi, 
Now tbou ait gon, and never roust rctom I 
Thee Shepherd, tbee the Wood^ and desert Cares, 
With wilde Thyme and the gadding Viae o'ttgruwn. 
And all their echoes mourn. 




I 



I 



JOHN MILTON 



The mOows, and the Haik Copses grwo, 

Shad %tm no more be SKO, 

Faoniog ibcir jojvua Leam to tb; loft Ujtu 

Ai kiniag as tfae Cinker to tbe Rok, 

Or Taint-wonn to the venling Herds that graxe. 

Or FrDtt to Floirera, tlut their gaj wardrop wear, 

Wheo fine the White iborn Utrvit; 

Such, Lycidis, thy Iom to Shepherds t*r. 

Where wre yt Nymphs vhcu the remofwless deep 
Clos'd o're the head of your loVd Lyeidas? 
For ndiher wrrt ye playing oo the stcrp, 
Where your old Bards, the funous Dn^ If, 
Nor oa the ^htggy top of Mona high, 
Nor jtt where I>e%-a spreads ber wiurd Stream: 
Ay nx^ I feodly dream ! 

Had ye bin there— for what could that hare don ? 
What coold the Mase her self that Oipheus bore. 
The Mne ber self, tot her indamiDg sod 
Whom Unitenid nanire did bmeot, 
WfacB by the tout that nude the hideous nw. 
His goary visage down the sirram trn Kent, 
Down the swift Hcbnu to the Lettiisn shore. 

Alas! What boots it wiih oDcesunt care 
To tend the homely slighted Shepherds trade. 
And stricdy medkaie the thanUes Mtoe, 
Were it nut better don as otheni use. 
To tport with Amacyflis to the shade, 
Or wKh the tsDglcs of N<ara'» hair? 
Fame b the tpvr th» the ckar spirit doth nise 
(Tb« Uk isfiniriiy of Nobte mind) 
To scam delights, sod live laborious dayes; 
B« the fair Gnerdon when we hope to fiad, 
And thtok to burst out into sodden blaie^ 



JOHN MILTON 



Cooics Uw bind Futy witli th'sbtiorrM shears, 

And sliu ibe thia »imn lile. But not the prai^r, 

^oebus KjiU'd, aad touch'd my trembling eani 

Fame a no plant thit grow* on mortal xmI, 

Noc in the glisKring fisit 

Set ofT to th'wotld, dot in broad rumour licRi 

But lives and spreds doA by (bOM pure eyn, 

And pcrfct wioiea of all judging Jore; 

As be pronouQocs lastly on each il<ed. 

Of M much fame in Heav'o expect ibjr meed. 

O fountida ArtlbuM', and thou bocour'd 
SnM>oth-3lidiqg Mincius, ciawn'd with vocall raeds, 
That stnin I heard wu of a higher moodi 
But now my Oate [«oceed«, 
Aod tisicnn to th« Hciaid of the Sea 
That came in Neptune's plea. 
He itk'd the Warn, and aik'd tbc Fctlon wwEsT 
Wbal hard mi^ap hath doom'd this gcnilc swain f 
And cjuctuon'd every gat of rugged wings 
That blows from olT uch bcakM Pramontoryi 
Tbty knew nut of his sioiy, 
And Bigc HippoudM tbdr answer briogi, 
That om a lA^n via fioai his duagnui atra/d| 
The Ayr was c»lm, and on tbc lent btine, 
Sleek Panopc with 4II her sisters play'd. 
It was that htaH and {vriidiou* Bark 
Built in th'edipse, and tigg'd with cwms datk, 
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. 

Next Camus, reverend Sire, «<cst footing sloi 
His Mantle hairy, and hit Bonnet scdgf, 
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 
Like to tliat sanguine Aowcr insctib'd with wor. 
Ah; Who bath reft (^iNtb he) my dearest pledge} 



JOHN MILTON 



Last cuae, and Inst did go, 

Tbe Pilot of the Galilean hkt. 

Two ttttasj K<y« be bore oT roeub twMo, 

(Tbc GcUcn ojm, ibe Itoo sbcU omaiB) 

He shotd: bb Mhn'd luck^, and imib bnpikr, 

How mJl could 1 luvc ipu-'d for thcr, jiouag itwaki, 

Aoow of tocb u fw their bellies nke, 

Crcq> and ininidc, and climb iaio the (Mi 

or other care tbry Hide icck'tibg make. 

Then how to scramble at the sbcaien feiKt, 

And &hoTe awiy the worthy bidden gueu. 

BlitHi moutbesJ that scarce themsclics luiuw bow lo hiJil 

A Sheep-hook, or b:iiv Icara'd Ov^Jut eh the lean 

Thai to the fiutbfull Herdmans art bcioof>!i ! 

What (ccks k thctn ! What oeed they ? They arc (fed ; 

And vhra Uicy list, tltrir lean and Hnbj tongt 

Grate on tbdr scrBAOcI Pipes of wmchcd sodx. 

The htngry Sbeep took upy uid ate not fed. 

But ivoln wnh wisd, aad the rank min thejr dnw, 

(tot inwudly, tnil foul cootagion «[«tnd: 

Beudes wliat tbc {run Woolf with {viry paw 

Daily dcTOun >f*ot, and ootbing srd. 

But ihn two-bwiicd tngtoc ai the door, 

Stnds ready to sniit« oooe, aad smite no more. 

Return Alphctu, the drc»d raice ii jasi. 
That thrwik thy ttnamut Retura Sicilian Mum-, 
And call the Valct, aod bid them hither cut 
Tbtif Brli), unl Flourcis of a tbou*UKj hue*. 
Ye ralleys low where the milde whbpcis use, 
or shades and wraoton wind», and gushing brooks. 
On wbo4c fresh lap the swart Scar ifmly looks. 
Throw lutlicr all your quaint eiwneld eyes, 
That on the gieco ictf wck the honied showio, 



JOHN MILTON 



Aod puijJe all ih« ground whh rtnti Rowres. 

Being the rntbc Primrow ihM forHlcfti din. 

The luftcd Craw-tor, and pate G«ssunine, 

The u-bitc I'iiik, and the Pxuie fnaki wiib jnt, 

The glowiojt Violet. 

The MtukToac, and the wdl attir'd Woodbine. 

With Cowslips wm thnt hang th« prasite bed, 

And erci; Aowrr that ud embroider j wears ; 

Bid Amaimthus all his bmitj shed, 

And Datl&dillies €l] their cupa with tears, 

To Miew the Laureat Herse where Ljrdd lies. 

Por «o to ioterpose a little eate, 

Let oar (rail thoughts diJiy with falae SHrmise. 

Ay me I Whil« tbor the ^n:s, itnd coundbg Seas 

Wxsh far swiy, where ere thy bones m barld, 

Wketlicr beyond ibe stonny Hebrides 

Where thou prrhips under the whelming tide 

Visit'st the bottom of the moostrous world; 

Or whether tltou to our motn raws dcoy*d, 

Sleep'at by the ftble of Belleros old, 

Where the great viaion of the guarded Mount 

Looks toward Namanco* and Bayona'i hold ; 

Look homeward Angct now, and tndi with raih. 

And, O ye Dotphias, wait the haples youth. 

Weep 00 more, woful She^Jierda weep no more, 
For Lycidss your sorrow is not dead, 
Sunk though be be beauth the watry floar. 
So siaks the day-icir in the Ocean bed, 
And yet Anon rrpiirs hit droojnng bod. 
And tricks bit beams, and with i>ew spangled Oie, 
FLfnes in the foithead of the mormng sky : 
So Lyctdas sunk low, but mounted high. 
Through (be deaf mig^t of him that walk'd tbe mm 

»40 



JOHN MILTON 

Where other gro*es, and other streanu idong, 
With Nectar pure his oozy Lock's he lares, 
And hears the imexpressive nuptiall Song, 
lo the hlest Kingdoms meek of joy and Iotc. 
There eatertaia him all the Saints above, 
Id solemn troops, and sweet Societies 
That sing, and singing in their glory more, 
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. 
Now Lycidas the Shepherds weep do more; 
Hence forth thou art the Genius of the shore, 
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good 
To all that wander in that perilous flood. 

Thus sang the uncouth Swain to th'Okes and rills. 
While the still mom went out with Sandals gray, 
He touch'd the tender stops of various Quills, 
With eager thought warbling his Dorick lay: 
And now the Sun had stretch'd out all the hills, 
And now was dropt into the Western bay; 
At last he rose, and twitch 'd his Mantle blew; 
To morrow to fresh Woods, and Pastures new. 

S17* To the Lady Margaret Ley 

pvAUGHTER to that good Earl, once Preadent 

^-^ Of Englaods Counsel, and her Treasury, 
Who liv'd in both, unstain'd with gold or fee, 
And left them both, more b himself content, 

Till the sad breaking of that Parlament 
Broke him, as that dishonest victory 
At Chzronda, fatal to liberty 
Kil'd with report that Old man eloquent, 

Though later bom, then to have known the dayes 
Wherin your Father ftourisht, yet by you 




Madam, mt thinks I art iura liriog }■«] 
So well your words his noblr wrtucs praiM, 
ThM all both judge you to rcbte tbem me, 
And to possess ihtm, HoDour'd Harguet. 

On Hh Bimtimss 

^^HEN I consider how my light U spent, 
'^ ll're half my dnys, ia lilts daHc world ad wide. 
And ihsi one Talent which is dcstb to bide, 
Lodg'd with toe useless, tfaovgh cny Soul mun btu 

To serrc tbcrcwiih my Maker, sad i^ient 
My true accouoi, leAst he mumiag cfakle, 
Doth God exact day-lobaur, light deny'd, 
I fbodly ask) Dut puknce to preiuit 

That murmur, soon rcplkrt, God doth not need 
Either man's wutk or hi* own gifts, who hen 
Bear his milde yook, they »cT\-e htm best, his StMe ^ 

ts Kingly. Thousands at bis bidding speed 
And poft o'rc Land and Ooean without rest: 
They jJso scrre who only stand and wnte. 

3lj>. To Mr. LavsrcHce 

I AWRENCE of vcmious Fatbrr vertuous Son, 

" Now that the Fields are dank, and ways ate 
Where shall we wmetimes meet, and by the fire 
Help w>tt a sullen day | what n^ be woB 

From the hard Season gaining i time wiQ nm 
Oo smoother, till Favooiu^ re>inspre 
The Iroieii cnrth ; and cloth in iitsh attire 
The Litlic and Rose, that neither sow'd nor spatt. 

mut Dcat repast shall feast ds, light and choice, 
Of Aitick last, with Wine, whence wc may riie 



JOHN MILTON 

To bar the Lae wdl tDocbi, or stfiiD race 
WaMc imnaral Notes and Taskm Ajre? 

He- wbo of duse dcEghtS can jodg^ ancl ^acr 

AO lfl l fT| W W C UkOD on, K DOt UDWISC. 

J20. To Cfriack ShhauT 

/^YRIACK, whose GraodsirE on the RopI Bendi 

Vi^ OF Brinish Tbenus, vitfa dd mean applaae 
P rooo m c't aad io his tolnmcs taught oas Lawes, 
Whkfa others at their Barr so aften wrench: 

To day deep thoughts lestdrc with me to dieoch 
Id minh, that alter no npentiag diawes; 
Let Euclid rest artd Archimedes pause, 
And what the Swede intend, umI vrtiat the Fiencb. 

To nxasore liie, leam thou betimes, and know 
Toward solid good what leads the nearest wiy; 
For other things mild Hear'a a time ordains, 

And disapproTes that care, though wise in show, 
That with superfioous burden loads the day, 
And when God sends a cheerful hour, re&ains. 

121. On His 'Decfased fTife 

\Jl ETHOUGHT I saw my Ute espoused Saint 

"*■ Brought to me like Alceslis from the grave. 
Whom Joves great Sod to her glad Husband gave, 
Rescu'd from death by force though pale and faiot. 

Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint, 
Purification in the old Law did saTe, 
And such, as yet once more I trvst to have 
Pull sight of her in Heaven without restisint. 

Came vested all in white, pure as her mind : 
Her face was vail'd, yet to my fancied sight, 

Hi 



JOHN MILTON 



Loif, sweetness, goodness, in her pcraoa sluoM 
So dear, as in bo face wiih more dcllgliL. 
But O as to embrace rae sbe endin'd 
I wak*d, she fled, aad dajr btw^gbt back mj ni; 

323. i-igbt 

LJ AIL Iwly light, ofipirinj of Heav'o ftrst-bom, 
^ *■ Or of tb' Elemul Coctcnul beam 
Wvf I express thee uoblani'd \ since God is ligli:. 
And ncter but b luuppraachM light 
I>wck ftom Etcmiiie, dwelt then in tbec, 
Br^bt efBucacc of bright c&ieoce inovMe. 
Or betr'st thou rsthec pure Ethereal stteara. 
Whose FouDtain who shall vSi\ before the Son, 
Before the Heavens thou wen, and at the <aioe 
Of God, as unth a Mantle didst isvnt 
The rising world of waters dark and deep, 
Won from the void and formless infinite. 
Thee I re-ti«it now with bolder wia^ 
Eitcap't the Stygnn Pool, thou^ loog deuia'd 
In that obscure tojoum, while in my Aight 
Through utter and through nuddte dvkness bone 
With other notes thco lo tb' Orpheao Lyre 
1 sung of CIulos and Eiemal Night, 
Taught by the hmv'nly Muse to tentsre down 
The dirk deitceot, and u[i to reascetul, 
Though hard and rote: thee I rerisit safe, 
And fcei thy sotnn vital Lamp; but thou 
RcHme'ei not these eyes, that n>wte in Tain 
I'o find thy piercing ray, and lind do dawBt 
So thick a drop serene hath ijueacht thir Ottit,^ 
Or dim suffiision teild. Yet not the more 

W4 



kl\l \ 



JOHN MILTON 

Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt 

Cleer Sptiog, or shadie Grove, or Sunnie Hill, 

Smit with the lore of sacred soog; but chief 

Thee Sion and the flowiie Brooks beneath 

That wash thy hallowd feet, and warfalbg flow, 

Nightly I visit ; nor somtimes forget 

Those other two equat'd with roe in Fate, 

So were I equai'd with them in renown, 

Blind Thamyris and blind Masooides, 

And Tiresias and Phineus Prophets old. 

Then feed on thoughts, that ToJuntarie move 

Harmonious numbers i as the wakeful Bird 

Sings darkling, and in shadiest Covert hid 

Tones her nocturnal Note. Thus with the Year 

Seasons return, but not to me returns 

Day, or the sweet approach of Ev'n or Mom, 

Or sight of vernal bloom, or Summers Rose, 

Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine [ 

But cloud In stead, and ever-during dark 

Surrounds me, from the chearfiil waies of men 

Cut off, and for the Book of knowledg fair 

Presented with a Universal blanc 

Of Natures works to mee expung'd and ras'd. 

And wisdome at one entrance quite shut out. 

So much the rather thou Celestial light 

Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers 

Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mist from thence 

Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell 

Of things inviuble to mortal sight. 



MS 



JOHN MILTON 



From * Samson Agonistes* 

in- '■ 

OH how comely it is and haw rcttving 
To Uir Spirits i>r jest tncp long oppcntl 
Whrn God into tb« baixU of ibir detimvr 
Puts tnrbcibic migbt 

To quell tlie mightjr of the Earth, th' oppmwur, 
The bnile and IwUl'rous fotcc of rii^nt mea 
Hardy utd industrious lo lufpoct 
TyraDnic power, but ngiag to punue 
Tlie righiroux nod all such as hoooor Traili t , 
He »11 thir Ammunition 
And f«ts of War defeats 
With plain Heroic Riagiuiude of zaaA 
And celntial rigour ann'd, 
Thir Atmoriea xaA Ikfaftauos conteoiiis, 
Kendifrt them tuelen, while 
With wingid expedition 
Swift at the bghtniog gbnce Iw executes 
Hm cirand on the wicked, who suqiris'd 
Low thir defence disuacied and ataaz'd* 



ALL it be«t, though we oft doubt, 
^*- What th' unsearchable dis^M 
Of highest urisdom brioj;* aboot, 
And ewT best found tn the cIoi& 
Oft be Bcenu to hide his (ace, 
But unexpectedly returns 
Aod to hit faithfiil Champion hath in place 
Bore witness glariousiy: whence Gaza mounii 



JOHN MILTON 

And all ibat band tfaetn to resbt 

His DocoatRwlaUe iatenc 

His Mnacns he with dcw aoqoisi 

Of mie txperimcc from (kis gmt event 

With pcMt lod Goanlaiioa hath dinaist, 

And cJn of iniod kll ptSMB Bptat. 



SIR JOHN SUCKLING 

^ 'Doubt of Martyrtiim 

^~\ FOR wax hoont Iqtct's ghost, 
^-^ Some kind naboditd \oa. 

Sent (rom the ihada below I 

I straogely long to know 
Whether the nebte cfaaplets wear 
Tlioic thx their imstms' Korn did bear 

Or those that were osed kbdiy. 

For whatsoe'er tbejr tell or here 
To make those *ulferinj5 drir, 
Twill (here, I few, be fowiil 
That to the bring ctown'd 
T* hme iored alooe will not suffice, 
Unlsi we alio bare been wim 
Aad hate our lores rojoy'd. 

WhM posture can we think bim in 
Tlut, bcK nnloTed, agsin 
Dtfwts, and '• thhhcr gone 
Wbm etch sits bf hia own! 
Or haw can that Elysium be 
WbtK I my misuos still niust we 
Circled b other'i arms? 



&iQ-ia<ii 



SIR JOHN SUCKLING 



Fot Uwi« \he jwl£C« all are jusi. 
And Sophonhba mast 

Be his wboBi sbc IwM dear, 
Not hi4 who loml her here. 
The sweet Philocles, ance she died, 
Lies by ber Ptrodes his stde, 
Not by Anijibialu*. 

Some bijrs, perchaooe, or mjrrtlc bougb 
For diflcrciicc crowns the brow 
Of those kind souli that wert 
The noble martyrs hCT*: 
And if that be the noly odds 
(As who cm tellf), ye kinder gods, 
Give me the woman here! 

jifi. The Constant Lover 

/^UT upon it, I hare land 
^-^ Three wbi^ days togciheil 
And am Ukc to lore three more, 
If it prore fail weather. 

Time shall moult awxy his wiiigs 

Ere he shnlt disconr 
lo the «bi^c wide worid kgaio 

Such a constant lover. 

Bui the s^ie oq 't is, no |>rai3e 

It due at aD to me: 
LoTC with me had made no Stajs, 

Mad it soy been but she. 

Had it any been but sbc, 

Aitd that Tcry hat. 
There had been at leau eie this 

A dozen doien tn her fface. 



SIR JOHN SUCKLING 

327. tVhy so Pale and JVan ? 

Vj^HY so pale and wan, fond lover ? 

** Prithee, why so pale! 
Will, when looking well can't move her, 
Looking ill prevail *. 
Prithee, why so pale? 

Why so dull and mute, young sinner J 

Prithee, why so mute ? 
Will, when speaking well can't \nn her, 

Saying nothing do 't ! 

Prithee, why so mute? 

Qut, quit for shame ! This will not move ; 

This cannot take her. 
If of herself she will not love. 

Nothing can make her: 
The devil take her! 

12^. tVhen, 'Dearest, I hat think of Thee 

Vj^HEN, dearest, I but think of thee, 
•* Methinks all things that lovely be 

Are preseoi, and my soul delighted : 
For beauties that from worth arise 
Are like the grace of deities, 

Still present with us, tho' unsighted. 

Thus while I sit and sigh the day 
With all his boirow'd tights away, 

Till night's black wings do overtake me. 
Thinking on thee, thy beauties then, 
As sudden lights do sleepy men, 

So they by their bright rays awake me. 



SIR JOHN SUCKLING 

Tbat abKDoc ifies, uid dying pcom 
No abvoce oid suhust with to*n 

Thsi do pvukc of fair periiKiiM : 
Since in ibe dukeu nixHt they may 
By love's quick modoo find a w>y 

To see each other by rcflectiog. 

The waring sea can with ca^ flood 
Btthc some high [iromont tliM hatb stood 

Fm from ilie main up in the ri»cri 
O thiak not Uieo but love can do 
As mud) ! for that 's in ocean too, 

Which dows not every day, but etct ! 



SIR RICHARD FANSHAWE 
329. A Rose 

i«cit->M6 

DLOWN ID the monsng, thou shalt fade cte noua 

'^ What boots a life which in sucb haste fonaket thee '. 

TWi'il wondtoiis frotie, being to die bo soon, 

And passtog proud a lililc colour make« thcc. 

If ihce thy brittle beauty so deceits, 

Know tbcD the thing thai swelU thee is thy bane; 

For the same bejuty doth, in bloody leares, 

The sentence of thy early death coouin. 

Some clown's coarse lungs will poUoa thy sweet ilovcr. 

If by the careless plough thou tbalt be torn; 

And many Hcrodi lie io wait each hoar 

To murdcc thee as sooo as tboo ut born — 

Nay, force thy bud to blow — their tyrant hreaih 

Aattcifoting hi'.-, to hasten death! 



WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT 
$30. To Chhe: 

Who far bit takt vnibed heritlf jotmgtr 

lAli-l&tJ 

T^HERE are two births; the one when light 
* First strikes the new awaken'd sense; 
The other when two souls unite, 

And we must count our life from thence; 
When jrou loTed me and I lofed foa 
Then both of us were bora anew. 

Love then to us new souls did give 
And in those souls did plant new powers; 

Since when another life we lire, 
The breath we breathe is his, not ours; 

Lore makes those young whom age doth chill, 

Aod whom he finds young keeps young still. 

331. Falsehood 

CTILL do the stars impart their light 
'"^ To those that travel in the night; 
StlU time nins on, nor doth the hand 
Or shadow on the dial stand; 
The streams sdll glide and constant are: 

Only thy mind 

Untrue I 6iid, 

Which carelessly 

Neglects to be 
Like stream or shadow, hand or scar. 

Fool that I am ! I do recall 
My words, and swear thou'rt like them all: 

»■ 



WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT 

Thoti kcbi'm like txan to nosriib fire^ 
But O how cold ii tby liifwe ! 
And like the hand upon the bna 

Thou [wint'ei at me 

Iq nwdccty; 

If I coiM nigh 

Shxte-Uke thmi'It Ry, 
Aad ai the stmiu with ntumiur pta. 



332. On tht fern's Return fmn the £( 

Countries 

LJ ALLOW Uw threshold, crown th« potts «kw(__ 

' *■ The day shall ha*e its due. 
Twin all our victories bto one bn^ wreath, 

On which let honour brcMhe 1 
Then throw it round the temples of oar Qveeal 
'Tu nbc that muit picterr« thoie glodes green. 

Who) greater tempests than oo sea brfote 

Received her on the sliore; 
When Hhe vras shot at 'for the Kia^s own good' 

By le);toas hired to blood ) 
How braivljr did she do, how braTvly bear \ 
And show'd, though they durst raj^, she dorst not fiur. 

Cour^ was cast about her like a dress 

Of soJenm coroelinest : 
A gather'd mind and an untroubled hat 

Kd xi\-e her daoj^rs grace: 
Thus, arin'd with innocence, secure they more 
Whow highest * umMia ' is but bluest love. 

IP 



WILLIAM CARTWRIGHT 

jjj. On a yirtuoHs Toung Gentlewoman 

that died suddenly 

CHE who to Heareo more Heaven doth annex, 
•^ Whose lowest thought was above all our sex, 
Accounted nothing death but t* be reprieved, 
And died as free from Mckness as she lived. 
Others are dragg'd away, or must be driveo, 
She only saw her time and stept to Heaven ; 
Where seraphims view all her glories o'er, 
As one retum'd that had been there before. 
For while she did this lower world adorn. 
Her body sccm'd rather assumed than bom \ 
So rariiied, advanced, so [lure and whole, 
That body might have been another's sool] 
And equally a miracle it were 
That she could die, or that she could live here. 

JAMES GRAHAM, MARQUIS OF MONTROSE 
ii^ I'll never love Thee more 



MY dear and only Love, I pray 
That little world of thee 
Be govem'd by no other sway 

Than purest monarchy; 
For if confusion have a part 

(Which virtuous souls abhor). 
And hold a synod in chine heart, 
111 never love thee more. 

Like Alexander I will rdgn, 
And I wi!! reign alone; 

My thoughts did evermore disdain 
A rival on my throne. 



itiia-ifijo 



M 



MARQUIS OF MONTROSB 

He atha fean fab fitc too much. 

Or hu (i«*ertx aie snail, 
TbM dares not put it (o tbc touch, 

To gaia or Iok ri all. 

Aad in the cmprc of tbinr bcifl, 

Where I should wlcly be, 
IT othen do prttead a prt 

Or dare to vie with me. 
Or if Ccmmiiittt thou erect, 

And go on socb a wan, 
I'll laugh and sing at thy Deglect, 

And nevct lore tbcc inon. 

But if thou wit prOTC faithful then, 

Aitd con^ttant of thy woni, 
111 make thee glorious by my pen 

And funous by my n-ord; 
rU sent thee in such noble ways 

Was never heard before; 
III crov-n and deck tbcc all with hays, 

And Ion thee more and roan. 

•raOMAS JORDAN 
33S. Cennemus ms Hosts auUfuam 

■fii>l-i(l5j 

T ET us drink and be merry, dance, joke^ and 
■^ With dare* and sherry, theorbo uxl voice 1 
The changeable world to our joy is ddjuo^ 

All tnsasun's nootrtno, 

Then down with yovr dust I 
lo frolics dt^'OM yoor pouads, sbiUiags, and pence. 
For wc shall be nothii^ a buitdred years ikence. 
■H 



THOMAS JORDAN 

We'll spoit aad be free with Moll, Betty, and Dolly, 
Have oysters aad lobsters to cure melancboly : 
Fish-dioners will make a man spring like a flea, 

Dame Venus, love's lady, 

Was bora of the sea : 
With her and with Bacchus we'll tickle the sense, 
For we shall be past it a hundred years hence. 

Your most beautiful bride who with garlands is crown'd 
And kills with each glance as she treads on the ground. 
Whose lightness and brightness doth shioe io such splendour 

That none but the stars 

Are thought fit to attend her, 
Though now she be pleasant and sweet to the sense, 
Will be damnable mouldy a hundred years hence. 

Then why should we turmcul in cares aod in fears, 

Turn all our tranquill'ty to sighs and to tears? 

Let's eat, drink, and play till the worms do corrupt us, 

"Tis certain, Poit marlem 

Nulla volaflaj. 
For health, wealth and beauty, wit, learning and sense. 
Must all come to nothing a hundred years hence. 

RICHARD CRASHAW 

3$^. ff^ishes to His Supposed Mistress 

WZ-HOE'ER she be— 

'^ That not impossible She 
That shall command my heart and me: 

Where'er she lie, 

Lock'd up from mortal eye 

In shady leaves of destiny: 



Till that ripe Urth 

Of studied Fale stand forth, 

And teich her fair steps to our earth : 




Till that divine 
Idea take a shrine 

Of c*™""' "•='• •'rough which to shine : 



1 
A] 



I wish her 
That owes i 
To gaudjr til 



Wishes, 
blisses, 
ly absent lasses. 

its duty 
;list'nng shoe-tic: 



Something more in 
Tai&La Of tissue can, 
Or rampant feather, or rich fan. 

A Face, that's best 

By its owQ beauty drest. 

And can alone coromeod the rest. 

A Face, made up 

Out of no other shop 

Than what Nature's white hand sets ope. 

A Cheek, where youth 

And blood, with pen of truth. 

Write what the reader sweetly ni'th. 

A Cheek, where grows 
More than a morning rose, 
Which to no box his being owes. 



«6 



RICHARD CRASHAW 

Lips, where all day 

A lover's kiss maj play, 

Yet cany uothicig thence aw^ 

Looks, that oppress 

Their richest tires, but dress 

And clothe their simplest nakedness. 

Eyes, that displace 

The neighboui diamond, and outface 

That sunshine by thdr own sweet grace. 

Tresses, that wear 

Jewels but to declare 

How much themaelves more piedous are: 

Whose native ray 

Can tame the wanton day 

Of gems that in their bright shades play. 

Each niby there, 

Or pearl that dare appear. 

Be its own blush, be its own tear. 

A well -tamed Heart, 

For whose more noble smait 

Love may be long choosing a dart. 

Eyes, that bestow 

Full <]uivers on love's bow, 

Yet pay less airows than they owe. 

Smiles, that can warm 

The blood, yet teach a chatm. 

That chastity shall uke no harm. 

U7 



filusbtra, that bin 

The burnish of no sin, 

Nor Sanies of aughi too hoi widuo. 




Joys, that confess 

Virtue their mistress. 

And hare or "•-— hod to dress. 

Fears, fond 
As the coy 
First does d 

Days, that n 
No part of ti 
From a fore-£ 

Days, that in spte 

Of darkness, by the light 

Of a clear mind, are day all night. 

Nights, sweet as they, 

Made short by lovers' play, 

Yet long by th' absence of the day. 

Life, that dares seed 

A challenge to his end. 

And when it comes, say, ' Welcome, friend ! ' 

Sydneian showers 

Of sweet discourse, whose powers 

Can crown old Winter's head with flowers. 

Soft silken hours, 

Open suns, shady bowers ; 

'Bove all, nothing within thai lowers. 



3ff 



RICHARD CRASHAW 

Whate'er delight 

Can make Day's forehead bright, 

Or p?e down to the wings of Night. 

I wish her store 

Of worth may leave her poor 

Of wishes ; and I wish — no woKw 

Now, if Time knows 

That Her, whose nutiant brows 

Weave them a gailand of my vows) 

Her, whose jnst bays 

My future hopes can raise, 

A trophy to her present prnsei 

Her, that dares be 

What these lines wish to seej 

I seek no furthn', it is She. 

lis She, and here. 

La I I nnctothe and dear 

My Wishes' cloudy character. 

May she enjoy it 

Whose merit dare apply it, 

But modesty dares still deny it I 

Such worth as this' is 
Shall fix my flying Wishes, 
And detemuoe them to kisses. 

Let her fiill glory, 

My fancies, fly before yet 

Be ye my fictions — but her story. 

19 



3^' 









Every mofn 

TaV" "P,'""°:^t m.^e a feast, 
^^ ,e will weep 

And 1"« lb"" 

«6» 



RICHARD CRASHAW 

V/bta sorrow would be seen 
Id li«r brightest majesty, 

— For she is ■ Quccd — 
Then is she drest by nooe bat thee: 
Then and only then she wears 
Her richest peails — I mean thy tears. 

Not in the evening's eyes, 
When they red with weeping are 

For the Sun that dies, 
Sits Sorrow \rith a face so fair. 

Nowhere but here did ever meet 
Sweetness so sad, sadness so sweet. 

Does the night arise? 
Still thy tears do fall and fall 

Does night lose her eyes? 
Still the fountain weeps for all. 

Let day and night do what they will, 
Tbon hast thy task, thou weepest still. 

Not So long ihe Bvid 
Will thy tomb report of thee { 

But So long tbt grimeJ: 
Thus most we date thy memory. 

Others by days, by months, by years, 
Measure their ages, thou by tears. 

Say, ye bright Wthers, 
The fugitiTe sons of those fair eyes 

Your ihiitfid mothns. 
What make you here ! What hopes can 'tice 
You 10 be born ? Wljat cause can borrow 
You from those nests of noble sorrow ? 
N3 aS* 



RICHARD CRASHAW 

Whither away so fasti 
For sure the sordid earth 

Your sweetness c^QOt taste. 
Nor does the dust deserve your Lnith. 

Sweet, whither haste you tlieii ? O saj. 
Why you trip so fast away J 



N^. 



1 
1 




JVO J 1 

ji toe \ 


tai go to marl 
•— eur Z.ard't feiU 



33S. A Hymn '\t Name and Honour 

of the jidmirable Saint Teresa 

T OVE, thou art absolute, sole Lord 

■^ Of life and death. To prove the word, 

We'll now appeal to none of all 

Those thy old soldiers, great and tall, 

Ripe men of maityrdom, that could reach down 

With strong arms their triumphaat crown : 

Such as could with lusty breath 

Speak loud, unto the face of death. 

Their great Lord's glorious oame ; to none 

Of those whose spacious bosoms spread a throne 

For love at large to 611. Spare blood and sweat: 

We'll see Him take a private seat. 

And make His mansion u the mild 

And milky soul of a soft child. 



RICHARD CRASHAW 

Scarce has she learnt ta lisp a name 

Of martyr, yet she thinks it shame 

Life should so long play with that breath' 

Which spent can buy so brave a death. 

She never undertook to know 

What death with Iotc should haw to do. 

Nor has she e'er yet understood 

Why, to show loTe, she should shed blood; 

Yet, though she cannot teil you why, 

She can love, and she can die. 

Scarce has she blood enough to make 

A guilty sword blush for her sake; 

Yet has a heart dares hope to prove 

How much less strong is death than love. . . . 

Since 'tis not to be had at home, 

She'll travel for a martyrdom. 

No home for her, confesses she, 

But where she may a martyr be. 

She'll to the Moors, and trade with thent- 

For this unvalued diadem ; 

She olfers them her dearest bread), 

With Christ's name in 't, in change for death I 

She'll bargain with them, and will give 

Them God, and teach tbem how to live 

In Him ; or, if they this deny, 

Poi Him she'll teach them how to die. 

So shall she leave amongst them sown 

Her Lord's blood, or at least her own. 

Farewell then, all the world, adieu I 
Teresa is no more for you. 
Farewell all pleasures, sports, and joys. 
Never till now esteemed toys ! 

103 



RICHARD CRASHAW 



Farewell whatever dear may be — 
Mother's anns, or father's knee ! 
Farewell house, and farewell home ! 
She's for the Moors and ManyrdDin. 

Sweet, not so fast ; lo ! thy fair spouse. 
Whom thou scck'st with so swift vows, 
CalL* ■ ■ ■ ■ bids thet come 

T' ■ martyrdom. . . . 

O ho„ 
Of a 
Of i 
Of a 
Loves .._ 
And wDuii^ ., 
And lives ana 
To live, but the 



lu complain 
tie pain! 

:h who dies 
d dies again, 

so be slain ; 

and knows not why 
: still may die I 



How kindly will thy gentle heart 
Kiss the sweetly- killing dart ! 
And close in his embraces keep 
Those delicious wounds, that weep 
Balsam, to heal themselves with thus. 
When these thy deaths, so numerous, 
Shall all at once die into one, 
And melt thy soul's sweet mansion ; 
Like a soft lump of incense, hasted 
By too hot a Irre, and wasted 
Into perfuming clouds, so fast 
Shalt thou exhale to heaven at last 
la a resolving sigh, and then, — 
what ? Ask not the tongues of men. 

Angels cannot tell ; suffice, 

Thyself shalt feel thine own full joys, 



je< 



RICHARD CRASHAW 

And hold them fast for erer there. 

So soon as thou shalt first appear, 

The moon of maiden stars, thy white 

Mistress, attended by such bright 

Souls as thjr shiaing self, shall come, 

And ia her first ranks make thee room) 

Where, 'moDgst her snowy family. 

Immortal welcomes wait for thee. 

what delight, when she shall stand 

And teach thy lips heaven, with her hand, . 

On which thou now may'st to thy wishes 

Heap up thy consecrated kisses ! 

What joy shall seize thy soul, when she. 

Bending her blessed eyes on thee, 

Those second smiles of heaven, shall dart 

Her mild ra^ through thy melting heart! 

Angela, thy old friends, there shall greet thee, 

Glad at their own home now to meet thee. 

All thy good works which went before. 

And waited for thee at the door, 

Shall own thee there ; and all m one 

Weave ■ constellatioa 

Of crowns, with which the King, thy spouse, 

Shall build up thy triumphant brows. 

All thy old woes shall now smile on thee. 

And thy pains sit bright upon thee i 

All thy sorrows here shall shine. 

And thy sufferings be divine. 

Tears shall take comfort, and turn gems. 

And wrongs repent to diadems. 

Even thy deaths shall live, and new 

Dress the soul which late they slew. 



RICHARD CRASHAW 

Thy wounds shall blush to Euch bright scan 
As keep account of the Lamb's wars. 

Those rare works, where thou shalt leave writ 
Love's noble history, with wil 
Taught thee by none but Him, while here 
They feed our souls, shall clothe tlune there- 
Each heavenly word by whose hid flame 
Our hard hearts shall strike fire, the same 
Shall flourish on thy brows, and be 
Both fire to us and flame lo ihee { 
Whose light shall live bright in thy face 
By glory, in our hearts by grace. 
Thou shalt look round about, and see 
Thousands of crown'd souls throng to be 
Themselves thy crown, sons of thy vows. 
The virgin -births with which thy spouse 
Made fruitful thy fair soul ; go now. 
And with them all about thee bow 
To Him; put on. He'll say, put on. 




RICHARD CRASHAW 

33p. Upon the Book and 'Picture of the 
Seraphkal Saint Teresa 

r^ THOU imdamited (kaghter of desires ! 

^^ By all thy dower of lights and fires; 

By all the eagle in thee, all the dove; 

By all thy lives and deaths of love ; 

By thy large draughts of intellectual day, 

And by tby thirsts of love more large than they; 

By all thy brim-fill'd bowls of fierce desire^ 

By thy last rnomiog's draught of liquid fire; 

By the full kingdom of that final kiss 

That seized thy parting sonl, and seal'd thee His ; 

By all the Hear'n thon hast in Him 

(Fair sister of the seraphim!); 

By all of Him we have in thee ; 

LeftTC nothing of myself in me. 

Let me so read thy life, that I 

Unto all life of mine may die ! 

$^0. Verses from the Shepherds' Hymn 

"VW'E saw Thee in Thy balmy nest, 
"^ Young dawn of our eternal day ; 
We saw Thine eyes break from the East, 

And chase the tmnbling shades away: 
We saw Thee, and we blest the sight, 
We saw Thee by Thine own sweet light- 
Poor world, said I, what wik thou do 

To entertain this starry stranger J 
Is thb the best thou canst bestow — 

A cold and not too cleanly manger' 

■4 



RICHARD CRASHAW 

CoR'.ead, ihe |<awers of benen tod canb, 
To fit a bed for this huge binfa. 

Proud vorld, said I, cme your cootcM, 
And let the mighty babe bIom i 

Th« I'hToix builds the phcrdx' nen, 
Lore's architecture b Hi* own. 

The lahc, whow binh tmbn v ea thn monul 

Made His own bed ere He wu bora. 

I »w the cnrl'd drops, soft utd slow, 
Come hoveruig o'er the placed bead, 

OfTrinj; thdr whitest sheets of now, 
To famish the fair iafitnt's bed. 

Fotheor, nid I, be not too boU; 

Yonr ec«oe i» white, but 'tis too coid. 

I saw tb' obsequious cenphiin 
Tbdr rosy fleece of fire bestow. 

For well they now can spare their wings, 
Since Heaven itself lies here bdow. 

Wdl done, said Ij but arc you sure 

Yonr down, so waim, will pass for pure t 

No, no, your Kiog's not yet to seek 
Where to repose Hin royal head ; 

See, see bow soon His ncw^bloooi'd cheek 
Twixt mother's breasts is gow to bed ! 

Sweet choice, said vt; do way but SO, 

Not to lie cold, j-et sleep in snow! 

She sings Thy tnrs aslecfy and dipt 
Her kisses in Thy wcQaog eye; 

She i^ircads the red lw«S of "Hiy I^ 
That in ihdr buds yet bloshing lis. 



RICHARD CRASHAW 

She 'gainst those mother diamonda tries 
The points of her young eagle's eyes. 

Welcome — tho' not to those gay flies, 
Gilded i' th' beams of earthly kings, 

Slippery souls in smiling eyes — 

But to poor shepherds, homespun things, 

Whose imlth 's their flocks, whose wit *s to be 

Well read in their simplicity. 

Yet, when young April's husband show*ra 
Shall bless the fruitful Mua's bed. 

We'll bring the first-born of her flowers, 
To kiss Thy feet and crown Thy head. 

To Thee, dread Lamb I whose lofe must keep 

The shepherds while they feed their sheep. 

To Thee, meek Majesty, soft King 
Of simple graces and sweet loves t 

Each of us his lamb will bring, 
Each his pair of ^ver doves! 

At last, in fire of Thy fair eyes, 

Ourselres become oui own best sacrifice 1 



34t. Christ Crucified 

' I 'HY restless feet now cannot go 
■^ For us and our eternal good. 
As they were ever woot. What though 
They swim, ilas I in thor own flood I 

Thy hands to give Thou canst not lift, 
Yet will Thy hand still giving be; 

It ^ves, but O, itself 's the giitl 

It gives tho' bound, tho' bound 'tis free! 



RICHARD CRASHAW 
S42. An Epitaph upm Husband and ff^ife 

Who died and lacrc iuried Iqgelher. 

* I "'O those wbom death agaio did wed 
■*■ This grave 's the second mamage-bed. 
For though the hand of Fate could force 
'Twixt soul and body a divorce, 
It could not sever man and wife, 
Because they both lived but one lifc. 
Peace, good reader, do not weep; 
Peace, the lovers arc asleep. 
They, sweet turtles, folded lie 
In the last knot that love could tie. 
Let them sleep, let theni sleep oa, 
Till the stormy night be gone, 
And the eternal morrow dawn ; 
Then the eurtabs will be drawn, 
And they wake into a light 
Whose day shall never die in night. 




RICHARD LOVELACE 

Yet this inconstancy is such 

As thoD too shalt adore ; 
I could not love thee. Dear, so much, 

LoTed I not Honour more. 



S44. To Zticajta, going beyond the Seas 

TF to be absent were to be 
^ Away from thee; 
Or that when I am gone 
You or I were alone ; 
Then, my Lucasta, might I crave 
Pity from blusteriag wind or swallowing wave. 

But I'll not sigh one Uast or gale 
To swell my swl, 
Or pay a tear to 'suage 
The foaming blue god's rage; 
For whether he will let me pass 
Or no, I'm still as happy as I was. 

Though seas and land betwixt us both, 
Our faith and troth, 
Like separated souls, 
AH lime and space controls ; 
Above the highest sphere we meet 
Unseen, unknown; and greet as Angels greet. 

So then we do anticipate 
Our after-fate, 
And are alive i' the slues, 
If thus our lips and eyes 
Can speak like S[nnts uncooSned 
In Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind. 



r^<^=--^^" 






er 



Cat 
b> 

AS, ■* 
The fio*' 






34^- -^ dished'- 



ii^\ 



7 ^"•" ,.j- H*"" 

Every "fXl^-*;S' 



RICHARD LOVELACE 

Do not then wind op that light 

Is tibbuds, and o'ercloud m night, 

Like the Sun in 's early ray ; 

But shake your head, and scatter day I 

347. The Grasshopper 

OTHOU that swiog'st upon the waring \aat 
Of some well-fitl^ oaten beard. 
Drunk every night with a delicious tear 

Dropt thee from heaven, where thou wen rear'd ! 

The joys of earth and air are thine entire, 

That with thy feet and wings dost hop and fly; 

And when thy poppy works, thon dost retire 
To thy carved acom-bed to lie. 

Up with the day, the Sun thou welcom'st then, 
Sport'st in the gilt plaita of his beams, 

And all these merry days mak'st merry men, 
Thyself, and melancholy streams. 

348. To Ahhea, from 'Prison 

^^THEN Love with unconfinfid wings 

'^ Hovers within my gates, 
And my divine Althea brings 

To whisper at the graces ; 
When I lie tangled in her hair 

And fettcr'd to her eye. 
The Urds that wanton in the dr 

Know no such liberty. 

When flowing cups run swiftly round 
With no allaying Thames, 

IS 









,6ifr->' 



H?' 






ABRAHAM COWLEY 

The sea itself (which oae would think 
Should have but little need of diinVy 
Drinks twice tea thousand rivers up, 
So fill'd that they o'erfiow the cup. 
The busy Sun (and one would guess 
By 's dninken fiery face DO less) 
Drinks up the sea, and when he 's done, 
The Moon and Stars drink up the Sun: 
They drink and dance by their own light. 
They drink and revel ail the night; 
Nothing in Nature's sober found. 
But an eternal health goes round. 
Fill up the bowl, then, fill it high, 
Fill all the glasses there— for why 
Should every creature drink but I? 
Why, man of morals, tell me why? 

3f0. 2. Tht Eficart 

T TNDERNEATH this myrtle shade, 
^^ On flowery beds supinely laid, 
With odorous oils my head o'eiflowing, 
And around it roses growing, 
What should I do but drink away 
The heat and troubles of the day ? 
Is this more than kingty state 
Love himself on me shall wait. 
Fill to me, Love! my, fill it up! 
And mingled cast into the cup 
Wit and mirth and noble fires, 
Vigorous health and gay desires. 
The wheel of life no less will stay 
In a smooth than rugged way : 

SB 



ABRAHAM COWLEY 

Since it e^ualljr doth flee, 
Let the motion ]ileaS3Ut be. 
Why do we precious ointments sbowrr ?- 
Noblcc wines why do we pour ! — 
Beauteous flowers why do we spread 
Upon the monuments of the dead ! 
Nothing they but dust can show. 
Or bones that hasten to be bo. 
Crown me with roaes while I live, 
Now your wines and ointments givcf 
After death I nothing crave, 
Let mc alive my pleasures liave; 
All aie Stoics in the grave, 

3ft. 3. The Swallow 

■pOOLISH prater, what dost thou 
■*■ So early at my window do ? 
Cruel bird, thou'st ta'en away 
A dream out of my arms to-day [ 
A dream that ne'er must equall'd be 
By all that waking eyes may see. 
Thou this damage to repair 
Nothing half so sweet and fair. 
Nothing half 50 good, canst bring, 
Tho' men say thou Imng'st the Spring. 

i^2. On the 'Death of Mr. ff^illiam He 

TT was a dismal and a fearful night: 

Scarce could the Mom drive on th' unwilling 

When Sleep, Death's image, left my troubled hn 
By something Ulcer Death possest. 
»« 



ABRAHAM COWLEY 

My eyes with tears did UDConmunded flow, 

And on my soul hung the doll wnght 
Of sonw intoler^e fctc. 

What bell was that > Ah me 1 too much I know I 

My sweet companioa and my gentle peer. 
Why hast thou left me thus unkindly here, 
Thy end for ever and ray life to moan! 

O, thou hast left me all alone ! 
Thy soul and body, when death's agony 
Besieged around thy n<Me heart, 
Did not with more reluctance part 
Than I, my dearest Friend, do part from thee. 

My dearest Friend, wotild I had died for theel 
Life and this world henceforth will tedious be: 
Nor shall I know hereafter what to do 

If once my griefs prove tedious too. 
Silent and sad I walk about all day, 

As sullen ghosts stalk speechless by 

Where their hid treasures lie ; 
Alas J my treasure's gone; why do I stay? 

Say, for you saw us, ye immortal lights, 
How oft unwearied have we spent the niglits, 
Till the Ledxan stars, so famed for love, 

Wonder'd at us from above! 
We spent them not in toys, jo lusts, or wine; 

But search of deep Philosophy, 

Wit, Eloquence, and Poetry — 
Arts which I loved, for they, my Friend, were thine. 

Ye fields of CamtHidge, our dear Cambridge, say 
Have ye not seen us walking every day i 

SJ7 



ABRAHAM COWLEY 

Was there a tree about which did not IcDOW 

The love betwixt us two ! 

Henceforth, ye gentle trees, for ever fade; 
Or your sad branches thicker join 

And into darksome shades combine. 
Dark as the grave wherein my Friend is laid I 

Large was his soul ; as large a soul as e'er 

Submitted to inrorm a body here ; 

High as the place 'twas shortly in Heaven to hare, 

But low and humble as his grave. 
So high that all the virtues there did come. 

As to their chicfest seat 

Conspicuous and great; 
So low, that for me too it made a room. 

Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught 
As if for bira Knowledge bad rather sought ; 
Nor did more learning ever crowded lie 

In such a short mortalitv 




ABRAHAM COWLEY 

With as mocb zeal, devotion, pttj, 
He always llTcd, as other saints do die. 
Still with his soul severe account he kept, 
Weeping all debts out ere he slept. 
Then down in peace and innocence he by. 
Like the Sun's laborious light, 
Which still ia water sets at night, 
Unsullied with bis journey of the day. 

But happy Thou, ta'en from this frantic age, 

Where ignorance and hypocrisy does rage ! 

A fitter lime for Hearen no soul e'er chose — 
The place now only free from those. 

There 'mong the blest thou dost for ever shine; 
And wheresoc'er thou casts thy view 
Upon that white and radiant crew, 

See'st not a soul clothed with more light than thJne. 



sn- The Wish 

■yVT'ELL then 1 I now do plainly sec 

"^ This busy world and I shall ne'er agree. 
The very honey of all earthly joy 
Does of all meats the soonest cloy ; 

And they, methinks, deserve my pity 
Who for it can endure the stings, 
The crowd and buzz and munnurings, 

Of this great hive, the city. 

Ah, yet, ere I descend to the grave 
May I a small house and large garden have; 
And a few friends, and many books, both tnie, 
Bo^ wise, ind both delightful too ! 

n9 



ABRAHAM COWLEY 

And since love ne'er will from me See, 
A Mistress moderately fair, 
Aod good 3s guardiaa angels are, 

Only beloved and loving me. 

O fountains 1 when in yon shall I 

Myself eased of unpeacefiil thoughts espy f 

O fields ! O woods ! when, when shall I be made 

The happy tenant of your shade ! 

Here's the spriog-head of Pleasuie's Sood: 
Here 's wealthy Nature's treasury, 
Wheie all the riches lie that she 

Has coin'd and stanip'd for good. 

Pride and ambition here 

Only in far-fetcb'd metaphors appear! 

Here nought but winds can hunfiil murmurs scatter, 

And nought but Echo flatter. 

The gods, when they descended, hither 
From heaven did always choose their way s 




ALEXANDER BROME 

Syd. The Res)lve 

'T'ELL me not of a face that 's (air, 
''' Nor lip and cheek that 's red, 
Nor of the trcssca of her hair, 

Nor curls in order laid, 
Nor of a rare seraphic vmce 

That like an angcl sings; 
Though if I were to take my ch<»ce 

I would have all these things : 
But if that thou wilt have me lore, 

And it must be a she, 
The only argument can move 

Is that she will love me. 

The glories of your ladies be 

But metaphors of things. 
And but resemble what we see 

Each common object brings, 
Roses out-red thrir lips and cheeks, 

Lilies their whiteness stain; 
What fool is be that shadows seeks 

And may the substance gala \ 
Then if thou'jt have me love a lass, 

Let it be ooe that's kind: 
Else I'm a servant to the glass 

That's with Canary lined. 










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#■ 



ANDREW MARVELL 

Tis madness to resist or blame 
The face of angry Heaven's flame t 

And if we would speak tnie, 

Much to the man is (hie, 

Who, from his prirate gardens, where 
He lived reserrld and austere 

(As if his highest plot 

To plant the bergamot), 

Could by industrious valour climb 
To Tuia the great work of time. 

And cast the Kingdoms old 

Into another mould ; 

Though Justice agauist Pate comjdain, 
And plead the ancient rights in vain — 
But those do hold or break 
As men are strong or weak — 

Nature, that hateth empdness, 

Allows of penetration less, 

And therefore must make room 
Where greater sjnitts come. 

What field of aU the civil war 
Where his were not the deepest scar? 

And Hampton shows what part 

He had of wiser an ; 

Where, twining subtle fears with hope, 
He wove a net of such a scope 

That Charles himself might chase 
To Caresbrooke's narrow case; 

1^ 



I 



ANDREW MARVELL 



That thence the Royal actor borne 
The tragic scaffold might adorn ; 
While round the armed bands 
Did dap theii bloody htiiids. 

He nothing common did or mean 
Upon that memorable scene, 
teener eye 
e did try; 



> 




, with vulgar sjnte, 


T. 




Ipless right ; 
comely head 




i^u 


1 a bed. 



This was tl lorahle hour 

Which first • the forcM power! 

So when tncy did design 

The Capitol's first line, 

A Bleeding Head, where they begun, 
Did fright the architects to run ; 

And yet in that the Stale 

Foresaw its happy fate ! 

And now the Irish are ashamed 
To see themselves in one year tamed : 
So much one man can do 
That does both act and know. 

They can affirm his praises best, 
And have, though overcome, confest 
How good he is, how just 
And fit for highest trust. 



jSi 



ANDREW MARVELL 

Nor yet grown stit&r with commaDd, 
But still in the republic's hand — 

How fit he is to sway 

That can so well obey ! 

He to the CominoDs' feet presents 
A Kingdom for his first year's lents, 
And, what he may, forbears 
His fame, to make it thnra: 

And has his sword and spoils ungin 
To lay them at the public's skirt. 
So when the falcon hi^h 
Falls heavy from the sky, 

She, having Idll'd, no more doth search 
But OD the next green bough to perch ; 
Where, whea he first does lure. 
The falconer has her sure. 

What may not then our Isle presume 
While victory hb crest does plume? 
What may not others fear, 
If thus he crowns each year ! 

As Czsar be, ere long, to Gaul, 
To Italy an Hannibal, 

And to all States not free 

Shall climacteric be. 

The Pict no shelter now shall find 

Within his particoJour'd mind. 
But, from this valour, sad 
Shrink uodemeatb the plaid j 

O 3t5 




NDREW MARVELL 

Hap if in the tufted brake 
Tte inglish hunter him mistake, 

J Jor lay his hounds in near 

The CaledomaD deer. 

But thou, the war's and foitune's sun, 

March indefatissbly on; 

And for "ict, 

Stili keep t creel ; 



m 



Ji. jxivi 



to Irigbl 
r night, 
I did gain 
muniain. 



iJ-tf- 



j^ Garden 




WrUlen after the Civil IVart 

CEE how the flowers, as at parade, 

'^ Under their colours stand dis])lay'd; 

Each regiment in order grows. 

That of the tulip, piak, and rose. 

But when the vigilant patrol 

Of stars walks round about the pole, 

Their leaves, that to the stalks are curl'd. 

Seem to their slaves the ensigns furl'd. 

Then io some flower's beloved hut 

Each bee, as sentinel, is shut. 

And sleeps so too ; but if once stirr'd, 

She ruDS you through, nor asks the word. 



SM 



ANDREW MARVELL 

O thou, that dear and happy Isle, 
The garden of the world erewhile, 
Thou Paradise of the four seas 
Which Heaven planted us to please, 
fiui, to exdude the world, did guard 
With wat'ry if not flaming sword ; 
What lucldess apple did we taste 
To nuke us mortal and thee waste 1 
Unhappy! shall we never more 
That sweet militia restore, 
When gardens only had their towers, 
And all the garrisons were flowers ; 
When roses only arms might bear. 
And men did rosy garlands vrtaii 



ST7. To His Coy Mistress 

LJAD we but world enough, and time, 
^ ^ This coyness, Lady, were no crime 
We would sit down and think which way 
To walk and pass our long love's day. 
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side 
Shouldst rubies iind: I by the tide 
Of Humbet would complain. I would 
Love you ten years before the Flood, 
And you should, if you please, refiise 
Till the conversion of the Jews. 
My vegetable love should giow 
Vaster than empires, and more slow; 
An hundred years should go to praise 
Thioe eyes and on thy forehead gaze ; 

14 



I 



ANDREW MARVELL 



Two buodred to adore each breast, 

But thirty thousand to the rest; 

An age at least to every pan. 

And the last age should show your heait. 

For, Lady, you deserve this state. 

Nor would I love at lower rate. 

But 11 mo Kurt I always hear 
Tim : hurrying near; 

Ana r us lie 

DeS'TT^'^ ty. 

Thj more be found. 

Nor, lult, shall sound 

My >iu^ ea womia shall tiy 

That long pit 'irginity. 

And your qua lur turn to dust, 

And into ashes y lust: 

The grave 's a fine and private place, 
But none, I think, do there embrace. 

Now therefore, while the youthful hue 
Sits on thy skin like morning dew, 
And while thy willing soul transpires 
At every pore with instant fires, 
Now let us sport us while we may, 
And now, like amorous birds of prey, 
Rather at once our time devour 
Than languish in his slow-chapt power. 
Let us roll all our strength and all 
Our sweetness up into one ball, 
And tear our pleasures with rough strife 
Thorough the iron gates of life : 
Thus, though we cannot make our sun 
Stand slill, yet we will make him ruo. 
ilow-chapt] slow-jawed, slowly devouring. 



ANDREW MARVELL 

3SS- The Tkture of Little T. C in a 
Prospect of Flowers 

CEE vith what sinii^dly 
'^ This nymph be^ns her golden days I 
In the green grass she loves to lie, 
And there with her fair aspect tames 
The wilder flowers, and gives them names; 
But only with the roses pUys, 

And them does tell 
What colour best becomes them, and what sraelli 

Who can foretell for what high cause 
This darling of the gods was bom ? 
Yet this is she whose chaster laws 
The wanton Low shall one day fear, 
And, under her command severe. 
See his bow broke and ensigns torn. 
Happy who can 
Appease this virtuous enemy of man ! 

O then let me in time compound 
And parley with those conquering eyes, 
Ere they have tried their force to wound; 
Ere with their glancing wheels they driie 
In triumph over hearts that strive, 

And them that yield but more despise: 
Let me be laid, 
Where I may sec the glories from some shade. 

Meantime, whilst every verdant thing 
Itself does at thy beauty charm, 

•■9 





^Jj^^^^H 




ANDREW MARVELL ^H 


Refomi the erron of the Spring j ^^^| 


JA-Ac that the tulips may hare shsic ^^^H 


Of sweetness, seeing they are fair, ^^^H 


And roses of ihdr tboms disarm ; ^^^| 


But most procure ^^^| 


That violets may a longer age endure. ^^^H 


But O, foi 1 


ty of the woods, ^^^B 


Whom Natuiv 


with fruits and flowers, ^B 


Gather thp 


but space the buds i M 


Lest Flora, anj i 


f crime ■ 


To lull her inf- 


leir prime, ^^^fl 


Do quickly n 


example yours ; ^^^H 




nd ere we see, ^^^B 


Nip in the blossom 


hopes and thee. H 




^^ 1 


i 1 



jfp. Thoughts in a Garden 

IJOW vainly men themselves amaze 
■*■ ■*■ To win the palm, the oak, or bays, 
And their incessant labours see 
Crown'd from some single herb or tree, 
Whose short and narrow-vergSd shade 
Does prudently their toils upbraid ; 
While all the flowers and trees do close 
To weave the garlands of repose ! 



Fair Quiet, have I found thee here. 
And Innocence thy sister dear ? 
Mistaken long, I sought you then 
In busy companies of men : 
350 



ANDREW MARVELL 

Vour uored plants, if here below, 
Only among the planes will growi 
Society is all but rude 
To this delicious solitude. 

No white nor red was e*er seen 

So amorous as this lovely greeu. 

Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, 

Cut in these trees their mistress' name: 

Little, alas! they know or heed 

How far these beauties hers exceed! 

Fair trees ! wheres'e'er your barks I wound. 

No name shall but your own be found. 

When we have ron onr passions' heat, 
Love hither makes his best retreat: 
The gods, that mortal beauty chase, 
Still in a tree did end their race ; 
Apollo hunted Daphne so 
Only that she might laurel grow ; 
And Pan did after Syrinx speed 
Not as a nymph, but for a reed. 

What wondrous life is this I lead! 
Ripe apples drop about my head ; 
The luscious clusters of the vine 
Upon my mouth do crush their wine; 
The nectarine and curious peach 
Into my hands themselves do reach ; 
Stumbling on melons, as I pass, 
Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass. 

Meanwhile the mind from pleasure less 
Withdraws into its hapjHness ; 

S9> 



ANDREW MARVELL 

The miad, that oc«a where eacli kind 
Doa sinaght its own mcaiblaace lind[ 
Vet h cttMcs, tranoceodiog these, 
Pxi other worlds, aod other seaat 
Anmhilating all that 's nude 
To a greeo thought in ft green fJiadc 

Heie at the fountab's sliding foot, 
Or at some fniit-tree's taoaj root. 
Casting the body's Test aside, 
My soul into the boughs does glide i 
There, liJce a bird, it sits and singi. 
Then whets and coinht ils silver wings, 
And, till ^rciurrd for longer flight, 
Wkvct in i» jilumrs the rarioiu light. 

Such was that happy Garden*stale 
While man there walk'd without a nute i 
After a flace so pure and sweet, 
Wh« other help could yet be meet! 
But 'twas beyond a moital's share 
To wander solitary there ; 
Two paradises 'twere in one, 
To live ia Paradise alone. 

How well the skilful gaid'ner drew 
Of flowers and herbs this dial aew I 
Where, from Aove, the milder sua 
Does through a fragrant zodiac nini 
And, u it works, th' iodnstrious bee 
Computet its tine as well ns ¥re. 
How could such sweet and uriKilcMHne hours 
Be reckon'd, but with herbs sod flowers t 



ANDREW MARVELL 



Jrfo. Bermudas 

TW'HERE the remote Bennudas ride 

"^ Ib the ocean's bosom unespied. 
From a small boat that row'd along 
The Ibtening winds received this song : 

'What should we do but siti| His praise 
That led us through the watery maze 
Unto an isle so long unknown, 
And yet far kinder than our own? 
Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks, 
That lift the deep upon their backs, 
He lands us on a grassy stage, 
Safe from the storms' and prelates' rage: 
He gave us this etemal Spring 
Which here enamels everything, 
And sends the fowls to us in care 
On daily visits through the air : 
He hangs in shades the orange bright 
Like golden lamps in a green night. 
And does in the pomegrsoates close 
Jewels more rich than Ormus shows: 
He makes the figs our mouths to meet 
And throws the melons at our feet ; 
But apples plants of such a price. 
No tree could ever bear them twice. 
With cedars chosen by His hand 
From Lebanon He siores the land | 
And makes the hollow seas that roar 
Proclaim the ambergris on shore. 
He cast (of which we rather boast) 
The Gospel's pearl upon our coast j 

03 KB 




And in these rocks for us did frame 
A temple where to sound His name. 
O, in our voice His praise exalt 
Till it arrive at Heaven's vault, 
Which thence (perhaps) rebounding may 
Echo beyond the Mexique bay ! ' 



Thus sui ' 


English boat 


A fa 


note: 


And 


;aide their chime. 


With 


kept the time. 



irfl. 



Pitaph 



CNOUG: ctc the rest to Fame! 

■'-' "Tis to 1 I her, but to name. 

Courtship which, iiviGg, she declined, 
When dead, to offer were tmkind: 
Nor can the truest wit, or friend, 
Without detracting, her commend. 

To say — she lived a virgin chaste 
In this age loose and all utilaced; 
Nor was, when vice is so allowed, 
Of virtue or ashamed or proud ; 
That her soul was on Heaven so bent, 
No minute but it came and went ; 
That, ready her last debt to pay, 
She summ'd her life up every day { 
Modest as mom, as mid-day bright, 
Gentle as evening, cool as night: 
— 'Tis true ; but al! too weakly said. 
"Twas more significant, she's dead. 

»4 



HENRY VAUGHAN 
$62. The Retreat 

■tel-l6gj 

OAPPY those early day^ when I 
^ ^ Shined in ray Angel-infaDcy ! 
Before I understood this place 
Appointed for my second race, 
Or taught my soul to fancy aught 
But a white celestial thought: 
When yet I had not walk'd ^wve 
A mile or two from my first Love, 
And looking back — at that short space — 
Could see a glimpse of His Imght face: 
When on some gilded cloud, or flow'r. 
My gazing soul would dwell an hour, 
And in those weaker glories spy 
Some shadows of eternity: 
Before I taught my tongue to wound 
My Conscience with a sinful sound, 
Or had the black ait to dispense 
A several wo to ev'ry sense, 
But felt through all this fleshly dress 
Bright shoots of ererlastingness. 

O how I long to travel back, 
And tread again that ancient track ! 
That I might once more reach that plain 
Where first I left my glorious train ; 
From whence th' enlighten'd spirit sees 
That shady City of Palm-trees. 
But ah ! my soul with too much stay 
Is drunk, and staggers in the way ! 

398 





^^^^^^H 




HENRY VAUGHAN ^H 




Some men a forward motion love, ^^^| 


But I by backward steps would move j V 


And when this dust fails to the urn, 1 


In that state I came, return. 1 


3<f3- Peace ^^ 


M%"; 


is a couRtiy 1 


the stars, ^^^| 


Where f*^ 


ingdd sentry ^^H 


All B 1 


le wars : ^^^| 


There, aoD 


■ and d.inger, ^^H 


Sweet ] 


s crawn'd with smiles, 1 


And One 


a manger 1 


Commant 1 


iieauteous files. M 


He is thy ^ 


i Friend, ^^H 




And— 1 


111, awake! — ^^B 



Did in pure love descend 

To die here for thy sake. 
If thou canst get but thither, 

There grows the flower of Peace, 
The Rose that cannot wither, 

Thy fortress, and thy ease. 
Leaie then thy foolish ranges ; 

For none can thee secure 
But One who never changes — 

Thy God, thy life, thy cure. 

Si?4. The Timber 

CURE thou didst flourish once! and many springs, 
*^ Many bright mornings, much dew, many showers, 
Pass'd o'er thy head ; many light hearts and wings, 
Which now are dead, lodged in thy living bowers. 



HENRY VAUGHAN 

And s^ a new succession sings and flies ; 

Fresh groves grow up, and their green branches shoot 
Towards the old and still enduiing skies, 

While the low violet thiiTes at their root. 

But thou beneath the sad and heavy line 

Of death, doth waste all senseless, cold, and dark ; 

Where not so much as dreams of light may shine, 
Nor any thought of greenness, leaf, or Wk. 

And yet — as if some deep hate and dissent, 

Bred in thy growth betwixt high winds and thee. 

Were still alive — thou dost great stonns resent 
Before they come, and koow'st how near they be. 

Hlse all at rest thou liest, and the Benx breath 
Of tempests can no more disturb thy ease ; 

But this thy stiaoge resentment after death 

Means only those who broke — in life — thy peace. 



S^f. Frtends 'Departed 

'T'HEY are all gone into the world of light ! 
^ And I alone sit ling'ring here; 
Their very memory is fair and bright. 

And my sad thoughts doth clear. 

It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, 
Like stars upon some gloomy grove. 
Or those faint beams \a which this hill is drest 
After the sun's remove. 



HENRY VAUGHAN 

I see ihem waking in aa air of glory, 

Whose light doth trample oo my days: 

My days, which are at best but dull and hoai^r, 

M«e glimmering aod decays. 

O holy Hope 1 and high Humility, 

High 35 the heavens above ! 
Theiie are your w^ks, ^u have show'd there 

To kindle Hi 1 love. 



mq 



Dear, beauteous 
Shining nov 
What mysteries ut 

Could maL 



jewel of the Just, 
I the dark ; 
id ttiy dust, 
. that mark! 



He that hath found si? ^dgrd bird's nest may know,] 

At first sight, if rd be flown; 

But what fair well or grove he sings in now, 

That is to him unknown, 



And yet as Angels in some brighter dreams 
Call to the soul, when man doth sleep : 
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, 
And into glory peep. 

If a star were confined into a tomb. 

Her captive flames must needs bum there ; 
But when the band that lock'd her up gives room, 
She'll shine through all the sphere. 

O Father of eternal life, and all 
Created glories under Thee ! 
Resume Thy spirit from this world of thrall 
Into true liberty. 

39* 



HENRY VAUGHAN 

Either disperae these mists, ^tich blot aad fill 

My fospecam still u they pass; 
Or die itmoTC me hence onto that bill, 
Wheie I shall seed no ^ass. 



JOHN BUNYAN 

jrftf. Tie Shepherd Boj sings m the 
ydiey of Humiliatitn 

^ "^ i&iS-ii 

LJE that is down needs fear no fall, 
^ ^ He that is low, no pride { 
He that is humble ever shall 
Have God to be his guide. 

I am content with what I have, 

Little be it or much : 
And, Lo(d, contentment still I cnv^ 

Because Thou savest such. 

Fullness to such a burden is 

That go on pilgrimage: 
Here litdc, and hereafter bliss, 

Is best from age to age. 



m 




BALLADS AND SONGS BY UNKNOWN 
AUTHORS 

^6?. Thoma. ' Rbymef 



'TRUE Thomi 

*■ A ferlie he 

And there he =" 

Come lidiug 



on Huntlie bank; 
wi' his e'e j 
dye bright 
jT the Eildon Tiec; 



Her skirt was o' rass-green Bilk, 

Her mantle o' Jvcl fyne ; 

Ac ilka tett o' h le's mane, 

Hung fifty siUcr oi i and nine. 

True Thomas he pu'd aff his cap, 
And loutcd low down on his knee: 

' Haii to thee, Mary, Queer of Heaven ! 
For thy peer on earth could never be.' 

' no, O no, Thomas,' she said, 
' That name does not belang to me ; 

I'm but the Queen o' fair Elfland, 
That am hither come to visit thee. 

' Harp and carp, Thomas,' she said j 
' Hatp and carp along wi' me ; 

And if ye dare to kiss my lips. 
Sure of your bodie I will be.' 



fetlie] marveL 
recite (as a minstrel). 
400 



tett] tassel. 



harp and carp] play u.J 



AN0NY^!OUS 

'B«Ed« me wnl, betidic roe wor, 
Thu ward itlull never dnunun me.* 

Syne be Hu kiss'd bcr ro<:y tips, 
All vaderorath the Eildoo Tm. 

'Now yc Ruai go wi' me,' sbc *aid, 
'True Thonus, jrv maun go wi' me; 

And ye msiiB atm me licven yiMrs 
Thro' wal m woe u nay cbxnce to be.* 

She's mooDced oo ber nillc-whUc stnd, 
She's u'eo true Tbocius uj) beUad; 

Aod nye, wfacne'w ber bridle nng, 
The Kccd g4cd swifter dtxn tbr wind. 

O ihey fade on, and ianher oo, 

The need gaed swifter than the wind} 

Until ibcy racfa'd a dexn vide, 
And linog bnd wiis IcA behind. 

'Light down, ligbt down now, true Tbonui, 
And lean youi bead opoo my kneci 

Abide yc there a little space. 

And I will sbow you (erlic* three. 

'O *ce ye DOC yoo wrow roMl, 

So ih*ck beset wi' thon» sod briers J 

That is the Path of Righteousness, 
Tbo<^b after it bat few inquires. 

'And Me j« UK yoo bndd, braid road. 

This lies KTOss the Uy leren? 
That is the Path of Wickedness, 

Tbougb MUM call it the Road to Hcanu. 
km] laws. 




' Add see ye not yon bonny road 

That winds about ihe femic bric? 
That is the Road lo fjir Elfland, 

Where thou and I this night maun gae. 

' But, Thomas, ye sail haud your tongue. 

Whatever ye mav hear or see ; 
For speak ye ■ flyn-lind, 

Ye'Il ne'er win your ain coimtric' 



O they rade e 
And they v 

And they saw , 
But they beard 



her oo, 

abune the knee; 
1 nor moon, 
tiog of the sea. 



It was mirk, mirk there was nae starlight. 

They waded thm blude to the knee ; 

Por a' the blude that s shed on the earth 
Rins through the Springs o' that countrie. 

Syne they came to a garden green. 
And she pu'd an apple frae a tree : 

' Take this for thy wages, true Thomas { 

It will give thee the tongue that can never Ice.' 

' My tongue is my ain,' true Thomas he said ; 

'A gudcly gift ye wad gie to me I 
I neither dought to buy or sell 

At fair or tryst where I might be. 

' I dought neither speak to prince or peer. 

Nor ask of grace from fair ladye ! '— 
'Now haud thy peace, Thomas,' she said, 
' For as I say, so must it be.' 
dought] could. 



ANONYMOUS 

Hr liu gotten » coot of the eren clotb, 
And 1 jiiir o' shooo of the nivci |tccn; 
' Aad till iOYti jws were ^oe and past. 
True Tbo«n3a on mth wis oeter scca. 



3<f8. Sir "Patrick Spais 

I. Thi SnHrfg 

"T^HE kiDg nts in Duitfmitlinc town 
^ Drinking the blodc-rcd wrnr; 
*0 whore will I get a ikttly &)uii|>Gr 
To sail this new ship o' niiaef 

O vp anij Rptk u cldetn knight, 
Sal It the ki&g's right hace; 

'Sir Patrick Spens is the best uilor 
That ewr sailM (he »«•.' 

Oar king b» writtra a brad letter, 
And scai'd it with hi^ tund, 

And sent it to Sir Patrick Specs 
Was walking oa the ttnivd. 

'To Norowaj, to Noioway, 
To Noroway o'er the facni ; 
I The king's daughter o* Nofoway, 
Tn thoa must bring her bamc' 

The fim word that Sir Patrick read 
So loud, loud hiagh'd he; 

The t>et!tt word that Sir Patrick read 
The tear Uioded hi* e'e, 

jU. Ontly] MUbL 



•« 




' O vibi is tliis has done this deed 

And Uuld the king o' me, 
To send U5 out, at this time o* year. 

To sail upon the sea? 

' Be it wind, be it weet, be it haii, bt a slett. 

Our ship must . satl^^e faem ; 
The king's oroway, 

'Tis wc mnai ■ hamc' 



They h 
Wi' 

They hae I. 
Upon a ' 



n Moncnday 
way 



n iitum 

'Mak ready, male roy merry men a'! 

Our gude ship sails uie morn.' 
' Now ever alack, my master dear, 
I fear a deadly storm. 

' I saw the new moon late yesti'ceQ 

Wi' the auld moon in her arm ; 
And if we gang to sea, master, 

I fear we'll come to harm.' 

They hadna sail'd a league, a league, 

A league but barely three, 
When the lift grew dark, and the wind blew loud, 

And gurly grew die sea. 

The ankers brak, and the topmast lap, 

It was sic a deadiy storm : 
And the waves cam owre the broken ship 

Till a' her sides were torn, 
lifl] (Ity. Up] sprang. 



ANONYJfOUS 

'Co fodi a wri> o' the lilkcn ctoiili, 

Aoothcr n' ihe twine, 
And w^ Uicm iato our ship's ndc, 

And l«t DM ibr xa cooie to.' 

Tliey fetchM a wi-b o' ibe uilun ddtb, 

Aoothrr o' the twine. 
And they wapp'd tbon round tbit gude ship's wig. 

But Rill thr tM CUM io. 

O Utili, Uiih were our gode Scots torda 

To wet tbdr curl(-heel'd ihoooi 
B« bng or a* the pliy wu plajr'd 

The; wai lh<ir lutis nboon. 

And moDy wis the fewthcr bed 

Tlui fiiuerM on tbr (item i 
And moojr was the gtxJc lord'« sob 

That aem nuir cam hame. 

O Eng, lapg oay the ladies m, 

Wi* their bus into their bind. 
Before they sec Sir Patnck Spcns 

Come sailing to ibe uraod! 

And ling, bag may ilie maidens sil 

Wr their gowd lumes in their hair, 
A-waiiing for their oia dear Iotus ! 

For them they'll see nae mair. 

Hair-owre, hslf-owre to Aberdour, 

Tis fifty EMboon deep; 
And there lies gnde % Patikk Speos, 

Wi' the Scots lords at his feet! 



AaiWdi t(MKd ttotx. kAmc*] ecunbs. 



M 




The Lass of Locbroyatt 

/^ WHA will shoe my bonny foot ? 
^^ And wha wii! glove my hand ? 
And wha will Wnd my middle jimp 
Wj' a I""" I"" linen band ? 



* wha wuf 1 


y yellow hair, 


t 


jy kame I 


An^ 


babe's faiber 


Tai ti 


hame!' 



'Thy father, _ shoe thy foot, 

Thy brotht love thy hand. 

Thy mither t ihy middle Jin^ 

Wi' a lang, lai-^ . nen band, 

'Thy sister will kame thy yellow hair, 

Wi' a haw baybetiy kame; 
The Almighty will be thy babe's father 

Till Gregory come hame.' 

'And wha will build a bonny ship, 

And set it on the sea ? 
For I will go to seek my love, 

My ain love Gregory.' 

Up then spak her father dear, 

A wafu' man was he ; 
'And I will build a bonny ship. 

And set her on the sea. 

jimp] trim. kame] comb. haw baybtrry] !fl comiplioo for 

' braw ivory' ; or b»y berry may = laurel- wood. 
*o6 



ANONYMOUS 

*A»d I will build » baur Mp, 

And set W OB the irt. 
And je hI gie atxl xvk your la*e, 

Yout tin love Gregofy.' 

Then he's gin build a botuy slup^ 

And set it 00 the sea, 
Wi' fow-aod-twentiF mariDcn, 

To btv her company. 

he's pn build x bomy ship, 

To saD oo tbe salt sea^ 
The mut wu o' the bcMen gotd, 

Tbc tails o' cramoiaic. 

The udet were o' the gude itout aik. 
The deck o' mountain pine, 

The anchor o' the siltcr shcoe, 
The ropes o' sOken twine. 

She badaa idil'd but twenty leagues, 
But twenty leagues aod thne. 

When she met wi' a rank reirer, 
And a' his con^onie. 

'Now are ye Queen of Heavoi hie, 
Came to pardon a' oar sin I 

Or >fe ye Maiy Nfagdalanc, 
Ww bota » Bethliunr 

Tm no the Queen of Heaven bit. 
Come to pudon ye your sn, 

Nor am I Mary Masdalane, 
Was bom in Bethlam. 

e] criDOMi. rdTci] tobbcf. 



« 




ANONYMOUS 



' But I'm the lass of Locbroyan, 

Thiit 's sailing on the sea 
To see if I can find my lov^ 

My ain Iotc Gregory.' 

*0 sec na ye yon bonny bower? 

It's a' ' e wi' tin; 

When thoi it round about. 

Lord Gre| ithin,' 



And wh 

Shin 1 
Whiik .. 

Built on a I 


le stately tower, 
nd bright, 
; jawing wave, 
height, 


Bays, 'Row 

And bring me ... 
For yonder I see my 

Close by the salt s€ 


ray roarinere, 
le land, 
love's castle, 
ra strand.' 



She sail'd it round, and sail'd it round. 
And loud and loud cried she, 

' Now break, now break your fairy charms, 
And set my tme-love free.' 

She 's ta'en her young son in her anns. 

And to the door she's gane. 
And long she knock'd, and sair she ca'd, 

But answer got she nane. 

* O open, open, Gregory ! 

O open ! if ye be within i 
For here's the lass of Lochroyan, 

Come far fra kith and kin. 

*>8 



ANONV^fOUS 

■ open the door, Lotd Grejtory I 

opcD lad In me in! 
The wad blows loud nod ctJd, Gregory, 

The nin drops fni mjr clitn. 

'The shoe is frozca to my foot, 

Tbe gbn unto my land, 
Tbe wtt drops fn av/ yellow luir, 

Na Irager dow I xuad.' 

O up then spk bl* SI millKT, 

— An ill devili may ibe die! 
' Yc'rc no the lav of Locliro]'aa, 

Sbc'* fat out-ovn ibe sea. 

'Awi', awa', ye ill woman, 
Ye're no cocne here for f;ude ; 

Ye're tnit tonx witch or wil' warlock. 
Or mermaid o' the Hood.' 

*I am nenher witch nor wil' warlock, 

Nor ntnnaid o' th« sea, 
Bm 1 am Aame of Locluoyan, 

O open the door to me t ' 

'Gin yc be Annie of Lochroyaa, 

As 1 trow iJiou btnai she, 
Now tell roe of »oae lorMokens 

That fa9s*d 'tween thee and me.' 

*0 dinai y« mind, lore Gregory, 

Aa w« nt at (he wine, 
Vft dianged tlie linga fne our fingeis? 

And I OD abew tbce thine. 



dow] can. 




ANONYMOUS 



' O yours was gude, and gude enough, 

But ay the best wjs mine. 
For yours was o' the gude red gowd, 
But rnine o' the diamoad fine. 

'Yours was o' the gude red gowd, 

Mine o' ■ "' ind fine j 
Mine was o est troth, 

But tlune « wichia.' 

'If ye be f Lochroyan, 

As I kt. be, 

Tell me SOI a' the love-tokens 

Pass'd beti » and me.' 

■ 'And dinna yi , lave Gregory! 

As we 5at on ™. hill, 
Thou twin'd me o' my maidenheid, 
Right sair against my Mfill i 

' Now open the door, love Gregory ! 

Open the door ! I pray ; 
For thy young son is in my arms, 

And will be dead ere day.' 

'Ye lie, ye lie, ye ill woman, 

So loud I hear ye lie ; 
For Annie of the Lochroyan 

Is far out-owre the sea.' 

Fair Annie tum'd her round about! 

'Weel, sine that it be sae, 
May ne'er woman that has borne a son 

Hae a heart sae fu' o' wae ! 
4'o 



ANONYMOUS 

'Tak dawn, uk down that mast o' gowd, 

Set up a mast of tree; 
It disna become a forsaken lady 

To sail sac royallie.' 

When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn, 

And the sun began to peep, 
Up then raise Lord Gregory, 

And sair, sair did he weep. 

'O I hae dream'd a dream, mither, 

I wish it may bring good ! 
That the bonny lass of Lochroyan 

At my bower wiodow stood. 

'O I hae dream'd a dream, mither, 

The thought o't gars me greet ! 
That fair Annie of Lochroyim 

Lay dead at my bed-feet.' 

'Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan 

That ye mak a' this mane, 
She stood last night at your bower-door, 

But I hae sent her hame.' 

'0 wae betide ye, ill woman, 

An ill death may ye die! 
That wadna open the door yoursell 

Nor yet wad waken me.' 

O he's gane down to yon shore-side, 

As fast as he could dree, 
And there he saw fair Annie's bark 

A rowing owre the sea. 

4" 



ANONYMOUS 

'O Annie, Annie,' loud he crinl, 
' O Annie, Annie, bide ! ' 

But ay the mair he cried ' Annie,' 
The braider grew Uie tide, 

' O Annie, Annie, dear Annie, 

Zi " ' " to me ! ' 

But ay gan call, 

The K he sea. 



The 


the waves rose liie 


An 1 


t on shore ; 


Fair Annii i 


as in die faem, 


The babe i 


r more. 



Lord Gregory I s gowden locks 

And made a waiu moan ; 
Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet, 
His bonny son was gone. 

'O cherry, cherry was her cheek, 

And gowden was her hair, 
And coral, coral was her lips, 

Nane might with her compare.' 

Then first he Itiss'd her paie, pale cheek, 
And spe he kiss'd her chin, 

And syne he kiss'd her wane, wane lips. 
There was na breath within. 

' O wae betide my ill mither. 

An ill death may she die ! 
She tum'd my true-love frae ray door, 

Who cam so far to me, 

4" 



ANONYMOUS 

*0 wae betide my til miiher, 

An ill death taay she did 
She bit no been the dcid </ aar. 

But she's been ibc <tnd of three.' 

he 'ft ta'eo out a litde dart. 
Hung low down bjr hn gon. 
He tlmist it iJirough and through his heart. 
And wotds tpalc nem man. 



f70. The 7)oviif Houmi of Tarroiu 

1 ATE at ecn, drinlun* the wine, 
^ And ere they paid the bwb', 
^Tbcy set a combat them between. 
To light it ia the dawin'. 

*0 uajr at htmr, my noble lord! 
O Usy ac haine, in; marrow! 
L My cniel brother will you betny, 
On the dowie housiu o' Yarrow.' 

*0 fare ye wect, my lady %v/\ 

O Cure ye weel, my Sanh ! 
For I mtnn pte, tho' 1 ne'er rctura 

Fne the dowie banks o' Yanow.' 

Siit kiu'd Ills checic, she lumed bis hair, 

As she had dooe befure, O; 
She belted oa bis ooblc hnui, 

Aa' he's aw» to Yurow. 

. . £M«I tklft, wiiu. yje. Uirin'J reckooiaK. manoi*] 

(B&iried), hutMiBil ur wtfr. d«wM] doleTaL boniDS] wuei-PKidi. 



ANONYMOUS 

O he's gane up yon high, high hill- 
1 wat he gaed wi' sorrow — 

An' io a den spied nine arm'd dkii, 
r the dowie haums o' Yarrow. 

' O are ye come to drink the wiae, 
As ye hae ■'-— "^fore, O? 

Or arc ye comt eld the brand, 

On the dowii s o' Yarrow J* 



'I am no came 
As I hae doi 

But I am come 
Do the dowic 



ink the wine, 

^, o, 

fid the brand, 
IS o' Yanow.' 



Four be hurt, an he slew. 

On the dowif Iiui.:.i5 o' Yarrow, 
Till that stubborn knight came him behind, 
An' ran his body thoirow. 

'Gae hame, gae hame, good brother Jolin, 

An' tell your sister Saiah 
To come an' lift hor noble lord, 

Who 's sleepin' sound on Yarrow.' 

* Yestreen I dream 'd a dolefu' dream } 
1 kcn'd there wad be sorrow { 

1 dream'd I ])u'd the heather green, 
On the dowie banks o' Yarrow.' 

She gaed up yon high, high hill — 

I wat she gaed wi' sorrow — 
An' in a den spied nine dead men, 

On the dowie bourns o' Yarrow. 

414 



ANONYMOUS 

She klss'd bis cbM-k, «h): kamcd tut tuir, 

As olt she did beware, Ot 
Sbc dnnk th« red bluod frat bim no. 

On tbe dowic bourns o' Yanow. 

'O buid yoor toqsue, my douchtcr dcu, 
Pof wbat Deeds a' tliis wrrow f 

I'll wed you on ■ better Ion) 
Than him ]-ou lost oo Yarrow.' 

• O hand four congur, my falbcr dor, 

Aa' diona grieve your Sarah ; 
A better lord wta neier bora 

Tliaa him I lost oo Yarrow. 

*Talt hame your ouko, ult bamr yoiu kyc, 

For they hic bred our sorrow ; 
I wisa ihK tfaey had a' gaae mad 

Vfiaa they cam lirsi u> Yanow.' 

371 Clerk Saunders 

/^LERK SAUNDERS and may Margutt 
^-* WJk'd owrc yon jardea grixni 
And dceji and heavy wa» Uic lore 
That jell ihir twa bctwcca. 

'A bed. a bed,* actk SMOdcn »kt, 

* A bed for yoa and roe 1 * 
*Pye oa, (j« na,' sdd may Marj;am, 

*'1V1 aoca we laattKd he!' 

'Thai ni take the sword frae my scijibttnj 

And slowly lift the faaj 
And you may swtar, and aaie yoor aiih, 

Ye K'er let Ctak Sauadtn in. 

W 



ANONYMOUS 

'Take you a mpkin in )-our bind. 
And tie op iaalh youi boosie c'eo, 

Anil fuu may kwcxt, anil nt-e your ahb, 
Yc SRW me u nooc luc yeRitto.' 

It wx» abotit tlte nndni|>bt bow, 

When they a^erp were laid. 
When in and came her seten btothm, 

Wi' toicbet btuning red; 

Wbtn in sod came her serea bratbm, 

Wi* torches burniaj; liri^bt: 
Tbey wid, ' We hne but one toter. 

And behold her lying with a Icnight 1 ' 

Then out and spolce the fint o' tbnn, 
'I bear (be sword ahsll gar bim die.' 

And out and apike the xcond o' then, 
'Hii fatlicr bu tute niair but be.' 

And out and spake the tlnrd o' tbein, 
' 1 wot that they arc lovers dear,* 

And out and s]<ake the foimli o' liicm, 
'They bae b«n in tore this n»ooy ■ yor.* 

Then out and tpike tbc Tifth o' ibmt, 
' It were great sia true love to twajo.* 

And out and spake the KiKth o' them, 
' It were shame to slay a skcpiog sua.' 

Then up and gat the seventh o* them, 

And never a word spake he ; 
Bot he has striped his bright brown brand j 

Out tlirough Clcik Saundcn' fair body 
ititped) ihnitt. 
4* 



ANONYMOUS 

Suinden he Mined, and Margvet the turn'd 
Into liis vn» u uJccp nhc lay; 
And f*i lad itlciu was the night 
That was atwcra lliir iwk. 

And tbcjr hy still aod sicepit Mund 

Until the day be^n to daw'i 
Aad Undly she to lum did ay, 

* It is daw, tnw loiv, jou were swa'.' 

But he hy still, and ileepit Mund, 

Albnt the sun began w sheen ; 
Sht took'd jffwecn her and the wa', 

Aad dull and dro«-sie were his e'en. 

T'hnt b and came her fither dear; 

Said, * Let a' your moaming be ; 
III carry tl>e dead cone to the clay, 

And I'll come back and comhn thee.' 

'Comfort wvel your senra sons, 

For corafoned I will never be: 
I ween twts pcithcr knave nor loon 

Wu in the bower ]asi night wi' me.' 

The clinking bell gatd through the town, 
To cany the dead corse to the clay; 

And Clerk Saundtn stood at nuy Margaret's window, 
I vot, so boor before the diy. 

' Are ye ileeping, Marg'ret ? * he says, 

'Or are yc waking prctcotlie? 
Give rac my taith and troth agnin, 

I wot, true loiv, I gied to thcc.' 

r m 



ANONYMOUS 

* Ymr faith aad tmh jc ull nrvcr gn, 
Nor oor tnw lorv sail netcr twin, 

Until jv come wUbin my bower, 
And kiu me cheik and chin.' 

'My mouth it b full cold, Mat;g'KT) 
It has tiic smell, now, of tlie ground t 

And if I kiss thy comely mouth, 
Thy d«ys of life will ooc be Ing. 

*0 cock* are crowiog a merry mtdni^ht; 

I wot the wild fowls arc bodi&g d^) ; 
Give tin my failh and tioth a^in, 

And tct me fare ok on my way.* 

'Thy faith and troth thou sallna get. 
And OUT true loiv sail never twin, 

U&ul ye tdl what coina o' wonco, 
I wot, who die in strong muTeUangf' 

'Their beds are nude in the heavens h^h, 
Down St the foot of our good Lord'ii knee, 

W«] set about wi' {;tIlyflowers i 
I wot, sweet comfaaj for to see. 

'O cocks are crowing a mtny midnight; 

I wot the wild fowls are boding day; 
The psalms of hesren will soon be flung, 

And I, ere now, will be miss'd away.* 

Then Khe has taken a crystal wand, 
And siic has M/oken her troth thereon ; 

She ha-s ffvm it him out at the shoi-wiadow, 
Wi' mony a tad sigh and heavy groan, 
twin] bctak bi tiro. 

41s 



ANONYMOUS 

• I thank ye, Marg'ret ; I tbuk ye, Marg'rct ; 

And ay I thank ye heanQie; 
Gb ever the dead come for the quick, 

Be sure, Marg'rct, I'U come for tliee.' 

It's hosen and shoou, and gown alone, 
She climb'd the wall, and follow'd him, 

Umit she came to the green forest. 
And there she lo^ the sight o' him. 

'Is there ony room at your head, Sanndos? 

Is there ony room at your feet? 
Or ony room at your side, Sauoden, 

Where fain, fain, 1 wad sleep?* 

'There's nae room at my head, Marg'ret, 

There's nae room at my feetj 
My bed it b fu' lowly now, 

Amang the hungry wonns I sleep. 

'Cauld mould is my covering now. 

But and my winding'sheet i 
The dew it falls nae sooner down 

Than my resting-piace is weet. 

'But plait a wand o' bonny tMrk, 

And lay it on my breast; 
And shed ■ tear upon my grave, 

And wish my saul gude rest.' 

Then up and crew the red, red cocit, 

And up and crew the gray : 
"Tis time, 'tis time, ray dear Marg'ret, 

That you were going away. 

4>9 



ANONYMOUS 

'And fair Mjtrg'm, ud nre Mtrg'rvt, 

Aad Mirg'm o' vcritie, 
Gin e'er yc love aoothcr tnao, 

Ne'er love bin ts je did inc.' 



372. Fair Annie 

THE rriv-cra they stole Fair Atmiev 
''' As she widkM by the sea 1 
But a noble knight was her nmsom sooOi 
Wi* gawd «nd white mmie. 

She bided in tfiangera' land wi' Iwii, 
And none knew wheoce she cam ; 

She lived in the cwtle wi' bcr lo»e, 
Bbi dctct told her name 

' Ii 's narrow, nanow, nuk jwir bed, 
And lum to lie your kne) 

For I'm gaun o«fe the sea, Fair AnsM^ 
A brsw Bride to bring hatne. 

Wi' her I will get gQwd sod gcafi 
Wr you I ne'er gK Dane. 

* But whs wdt bake my bridal bread. 

Or brew my bridal ak? 
And wha will weJcooie my brigbt Bride, 

That I bring owrt the dale!' 

•It's I mil bake yocr bridal brc*d, 

And brew your bniLJ ale ; 
And I will welcome your bright Bride, 

That you bring own the dale.' 



ANONYMOUS 

•But she that wdcomes my bright Bride 

Maun gang like maiden lairi 
She maun lace on her robe sae jimp^ 

And comely braid her hair. 

'Bind u[s l»i>d i^ your yellow hair. 

And tie it (Xi your neck; 
And see yon look as maiden-like 

As the day that first we met.' 

*0 how can I gang maiden-lik^ 

When maiden I am nane? 
Have I not borne six sons to thec^ 

And am wi' child again!* 

'I'll put cooks into my kitchen, 

And stewards in my hall, 
And I'll have bakers for my bread, 

And brewers for my ale ; 
But you're to welcome my bright Bride, 

That I bring owre the da\c' 

l^iee months and ■ day were gane and past, 

Fair Annie she gat word 
That her love's ship was come at last, 

Wi' his tvi^t young Bride aboard. 

She 's ta'en her young son in her aims, 

Amther in her hand; 
And she 's gane up to the highest tower, 

Looks over sea and land. 

Jimp] trbs. 

4» 



ANONYMOUS 

' Come (toiui, conw doua, atf laotbcr dear, 

Come aff the casUe wa* 1 
I feu if Un^ ye sund tber^ 

Yc'II let younell doun &'.• 

She'* u'en • cike o' the best bresd, 

A sioup o' the best wine. 
And b' the keys upon ber anu, 

And to the yett is guw. 

'O ye*!* welcome lianie, my kin gude lord^ 
To your castles snd your tourers t 

Yc're welcome hume, ny aia {ude lord, 
To your ha's, but and your bowers 

And welcome to your hamc, fait lady I 
For ■* thtt '3 here it youre.' 

*0 whauia lady's that, my lord, 

That welcomes you and me } 
Gia I be lang about tlus place, 

Her friend I mean to be.' 



Fair Annie lervcd th« lang tables 
Wi' the white bread and tbc wiatt 

Bi» ly site dnok. the wan watcr 
To keep ber ootour line. 

And she gaed by the lirst table, 
And smiled upon them a' : 

But cm «he reach'd the wcond taUe, 
The tears began to fa'. 



yettl sile. 



ANONYMOUS 

She took a oapldn lang and white, 

And huDg it on a pin; 
It was to wipe avnj the tears, 

As she £aed out and in. 

When bells were nmg and mass was sung. 

And a' men bound for bed, 
The bridegtoom and the bonny Bride 

Id ae chamber were laid. 

Pair Annie's ta'en a harp in her hand. 

To harp thir twa asleep j 
But ay, as she haipit and she sang, 

Fu' sairly did she weep. 

'0 pn my sons were sewn rats, 

Rinnin' on the castle wa', 
And I mysell a great grey cat, 

I soon wad worry them a' 1 

' O gin my sons were seven hares, 

Rinuin' owre yon lily lea. 
And I mysell a good greyhound. 

Soon worried they a' should be I ' 

Then out and spalc the bonuy young Bride, 

In bride^bed where she lay; 
'That's like my sister Annie,* she says; 

'Wha is it doth sing and play? 

'I'll put on my gown,* said the new-come Bride, 

'And my shoes upon ray feet; 
I will see wha doth sae sadly sing. 

And what is it gars her greet. 

4*3 



ANONYMOUS 

'What nils yoa, what ails ym, my boasrlutpiT, 

That ye mak sic a maac i 
Has ony wior-banci ca» its ffx^ 

Of is a' )-our wluie bread ganef* 

'It isna because my wine is tqntt, 

Or that my whkc brrad's ganci 
But because I've ioat my um Iotc's Inie, 

Aai bt 'a wrd to SDiilicr ane.' 

* Noo tell me wha was your father t * sbe sys, 
' Noo tell roe wha w» your mother t 

And h.id yc ony sittcf." ahe uys, 
'And had yc cTCf a brother^' 

'The Earl of Wemyss was ray lather. 

The Counieas of Wcmysi my mother, 
Younj Elinor she wis my sister dtu, 

And Lord John be was my bro>Uier.' 

'If the Earl of Wefny» was youi father, 

I wot sac waa he miae; 
And it's my sister Aoniel 

Your lore yc sallna tyoc 

'Tnk your husband, mj sister deart 

You ticV were wmng'd for me. 
Beyond a lusa o' liis tu^iy mouth 

As we cara owtc th« sea. 

'Seren ships, loidcd wee). 

Cam owre the sea vi' me; 
Ane o* ibcm will uk rac \aaut, 

And six I'll pK to th««^' 



ANONYMOUS 



}. EJ'Jiarii, Edward 

M/THY does your brood sm drop wi' Uiule, 
^ Edwud, Edwardf 
Why does jroui fannd ue diop wi' bludc^ 

Aod why Mc sad gang )v, O J ' 
*0 I hac ktU'd my hawk sac gude^ 

MidtcT, imUwr; 
1 hac lull'd nij luuk uc sude, 
And I hid nar ituir but he, O.' 

'Your hawk's blude **s never sat ted, 

Edvmrd, Edward; 
Youi tuwk's blude wst nctcr uc rrd, 

My dear Mo, I tell Uice, O.' 
'O I hac kill'd my red>TOaa steed, 

Miiher, mithcr; 
O I hac kill'd my rcdToan Meed, 

That cm wa* «ac fair and fiec, O.' 

'Your need was aukt, and fe hac got nuir, 

Edward, Edwud; 
Your need was suld, ai>d ye liae got ouiri 

Some other dule ye drvc, O.' 
*0 I hae kin'd my blher dear, 

Mhhcr, rokher; 
O I hie kill'd ray laiher dcu, 
AJas, and wae b me, O \ ' 



dole y« iliwj giicf jot viMet. 



»» 



ANONYMOUS 

'And whatten penance will yc dtt« Tot thK, 

Edward, EdwanlJ 
Wbattco penance will ye dm for tKuf 

My dcM son, oow ull roc, O.' 
'I'll set my fc^c in yoadcr boot, 

Mither, mithfr; 
rU set my fc«t ID yonder boat. 
And I'U fare over ibc tea, O.' 



'And what will ye do wi' yovr ti>w'n ind your hs*, 

Edward, Edward ! 
And what will ye do wi' your tow'rs Bnd your ht!. 

That were ste Eiir to sec, O." 
'I'll In tfafm stand till they douo &', 

Mitliei, mitlieri 
in kt tbera tund till tbcy doua it', 

For here Devu nuur maun I Ik, O.' 



* And what will ye leave to your biimx and yotir wife, 

Edwatd, Edward J 
And what will ye leave to yoor bairns aod yosr wifi^ 

When ye jang owrc the sea, O ?' 
' The warld's room : I« them beg through life^ 

Milhti, mithert 
The warld's room: let them beg through lifej 
For ihcm ncwr mair will I »et^ O." 




'And what will ye leare to your mo nuibcr dew, 

Edward, Edward f 
And what will }-e leave to yoor a!n mhher dear, 
My dear ion, now tcU me, 01' 



ANONYMOUS 



E* TIm cune of beU frae me »I1 yr bcv, 
Mitbcr, nuibert 
Tbe cnrw of hell frac ni« uU yt b«art 
Sic coimsclf yc £3te to me, O I ' 



i74- 



Edom fi* Gordon 



TT fdl about the Mkniniiua, 
^ When the wind blew ihril) and cauld, 
Said Edom o* Gotdoo to bis mni, 
*We maun draw to a luukL 

'Afid what a hsuLd sail «c draw to, 

My tnerry men and mef 
Wc will gae to the houK o' the Rodct, 

To sec tku Tair ladjre.' 

'Ilic loJy stood oo her cuUe wa*, 
Bdield faaith dile and down; 
en the wu ware of a hoot of men 
Cam tkling towards the town. 

L'O aee ye not, my mnry men a*, 

see ye oot what \ vxi 
Mcthinlu I tee i hott of Eocn t 

1 nujTcl wlu they be.' 

She ween'd it had been hcf lovely lord, 

As he cam ntiiog hnme ; 
It was tlie traiiarr Edom o' Cordon, 

Wha reclcM me sin nor shaiae. 



«r 



ANONYMOUS 

She had nae looott buskit hcucll, 

And pBtun on bcr gown. 
But Edam o' Gorioa u* hb boo 

Were rociid about the town. 

Tliey hid nae sooner luppcr Kt, 

Nac sooner Mid the gnor. 
But Edofli o' Cordon in* )ib men 

Were lighted about tbc pboc. 

The lady no np to her tower^iead, 

Sac fast M abe ooutd hie. 
To tee if by her Air speeches 

She could wi' htm agree. 

'Come doun to me, jre lady gay. 
Come doua, come dotm to me; 

This night ull yv Itg witlun miae amis, 
To-monow my bride uU be.' 

'I wiaoa cotae dovn, ye &ls Gordon, 
I wimu come down to tfaeet 

I wiana forsake my tin dor lord, 
Tbn ii «c far (ne me.' 

' Gie owie yosr bovse, yc lady fair. 

Gie ovin your boose to niej 
Or 1 sail brenD yowacl tnereiQf 

Bat and youi babies thiee.* 

*I wifina gie owre, yc bla Gordo*, 

To DK sic tiaitar aa yec| 
And if yc bmui my am dear babe*, 

My lord all mak yc dne. 



ti«>kit]u(lKd. 

4* 



ANONYMOUS 

*Now mcb mj pistol, Gbnd, mj nuo, 

Asit chaxgc ye wcci mj' f^un; 
For, but Ml I p»CTCC Uut bluidy bBlchcr, 

My babct, w« beta usdoK 1 * 

Sbe Mood ttpoa ber ctstlr w^, 

Aiui let tws bullets ilcc! 
She miu'd that bliudy Ixitcber'a bout, 

And only razed fais luiee. 

'Set life (o the houKl ' <iao' fab Gordon, 

All wikI wi' dulc aod tre: 
'Fob Ldy, ye sill rue tlvis dad 

A) ye braia in the £re I ' 

*Wm wonli, wx wortli ye, Jock, my nan I 

I paid ye wecl your fvei 
Why pu* ye oat ihc giund-wa* uanc, 

Leu ia the teek to aui 

'Aod e*«s wac wonh ye. Jock, my man I 

I foid ye wtd your biic; 
Why pa* ye out tbe gnmd-wa' sunc, 

To me lets in the fire f 

*Y< paid ne we(4 ny hire, ladye. 

Ye foid me v-crl my fee : 
But DOW Tm I^m o' Goidoa's n rni ^ 

Maun eitber do or dic>* 

tben beapdLc bcr little mm, 

Sat on the anirsc'a knee: 
Sayv, ' Milker dear, gie owre tlii» bouc, 

For the teek it uiuik<-re mc.' 



Cmndv«a'] jfrouid-walL 



4^ 



ANONYMOUS 

'I wkI gie a' vof gowd, mjr baini, 

Sh wad I ■' my fee. 
For M bUst o* the wcnmi wiod, 

To blaw tbe leck the the*,' 

O iben besjuVe her dochter dcar^ 

Sbc was bsith jimp Hid smft': 
' row mc b a pair o' sbwta, 

And [ow me owre ilie wa' I * 

They row'd her ia a pur o' ibeels, 

And low'd her owrc tbc wa'; 
But on tbe point o' Condoo's sjxsr 

She gut a deadly £a*. 

boniuc, boniuc was bcr itwutb, 
And cherry were bcr cbeiks, 

And clear, dear w:i3 her yellow bdr, 
Wbcreoo tbe ted blood dieips. 

ThiMi wi' his vptw he turn'd her owrc) 

gin bcr face wu wane I 
Ho said, ' Vc are the firet that e'er 

1 wisb'd alive a^in.* 

He turn'd her owrc and owre again; 

gin her ^in vss white! 
*I might hae spared that boBnic face 

To hae been some nun's deltght. 

'Bd^Ic and boDD, my mercy men »\ 
Pot tU dooms I do guess t 

1 canna look in that bonnie lace 
As it lies 00 tbe grass.' 

row] wrap. Bulk and boas] tdor ' 



|Ibw) deader, (rim. 
WptMtUSm to go. 



ANONYMOUS 

* Wba iook> to (Vdui, my motet dew, 
It's fretu will follow then] 

Let it Dc'cr be said that Edom o' Gonlon 
Wu <Uuntcd bj a daae.' 

I But wlwo th« lady mw tlie fire 
Coiae Aaatng owic her head, 
Sbc wept, and luss'd bcr childten twain, 
Sqrs, 'Bairas, we been but dead.' 

The GordoD then bi> bugle blew, 

Aod said, *AwB*, awa'l 
This bouse o' the Rodcs is >' !a a flame | 

I banld h time to ga'.' 

And tkn way looIcH her lin dear lord. 

As lie caoi owre the lea; 
He saw his ostle a' to a lowe, 

As &r n he could see. 

Then vSr, O sair, his miod nn^ave, 
And aU hb heart was waci 

'Put on, |nt 00, my wiglity men, 
Sae htt as ye caa gae. 

•Ptt on, put 00, my wij^ty men, 

Sac fast as yc can dnel 
For he that's hitidroivit o* the thrang 

Sail ne'er get good o' ne.' 

Ttn aoBut they nde, and sonw they raa, 

Oot-owre the grass and bemi 
fB«t eie the foccmast could wia op, 
Baith lady and babes were brent. 

a>it»HUoiiiffc lowcJUune. wichty] nhnblb. 



ANONYMOUS 

Asd after the Gordon he is gme. 

Sic fast as be might dric; 
And soon i' the Cordon's fbd hnrt's btnife ' 

He's vTokeo bis dear Udyc. 



VS' 



The fern's Marie 



MARin HAMILTON'S lo ibc kiA pw, 
Wi' ribbons in her halri 
The Kinf; thought mair o* Mari« Hafniluo 
Tbm oay that were there. 

Marie HamUtoa's to the kirV gne 

Wi' ribboos oa her breast; 
Tbe KiD£ tbou^t raair o' Marie Haimlton 

Than he listca'd to the priest 

Marie Hamiltoa '■ to th« kirk gaor, 

Wi' jtloTcs 1^^ bcr hands; 
The King thought nuir cp* Marie Hamiltoa 

Than the Qoeen and a' ha laods. 

She had&a been about the Kbg's coun 

A month, but budy one, 
im she was betofrd by a' the Ktug's court 

And the KioA the only naaa> 

She hadna beea about the King's com 

A month, but barely three. 
Till frae the Kbg's court Marie Hamilton 

Marie HamUtoo duntna be. 

cken] atoEtA 

43' 



ANONYMOUS 

Tbe King Is to the Abbey gans 

To pa' tbe Abbey tm, 
To sole the babe frae Marie's heart | 

But tbe thing it wadna be. 

O &he has row'd it is hef apron, 

And set it 00 the sea — 
*Cae Ml ye or swim ye, bonny babe, 

YeSc get ue nmr o' mc' 

WenI is to tbe kitchen fpst. 

And word is to tbe ha', 
Aod word b to tbe noble room 

Aau4g tbe ladim a', 
That Marie Hamihon's brought lo bed. 

And tbe boo&y babe's nuts'd aad awa*. 

Scarcely bad she Iain down agaio. 

And scarcely fa'en asieep, 
When up and scaited ow gade Qoeen 

Just at ber bed-feet; 
Sayrng — 'Marie Hamilton, wfaere's your babe? 

For I am rare I heard it greet.' 

'0 DO, O DO, my noble Queen I 

Tbiak BO sic thing to bet 
n*WB bat a iiitdi into my ude, 

And sair it troubles nw 1 ' 

'Get (^ get up, Mnic Haniiltont 

Get np aod fallow me ; 
Pot I am going to Edinburgh town, 

A rich wedding for to see.' 

vnppcd. fRttJ aj. 

m 



ANONYMOUS 

O ilowly, slowlf ase she u[^ 
And slowly put sbe oat 

And slowly rade xbe out the wsf 
Wi' taoaj ■ wcaty giauL 

The Qoecn wis clad in sculet, 
Her merry maids >I1 in gmoj 

And rrcry town that ihcy cam to. 
They took Miric for the Qc 



* Ride hooiy, booty, geotlnnei^ 
Ride booty now wi' roe I 

Foi ncTcr, I am sure, ft wcvier bunl 
Rade ia j'our cooijunic,' — 

But little wist Maiie Hamtltoa, 
When she nde on the btown, 

Tiiat the was gacQ to Edicbui^ u>wB| 
And a' to be put down. 

•Why weep ye W, yc burgess wivo, 
Why look yc so on me ? 

O I xm guiajt to £diiibiu][h town, 
A rich wedding to nee.' 

When the gard op the lolbooth auin^ 
The cotks fiac bci bee^B did fleet 

And laag or e'er she cmi down ag^ 
She wu ooodeiaa'd to die. 

When bhe cim to the Nethcrbow port, 

She Isu^'d loud laugbtere three) 
But wbeo she came to tbe gallows foot 
The tears blinded ber e't. 
booty] eenily. 



ANONYMOUS 

'TwTMB tlie Qatea hod four Marie*, 
Tbe Wghl «he'll h»e but tfatrr; 

Thtfe wu Marie Sciron, aad Miric Btxioit, 
And Msric CanucbMl, tiid mc. 

*0 often hsTe I drcu'd my Qoeca 

And put gowd upon Iter hai/ ; 
But oow I'tc gotten fiir my reward 

Tbe gallows to bt my sbirc. 

'Often hate I dres&'d my Queen 

And ofxa nude ber bed; 
But oow I'tc goucn for my reward 

Tbe gallowi tree to tread. 

*I chuge ye all, )iT mariners, 

When yo tail owre tbe faem, 
Let ontber my father nor mother jet wit 

But that Vm oomiog hame. 

*I charge y« oD, ye nurioers, 

Ttut tail Qpon the aca, 
Thai DritlMT my father oor n»ther get wit 

The dc«'a ckath I'm to die. 

* For if my father and mother got wit, 

And my bold brethren three, 
O midJc wad be the gsde red bluJe 

TUs day wad be S[alt for me ! 

'O little did my mother ken, 

Tbe day she aidkd me. 
The laDds I wu to trarel in 

Or the dea:h I was to die ! * 



ANONYMOUS 



i7rf. 



Bhtmrie 



''THERE were twa Mwcra eat in a boori 
^ Bimtnt, Bimunel 
There cam a knigbt to be their wooer, 
Bj ibt itmt milUamt «' Biiaufu. 

He couited the cUleA with gidte and ring, 
Bui he lo'ed liie yonnsctt abane a' thing. 

The ctdesi she W33 *cxM fair, 
And var mAcd her ioui fur. 

Upon a morniD£ fair and clear, 
Khe cried upon hn inter dear: 

*0 sister, uster, talc my band. 

And let'» go down to the river^trand.' 

She 's la'cD Ita by the % haad, 
And Ud her down to the riTcr-tuand. 

The youcsest stood u|>oa a stane, 
The ddot cam aad jiushM her in. 

' sister, sirtcr, rc&ch yonr hand ! 
And ye salt be heir o' half my lindt 

*0 sister, reach me but your glove t 
And iwe« W'tUiani sal) be your love.* 

Sometimfs she sank, sometinies ^ swsn, 
Until she cam to tbe miller's dam. 

Out then earn the miller's son. 
And saw the £iir maid soummiit* m. 

' O fither, ftthcr, draw your dam I 
Then:'* cither 8 mermaid or a milk-wluir 9wST 
tCDmmin'l twlmmiiig- 



I 
I 



ANONYMOUS 

Thr miller baxted waA drew \aa dam, 
And ibcrc he fouod a drown'd womli^ 

You covldiu MS her tiuddlo Hiu', 
Her fftwdat girdle w» ue btaw. 

You couldu KC bcr liljr fctt, 
Her ^wdcn ftingo we/c lac deep. 

AU araog her ycliow hiir 

A Btrins o' |>culs wns twitted nre. 

Yoo coddna *« her fingera soia*, 

Wi* dtaiiMBd tiag,% ttiej were oorer'd a'. 

And by there cam a hirper fine, 
That harph to the king at dinr. 

And when be Inok'd that lady on, 
He (igb'd aitd tiude a heavy moan. 

He's made a harp of her bmst-baae, 
Whose sound wul melt a heati of sta»e> 

He's ta'en thi«e locks o* her yellow hak. 
And «i' them utrung ht» harp sae rare. 

He went into her father'* hall, 

And tbcre wu the court auvmblcd all. 

He laid bis harp upon a suor. 

And sinigbt it began to pUy by lane. 

'O yooder nis my father, the King, 
And yooder sits my mother, the (^xm t 



ANONYMOUS 

'And yonder standt my brother Hugh, 
And by bim my WiQiam, >wcct aod true' 

But the Ust tune tbM ilw barp pliy'd tbrn- 

Bhmmt, O Smatrif/ 
Was, • Woe to my soMt, falve Helta I ' 

£y lit iuaiv mH!<iimi tf StMnorif. 

i77- The Bonnie Hwse o' j4ir/Je 

TT (ell oa a day, and a bonnie vimnwr diy, 
'' Whra green grew ■>[> aad biirley, 
That tlwre fell out a gmt ili$|iuu 
Between AigyQ aod Airlic. 

Argyll hat raised an hundcr meo. 

An hundcr haractsM mdy, 
And he's awa' by the back of Duokell, 

To plunder the cutle of Atriic. 

L.iciy Ogiltic lookn o'er her bower-winiiow, 

And but she looks warHy ! 
And iticrc she spied ibe gmt Argyll, 

Come to pliinder the boDoie house of AiHir. 

'Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilrk^ 
Come down and kUi me Gtirly:' 

' I wiona kiss the bute Argyll, 

If he sliouldoa leave s sunding sune in 

He hath taken her by the left shouliter, 
Says, ' Dame, where lies thy dowry i ' 

'O it's east and west yea wan wster side, 
And it's dowa by the banks of the Aitlie.' 
40 




ANONYMOUS 



They hae tcniglit It Bp, they hae song^it it down, 
"^xy hte souglit it nuist BercKljr, 
^^TUI they hoi It b the &ir plwn-tree 
^m That ihiocit co the bowling-greea of Aalir. 

He hath ukcB ha hy Hit nuddle He smaU, 
And O but the giat niily! 
^^Atxi laid her down by the bomue bum-riJi^ 
^K TiU they jilufidcT'd ibc caide of AJrlit;. 



'GtT my gndc iofd war here this oight, 
A« he b with King C1i»riie, 

I Neither you, our <ioy tihcr ScMti^i lord, 
I Dum a:TOW to the fJundcrbji of Airlie. 



' Gtf my gudc lord war now at hame, 

As he is wi'Ji hia kiag, 
There durst nae a Campbell in ^ Argyll 

Set fit on Airiie grtcn. 



I 



'Ten boonie mos I have bome noto lum, 
Tbe deTcntb oe'et saw his daddyi 

But thong^ 1 bid aa buader finir, 
rd £ie them a* to King Chulie I ' 



i78. The trije of Usher's tVell 

I 'THERE liwd a wife at Udier-* well, 
* And a wealthy wife wa« she; 
She had tlirec stout and Kalwait sons, 
And KM them o'er the sea. 



m 



ANONYMOUS 

Tbrjr tuuliu been i week fnm her, 

A week but bardy ene, 
When ia«rd canc U> the carlinc wife 

ThM her tbne soos were nanc. 

Tbey bxlna been a week from her, 

A week but b>rcly ilitve. 
Wltn word came U> die catlioe infe 

Tim her sons she'd netcr see. 

* I wiiJi the wind may nerer cc«e^ 

Nor bahn in the flood. 
Till my diree sou come banw to me 

In cvthljr A»h and UoodI ' 

It fell about the Mardnnuts, 

When nights arc Isng aad mirk, 

llie curlinr wife's tliiee sons caim haoKf 
And their hais were o' tiic UrL 

It neither grew in syke nor dhdi. 

Nor y«t in onjr shciigh ; 
But at the gates o* Paradise 

That bilk £Ttw fair eonigfa. 

' Blow up the lire, my maidcni I 
Bring water from the well! 

For a' my houw shall feast this Bigbtr 
Since my tlirce soos arc welL' 

And «he has made to them a bed. 
She 'x made it large and wide t 

And xhe 's ta'en her manUc her dxiat, 
Sat down at ihe bcdnde. 
iMlit*] troubln. aykfj inanti. (hcaghj trwthi 



ANONYMOUS 

Up then <TCw the red, red cock, 

Aad up and crew the gray ; 
The ddeu to the youngest said, 

' Tis time wc wcrt avjy.' 

The cock be hadna craw'd but once, 

Aad difrp'd l)i» wingf nt a', 
Wbm tbc younecsi to the cklest said, 

'Brother, we mint awa*. 

■The cock doth crsw, the day doth <hvi. 

The chaaneriD* wonn doth clndei 
Gin we be miss'd out o' our plao^ 

A stir jaia we nuuo bide.* 

* Lie still, lie ttitt but a little wtc while. 

Lie ttill but if we may; 
GtD my nxxber should miss u» whco the wakes, 
Sbe'U go itud ere it be day.' 

* FiiT ye wed, roy mother dew I 

Fareveel to bora and byrel 
And fare ye wed, the bonoy lasa 
That kindles my tnoihcr'S fiml* 



3Tfi. The Three Havens 

^HERE wete three taresi nt on a tree, 
* They were as black as they might he. 

The one of them sud to his nulLe, 
•Where shaU we our breakfast uke>' 

. flhaaMriol fretlli^ $j9, n»k«] male. 



ANONYMOUS 

•Down in yonder gtceni field 

Thttv \«9 a knight lUin under his ttiEcUt 

'His hounds they Ue dovn at his fen. 
So well do they tbeir nuster keep | 

' Hi* hawks ihey flie bo eagerly, 
There 's do fowl dare come bim nigh. 

*Down there cotan a rillow doe 

As great with young n she mjght goc. 

'She lift up his bloody bead 

Aod kist his wouods ihsi tmt m red. 

'She pit him up upon her bock 
And carried him to eanhen lake. 

*Sbe burini him brfore the prime. 

She was dead IterselF crc evensong rin>& 

' God send every gentlernao 

Sudi hounds, such hawks, and such a leman.* 



380. The Twa Qtrhies 

(aCQTTtSK VIKSiIOh) 

A S 1 was w-alking atl alane 
^^ I heard twa coibie* makinx • inanfi 
The une onto tbe tiiher did say, 
* Whar mU we ^ng and diae the day i * 

jSo. oorbfes] rarcna. 



ANONYMOUS 

'—Is behiiu yoa aukl {u\ ijke 
I wot there Gea a oewslain knight; 
And noebody kea« that he liM ihrrr 
But his Kawk, Itis Ivouxid, *od hb bdy fa!r. 

' Hi* hound is to llw Imnting gaor, 
Hi^ hawk to fetch the viM-foul hBtnc> 
Hi« Udy'ft u'cn amilter nutc, 
So we mtjr timk our dinner iwml 

'Yell >it on his wliiic hausc-boe, 
And III [like out hb boaay blue e'cat 
Wi' *c lock o' liti gowden hair 
We'll Ui«ek our dc« when it groikB th.rT. 

*Mony ■ one Tor lum tatka manr. 
But noiK' mII ken whar be is gane : 
O'er bis white buies, when tbey are bare, 
The wind nil blaw for evcrmair.' 



THIS w nig)ite, Oms at ni^hu, 
* — Every mgttt anJ aiie. 
File and sleet and cuuUe-ligbte, 
/fw/ Ciriitt ntfive lily taatf. 

When thon (ron bence away art [Ost, 

— Eviry nigklt aaJ tfft. 
To Whinny-muir ibou com'n at East; 

jfmi CiritU neavf ibj Mtilt. 

UX\tait. htmejMdi. tbeck] dutob. j»i. ilKtiwli. 



ANONYMOUS 

If ciKi thou ganat bosen lod ahoon, 

—Every mgble iW «&, 
Sit thcc dowit ind [vil llicm on| 

^W Chriilt rrtrhf thy tauit. 

If hoKD mi shoot) thou ne'er gn'st Dane, 

^Evtry nfgiu mJ aSe, 
The vliinnrs mII prick ihee to tfae bore bane; 

Aitd ChriUt rrttivi thy lauk. 

From Whinnir-iiiiur when thou iMy'st fua, 

— Svtry aigbu and aHe, 
To Br^ o' Dread thou coa'st At Uu; 

jM Cbritte mctht ihy taatf. 

Prom Brig o' Drend when tbou taxf'si jicb, 

— Evrtj nigtlt and aSt, 
To PttrgatOTy fire thou com'st tt lait( 

jJW Ciri/le renivt thy toA. 

If etvT ihou given mm or drink, 

— Every mgbit and alle, 
Tbe £re sail never make thee shrink; 

^hJ Chrittt rtaiw thy laJi. 

If neat or drink thou ne'er £sr'st tnae, 

— Every mghu and ■!&, 
The fire will bum thee to the bare bwie) 

jiiui CbritU rttdvt ihy lault. 

This ae nighte, this nc Di^hle, 

— Every nighle and iiUe, 
Fire and sictt and candle-lighic, 

vfiw/ Chriitt reahr thy *mU. 



ANONYMOUS 



tJ, The Seven p^irgms. 



A CAKOt 

A LL under ibc Iratn Mid the leans of Efe 
** I met witli vir|;iRs leren, 
And oae of thvm wis Mary mild, 
Our Lord's Diother of Hecven. 

'O whK an yOB tcclui^, you seven bat maid*, 

All under the Icarcs tX life f 
Come tdl, come tell, what seek yoa 

All UDder the teit» of UTei' 

'We're Making for no loitn, Thoma*, 

But for a friend of ihinc ; 
We're seeking fof $ut«i JrsuB Christ, 

To be our guide end thtoe.* 

'Go (lovn, ffi down, to yonder town. 

And sit in the i^lery, 
And ibere youll tee xweet Jesus CliriM 

Niil'd to a big )'cw-txre.' 

So down they went to yonder town 

As fast as foot could fall, 
And maay a grievous bitter tesr 

From the virgins* eye» did fall. 

'O peace, Mother, O peace, Mother, 

Your wecpuig doth me grierct 
I must niffcr this' He uid, 

*Por Adam and for Etc. 



ANONYMOUS 

'O Mother, take you John Emigclist 

All for to be jraur urn, 
Aad lie w!U comfort yon sometimes, 

Mother, «s I hare done.' 

'O come, thou John Evangelist, 

Tliciu'it wdcoHM uato mei 
But more wdcome n^ own dear Son, 

Whom I nuned on my knee.' 

Then He laid liis head on His riglii tit 
Seeing death k Urock Him nigh — 

'THc Holy Ghou be witli your soul, 
1 die, Mother dear, 1 die.' 

O the rose, the geatle rose, 

And the fennel dut grows so green ! 
God give us grace in every place 

To pny for our king end <juccn. 

Purthcnnore for our enemiot all 

Our prayeti they should be wrong: 

Amen, good Lord ; your chamy 
It the ending of my song. 



38}. Two Siwrt 

CAYS Tuewl to 'nil— 

•^ 'What g*ra ye rin aoe stfllJ' 

Say» Till to T^-eed— 
'Thoush je rin with speed 

And I ria slaw, 
Tor ae man tiut yc draon 

I dtooD twa/ 



ANONYMOUS 



Cradle Song 

/~\ MY deu ben, youi^ Jesui 9W«l, 
^^ Prepare thy cmldil in lay sprat, 
Aad I aSi rock thee ia my lien 
And Devcr raair from tbc« depart. 

But I ssU pcaiK thre eiTrmoir 
With nn^« >«-cit unto thy gloar; 
The knm of my ticrt sail I bow. 
And uii£ that ricfat Baiu/aJw/ 



M' 



[Y blood u red 

For tji(« WIS ihed, 
Cook boeie a^in, come home ^»ni 
My own swtet htart, coaie home Jgainl 
You'tc goDc utTiiy 
Out of your nay, 
Come bocnc tgaa, come horue igMii ' 

^Sff. Tic Bmny Earl of Murray 

VE HtgblaDds and ye Lawbndt, 

O where hoc ye been? 
They hu slain the Ear) of Murray, 
And hue bid Iuri oo the ^reeo. 

Now WM be to thee, HomJeyl 
And whairforc did yc sact 

1 bode you briBf- bixn wi' yvra^ 
But forbade you him to alay. 



4« 



ANONYMOUS 

He was « braw ^am, 

And he rkl at the lingi 
And ihe booajr Eul of Murray. 

O he migKt hae bno a kin^ I 

He <ras ■ bra* gallmt^ 
And he play'd M the ba'i 

And tbe bonny Earl of Mumy 
Wa5 the flower anung them a' I 

He va.1 a bnw gallant, 
Aod he pby'd at tlx gbvct 

Aod the bonny Earl of Mumy, 
O he was tbe Queen's la*el 

lang will bis Lady 

Look owrc tbe Cauk Dowse, 
En; she arc the Earl of Mwny 

Come Gounding tLrougb the town I 



^ 



3S7. 



Helen of KJnonntll 



T WISH I were wheit Hdcn lie^ 
'*' Night and day on me tJie cries; 
O tb«t I were where Helen lies, 
On fair Kirconncll lea I 

Curat be the bean that thought the ihou^t, 
And cur^ the hand that £icd ibe shot, 
When in my arms bard Helen drojit, 
And died to succour me I 

O think oa ye my bean was sair, 
Whi-Q my Lore dropp'd and ^dk nae mairl 
There did she swoon wi' nwDJe care, 
On £iir Kirconncll lea. 



ANONYMOUS 

Aa I wvM down ihe wtaa (kte, 
NoB« but Riy foe to be mj ffiaAr, 
None bat my fof to be iny {uidc, 
On liiir Kirconodl Inj 

f ligbuxl dowB my sword to dnw, 
I hackM bin) id pieces sna*, 
1 backid bioi in fkca sm', 
Fof her take tlul died for me. 

O Helto fair, beyond componrt 
III tnak a garlaod o' thy hai^. 
Shall Uod my Iteart foe erermalr, 
Until the day I die! 

O tb« I were urbere Helen be«! 
Night and day on tne she cmt ; 
Out of my bed she bids me ritie. 
Says, * Haite, and come to me ! ' 

Helen fair ! O Helen chaste ! 
tf I were with thee, I'd be bleit. 
Where thou lies low and taks thy test. 

On bar Kucoandl ha. 

1 wiih my gnve vim growing gtven, 
A wiflding>»hcct drawn owre oiy e'en, 
Asd I in Helen's anm lying, 

On fair Kirconaelt lea. 

I widi I were where Helen lies! 
Night and day on me she cnes; 
And I am weary of ibc skies, 
Foi her «dte tbM died fix me. 



4» 



ANONYMOUS 



i8S. 



tVafy, Wafy 



r\ WALY, waJy, up ibe Iwok. 
^^ And uily, waly, doun the bn«, 
And waty, mily, yon bara^ide. 

Where I nnd my Lote wool to giicl 
I lon'd my back unto an aik, 

I thodu it VM a trauit titti 
But £rei ic boVd sod sync it bnk — 

Sai- roy true lotc did Ikbtlie me. 

O waly, waly, gia love be Bonnie 

A liiiJc time while H i< new I 
Uui when 'tis autd it w^xeth cauldi 

And fades swa' like morning deiv. 
O whercAiie should I busk my bdd. 

Or whtrerort should I kame my lujr I 
For ray tme Love has me fonook, 

And ^ys heli never lo'e me mair. 

Now Atthur's Sent ull be my bed, 

Ttie sheets sail ne'er be 'lUcd by me i 
Sunt Anion's well sail be my diink; 

Since my true Low lias fonokcn me, 
Marti'mu wind, uben wilt thon bliw, 

And shuke the giecn leaves aff the tree f 
O gende X)eath, wlicn witt thoa come i 

For of my lilc I am wcaiie^ 

Tia not the frost, that freezes fell, 
Nor blowing muw's inclcmcnci^ 

1% not »c uuld tbac make* me cryj 
But my Lore's hcan fiowa ciuld to me. 



ANONYMOUS 

WhcB we cam in by CImjow tow), 
Wc were ■ coioelf stclit (o see [ 

My Lore wax dwl in the black veh^ 
And I mysci in cramasic. 

had I wHt, before 1 ktsi, 
TIhc lote had been sac ill to irin, 
I bad lock'd my ban in a ax o' gowd, 

And ptnn'd it wi' a sUler pin. 
And ! if my young bibe were boni, 
And Kt upoo the nunc's kner; 
rAod 1 myscI were dead and gtoc, 

Aod the green g(*is growing over nel 

l^Sj/. Barbara Allen's Cruelt/ 

[N Scarlet town, where I wa> bora, 
There W39 a fair maid dwrilin', 
dc eiwry yocth cry Ifrff-a-voj ! 
Her name wa» Batbim Allen. 

All ia the nicrty nmoth of May, 

Wb«o s,Twa buds thry were sweltin', 
Fou^ Jemmy Grove oo bis death-bed lay. 
For love of Barbara Allen. 

He tent bis nun in to her then. 

To the town where she was dwellin', 

'O banc lad cork to my masm dear, 
If your name be Barton Alio.' 

slowly, slowly rase she up, 
And dowly she came nigh him, 
And when she drew the cuHain by— 
'Yoeng nun, I tfaialc you're dpn'.' 
i^U. oamaikj ouiaon. 



ANONYMOUS 

'O it's I am sick and very very sick, 
And it '9 all For Barbua Allen.' 

'O the beiwr for roe ye'ac wwr be, 
'Dio' jrouT hnn'i blood were a-s|tllia'l 

*0 dinaa )-g miod, young man,' sayti she, 
' When ihc red wiae yc weie ClIJD*, 

That ye made the bealthi (,o round and rou 
And iliKhted Baihua Allen?' 

He tumM hb face uoto the waII, 

And death was with him dea&n' 1 
' Adim, adieu, my dear firjmds all. 

And be kind to Kutura Alien ! ' 
As she wxs walking o'er tbc fields, 

She beard tbc dcad-bell kDcllin' 1 
And e*ery jow ihc dead-bell gate 

Cntd 'Woe to Baifain Allen.' 
'0 mother, mother, make my bed, 

O make it saft and narrow : 
Mjr love has died foe me to-4lay, 

I'll die for bim to-morrow. 
' Farewell,' she said, * ye virgins all. 

And nhun the fiult I fell in: 
Henccfonh take wanriog by the fall 

Of cruel 13.»itiara Allen." 



3p0. 



'Pipe anJ Caa 
I 



'T'HE Indiiin weed wiihcrW quote; 

' Green n mora, cut dow'n at night; 

Shows thy decay: all Qcsh is bay: 

Thus think, then drink Tobacco. 
)ow| bMt, toll. 



ANOMYMOUS 

Aad when the smoke uctads on bigb, 
Tlunk tliou behold'st the vuity 
Of worldly Btdr, fjooc with a puff: 
Thus tluak, tfaeo dhnk Tobacco. 

t But wbco the ppc grows tbd within, 
Think of ihy soiil ddilcd with sin, 
.And that ihr fire dotb it rrquirc: 

Thai think, then diink ToliKCO. 

FTbt ubcs, that arc left bthind, 
Miy Mm to put thee still b mind 
Tlut tmto duu iTtura thou must ! 
Thus think, ihca drink Tobacco. 



W^HEN as the chiU Chiroklio blwi. 

" And Wia«cf tcIU s heavy talc; 
When P7VS iind daws oad rooks and crows 
Sit cuniag of the Iroaa aod uiowii 
Then prt mc ale. 

Ale in a Saxon niinkio then, 

Such as will make grimalkiD i>rai«; 
Bid* nlour burgeoo b toll men, 
Qukkcns the pwc'it vit tad pen, 
l>c«pises tite. 

Ale, that the absent battle liglui, 

And frames the nttrch of Swedish dnun. 
Disputes with ptiiices, laws, and rights, 
What's done uhI pust tells ttvooA wighls, 
And whit 's to come. 
lio)Sdioeoa. 



ANONYMOUS 

Ak, that Uk plowRURi's heart uji-ttw^ii 
And r<}uals it vnth tyraftts' throne*, 
That wip«s the eye thxt oter-weepo, 
And lulls b sure aod dainty nieeps 
Th' o'er-vtaned boon. 

Grandchild of Ccrct, Bacchni' daughter, 

Wine's raiulous Dcishbour, though hot uile, 
Eaoobling *ll the nymjihj of wuer, 
Aad iilliog each man's heart with bught<.-T— 
Ha I giie au ale I 



jpi. Love w!// JinJ out the fi'^g/ 

/^VER the moiuitaiiu 
^-^ And 0T« the wavni. 
Under the fnuntain* 

And under the graves; 
Under floods that are deepest, 

Which Neptune obey, 
Orer rvcks that are steepest, 

Loie will find out the iny. 

When there it no place 

For the glow-worm to Cc, 
When there is no vpot 

For receipt of a fly; 
Whea the traAf;: dares nM Tcnuirc 

Leu hrrteir fan she lay, 
If Lore come, he wSl eottf 

And will find out the ny. 



ANONYMOUS 



You may ncccm kim 

A child for bis nugbt; 
Or you may ileem bim 

A coward (ot his Hight ; 
Bui if «bc whom Lore doib boeour 

Be cooced'd from the day — 
Set X thousand guards upon her, 

UoTc will find out the way. 

Some think to lose him 

By iixnag him conliBedi 
Aad some do SMjipose bim, 

Poor heart ! to be blind ; 
But if ne'er so dote yc wall him. 

Do ibe best thu ye may, 
Blind LoTc, if so ye call him, 

He wiU find out his way. 

Yon may ttqin ihe eagle 

To noop to your fitt; 
Or yott nuy inveigle 

The Phcinix of the cast : 
The lioness, you may move hei 

To gi»E OKI bcr ptfey; 
Bn yow'll oc'cr swp a lover — 

He wili fiad out the way. 

If the rxrth it tboutd pan him. 

He w<iMi)d gallop h o'er : 
If the seM shoi^ o'crthwart htm. 

He would swim to tbe shore i 
Sbodd hit Lore bKome a twaUvw, 

Through the air to Stray, 
Love will (end inags to foUow, 

Aad will £nd out tbe way. 



«D 



ANONYMOUS 

There b no emi'mg 

To cram Us inuMi 
IIktc i> no coacririDg 

His plots to prevent; 
Bat if ODW ihc rnessigr greet him 

Tlut bis True Love <Uith stay, 
If Death should cotne wid meet hiai, 

Love will find out the way I 



3P3. TbilUdtt puts Me 

OWHAT a plague u love I 
How shall I btar a? 
She «iU bcosiMut prove, 

I greatly feir it. 
She «o torments my ttasA 

That my mength fiiiltth. 
And wstws with the wind 

As a &hip saikth. 
Pka!« her Oie best I may, 
She loves stiQ to gaiosay} 
ALck and weU-a-dayl 

PhiUada flouts me^ 



At the im ytauiixy 

She did pass by met 
Sbe look'd another way 

And would not spy met 
1 woo'd her ftir to dine, 

Bill could Dot get ber; 
Wni h.id her to the 

He migbt entreat her. 



«S 



ANONYMOUS 

Vith Daiuel >be did dance, 
Od nw she look'd ulLaiux: 

thncc onbap))/ cbaaoc! 
PbiUadt flouts tot. 

Ftit latkl, be not 10 coy, 
Do Boc Aaiiia met 

1 icii siy mother's joy: 
Sweet, emenaia rw! 

She'll {[ire me, wbtt) she dks. 

All thai is litib;;: 
Ho pooltry and her bees, 

And her goose liiting, 
A fnr of RUttntts bed*, 
And a bog fidi of thieds ; 
And yet, for all this gucics, 

PhUIada flottU me ! 

She hath a cloat of mioe 

Wrought with blue corentry, 
Which ^c lcrc|K for a sign 

Of my fidelity : 
But i' fiitb, if ike flioch 

She shall not wcu it; 
To Tih, my t'other wrnch, 

I mean to bear it. 
And jtt it gKe»M my heait 
So soon lioni her to |im: 
Death itrike me with his dull 

PhiilKU Dons me. 

Thou lhak eat cradded cicam 
All the year bating, 

I Sfloit, pcorctlr of aajp kind. 

4« 



ANONYMOUS 

And drink tbe crysul sumn 

Pleaunt in UUing; 
Wlug and whey wIuIk thou lu^t. 

And brsnUt-berno, 
Pic-tid aad fuaj-cfwi, 

Part, jiaaa, aad cherries 
Thy rairottit shall be thin, 
M:idi: of a wecTtl's skin- 
Yet all's oat worth a pn! 

PIuIImU floDtt me. 

In the Ian month of Mjy 

I nude bcT posieat 
I hnird bcr oftni ny 

That s!ie loi<cd rain. 
Cowslips and gUlyAowcre 

And the white liljr 
1 brocgbt to deck tlie boiire** 

For my !!Wi:ct Philly. 
But >he did nil disdain. 
Add threw ibc-m back ajpiio; 
Therefore 'tit flat and plain 

PtiUlada flouu me. 

Fair roaidcD, hare a an. 

And in time tako me ■ 
I can bin thntc as fait 

If you forwkc IDC! 
For I>oll tbe dairy-nwtd 

Laugh'd at me l8icl]r> 
And wanton Wbifred 

Favours me steady. 
40 



ANONYMOUS 

One throws milk on mj ctothrs, 
T'uther plays wkh my aoat; 
Wiutt wanting ugo* an those ! 
FlliUiida flouts inc. 

I cannot work Dor slcrp 

At all in hsmd: 
Low woufids my bean w ilccp 

Without i(U reason. 
I *gia to pine awjy 

In my love's shadow. 
Like u a fai bc»t may, 

Ptrm'd io a meadow. 
1 shall be dad, I fear, 
Witbia this thousaod yrar: 
And all for Uiat tay dtar 

FttillKU floats me. 



Chkris in the Sitow 

T SAW fail Chloris walk alooc, 

* When fcatbctM rain c*me softly down. 

As Jove dcscundii))! from bis Tower 

To court her in a ulier ihower : 

Tbe wavon snow Aew to her breast, 

Lik« pmty birds into their anc, 

.But, oTCKOme with whitcQess there, 

[for grief it tbsw'd iow a teat: 

Tbeoce idling on ba gannenis* bm. 
To deck her, fmut into a gtm. 



THOMAS STANLEY 
jp^. The Relapse 

/^ TURN aw»y tboM crod eyw, 
^^ The sura of mjr uodouig ! 
Or doth, in wich a bright dogiUM^ 
May Ktnp( k sccood wooii^. 

P«ibh tbrif bliad aod impious p«jdc, 
Who (bra cootenin thy glory i 

It WM my fall that deiU 
Thy name, and scal'd thy nory. 

Y« nu Mw fuHeringB can ptcpart 
A hii^h«T praise to crowa thee; 

Though my iSret death proclaim ther fjiir. 
My Keoond will unchrone thee. 

LoTcrs will doubt ihou canu unicc 

No other for thy farl. 
And if thou burn odc victim twice, 

Both thiak ihee poor and cc«d. 



THOMAS D'URFEY 
ig$. Cbloe divine 

/'^'HLOE** a Nymph in flowery groici, 
^-' A Nereid ia the sUums; 
Saiot-likc &hc ia the tempJc motes, 
A woman ia my dteams. 

Lore sttak oniltcry from ber e)-ci, 
The Grace* point her chanm; 

Orpheus Is livall'd in her votcci 
And Venus b ber arms. 



THOMAS DURFEY 



ffcTcr so bjipf«ly is one 
Did fauvcn and vanh combuwi 
LDd yti 'lis Dnfa and blood slooe 
Tlut makn ber to diiioe. 



CHARLES COTTON 
1p<F. To C<r/M 



W^HEN, Cvlia, must mj old day set, 

And niy foung nMraiDg riie 
In beams of joy M bright u yet 

Ne'er blcu'd a brer's eyes? 
My (talc is mote adTinccd ihaa wbca 

I Km sucmpted thcc: 
I sued U> be a serraat tben, 

Bat DOW to be nude free. 

Tie serrcd my time fiithful and tni^ 

Elprctiog to be placed 
In luppy freedom, I3 my due, 

To all the joys thou bast t 
ID basbaodty in love is such 

A scandal to loi'c'i power, 
We ought DOC to misipcnd to much 

At one poor shoit-liTcd bow. 

Yet think not, sweet, I'm weary grown, 

That I pretend such baue; 
Since Done to forfeit e'er was kitowo 

Before he had a taste : 
My iaiiDK low coold humbly wait 

Wiica, yoong, it tcaroe knew bow 
To plead; but grown to man's estMe, 

He b impMicnt bow. 

4* 



KATHERINF PHILIPS ('ORINDA*) 



jg7' To One persuading a Lad/ to 
Marriage 



r()t->i 



pORBEAR, boid yoaih: all's bnveo 
*■ And wlut you do a««r 
To othcn courtship majr a|ipear, 

'Tis Kicrikgc lo her. 
She is ■ public dfity; 

And were 't not vcr7 *^^ 
She should dispose hct«elf to be 

A petty houebold godf 

Pii«t make the sun in prime fihiiw 

And bid the woHd Adicti, 
ThU so be may hb beams coqIidc 

In compliment to you: 
But if of tJutt you do defptir, 

Think bow you did mms 
To suite to fix ber beams which sie 

Mora brijibt md large thM his. 



iP*. 



JOHN DRYDEN 
Ode 



IGlRxrtw, (MtHixt in the ti»o Htltr aru ef Petty i 
P"^'^ .OW-.JW 

T^HOU j-oun^t virgRi-dmightcr of the skin, 
^ Made in the last promotion of the blestj 
WhoK palms "^^ pluck'd Trom Paradise, 
In spKadios bnuicbcs mon siMmriy rise, 




^' 



Rich with inmoRil gma above the rctti 
Whrtbcr, adopted to mxik nd^bouiin|[ star. 
Thou roll'n above itt, in thy waixkriDg tacc, 
Or, in proceMion fix'd and ft|^br, 
Motcd with the hcaTtn's mitjntk paoei 
Or, call'd to more Mpefior blus, 
Thnu tr(Md'«t with sentphims tlie tan abyu: 
WhMciei tuippy region be thy plaoey 
Cease thy celestial toi^ a titilc spec; 
Tfaou wilt have time enough for hymns difine, 
Since Heaven's eterwl yen is thine. 

iheo, a mom] Mum thy praise rcbcme, 
lo no i^oble rerae; 
But such as ilty own toicc did practise her?, 
Wlieo iliy !ir«-fT\iit9 of Poesy wete giwn, 
, To make ihysdf * wdcotne ianute ihctc i 
H While yet a jmang probationer, 
^m And candidate of heaTcn. 

^^ If by traductkin came ihy mind, 

Oxir wooder is the less, to 6nd 
A goal so chamiing from a stock so good; 
Thy bther was tnnsfused into thy blood : 
So wen tbou bom into a tuncfiil strain, 
An early, rich, and inexhanstcd vaa. 

But if thy pfc-cxiwii^ soul 

Was fonii'd at fiist with myriads more. 
It did throogfa all ihe mighty poets roll 

Wiio Gri-ck or Latin laurcfs wore, 

was that Saf^bo lux, which once it was before. 

If so, then cease thy fli^t, O beavcn-bora mind ! 
hast no dross to purge from thy rich ore : 

Nor caa thy soul a Urer maosioa find, 

4» 



¥11 



JOHN DRYDEN 

TKm was the bcqituoui frune sbc left behind 
Retuni, to Kll or tnend the qum of thy celntiil lEm!. 

May we pnmnne to uy, that, at thy birth. 
New joy was spniag in tieavcn a well as bera <m anhf 
Pot sure the mildei phnrts <lid cooibine 
Oq thy suspicious liotoscope to shise. 
And eiea the most maUcioos were m trine. 

Thy brothcT-jnjels M thy binh 

SttuDg each hU lyre, and tuned it tugh, 

Tbiit all the (tcofjc of the sky 
Might know a poetess was born on eanb; 

Aod then, if cTcr, moital ears 

Had heard the mtinc of the mbem. 

And if DO dustcriog swans of bees 
On thy swvet mouth dutUl'd tlieir (oldeo dew, 

Twas that audi »ul^ar oiindis 

Hearen lud tun leisuie to renew i 
For all the blcM fratcniitj of loie 
Solenmiicd there thy birth, and kqit thy holiday iboie.] 

O Jtradous God ! how far hate wv 
Profaned ihy heavenly gift of Pac»y I 
Made prowiute and proAigaie the Muse, 
Debused lo each obtcetie aod impious use. 
Whose harmooy was firs* ordiin'd nborc, 
For toni^ues of angfSi and tot hymns of Ion! 
O wretched we! why were we hurried down 

Tliis lubnqne and adulterate age 
(Nay, added fat polIunoBS of oar own). 

To increase the stresmiog ordures of the *a^i 
Wliot can we say to excuse our sccood faD l 
Let this thy Veual, He-Jieo, atone for all ! 
Her Arethttuan stream renutns UBuiTd, 



JOHN DRYDEN 



Jmnat'd with fercign i\th, aad nadcfiledt 
^Hr wit wu more ihan man, hn lnooc(occ a cbiU. 

An silt tud notw, yet warned dom-, 
For Nautre cfid thu want sitpfiy: 
^^ So rid) io tretKim of her own, 
^B Sbe might our boasted stotM d«fyi 
^^udi BoUe vigoiu cUd ber Terse »doni, 

ThM ii Mcm'd botrow'd, when 'twx oi^y bora. 
I Hrr monis, too, wm in brr bosom bml, 

By great eumptn dail/ fed, 
' >Vluc in tbe bcH of books, Im- father's life, sbe rrad. 
And to be read herself she need doc fesri 
Ejch ccM, and etcry light, ber Mute vill bear, 
Tliougit Epictetus with his bmp wrre there. 
Even lore (for lote so m euroes her Mu** rxprest) 
Wu b« a Unbent &ddc which pliy'd about her bnast, 
Ligtit as tlte vapours of a moraiag drrani ; 
So cold herself, whilst sbe web w:annth expreiit, 
^K Twat Cupid batlring in Diana's stream. . . . 

^H^Now all tliow duim, that bloontoit y,rMe, 
^^The well*propoftion'd shape, and beauteous face, 
Shall nerer tnore be seen by mortal eyes; 
In earth tlie niKb-lameDted Ttrgin Tie& 
I Not wit, nor piety coold fate preTcntj 
Nor was the cnjel deitiny content 
To fiotsh all the murder at a blow. 
To sweep at once her life and beauty too; 
Boi, like a harden'd fdon, took a pnde 
To work raote nuuhtrTously slow, 
And ftundcr'd Gist, and then destroy'd. 
double sacrilege on Utii^ dtrine, 

44 



JOHN DRYDEN 

To rob tbc iclk, nod deface tbc shrine I 

But thus OriniU died: 
Heavri), by the luinie dbeue did bath mnsbitr ) 
As cquil were their sools, to e^ua] was theb fstt. 

Mexntttne, ber wirlike btMhcr on the sns 
His wsviag strcunen to the winds dispJajTS, 
And rows for his return, with run derotioo, |isys. 
Ah. generous ^uth I that wish fotfacar, 
The winds too soon will waft tWe here! 
Slack all thy sails, aod feu to come, 
Alas, thou koow'st not, thou ui wTecfc'd at Itomef 
No more shall thou behold thj sister's face. 
Thou bast already had ber bst embrace. 
Btit \o(A. aloft, and if thon kenn'st from fart 
Among the Pleiads a new kindled star, 
If any sparkles than tbc rvff. mote bright, 
'Tis site that shines in that propitious light. 



\Vhcn ia mid-air the golden iramp shall soumL 

To raise the natiom under ground ; 
When, ia ilie Valley of JehMhaphat, 
The jud^g God shall close the book of Pa 

And then the last asuies keep 

For those who wxkc and those who sleep; 

Wlxrn rattling bones together By 

Protn tbc four conKTS of the sky ; 
When sinews o'er tbc skeletons are s^mtd. 
Those clothed with flesh, and life insjKii-s the dcsHi 
Tbc Mcrcd poets liist shall hear the sound, 

And foremost from the tomb shali bound, 
For tbcy are covcr'd with the lightest gronnd i 
Aod straight, with inborn Tigout, oo the wiogij 




Le moentiiiii brks, to thr oew ntorniog ttng. 
Thne thou, sw«et Sunt, bdore tbe <)inrt shall go> 
As harbiogcf of H«t«i, ihc wny to show, 
The vay vrhicli thou so well lust kani'd below. 



3pp. A Smgfit St. Cecilh's Day, 1687 



I 



URO>f lunnoRy, from hnmnly harmony, 
'' Ttiis uaivcnal fixn>c tx^ao t 

When ratlin; tiadCTncaili a heip 
Of jarring atoms lay, 
And could not hffsm bcr head, 
The tundnl toice was heard from lii{;h, 

• Afiie, ye more than dead ! ' 
Thca cold, and hi>t, ucd tamrx, and dry. 
Id order 10 tlicir station! leap, 
And Music's pover ob^. 
From hanoony, from hcatcnly hannony, 
, TMf uninnat franw bcgsn: 
' From harmony 10 harmony 
Througli all the compass of ihc noccs it ran, 
Tbe diapsoo do8io£ fvU is Maix. 

fWhn panion eunwt Mudc laisc and t^\M 
When Jubal ttreck the chordcd ^hi-ll, 
His listening brrthrcn wood around. 

And, wondi-ring, on their faces fdl 
To worshif) that celestial sound : 
{ Leu than a God they thought there could oot d«-cll 
Wiilm) the hdlow of that shell 
That spoke m sweetly and so well. 
iWhat puSloa cannot Music rwe and <|iiell? 



JOHN 1>RYDEN 

The tnimpct's loud clongonr 

Excitn us to amis, 
With thrill nous of aager, 
And mortal alwns. 
Tlw double douible doOile beat 
Of the Uniiulering dram 
Crin Hail: ! the Tors come ; 
Clurge, chugc, 'th too Utc to retreat t 

The tati coo^aiiiiflg Stiie, 
In djrins notes diKOvcn 
The woes of hopeless torera, 
Whose ilii]^ is wbisiwt'd by the wublicj luU. 

Sharp violins ptochiin 
Tbdr jealous pangs jtad <inpetaiion, 
Puty, fnuidc iiidignadon, 
De]ith of p»DS, and height of psnon, 

For the ^r, disdainiul daiDc. 

But O, what an can teach, 
Wkia human voice can reach, 
The Mcml orgiia's praised 
Notes irwpiiing holy love. 
Notes that wing tlieir bcaveol/ ways 
To mend tlie dioors above. 

Orpheus could Icid tlic savage race j 
And tn«9 ttpiooti-d left thcii plaoe, 
Sequacious of the lyre; 
But bright Cecilia laiied the wonder h^htr: 
When to hcf ofjjan tocal btcaih was niveo, 
An angel hrard, ftod strsighi appeai'd 
Mismkiog Eaitli for Heaven. 



JOHN DRYDEN 

Ck/lSd Chokus. 

As frotn the [loirrr of s»cm) l,t)-4 

The spherfs hegm to more, 
And sunjt the ptu Cnator'i praise 

To all tlic Blest above; 
So «h«i the but atki dnadfal boar 
litis cnuabfing pagnnt shall devour, 
The tmnpct shall be hcvd oo high, 
The dead ihaU live, the Utiot die, 
And Music shall untime the sky I 

OO. Ah, how steeff it is to Irjel 

A H, how sutet h is W love! 
** Ah, how j;*y a joung Desrel 
And what pleafing pain we prove 

WhcQ we first approach Love's £rel 
Patns of love he sn-Kter far 
Than tU other |Ji-awtcs are. 

Sigh* whkh are from lovers blown 
Do hot gently brave the heart: 

El's tlie irais they ihcd alone 
Cue, like trickling Uitm, their unnn i 

Lovtn, when tliey low their fatraih, 

BItcd away in easy death. 

Love and Time «4th revcreoce use. 
Treat them like a parting fricod; 

Nor the £oklcn j^ifis refuse 

Which in youth sinceie they send: 

For each jrar their price ia more, 

And ihey Icu simple than before. 




JOHN DRYDEN 

Lore, like spring-tides full and htgli. 
Swells io every youthful vein j 

But each tide di>cs less supply, 
Till they quite shrink in again : 

If a flow in age appear, 

Tis but rain, aod nms not clear. 



40h 



fi 




T FEED a flame ' 
■*■ That it both pai 
'Tis such a pleasing 
That I had rather dj 



Flame 



which so toimencs loe 
heart, and yet content^ mc: 
and I so love it, 
once remove it. 



Yet he, for whom I grieve, shall never know it ; 
My tongue docs not tietray, nor my eyes show it. 
Not a sigh, nor a tear, my pain discloses, 
But they fall silently, like dew on roses. 

Thus, to prevent my Love from being cruel, 
My licart 's the sacrifice, as 'tis the fuel ; 
And while I suffisr this to give him quiet, 
My faith rewards my love, though he deny it. 

On liis eyes will I gaze, and there delight me ; 
While I conceal my love no frown can fright me. 
To be more happy I dare not aspire. 
Nor can I fall more low, mounting no higher. 



47" 




JOHN DRYDEN 



^2. Smg to a Fair Toung LaJf, gom^ 
tut of thf Town in the Spring 

A SK noc die uuw lAj suUen Sfnag 
^'' So loog delays htr flowcn to bcai ; 
Wby warbling biidt forget to ling, 

And winter miam invert tbc y«ar; 
Chloris is gone; and fate provides 
To make it Spring where ihe reudes. 

Cliloris is gone, the ovcl Tair; 

Sbe c«9t not back a pttymg eye: 
B« left liei liyrer in despair 

To tigb, to Unguith, and to die: 
Ah I how cui those fair ryes endure 
To £ire the wouodj they will not ouc i 

Great God of Lorci, why hast thou made 
A face thai can all hearts cwnmaad. 

That all religions can inv^, 
And diacgc tite law« of «*ety land t 

Where ibou hadtt placed such power before, 
Tbgn iboddM hat« itaidc her niercy more 

When Chloris to the temple cornea, 
Adoring crowds before btT &II t 

Sbe C3B (CKore tlie dead from tomfcs 
And erery Itie but mine tecall. 

1 only am by Lore dcsign'd 

To far tbr victim lur macluiML 



CHARLES WEBBE 

403, ytgahtsr Indijferenoe 

KAORE love or more disdain I cmrc \ 
'^^ SwMt, be not ilill indifTcreati 
O send mc qiucUy u> my gnre, 

Or else sflbrd me more concent I 
Or lore or hate rae more or ten, 
For lo*e abhor* all lukcuranmies*. 

Cite me a tempest if "iwiU drive 
Me to i)ie place where I would be| 

Or if you'll have mc itill alive, 
Cont'cta you will be kind u> me^ 

Give hopes of bliss or dij my gnv« : 

More love or more dbdsJa I ctato. 



SIR GEORGE ETHERECE 

I ADIES, Oiou^ to your «Mi{iietiiig ejrs 
^ Love owes lii* ducfiat rictorin, 
And borrowK tbo<e bright oniH from you 
Wth which he does the world subdbc. 
Vet you yourselves are not above 
The empire nor the grieb of love. 

Then rack not lovers with disdain, 
Le5t Loie on you rcrenge their pwn: 
You are not free because you're fiir: 
The Boy did not his Mother spare. 
Beauty 's but an oJleauve dart : 
It It no armour for tbe beut. 



SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE 

To a Lady asking b'tm bow long he 
woulJ love her 

TT is not, Celb, in our power 

^ To Wj how loDg our lore will lutt 

It may be we withia this hour 

May love tlune joyi we now do tosie; 
The Blcsshl, that imnorlal be. 
From diaqge in love are only free. 

Then tiiKe we moful loTcni arc, 
Aik not bow long oor lore will last; 

Bnt while it does, let la take care 
Each miaute be with ptruurc past: 

Wnt it not nudfkcss to dray 

To litf btcaaw we're sure to die? 



THOMAS TRAHERNE 
^6. Nevos 



^EWS from a foreigja country came 
^ ^ As if my trenure and my wealth lay there ; 
So much it did my heart inflame, 
Twas wont to call my Soul iato mine ear; 
Which thither wcna to meet 
The aifnwcfaiag sweet, 
Aid on the threshold bUxnI 
To mtettaia the uakoown Good. 
It hover *d tberr 
As if 'twould leaie autie et^ 

oi 



THOMAS FLATMAN 

But — when hi* next arapaawn ixf 

'How docs he do? What liopnf ' — slull am away, 

Aoswenng only, wkh a lifk-up hand— 

'Who cut his r«e wiihstwd^* 

Tbcn shall a gup or two do moK 
Than e'er my rhetoric could before: 
Pcnuadc tbc wotid to uoublc mc do laorel 



CHARLES SACKVILLE, EARL OF DORSET 



40f. 



Smg 



IVritUa at Sea, in lit f'lril Ouieh IVttr {,j66s), 
a^ht itfirt aa Eiigagaii€iil 

"T^O all you ladies now at land 
' Wc men ai sea indite; 
But lirst would hut you undcrsund 

How bard it is to write: 
The MuKft DOW, aed Ncptufie too, 
We must implore to write to you — 
With a fk, la, b, b, la. 

For though ihK MuKS should pro*e kind, 

And rjl oui empty brain, 
Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind 

To wave the a/urc maia, 
Our paper, pen, aaJ tuk, and we, 
Roll up and down oui shqis at sea — 

Wkh a £>, b, la, U, la. 
41* 



rtW-^ 



EARL OF DORSET 



Then if m wrttr not bj nch post, 

Thmit not vie sre unkind; 
Nor yet coodudc our ships ire lost 

By Dutciunm or b)? wind : 
Our mrs well kmI a spndicr wty, 
•Hic tide shall hrinj; tbcm twice a day— 
With 3 fa, la, la, U, la. 

Tbe King with xt-onder and surprise 
Vna swur the seas grow bold, 

Btctase tbe tides will Ugber rise 
Than e'er tbey did of old : 

Bnt let him kix>w it a our tears 

Bring floods of grief to Whitehall stun— 
With a fa, la, U, la, U. 

Sbodd fogiy Opdain cbaoce to Itnow 

Our wd and diuaal siwy, 
Tbe Dutcb would scorn no weak » loe, 

And ijtiit tbdr fbrt at Goree : 
For wtut rvsiiittnce can tfacjr find 
Prom men who've left their hearts behind !- 

VTiih a a, U, h, ta, la- 
Let wind and weather do its wont, 

Be you to us but kii>d 1 
Let DischnwQ vnpour. Spaniards curv, 

No sorrow we shall lind : 
*Ti> then no maucr how things go, 
Or who '* our friend, or who 's our foc^ 
With a fa, h, U, la, la. 

To pu9 our tedious houni away 

We throw a merry main, 
Or else at aerions otnbre play; 

But why should we m «iia 



EARL OF DORSET 

Eftch other's ran thus puniwf 
We were anttoDC ubcn wc kit you— 
With a fa, k, U, U, la. 

Due now our feara tempesttioua grow 

And cast our hciprt away ; 
Whilst you, regardless of oiar wot, 

Sit airless at a |>lay : 
Perhaps ]icnnit fame hapfwr man 
To kiss jrauf haniJ, or lUrt your ftn — 
With a fa, la, la, b, b. 

When any mournful tunc you hear, 

Tlut dies in tntj note 
As if it sigh'd with neb nun's care 

For being so remote, 
Think then how often lore we've made 
To you, when all those tunes were jilajT'd- 
Witb a fa, la, la, b, la. 

Id justice yoM cannot refuse 

To think of omr digress, 
Wlwn we for hopes of hoootv lose 

Our certain tujiplness: 
AH those de^jos atv but to prarc 
Ourselves more worthy of your love— 
With a fa, 1b, b, la, la. 

And now we've (old you all our loves, 

And likewise all our fears, 
la hopes this dccIuaiioQ marea 

Some ply for our tears: 
Let's hear of no incoasiaacy— 
We have too much of thai at sea— 
With a i^. la, la, b, b. 




tio. 



•»*♦■";« 



SIR CHARLES SEDLEY 
To Cbhris 

AH, Clilons ! tlut I now could tit 
*^ An uDcooocni'd u whoi 
Your tofaai bnmy codd brgtt 

No plesMUT, nor no |i«ia t 
Wbcn I the dawn used to ^dnuic, 

And pniscd the cocniDg day, 
I litde thought the growing Titc 

Must ukc rajr mt aw<y. 
Yoor cbanns in hirmlns childhood Ijy 

Like mcttii ia the mior; 
Agt frtiin DO &CC took more rw-jjt 

Thu) youth conetaTd ia thine. 
B«n as your ckunut ioseoubly 

To their perfection prut, 
Fond toT« M unpctccircd did Hy, 

And in my bosom ran. 

My jassica with yoor beauty %fvm. 

And Copid at nay heart, 
SliB «■ hit mother &Tour*d you, 

Threw a new flamiDg dirt : 
Each gloried ia iheir wnnuxt part; 

To nuke a lorer, he 
Erafikiy'd the nlmosi of his act — 

To mnlce a beau^, she. 

To CelU 

MOT, Cdia, thii I juster am 
■^ ' Or better than the real! 
For 1 woald chiagc each hour, like them. 
Were not my bcut m rest. 



SIR CHARLES SEDLEY 

Due I am tied to very thee 
By cTcry thought I hive ; 

Tby face I only care lo vk. 
Thy heart I only crare. 

All tlurt IB womio 11 adosvd 

In thy (tar (df I find — 
For the whole sex c*n but aSwd 

The handsome and the kbd. 
Why then should 1 seek iWther (tore. 

And Milt make loTe anew? 
When change tiself can gi»e no moie, 

Tis easy to be true ! 

APHRA BEHN 
4tl, Song 

OVE in (anuMic iriumph site 



L< 



lOto^rfflg 



Whilit bleeding heanx around him flow'd( 
For whom tircsh pains he did cttnie 

And Mnngc tyrannic power he show'd: 
From thy bright eyts be took liis tins. 

Which round about Id sport he faurl'd] 
But 'twas from nune he took desiru 

Enough t" undo the oaioroot world. 

From me he took liIs ti^ra and ttart. 

From thee his pride and cruelty i 
From roe his languiUiments aod feats, 

And e»-«Ty killing dart from thet 
Tlius thou and 1 the god haw attn'd 

Aod Kt him up a ddtyi 
But my poor heart iJooe is harra'd. 

Whilst i}une the viooc is, and fieel 

4«<> 



APHRA BEHN 



412. The Lihertine 

A THOUSAND mMtyn I hm ande, 
^^ Ail ucrificcd to my ifemv, 
A tbwBMid bcaotio han bmay'd 
Tlut bqguish ia RsiwlrM fire: 
The untuned bran to haad I brought. 
And lix'd the wUd and wMid'Hsg thou£hL 

I oewr vovf'd oor sigK'd in Tan, 

Bui both, tho' filic, w'crc well rvceived j 

Tbe fur arc [drucd U> give u« pain, 
And wlut tbry wish ia soon bdiered: 

And tho' I tuOc'd of wounds and smart, 

Love's plrasuras only tooch'd my bcm. 

AJooe the {lory and the spoi] 
I ilway« laughing bore aw>y; 

Tlie triumph* withoot pnn or toil, 
Without the hell the he^tTcn of joy ; 

Asd while I thu« at random rove 

Dcsfnae the fools thM whiiM fcx love. 



JOHN WILMOT, EARL OF ROCHESTER 

4x1. Remm 

ABSENT from thee, I linsuMh nitl: 
*^ Then »k me not, When I mun ? 
Tbe Mnying fool 'iwill plainly lull 
To w^ all day, all night U> moum. 



EARL OP ROCHESTER 

l>ou, from thiM utiu thm l« me iy, 
ThM my (xattMtc mind may prorc 

Tbc tonnenu it deiervei to try. 

That tears my lix'd hmrt from my love^ 

Wben, wearM wiili a world ol' woe. 

To thy safe bosom I nw. 
Where love, and p«acc, and tnith don flow, 

May I contenttrd thne «x|hic! 

Lnt, OQOc more wandcrin| from that bcarcn, 
I fall on some bast heart unl>)esi| 

Faithless w tiw«, falv, imfoi^iven— 
And lost roy enrlaittog rest. 

414. JLove and Life 

ALL my past lUe i» mine m mon; 1 
■^^ Tlie flying hour* are gone. 
Like tniDfiitory dreiuiu given o'er, 
Whoae images are kept b atore 
By memory alone. 

The lime that is 10 come is iKXi 

How (M\ it then be mine ? 
The present moment '» all my lot ; 
And that, at faxt at it in got, 

Phillis, is only thin& 

Then talk not of tRcon&taecy, 

False hearts, and broken vows; 
If I by miracle can be 
Thi» live-long minute true to thee, 
'Ti« all that HcJien allow*. 



EARL OF ROCHESTER 

I CANNOT chwij^ m oihm do, 

'■ Though you unjuJily scorn \ 

Siocc itut [loor iwaia tlui sighs for j-oa 

For j«u alooe wa» boni. 
No, Pliiliis noi your heart to iDuve 

A sunt way I'll tiy | 
And, to leTCDf^ my slighted love, 

Will ttill Ime on aod die. 

When ktlTd wtih grief Amyntu bea, 

And you to mind shill call 
The sighs that now uopitiod rile. 

The lean tkn ninly fall — 
TKit wtkome hour, llut ends ihiG uu/^ 

Will then begin yonr foio; 
For radi a (aithful tender hctn 

Cut ncnr bnak b vain. 



7ff His Mistress 

>WHY dost thou ifawle thy lorriy lace >. O why 

** Don that ed^ng hand of thine deny 
The unabiM of the Sun's cnliveni&g eye? 

\Vm1iouI thy light what hght rtmaias in mr! 
Thou an my tifc ; my way, my Kghi 's in tbtc f 
1 lire, I nwne, and by thy beams I aee. 

Thou an ny Kfc— if thou but lum away 

My life's a thoiuaod dotfas. Tbou an ny way— 

Without thee, Lo*e, I uard not b« «ny. 



EARL OF ROCHESTER 

My Ugbt thou an — mthout thy sloKoua sight 

My eyes are cbrkcii'd with eternal nijhL 

My Lovt, thou art my way, my life, n^ light. 

Thou an my way t I winder if thou fly. 
Tbou ait my lijht i if hid, how hUnd am I ! 
Thou ut my life; if thou mithdraw'st, I die. 

My eyes »t dvk and blind, I cannot ice: 
To whom or whither should my darlcMU llc«. 
But to ihil light i — and who's that light but thrcf 

If I have lo«t my paib, dear lover, say, 
Shalt I still waader in a doubtful way! 
Lore, fJiall a lamb of Israel's shoepfoM stray? 

My |Bth is tost, my wanderittg steps do stray; 

I cannot £o, nor can I safely stayi 

Whom should I seek but thee, my path, my wayj 

And yet thou lum'st thy &ce away nod fly'st mcl 
And yet I «uc for grace and ihoa deny'st me I 
Spak, art tliou angry. Love, or only cry'st tot ! 

Thou ait ibe pil^m's path, the blind man's eye. 
The dead man'* lite. On thee my hopes rely: 
If [ but them remove, I suidy die. 

Dissolve thy sunbeams, close t!iy wings aixl stay I 
See, sec how I am blind, and deiid, and stray t 
•.~0 thou that art my life, my li^ht, my way I 

Then work thy will ! If passion Nd me See, 
My rcSMio kIuI) obey, my wings shall be 
Streich'd out no fstibrr titan from me to tbn I 
4H 



JOHN SHEFFIELD, DUKE OF 
BUCKINGHAMSHIRE 

417. T/k Xecimdlfmcnt 

/^OHE, let us now rwolre H last 
^^ To li»c ind low in quiei ; 
We'U tie tbe knot so very f»st 
TbM Time skill neVx uatk it. 

The inieu joj^ they seldom prote 
Wbo free from quarrels live: 

*Tb tbe laosc tender pan of love 
Eich otbCT to farsi?c. 

When leiit I teem'd coocera'd, 1 took 

No pieanre txH' no mt i 
And wbeo I feign'd an angry look, 

Aht! I lored you best. 

Own but tbe same to me — you'U find 
How UeM will be our ^- 

to be btpfy — to be kind- 
Sure nertr is too taiel 



418. Oh One viho died Jiscovermg her 

Kindness 

COME vex their souls with jealons juiin, 
'-' While othen Mgh for cold diMtfin : 
Lovc*» variOB* ioM* ve daily see — 
Yft bipp)' *U coaifwed with mel 



DVKU. OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE 

Of all nuokind I loivi the bMt 
A Rympli » far above the rwt 
Tlut wc out^sliincd the BWtt abote; 
In be-juiy ibc, us I in love. 

Anil therrfbre They, who could not bear 
To be ouidone bf monah Ikit. 
Among tliemH-ivM lia»c pland her now. 
And left ne wretched be(« below. 

All oihi-t ftilc I «Hild hate boroe^ 
And creo endured her itty Mont 
But oh ! ibua all at once CO find 
Th»t dread account — botlt dead and kindl 
What hnrt c:tn bold > If |«t I live, 
Tia but to thow how much I griere. 



THO^US OTWAY 

MQ. The Enchantment 

f DII> but look aad tore awliilc, 
''' Twas but for one half-hour; 
Then to re&iEi I had no will, 
And now I have no power. 

To sigh and wbh is nil my eeci 
Sighs which do beat impart 

Enough 10 inelt the coldctt ice. 
Yet cannot warm your btan. 

O would yxnir pty gire my heart 
One comer of your brent, 

"Twould learn of yours the winning an, 
And quickly unl the rest. 



JOHN OLDHAH 

430. A ^iet Soul 

'T^HY 1011I wixliiD luch (ilcm pooif) did keq>, 
^ As ir homaniiir were tull'd aiJec]> ; 
So penik wts ihy |>i)gnnu|e bc&catli, 

Time's unheard fttt scaicc nukr Icis nuise, 
Ot the soft journey which a planet goo: 
Life cccm'd all cabn u iu la«t bicath. 
A uiU UanquiUity to bosh'd thy bm»t, 
As if iORie Halc)'on turn its giwst, 
AimI Uicn had buili hn nm: 
It hardly now enjoys a £rrater rr«t. 



JOHN CUTTS. LORD CUTTS 



471. ^on^ 

ONLY Iril her that I loTt 1 
Ltiive the rest to her and Patet 
SoBle kind |)Lincl from ahare 
May perhaps her pity more: 

Lowers 00 ilieii wan mux wait,*— 
Only lell her that I lorel 

Why, why should I dripiirl 
Mcf«y 's pKtuted in her eye 1 

If she OEKT rouchufc to hear, 

WekocM Hope and farewell Fori 
She's too good to let inr die. — 

Why, O why should 1 iit^fdr} 



it»i-i7<i: 



»») 



MATTHEW PRIOR 



tM«-i 



4x1. The SitKJfien to Lisetta 

^AniAT oymph should I »dimre 01 trou, 

*^ But Chloe beauteous Chloc just \ 
What njrn^h should I denrc to »rc, 
But her who leaves the pljuQ for mcf 
To whom should I compose tlie tiy, 
But hn- who liucBS when I fJay \ 
To whom in Mci;; tvprai mjr cam, 
But her who in my sorrow sham \ 
For whom should I the gailand nuke, 
But her who joys tlie gift 10 take, 
And bouts she vtan it for ray sake ? 
In love am t not fully blest f 
Lbciu, fTJ'Jice tell the rest. 

ItaTTAls mtRT. 

Sure Chloc just, and Chloe (air, 
I>eservcs to be your only carcj 
But, when you and she to-day 
Far into tlic wood did stray, 
And I liappco'd to pass by, 
Which way did you cast j-our eye ? 
But, when your cart* to her you sing. 
You dare not tell her whccrc ihcy sptiogi 
Does it not more afflict youi heart. 
That in those cam she bcara a ptfti 
When you the liowers for Chloe twine. 
Why do you to her garland join 
The meacest bud that falls from mine? 
Simjiteit of sw-wm! the world may see 
Whom Chloc lores, and who loves lor. 

4» 



MATTHEW PRIOR 



43 J. To a ChiU of ^alit/t 

Fni* Ttari Old, tjo^. Th* Author lira Forty 

I ORDS, kaij[tit5, tad stjuim, the tiunutwu band 
^ Thit wew ihe f»ir Miw Mary's fcltctt, 
WeiT siuiunoncd by bcr high conun^iod 
To >how tbcif pituiona by tbcir leiccre. 

My pot uwagu the rest 1 took, 
L<H those bright cyeg, thkt unooc nwA, 

Should dan tlieiT kindling bro, and look 
TIk power tbey have to be obey'd. 

Nor quality, not tcpuuiion. 

Forbid mc )xx my fliine to tcUi 
JDnr Five>yeax»-oId bcftieods niy [lasuoa, 

And I may write till abc can ipelL 

For, while she makes her siUcworatt beds 
With all the lender things I swear-, 

WhilH lU the houw my paauoo reads. 
In papers rmod her baby's bait) 

She nuy receive and own my Same ; 

For, though the »iricte» prudct ^ould know it. 
Shell ]ia» for a loon Tinuous dame, 

Aod 1 for ao unbaptiy pott. 

Then too^ alaa! when abe shall tear 
The rhymes tome younger rival sends. 

Shell give me Imvc to «Titc, I fev, 
Aod we shall still ooouiiue fricndt. 

For, as our dilfcrem if/ei mon, 

Tis w ordain'd (would Fate but mend k!), 
That I shall be fuse making lore 

WiiEti she bcgiu to oorapf^ieikd it. 

k, 4»» 



4^4- 



MATTHE\\' PRIOR 



Song 



'T'HE merchant, lo vxxtrt: his treasure, 
*■ Cmnj% it in a borrow'd nunc: 
EuphclM icrrrt to giMc my me.i»irei 
Bui Chloc is my real flame. 

My softest Tcisc, mjr darling lyre. 

Upon Euphelia*!! toilet lay j 
Wbm Chloe nowd bcr desire 

TbK I dionld sing, that I slioukl fby. 

My lyre I tune, my voice I nite; 

But witli my tnirobeni mix my lighst 
And while I ting Euphctis's jintisc, 

1 fix my soul on Chloc't eyes. 

F»Jr ChJoc blush'd: EuphcUa frown'Ji 

1 sung, and gitied: t |>Uy'd, sod tiembicd: 

And Venus to the Loves around 

Remark'd, how ill we all diKsembied. 



42f. On My Birthday, July ii 

T MY <kar, was boni to^y^ 

^J So all my jolly coramdcf say: 

They bring me mu^ic, wifUhs, utd miitli, 

And ask to celcbraic my binb; 

Little, alas! my comridcs know 

That I was born lo pain and woei 

To thy deiual, (o thy scora, 

Belter I b*d ne'er been boni: 

I wish to die, eren whilst I say-"* 

'I, my dear, was bom to-day.' 



MATTHEW PRIOR 

I, my detr, was born lo-dtf i 
Shan I salute xbe ritong ny, 
WeHipring of all my joy and vnxi 
Clotildt. thon alone dost know. 
Sliall the wn-ai}i surroiiod my haii? 
Or shall the music |ilcase my car f 
Shall I my comradn' minli receife. 
And blc«s my birth, and vish to lin t 
'I^cn let mc xc grrat Venus chase 
Imperious uger from tliy face ; 
Then let mc hear t}iec smiling say — 
'Thoa, my dear, wwt bora to-day.' 



4irf. T6e Lat/f who offers her Lociin^ 
Ghisj to Vetms 

■WENUS, take my Todre gUsB: 
' Since I am not what I w», 
What from this day I shall be, 
Vcous, let nw nerer >ee. 



+?7. A Letter 

Lattf Margartt CavemSjh HoBit'HarUj, v>hr» a CiilJ 

[Y noble, lovely, Uttlc Peggy, 

Let tius my First Einstle be{ ye. 
At fiawn of mom, and tkyte of ercn. 
To lift yoo* bart and hand* lo HetiTcn. 
In do«Ue daty uy your pnycr: 
Oar Falhtr first, theti Nvin Pert. 

V 



M' 



MATTHEW PRIOR 

And, devest cluld, along the day, 
la trcty thing you do and say. 
Obey «nd pJcaM my lord md lady. 
So Cod shall loTc and aagcis aid yc, 

IT to these precepts you aliend, 
No second letter need I send, 
And M I test your constant frwad. 

^jS. Fw my own Monument 

AS doctors gire pliysic by way of pRvcndon, 
•'*' M*t, alive and in liisaltli, of his wa&nsoat look 
For delay* are unsaTe, and his pious inintioa 
May baply be never fulSll'd by his beir. 

Tbni take Mat's word Tor it, the scdpior is paid t 
That llie tigure is lioc, pray tM'liciv your own eye ; 

Vet credit but lii;l«Iy whjt more nuy be s«d, 
For we flatter ourselves, and Ceich marble to lie. 

Vn fioufiiing as fu as to fifty his years. 

His vittucs and fiots were as other men's arc ; 

Hijih hopes be concdied, aiid he smoth(r*d great fe 
Id a life pani*co)our'd, half pleasote, half care. 

Nor to buuncss a drudgf, nor to faction a slare. 
He strove to make int'rest and freedom agR«; 

In public employments industrious aod £ra*e, 

And alone with hit fritndx, Lord! how iDCtiy was he! 

No»- in eciuipaitc stalely, now bumbly oa foot. 

Both fortuttcs he tried, but to Dtither would irusti 

And whitl'd in the toimd as the trtieel tnrn'd about, 
I'lci' found lichcs bad wings, and knew laan was hot 
«M 



MATTHEW PRIOR 



Tlus wrw, link polish'd, tbo' mighty lincric, 

Sns MfUiM hit tiilo nor merit to lim ; 
It uya thK his kIks collccicd lie here, 

Axi no moiul yet knows too if this may be trvr. 
Fierce nibbm there ire thn iarest the highway. 

So Mu attj be kiD'd, and hb boeie* never found; 
FjIk wiiarss u coun, and lierce lemjiesu at lea, 

So Mat may yet chance to be ban^d or be drawn'il. 
If hb botKi lie in eanh, roll in sea, lly in iiir, 

Ta Faie we mast yield, and the thi&g b the same ; 
And if passing ihou ^>'st him a ^nule or a lev, 

He cares not — j-et, prithee, be ktn<l to hb fnnw. 



4J9. 



WILLIAM WALSH 

(~^P all the tonnents, all tbe cms, 
^-^ With which our live* arc curst; 
Of all the |>bguM a loTcr bears, 

Su/e rivals are ibe worst ! 
By ptrtnen in each other kind 

Afiietiona easier {row; 
In lore aloite we bale to lind 

CiMnpaniona of our woe. 

Sylm, for sll the pangs yoa sec 

Are labouring b niy breast, 
I bej not you wodd favour me. 

Would yoo but ^ight the test! 
How great soc'ei your rigours arc, 

With ibem Jooe I'll eoj«; 
I cao cadaic my own dcspaii, 

Bin not anoihef's hope. 



LADY CniSIEL BAILLIE 

4^0. ff^erena rny Hearts licht / viad da 

'T'HERE ance ms a mi\f, aod she lo'ed aa iDcni 
^ Sbc biggit h« bonroe bow'r <li)un in jroo glcDi 
But now »bc cries, Dool and a wcll-a-dij ! 
Corae <loun the green gait and come here Bwiyl 

When boniue >-oung Johfiluc cun oim the sea, 
He Mid be mw uetliiag sae torely as me; 
He hcchc me baitb ringt and mony braw diiags— 
And ivcteoa my bcatt'i licbl, I wad dee. 

He hod a wee tiity tbst lo'cd nu me, 

Because I was twice as boiuiie as sbei 

Sbc raised sic a pother 'twtxt him and ha motlicr 

Tbiii wcrcna my bun's licht, 1 vad dec. 

The d.iy it was set, and the bridil to be! 
The wife cook n dwnin aod lay doua to dee; 
She maoed aad she grancd out o* dotour utd paifl^l 
Till he vow'd he never wad s«e me again. 

His kis was for ane of a highet degree, 
Said — What hnd be do wi' the like* of me? 
Appose I was bonnic, I wasm for Johntuc — 
Aod werena mj bean's licht, I wad dee. 

Tbcy Kiid I had ncitbcr cow nor calf, 
Not dribbles o' diink rins thro' the draif, 
Nor pickles o' meal rins thro' the mill-c*e-~ 
And weretu ray heart's lichi, I wsd dee. 

nmy] mud. biggit] buill. f.xA'S w«y. path. 

pvomiMd. titty] litter. dwKm] lUfSdm IIImm. >PpOM] 

MppMe. thro' ih« draff] on dnu^t ptokUs} nnail qnaa 



LADY GRISEL BAILLIB 

Hia tittf ibe wu baith vylie uxt iltei 
She tjied mc IS I cam owrc the tea; 
And tbcn sbe na io and made a loud ilia — 
Betinc jrour aio e'eo, m ye irow noi nie. 

Hit bocmet ftood ay fu* round oa hit brow, 
Hi* auld >ne look'd tj as wdl aa mrw'* new; 
Bui now he lets 't wtsu ooy gut it will bing, 
Aad casts hiniMl dowtc upon the corn bi^s- 

And DOW be f;aes dauad'riDg about the dykn. 
And a* be daw do U to bund ibe tykc»: 
The Uve-Iang nicht he oe'ei &t«eks l^s e'« — 
And wetcm my bean's Ikht, I wad dee. 

Were I but yeong for (her, as I hae bcvn, 
Wc should bae bem {■aUo^'in' douii in yon green, 
And ti&kin' ii own tb« lily-white lea — 
And wow, sin I wen but youog foe thcei 

WILLIAM CONGREVE 
~4Ji. False though She be 

I^ALSE tbough she be to me and lot«, 
' I'll ne'er puwuc rcteogc; 
For still the charmer I approve, 
Though I dcjilore bet cbange. 

In boun of bitsa we oft bare met: 

Tbcy could not always last ; 
And though the prrwiu I regret, 

I'm grateful for the )««i. 

4j». hiBc) hang. <!owlc] i](}tcl«(flr. haad th< tjknl haat 

Uw heiinik. rtecki] cUwca. Uokial goiag •rni'ln'imi 



WILLIAM CONCREVE 



4}i. A Hue and Cry after Fair Amorel 

pAIR Aflioret U gooc Astnij — 
* Punuc mid **ek h«, tv'ry lover; 
I'll tell the signs by which you nuy 
The waad'iinj Sheplierde^s diwoTer. 

Coquette and coy at once hn «ir, 

Both studied, tho' both teem neglectnl ; 

Carrleu she is, with uiful care, 
Affecting to 9(*ni unaffected. 

With ikill her eyes dan ev'ry glance, 

Yet change » »oon you'd ne'er suspect them. 

For ibe'd perausde ibey wound by chance, 
Tho' ocnain aim and an direct theto. 

She likes berwif, yet others hatn 
For tliat which in het^lf the prizei t 

And, while she loughs M them, foiigets 
She is the thing that she despises. 



JOSEPH ADDISON 

All' ffy"'" 

'T^HE spacious fimunieDi oo high, 
* With all the blue ethereal ^y, 
And spangled hcaveos, a sbiaiiig frame. 
Their great Original proeiaim. 
Th' unwearied Sun ftom day to dflj 
Docs his Ctcaior's (-ower display i 
And publishes to ei-ery land 
The work of an Almighty hand. 
w6 



teif>-t;t4 



JOSEPH ADDISON 

Sooo as ibe evening sliades pretail, 
The Moon ukes np the wondroot lalet 
And nightly to ilie listening Earth 
Rqints Uw story of bet binh : 
Whilu *U the stars that tound htr bum, 
And >ll tbe planets in ilidr cum, 
Ccofirm tbe tidiags u tbey roll, 
And cprrad the tnith from pole to pole. 

Wbit thouf.h in iolemD lileiKC ■!■ 
Move round tbe <brlc tcfreMrial boll ; 
Wbu though nor r«J voice oor wMod 
AnwlH their tidiuil orfos be found? 
In RcMMd's tax they aII tcjoice. 
And utter fonb t glorious voice i 
For ever unging as they khtne, 
'The Hind that made n is ditine.' 



ISAAC WATTS 
4} 4. The f>ajf of yuJgtment 

\V^HEN the fierce North-wind with hi* airy force* 

Rears up the Sahk to a fowling fiiry ; 
And the red tighuioi with 1 stonn of bail comn 
Rmhing amain down ; 

low tlic poor Mion n*&d antaaed and trrmble, 
^bile the faoMse thunder, Ulte a bloody trtrnqxi, 
Roars a loud otaet to the ga{ang vaters 

Quidt to Atrtwa tbtm. 



ISAAC WATTS 

Such shilt the ooUe be, and the «ild diwnler 
(If thingt (tenul vomj be like ibnt nnhly), 
Such ihc dire icrtor when tbc gmt Archangel 
Sbakn the aetiloot 

Tore the moog pillin of the vxalt of Hcami, 
Bml:s op old mirhtc, the ivfosc of princes, 
Sees the gniTcs open, ind the bone& ariMDg, 

Flames all jommi tbem. 

Huk, the shrill outcriei of the luilty wretches I 
Livfljr bright horrtn and amazing anguiih 
Siare thro' their cj-clids, while the liibg worni Iks 
Giuvring within them. 

Tlioughts, liltc old \-u1tQm, pny upon their hfiUt-stting 
And the &m»rt twinges, when tbc eye beholds At 
Lofty Judge frow&iag, and n Sood of ita^tsaut 
Rolling afore hint. 

Hopeless immortals 1 how they screxm snd sluver, 
While devils push them to tbc pit wide-yawning 
Hideous and gtooniy, to receive them hcadtoc^ 
pawn to the centre! 

Stop here, my fincy: (all nviy, ye horrid 
Doleful idns!) come, arise to JcniK, 
How He HIS God'like! and the »ints arooid Him 
Throned, yet adoring! 

O may I ut there when He coma trinraphani, 
DoomiDg the nations 1 ilien ascend to glory, 
While our Hotaonas all along the ftian^ 

Shout the Redeemer. 

«9S 



ISAAC WATTS 



4if. A Cradle Hymn 

LJUSHI my dear, lie Kill »nd slumber, 
^ ^ Holy Mgds {iwrd tliy btdt 
HnTcnly blesKiigs without nombcr 
Gently Ming oo ihjr bead. 

Sttep, my tMbc; thy food and nmmM, 
Ho<tM tnd homr, thy frinids providr; 

All whhoot thy caie or jiaymcnt: 
All thy wania mc well Mip^icd. 

How much brtter tbou'rt attmdrd 
Than the Soo of Cod co«ild be, 

When from lieateo He dwcwKW 
And becimc a child like tbee I 

fioTt aad easy H thy crMltc : 
Coane and bard thy SaTJoor by. 

When His birthpUce was a stable 
Aod Hii softest bed wu hay. 

Blewtd babel what glorioos featuns — 

Spotkw Grir, difinHy bngbi ! 
Must He dwell with bniul creatiuesf 

How oouU angela bear the i^btf 

W» there Docking but a manger 

CuisM sinners coold afford 
To r«ei»e the heavenly stranger? 

Did they thus atfroot their Loid \ 



(SAAC WATVS 

Soft, my child: I did noi ch>d« thcc. 
Though mjr »ong might soumi too hatd ; 

Tn thy mothcT «a bnitle thcc. 
And her anna shiU be ihy guiud. 

Yet to read the shameful siory 
How the Jcvf abused their Kin^, 

Wow iliey nerred ibc Lord of Gkx^, 
Mikes me ingry while I siag. 

See the kinder shepherds ronnd Him. 

Telling wonders froni the sky I 
Where they Muglit Him, there tbey fbuod His 

With Hb Virgin mother by. 

See the lovely b*be )i-<lres»Qg; 

Lovely inftnt, bow He smiled ! 
When He wept, the mother's blessing 

Soothed aod hush'd the holy child. 

Lo, He slumber* in His manger, 

Where the homM oten fed; 
Peace, my darling; here's no danj^, 

Here's no ox «near thy bed. 

IVas 10 sare ihre, child, from dying, 
Sii'e my dc« from bunting flonci 

Bitter gioaos and endleu cryi&g. 
That thy blesi Redeemer canw. 

Ma/st then ItTe to know and faa Him, 
Trust utd love Him all thy days; 

Then go dwell for ever Mar Him, 
See His face, and sing His fTMM I 



THOMAS PARNELL 

M^HEN thy bwuiy apiioMs 
*• In in {races and »ifs 
All bngbt u ut aD{d kw (Irojif>'d from the tky, 
Ai dixUDoe I gaze and am awtrd hj my fears ; 

So Rirangely you dazzle my eyel 

Bat when mthoui an 
Your kiad tliou^u you imj'art, 
|Wbco your loie runs b Uutlm tbrougli etery *e!ai 
fbva h darts from your cyo, when it p^nu in your 
hesui, 
Then I know you're a woman a^wn. 

There 's a puion and pride 

In our sex (die reflied), 
And thus, mighi I gndfy both, I would do: 
Still in uftgrt -ifpeaj to each loicr bcsid^ 

Bol ftiii be « womao to you. 



ALLAN RAMSAY 



4S7. Pegsr 

lUfV Peggy is ■ young thing. 

"■'■ Jost ester'd in her leeivs 
Fur as the day, and ^wcct ia May, 
Fair as ilie day, and always gayi 



rftf-tm 



sw 



ALLAN RAMSAY 

Mj Peggy i> > ywDg ibbg, 
And I'm not very auld. 

Yet wcl! 1 like to meet her at 
1'hc wiwUftg of the iiiukL 

My Peggy speaks sac sweetly 

Whene'er we mrei aluc, 

I wi-th DAc mair to Uy my care, 

I wUh Dae malt of a' that '% nit t 

My Pe^Sy ^P*^^ ^*e sveetly, 

To a' the ki-c I'm nuld. 

But sbe gan a' my Kjiiriu glow 

At wawkbg of the fauld. 

My Peggy smiles sae Itindly 
Whene'er I whjsper lote, 
Tbat I look down on a' tbe town, 
That I look down upon a crown { 
My Peggy smiles axe kindly, 

It mukes me biyth anil bauld. 
And OMthing givn me sic delight 
As wawking of the fauld. 

My Peggy sings sac safily 
When on my (ripe 1 pby, 
By »' the rest it is coofcsi. 
By a' the rest, that sbe nngx best; 
My Peggy sings sae »ftly, 

And it) her aangs are tauM 
With inuoccQcc ifac wale of sense, 
At wawkinj; of the fould. 



wawklog) watdting. 



Uv«]riI. 



wale] cbdoe, beat 



B' 



WILLIAM OLDYS 

438. 0« « F// Jrinkhig out of his Cup 

>USY, curious, tliirsty fly) 

Drink with nc and drink m 1 1 
Fwely welcome 10 my mp, 
Coddit ihoa lip mkI tip ic up: 
Make the noit of life yon nuy, 
Life is shon asd wcara away. 

Both alike are mine and thine 
Haftming (juick to tlicir decline: 
Thine *> a nimiDcr, mine's no moK, 
Though Ttpeatcd \a threescore. 
Threescore sununers, when they're jone, 
WUl appear as (butt as one I 



JOHN GAY 

4i9- Sous 

/^ RUDDIER ihaa the cherry! 
^^ O iwecter dun die berry I 

O nymph more bright 

Than moomhiM ni^t. 
Like kidliass bGlbe and meny I 
Ripe as tJie mchii^ cliuler! 
No lily has such iuUre; 

Yet hard to tame 

As raging flame, 
And ficnc •> Konns that tiliaterl 



ALEXANDER POPE 

440. Oh a certain Lady */ Outrt 

I KNOW a thing iliat's most uncommooi 
*■ (Eovy, be stIcM and atteodl) 
I know * reuonable wonua, 

Handtome and witty, yet a frieod. 

Noc wtf]>'d by pMaion, awed by rumour ; 

Not gnve through pride, dm gay tluougb lolly | 
An Mjtu] mixture of ^ooJ-humovr 

And sensible toft mdiincholy. 

'Hat she no faults tbcn (Enry siya), Sir^' 

Ye4, nhe has ooe, I must artri 
Wlicn all the world cooipim to praise Ikt, 

The woman's deaf, and docs not hear. 



44/. E.leQr fo tke Memory of an 
Unfarttmate Lad/ 

VW'HAT beck'ning gbost, aloag the mooiUiglit thadt 

'' Inntes my steps, and points to yonder gl^deJ 
n'is »he!— but why that Ueedbg boMm gored. 
Why dimly gleams the irisiooary swvrd? 
0, excr beiu[«Ous, cwt friendly ! te!l. 
Is it, in Hear'n, a crime to lore too weU? 
To bear too teniltr or too firm a hean, 
To act a lover's or a Roman's [«n? 
Ii there no bri^,ht rcvcnion in the sky 
I'or [faoK who gicatly think, or bravely die^ 



ALEXANDER POPE 



Wliy bade ye ebe, ye Pow'nl ha *oul a-ipire 

Abotc the rolgtf Aight of low dcsiiv? 

Ambition fint spnmg from y«iu b(c« abodes ; 

Tbc prions (inilt of ansfls ind of gods ; 

Tbmce to theii images oo eartli it flows, 

And b ibe breasts of kings and bcroct glows. 
I Most sods, 'tis tnic, but peep out once an ige, 

Dull sulkn ptis'iMTS in the body's cage: 

Dim tights of life, that burn ■ Ieng:tli of years, 

UkIcss, unseen, >« lanps b lepalchres; 

Like Eastern kings a Iny ctate they keqi, 

And cloie conlined to tlirir own palace, iJec]). 
Prom these peiliaps (ere Naton bade her die) 

Fate snatch'd hrr early to the fityuig iky. 

As into air the pgrcr B|Rrits flow, 

And wp'fate from their kindred dre^ below, 

So Qew the sod to it3 cooseniil place, 
^B Mor left oae rittue to redeem her nee. 
^H^ But iboo, Cilse guardian of a charge too good ! 
^n^OD, mein deaener of thy brothcr'c blood ! 
^Rec on these ruby lips the irenibling breath, 

These cbKks now fading at the Uast of Death i 
I Cold is that bteast whidi warm'd the world before, 
I And those lorenlarting eyes mult roll no more. 
1 Tlw^ if etenial Justice rules the ball, 
I Thu thall your wnvt, and thus your children falli 
I Ofl all the line a sudden vengeance waits, 

And ftei^ueot hertes shall bniej;e rour gutes. 

"niere patsengers shall stand, and ]«intiog my 
I (While the kwg fm'rali blacken all the way), 
I * Lo I these wcft they who«e »o<ls the Furies sKe4*d. 

And cimed with hcans unknowing how to yield.' 
nlantentcd pass the proud sway, 



ALEXANDER POPE 



The ffOK of foolS) aod pageant of ■ dty 1 

So periih all wbooe bm« iw'er leatn'A to glow 

Tor oifien' good, w melt at aCheTs' woe I 

What CUB aiooe (O e*er-injun<l shade!) 
Thy fate unfHiwd, and thy rilrs unpud? 
No friend's comj'laiiit, do kiod donMstic ttv 
PicMcd thy pale jthost, or gracrd thy RMHirefiil liia 
By fbieif^ hands Uiy dying eyes were clowd, 
By foceigR handi thy decent Kmba composed, 
By foreign hands thy humble guvc adom'd. 
By suangen honour'd, and by slrangcrf nMum'd t 
\Vh3t tho' BO friends in sable weeds appeui 
Grieve for an hour, perhafo, then tnoum a yeor. 
And benr aboct the roodcery of woe 
To midnight dances, and the puUic show? 
What tho* no wnjiiog Lores thy ashes grace, 
Nor polish'd nurble emulate thy face? 
What tho' (10 ucrrd earth allow thee room, 
No* hallow'd diTge be nwitter'd o'er thy tomb? 
Yet »h»ll thy grave with rising 6i>w't» be dreait. 
And the green nirf lie lightly iM tby breast: 
There shall tbe itiom her esiliest tcan bestow. 
There the first roses of the year shall blow ; 
While aBf;els with their siher wings o'er^hldc 
The grouod now sacred by thy reltques made- 

So peaceful rvsts, without n stonr, a oaoie. 
Whai once had beauty, titles, wealth, and ftme. 
How loied, how honour'd once, aratts thee noi. 
To whom related, or by whom begot i 
A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 
Ti« all thou art, aod ^ the proud shall be! 

Poets themselvei must fall, like tho« they snog, 
Deaf the praised ear, and imile the tuoefid longue. 



ALEXANDER POPE 

Ev'b he, wbow sod mw melts in mournful Uy«. 
Shdl sfaonlf warn Uic grn'rous tear be ^]r» i 
Then from bis doaisg tya thj fbnn shtll pan. 
And tbe la*t ptmg tial\ Uaa thee rrom his hmi ; 
Liic's idle butinns at one gup be o'er. 
The Mum fiorgot, md tbou beloved no moce: 



T&e 'Dying Christian to his Sha/ 

WITAL spMlt of heiv'tily ftinic! 

Quit. O qnit thii mortal frame i 
Trembltag, hoping, ling'riog, flfing, 
tbe poia, the bliu of dying! 

Ce*M-, fond Nuure, oe«uc ihy vtrife, 

And let me Ungdnh into lile. 

H«rk! tbey «M*per: angels mj, 

Siitn- Spirit, come away! 

What i« thit atMOffc* me quite ? 

Steals my st-ntet, shuts my sigltt, 
Drowns my spirits, draws my brvMh! 
Tdl mc, my scvl, can this be death ! 

The world mxdei ; it disappeara I 
Heif'o opens on my eyes I my cars 

With so«nda senpliic ring I 
Lend, lend yooi wings! I moant! I dy! 
O Grate ! where is thy victory? 

O Dcdith ! where ia thy ating i 



GEORGE BUBB nODINGTON, LORD 
MliLCOMBE 



H3- 



Shorlm Sail 

T OVE thy country, vrah k well, 
*^ Not with too uitcnse 8 cam 
Tis cnoush that, wbra it fell, 
Thou its ttiia (lidM dm shue. 

Envy's censure, Flattcry'i praise, 
With unmoved iodtffcrciK« view: 

Lnrn to tiud Life's dsR^cnMs maze 
Witli iincfTing Virtue's clue. 

Void of strong desire and few. 
Life') wthIc «k» tniK oo nmt i 

Scrive thy little birk to Mccr 
Widi the tide, but near the shoic. 

Tlius prepared, thy sborten'd uil 
Shall, whene'er the winds incrtaw, 

Selling each propitious gale^ 
Waft tliec to die pon oC Peace 

Keep thy oococicncc from ofiesoe 
And tempestuous pusioas five, 

So, when ihoii art call'd from hoin^ 
Easy shall thy passage be. 

—Easy shaQ thy passitic be, 

Cbccrfiil thy allotted stay. 
Short the acoouot 'iwixt God and thec^ 
Hope shall raect tbcc on thy way. 



le^iHf 



J 



HENRY CAREY 

OP all the girls tfan an to BKin 
There '% Dooe like pretty Silly \ 
She \\ ihc d.irling of niy heart, 

AcmI }hi' livci in our jllcy. 

There is no hd;r >" ^^ '^^ 

b half so iwen as Sally ; 

She is the darling of roy heart, 

And she lim ia our alley. 

Her l^tbrr hr makes cabhagcnets. 

And throu£h the suvcts do« cry 'eni; 
Her moUm she sells bees long 

To such as picaw to buy 'emi 
But 9iire Mcb Folks could ne'er beget 

So sireet a cirl as Sally! 
SIk ts the darling of my heart, 

Aad she lires in tfot alley. 

When she is by, 1 learc my work, 

I love her m) uncerelyi 
My nuMcr comes like any Turk, 

And bongs me most leverrly: 
Bui lei him bang hit tKllyful, 

111 bear ii nil for SaUy; 
She it the darling of my heat^ 

And she Htcs in our aUcy. 

Of all tbe diys ilut 's in the week 

I dearly loi-c but doc day — 
And ilut's the day that comes betwixt 

A Satuiday and Monday t 



HENRY CAREY 

For tben I'ra inat ill io m)' bnt 

To wxlk sbro»d willi Sally ; 
She is the duling o( toy beui. 

And she lives in our ollcf. 

My muter cirrus i»e to church, 

And often am I blamtd 
Bccaiuc I ietTc lum in the lurch 

A» MOD » text is namtd ; 
I leave the (Jiurch in Mrmoo-timr 

Aad slink away to Sally; 
She is the darling of my httn. 

And she litts in our atlejr. 

When ChristmaB conies alxnut again, 

O, then I sluU have moocy ; 
III board it uj>, and box K »II, 

I'll pve it to my honey: 
I would it were ten tbounod pMnd, 

I'd give it all to Sally; 
She is the duling of my hnrt. 

And she liits tn our alley. 

My nuster >nd the neighbours all 

Make game of me and Sally, 
And, but for her, I'd better be 

A ilave and row a galley ; 
But when my seven long yean are oWa 

O, then I'll marry Sally ; 
O, then we'll wed, and tlico we'll bed — 

But Dol ID our alley I 



HENRY CAREY 
A Drinking Song 

BACCHUS nniM now his )>owcr rensa- 
I ini Ibc only Cod of Wm! 
]| ii not fit the wmch should ]x 
In corapetidaa set with me, 
Who can dnnk ten timM more ihui he. 

Make a new world, ye powen dirine! 
Stock'd with ootlung else but Wne: 
Let Wine its only product be, 
Let Wine be earth, and air, and ks — 
And let tk« Wine be all for rkI 



WILLIAM BROOME 
The Rosebud 



QUEEN of fragrance, lovely Rose, 
_ Tlic beauties of tliy leaves diadoec I 
—But thou, fair Nyra]>h, thyself surrey 
In this sweet oftspnng of a day. 
That minde of face mi»t fail. 
Thy chanos are sweet, but cWms are fraSi 
Swili aa the thon-liied fio««i they Ay, 
At mora they bloom, at ereninj> die: 
Though SiduNM yet a while forbearSi, 
Yet Tone destroys what Sickness spores ; 
Now Helen lites alone io fan»e, 
And Cleopstra's but a ntnKi 
Tine tmnc indent dut heamily brow. 
And iho« must be what they are now. 



'■•r*J 



WILLIAM BROOME 

447- Belinda's Reamry from Shhness 

T^HUS when the silent grate iKComes 
■^ PrcgnaM with life as frMftil WDmt»| 
Whea the wide seas and aptdous eanh 

Re9i|[n us to onr Kcond Urtlii 
Our moulder'd fnnK rebuilt asMDDU 
New beflui]r, and for eier bloonis. 
And, crowQ'd with youdt's immonal pride, 

We aagcls rise, who mortals died. 



JAMES THOMSON 

44*. On the 'Death of a particular Frienii 

AS thoM' wc tove decay, we die in ]iin, 
^^ String ifier string is sevcr'd from the bean ■, 
"nU loosen'd life, « last but breiihing day, 
Withnut one pang is gbd lo fall away. 

Unhappy he who latest feels the blow I 
Whose eyes have wept o'er ewry fricBd laid low, 
Dragg'd Bng'rins on from partial dcilli lo death, 
Till, dying, all he can resi^ it— bceath. 



GEORGE LYTTELTON. LORD LYTTELTOJ 
449. Tell me, my Heart , if this ht Low 

VJ^HEN Delia on the flain flppeirs. 

Awed by a ifaousand tender fears 
I would approach, but dare not mote : 
Tell me, my luart, if this be lore? 
J" 



LORD LYTTELTON 

Whene'er th« ipeaki, my ravali'd ear 
No otJirr rake iluo ben caa hear. 
No other wit but hen approve: 
Tell me, my bean, if thu be love I 

If (he wciK mher youth commend. 
Though I WM oitw ha fondest friend, 
His iauaiK eaemy I frore : 
Tell me, my bevt, tf this be Imcf 

Wben ibe is absent, I no more 
Oeli^ in all Uiu pleased belore— 
Tbe ckamt ipfing, or shadiest grove i 
Tdl me, my heart, if this be love i 

Wjieo food of power, of bi-auly •nun, 
Her nets *h« ifmd for every swain, 
I Mrate to hate, bat vainly strore: 
Tell me, my heart, if this be lore? 



SAMUEL JOHNSON 

T 0NG-EXPL:CTED One-aod-twcoiy. 
^ Lisg'riag ynf, at length is flowa: 
Pride and pfeasure, pomp and plenty. 

Gnu •*• •"*•, art WW your owo, 

Looien'd from the minor's tether. 

Free to mongjgr or lo sell, 
Wild as wiod and lizltt as (eatber. 

Bid tbe soas of tluift faiewdL 

S M 



SAMUEL JOHNSON 

Call ibc Bctfio, Kaws, and Jeimin, 
All tlic lumes that banish care: 

Lavihh of your gnriiisiic's guiiwas, 
Shuw the x[idnt of an bdr. 

AQ that prey OD vice and folly 

Jojr to >ee tlieir tftuty Syx 
There the gamntet, light aod jolly, 

There the fender, grave and sly. 

Wealth, my lad, was made to wafid<T, 

L« ii wandcf as it w31; 
Coll the jockey, call the poBder, 

Bid ihcm come and take their litl. 

When the bonny bkde carouses, 
Pockett full, and (pints high— 

What are acres t What are houses ? 
Only dirt, or wet or diy. 

Should the (;uardian friend or iDOther 
Tell the won of wilfd waste, 

Scom their counsel, scom their pother ;- 
You can liaa£ or drown at lass I 



4^1. Ott the Death of Mr. Rohert 
a 'Practiser in 'Physic 

/^ONDEMN'D 10 Hope's ddusm nioe, 
^^ As on we toil irom day M day, 
By sudden blasts or slow dedine 
Our Mcial ooniforts drof> away. 
514 



SAMUEL JOHNSON 

WeO ukd through nmjr a vuyinK yvu, 
S«« Lcvet ta tbe gnTC descend, 

Ol^ioiis, mnoccni, sioocrc, 

or cr'ry fiicDdlcss rume Ui* frii-nd. 

Yd still he Elb sfTectioo's rye, 
Obscurely wise and ccAncly kind; 

Nor, IctUf'd Arrogiiace, deay 
Tby praise to merit uarefmed. 

When iainting auurc cill'd for lid, 

And hov'fiBg dneli i>rc|Nired the blow, 
' Hia ns'roua rnaed/ d^iy'd 

The powV of tn witboot the stiow. 

In MiMry's dsrkrtt caTem known, 
Hi* uscftil care was ever nigti, 
^ 'Where hofctets Anguish pour'd hb gjvtn. 
And loocly Want leurcd to die. 

No suBunons mock'd by chill dday. 
No petty giun disdiin'd by pride; 

The modesc mwits of e»'ty day 
The toil of cr'ry day nppltKl. 

Hb nrtues walk'd tbeir nairow rtMnd, 
Nor made a pui>e, oor left > loid; 

And wre ib' t^icrml Muter found 
Tbe tingle talent well employ 'd. 

The busy dxy, the peaocfnl nighl, 

UnfeU, tncoanted, glided byt 
Hi> frame was Smi— hi» powen wnr briebi, 

Though now fab dgbticth year was nigh. 



SAMUEL JOHNSON 

Then wiih 00 fiery ilirolAiDg piin. 

No cold itradaiioiu of <lMay, 
Death broke « once the riul chain. 

And freed his soul the nnimc way. 



RICHARD JACO 
4f2. Absence 

'715-' 

VW'ITH 1e»dcn foot Time crops along 

*^ While Ddia iH »wayj 
With her, aor jilaintiTe wu the MMq, 
Nor tedious was the tlay. 

Ah, envious Pov/rl reverse my doom; 

Now double thy career, 
Suain ev'jy nerve, simch cv'ry {Jume, 

And rest them when she's here I 

THOMAS GRAY 

4fj. El^ wriltett in a Country 
Cbmvbyard 

' I 'HIi corfrw toik the knell of parang day, 
^ The toning herd wind slowly oVr the lea, 
The plowman homewan] gilods his we^ry wijr. 
And lexves the wotid to darkness and to loe. 

Nov/ fadc^ the glimmcfing landscape on the sigh 
And all the iiir a solemn stillness holds. 

Save where the beetle wheels his droniof flight. 
And drowsy linhlings lull ihe distant folds: 
t>6 



THOMAS GRAY 

SaiT ihat froni yonder i«]r-nuatled towV 

The mopuijt owl ilocn to the dmkhi corapLiin 

Of nich », waiKl*iing aett het seem bowV, 
Molm lict RikckM soliury ici^. 

ficnc^tth thaw nigf^ dm*, (hat jvwtne's shide, 
Whcrt beans ihc turf in mtoy a mould'iiog bea)>, 

Each in fan Btrrow ctD fov ever bid, 
7^ nide (brefatlten of the tuunlet hieep. 

The bntzy call of ioccnw-hreiithing mom, 

The smllow c«iil'riQg fram the siraw-Uiili iked. 

The cock's ftbtill cUHod, or the echoing liom, 
No more ihall rouK tfaero from ilieir kiwiy heiL 

For ihen ao mora the blazing hearth &hall burn, 
Or buy houwwife piy btrt rvi-mn]> caie: 

No childrm ran to li>p their sire's return, 
Or diaib hb knees ibc enned kits to skue. 

OJt did the barrcat to ihetr tickle yield. 

Their 6anv oft the Mobboro glc^ie his broke; 

Hour jocuitd did they drive their team afield ! 

How bow'd iLe woods beneath their sturdy ittokc! 

I^i not Amfaiiion mock their usdul toil, 
Their hon»ely joys, and destiny obKuret 

Nor Graodeor hear with a ditdainful smile 
The slwn and simple annals of the poor. 

The bosK of hergJdiy, the pomp of pow'r. 

And all that beauty, all th*t wealth e'er gXTt, 

Awnit alike th' tnenlable liour; 

The paibs of glory lead but to ibe grare. 



THOMAS GRAY 

Nor yoo, ye pwid, impute to tbcK the fault 
tr Memory o'er their tomb do trophies raisr. 

WIktc through the long-drawn ahlc and frmed ndt 
Tlie polmg aotheni swelb the note of prabe. 

Cut storied im or animaird bu5t 

Bick to its mansion »1I the Srcting breath i 
Can HoQOur's voice proToke the sBent dust. 

Or Flau'ty soothe the dull cold ear of death ! 

Perhaps in th» neglected spot is laid 

Some hmn onc« prcgDint with celestial firet 

Hands, that the rod of cin|iue might bate iway'd, 
Or waked to eotaty the liviag lyre. 

But Knowledge to their eyes ber ample page 
Rich with the spoils of lime did ncVr unioll i 

Chill Penury rcpre^is'd ihnr noble rage. 
And froze the genial current of the looL 

Full many a gem of purctt ny serene 

The dark unfntbora'd caves of ocean !>e»r: 

Full many a Sower is bom lo blush unveen. 
And waste its swtctncM on ibc dcwtt air. 

Some vilLige Hampden that with dnmless btctat 
The little tyri0t of hts fields wmhstood, 

Some mine inglorious Mtltoti here may rest. 

Some Cromwell goikleM of his country's blood. 

Tb' ajipl^uK of Sst'nin^ senates to oommnKt, 
The threats of patn and niin to despHc* 

To scaiiet jilenty o'er a smilins land. 

And read tbdr history m a nation's eyes — 
5* 



THOMAS GRAY 

Thta lot foftiMle: nor drcianacTibcd alone 

Tbcii growing *ifum, biot tlicir cnma oonlinedi 

Pofbtde 10 woiic ihio' slaughter to a thron«. 
And tbm ih« j;«tM of ntcrcy oa nunlund ; 

Tbe mggltog pan^s of conscious tnilb lo hulc. 
To i)Dtiich ibe Uushn of ingenuous stunie, 

Or br^ tlw sbriae of Luxury aod Pritle 
With iscoiM luDcUed at tbe Muse's flame. 

Fir from ibe BUKkfiog crowd's ignoble strife 
Tbeir sober wishes nerer leira'd la stray; 

Along tbe cool, set^uester'tl vale of life 

They kept tbe noiseless tenor of tbtir vtj. 

Yet ev*n these bones from iosvh to protect 
Some (mi memorial still eieded digh, 

^Viib uncouth rhymes ind shapeless sculpture deck'd, 
ImplottK ilic pssDg tribute of a sigh. 

Their tDme, their ytan^ spek by th' unlettcrM Muse, 

The place of fjine and degy supply : 
And many a holy text arauiKl she *tre«^ 

That tc»ch the resck morslist to die. 

For who, to dnndi Forgetfiitftess ■ prey. 
This pkasiag uudous being e'er tctign'd, 

L^ft tbe warm [ffcancis of the cheerful diy, 
Nor cut one loogias Eag'riBg look bchiad i 

On some fond breast the parting soul rdies, 
Some pious drops the closing eye te^uimsi 

E'en from the tomb tlie Tokr of Nainrc cries. 
E'en in Ovr asbn lira their «oaud fires. 



THOMAS GRAY 

hot Ukc, who, mindful of lb' ixahoaoia'd dend, 
Don in these liaa their Brtlcxt talc (dne; 

If chuicc, by londjr comen^lation l«d, 

Sonic kindred spirit shall taqtiirr thy {tu— 

Hsfljr MOK hosry-bndcd iuun may ujr, 
' Oft bate we seen htm at tbi- ptef of iliwn 

Bni^blt vnth hasty steps the di-w> aw*y 
To meet the sua upon the upland Uwn. 

'There at the foot of yonder Dodding beech 
That witatbes tu old bicasiic roots w bij^, 

lih IiF>tJcs3 length at noomide muld he stretiii, 
And pote upon the brook tbn babbles by. 

' Hatd by yon wood, now nniling aa jg tcora, 
Mutt'ring hi» wa)-wnrd fancier be would tare, 

Now drooping, wocful-Wiin, like one forloni. 

Or craud wiih care, or crou'd in hopdeu 1ot& 

' One mom I miss'd him on the cu<rioni'd hill. 
Along the hnth, ^ad near his fat«unte tree ; 

Another canie ; nor yet beside the riD, 

Nor up the lawn, nor at the wuud was he: 

'The next with dirges due in sad array 

Slow tbruu^'.h the cburcb-way path we saw him bomb 
Approach and read (for tbou canxt revl) the by 

Graved on the atone beneath yoo ag^ thorn:* 

r//S BPtTAPH. 

Hm rttU tis haul i^oit the h^ ef Earth 
ji Tmtlh, to Ftrttmt ami M Famr vaiiMw*. 

Fmr Science /rvtia^J not on hii hutaUt tirih, 
Jtiid Melaniboly marked him fiir her etim. 




THOMAS GRAY 

Cargt VIM bit hvalj, and iu mb/ nnvrr, 
f/tat^m Ad d rNemfmtt m largtfy lenJ: 

Ht guvr U Mii'ry ail it tad, a Uar, 

Hi ioit'd frtm Hrav'n {'(twai all bt vnth'd) a fiimd. 

N» farihrr ttti iit meritt M JiieUie, 

Or Jrw hii /raiiliit fnm litir drrad atadC', 

(72cn th*j aSie in IrimbSii^ hvfe repair,) 
Ti* t*Mm a/ tit Fatter and hit G«d, 



4f^ The Qtrsf upon EdrxarJ 

^^EvAVE ibc watp, and wmrc ihe woof. 
** The windiag-ahcct of Edward's race. 

Giv« wnpk room, ud Tctge etHxigh 
Th« chkncurs of hcQ to aace. 
Mark the ip^r, uid mark the nigbi. 
When Scrcm ihall rc-ccba «ith aifrigbt 
I'he shrieks of duth, tbn>' BokJey's n»f( ihu ring, 
Shiicks of an agonidDg King ! 

Slic-u-olf of Fnux«, wth umdriiUDf; fangs 
That tcai'M (he bowcb of ihy nungled mate, 

From thee be bom, who o'er thy couoiry hangs 
The tconrge of HcaT'n. What terron toond faim wsjt t 
Amaaonent in his van, with Flight combi^icd. 
And Sotiow's &ded lonn, and Solitude bt-hind. 

Mi^l Victor, migtity Lordt 
Low on bis fiiMra] couch h« lies' 

No pitp>^ beart, do e]r«, aliani 
A tear to grace his bbwquies. 
It the sable warrior fled? 
Thy 100 is gone. He rcsu aoMig the dead. 



THOMAS CRAY 



The swum tlut m thy noon tide beam were bomi 

Gone to silcte the nxag morSi 

Fair Uughs thr rnoni, and tofi the zephyr lilows, 

WhJc proudly lidtn; o'er ihc *zurt mim 

In g»Uitiu trim the gilded vmkI sorss 

Youth OD the prow, and PIra»;n at the bcbii 
Re{;ard]eM of the sweeping whirlwiod's sway, 
Thai, ku«h'd in ^tim lepoic, expects bix evening 

Fill ))igh tiic sparkJio| bowI, 
The rich repasit jircpare; 

Reft of a crown, he yet may skm the fc-.ut i 
CloM by the tc{;al chair 

Fell TJiifit ind Famine scowl 

A baleful Mitile upon their baffled gneff. 
Hrard ye the din of btnle hray. 

Lance to lancv, nod borsc to horse i 

Long years of havoc urge ihcir destined course. 
And ihro' the kindred squadrons mow ih<ir way. 

Ye Towers of Julius, Loodoo's Luting fJiamc, 
Willi many u foul and midnight murder fed, 

Revere hi« consort's faith, his filther'ii fame, 
And spaie the meek usuipcr's holy brad. 
Abate, below, the tvk of snow, 

Twined with ber blushing foe, we spread : 
The bti.itled ht«r io infant-gorr 

Wallows bcneadi the thorny diade. 
Now, brothers, bending o'er th' accursid loom 
Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom. 

Edward, !o ! to sudden fate 
{Weave we the woof. The thread is tpun) 

Half of thy heait we coaiecrate. 
(The web b wove. The wmk it doob) 



THOMAS GRAY 



4SS' The 'PiXigress of 'Poesy 

A riKDAKIC ODI 

AWAKE. JEobta lyit, awike. 
^^ And g/w 10 rapture all ifajr ironbling atmff. 
Pnini Hclkoo's btrmociout ipings 

A tbiMUBd rilU their muy progrns ukei 
The iMfkiitj; Ao«m, tb*t twmd lliem blow, 
l>nnk life *id fmgnncc a% thty flow. 
Now tliv rich umm dF mu^iic winds along 
Dcrp, BiBfcukf smooth *ml sirooCt 
Thro* TCrdoBt vslcs, aoil Ceres' golden T«^: 
Now rdUng down the steep aswia, 
Hc9<UoD||, inpctuods. MV ri |>ourt 
'11k rocks mil nodding grovn rebellow to the roar. 

O SoTercign of the willing soal, 
PareM of Kwcct and tolcmn^reMhing tin, 
Unchuiting shdl I the nilteti Cares 

And traniic Passions hear tliy soft coniioul. 
On Thrada's hills the Lord of Wu 
Hto cuih'd the fury of hia car. 
And dropp'd ha thinty Ucce u thy command. 
Petchtag on the toepircd haod 
Of Jove, thy nugic lulh the fniber'd king 
Whh nifBcd plumes «nd Sag^ng wing: 
Qoeodi'd in dorfc clouds of shimber lie 
The terror of Iiis beak, sad lightoings of his eye. 

Tlwe the voice, the dance, obey, 
Temiier'd to thy warUed lay. 

O'er Idalia's tchet-gree* 

The tosy«rowB(d Loves are sttn 



THOMAS GRAY 

On Cjohcrea's day 

With HDtic Spoiu, tai blut-cyod PInsures, 

Frisking light ia frolic nmsurcSj 
Now fvnuing, now i«rwang, 

Now ill cirdiag uoops they lactt t 
To bmk nous in cadmcc beaiing, 

Glance tbeir many-twiiiklbg feet. 
Slow ini-lting stnina tbeir Qunn's approKb declare: 

Where'er she tunif the Graces boniAge pay. 
With arms sublime, Utat float upon the air, 

In gliding state she wins her imj way : 
O'er hn warm cbixk and rising bosom mow 
Tlic bloom of young Desire and purple Ugtii of Lov 

Man's ferbic race what ills amit. 

Labour, and Pcaury, tlic neks of }\iin. 
Disease, and Sorrow's weeping tnin, 
And Drjth, ud leliigc from the stoma of lalel 

The fond comfJaiot, my soog, disprOTe, 

And justify the laws of Jov<. 

Say, has he giv'n id vain die hcav'dy Muxi 

Nigbt, and Jl her iickly dews, 

Her Kpeaitn wui, nod birds of boding cry, 

He gires to range the dreary Ay : 

Till down the etttcrtn cli^ a&r 

Hyperion's n»rch ihey spy, and glin'ring shafts of w«. 

In dimes beyond the solar road, 
Where sh;tggv forms o'er !ce>builc rnnrntaatt tu«m, 
The Muse hu broke the twilight gloom 

To chocT the sbiv'ring Datirc's dull abode. 
And oft, beneath the od'rou> shade 
0( Chili's boundless forests laid. 
She deigns to hear die savage jxiutfa repeat 



THOMAS GRAY 



^ 



In Tonv nunibas wildly &wHt 
riirif fMAhcr-cs)ctuf«d chid*, and dtaky lovts. 
Ilcr tnck, where'er the Goddeu lorcs, 
Glory ftavat and j>ciKfous Stume, 
Th' unconquciaUc Mind, and Frecdooi's holy Biaae. 

Woods, thai ware o'er Ddpb's ftUep, 
Isles, that crovm ih' jEj^raa deep, 

Fields, that cool IlisMU Uvet, 

Or wlierc Msuindcr's Biober waves 
n linf^ing Ub'rinths cm-j), 

How do yimr tiiorrul echoes ls»swisfa, 

Mut^ bat to ibe voice of angu!?^ I 
Wlme each old jioetic moantaio 

Ins^Nrvtion breathed around : 
Gv'ry shade aod haDow'd fountain 

Munixir'd deep a SAlema sound: 
Till ibc sad Nine, in Greece's evi] hour, 

Lett iheif Panusms for the Laiian jilaias. 
Alike ibey sooni tbe pomp of tyrant Power, 

And coward Vice, that retels in her chain*. 
Whoi Lau«n had ber lofty iprit lust. 
They sought, O Atbioa ! next thy aea-encireird coast. 

Far from the sen and summer gale. 

In ihy green lap wai Niture';! darling laid, 
^_Wfaai tiiDT, where Iccid Aran stny'd, 
^■^To Him the mighty mother did unveil 
^^^cf awfiil beat ibe danniless child 
Hbtmch'd Tonh his little arnu, and smiled. 

This penal take (she said), whose colonn clr^r 

Richly poini tbe vcmd year: 

Thine too these golden keys, immonil boy ! 
bis can unlock the gates of joy ; 



THOMAS GRAY 

Of horror thM, aod thrilling (can, 

Or ope the sacrod soum ef sympatbrtk tnts. 

Nor Kcond he, that rode sublime 
Uf«n the •mph-win^ of EcatMy, 
The wcivts of th' obysi to spy. 

He fMs'd the flaming bounds of place ami lime :_ 
Tlie li<»ng Throne, the Hpphirc-bUzir, 
WlifTC Angck tremble while ihry gn«, 
He saw t but blajud with excess of lijht, 
CttMcd his eyes in nxUcss night. 
Behold, where Diyden's les« proampUKMis cat^ 
Wide o'er the fields of glory bear 
Two courKts of ethereal race, 
With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resoanding pK& 

Hatk, bii hsnds the lyre cxplorel 
Briglit-eyed Fancy hoveling o'er 

Scatters from her jnciurcd ura 

Thoughts thnt brrjthc, and wordi that biiin. 
But ah ! 'lis baad no more 

O Lyre <U*ine! what daring ^inl 

Wakes thcc now ? Tho' he inherit 
Nor the juide, nor ample pinion, 

Th-il ihc Thcban eagle bear 
Sailing with ruptemc dominion 

Thro' the aiure de«p of atri 
Yet ott before hii infant eyes would run 

Such form« as fitter in the Muse's lay, 
With orient hues, unborrow'd of the Sun ; 

Yet shall he mount, and keep his ^suot way 
Beyond the limits of a vulgar &le, 
Benntb the Good how far— but far abon the Gieac 



THOMAS GRAY 



^fd. On a FavMtrite Git, Dnwned m a 
Tub of Gold Fishes 

'T'WAS OB a tofty »«9e'« side, 
^ Wbcrv Chiu's ^yen ut had A.y«A 

The azufc flcFweni that blow; 
Dcmumt of ibe ubby kind, 
1*hc pcnwTC Sclima reclined, 

Gazed DO the lake betow. 

Her ooQKiaus tul hei jojr decbfrd; 
The faif round race, the inowy bmd, 

The »«ltrt of h« pawj, 
Htf ooat, that with Um tortoise vies, 
Her Mrs of jet, aad craenjd eyn, 

She Bw j and parr'd applatue. 

had sbe sazed; but 'raidn the tide 
Two aGj:el forms were seen to glide. 

The Genii of the itream : 
Thdr Kily annour's Tytian hae 
Thro' ricbm purple to the view 

Betniy'd a goMen glem. 

The hapless Nymph with wooder saw: 
A whisker litst aad then a cbw. 

With many an ardet» wish, 
8be stittch'd in vain to reach the priv- 
Whai fermle bean can gold def ptsr f 

What Cat '• anne to fish f 



THOMAS CRAY 

PmumptDous Maid I with looks iauvt 
Agiia she ftmch'd, igMii she bent, 

Mor kotm ibc gdf bet««ea. 
(Maligiunt Fate sat by, and sidjIkL) 
The sUpffry vn^e ho ftn btjuitrd. 

She uamhled hudloag to. 

Eight times wnfrging from the flood 
She me^/d to cv'17 wai'fj jod. 

Some speedy aid to scod. 
No Dolphin cxme, no Ncmd stiirVI : 
Noc cruel Tern, nor Svian heard. 

A Fav'riic hu do frieod ! 

From hrtice, ye Beauties, UDdecei*«d, 
Know, one fiilse step n ne'er retrieved. 

And he with «ution bold. 
Not all that tempu jour wund'ring ryct 
And heedless h>eini, is bwtid priiet 

Nor all that glisters, goU. 



WILLIAM COLLINS 
^/7. Ot& to Simplidty 



iT*^IT» 



OTHOU, by Nature tauglit 
To breuhc her genuine thought 
In Rumhers watmly pure and sweetly 3troa)t: 
Who first on raountaitis wild, 
In Fancy, lorclie^t child. 
Thy babe and PlcMurc's, onncd the powV of 



I 



WILLIAM COLLINS 

Thou, who with hermit hnn 

Dtsdttin'st the wnlih of art, 
And g^udi, md pageant weeds, and tinting paO i 

But com'n a deccM maid, 

lo Attic robe tmfd, 
O chaste, uaboiatful nymph, to thee 1 cell I 

By atl the honey'd store 

On Hjfalii's thymy thore, 
By all hn blootns aad mb^td iDumwrK dear, 

Hj bei whM* knc-loni woe, 

Id etcnios muHOgS stow, 
Soothed sweetly ud Elecira's poet's eir : 

By old Cepbisui dcefi, 

Wlio Eprcad hit wavy sweep 
la warbled wand*riD|>« nwnd thy greeo Mieat; 

On wiMse etumell'd wk:, 

When holy Frecdon died. 
No ei{ual haunt aUurvd thy Aiture Icct! 

lister latdc of Titnh, 

To my admiiiiig youth 
Thy wber aid and natire cbatras ioftue t 

The ftow'n thit sveetest bceotbe. 

Though bcatity cull'd the wtenh. 
Still uk thy haiid to range their order'd hoc*. 

While Rome could none esteem. 

But tiitue's patriot theme. 
You loted her hiUs, and led her Laureate band ; 

Bat stayVI to sit^ alone 

To one dinioguiih'd throne. 
And tura'd thy face, and fled ber alter'd Ucd. 



WILLIAM COLLINS 



No morr, in hall or bowV, 

The pasiiona own thy powV. 
Lotv, only Love htr fotctleta oumbax mem^ 

For thoa hut leTl hn- ihiine. 

Not olive motr, om vine, 
Shall gain thy leer to bicn the tcrrjle scene. 

Thougli laste, ihoiigli genius bleu 

To some divine txcaa, 
Fuiot's the cold woik till ihou tmpn the wfa 

What each, what all supply, 

May court, may charm our eye, 
Thou, only cliou, cantt raise the Riceting soul I 

Of ihtac let other* ask. 

To aid «ome mighty task, 
1 only seek to find thy tempeiBle vqle; 

Where oft my reed mi^ sotuid 

To maidi and ihcphctdi round. 
And all thy tont, O Nature, learn my tale. 

4fS. Heva sleep the Brave 

LJOW sleep the bni»c, who »jnk to re« 
* ' By all their country's wishc* blest 1 
When Spnng, wliii deny fingers cold. 
Returns 10 di'ck tlidr hallow'd mould, 
>She there «haU dres* a sweeter sod 
Than Fancy'* feet have ever trod. 
By faiiy hands their kndl is mttgi 
By forms unseen their dirge is uoifct 
There Honour conies, a fdlgrim grey, 
To blcHX the turf that wraps their day] 
And Freedom shall awhile lefwr 
To dwell, a weeping berinit, there ! 



WILLIAM COLLINS 



i 



Ode to Evening 

TP ^lUfthi of Mton «top, or putoral tonj;, 

^ May hope, diw Ete, la laothe thjr modnt ear, 



Like ihy own lolcmn ipringi. 
Thy i^ogs am) dying j^lcs j 



O nymph rcvrvwl, wKilc now the bright-hsirM sun 

Ktt in yon vnicnt icnt, whoM- cloady fJun», 
Wrth bmdc cthcml wote, 
O'crhtng his wavy bed: 
ow lir b huah'ii, uie wbctc rhc weiik-ryfd lut 
^\Vith short ihiill thtiek flits by on leathern irtng. 
^H Or w)ier« the beetle winds 
^H His Miiall but mIIcd bora, 

^^A» oft he rises 'midst the twilight p«th 

C" — 'mt tjie [lil^iini boroc to heedless hnm : 
Mow teach me, nuid conijMMcd, 
To breathe Mine *aften*d strain, 
■ 






lie numbera, stealing ihrougli thy dukening v*le, 
y not unteenity with its »tijlnc«s tuii, 



As, musing slow, I hail 
Thy genial lotcd retunil 



'o( when thy rolding-unr atinng shows 
His (uly circlet. » hb wimiitg lain|i 
The fragrant hours, soA eltrs 
\VHo ikpt in buds the day. 



m 



WILLIAM COLLINS 

ArtA muiy a cyniph wbo wr^Jlhw h« brows with 
And sbods the freshening dew, naj, loTvtiet sill. 

The pdiHfe plcamrcs sweet, 

Prepire ihjr shadowy car: 

Thea Irarf, calm Tonrecs, whrrc eomr Khmy lake 
Ch«era tbc lone beatli, or socne time-hallow 'd pile, 

Or upland fallows grcj 

RcflfCt in last cool gleam. 

Or if chiD UnHcring winds, or drinnj niia, 
Pm-cnt my wiliiqg fat, be mine the but 

Thai from the mounuin't side 

Views wilda aad swelling floods^ 

And hiunlcti brown, aad dim-diicover'd spifCS* 
And hears ihor limple bell, and ntuks o'er all 

Tliy dewy Sagcn dnw 

The gisdoBl dosky veil. 

While Spring shall pour bis sbaw'rs, as oft he 
And bathe thy bruching tmtc*, meefccsi E?cl 

\Vhile Summer Iotc^ to sport 

Beneath tliy lingering ligbti 

While sallow Autumn fills thy lip with Irnves, 
Oi Winl«T, yelling through the trODMoua tir, 

Affnghis thy shrinlttDg train, 

And nidely tends thy robes: 

So hag, regardful of thy quiet rule. 

Shall Fancy, Frietubhip, Scii-uee, rosc-lipp'd Hcaltli, 

Thy gentlest iaSwnce own. 

And bymn thy ft re un ie name ! 
s> 



WILLIAM COLLINS 



iSo. 



FiJfle 



'T'O (»r Pidclc'ii gtasjy uwib 
^ Soft maidf *ncl tillngc hindi flhaU bring 
Each opcBuig sw«rt of nrlirtt bloom, 
Afid rifle aJl the breathing Spring. 

No w;tilin2 gboni ihatl dire appear 
To rex witli ihrieki this t^uici grove; 

But shepbrnl lad& ft^cmble hen, 
And meliiax virgins own their love. 

No wiilier'd witch skill here be Keeo. 

No goblins lead their nightlir crew; 
The t'MuIc Tiiys shill hmint tbc green, 

Aod dras iby gni« wi*Ji pnHjr dev. 

The tedbreut uft U i-remng boun 

SbiU kindly Imd his littfe aid, 
^With boaiy moo, and githcr'd flowers, 
To deck tbe gronnd ubcrc tbou an tud. 

Wben howling wimb, and beatii^ rain, 
la Mnpou ihake thy lytTan cell; 

Or 'midtt the cbatc, on every plain, 

The leodet thought on thee shall dwell; 

Each looely scene aluU tbec restore, 
Por thee tbe tear be duly vhed ; 

Beloved, till life can charai no more; 
And nioum'd, till Pity's idf be dead. 



461, 



MARK AKI^NSIDE 



Atmrtt 



>p>-ino 



T F rightly luwlul ttanU decide, 
^ If it be lix'd in Lovr'f drcrers, 
Thai Brsuiy ought not to be thcd 

Uut by its naiWc poian lo pluuc, 
Then lell mc, youths and lovvr^ leU — 
Whu {air can AmorM excel f 

Behold ihnt bright unsullied smiNr, 
And wiiMioni >.jN-4kin2 in her mien: 

Yet— nhe M artle&s all the wlulc, 
So little Modjous to be »een — 

We iiMight but insiau glodrms know, 

Not ihiok to whom the £ift wc «wc. 

But neither niuuc, dot the ]iowere 
or youth and nurlh aod ftuHc cheer, 

Add h^lf the sunihiae to the hourx, 
Or make life's proKpect h^f m clesr. 

As nieniory brings it u the eye 

From wcnn whriv Amom was by. 

This, sure, is Bnuty** hippiest port; 

Tliis giics the most luibounded twayt 
This shall ench&nt the sul^eci hetn 

When rose and lily fade a«iy; 
And she be still, in &]iitc of Time, 
Sweet Amorct in all ha pfime. 



S* 



MARK AKENSIOE 

The CompUint 

IWAY ! .way I 
^^ Tnnpt me no more, iaiidiouf Lorn 
TI17 lootbiDg nriy 
Long <lid my jrauthliil bosom proTet 
At length thy trvuoo is disccm'd, 
At tcngtii some <lcw-bou^t c^utiOD nn'd: 
Aw«y I Bor hope my rtpct ■£« to aon. 

I kooir, t Kc 
Hn merit. Ncedi h now be shown, 

Alul to mt} 
lHow oAett, to mywif taknown, 

gnMcfiil, gentk^ nmKWS ouid 
Mafe I admirrd! How ofWii sbd — 
What joy to call > heart Ulct here oik'» own ! 

fist, flaturicg god, 
O s^aodcm of contcot and eaw, 

In thy abod<- 
Will cut's nidc lesion Xenn to ficasc I 
O uy, decciixT, hist thou won 
Proud Fonuoc to ati«'nd thy throat, 
Of pUced thy friciHl» above bcr stcin decncs? 



4rfj. Tie N/gA/htgaU 

'"pO-NIGl'lT mired, the queen of hnTcn 
^ Wtth youBg EadymMB Mays: 
And BOW to Hcsptr ii is given 
Awhile to rvie the vacant sky, 
Till ihe dull to her hunp 3Uf>ply 
A ttrcam of brighter rays. 



MARK AKENSLOe 

Prapitioiu Kod thy golden ny, 

Thou purest light above! 
Let no ^sc (tunc teAun to strwf 
Whnv gulf or itcrp lie hid for lumi i 
Bui kad where muik's hralj^g dUmi 

May soothe Rfflictod love. 

To tbem, by inaay-i grateful Mag 

In happier w-jvooi Tow'd, 
These luwns, Oiympia':! hMOts, belong; 
Oh by yon slivr Mmm we walk'd, 
Or fix'd, while Philomela talk'd, 

Bciiraih yon copses Stood. 

Nor Mldom, where the btecliea bough* 

That rootless towct tntide, 
We CKiw, whilo her cuehnting Mue 
Tbc radiint mooQ abo^e us held: 
Till, by a clamorous owl compcU'd, 

She flfd the solemn slude. 

But hark! I hear her Wtfxid tone! 

Now Hcsper guide my fret! 
Down the red nml with moss o'crgrown. 
Through yoa wild thicket next tbc plain, 
WhoK hawthorns choke ibe winding hne 

Which leads to her rtti««t. 

Sec the grc«n space: on cither hand 

Enlargcid it spreads arouixl : 
See. in the nudn sbc ukes her waad. 
Where ooe old oak hia awiiit thade 
Extends o'er bilf the lercl mnd, 

Enclosed m woods profbuod. 



MARK AKENSIDE 

ik! bow ihroogb nuiny ■ mcltiag Doec 

Sbe now protongs hrr lays : 
'Kow »wcctJ]r down the ra»d they AoMl 
Tlx bircic their ma^ path Munds; 
Thv Kan tbioe out ; the fumt boidt ; 

The wakdiil bdfcn paxe. 

Whoe'er tboa ait whom dunce my bring 
To thi» sccjwMer'd spot, 
• Jf ibm (br jJumtve Siren ting. 
Mftiy tiKid beneath her bowrr 
iai think of Heaftn's dtsjiosiag fowti. 
Of nua's uacotaiD lot. 

O think, o'er all thi» cnoital itagc 
Wbu moumful settles arise: 
[What nuB waits on kift£ly ngc; 
Ti«W oftn Tinuc dwells vith woe; 
How onoy griefs from knowledge fiow;. 
How swiftly pleasure flini 

O sicml bird ! W mc it en, 

I'hus wandciiBg all alone, 
tThy ttadcr couasel oft receive, 

witatss to thy pcouic airs, 
'And pty Naisre's conunoa cares, 

Till I forget my own. 



TOBIAS GEORGE SMOLLEIT 

^rf-j. TV Liven f^ater 

pUKEi stream, in whose tnu»|iarcnt wavr 
' My youthiul limbs I wont lo lavr; 
No tom'Dts *uin iliy limpid source, 
No rocks inip«dc thy dinipliqg cwirw . . . 
DetolTing from Uiy parcDt Ukc 
A chitming toize tJiy waters make 
By bowers of birch and pores of pine 
And n-Ign flower'd with eglantine. 

Siill OD thy banks so ^aily sreen 
May Dumerouit herds and Aocks be wen, 
And lasie* chancing o'er the pa!I, 
And shepherds pipici; b the dale, 
And mcicnl Faith thai knows no guile, 
And inrfustry cmbrnwn'd with iwl. 
And hcans resoWed and bands prepared 
Tlie blessings ihey enjoy w giurd. 



CHRISTOPHER SMART 



4«T- 



Soag to 'David 



CUBLIME^iovention cter young. 
'-' Of i-nM coDoeptJon, toVriog tongue 
To God th' eieititl theniei 
Notes IVoin yon exaltations cai^h% 
UnrivalI'd royalty of tbooght 

O'o tneancr stnins suprane. 



ijn-rno 



CHRISTOPHER SMART 

His autr, bright angri of hi» wrar, 
Gim balm for all ibc thoni* that pir/cc. 

For all tlie f*"&' '^ "S'i 
Blest \if,hx uill SMoing on ibc gloom, 
The more thu Mkhtl of his bioon, 

Th' Abbhtg of his tgr. 

He uDg of God— the migbtjr uurce 
Of all things — the ttsfeniaa force 

On whkh all stimgih depcsd*; 
From whose rijbt unx, beoMth whoK tja^ 
All ftriod, powsr, and eatcrprise 

Commeoccfti jtiffis^ md eins* 

Tell diem, I as, Jrhotah sa*d 

To MoKs ) while eirth !i«ufd in dmd, 

And, tmiea lo the bean. 
At oMoe than, beneath, around. 
Ail Utiun, wtihoiit toicc or souad, 

Replied, O Lord, Thou ait. 

The worid, dtt dusttfing spheres, Hf mide t 
Th« itlotiOM lights the soothing shade, 

Dale, dno^Mgn, grore, and hilli 
The maltttodinoa abjna, 
Where Secrrcy remain* in bliw, 

And Witdom hides her skilL 

The piUan of the Lwd are Hien, 

Which mmd from earth to topmoft bnren t 

Hb Wisdom drew the pbn; 
His Word accotiqilish'd the design, 
From brightest gem to devpest mine; 

From Christ enihioned, to Man. 

ov 



CHRISTOPHER SMART 

For Adonttion all the rank* 
Of AngrU yield ptprail Uuaka, 

AnA Ditiid in ihr midst ; 
Willi Cod's good [loot, wbicb, last and leui 
In man's cMcem, Thoa to Tby least, 

O blc»M Bridegroom, b!dd*Kl 

Pot Adoration, D»id'« Psalms 
Lift up the hnin to dnds of aliD>t 

And Iw, who kticfh ind cb«ai9, 
Prtvails liis pasMoni to coalrol, 
Ptnd» meat and medicine to the mmI, 
Wliich for tnouktian pants. 

For Adomtion, in the dome 

or Christ, the sjurtovs fiod a honie. 

And on His ulitn percli : 
Thi' ^wrIIow uUo dwells with ibcr, 
O tcuta of God's humility, 

Within his Saviour's church. 

Sweet is the dew that faOs betimes, 
And dKi|» upn the leafy limes; 

Sweet, Hermon's fragrant airt 
Sweet is the lily's Mli'er b«U, 
And »weet the wakeful tapcra' smHI 

That watch for etirly prayer. 

Sweet the young nurse, vrith low iMertsv, 
Which HDtles o'er sleeping innocefiCti 

Sweet, when the lost airive: 
Sweet the musician's ardour beats, 
While his vague mind 's in quca of iwccK, 

The choicest fiowetv to hire. 
St? 



CHRISTOPHER SMAKT 

Strong ii ihe hone upon bia speed] 
Strang ia pursuit the nfid glcd«, 

Whicb Bikkri it oi>c« his gkmt s 
Stnitg the tall Mtrich on the ^tnumIi 
Strang through llie lurbwlmt profound 

Sbooti Xiphiu to his atm. 

Strong b the lioa— tike a coat 
Hb ejeboll,— tike a baition's mate 

His chest tgumt the (on: 
Strang the gper-eagle on bb wit ; 
Strang against ixfe th' enormous whale 

Emerges u he goes. 

Bot stiwger uill, in earth and air, 
And ia the sea, (he man of peaycr, 

And far beneath the tide : 
And in the Stat UP fuib us^'d, 
Where ask is hare, where scdc b find. 

Where knock b open vide. 

Precious the peatteniial tnr; 
And precious is ihc sigh sincere, 

Acceptable to Cod: 
And pedoos are the wiaaing flowers, 
la gtadsome Israel's feast of bowers 

Bound OD the hallow'd sod. 

Glorious the sun in mid careen 
Glorious th' tsscmUcd £rcs apfeaci 

Glorious ihc cornel's train: 
Glortoui the trumpet tod alarm i 
Gloriou» the /Umighty's siretch'd-out armt 

Glorious ih' cnniplured nuin ; 

e) kite. Xljiblu] iwotd-fish. 



CHRISTOPHER SMART 

Glorious the aorthcn lights Mtraim ; 
Glix-ious the »oag, when God's tbr tbmK: 

Glorious the thunder's roar; 
Glorious HoMtnea from the dent 
Gloriou* the cathidic Anun t 

Glorious the martyr's gam 

Glorious — more glorious — b the crown 
Of Him ihRi brought t-alvaiion down, 

By meekne** call'd thy Son: 
Thou that nupcadous truth believed; — 
And now tile matchless deed's aduered. 

Dctcrinioetl, dared, sod dooe! 



lT^^■lfcl5 



JANE ELLIOT 

4ffS. yf lament /or FloJden 

1 *VE beard them lilting at our evc-ifiilking, 
' Ls&ses a' liltias before dawn o' dayi 
But now diej' arc moanbg on iiha grten 

Tlic Flower* of tlie Forest are a' wede away. 

j\i bu^u, in the morning, nac bfyihe lads are woniiB 

L4S$c» are lonely and dovtic and wac ; 
Nie daffing, nnc g^ing, but sighing and sabbtng. 

Ilk we lilis her leglia and lues her sway. 

In hii'si, K the shearing, nw youths now are jccnilg, ' 
Bandsien are lyan, and runkled, and gray : 

At fair or at pTeachlng, nae wooiag, lue flerching — 
Tlic Flowera of the Forest are a* wede sway. 

466. loan I ncl line, fictd- track. weJc] t«ft> b«gh(i]>lice)i'iolAi 
ilaffing] jokint;. 1c(;lin] milk-piiL taadilei*] bindtn. 

lyail) UAtA. flccclxiiig] <«<uuag. 



JANE ELLIOT 

At r'cB, a tbe t^' i m i ^ am nmlun are 
'Boot wada wT the btta at bagk to fhjr j 

B«t 9l Mc tits eerie, lntniMg her dmie — 
TW Floven of tbc Fomt m a* wede my. 

Ded x)d mr far the otds aeat am bdi u> the Boeder? 

Tlie P«gti«»i, lor Mice, bjr gEnle wia the dajr; 
Thr Ftcnm of the Pcant, thit lios^ aye the htaaM, 

The ptime of owl load, lie caidd b ibr clay. 

WcH bear Me maii liltiqg at osr cwe-milluog ; 

Tf oaten aod baitm tfe heaiwas and vae ; 
Stghiog aai aoaoiag <m Ska g^tca loaang— 

The Flowm ef the Feieu an a' «vde amy. 



OLIVER GOLDSNUTH 



\V7HEN kmly «« 
^^ And tebm 
What chHn caa 
What art can 



a atoofa (o fatly, 
MK that men betray, 
her nelancbdjr} 
hrr teats away J 



i7*-m* 



The only att her {utlt to cover, 
To bide her aliamc fioia er'rr eye. 

To give n i peo taa cc to her lorer, 
And wring hit boaom u— to die. 



yM. ■wiokic*) la*lj ladi. 
doolj moimiDi;. 



bosk] boe«}, bMc-aod-MtL 




su 



OLIVER GOLDSMITH 



468. 



Memory 



/~\ MEMORY, diM fond deodar, 
^~^ Siill inijiuruinate and rain. 
To fonner joy* tecurnii); ertr. 
And Curoing all the put to pain: 

Tliou, likf the worf<l, th' opprew'd oppre^nio^ 
Tliy sniilM incrcaw the wretch** woe s 

And h« who wants eacit other blessing 
Id tbc« niuht t\a lind a foe. 



ROBERT CUNNINGHAME.gr AH AH OF 

GARTMORE 



4rfp. 



ff 2>0ugbtx Veeds 



1 F ciaughly deeds my lady pinsr, 
^ Right tOOQ I'll mount my itevd t 
And strong his ana and fan ht* seat, 

That bears free me the meed. 
Ill w«ar thy colours in my capk 

Thy picture in my heart; 
And he that bcndit not to thine eye 
Shdil rue it to his ■traart I 

Then tell mc how 10 woo thm, 
O tell mc how to woo (bee ! 
For tJiy dear iaku nae care PU 
Tho' ne'er another trow me. 

If gay atiirc delight thine eye 

I'D dight me ia amyi 
I'll tend thy chamber door all night, 

And s^ire thee all the day. 

m 



'TJSlf 



Lore) 

take, 



ROBERT CUNNINCHAMEGRAHAM 

If swccUst toundj cifl win ihiiw nr. 

ThcK WUDcU I'll SUlTT 10 uicli; 
Tliy voke I'll situl lo woo thy*tr. 

That Toioe tlut ruuK cao nutctu 
Then tcU mc bow to woo tbee, Lon . 

Bui if fond lort thy hmn can giin, 

1 ocvn broke a tow i 
N»c nuidco layt bcr ^Vuih to nw, 

1 ami lotvd bul jrou. 
For jou aloDQ I ride the mg, 

For you I wear the b)uc ; 
For you alone I strii'e to &ing, 
O tell roe how to woot 

Then tell ine bow to woo thee, Lotb; 

O (eil me how lo woo thee! 
For thy Aeu sake luc care I'll lake 
Tbo' Dc'et aeotbcr trow aic. 



WILLIAM COWPER 

70. To Mary Unva'm 

I^ARY! I want a lyre witb other strings, 
"^ Sucb ak) from KnTcriH some bare leiga'd they drew, 
An eIo<|tMiice scarce gWcn to niorub, nnv 
And niKktewd by yaant of meaner ihings : 
That ere through age or woe I &htd my witt£S, 
I may record thy worth with honour due, 
In Tme as muiical as tbou art tnie. 
And that imroonalizes whom it »n^: 
But thou but liole and. There b a Book 
fraphs writ with facaint of brarenly light, 

T W 



w 


WILLIAM COWPEK ^H 


^^^^^M On which the eyn of God not rtrd^ look, ^^^ 


^^^^^H A chiooicte of actioas jaM and bright — ■ 


^^^^^B There all thj deeds, ny faithful Mary, ^oe ( ^ 


^^^^^H And Moce thou own'st that pnaw, I spire ih«e ouq 


^^^^H 47t' Mf Mary 1 


^^^^^^1 'T'HE twcndeih yeir is wcllnigh past M 
^^^^^^H Since firet out sky was overcast [ 1 


^^^^^1 Ah, would thit (lits fiitsbt be the lau! ■ 


^^^^^^H My Muy I J 


^^^^^H Thy spirits luve a faiatet flow, ^^H 


^^^^^H I tec thee daily wcalcrr grow; ^^^k 


^^^^^H 'Twss my dbiress tlut brought thcc low, H 


^^^H My M^ry ! ■ 


^^^^^1 Thy needles, once i thining stort, 1 


^^^^^B For my sake restless hrrttoforc, B 


^^^^^^H Now rust disused, and sliine do tnocc \ ■ 


^^^H My Mtryl 1 


^^^^^^H For though thou gbdiy wouldM ful£l ^^m 


^^^^^^H The same kind ol^cc fot me still, ^^^^ 


^^^^^H Thy sight now seoondt not thy will, ^^V 


^^^H My Muyl 1 


^^^^^H But well tliou play'dsi the honscwift't put, M 


^^^^^H And dl thy threads with magic att ■ 


^^^^^H Have wound tlierakdim about tltis licart, 1 


^^^H My Mary ! ■ 


^^^^^H Thy iodistiiict expressoos seem ^^H 


^^^^^H Like bnguage utter'd Id a dnam; ^^H 


^^^^^H Yet mc tbcy chann, whaie'er die theme, ^^^ 


^^^^^^H My Maty 1 H 


^^^H 



^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^E^^^« 


^^1 


^^^P WILLIAM COWPEK ^M 


Tb; nltvT locks, once aubuin bright, ^^| 


Are tdll more lovely in my sight ^^M 


Tfau jgUcn beams of orient light. ^H 


My Mtryl ^1 


For could I new oot them onr thee, ^^H 


What sight worth seciog codd I mc? ^^M 


The sua wDtJd lisc in i^n for mc, ^^M 


My Maryl ^H 


Partakers of thy sad dediD«, ^^M 


Thy hands tbdr Utile force taigf^t ^^M 


Yet, gmtjy ptest'd, pte«t gemly mine, ^^H 


^K My Mary! ^M 


V Such feeUtaesa of limbs thou prov'it, ^^H 


1 That DOW at cTcry step tJiou mov'st ^^^^H 


H Upheld by twoi yet still thou k>v'st, ^^^^| 


^^ My Mary! ^^H 


Aad still to \on, thoMgh prei.«'d with lU, ^^| 


la wintry age u fee] tw chill, ^^M 


With nw is to be lorcly suit, ^^H 


My Mary! ^H 


But ab 1 by cootam heed I know ^^M 


How oit the sidoess that I show ^^| 


Tiansforms thy smiles to looki of woCi ^^H 


My Muy 1 ^H 


And sbodd my fbture lot be cast ^^M 


With much resemblance of the past, ^^| 


Thy won>-aiit bran will beeik at bat— ^^| 


My Mmv ! ^M 


^^t. ^1 



JAMES BEATTIE 

472. An Epitaph 

T IKE lh(v I once hate Mcrom'd the >ei of life, 
*^ Ltlcr ihcc have bogvinh'd after cnipt^ JoySi, 
Like th«« lure labour'd in the stottny suifc, 
liven griered for trifles, and aaiacd with toys. 

Forget ntjr iroiltiM ; thou an also fnil : 
Foi^vc my lapsn; for thpelf may'n fall: 

Nor nad unmoi-ed my attlcM trader ule— 
I wai » friead, O maa, to tbce, 10 all 



ISOBEL PAGAN 



4?i. Ca* the Tovecs to the Knmaes 



f^A' the yowes to the knowes, 
^-^ C»' Uieni where dw liesthn Krowf, 
Ca' them where the bumiu rows. 
My bonnie duric. 

Ai I gMd down the water side, 
Theic I nirt my shepherd lad; 
He roVd me swmly in hi« plaid. 
And he ca'd me has dearie. 

*WiU ye gang down the vaier side, 
And sec the ware* ue swMtly gUdit 
Beneath tlie baieU spretding widcf 
Tlie niooa it sluites h' cleatly.' 



i74(i-iS 



47J. fema] evci. knowH] tnoUi, Utile hiUi. 

rov'd] lotkd, anpped. 



n>»tl rotU 



ISO BEL PAGAN 

>1 vns bred up M nae nc scbod, 
My shrpltrnt Ind, lo play the liool, 
Add a' the day to sit in dmi. 
And narliody to tee me,' 

*Ye nil gK govni and riUnns men, 
Caaf-lcJthcr sitoon upon your fvct, 
And in my vou )t'M Ik and sleep, 
And jre ull be my dearie.' 

' If yctl but stand to wbat ye've Mid, 
I'sc gang wi' you, my thephcrd lad, 
And ye nay row me la your fiuA, 
And 1 sail be your dearie.' 

'While waters wimple to the sea, 
While day blinks in the lift mk liie, 
Till clay-cauld death sail blin' my e'e^ 
Ye aye sail be my <karie I ' 



ANNA LjKTITIA BARBAULD 

474- l-'fi 

I IFE! 1 know not whu ihou art, 
'^ But liDOV tlut thou aod I mutt pit) 
And wheo, or how, at where we met, 
1 own to me'a a >ccr1 yet. 
But th» I know, when thou an fled, 
Where'er ii»cy lay thc^e limbt, this head, 
No clod w valtidcss shall be 
As aB that then renutns oT me. 
J. ioeH] dmie, totTDw. lift) tkj. 



ANNA L£TITIA BARBAULD 

O whitfwr, vhithef' don thou 6yt 
Whtft bend ubkcb thy trackleu couno^ 

And id tht> Hrange divorce, 
Ah, Cell where I tana «cck this corapouail It 
To ilw TUt oonn of «Rp)rrul &mc 

From whence ihj cMcnee came 
Dost thou thy IligliE putsuc, when fntd 
Fnun matter's base cocurabering vttA ! 

Ot dost thou, bid from M£bt, 

Wxit, like some spell-bouDd luiight, 
l^rough blink oblirioot yean xh' appointed bour 
To break thy tmn« and ttXKutae Uiy ptwrri 
Yet otnst thoti without thought or reeling be! 
O uy, what sit thou, wh«i do toon tbou'rt tlxe? 

Life! we have be«n loog together, 
Througli pleasant and through doudjr weather i 
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear| 
Perhaps 'twill coM « sgli, i uv;^ 
Thco steal awny, gire little wmiing, 
Choo«e tliine own omcj 
Say not Good-nigln, but in sotne br^ht«r cGme 
Bid me Good-morainf ! 



FANNY GREVILLE 



47T> Pra/erfor Indiffhence 

T ASK no kind rttani of lo*c, 

No tempting cl>ann to please t 
Far from the heart Chose jiAs remove. 
That si^hii for peace and ttsc< 



AkCM., 



FANNY GREVILLE 

Nor puce not eaat the h«in can know, 

That, like the onSe tnie, 
Tunit ac tbe Uiuch of joy or woe, 

But, turning, tmnUcs too. 

Ftf W disims the sod cin wound, 

Tis pain in each degree: 
Til Um bn to R ceiuio bound, 

Bejrood is >goo]r. 



JOHN LOGAN 

To tbe Cucis9 

LJAIL, btauUous stiaoger of tbe ^ 
* ' Thon messenger of Spring ! 
Now Ht J ttn repairs thy rural seat. 
And wood* thy welcome ring. 

Whu time the daisy decks the gracn, 
'Vhf ccnMD *0»oc W* hear : 

Hast tliou \ star to guide thy path, 
Or mark the rolling year? 



I74"-Il4i 

ite! 



Dclightfiii vishaat I with tbee 

I haQ tbe tiitw of flowers, 
Aod hear the sound of tnnstc sweet 

From birds amoag the bowers. 

The schoolboy, wad'ring ibrou^ ikt wood 

To pvit the primroae gay, 
Sums, the new voice of Sprii^ to hear. 

And imitates ihy lay. 

m 



JOHN LOGAN 

Wh:it time the pea piiis oa liie bloom, 

Thou IliV thy toatl rait. 
An muni s^*"' ■" '"•^ laods, 

Another Spring to hwl. 

Sweet bird I thy bower is eter fftea, 

Thy Kky u erer dear; 
Thou btwt no Mtrow in ihy Eong, 

No Winter in thy ycirl 

O codd I fly, VA Hy «nth tbcc! 

We'd make, with joyful wing, 
Our aanu^il vi&it o'er ilic globe, 

CompaDions of the Spring. 



LADY ANNE LINDSAY 
477' AuU Robin Gray 

Vy/HEN the shwp are in the fauld, lud [be lij-c at hunc, 

And a' the warld to rc» ric ganc, 
The WHes o' my heart fa' In sbowws fr« my «V, 
While my gudcman lies souitd by me. 

Youpg Junie lo'ed mc wcci, and sought me (be hlx 
But Mting a croun he lud mething cite betide: 
To make the croun a pund. young Jamie gatd to sfa; 
And the croun and the puod were bihh for me. 

He hadm been a«a' a week but only tm. 

When my faihei biak his arm, and the cow was Mown awa ' ; 

My moilier »hc fell sick, — and my Jamie at the 

Ami aiild Robin Gray ctme a-courtin' mc. 



LADY ANNE LINDSAY 

My (atber couldai woik, *d4 my mother couldu i{«a( 
t Idil'd day nod night, but thv'n bread I coddoa wio[ 
Add Rob iR3ti)t«in'd th«n bitib, ii&d wi* xan in bin e't 
Said, * Jctiftie, for their ukex, O, nuiry me ! ' 

My bean it uid aay: I iMk'd fbr Jamie back; 

But ibe wind it blew higb, aad the ship it was a wrack; 

His ^tiip it was a wract: — Why didoa Jamie dtti 

Or why do I liv« to cry, W»e 'i me ! 

My (liber urjcd mc wr : my mMhci didoa s|xak i 
ttut she took'd in my face till my bnm \ru like to break : 
They gi'cd him ray baad, tho' my heart wis in ibe dui 
Sae jniU Robin Cray be was sudemin to me. 

I hadiK faceti a wile a week but only Tour, 
When mounfti* u I sat m the stane at the door, 
1 saw ray Jamtr's wraith, — for I couldnt think it he, 
Till be said, * Tm cook hame to nurry thee.* 



sail, tail did we greet, and mtickie did we lay 
We took but ae ki», and we tore ounehet away 

1 wish that I were dead, but I'm no like lo dee 
And why wm I bora to say, Wae's me! 

I pm Bke ■ gbaist, and I carena to s|iia i 
I daurtn think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin t 
But I'll do my best a gude wife aye to be. 
For Mdd Robin Gray he is kind unto me. 



SIR WILLIAM JONES 

47S. Epitram 

/^N pucot koMS, A naked new-born cbUd, 

^-^ Wrrping llvou wt'K vtlitle iiLI urouod Um Knilvdi 

So live, tlut xinkiftj to thy life'i I4M nli-cp, 

Cnlm tilou nuy'ft Kmile, whilu uli arouDd ihcc wce:]i. 

THOMAS CHAITLRTON 
4?p. Song from L/£//« 

/^ SING uftio my ro«iidclay, 
^"-^ O drop ihc brio/ tear with mcj 
DuQce no moK *t Iiulydiy, 
Like u running riTcr be : 

My love i> dead, 

Gone to his death -bed 
All under the willow-trec. 

Bbck his cryne a the winter nigbt, 
WImi« liis rode as ihe sunnier bbow, 
Red his r4C« as the mornioi^ light, 
Cold he lies in the £rare bdow: 

My \irK a dead, 

Gone to hix drath>bed 
All under the willoW'trce. 

Sweuc his UKigtfe « the Uuo«tJc'» note, 
^uick in ditncc as thought cnn be, 
Deft hia tabor, cudgel sioutj 
O he Itn by the «-illi>w-tite I 

My love is desd, 

Guoe to hiK death4)ed 
AH under the willow-trec. 
479. oyiw] hail. rodo] coi»|ilrx!«D. 



THOMAS CHA'ITERTON 

Hirkl ihe ritm Bijis liis wing 

In ibo brin'd ikli below ; 

Hukl ilie dcMh-owl lood doth sing 

To tbc nigtnnnm, ss iliry goi 
My loK is <l«d, 
G«iw to his dnub-bed 

All ufKlm- the willow-trte. 

Seel the white mooa shines oa ItJ^hi 
Whiter b tny true-lore's shroud: 
Whker than the mofning sky. 
Whiter than the evening cloud i 
My loTc i» dead. 
Gone to hb drath-bed 
All uadtr tlw willow-tnr. 

Here upoa my trw-low's p«e 
SluJI the hamo Bowers be laid) 
Not D«ie holy saint to san 
AH the coldness of a maid : 
My love is dead, 
Cone to hi* dcaih-bcd 
AH under Uie willow-Uec. 

With ray hands 111 dem the brien 
Round lus holy corse to gre; 
Ouph and faiiy, E^ your fiin, 
Here my body still shall be : 
My love is dead, 
Gone to hit dcath4>ed 
All under the willow-im. 

■bat] fautn. gre} stv». oDpfc] M 



THOMAS CHATTERTON 

Comes *"*^ Acorn-CQp mmI thorn, 
Drain laj hcanto blood away; 
Life ud all its good [ scotR, 
Dance by night, or feast by day I 
My loie b dead, 
Gone to tin death-bed 
All under the «rillaw-tree. 



GEORGE CRABBE 

dSo. Meeting 

MY Dimoa wu tl>e lint to wkkc 
The gcotk Ibnic that cannot die | 
My Dimon \* ibe latt to take 

IV fiiithful boMtn'* toTtest ligh: 
The life between is nothing worth, 

O CMt K from thy thought awayt 
Think of the day that gSTc it hinh. 
And this ita iwect rttumiDg day. 



Buried be all chat has been done. 

Or say that naught is done amiM; 
For who the dangerous path can shun 

In such bewildedng world as this^ 
But lore can etery fauk {ot%in. 

Or vith a tender look reprovcj 
And now let naught in memory lite 

But that we meet, and that we \on. 



GEORGE CRABBS 



t. LAte IViitfom 

W^E'VE nod the maze of error tddimI, 

"^ Long wiDckiiag tn ilic winding sladet 
And BOW tlie torch of inith is foond. 

It only shows nt wbcrc w« Mraytd: 
By long cxperWnce Uufiht, u-c know — 

Can rigliily judge of fncnds «nd font 
CiD all the wonh of the«e allow, 

And kU the fnilu dbcFrn in those. 

Now, 'til our boast thu we can <{imII 

The wildest passtoas in th«ir rage, 
Caa their destntctire force ttf«1, 

And tjietr bnpetoous wrath assuage. — 
Ah, Virtue! dodt tbou arm when now 

This bold rtbcIUous rue are fled * 
When all thc«c tyrants mt, and thon 

Art warring with the oiightjr dead? 



482. 



A Marriage Ring 



'I 'HE ring, »o won) at yon beboM, 
^ So thin, so pale, is yet of gohj: 
The pasam such it was to prove — 
Worn with life's cue, lofe yet was love. 



4^3' 



WILLIAM BLAKE 
To fie Muses 



W/'HCTHEK on IcU's ih»Ay brow 

•^ Or in iJie chambers of ihc Ea*!, 
The chamSen of the Sun, that now 
From udent melody han CMsed) 

Whether in bcavcn jrc wuider fair. 
Or the green coroers of the ruth, 

Or the blue regions of the air 

Where the mclo(lio<0 winds ha«e Initbi 

Whether on crystal rockx jre rore, 
Beneath the bosom of the ten. 

Wandering in naay a coral grorc; 
Fair Nine, fotuking Poctiy; 

How have you \tft die aocient love 
That bards of old cnjoy'd in j-ou I 

The hnguid fiuiags do scarcely more, 
The Mund is forced, the notes are few. 



"7J^'* 



4*4. 



To Spring 



/^ THOU with dew/ locks, who lookeit down 
^-' Through the clear windows of the mofnittg, i 
Thine angel vyti upon our wcsum isle, 
Which ill full cbotr hails thy af^roach, O SjKingt 

The hiih tcU one another, and the liitcatnji 
Valley* hears all our loo^ng eye* are tum'd 
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth 
And let thy holy feet visit our dime! 



WILLIAM BLAKE 

Come oVr cbe fUttni hilb, and let our winds 
Kivi thy perAmttd gameaisi let n* one 
Tliy mom mmI erming bnath ; sotter thy pcatts 
Upoo our lovcwk land that roounu for tbcc. 

O deck h«r Ibtth with thy fair Itngcn ; pour 
Thy mA kuiKS on her bowmt ind put 
Thy goldea crown upon her hmgutsh'd head, 
Whole nodett trenei are boniid up lor thee. 



Soitg 

X^V silts and line array, 

■'■''■ My «nilts md languiith'd air, 

By Lore ace dritcn away; 

And monrofii) lexn I)e3patr 
Bring) me yrw to deck my gni«: 
Such end tme lovers hate. 



Hi* face b &ir as heaicn 
When sprin^ng buds i^tifold ; 

O why to him wu'i given, 
Wh<Mc brjit is wintry cold? 

H'm breast is Love's all-worsliipp'd lomh, 

Where all Love's pilgrims come. 

Bring roe an axe and spade, 

Bring nie a winding-sheet i 
When I my grave have made. 

Let winds and lempcm beat: 
Then down III lie, as cold as ciny: 
TnK love doth pass a»-ayl 



WILLIAM BLAKE 



.^6. SetJs of Itmocatce 

pIPING down UiG r^lcff wRd, 

* Piping songs of pleaMiu glee, 
Od a cloud I uw a child, 

And be Lusliiiig w>J to nic: 

* Kpe a tong ibout a Ltmb ! * 

So I ppcd witK nierry diccr. 
*Pi|>cr, jiipc t)ijt song Hgaiat' 
So I piped: be vqil \a bur. 

'Drop diy pipe, thy happy pipcj 
Sing tliy wogg of haiifijr dinr ! ' 

So I sung iIk sasir ngsb, 

While he wept with joy to hear. 

'Piper, sit ihet- dovn and write 
]□ a bvok ilul oil may ntA.' 

So he taoiib'd from my vtglu; 
And I fluck'd > boUow reed, 

And I made a niral pen, 

And I stain'd tbe wutvr dear, 

And I wrote my luppy »ong« 
Every child may joy to heir. 



487. The Little Blach Bsj 

RAY tnocher bore me in the smiihem wild, 
-^'^ And I am hUck, but O, my soul is t 
While as an angel is the Itnglbh child, 
Uut 1 an) bUdc, as if beresred of Itghn. 



WILLIAM BLAKE 



iDotber taught rae uodttonuh « ute, 
And, BtUDg datn before the beat of day, 
Sbe took me oo her lap and kii»^ mc, 
^^ Aod, poiainig to the East, began to ayt 

^Bl.00k M the riling tun; tbere God does live, 
^f And ^Tc* Hb light, and fftn His heat away, 
^^And 6owm a&d mtt >nd beasts sad men rrcnve 
Comfort to morning, joy b the noondjiy. 



^ 



» 



And we an pot on eanh a little f{ace. 
That we nuy lesro to bear the b«ms of lorei 
Add ihete Uack bodtn and this niabunit face 
Are but a dottd, and like a ihady grove. 



For when our (onlt b«*C leara'd ibe Iwat to btar, 

The clond will niush, wc shall hear His voice, 

Sa)ii^ "Cocnc out from the grave, my lore and eaK, 

And nMisd my golden tent like lambs rejoice."' 



h: 



^TTI 



did my mother say, and IchsM me, 
And thus I say to little f^nglisb boy. 
When I from black and he from white clood free. 
And round the uni of Cod Kkc lamba w« joy, 



shade htm from tbc heat till he can bear 
To lean in joy upon our FaUwt'a knee; 
And then I'll sund and stroke hit filrcr hair, 
be like hint, and lie will then ton me. 



WILLIAM BLAKE 



4S8. Hear the feice 

|_J EAR the voice oF the BanI, 

WhoM can hnve heard 

The Holy WoTil 

Tlvit wilk'd among the asdcnt Utni 

dninj; ihc Lljwid joul, 

And weeping in the erening itnv ; 

Tli;it might coolral 

The -(ony pole. 

And falkri, fallen light mewl 

■O Earth, O Earth, return 1 

Arise fram out the dewy grais! 

Nijihl is woni, 

And the mom 

Riso fram the slumbrous mass. 

'TuTTi away no more; 

Why wilt thou turn away^ 

The starry floor, 

The watery shore, 

[« giro) thee till the breal: of (Uy.* 



4^9- The Tiger 

TIGER, tiger, burning bright 
^ In the forctts of the night, 
Wlut immortal hand or eye 
Conld frame thy fearful symnetry? 



WILLIAM BLAKC 

In what iBaaM dcepi or skies 
BwM ibo lin of Uiioe tjt*i 
On wtiit wiags (hit he aspire? 
What tlie hand dare »riu thr fire? 

And what shoulder and wlut an 
Could twist the %incw> of thy hniiF 
And, when thy heart bcgui to brat, 
Wlut dread hand and what dread fnt i 

WbM the hammer? What (be chain? 
In what furnace was thy brun ! 
What the sniil? What dread gra«{i 
Dare its deadly tenon dasp? 

When (he stan threw down tiKir vpean. 
And water'd hrarcn with their lean, 
Did He smile Hb vork to sec? 
Did He who made (he laiub make thee? 

Tigir, tiger, butninjt bright 
In the forests of the night. 
What immoftal hand ot eye 
Dare franw thy fearful tynunciry? 



^po. Cradle Son^. 

CLHEP, sleep, beauty bright, 
'-' DieaiDing in the joys of night; 
Steep, sleep; in thy »krp 
Little wrrows sit and weep. 

Sweet babe, in ihy face 
Soft desiies I can tnoe. 
Secret j»y« aod secret smiles. 
Little pretty infant wiks. 



WILLIAM BLAKE 

As thy aofKst lunbs I feci 
Smilex as of the motning an] 
O'ci thy cheek, and o'er thy brtau 
Where thy liule btait doth rest. 

O the cwtnbg wOn Uiat cncp 
In thy littte heart xietf ! 
When thy little heart doth vnke, 
Then ibc dnuKUiil night shall break. 

49!. Night 

'T^HE sun descending in the wm, 
^ The evening vaa does shine | 
The fairdi are nleot in their neM, 
And I muu wvk for miac. 
Thr moon, lik; a flower 
Id iicaitn'} high bowrr, 
With silent ddight 
Sits and smiles oo the night. 

Farewdl, green fields snd happy gio\t, 

Wliere flocks have took drlighi: 
Wh«re lambs haic nibbled, stleni baot* 
The feet of Mgets bright i 
Unseen they pour blessing 
And joy wttltout ceuing 
On each bud and blouotn, 
On each sleeping bosom. 

They look in every tbovghtless oe*i 
Where birds are covcr'd wsnn ; 

They visit cave* of crery bensi. 
To keep ihera all from barm: 



WILLIAM BLAKE 

If tJi«y MC any wdqiing 
That should \avt hera iktfbig, 
They pour slnp oo thea hniJ, 
And sit dou-Q bjr tbeir bccL 

Whm wolres tstd fifjtn howl for prey, 

Tbcy ptlyiajt tUnd md wwp, 
Serking Co drire their thirst atny 
And krtj) Uiem from the ihMjh 
But, if they n»h dfcadful, 
The uigds mou heedful, 
Recrire each iniM sfitit, 
New worlds to inlucTiL 



And ibm the Iktn's ruddy eye* 
Shill How with Win o( gold : 
And pttying the tender cnri^ 
And viJkiRg round the fold: 

Stytng, 'Wretlt hy His nKcknest, 
And, by His ht-aldi, skJcona, 
Are driven awuy 
Pnm oui imniortal day. 

'And now beside tbee, bleating lamlx 

I can He down and slec|>, 
Or think on Him who bore ihy namir, 
Gnze after tbee, and weep. 
For, «-Mh'd in life's river, 
My bright mane for ctcr 
SMI ihiac like the gold 
Aa t guard o'er the fold.' 



WILLIAM BLAKE 

4ffj. Lew's Secret 

M EVER seek u> uU ihy km, 
^ ^ Love ilttt never toU cao be i 
For Uir senile wind doch move 

SikDtl;ri ><>*)stt>ly- 

I told my low, I uld mj \on, 

I told tier all my hnn, 
TrrmMin^ cold, in ghM&lly inn. 
Ahl the did de|«nt 

Soon ificr she was Kone fioin me, 

A tRreller came by, 
Silently, intisibly; 

He took her with a ligh. 



ROBERT BURNS 

4i^i. Mary Morism 

/^ MARY, « ihy window be, 

^-^ It is the wish'd, tlie uysied howr! 

Those snilcs and ginnces kt me sec, 

That mike the miMr's iriAfuxr poor: 
How biylhcly wad 1 bade the aiour 

A weary slave frae sua to md^ 
Could I the rich rewitrd mcuiv, 

The ioivly Maiy Morisoa! 

Ytstrcrn, when to the urmbtin;; ming 

The duiCG gMd thro' the lighted ha', 
To ihcr my faiicy took iu wing, 
1 at, but neiihtf Iward Dor uw: 
^jU- •tour) dMt, toraMiL 



!»•<«• 



ROBORT BURNS 

1*110' thb wu liir, ind that wm bnw, 
And )-cM) tlie tout of a* the towi^ 

1 tij^'d, simI »aiii amrag ihem a*, 
■Yc arc&i Muy Moiwon.' 

O Mjty, csast tliou wmk his peace, 

Wha for Oiy tako wad gladly <tic? 
Or caoM thou bmk that Ixiui of lu&, 

Whaie only lant b lovioig tbccf 
If loK for knv thou vSuit pt, 

At k«9t be pity to nw klioini( 
A tboi^ht ungentle canna be 

Itic thought o' Mary MunMo. 



O" 



|P a* the aitts the wind can Uaw, 
I dearly like the west. 
For there the bnmiie tauie Btcs, 

T^ic lu»e I lo> br« : 
There wUd woods grow, and rWei^ fo«r, 

And mooie a hill between-, 
Dul diy aod night ray fancy's Dtgbt 
I» eret wj' my Jean. 

I lec lier in the (kwy Ikivrni 

I tec her sweet and fair: 
I hear hn in tlw tuncfu' birds, 
1 hoar bor charm the air: 
LThcie '% ncA a bunnie llower tJuit sj>rtng» 

By foumain, shaw, or f;reea ; 
[There 's not a bonne bird that sings, 
But miodn nw o' my Jean. 

altU](oinUDf lh«c«Di[M«u nw] roU 



ROBERT QURNS 



4Pf. AttU Lang Sync 

CHOULD auld acquaintance be forsot, 
" And neirr brought \o min'? 
SbuuM nuld acquninuiicv be forgot, 
And day) o* Iwig syoe i 

We n-i hae rin about the brars, 
And fu'd th? gowans line) 

But we'wF viodcT'd monie ■ weary fit 
Sin' xuld bng sync. 

Wc twa hae paidl't i' die bum, 
Ttae mornin' sun till dioc ; 

Bu! seas between us bnid hae r(»r*d 
Sio* autd bog syne. 

And here '* a hand, my tniuy fine. 
And git'* a hand o' thine i 

And we'll tak a right g>nd-wiUie wap^ 
For add lang tyoe. 

And surely ye'll be yonr ptnt-stowp, 

And surrly I'll be mine ; 
And we'll lak a cup o' kindnnt yet 

For auM lang «yne I 

For auld laog syne, my dear, 
For add lang syne, 

We'll lak a cup a' klndnesa yet 
For add laog tyne. 

Sovuw] dalBin. (it] Toot. dtni) dlanw-tleaD. 

puracf. ^id'Willic wau^ht] friendly dmc^ 



ROBERT BURNS 

fptf. Mjf Btmnh Mar/ 

r^O ftlcli to in« a pnt o' wiac, 
'^ An* fin it to a silwT uuie, 
Tlut I may dfink, before I go, 

A tenia ta my bonnie lassie. 
The bwt rocks U. the pier o' Leith, 

Fu' loud the wind bbws fne tlie fcny, 
The Khip rides by tbe Berwick-law, 

And I 8MIUI trare my bonnie Maty. 

Tbe trum|«ts sound, the boonen fly, 

Tbe {Uttertng spearK are rvnkid ready; 
Tbe (bom o' war are heard afar, 

The banfe doact thkk anl bloody; 
it's no tbe roar o* sea or ihore 

Wad mak roe lan^ with to tarry i 
Nof about o' war thai '* heard af^r— 

It 'a knug thee, my bonnie Mary ! 



4P7. jfoif Anderson, mj Jo 

JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, JoJia, 
^ When we were first ucqueM, 
Your locks were like the rai«n. 

Your faoaoic b(ow wan bfcnt; 
But now your brow it beld, John, 

Yo«r lock* are like the soovi 
Bui blesMi^s on your frouy (>ow, 

John Andrrmn, my Jo! 

496. loMe) cBp. 497- jol iweelkrarL Utx*) taoolh, 

iMKiisklaL bcldj ImU. povj {WIe. 



ROBERT UURN8 



Jolin AfidcnKW, my }o, John. 

We damb the hill thrgiibrr i 
And RKxiie a csncy Aaj, Johni 

Wc'w liu) wi' aoe uuihrr i 
Now we nunut tottn ilovo, John, 

But band m liaod well go. 
And dwp (heather at the foot, 

John Aodcnon, tny jo. 

4pS. The Banks o' Z7m« 

VE flowery buiks o' bonnic Doai, 
* How CM ye blune **e fi« ! 
How can ye clianl, ye littk birds, 
And I ue lo' o' caret 

TItou'il break ray heart, thou boonir bird, 
Thu sing» upoo the bough; 

Thou minds me o' the h«]ipy <Uys 
When my fauw Iutc was mic. 

Thou'U breik my bent, thou bortnie bird, 
Thtt nn^ bnlde thy mate t 

For sar I MI, md ne I taof, 
And wistna o' my f»te. 



Aft h»e I roved 



To w* the 



bomie Dnon, 
woodbine twine ; 



And ilka bird »ng o' ita larc, 
And sae did I 0* mine. 

Wi* lighuomc heart I pu'd a raw 

Upon a mom in Juae; 
And sac I flonriih'd on the room. 
And sae wM pu'd or' nMiu 
497- csnlTl «h«n4aL 4ft. at*] tn. 



ROBERT BURNS 

Wi' lEihtsome heart I pu'd a rtne 

Upoo its thoniy nw) 
l£<H my {one Imer suw my rose, 
And left the iboni wi' me. 

tp. Ae Fmd Kiss 

A E fond luM, and thai we sctct; 
^^ Ae farcwKl, aUt, for ercr! 
Deeji in tiean-wnng ton III pledge ibrc, 
Warring Rghs and groma I'll mjc thee ! 

Who (hall «ay that PortiUK grieves hini 
Wlitle tite star of hope the IcaTes Itiin? 
Me, nae chectfu' twrinkk lij^hls me, 
Uatk dnpir wouad braigbta me. 

I'll ne'er btaoie my )>itnia) fsncy { 
Naething codd tttisi my Nincy; 
But ID Me her «-» to loi-c her, 
Love b«« lier, and low for ctct. 

Had we Dcm Iimd sac kindly, 
Had w« ncter loroj sae bliadly, 
Never met — or oeTcr parted. 
We bad De'er been broken-hearted. 

Fare tbee weel, ibou first and fiufest! 
Pare ibce weel, ibuu best aod deafest 1 
Thioe be ilka joy and treasure, 
Peaoe^ enjoyment, loie, and pleasure ! 

Ae foed kiss, aad then we severl 

Ac fiiewcel, alas, for everl 

Deep ia heatt.wrung tcan III pledge thee, 

Warring tighi and glows I'll wi^ thee! 



, attw] itolc; 



499 "•eel »t«k^ pl'^ 



m 



ROBERT BURNS 



foo. Bonnie Lesley 

/^ SAW ye bonde Ledey 
^-^ A* the g!»(l o'er the Bordrr? 
She's gaoc, like Alexander^ 
To spread bcr con^unu fanbcr. 

To xe her » to love Iim, 
And lo»e but hei for trci; 

Foe Nature made hcf whai she is, 
And ne'er nude »ic uiithcrl 

Thou art a queen, fair Lesley, 
Thy subjects we, before iheet 

Thou art dirine, fair Loiey, 
The hearts o' men adore thee. 

The Deil he couldoa scutli tliee, 
Oi auglit tlut wad belaag thec) 

He'd look bto thy bonnie face 
And lap/, * I canoa wrang thee t ' 

The Powers aboon will ttoi then, 
Misfbrtuoe sba'mi steer tlie«: 

Thou'n like themsel' su loiely, 
That ill they'll ne'er let Dear tbte^ 

Return again, fair Lesley, 

Return to Caledcoiel 
Ttut we may br^ we hac a lass 

There's nane a^n sae bonnie I 

Ckith] hum. tent] watclk Rmt] aiAm. 

a* 



ROBERT BURNS 

Highland Mary 

VTE baaks aad braes and sicvanu itound 
' Tbe cattle o' Mootfoincr)-, 
Gn«n be yoar woods, toA bir your flowets, 

Your wnten ocTcr dnnnlic ! 
Tbefv nmraer Cru nnfauld her tobcf, 

And ibrrc ihc Ungcsl urrj i 
For there I look the l.wt faffwixl 

O* my Bwcct HighUnd M^ij. 

How strcetljr Uocro'd the gajr creen bitk. 

How rich the tiawthora's blaaMwn, 
A* uDderacMli thn/ ftagraat thadc 

I cUtp'd hcT to my bosom! 
Tbt golden hours on sngcl win);9 

Flew o'er me and my Aemv. 
For dear to me aa light and life 

Wat my sweet Hisltland Mary. 

Wi' modie a tow and lock'd esibnce 

Our parting was fa' tender; 
And, pledging af^ to meet agito, 

We tore oufmIs asunder ; 
But oh ! felt Death's uniiinety firost, 

That nipt my Aowcr ue eatlyt 
Now peca 's the wd, and cauld 's the clay, 

TIkU wnps lay Highland Mary I 

O pale, pdc now, thoBc ro5y lipa 

I afi hae kna'd mc roodly! 
And closed for aye the spariLline glance 

That dwelt on me sac kindly! 

m 



ROBERT BURNS 

And mooUcring now ia sUent dust 
That hean thu It^ed me devly I 

Bui still withio my batam'> core 
SluiU lire mj Ht£)iUi><l Mary. 



$02. -were my Love /on Lilac fair 

/^ WERE my Lore yoa Ulac &if, 
^-^ Wi* purple bloMoms to Uie spring, 
And I » bird to nhelto there. 

When wcaticd on my little wing; 
How I viA mourn when it was torn 

By Ruiiimn wild unci wintet rude I 
But I w^d sing on waoioa wing 

When youdiFu' May its bloon rtMw'd. 

gin my Love were yon red rose 

That grows upon the cosde wV, 
And I myiel a dr4p o* dew, 

Into hi-r bonnic btna. to fa' ; 
O there, beyond cxp««v5ion blest, 

I'd fca»t on beauty a' the night; 
SeaI'd on her silk-Eai't fjulds to rest, 

TiU ficy'd iwa' by Plivbus' light. 



S03. A Red, Red Rose 

^~\ MY I.B<re'« like a red, red rose 
^^ That's npwiy ipnuig in Juoe." 
O my Lbtc's like the mrlodie 
That'* swccdy pJa/d in tune I 



ROBERT BURNS 

As fitr m Uiou, my hamae bu. 

So deep in lure xta 1 : 
And I will Invc tlicr still, my lifjt. 

Till a* thr km ging diy: 

Ttll a' (he tras ^ang dry, my dtar. 
And the rockx mdt wi' the hbi; 

I will luTC tbce «cill, my dear, 
Whtk ihe sands o' life sluU ma. 

And fiat thee wccl, my ooly Love, 
And r<uc tliee wed a while ! 

Alii I will come again, my Lure, 
Tho' it were ten thonund mite. 



LatHrtit for QiUoJen 

"T^HE lowly lass o' inwrows, 
*■ Nae joy dot picuuic cut sJie !>«e; 
For e'en and mom the cnn, 'Ala^tl' 

And iyc the s*ut tear blin's her e'e : 
' DnutKntie moor, Diumowie day, 

A waefu' day it wax to me! 
For there I lo« my fmhei dear. 

My (Mhcr dear and bmhrai thnv. 

'Their wintling-slMet the blnidy clay, 

Tbcir gravet ate groiriDg giccn to Kc; 
And by ihcin lie« the dearest bd 

l^iRl erer Ucst a woman's e'e ! 
Now vac to thee, tjiou cnicl k)rd, 

A btuidy man I bow thoa bei 
For fiionie a heart ibou hast made satr, 

Tlut ne'er dkl wracg to thine oi thee.' 



ROBERT BURNS 



j-a/. The Farewell 

1 T wks a* for our rtghtfu' King 
*■ We left r»ir S«tlan<rs smodt 
It was a' for our ri^htfu' Kidk 
Wc e'er *aw Iriih land, 
My dear— 
Wc e'er uw Imh bod. 
Now a' is done that men can do, 

And ■' U done in nini 
My lore acd native land, farewell. 
For I nuun croM tbe main, 

My dear — 
For I raann crau the matn. 
He turo'd him right and nwod abmri 

U|>on the Iridi ohore; 
And gae his briiUe-reins a th»ke, 
Wiih, Adieu for cvcrnKwe, 

My dca^— 
WiUi, Adieu for cvcnoore! 
The sodger ftae the van itnim% 

The siilor frac the maioi 
But I hae paned fne my lore, 
Ncter to raect again. 

My dear — 
Nenr to meet a^tn. 
When day is g^ne, and night is corner 

And a* folk bound to $l(e]\ 
I think on him tliai 's far awa', 
Tbe lee-lug night, and weep^ 

My dear — 
Tbe lee-bsg night, and weep. 
ke-l«n() BvtlonB. 



ROBERT BURNS 



fftitf. Hark.' f^ Mavis 

/^jf tht ye*Mt tc lii titawtt, 
^ Ca' Ihtm mrhert th* btuhtr gntot, 
Cti' thtm vtktrt tht bimit rvwt, 
Mj tvutir Jrarif. 

Hatfc \ th« Ruris' tveotag sMg 
Sounding Cbudeo's woodi mUf;, 
Then s-EmldiDg let lu jang, 
My boonic dcatie. 

Well gw down by Ctoudcn siilr, 
Through the liazds fprading wide, 
0'« the wawi that »wettly glid« 

To the moon ue clearly. 
Yonder Ooudco's siknt towers, 
Where at moonshine midnight honra 
O'er the ctewy liendtng lki««n 

Fairies daooc «ae cheery. 

Chain nor bogle shall dwu (t*n 
Tbou'tt to Loi-e and Huven Me tlnr, 
Nocht of ill Ruy come thee near, 

My bonaie dearie. 
Fair and lovely as Uiou art, 
Tbou hast stowD my Ttty hesrt i 
I cao die — but cum part, 

My bonme dcnric. 
While wMers wimjilc to the ics ; 
While diy blink* in the )i^ »e hk; 
TiU day-cauld Amii shall blin' my c'c, 

Ye shall be my dearie. 
Ca' iht jovMi U the imevru . . . 



HENRY ROWE 
ro7. Suu 

ANGEL, king of slf«anung mora; 
'^ Chi-nib, cali'd by Heav'n lo shine j 
T" orient t[«d the vutc fotlonii 
Guide Ktlicml, powV ditinr; 

Thou, Lord of all wiilitn I 
Goldeo ipint, lamp of day, 
Ho!t, th» dipt in blood the plain, 
Bids the crimson'd mead be gtijr. 
Bids the green blood burst the vein) 
Thou, Lord of all within I 

Soul, that wraji* the globe in light; 
Spirit, beckomng to ariic ; 
DiiTCS ttic frowning brow of ni^t, 
Glory bunting o'er the Kkics; 
Thou, Lord of all within I 



jgH. Mean 

■"pHEE too, modi-st tressM maid, 
*■ \MieQ iliy fjlIcD Mars appear; 
When in lawn of liie anay'd 

Soir'rcign of yon powdcr'd sphere; 
To thee I chut at cIom of diy, 
Bcneaib, O mnidcn Moon! Uiy ray. 

ThroDcd ID tap]ihir«d ring svpron^ 
Prtgnant with celestial jdce, 

On silver wing thy diaroocHl slreaBi 
GivM what Kumnier hours jiroduce; 

While view'd impevl'd nnh't rich inlaj, 

Hcneath, O niaidet) Moont thy ny. 



HENRY ROWE 

Glad, pale CynthuD wine I »i[\ 
BivMbcd tbe flow'rjr Ihvm antong; 

Dnughtt delicioai wet nj tip; 
Dromi'd in aectai dmnk mj toogi 

Wbik tootd 10 Philomel tlie I^, 

Beneath, raaideo Moon ! thy ny. 

Dew, that od'mi obtineai yiekU, 
Sweets, that western wind* diactoK, 

Buhiog ipiBi^t more pwplcd lield?, 
Soit'a the Nmd ihu winds tlie itwr; 

While o'er thy mynled bwas I str»y 

Beneath, mudoi Moool thy ray. 



WIIXIAM LISLE BOWLUS 

fop. Time and Grief 

/~\ TIME ! who knoir'« a Icracnt h>nd to by 
^^ SoAcK on sonow't wound, and Uowly thcsce 
(Ldting to wd irpOM tbe weary sense) 
The fsint pang Rnlc« unperceivcd away; 
Ob thee I rest my onJy hope at lut, 
And think, wbco tbon hast dried the biuer tear 
Thtt flows in vain o'er all my soul held dear, 
1 may loolc hack on eiery sorrow puc. 
And meet life's peaceful cvcmn;; with a unile: 
As some looe bird, at day's dcporiing hour, 
Sbgs in the suobmii, of the mnsicnt shower 
Foi]getfuJ, though its wingi are vet the while: — 
Yet ab I bow muefa miat this poot heart endure, 
Which hopes froin tbtt^ aod thee alone, a cim! 



JOANNA BAILLIE 

fio. The Outlaw's Song 4 

T^HE chough and crow to roost are gt 
■* The owl sits on the tree, 
Tlie hush'd wind wails with feeble moiin, 

Like infant charity. 
The wild-fire dances on the fen, 

The red star sheds its ray ; 
Uprouse ye then, my merxy men I 

It is our op'ning day. 

Both child and nurse are fast asleep, 
And closed is every flower. 

And winking tapers faintly peep 
High from my lady's bower ; 

Bt'wilder'd hinds with shorten'd ken 



MARY LAMB 



Til. 



A Child 



A child's a ]iU)tlunj for an hour t 
*^ Its pretty trick* ■vit try 
For that or for a longer ipacc-- 
Tb» tire, aad lay it by. 

But I kacw one that u> ttwlf 

AH aeaoons could conuol; 
That wonU ban mock'd the senie of pda 

Odt of a giinrid Mul. 

Tbou ftngglcr into loiing arms. 

Voting cUrabciH^ of kiKcs, 
Wbn I forget thy ihoiisMHl wxyt 

Tba Efe and aU ftbaU ceasr. 



'fts-* 



CAROLINA, LADY NAIRNG 
pt, Tbe Land o' tie Leal 

T'M worin' awa*. John, 

-^ Like soaw-wrvaths in thaw, Joha, 

Fm wearto' awa* 

To the bud o' the led. 
There '» nae torrow then, John, 
There *« ocitbcr cauld nor care, John, 
The diy is aye fair 

In the land o* the IcaL 

Our bonaic bairn's there, John, 
She vai Uiilh glide and fair, Joliai 
And Ol we giwlged her aatr 
To the land o* tbe leat 



l]M-iBu 



CAROLINA, LADY NAIRNE 

But sonow's >el' trtan past, Joha, 
And joy '« a>conitiig fast, John, 
The joy that's aye to U»t 
In the Und o' the Iml. 

Sae iw 'i the joy was bought, John, 
Soe fne the battle fought, Joha, 
That Mnfii* man e'er brought 

To Iho land o* tlie led. 
0, dry your glbtcning e'e, John ! 
My Mul bngs to be fm, Joha, 
And iftgeU beckon me 

To the land o' the leal. 

O, baud ye leal and uw, John 1 
Your day it's wearin' through, Joh 
And I'll welcome you 

To the land o' the leal. 
Now farc-ye-weel, my ain John, 
This waHd's cares are rato, Joho, 
We'll meet, and we'll be fan, 

to the land o' the teal. 

JAMES HOGG 
fij. A Boys Smg 

WTHERE the pools are bngbt and dnr, 

*' Where the grey trout lies asleep^ 
Up the river and otm the lea. 
That's ilie way for Billy and me. 

Where the bbcUnrd sbgs ibe latew, 
Wheic the hawthorn blooms the swectes, 
Where the nesdingx chirp aad Qer, 
That'll the way for Billy and me. 
0* 



JAMES HOGG 

Wlicre the movm mow the cleBr.cit, 
Where the bay lin thick aod gncnoi, 
llicra to track the lionirwaid bee, 
Thit's thu way tor Billy and mc. 
Wlwra Uie haul bank is swqwit, 
Whtfe the thailuw falb the decfic^ 
Where the clusTcrtng nwB ^ free. 
That's Uw way for Billy snd mc. 
Why the boys should drive away 
Little sweet nwidena from the phy. 
Of loT« to banier and fijtht so v.-cll. 
That 's tlte tiling I nercr could tell. 
Bvl tUs I know, I lore to pUy 
Throagh the nxadow. among the bay; 
Up the water aod otrr the lea, 
That 't the way for Billy and tne. 

/J 4. Kitmm/ 



DONNIR KiloK-ny gacd up the glen; 
'-^ Bui it wasna to meet Dvnnra's men. 



I Nor the rosy mook of the ii'le to »ce, 
For Kibncny was pure as pure could be. 
h was only to hear the yorlia sing, 
And pu' the creM-ftower round the j^ng; 
The scadet hypp and the hindbetrye, 
Aod the nut tlut htmg frae the haul tree; 
For Kibncny was pure as pure could be. 
But lang nuy her minny loolc o'er the wa', 
Aod lang may she kcV i' the gieea-wood sliaw; 
Lang the laird o' Duoetra blame. 
And lanj;, lang greet or Kilmeny come hame! 

S14. yotlia] ihc ;cUaW')iainmtf. UaiU>cnj«J bsaaible. IPMt] 
naiiuty] noLhet. 



JAMES HOGG 




When many a iaj had come and fled. 
When jjricf grew calm, and liopt w» dead, 
Vthm mcM for Kilmeey's Mul had been sung, 
When the bedesman had yn/d and the dead beW 
Lxtc. Lite in ^oatmn' when all waa «till. 
When the fringe wa» red oo the wcstlia hiU, 
The wood wu »crc, the moon i' the wine, 
The leek o" the cot hung orer the flm, 
Like a liitle wee cloud in the woild its Une; 
When the ingle low'd wi' an eiry leme, 
Late, bie b the gloamm' ICilmeny came hamc I 

'Kilmpny, Kilmeny, where hB»c jroo beetif 
Lang hae we sought huth holt and dent 
By linn, by ford, and grewi-wood tree, 
Yet you are ha!e»ome «nd fair to see. 
Where gat you UuA joup o' ilie Hly scbon i 
That bonaie snood of tlitr birk sae green i 
And theK ro<«s, the fairest that ever were seen? 
Kilmeny, Ktlraeny, where hare you been}' 

Kilmcny look'd up with a lorelf grace, 

but oac smile waa seen on Kiimcny'a facet 

As stilJ was ber look, and as siiil was ber t^t. 

As (lie itiilncss that by on the emetaot lea. 

Or the milt that ileepa on a waveless sea. 

For Kilmeny hnd been, she knew not where, 

And Kilmcny hnd swn what she could not declare; 

Kilmeny had been where the cock ncTvr ctev, 

Where tlic rain never fell, and the u-ii»d DevcrUew. 

Hui it seem'd as the harp of tJi« iky had nia^ 

And tlie airs of heaven pby'd touod her tongue, 

WtMtinJ wnteni. {U lant] alonli tnr Itttlf. low'd} flam* 

etT7 letncj cny (leain, lun] waietMll. j°np] > 



JAMES HOGG 



Wbeo ibe ipke of Ui« lordjt (onns she tud Km, 

And a Easd where tin lud never been} 

A land of Ion tod a Und of ligln, 

WUhoottti WW, or Rioon, or night: 

Whore the mtr vmx'd ■ Ittutg ttreain, 

And tbe light a pure c«l«cia] beimi 

The land of nswo, it would seem, 

A itUI, IB ererianing dream. 

In yoa g(«en-wood there n a walk, 
And in that wuk there ia a wvac, 
^^B And in that wciie tlieie ia a nuike, 
^H Thai neither has llush, blood, oor banei 
^H And down b jvo gr«n-wood lie walks liis lane. 

^^ In that green Wene Kilmeny Uy, 

Her boxxn kipp'd wi' floirerfM gayj 
But the air was soft and tbc siletkcc derm 
And bonnie Kilmcny fell sound asleep. 
She kcfin'd nae roair, nor opcn'd her e'c, 
TiU wikrd by the hjmns of a for couatiye. 

She 'wskcn'd on a couch of the ulk ue iJini, 
AU MtiiKxl wi' the bars of the nuobow's timi 

I And )oT«jy bcii^s round were life, 
Who era had IraveD'd mortal life; 
And aje lltey snuled and 'gAo to specr, 
*Wfaai ^irit has brought this mortal Sere?' — 
'Lang haic I joumc^'d, tbc world wide,' 
A meek and rewrcnd fere replied : 
'Baitfa Bight aod diy I have waich'd the fair, 
Eidem a thouaaod rem and mail, 
twa'il] twellod. wsik', > row of Ae<p danui ptm. 

Iwhon,! tem-buh. luikc] a luate, out^ equal. 

bn^ aJdob bjr binudC bapp'dj coTcred. tfttr 

fae] MIoir, tiiknl] nnlclerDiiUAll/. 

LM m 



teqalta. 



JAMES HOGG 

Y«(, I have watcb'd o'er ilk dcgreCi 

Whcretcr bloom:> fcmcniiyc; 

Bui «inlcts virgin, free of staia 

In mind and body, fwid I nane^ 

Nrvvr, Btnci: chr bacquct of time, 

Found I » virgia in her [irtmr, 

Till late ilib bonntc maitlca I uw 

As ipoilMs as Oie moming snaw: 

Full twenty ytan she has livi-d as (ttr 

As the spirics that sojoura in this countrj-r: 

I hare brought her away frac the *aares of meo 

That sin <M death she never nuy ken.'^ 



They da5i>'d ber waist and her haods s*e fair, 

Tbey kiss'd her cheek and ibi7 kemcd ber hair. 

And round came many a tilooming fere, 

Saying, ' Bonnie Kilroeny, yc're welcome ben I 

Women are freed oi the litUnd loatnt 

O blest be the day Kilmcny vtu hoTn\ 

Now shall the land of the spiim mc. 

Now shall it ken what a u-nnian may be) 

M^y a hug year, in sorrow and pain, 

M.iny » Inng year through the wortd we've gutt, 

Conimis^ion'd to watcb fair womaakind. 

For it 'a tliey who nurice the inifflOrt.il mind. 

We have wuub'd their siqis as the lUwmng shone|, 

And deep in the green-wood walks nlone; 

By lily bower and silken bed, 

The viewless tears hare o'er tbem shed ; 

Have soothed thrir ardent minds tn sl«p, 

Or left the couch of lore to weep. 

kcnwd] combeil. 
0> 



JAMES HOGG 



7t hm sen I wr hsTc sccat but xhe tunc must come, 
iad llie aagfUs will wctp ni th* day of doom 1 

*0 wodd th« {jumt of mortal kind 
A]V keep the boly truths in mind, 
Thtt kindred cpiriu tbcir tnotionit see, 
Who witch thrir ■ways with anxious c'e, 
And friere for tbc guilt ol* btiinMutycl 
O, sweet to Heaven the nuiikn's prayer, 
And the Bjb that li«a<en * boMin ue fairl 
And desr to HcaTca the word* of itvth. 
And the pntsc of virtue fiac bCiWljr'E moothi 
And dear to the vicwle&t forras of air, 
The Blinds thai kyth u the body fair I 

'0 boonie Kilmeoyl free fiae uain, 

If ctcr you scdc the world again, 

Thu world of nn, of sorrow and fear, 

O ccU of the joy* that are w-wtiag here j 

And tell of the signs you shall iJiottly see i 

Of the tBiMS that arc dow, and the times thai shall be.'— 

They lifted KilrocBy, tbey ted her away, 

And tbe wafk'd io the light of a sunless day ; 

The *ky was a dome of crystal bright, 

Tbe focntain of TUMn, lad focmtaiQ of light i 

Tbe emerald AtUs were of dazxling f^ow, 

And the Aoven of everlasting blow. 

Then deep in tbe toeom bcr body ihcy bad, 

That her youth and beauty ncrcf might lade; 

And they smikd oo heaven, when ifacy taw ber lie 

In the stream of life that waixler'd bye. 

And the heard a song, sbe htatd it sung, 

She kcnn'd not where; but sae sweetly it rang, 



JAMES HOGG 



It M\ on the tar like > Atvtm of the morD : 
'O, Ucit be (he day Kiloicoy wm bom I 
Now shall the land of ibc ^nrits tec, 
Nmv shall it km what a wonun may be! 
Tbe sun ibat chines on the world sat bright, 
A bortow'd gtetd frae the fouDuin of light i 
And ihc moon that sleelu the sky nc dun, 
Like a gouden how, or a btaflikss sun, 
Shall wear away, and be seen nae ntair, 
And the angets shall miss them trafcUmg the aifi 
i^ut lang, lang after baith night and day, 
When the wo and the wmld have cly«d awayi 
When the sinner ha* gane to lus waesome 
Kilmeny ahall smile in eternal bloom I ' — 

They bore her away, die vist not how, 

For »hc fell not ann nor reA below t 

But M swiit they wain'd her through the 1 

Twas like the motion of sound or sight ; 

They sccm'd to split the gales of air, 

Aod yet nor ^e not brecic was ibete. 

Unmimber'd groves below them grew, 

They came, they poxs'd, and backward ficw, 

Like ^oods of bloMums gliding oo, 

In moment «ecn, in momeot gpot. 

0, never vale* to mortal view 

Appcar'd like those o'er which they flew! 

That land to human spirits given. 

The lowermoMt rales of the storied iNavcoi 

Prom thence they caa view the world betow, 

And hearen's blue ^tes with sapphires glov, 

More gioty yet uonwct to know. 



field] ipaik, gtoy. 



cl)*d] laalibed. 




I 



JAMES HOGG 

They borv bet &r to a mouonio gRcn, 
To «cc what mortal oewr had Men ; 
And tlwy Mated her high on a purple sward, 
And bocle her heed what she »w and brard. 
And nixe the changes the apints wrooghl, 
For now the Ihtd in the laixl of ihottghL 
She look'd, and ihe uw oor sun nor ikin. 
But a crystal donic of a thoaund djres: 
She look'd, and she saw nae land an;[ht. 
But an endless whirl of glory and light i 
And radiant beings went and ciune. 
Far swifter than wind, or the linkid flame. 
She hid ber e'en frac the dazzling viewj 
She took'd agai^ and the kcdc was new. 

She law a s«a on a sununer Af, 

And clouds oT amber sailing bye; 

A lovely land beneath her Iiy, 

And that land had gtcn» and mountnns gny; 

And that land had valleys and hoflry pilejt, 

And marltd tens, and a thousand isln. 

It* fields were speckkd, its fotcsta green, 

And its likes were ull of the dauJtng shrni, 

Lille nugic mnron, where slumberinj; by 

The SUB and the sky and the cloudlet gray; 

Which beared and trembled, and gently swung, 

Ob every shore they stcm'd to be hong; 

For there ibcy were seen on tlietr downward plain 

A thousand times and a thousand again; 

In winding lake and pbdd firth, 

Little peaceful heaiens in the bosom of emh. 



I *«tt<gatcd, puii-eolMKd. 



JAMES HOGG 



Kilmay ik^WA and Kcin'd to grinw. 

Pot ^e round hiT lieart to that bnd did ckare! 

She Mw the com ware oq tlie ralt^. 

She MW the liter run down the dak ; 

Sht ixvr the plaid and the broad claymore. 

And tbc brows ttut ihc bwlgc of rrcrdom boxri 

And she thought she had sttn ibe knd bcCot*. 

She saw a Udy ut on a throne. 
The faiiMt tixu, ever the sun shone on 1 
A lion lick'd hci hand of milk, 
And she held htm ia u Icish of silk ; 
And a Icifu' maiden stood at hci kow^ 
With a silvci waod and mclties e'ei 
Her Mverdjtn slucld till lore stole ia, 
And poison'd alt the fount within. 

Then a gruff untoward bcdctmaa done, 

And hundit the lion on his danie i 

And thi: gu^diaii maid wi' the dauotleM e^^ 

She dropji'd a tear, and left her knee ; 

And she saw till the queen frac the lion fled, 

Till the bonniest flower of the world lay dead; 

A coffin Wits set on a dtauot plain, 

And she siw the red blood fall like nuo ; 

Then bonnic Ktlnicny's be^rt gtcw sail, 

And she tum'd away, and could look nae mair. 

Then the gruiF grim carle gim'd amain, 

And they trampled him down, but he rose agaiai 

And he baited the lioo to deeds of wdr. 

Till he lapp'd the Uood to the kingdom deart 



leifbl lose, wittfol. 
S0O 



eiin'd] gtianed. 



«ci(] *u. 



JAMES HOGG 






And wnaiog his bnd wis <laBgcr^<mf, 
When cTovn'd witli the roK and clon-r leaf, 
He ^wl'd at the ctrlc, mil cIviKd him away 
To feed wi' the iket oo the raountain gn]r. 
He go«rd M the carle, and geck'd U Heat-cn, 
But )in mark wn set, and hi* arlcs given. 

ijineny ■ whale bcr e'en withdrew; 
She look'd t^a, aad llic scene was new. 



She uw before her lair uofurl'd 

One half of all the glowing worid, 

When occana roH'd, tad tmn tin. 

To boaad dw was of Rnfvl man. 

Sbe siw a people, fierce and fell, 

Biffst frae their bounds Gke liemU of hell t 

There lilies pew, and the eagle fiewi 

And sbe bcrkM oo her ranrntng crew. 

Till the cities and towen were wrapp'd in a btxte. 

And the thuoder it roorM o'er the lands and the wa*. 

"nie vidows they waii'd, and the red blood ran. 

And sbe thieatcn'd ui end to the »c« of man ; 

She never lenod, nor stood in awe, 

"nil ctughl bj the lion's deadly paw. 

O, ilwa ibe ea^ swiok'd for life, 

And bntitzelfd up a moetal strife t 

But flew sbe north, or flew sbe south, 

Sbe met wi' the i;awl o' the lion's nMuih. 

With a RMOied wing and waclti' macn, 

Tbe eagle sought her eiry again; 

But laog may sbe cower in her hloody nest, 

And ling, ling sitek her wounded breast. 

({loat'd] howlcil, crawled. atln! moMj pofa) on urlkinf[ i 

bat^pda ; Vf. a hcatn^. lencd] citiUi:ii«I. swiali'd] UbowcJ. 

• 'IdJ Mined, b«t. moottd] monlted. 



JAMES HOGG 



BcfoK tix xy another ftight. 

To pliy wi' the norland lion'* might. 

But to siag the sighu Kilmcny nw, 

So far surpaising nature's liw, 

The nof;er*> voice wad ndIc tinj, 

Atut the nriftg of his harp wad ceaie lo jihy. 

But tite uw til] the torrowi of m-in wrre t>je. 

And all was love anil liartnonyi 

'nil Uie Stan of hraven fell calmly away, 

Like flakes of snaw oq a winter day. 

Thrn Kilmcny bcgg'd again to »et 

Tlic fiieodt she had left in her own couniryet 

To tell of tlie place where abe had been, 

And the glories that lay is ilie land unteen; 

To wain ilic li»ing maidens fair, 

The loved of Heaven, the pints' care, 

That all whose minds unmelcd rnuain 

Shidl bloom in txuuly when time b gue. 

With distant muiic, nofc and deep^ 

They Idl'd Kilmeny K>und o-sli-cji; 

And when she awnkcn'd, the lay her lane, 

All happ'd with flowers, in Oie greeo-wood wenetil 

When aeiYTi lang years had come and fled, 

Whtn grief was calm, and hope was dead ; 

Wii'o scarce was rememher'd KUmeny's name. 

Late, late in a gloamin' Kilnteny came bame ! 

And 0, her beauty was fair to Ke, 

But still and steadfast wax her e'e! 

Such beauty bctrd may orver decbre. 

For there wa^ no pride nor passion there; 

nnmelcil] nnbktBUfctd. h«t Ime] alnor, b] 



htnclf. 



JAMES HOGG 



And the «ofl dnm of nutdm's c'co 

In ihat mild face could never be ttm. 

Her seynur wsb ihe Hly flower, 

And her dieek ilie moM-rene in the shower; 

And her Toice like the dlMant mclodyc, 

That ftoua along tbe twilight «ea. 

Bui »he loved to raike the lanely ^n, 

And kecpM aiiir frac the luiuots of men | 

HcT lioly bymas uitliesrd to sing, 

To wck the Aowefs, and drink the sfviq^- 

Bui wherever her p»eeAil fonn ippeof'd, 

The wild ba*U o( the liill were cbcer'd ; 

The wolf play'd biytliljt round the field. 

The lordly bpon low'd ind kncel'd; 

The dua deer voo'd with manner bland. 

And Gower'd anealh liet lily hand. 

And when u enn the vondlands rung, 

When hymiM of other worlds she lung 

In ecstasy of sweet dcvotioa, 

O, then the glen was all in motioti! 

Tlie wild bcisa of the fareM came, 

Broke from their bughts and faulds the tame. 

And govcd aroufxl, charm'd and amaicd ; 

Erea the dull c^ilc cn>on'd and gazed, 

And nwnnuf'd and look'd with anxious pain 

For mnethBig the myficry to ex|<latn. 

The bwoard came with the ihronie-cock : 

Th« eorby left her houf in ilic rock i 

The blackbird aUng wi' the eagk flew ; 

The hind cante tripping o'er the dew ; 

ymnl^eynm, a (Ilcfal coveriof. ralke] ruise, vandcr. 

jbu] nilklns-pea*. S^*e<l] (tared, pad. tealiy] ramii 

bonT] hiunl. 



JAMES HOGG 

The wolf and the kid their raike began, 
And tlie tod, and the larob, and the lereret 
The hawk and the hem attonr them hung, 
And the merle and the maris forhooy'd thei 
And all in a peaceful ring were huri'd ; 
It was like an eve in a sinless world ! 
When a month and a day had come and ga 
Kilmcny sought the green-wood wene ; 
There laid her down on the leaves sae gieei 
And Kilmeny on earth was never mair seen. 
But O, the w'ords that Cell from her mouth 
Were words of wonder, and words of truth 
But all the land were io fear and dread, 
For they kendna whether she was living or 
It wasna her hamc, and she couldna remain j 
She left this world of sorrow and pain, 
And return 'd to the land of thought again. 

WTLLIAM WORDSWORTH 




WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

Upon ihe looon I &x'd my cjk, 

Ail om the wide Im) 

With ({uickeiiing face mjr bone drew nigh 

Those juilia m dear Ui me. 

And now we roch'd the orclunl-plM; 
And, a> we dimb'd the hill, 
The sinking laoon to Lucy'i cot 
Came near aod nearer Kill. 

In one of those sweet drcvus 1 sleji*. 
Kind Nature's gcntlert boon! 
And all the while my eyv» I kept 
On the desccoding mooa. 

My horac moved ont hoof afwr Koof 
He nistd, nd oceer Btopp'di 
Whca down behind the cotuge coof, 
At ooce, the bright tnooo dropp'd. 

What food ud urayward thoughts will slide 

Into a loTcr's head! 

* mercy ! ' to mytclf I cried, 

'If Lucy should be dradl' 



ritf. 



OHE dwelt among the untrodden ways 
*^ Betide the »pring« of Dove. 
A Maid whom there were nooe to praise 
And tery few to love : 

A Tiolet by a mosay stotw 

Half hidden from the eye ! 
Fair as a st^tr, when only «oe 

Is shining in the sky. 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

Slie lived unknown, and fev could kno 
When Lucy cusi'd to be ; 

Bui she is in lier gratv, and <^ 
The difference to me 1 






W7. 






T TRAVELL'D among unknown men, 
■*■ In lands beyond the sea j 
Nor, England 1 did I know till ibtn 
What love I bore to thee. 

Tia past, that melancholy dream ! 

Nor will I quit tiiy shore 
A second time ; for still I seem 

To lore thee more and more. 

Among thy mountains did I feel 

The joy of my desire ; 
And she I cherisli'd tum'd her wheel 

Beside an English fire. 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

* Myself will to my darliag be 
Both law and inipilsie : asd with nw 

"nie fill, in rock and plain. 
Id earth aad hcatcn, in gl.idc and bower. 
Shall fwl an ovcncnng power 
'I'a kiodk or resiraia. 

'She ihall be spodtTc as the fawn 
That wild with gtee acrou the bwn 

Or up the mountain ifvinjs; 
Aod hen thtll be the bsnihbg balin, 
Aad her« the itlcnce and the calm 

Of mute inscRMie things. 

■The BoKdttfi clouds their Mate shall ieoA 
To her; for her the willow bend; 

Nor ^alJ she liu] Co see 
Eren tn tlie motwris of the «>arm 
Grace that shall moold the maiden's forin 

By sleet sTmptilhy. 

' The sun of nudnnibit shall be dcu- 
To ber; and she shall lean her ear 

In many a secret place 
Where rifulcti daooe their wayward rogndf 
> And beauty bocn of murrnuring aoand 
Shall pots into her lacr. 

'Aod vital feeEi^ of delight 

Shall rear her form to stalely height, 

Her Ttrgin boMcn swell i 
Such thoughu to Lucy I -mSl ^ve 
While she and I together live 

Here in this happy dell.* 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

Thus NaEure spakt — The work was daoe-— ^ 
How soon niy Luci^'i nee vtta nm I 

She died, and left to me 
Tbia heath, dus calm and quiet sccwi 
The memory of whM has been, 

Aod never more will be. 



fip. V 

A SLUMBER did mj ifarit ted; 
■*^ I bad no human lean: 
She seem'd a thing that coiild r>ot furl. 
The touch of cnnhly year^ 

No motion has iJie dov, do force t 

She neither bean not sees; 
RoH'd round in eanh't diuniat counci 

With neks, itnd stones, and trees. 

^30. Upon IVestm'mster Btitfge 

E^ARTH h;ii nut unythcnf; to »how more &iri 
^ Dull would he be of soul who could fow by. 

A d^t so touching in its aiajoty; 
I'hi.'C City now doth like b garment wear 
The bexuty of (he morning; silent, hare, 

Shijis, towers, domta, thcattes, and temples lie 

Open unto the liclds, and to the skyt 
All bright and ^Uttering in the unokeJess ak. 
Never did sun more be>ulifu11y steep 

In his first splendour valle}-, rock, or tnDi 
Ne'er saw I, ncwr felt, a calm so deep! 

'riie river glidcth at hit own sweet will: 
Dear God ! the ^ery houses teem asleep j 

And all thai mighty bean is lying still 1 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 



I 

I 



t£l, £venmg oa Calah Beach 

TT b > beauteous cYcoinj;, calm and free, 

' 'llie holy time is quiet u « Nod 
Rrc-athlew wiih ailoratioD; tbe b(o«l ton 

Is unking down in iu truHjolllity ; 

Thr griMlcitcss of heaven is on the seat 
Liwen ! the mighty Being ts iwakc, 
And doih with Ma etcraa] nootioa nukr 

A wund like thunder — cretUstin^ir. 

Dear Child! deu GiH! that wnlkcst with nic here, 
If tboo appnr untooch'd by solemn ihou^hCf 
Thy uuuv is not ihrrefore less divine: 

Thou liesi in Abralia/n's bosom all the ytar \ 
And worahi]i'*U at tbc Temple's vdna shrbe, 
God being with thee when we know it not. 

Xii. On tb^ Ext'wclim of the f^eneiian 

£tpuilic, 1S02 

/^NCE did she hold the ffxgetns East in fee; 
^-^ Ai>J was the safejtnard of tbe West : the woitli 

Of Venice did not fall below her binl^ 
Venice, the eldest CbUd of Liberty. 
She was a maiden City, bright and freet 

No guile scdnced, no force could violate | 

Audi wlm tiiK took unto hi^rself a mate, 
She must cspouw the ererlastbg Sea. 
And what if she had seen tho«e glories tade. 

Those tides vaniih, and thai «(imgtb decay; 
Yet shall some tribcnr of rrgrrt be paid 

When her long life hath leach'd its find day: 
Men are we, and must giicvr wliea orrn the Shade 

Of that which voce was givsi is [oss'd away. 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 



England, tSoi 



o 




FRlE^a>l I know Dot which way I 
For cORtfort, being, u I m, o|i|>rat,J 

To thiniL that now our life is only dJeH 
Pot &howi mran hflndjr-voric of craitsman, cook. 
Or groom! — Wc taixit ran sUtttrinj; like a brook 

In Uie open suntJune, or wc arc unblett ; 

Tbc wenlthicnt mun unotig us is the bettl ; 
No graadeui now in nature or in book 
UclighU us. Ra^ane, avarice, expense, 

ThU h idolftiryi and ihcse wc actorc: 

Plain living and high thinking irc no inorei 

The homely bcjuiy of the good old caow 
Is gODVi our peace, our fearliil inoococe. 

And jwt religion brcathiog household laws. 



I^ILTON! 



// 



tliou shouldst be liiinji at tlm heoi^ 
England haih need of thee : she is i fn 

Of st^nunt watera: altar, sword, and pen, 
Fimide, the heixiic wealth of hall and bower, 
Hare forfeited their ancient English dower 

Of inward happiness. Wc are selfish nwn; 

O raise ds up, return to us kgain, 
And give ns manners, tiittie, freedom, powerl 
Thy soul WIS like a Star, and dw«It a|>an ; 

Thou hadst a toice whn«e sound was like the Mf 

Pure a* the naked heavens, majestic, free. 

So didst thou travel on life's cnnunon way, 
In cheerful godliness! and yet thy heart 

I'hc lowliest duties on herself did lay. 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 



ui 

^ R 1: AT men hat« been uaoog us \ huils ihai pcon'd 
^^ And loo^ues tbit <Me^i wisdom— better none: 

The Utrr Sidney, Mxtnl, Kamngton, 
Young Vane, aod oihen who cali'd Miltoo fnend. 
Thete moralist* could »ct and compieheod: 

I Tbey koew bow grnuinc glory wu put oa\ 

\ Taught ■> how rightfully a nation sboac 

In spkodnnri what smngth was, that would not beid 
Sot in mognainmoas mevkims. France, 'tis itninge, 
Hath brought fbfth no such souls as we lud then. 

I Perpetual enptinew! unceasing cbinge! 

I No amgle volume paramount, no code, 

^ft No master spirit, ao dctrminnl road; 

^K B« equally a wa« of books and rotn 1 

TT is not 10 be ibought of ihii tlw flood 

^ or British freedom, which, to ihe 0{m sea 

OF the wotld's praise, from dork antiquity 
Hath flow'd, 'with pomp of waim, unwiihitood,'— 
RuuW though it be fiill often to a mood 

Which ^«ms the check of salutary bands, — 
' That ibis mon bmous urcani in bogs and saods 

Should pcrisli; atxl to enl and to good 
Be lost br erer. In our balls is bung 

Aimomy of the tntincible Knigbti of oJd : 
We maai be &ee or die, who speak the tongue 

That Slukc^ieare spake; the faith and morals hold 
Which M^tOD held. — la ercrything we are sprung 

Of Earth's first bkrad, bsic titles manifold. 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 



S27. V 

VVTHEN I have borae ia menory wbu hsi 
** Great Nations, bow enooblittg thoufpiu dcpui 

When mm change swords for ledgers, and desert 
The studenc't bower (or gold, some fearv unniRwd 
I h«d, injr Coantry — am I to be blamed? 

Now, when 1 think of thee, aad what thou m. 

Verily, in the boiuim of my heart, 
Of ibow UBJilial fears I am xshanKd. 
For deuly mu» we prite thee; we who find 

In thee a bulwark for the cauae of men [ 

And [ by my affection was beguikd : 

Wfinc wonder if a Port now and ibrn, 
Among the many movcmcni^ of his mind, 

Fell far thee as t loTer or * cbiUI 



fj*. Tif So/iur/ Reaper 

DEHOLD her, single in the lidd. 
^ Yon solitary Highland Lns! 
Reapng and singing by henelft 

Stop here, or jtetnJy poHl 
Alone ^e cuts and binds the grain. 
And singn a mehncholy main ; 
O listen t for 4e Vxle profound 
Is orerflowing with the aooul. 

No Nightingale did ever disant 

More welcome notn to weaty band* 

Of travellers in tonne sJiady haunt, 
Anion£ Arabian sands: 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

A *oic« H> thfitling ne'cT vna hrvd 
In ipring-tiinc fiom the Ceckoo-biiil, 
fimkiRg ibe sitfncc of the veu 
Among the futbm Hcbrulcs. 

Wtl] no one tet\ mc what sbe ungif— 
Perhspa the pUintire nunbere How 

For old, unluppf, fv-olT thiogi, 
Apd btulcs king ago: 

Or is it some tiMfc huniblo Uy, 

pjaiUiar matter of to-day ! 

Some natunl Mnow, loss, or [wo. 

That has been, and may be again f 

Whatc'er the theme, the Maiden tang 
As if hn twng ijouM hare no ending; 

1 uw her singing u her woik, 
And o'er the sickle bending; — 

I listen'd, RMtiontns ant) nill ; 

And, u I mounted tip tbe hill, 

The imutc in my heut I boie, 

Long after it was heard no more 

Perfect ff^oman 

CHE was a [ihaiuoni of delist 

'^ When fim (he gtnim'd ofian my aigUt 

A loKly ipfaritioc, scot 

To be a oronMnt's ontamcnt; 

Her eyet aa Man of twilif;ht fair; 

Lilie ivili^'s, too, her dusky hur; 

But all things ebe about her drawn 

From May>time and tb« cheerful dawn ; 

A daDcing shape, an image gay. 

To haunt, to ttante, and waylay. 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

I nw hcT iqMM nurtr riew, 

A Spirit, yn a Woman too 1 

Her hoBMiJiold motioBS light and frn^ 

Aod SWfs of vii^n Ubntjr; 

A oamuaaact ia which did meet 

Sweet records, promises «s swMii 

A creature not too bright or good 

For hunMn natuie's d^iil/ food) 

For traDsienc Mrrou-t, simple viles, 

Pniie, blamr, love, kisse*, tevs, and snttln^ 

And now I see wih eje tcrviM 
The wrf pulse of the machiae ; 
A bcinf; Imathing tfaooghtful breath, 
A travdt«T betwixt life and death i 
l^c reason firm, the temperate wiU, 
Endaranoe, foten^it, strength, and skill j 
A prrfcct Women, ncbljr plaon'd, 
To mrn, to corafon, and conw ia nd t 
And yet a Spirit still, and bright 
TOik something of aagclic light 



T WANDER'D lonely as a cloud 

*■ That floits OB lii^ o'er i-alcs «oA hilU,' 

When all at once I saw a crowd, 

A host, of golden daffixEls i 
Betide the like, beneath the lives, 
Fluttering «nd dancing in the Ixeeze. 

Continuous as the sun tluit shine 
And twinkle on the MiUcy Way, 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

Tbcy stntdi'd m Dcvrr-ciidbg line 

Along the margiii of • biy ; 
Ten tbousaad mw I u a glance, 
Toiriag tbnr beada In iprigbtly <!ainc. 

The mtM beside them danced, bin thi-y 
Outdid the sparkling wares io ^ect 

A poet could not but be gay, 
In such a Jocund company: 

I fflxtA — and gazed — but Utde ihoagkt 

n'hai wealth the ahciw to me had branghti 

For oft, when oa my couch I lie 

In vacant of in pensive mood, 
Tbey fla^ vpoa that invard eye 

Which la the bUu of toUtude i 
And then my hean with pleasure fills. 
And dances with the daHbdUa. 



^ 



fSt. OJe to 'Dulf 

CTERN Dancbier of Uk Voice of God I 

•^ O D«y ! if that name thou loie, 

Who art a light to guide, a rtKl 

To check the erring and lepoTc; 

Thau, who art viaory and law 

When empty tcrrora ortrawe; 

Prom Tain lemptations doat set frve; 

And calm'st tbe weary strife of fiul humaaitjrl 

There ore who ask not if thine eye 
Be OD them; who, tn lore aod truth, 
Where no misgiiiog is, rely 
Upon the geeoal tenie of yiMths 



WILUAM WORDSWORTH 

Glad beansi wiibout reproadi or bloii 

Who do thjr work, and know it oK : 

0, if through awGdeaoe imiplaced 

Tlicy fail, thy Hviog mat, dfcad Power I around dwm 



m 



Serene will be our Aafi and brislit, 

And happjr will our nature be, 

When love i« an unerring li{>ht, 

And joy ha own ^eculity, 

And ihcy a bliwful course may hold 

LvTen now, who, not unwisely bold, 

Lire ia the ^lit of this cited ; 

Yet seek thy fiim support, according to that need. 

I, loving freedom, and untrinl ; 

No sport of cTcry random gwt, 

Yet baag lo inp:lf a guide, 

Too blindJy hurc repowd my tnisi : 

And oft, when in my heart was heard 

Thy timely maQdatc, I dcfcrr'd 

The task, in smoother ualks to strsy; 

But thee I now would serve more stricOy, tf I 

Through no distiubaoce of my wul, 

Or strong compunctioo ia me wrought, 

I supplicate for thy cootrol ) 

Bat in the ({uietneaK of thought. 

Me this uticharter'd freedom tirris} 

1 HkI the weight of cbBnc«>desiKS; 

My lio]>cs no more inu» change tbeif name^ 

I bog for a tepow tliat ercr a the lamc 

Yet not the !es« would 1 throLghoct 
Still act accoidir^ to the roice 
M 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

)l tny own wbhj ud ftd pan doubt 
rhat my suhnunuTeam was dioaoej 

on xeluDg ID the idiool of pride 

or 'preocpu over digntlied,' 
Dial md restraiai I priu 

o hnbtr than tbcy breed a second Will more wije. 

Jtem LiwgiTer! jet thou dott wear 
^be (iodbc;uJ't most bcoagauit pnexi 
or knov we anythini; so fair 
11 tlw wnife upoa thy face: 
lowcre laugh before ihec on tltdr brdt, 
od fragrance in thy Tooting treads; 

<fe« ynttm the tiars frora wrong; 
■d the nott aaaaoL bencas, ihroqgh Tbec^ xt fresh lod 
aroog. 

To hnmblet functions, iwrd Power! 
P call diee : 1 mjaelf conuaeDd 
Unto thy guidaBee fnm tbis bourt 
D, let in^ weuknest bare an end ! 
Cive nnto me, made lowly witc, 
PlM afirtt of tdf-Eicrifioe ; 
Fhr coofidrnee of reason give; 
And ia the light of truth thy boedman let me lire! 

f33. Tie Seinh&w 

\A Y heart leaps up wlien I heboid 
^"* A rainbow b the »kyi 
So WB9 it when my life began: 
So is it now I am a man \ 
So be it when I shall grow oU, 
Or let roc die 1 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

The CMld » Mtct of tlic Msq i 
And I could with Bi<r diys to be 
Boond each to each by nuaral petjr* 

T6f Somet 

^UNS frrt Dot tit their cotiTCOt's narrow luom; ' 
^^ And hcmuts «re coouoKd with their ceUi, 

Aad Kudeou with tbclr pensive dtadebt 
Maids n the wheel, the wearer at his loum. 
Sit blithe «nd bappy; bees that loai for bic 
High u the bJghnt prak of Fnrnesi fcDs, 
Will murmur by llw hour in foxgtore bcPs; 
Id With the piiflO«i unto which we doom 
OtitKlTes no priwo is; and lienor for me. 
In nmdiy moods, 'twas pastime lo be bound 
Withia the Soanet's scanty plot of groand ; 
Pkawd if some souli (for such there needs must be) 
Who hare fck the weight of too much tibeity, 
Should lind brief solace there, u I have faiuid. 



Si 4- " 

CCORN not die Soniut; Critic, yon hate frownU 
" Micdleu of its Just honours ; with this key 

Sliakcspruc imlock'd hts heart ; the mdody 
Of tlus small low gave ease lo Petrarch's wccnd) 
A thousand (imn this {^pc did TaMo soand; 

With it Camoeos sooth'd an exile's grief; 

The Sonnet glitter*d a gay myrtle kaf 
Amid the cypress with which Dante cfown'd 
Hb mionary brow: a glow-wonn lamp, 

It chc«f*d mild Spenser, cali'd fiom Fatsylaad 
dm 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 



r 

^0*0 (Unggle thraofb dsrk iraysi wxl when a daniji 
^f Fell rouad the path of Milton, io hb hmd 
^^Thc Thing became a uumfct; whence he Uew 
Soul-animating wr a ixii— *l>i) too few 1 



I 



Tsr- 



The IVorU 



* 



"T^HIZ world is too much with ut; late and soon, 
^ Getting and spending, we lay wutc ouf powers : 
' Little we M« ia Nature that b oufa: 
We hare gittti oar brans away, a MrdJd booa! 
Tfaii )ca that bares Ikc boooni lu ilie moon; 
The windi that will be howling at all hours, 
And are iij>-gaiher'd now like »ieetqng downs; 
For tht*, for evcryihing, we uc out of tnnei 
t tnovw us DOC — Great God ! I'd oth« he 
A P^gan suckled in a creed outwotn; 
might I, staodiog on ihia pkasaoi In^ 
ilavc glimpses that would nuke nic less forloni; 
ve sight of Proteus riuiig fiwn (lie tica \ 
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathid horn. 



[Tirf- 



Ode 



hllmatioai ef Immorla&lj /mm RttalltttiMu tjf 

^HERE was a time when meadow, grave, and stiraio, 
Tbe eaitfa, and ewy coninion tight. 
To me did srcm 
Apparell'd in cclesnal light, 
gloiy and the firahness of a drtaBL. 

X tot 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

It is oot now as [t hatb been of yoret — 
Turn whwesoe'er I nwy, 
By night M d»y, 
'{"he ihtrgf which I hare seen I now on we 



no 



The rainbow comes and goes, 

And \mely is tJic twej 

The moon doth with delight 
L«ok round hei when Die hcavcu an ban.-) 

Waters on ■ surry nifht 

Are Wutirnl and fairg 
The sunshine is ■ glorious birth ; 
But yet I know, where'er I go, 
3*hat there luih piss'd away a gloiy from tlie eanh. 

Now, while the birds tbtts siog a joyous sooj, 
And while the young limbs bovsd 
As to t)ie tabor's sound, 
To nw jiooc tlicrc came a thought of grief: 
A timely utterance give tlui tho^bt relief, 

And 1 again am strong: 
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the sleep i 
No more shall grief of mine the sesson wrong; 
I hear ilir echoes through the mountains throng, 
Tlie winds come to me from tlir fields of sleep, 
And alt tlic earth is ipyi 
Land and sea 
Gii'e themselves up to }oJlity, 

And with the heart of May 
Doth every beast keep holiday;— 
Thou Child of Joy, 
Shout round me, let me bear thy shouts, ihott 
Shepherd -boy ! 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

fc blcioM crtaUiret, 1 hive brud the call 

Y« to cKh otl>rr make; I tux 
The hoTtor laugh whli you io ygur jiibiint 
My bnn is u your frwivAl, 
My bead haUt its coraiu), 
The fullness of yoiu bliss, I feci— I fed it all. 
O evil <Uyl if I were nillm 
While Earth hcnclf is MkHsing, 

This Ewcct MayffloitiiBg, 
And the children ut culling 

Oo every side, 
In a tbcMnand valleys far and wide, 
Fresh dowers i while the sun shines warm, 
And the babe leaps up on hb mother's arm: — 
^K I hear, I hear, with Joy I hear I 

^H — Bvi tlieic 's a tree, of many, orte, 

^■A tingle lield which I have look'd upon, 
^both of tlMiD sfcak of something thu is sotMi 
J^f The pmy at my feet 

^^ Dotli tlie same tale repeat: 

Whithct is tted the Tuiaoary gkamf 
When b h now, the gtory aixl the dnaua? 



)iir binh » bat a Bleep aitd a forgetting i 
Sottl that rises wttli us, out life's Star, 
Hath had elsew^ieie its setting, 

And oometh from a&r: 
Not to entire forgeitiilness. 
And not in oner lukcdnrts, 
But tniliag cknds of glory do we come 
Prom God, who n out home: 
leaven Bea about us in out iofiucyl 



ta 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

Shides of the priwn-lioust hcgia to clow; 

Upon tite firowing; Boy, 
But be beKolib the li}>kl, and whence it floors, 

He 9crs it in his joy; 
The Youth, who duly farther from the cast 
Musi tranl, itill is Nature's priest, 
And by the nsion splendid 
Is on his wny attended ) 
At length the Miin prrcciies it die awiiy. 
And fade tnio the light of common day. 

Earth lUli her \xf with pleamrcs of her ownt 
Yearoirtgs she hatli in her own Dttaral kind. 
And, even with Mmctiiing of n mother's muBd, 
And no unworthy aiii, 

The homely nurw doth all slve can 
To make her foster-child, her inmate Mu, 

Forget the glories he hath known. 
And that u»pcri^ palace whence be ome. 

Behold the Child arrMog his new-born hisses, 
A six years' darling of a pigmy siie ! 
Sec, where *mid work of his own hand he Itn, 
Frmed by sallies of hia mother's kisio, 
Vrt\h light upon him from his father's Dyes! 
See, at bis feet, soine little plan or chart. 
Some fragment ftum his dream of hnnam life, 
Shaped hy himself with newly-Ienrntd art i 

A wedding or a fesiiTat, 

A mourning or n fii&cralt 

And tlus hath now his heart, 

And onto this he frames his song: 
Then will he &l his tongue 
To dialogues of business, lore, or striict 
fill 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

But it mil not be long 

Ere tliM be ilitovn avide, 

And with DCw joy snd fiide 
The little actor cons anotlier |iuti 
Killing from time to time his 'hniDoretu Kage' 
With >i\ the PcTMOs, down to pokied Age, 
That Litr bctngv with bcr in her c^ipge; 

As if his whole vocslioa 

Were eodlos imiution. 



Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie 

Thy wmI's tramensityf 
Thou ben pUIosopher, who yet dost keep 
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind. 
That, deaf and slent, read'st the etcmal deep, 
HnuMcd for era by tlie eternal mind, — 

Mighty pTOfJwtl Serf blest I 

On whom tliose troths do rest. 
Which u-e are toiling all out Uves to find, 
lo daifcaeu lost, the d.irkiitr«i of the gni-ei 
Tboo, oter whom thy Imtnon^ility 
Broods like the Day, a master o'er a iIjvc, 
A poeoce vhich is not to be put by; 

To whom the grave 
It bat a ioocly bed wtihoui the tense or sight 

Of d^y or the warm light, 
A {dace of iboof^t where we in waiting Ke; 
Thca btfe Child, yet glorioos in the night 
Of liearen*bom fnedom on thy being's height. 
Why with mch cmxsi point dost thou poroke 
The jean to bring the inevitable yoke, 
I'htxs Uiadly with thy Ucssedaess ai strife f 
•uU soon thy soul shall hate faer evthly freight, 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 



And ciBtom lie upon dice with ■ weight, 
Heaty » frost, and deep atraost »t life! 

O joy I that ia ovr einbera 
Is soineUung that doth lire, 
That Dtture yet nmenJtten 
What va so fugidrel 
Tbt thought of our pm yean in roe doth 
PMpctnsI benediction: not iadecd 
For that irhich is mo4t wonhj to be blest- 
Delight and liberty, tlw simple creed 

Of childhood, wheclm busy or at rest, 

With new-Hedged lioj^ uill Baamag b his ImmI 
Not for time I raise 
The song of thAnki and prase; 
But for thoM obsiiniKc ^urslJDdngs 
Of sense and outward things, 
Falling? frnm ns vanwhiogs; 
Blnnk mifgiTirgs of a Creature 
MoTing about in worlds not realized. 
High instincts before which our eional Natni* 
Did tremble like a gnilty thing sorptisedi 
But for those lirst aflectioaa, 
Those tiudowy recollections, 
Wbtch, be they what they may, 
Are yet the fountain-light of all onr day, 
Are yet a ma.'itcr-light of all ovr seetag i 
Uphold us chcri^i, and hare power lo nuke 
Out nonsy years seem moments in the being 
Of the eternal Silence t trtiihs that wake^ 

To pnish nc»tr! 
Which neither listlesscess, nor mad endrarour. 
Nor Man nor Boy, 



■ WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

^BMot all that b u cmnitjr with jojr, 
Can ttttnly attolbh or ititmy ! 

^Hmce in a waion of calm weatlKf 
Though ialaod lar we be, 
soul* have sight of thJt tmrnoful o-a 
Which brought u* hnhcr, 
Can in a monwnt travel ihitlicr. 
And m the childrcQ »pon u|Mn the ihon. 
Ami lw» the mighty wuets rolliog eTtrrmore. 

Then fing, ye httct«, sing, sing a joyous song I 

rAnd W the youag Utnhs bound 
As to the ubor's sound t 
e in thocRht will join your tJiroog, 
Ye ihiit pipe and ye Uiai play, 
Ye (hat thiitM^b your hcarrs to-day 
Feel the gladness of the May ! 
What though the radiance which was once so bright 
fie now for erer Uken from my sight, 

Though iiotbiitg can bring back the hour 

Ipf 5|4ni(lour in the gran, of gfory in the Oowei; 
Wc wiD grie« not, rather find 
[ Stmtgth io what remains bchioJ; 

[ In the prtnu] sytnikUhy 

I Whk-h having been m«K c>er be; 

In the soodugg tbovgbis that spring 
I Out of hanan suilVriag t 

I In the faith iliat boks throc^ dmth, 

In yean that bring the plulotophic mind. 
And ye Fountahis, Mndows, Hills, and Grovr^ 
Forebode not any Mrettng of Our totes ! 
Vet in my hrvt of hearts I feel your might t 
t luie rdini{uish'd one delight 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 



To lire brnnih your more habitud sway. 
1 loTc ibf brooks wlitcli down their dunnda fitt, 
Ercn more iban when I tr^pM lighdj as They i 
Thv ionoccnt brighincM of a oev-bora Day 

Is lovely yctt 
The clouds that gather round tlie setting suo 
Do uke a sober colouring from an eye 
That hath kept watch o'er man's mtmalityi 
Another race hath bern, and other plms arv won. 
Thanks to ihe human hcan by which we liie, 
Thaoks 10 its tenderness, tie joys, and fears. 
To inc the nieanesi flower that blows can pit 
Tliouglits that do afEeo lie too deep for trtfS, 





nr. 



Z>fJi(/ena 



CURPRISED by joy^impaticnt as the Wind 

^ I turned to share the transport — O t with whom 

But Thee, deep buried in tlie silent tonit\ 
That spot uhtch no vicissitude can find? 
Love, faithful lore, rvcall'd thee to my nund — 

But how could t forget thee ? Through what 

Eren for the Irsst diiision of an hour, 
Have I bccR so beguiled as to be blind 
To my most grievous loss? — That ihougbtV irtum 

Was tlie worst pang ihai sorrow trtr bore, 
Sive one. one only, when I stood foclom. 

Knowing my heart's best treasure was no nKwe; 
That neither present time, nor years unborn 

Coiitd to my sight that heavenly face restcn. 



0^ 




I 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 



/ji. yaleJictory Semtet to the River ©««Ww 



T THOUGHT tA Tbcc, my partner *ad my guide, 
* As being pnta'd away. — Vjun sympadiiM! 

Par, backwani, IhidiloBl u I ca» my vyo, 
I Me whtc was, and b, aad will abide; 
St3t {lidn the Strcun, and shall for ever glide; 

The Form ranaiiis, die Funciioo ncrer dies; 

While wc, the brare, the raiglily, and the wiv, 
We Mn>, who id oar mom of youth defied 
The eJeinents, mnsi vanish; — be it w! 

Enough, if sooKthiBg from our haiMls hate power 

To lite, ai>d act, and serre the Inlure hour; 
And if, as lowird the silnit totnb wc go, fdowcr, 

Tbroagh lore, thnxtgh hope, and faith's iransccr^enl 
Wc iicel that wc a4« greater than uv know, 

Sig. Mutability 

I^ROM law to high doth di.iMlution climh. 
*• And sink from high to low, along a Kile 

Of awfiil notes, whose coocord shall not &il ; 
A muncal but melancholy chime, 
Which tbey can twar who meddle not with crtRtr, 

Nor avatice, noe over-anxions cart. 

Tnith bila not; but her outward fomts that bear 
1^ knigCK due do melt like ftotty lirae. 
That ia ih« raornmg whiten'd hill and plain 
And is no moret dmp tike the tover tiublirae 

Of yesterday, which royally did wear 
His cittwn of weed*, but could not txva tutaiD 

Some cuual thout thu bii^c the nleoi air, 
)r the unimaginable touch of 'Hitic. 



WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 

f40. The Trosachs 

'X'HERE's not a nook within thij loleran Pas* 
'' But were ui apt conl'eu>ion;il for one 

Taii£bt by hi* lummcr spent, Kis antuma gone, 
Thxt Life is but a talc of morning gnuf 
WitlKT*!! m vtv. I-'rom iccDcs of nrt whicli vhiv 

That thouglii awk/, luni, and with wMchfnl ryvs 

F««l it 'mid Naiurt's old fdicitin, 
Rocks, rims, and «nooth lakes more dear tlan ^las] 
Umouch'd, unbmitbed upon. Thrice happy quest, 

If from a golden perch of aspen spray 

(October's workmanihip to rival May) 
Tlw pensile warUcr of the ruddy bmst 

That moral sn'teren by a hesiien-uughl Uy, 
Lulling tho year, with all its cares, to rest! 



S4t. Sfeak I 

VVTIIY art thou sileat! Is thy tore a jilant 
** Of such weak libre ibit iJii- treaebertws air 

Of absence withers what was once so fair? 
Is there nu debt to pay, no boon to grant \ 
Yet hare my thoughts for thee been vi^lant— 

Bound to thy service with unceuing care, 
The mind's lout generous wi&h B inrndicant 

Tor naught but what thy happinna could spare. 
Speik—tbough this soft wann heart, once free to ho 

A tbouund tcodi-r pleasures, thine aad rmoe, 
Be left more desolate, nioie dreary cold 

Than a forsaken bird's-ncst GD'd with snow 

'Mid ita owQ bu^h uf leaHess cif^tiiie— 

Speak, thai my torturing doubts dtcir end may kn 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 



f^. P/Btti/ Maisie 

PROUD Maim b tn the wood, 
Walking M oiSf, 
SwMt Robin xiti no. the buih, 
Sutgiag M nrdy. 

*Tetl me, thou boMif bird, 
Wlteo 9luU I mrry mtV 

— 'WItiKi six braw gentlcnMn 
Kiikwud shall cury yc.' 

•Who Rukn the bridal bed, 

Dicdie, ny tmly \ ' 
—'The grcy-faud«d mxioo 

That ddvcs tli« grave duly. 

'Tbe glo«r-w«nn o'er grate and siooe 

Shall light thee steady ; 
Tlie o»l from (be stwiJc sing 

Welcome, pn»d lady 1 ' 



•ni-iip 



f43. BriffiaU Baukj 

r\ BRIGNALL banks an wiM nd &ir, 
^^1 And Greta woods are gittn, 
And you maj gaibcr guiands ibrre, 

WmU grace a •omner <|iieen: 
And as I rode by Dihoa Hall, 

Beneath ibc lurtcts hi^h, 
A Maiden on the cawlc wall 

Waa aii^g nieRily: — 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 

'0, Brigtiall tank* ore (Vcsh w>d fiir, 
And GrcM woods are grntt'. 

I'd rather roTc with Edmund there 
Than reign our Coglish Queea' 

' If, Maiden, thou wouldst wcod whh me 

To Icatc both tower >nd town, 
Thou lirst must guess whu life \rad we, 

That dwell by dale and down: 
And if thou canst that riddle read, 

As read full well you may. 
Then 10 the greenwood shall tbou &pecd 

As blithe aa Qaeen of May.' 

Yet ming she, 'Brigiull b<n^s are fair, 
And Gieta woods ue green ! 

I'd rather rove witli Edmund there 
Than t«ign oar Eoglish Quena. 

*I read you by your bogle horn 

And by your |>altrey good, 
I read you for a Ranger Rwom 

To keep the King's green-wood.* 
'A Ranger, Lady, winds his horn, 

And 'lt« at peep of light; 
His blast is heard at merry ntoen. 

And mine at dead of night.' 

Yet snng she, ' BrignfJl Unlca are fair, 

And Greta woods are gayl 
I would I were with Edmund there, 

To reigo bis Queen of May ! 

'With burnisli'd brand and musketooa 
So gallantly you cotne, 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 



1 nad yoa for a bold Dragoon, 
That lists tlie tuck of dram.' 

* I Um no more tbe tuck of dnim. 
No more the tnunpet heart 

Bat when thrc bwtlc souodi bit hum, 
My camradei tibc the ^fox. 

•And Ol though Uristull banks be fdr. 

And Grtu woods be giy, 
Yet nuckle must tl»e nuideo dare, 

Would re^Q my Queen of May ■ 

* Maiden I a nunelcn life I lead, 
A naixiclcii (trath I'll die; 

Tbe £ei>d whose Ucvtcm lights the me^ 

Were bcocr nuu ihin I J 
And when I'm witli niy comrades met 

ficBoih (be grceft-wood bough, 
Whw one* wc were w« all fistget, 

Not think what wc are now.* 

7ianu. Yet Brignall books arc firesh and fair, 
And Grcu woods arc greeo. 
And you may gMfaer flowers there 
WoiJd gna a Rmtmtr queen. 

Lucy Asbttm's So»g 
I OOK not thou on bcmty's chuniingi 
^ Sit thou still when kings aic arming ; 
TkKe not when the «-inr-cup glistens; 
Speak not when the people listens ; 
Stop thine car against the singer; 
From the red goM keep iJiy linger; 
Vacam heart and htoA and eye, 
Easy Ktc and quiet die. 

Ml 



Wf. 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 



Ansvoer 



SOUND, Mund the ctario^ fill the fife I 
To all the srtuiul woiM prodnin, 
One crowded hour of glorious life 
Is worth an age without a name. 



f^. The Jiovcr^s Adieu 

K WEARY lot is thtnc, fair maW, 
^^ A weary lot b lKi»e) 
To pull the choni thy brow to braid, 

And preii die roe for wine. 
A Ugboomc eye, • nidicr'i nutn, 

A (eadm of die blue, 
A doublet of the Lincoln greco — 

No more of me ye knew. 
My LoKl 
Ko BOR of nw ye knew. 

'This mom is rocrry June, I trow, 

The rose is budding fjin ; 
But she sluU bloom io winter snow 

Ere w« two mod again.' 
— He lum'd his charger as be ^uke 

Upon the rirer shore, 
He £BT« the bridle-rtins a shake, 

Said 'Adieu lor eTennore, 
My Love I 
And adieu for evermore' 



4n 



r47- 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 



Tatrhtism 



I. Iim»mmafi>i 



DREATHES there iht nuu mth soul so de*d, 
*^ Who never u> bini»i;!f luih siid, 

' Thii i> my own, my dMjtc land I ' 
WboM ban hatb tic'a wirltin him bvro'd 
As hoinr hit (bornqn be hath tum'd 

From unflderiag on t foreign straad? 
If such iliere btcxUic, go, miik Itim wcUt 
For him no Mifucml rapcum 8W«U| 
High though hi4 titles, pnwd his nuiw, 
Bouodlns his vmhh as wish can claim ; 
Do^tc those titles, po«-er, and prtf, 
The wteuh, coticenved aU in self, 
Living, shall forfeit fair renown, 
And, doubly dying, thai! go down 
To ihc vile dtiM ftom whence he spning, 
Unwept, unbonoui'd, and ud&uq^. 



f^. 



2. ifiUne, Pill, Fm 



' I "O mute and to matnial things 
* New life retolring Mmmcr brings i 
The gMui call dead Nature bean, 
Aad in Iwr glory Kspprars. 
Dm ob, mj Countiy't tnoaj scstr 
What second spring shall reoorate? 
What powerfid call shall bid vise 
The buried walike and the witei 



«*» 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 

The mind that tliou^^it for Briuui's vmi. 

The hind tb«t gnspM the ncior suxli 

The renul sun new liie bestows 

Unti on the mcaoctt flower that blows i 

Hut rainly, t^dy may he sbisc 

Where glory weeps o'er Nelsox's sbrifiet 

And vainly perce the solemn |th>om 

That shmudsi O Vm, thy haltow'd tomb! 

Deep graved in every British bnn, 

O never let those names dejArt I 

Say to your sons, — Lo, hoe his grave. 

Who victor died on Godite wu»e ! 

To him, M to the buiciog levio, 

•Short, bright, mitllns course wss gitea. 

Where'er his couiiirj''s foes v-cre found 

W.ts heard the fated thunder's souad. 

Till buriit the bolt on yonder shore, 

KoU'd, blamed, dcstioy'd — a&d was no man. 

Nor mourn ye lens his peri«h'd worth, 
WIki bade the cnnijiicror go forth, 
And Uunch'd that ihundeibolt of wsr 
On ligypt, Hafnia, TtafalgHr; 
Who, batn to guide eucb high «n{>rise. 
For Britain's w«l was early «TS*i 
Alas! to whom the Almt^bty gm, 
For Britain's sins, aa early grat«l 
— His worth, who in his mightiest houl 
A bauble held the pride of power, 
Spum'd st the sordid lust of pelf. 
And served his Albion for henclf; 
Who, when the frantic crowd iBiain 
Straio'd at snbjectioa's bursting rcio, 
AM 



WALTER SCOTT 



i*«r ibdr v'M mood faU coaipxiK pia'd. 
The pride be vroald Dot cnuh, rcMnin'dt 
Sbow'd ibcir fierce »al i wonIii«r caiur, 
^^^nd bnqgbt tbc fnctnui'i ami lo aid ifae freeiMn'ft law*. 

^Blidii then W lired, though siripfi'd of power, 
Hu^ wMcbnra 00 the k»dj tower, 
^Thf ihrilltng mmp had ronsed ibe Inrxt, 

When Innd or danger wctc at hand; 

By thee, aa bjr the bcacon-lijbt, 

Out plots bad kept course aright [ 

As soflw ptMid col«n», tliougli alont^ 

Thy strcagtb hod projip'd the tottering throne. 

Now b tbe itatdy column broke, 

The beacon-light n ^uencb'd In HDoke, 

The irumjiei'i »il»er roice b »lilJ, 

The wirdtT silent on the lull I 



I m 






think, how to bb blest day, 
When Death, just borering, ckiim'd his prey. 
With PB&nnrc's nnakcr'd mood 
Firm at his diogerous poK be stood | 
Each oil for oMd/ul rest repdl'd. 
With dying hand the rudder held, 
Till in hb fall with fateful sway 
The steerafie of the realm gate way. 
Then— whUe on DriuInS thouMod plaina 
One uiqiolluted church retnaios, 

'hose peaceAi] bells ne'er aent around 
The Uoody tocsin's maddcnbg aoiuxt, 
But nill upon the hallow'd day 
CDnioke the ■'rans to praise aad pray; 
ViliUe faith and civil peace are dear, 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 

Grace this «^d maifalc «-tth a icar: — 
He who prtscrrfd tb<-m, Pitt, Um here I 

Nor jrn suppns* the geneious sijh, 

Because his rival »lumben nith; 

Not be ihy Jteyuitu^ dumb 

Lest it be utd o'er Pox'i tonibb 

For ulents mouro, untimcljr lo«, 

When best employ'd, and traotcd mostt 

Moutn genius high, and Ion pcoCbund, 

And wit tliat loied to play, dm wound; 

And all the reasooiog powers diTine 

To peeemie, resolve, combine t 

And l«eIiR{;s keen, and (kncy's glow — 

Thejr sleep with him who slee]is below : 

And, ir thou moum'st they could not uvo 

From error him who owns this gnve, 

Be every hamhcr thought suppms'd. 

And tacrcd be ihc last toog test. 

Ifrrt, where the end of earthly tliiajpi 

Lays heroes, patriots, hards, and kings; 

Wliere stilf the kind, ind «il! the too^gae, 

Of those who fought, and ipoke, and anng; 

f/cre, where the fretted vaults proloi^ 

1'hc distant nates of hnly sonj;. 

As if i>Eimc angel spoke agco, 

' All peace on cmh, good-will to men ' ; 

If ever from an Eo^bh heart, 

O, htre let prejudice deport, 

And, partial feelii^ cast aside, 

Record that Fox a Briton died! 

When Europe crouch'd to Fraooe'* yoke^ 

Atid Austria bent, uid Pruuu broke. 



^^V SIR WALTER SCOTT 

^P And tba &in Rtmbo's pupoM hnn 
^M Was barui^d by a timorotti ilivc-— 
^1 Eveo din <SBhonotir's j*kc he spuro'd, 
^V The sullied oliTc-braach rnurs'd, 
Stood fix lus oouocry*> slory I«k, 
And nnii'd bcr coloure to the mutl 
Huwti, to reward hit firmncM, give 
A pofiioa in ihrt honour'd grave; 
And ne'er lield nuible in iu truU 
Of two neb woodrous men the dusf. 

With more than mortJ powers eodow'd, 
How high they *ou*ii above the erowd I 
Theirs was no common piny race, 
Joadlag by dark imrigut for placet 
Like EiUed gods, thetr mijihiy war 
Shook realms and nations b its jv i 
fiencMh each faanoer ptond to stand, 
Look'd Hp the ooUest of the Und, 
Till through the British world were known 
The tumeit of Pirr kuJ Fox alooe. 
Spells of such force no wiiard grave 
E'er framed io dark Tbesulian caTe, 
Though hia codd drain the ocean dry, 
And force the plaatu from the sky. 
These spells are spent, and, spent with tbae, 
The wine of life is on the lees. 
Genius, and i^uce, and olent gaoe. 
For ever tomb'd beneath the stone, 
Where— uming thought lo humaa pride I— 
"Hic mighty chiefs sicep ^idc by tail. 
Dnf ifioa Pox's grvre the Ktr, 
Ttrill trickk to Im rivafs bier ; 



SIR WALTER SCOTT 

O'er Pitt*! the mournful tequiem sound, 
And Fok'i sbill the men rebound. 
Tlic sotcmn echo Kcini to cry, 
'Hen; let their <U»oord with th«n <l!e. 
Sl<ak Dot for thow a separate doom 
Whom fate iDMie Itrothcrs in the tomb; 
But sesrch the Usd of living nMO, 
Wlicie wilt tbou Tind tbtir Ukc igfof* 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE ■ 
X4P. The Rime of the Antient Maimer 
Part 1 



AiastfaM 

HmIm 

— iltt thun 

aTlanlB 



I T is an uicient Mirmcr, 
^ And he stopfetb ooe of three. 
Er.i.iriiMa 'By thy loog grey bnid and glitleiing eye, 
Wj2i£S Now whcwfore Mopp-tt thou me? 

to*. 

The Dndegroooi'* doora kk opcn'd wide, 
And 1 ani next of lunj 
The guests vc nici, the feaa IS sa: 
May'st hear the nieny din.' 

He holds him viih his akinny hand, 
'There w« a ship,' qooth he. 
'Hold offl unh&nd me, grey-beard loonl'J 
Efitoons hi> liand djvpt he. 

Sirt£*''1f ^' '"*'''* **"" *'* ^ gbttnittg eye — 
tasdV^t The Wcdding-Goest stood uill, 
HKruiv-^o. And listens like a dtree years' cfaiM: 
X^C^t^tt The Mariner h«h W* wilL 



« 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



The Wcdduig-Gurtt ui on > uonc : 
He euiDOt choow bot Iww; 
And Uuu tfika on thu aodcnt mon, 
The bnght-CTed Mariner. 

'The ship wk> checr'd, the Kaibour ckat'd, 

Merrily did ve drop 

Below the iirlc, below ibe hill, 

Below the lighthouse top. 

"nie Sun came vf opon the left, 
Out of the tea exoe he! 
And he thane bright, aiid on the right 
Went down into the lea. 

Higher Md higher erery d»y. 
Till OTW the Runt ai aoon -■' 
The Weddiag-ODCft here ben his breast, 
For he beant dw toud busooo. 



TV* Mitl»r 
trill ksv Ike 
•IniMlIra 

■ nodwlKl 
•n^blr 
mikM. riri 
linwlMdU* 



The bride hub paced into the hall, 
Red as a roM is die; 
Nodding ihrir hrid.t before hrr goc« 
Tha merry mtnnrclsy. 

The Weddiag>GtieR he beat \a% bmwt. 
Yet be cannat cboote bat hear; 
And tbm ifoke on that ancieM nun. 
The bright-eyed Matinef. 

'And now the Stomi-tlaK came, and be 
Wn tjrraxnoua and ttnmg: 
He (truck with lus o'etukinj; wings, 
And chiwd us south along. 



CSCMlKAfcA 
«eMd«l 

UntHT 



ttasMfehkuik 



rcen- 



TWiUpAawti 
bv a ttaob to- 

Pot*. 



<W9 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



With sloping taasu hik) dipping prow, 

As wlio punned with yrll and Uow 

Suit treads the shadow of his toe, 

And forward bends his head, 

The ship droTv fast, loud roar'd the falist, 

And southwurd aye we fled. J 

And now there came both nuu attd riow, 
And it grew wondroos cold: 
And ice, mast-high, came floating by, 
A> grcMi as cmndd. 

ofke. And iJirough the drifts the soowy cEfa 
«u-t":S!, Did send a dismal Sheen: 
no uv:„r iinni Nor ibapes of men nor beasts we kea — 
The ice wu ill between. 

The ice was hert, the ice was there. 
The ioe was all aiuimd ; 
It cnck'd and growi*d, and roai'd osd howl'd, 
Like noises in a s««uq<1 ! 



•ivf< 



Ttn t-gntt 
•M-bint, olleJ 
ihc Altuira*^ 
aunt Lhr«g)th 

Atlfl waa sw- 

fmt jO)' and 



AnJ In 1 the 

AIIhIRhi 

pTOtrrb • \tirA 
«f voo't oflifn, 

■nSfull 



I fullawilli 

ttw phj;)4air 
•fturnid IKUlh- 

wmd ilimaih foj and flauing lc& 



At length did crow an Albatross, 
Thorough the (og it came; 
As if it had bwo a CIiHstijn soul, 
We haii'd It in God's name. 

It ate the food it oe'cr had eat, 
And round and round it flew. 
The ice did split with a thBnder>fiti 
The helmsman sieer'd us through I 

And a good juuili wtnd spmg up 
The AltMiross did follow. 
And every day, for food or play, 
Came 10 the mariners' boUo! 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 

In mitt or cloud, oa ram or thjoud. 

It perch'd for vexpere ninet 

Wliilts all the night, throogh fog-imokc white, 

Climmcr'd the while nwOMlHnr/ 



'God n*c thee, mdent Mariner, 

From the ItMid*, that pl^^uc thee thut!— i ck ^.j, 
Why look'sl thou to?'— 'Witli my criMsbow wiaofpixi " 
1 shot the AlbairoM. 






pAtT II 

' The Sun now toite upon the right : 
Out of tlw sea came he. 
Still bid in miit, and on the IHl 
Went down into ibc sea. 

And ibc good south wind still blew behind, 
But DO nmt bird did follow, 
Nor any day for food or play 
Cune to til* narinere* hollo 1 

And I had done a belSth ihiog. 

And ii would work 'em woe: 

For >U ■mr'd I had kjll'd ibc bini 

ThK made the brceic to blow. 

Ah wretch! said tlicy, the bird to slay, 

That made tlie bcca« to blow! 

Kor dim w>r r«d, like God's own Itnd, 

The gtorioQS Sun upriit : 

Tbrn ail afcrr'd I had Itill'd dw Un) 

Thii brongbt the fog aod mist 

Twa* right, said they, audi birda to slay. 

That bring tbe fo| and mitt. 



Hill . 

crjF «■■ aiitari 

U>n>CT for 
kiUibi <V binl 
•TgooI lalk 



■■1 ■)*• i)h 
aMkslboD- 



rlkinlBtlM 
crlB*. 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDCB 



Ttchlr 

•Km«alfl(t thq 

OBil Hrik nnnb- 
■ni4, M«i lUI 
it i«iich« ihs 

bmMatrnhr 
bccaliOML 



Tht fiir bttnc blew, the white fi»m 8cw, 

The furrow fotlow'd Tm; 

Wc were the lire* thai ever burst 



r'lrrr' !«» ih* jUem sea. 



Down <Iropt the hntw, the sails drDjit down 
Twan ud as ud coutd bei 
And we did speak onljr to break 
The nlence of the ««! 

All in a hot and eopper sky, 
The bloody Sun, K noon, 
Right op above the mast did Maixl, 
No bigger thin the Moon. 

Day afier day, dty tStcr diy, 
Wc stuck, mr breath nor motioa ; 
As idle as a iMtinted ship 
Upon a painted ocean. 



AndihsAlbb Water, water, everywhere, 
E^Tm^^" And all tlie board* did ahrinkt 

Water, water, everywhere, 

Nor any drop to drink. 

The wry deep did rot : O Christ I 
That ever this should be I 
Yea, slimy thingt did cnwl with kgi 
Upon tho slimy sea. 

About, about, in reel and ront 
The death-fires Jaoced it night i 
The water, like a witch's oils. 
Burnt green, and blue, aod white. 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



And some in dreams assured were 
Of the Spirit that plagued us so ; 
Nine fathom deep he had follow'd us 
From the land of mist and snow. 



A Spitil hid 
follon-ed thnn; 
one ol thr in- 
Titible inhabit 
mnu of ihii 
pbnct, nrrihvr 
dtparled «gu1i 
nor unfjeli -, con- 



cnninff whom thr learned Jnr, Jnpphm, ind the PI b ionic CDciitanimopolilan, 
Uicluel PirUiiBt nurbe eormltcd. Ttiej ire vtty - 



dimmcv or elemcDt wichoot odc or more. 



r numetoiu, and there ii no 



And every tongue, through utter drought. 
Was wither'd at the root ( 
We could cot speak, no more than if 
We had been choked with soot. 

Ah 1 weD i-day ! what evil looks 
Had I from old and young! 
Instead of the cross, the Albatross 
About in J neck was hung. 

Pajit III 

'There passed a weary time. Each throat 

Was parch'd, and glazed each eye. 

A weary time t a weary time 1 

How glazed each weary eyel 

When looking westward, I beheld 

A something in the sky. 

At lint it seem'd a little speck, 
And then it seem'd a mist; 
It moved and moved, and took at last 
A certain shape, I wist. 

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wistt 
And still it near'd and near'd : 
As if it dodged a watcT'Spritc, 
It plunged, and tack'd, and veer'd. 



The •hipDiam 
in their tore 
diftrrvt, woalrl 
fAin Ihrow the 
«'ha1e nilt oa 
Iheucieu 
Huineri in 
■ign mrhereof 
tbej* han£ ifae 
dpHd ■eA-birit 
rovnd hiB neck. 



The ucieiil 
Uarinerbe- 

holdetb ■ ii|;n 
in tbe elemeu 
■ Tar o& 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



Ai It* HHnt 

uii| Mt ft ilrir 

<rnll> tilt 
rtm-li Irom 

■Mnt. 



Whh throttS nnslaked, with black lipft 
Wc coulil not bngh nor wail t 
Through oner drought all dumb wc uoodi 
I bil my arm, I nick'd the blood, 
And cried, A wl ! > tail I 



With throats uaslikcd, with bbck Bp 
Ag^ft they heard me calli 
Ailuherj'Yi Gramncy ! they for joy <Ud gria, 

And all at once thtir breath drew in, 
An they were drinkiog all. 

ARdtMtnr See! see! (I cried) she lacks ao mml 
«niit>*a Hither to work bb weal — 
S;'£^i"i;r3 ^Viihout a IwM. wtihoiit a tide, 
""''•"''•' She atradio wiih nprighl ktd ! 

The wcKem wave wu all aflxmc, 
The day was wcllnigh done! 
Almost npon the we«tem wa«« 
Rested the bmd, bright Sunt 
When tliat 9tni^(e shape drore niddenly 
Betwixt us and the Sun. 



Il wmMii fi!m Add siniight the Sun was fleck'd with 
I'M^fVihilr {Heaven's Nfolher send us grace I), 

As if Uirough a dungeon- grate he peet'd 
Whh broad and buming face. 

Alas ! (tliouglit I, and my heart heat 
How lait she nears and oeanl 
Are thoM her sail* that gbtooe in the 
Like rcsileM gossamcret? 
4h 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



tJwM her ribs cJin)a]tb which the Sun 

peer, u Uiroagh a (nitef 
And if thit Woman all her crrwf 
It that a Death t and m there two i 
h Death that Woman's mate * 

Hn lip« vtn red, her look* were free, 
Her locka were yellow u fo(d: 
Her (kill wai u white u kf rosgr, 
Tha NiglilraarT Ltfe-in-Draih was she, 
Who thicks man's blood with cold. 



Aadturlht 

hm en ihK 
Ur* at 111. 

Iht Sp>or«- 
WouawJlH 
OMIk«>i'. 
and *• d<h«r, 
MbMr4ila 

SiMMlhlp. 
kCHV*. 



EaikaM 
k«fe<>l»4«itr 



lUlct) wlnntlli 
Ihc aBcioii 
Ma/inrr. 

K«t*iltlht 
■4lM*iW 

San. 



The naked hulk aioo{«ide camCi 
And the twain were cssting dioei 
"Thepmeisdooel I'wwonI I'wwon!" Srfrtfj.C^ 
Quoth the, >nd whiutes thrice. 

The Sua's rim dipt) Uie stars re>h ont: 
At OIK stride ccmn the daile; 
With far-heard whi^«r, o'er the ica, 
Off shot dbe «pt«re-b9ric 

We listni'd and toolt'd sideways up I 

Fear at my heart, as At a cup, 

My lifi-Uood SMio'd to sip! 

The stars were dun, and thick the ni^rt, 

The stemrnan's face by hU lamp [^Imn'd while i 

From the sail* the dew did drip^ 

Till cloRib abore the ca^icrn bar 

The homld ^fooa, with one bri^i stM' 

Wnkia tiie tKthcr tip. 

One after ooe, by the star-do](g'd Moon, 
Too qidck for groan or ngh. 
Eld) Inm'il bis fitce with a i^astly pang, 
Ai»d curved me with hU eye. 

sss 



AllhtrUtc 



Owrtir 

■■olhit^ 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. 






Four timn fifty living imn 
(And I hctrA nor ngh nor groan). 
With boBv^ thump, a lifeless lamp. 
They dropp'd down one by one. 



R*i Llf*-tfr The (ouls <Ud from their bodin fly— 
K^fC" They fled u> bliM or w« ! 

StilnSr"" ^'*'* **''7 '*'*'' '' P"**'*' "** ''y 

Like the whizz of my croubow ! * 



Part IV 






■• UlklDT U 

hla. 



And thou an long, aod lanlc, and brows, 
A> 11 the tibb'd «es-sand. 

I fear ihre and thy xl'twriog eye, 
And thy skinny hand so brown.'— 
* Kent not, fur not, thou Wcddiof-Guett I 
This body citopt not down. 

Alone, ilonc, all, all alone, 
AloDc on a wide, wide »ca ( 
And never a wint took pity on 
My soul in igpny. 

BeJcKpiteih The many men, so bcaadfall 
S;'^""*" And they all dead did lie: 

And a thousand iliousand slimy things 

Lived oa; and so did L 



Bit At m- 

clein Matlntr 
UMWl him 
etliitbodilT' 
IU«,and fir» 
ccMMliia n- 
!■» hi! hoirilile 



And cBvictb 

ilinl ihn- 

■ndiomuT 

Ik." • 



I look'd upon the rotting *ea. 
And drew my eye* away; 
I look'd upon the rotting deck, 
And there the dead men by. 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



I look'd to hnven, and tntd to jira^t 
But or mt a pnjpcr had {usbl, 
A wicked wliii|is cnx, and nude 
My han as diy as dusL 

I clowd Riy lid«, and kept thnn cIom, 

And the batl<i like pulsci beat; 

For Utc i^y and the sn, and the ten and the sky, 

Lay like a loid on my larory eye, 

And (he dead wenr at my feet 

The cold sweat melted from tbdr timbi, 
Not rot Dor reck did they: 
The look WTtli which ibcy look'd oq mi- 
Had nerei |HSi'd away. 

Aa orphan's ouae would drag to bell 

A tpirtt iron] OQ high ; 

But oh! mure horr^lc tlian \1m 

la the curse in a dead man's eye ! 

Seren days, seven nights, 1 taw that cunw. 

And yet I oouid not die. 

The moving Moon ««nc up the sky. 
And Dowboe did abide; 
Softly she was going vp, 
AaA a star or two beside^ 



Sal ibr mm 
SwikKirM* 
iatfvi7*ettW 



fai*imh» 
i«ki4i (lia 



It aM MjOBni, im «■ a»H nnVErJ : uul i 

lolftvdl, 1*4 ■ thM* appoinfcd twi tfd thtn tdtH ^ ,._.. 

nl liniiei. Blilch iW* mit •manjMaaMd. •■ lardi ikM an lialiil) 

■■d 7<i Uae li * tlliBi joy ti ibtlr ardraL 






Her beams betnock'd the «iliry nuin, 
Lflw April boar-jnist tprad ; 
Bm wbcR the sh^s hug^ shadow by, 
The donnid warn bww alway 
A itSI aad awful red. 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



Iw brkUdcA 

ram ol rhc 
(KW (aim. 



Th>i[ bM,gi)r 
■nd ihft> 



Ha IIihOi 
I Kvrn to fcjt 



Tlif iptS 



BcyOBd the shadow of thr ship, 

] mtch'd the water- uialcM 1 

They (noted ta ttada of abiafeg wUmT 

And when Uicy mr'd, the dish ^ht 

Fell oir in booiy Ojkcs. 

Witliin the ihadow of thr sh^ 

I w&tch'd their rich aitin;: 

Blue, fliMsy grcta, aod velvet bbck, 

Tlicjr coil'd ud Bwasi 1 snd eiay truk 

Wu 1 Adah of goMen fire. 

O hapfiy living tl^ogsl ik> longuc 

Their beauty might declara : 

A spring of lov-e gusb'd bom my hnr% 

And ] hieu'd thca unaware i 

Sure my kind »tnt took pity oa aie. 

Anil I blcss'd ibem umwsrv. 

The sclfviinc moment I could pray i 
And fiDin ray neck so free 
The Alhatro&s fi-ll olf, and sank 
Like lead into the sea. 



ilwlioly 

MvSMth 
»itb raio. 



Part V 

'O sleep I K b a goitle thing, 
Beloved from pole to pole I 
To Mary Queen the praise be f^Tm! 
She sent the gentfe sleep frum Hcatvn, 
That slid ioU) my souL 

The silly buckets oa the deck, 

Thki had so long rcmain'd, 

] dreamt tltat they were filPd with dwT 

And wlwQ I awoke, it tain'd. 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



My lips were wet, my throat was cold, 
Mjr guinents >11 were dank; 
Sure I had diunkni in my dreams, 
And stiU my body drank. 

I moved, aod could not fed my limbs: 
I was so light — timost 
I thought that I had died in sleep, 
Aiid was a blessM ghost. 

And soon I heard a roaring wind: 
It did not come anearj 
But with its soond it shook the sails, 
That were so thin and sere. 

The upper lir burst into life ; 
And a hundred fire-flags sheen ; 
To and fro they wen hurried about 1 
And to and fro, and in and out, 
The wan stars danced between. 

And the coming wind did roar more loud. 
And the sails did sigh like sedge; 
And the rain pour'd down from one black cluud ; 
The Moon was at its edge. 

The thick black cloud was cleft, and still 
The Moon was at its side) 
Like waters shot from some high crag. 
The tightuing fell with never a jag, 
A river steep and wide. 

The loud wind nerer reach'd the ship, 
Yet now the ship moved nnt 
Beneath the lightning and the Moon 
The dead men gave a groaa 



Hebeareih 

noDdiiuid 
Kcih itrup 

ComiDOliODfl 

Id Ibp sky End 
Uk rlemeqL 



The bodia of 
the iklp'i mw 
4TC lupind, 
■Dd UiEaliip 



OH) 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



Bui not by 

|]4 M'ulfl of 
(ho "«T, nof 
by dfincini of 
t-4f ih or n]UtdI« 

■». llUI t? ■ 
bleunl ctixip 
d' AnjfvUc 

Aivii by III? 
mvouuoD tit 



M 



Thtj sroan'd. tbcy itia'd, tlicy all 

Nor spake, nor muitd iJwnr eyes ; 

tt had been urai^, even in a dfram, 

To have seen tboie dead men riv:. 

The tidiasman neer'd, the ship moied on; 

Y« never a breetc up-falcw; 

The miriner^ all 'gnn vrork the rope, 

Wh«e tliey were woM lo do | 

Tlicy raiacd their Itnibs like lifelesi 

We were x gliuclj crew. 

Tlic body of my brother*! norn 

Stood by me, knee to knee: 

The body xad I (luH'd at one tvfc. 

But he Mid naught to me.' 

' I fear thee, ancieBt Mariner I ' 

*Be calm, thou WcddJos-Guett 

'Twu not those nouh tbit £ed in p»n, 

Which to their conet came tfua, 

But a titKip qF ^iiia Ucu : 

For when it dawn'd— they dropp'd their loe. 

And clusKT'd round the mast; 

Sweet sounds nrac slowly throi^h their 

And from their bodies poss'd. 

Around, around, flew each fwvet tound, 

Then daitcil to tbe San; 

Slowly the xound^ amc back vgain. 

Now mix'd, DOW one by one. 

Sometinics a-dropjnng from the »ky 

I hisinl tbe skylurk ui^i 

Sumctimca alt little htnli that are. 

How ihcy licein'd to fill the aea and m 

With their sweet Jar^ning! 



4 



^^^^^^^^^I^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^Bl^^^^^^^^^^^^^^H 


^M SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE ^^B 


And now 'twas Bke all intlninieMs, 


^^1 


Now like a loiwly flutist 


^^^1 


Aod now it is ui Mifjcrs »oe|;. 


^^^1 


That nukes the Hurena be oiotr. 


^^H 


It cMscdl yti ctilt the uih made oq 


^^1 


A plnsant aobe til) noon, 


^^^1 


A noiM like of » bidden brooJc 


^^^H 


In the leafy month of June, 


^^^1 


Thu to ihc »lrcpuig woods ill night 


^^^1 


Siogeth a qwel wne. 


^^H 


Till ooofl we quietlir aS'd on, 


^^H 


Yet never a brreie did bn-atlie; 


^^^^1 


Slowly and wnooihiy wmt tbe ship. 


^^^1 


Moved onwud from beneath. 


^^H 


Under the luel nioe fathom deep^ 


tVtaiKMnw ^^^^^1 


Procn tbe land of mint and «now, 


SpilU (ran UM ^^^^1 


The Spirit ^id: aod it wts he 


CBltHoa lb* ^^^^^H 

llMUacIa ^^^H 

(baanntta ^^^^| 
Ma(t.bMailt ^^^^H 


That mode tbe Aif lo go. 

Tbe sail* U fwon left otf tbcir tuae, 


And the ship stood Mill also. 




(Mjiuet. ^^^^H 


Tbe Sun, light up above the nuut, 


^^^H 


Had Sx'd hcf to the ocean: 


^^^^1 


But in a RiitiiMe she 'gan stir, 


^^^1 


Will) a short gncasy moikio — 


^^^^1 


Ktckwards and forwanis half lier length 


^^^1 


With a short uneasy motion. 


^^H 


Thro lil» a pawir^ horse let go. 


^^H 


She made a suddeo botind : 


^^^^1 


It fivng the blood iato ny liead, 


^^^1 


And I fell down in * swoonL 


^^^H 


T 


^^H 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



S|itlil'i tiltenr- 
■ntWbk Intebt- 
rtanLli tc 

rtiM*, oic M 
iV* atW, IhW 
rnHuM l«f 
■ik4 beAr^ for 

UarinR hath 

MtbeFeUr 
Sririi, irto 
fHirnHk 



How long a that mrk lit 1 by, 
I hue not to dcciur; 
Qut ere ttiy ItTiDg life retuni'd, 
! heard, and in mj «ml diKrro'd 
Two voices b the lir. 

"Is it hti" quoiK one, **is this tbe muF 
By Hini wivo i\ed ob cross, 
With his cnicl bov hff bid fiill low 
Tlie hiRidcss Albatross. 

The Spirit who bideth by hlm«ir 
In the laod of auK wid snow, 
He loTcd the bird tli.it loted iJie nun 
Who diot him with his bow." 

The oiber *»s a softer Toicv, 

As soft as iioney-d?w ; 

Quotli lie, "The buu luib feautee ikH^]! 

And penaoce mure wiU io." 



P*»T VI 
firtt F'oiet: 

* " But tell me. icO me I ipcak qgatn, 
Thjr lofV rexponM Tvnewisg — 
Whn nukes thai ship drive on so laaJ 
Whsi is the Ocean doinsf* 



Seeoad f^oiei; 



lord. 



"Still as a slave before his 
The Ocem hsth iw tiUni 
His great bright ejre most silenity 
U{i to the Moon is um — 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



If he may know which wt^ to goi 
For alw £uides him xnoocfa ot grim. 
See, brother, Kel how gndouiy 
She looketh down od him." 

"Btti why drivr* on that thip so fut. 
Without or wive or wind?" 

SkmJ V^ti 
"The ftir is cut sway before, 
And clote* fron) behind. 

Fly, broiher, Ay I more htgh, niore high ! 
Or we shall be bebtcd: 
For slow and slow thM shij) will %\>, 
When the Msnncr's imice ii abated.' 

I wokr, and we wen sailing on 

At in a goiUa wcstber: 

Twu oi^t, calm oigbt, the Moon wis high ; 

The dead men stood togetlwr. 

All xiood together on the deck. 
For a charoeMuogeom &iter: 
All itis'd on Tnr their stony eyes, 
Tlut in the Moon did glhier. 

The pang, the cvt«e, with which they died. 
Had ncTcr pus'd sway: 
I could not drew my eyes from Undn, 
Nor turn them up to pray. 

And now thit spcD was snspi: oacc more 
I ?iewvd the iKcan grteii, 
And look'd far Tonh, yx little saw 
Of what had ehc beeti Ken — 



kath l«TB (Ml 



TW. 



■nl niHloB 



■he Miiitn 
bcisnt aarw. 



SaaDrayuMiL 



•4J 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 

Like one that on a lonesome road 

Doth walk in fear and dreui, 

And having once turn'd rouad, "walks 0^ 

And turns no more his head ; 

Because he knows a frighifu! iienit 

Doth close behind him tread. 

But soon there breathed a wind on mc, 
Nor sound nor motion made: 
Its path was not upon the sea, 
In ripple or in shade. 

It raised my hair, it fano'd my cherlc 
Like a meadow-gale of spring — 
It mingled strange\f mth my fears. 

Yet it felt like a welcoming. 

Swiftly, swifdy flew die ship, 
Yet she sail'd softly loo: 
Sweedy, sweedy blew the breeze — 
On me alone it blew. 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



The rock sbooe bright, tlic kiik oo IrM 
Thjit sunds above the rock : 
The inoonliglu Ucrji'tl in silcflUiMB 
The steady wvalberoock. 

And the bay was wtiUc with lUeM light 
Till tisias fron tlic stmr, 
Full RMiiy itiapM, that ibadows werf, 
In ciimMn colonn oune. 



TMohHc 

rtulMM 



n 



MMlbC 



A litdc distance from the prow 
Thow cruiuon shadows were : 
I tura'd voj tjv* opoci the d«ck— 

ChriMi wbK taw I there! 

Each eorse ky^ flu, lifeten and flat, 
Aad, by the hol^r rood! 
A RUD all bght, a scrapli>aun, 
Oa evtrj cone there stood. 

This Bo^il^^Mid, «ach waved liis haed: 
It was a beaTcnly Hght! 
Thcjr stood as sij;iMk to the land, 
Eaich one a lovely light; 

Tins seraflfbAod, each waved ha hand. 
No mice did tbey impart — 
No voice; but O, fix ulcnce tank 
Like music on my heart. 

But *ooa I beard the dash of oats, 

1 beard the Ptlot'i cheer j 

My head was tum'd perforce away, 
And I Hw R boat tfftu. 



AadawMtla 
■Mtonhtew 



t*s 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERmOE 

The Pilot lad the Pilot's boy, 

I hrird thrm conimg fast: 

Df^ Lord in Hnrnil it wu s jojr 

The dud mm could not fafaat. 

I MW a third — I beiud bis toicei 

It is the Hermit j;ood ! 

He (iingcth loud his godly bymna 

Thit be makes in tbc wood. 

He'll abricvu my soul, hell wash away 

The Albattoss's blood. 



Tkc I leimll 



Ibc fhip mitb 



0(0 



Part VIl 

'Th» benntt £0od lites in that wood 
Which Klop<--s down lo the ml 
How loudly his swat race he tun I 
He loves to t>Ik with mariaem 
Thai came froni a far conotne. 



He koccls M tnom, sad noon, and 
He hatb a cinbion plump: 
It is the muM ihjt wboUy bides 
The totted old i>)k-!ciump. 

The akiff-boai tn-w'd: I beard them talk, 
"Why, this is strange, I trow! 
Wbcrc arc those light* so nuny >nd hit. 
That signal made but now J" 

"StDDge, by my faiih! " the Hcrsiii sdJ— 

"And tbey xnswci*d not our chml 

Tbe plunks look warp'd I and sec tbMc siil^ 

How tbm they are and am ! 

I nrrcT txw augbt like to than. 

Unless perchance it wen 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COL&RIDGE 

Srawn skeletons of ln*C3 thM bg 

My foRst-brouk alonf ; 

When the ivy-tod ■■ heavy whh «im>w, 

And the owlet wbixips to the wolf bekw, 

Ttux ens the sbc-woir» young." 

" Dcv Lord ! it luth a liendixli look — 
(The PikM RMk reply) 
I MB jH&tf'd."— " Posh on, push oa 1 * 
Sud the HennJt cheerily. 

The biMt came clotcf lo tJic ship. 
But I DPT spake noi stin'd; 
'Hie boM came close beneath the ship, 
And straight a xwnd wni heard. 

Under the water it tvmbled uo, d^^if*"* 

StUI louder and more dmd: 

h tcach'd the shiji, it splii tlie bay; 

The ship weoi down like IemL 

Stsnn'd by thJt toud and drc^idful wuod, tvikIcm 

VrhKh ifcy aod ocean smote, wmltatbi 

Like one that hatb been seven days drawn'd "'m'*^"" 

My body lay afloat; 

But swiit OS dteanu, nyscEf I finnd 

Within the Pilot's boat. 

Upun the whirl, where tank the chip, 

TIk boat spm rouDd aod round ; 

And «ll was sull, save that tlw hill 

Was trlfiog of the sound. 

I mOTtd my Bft — the I^lot shiiek'd 
And fdl down in a £t; 
'("he hoJy Hermit raited hi* eyc«, 
Asd prsy'd where he did lit. 

6» 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



TIn Micltnl 
Muliifi 
cUhOBily en- 

I Ipnnti I* 
■li>l«vc hkn ; 
kniltbc an- 
■im e( Jllr 
kJI« on Jitm. 



And 'vr 

Hnd ADort 

itllDUfbOBl 

hit rulor* life 

hlin lo tiavcl 
from liD J la 



1 took the o»n: ibc Pilot'* boy, 

Wlio aow doth crazy go^ 

Luigh'd loud and long, and aB the while 

H» ryes went to 4iid fro. 

"Ha! ha!" <{uoth lur, "full ]>lun I Me 

The Devil knows bow to row." 

And now, a!l in my own counmv, 

I stood 00 the firm Undl 

Tiw Hermit stejiji'd fortlj from Uw l»*i,j 

And scarcely he could stand. 

" O shricre me, shnere me, lioly man I ' 
The Hermit cron'd hit brow. 
" Siy quick," ^uoih he, " I bid thee »*y— 
What manner of man art tliou?'* 

Fonhwith thb frame oi mine ym wicnch'd 
With a woful *tf»j, 
Which forced Rie to begin my lale; 
And then It left nie frer. 

Since then, « ao uncertain hour. 
That agony returw: 
And till my glustly tale i> tflld, 
This heart witliin me burns. 

I pas, like night, from land to brnt; 
1 have strange pov'cr of speech ; 
That momrtit thai his &ce I sec, 
I know the man that must bear me: 
To him my tale I icadi. 

What loud uproar bursts from tliat doocT 
The wedding-guests arc there: 
But in the garden-bower the bride 
And bride-maids singing are: 



&|8 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



And hiik, ifae link teaper btll, 
Wliich biddnh me u fnjtil 

O Wrddtng-Gunt I (lib »oul lutK bcca 
AIoDC on a widr, wide m: 
80 I01KI7 'twu, th«t Cod llifluclf 
Scarce tccmM there lo he. 

O sweeter thu the numi^e-rmn, 
Ti* cwoeur far (o mc, 
To walk (ogcthir to the kirk 
Wiih * cuodly cofiifunjr! — 

To walk togethcf to the kirfc, 

Aad kll tognbcT pray, 

Wliilc etcb to bis gmt Fathrr bends. 

Old IBCO, ind UUs, and loripg fncndSi 

And joaiia tnd iiiuidcn:» gay t 

FirewcU, £mwell ! but this I tcU 
To thee. tboQ WeAEng-GueM ! 
He pnpcth wdt, who loreth w«ll 
Both nuB and bard and bean. 

He pnTclh facU, who loretb best 
All tfainp both great and anull ; 
For the dear God who lotteth us, 
He made asd bmh alL' 

The Huinv, wboM eye b bright, 
WbOM beard with >ft a boat, 
I* gOM: aad now tbe Wedding-GueK 
Toni'd fram the bridegrtMm'x door. 

He went lUie one that hath btco Muon'd, 
And is of tenae fodom : 
A udder and a wiser naa 
He tow tbe morrow nom. 

I* 



And tDfacb, 
hy bli irto 

•UiUin 
IkMCoJ 



«tg 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 

//o. Kubla KbiiH 

T N Xaaadu did Kubb KKm 
* A fttucly plcatnrc-dooic decree: 
Wtiere A)ph, ibe sacred river, rxa 
Through civeros measureless lo rmo 

Down to a sonleu sea. 
So twice Tivc miln of fenjlc ground 
With wails and lo>-cra were gjrdled rouod; 
Attd tlierc were garden bright with siaiKMU rilb 
Where hloMOtn'd iruny «n iocccie-beariog titei 
And )iere were fomtt ucicnt u the hilb, 
Ecfolding sunny spou of greenery. 

But O, tim deep ronuoiic chtun which sbnitd 
Dowa the gnm hill athwart a cedani ooi^l 
A sa\^e place I aa holy aad cocbanted 
As e'er betmith a wmiag mooa waa haunted 
By wonun nailing for lier detnon-lorer I 
And from thi* ckL^m, with cwiatlaa turmoil 
As if this c.iTih in ixtx. thick pants were 
A mighty fountain momctiily wa& forced j 
Amid who6c swift half-tutenmited Uvat 
Huge (ragraeota vaulted Jtlte rcboundii^ hail, 
Or chaffy gma hconuh the thn:sl>eT*s Sail: 
And 'mid these dsccing rocks at once acd trer 
It flung up momcndy the i.Krcd river. 
Fiv« miles mcandeting with a maxy motion 
Through wood and dale the sacted rivrr ran, 
Thai i«ach'd the cafcm* mKisiirelcM to mw, 
And sank in tumult to a lifeless oceaa: 
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far 
Aocesml voices prophesying war! 
•id 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGB 

Tht ^ilow of the dome of picawre 

Plotted midway on the witm; 
Wbnv was besril the mingled BWMMt 
Ftoni ilie fouMaia sod the cms. 
tl vrts a minde of nir derior, 
A WBiijr |)lnsiit«>dome wiib cavei cf u:«! 

A <UiB9d with a ddctnKr 
In 1 niioo ooce I uwi 

It ivu an Abjriwiiaii maid. 
And 00 bcr duldincr ihe pla/dt 

Sisgiiig of Moont Abon. 

Codd I t«riT« within lat. 

Her symfitonj and »oti)i, 
To such a deep delight 'twould win ne. 
That with music loud and long, 
I would build titti done in air, 
Thai aonny dome 1 thotte caves of ice ! 
Aod aU who heard should >ee them ihne. 
And all should ay, Bcwan;! Beware! 
His flashiDg eyes, hit Houiog hair I 
WesTe 3 circle niuod liim tlince, 

And dose your e)-es v-iih holy dnai. 

For be on boncydew hath fi^l, 
Aad drank the milk of Paiadisc. 



ALL thoo^cs, all pusions, all defighn, 
■**■ Whatever stirs that moRal fiane. 
All arc b«t nunsUrs of Love, 
And leed his aacrcd flame. 



jANfUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 

Oft in in<r wakicg dreams do I 
Live o'er tpiin ibat Iu|if7 boia, 
When midway on the mmiat 1 hy, 
Bcwlc the niia'd tower. 

The moontluQe, stealiag o'tt ihc scene. 
Hiid bkoded tt-iih the ligbu uf cte i 
And she WW Uktv. my hope, my joy. 
My own dui GcncTien ! 

She Icao'd sgaioK the unM mas, 

The Bucuc of tbc «mM Koighti 

She stood and liweo'd to my l«y. 

Amid the ling^og It^t. 

Pew sorrows hath she of her own. 
My hope! my joyl my Ctncvieiel 
She lo*c£ mc hea whene'er I ung 
The w>Dgs tlut nuke lier £iic>«. 

I play'd a soft and doleliil air | 
I Kuig an old and tnoviag norr~— 
An old nide song, that luiicd well 
Tlut nriu wild aad hoaiy. 

She liscen'd with a fliuing blmh, 
Whh dowDcan cyn aod niodcK grace; 
For well she Imcw I could not cIiooh 
But gai« upon ber face. 

1 told hn of the Knight that won 
Upon his shield a bntaing brud; 
And that for ten long jnrs be woo'd 
The Lady of the Lrad. 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 

I told ber how he ptnei); ind ah I 
Tbc <lce|>, ihr low, tbe pluding tone 
Wiih which I sang aaother's low, 
Intetprcttd oiy own. 

She liucn'd with ■ ftttliRg biwibr 
With dovncast ryes a»d modmt grace i 
And die fofs^ve me, tliat I giicd 
Too (bodly on her f>eel 

Bm wlieo I told the croel wom 
Thu ermd that bold «nd \o\x\j Kniglit, 
And that be crou'd the mountain- wood*^ 
Nor reued diy oor oiglH: 

Thu MOietitnes fnm the savage den. 
And niiMtiinet fron Uie darksome shade, 
Aiid MinetiiBrs staitiog up at o»ce 

In green and sudny glade- 
There came and lookM him in die face 
An angel beautiful aad br^hti 
And that be knew it wu a Ficad, 

This miMtable Knight I 

And that, anknowing what he did, 
He leap'd amid > murderous band. 
And satrd frota ouinge war«c than do;iih 
The L»dy of the Land :— 

And how she wept and clasp'd hb knees ; 
And how she tctxled htm in vain — 
Aitd erer strorc to expiate 

The scois that cmed hb brain j— 

4t> 



^ 


SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 1 


And thu fiie noracd him in a cant 1 


Aod how his midBCM went BWay, M 


Wboi on the yellow fomt (etm ^H 


A dying naa be lajr i— ^^M 


His dying wonh— but when I rcneli'd 1 


That inidemt ama ct all ihe diny, 1 


My fjitrririg roice and pausing harp ^^1 


I>tstwb'd ber Mid with pity t ^H 


All impulses of soul and amst ^^M 


Had thriU'd my gniletm Geaerietei 1 


^^^^^m Tbe imuic and the doleltil tale, ^^1 


^^^^^H The tkli and hJmy ne; ^^M 


^^^^^^M And hopes 3"d fnn that lundk bopc^^^Hj 


^^^^H An undistin^i^habtc throDg, 


^^^^^H And geatlc uiahcs looi; subdued, 


^^^^^^1 Subdued and cherish'd long! 


^^^^^B She wrp intk pity and de&ght. 


^^^^^1 She hlu^h'd with ioie and virgin shame i 


^^^^^H And like the munnur of a drnm, 


^^^^^1 I heard hrr bfeatfae ny name. 


^^^^K Her bo«o>n hnrcd — she stepp'd Midc^ 


^^^^^L As conscious of my look she strpt— 


^^^^H Then suddenly, with linwrona eye 


^^^^H She fled to aie and wept. 


^^^^^ft She half encloMd ine with her arms, 


^^^^^M She piess'd me with a mctk embrace; 


^^^^P And beading back lier head, look'd np, 


^^^^^L And gncd upon my fitcc. 


^^^H 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLEEUDGE 

Tvat panljr lorr, and fordy ftWi 
And prtiy 'twas a bcMlifu] ar, 
Ttut I might ntber fed, tfaan sec, 
The iweUiBg of her hon, 

I cslm'd bcT fears, and the wm cabn, 
;And told brr Iotc with Tirgjo pride; 
And » t won my Getwricre, 

My bright aad bnutcous Bride. 



r*- 



Twir/i Attil jige 



\7ERSE, a b««e 'mid blovwmi nraytng, 
* Where Hope clung ferdiog, Iik« a b«— 
Both were mine! Life wvnc a-mtyinj 
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, 

When 1 was youtt^l 
When I was young f — Ah, woful Whonl 
Ah t for ilie change 'twixt Now and Then 1 
Tbb braufaiag house wA built wiili hands, 
Thtt bodj that does roe grim«9 wron^ 
O'er aoy difls aod fjliiteHiq sands, 
How lightly then it fl.uh'd along — 
Like thoKc trim slu£, uiJutown of yore, 
On winding bics and mcrs wide. 
That nk no aid of B«il or oar. 
That fear no spite of wind or tide I 
Niaght cared tliis body fiat wind or weatlier 
Whm YoDth and I lircd in 't together. 

Flower* are lovetyt Lore in flower-like; 
Frieodship is ■ aheltciing im; 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 

O the jojrs thai came <lavn showcr-likc 
or Friendship, Love, mi Lihcny, 

£n 1 WM old I 
Ere I wss old? Ah, wolvl Etc, 
Which te|]» me. Youth '» no longer here I 

Youth ! for ycara 90 nuiny xnd swcn, 
Tis known that ihou Mid I were one; 
rn tliiok it but a food cooceii— 
It cannot be that thou art gone ! 
Thy •esper-bcll luth not yet toli'd— 
And thmi wcrt aye a maikcr bold ! 
^^'h>t Strang disguite han now put on. 
To make believe thai tho« vt gone! 

1 »ee xhnc locks in tilrery xlijw, 
Tliis diDOpng gait, ihb Ahcr'd hk s 
But springtide blowocns o«i thy lipSi 
And tean ttke sunshine from ihiae eyes I 
Life b bill thought: so think I will 
Th»t Youth and I are bou»inaies stitl. 

Oewdrojx are the gem* of iBoming, 
But the leurs of mournful eve ! 
Where no hope is, life's a w-jraing 
That only serves to make us grieve, 

\Vbeo «e are eld) 
That only serve* to make nt grieve 
With oft nnd tedious taking-leave. 
Like »omc poor nighrelAicd pie« 
That may not rudely be dismisi. 
Yet hath out^tay'd his welcome while, 
And tells tJie jest without tlie smile. 



I 



SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 
rXS. Time, Real anJ /magtn&rj 

Alt ALLEGOIT 

ON the wide lerel of a mo'jnuin's hrad 
(I knew BM where, but 'twas Mme &»ery place), 
TiKtf paniom, ooricb-iilie, lor sails ouupresd, 
T«Ki lovely cKildrtn ran an cndlru race, 
A sister and a brother I 
Thi* br otMMripp'd itie oiheri 
Vet enr nini rfie with rtTCfttd face. 
And looks and linois for the boy bdiind: 
For be, ^ai ! it blind ! 
0*«r raujh and nnooth wiili mn stqt be |)«M*d, 
AcmJ knam not wlietSer he be first or Int. 



"Vj-^. /^i7nt VBttboat Hope 

ALL Niure secnu at work. Slug's leave their Im^— 
■'^ Tbe bee* are sdrrii^ — birds arc on the wing— 
And Winter, slmibenng in tbe open air, 
Weara on bis nraUng Hat a dream of Spring! 
And I, the wlule, the sole unb«»y thbft. 
Nor honey nake, aor pair, nor biuld, oor sinj;. 

Yet well I ken the books vhtrc amaranths blow. 
Have traced the Itiuai wlieocc &treaini of nectar Aow. 
Bloom, ye anuranthsl bloom for whom ye lujiy. 
For roe ye btoom BOtt Glide, rich «i«ms. jwayt 
With lips uBbrij|ht«n'd. wmtliles* brow. 1 stroll i 
And would you k-iin] tlie ipdls that drowic my soul? 
Work witliCRit Hope draws nectar in a sicre, 
And Hope without an object cannot live. 



SMiUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 



TTT- Glycine'i Smg 

A SUNNY shaft did I bfhold. 
'^ From tky to earth it slwMcdi 
And pMs«d thcfPin a biid *o bold— 
Swc«t bird, ihou wcrt cRcliAmed I 

He unk, he row, be twiakkd, he troU'd 
Wiihio that shaft of sunnj mtM t 

His eyes of (ire, his beak of goM, 
All dw of amcthytt ! 

And thttt he sang: ' Adieu 1 adkul 
Love's diraiitt prorc sddon true. 
The bloswms, they make m deUyi 
The sparking dcw-dtops will Mt suy. 
Sweet rooolh of Mayi 
We most away; 
Far, far away ! 
To-day! to-day [' 



ROBERT SOUTHEY 
yytS. His Books 

MY days tmao^ the Dead are pott 
Amutd me I beboM, 
Where'er these casoal eyes are CKk, 

The mighty minds of old : 
My Dcver-lailing friend* m they, 
Wth whom I eodTcrsc day by day. 



ROBERT SOUTHEY 

With tbrm I ukc delight in w«al 

And vxk rrlirf in vt» ; 
Aad while I undrrwtnd and (tel 

How iDttch to thm I owe. 
My checks hate often been beArw'd 
WiUi team of thoughtful ftradttxle. 

My thoughts are with the Dend; with them 

I live in lonf;-[xi>t yexn. 
Their rittue^ lovi-, iheii fzalts condemn, 

Partake their hopes and fcan; 
And from tbnr lesMu Mrk .-ind litMl 
Instniciioo with an humble mind. 

My hope* are with the Dead ; inoa 

My plior with ihwi will be. 
And I tvith them iihall tmrel on 

Through alt Fuwiity; 
Ytt Innnf; here a raior, I imtt, 
Thu win Doi petiah in the duEC 



WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR 

Vf7. The Maid's Lament 

■rrj-M* 

1 LOVED him not; and yet now he a gone, 
^ I feel t am alone. 

I dwck'd him while be spoke; yet. cooU he ^eal^ 

Alas I I wottM not check. 
For rea-ions not to love him once I soa^t, 
And wctfied all my thought 



WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR 

To vex mysdf umI htra i I WW woold ^tc 

My lore, could be bat liie 
Who lairly ItTrd for me, and when he found 

TwM TMn, tn hoty groand 
He h*d hb face amid the shade* of death, 

I wute for him my biralh 
Who waited hix (or me; but mine n 

And this lorn botom bom 
With stilling \vtMy herring it up in sleep. 

And wikiiif; me to weep 
Tern thiit bul melted bis soft beart: for ynn 

Wept be as Utter teara, 
' MereifijI Cod I ' such was hi» lateM ptayvr, 

'Thcw may she never share!* 
QuietfT is bis bresih, liis brrsa more cold 

Tlian daisies in the mocddi 
Where children spell, sthwarr the rhurchyird 

His name and life's brief due. 
Pnj for turn, Jtcctle souls, whoe'er you be, 

And, O, pray loo lor me! 



AH, what aTails the sceptred matX 
^^ Ah, whu the fbnn divine I 
What ereiy rirtue, e»tiy grtcel 
Row Aylmer, all w«re ihtne. 

RoK Aytmer, whom these wakefiil eyes 

May weep, bu« never see, 
A tiigtii of memories and sight 

I consecrate to thee. 



WALTER SAVAGE LANUOR 

pROM you, bmlic, little trouUe* (mm 
^ Like liuk Ht^'lcs dowa a suaoj riwri 
Your pJUMtn ipriog like daisies ia the grut, 
Cat dovn^ ind i^ >{;>■» a* blithe a« ever. 

/rfo. Tvsent/ Tears hence 

'yWENTV jreaw licaoe my e)'e» may grow, 
' If oot ({uke difn, yet rather to i 
Yet youn fram othcre they shall kiMW, 
Twenty yrara bcncc. 

Twenty years hence, though it my hap 
That I be call'd to uke a nap 
In 4 cool cell where thuoder-cbp 
Wu nerei heard. 

There btwbe b« o'er my arch of g,na» 
A not too sadly sighM 'Alas!' 
And I shall caidt, ere you can pas, 
That wtngtd u'ord. 



Ferst 

pAST rain'd Uion Helen Kres, 
* Alceatis rises from the shades; 
Verse caDs them forA; 'tis rerve that gives 
ImnMnal youth to moml tiudds. 

Soon shall Oblivkn's deepening veil 
Hide lU the peopled bills yuu see. 

The j;ay, (he proud, while loren hail 
These many tumiacrs you and me. 

Ml 



WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR 

j62. 'PivuJ H'ord yott never spoke 

pKOUI) word ygu ocvrr simke, bat you will 
' Four not exempt from prick some fature d»}. 
Resting on one wliite haod a wm wet ctieek, 
OwT my open t-olume jrou will say, 
'This mxn loved nw'— thco rise and trip amy. 

f<Sj, Jtesignatiw 

VV7HV, why repioe, my pensive (nevA, 

*^ At pleuuies slipp'd away i 
Some the xiem Fates will never lend, 
And all rcitite to *uy. 

I Mc ilic rainbow in ilic sky, 

The deiv upoa the Biaaei 
I Me theni, and I ask not why 

They (tlitioKr or tbey pass. 

With folded arms 1 linger not 
To call them back; 'twm tain: 

In this, or in some other ^>ot, 
I know tlicy"!] shine agsia. 

f6^. Mother, I cannot mmd my ffheel 

jlif OTHER, I csonot mind my wlied; 
*■'*■ My fingers ache, my lips ate dry: 
O, if you felt ilie paio 1 fe«l ! 
But O, who ever fek as If 

No longer could I doubt him true— > 

AH other men may use deceit; 
He ^w.iyt said tny eyes were Uu^ 

And olicii sit'ofc my lipa were sweet, 

Ota 




WALTER SAVAGli LANDOR 



yttttumn 

\^ILD b ibe partiag year, and iweet 
'^'^ The odoor of the falling spajr^ 
Life paues oo more mdeljt fleet, 

Aod bal m l t aa is in clonoj; day. 
I wait ki dose, I couix ta gloom, 

Qut moujD ttMt DcTcr mti^t Uicie fall 
Or on i»y breast or od my tomb 

"Die tear thai would have sooibed h jSL 



96. Remain ! 

p EMAIN, ab not in youtli ilooc! 

*^ — Tho' yoBib, where you aie, tooj will «ay- 

Udt wbca my naiuiwr days arc gone, 

And ny antumiul huce away. 
' Cm t it m/hmjm ij JMV JK^ f ' 

No; but liiG bovfs yoa can, yoa nust, 
Nor rise at Dedth'a approaching stride, 

Kur go when du» is £i»e to dut. 

7, jibstntx 

LI ERE, eiVT BDce you went abroad, 
^ ^ If there be cban^, no cbaoge I kc; 
I only walk our wonted road, 
Tbe road b only wilk'd by me. 

Ym; 1 lorfoti a dunge there ia— 
Wat h S( Aat yov bade me idl f 

I catch at timet, at times 1 tins* 

The Hgfat, the tcoc, ] kaow m welL 



WALTER SAVAGE LAMDOR 

Onljr IWD nMoUa lioce you mood htnf 
Two thortm months! Then ccU me why 

Voices aro btrslxr thaa tkey wtrr, 
And teua are latter ere ibey dry. 



f6S. 



Of ClcmtnlMa 



IN ClenieoboaS viina mica 
*■ Lucilla iuk« me what I see, 
And are tlie roso of uxteen 
EDougb for met 

LuciUi asks, if thai be all, 

Have I not cuU'd as sweet bcfbrei 
Ab yes, Lucilla I and their fall 
I still deplore. 

I now behold another scene, 

Where Pleaiwre bcanis wi4 HeaTtn's own 
More pure, more consiaot, more aereae, 
And not lew bci(^ 

Faith, an whote breast the Lores repose. 

Whose chain of flouere no force caa sever, 
And Modesty who, when she goes, 
U gone for ertt. 



fgf. fantbe's ^ufsthit 

' T\0 you remcmbei nK? or are yoo jboimJ?' 
'"^ Lightly adwiciog thro' her star-trimm'd 
iRDthc said, and look'd into my eyes. 
' A jtf/, a yri lo boib ; for Memory 
Where you but once have been mttst ever b^ 
And at your raioc Pride from his (faroDe must 



WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR 



/70. On Catullus 

'T'ELL nw dm wb*t 100 well I Jcdow 
'■ About •Cut bmd of Sinnm. 

Yes, in TMia's soo 
Socb ttaiaa there are— m wtien a Gnce 
SptnUcs anotlicr^ laughing ivx 
WUh DecUf, and not oa. 

J7U 7>ine 

CTAND cloM around, ye Scygiaa set, 
*^ With Dtree in oot bo« eootcy'dl 
Or Cbaron, »edng, nuy forget 
• Tbat he it old and abe a cliadc. 

S?i. yllcifhrm anJ Lcudpfe 

AN ancxnt cbettDui'a blossoms Oirew 
^^ Their hnvy odoui over two ; 
Leucippe, it U mid, was oaci 
The otber, tlieo, *a» Alciphron. 
'Cook, cotnc ! why sboulii we tund bcRcoib 
This boHow tree's unwholesome breath ? ' 
Said Alciphron, * hen 's not a blade 
Of ffva or moss, and sciniy tJiade. 
Cotnei it u juu the Iwui to rove 
In the lone dingle iJicphcrds lore ; 
There, iinight and t^l, the hazel twig 
Ditridei the crooLM mck-held lig. 
O'er the Mim ptfabkt where the rill 
Id wimcr rwn nd may run still. 
Come tlm, while fresh and oJin the air, 
Aod while the ihepiierdft are not there.' 



B~ 






HP 


WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR 


^^^^^^^^ Ltweifft. 


But I would rather go when tliey 
Sit round about nod sing and ptHf. 
Then why m hurty me i ht yoj 
Like play aod wag, aod shepherd* too. 


^^^^^^ /Oci^trm. 


[ lilie the shepherds very well, 
And 9ong and play, as you can cril. 
But there is ]ilay, I sadly fear, 
And song 1 would not hate jou hear. 


^^^^^^^^^^^M £,ttwtppfr 


What can h be? What can h be? 


^^^^H Akipinm. 


To you may none of tbem repeat 
The play that you hare pUy'd with me, 
The MDg tliat nude your bosom beat. 


^^^^^B Lrmfft. 


Don't keep your arm about my waist. 


^^^^^^V Altipbm. 


Might you nut Hunibic? ^^H 


^^^^^H Ltltif^. 


Well then, dd^V 
Bat why are we b aD this haste? ^^^| 


^^^^^^M jtlripbna. 


To sing. ^^M 
Alasl and not play too? "^^^f 


^^^B S7i. 


Tears ^^M 


^^^^^^1 ' Sunie hare crqit on, and 90Cne hare flam V 
^^^^^^^P Since lint bdorc me fell thme tern ^^^H 
^^^^^^^B I oern coultl see (all alone. ^^^H 


^^^^^^1 \fu% not BO iDKoy, are to cofne, ^^^| 
^^^^^^^^ Yean ooi w varied, wtieo FrQin you ^^^H 
^^^^^^1 One more will fall: when, carnvd hornet ^M 
^^^^^^^1 I see R Dot, nor bear jfSeu, ^^^| 


^^^^^1 


^^^^^H 



WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR 



S74. SepaTatim 

' I 'HERE is a raououio and a wood between us, 
■* Where the looe shepheid and late Wrd have seen us 

Morning and noon and eventide repass. 
Between us now the mountain and the wood 
Seem Standing darker than last fcar the; stood, 

And sajr we must not cross — alasl alasl 



//J". Late Leaves 

n^HE leaves are falling; so am I; 
^ The few late flowen have moisture in the eye j 
So have I too. 
Scarcely on any bough is heard 
Joyous, or even unjoyous, Irird 
The whole wood through. 

Winter may come: he brings but nigher 
His circle (yearly narrowing) to the fire 

Where old friends meet. 
Let him ; DOW heaven is overcast, 
And spring and summer both are past. 

And all things sweet. 



S76. Finis 

T STROVE with none, for none was worth my strife 
^ Nature I loved and, next to Nature, Art : 
I warm'd both hands before the lire of life ; 
It sinks, and I am ready to deparL 



CHARLES LAMB 

S77. The Old Familiar Faces 

f HAVE lud pbjmuies, I hate bad companioa(> 

In m^ <hys of childhood, in my joj^ Kbool-dif)- 
AU, aU ate gone, the old famUiBr faces. 

I havr bcrn laughing, I have bevD carousiaSi 
Drinkiog late, !>itun|t late, with my boKwn crodcK— 
All, all arc gooe, tlie old familiar lacn. 

I loved a Lore on«e, f^rc« among woiuen: 
CIo«^ are her doors oo me, I nnisi DOl see her — 
All, all vc gone, the old finuliw faces. 

I havr a friend, i kinder frirnd has no mia: 
Like an ingracc, I left my friend abnipdy; 
L«fi Um, to matt on iht old fanailiar facm. 

Ghou-Iike 1 |xtced round the haunia of my cluklbeo^ 
Eanfa srcm'd a dcscn I was bovnd lo tratene, 
Sreking to find the old familiar faon. 

Friend of my botom, thou more than « hrotfacr. 
Why wctt not thou bom in my father's dwcDiDg! 
So might w« ulk of the old familiar fates — 

How some they haTc died, and some they haw Ul ajij 
And some are Htkeu from me; all are departed- 
Alt, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 



ttB 



CHARLES LAMS 



F7*. 



Hester 



I 
I 



W^EN nuidena micb u Hetter die 
** TbHr plwe ye may not well supply, 
Though ye among ■ tbouMiid uy 
With rain endunour. 

A inoath or more bitfa »be been dratl, 
Yet cannot I by force be led 
To tbink upon the woctny bed 
And her tufelbct. 

A ipriBgy moiion in hef giit, 
A rising swp, did iodicau 
Of |ride and yxf do conunon niet 
That Ausb'd her s|»riti 

I know not by what nainc beside 
I dull ii call I if Wu not pride, 
It was a joy lo that allied, 
She did inherit. 

Her parents bdd the Quaker tuie, 
Which doili the hwnai) feeling cool t 
But she was irain'd in Naunv's school j 
Nature had blest ber. 

A waking eye, a ptj'iag mindt 
A beiDt that stirs, is hard to Undi 
A hawk's keen ught ye cannot bbodi 
Ye could not Hester. 

My sptigklly nci^bour! gone befote 
To tliat uaknowa nd silent shore, 
SluU we not meet, as berciofbrc, 
Soow sununcr naonting— 

«9 



CHARLES UIMB 

Wbcn from rti; dictrinl eyts • r*y 
Hub BiniL-k a btiH upon the diy, 
A Uiu that would Dot go nraj, 
A sweet (oniartiutg! 

T7fi. On an Infant dying at Mm as hnt 

T SAW where b tbe shroud did lurk 

* A curious fmoe of Nitwr's work ) 

A flowcn-t cnish'd in the bud, 

A mniclna piroc of Babyhood, 

Wjw in hrr crsdic-coiiin lying i 

Extinct, with scarce the scdk of djiagi 

So toon to cKchaoge the tmpmonuig mtnS' 

For daikcr dotets of the tomb I 

Slic did but c^ HI) ryr, tad put 

A cirar beam rorth, thco straight up ^t 

For the long dwk: ncVr more to 9t« 

Through g1a&<cs of rnoitility. 

Riddle of destiny, wbo cw »how 
What thy slion visit meant, or know 
What thy crraod here bdow? 
Shill ve wy that Nature hUnd 

Chcck'd her hand, and chan^ bcr nund, 

.lusl wbrn she had cxsctJy wrought 

A lini^h'd pBilrrn wiihoui faidl i 

Could she flag, or could site tire, 

Or lack*d she the Promethean fire 

(With her nine moooa' long worfciogt tickca'*!) 

That should thy litde limbt han qmckrn'd? 

Limbs so linn, they eccni'd to assure 

Life of health, asd days maiitiv: 

Woman's Klf in miniature 1 



CHARLES LAMB 



I 

t 

I 



Limbs to ftir, they might vapfty 
(Thtnttclrrt now but cold inugety) 
Thr jcttlptor to nuke Beauty bjr. 
Or djd Hie Uria-rjtd Fate dtacry 
TbM babe Of mother, one must <Uet 
So in macy left the uock 
And cut the branch i to tart the diock 
Of young yurt wklow'd, and the pain 
When Hngie nate comet back i^ain 
To the looe man who, reft of wife, 
ThrncefoTwud drags > nuimM life? 
The economy of Heaven is dtrk, 
And wisTM clerks hare misi'd die tnaik. 
Why human buds, Itke this, should fall, 
More brief than Hy ephemeral 
That bu his day i whik thrivell'd cronca 
Stiffai with aye to Mocks oad atoont 
Aad cnbbid use the oomoence scan 
Id aanaen of an hundivd year*. 

Mother's paule, mother'n kiss, 
Baby fend, thou ne'er will miss: 
Rhes, which cnnom doo irapoce, 
SiltcT bells, and baby clothes i 
Coral re^Uer than Uiose lips 
Which pale death did law «dipse| 
Music framed for infaats' glee, 
WhiKk oewr tuned lor thee; 
Tbongh thou want'st not, thou ahalt have ihciti. 
Loving hearts verc they which garc ihem, 
L«l not one be missing; nar«e^ 
See them bid ujioc tlie hearse 
Of inlant slain by doom perretM. 
Why tbouid kings and nobks ba?« 

6» 



CHAALES LAhtB 

Picturtd tfophics to dteit gnm. 
And w«, cburi>, to ihn deny 
Thy [iretty toy* wilh ihec to lie — 
A more bsnoless vanity? 



THOMAS CAMPBELL 



fSo. Te Mariners of England 

VE Marinen of EosUiid 
^ That guard our aMi*e seas I 
WboM flag Kit braved » thouamd yem 

The h«xJc ind ihc brecw! 
Your itlorious tundArd launch again 

To m«ch MOthw foci 
And nwcvp thraugli tiie deep, 

While the Monny Ki-iodi do blow! 
While ihc tattle rage* loud aad long 

And ibc Giotmy wtnds do blow. 

The qiirits of your fathers 

Shall start ftora eiery wa»e — 
For the deck it wax tfaett lield of fame, < 

Aod Ocean wax thdr gnrc : 
miei« Ulakc and mighty Nelvn (ell 

Your Ruoly hearts shill glow, 
Ai ye itraep through the deep, 

WItile the stonny wiods do blow I 
While the battle ngea loud aad long 

And the stonny wiixli do blow. 
Ok 



•TTfta 



THOMAS CAMPBELL 

Dikaonis oetds na Iwlwsriu, 

No lewera along the sutpt 
Hrr iMrch is o*«r the mowntaia-wiiea, 

H« liomt is on the dnrp. 
With UHaden from Iter natiw otk 

She ipiclis the Aooda below, 
As thtj roar on the sliore, 

When the Kormy wiocb do btowl 
When the hiidc ngr* loud and long, 

And the stormy winds do bbw. 

The meteor flag of En^and 

Shall yet ttrrific bum t 
TUl danger's troublnl night dcfon 

And the sur of peace ittun. 
Tbm, ibrn, ye occucwaniors I 

Our MRg and ft:M itaW How 
To the fame of your nune, 

When the stonn has cesisrd to btowl 
When th« fiery iiglit b hcatti no mote, 

And tlie stoim lias ceased to blow. 



ft. The Battle of the Baltic 

r~\V Ndson aod the Nonh 

^^ Sing the ^onOK* day's lenown, 

When to hutk 6eree came forth 

All the might of Deomark's crown. 

And hct anu akMtg the deep proudly shone; 

By each gua ibo l^hlcd brand 

In a bold detcmiMd hand. 

And the Prince of all the bad 

Led tlmn on. 



THOMAS CAMPBELL 

Like tcviatluns ibnt 

Lay thrir bulvulw oo the brinC) 

While tlie sisn of battle ttcw 

Oo the lofty British Itnc : 

It was ten of April morn by the duiacJ 

As they dnTicd on their path 

There wm ailmcc drrf H dcMh, 

And the butdeM held his breath 

For a time. 

But ilv might of England flush'd 

To antictpaic the accne ; 

And hei vaa the fleeter nish'd 

O'er the de&dJy spwv brtwcen: _ 

'Heuu of oaki ' our atpuins cried, when nd pt 

Prom its adamaatine lips 

Spread a dcatb-sliade round the diipSy 

Like the hurricaae eclipse 

Of the sun. 

Agml ag^inl again I 

And the liavoc did oot »lack, 

Tid a fceble cheer tlie Dm* 

To our cheering sent us back ; — 

Their shots along the deep slowly booni : — 

Then ceued — and all is wiil, 

As they strike the shatter'd aul, 

Or in coinflagnuian pale 

Light the gloonu 

Out iiputtc t)ie nctor then 
As lie hiiil'd them o'er ibc wsTe: 
* Ye are brotlieis I ye are men ! 
And we conquer but to saTc:— 



THOMAS CAMPBELL 

So ixacc intirad of Aalth Irt m tiring: 
Bm )irl(J, Jiroud foe, lliy den. 
With the arw», K. bogUnd's fen. 
And nuke subcalsdoo men 
To ouf tUox.' . . . 

Now jay, old Eofjatid, raise I 
Fof the lidings of thy mi£ht, 
Bjr the fesul cilies' bla^. 
Whilst the wiDC-cup sfaiocs in li^l 
And jwt amidst thu jojr sod upixMr, 
Let OB think of them ihtt iletf 
Full Runy a fathom deep. 
By thy wild and uonny Metp, 
EJaoonl 



THOMAS MOORE 

xSi. Tie Toaȣ May Mooa 

'T'HE jreupg May moon is benming, km, 
^ The glow-worm's Lmp is gleuung, love; 

How sweet to rove 

Through Motm's £r0Te, 
the drowsy worid is dnnuning, IotcI 
Then awake! — the heavens look brif;bl, my dear, 
Tk never loo bte for ddtjht, my deart 

And the bnt of all way* 

To lengthen our days 
b to steal a few hours from the night, my dnr! 

Now all the woiid b sleeping, lore, 

Bm ihc Sage, his Mar-watcb ketpiqg, love, 



THOMAS MOORE 

And I, whftse sur 

More glorious far 
b the eye from tliat cawment peepiig, lore. 
TScn awake t — till nw of mn, my 6ear, 
The Sage's glus «'c'll Khun, my deu, 

Or in watching the Bight 

Of bodirt of Ujlit 
He might bappea lo take ibte for one, my dear I 



^Sj. The Irish "Peasant to His Mistrttt 

'T'HROUOH grief aod through daogo- thy smile lath 
^ cbccr'd my way, 
Till hope tcem'd lo bud from each thorn Aat round me by; 
The darker our fortone, ibe brighter our pure larc bm'di 
Till shame into {;loty, till fear into zeal was tunt'dr 
Yes, slave as I was, in ihy arms my f^pirit felt free. 
And ble^d c?i-a the sorrows that made roe more dew 



Thy rival was honour*:!, while thou wert wiong'd and scws'i 
Thy crown was of briers, while goJd her brows adoreMi 
She woo'il me lo w-niples, whilst thou lay'si lud b eaw»i 
Her friends w-ere all nostcrs, wlule thine, alas ! were ti**Bi 
Yet cold in the earili, at thy feet, I wodd ratber be 
Than wed what I loved not, or tum one thoaght from iten 

They slander tliee sorely, who «ay thy *ow» are 6ifl— 
Hadst thou been a fiilse one, thy cheek had loolc'd las pilt' 
They sty, loo, so lon^ tliou hast worn those tinkering diiita. 
Thai deep in thy hcirt they have printed tbeir servile 
0, foul \i the vlandcrl-^no chain could that loul 
Where shineth ihy spirit, there Liberty iJiineth tool 
4ft 






THOMAS MOORE 



^^84. The Light of Other Days 

/^PT, in (lie Killjr nighc, 
^^ lire sluflibri's chiin hu bouad m^ 
Fond Mi-mofy briqgs the liglit 
0/ otLcr days wouod mcs 
Tbc fintlas, the uara 
Of boyhood's j«m, 
Tbe wonU of Iotc then sfiokn; 
The eyes that ihonc, 
N»w dinun'd and gone, 
Tbc chcciful buns now brokra f 
Thus, to the uiily oi^t, 

Ek akunber^ dUua b» bound mt^ 
Sad Memory brinp ifac ligbt 
Of other days anxuH) nM. 

When I mwniibn all 

Tbc friends, to Knk'd togctha, 
I've eecn iround rk fill 

Like leaves b wiiMiy vcatlier, 
I feci like one 
Who treads alone 
Some banquet- hoU deierted, 
Wlio*e ligtiLi are lied, 
Whote garUodii dead, 
And all bi» be dqiartcdl 
Tbua, in the ttitly night, 

Ere clumber's duin has bouad mt^ 
Sad MciBory brings tlie light 
Of oUiM day* aiound inc. 



THOMAS MOORB 

S8s. ^t the Mi J Hmr of Night 

AT ibc mid hour of nighl, wrhrn ctars wc wnping. I 
*^ To the lone nle wc lored, wbca liiV sliooc warn) in 
ihLnc 47c; 
And 1 think oft, if spirits caa steal (ram the r^oos ofiir 
To rcvm; pssi sontes of detight, tbou wUt come to me then. 
And tell tnt out Ion b reraerober'd ertn in tbe sky. 

Then I sing tfac wild fong it oacc wa> nqin&r co bnr, 
When our \-oioes commingliiig bmibrd tike one on tbc iv; 

AdcI 3s t^dio fur olf through the rak mj ud orisoa refit. 

I think. O itij loivl 'tis iliy roice from the Kintdom 
of Souls 
Faintly mswering still the notes that oacc were lo iktr. 



FDWARD THURLOW. LORD THURLOW 



/*tf. 



May 

MAV ! (juccn of hlossonu, 
And ful&Uiag govm. 
With what pretty music 

ShuII we cbam) the houn? 
Wile thou have pipe and recdi 
Blown io the open mmd? 
Or to the lui« give herd 
In the green bovrnf 

Ttou hast Qo need of us, 

Or pipe or wire; 
Thou baxt the gofden bcC 

RipcD'd with (ii«; 



Ffi,-a>, 



« 



LORD THURLOW 

Aad nuy tbouuid mon 
SoDgtMn, ihK tlic* aiortt 
FilGng rmli'i gne»f floor 
With new dcaiiv. 

Thou but lh;r "Bghtir 1mt<J% 

Tmm; nd ftwiiwrtj 
Doubt not, ihy mauc too 

In the dcrp rivers; 
And tbe wliole fivmj flight 
Wjubltng ihe day aod nigbi — 
Up at the gatn of Iij;ht, 

See, tbe lark i)iuTenl 

EBENEZER ELLIOT 

ffaft/e Song 

DAY, like our souls, is liercvly darfct 
ttTiat then? 'Tis day! 
We sleep no niorei the cock crowi — hatkl 

To una I away ! 
They come I they con>e I the knell b trag 

Of Dn or them ; 
Wide o'er ihcir march the pomp it floqg 

Of gold and gem. 
What colUr*!! bound oS lawtcss sw.iy, 

To famiDc dear — 
What pcnstoo'd slare of Attila, 

Leads in the rear? 
Come they from Scythian wilds afar, 

Our blood to spUf 
Wear lliey ihe limy of tbe Cur ! 

Tbry do hb will. 

4» 





Nor uGwU'd saic, nor epmilrt, 

Nor phune, not tone- 
No S])l«Klour gilds, all sternly met. 

Our fbot Mid bone. 
But, dvl; and fitill, wc Inljr glow, 

Coodrnwd in ire I 
StiilK, tavrdry slam, and y« shall knov 

Our jilootD a fm. 
In vsin your pomp, ye viH powers, 

In«ilu the land; ^^ 

Wrongs, rengcjoicc, and tbe CanK arc eSST 

And Cod's ttsKt hud I 
Mndniesl they trample into SMkes 

The »-onny clod! 
Lilie lire, beneath thv'u feet awakes 

The aword of Cod ! 
Behind, before, aborc, below, 

They row* the brarej 
Where'er ihcy gf>, ihcy make a fo*. 

Or tiad a grare. 



y89. 



Tkint 



r\ARK, deep, and cold tbe current flows 
*^ Unto the sea where no wind blows, 
Seekiiig tbe land which no one knows. 

O'er in sad glooai still comet and goes 
The mingled wail of friends tod foes. 
Borne to tJic laod vlucb no one knows. 

Why shrieki for help yon wretch, who gues 
With millions, frotn a world of woes, 
Umo the land which no one knows} 

Ms 



EBENEZER ELLIOT 

Though iByrwb go with him who pxt. 
Alone be gun wltere no wtnil blow«, 
UdU> ibe land which oo one koo««. 

For dU mutt go where no wind blows. 
And none can go for him who goea t 
None, Dooc rtitim whence no one keowi. 

Yet why should he who shrieking joen 
With milUoos, from s world of woes, 
Reunion seek with it or tho*e? 

Alone with God, WlKn no wind blou-s 
Aad DMh, his shadow — dooTu'd, lie f^oesi 
lliat God b there the skidow shows. 

O tborden Deefi, where no Mind blows I 
And thou, O Lind which no one knows I 
That God is AU. Hie shadow shows. 



ALLAN CUNNINGHAM 
fSff. Th< Sun rises bright in France 

i<f«4-rfM 
'T'HE sun ri»e» bright in Knoicc, 
' And lair sets be; 
But be has tim the biythe bGnk he hod 
In njr laa countroc. 
O, it's nae mjr nn nmi 
Thu saddens *ye mjr e'c, 
But the 4iear Muie I left behin* 
Wi' xwcet baimies three. 

SI 9tt 



ALLAN CUNNINGHAM 

My laiwly hearth burn'd booiue, 
Aod Kitilcd mjr ain Mancf 

I've left a' my hcan behtn' 
la my ain couoirec. 

The bod cooics back u> siunmer, 
And the Uouom (o the beet 

Bat I'll win bKk, O otna, 
To my ain counucc 

0| I Bin 1u) to htgl) Hc-aven, 
Where »oon 1 hope U> be, 

An' there I'll meet ye k' soon 
Fiae my aio countrae 1 



/po, f/ame, Home, Hamc 

l_I AME, hamc, hame, hamc fain wad I be — 
harae, hamc, lumc, to my aio cowcitrtvt 

When the flower is T Hie bud aod the lenf ib oa the tn^ 
'i'he larkx shall ting me hanie ID my ud countrcci 
I'iime, hanie, hame, hamc faia vad 1 b^— 
hamc, hamc, ham^ lo my ud countrccl 

The green leaf o' loyaltie '• beginnhig for to ht-. 
The bonnic White Rose it i« withenng an' a*; 
But I'll n-awr 't wi' the blude of usurping tyinnnic^ 
An' grceo ii will graw in my ain couiuree. 

O, there 's nocht now frae nun my country can »TCi 
But the key* o' kind hearcn, to open the grave; 
Thai a* the nuble ni^ityn wha died far loyaltie 
^!.ly rise again ao' fight for their aid couDtrw. 



ALLAN CUNNINGHAM 

he fftM DOW arc gtx, >' vHi raitund to tan, 
The new gwt 11 spnngi»s on the uji o' thcii gnTcj 
iut the wn througli the aatk blinks Uytitt in my e'«, 
'I'll ahiae on ye yet ia your sin couBtitc.' 

Mame, fatntr, lutne, hamc raja wmI 1 be — 
h4iiie, buue, haiac, to my ain couotrccl 

T9I. The Spring of the Tear 

/'^ONli were but the winter cold, 
^^ And gone were but the hkw, 
I could sleep ID tlie wild woods 
Wlieie |iTiinnwM blow. 

Cold's tlie saow at my head. 

And cold at my feet ; 
Asd the finger of death 's at my e'en, 

CloaDS them to sleep. 

Let none tell my faibcr 

Or my mother to dear,— 
III meet thnn both in hearaa 

Ai the spring of the year. 

LEIGH HUNT 

)92. Jemj' kiss'd Me ^,,^ 

t ENNY luM'd me vhcB wc met, 
^ Jian|iiBg from the chaii she sat in; 
Time, yOB thief, who lore to g« 

Sweets into your Ibt, put that in I 
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad, 

Say tlut health acd wealth have miss'd nir, 
Say I'm growinj oM, but «dd, 
Jenny Liss'd me. 



THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK 

rP3. Low And Age .,,^ 

1 FLAVn> with jrou 'mid cowslips blovrint, 
^ Wb«n I was six ami joa wen four; 
When gaihixU weanng, flower-tnlls throwing, 

Were pleasuKs soon to p{ea*e oo mart. 
Through grorcs nd meads, o'er gnsa and 

WiA liiite pbymucs, to and fro, 
Wc wifldrr'd haod in hand logrchtr; 

But that was sixtjr years ago. 

Yoa grew a lovely rofMtc maideD, 

And still our caily love waa strong t 
Still uith no em our days wm bdn, 

Tbry gltded joyously along; 
And I did low yoy very dearly. 

How dearly wordii wuct power to Aoiw; 
I thought your heart wm touch'd ts ncarf]*; 

But that waa lilty yean ago. 

Then oihcr lovers came aroond you, 

Your be.tuiy gfrw 6om yor to year, 
And many a splendid circk fouDd yoa 

The eemre of its gliittnng xptiere. 
I saw you then, fir«t rom fonaking, 

On rank and weahh your hand bestow; 
O, then I diought ray heart was brtaluog I— 

But that waa forty years ago. 

And I kired on, to wed anothrr: 
No cause she gave mc to repiori 



THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK 

And when I hrard )-ou were a mother, 
I did not wish the chlidren mine. 

My «wa jroung flock, in far jpmgnmon. 
Made up b plessant ChrisODM row: 

Mj joy in them was [est rxprcuioo ; 
But thu was thiny years ago. 

Vou grew > matron pliunp md comriy, 

You dwelt in fawn's brighmc bbzei 
My eanMy lot wai far more hotnetyi 

But I loo h*d my feMo) days. 
No merrier eyes hare etcr gliMco'd 

Around the hnrth-ttunc's wiiury glow, 
Than when my youngnt child wu chrittca'd) 

But that was twenty yean ago. 

Timt pass'd. My eldest girl waa nunicd, 

Aad 1 xm DOW a gnrtdHTC gray; 
Cm pet of Tour years old I're carried 

Amoog the wild-flower'd meads to play. 
In our old Gelds of childi&h pleasure, 

Where now, as tlien, tlie cou-tJips bW-, 
She fills her basket's ample measure ; 

And that is not ten years ago. 

thoD^ int love's impatfion'd Uindnca 

Has pAss'd away in colder light, 
I still hare thought of you with kiadncu^ 

Aod shall do, till our last good-oiglki. 
^le eTer.roUing stieot bour« 

Will faring a lime we shall not know, 
When our young days of gatbeting flowers 

Wm be aa bundfcd years ago. 

«5 



I 



THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK 

fP4. The Grave cf Love 

DUG, btDiiili the ejprtss shade, 
\VIiat «ell mij-ht swm an elfin's gratt i 
Add eicry pledge in cartit I laid, 
Tbat ent thy lahc aflrcden gaw. 

I pRSs'd them dowa the sod bcnraih t 
I placfd one moisy stooc abotri 

And twierd the rote's fading wreath 
Aiouod the sepulchre of Ian, 

Pniil u thy Im-e, the Bowrra vcre ilead 
Err yet the rrmkig sun wis set: 

But ycara shall 9« the cyjons Spread, 
Immutable as my rtsm. 



f9f. Three Men of Gotham 

CEAMEN three! Wlut mco bo ye? 

'•^ Goiham't three wise men wc be. 

Whiiher in yowr bowl so free? 

To rake the moon from out the sc*. 

The bowl goes trim. The mooa doth diw 

And OUT ballast is old viae. — 

And your ballast is oU wine. 

Who art thou, so fart adrift? 
I am he they call Old Care. 
Here nn board we will thee lifk. 
No : I may not oncer there. 
Wherefore %oi Tis .'ow's decree, 
In a bowl Cur may not bc.-~ 
In 1 bowl Care may not be. 



THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK 

Pnr ye BDt tli« wives that roll? 

No : !ri ctiannjd bowt wc swim, 

Wh« tiw chann thai Aoni the bowl t 

VTwier nuy not pass the brim. 

The bowl goes trim. The laooa doth shine. 

Aad our ballast b old wise, — 

And your billast is old wiar. 



CAROLINE SOUTHEY 
r9^. To Death ■^^i•M 

^OME not in terron dad, Co claim 

^'^ An unmitting preys 

Come like an eoeiiiag shMlov, Dcuh 1 

So stealthily, M ulcntly I 
And fth« mine eyes, and stnJ my bmih; 

'niea willingly, O willingly, 
With iJiec m go away I 

Wlut need to clutch with iron fra^p 
What gmdesC touch may take' 
WbM need with aspect da/k to scare, 

So iwftttly, Vi terribly, 
The wvary «ul 'wouM hardly cuc^ 
Call'd quietly, cili'd tenderly, 

From thy dread power to break f 

Tb Dot OS when thou nurkesc out 
The youDg, die blest, the gay. 
The lorrd, the loriog — thry who dream 

So )i3ff ily, so bo]iefulIy \ 
Tiii-n lujsti thy kinint call may seero, 
And sbrinktr^ly, rcluctandy, 
The funuiMnM nuy obey. 



CAROLINE SOUTHEY 

But I liate dnink eaoogh of life — 

The cap Msigfi'4 to me 
Dash'd with a littk twiM at bcK, 

So xcuililjr, so Bcxniily — 
To know foil well that all lAe rest 
More bitterly, more bitterly, 
Dnisg'd to the lost will be. 

And I tasty lire to fain «osic heart 

Thit kindly care» Kk niei 
To pain, but not to Mess. O Death! 

Conie quietly — coroe lovingly — 
And iliut mine eye*, ind sua] my bfeath) 
Then willingly, willingly, 
ril £0 away with tbcel 



<;»>&« 



GEORGE GORDON BYRON. LORB BYROS 

yp7. fV^en we Twa parted 

WTHEN we two forwd 

** In silence «ad teara, 
Hulf broken-hearted 

To Kvcr for yeus. 
Pale grew thy clieck and cold. 

Collier thy kiss; 
Truly thst hour fofctold 

Sorrow to (his. 

The dew of the monung 
Sunk cUill on my brow — 

It ielt like the wamiog 
Of what I fed now. 



LORD BYRON 

Thy *0W5 arc ali broken, 
Aod liglu h xhy fame: 

I heu fhy name xpoktn, 
And than in iu ihuM. 

They Btme tliec before me, 

A kaell lo nune ear; 
A shucUer come* o'er m^^ 

Why wen thou u dear? 
They know not I knew dm. 

Who knew ihec too wdl: 
Long, loag sliaU 1 nx tbee, 

Too <lR[Jy to iclL 

In Mcict wc met— 

In aiknce I $ncn, 
ThK thy han could fbrgtt. 

Thy ifsiR dccoire. 
If I should n>t«t thtc 

After long years, 
How filiould I grret thee? 

Wnh aiiencc and tean. 



fff8. For Music 

"yHERE be dok of Dr)uty*s daughters 
* With a magic like thn; 
And like rauEK oa th« wai«rs 

U thy sweet votcc la mc: 
When, u if ita Mund were CMtung 
The durmid ocean'* piuungi 
The wares &e «St\ and f^eanung. 
And the InlI'd wind* wxn) dnwningt 



LORD DYRON 

And the midnight mooo is wtaWng 
Her bright chaia o'er the dct-p; 

WhoM brcMt it gmtly heating. 
At in infant'i aslcqi: 

So the s{iitit bowi before thee, 

To listcD and adoiv tbnt 

Willi a full but soft emodoo, 

Like Ox sweO of SmrniKi's ocean. 

ffp. U^e'll go no mere a'rovfng 

CO, well p> no more i-roving 
*-' So Lite into the night. 
Though the heart be ttil) xt toting, 
And the moon be still as bri&lit. 

For the (Word outwears ns sheath, 
And the mu) wean oat the famnt, 

And (he hem must pause to btuitbe. 
And lore itself hare resL 

Thou^ the night was made for toting 
And th(^ day returns too soon, 

Yet we'll go no more a-roring 
By the light of the moon. 

ifae, She walks in Beauty 

CHE! wxiks in beauty, like the night 
■^ Of cIoudlcM dimes and starry *liie«j 
And all that 't brit of dark and bright 

Meet in her aspect and her efts : 
Thus mellow'd to that tender tiffht 

Which Itntcn to g»dy day denies 



LORD BYRON 

One ih*^ the morei one ray the In«, 
Had half tinpair'd tlie ntfoelcM grace 

Which wares in ereiy raren UVM, 
Or xofdj lighieot o'er her &cet 

Where ihouights Kreaely :ivrct cxiirem 
How purr, how dear their dweUing-[ilwfc 

Asd on th«t cScek, and o'er that braw, 
So loft, so calm, j«t eloquent, 

TIk niiile* that wm, th« tints tbil {low. 
But Hell of day* in goodnen ipcnt) 

A mind at peace with all below, 
A heart whose loTe is innocent t 



foi. The TsUs of Greece 

THE blea of Creecel the isles of Creecel 
*■ Wher« bunting Sappho l«ed and sung, 
Wbeie j{rew the arts of war and peace. 

Where Dclos rose, and Phixbin sprvngl 
Eternal nunter gilds them yel, 
But alt, except thrir nin, is act. 

Tbc Sdan asd the Tdan nittsr, 
The hero's barp, the lo*«r's lute, 

Hire found the fame your ihorvs refute i 
Their place of birth aIot»e is mote 

To Kninds which echo further west 

Thao your sires' ' Idands of the B!e->u' 

The raountains looV on Marathon — 
And ManuhoB looks on the sea i 

And muaiag there an hoar 'alone, 

I ditani'd that Greece nxighi still be fteei 

Tor standing on the Peniacs' grave, 

1 coidd not deem myself a shve. 



LORD BYRON 

A king sate oa ili« rockr brow 
WKich looks o'er 5«a-boni S^Umiit 

And ihipR, by tbcMtunds, by below, 
And men in nat)on«i— ^1 vrcn lusl 

He counied llieni at breik of <Uy — 

And when the sun Mt, when were tbey? 

And where »ic they? and where art ilim, 
My coimifyf On thy i-gictlcia shore 

The hcrwc lay is tuoeleu now — 
The hermc bowni beats no morel 

And must thy lyre, m loog dinoe, 

Degenente into hands like mine? 

'Tib something in the dewth of (ttat. 
Though link'd amonj; a (etter'd race, 

To ftel at least a futnot's sbame, 
Eteo as J sing, sulfuse rey ha; 

For what is left the poet here? 

For Greeks a blusb— for Greece a lev. 

Mad wt but weep o'er days more blest f J 
Musi nif but blush?— Oiir faibers 

Eanli I render Wk from out thy breast 
A remnant of our Spartan dead ! 

Of the three hundred gnnt bgt three, 

To malw a new Thcrroopytxl 

What, silent still ? and silent all ? 

Ahl no; — the roices of the dead 
Sound like a distant torrent's fall, 

And answer, * Let one liTing tmd, 
But one, arise, — vt come, we oomel' 
Tis but the Unng who arc dumb. 



LORD BYRON 

b WJB— in tm> Mrike oth«f cbord«i 
Fill bi^ tbe cup with Suniaa winci 
Lcate banles to iIm Tuikish bordca, 

And »brd ihe blood of Scio's viae) 
Haikl riiii>(i lo the iRiwMe call- 
How an.iwns uch bold l^cchaml I 

You lu«tt the Pyrrhk dtnce as ym 
Wbtie is the Pyrrhic ptuhax gooef 

Of iwo such tnsoQS, why forgn 
The nobler and tbe maalter one i 

You have the lettcis Cidmia giTe — 

Tbiok jv be mcaat them for a slate f 

Fill high tbe bowl wifb Suntan wiael 
We win not think of themes like thete I 

It made Anacrcon's song divine i 
H« iciTed— tut aemA Polycraies— 

A tyrant t but oar masten then 

Were still, at least, om countr^mni. 

The tjrant of the Chenoo»e 

Wa freedom 't bcu and brarest (Vicnd ; 
Thai tyrant was Mihudcs! 

O that tbe present hour vould lend 
Another despot of the kind I 
Sucti chaios as hia were sure lo bind. 

Fill high the bowl wiih Simian wine I 
On SuU't rock, and Pvgit's shore, 

Exists the rcinaant of a line 

Such as the Doric motbcrt borej 

And there, perhaps, scene seed h sown. 

The HcnclekLu blood nu^bt ovin. 



LORD BYRON 

Trust not fot fivedom to the Frank^'- 
Tbey bare a king who boys and wllsi 

In utive swords aad utive ranks 
Tht only iMfv of coomgc dwells : 

But Turkish force snd L*tio fraud 

Would bretk your shield, however brood. 

FiU high the howl with Submii wiarl 
Out virgins d»n<x bcneadi the dude — 

I see ihdr glorious bluck cytt shine) 
But gaziDg on each gtowiog rhmI, 

My own the burning tcai^dfop larc». 

To tliink such httasts must suckle tUvcf. 

Place me on Sutiium's niarhlcd uecp, 
Wlicrc nothing, save tlic wares and I, 

Mty hear our ntuuuJ munmirs 9wm]> i 
'I^cre, swan-like, let me sing and die: 

A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine — 

Dash down jvn cii|> of Saoiian vioel 



602. 



SIR AUBREY DE VERB 
T&f CbiUrett Band 



ALL holy influences dwell within 
'■ The tirast of Childhood : instincts fresh ban Gcj 
Intptrv h, ere the heart beneath the rod 
Of grief hAth hied, or caught the plague of sin. 
How mighiy was thai fctruur which could win 
lis way to inCini souls ! — and was the sod 
Of Palesiine by infant Crobes trod .' 
Like Jou-^h went they forth, or Benjamin, 




SIR AUBREY DE VERE 

all tlxir tooclung bruiy to tcdtem! 

And did ibcir soft lift kiss the Scpuklire? 
Alas ! the lovely pjgtont as a dmon 

Faiiedt Tbey m>k uoi Oirough ignoble fcart 
They fell ooc Moskni steel. By mouauin, Mrteif 

Id Hnd*, io lea*, they died — do mother oev t 




CHARLES WOLFE 

TJ^ Burial ef Sir John Moore after 
Coruana 

^OT a dnim vu heatd, not a Mineral note, 
^ As his corse tu the nim^an we burriod; 
Not a sotdier ditclur^ his faiewell shdt 
Oct the graic vbcre our hero we buried. 

We buiicd him daikly at diead of night, 
The sod» aitl) ou<- bayonets tuiniog. 

By the struggling mooabcam't mbty light 
And the bnthom dimly butaio^ 

No oselss coffin encloKd his bmst, 

Not m sheet or in shiDud we wound him j 

But be Uy like a wanior taking hb mt 
Wtih liis Donia] cloak aronod Inm. 



, Few and abort were the prayers we said. 
And vc spoke not a word of sorrow i 
But we suadfastfy gaicd on tbe (aoe that was dead, 
Aod «c bitterly thoogbi of ibc nkotrow. 



CHARLES WOLFE 

We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow btd 
And smooth'd down his lonely pillow, 

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er 
And we far away on the billow! 

Lightly tiey'U talk of the spirit that's gone-. 
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — 

But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on 
In the grave where a Brilon has laid hifu. 

But half of our heavy task was done 

When the clock struck the hour for rwiriog i 

And we bcaid the distaat and random gtm 
That the foe was sullenly firine- 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

From the field of his fame fresh and goty ; 

We carved not a Ibc, and wc raised not a sion 
But we left hira alone with his glory. 



604. 



To Mary 



CHARLES WOLFE 

But when I spcak^lhra <k)3t not »jr 
What tliou ne'er left's unaic!; 

Aad now I feci, u vrclJ I nujr, 
S«cM Muj, thou vt dewll 

If iboa vouldtt stay, c'co u thou vT, 

All cold and all terene — 
1 (till migbt press ihf itlriK heart, 

And where th]r Nniks have been. 
While e'en tbj dull, bleak cone I hive, 

Thou seemeM Mill mine own ; 
B«i thciT— I Uy thcc in thy t^vt^ 

Aod I «ra now akxw! 

I do not tliink, where'er ihou ait, 

Thou halt fbfgotirD mej 
And I, pabipt, may lootbc this heart 

In thinking too of thee : 
Yet there was round tliee such a dawn 

Of li^i Bc'ct icca bdbrf. 
As fancy never could have drawn, 

And neier can rcMore ! 



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 



ffrma of Tan 

^ -* iTVftan 

pROM Ihe foreus and higUands 
* We come, we came; 
Froia the river>{;irl islands, 
Where loud wavi-ti arc dumb, 
LUteoiag to my sweet ptpings. 



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

llie wiiul in the mds and the nishirs, 

The bcrt on the bells of tliymc, 
The Urd« on the myrtle bushn, 
TTic ckalc BboTC in the laa% 
And the liurds below in the grass, 
Were u silent as ever old Tntoha wu, 
Listemng to my sweet pipcngK. 

Liquid Fcacus wis flowiag, 
And all durk Tvmpe lay 
In Pelion'^ sh^ow, outgroinng 
The light of the dying day, 
Speeded by my swe«t |n[itn|p. 

The Sileni and Sylnns aod Pauns, 

And tlic Nymph* of the woods and 
To t]ie edge of the moiKt riTer-UwtiJL, 
And the brink of the dewy nvcs, 
And all that did then anmd and follow. 
Were silent with love, as you now, Afollo, 
With enfy of my sweet pipings. 

I uo£ of the dancing stars, 
I sanj! of the dxdal earth. 
And of heaven, and the giant wars. 

And fore, and death, and birth. 
And then I changed my pipings — 

Singing how down the rale of Mandiis 

I purfoed a maiden, and cli;]i'd a mJ: 
Cods and men, we are all deluded tints: 
It breaks in our bo^om, and then we lile«L 
All wqit — as I think both j-e now w«uM, 
If envy or age hid not trosen your blood— 
At the sorrow of my sweet ppings. 
fiea 



PERCY BVSSHE SHELLEY 



'iHi, The fnvifaliia 

DEST anJ bii^iesi, come away! 
" Fairer far th»n this fair Djv, 
Which, like thee to tboM in sotraw. 
Comes ta bid a «weet good-morrow 
To the nMsb Year josr awake 
In iu credle on the brake. 
The brightest liour of uabom Sarins, 
Thrrnqh the wioicr vnDdeiia;-, 
Fouad, h Menu, the halcyon Mom 
To boar Pebniary born. 
Bcniling (i-om heaTen, in azure minh, 
1 1 kra'H (be forcbr»d of (be Earth; 
And smikd vpon ibe lilrat tea; 
And hide the fro7<ti sireams be free; 
And waked to mu'HG atl their fount.iin« ; 
Attd breaihed u]ion the frozen mou&iatns ; 
And like a jrrophrtess of May 
Sirew'd flowers upoo the banrva way, 
Making the wimry world a^ipear 
Like one on whom thou sniileM, dear. 

Away, away, from tncfi and towaa, 

To tlie wild wood and the dowM^ 

To the iilent wiMemeas 

When; the soul Med not repre» 

Its imnK lest it thoukl not fiml 

An echo in anoi)icr'» mittd, 

Wbile the toach of Nature's ut 

Hamootzies hean to heart. 

I leate this aotioe oa my door 

For CKh Kcnacom'd visitor]— 

An 



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEV 

'I am gone into the Gdds 
To Ukc whit this sweet hour yields. 
ReAi-ction, you nuy come to-mairow) 
Sit by ilic JlmMle with Sotrow. 
You wit)) the unpaid bill, Despair, — 
Vou ttrcMOic Tcrsc-ttciwr, C«re, — 
I writi pay you la the gntrc,— 
Dcith will listen to yOLtr suvc 
Expectatioa too, be oif! 
To-diy is for iwelf enough. 
Hope, in piiy, mock not Woe 
With sniUrt, not follow wIktc I got 
Long hanng lived oo your sweet foo(^ 
At IcQjlth I God one mocncat's good 
After long juln: with all youx love, 
This you ncTcr told me oF.' 

Radifttit Sister of the Day, 
Awake! nritc! sod come avayl 
'i'o the wild wood« Bod the plaint j 
And ilic pools where winter rains 
Imtige all dieir roof of leaver ; 
Where the pine its garland weaves 
Of upless green and ivy dua 
Round Etenu that never kiss th« sum 
Where the lawns and pastures bc^ 
And the stcdluUs of ttw m t 
When tlie mdting tioitr-fimt wets 
The dni»y>Maf that nerer sets;, 
And wind -Ho wets, and liolcts 
Which yet join not Kent to hoe, 
Crawn the juk year weak and neW] 
W'htfi the ni^t is left behind 
I" 



PERCY BYSSHB SHELLEY 

In the dwp cart, dun and hlindt 
And the blur noon t« otet u*, 
And the mnhitiuliMMit 
Billowrs Biuranr u our feet 
When ihr nrth mi ocean meet, 
Afld bU Uiiogk wcm only one 
la the mi venal wn. 



tffl7. 



//f//rf/ 



'T'HE wotW'i gnat age be^as anew, 
^ Tlie golden jr»n trturn, 
The eaftb doth like a siwke rrnrw 

Her wiotcT weeds ooiwonii 
Hraren smitei, and fiitlis and empires g\ma 
Like wTTtks of a disiolriDg dream. 

A brigbter Hellas ican its mountuos 

From wa»es serMief htf 
A new Penrv* roOi bis founfciiiis 

Agaum the Rioraing «iv; 
Wbefc (wirr I'nnjin bloofn, there skep 
Youat Cychds oo a snnnier deep, 

A loftier Aff^ clenres tbe mtia, 

Fraught with > later prize; 
Another Orf>hem wigf again, 

And \om, mA vcefa, ood <rirflt 
A MW Ulrssp« tram ooee ntora 
CdjpM (w his Datire sboire. 

O write no more the lale of Troy, 
If earth Deaths scroll mnn be — 

Nor mix with Laiw ngt the )oy 
Whkfa dnrai «pOB tba £tw, 



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

AJtboogh a nbtler Sphinx rnicw 
Riddta of dtotb Tbtbci never Iukw. 

ADother Aihen aluJI mat. 

And to remoter time 
B«<tu«nh, lilce muaet to the ticks, 

The ^IcDdour of its prime ; 
And leave, if niught so bri|hi nuy litc^ 
AU ci^ can i.ikc or Hmvo c;ia give. 

Stlun) and Love their loo^ repose 
Slull bunt, more bnght and jood 

Than all who fell, than One who row, 
Tbftn naaj tnnubdocd: 

Not gold, not blood, their >lur dowers, 

Sue votive tears wd symbol iiowtn. 

O cexKl msK buc ud d^ath retanif 
Ccucl imet rata lull and die? 

Cc»el drain not to ha dregs the nm 
Of biucr pro]>becy ! 

The world b weary of tbe pwl — 

O mtftbt it die or rot >t lutl 



rfo*. To a Sk/lark 

LJAIL to thee, blitbe tjoril! 
^ * Bird tbou nerer wcrt— 
That from heaven or near h 
Poiutst thy full heart 
la (cofusc struBS of UDfirrnxditated art 



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

Hifthar itill oaJ )ii|;lier 

From tbe canh tfaou tfaoffat. 
Like ■ cloud oj* Gret 

The blue deep thoti wingctt, 
id liagiiig MiU do« soar, and wving em singesl. 

tn tlie golda Bgtu'ning 

Of tbe tookcn ni^ 
O'er whicli clouds tn brigbt'nbg, 

Tboa dost floM and no, 
H «B ial»odkd J07 whow nee b JB» btguD. 

Tbe pair fvtfk even 

Mdts areund thy fligbti 
Lilur ■ lur of herno, 
In tbe brood daylight 
■n WMeco, but ]Wt 1 beu thy thrill ddight — 

Keen M are the mows 

Of tliat silver sjfhat 
Wbote intoiM! Ump narrow* 

Id the white dawn clear, 
«« h«dly Mc, we Ted that it ts ihcfe. 

All the canh and air 

With thy Toicc is loud, 
As, when Di£bi » bkrr, 

Fton one body dood 
■nooa iKOs oat bet beuus, and heaven is otciflow'd. 

What thou att wc know noti 

What is nuMi like tlieef 
fFrom rainbow clouds then Bow not 

Draps so Ui^it to lec, 
thy pceseaoe tbovera a rain of mdody 1 — 

n 



I 



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

Like a poet hidden 

In tlw li|kl ol thooght. 
Staging bymos unbiddca, 
Till ih« world is wrought 
To tftofnihy Willi hai>es and fain it hc«d«l ooti 

Ltk« a hi£h-boni miidra 

In • palace tower, 
Soothing bo- love-bdeit 
Soul in tKttt liour 
With mate tWCct tt lor«, which overflows bcr 

Like ■ gtow-wonn golden 

In a dell of deW| 
Scattering uobchotdea 

Its BMiol hue 
Among the flowers end grass which screen il rron the ' 

Like a ro»e cmbowcr'd 

In its own gr«o Iwte^, 
By warm winds d«flowcr'd, 
TtU Uie scent it siT«s 
Mak«9 faint with too muck sweet these beavywipgid thii 

Sound of Tcrnal showers 

On the twinkling gf*s>i 
Rain-awaken'd Bowcts — 

All that vftT was 
Joyms arid clear and fresh — thy nranc doth aufm 

Teach us, iprttc or bird, 

What .tweci thoughts are thine: 

I have never heard 
PraJK of lore or wiae 
That poDted forth a Sood of captwc so drrincL 

JO* 



PERCY BYSSHE SHEtLEY 

Qioru liymrneal, 

Or trtBiApbl chini, 
M«ch*(f wiUi ihlflc would be ill 

But an empty nant — 
thing wherein we feel Hunt is Kimc biddtn wuil 

What objecli are the fountain* 

Of thy hjppy strain i 
What fields, or wsTce, or moDotainsf 
WhjK sktfn of sly or plain ! 
What love of thiae own kind? what ignorance of pain? 

With ihy dear keen joyanee 

LangMT caneot bei 
Shadow of annoyance 

Never caiDC near tbre: 
Thou lo<re», but ne'er koew lote's ud satiny. 

Wikiog or t^eep, 

Thou of death must dectn 
Things mote true and deep 

Than we morlitts dream, 
Or how could thy notes llow in soch a crptal Xream ? 

We \o6k before and after. 

And piac for what U not: 
Obt Rncerest Uughter 

Wiih KMBc pain is fniigbti 
Our sweetest songs arc diosc that tell of saddest ihooght. 

Vrt, if we could tcom 

Hale and pride and fear, 
If we were things bora 

Not to shed a tear, 
klioow not how thy joy we crer should come near. 



PERCY BVSSHE SHELLEY 

Bntcr thin nil rocMum 

or di'lij^htful sound. 
Better than all tmsum 
That in books uc foond, 
*Vhj skill 10 po«t were, tlioa scomer of the 

Tocli me htif the sUdons 
That thj brain mu» knowt 

Such harmontous roadacM 
From TOf lip* would How, 
Thr world should littcD then, at ] am lintninj 



6op, 



The Moon 

I 



A ND, like ■ dying Udy lean Mtd \aixy 
■** Who loiicra fonh, wrajip'd in > gaiuy ' 
Out of her chamber, led by tlie bsanr 
And ffeUe wanclmi^ of her fading brain. 
The moon an»e up in the muikjr ooi 
A white and dupdea mass. 



it 

An ^u pale for wcariiKW 
Of climbing hcaren and gazing on the emh, 

Waodaing com)>mionlcs$ 
Among the surs that bivc « ditfctem biith. 
And ercT changinj;, !ikc a joylcu eye 
Tb»t finds 00 object wortli its cooMwcy \ 



PERCY BYSSHE SHEI.LIiY 



tSlO. 



Ode to the tt^esi iV'mti 



OWILD Wc« Wind, iboo breath of Autuffio's being. 
Thou front whoK un^rcn |ircsrncc ibr leaves dnd 
Are driven like gjunu fraia >n enchanter flcrinj, 

Yellow, taA bhdc, ind jolc, and hectic red, 
]*r»iilrace>micltcii mthittKlci ! O thou 
Who durioteat to thcu dark wintry bed 

The wingid seed*, v-liere (hey li« cold sad low, 

Eidi like a cotpw within its gmvc, until 
Thior Bzurv riiur of the Spring kNaIJ blow 

Her ciirion o'rr the drtaming earth, and lill 

(Driring tweet boda Eke flocks to feed in atr) 

With litrqg buts and odours j'lain and bill; 

Wild Sjiirk, whkb tri tnoviog everj'wliere ; 
DcuroycT and pmerwrt h»r, O heart 



Tlioo on whose ttmm, 'mid the steep sly'a commotion. 

[.oo^e clouds like eartb's decaying leaver arc shed. 
Shook from the UDgled boughs of heavni and occai^ 

Angels of tma aad liglitnag 1 there are sprcMl 
Oa the bbe lur&ce of thbe airy «ut(^. 

Like t)ie bright hair uplifted froro the head 

Of some fierce Mxnad, even from the cfim terge 

Of the ItOfizon to the xtuifa's hcisbl, 
I'he locks of ilic approddiing nomi. Tbon dirge 



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

or the Hying year, to vhich Uua clonog n^ 
Will be the ilomr of a viat aqnilchre. 
Vaulted with all ihy oongregMMl might 

or vaponn^, from whme solid atrmxpherr 
Black nin, and (>n, sod hail, will bursi : O 



ni 

TImu who didst wiken from his fuminer dmnu 

The blue Meditcrraneaa, where he Uy. 
LuII'd by the coil oF tui crysUUioc xttvamt, 

Beside a |>umicr i<le in Bus's bay, 
And saw in slwp old palaces and towen 
QiitvcriBg wiiliio tlie ware's intcrucr day, 

Ail overgrown with nrorc mo^si, and Rowers 

So «wcct, the «cnte fdints pictutir.g ihetn ! Thn 
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers 

Cleai-e iliemselves into chasms, while Etr beltw 
Tlie sen-blooms and tlie oozy wood* which wm 
The H[de« foliage of the oeean, koow 

Tliy voice, uid suddenly grow gray with fear, 
And tremble md despot! ihemselTesi O bear I 



rr 



If I ven ■ dead leaf tfaov mightest beu t 

tr I were « BwUt dmid to fly wtth tbeei 
A waiv 10 poftt benath tby powtr, and share 



»ERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

The impnbe of thy iUngtb, only lc» fm 
Tbu) thou, uoDoaUoIlablc ! if evui 
I wen u io my boyhood, and couM be 

The contndr of thy wBndcriogt over hnvcn, 
As then, iriien to ouiunii thy Atty S|>ccd 
Sufoc ucm'd a Tiuoa — I wouUl ne'er luic siriien 

Ai thus with thw ia pnyvr tn my tote attiL 
01 lift fitc u A wutt, a leaf, ■ cloud I 
I fiU ufQa the ihona of life I 1 bleed I 

A htarf weight of houra hu duta'd uid buw'd 
Oae too lile thee — lainelcas, and swtTt, and proud 



Make tne thy lyre, ercti as the fomc »: 

What if my kaiTS ait filling Uke h& ownf 
The tumdt of thy misbty bannoflio 

Wtll take ftoon both a dec|i amumnil loor, 
Swm tbough in iadoess. Sc thou, Sjiiiii fivice. 
My i]>mll Ik tliou me, impetuous oocl 

Diivc my dead tbou][btA oicr the ucuTenc, 

Lik« wkher'd Itai-ea, to ^lucken a new birth i 
And, by the Jaeantatioii of this rcne, 

ScMur, as from as uocxtinguish'd hearth 

Akbes and sgiorka, my u-oids among mankind J 

Be thtvujjh my lips to uiunakco'd canh 

The tfvinpct of a prophecy '■ O Wind, 
If Wioter comes, cao iii<ring be far behind i 

r9 



PERCY BYSSHU SHELI.EY 

tfil. The Indian Setaiade 

T ARISE from ditasis of thn 
^ In (Ik lint sweet licep of nigUr, 
When the wineU are breathing low, 

Aod the ttan arc skioii^ btighu 
I arise froni drcjnis of ihre, 

Aod a sjMi!t b my feet 
Hath kd nie — wbo knows howf 

To thy chamber window, Sweet \ 

The wandering ain ihcy faint 
On tbe dark, the (ileot stream — 

And the Cliatnpali's odoun [pine] 
Like sweet tlioughts ia ■ diunii 

The nightingale's coin|iuuC, 
It di» upoD her burt, 

As I must on thine, 

belotid as thou ait I 

lift me from tW gntsi 

1 die I I fidttt ! I faU I 
Let thy loi-e in ki^ise^ rain 

On my lips and eyelids [ole. 
My check is cold and white, alas I 

My heart bents loud and fastt 
O [itess it to tiiinc own again, 

Where it will brtak at last I 



6n. 



Night 



SWIFTLY walk owr the w«teni waw, 
Spirit of Night I 
Out of the nnsty eastieTn care, — 
Wheiv, all the long and lone dayUght, 



PERCY BYS8HB SKBLLBY 

Tbou woTcst dmtnts of joy md fru 
Which make tlicc tcrtiblc and dr*i, — 
SwiTt be tby Aisktl 

Wrap iby fonn b a mantle grry, 

Staf-inwrougtit ! 
Btiod wiiii th'mc hair ihc eyes of Day ; 
Kim her until the be wuriL'd out 
Then wacMlcr o'tr diy aod m nd had, 
Tonchiof all «-itb ihinc opiaw wiad— 

Coiat, lon2>Mni(htt 

When I arow ind uw the dawn, 

I lish'd for tbtc; 
Wbcn light rode high. u>d the dew was gone, 
And nooa Uy bnvy on 6i>wrr and tfce. 
And the wmy Diy tum'd to her itu, 
Lisgeting liVe an uolorod guest, 

I tigh'd for tbre. 

Tbj bnidxT Death came, ind cried, 

*WouldM thoa me>' 
Thy sweet child Skep, the filmy-eyed, 
Munnur'd like a oooobde bc«-, 
■Shall I nesile oev thy side? 
Wouldsi thou mej'— And I ttplkJ, 

' No, not thee I ' 

Death will come when thou art deed. 

Soon, too soon — 
Sleep will conte whea ihou art ttd. 
Of aeilher would I >sk the boon 
I ask of thee, brIotM Nlghi — 
8w\h be thine appxMctuQg BigH 

Cone uaa, *«m1 



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 



aij. 



/•'torn the Arabic 



■ doe 

J 



\h Y Jiini tpifit VIM sittiDg b tlw liglit 
■I'A Qf ^,y looks, my Jovt 1 

II jFunted (ot tixe like tlie hiixl » ncxxi 

For the broolu, my late. 
Thy bart^ whose hoolit ouupcctl the icmpcvt'a 

Ban; tkrc f«r from mc; 
My heart, for my weak feet wcie wvsry soon. 

Did conijioion tbte. 

Ah! fleeter fu tlua fleetest atom or >iec(l, 
Or the death tbcy bear. 
The heart which tender thought clothes Kkc ■ dM 
With the s-iagfi of anti 
In the battle, tn the <Lbkoe&t, ia the nerd, 
SKill miDc ding to tbce, 
Nor ctud) one smile for all the comiwi, loTe^ 
Ii nuy bring to thee. 

^T^nEN the Ijmp is (hatter 'd, 
''' The tghi in the dtiM lies dead ) 

When (he clowl is ecjiter'd, 
The rainbow's glory is shed i 

Wlien the lute ia broken, 
Sweet tOMS are lemeaibtt'd iWt 

Wlien the lips iMve ipoken, 
Lotcd accents ate »ooti forgot. 

As mu^ic ind splendour 
Sunivc not ibe iuiip and the late. 

The heait's ecboeii ratder 
No song when the spint a nwte— 



PfiRCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 

No *oog but ud dirgn. 
Like tbf iriad throush » ruio'd <«U, 

Ot the ibowiUbI 6urgo 
Thit nog Ae dead Maraan's koeU. 

Wliea hcirl* hare ooct miagM, 
Lo*e fim leatM the wdl-iuili nnt) 

The wnk oae ii siaglcd 
To endure what it ooce jiossnt. 

Lore, wbo bewailnt 
llie fnilty of iH tlibgs here, 

Wbjr chooic jrou the frwIcM 
For yow cradir, your borne, uxl your birr I 

Ii3 fosMCHU will rock ihtt. 
At tbe uorau rock the tairas on hi{h i 

Bright nasoa will mock thw, 
Like the sun from ■ wintry skjr. 

Fram thy nest trtrj nftcr 
Will rot, aod Ibinc ngli- home 

Leaie tbce naked to Imghtcr, 
When Iea>cs fall aod cold winds come. 



n — 

/^NE word is too often ptofwcd 
^-^ Pot tne 10 pro&M it; 
Oae fediog too Gdacly Ssdua'd 

For thre to diwlam it ; 
One hope a too like dnpir 

For pnideooe to sniotber; 
Aod pty from tbee mon; dor 

Thu dot from mother. 

A3 J 



PERCY BYSSHE SHE^LLEY 

I cm give not what ricd call lo*ei 

But wilt thou Kccjit not 
The vonhip the hum Ufa aboie 

Aod the hui-ens reject not. 
The desire of ttic inotli for the Mar, 

Of the night for the morrow, 
The devotjoo to woKthing thi 

From the splmc of oar sorrow I 



616. 



The S^fs/im 



T DREAM'D th^ m I wasdei'd by ibe way, 
^ Bwc Winter suddenly wu cbuiged 10 Spiogi 
And i^ntle odouis led niy Stej>f istny, 

Mix'd with a Bouod of W2tcr& luunnuriog 
Along II slidvJBg buik of luif, wluch Uy 

Uiidcf a copse, aad hudly dirtd 10 fling 
lis green arras round the bosoni of the stream. 
But kiu'd it »d thea fled, u thou cnightcM 

There grew pied wind-fiowcrs and tiolcts; 

Daises, thooc pe&rl'd Arciuri of the eanh. 
The constellated fiowcr that nerer sctsj 

Faint oxlips; tender blucbdla, M who»c tnrdil 
The bod &CUCC heaved; and that toll Hover tlut «ti»- 

Like a child, half in tendemeu and roinh — 
It» mother'x face with heaven ■coltccted icarf 
When the low wind, hj pJnyntate's Toio^ it bean. 

And in the warm hedge grew lush eglaotine^ 
Greco cowtiind and the moooKgtit-colour'd May, 

And cbcrry-blunsoma, and while cufs whose wine 
Was the bn][hi dew yet drain'd not by the day 1 




^^t-"** 

^ 



Wl 
w 



PERCY UYSSHE SHHLLEY 

ad wild rosn, »aA i*y Kr]'cMlne, 

XVitb iu (luk buds ud Iciiires modcriBg uirayi 
And dowcn, aiwe, bUck, uui nruk'd with gvid, 
l-'Mtvr ihaa onjr wakca'd eyn bcbold. 

id nearer CO the rii'cx's Urmbling <d£c 
I'iKic grew biwid flag-Aowvn, pufJe pntik'd with whiEr, 
Anil Mjrry rivet-buds among ihe Mdge, 
And lIoMioj wuer-lilicft, btvad aiid blight, 
hicli Li ihc oak that otvifautig the hcd^c 
M'iib moonlisbt beams of their o^n vAUry light | 
nd bulmbci, Mid mds of such deep gcccn 
MoUied the dazzled eye with tobcr f^lieeo. 

inCbi that of ibcK ftuouLry llowcn 
I made a voaegty, boutxl in such a vny 
Wt llie same hues which in thcif iuiu--al bowcti 
Were miauled ot opposed, tbe like array 
'|<t these iroproon'd children of the Hours 
WttJitn my hand; — nod then, cU'^ and giy, 
hjMcn'd to the spit whence I had come, 
7~h>t I m^bt there |>rvKnt it — O I to whom I 



Remoise 



AWAVt tSr moor is dirk brneatlt tlie moon, 
*^ It^iid Jouds ha<e druok the last ftilr beam of ewn: 
Away 1 the tplheitns ^'vAs will call ilie darkoru mod. 
And I'toloundest midnight ihroud llic ttciene lights of 
hcaicn. 
Puine B0«! the linw it patt! Every Toice cries *Aujiy!* 
Tem^ not wiih one last tear thy fricod't ungentle mood : 
> loici'^eye, sogtazcdaod cold, dirct oot entreat thy auf : 
>uty and dereliction {uidc tiwe har:)L to wlilude. 



PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 



Away, away ! to thy sad and sU«Dt Uciiac { 
Pour biiler tears on its dnolAled Iinnii ; 
Watch ttie dim shades as like ghosts ihef np uii 

And complicate stnnge vein of meUncfaoljr 
The leaves of wasted autumn woods slutl flotf ' 
thiae head, 
The blooms of dewy Spring shall glctm bent ad i 
fen: 
But thy soul or tilts world must fade in the ffoR 
binds the dead, 
Ere midnight's frown and morning's smilr, ae iImk i 
peace, may meet. 

The cloud shadows of midnight possess their ows 
For the wcaiy winds arc silent, or the moon is ■> 
deep; 
Some respite to its tutbuIcDce imresting oceaa koows; 
Whaiever taom or toils or gneves haih tis 
sleep. 
Thou in the grave shalt rest: — yet, till the fibkouniH fce^ 



PERCY BrSSHE SHELI.EY 



r 

^m Row ]f:ivcs, when the rase is icad, 

■ Are hnpM for thr tictovtd'i bed ; 

^B And M th/ lbou|;lKS, vhcn ihou an {one, 

^P Love itself sitill slumber on. 



HEW AINSME 
difi. fyillie BttJ Helm 



* W^HAREHORU Mu'd ye utk o' love, 
** Unless it he 10 foin w! 
Wliairforc Mu'd ye l^lk o' love 
Wtuto yc s^ the Ki nuuD twtm »« \ * 

> It 's no becmice my lore is light, 
Nor for your angry drddyi 

It's ^ to boy yc |>evlins brigbt. 
An' to busk ye like a leddy.' 

' Willy, I on caird an' spin, 

Se ne'er can wast for c)c«din'; 
Ao' gio 1 hac my Willy** hpjrt, 
I liae a* the prarlt I'm lieedin*. 

'Will it be time to jinuw tins cheek 
Whan yesus m' tears has Uencb'd it? 

WiU it be time to talk o' love 

Wtun oiuU m' care has tjwnch'd '\xV 

He's bid ae ban' about ber waist — 
The itber's held to heaven; 

An' hk huk wu tike the luik o' nun 
Wha's he«n in tm b riTen. 

At, Avdtn'] etdhios. 



rn><*^ 



/f20. 



JOHN KEBLn 
ffuna/ of the 'Dead 



T THOUGHT w mctt no mow, w drwry mvidM 
* Death's tfttFrpmuig veil, aad thou m> pnir, 

Thy place in Pvudise 

Beyood wliere I conid uar; 

PrieiMt of tlii4 wonh!es4 b«n I but bappter thon^i 
Spting like unliiJdfn violets from the sod, 

WTicre putienOy^ thou uk'st 

Thy sweet and sure repose. 

T?ie <ihadoiirs full mote soothing: the soft air 
Is full of cheering whi^WTS like thine own; 

While Memory, by thy grate, 

Li*« o'er thy funeral ilay; 

Tlie deep knell dying down, ihc movntcrs' psoK, 
Wxiiini! their Saviour's welcome at the gate. — 

Sure with the words of Htartn 

Thy sjjitit met us there, 

And MUght with us along th* aocustom'd way 
The hallow'd porch, and entering iti, beheld 

The psgennt of sad joy 

So dear lo Psith and Hope. 

O I hnd»t thou brought a stnin from Pandise 
To cheer u^, h.ippy sou!, thou hadit not looch'd 

The sacred springs of gwf 

More tenderly and tnic, 



PiOHK KEBLE 
M dcqi-vraibled antbems, high and tow, 
Jk gnirc, high tt th' Eternal Thnmr, 
Guiding throagb light and gloom 
Our mouralDg fanbn wild, 

'nil gaiih/, Itlw mA goldva cicnda K rre 
Around the western twilight, all sufawle 
Into a placid faith. 
Thai even vitb beanung eye 

Cooots thy sad boooun, coffin, bin, and iNtll] 
So many retici of a fnil Ion io^t. 

So nuny tokm dear 

Of endlns lore began. 

Lbtrn 1 it is no dmm : th' Apostle*' tramp 
Cites e>nw« of ih* AKhnn^l's ; — calntir noWf 

Our hrans yet beating high 

To that Ttctorious lay 



I 



(Mom Itlte a warrior**, to (Ite martial dirce 
Of a trae comrade), in the g^re we trust 

Our irratorc for awhile: 

And if > tear siral down. 

If hunttn mpiisli o'er the sbided brow 

Pass sbudderiog, when the bandiiil of pme earb 

Touches the coffin-lid ; 

If at oar bcothef's name, 

Once and ifiiti the theiajht, 'for ever gone,* 
Come o'er us like a cloud; yet, gende «prigtii. 
Thou tumett not away. 
Thou knoVst us calm at heart. 



JOHN KEBLE 

Ok look, tad wc hare seen c& Ian of tlM>e, 
TtU we too clMp and oar long slrcp be o'er. 

O elrtftsc va, CTc w ricw 

Tbti ooufiKnaacc puiv agMt, 

'niou, who cann cban^ tbc heart, aod ni«r llw <k>il 
As Tbou ut by to MMtlie onr |antQjt horn. 
Be ready wSeo we meet, 
With Thy iaa fuioohg woids. 



JOHN CLARE 
tfil. Wriffea /« Nortbamptm County 

Asjfhm ^a», 

T AM! yet what I Nt who urrt, or knonf 
' My friends foruke me lilte ■ memory loM- 
I nm lie sclf-consutncr of my won; 

They rise ind Tviish, an oblivious hosi, 
Sliadows of life, wlio« iwy soul b li>5i. 
And yet I aai — I live— ibougk 1 am toss'd 

Into tbe i)(>*Jiingness of Kom and noUe, 
Into the living tea of wtikiitg dmai, 

Wierc there is ctttJicr sense of life, nor joys, 
But the huge ehipwreck of my own cMeeni 

Aod fttl (hat's dear. Ertn ibosc I lond the bcK 

Arc (Usage — luy, iliey are smngtr than the rtit- 

I long for scenes where man has nev«r trod— 
For scenes where wonun ne>-er smiled or wrft' 

There to alnde with my Creotor, God, 
And sleep as I in diilclhood sweetly skft, 

Full of higti thoogtits, Dnbom. So let n»r Be,— 

The grais below; above, the nulted sky. 



A 



Dust, 10 ils Dtrrow bouse bcnextli ! 

Soul, to iu pLkce 00 liigh ! 
Thry that lure seen tiij look in dmb 

No moR ma; fear to die. 



FGIJCIA DOROTHEA HEMANS 

rf'^ALM om ihc bocom of ihy God. 
^-^ Fiir ifrifit, nn thee now 1 
E'en while wilh oun thy foocsiqA irod, 
His seal wss on thjr brow. 

Dust 

Sc 
The, 

^ JOHN KF.ATS 

623. Smg of the Indian Mn'tJ 

nOM 'EXDTHIOX' 

r>. SORROW! 

^— ' \\'hy doit botrow 
The iwinnl hue of Itraltb, from vcirneit lips \^ 

To give miideD blufhes 

To the white rose bu&hes? 
Or b it ibjr dewy htnd the daisy tjpsf 

O Sorrow! 
Why dost borrow 
haDTCS laasioa from ■ filcon-e^-e \— 
To pTC tbc £low-worm light i 
Or, 00 a tnoooleu oighl, 
To tinfie, oo stren thores, the uJl sea-spr)-? 

,»«Mp«yliM-q»»jr. 



JOHN KEATS 

O Sorrow! 

Why dost borrow 
The mellow ditties from a mcmrniRg tongue .'- 

To give at evening psle 

Unlo the nightingale, 
That thou mayst listen the cold de«-s nmcnjF 

O Sorrow! 

Why dost borrow 
Heart's lightness from the merriment of Mij!- 

A lover would oot tread 

A cowslip on [he head. 
Though be should dance from epe till peep ef Aj* 

Nor any drooping fiower 

Held sacred for thy bower. 
Wherever he may sport himself and play. 



To Sorrow 

I bade good morrow, 
And thought to leave ber £u awa; beluiHlt 



PJOHN KEATS 
if [ojm-owfi, by the river Me, 
rfjMDg: whM msmnvt'd bridr, 
y »ludowy wooer from ilw dnuds, 
But hidea and sbroiKls 
Bennth dvlc palm-tmi by a n*n side? 

I And 09 I ttt, am the light blue hPh 
TtiRV Clime a noise of rerellera ; the rill* 
Into the wide Stnam canie of purple hoe— 
TwM BtcchuR and hi* crew I 
The «jnc« treraprt spake, and <.ilvet thrill* 
Piotn kissing cymbals made a merry din — 
^^ Twas Bacchus and his ktn ! 

^■Like to a moving TinO)[e down they came, 
^^bgwn'd wkh green leaves, and faces all on flame i 
^BKl madly dancing through the pleataot valley, 
^P To •mre thee, Melaochofy! 

O then, O then, thou wast a simple name ! 
And 1 fof^pt thee, as (he berried holly 
By shepherds is forgotten, whea in June 
^-Tall clKUnuts keep airay the sun and tnoon:— 
^t I nish'd iato the folly I 



Within his car, aloft, yoniig Bacchus stood, 
Trifling his ivy-dan, tn dancing mood. 
With sidelong laughing ; 
Eltle rills of crimson wjoe imbrued 
lis plump white arm* and shmttden, enough white 
Fof Vcnu*' por^ biiej 
[And near him rode SitrooB on his bm, 
with Howen as he on did pan 
Tipsily qnfling. 

M 



JOHN KEATS ^H 

' Whence came ye, mcrrjr Damsels I whencr ant ft 

So many, and so many, and such g}ecl 
Why have ye left your bowers desoUte, 

Your lute5, and gentler fate ,' ' — 
' We follow Bacchus ! Bacchus oo the wing, 

A -conquering ! 
Dacchus, young B3,cc!iiis 1 good or ill brtid^ 
We dance before him thornugh kingdoms wide: — 
Come hitlicr, lady fair, and joined be 

To our wild minstrelsy ! ' 

'Whence came ye, jolly Satyrs! whence came yt. 

So many, and so many, and such glee ? 

Why have ye left your forest haunts, why left 

Your nuts in oak-tree cleft J' — 
' For wine, for wine we left our kernel t:Te : 
For wine «-c left our heath, and yellow brooms, 

And cold mushrooms; 
For wine we follow Bacchus tlirough the Mtthj 
Great £od of breatliless cups and cliii|jii)g minh! 



FJOHN KEATS 
UK oars and siDieti sails they gide, 
Nor care for wbd and tide. 

MouDied on jiatubtis' fws and lions* BianeSt 
Ftuoi rear to van tbey scour about the plains ; 

»A three dayt' jounwjr !a a nKiiDcnt done; 
And alwa;*, at the nnng of the suo, 
Ahout (he wilda tbcy bunt with tfcu and hoiB, 
Os ifilctnAil nnkorn. 

II uw Oiirian Egypt kiKcl adowa 
hefan i)ic iinc-vrr»h croun ! 
I saw puck'd AbysjinU route aad sing 
To the silver cymbals' ring! 
I saw the wbdmitig ntiiage holly [wioc 
Old Tartar/ the fierce I 
Tilt kings of Inil dttir ynvd-ecqMrM tsU, 
And From their treasures scatter [■carlid httl; 
Great Brahma Irotn his mystic heaven groans, 

And an hii priothood moans, 
Bcfbra youog Bacchns* cye-«mk innuDg pole. 
Into dttH regions came I, ToUowing Mm, 
Sidt-boffted, wcvy — so I cook a whim 
To stray away iato ibese forests drear, 

Alone, without a peer; 
And I ban told thee aQ thou nuycit hear. 

Young Slia&srrl 

I'tc been a ranger 
In scircli of pleasure througboHt crcry climei 

Alasl ^ not fee mel 

Bewitch'd I tare must be. 
To k)ae ia grieving all my iiuidai fOBW. 



JOHN KEATS 

Come tbco, Sonraw, 

Sweeten Sorrow ! 
l.ilx ui own twbe I nunc tliec oo my brcMi 

1 tJiouj>ht tn leave tbee, 

And deccitc ibet, 
Hut BOW of all the world 1 Ion tbcc boL 



There is not one, 

No, no, not one 
Uai tbec to coiaion a poor londy nuidi 

Thou nn her mother, 

Acid her brother, 
lier ]i|«yBuie, and her vooa b tlie tliadc 



I 



\ll Y heui ■chn, and a drowsy numbocss pafas 
^'-^ My Kow, u thou^ of hemlock I bid inA 
Or emjitied some dull ojute to the dnini 

One minute put, and Lcthe-wanU lud tutXi 
'T'a not tluou^h envy of thy hapjty lot, 
Bill being UK) lujipy in thy bajifaicu, 

1'hai thou, ligh;-wingtd DryiJi of the uea, 
In tome mclodiota ]<lot 
or bcrchcti gmit, and shadows nuaubcitcu, 
Siagest of sumaacr b fuU-thnwccd tuae. 

for B driught of rintagc ! that hath btra 
Cool'd n long age in the dcep-ddvM cailh, 

Tasting o( I'iora and tlie country-green, 

Uancc, asd Proven^ »ng, and sunburnt mirth! 



JOHN KEATS 

(or a beaker fall of the wann South I 
Kull of ilw uw, iht blushful HippocKne, 
With boded bubbles winking u the btim, 
And ptnple-iuisU inouih; 
lliat I might drink, and leave tlic world untmi, 
And with tbee fade awiy into the foicM dini; 



'ode fu away, diuolre, and qutie forgn 

>Vhti thou among the kamt but ncm known, 
The wcahncn> the t'cvcr, and tbc fret 

Heic, whtra nicD ut und hrai each uher gtotini 
Wbnc laUy th«ka a few, wd, l^&i gic> luiis, 

\\'li(ric youth grows |ialc, and s|>KUi:-thia, and die»| 
Where but to think i» to be full of xorrow 
And leaden-eyed dcsjaits t 
Where beauty c«iix>t Imp bet Uatnna eyes, 
Oi new Lote |ane U them beyond to-Bunow. 

way I away! for I will 6y to tbec, 
Not charioted by fiacduw and his jwrds, 
lut on tlK licwIcM vbgs of Poesy, 

TboiSb tbc dull biain |>rT]4cxcs and retards i 
Urady with ibecl tender b the night, 
And ha|jy thi- Qucen-Mooo is on her thrane, 
Clnaicr'd amund by all her starry Fays[ 
But bne there ti no Itgbt, 
Save what from beaten is with the breezes blown 
Thtou^ vcrdurotts glooms and winding mossy wiyk 

canon see wiku flowen are ai my f«(, 

Nor wiiai soJi iaccax b^^igs t^aa ifai bonglia, 



JOHN KEATS 



BbI, in embalmed darkness, guess each 

Wherewith the scisonaUc roooth endows 
The grass, the thicket, and the fhut'tiw arild; 
White hawtlioro, and the pastoral rgUmiiiu t 
Fast-fading violcK corct'd up in Icatrs i 
Aad mid-May's eldest child. 
The coming muak-rosc, full of dewy win?. 
The munuuious haunt of Hies oo siumwr 



Darkling I listen; and for manj a time 

I have been half in lore with cascfiJ D«eh, 
Call'd him soft names in many a musid rhjiu:^ 

To take into the air my quiet hralfa; 
Now more than ever seems it rich to die. 
To cea^e upon the midnight with no pdn. 
While thou ait pouring fonh thy soul atmad 
In such an ecstnsy ! 
Sril! wouldst thou sing, and I hare ears ta wi 
To thy high requiem become a sod. 



JOHN KB ATS 

Adieu I tbe haey cxnoot cfacM m w«U 

As sbe is Guned to do, dcccinog «lf. 
Adini ! adieu ! thy |i1ab[i>e xnthem (mka 
Put tbe near roeadowi, ovtt the suit Utcwn, 
Up the hiU-nde) sod dow ^ boied deep 
In fhe next viUeyglwles i 
Wu It k ^isioD, or a mkbg dmmi 
Fled is ilut music t— do I wake or sleejij 



■tfif. 



Oat m a Greciaa Urn 



n^HOU stiU uoraviih'd bride of tjuictneiii; 
^ Tliou fo«tcr-child of Silence and slow Time, 
Sylraa liiitDnaii, who can«t thus express 

A Bowrrjr ule more >u-ceily than our rhyme; 
Whit leaf-fnnpd lepod haunts iboot ihy thape 

E. Of dcitiai or mortals, or of both, 
I 1r Tcmpe or the daks of Arcady? 
' What mm or godi are these? Wlut nuidcns loth? 
Whu mad pKMaif What struggle to e»cq«f 
I What jiipo and timbrels f Wlut wiM ecsLuy? 
^eard mdodiei arc swn, bat those uiAcard 
Are iwrcter ; thctclbtt, yc soft ^yfs, play oo; 
Not to tlic iicusuil cu, but, more cndear'd, 

Pipe to the spuil ditties of oi> luoe: 
F^ youth, beneath the trees, ihou cmsi not leaie 
Thy sodft DOT erer can thoic trees be bate; 
Bold Loier, ocvcr, ocirr canst thou hi^ 
I^ugh Hinuiog OEM the goil — yet, do not grietc i 
She cioDot &de, tbovgh thou hut not thy bliiA, 
For iMT wik thou Iotc, and she be fair I 

V9 




JOHN KEATS 

Ab, happiri M*!? boughs I that noDOt shn) 

Your leans, nor erer bid the Spring adini; 
And, tiRfipy mclodin, unwciriM, 

For evCT pping tong« fo« etcr oewj 
More hapfiy love! more h«ppy, happjr love I 

For cm wann imd atill to be cajoy'd. 
For em paaUDg a&d (ot em yooag; 
All bmibiog human pMsioD far above, 

That Imies a hrait bigh-wrrowfsl aad cloy'i 
A burning forehead, md a prdung ton 

Who an these coming to die tacrilice ! 

To what green alur, O mjrsicrioas 
Lead*sc ihou that heifer towing at the skiet, 

Aod all her silken flanks with ^laada dmtt, 
Wliai little town by river or sra-shorr. 

Or mountain -built with peaceful citadel, 
Is emptied of its tbik, (his pous mora? 
And, little town, thy streets for evermore 

Will tiileat bei and oot a soul, lo tell 
Why thou an desolate, caa e'er 



O Attic shape I fair attitsde ! wkh bnde 

Of marble men and maidens orerwrotiglit. 
Witit forest branches and the trodden weed; 

Thou, silent font) 1 dost tease us out of i 
As doth eternity. Cokl Panoral! 

When old age shall this generadon 
Thou shalt reniain, in midst of other 

Than ours, a friend to man, to wluxn tbon 
' Beauty is truth, truth beaiMy,^i)ut is all 
Ye know on euth, and ill yc need to 



JOHN KEAT3 



ffid. 



QJe to "Psyche 



r>k GODDESS ! hur tbne tunelcM mmben, wnuif 
^^ liy iwcct mfDCCOMnt and rancmbnincc dci-r, 
Anil fdidon that thy moco tbodd be s«ng 

Even into thine owa saft-coocbtd fw: 
Surdf I dccant'd to-da/, or did I scv 

Tbe wingM Piycbe wilb amken'd cyn? 
I wandn'd b a fomt thauf;htleu]y, 

Ai>di on the vuddes, bintiiig with wrptiw. 
Saw two fair cratuics, oouchM aide by »idc 

In dctpc&t gnt&^ beneath tbc wbHp'ring roof 

Of Icatcs aad mn^cd blosxxtu, whcte tbne taa 
A brooklet, Ksrw cipied! 
'Mid bmb'd, eool>tootcd downs ftagnutt-eyed. 

Blue, nhvT'Vhite, aad budded T^ian, 
They Uy nlm-bnathios oa tbe bedded jnusi 

Their aimt embncid, and ihctr ptniam too ; 

Tbeif lips toucb'd not, but had not bide adicii. 
As if ditjouiid by *o{t-handed ihnnber. 
And ready Hill put kiisn lo oumumbcr 

At trader eyc^lavn of auroreu love : 
Tbc win&M boy I knew j 

B«t who mat thou, O hapi^, bappj do«c? 
His Psyche tree! 

htm^Mni aod loreliest vision lar 
Of at) Olympus' faded hknrcby ! 
aircr thaa Pbccbe's upfiiirr-rcpon'd sue. 
Or Vesper, amorous glow-wonn of the sky t 
akcr than tbeSC!, tbovgb temple thou hast none. 

Nor altar btap'd with Bowers g 
W Virgin-choir to nuke dcbcioas moan 
Upon (be midnight boon; 



JOHN KEATS 

No *nc«, no luw, no pipe, oo incense sweet 

From cbwn-twung ceasa uxaaa^i 
No sbriot, 00 gfoyc, do orHck, do beat 

or palcHaouth'd [vojiliict d/taRiiag. 

bnghtett ! tbough too bie fot mu<{w tow«, 
Too, 100 lute fo« the fond believing lytc. 

When holy were the luuiucd Antic bouglih, 
Holy tbc Air, tJic water, rad the Tuet 

Yet cvcD in tliese d«y8 so fa (ctited 
From Infijiy pieUn, day lucent fans. 
Fluttering BRiong ibc faint 01yni|MaKi, 

1 tec, and ling, by my own eye* insjwed. 
So Jet me tw thy choir, and niako a iumd 

Ujion the midaight hours i 
Tliy Toice, ihy lute, thy jiipc, thy incense vwrct 

From swiogid ceni«r teeming: 
Thy shriae, tiiy gioir, iliy oracle, thy hcM 

Of folc-roouth'd i^ibet dieaning. 

Yes, I will be iby priest, snd huiM n fane 

In fame iimroddi-n region of my mind. 
Where br^nclij^l Uiuughis, new grown with plcausl 

loMeid of pines shall munuur in ibe wiod : 
Far, far around shall tliose darfc-dustcr'd tieo 

Ftedf;e the wild-iidg^ mountains steep by tit(c|ii 
And there by yxjiliyrs, streams, and bJnls, and btCs 

The mow-Iain Dreads shall be lull'd W sleep t 
And in ih? riiid^t of this «ide ((uietiiesa 
A rosy tiuicmary will 1 dms 
W'ah the wrcaih*d trellis of a working brain, 

Wicfa buds, and bells, and stars witboiK a n.une, 
With all the gatdcnci Fancy e'er could firign, 

Who, breeding flowers, will oevct btced the siOKi 
3» 



JOHN KEATS 

And there alul) be for thee all tofi delight 
That >hadowy thought cm win, 

A bright torch, and ■ cawmcnt ope u night, 
To let iSr wwm Love in I 



rfj7. 



To Autumn 



CEASON of n««4 anJ mallow fruitfiilnrw! 
^ Clow boMcn-rriend of the nuturing mini 
Conspiring with him how to load and hlem 

With fruit the vine« tlut itxmd the thatch-^am ran; 
To bend with appirt the iiKMs'd conage-irees. 

And fill aU fnni with ripciMM to the core; 
To >wfI1 ilie gourd, aad pivmp the htzcl %\mA\% 

With a sweet kernel i to set budding more, 
And uiU BHMe, later llowen for the bees, 
Unti] tbty think mm days will Derer cose. 

For SuBuner has o'er-biimm'd their danuay ceHs. 

Who hatJi not Ktffi thoe oft amid thy store ? 

Sometimes jthoeivt ^crAi abroad may Gad 
Thee sitting careleM on ■ granary floor. 

Thy hair M(i>lifccd by tlie winnowing wind; 
Or on ■ balf-renp'd farrow *oitnd askep. 

Drowsed with tlir fume of popfiien, while thy hook 
Spares tite next swath and all its twinM flowers ; 
Aod sometinm like a gleaner thou dom keep 

Steady thy laden ht^ .icn»« a bnxilti 

Or by a eider-pieis, with patimt look, 

Thoa watcbeu the Ian oodngs bom by haan. 

Wiiere are iho songv of Spring? Ay, where are they? 
Think not of iJwm, thou hast thy music too. — 



JOHN KEATS 

Wliik bortM clouds bloom the unfl-dyiag (Ujr, 
And toucli Uic stubble-plains witli ros^ liue ) 
Tlicn in x wailfuJ cbolr titc smill gnxu 
Among tlie river uUows, boroc aloft 
Or uoking sa the lij;ht wind lives or dieti 
And fuU-grovn Umbe loud blett from hilly bourn) 
Hedge-crtdfets bi^i and now with licble soft 
Tlie redbreaM whntles from a gardi-n-cruft ; 
And piittnoi swillowit twitter in tl>c tkta. 



62S, Ode on Mehtncboly 

■^O, not fio not to Lctlte, nrithcr twb* 

^ * Wolf s-bune, tigbt-rooted, fiir its poUonont 

Nor luller tbjr pole Ibrebead to be kist 

B]r olghuhadc, rabjr ^rape of rrowrprne; 
Make not your rosaiy of yew-berrirs, 

N'ur let the beetle, nor ibe deatb-moib be 
Your mournful Psyche, dot the downy owl 
A jartncr in your sorrow's mysteries; 

I'or thnde to shade will come too drowsily. 
And drown the wakeful anguish of the soul. 

Dut when the melancholy lit slull fall 

Sudden from linrm like a weeping cloud, 
That fosters the droop-headed fiowers all, 

And hides the green hill ia an April xhrood; 
Then glut ihy soriow on a momiog rose, 

Or on the rainbow of die salt sand-wave, 
Or on the u-mlili of gtobM pconiOi 
Or if thy misirt-is some rich an^er ibows, 

Rmprisoo Iter solt band, and let Iter rave. 
And feed deep, deep opoo her peerless eye^ 

m 



JOHN KEATS 

She dwells wtth Beauty— Braui;r th« imiM iliet 

Aod Joy, wiiow hnd U trer u his lipt 
Bidding idievi lad adiing Pleawre nigh, 

Turning to potmi whak the bevmooih apt: 
Af, in the rtrj Kvfte of Ddight 

Vtil'd Mel»cbcJ]r ha% htx aomn ihriac^ 
Though seen of oooe tatv htm whose MrraooM 
Can burst Joy's gnpe igaiflsi hb palaw fine; 

Hb soul shill u^tc the sadness of ha mighl, 
And be unoag ber clowdy trophies hang. 



» 






KX OTHER of Hennesl and uUl youthfa! 

■^'^ M*y I ling to thee 

As Ukm wut hprmM oq ihc sboen of Bvxi 

Or Ruy I woo thee 
In earlier Sicilian i or thy sniiles 
SwV as they ooce were nought, in Grecian isle*. 
By hatds wlio dkd coatnit on jiaxan sward, 

Leavmg great verse ttato a littk dan? 
O give me thetr oM rigour t snd onheard 
Save of the quiet ptimnne, and the sfos 

Of batten, and fev cars, 
Roviiled by Ihcv, my toog should die away 

Coomi m ihdrs. 
Rich in the tunple wotsliip of a day. 



M»a! 



JOHN KEATS 



fjo. Hards of 'Passim and tf Mtrib 

tVnllm en thi Bfmi P^t btfort BttumBM OMtl Flitti 
IVajt-Cimufy ' Tht Far Mmd ^ tht I'm' 

DARDS of Pasiioo and of MirOi. 
*-' Ye have left your souls oo enilhl 
HaTc jre 30uU tn heaTcn too, 
Double-liTcd in regionx new? 
Yet, »nd ibose of hravm coRttRDM 
With ihe iphwM of wn and moot) | 
Witb thr noi«c of founuins wonJrous, 
And the parlc of Toicrs thund'roi»| 
Wiih the whifpTT of hwvrt's tms 
And one another, in soft cne 
SMted on Elysiiis lawns 
Browsed by now but Di»n's fawns: 
Undcmeaih large bluc>bdh trated, 
Where the dainies are rowe-KCBtedi 
And the rote herself ha« got 
Perfume which on cntih Is not ; 
Where i!\r nightingalp doih sirig 
Not a scnK'li'M, (rancid iJung, 
But divine nwlodious truth ; 
PliilfMopliic Qumbera smooth i 
Tain iuid golden hitctories 
Of heaven and its iDysterics. 

Thus ye lire on high, and tbm 
Oa the caith y« live agun ; 
And the souls ye left behind jmi 
Teach ns, here, the way to find jw, 
\Vhere youi other sods art jor^S) 
Never »lumber'd, never ctopng. 



JOHN KEATS 

Hcct, your nnli-boni souls stSI speak 
To iBMUls, of tbnr little week i 
or tbeir sorrows vid detighti; 
or thnr |tu»ont and their iprtH; 
Of ihetr ^oiy >nd thrir shimri 
What doth stmigtheD tad whtx nuim. 
Thta yt teach lu, trctj d»j, 
Wbdooi, though Sed far awiy. 

Buds of pBtsion and of Mirth, 
Ye hare left your souls on euQi 1 
Y« batv wula in hraven too, 
DoiMe-lired in le^iu oewl 



pVGR let the Fancy roun^ 

" Pleasure DfTcr is at hornet 

At a touch sweet Plnsuic melteth, 

Like 10 hubblM when rain peltcth [ 

Then let wingM Fancy wander 

TTirough the thoughc still spread beyond hci; 

Open wide the mind's cage^door, 

Slie'U dm forth, and cloudwatd Mar. 

O sweci Fancy! 1« her loose i 

Stimnier's joy* axe spoilt by we, 

And the enjoying of the Spring 

Fade* as doe« its blaooniiag; 

Antunia's rcd-lipp'd fruitage tooi, 

fitushJDg ibrongb the mist and dew, 

Cloys with lasting: What do tbRtf 

Sit thee by ihe mgtc, when 

like Mar faggot bUxet bri^t, 

■ b m 



JOHN KEATS 



Spirit of ■ winter's nifiht i 

WlKn ibc MWidlnK cijth is muffled, 

And tbo cbIcM saow a iibiilBcd 

From tbe ploogbbojF's hravy thooni 

V/hea tbe Night doih meet tbe NtXM 

In a dark consjaracjr 

To tikotsh Even ftoia ber sky. 

Sii tbcc there, and Mud abroad. 

With a mind self-ovctaweJ, 

Fancy, higb-commission'd : — lend h«! 

She has vis«aU lo ancod her: 

She will bring, in spite of frott. 

Beauties that the earth Iiatfa lostt 

She will being tbce, all together, 

All delights of bummer wciithcri 

AU the buds and belli of Majr, 

From dewy swird or thony spray i 

All tbe heapid Autsmn's wealth. 

With a s^, mysterious stealth: 

She will mix these pjosum np 

Like ihrce (it wiises in a cup. 

And thou shall <|uair it:— thou aha]t bur 

Distant liar vest-carols clear ; 

Kwsile of the reaped conii 

Sweet birds aathouDg tbe mom: 

And, in the same moment — batkl 

'Tia the early April lark, 

Or tbe rook), with buity ow, 

Foraging for ttickit and straw. 

Thou «halt, 31 one glanc^ bdiold 

The daisy and the marigold i 

Whiu^plumcd lilies, and tbe dm 

Hcdge-^rown primrose that bath burAf 



nB 



JOHN KEATS 

Stutded hyacinth, alway 
t>a]>pliire <{iie«n oi the mid-Miy t 
And ereiy kaf, and tmy flower 
PdfM wkh the «clf-sainc showrr. 
Thou sbtlt MT' the rtcldmousc ptcp 
Mfjgir from its ct-lIM sleep | 
Aod the snake all wintcr-tJiia 
Cast on sunay bonk its ikini 
Freckled aest'«gf^ tboa shah see 
Hatching in the hawtbora-uer. 
When the hen-bird's wing doth reii 
Quiet on her moMy ne«t ; 
Then tbc hurry and alartn 
When ibfC be«hivc caiu ita swanu; 
Acorai ripe dowB-paturing 
While Uk luuirnD brcczn siag. 

O swe« Fancy! tet her loose; 
Every thinj is spoilt by use : 
Where's the diecic ihtt doth not fade, 
Too mach gaied ut Where's the mud 
WboM lip RURiie is erer new? 
Where "s t!>e eye, Iioweeer blue, 
Doth not weary? Where's the &oe 
One would meet in erery place? 
Where 's the voice, howtTer soft. 
One would hear so very oft ? 
At « touch sweet PIrajiae mrlteth 
Like to butMcs when rain pdicth. 
Let, then, wtngM Fancy liad 
Thee a mistress to thy nnndi 
Duket-eyed as Ceres' dao^Uer, 
Ere the God of TonaeM tan£ht her 

m 



JOHN KEATS 

How to frown and bow to chide i 

With a v-aist and vith a mIc 

While M Hebe**, whcD her zone 

Sli|;t iia golden cluis and down 

Fell her kirtlc to her foct. 

While she held the goblet sweet, 

And Jore gf«w languid. — Utetk tjie RiaJi 

Of the Fancy's sUkro bosh ; 

Quickly break brr fiiaootuiag, 

And racb joys aa thne she'll brtiiig. — 

Let the winged Fancy roan, 

Plniure ni'ver is at home. 



ifji. 



Stanaas 

TN a divaMUghted December, 

Too happy, happy tree, 
Thy braodm oc'er remember 

Their giTcn fclidty : 
Tbr north cannot undo tliem. 
With a sitxiy whistle through them; 
Nor fn>irn thaitings glor than 

From budding at the prioM. 

In a drMr.«ighiinI Decembe r , 
Too hupiiy, happy brook, 

Thy bubblings ne'er rrmembcr 
Apollo's sunuiin lookj 

But mth a sweet forgetting, 

They stay their crystal ficuiod 

Never, never pettiqg 
About the fraxeo time< 



!•» 



JOHN KEATS 



rAli ! would 'twere m with mui^ 
A grade gill and boy ! 
But wrrc there crer any 
WiBhcd not i* )a«»NI joy? 
To know the change ind firtl it, 
Wbtn there is none to he-^ it. 
Nor numbM sense to Meal it, 
Was ncTW said in rhyme. 

6sj. La BeiU Dame sans Metci 



O 



WHAT cui ail lhe«, knight-at-arau, 
Alooe md [otely loitering { 
The tcdge is withrr'd (nm iSc lake, 



Ami no birds 



nng. 



'O wh« can ail ilwe, knight-oi-arml, 

So haggard and m woc^begoncf 
The »miirtel'i granary is full. 

And th« harvot't done. 

'I MC a lilf on thy brow 

With anguish moiit and ferer dcw{ 
Aod 00 thy cheek a Eading row 
Fast withereth too.' 

'I met a Udy ia the meads, 

Full beautiful— a ficry's child, 
Her haif was long, her foot was lighi^ 
And her eyes were wild. 

*I taade a ^land Tor her head, 

And bracelets too. and fragrant tone; 
She lo<^'d at me as slic did lore. 
And made sweet noan. 



JOHN KEATS 

an hrr on my pacing need 
And nottiing vise uw all d»j long. 
For Mckiviys would the lean, ind ling 
A fiKry'a song. 

'She foond mc roots of lelbh kwki. 

And honey vild and RiRRia dcvr. 
And sure in language strange tht wi, 
"I lo*e tbce iruc ! " 

'She look mr to IwT d&n grat. 

And there she wept and ti^'d full wrc; 
And tliere I »hat Krr wild, wild eyes 
With kiucs four. 

'And there sbe luIlM me vdeep, 

And Uieic I dream 'd— Ah ! woe bnide ! 
The latnt dntam I ever dreatn'd 
On the EoM hill's »de. 

'I saw pate king* and princes too, 

Pale warriore, deatb-pale were they all; 
Who cried — " La bdle Daane uns Mer<i 
Haib thee in thrill I " 

* I uw their sLirred lips in tlie ghnm 

With horrid wanung gapM wid«, 
And 1 awoke lod Tound me here 
On the cold hill's side, 

'And this is why I sojoum here 

Alone ittd palely loiiciing, 
Tliough the sedge is wither'd fn>in ibt lake. 
And no biidt ling.' 




iOHM KEATS 



I 



J4. Oh first looking into Chapman's Homn 



\li UCH luK I inTcU'd in (he mltnt of ^l>l, 
^^ And miiny good}; cutcs rod kingdoms Hcn; 

Round nuay wrMern iiLntls luvc I btcn 
Which hinlf in tcilty lo Apollo hold. 
Oft of ODE wide expMM ^mI I bm (old 

That dccftirow'd Homer nJed u his demeue ; 

Yet did I netvr breathe its pure lerene 
I'iil I hnnl Chapman sp«ak o«it loud and bold 1 
Then fctt I like «ome watcher of the allies 

When a sew planet •wimi inu his ken \ 
Or like mouI Concz, wim «ilh eagle eyes 

He stated at the Padfo— and all his men 
Look'd » each other wiili a vild wmuK — 

Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 



'i f. ff-'hen I At w Fears that I may cease ft he 

"WyHEN I hare fears diat 1 may cease 10 be 

** Before ray pen has glean'd ray tcemng brain. 
Before hi^b-pilU booki, in characl'ty, 
Hold like f^l garrtm the full-Hpni'd grain 1 
When 1 bebotd, upon the raght's starred bee. 
Huge cloudy symbols of a high roraance^ 
And fnl that I may ncrer liic to trace 
Their shadow!!, with (Jie magic band of chaacc; 
And when I feci, fair cteauire of an hour 1 
That I ahaO iki«t look upon ihee more, 
Never hare itltsh in the Earry power 
Of utireAecting loret— theo on the aboR 

Of the witle world I ttaod ^one, and think, 
Till Lot« and Fame to ■otbtngBtas do aink. 

m 



JOHN KEATS 

giS. To Sleep 

/~\ SOFT emhiliDCT i>f the stUI myniRhtl 
^~^ ShMunn with careful fingos ancl beoiga 
Our gloom -pie v«d «yes, embawer'il from the 1^ 

Pnih^cd in forgeifulnett dinne ; 
O scoihm S\wp ! if so it Tfinae tim, iiatK, 

In niidst of this thine tijnnn, toy witling tyti, 
Or wait I lie amen, ere thy poppy throws 

ArauntJ my bed its luUinft charities i 

Thm s*ve me, at the pusM diy will dkioe 
Upon my pillow, breediog many woes ; 
Satv mc from carious cooKimce, thai still loidi 

lis strength Tor darkness, burrowing like « moli 
Turn the key deftly in the otIM wards. 

And fitii the liushM cuket of my souL 



<07. 



Last Smnet 



DRIGHT Stir, would I were sicadfau as iboa ^~ '" 

"-^ Not in lone splcodout hung aloft the night, 

And watching, with eternal Bds apart, 

Like Naiutc's pititnt alcrplcM Bretime, 

The moving watem at their pricKt-like task 

Of pure ablution round e.inh's hi^nun shores. 

Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask 

Of snow upon the mountains and ilie moors — 

No— yet still steadfast, still uflchaognblr, 

I'illow-'d upon my fiJr love's ripening breast, 

To feel for ever tts soft fall and swell, 

Awake for ever tn a itwecl uorcKt, 

Still, still to hear her tender-taken breaib. 
And so live cTer— or el« swoon lo death. 

H4 



JEREMIAH JOSEPH CALLANAN 
6iS. The Oufltw of l^b Laie 

rHOM TKK lUtSH 

/^ MANY a dty ha*e I tnadc good ale b ibc gttn, 
^^ Thu came not of Kmitn or malt, Ukc tbe brtwing 

of mm: 
My bnl WM tkc grouod i my roof, the {rtcn-wood above i 
Anil the wraith th^ I wu|{hl. Doe fu kind gtince froni 

my Love. 

Alu ! on i))M aight irheo the hones I ilroiv fiora cbe CcM, 
Thai I was not near from tctrot my angel to ^icM ! 
SUc Mretch'd iottk her amu ; ber mantle >bc flung to 

the wind, 
And swim o'er Loch L«ne, facr outUw'd lotec lo Imd. 

O would thai a ficning deet-wi^'d tcropcH dkl sweqi, 
And [ and my loic w«k alooc, far off on the deep; 
I'd Mk ooc a aliip, or a bark, or a |>iQnace, to u*e— 
Witit her hmd rouod my waist, I'd few oot the viod at 
the wave. 

Tis dowo by the lake wh«re the wild tTC« (nDges iu siiks, 
^M maid of my heart, ray lair one of Hmtti rcndcc: 
t Uiink, as at eve she wanders its mazes among, 
The birds go to sleep bj the sweet wild twist of het soog. 



■ b, 



M 



ino-n 



WILLIAM SIDNEY WALKER 

dip. 

""TOO solemn for day, too sweet for ntgltt, 
^ Come not in <L.iiknrM, come not in light ; 
But come in »ome twiligbt intrrini. 

When the gloom is soft, sod tlw light is dim. 



GEORGE DARLEY 



^40. 



Sm£ 



•W' 



CWEET in her green dell the flower of beauty alwmbert,' 
'^ Lull'd by the faint brecz« Mghin; through her ha; 
Sleeps slie and hears not tlie mcl.incboly naraben 
Breathed to my sad lute 'mid the lonely ur. 

Down TroTn the high cliffs the rinilct is teeming 
To wind round the willow banks tlitt lure biffl Eron 1 

O tliat in tears, from my rocky prisoa sticanungi 
I too could glitle to the bower of ray lore ! 

Ah ! where the woodtunes with slcejiy atms hive vamd I 
Opes she her eyelids at the drtain of my lay. 

Listening, like the dove, white the fountains echo rowtd ^1 
To her lost male's call in the forests &r away. 

Come then, my bird I Por the peace thoa ever b«R9^ 
Still Heaven's messenger of comfort to me — 

Come— this fond bosom, O faithfidlc«t and fairest, 
Bleeds with its death-wound, hs wouod of to«C for 




GEORGE DARLEY 



tf^;. To Helene 

On a C'ifl-rmg lartltntf htl 

T SENT a riag— a tinlc band 
^ Of mutid and ruby tune, 
And bade it, ipwklaig oa thy hud, 
Tell iliM sweet uIm of one 
WboM const2nt mcnwry 
Vfa^ fill] of lovclioess, and the*. 

A ahdl vrn graven oo itt gold, — 

Twas Cupid fix'd without his winj«— 
To Heleoe once it wovl<i luw told 
More lh»a vas tva told by ring): 
But now all'} past *nd gooe, 
Her lo*e is buried witb that stone. 

Thog ikak not sec the lean that start 

Prom tyn by tliouglits like these beguiled i 
Tbov shah dm know tlitr beating htan, 
Eter a victim and a child : 
Yet Hefcoe, love, believe 
The heart that nem could deceive. 



Ill hrar thy vtace of melody 

In the sweet whispers of the aiit 
111 see the bn^tnoa of tiiinc eye 
In the btne cvemog's dewy star) 
In crptal Mreams thy jiurityi 
And look on Heaven to look on the*. 



GEORGE DARLGY 



rff?. The Fallen St»T 

A STAR is goDct a star is gone) 
'*■ There U a Uaiil in HeaTrn j 
One of the chMob choir lus done 
Hb ai^ couM ihii mn. 

He sat upoo the oifc of fite 
Tlut bung i<x ijd there. 

And lent bin miHk to the choir 
That haunts the nightly air. 

But whea his thousand years ate jiasi'tl 

With a chenilHc sigh 
He vanii^'d with bis or ai last, 

For eiTD cheruba die t 

Hear how his angel-broilieri mouia — 
The miosods of the spheres — 

Each chiming sadly !b his tare 
And droppong s^eodid tears. 

The pUnctiiry sisicn all 

Join in the fatal song, 
And wtqi this bapicM bniiber's fall, 

Who tiaag with then so loo^. 

Out deepest of the chonl band 

The Lunar Sprit sings, 
And with > bo&wccording hood 

Sweeps all bcr suUco strings. 

Pram the deep chambers of the dome 
Where sleepless Uriel lies, 

Hit tttde barmaoic thunders oome 
Mingled with mighty sighs. 



GEORGE UARLEY 



HARTLEY COLERIDGE 



»«*-*• 



tTbc thouMnd cai-borne chenibbn, 
The waiylcring detto, 
All join to ch*iu tbc dirge of him 
Who fill juR DOW from Hn*«a. 

643. The Solitaiy-Hearteti 

CHE WIS « tfatrn of Dobfe Natsrc's crmraiDe, 
t^-' A amik of hers wm like nn act of gncv; 
She had mt wiflMHiie looks, no |«etty ftowniog. 
Like daily brautW of the vulgar race: 
Uul if ahe vniled, a light tni on ber face, 
A clear, cool kindlinr^v a lour beam 
Of jicKcAtl ndiiticc, silvering o'er ih« Hmn 
Of hunaan thought with uiabicliDg glory; 
Not quite a vrakiag trtnh, not ^uitc a dmm, 
^^V li&itatioa, b(i{>ht and traasiiory. 

^^put lie t« changed, — halb felt the touch of lotrow, 
^pio loTc hath she, no tinder^tatyling friend; 

O grief I when MesTcn is forced of earth to borrow 
What the [oor ni^ard ortli hu not to IcikI ; 
But whcD the stalk b scajft, the ro»c must bend. 
The talksc Aower that tkynrd rean its head 
Grows from the coounoa grouitd, and there muu iibcd 
lis ilelicale petak. Cruel fate, too suidj. 
That they should &nd so base a bridal bed, 
7ho lived in mgin pride, m swett and purely. 

had a brother, and a teodcr father, 
she was loved, but not as others arc 

TO 



HARTLEY COLERIDGE 

From vhom we atk mum of lore, — hm nubcf 
As one might lore a dreamt > pbomam fair 
Of «oiucihii^ exi]unattjj sttaoge jukI ntv, 
Which all were glad to look oa, mca and nuids, 
Yet no one cljim'd— ■> oft, in dewy glitdes, 
Th« peering jxiniro^c, like » sudden gUdoess, 
Gleams on tli« soul, yet uiuegardtd fade9t~' 
The joy i^ oars, but aH iu own the ndnest. 

"Tis v»in 10 My— her wor^t of grief is only 
The common Im, which all the world have koowti 
To her 'tis oiorr, bccauM bn liean is kxtety, 
And yet she hath no strength to stand alone,— 
Once she had (daynuus, fancier of her own. 
And she did lore tbnn. The/ are put away 
As Fairies miish at the break of day} 
And like a spectre of an age dqaited, 
Or unsphered Angel wofiiUy astray. 
Site glides along— the Mliiary-hcarted. 



f^ 



Song 



CHE is not fair to outward Ttew 
^ As many maidens be. 
Her loTclincKf I never knew 
Until she smiled on me; 
O, then I sav ber eye wm bvight, 
A well of Iov«, a spring of light 1 

But now her looks are coy aad coh^ 
To mine they nc'ei reply, 
And yet I cca-v; not to behold 

The loTe^ifht in her eye: 
Her \-«y frowns mt tmnt far 
Than smites of othtt maidcfts are. 



m 



HARTLEY COLERIDGE 

Early Death 

CHE {Ul>'d iway like nuKniBg dew 
^ {Jrfore the tun w** high; 
So brief bor lunrt sbr fcjrccly kiKw 
Thr mtaaios of a u^. 

As round the ro<« iu soft perfume, 
SweM love uound l-.«r floated ; 

Admind site {rew — while omtul dooto 
CnjK on, uafcar'd, uanoted. 

Love wu ber gnmlian Angd here. 
But Lot* to Death mign'd bcr; 

Tho' Love «at kiad, why Khoutd we (car 
But boty Death u kiadtr? 



I 
I 



FrienJsbip 

^/THEN we w«fc Men widi the loiteriiq rilli, 
'' The TKvi of huniAn lo\'c we liule noted: 
Our tore wnt luituie; uiA tbc feacc ibit floued 

On tbc while mist, utd dwelt upoo the hills 

To fwcet Accord Mbdued our wsywud wiDs: 
One Mul wu ows, oiw mind, one bnn deivied, 
That, wisdy dotiBg, uk'd ooi why it doted. 

And ours the unknown joy, which knowing killk 

But now I iiad bow dear thou wert to nici 

Tbat nun is moee tlian half of utnrc's treaswe. 

Of that tat beauty which no eye can «ee, 
Of tbxi sweet music which do car can mcustc ; 
And now the tixcaau may *ing for otbcn' ptextute. 

The hiUt sleep 00 m ibeir cttisicj. 



THOMAS HOOD 




647. ^-.-,"« ,^. 

T SAW old Autumn ui the mtHy moro 
-^ Sund sbudowlns tikr Sifrnce, tiitemng 
To silrace, ibr do lonely banl would sing 
Imo Ius bollow car fiofti woodti btloni, 
Nor low! J- licdge nor aolitaiy tboni) — 
.Shakily h!s bngdd lock* ill dewy bt^i 
Willi tsDgted goumcT thn fell by ntgbt, 
Pmling his coroon of golden corn. 

Where are the Mcgs of Siminier ? — With tbr «a, 

Oftng the dusky eydkU of the louth. 

Till shade nd ulence wakea up at on^ 

And MoratDg *ii^ with a wum odonws omnsIu 

Wlicfe are the mcity birds ?— Away, avay. 

On [OBting wings through the iixlcincM jktcs, 

Lett owl) sbonid |vey 

Undiizled k aoondiy. 
And tear with boray be^ik their lustroos eyei. 

Where v« the bloom* of Sgntroer^^In the ^kh, 
DUuUnf tbeiT bst to the lost sonay honn, 
Wlioi the mild Eve by sudden Ki^ n ftv» 
Like learfiil ProterpDe^ imcchM from hrr Aow'n 

To a matt gloomy breaia. 
Whtfe h the pride of Summer,— the crecn inime,- 
1'he many, maoy Inret all twinkling '. — Thice 
Ofl the iBoss'd dm ; Hme on the naked kme 
TmnblinK,— aad ow vpon the old oik-trce! 

Where is the Dryad's UBiBonality?— 
Gooe into mooroftil cypRss and dark yew. 
Of wearing the long gloomy Winter thtougjk 

In the smooth holly'i green eternity. 




I 



THOMAS HOOD 



Tbr scitiirrri gloau oo U> iccompltth'il bixtrd, 

I'bc nnts bavc bnmm'd lhc!r gnmen with tij* giiiui, 

And boocy bm hare stored 
The nRVts of Sunuiwr ia ilietr tuscious celts ; 
The swiUowft all hare wio|tM acrMn (be miia) 
Bui bvre ih« Auumta ni';luicfaoIy dwell*, 

And »ighf her tcatful Kpelh 
Amoosn the sunless tliadow* of tbe ]<lain. 
Alom, alone, 
Upon a no»y stone, 
Sbe ua asd reckoai vp the dead and gone 
With Uk tan learei for a loie-n»ary, 
WbilH all the wither'd irorld lot^s drruiljr, 
t.ikc a dim picture of the drownid jon 
la the hush'd mind's myierrioui far awiy, 
Doeblfiil what ghouly thing will steal the lail 
Into that tliua&ce, gray upoD tlie gray. 

O ga and sit with her, and be o'erebaded 
Undo' the Ungnid downfall of her bait i 
She wean a coronal of 6owcrs fnilrd 
Upon hei forehead, and a face of carr;— 
There is cno«sh of wwher'd everywliere 
To make bn bower, — and eooi^h of f>l«omt 
There is enough of sadneii to in*itc. 
If only for the roK that died, whow doom 
Is Beauty's, — she that vhh the litiog bloom 
Of conscious dieeks most beautifies the light : 
Th««c u cno«igfa of sotrow^ng, and ^uke 
EiMugb of bttter (niits the nrth doch bear, — 
Enongb nf dully drotvpings for her bowl ; 
Enough of fear and shadowy despair. 
To fnmr her doody fiiaaa for the soul ! 



Whidi hath been DtiM, 

No *otce is faoah'd- 

But doucU Bod cloudy i 

That ncTcr spoke, over d* 

But in green ruins, in the 

Of aQticjue palaces, who 

Though the dun fox or w 

And owls, thst flic com 

Shriek to the echo, and tl 

There the true Sileoce is, 



If4?. Z>C 

TT is not doth, that soi 
^ This eloquent breath ■■ 
That soinetime these biigb 

Id sunlight to the sun, 

That this warm consdo 
And all life's ruddy spiinf 

That thoughts shall cea 
Be lapp'd b alien day am 
It is oot death to know t 

That {Hous thoughts, w 
In tender {nlgrimage, will 

So duly and so oft — at: 



',4.,,,.. 



• ^^o 




THOMAS HOOD 



^fO. Fair Ines 

OSAW yc DM fair laa} 
She's goM into the W«tt, 
To duzle when the ma i» down, 

And rob ihe mtrld of rett ; 
Sbe look OBr dtytight witb ber, 
Tbe iniilcs that we love beu. 
With Rwniing bhiKbes on her cherk. 
And pearia upon her breast. 

turn Dgaiiit fair Ion, 
Before the fall of Difbt, 

For Cetf the Moon ibould sbinc alooe, 
And itani DDritall'd bright; 

And bte^scd will tlie lover be 
Thai walks beneath their light. 

And bmtbn the toie agtinst iby check 
I dare not cvcd write I 

Would I had been, fair Ine«, 

That gallant caralier, 
Who rode »o gaily by thy tide. 

And wlu^pcr'd thee m acar! 
pWcre there DO boooy dame* at bontCf 

Or no tive loi'crs bere, 
That be should aoss ih« was to vio 

Tbe dctftst of the deatf 

1 uw thee, lovely Iocs, 
Descend along the thore, 

[With boods of aobtr geeOemea, 
And banoers wared before; 



THOMAS HOOD 

And {■eotle youth and miidna gay, 
And inowy plumes tliey wore: 

It would hart been ■ bnateous dmm,- 
If it had t)cm no more! 

Alai, ala* ! fair lc«*, 

•She went away with song, 
\^'iih Music waiting on her step*) 

And ihoutings of ibc throog t 
But some were ud. Bad fck no minh, 

But only Music's wrong. 
In louixU that tia^ FanwcU, farcwdl, 

To her you've loved so long. 

raiewell, faivwell, fjar Incsl 

That ves»e! ncTcr bore 
So fair ■ lad)- on Ua deck. 

Nor dinccd m light before,-^ 
Alas for plfamre on ibc sea, 

And sorrow on the shore ! 
Tbe smie that bless'd one loier** bcui 

Has broken many morel 



S^i. Time of Hoses 

IT was not in the Winter 
^ Ota toting lot was caU| 
It was the time of toscs — 

We |JuckM tbem as we poss'd I 

That cbnrlish eeawn nercT frowo'd 

On early lovers yet: 
O no — tbe wotld wns newly crowD'd 

With flowers wbra first we met I 



THOMAS liOOD 

Twu twUigbt, wkI 1 bode yon jfi, 
Bat «ai ]PM btU IM fa«; 

Ii was ilic time of n»e> — 

W« {ilack'J tlinn u wt p«»\l I 



CHE stood brTMt-hi£b amid the com, 
'^ Cbsp'd by the jtoldcn li];ht of mara, 
Like the sweetbon of the nio, 
Wlio many ■ Rowing kii* haii won. 

On her dwck m auiumm Hu&h, 
Deeply npcn'lJi— such * bluuli 
In the midu of biown wu bom, 
LiIm red pop]>ii.-s gromi villi com. 

Roaod her eyes her tmsra fell. 
Which trare bLckett none could idl. 
But topg bsbe» ««il'd « light, 
Thu bad d*e been all too brij^t. 

Aad bet hit, wrtli shady bnm, 
Made her titssy Jbtcbead dim ; 
■Thus she lAood amid the iiooki, 
Pnaing God with swevtcR looks i — 

S«n, I Bid, Hmt'd did not mtaa. 
Where 1 teqi tbo« sfaeddst bu gleao, 
' Lay thy sheaf adou-n and come, 
Share my hvrest and my booic. 



fS3- 



THOMAS HOOD 



Tie "Death-heJ 



^ATB wsuh'd her bmrthiog ibro' the 

Hn brmttuoj; soft and Imr, 
As in li«r brCMt the wstc of life 
Kept heaving to and Tro. 

So lilcotly wc smni'd to sfcak. 

So slowly morrd about, 
As we hod lent \xt half our power* 

To eke bet Uviaj out. 

Our very hopes belied our fcwrs, 
Our fms our hopw belied — 

We (Bought her dying when she aleps, 
And deeping wtoi ibe died. 

For when the morti ounc dim ind m^ 
Aod chill with early lowers, 

Hn quiet eyelids closed — she bad 
Another mom tltaa ours. 



tf/4. The Bridge of Si^t 

ONE more Unfortunate, 
Weuy oX breath, 
Rashly importunate, 
Gone to her death I 

Take her up leadoly, 
Lift hcf with caret 

Faihion'd » sleadaly 
Young, vni w fsir ' 



THOMAS HOOD 



Look «t her gtmiema 
CGngiBg like ceruneatsi 
Whtlil the w*ve cunMantly 

Drips from her dothing) 
Take ha np inalaiitljr, 

Lonng, DQt Uathiag. 

Touch ber DM KomAill/i 
Tbiok of her mourofiilly, 

Gentler ind hmnanty; 
Not of the tabu of bcr, 
All tlut rtmaiM of her 

Now is pure womanly. 

Make no deep KniDoy 
Into her mutiny 

Rs'^h uti uodutifJ : 
Pail all diiihanour, 
Death hu left 00 bet 

Only ihc bnuuful. 

StUI, for ill tlipt of ben, 
One of Etc** family- 
Wipe thcM poor lip* of htn 
Oozing (o clammily. 

Loop Bp ber tmses 

Escaped Irom the coai>, 
Her (air aubum treiaes j 
WhiUt wondennest gucwe* 
Where ym her hone? 

Who wu ber Mieri 
Wha was ber motherl 



19 



THOMAS HOOD 

Had she a sister? 

Had she a brother? 
Or was there a dearer one 
Still, and a nearer otK 

Yet, than all other f 

Alas '. for the raiity 
Of Christian charity 

Under the sun ! 
O, it was pitiful ! 
Near 3 whole city fiill. 

Home she had tioiir. 

Sisieriy, brotherly, 
Fatherly, motherly 

Feelings had changed : 
Love, by harsh evidence. 
Thrown from its emiocncei 
liven God's providence 

Seeming estranged. 



THOMAS HOOD 

M»d from life's hhutj. 
Glad to death's mjaterj, 

Swift to be htnl'd — 
Anywbere, taywhtit 

Out »f the wofid 1 

In she plunged botdly— 
Na matier bow eoldl/ 

The nwgh Krer tan— 
Oiet the brink of it. 
Picture it— think of it, 

Di«»o}uic Ntan ! 
Lite in it, dtink of it, 

Tben, if jm can I 

Tske her cp trndcfly, 
Lift bcr with cure; 

FMhion*d so slendctty, 
Yoong, aad so bir I 

Ere ber Isnibi fri^jdljr 
Stiffen too rigidly^ 

Decently, kindly. 
Smooth and compo«e ibem) 
Aad her e)-ef, close ibem, 

SuriRg » blindly I 

Dreadfully itariag 

Thro' muddy tmp':!!!^. 
As when with the daring 
Last look of despairing 

Fix'd on futurity. 

Perishing gloomily, 
SpRr'd by contumely, 



THOMAS HOOD 

Cold tnhumiiaitjr, 
Borntng inMniijr, 

Into bcr ntt, — 
CroM her tuach bantbly 
As if fny'iOR rfuinUy, 

Over bcr brexu I 

Ownii^ btrr wcakimi^ 
Her cviJ bvhivioiir. 

And Icaviqg, with mrekMS^ 
Her nn lo her Ssnow! 



an- 



WILLIAM THOM 
r&e Blind Iky's Tra»ks 



K^FvN grew sac cnild, maids uc unkind, 
'■"^ Love kcfttiu whwr to tuy: 
Wi' (irnt an nrrow, bow, or urtng — 
Wi" droopin' hon »o' drizzled wiag. 
He fught his loiiety way. 

'Ik (here oae nuir in Guioch lair 

Ac spotlcu hame for me? 
H«e polMct u* com an' kyc 
Ilk bosom suppii? Fi«, O Act 

I'll swithc mc o'er ihe si-a." 

He launch'd a leaf o' jnumioe, 
Ob wbitk he tUur'd to swim, 
An' jiitiow'd hit head on a wtv rowbwd. 
Syne hithfu', lanely, Love 'pm Mod 
Down Ury*» waefii* iimm. 

tSS- Watna) knew oot. wf ficot tn aiTOw] L q. wilh < 

•now. »«ithe} hie ^Iclcly. laitbfbl regrcthd. 



IT»»->»1' 




WILLIAM THOM 

btrdi Mflg bonnw » Lot« divw nor, 

Bat dowie when he fuii byi 
Till lull'd wi' the iou{h o' manic a wng, 
He iltCfit fii' lonn' and «aii'd aling 

'Neath Hnven's gowden ikf. 

TwM jua wK»r creeping Ury gmts 

Itt mouMam connn Don, 
There wHidet'd forth a weelfiur'd dame, 
lWiu lisilru gazed on the bonoie stream, 
I A* it flincd an' plaj'd with a suiiDy beain 
That flickcr'd iu boKHn upoo. 

[Lore hafipit ha bead, I tmw, that tune 
The jcMamioe hark drew oigh, 
The lasne npied the wee rosebud) 
aye her heart gae iImk) for thud. 
An' (jnirt it wadna lie. 

' O gin I but hid yon wearie w(« flower 

That Rtats on the Ury sue fair ! ' — 
I She looiit her hand for the silJy ras«-leaf, 
I But litde wist &he o' the pawkie tliief 

That wu liukin' m' biq>hin' there ! 

I Love glower'd when he hw her bonnic dark e'e, 

An' swore by Mearen's grace 
He ne'er had aren aw thought to tee, 
Kbcc c'cT he left Ute Pajihian lea, 
H Sae lovely ■ dwallia'<flacr, 

dttwitl dejededly. wecl^t'd] wtIl-&*oiitHl, eemely. happit] 
Mred »p. loMH] towered. pawhie] 117. |l«<r«r'd] Hand. 



WILLfAM THOM 

Syne fim of a' to her blythntotnc bretst 

He built a bower, I ween] 
Aa' what did the waefa' dcviliclc orist { 
But kindled a gieaoi like the loiy eaai, 

That ipukled Fne baitb her e'en. 

An' Oicn licnnth tlk high c'c-bree 

He placwl a quiver there j 
His bow? VfhxX but lier iliinin' brow} 
Ad' O bc deadly strinpt be drew 

Fnie out her lilkcn bairl 

Cuid be our gntrdl Kc deeds waur dta 

Roun* a* our countric then t 
Ad' monie ■ han^n* liq was am 
'MiDg firmere fiit, an' bwyers leao^ 

An' herds o' common men ! 



rf/tf. 



SIR HENRV TAYLOR 
£ Zona's Song 



QUOTH tongoe of odiber nuid nor wifc 
To hfift of nriibcr wife n« maid— 
I^ad we not here a }olly \iJt 
Beiwixt Uvc thiac ami ahadc? 

Quoth heart of neither maid nor wife 
To tongue of neither wife dot nuid— 

Tliou wsgg'si, but I am wom with strife, 
And feel like flowvrs that fade. 

ifS. e'c-tnetl ejrebraw. lofjew. 

7*4 



I 



fe 




THOMAS OADINGTON MACAULAY, 
LORD MACAULAY 

S7. j1 Jacobite's Epitaph 

iaa»-il« 

"T^O my true Ung I ol&r'd frve ftom suio 

Coungc vkI faith ; laia faith, aad courage vain. 
For hnn I threw laods, honours, wealth, iirajr, 
And ooe dnr hope, thai wm more prized thui thry. 
For him I bnguish'd id a lareign dime, 
Graj'-hair'd with Hrraw in my manbood's prime { 
Heard on Lavemia Scargill't whispering irtts, 
And [daed by Amo for my lotelier Tm; 
Bdield cKh nighi my home in fcTcr'd steeps 
Each morning sutrtcd froni the dream to weqi; 
Till Cod, who WW me tried too sorely, ganc 
Tbe roting-pUce I ask'd, aa early grave. 
O thou, whom chance leads to this nameless stone, 
From that proud country which wai once niiac own, 
By tliOH' white cHlTi I Qetcr more muit see. 
By diU dear language which I npakc like tbee, 
Forget all feuds, and shed one Englith tear 
O'er English duii. A broken hestn tics here. 



WILLIAM DARNES 



Mater 7)slorosa 

I'D a dream to-niglit 
As I Ml asleep, 
O! (he touching sight 
Makes luc still to w«c|i ; 



law-ttu 



WILLIAM BARNES 

Of my )iuk bd, 
CoDc to lave me nd, 
Ay, the diilil I h»d, 
Bat was not to keep. 

As in lieaTcn iii^b, 
1 my cliilii did ficck. 

There in inun aiae by 
CItitdicn fair and meek, 

Fach in Uly white, 

With a lamp alight ; 

Each wa« dear to sight. 
But tLcy did not tpcak. 

Then, a tittle ud, 

C;imF my child in t&mi 
But the lamp he hid, 

O it did Dot bum I 
He, to clear my doubt, 
Slid, hair tun'd about, 
'Your tears put it out; 

Muther, cerer ntovm,* 



asp. The Wife a-lost 

CINCE 1 Doo mworc do zee yow ftSot 
•^ Uji steSrs ot down below, 
I'll zii me ia tlic Iwonesome pldcc, 

Where fiat-bough'd beech do grow} 
Below the beeches' bough, my love, 

Where you did never come, 
An' I don't look to meet ye now, 

As 1 do look at fawomt^ 

1S6 



WILUAM BARN 

Since you aoo mwocc be u nj tide. 

In walks in wntran hci, 
I'n tfto alwOK wbcrc mist do Hdr, 

Droo titrt M-dtiyfia irMi 
IMow the nln-wet bough, my lov^ 

Where ywi dkl neTer come, 
An' I don't grieie to mini ye now. 

As I do gricTc >t hwonx. 
Since DOW bezide my dinner-bwoud 

Yoor Talcc do ncicr Mxtod, 
111 ent ibe bit I G«n arwont 

A-iteld upon the f;round| 
Deknr tbe dukwnM bough, my love, 

Wliere you did ncter dine. 
Ad' I don't grieve to miis )-c now, 

As 1 M hwome do ]itne. 

Since I do miu your nttt an' fdlce 

In fn'yti n cvcotkle, 
I'll pray wi' woone sad tatcc *oi grrice 

To goo wbcie you do bide; 
Above the urt ta' bough, my tofc, 

Wlicie yon be goat arore, 
An' be a-watlte tot me now, 

To cotne roc cvennwore. 



WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED 

rftfo. Faity Song 

\ E has cotio'd the leswa now t 
He has read the bode of pin: 



H' 



iao»-iS)$ 



aie ftitraws on his braw; 
I mM oukr ii tmooib again. 



WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED 

Lo I I koock the tpnn awiy i 
Lo I I loosen bch ud brand \ 

Huk ! I itm tl>c eoasa neigU 
For ba Mill in Faiiy-laitd. 

Bring the op, and bniij; the Tnt) 
Buckle on hit undal jhooni 

Fetch his fiicinory from the cbnt 
Id tlx tlctsury of ll)C mooa. 

I hm taught him to be wiao 
For a tiltlc RiBidrn's sake;— 

Lol he o|>cns his gUd ryes, 
Softly, slowly: MiaMrel, wake! 



SARA COLERIDGE 
tfrfl, O ileep, mj> Babe 

O SLEEP, my babe, hear not tlie rippliqg wk. 
Nor feel the bceexe that round thcc lipg'rial *U>P 
To drink thy balmy breath, 
And nigh one long brcwell. 

Soon alull it mourn aboirc thy wat'ty bed. 
And whi»p<.T to me, on the ware-beat shor^ 

Deep mumi'ring tn reproadi, 

Tliy lud untiniety fate. 

Ere thoM; dciir eyes )iad opcn'd on the light, 
In vain to plead, thy cocntng life was soM, 

O waken'd but to kleqi, 

Whence it can vake do moral 



SARA COLERIDGE 

tbuwund «ad i ihoMasd silken luvn 
Tba nftnl baxh unfoUs in tarly sfrii^ 
AO cbd in uodemt ptea, 
All of the Mlf-umc ihipc i 

[ A thouund lahnt faccf, soft and swMt, 
Eicb ^r tmdt (ofih, jn cTcry moihcr vtrws 
Her bu aot lra« bdcnvd 
Lilcr In dear self alone. 

No rounng mind luub ever jret ratnhtiiKl 
The bee tomMtrow'i iwi ■hall fmt rercal. 
No hcsin bMli c'rf coocdtvd 
What love lliat £kc vrtU bring. 

O !>lcc|>, ray twbc, nor heed how movrns the {*l« 
To fan with thy mA locks and fngnat bmth, 

A* when it deeply light 

O'et aBtumn'i Utnt bloom. 



r^j. 



Tlx Child 



CEE yon blithe child thai dances b our Bj^litl 
^ Can gloomy shadows &I1 from ooe to bright! 

Food mother, whmce theie lean? 
Wliile bui>]-antly he m.-ibcK o'er i^c bwn. 
Dream not of dowb to tuin his nunbood's djwB, 

Nor diai that sight with leirv. 

No doud be Sfees in brightly clowiog hours, 
But ticel* as if the oewly *ested bowct» 

For him could never fadei 
Too wHl wc know that teinil plcuum fleet, 
B« hating him, m> gladtorar, fair, and sweet, 

Ouf lou is overpaid, 

cc Ml 



HHI^^^^I 






SARA COLERIDGE 


d 




Amiij 


ihc balmiest Sowers that c^nh cui 


gi*^ ■ 




Som? bitter drops disti], dod all that live 


■ 






A mingled jwrtion shan; ; 


1 




But, 


while he learos these truths which we lamtiL 




Such 


fortitude as ours will sure \x sent. 
Such aolace to his care. 

GERALD GRIFFIN 


1 




663, 


Eileen Aroon 

W/"HEN like the early row. 
*• Eileen Aroon : 


tlocAi 












Beauty in childhood blows, 








Eileen Axooa I 








When, like a diadem, 








Bud& blush around the stem, 








Which is the fairest gem : — 








Eileen Aroon 1 





GERALD GRIFFIN 

Wbx nakn hb dnRnDg glow, 
ChftDgdew ihroagh joy or woe? 
Only tlw eoDsunt know: — 
Eileen Arooal 

I know 8 Tallry fair, 

Eilcra Aroonl 
I katm t cotuce tittt, 

EilKti Arooal 
Vu in ihit nlley'a shade 
1 kntw a gntle maid, 
Ft<**rT of a haxe! jbdc,— 

Eileen Aroool 

Who is ihe song m iwect? 

Eitcm Arooa I 
Wbo ia ibt iatux to B«et f 

Eileen Aroonl 
Dtv were ber chmns lo me, 
Dnrcr her lughter free, 
Draitst her comuiicj, — 

Eileen Arooo! 

Were «be no lon^ tnie, 

Eileen Arooal 

WhM iboM h» lover do > 
Eilmi Arooal 

Fly wth hti broken chain 

Far o'er the twunding iwun, 

Never lo lore tg^a, — 

Eileen Aioonl 

Youth nxui with time decay, 
Eileen Aroonl 



GERALD GRIFFIN 

fiesuty must fide awiy, 

[-lilcuD AroonI 
Castks arc saclc'd ia war, 
Chkftdiu ate touer*!! (m, 
Tnilb is a fix(d star, — 

Eik«fi Anon I 



JAMES CLARENCE >tANGAN 



tfrf^. 



2)ari Jtosalettt 



OMY Di/k Rosalwn. 
Do nut sifb, do not weep! 
The firiots art oa the ocun gre^n. 

They march along the Attf. 
There'* wine front the royal Pope, 

Upon the ocean grceo ; 
And Spantiti ile thall ^vc you hope. 

My Dark RouIkti ! 

My owa Roulccnl 
fit'jll glad your bean, iball ^rc yon hope, 
Shall giie you health, and help, and hopc^ 

My Daik Rosakcn! 

Over hills, and thro' dales, 

Hare I roam'd for your lake ; 
All yesterday I sail'd wiih silx 

On liter and on lake. 
The Eme, at its highest flood, 

I duii'd actofs unseen, 
For theic wa§ lighming in my blood, 

My Dark Rosalecal 



JAMES CLARENCE MANCAN 

My owa Roulmal 
O, there mt lijibuung in my blood, 
R«d lightmng lightcn'd thro' my blood, 

My l>Jik Kom1««oI 

All day long, in unrest. 

To aad fro, do I mofc. 
Tbc my muI wiibin my breiat 

la wasted for you, lovel 
The hnn in my boMia fiuDis 

To tbinic of you, my Qwcti, 
My life of life, my mim of miou, 

My Datk Roulccn 1 

My Ota Rouleea! 
To bear )-oui tweet and ud compUott, 
Mj life, my love, my «inc of nin», 

My Dark Rouleen • 

Woe ind pain, pain and woe. 

Are my lot, nighi and noon. 
To Kc yoiai bright fjce clotxkd My 

Like to tbc mounifd mooii. 
But yet vill I rear your ihrotie 

Again in golden ihceo ; 
Tis you shall reign, flhall rdgo alone. 

My Dark Rouleen! 

My own Roulccn ! 
Tix yon »hall h«?c the goUea thrown 
Til yoa (ball reign, aad mgp alooc, 

My Dwk Rosalceol 

Ont dcv% orer samb, 

Will I fly, for your weal i 
Your boly ddicate while hand* 

Shall girdle m« witb Med. 



JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN 



Ac home, m your emerald boweis. 

From morning's dawn till e'en. 
You'll pray for me, my flower of flowen, 

My Dark Rosaleen ! 

My fond Rosilecn ! 
You'll think of nic through daylight houn. 
My virgin flower, my flower of flowers, 

My Dark Rosaleen ! 

I could scale the blue air, 

I could plough the high hills, 
O, I could knee! all night in prayer, 

To heal your many ills ! 
And one beamy smile from you 

Would float like light between 
My toils and me, my own, my trtie. 

My Dark Rosaleen ! 

My fond Rosaleen I 
Would give me life and soul kkv, 
A second life, a soul anew, 



JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN 

The Nameless One 

ROLL forth, my song, like Um; nuhing riter, 
That iwoqw along to the mighty tat ; 
God will imjdre me while I dclirn 
My Mul of thee I 

j Tell thou the worttl, when my bows lie whitening 

Amid the loM homes of youth kod dd, 
^—'i'bat ooce there ivm one whose reins nn U^uaing 
■ No ey« behcM. 

Tell how hi* boyhood wai one drear night-hour, 
I How shone fur him, through hb giicfs aad clocm, 

i Nu stAr of til beaten Sends to light oui 
^K Palli to the tomb. 

^^loll on, my songi and to after aget 

Tdl bow, (fitdaining all earth can gire, 
I He wiMiid btrc tangbt men, from wi«(iom's pign. 
The way to Utt. 

And tell bow trwDpkd, derided, hated. 

And worn by weakness dbcase, and wtone, 
:e fted for shelter ti> God, who mated 
His soul with song' 

— \Vtth tong which ilwiy, ndiGroe or tapid, 

Flow'd like I rill in die morning beam. 
Perehanoe OM deep, but btrnsc and rvpA — 
A moufitain stream. 

Tet) how thh Nameless, coadentn'd for years lon){ 
To had widi demons from bell bcneatii, 
tw things that made him, with groans and tear*, Icng 
For eren deoifa. 

« 



¥ 



JAMES CLAAENCE MANGAN 

Go on to [fll how, with genius wasted, 

Beiray'd b friendship, bcfooi'd ia lore, 
With spirit sbipwieck'd, and young hopes UaMcd. 
He still, still stravet 

Till, spent with toil, dreeing death for others 

(And some whose hands should have wrougbl for ha. 
If cbildrea live not for sires and motbere), 
His mbd grew dim ; 

And he fell far through that pit abysmal. 

The gulf and graye of Maginn and Bums, 
And pawa'd his soiJ for the dc»il's dii^mal 
Stock of returns. 

fiuL yet tedceni'd it in days of darkness. 

And shapes acid signs of the linal wrath. 
When death, in hideous and ghastly starknus, 
Stood on his path. 

And tell how now, anild wieck and sorrow. 



THOMAS LOVELL BEDD0E3 

TF thou wUt (SK thioe heaxx, 
^ or lov« 10(1 all iu siain, 

Tbeo Jilorp, dur, ilrcpi 
And not > wwiow 

Hasg any Unr on your cyclistiea; 

Lie nill 2nd <loq>, 
Sad toul, until Ui« M-4-wate msbca 
The tint o* Uie sun to-ino4:ow, 
In castcni sky. 

Bui vrilt tltau ewe tluoe heart 
or \tm aad all iu Kmut, 

Tim die, dear, die; 
Tis deeper, sweeter, 

Tliao on a rose-bank to lie dnsnuiq 

Wah folded rye; 
Aod there alone, amid the beaming 
Of Love's stars, thou'lt meet licr 
In tastcm sliy. 



>•(»-•**« 



2>ream-TeMaty 

IP there were dreams to sell, 
What wodd you boy ? 
Some ooK a paming bell; 

Some t light tigb, 
That sfaakcs from Life's fresh crown 
Oaly a rose-leaf down. 

CO ff7 



THOMAS L.OVELL BEDDOES 

If there were dreams lo sell. 

Merry and sad lo leU, 
And the crier nng the bell. 
What would you buy! 

A cottage lone and still, 

With bowers nigh, 
Shadowy, my woes lo stiH, 

Until I die. 
Such pear! from Life's frtsb crown 
Fain would I shake me down. 
Were dreams to have at will, 
This would best bea! my ill, 

This would I buy. 



668. So»^ 

1_[ OW many times do I lore thee. dcM I 
Tell me how many thoughts there be 



RALPH WALDO I-MERSON 



6p, Gh/e yjU to Ltvc 

GIVE ill to lovF) 
Obey thj hcwt) 
FiicDda, kiDdrcd, d*ys, 
Esiau, good fiine, 
Plaos, credit, and the Muac— 
Notfaiog nfvte. 

*T!s ■ bmrc iBMicr; 
Let It hiTo Kopc: 
Follow it utterly, 
Hope beyond hojwt 
Hi^ ■nd moie bi^ 
It divM into noon, 
Wnh wing tinspentf 
Untold intent; 
But it is a god, 
Koaws its own pub, 
And ihc outlns of the Ay. 

It was De*«T for the muat 
It itqwreth coutage itotit, 
Souls above doobt, 
Valonr unbendiog: 
Such 'twill rewatd;— 
They ihall return 
More thin tbey wtxt. 
And ever ttcctxliRg. 

Lca>« all for Iotc i 

Yet, bear tar, yet, 

One void more thy heart beboted, 

One inbe more of £im endeavour — 



Itmt-Mt 



]*• 



RALPH WALDO EMERSON 

Keep ihee to-dny, 
To-moriow, for ever, 
Free as an Arab 
Of thy beloved. 

Cling with life to the maid; 

But when the surprise, 

First vague shadow of sunnisr. 

Flits across her bosom youn^. 

Of a joy :ipart from tfiec, 

Free be she, fnacy-freei 

Nor thou detain her vcstuir's hem, 

Nor the palest rose she flung 

From her summer diadem. 

Though thou loved her as thyself. 

As a self of purer clay ; 
Though her parting dims the day, 
Stealiag grace from all alive ; 
Heartily know, 
When half-Rods £0 



RALPH WALDO EMERSON 



Uw IKUOB, too long JlRUl, 

Us em wu evident, 
youns dotia dscaw'd 
Laws of (omt, ood mttn jut. 
Orb, quiiitnsence, and sunbcaina. 
What MbstMeth, tod what scctns. 
One, with low toors that dtcidc, 
And doubt aad reverend ose defied, 
With a look that solved tbe spbeic, 
Aod ftirr'd ifac dcvitit evctywhere, 
Gave bis Mntimeat divioe 
Agiiiut the being of a lane. 
' Lioe in aMsic n oot fouad) 
Unit and nivcne are round i 
In vain prodootd, all njrs return) 
ivil will bleu, and ice will bun.* 
Urid spoke wtU) jHcrdng eye, 
sbudder ran around tiie skjr i 
Tlie stem oM war-god^ shook tkeir brads i 
the sei^bs Irawn'd ftooi mynle-bedst 
Sccai'd to tlie boly festiraJ 
The rub word boded ill to all : 
The balio^e-bMrn of Fate wrs bent ; 
The bo«Dd» of good and ill were rmi | 

h^tnwg Hadn could not keep his own, 

^^Bu> all slid to cocfusioo. 

IPRi sad sclf-kaovlcdgc withering fell 

On ibe beanty of Uriel; 

In hoTea once nniiieot, the god 
I Withdrew that boo into hit cload; 
' Whether doom'd to long gyiatioa 
ea of generation, 






RALPH WALDO EMERSON 

Or by knowledge grown too briglii 

To hit the oen'c of feebler sighu 

Straightway a forgetting wind 

Stole over the celestial kind. 

And their lips the secret kept, 

If in ashes the fire-seed slepc 

But, now and then, truifa-spcaking tliiags 

Shamed the angels' veiling wings ; 

And, shrilling frora the solar coune. 

Or from fruit of chemic force, 

Procession of a soul in matter, 

Or the specdirg change of water, 

Or out of the good of evil bom. 

Came Uriel's Toice of cherub scorn, 

And a blush tinged the upper sky. 

And the gods shook, they koew not why. 



671. Bacchus 

D RING me wine, bui wux whioh imcr ^mr 



RALPH WALDO EMERSON 



Givr me of the trap, 

Wbow Mitple IcaTn and tcndrib eurlM 

Among the lilvcr bills of hnmi 

Draw vtrrlasting dnri 

Wiae of wioc. 

Blood of tlie worlil, 

Pnrni of formv, snd mould of Uarurrs, 

That I intoxicatMl, 

And by tbe dnq^t atsimUtml. 

Miy flow M pkasure ihrough all lufDirctj 

Tbe bnd- language righily tpttl. 

And Uiflt vhicfa rosn uy to well : 

Wkk that b ibrd 

l.'Ae tbe tormits of tbe nn 

Up tbe honnoa wafls, 

Or like tlw Adiotic Mr^aIIl*^ wbicti nu 

When the Soodi Sa calls. 

WsiCT and bread, 
Food vhich aetds no irannmiling. 
Ratfibow-flownuig, wiftdom-fiutJo^ 
Vfiot which t» already nua, 
Food which icach and rcuoa eui. 

Wiae whkh Moiic i^, — 

Mtnic hkI wine arc oor, — 

That I, drinking this. 

Shall hftv fu ChMS talk wiih me; 

Kings unborn shAll walk witb me; 

And tbe poor grtu sb^l plot and fLa 

What it will do wbm tt n maiw 

Qukken'd »o, n-iil I unlock 

Every crypt of erciy rock. 



RALPH WALDO EMERSON 

I thank the joyful juice 
For alt I know; 
Winds of rememhwing 
Of the flacient being blow, 
Aad spcming'Soiid walls of use 
Open and flow. 



Pour, Bacchus! the mnnnbenDg wine; 

Retrieve the loss of me and mine ! 

Vine for vine be antidote, 

And the grape retjuite the lotc I 

Haste to cure the old desparj 

Renson in Nature's lotus dtencL'd — 

The memory of agci qucnch'd — 

Gire them again to shine ; 

Let wine repair what this undid t 

And where the tafectian slid, 

A dazzling memory revive j 

Refresh the iaded dnis, 

Recut the asM dnnta. -- - 



.PH WALDO EMERSON 

'or totgM lo nw is nesr; 
Sbidow and umlight m tbr sunc) 
Tbc vuhliM jods to me appesri 
AjkI ooe to oie ate aluoie unI faoiB. 

They teckoo ill who ka«e me ooti 
Wben me ibey fly, I am tbc wi&est 
m Uic doabur and the doubt, 
And I the byiao tbe Brahmin nnsh 

The nroog god« pine for my abode, 
And fiae in vma ihc acted Semi| 

But ibou, mcfk kmt of tbe good ! 

Find tnc, and turn tby bKk oa heann. 



iUCHARD HENRY HORNE 
rf7i. T&e 7lougb 

A LAITDSCAPE M BKKKSHIXt 

ABOVE yon sombce iwell of bnd 
^^ Tbou Ke'isi the dawn's gra<e orai^ hue, 
With one pale streak like yellow uad, 
Aod OTcr that a vein of blue. 

11k ait is <»kl above the woods { 

All siknt is tbc earth and sky, 
Except with \aA own loody moods 

Tbe blackbinl holds a coUoijuy. 

0*et tbe broid hill creeps a beam, 

Like hope that gilds a good man's brow; 

And oow asotads tlic nooiril-sucam 
Of stalwart bones oomc to plou^ 

Hi 



RICHARD HENRY HORNE 

Ye rigid Ploughmen, beat in mind 
Your labour U for future haure : 

Advance — spare not — nor look behind — 
Plough deep and stnugbt wiih ill your 



ROBERT STEPHEN HAWKER 

tf/^. King Arthur's ff^aes-hacl 

WT'AES-HAEL for knighi sod dame! 

'^ O merry be their dole 1 
Drink-hael ! in Jesu's aaurc 
We fill the uwny bow!; 
But cover down ihe curving crest. 
Mould of the Orient Lady's breast. 

Waes-hacl ! yet lift no lid : 
Drain ye the reeds for Trine. 

Drink-hael ! the milk was bid 
That soothed that Babe dirine; 

Hush'd, as this hollow channel llows, 

Hi" rfrew the halujm frnm ih^ nwr. 



ROBERT STEPHEN HAWKER 



W 



i7F- -^f^ f^ff "*' "^^ Mimstering Spirits t 
^E wc ibcm not — we cMMt bru 
The music of tb«r winj — 
Yet know we that tbcjr lojoum near, 
The Aagels oF tbe spring! 

Thry ^idc along this lonly grouad 

Wheo Uiv fitst violet grows ; 
Tbrir gnodal tuada luirc jtui nDbound 

Tbe Kooe of )-oodeT ii»e. 

I gather it for tby dnr btCMt^ 

From Kam aad ibadow free: 
Thai which an Angel's coach bath UcM 

Is roret, my low, ht thee I 

THOMAS WADE 

^tS, The Half-asleep 

/~\ FOR the mighty wakening that aroused 

^^ The ftld-iimc Prophets w their mmions high; 

And to blind Homer's inward aunlikc eye 
Sbow'd the heart's unitersc where be caroiuKd 
Dtlyi the Fishers poor unboused, 
Ud sent tbent forth to preach diTrmiy; 
Aod Rudc otd- MUtoo his great dark dcly, 
To tbe light of one immortal theme espoused ! 
3ui half axleep are ihooe oow most awake ; 
And MTc calm-thoughied Wotdswnnb, we hate none 
i'ho for etersity put tima at nakci 
And hold a coauaM course as doth the sum 
i^e pdd but drOfS that no deep thirstinpt slake; 
And leebly cease ete we hare well begun. 




FRANCIS MAHONY 



677. The Bells of Sbandon 



■^^ITH drep affwtion, 

"^ And recollection, 
1 often think of 

Those SbandoD bells, 
Whose sounds so wild would, 
la the days of childhood, 
FUog around my cmdle 

ThL'ir mapc spells. 
On this I ponder 
Where'er 1 wander, 
And thus grow fonder. 

Sweet Cork, of tliec; 

"VVlth iby bells of Shaodoo, 
That sound so grand od 
The pleasant waters 



d«-dM 

I 



FRANCIS MAHONY 



m 



hUik tlie bdla of Shindoa 
Sound fir more grand on 
The pleaMnt waters 
Of the Ri<«r tn. 

IV hnrd bctis lotling 
Otd Adrian's Mole ia, 
Thrir thunder rolSng 

Froin tHe Viikaa, 
And c]nut>aU glormu 
SwinsiBK upraaiious 
Id llie i^rgeous torrcts 

Of Notcc DuDCt 
B<it thy tounds «-ct« tiKtur 
Tluui Ac dome of Peur 
Flings o'er the Tbcr, 

PesUbg »ofcmiil)r — 
0, the bl^s of Stimdoa 
Sound ftr mm gnod on 
llie pletuM waicT' 

Of xbe Rittr Lcc 

Tbetf *» a beiJ io Moscow, 
While on tower ood kkisk Ol 
la Sjnut Sophui 

The Turkman geta, 
And loud ia air 
Cal!» men lo prayer 
From the upcrmg sumnut* 

Of tall mimrets. 
Such em|<ty phaUDOi 
I fttdy sruit ihciDi 
But there '« an viibem 

More dear to me, — 



FRANCIS MAHONY 

Til tbc bells of Sbaodon, 
That louod so gnad oa 
The pleuant mien 
Of the Riier Lev. 



ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 

tf7*. SeialmJ'i Scroli 

T LEFT thee \m, a child k hem, 
^ A wonua scarce to y*3m 
I come to dice, > solema ctxrpM 

Whidi odtfari' feels nor karu 
I luie DO breath to use io n^; 
Tliey laid tbc iJetd-vrciglits oa miae ejt* 

To seal tliem saTe from team. 

Look on mc with thine own calm look: 

I meet it calni t.% thou. 
Ko look of thine c»i change this smie, 

Or break iliy sinful row: 
1 tell thee that cny poor scora'd bnui 
Is of thine earth — tfainr earth— a pnti 

It cannot vex thee now. 

I have pray'd for thee with bursting sob 
When i-as&ion's course was fnt; 

I hxTc [>ray'd for thee with silem 1^ 
In the anguish dock could tm; 

They wluijiei'd oft, 'She slecpcth »ft*— 
But I only pray'd for tlwe. 



ELIZABETH BARREIT DROWNING 

Go to) 1 pray for thcc no more: 

The oorjue'i tongnc h Hill; 
lu folded Gogm point lo bnrco, 

But poiai there uilT aod cliiUt 
No t«nhn wrong, no fAtiiicr woe 
Huh Ikraee rrnn tlic tio below 

Its tneqnil Iiestt to tbrilL 

I cbvge tbce, by tlic tiring's infer, 

And the dead's hIcbutm, 
To vring from oat thj soul a cry 

Which God shjil bear ud bins! 
Leu HeiTcn's own }>dm droop in my hand, 
And pole among the saints 1 snnd, 

A saint conafanodcsi. 



Tie 2>aert(J Garden 

T MIND mc in the diys dejuited, 
-^ How ofiet) wdcmnth tbe nm 
With childish bounds I used to run 
To s gsnkn hwg deserted. 

The beds and walks were Tuisb'd tjiotei 
I And wbercioe'cr liad struck the spode, 
The £rtcne« grasses Nature laid. 
To sancti^ her righL 

I calTd the place roy wilikmess, 
For DO o«ie cnterM there but L 
The sheep look'd in, the graas to espy. 
And pss'd it oc'ertbdesfc 



ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 

The trees were intetwoTcn wild. 
And spread their boughs enough about 
To keep both sheep and shcjilierd out. 
But not a tuppy child. 

AdTenlurous joy it was for me ! 
1 crept beneath tlie boughs, and fouid 
A circle smooth of mossy ground 
Beoeacli a popUt-tree. 

Old garden rose-trees hedged it in, 

Bedropt with roses waxen<whice. 
Well satisfied with dew and light. 
And careless to be seen. 



Long years ago, it might befall. 
When all the garJen flowers were trim, 
The giave old gardener prided him 
On these the most of all. 

Some Ladv. sMtdv amtaach. 




liLlZAllliTH BARRIirr BROWNING 

Nor tboeght that gvdton- (full at Kom 
For men ualnni'd and simple phnM) 
A child would briD£ it all its praiw. 
By creeping tlirough the thtwns I 

To mc apoo nj low mou scat, 
Tbongh oner a dnam the roses tan 
Of kcicDCe or love's complunetu, 
I ween thejr Nnek as sweet. 

It did not nxive my (rkf to tn 
The trace of human step defartcd : 
BecMie the garden was deierted, 
Tbt Uiibrr pb« lor me! 

Frieoils, bUme me not ! a turrow ken 
Hath cfaiUhood 'iwixt the mn and tvard; 
We draw the roora) aTteiwaid — 
We feel the ^adneis thni. 

And gladdmi Immtb for me did glide 
In silenct ai the roM-tree wsll: 
A ihnish made gUdnesa mnncal 
Upon the other side. 

Nor be Qor I did e'er indine 
To peck or phick the blouoms white:— 
How dionld I know bnt that they might 
Lead Iitcb as gbd as mine? 

To make my hermh-bomc complete, 
1 brought dear water t'rotn the spring 
PraiMd in M owo iow auanniring, 
And aasti glouy wet. 



ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNDJC 

And so, 1 cliotighi, my likeoess grew 
( Without the melancholy ulc) 
To ' gentle herniii of the dale,' 
And Angelioa too. 

For oft I read within my dooIc 
Such minstrel stones ; tili the brceie 
Mode souods poetic in the trees. 
And then 1 shut the book. 

If I shut this wherein I write, 
1 hear no more the wind athwan 
Tbose trees, aor feel that childish bean 
Delighting in delight. 

My childhood from my iife is pnncd. 
My footstep from the ith>s» which dtrv 
Its fairy circle round; anew 
The garden is destited. 

Another thrnith ma.<r then wJmji^ 



ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 



» 



I knew the tane wodd [od avay; 
And yrt, brs*<lc ihc rosc-Urv wall, 
Dnr God, Ivow kMoid, if at all, 
Did I look up to pray I 

Th« time b putt and now that grows 
Tbr cffttm high among the trcts. 
And [ brhold white Mpnlehres 
As well «» the white row, — 

, When wiwr, nKcker thoughts are gim. 
And I have learnt to Lift nijr lace, 
Rnmndcd bow (anil's greenest place 
The cdovr draws from bcavcDf— 

It SonMhiag Mith for eattltly pain, 
But mofe for bcarenly prooiue free, 
Thai I who wa!t, wotild shrink to be 
That happy cbiU ^ain. 

So. Coniolathn 

aLL m not ukeni there are left behind 
*^ Lrring BelorMt, tender lookt lo bring 

And nuke the daylight still a happy thing. 
And lender voiees, to make soft tbe windi 
But if it were not so— if I could find 

No lore m all this world lor comfoding. 

Nor any ptth but hollowly did rinf> 
Where 'dim to da«' the love from life dnjoin'd; 
And if, before those sepulchres tmnMiing 

I stood alone (as some forsaken lamb 
Gon bleating up the moors in wnry dearth) 
Crying 'Where are ye, O my loved and loving?*— 

I know a voice wonid sovnd, 'Daughter, 1 ah. 
, Can I stu&cc for Hetvcn ad dm fat tanh i * 

m 



ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNiSC 



dSi. Grief 

T TELL you, hopeless grief is pa^sionlas; 
That only men incredulous of desjair. 
Half-taught m anguish, through the mUn^ ' 
Beat upward [a God's ihrant m loud acccu 
Of shrieking and reproach. Full dMcrmea 

In souls as countries liedi silenc-baic 

Under the bl.irching, certiiril eye-gUie 
Of the abwlute Heavens. Deep-beartcd mii^ 
Grief for tliy Dead in silence like to deaih — 

Most like a mocumenial statue set 
In cveriasting watch and moveless woe 
Till itself crumble to the dust beneath. 

Touch it; the marble eyelids are not wMt 
If it could weep, it could arise and go, 

Somiets from the T'ortngtiese 
682. i 

J THOUGHT once how Thwoitua hjd vag 



ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 

6S3. a 

T TNLTKE are we, udike, O princdj Hnitl 
^-' Uoltke our uses and our desdoint 

Our ministering two aogels look surprise 
Od one another, as they strike athwart 
Their wings in passing. Thou, bethink thee, art 

A guest for queens to social pageantries, 

With gages firxa a hundred brighter eyes 
Than tears even can make mine, to play thy part 
Of chief musician. What hast thou to do 

With looking from the latticc'tights at me — 
A poor, liied, wandering singer, singing through 

The dark, and leaning up a cypress tree? 
The chrism is on thioe head— on mine the dew — 

And Death inust dig the level where these agree. 

6S4. Hi 

f^O from me. Yet I feel that I shall stand 
^^ Henceforward in thy shadow. Nevermore 

Alone upon the threshold of my door 
Of individual life I shall command 
The uses of my soul, nor lift my hand 

Serenely in the sunshine as before. 

Without the sense of that which I forbore^^ 
Thy touch upon the palm. The widest land 
Doom takes to part us, leaves thy heart in mine 

With puises that beat double. What I do 
And what I dream include thee, as the wine 

Must caste of its own grapes. And when I sue 
God for myself, He heara that name of thine. 

And sees within my eyes the tears of two. 

nr 



ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 



68j. hi 

T F titou must love me, let it be for lUBglit 
' Except for lore's sake only. Do not uy. 

' 1 love her for her sniile — her look — her wtf 
Of sjjeaking gently, — for a irick of thought 
That falls in well with mine, and cenia bcocgM 

A sense of pleasant case on such a djy * — 

For iht:^e things in themsckes, Beloved, nay 
Be changed, or change for thee — and lore. m> 
Mjy be uowrought so. Neillicr lore me for 

Thine own dear jaly's wiping my chocks dijt 
A creature might forget to weep, who boit 

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thenbyl 
But love mc for love's sake, that evermore 

Thou mayst love on, through lore's nenriiy. 



68 If. 



V 



YWHEN our two souls stand up erca and suotig, 



ELtZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 



68?. 



A Musiul /nstrument 



^/"/HAT wu lie doiof, the grcjt god Pan, 

'' DtiWD to tbc reeds bj ti»c rim ? 
SpRading niia Mul Kattenog bu, 
Splidiing uxl paddling with hoofs of ■ goM, 
And breaking the golden lilies a&ou. 
With the dngon-Ay oa tbc river. 

He tore out a ittdf the Ijrcat god Pan, 
Fnxn tbe dttp cool bed of the river i 

The tiBi|Md witer tiubidly nn. 

And Ilie bojten lilies a-dying by. 

And tbe dnieon-By bad fled away, 
Err he brought i( out of the rim. 

Hijth eti the share SM the gnat ff)A Pta, 

While tiubidljr flow'd the rim; 
And back'd and hew'd at a great god can 
With hit hard bJcak steel at the padcni reed. 
Till there was not a sign of the leaf indeed 

To prove it fresh from the riier. 

He ott it short, did tbe grat itod Pan 
(How udl it stood in the river!), 

Then drew the pith, like the heart of a mm, 

Steadily from tbe ouuide ring, 

And tuAch'd die poor dry empty thing 
la boles, ■> he tat by the river. 

'This is dw way,' laugh'd tbe great |{od P«i 
(Lan^'d while be sat by the river), 
"I'hr only way, since gods began 
Co make tweet moaic, tbey could Mooted.' 
r/ien dropping hin mouth to 4 hole in the tved, 
He blew in power by the river. 

m 



ELIZABETH BARRETT CROWTA 

Sweet, sweet, sweei, O Pan I 
Piercing sweet by the ritei ! 

Blinding sweci, O great god Pan ! 

The sun on the hill forgot to diie. 

And the lilies revived, and the dr 
Canie back to dieam on the fiver. 

Yet half a beast is the gccai god Pa 

To laugh as he silB by the ri'rr. 

Making a poet out of a man : 

The true gixls sigh for ilie cost snd 

For the reed which grows nevennore ^ 

As a rt-ed with the reeds of the rim 



FREDERICK TENN^'SON 

688. The Holy Tide 

'T'HE days arc 5ad, it is tlie Holy tidf ! 
^ The Winier mom is short, the Night 
So let the lifeless Hours be glotified 

»T— , • . > . . lit* 



\ 

'i 



o 



'henry WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 

689. Mr Lost Touth 

FTfiN I thiak of the bcuiifnl lowv 
That is scucd by tbe tea; 
Often ia ibw^bt go up aad down 
Tbe jJconm Urevts of ib«i dear old iowd. 

»And mjr ^wtth comn back to mc. 
And * verse of a L^iilaod wng 
Is biuniiiig aij memory stUI : 
'A bo^r*! wiU U ilie wiod's will, 
And the thoa^u of yoolh are loi^ long thougbts-* 

I csn we tlic shadowy linn of its ines, 

And caicfa, in niddtn ^nm«, 
Tbe sheen of the far-snrnxnding seu, 
And inlands that were the Hcspettdes 
Of all ray tuyish dreams. 
■ Ajid tbe buiden of that old song, 
' It mumurs aad whb{)eTS sdUi 

*A boy's wiil is the wind's will, 
And the thOBghts of yueth are toog, kxig thovghts.' 

I remember tbe Uick whanres and tbe slips, 

And ih* sea-odes to<dag fr«i 
And S|>amsh uilors wilb bejrded lips, 
And the beamy and oiyucry of tbe sbipi. 
And tbe m^ic of the sea. 

And the Totc« of tlui w^nrait! song 
Is siaging and sa<rTng sdll: 
'A boy's will is the wind's mil, 
the Uioughu of yocnh are loog, long (hoogbtf.* 
Dd Km 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW 



I icmember the txilwarks bjr the siiotc. 

And the fort upon the hill i 
7'bE sunrise gun with its hollow ro&r, 
The drum-beat rej«ated o'ei and o'er. 
And tlie bugle wild and shiill. 
And the music of that old song 
Throbs in my meniory still : 
'A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth are long, loag 



ibeq^B^ 



I tcmembtr tlie sea-Gght far iway. 
How it thunder'd o'et die tide ! 
And the dead sea^ciiptiiins, as ihcy I^iy 
In their giavt's o'ctlooking the tiatiijuil bay 
Where they in battle died. 

And die sound of that moumful sung 
Goes through me widi a thnll : 
' A boy's will is the wind's will. 
And the thoughts of youth arc long, loog tha 

1 can sec the breezy dome of groves, 
T-u- _u-j — . -r r\— ^ — • J — 



HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFLLLOW 



And (be voice of that feAJ song 
Sings oa, bmI ii never still : 
'A boy't will is die wJod's wiU, 
knd tbc thoughts of youth ue long, long tlwughu.' 

'I'hcre aie ihiog* of vhich 1 may oM tficak ; 
There aie dmms that cannot dici 

Ere are tliougbts that make ihc urong hnn weak, 
1 btinj a jiallar into the cheek, 
Lad a mist before tlie eye. 
And the words of that faital song 
CoRie over n>c like a chill: 
' A boy's will is ihc wind's will, 
I the tbuughta of youth aie Ictag, long ilioughtiL' 
age (o me now arc the forms I meet 
Vbea I vint the dtuir old town ; 
Bui the natiTe ur ts pure and tweet, 

(od the tree* that o'enbadow each weU*known sucn. 
As they bolisce up and down. 
Are si>i)^t>2 the beauiiful long. 
Are sighing and whispering Kill: 
'A boy's will is the «-iad'* wiD, 
od the thoughts of youth are long, long thoogbls.' 
od Dceriog's woods are fresh and &ir. 
And witli joy that is almost pin 
My Ixan goes back to wander therc^ 
And among the dreams of the days that were 
I find my loot youth ag«ix. 

And the strange nd beautiful soi^ 
The groit3 are rtpcating it uill: 
*A boy's will is the wind's will, 
ini the ihoughu of youth uc loo^ long thoughts.' 



JOHN CREENLEAF WHITTIER 



690. 



Festa 



r\ CHRIST of Godl wboM IL& ■»! 
^-^ Our own hsTc reconciled. 
Most quicdy, mon tnxinty 
Take home thy tUf-iumcd cbitd 1 

Tbjr grace ix b ber padent eyes, 
Thy wonU are on ber tongue) 

The veiy silence raund her setm 
As if the angels suog. 

Her Mnile is as a lIucoinH child^ 

Who hean its another's caU: 
The Ulies of Thy per f t c t f«cc 

About her {lillow fall. 

She leans from out onr diof^g wait 

To rest herself in Thine ; 
Alone to Tbcc, dear l^rd, can we 

Our wcU-bdoitd resign. 

O. less (or her than for omselvea 
We bow OUT beadi and pray 1 

Her setting star, like BetlilHiem'a, 
To Tbee shall point the way I 



KM 



HELEN SELINA, LADY DUFFERIN 
ffii. Lament of the Irish Emigrant 

Ooyat, 
T'M litdn' oa the scUe, Maiy. 
* Whew wc Bi side by side 
Ob a bright Mi; mornin* long igo, 
Wlm first you wvTc my bride; 

com was qiriiigin' ftc&h aad gnta, 
And tli« bik aaog loud ind high — 
Aod the red was oo your lip, Mary, 
And the lovc-ligbt la your eye. 

The place is lUlW clunged, Mary. 

The day is bright as then, 

be lark's loud taa^ is ia my car, 

Aod the com is grm again; 
Bat I ousa the soft dasp of yow haod, 

And yow breath warm on my cbeefc. 
And I adll keep Iht'niog for the words 

You otnt more will speak. 

Tit but a ntf down yonder Isdc, 

And the lintc church stands near, 
The ditffcb where we were wed, Mary, 

I sec the spin from here. 
Bui ilie jrateyard lies between, Mary, 

And my step might bieak )-our tat— 
For I've laid yoo, darling ! down to sleeps 

With yonr baby on yow breast. 



LADY DUFFERIN 



I'm very lonely now, Vlarj, 



For the 



poor male no new 
Bill, O, thpy lo»c the better stiU, 

The few our Father ^endsl 
And you were all / had. Maty, 

My blcBsin' aid my pride ; 
There's nothin' left to cm for 

Since ray poor Mary died. 



(nenilir 



Youra was the good, brave heart, Mn 

That StiU kept hoping on. 
When the trust in God had left my « 

And my ann's young strength va^m 
There was comfort ever on yoac lipiJ 

And ihe kind look on your brow — 
I blcs^ you, Mary, for thai suae. 

Though you cannot bear me oow. 



T ?b»nV Tfii! fiw thw »"««"t aPHk 



LADY DUFFERIN 

They M/ there 's brad and work for all, 

And ibe mhi sbion iilwcya lbcr« — 
But I'll not forget old Irehnd, 

Were it fiftjr linia a* fail I 

Aod often in Uiow grand old wooila 

I'll M, utd sfaut my eyes, 
And my hevt will travel tack agva 

To the place where Mary tie* : 
Anl 111 think I «ec the little ttile 

Where wc Mt lide by »idc: 
And the sptingin' com. and the Wgtit May mom, 

When lint you were my bride. 



lROLINE ELIZABETH SARAH NORTON 

fp2. / Jq not Iwe Ttce 

■■oe-iai« 

I DO Dot tore theet — ool I do not love thee! 

^ And jet when thou art ab«eni I am tad : 

Atki envy ereo the bright blue sky above lliee, 

^^Wbuie quiet stars may »ec thee aod be glad. 

^^ I do not lo** Aeel — yet, I know oot why, 
Whate'cr thou dost seems still well dooe, to me: 
And often in my solitwle I »gh 
[ That those I do lore are not more Kkc tlwc ! 

^B I do not lo*c thee 1— yet, wbnt thou art goae, 
^H hate the soand (though those who ^leak be dear) 
^^ Which breaks thv fingeriag echo of the tone 
Thy voice of mmc Ul*m upon my car. 



HON. MRS. NORTON 



I do not love tbee! — yet ihy spok: 
With their deep, bright, and most ex 

Between me and the midnighi bca' 
Ofeoer than any eyes I ever knew. 






I know I do not love tUce ! ycc aba 
Others will scarcely trust my candid bear 

And oft I catch them smiling as tLi.-y 
Because they see me gazing where thou j 



\ 



CHARLES TENNYSON TURNI 



(fpj. 



Lefff's Ghhe 



A 



■VWHEN Letty had scam jwss'd her iliiid 
And her young artless wonds began to 
One day we gave the child a colour'd sphere 
Of the wide eartli, that she might mark ant 



— I -_i:_„ -II 




I 



EDGAR ALLAN POE 
n Helm 

OELBN, thy brauty b to iik 

^ *■ Like iboie Nictaa bvki of yore 

Tb«t sntly> o'er a fmruiacd tea. 

The we»ry wny-wiwn wuMlcnf bore 

To his owo tutiie <>liorc. 

On desperate ens loog wool to roxm, 
Thy hyacinth hair, thy clasnc face. 

Thy Naiad nra hare brought roe boise 
To the glory that wu Greece, 

And the gnndcur that was Rome. 

Lo, in yoa brilliant wtodow-nicfae 
How itatue-like I «ce thee stand, 
1^ agite lamp witliia thy hud. 

Ah ! Psyche, from tbe tegioos which 
Are holy laodl 

fif. AnnaM Lee 

fT vas nuny and many a year ago, 
^ Iq a kingdom by the sea, 
Thai a maiden there hnd whom you luiy know 

Sy th« name oF Annabel Lee. 
And this maidei) she liitd with no othet ibooght 
Tluti to loTt and be loi'ed by me. 

I was a chiM and she was a child 

In this kingdom by the sea; 
Boi we lotvd with 4 tore that was more thao lore — 

I and my Annabel Lee, 
With a love that the wingM senpbs of bniPM 

CoTCled her and me^ 

odi •» 



EDGAR ALLAN POE 



And this was the reason that, long ago. 

In this kingdom by the sea, 
A wind blew out of a cloud, citiUing 

My lieautiful Annabel Lee, 
So that her high-bom kinsman came 

And bore her away from me. 
To shut her up in a sq>iJchre 

In this kingdom by tiie sea. 

The angels, not half so happy in heaven. 

Went envying her and me — 
Yes I that was the reason {as all men know. 

In thb kiagdom by the sea) 
That the wind came out of the cloud one m^it. 

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. 

But our love it was stranger by far than ihe lore 
Of those who were older dian we^ 
Of many far wiser than we — 

And neither the angels in heaven above, 

■M — .1.- J ,_- J __J_ ,1-- 




EDGAR ALLAN POE 

For Annie 

HTHANK Hmwb I the eriaii— 
* The duigrr b put. 
And ibc Ibgcring iIliteM 

Is over M fi» — 
And tbe fcm called < Living' 
Is coiM|iier'd at Xait. 

Sadly, I know 

I aai shorn of mjr strcngthi 
And no miaclc I mcnv 

As I lie M full lcn|:t)) : 
Dili M nutter— I M 

I tan bttur m length. 

And I rest so comfoscdly 

Now, in mjr btd, 
That lojr beholder 

MifM fuKy ise dead — 
Wght son at befaolding taa, 

TUnkiog me dead. 

Ttie mooning and groank^ 
The sighing and aoUaq^ 

Are ^aicted now, 

WUfa tbu horrible throbbing 

Ai heart — ah, that horrible^ 
HoniUc ihrobtiiDg! 

Tbe oickiKM — the nausea— 

The pitiless pain— 
H«K cnsed, with the fever 

That nuddeo'd my bran^ 
With tbe fncr called ' Liviog* 



That buia'd in 



niy 



brain 



■)« 




EDGAR ALLAN POE 

And O ! of all tormm 

That torture the worst 
Has abawd— the terrible 

Torture of thirst 
For the naphthaline river 

Of Passion accurst — 
I have drunk of a water 

That quenches all thirst. 

—Of a water that flows, 
With a lullaby sound. 

From a spring but a very few 
Feet under ground — 

From a cavern not »cry fat 
Down under ground. 

And ah I let it nerer 

Be foolishly s.iid 
That my room it is gloomy, 

And narrow my bed ; 



EDGAR ALLAN POE 

A bolirr odov 

About t^ of pMsin — 
A rooonvy odour, 

Conmingled wuh |Miiiaic9— 
With rue and tbe betobful 

Punua paosueSa 

Aad w it lies htpfilf, 

BMbing in many 
A ditmi of the truth 

And the bewty of Annie— 
Dnnrn'd id a b«tb 

or the tieMcs of Annie. 

She ttBtkrlj' kiss'd me, 

Sbc (ottdij cvess'd, 
Aiid then I fell grntlj 

To iilcep on ba imxxt — 
D«cply to »I«p 

From the bcaven of bcr brunt. 

When the light wu exiinguish'd, 

She cotcc'd me wano, 
And ibe ptay'd U> the aniteli 

To keep me from harm- 
To the qoeea of tbe angd* 

To bhttJd me from ham. 



And I lie so compowdlj. 

Now, ia my bed 
(Kaowcog her lo*e), 

ThK yoa fiecy aw dead — 



»<i 



EDGAR ALLAN POE 



Aod I test so contentedly, 

Now, in my bed 
{With het love at my breast), 

That you fancy me dead — 
That you shudder to look u nw. 
Thinking; me de»d. 

But my heart it is brighter 
Thao ail of the inany 

Stars in the sky. 

For it sparkles with Aqdip — 
It glows with the light 

Of the loTe of my Annie — 
With the thought of the light 

Of the eyes of my Annie. 



^ 



EDWARD FITZGERALD 



EDWARD FITZGERALD 

Aai there I ut 

ReMlinf! old things 
Of knighH an) lom dftmscli^ 

While the wind lings— 
O, dmriljr wngtl 

I Dcvcr look ont 

Nor aticad to tbe bbu; 
For all 10 be mco 

Is ibc Imvm hiltng A«: 
pBllii^, falfing] 

But cloie n the hemh, 
Like a cricket, sit L 

Rradiag of *imin>er 
Ami dunlry — 
GtBuK chirdiy! 

Tbtn with u old friend 
T ulk of our youih — 

How "(WW gladMine, but ofw* 
Foolish, fonooib ; 
But gUdwiDc, gladsome 1 

Or, to get merry, 

Wc ling some old ihyme 
That made ihc vrood rtng tgtin 

lo ttmuner iin>e — 
Sweet (uininer time I 

Then £0 we saiokitij, 

Silent and taut : 
Nk^ puaa between us, 

Save a brown jug'— 
SomctiiMsI 



■« 



EDWARD FITZGERALD 

And somecimes ■ ttar 
Wi!i rise in each tyc, 

Seeiog tlie two old fHcod* 
So miTiiiy — 
So merrilj! 

And ere to bed 

Go we, go we. 
Down on ihe athcs 

We kneel □□ the koet. 
Praying togettw 1 

TbiK, tJien, live 1 

Till, 'mid all the gloom, 
£y Heaven! the bold sun 
Is with me in the room 
Shining, sbiniD£ ! 

TIicQ the clouds ]ian, 

Swallows soaring between; 
The spring is aim, 



EDWARC FITZGERALD 



tot tbe GloriM of This Worid ) mkI wioe 
(or tbe Pn>]ilKt'a Puaiiae no come ; 
Ah, uke tbe Caili, lod In ih« Crtdil go, 
<ioi heed the nmble of a diuant DnunI 

Look to the blowing Rose aboot ua— * Lo, 
Lsi^biBj;,' slie uys, 'into tlic worid 1 blow, 

At ooce tbe tilkcn Cuael of m^ Pune 
Tear, tod its Treainire on tbe Cudcn throw.* 

And thoK wbo husbutdcd tbe Golden gnto 

{nd tboK wbo flung it to tbe wtodi bke Raia 
Aiiltc to DO such Rurone Exnh mv turo'd 
■, bwkd oooe, Mcd want dug op apm 
1 hink, in this batttf'd Cann&ienj 
^^fffaose Pomob tie tbenute Night mmI Day, 
^K How Sujiia after Sululii with hn Pomp 
^KAbodc hb dntincd Hour, and wru liii vaj. 

^They »]r the Lion and the Lixacd keep 

Tbe Courts wbac Januhjrd j>]or>ed and dmk deep : 

And Bahrim, that great Hunirr — tbe wild Au 
Stmjn o'er ht> Head, but canaoc inak hi* Slcept. 

I MOKfinKi thiidi that aem blows so red 
Tlic ttoso H wbcrc tome buried C»ar blcdt 

Tlut eicry Hjraciiub the G^cn wcm 
Draft in ber Lap from some once lotdy HcmL 

And thw Rtitiag Hnb whote undn Grocn 
Ftcdgci the Rii«r-L^ on which wc Inn — 
Ab, Joan «poa it ligbily 1 for wbo koows 
Fron what ooce bvcly Lip it tftftngs uuseen t 



M.BML mn Btt im^ 
Have duak.Am. 
Aad one by cot o^ 

And we, that now n 

Tbtj left, and Sumn 

Ourselves must we 

Desceod— onnelTcs t 

Ah, inilce the most i 

Before we too into d 

Dust unto Dust, a 

S«M Wiae, not Sonj 



Ah, with die Grape i 
And wash my Body 
Aad Ixf me, shroa 
By some not iiafre<]ue) 

Yon rising Moon that 

How oft hereafter will 

How oft hereafter r 

Tbroogli this same Ga 

And when like her, 
Among the Guests sta 



.FRED TENNYSON, LORD TENNYSON 



S9p, 



Mariana 



W/'ITH blackcM moM tbe Oowcr-plou 
^^ Were thickly cnuttd, one and lUi 
Tbe nstcd nails fell froia the luiott 

Tlut held the pear to the gilile'-wil). 
Tbe broken iheds look'il ad and ttranget 
Unliltcd was the ctinking latcb; 
Wended and won the aacknt thuch 
Upoo the kindjr moMed gnuigr. 

She odf Mid, *My life is dreary, 

He comtth ncA,' she uid; 

She laid, ' I un aweary, aweary, 

I would that I were dead t ' 



■•09-ilt«i 



Her tears fcl] with the dews at even; 

Her tear* fell ere the dewK were dried; 
She codd DOC tool; on the swch heaven. 

Either at mora or emitide. 
After the flittii^ of the hxis 

When thickesi dtik ctid tnnce the sky, 
Slic drew bcr casctneot-curtain by, 
Asd glaaced athwart the glooming flats. 
Sbe ooly said, 'The night \\ dreary, 

He comtth not,' she uid; 

Sbe said, *I am aweary, aweary, 

I wodd that I wetedcBdl' 

Upon tb« naddle of the oight, 

WtkiDg >he heard tbe nigbt-fowl aow: 
The cock timg oui aa bour en Itgbti 

FnMB tbe dark lea the oxm'a low 

*9 



LORD TENNYSON 



Came to her: without bope of dniqc^ 
la slerp she sirem'd tu w*Ik ioiloa, 
Til! cold winds wuke the Etsy-<j«d 
About the lonely moaied gtange- 

She only said, 'The day ts daarj, 

He cometh not," she said; 

She said, ' I am aweary, 3v/^aj 

I would that I were dead .' ' 

About a biottC'Cast from the wsU 

A sluice with bbcVeo'd waters slepi^l 
And o'er it many, round and small. 
The cluster'd marish-niosse? crept. 
Hard by a poplar shook alwny, 
All sil*er-grwii with gnarled barkt 
For leagues oo other tree did mark 
The level waste, the rounding gray. 
She only sad, ' My life b dreWf, 

He cometh not,' she said ; 
She said, ' I am aweary, aweary. 



LORD TENNYSON 



All day viAua tbe drexmy tion-ve, 

Tbc door* upon th«it hinges crtak'd t 
Tbe blae Aj nog in tlw panr i tbe moiue 
Behind tbe Bwoldering waimcot shrirk'd, 
Or fteni the ocrice pnr'd about. 
Old faces {limnwT'd thro' ihc doon, 
Old foolReps trod Uie opper lloocs, 
Old roins oiTd her from witbout. 

She only uid, 'Mjr life n dievy, 

H« Cometh oot,* tbe ntd) 
8be sold. *I am aweary, ttnagj, 
I would that I were dead!' 

sparrow's chirrup oo the roof, 
Tbc slow dock ticking, uk) the sornid 
Which to ibc wooing wind aloof 

Tbc pof lar made, did all confound 
Her sensic i bw moM ibn kiaihcd the hour 
When tbe liiick-tsoced •tnbemi lay 
Athwart tbe chambeta, and tbe day 
Was viopidg toward Us we aier n bower. 
Then, said she, 'I am *cry drcj^, 

He will not come,' the uid; 

She wept, ' I am awnry, aweary, 

O God, that I were drad 1 ' 

Tie IM/ of Sbahtt 

Fart I 
/*\N Htber ride tbc rirrr lie 
, ^-^ Long fields of barley and of rye, 
I'Tbat clothe tbe wold and meet tbe si^i 
And tbro' the field tbe road niB* by 
To many'iower'd Cametoc; 



4 




Tbn' tha wm 
Bt the iiluid i 

Fl 
Four gny wall 
Orerlook ■ sps 
And the silent 

TI 

By the nutr^ 
Shde the heav] 
By slow horaei 
The shallop fli 

Sk 
But who hath 
Or at the case 
Or is she kno' 

Tl 

Only reapers, i 
In among the I 
Hear a song tl 
From the rivei 
D. 
And by the m 
Piling shea*e9 
ListeoinB. whi; 



LORD TENNYSON 



Paxt n 

Thfiv the wevta by in^t uxl diy 
A m^igic web wtU) coloun pj. 
Sb* has heard a lrhi<i«i My, 
A curte b on her if ibr stay 

To look dova to Cuncloi. 
Sbe luKiws Dot whu ibe cune nuy b^ 
And w the wUTrth Ttt-tHily, 
And liule other urc hnii she. 

The Lady of Shilott. 

And moriag thro* a nurror clear 
ThM hiDgt befoM her all tbe year, 
Sbkdowi of tbc wofld spfcar. 
There the acrr ihc highuray near 

Wtodiag down to Caaclotl 
There the riier oddy vrhirU, 
And there the turiy villagc-chwlt, 
Aitd the ted cloAi of curket girls, 

Past ODwird from ShalotL 

SoiBriinxs ■ Hoop of dmacb glad, 
As iUiM oa u ambling pad, 
SwMUBO a cnriy ihefitieid'iadi 
Or loog-baii'd pa^ie id criiiKia dad, 

Goes by to towcr'd Camdoit 
And (ottKtiiim thro' the mime Une 
The koights come riding two aad two* 
She haib oo loyal knighi aod tnic, 

The Lsdy of Sbaloo. 

Boc h ha web ihe acai deGghta 
To wcavt (be mimr'i mgic tigbta, 



LORD TENNYSON 



For often thro' the silcoi night* 
A funeral, with plumes xai lights. 

And tnusic, wetit to Cmdoc 
Or when the moon wus owihcaii. 

Came two young loTcre lately wed i 
'I am half sick of shadows," said 
The hidy of Sh^ct. 

Part IH 

A bow-5lioi from her bower-caTcs, 
He rode between the barlcy-shraves. 
The sun came dazzling thto' the leavrs, 
And flamed upon the braien gresTCS 

Of bold Sir Laocclot. 
A rrd-crosa knight for ever kneel'd 
To a lady in his shield, 
That sparkled on ihc yellow field. 

Beside remote Shalotu 

The gemmy bridle glitWr'd free. 



I 



I 



LORD TENNYSON 

A« ofica Uira' tfae papie nrght, 
Below the narry dmtcn bright, 
Sooit bcudtd mctror, iniling Jight, 
MoTcs over niQ Sbiioa. 

Hb broad cinr brow in nmllfjlit glowM t 
On bumUh'd hoot« his wafhorw irodci 
FnMU ondaiMatb hJi hdmct flow'il 
Hit ewl-UKk curl* aa oa be md*', 

Aa h« rode down to Camclob 
Fnm the bank *nd from the river 
He flxih'd toto the crpul mirror, 
•Tina liira,' by ihe river 

Sa^ Sir LuMclot. 



I 



She left tbe web, afae left the koiBt 
She nude thrte paces iluo' the room. 
She saw the wjMr-Iiljr blooa, 
She Mw the hehtM aad tbe phune, 

She look'd dovm to CuncloL 
Out ftew th« web aod Seated wide; 
The minor crack'd rrom tide to side; 

^'The enrae is come upon n»e!' aied 
The Lady of Shalott. 
la 



Part IV 



la tbe Rorni; ea.it-viad «tnining. 
The pale yeliow woods wrre waning, 
The brood stream in \m banks coiDpiuiung, 
Heavily the low tky rainog 

0*«r tower'd Camelott 



a 



LORD TENNYSON 

Down she c.ime sad found » hoxt 
Beneath a willow left afiart. 
And round ^ut die prow she wrrw 
Tie LaJy of Shaklt. 

And down the river's dim exfanse— 
Like some bold seer in a trance. 
Seeing all his own tmschance — 
With a glassy countenance 

Did she look to Camelcn. 
And ai the closing of the day 
She loosed the chain, and down she b|i 
The broad stream bore her far away, 

The Lady of Shalott. 

Lying, robed in snowy white 
That loosely flew to left and right— 
The leaves upon her fnlJing Bght — 
Thro" the noises of tbe night 

She floated down to CarorWi 



LORD TENNYSON 



Under tower ind bilcoof , 

hj gMdoi-wiD and g^lcry, 

A gtnuniag tkofe she ttMtrd bf, 

Dr*d-]iale be w ttn the bouwi t"gh, 

Sil«ni into Camcloc. 
Out epofl the wharfs ibcy cantf, 
Knight and b(B|;brr, lord and d.imc, 
And round the jirow they rod bn nintc 

Who i> this.' and what i> here? 
A»d in the lighted pttbci; ncv 
Dird the Mcnd of royal chrrr ; 
And they crosi'd thenuelvcs f« f«f. 

All tbe Juufbts K CmwImi 
BtA Linceloc imaed « Bitle (paee; 
He nkl, 'She has a torcly Ikc; 
Cod in His macj lend her gnce, 

The Lady of Shalott.' 

Tie Miller's 'Daughter 

TT b the miller's <tiieghter, 
^ Artd she is {rown w dear, so dear, 
That I midd be tbe jcvel 
That trctnbtei m her ear: 
For hid in ringlets day and ni^ht, 
rd loucb bcr neck so warm ud white. 

And I would be the gtidle 
About bcr dunty dainty waiit. 

And her heart womM beat afpinst me. 
In scxTow and in re«t: 

And t sboald ktmw if it beat nfiht, 

rd cla^ it round so close and tight. 



LORD TENNTBON 

And 1 would be ibe nedsliee, 
And all diy lor^ to bU wd lite 

Upon het balmy ttowra. 

With her laugbis ar her sighs: 

And I -would lie so light, so Gghi. 

I scaree ihouM be iincla|i^<l « ngbL 

"THIiRE is sweet music here that mJvi &ii 
^ Tiuo petils from blown roKS oa the p^ 
Or Digbt-dewi oti still wtfcts between walls 
Of shadowy £notte, in a ^ttumag jass i 
Music that gentlter od the spirit Ikx, 
Than tired eyefids upon tired eyt»i 
Music that brings twcn deep down from the VbaBi i 
Here are cool mattes deq>, 
And thro' the n»9S the mes creeps 
Aod in the suvasi the lon24ea*cd ffowcrs w«y^ 
And frofn the craggy ledge the poppjr hogs is 

Whj ire we wcigb'd vpio with bnriaesa, 

Aad ucutIj- coossncd with shvp tfistress, 

While all things else bare test Cxxn ««triacnf 

AU Uui^s hate rest: why should we toil ilca^ 

We oikly toil, who are the fint of ihtogs, 

And suite petfctuat n>oiui. 

Still from one sonow to anothcf throws t 

Kof ever fold ow wings, 

Ami cease fronn wndctiopt 

Kor sCeqi ov braws b ilnraber^ holy hilm | 

Nor hatlien what the inner sfirit sings, 

• There is do joy b« cahn I '— 

Why should we ooJy toil, the roof and cn^wn of i 



LORD TENNYSON 

Lo I fa) tlie Biiddte of the wood, 

The folded I<af b woo'd from oat the bud 

With wiods upon fhe branch, and iticn* 

Grow* gmn >a<l broKl, aad ukvs iw cire, 

Sun-Kinp'd u noon, ocd in the mooo 

Nightly dew-M; uid tBraipg yellow 

FaO«, aad floou kdown tbe lir. 

L« I swMim'd with tbe aanmMr light, 

The fuU-juiced a|iple, waxing o*ef«ndIow, 

Drops b a nlenl autnmi night. 

All iis allotted Imgib of days, 

The Bower HpcM in its \i»n, 

Ripcm aad fades, and fills, and hath no toil, 

Fut-rooted in the fruitful lotl. 

HattAI ia tbo daHi-blue sky, 

Vanked o*«r the dark'blne sea. 

Dctah n the end of life; di, vhj 

Should life aU labour bc> 

Let us aloee. Tme drinth oavanl fast. 

And ID a tiitle while our lip* are dumb. 

Let us alone. What i!i it that wilt ixsti 

AU things arc taken from us, and become 

PortioDS aod pMCcIs of the dmdfiil P^^x. 

Let OS alooe. What pleasure can w>e have 

To mx with eril ! U there any pnce 

la ever cfimbing up the climliiDg wate.' 

AU thioES ha*c test, sad ripen toward the gme 

In bIcdoc t lipen, laU aad cease i 

Gite us long rest or death, daric death, or dreamful easr> 

How &weet it woe, beariog the downward Hmim, 
Vntb haU-shvt eyes ever to seem 



LORD TENNYSON 

Fallbg aslee[i in a half-dream ! 

To dream and dri'am, like yoadrr amber tig;b^ 

Which will not leave the myrrfa-bu^ on tbc 

To hear each other's whisjier'd sjicccb t 

liaiing ihc Lotos day by day, 

To watch lie crispbg rijiplcs on the beach, 

And tender curving lines of creamy spiaj | 

To lend our hearts aod spiiits wholly 

To the influence of mild-rainded mcUocholy ; 

To muse and brood snd live again in maDotyk 

Witli those old faces of our infancy 

Heap'd over with a mound of gr^ss. 

Two handfuls of while dual, shut in an utn of 1 



Dear is the memory of our wedded lives. 

And dear tlve last embraces of our wivu 
And their warm tears : but all hath suifeiVJ ca 
For surdy now our bou^cbuld bc^inli^ ut coid: 
Our sons inhcril us: our looks arc strange; 
And we should come like ghosts to uoublc joy. 

r~t. .1-- .1.- :-i — 1 — : ^ 1 — •-* 



LORD TENKVSON 



(, |iiD]it DB beds of manuMh aad tnoljr, 

JV (kvct (whik wunn ain lull us, bJowiog kiwlj) 

nil lulf-drofK cydkts itUI, 

DuJi a bcaven daik »ad boly, 

I waich tbc long bngbt river dnwiog ilovlf 

i* wiiicrt frooi the purple hill— 

) bcu ihe devy echoc* cJluig 

ont caie to cave thro' the ibick-twiatd line— 

I waich the cisFr«ld>colouf'd water falliag 
tro* nunjr a wov'n m&chui^wTtatb divine! 

lijr 10 brai and ice the Cir-otF ^J>*[lding brtne, 

lly to beu ««fc sweei, suetcb'd out boioxth the lane. 

tc Lotos bloomi liclow tlie tttrrm peak: 
W Lou* blowi by eiety winding creek; 

II dtj the wind bcuihes low with mellower lone: 
vo' cKfy hollow caie aod alley lone 

Mmd and lorad the ipicjr dowot the yellow Loios^uit t* 

blown, 
c htye bad coough of action, and of motion we, 
>U'd to >taif>ovd, roU'd to larbotnl, when the surge wa> 

tecthiqg fne, 
'here ibe wallowing monster spouitd his luafn-fountuas in 

the sea. 
K u sweu an oath, and kee^ it with an c^ual niind, 
the botlow LucDo-Und to li<c and lie reclined 
n the billv tike Gods logcihcr, careless <»f nunkind. 
IT tbey lie bciidc their nccui, and the boltn arc butl'd 
V bdow tbem in the valleys, and the cioods are U^uly 

curl'd 
Dund their goldea houses, giidlcd with the gleanaag worid : 
'here they smile in secret, looking over wastod lands, 
i|ht nd fonine, pli^uo and earthquake, routog dec|» and 



LORD TENNYSON 

Clangiog lights, and flaming towns, md anlung d^l 

praying hands. 
But they smile, they fiod a raosic c cno c d in a doUJJ 
Steaming up, a lamentaiion and an ancient tale </ 1 
Like a talc of little meaning tbo' the words an 
Chanied from an i!l'used tact of men that dnf 
Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with 
Storing yearly lilde dues of wheat, and wine iml ail: 
Till they perish and they sulfei — some, 'tis whi^ier'4 

in heU 
Suffer endless anguish, others in Elystan valleys 
Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asihoiA 
Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, tbr 
Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind 2nd waie at 
O rest ye, brother mariners, we will oot vioder 



70J. St, Jgnes' Eve 

'PXEEP on the eonrent-roof the snows 
'~' Are sparklina to the iboob: 



LORD TENNYSON 

As tbii |iak taper's urthly spile, 

To yooAtr argtnt nxiai] ; 
80 ibovrs my wul before ihe Laml\ 

My spirit befon Tbeei 
So in Bibe earthly Iioiim I im. 

To tiut I hope to be. 
' Break np ibe heaTeiu, O Lord ! ood hi. 

Thro' all yoa tuHigh; kern, 
Dnw me, thy bride, a glittering sur, 

Id niiaent white and dean. 



H« lifu me to the gotden doon) 

The dashes come asd go; 
Alt beaten bursts her stuiy floors, 

And rtrows ber lights below, 
And deepen* on aod up I the gates 

Roll back, and fu within 
Foe me the Heavenly Bridegrootn waits, 

To make tnc pure of Mn. 
The obbathi of litemiiy, 

One t^>bath drtj- and wide — 
A tight upos the shinbg sea — 

The BridegrooQ) with his bride 1 



ff/ow. Bugle, blwB 



'T'HE i|4o>dovr Taits on castle walls 
^ And sDOwy summits old in noryi 
The long lijtht ihakn acimi the lakes. 
And the wild otanict lops m i^ty. 
Blow, bi^le, blow, set the wiM echoes flying, 
DW, bu^; aonrcr, cchoo, during, dying, dying. 
le *H 



LORD TEhWYSON 

O hark, O hc3r ! how thin and dtn. 
And ihioDcr, dearer, futhei gnng) 
O swt¥t lad far from diif and scar 
The homs of Elfland faintly bloviif 1 
Blow, !« us hear ibc puqile glens replying; 
Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, ia^ 

O love, they die in yon rich sty, 

They faint on hill or field ai tivd : 
Our echoes roll from loui to soul. 
And grow for ever and for ervr. 
Blow, bugle, blow, sei the wild echoes flj'ii^ 
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dyti% ija^ 



70f. Summer Ni^t 

\1 OW sleejjs the crimson petal, now the < 
■*■ " Nor waves the cypress in the paliB ' 

Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry fcot: 
The firefly wakens: waken thou with ntc 



LORD TENNYSON 



70S. 



Cbmf Jbwn, O MaiJ 



I 



/^^OME down, O nn*d, from yoedcf niouiMnn linghli 

^-* What lilnsurc livrs in height (ihc sbqilMrd MOg), 

la hngkt md cold, the i]ilc&ilour of the hiliif 

Buc ctaM to onoTc m near the HcavcMt and «M«e 

To gEde a ambeun by Um Uuttd Pik^ 

To Kit a aur u|>(m the tpatUing spire; 

And consr, far Loic ia of the laltcy, conr. 

For Xjvk t» of the Tallcy, come thoD dnwn 

And find him; by ihe happy thivthold, he^ 

Or hasd in hand with PIcny la d>c nuiic, 

Or rrd with )^<iited par^ of ihr vni», 

Or foxlik« in ibe viae; nor cares to walk 

With Death and Moroias oa the silver hotos, 

Nor w3( l]>ou snare him in the white ravine, 

Nw find him dropt upon the firths of ice, 

That huddling ilint in furrow-cloven falls 

I'o roll the bsirrcnt out of dubky doors ; 

Biit follow; kt the tOTfcoi dance thee down 

To find hiro in the valley ; let the vnid 

LeaB-beaded Eagles yHp akme, aiid leave 

The monstrous ledge* there to slope, and spQI 

Tbrir iboosand wreaths of dangling wBter>smolce^ 

That like a broken puipoK waste in air: 

So wane not tboo; but cocie; for all the vales 

Aw4it thee; azure pillars of the hcanh <a 

Ariv to thee; the children call, and I 

Thy ibepberd fipe, >nd sweet is every vnmd, 

Sweeer thy voice, bm every sotind ii twm ; 

Mytiadii of rivulets hwrying thro' the lawn, 

']'be moan of dorcv in immrM Ori al dmi^ 

And muHDwing of iaeauBenble bees. 



LORD TENNYSON 
707. Ftvm ' In Manoriam * 

(aRTHUS HENSt BAIXAM, KDCtXSXna) 
I 

T7AIR ship, tbat from the loEaa s^or 
*• Sailcst the placid ocean-plains 

With my lost Anhut's loml imuoo, 
Spread thy full wiofs, and wafi him o'a. 

So draw him home to those that mmini 
In T:iin ; « favourable speed 
Riirtk Uiy mirror 'd nust, and lad 

Thro' prosperous Soods his holy um. 

All night no ruder mr peiplcx 

Tby s!idiii£ keel, till Phosfiof, bti^ 
As our pure love, thro' early light 

Shall glimmer od tbc deury decks. 

Sphere all your lights aniand, above; 
•Sleen. PCDtte heamuL hefbie ihe 



I 



LORD TENNVSON 

DU bring'st the uilor ta bia tnfe, 
And traieU'd roea hwa {anigtt Uadi i 
Asd letun unto trcmblioi; handi) 
lAnd, ibj dalk frrighl, a mnish*cl life. 

[So bring him: we hate idle dftainsi 
This look of (^uiM Ibtien tfa» 
Our bo«K-b<vd Uadni O to us. 
The fools of tubil, iweeter iMiitt 

To rest branth the clovrr tod, 

I'hat iakn tbe Hnshioe aod the raim, 
Or where the kaeelittg hamlet dnia* 

The chalice of the grapes of God i 

^Than if wiih thee the rooitng wells 
Should giolf him bihom-deep in hrioei 
Agd baixis so oliea clxsp'd in mine, 
Should toss with tangle and with shells. 



^ ni 

Calm if the norn withoiu a sound, 

ICalaa as lo suit a calmer grief. 
And only thro' tbe faded leaf 
The cbcMMit pttenog to the groood: 
Calm 4Dd drqi peace on thia high woid. 
And on these dews that dmich the fiim-. 
And all the silTcry gossamers 
Thai twinkle into grten and gold : 

Calm and still light on jron great fbin 

That (weep* with all its autumn bowen. 
And crowdrd fmu% and leatcning towers. 
To miiigle with the bouttliag naini 



LORD TENNYSON 

Calm and deep poKC b tfaia wide nr, 
Thi:«e leaves that redden to the &II ; 
And is my heart, if calm it all. 

If any caJm, a aim despair: 

Calm on the seas, and silTer sleet>. 

And waves that sway tfaemselTes 'a iw, 
And dead cabn m that doUc bicast 

Which heaves bnt with the hcaviog deepu 

IT 

To-ni^ht the winds be|:in to rise 

And roar from yonder droj^ng day : 
The last red leaf is irtiirl'd away, 

Till- rooks are blown about the skies ; 

The forest crack'd, the waters cnri'd. 
The cattle huddled on the lea; 
And wildly dash'd on tower and tree 

Tlir sunbeam strikes along the world : 




LORD TI-NNySON 



I 

I 



I 



Thoa eemtvt, much w«()t (on such ■ breeu 
Conipcird lliy caoru, and mj prajrer 
Ww u tbe whisper of ui atr 

To bfcMlie ihec otct looely mssl 

For I in tprit kiw iIim morr 

Thro' circles of the bounding skfi 
Work sflcr wcrk ; the diys go b]r : 

Come quick, thou bringrfi all I lore. 

HcncFronh. wbcmn tliou mayst nmni 
My blessinit, bkc a line of light, 
I) Da the wattn day and night, 

And like a beacon guardt ihec home. 

So nay whsteTcr tanpMt ittua 

Mid-ooean, tjatt Om, sacred harfct 
And balmy drops in sununer dark 

Slide from tlie bosocn of die stars. 

So kind an office hath been done, 

Such precMus relics brou^c by tlx«i 
I'he du«t of him I «hall not tee 

Till all mj widow'd race be nio. 

vc 
Now, sometimes in my sorrow shut, 
Or bmking into song by lits, 
* Alone, alone, lo where he sits. 

The Shadow cloak'd from bttd to feot, 

Wlio keep the keys of all the creeds, 
I «-ander, often falling bme. 
And loofciiq back to whence I came, 

Or on (o iritn* (be pacfawajr iMdSj 



LORD TENNYSON 

And crying. How changni irom vhexc a no 
Thra' lands where not a leaf vis dtmbl 
But all the kiUh hills would bum 

The muiTOur of b happ; Pan: 

When each by torna wis guide to each, 

And Fancy Kgbl from Fmkj caogb^^ 
And Thought l^apt out to wed wiih T 

Ere Thought could wed itKlf with Spceck) 

And all we met was fair and good, 

And all was good that Time coold tra^ 
And all the secret of the Spring 

Moved in the chambtn of the blood ; 

And many on old jihilosophy 

On Argive heights diiinely ang, 
And round us ail the thi<j:et rang 

To many a flute of Aicsdj. 



TO 



LORD TENNYSON 

If such • diURiy touch slxwid UL, 

O van tluv round, motrc the do«bC{ 
M; guardiia angel will sf«ak OW 

In th«t high liKt, iml tdl ihrc all. 

The wi4. ihxt of ibe liTing whob 

No tifc miiy fail bryond tfa* paWi 
Dcrim it not front whM wv hin 

The likot Cod wiibia the soul i 

Are God ud Nature then M itrift, 

That NatoR tmtb such ertl dreams F 
So careful of the type she leems, 

So orelew of the single life i 

TbM I, coflsiilnioB CTerywbere 

Her iecTft tneaning io bn deeds, 
And finding ilrat of lifiy teedi 

She oAco briags but one to bear, 

I &lier where I firmly trod. 

And fallifig with my weight of caret 
Upon the great world's altar-waiis 

That slope thro' dackora up to Cod, 

I otmcii bnx hands of faith, and grope. 
And pther dust and chalT, aad call 
To wfcat I fed b Lord of all. 

And faintly mat the larger hope. 

IX 

*8e nrrfiil of the lypa'* W ao. 

Pram scaq^ dif and quarritd siom 
She crie^ 'A thouaied types arc gooei 

I ore foir nothing, a)) shall go. 

IC J *«• 



LORD TENNYSOM 

Thou makest thine afpad 10 me : 

1 bring to life, I briag to dmht 
Tb« spirit docs but mean the btmfa: 

I know no more' And hc^ sh^ be, 

Man, her last work, who scem'd so finr, 
Such sjilendid ptupose in his cyts. 
Who rcii'd the psaEni to winuy sUes, 

Who built him fanes of fruitless ^ja, 

Who trusted God was love indeed 
And love Creation's fiiul law — 
Tbo' Nature, red in tooth and tiam 

With ravine, sbtiek'd against fais creed — 

Who loved, who suffrr'd couDlless iQs 
Who battled for the True, the .lust. 
Be blown about the desen dust, 

Or seal'd wiibin the iron hills ! 

No more ? A monster then, a dieam, 
A discord. Dragons of the ptime^ 



I 



LORD TENNYSON 

UdIovkI, Uk tunflowtT, thiaiog fair, 

Ray rousd with ftwm Ikt disk of wmI, 
And KHUty ■ rooe-catBitioii feed 

With Musmer ipiee the hnnmiog air; 

Uolovod, by many a landy bar, 

Tbc brook ^all babble down tlie j4*in, 
At Dooa or when the icuc« wiia 

1m twiffag tomtd the polar cui ; 

Uncared for, gird the windy groie, 

Aod Sood the hauota of litfro •lad cnLci 
Of into ulver arrowii hitalt 

The Milb(> mooo in cndc and cove; 

Till rrain th« garden and the wild 

A fresh association blow, 

And year by year ihc bfldsuipc grow 
FanriUtf to the Unnger's child; 

Ai year by year the labourer tills I 

His wooLed glebe, oe lops the gladtsi 
And year by year our memory &dei 

From all tbc circle of the hilU. 



Now Udes the last long streak of wow, 
Now burgeoas crery maxe of ijuick 
AboM the flowering squares, and thick 

By aahd roots the violets blow. 

Mow rings the woodbod loud and loo^ 
The dtstaMc take* a lorelier hue. 
And drowo'd b yonder liiing blue 

The Lark becomes a Hghilets xxig. 

Ma 



LORD TENNYSOK 

Now danw ihe liglits on Itwn wad In, 
The Aocks tan whiter down itie rjle, 
Aad nitkier cTifry mUky sad 

On winding Hmtn or disnou 9Mi 

Wberc now ilic scuncw pipcEi or dim 
In yondet gnxtnag glrjm, ud % 
The happy birds, that clunge ilieir »kf 

To build aod brood) that Etc their lito 

From land to land; and b vaj breait 
Spring wakens too; aad mjp rcgm 
Becomes an April violet. 

And bud$ sad blouoms like tbe mb 



XII 

Lore h aod was my Lord and Kitigi 
Aod in his prcMAco I attead 
To h«ar tlie tidings of nny friend, 

Wliich every bowr bis coutien bring. 

Love is and was my King and Lon^ 
And will be, tho' as yet I keeji 
Within bis coutt on earth, and tieef 

Encompou'd by bis Gtilbfiil {iwd. 

And hear at lirnc* ■ sentinel 

Who moTes about from plaoe to pUeCi 
And whisper? to the worlds of sfux, 

to the deep night, tlut all n wdL 



•m 




LORD TENIO'SON 



MauJ 



I 



COME JMo the gudcn, Maud, 
For ihv black fax, Kighi, hu flows, 
[ Cor&e into the gardm, M«ud, 

I am hrrt K the £b1c alone; 
And the wooiniinr sjiicn are wafted abioail, 
And the mink of the roxs blcnro. 

For a brenc of nMrnlnfr TnOTcS, 
And tbe plaort of Lotc U on high, 

Bcgnnig to faint ia the light that she lovc« 
Ob a bed of dailbdil tky, 

To £iant in the light of tlw sun sbe loi<r«, 
To fxint in \m light, and W die. 

Alt nigbt haie tbe v:ffKi heard 

The flute, tiolin, banoon ; 
All night has tbe dKnxmt JMumloc ftirr'd 

To the dancers dancing in tane; 
Till a sikoce fell with the waking bird, 

And a bush with tbe sctuitg moon. 

I Mid to the liljr, 'There it but one 

With whom she lus heart to be gay, 
\Vheo will the dancers Irare her aloor! 

She b wrary of dance and pbiy-' 
Nov half to ibc teuiog mooe are gone, 

And half to the rinng day ; 
Low on tbe suid and loud on the stone 

Tbe last wheel echoes away. 

I aid to the rose, 'The farief night goe« 
In babble and revel and wine. 



LORD TENNYSON 

O young lord-lover, what sighs are thosr 
For one thai wiU never be thine ? 

But mine, but mine,' so I sware to the re*", 
' For ever aad ever, mine.' 

And the soul of the rose went into my Hood. 

As the music clash'd in the hall ; 
And long by the garden lake I stcxxl, 

For I heard your rivulet fall 
FiQm the lake to the meadow attd oa Ut the; 

Our wood, that is deaier than all; 

From the meadow your walks have left so 
That whenever a Marcli-wind sighs 

He sets the jewel-print of your fcei 
In violets blue as your eyes, 

To the woody hollows io which we tatrx. 
And the valieys of Paradise. 

The slender acacia would oot shake 
One lone railk-Uoom on the met 



LORD TENNVSON 

Thm lui filkn a aplmdid tnr 

From the (UHoo-flawcr u the guc. 
She n coming, mjr dove, my dcsr; 

Sbr b cominjb my lific, my fate; 
Tlic ml roM erica, * She b at»t, she Is wv ; ' 

And tlie white rose weepa, * She is late ) ' 
The larksfwr liMens, ' 1 liear, I hear t ' 

Aod the Uly whispers, *I WL' 

She is coming, my own, my sweet i 

I Were it ever so airy a tread. 
My heart woold hear her and beat. 
Were ii earth in an earthy bed ; 
My dun would hear her and bcu. 
Had I bis foe a century dead ; 
WimU Mart and tremble under he* feet, 

70p. O that 'twere possible 

r\ THAT 'twere poaiiUr 
^^ After long grief and fain 
To find the arms of my true lore 
Round me oece again I . . . 

A shadow Siu before rae, 
4ot cbou, but lilie to thee: 
fAb, ChrisEl thai k were posMble 
For one short hour to see 
The sools we tored, that they nught tdl ns 
Whit and where they be I 



RICHARD MONCKTON RHLNES, 
LORD HOUGHTON 

yio. Shadows 

'T'HEY BWm'd, to those wlio saw than 
■^ The casual friends of every diy; 
Her smile was uadisturbM snd swcM, 
His courtesy was free and gay. 



But yet if ooe the odier's name 
In some unguarded momcnE hrard. 

The heart you thought so calm and lamr 
Would siiuggle like a captured biidt 

And letters of mere fonnal phosc 

Were blister'd with repealed tears, — 
And this was not the work of days, 



n.-. ^-J 



„_. — t^~ 



HENRY ALFORD 
Tit. The Bride 

^DISE,* nid the Ma»er, 'come iaiu> the fnu.' 
L*^^ Sbc beard the call and ro*c with willing fctti 

But ikiaking it nal oihcnris« than meet 
^or soch ■ bidding w put on ht-i best. 
i> gone from us Tor a few &hort boun 
Idlo bor bndal closet, tlicrc to wait 
For the mfolding o)' the )>alace gue 

{i<n hiet ctHnnce lo the blissful bowcn. 
?e haie not Men Im yn, though we hsiv bnn 

Pull often to her chamber dour, tad oA 
!■*« Ii»tei)'d uDdctneath the pwtcra grcca, 
And Laid fresh flowers, and whiipct*d sbon lad wfi. 
she hath nnde do answer, axui the day 
the dcai west is Tiding fsH tway. 



nz. 



SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON 
Cean Duhh 'Declhb 



iSto-iRtt 

four bead, daiKng, dniing, darling, 
Your darling bl»ck be^ my heart above t 
O mouth of honey, with thyme fot fnigrMu;e, 
Who, wHh hcaii in bnaal, could deny you loic? 

O many and many a youi^ pA for me b pnnog, 
Letting ha locks of gold to the cohl wtod, free, 

Fot me, the foremost of our gay young fellows ; 
But I'd Icate a hondted, pure Iotc, for thee ! 

7>j. C*m AM ditJMi dsHinc Uack bead. 



SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON 

Then put yout head, darling, dirlmg, dirlieg, 
Your darling black head my hcait aboit , 

O mouth of honey, with ihyme for fragniiice. 
Who, with heart b breast, could deny jm 



713. Cashel of Mimster 

FROK THE tXISI 

T'D wed you without herds, withoui money or 

And I'd wed you on a dewy morn u. day-dii 
My bitter woe it is, love, that we are doc fu twtj 
In Cashel town, iho' the hare deal board were our 1 

bed this day! 

O fair maid, remember the green hi!l-s!dc. 
Remember how 1 hunted about the valleys wide ; 
Time now has worn me ; my locks arr ninM to 
The year is scarce and I am poor — but $end me iMt, | 

away ! 

O deem not my blood is of base strain, ray ^t 



r 



SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON 



714. The Fair Hills of frelanj 

fmOM THE UUSH 
PLENTEOUS place a Trebnd for hospiuUt diwr, 
irdt^am Ml, Of 
niCR tbe wbotctome ihiit b bondnj from ihc ycUow 

febKky ev; 
Uilratm JM, Ot 
t it honey ia ibe uws where her mhXf wles expand, 
mA ber fotm patli^ in summer v* by t)X\mg -trtxtn fuo'd, 
tiete it dew at hi^ noontide tbm^ Hid ^>ria^ i' the 

rlow nod, 
Co the (ut bills o/ holy IteUod. 

wrd he i* mmI ringlcied, and pinted to tbe knee— 

■ch certain wbo come* uiGnj across tbe Irish Sea; 
I UH^M JM Of 

ad I win make my jwinwy, if life and bulth but siaod, 
'mo that pleaunt ci>tiDtiy, that halt asd Tngraat stnad, 
jtd leave your boosted bniTetirt, your wraith and high 
coBunand, 

»For Uie faif hiUs <tf boly Ireland. 
and profitable are the Macks upoo the £rauDd, 
Uilfotim JM .' 
be butter and the crc^im do wonilrviMly abotmdt 

t/;/MM« JM 01 
he cresses oa the wattr and tbe sorreli are at band, 
nd ibe cockoo 's cUling diily his note of motic bland, 
ad the bold duuth sings so brarely htt song i' the 
fontu gnnd, 

a hills of holy IkIjikL 



ROBERT BROWNING 
7if. Song fnm ' Parate/suj' 

T_I GAP cassia, sandal-bnds taid suije* 
' * Of labdanum, and aloe-balls, 
Smi;ar'd with dull naid 3D Indian wifcs 
From out her hair : such balsam iaSh 
DowD sea-side maunlnjn pcdesuls, 
From tree-tops where rired urinds aiv In^ 
Spent with Uie vast and howlbg mua, 
To treasure half their island-gain. 

And strew faJnt sweetness from fOme M 

IiEypiian's fine worm-iateii shroud 

Which breaks to dust wheti once unroU'dt 

Or shredded perfume, lilse a cloiid 

From closet long to qtiict vow'd. 

With moih'd and dropping arrss huog, 

MouldcriD^ her lute and books 




ROBERT BROWNING 



To bev the playfiil billows* game; 
So, each good xbip was nide to ter. 
Rode asd bare to the octward new, 

But each «qibof« a uatcljr tent 
Wbere ct<br palM ia sccDled row 
Kept oui the Aakcf of the duicing brine, 
And an avning droo|t'd the mut below. 
In Ibid 00 fold of the purple line. 
That neither nooaiide nor Kar-shtiw 
Nor moooliglit cold which nukcth nad. 

Might pierce the regal teKOMM. 
Whtn th« im dawn'd, O, ga/ aad glid 
W« Kt ilie sail ud plied ibc oatj 
But when the night-wind blew like bftuh, 
For joy of one dajr's toyage more, 
W« amg tO][etli«T oa ibe wide tea, 
Like nCD u poKC aa a pucefitl shoie i 
Encb Mi] was loowd lo tbe wind so firve. 
Each helm mule sure by the twilight tur, 
And in a sleep as calm » datli. 
We, tbe toyagets from afar, 

Lay tuciicb'd along, each wnry crew 
In a circle nmnd iia wondrous tent 
\Vh«oe glean'd mA light and curl'd rich setnt. 

And with Kgbt aod perfane, imtuc too: 
So the stars wbeel'd rovnd, aad the datkitess paM, 
Aad at mom we itatted bnide the niau. 
And still cMh ship was sailing last I 

Now, ooe mom, bod sppear'd — a speck 
Dim trtmbling betwixt m» aad sky— 
'Araid it,' cried our pilot, 'check 
The sbout, restrain the eager eye ! ' 

to 



ROBERT BROWNING 



Bui the heaving sea was blacli briwod 

For many a ntj-ht and many t day. 
And land, though but a rock, dtew la^ 
So we broke the cedar pdes away. 
Let the puiple awning flap m the wm^ 

And a statue bright was on every 
We shouted, every man of QS, 
And steer'd right into the harbour ttaa^ 
With pomp and pacaa glorious. 

A hundred shapes of lucid SWne I 

AJl day we buili its shrine fw nc^ 
A shrine of rock for every one. 
Nor paused tiU in the westering sua 

Wc sat together on the beach 
To sing because our task was dooej 
When lo ! what shouts and merry sol^ 
What kughcer all the lUsuacc Kui 1 
A loaded raft with happy throngs 

Of gende islandets! 

try,. :-i — ^-* -• kw>^ ' alkMr 






ROBERT BROWNING 



717. Thut the Ma/tie glUeth 



\ 



'THUS the MayM glidMh 
* Where my Lotb abidnlit 
Sleep's no softer : it proceeds 
Oa through Uwna, on ihfough immI% 
Ob sod 00, whate'er befaD, 
Meandering and mwial, 
Tbo«gh tlw niggard puturage 
Bean not on \\s tbaren ledge 
Aught but wtedt and waving gmaea 
To *iew the riter as it passes. 
Save here aad tlirtv a scanty puch 
Of pcimrMes loo faint to catcb 
A wesuy bee. . . . And scarce it pushes 
Its gentle way through stnngling ruabes 
Wbere the glossy Uogfisher 
Fhlten when noon^eats arc near, 
>bd tbc shefring bonlu to stiun, 
lad steandng in the sm, 

' When the ahfew-aiouse wnh pale throat 
Bunow^ and the speckled stoat; 
Where the quick sind|>(peT% flit 
la and out the mail and grit 

[Tliat seems to breed tbcm, brown as they: 
Naught <fistiirbt itt quiet way, 
Sue some lazy *iork that f^pring), 
Tnnling it with legs and wings, 
Whom the shy fox from the hill 
RoiucE, creep he ne'er so still. 



«« 



i 



ROBERT BROWNING 



T' 



I 



7iS. Vippa'j Stag 

*HE fca/'> 3X the sptlRji, 
And day's M ilic morni 
Monibg S K wren j 
Tlie hill-sklc's diw-p«rl'di 
Ttic bik *s on the wing i 
Tb« itoA '•* an the tfaorn ; 
Cod 'f io Hit ha w n — 
All 'ft right with the world I 

7t9. Tm'H Jove Me ^et 

VOU'LL loi« rw yet !— and I CM tiny 
^ Your )oTe'» pnXnKled growrng : 
June rea/d thu bunch of Aowers yw onji 
Prom seeds of Apfil's sowing, 

1 pkm « bcanfol now: some xcd 

At IcaM is sure to ^uUlc, 
And yield — what you'll not pluck iaieei. 

Not lore, bvt, nuj be, likr. 

You'll look « IfMt on lowr's remnns, 

A grnve's one violet: 
Your look? — that pays > thouMnd pnsL 
'What's dcaih? You'D lore ne yet! 

720. Torpb/ria's Lnver I 

'T'HE rdn set early in to^hl, V 

^ TTic sullen wind was ^oon awake, 
It tote the eln)-to|tt down for spite, 
And did its worst to rex the Uke: 



ROBERT BROWNING 



I SMffi'd wiib htan fit to bmk. 
Whrn gitdnj in Poq4iyria; ttraigbl 

She %hvl the cold oct and th« stonily 
And konl'd and made tlie ctiecrirs« gnie 

Blue up, asd all die cotUf;e trum g 

Which done, she rose, aad from lier fona 
Wiihdrew tlie drippt^ cloak and iduiwl, 

Asd laid her wil'd gloves by. untied 
Hcff hat and let the dvnp hair fall. 

And, Uk, (he ui down hf my tide 

And call'd me. When no vnce replied, 
She put my arm about her wtim, 

And made her smooth white shodder bve, 
And all ber )<eUow bair dbfJaced, 

And, stoopo^ made ray dieek lie there. 

And spread, o'er all, ber ydlow hair, 
Mutnuring bow she loicd me— she 

Too weak, ror all her hart's endcnwir. 
To Mt its nnggfitig pankw free 

From pride, wid taincr tics di**ever, 

And gm hcrecif to rac for ever. 
B«t pMsion toRictimcs would prrrail. 

Nor could lo-oight's gay tc*^ restrain 
A Mildni tiw«fght o€ one m pale 

For love of ber, and all in vain : 

So, the wai come through wind aad nia. 
Be sure I look'd up at ber cyci 

H^ipy and proud; at Ian 1 knew 
Por|4tyf>a worshipp'd mc; Mirprite 

Made my heart t«-cl), aad still it grew 

While I debated what to do. 
Thit mommt xbc was mioc, mine, hit, 

I^re<ti)' puM and good; I foend 



ROBERT BROWNING 



A thing to do, and all her Inir 
In one long ycUow string I woniul 
Tbrec tuTx;3 her litllc throat around. 

And strangled her. No pain Frit ^e ; 
I am quite sure she felt no poiiu 

As a shut bud that holds a bee, 
1 warily oped her lids : again 
Laugh'd the blue eyes without a staia. 

And I unlighten'd next the tress 

About her neck ; her check, oacc mote 

Bluah'd bright betirath my burning kisst 
I propp'd her bead up as before. 
Only, this time my shoulder boie 

Her head, which droops upoo it still : 
The smiling rosy little head, 

So glad it has its utmost will. 

That all It scorn 'd at once is flrd. 
And I, its lote, am gain'd insiexl I 

Porphyria's love : she piess'd not how 
Her darling one wish would be faeutL 



ROBERT BROWNING 

Because, yoa sputd your Utcs in praising ; 

To praise, you search the wide world orer: 
Then why not witness, calmly gaziog, 

If earth holds aught — speak truth — above her ? 
AboTc this tress, and this, I touch 
But cannot praise, I love to mnch 1 



722. Earl Mfrtoun's Sottg 

"T^HERE 's ■ woman like a dewdrop, she 's so purer 
^ than the purest { 
And her aoble heart's the noblest, yes, and her sure faith's 

the surest: 
And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth 

of lustre 
Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the 

wild-grape cluster, 
Gush in gdden-tJDted plenty down her neck's rose-misted 

marble: 
Then her mice's music ... call it the well's bubbling. 

the bird's waible t 

And this woman says, <My days were sunless tod my 

nights were moonless, 
Parch'd the pleasant April herbage, and the lark's heart's 

outlxeak tuneless, 
If you loTed me not ! ' And I who (ah, for words of 

flame !) adore her. 
Who am mad to lay my spirit prostrate palp^ly beibre her — 
I may enter at her portal soon, as now her l^ce takes me. 
And by noontide as by midnight make her mine, as hers 

she makes me ! 



ROBERT BROWNING 

72S' ^" * GeutM* 

T'HE moth's kis*. firat! 
'■ Kiu me u if you nude belitw 
Yon were not wte, this ew, 
How my face, yow flower, had pwicd 
Its ptuts «pi w, here Bod llirrr 
You brush it, till I grow awuc 
Who wMiu lae, sod wide ofe I 

The bw's lu<^ now I 
Kiss me ta if you cnur'd jsy 
My heart at Mme ooondiy, 
A bud that duo not disallow 
The cUim, w all Is reoder'd vf. 
And poxsitely its gJutter'd cup 
Oitt youi t)C>d to sleep I bov. 



724. Mettin^ at Night 

nPHE gray sea and the long black land; 
*■ And the yellow half^moon large aid Vmx 
And the startled little wares thai leap 
Id Ttery ringlets from tlieir sleep, 
A* I gain the core with pushing [Jtow, 
And (juench its speed i' tl>e &liuhy sand. 

Then a mile of wann sca>BCented bndi 1 
Three liclds to cross till a fann appears t 
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp 
And blue $pun of a ligiiied riutch. 
And a ?oice 1cm loud, tltro' itA joys and 
Than the two hcoits besting each to cachl, 
96o 




73S- 



ROBERT BROWNING 



Tarling at fliotving 



ROUND the cape of a ludden came Uie an. 
And ibe Mn look'd oim the nxtunutn't rim : 
Afld itraighl wu > path of gold (or him. 
And ibe need of a world of mm for mc^ 



^26. 



The Lost Mistress 



ALL 's orcT, tlieni does truth WNnuJ bitter 
*^ At one at 6nt bcltcvn? 
Hatk, 'tn tfac Kjarrows' good^ght twritrr 
About your cotu^ cares ! 

And Uk lea/'bodt oo the viae >rc irooUy, 

I Ddticcd that, to-da;r; 
Ooe da; mote b«svs tbcm open fiilljr 

—You luiow the red turns gray. 

To-morrow we roe« the ume ihcn, dcarvitf 

May I Like yoxtt tund in nuati 
Merc friends air vr, — well, friends the mcrcsi 

K«ep nucii ibat I rcRgn: 

Por Mch gUnce of the eye so bright and black, 
Tlunigh I ker[> with bran's endeaTour, — 

Your I'oke, when you vish the snowdrops back, 
I'bougb it suy in taj soul for nvr ! — 

Y« I will bn «ay what mere fncflds saj'. 

Or only a thought wioqgcr; 
I will hold yoor kxnd bat as long u all watf. 

Or M m]r litde loagjtrl 



ROBERT BROWNING 

Time's many i cromi for who can reack. 
Tn line*, a stateiRiao's life in eadil 
The Sug ituck on a heap of boocs, 
A soldier** doiagt what Koani 
Thcj scratch hti attae on the Abbey-sUtti. 
My riding is better, by thdr leave. 

What does it all mean, poetf Wdl, 
Your biaios beat loto thjthai, yoo tell 
What we felt only; j-oo rxprns'd 
You hold ihinft besuciJul the bat. 

And pace ibrm in rhyme so, side by nit. 
Tis »ii»th)ng, nay 'tis much: but then, 
Have you yourself what's best for taai 
Are you — poor, sick, old ere your ttaie— 
Nearer one whit yow own suUiroe 
Than we who neier hare turn'd » thyme! 

Sing, riding's a joy! For m^ I riilb 

Atid you, grcait sculptor — so, you gire 
A score of years to Art, ber slare. 
And tlut 's your Venus, whence we tnni 
To yonder girt that fords the bum ! 

You acquiesce, and shall I repiarf 
What, man of music, yon grown gray 
With notes and nothing else to say, 
U this j-our sole praise from a friend, 
'Greatly his opera's uraias inccixl, 
Put in music we know bow fasbioos eitdl' 

I gate my youth i but we ride^ in Sm. 

Who knows what's fit fee ns 7 Had (ar 
Proposed bliss here sbo«Id subjituatc 
My being — had I agn'd the bood — 
StUl ooc must lead some life beyand^ 

B6* 



I 
I 



ROBERT BROWNING 

Hate a blua to die witb, dim-dcrtcned. 
Thb foot OQtt fUnml oo the ^oH, 
Thb glotygulnid round my muI, 
Could I ieKTf iwch> Try and mtl 
I sittk back ifauddering from the i^ont. 
£nth bcii^ M good, would bckvcn smri besit 

Now, lm<xn and sbc are t)e)x»d Uiis tide. 



And yet — ibt lua not tpoke w long! 
What if bnmi b« that, fur aod uroog 
At life's best, with our eyes ujjtum'd 
Whiilxr life's flower b first disoere'd, 
We, lix'd so, ever should so abtdet 

I What if we stitl ride aa, we two 
With Kfc for erer old yet new, 

' Chmfcd not in kind but in dcgrEr, 
The imtant nude eternity,— 
And heavra just prore that I and she 
Ride, ride together, for t\tt ridef 



72S. 



Miscoactptiont 



"T^HIS is a spny the Bijd citing to, 
' Mikiog it blosfom with pleasure, 
Err the high ure-top she Sfming w^ 
Fit for her ikcK and her tretsore. 
O, vW a hope beyond nwuvre 
Was the poor spray's, which the Syiii| feet hong 10,- 
So 10 be Hngled out, built in, waA nog 10 1 

rf Ml 



ROBERT BROWNING 

TluE ii a beait the Qucca l«uit aO| 

TItfilI'd ia ■ ininatc cmtic. 
Etc the tnie bosom she bent oo, 
Meet fioc love's regal dalraMJ&l 
O, what a fancy ecstatic 
Was the poor hnitt'*, ere the wanderer wnrt 
LoK to be fsTvd for it, proifcr'tl to, apcot col 



729. Home-thmghts, from Ah 

O to be in Eogbnd 
7 Now that April '% thet^ 
Atxt whoever wakes in England 
Sees, Mdie morning, uuwaie, 
l''hat the lowcit boughs aad the hrusbi 
Round the eln)>tree bde are in tiiijr ]eaf| 
While tlie chafliDch atigs on the orcbard 
1b England— narw I 

And after Apnl, when May follows, 
And the wbitcthnxit bailds, and all the sv 
Hark, where my blosKtm'd pr^i-ttee in the 
Leans to the field and scatters on the clover 
Blossoms and dcwdro|>s — at the beni spray^ 
That 's the wise thmih ; he bngs each song ivk 
Lest you shouJd think be oeiei coaild rcca|.tuie 
The first Eoe careless rapture ! 
And though the fields look rough with hoary 
All will be gay when noonbdr w^es anew 
The bnttercufis, the little cbitdrca's dowo- 
— Far brighicr than this gaudy melop« flo«ql 



r 



ROBERT BROWNING 



30. Mmtc-thrngbts, from the &« 

OBLY, oobljr Cape Saiiu Vinc«ni to ibe Nonh-wnt 

cUkI smj; 
ct ran, one glonous blood-TM), rtcking into C^ii Biy ; 
lb 'mid ibr burning wattr, fatl in face Tnfat^ bjrj 
be diiDRMit Nonli-cast djsuncc diwnM Gtbniltar sriod 

ft and here did Englind he^ nw: how cao 1 help 

England f '— njr, 
BOO nn» u I, tbii evening, turn to God to pniir 

•nd pny, 
h Jo«e'> fJtact RKS yoodcr, tileat over Africa. 



WILLIAM BELL SCOTT 

[I. r-J^ /r/te^V 5.»//«</ 

I 

01 hae cotnc rrom far away, 
) Prom a warm land far away, 
A KKdhcni land across tJie tea, 
With uiloT'bdjt aboul the tiust. 
Merry and caony, and kind to xae. 

And I hac been to yoo town 

To try my luck in yon town ; 
Mart, and Mpie, Ebfoe too. 
Right braw we were to pass the gate, 
Wi' gowdcn claaptt on pnlles blue. 

Myaie smiled wi' miminy mooth, 
Inoocent rooolfa, miminy raooth; 



ia«a 



m 



WILLIAM BELL SCOTT 

EUpie wore a scarlet gown, 
Nort's ga-y eyes were uaco* gleg. 
My Casiilc comb was like b crowa. 

We walk'd abreast all up the «««, 

Into the market up the street i 
Out hair with marigoids was wound. 
Our bodices with love-knots laced. 
Our merchandise with tansy bound. 

Nort had chickens, 1 had cocks. 

Gamesome cocks, loud-crowiog coclu; 
Mysie ducks, and Elsjae dnkes, — 
For a wee groat or a pound; 
We lost nac time wi' gives and takes 

— Lost nae time, for well we knew. 
In our sleeves full well we knew. 
When the gloaming came tlial ftighl. 
Duck nor drake, nor heo twr cock 
Would be found by candle-li^hi. 




I 



WILLIAM BELL SCOTT 



Sae loud the Kmgue* o' rendMS grrw, 

The flytio' aod the ftUrltn' grew, 
Al all the window* in ifac place, 
Wi' (fioons or knim, wf ncoDc of awl. 
Was thnut out erery hand aod lace. 

And down each %aa diejr iluoDg'd anon^ 

Gnttic, srmplc, lbro«i^<) aaont 
Soutcr aad tailor, frowsy Nan, 
The ancient widow young agai^ 
Simpcriog behind bcr (na. 

Without a choice, agaitni tbdf will, 
Doited, dazed, agunst tbdr wiJI, 
The matket la&we aad her mitber, 
The fanner and ha buriModman, 
Haod in lund dance a' tbcgithcr. 

Slow at iirat, but (asut toon, 
■ Still iocrcauns, wild and faat, 
' Hoods and nuntles, hats aod hose, 

BEndly doJTd aad cast away, 

Left them naked, heads and toes. 

tTbcy would hare ton us limb from Bmb, 
Dainty Emb fnxn dainty limb; 
But oeirf one of them eoold win 
Across the line that I bad drawn 
H With bieeding thumb a-widdershin. 

But there was Jeff the proi-ost's son, 
Jelf the pcOTosi's only soo ; 

•ndie*] vinfoet. Sytio'] KoUHag. ikirlin'] ibrie kEeg. 

act)o^blci. 4oiledJ mjLud. a-viddenbin] ihe wionx 

« E. to W. Ihrougb N. 



WILLIAM BELL SCOl 

There was Father Add hhnsd', 
The Lombard fnie the hostelry, 
And the lawyer Peter Fell. 

AU goodly men we siogled out. 

Waled ihem well, sad singled (Nd 
And drew thero by the icft hand b 
Mysie the priest, and CIsjne won 
The Lombaid, Nort the lawyer carl 
1 mysel' the prwvosl's son. 

Then, with cantrip kisses mvcd, I 
Three times round with kisses sei 
Warp'd and wothi there spun wc 
Arms and legs and (laming hair. 
Like a whirlwind oa (he ses. 

Like a wind that sucks the sea. 
Over and in and on the sea, 
Good suoth it was a mad delight|1 
And every man of all the four 



WILLIAM BELL SCOTr 

Aad ml the provtMt'i hmt ndst-titt. 

On the ptOTOat's gnad ridgc-iikv 
Tbe Kackiinoor fint to muter ra> 
I uw, I WW Uut iriiuoAue uniie, 
Tb* inoiilb Uut did my bevt bcgtnile. 
And Bpoke tbc gmt Word gTcr ate. 
Id iba laad beyond tbe tea. 

I dll'd ha tume, I uU'd aloud, 
AIm! I caU'd on him aloud; 
And then be dll'd hia hand with Uoat, 
And threw it lowarda me ia the airi 
My mooM flew out, I lost roj fov/'t^ 

My tatty wength, my pawtt wm gmt\ 

Power was gone, and ail wa* gone. 
He wiD not let me lo*c him loorel 
Of bell aad whip and hone's tail 
He caret not if I fiad a itorc. 

But I am pood if be is lierce ! 

I ara as proud as be is fiercei 
ni toro about aad backward {■a^ 
tf I meet again that Blackamoor, 
And he'll help n then, for be shall know 
I Kck aaotbcr paramour. 

And we'll gang once more to yoo town, 

Wi' better luck to yoa towoi 
We'll walk is ullt aod cramoiMe, 
And I ihall w«d the proroM's ton 
My lady of tbe town 111 be I 

(iJdiHL cmBoUt] orinwaa. 



?32. 



WILLIAM BELL SCOT] 

For I was bom a ctovm'd lung's 
Born and titmed a ki&g'< eiiSi 
King o' a land ayoal thr sea. M 
Wljere the Blflckanioor Viss'd rat 
And [aughi me att and giaraourie 

Each OIK in her wame shall hide 
Her hairy mouse, her wary mt 
Fed on madwort and agtamie, — 
Wear amber beads between her b 
And blind-wonn's skin about her 

The Lombard shall be Ebpie's n 
Elspie's gowden husband-mao ; 
NoTt shall take the lawyer's Fia&d 
The priest shall swear another vc 
We'll dance aguo the ssnUundl 

• AUDREY DE VERI 
Serenade 



AUQREV DE VERE 

Beod down pui glittering una, 

Etc y«t the dawn return*, 
And sUr with dnt tbt lawn faer (cM shall tit*d| 

UpoD the air raid bain, 

fibd >U tbt woods be calm, 
AmbroHal dmm with l-.«^ilihl'ul shimbcre wedj 

That 10 the MaidcB may 

With Nuilcs your care repy, 
When from her couch ahe lifta her {olden headi 

Waking with earlicM birdii 

Ere yet the miny herds 
LcsTc Winn 'mid the gisy grass their dntky bed. 



T33- 



Sonvw 



/^OUNT each tffiedoo, whether light or gtw, 
^-^ God'i mcncn^ tent down lo thee j do then 

With coortesy lecdte him ; rise and bow ; 
And, *» his shadow pass thy thmhold, cniTe 
Pcnoitsioa first bis hearenly feci to lave; 

Thtn by before him all thou hast; allow 

No dood of fUMO to Bsuip diy brow, 
Or mar thy hosjtiialiiy ; oo wave 
Of mortal tumult to obliitrate 

The Mul's numMttal calmsess i Grief should b^ 
Like joy, majcsd^ c<juable, MiUte ; 

CoofirniD^ dtatuiDg, niiing, makii^ fteet 
Sfroog to consume muII troubles; to coratocnd 
Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lastiiig to the ead. 



Ff) 



GEORGE FOX 



734. The County of Mayo 

FROU THE ISISH OT TROHAS UiVKLL 

/"^N tlip deck of Patrick Lyncb's boat I sat in 
^-^ Through my sighing all the weary day 

all thi- night ; 
Were it not that full of sorrow from my peopl 
By the blt'ssed sun ! 'tis royally Yd sing thy pi 

When I dwL'li at home in plenty, and my go 

abound. 
In the company of fair young maids the Span 

round — - 
'Tis 2 bitter change from those gay days th 

forced to go 
And must Irave my bones in Santa Cruz, far fj 

Mayo. 



73S- 



EMILY BR0NT6 
M/ LmZ/'s Grtne 



'T^E IraoR in tbe nxky dcB*, 
^ TIk ■Door-bric is the Iff, 
Tbe bcc anoag tfac bnthir bdb 
TbK bide Bf hdy far: 

Tbc wild di«T btowK aboic ber brraxt 
The mid \iaA% nise tlwir beood i 

AnJ thrjr, bet tinile* of lo«e caroa'd, 
HiTc IHi hct (olnudc! 

I Ween thxi when tbe gnre'i dsrk wall 

Did fini her fonn tetan, 
Tbey tbovglit their hcara awld vt'tt recall 

liie light of joy agiis. 

Tbey ibcwgbt ihc tide or gticf woaid flow 
Unchetk'd through finare T«an; 

Sue wbeie b all tbdr aagiisb ouw, 
And wbete ve all their tears f 

WeB, kt then Bght br hooom'i brctth, 

Or ilesare^ ihade pvnae — 
The dwrllet in the tuid of dntb 

Is duflged sod csieleu too. 

And if their vjvs ihoold vaich and weep 

Til) sorrow's source vtrc dry, 
She would Dot, in her tnUK{itil slop, 

Return a aiogle sigh I 

Blow, w«si wind, fay tbc loody mamtd: 
Aod Riwmur, lununer streaoisl 

There a no need of ether souod 
To wothe my lady's dmau. 



mA-Ai.% 



EMILY BRONTfi 



7itf. 



Remanhrance 



/'^OLD in the earth — and the deep snow 
^~* Far, far removed, cold ia the dreary gi 
Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee, 
Sever'd at last by Time's aii-severing wave 

Now, when alone, da my thoughts no loogH 
Over the mountains, on that northern shore 

Resting their wings where heath and fem-leav 
Thy noble heait for erer, ever more \ J 

Cold in the earth — and fifteen wild Dccembtt 
From those brown hilla have tnclted into ^ 

FalthfiJ, indeed, is the spirit that remembera 
After such years of change and sulferiog 1 

Sweet Love of youth, forgive, if I forget tlie 
While the world's tide is beanng me aJong 

Other dfsires and other hopes beset me, 

Hopes which obscure, but cannot do thee \ 



EMILY BRONTE 

And, cm ]rtt, 1 dm not let it bngnsK, 
I>tfe Dot indulge in m«cnory's njiCunnis paiai 

Oncv dnoking deep of that dirinesc Mguish, 
How couid I wck llie emf-ty world tgiaai 



737. 



Tie Trisoaer 



CTILL In my tynnit kninr, 1 un hc doont'd to wear 
"^ Year klter yctr in gloora utd dnolatc dnptir; 
A isrsscngrr oJ* Hope comes cTcry night U> iiK( 
And oikn for abort XiSt, ttcrnal liberty. 

H» cooMi with Writeni windt, with eradng's wiodmng dn, 
With that cleu datk of heaven that bring* the thickrat ittr* : 
Wind* ukc 1 prnsii'c tone, lod »an a tender fire, 
And visions rue, and change, that kill me with deiir«. 

Drsirr for nothing known in my niatum' yrars, 

When Joy grew mad with awe, M couctiag fniuiv tears: 

When, if my sjniit's &ky was fill of flashes warm, 

I koew not whence tbcy came, from wo or tbimler-Konn. 

But first, a hush of peace— a soundkM calm dracrodsi 
The struggle of diuma and 6erce irapatieaoe ends. 
Mute music lootbes my bm-it— luiotter'd hanooay 
Tlut I coold Dcver dream, till Earth was ioit to mt. 

Then diwQt the Itiitsible; th« Unoecn ita innh rervalsi 
My outward kuw b gone, my tnwaid esseoce ftdsg 
Its wings ate almoH free — iu home, its tuibour found, 
Ucaaoring the pilf, it stoops *nd dates the linal bound. 

O dtvadfiil is the check — intense ihe agony — 
When tlic ear begins to hear, and the eye begins to see i 
Wbeo the pulse bejins to tlirot>— tb« brain to think again — 
_l*he soul to fed the fleah, and Uu iafa to fed the duia. 



EMILY BRONTE 



Yet I would lose no sling, would wish no U 
The more that anguish racks, the eartier it «r 
And robed in fires of hell, or bright with he 
If it but herald Death, the vision a di«iae.-j 



73S. Last Lines 

^J O coward soul is mine, 
^ ~ No trembler in the w( 



li«iae.-l 
siam-tnn 



world's 

I see Heaven's glories shbc. 
And faith shines equal, amuog mc fram feat; 

O God within my breast, 
Almighty, ever-present Deity! 

Life — that in mc has rest, 
As I — undying Life — have power in Thee! 

Vain are the thousand creeds 
That move men's beans; unutterably rain; 

Worthies* as wilher'd weeds, 
Or idlest froth amid the boundless maia. 



EMILY BRONTE 

'Ihttt n not room for Death, 
Nor ■locn thai bis lalgbt caM ttoAti void: 

Thou— Thou an Dciog tad Birvb, 
And Hihtt Thou wt Ruy never be dcstrojtd. 



CHARLES KINGSLEY 



tfli9-l97]l 



rjff, jlirl/ Beacon 

AIRLY Bmcoo, Aifly Bcacoot 
''*' O the plnuau sight to see 
Shitcf and towns from Aitly Beacon, 
While Hiy love ctimb'tl up to me I 

Alrif B«acoa, Aiiljr Bncoiii 
O llie bappjr boun we by 

Deep m ftrn on AiHy Beacon. 

Courting thrDuf;h the nanmer't day! 

Aitly ScKOB, Airly Beacon; 

O the wcuy hnini for me, 
All »toae OB Aitly BesKon, 

With hb baby on t»y kneet 



J40. The Sa»Js of 7>ef 

* O *^^*^^' go wxl «!■ the cattle home, 
^^ And call the ctttJc home, 

And cad the oitle home, 

Across the tands of "Oix' 
The wrfurn *iod wm wild and cbric with fbiun. 

And all iloDc went she. 



CHARLES KINGSLEY 



The western tide crept up along the maA, 
And o'er and o'w the sand. 
And round and round the sand, 
As far OS eye could see. 

The colling mist came down and bid 
And never home came she. 

'O 



Btnd, 



IS it weed, or fish, or floating lair — 

A tress of golden hair, 
A drowned maiden's hair, 
Above the nets at sea ! ' 
Was never salmon yet that shone so 
Among the stakes of Dee. 

They rowM her in across the tolling 

The cruel crawling foam, 
The cruel hungry foam, 
To her grave beside the »e». 
But still the boatmen hear bn call tbe CI 
Across the sands of Dec _ 

- J 



ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH 

Tor while the mtA witm. riioljr breaking. 
Skid here no painful iacb to pia, 

F« bode, throufth crcdu and inlets nukiag, 
Comes silent, ttoodtng in, the mtta. 

And DOC bj csHern viadowt only, 

When diyGght eaiaes, comts in the ltg)it[ 

la rrool the nia dimfcs dow, how ilowljr I 
But westward, look, the Uai b hright! 



•BifiSw 



WALT WHITMAN 
T42. The Imprismeti Soul 

Vr the Iksi, tcndecly, 

^ From the walls of the powerful, fomess'd hoov;, 

torn ibc cLsp of the kaitwd locks— iioai the keep of ths 

well^loocd doors, 
,ct (DC be waitid. 

■ct mc glide noiselesUy forth t 

Ttih the key of sofiness «n!ock the toclu— «itb s whoptr 

et ope the doors, O loiill 

'citdcilj I be not impatieDt I 

itraag is your hold, O mortal flesh I 

tnag is your hold, love!) 



T4i' CapumI Mj> Capttmt 

•^ CAPTAIN ! my Captain ! our fcarftil trip is done, 
^ The ihip has wniber'il ercry rsck, the [riie we 

sou^t Is woti, 
"be port is near, the belb I bar, the people all ncolung, 
niile follow eyn the steady keel, the veMcl grtm and daitng 1 



WALT WHITMAN 

But O heart! heait! Lean! 
O the bleeding drops of ledl 
Where on the deck my 

Fallen cold and dead. 



1 



O Capt^n 1 ray Captain ! rise up and bear 
Rise up — for you the fijg is flung — fof you itt 
For you bouquets and ribboo'd wreaths — for yo 

crowding, 
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eagi 
Here, Captain ! dear father ! 
This arm beneath your head! 

It is some dtearo that on the ded 
You've fallen cold and dcdd. 

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pS 
My father does not fcf 1 my arm, he haa no pei 
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage do 
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in wtih 
Exult, O shores ! and ring, O bells ! 
Rut T nrith nHiiimRit IriaW 



EBENEZER JONES 

ff^hen the ff^orU h bunine 

VW'HEN ihe woHd is burning. 
"' Fired witbio, yrt tsmng 

RoufMl «Yth fm utisuthed { 
Ere &crce Itjoirs, upmshbg, 
O'er all lactb leap, cnisliing, 

Till earth (all, fire-sw»)i«d i 
Up unubi the mcadovn, 
Ccntly ihiw^h the shadows, 

Ccutie flames will glide, 
Small, aod Uw, and goUca. 
IVMsh bj bard beboUeo, 
Wlien in cilm drmns f()ldeo,-» 

Calm hb drcaois will twk. 

Wbne the daOcC if Mcfla^ 
Tbrtnigh the gretrnsuvd' feeffini^ 

Shall the »ft lights start) 
^Laaghing maids, onstaying, 
Deoriog it trick-ptajriQg. 
Hi^ thdf robes upswaytng, 

O'er the CgliU shall dartt 
And the woMilaad haunter 
Sh^ not ceaie to saunter 

When, fiir dawn tatae gbde. 
Of the great world's bumiog. 
One soft fiame nptnnibg 
Smob, to has djsceniing, 

Cnen io the shade. 



FREDERICK LOCKER-LAJ 
7^S. M Her U^ittJovo 

O EATING Heutt «« com 
*-* Where my Love rcposni 
This b Mabd's wiodow-poae t 
ThcK are Mabel's nae^ 

Is the ^«il^d? Doea the kim 
In the iwiligbi stflly, 

Lily chd from tJiroac to becl^ 
She, my Tirjin Lily? 



1 



Soon tlw win. the wttlful 
Fading, will forsake her 

Elrcf of light, 00 Ix-ftmy bort, 
Wlikpa tbco, and vrakc her^ 

Let tbb friendly pebble plead 
At her flowery grating [ 

If she hear me will sbe becd! 
MtiM, i dm v>caMg, 

Mabel will be deck'd taoD, 
Zoned m brvk't ippardt 

Happy zone I O hark to 
Pasuoo-sbakca carol I 

Sing thy toog, thou trancM 
Rpe thy bestf thy clearest! 

Hu«h, her Lnoce movca, O 
DeartH MsMt- 



I 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 
The Forsaken Merman 

/^OME, deaf duldno, let us t.wAj\ 
^— ' Down ind away briow. 
Now in)i brothns call from the ln;r) 
Now the f;icai windfi kborewani blow; 
Now tbt mIi tkiM mward Aow ( 
Now the wild white bonci pUy, 
Cluiinp and cWe and tow in the *pnj. 
CfaUdfoi dear, let u awijr. 
Tbis way, tbb way I 

CalJ b«T oooe before jrou (o. 

Call oace y«t. 
Id a voice tbn the w31 know: 

'Mafgam 1 Margam I ' 
Childfm's raicM aboutd be dear 
(C^ OiKo mote) to a ■nocbcf'i car: 
CbildreoS voKn, wild with pain. 
Smdy sfca will cook agitii. 
Cd b(T oooe *od Gooie away. 

This way, tliis way 1 
'Mother deal, we cannot stay.' 
'Vht wild white bond foam and frtt 

Uargvetl MaigamI 

' Come, dear childrtn, come away dowa. 

Call na men. 
One laK look at the whittswall'd town, 
^Jid the little grey chunJi oo the mndy shorv. 
Then come doun. 
She will not co«ne though yeu call all day- 
Come away, come away. 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

Children dear, was ii yesterday 
We heard (he sweet bells orer the 
In the caverns where we Ujr, 
Through the surf and through the 
The far-off sound of a silser bell ? 
Sand-strewn caTems, cool and deep, 
Where the winds arc all asleep ; 
Where the spent lights tjuirer and gkan 
Where the salt weed sways in the sOra 
Where the sea-beasts, ranged all rouod. 
Feed in the ooie of their pasture- gromti 
Where the sea-snakes coil and twine, 
Dry their mail, and bask id the brine; 
Where great whales come sailing by, 
t^ail and sail, with unshut eyt. 
Round the world for ever and ayet 
When did music come this w»)r I 
Children dear, was it yesterday i 



Children 



dear, was il 
\ .I— - 



yesterday 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

She smiled, she went up throogh the suif in the ba/. 
ChildrcD dear, was it jrcsterday? 

Childreo dear, wen we long alone? 
'The sea grows stonny, the little ones moao. 
Long prayers,' I said, 'm the world they say, 
Cofoe,' I said, and we rose throagh the surf in the bay. 
We went up the beach, bf the sandy dE>wn 
Where the sea-stocks blotnii, to the whiie-wall'd lowa. 
Through the oairow pared streets, where all was still. 
To the litde grey church on the windy hiU. 
From the church came a murmnr of fblk at their pcayeti, 
But we stood without in the cold-blowing airs. 
We climb'd on the grares, on the Mooes worn with tains, 
And we gazed op Ae usie through the small leaded panes. 

She sate by die pillar; we saw her clear: 

' Margaret, hist I come quick, we are here. 

Dear heart,' I said, *we are loi^ alone. 

The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan.' 
But, ah I she gave me nerer a look, 
For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book. 
Load prays the piiestj shut stands the door. 

Come away, children, call no more. 

Come away, come down, call no mote 

Down, down, down; 

Down to the depths of the sea. 
She sits at her wheel in the humming town, 

Sin^ng most joyfully. 
Hark what she sings: 'O joy, O joy. 
For the humming street, and the child with its toy. 
For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well. 

For the wheel where I ^nm, 

And the Uessid light of the sun.' 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

And 50 ti» tingi ber Ivll, 

Sin^ng RHHC joyfully, 

Till th« ihimlc &U* from her hud, 

And the wliluing wbnj eoflds ttill. 
She ituJi to the wiixiow, and looks ai tht.: 

And ora the laod at the an | 

And ber ejn are set in a Matet 

And aooD time breaks a sigh, 

And floon there drop* ■ tear, 

Fnxn > torrow-doudcd eye, 

And a bean sorrow-Wco, 
A long, loog sigh 
For the cold stnn^ eyes of a Uttk 

And the gleam of her goldea hair. 

Come away, away, childm. 
Coma duldico, come down. 
The hoarse wind blows coUeri 
Lights shine in the town. 
She will start frotn her dumber 
When guts shake the doorj 
She wUI hear the winds howiia^ 
Will hmr the wsfec roar. 
Wc shall see, while afcon ns 
The waves roar and whirl, 
A ceOifiJt of amber, 
A paTemi-nt of peail. 
Singing, 'Here came a mortal. 
But fsiihlc&s WM she: 
And alone dwell for tnt 
The kings of the sea.' 

But, childrco, at midnight, 
When soft the winds blovf 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 



When cinr fntls the aoonligbt} 
Whtti spring-tides Mw low; 
Wlwo swKt ain come leaward 
Prom heatks starr'd with broom ; 
And hijh rocks ihrow mildly 
On the bbncfa'd unds a gloom i 
Up the ttiti, gliatrnini! beaches, 
Up the credu we will hiet 
Otct banks of bright seaweed 
The ebb-tide leans diy. 
Wc will gaxe, /ram the fand-bill*, 
At the white, sleeping town; 
At the chtircb on the hill-side— 

And then come back dowtt. 
Siaging, 'There dwells S k>Ted oat, 

But ctvcl b she. 
She left I0MI7 Tor em 

Ttw kiogs of iJie sea.' 

iS. Tie SiHs ofGtUiciet 

•yHROUGH the bLck, nwhing smoke4»nu, 
^ Thick brejki the red Hanc. 
All Etna heaves fieroety 
H« forwt-cIoth«I fnme. 

Not here, O Apollo I 
Arc haunts mcrt for thee. 
But, where Helicon breaks down 
la cfiff to the Ka. 

Where the tnooa-stlter*d inieta 
Send far their light voice 
Up the uiU vale of Thiab^ 
O ^eed, and rejoice I 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

On the sward at the ciiff-top, 
Lie sirewn the white docks; 
On the clitF-sidc, the pgnns 
Koost deep in the rocks. 

Id die moonlight the shepherds, 
Soft luU'd by the rilis, 
Lie wrapt \a their blukets, 
Asleep on the hiUa, 

— What forms ate these cnming 
So white through the gloom-' 
What gatraents out-giisiening 
The gold-flower'd !Ht»cn ? 

What sweet-breathing Presence 
Out-perfumes the thyme? 
What voices earapture 
The night's balmy prime? — 

'Tia Atiolln enmna 4im<1«w 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 



^WboM ]«atw do tbey aa 
Of whK b k told ?— 
. WbH win be fat rtcr. 
WliK «M &im of uld. 

Pka byim tbrf die P^ht 
or ID dmp: vd thos 
Tht RM flf 
TheKMaofi 



The Di)r io U» 
Tbe ttrifc with tfe F^Mi 
The Nigbt m ha vkao. 
The StKi ia tbs 



7*# Jfurpimu 




tbex kw. 



B«< when tfae nra dnr iM^bw* llfkai, 
Aad dief an tmtft by Un «f 

And ■ ifcot ska* M tmrf wi^tm. 
The wj^Hiffiw £tiari]r maft 

And b*dy octa, 6«n •bore to tber^ 

AcraAA the y^rflitf end f^ j iiaj^ ^ po^rt 

O dien a baging fike de«p>ir 
!■ to tfatv (mhm arena mhI 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

For surely once, they kd, we wcM 

Parts of 3 single continent. 
Now round us spreads tiie waiciy phia- 
O might our nuiges meet again 1 Jl 

Who order'd that thdr longing's liit 
Siiould be, as soon as kindled, cod'i 

Who renders vain their deep desire ! — 
A God, a God their sevetaacc 

And bade betwixt their shoirs to be 

The unplunib'd, salt, estranging sea. 



7F0' 



Requiescat 



CTREW on her rnscs, rose^ 
'^ And never a siitay of yc«^. 
In quiet she reposes : 

Ahl would that I did too. 



H-.. -^\^X *. 



-U 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

7SI. The SchoUr-Gipsy 

O, for ibty all you, Shepheid, from thf hilli 
Go, Sbephod, ud uade the waukd cottt: 
No tooger Ictve thy wittful flock unfed. 
Nor let tliy bowBng Mbwv rixrk their iliroait. 
Nof thv Crop}>'d grifics ^0:it ROoChcr hoA. 
Bui wh-cn the lidds irc fiill, 
And the lind aicn ■ad dogs all gooe to mt. 
And only the wbitt iheep are sonKUmn Men 
CroM and recro&s the str^« of moon^ibAcb'd |[ntnt 
lomc, Sbepbcrdf and agtao be^ the quoL 

wbcTC the r eap er va» at work of lat«, 
tn this high fleU't dirk comer, where he learet 

His coat, lus batlcet, «d tin eanhrn cmisc, 
And in (be SOD all noniaog btnJs the slieares, 

I'ben here, U nooti, conws back his stores to <lK; 
H«e wQI I ait Bod wait, 
Wliile to my car from u{Jaads far away 

Tbc btn^ of the folded flocks b borne. 

With distant cries of leipers in the coro^ 
All the EiTe nwnnur of a sununer's day. 

Screen'd is thu aook o'er the h^b, balf-mij'd lidd, 
And hrre till aimdown, Shepherd, wiQ 1 be. 

Throa^ tbe thick com Uk scarlet poppies pcepy 
And romid green roots and yellowing stalks I see 

Pale Une cantolnJus in tendrils creep: 
Aod aifswept liadena ytdd 
Their scent, md nstk down tbnr perfumed shovrers 

Of bloom 00 the bent gnos where I am bid. 

And bower me from ibe August sod with shade; 
And ibe eye iniTels down to Oxford's towers: 



\ 




<IWI^]WPtJii|"l'J ■ 



But once, years after, ii 

Two scholars, whom 

Met him, and of I 

Whereat he answcr'd 

His mates, had an 

The workings o 

And they can bind t 

'And V Iw »^ 

When fuUy leara'c 

But it needa Hwvm 

This said, he left then 
But rumours hung a] 

That the lost Sd 
Seen by rare glirapa. 

In hat of antique 

The same the 

Shepherds had met 

At some lone ale 

On the wann ing 
flad found him sex 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

'taid ihnr drink «id cburr, be wouM fly i 
And I myself ttvm k*tf to know tby looks, 

And p« tfct thnUxTds Waadcrcr, oo tlqr trace; 
And boys who in kmx wbrttfieldi scn« the roolti 
~ I tak a then bast ptss'd tbdr q»ct pbcc ; 
Ot in my beat 1 Be 
foor'd to (he cool bank b tlic sunsncr Ixats, 
'Mid wide ffaaa meadows wbich the sunshtar &IU, 
And watch the warm gnreiMauffled C«mnor bills, 
wonder if tboa banot'si tbeif ihy itVMts. 

'or most, I know, ihoa toT'jt rcttrM ffwioA. 
Thee, at the ferry, Oxfbnl liders blkhe, 

Retnraing booie on (ummer tif)M, bate met 
Croaaing the taifbng Thames at Bablock-hitbe, 

Trailing in the cool atnam thy fingers ««i. 
As the slow punt swings round : 
And leaning bacx wards m a pensiw drnio. 

And fbatoiog in tby bp a heap of Aowos 

Pbck'd in xhy fielda and distant Wychwood bowers, 
And ibinc eyes rvstiDg on tbe iDoonlit stream: 

And then tbey hnd, tod thou an seen oo inoce. 
Maidros who from the diuact hamlets come 

To dance around tbe Fyiicld elm in May, 
Oft thraagb Uie daikcning fiddi hare seen tbee roam. 

Or CToas a stile inio tiie pulilic way. 
Oft tfaoa bate gifen them store 
Of flowers— the frail-leaf'd, white a a tntops— 

Dark blorbdls drencb'd with dews of surnmrr eves, 

And fmjit orchbts witb tpoard letvei — 
But onoe has wocds ibe can repOR of ibce. 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

Aad, above Codstow Bridge, vhca bay-tiowS hn 
In Jane, snd many a K/the ia sinuUoe 

McD wbo tlmugli thcne wide fieUs of I 
Whcfc bLei-wing'd snllows bandt tbe ; 

To htthe ia tbe abtndoii'd bther fMS| 
Haiv oficii ftsi'd ibcc ■cai' 
Sioing upon tbt titcf bank o'ognwa: 

Mari^d ihioe ouibodtsh ffA, ihj figuR if«4 

Tb; dark nguc cjes, sod mH dbstncud «; 
B■^ ^KD tbcy came from faaibii>£, tfaon wen , 

A< vxae looe boraestead ia tbe Cwnor UOs, 
WIktc at ber opeo door tbe bosKvife daoBi 

Tfaoo 1»M be«a seca, or baa^ag on a gw 
To watcb tbe tbiedien in ibe moisj buas. 

Children, who raily tsogc tbew t]o]«s tsd !■ 
For cresses from ibe rills. 
Haie known tbce watcbing, all an April day. 

Tbe springiog putntt oad the feeding kioei 

And iiuri(*d dm, wbcD ibe sun oome a« Md 
Tbrou^ tbe long dcwj gn» more slow awajt. 

Ia aaCBDO^ OB tbe iltim of B*f>t(7 Wood, 
Wbert aioat tbe Cip^iet by the turf-edged viy 

Pitch their wnoked tens, and every b«»b yon SRJ 
Witb scarlet potcbe* ofg'd aod dutds of gnyi 

Above tbe fbren-grouad oll'd Tbemly 
The blacktiiid pickitig food 
Sees thee, nor stops bis mnl, (tor fan a> all [ 

So oAea has be kaown thcv pat him amy ' 

Rapt, twirBog ia Uiy band a mibc/d sfnyi' 
And wailiag (bt the spark Aom Heaven lo fall 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

Ad ODce, in witucr, on the cauMwajr chill 
Wlicre hotoe thiongh Aooded fields foot-triveUers 

Hut-c I Dot pua'd ibee oo the wooden bridge 
Wnpt in thy dcoi aai bnding with tlic snow. 

Thy face lowvd* Hinktcy aixl i» wintry tidge? 
And thou hut ditnb'd the hJI 
And gaia'd ibe white brow of the Cumaor raof;e j 

Tutn'd once to watch, while thick the soowlbkM fill, 

The line of fotil light in Chritt Cbvch hall- 
Then MHight thy Mnw in some DttjueUet'd {nnge. 

lut what — I dreaoi! Two bundled yean aie flowa 
Since first thy story ran thiough Oxford luUa, 

And the grarc GUntil did the ule insctibe 
Thu ihoa wen waadcr'd from the studious walla 

To kwa ttiaagc uo, and jota a Gipsy tribe : 
And thou ffom earth an gone 
Long since, and in Mme ^uiet cfaurchyml laidi 

SooM GOtattty ooolt, where o'er thy unknown grave 

Till {grasses anii while flowcnog neulcs wam^ 
Under a dark ted-fruiicd ytw^Fee*! tbade. 

■No, no, thou hut not fch the lapse of hours. 
I'tir wbai wean oat the life of mortal men i 

"Tis thM from chngc to chsngc tbtir being roils i 
Tis that repeated shocks, agdn, agKn, 

Exhaust the energy of BBon gtM soub, 
And omb the ebstic powers. 
Till bating used our nen-es with bliss and teen, 

And tired upon a ibounnd schetnes oar wit, 

To the jnst-pSDiing Genius we remit 
Our worn-out life, and are — what vc have bcciL 



»f 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

Tboa tun not liwd, why sfaonUu thou pa 
Thou hadtM vm tint, mm boinesi^ «iw 

Ebe wen thou long noce number'tl 
EIm badst thou tfeat, like oibcr nxn. 

The gCMiaiiou of thjr pecra ue fled, 
And vc ouKctires shall go : 
But thou posiMM» aa iminortal lot, 

And we imgioe thee «x«TOpt iram 

And liring u thou Itv'st on Glanfil'a 
BticMjc thoa hidst — what vc, alas, 



For earif <lidtt thon Imve the wodd, 
Fresh, tuMUrencd to the world wii 

Firm to their mnrk, not spent on 
Free from the sick rt*j)>ue. the Ungvid 

Which much to Iutc tried, ia mach I 
O Life unlilw to Oiors! 
Who Snctuaie idly wttbout temi or kom 

Of whom each xnTes, nor knows for % 

And eich half tii<e» a huodrcd diAema 
Who wut tike thee, btt not, like tbc^ 



Thou vaitctt for the spcufc fnm Hnna: 
V»gue balf-belicvcrs of our camal creeds, 

Who ncrer deeply fdt, aor clc«ily wl 
Whotc insight ne»er bn borne fnwt in <l 

WhoK wnik resolves neier have been 
!''or whom each year we sec 
Breeds ucw begiiinin]{S, dinppaintaKatS 

Who hesitMe and fatter Me away, 

And loM to-morrow the grouod woo 
Ah, do not we, Windcrer, await it 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

'ry wc imit H, but it ttUI delays. 
And ibcn we Mflert nd amonign tn Om^ 

Wlw most has sufTerM, uk« dcjecMcUy 
His Mat upon (he intclkcuul ibroae; 

And all his tioic of »d expcnencc be 
Laja bare of wrctelwd day« ; 
Tell* u his misery's birth ud growth aad tigHt, 

And how the dying sfork of hope wis fed. 

And how the brent ww soothed, and how the litad, 
And all bis bonrly nricd anodyon- 

riu> (ot out wttMt : aod w« othen pine, 
Ai>d viab the loag nfaipfiy timin wimld eni. 

And wkite ill claiiii to bJiat, iikI try lo bear, 
With do«c-li]i|>*d Pkiirncc for oar only rriertd, 

Ssd PabcDce, too near nei^bbonr to Despair i 
Bui oone has hope like thine. 
Tbo« ihnxfib tbe Adds and through the woods do« stray. 

Roaming the eoinRry-iide^ a truant boy, 

Nntsiog thy project in unclouded joj, 
And every dodit kwg Uowd by time away. 

[) bam in days whm wits were frc^h aod dfjx, 
And life nn giily ts the spaikliag Thames ; 

Before tluB stnage disease of modern life. 
With its sick bony, its di»ideil aims, 

Its heads o'ertjtx'd, its ptlsicd he'^tts, was rH^^ 
Fly bence, ow contact fear ! 
Still fly, plonge decfer ra the bowrring wood I 

Anne, at Dido did with f>r«are stetn 

From her false frietMl's approach in Hadn nm, 
Wate ci away, and keep diy solitude. 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 

tJuil Dursiag the uocODquer^le fiopc:, 
SiiU clutchiag the mrioljblr Uiadc, 

With a free oaward iinpulM brushing thraugh, 
By night, the iiJver'd branches of lie gbdt — 

F^ oo the forest-ikuu, where none jiunce, 
Oa some mild pastoral slope 
Emerge, and lestiDg on the moonlit pales, 

Freshen thy llowera, as in tbrmer years, 

With dew, or \iMea with enchanted on, 
Fiom the dark dingles, to die nighciogiles. 

But fly our paths, our feverish contaa fly! 

For strong the infectioa of our mriital snife. 

Which, though it gives tio bliss, yrt tpoib fer 

And we should win thtc fiom iby own fm li^ 

Like us distracted, anJ like us unblcst. 

Soon, soon ihy cheer would die. 

Thy hopes grow timorous, and unfix 'd thy poM 

And thy clear aims be c:oss and shifting nadti 
n ^.1 .1 — .L- -i_j 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 



ynung Eglii*1mnM) MmUn of the w>*nt 
And BUtcb'd bis rwEilrr, mi ibook out more sn], 
And iMf lai night btid en tfldrgaiatljr 
I OV the blue MkUxad vat«n with the gile, 
^K Betwixt tbr Syrta and (o(t Sicily, 
^B To when the Atlamic niTn 
^K>ut«ide thr Wntrra Strains md unbrtit vSh 
^ TboT, whtf«<[owD cloody dift, ihioiif b iheta of fMm, 
Shy tnlfickera, lh« dirk Ibntaos comet 
And on the beach undid hb corded bales. 



*„.. 



TbihmeU 



|_IARK! ah, the hTi^tingifel 

' * The nwny-tliraated ! 

Hirfc! from thai mooolil oed.-ir what • bum I 

What iriumpb I bark— what pa!a I 

O Wndenr from i Grecian «hoie. 

Still, afW many years, in diuant lands, 

Still neuriihtng in thy bewilder'd hnin 

That wild, ■nqueoch'd, d(«]MUnkea, old- world pai n - 

Sjy, win it nerer heal ? 
And can thi* fragrant bwa 
With it* cool tree*, and ni|;hl. 
And the tweet, tranipiil Tharnet, 
And moonnhine, and the dew, 
To thy rack'd heait and bnin 

Af{ofd no bain i 

Dou thou to-night behold 
Here, through the moonlight on this Engle<h grass, 



MATTHEW ARNOLD 



The unfriendi^ palace m the Thradan wi] 

Dost thou again peruse J 

With Iioi cheeks and aear'd eyes " 

The too dear web, and thj dumb Ststcr'j 

Dost thou oace moie asuj j 

Thy flight, and fee! come OTcr tfaee^ M 

Poor Fugitive, the feathery change 

Once more, and once more seem to nuke 

With love and hate, iriumfh and agooy, 

LoDe Daulis, and the high Cephisuan wd 

Listen, Eugenia — J 

How thick the bursts come ciowding throu 

Again — thou hearestl 
Eternal Passioa 1 
Etcnul Fain 1 



7n' 



S&akesfieare 



•i 



/OTHERS abide oar ai^tuo. TU 




MATTHEW ARNOLD 

Wf4- jFnm the Hymn of EmpeJecla 

. IS it 10 SRull ■ thiog 

H ' To liatr cajoy'd ihr nn, 

^ To lute lived light in tht spring. 

To h«Te loTcd, to btve thought, to hate dooe) 
• luve adranced troe fncods, and beat down baffing lbeft[ 

Tlu( wc moK feagn abliu 
or doobifid future dau, 
And wlule we dnam on tliil 
Loae >ll our jMcKnt itau, 
nd ttkgau to worlds fet distant oar rtpose! 

»Nm tn«Klt, I know, yoa priie 
Whit pleawm mxj be had. 
Who look oa life with eyes 
Estfiagrd, like mine, and nd t 
nd ytt the TilUge chtirt fieelt tbr tnith more thka ^u; 

• Who'* lotb to law this life 
Which to hm little pdds ; 
His hard-iask'd Mobunit wife, 
His oAcO'bbour'd fieldi ; 
ht boon wiih whom he talk'd, the couatiy spots he knew. 
But thou, bccauie tbou hcai'bt 
Mea KofT « Hnvco and Tue i 

• Beeme tbe gods thou IWk 
FttI to mike blem thy state, 
ranbleit, and wih not dare to tiVH the joys there wxt. 

II say, Fear Dot ! liTe (till 
Lcafts hwiHo effort Kope. 
But, since life teems with tlU 
Nuse no extrav^ant ba|ie. 
tcauK tlKM imtt not drcui, Itoo Mced'tt not then despair. 



WILLIAM BRIGHTY It 




The Flowers 



■yi^HEN Lore arose in heart an) 

To wake the world to grca 

' What can she give me now ? ' sal 

Who thought to win some costlj 

He rose, he ran, he stcwp'd, he ch 
And soon the Flowers, that Lo* 

In Greed's hot grasp were fray'd bi 
And Greed said, 'Flowers! Cat 

He flung them down and went his 
He cared no jot for thyme or ro 

But boys and girls came out to pla' 
And some took these and some 

Red, hlue, nnd white, and green an 
And at ihcir touch the dew retui 

And all the bloom a thousandfold— 
Sii rod, so rijie, the roses bum'd 



7SS. 




The Thought 



T NTO llip skies, one summer's 
I sent a little Thought away 
U]^ to where, in the blue round. 
The sun sat shining without soun 

Tlien my Thought came back to 
Little Thought, what did you se« 
In the regions whence you comei 
And when I spoke, my Thought 



WlLtlAM DRIGHTY RANDS 



I 



I 



I 

I 
I 



Uut the bKaUied of whit was that, 
la the putr bright lajipcr lii i 
And, bKauM my Tboi^ht to »hane, 
1 knew she had btca ftliooe upoo. 

Next, bj night a Thought I tcm 
Up iaio Uk firaunwoi ; 
When the eager sur* were Mt, 
And tlie still mooa sJione abouL 

And my l*houghi went |«ii the moon, 
Id brtwecQ the sUn, but toon 
Held hei breath and diim not dir, 
For the fear that oorered hcri 
Then ibe thought, to thii demur t 

*D>re I look beneath the shade. 
Into where the world* uv nude; 
Where the t*sia and ttin are wrought ! 
Shall I meet another I'houghi ! 

' Will tbu other Tliought hare wings { 
Shall I meet strange, bnrenly things! 
Tboagbi of Tbo«)ghu, and Light of Limits, 
Breath of Breaths, and Night of Nighti * ' 

Then tay Thought bc^an to hark 

Id the iltomiBMed dark, 

Till liic ailcfice, over, uader, 

Made ber heart beat mace than tlnuider. 

And my Thought caroe trerabSng back. 
But wiifa •omethbg on her track, 
Aad vhh lonxthiag at ber sidet 
Nor till abc has lind and died, 
Lived and died, and liicd ag^tn. 
Will that awful dtiog Ktm plain. 



6gj 



m 



WILLIAM PHILPO 



7S7* 



Mdriia Su4e 



low. 1 



/^P 4I] the Aowcn rising now, 
^— ' Tho« only Mw'n ihe Iwad 
Of thai uAopen'd drop of snow 
I placed bc)^ Uiy bn). 






In >ll ibc blooms ilut blow 
Tlon hut IK) funher )Mit, 

Save those the hour I uw thee 
1 laid abore thy heart. 

Two snowdrojM for onr boy snd | 
A primrose blown for me, ^ 

Wreailied with om oftea-play'd-wil 
Ftom each briglit head (m tliec. 

And M> I f;rdced thee for thy gia] 
And nude thc»c tokens fut 

^'ith that old silver bean I giTc^ 
My first gift — and my last. 



I drewn'd, ber bibe upon he« brea^ 
Here she might lie >od calmly na 
Her h^npy cya on ibai far UU 
That baclu the lacKbcape freah at 

I hoped her thought* would thrid 
Where careless birds on love cai 
And gaze those af{)le-bloasonu 
To revel io ibe boundless \i^m. 

tD6 



WILLIAM PHILPOT 

But DOW bcr Otcuhy of ligbt 

It ablcT Sttcer Co the light, 

And tnnls fnc md nnconGiwd 

Througb dnuc and rare, through rorm and mind. 

Or ebe ker life ta br complete 
Hith (bund new chaniK'U full and meet— 
Then, O, whut ryes *« leaning o'ct, 
If fitter tkui tbef were before! 

WILLIAM (JOHNSON) CORY 
S, JUimnermus in Church 

iRij-itf* 
yOU promivc braiYnR free frooi strife, 

* Pun uutk, and per f ect change of willt 
Bm sweet, awcct is this bunun life, 

So sweei, I fain would breathe it uiU| 
Tow chillj tUfS I can forgo, 
This warm kiad world U all I Icdow. 

You Mjr there U no substance bene, 

Cm fRSt Tc«lily above: 
Back from that mid I shrink to fear. 

And cfaild-&ke hide myself in fawc t 
Show roe wbM angels feel. Till then 
I cling, a mere weak nun, to men. 

You bad me lilt my mean desires 
From faltering lips and 6tivl vdat 

To sexless souls, ideal quires, 

Uoweatied voices, wocdieu stndm: 

My mind with fonder welcome owns 

One dear dead (riead** rvmember'd (ones. 



WILLIAM (JOHNSON) COl 



Forsooth ttie )i(c!«nt we imisi gnp|| 
To that which cannot pas» iw^ 

All beauteous things for which we 
By laws of lime and space decaj 

But O, tlie leiy reason wliy 

I clasp tlieni, a becstise they 



7;jj. 



Heraditus 



1 



'T'HEY told me, Heracliius, they told me yr 
* They brought me bitter ocws to hc*r ai 

to shed. 

1 wept as I rcmcmbcr'd how olteo you and 
Had tired the sua with talking and sent him d 

And now that thou art lying, my dear old C 
A handful of grey ashes, long, long ago ai r 
Still are thy pleasant voices, thy nightingales, 
For Death, he taketh all away, but them be, 



COVENTRY PATMORB 

Hij, mlirr nuAs more fair tbe heigtit 

Which cas with wlcly W oeglKt 
To <lmd, ks lowtT ladies raijthi, 

Thu grace could nM«t with dhrtsfcctt 
That she with happy favour feeds 

Allegiance from a love to high 
That thence no falw conceit proceeds 

Of diflemce bridj^ or state put by i 
BccauM althodgh ia act and word 

As lowly a« a wife can be. 
Her manners, when they call me lord, 

Remind n»e 'tis by courtesy j 
Not with her lean cor(«(M of will, 

Which would my proud at!cctiaa hurt, 
But by tbe nobk style that still 

Imputes aa unaitain'd dewrt; 
Because b«r fiiy lod lolty brow*. 

When all b won which hope can ask, 
Rdea a (ight of hopelcH mows 

That bright in riigin ether huki 
Became, though free of the outer court 

I am, this Teai|Je keeps hi shrine 
Sacred lo Hexvent because, in short, 

She's oot and laetei can be mine- 



7rf/, 



'/ffuerr denti* 



< T P I wtte dead, you'd soiaeiimet say, Poor Child ! * 
L ^ The dear lips tiWTcr'd as they spak^ 

nd ibc teat) brake 
From rye« whkh, not to grieve me, brightly nniled. 
Poor Child, poor Child I 
I Mem to hear yout laugh, your talk, your soflfr 



^. 



COVENTRY PATMORE 



4 



It is not mie that Love trill do dd 

Poor Child! 

And did you think, when you so cried 

How I, in lonely nights, should lie Jw 

And of those words your full avengett 

Poor Child, poor Child! I 

And now, unl<?s9 it be 

That 5weet amends ihHce told are com 

O God, hare Thoo Be mercy upon mi 

Poor Child ! 



7ff2- 



7>eparture 



I 



TT was not like yoiu' great and giacic 
■* Do you, that haye native other 

Never, my Love, repent 

Of how, that July afternoon, 

You went, 

With sudden, unintelligible phrase, 

And friiiliten'd eye. 




COVENTRY PATMORE 
tiMg cbe hminous, [MtlKik lulk 

Whilst I drew ncv, 

BecMM yon vpoke n low tlut I could tcucdf hear. 

Bat tU at once to leave me n the last, 

Moie M tbc wonder than the loiit ■ghut, 

With budJlcd, untntclligSble phruc, 

And frightca'd eye. 

And t9 y**^ jouraejr of ail dajn 

With not one kiss, or a good*t)yc, 

And the ody lurcksa \o6k the look wiib wlucb jou t>«u'd : 

Twu all Bolike yow gnu aad grackM* ways. 



Wfifs. 



The Toys 



AjI Y little Son, fflio Iwk'd froia tb«tgbtful tyci 
^*^ And mond and ipokc in quiet gtoviMfi wix^ 
IHaving my law the KTenth time diiobey'd, 
1 (track lun, and dismiat'd 
Wiih hard wonls and nnkiss'd, 

Hi) Mother, who was pattern, bdag dead. 

fiiaiing leu his grief tbotdd hinder ileep^ 
raited hii bed, 

Iband Urn sismbcring dcep^ 
'idi darken'd tydids, and their luhes yet 
ran his btc Mhbiag wet 
I, with noaa, 

away hj* tears, left others of my own t 
or, on a table drawn betide his bead, 
He had put, within hi* fcach, 
A box c^ counters and a rtd-««in'd non^ 
n piece of gins abnded by the beach, 



COVENTRY PATMOM 



And SIX or seven shelly 

A bottle with bluebells, 

And two French copper coins, ranged there 

To comfort his tad heart. 

So when that night I pray'd 

To God, I wept, and said : 

Ah, when at last we lie with trancM 

Not vexing Thee in death, 

And Thou remcmbercsl of what toy» 

We made our joys, 

How weakiy nnderstood 

Thy great commanded good. 

Then, fatherly not less 

Than I whom Thou hast moulded trom 

Thou'lt leave Thy wrath, and say, 

'I will be Sony for their childishness.* 



7tf^ 



ji Farewell 



COVENTRY PATMORE 

When the one ilM(in{ of our widowhead, 

The iwnling Cntf, 

UAmi, 

And BO Aewi blur onr vft» 

To Kc the peach-Uoom come io evnung ikin^ 

pCTchknce we miy, 

Wbcre now this night it day, 

Aad ma through faith of nil! ivenK) ftrt, 

Miking Ml circle of out bainbhmem, 

AnuxM meet; 

The bitter joomry to the bosme » sweet 

StMOOaDf the termless intu of our content 

WUl tcus of recognition ocvrr dry. 



SYDNEY DODELL 

rrfj-. Tie BallaJ of Keith of Jiavehtom 

npHE nuraitir of the mourning gho4t 
* TS« keep! the tbadowy kine, 
' O Keith of RaTetuon, 
Tbe sorrows of thy lioe I * 

■^ RitdMOB, RxtrUtrm, 

Tb« merry \aaii thn leads 
Down tbe golden moraing hill, 
And thro' the «l«cr HMMlsi 

Rare1«U>D, RiTclMon. 

Tbe mile bmrMh tbe tref. 
The mud thu kefi hrr mother's kiae^ 

The Mtig thn ung she ! 





SYDNEY DOBELL' 

Sh<; sang her soog, she kept her I 
She sat beoeach the thorn, 

When Andrew Keith of Ravelstoa 
Rode thro' the Monday monk 



His henchmen sing, his hawk-belli 
His belted jewels shine; 

O Keith of Ravelston, 
The sorrows of thy line! 



> belli 

I 



Year after year, where Andrew cai 
Comes evening down the glade, 

And still [here ^ts a mooosbine g 
Where tat the sunshine maid. 

Her misty hair is faint and lair. 

She keeps the shadowy Icioe; 

Kcitli of Ravclston, 
The sorrows of Uiy line! 

1 by my hjnd ujion ilie stile, 
The 5iile is lime and cold, 

The liurnie tlini j;oi.'S bjbblirg by 
S.lys naught thai c;in be told. 

Yet, stranger ! here, from year to 
She kei-ps her shadowy kinc ; 

O Keith of Rinelsion, 
The surtUMa of thy line! 

Step out three steps, wliere Andre 
Why blanch thy cheeks for fear 

The ancient stile is not alone, 
'Tis not the burn I hear 1 



9"* 



SyONEY DOBELL 



Be 



She nulcea her unmeniorMl miota, 
Sbe Iceepa her ihadowjp klnei 

O Keith of Ravelsiofl, 
The MitTOwt of thy Unci 

^7<f^. Return ! 

I ETURN, nturn! til mgbi ray Ismp !> burning, 
AQ nighi, like it, my wid* ryes watch aiid bum ; 
.'Ax it, t fiulc and ptlc, whca day returning 
Bears witsns that ibe abwnt cu leCun, 
Return, return. 

jEke El, I tnsen with ■ lengthening sadness, 
Like i^ I bum to waste and waste to burn. 
Like it, I spRw) the golden oil of gladneu 

^ T o fred the MfTOwy signal for return, 

^^ RRtitn, irturo. 

^Kike h, like it, whene'er ibe eut wbd nngi, 
^P bend and shake j like it, I <]uake and yram, 
~Wheo Hope's Lite bulierflics, with whiapcring wing*, 
r Fly io out of the daik, lo &II and ban — 
^H Bunt in the watchCre of miam, 
^* Return, return. 

Like it, the i-ery flame wliereby I ptne 
Cbasames me lo its nattire. While I mouin 
^_My aoul be co n»ea a better soul than mine, 
^■And from its brigliicniog beacon t discern 
^Bfy (tarry lore go fbnh fmiii me, and shine 
^^Kcron the seas a path for thy return, 
^B Ronini, itturo. 

^Return, return ! all night I see it burn, 
Ail nigbt it pnys like me, and Hfl^ a twin 



SYDNEY OOBELL 

or (wlmM prw^ hand* thai mm mJ jnti 
Vrxm to ibe impleailed akin for ihy miint. 
Dny, tike B golilen fctur, locks ihrm in. 
And wans the li^t thiil nilben, iho* ic hen 

As w«nnly still for thf msmi 
Siill tluo* the »{ilcadid load opUrts the thin 
Pale, fal«T, pslen patience that can learn 
Naught but thai rotin tigo for thy murn— 
That aioflc supplant sign for thy rrtvrSi 
Retun, return. 

Return, return ! let hap-ly, Iotc, or <•'« 
Thou touch the lamp the light hire ceased la 
And thou, who thro' the window didst dhcern 
I'he wonted flame, shalt reach the topmoM MM 

To find no wide tyta watchiox tlwe. 
No withrr'd wtlcwnc wddng thy rctuin! 
A passing ghost, a snxAc- wreath io tbe air, 
The llamelesi ashes, and the soollen mm, 
Wum with the liunuh'd liTe that tired lo lam 
Bum out its lingeiii^ life for thy rctuin, 
lu last of lingering life for thy return, 
lu laU of ItngeiiDg life to light thy late 
Return, return. 



7tf7. 



yt Qxmted Calendar > 

FIRST came the prinvoK, 
On the bank high, 
Like a niaideo lookiog forOi 
Prom the window of a tower 
When ihc battle roDs below, 
So look'd she, 
And »w the sionns go bj 



ftrA 



SYDNEY DOBELU 

Then cunt Uic wind-Aow«r 
In ihr nilcj left bctiiad, 
Ai a vioundcd maidcti, pale 
Wnh inirpk sbtaks of woct 
Wbea Uie bulk hu roll'd by 
Waadcn to aad fro, 
So loMcr'd the, 
JUahtnli'ii ia tlie wiad. 

Then came the duties, 
On the fmt of May, 
Like ■ bvuxr'ij thow's adnac* 
Whik the crowd niu by the way, 
ten tboMHod Aowen about them ihcy came Dooping 
^ ihrougk the fieldi. 

As I bappy ffOfk come, 

So camt ih«y, 

At a happy [xoj>le come 

When ilie war baa roll'd away, 

With doace and taboe, pif>e and dnioi. 

And all make holiday. 

Tbea came the cowslips 

Like a dancei ia the fair, 

She apnad her httlc mat of grcra. 

And od it daaocd the. 

With a fillet bouod about her bcow, 

A fillet tcond her happy brow, 

A £oMen &lki round her braw. 

And ribica in her hair. 



W 



SYDNEY DOB ELL 



76S. 



Laos 7)e« 



IN the lull the codSe wnts, aod the 
^ At hif^ belt the cofBn nuts, and tb« 
The bH of stitc it hiMig wkh cnpe— the 

whtre »he «« wed — 
And like an npnsht coqMc chc situih gazing diu 
Hour b; honr lier MTTing'flWfi «ni«r by llie 
And with Hcpt of muAcd wee pu bfSM 

silent Boor, 
And manlial nuffrltr romd, a&d look from 

with «yelids rcdi 
'Touch him oot,' ihe sbriek'd and cried, 

dcidl' 

'O my own dtar mi««iw,' the ancient Ni»n 
'iScTCR long days vaA scren loog ntgha you 

him where be lay.' 
■ScTen long days a&d sewn loag nights,' the boai 
'Seven long days and Mtefl long nigfacs, 

Warrener gray) 
'Seven,' nid tbe old Heachmau, and how'd 
' Od your livet ! ' *he iliriek'd and cried, ' he is b 
Then a father Priest tbey sooght. 
The PricM that U^t brr all she kl 
And they told him of her loss. 
' For she is mild and iweet of will. 
She loi-ed him, and Id* word* hc f 
And he (hall bcal her ill.' 
But her watch she did doc om^. 
He bleu'd her where the sat distnu 
And show'd h«j boly cnns, — 
The cross she kiss'd from year 




SYDNEY DOBELL 

the odtbcT nw nor heardi 

And Had be in her deaf vtf 

AU be had been wont to inch, 

AQ she hid been ibnd to hear, 

MiMtfl'd fnytr, nd solemn ^wecb, 

Bat ilie WBu-trr'd not ■ word. 
ily wbcn be turo'd to tpeik wtiii tho»r who wept sboul 

the bed. 
te your Brcsl' she slirich'd rmI cried, 'he is but newly dead!' 
sen how ssdly lie ture'd from ber, it were wonderful to tell, 
Etd be stood beside the deatb-hed u by one who ilumbcn well, 
nd he lean'd o'er him who Uj there, and in cautious 

whitper bw, 
Ic b not dead, but sleepMh,' said the Pnrst, aad smoMh'd 

his brow, 
>lee|ietb i ' Mid she, tookinK up, and the mo nae h ber face ! 
"le must be better than I tbMj^ht, for the sleep i« very sound.' 
ie is better,' said the Priest, and cali'd her imidena rouod. 
'ilk then cme that ancient dame who nursed ber when 

■ cfaildi 
iNMncI* sbcsigh'd, 'O Nurse!' the cried, 'ONunel' 
■nd then sbe snkd. 

And then sbe wept) wiib that they drew 

AboM her, a* of old i 

Her dying eyes were *wc«t and blue, 

Her tr«inhliii)t touch was cold; 

But ibe said, 'My maidens true, 

No neat wecpiitj and well -away; 

Let tliem kill the feast, 

I would be happy ia my sod. 

"He it better,"* »kh the Priest ( 

He did but sleep tbe weary day, 

And will waken whale. 



SYDNEY DOBELLL 



Carry me to Us dear «de, 
Aad [« the halls be tiimi 
Whistly, wliistly,' said she, 
' I am wan widi watchiDg an 
He must not wake ta see me f 
Let me sleep with him. 
See you keep the tryst for met 
1 would rest till he awake 
And rise up like a bride. 
But whistly, wbisily!' said she," 
'Yet rejoice your Lord doth Urt] 
And for His dear sake 
Say Laui, Domine.' 
Silent they cast dowa their eyes, 
And every breast a sob did rive, 
She lifted bet in wild surprise 
And they dared not disolwj'. 
' Laui Dee,' said the Steward, hoary whco her Ai 
'Lout DtB^ said the Warrcacr, whiter than the ' 



SYDNEY DOB ELL 

But she titilbet wm'd Kct l5*»d 
Jot 'Whi«ly, whi«ijr,' »id she. 
'Hrr hands wtrc folded as in cmce^ 
Wc laid her with her uiacat na 
knd »0 the village wrpt. 



WILLIAM ALLINGHAM 



Tiif Fairia 

[P the niry moontatn, 
Down the ni*hy gteo, 
}Vit djTffl't go a-huftliftf; 
For feat of liule men t 
Wee folic, good folk, 
Trooptng all together; 
, Creeo jacket, red c*p, 

And wlitt« owl's feather I 

'Down along the mcky there 

Some nuke their home, 
They lit on crispy pancakes 

Of yellow tide-foam ; 
Some in the reeds 

Of the black niountain Jake, 
With frog* for theit waich-dog% 

All night awake. 

ligh M the hnUop 
The old Khg sia ; 
He is now so oU and gray 
He'* nigh lost his wits. 



>>M-i«IP 



WILLIAM ALLINCHA 



With a biiilge of white nnst 

Columblull he crosses, 
On his stxiel; journeys 

From Slieveleaguc to Rossesf 
Or going up with music _ 

On cold siany nigha I 

To sup with tlie Queen 

Of ifae gay Nonhera Light!. 

They siole little Bridget 

For seven years long ; 
When she carae down again 

Her friends were all gone. 
They took her lightly back. 

Between the oight acd momxi 
They though! ihai she was last 

But she was de^ with sotioi 
They ha?c kept her ever siace 

Deep within tiie luke. 
On a bed of flag-leaves, J 

Wsf-Kmn till >t>. _~w. ^ 



1 



I. 

1 



WILLIAM ALLINGHAM 

Wm Folk, good folk, 

Tnwpiog all togetbcTt 
GiMB jacket, red cap, 

And white owl't feather I 

GEORGE MAC DONALD 

ho. That Holy Tbmi 

THEY all were looking fcr a Ibg 
■* To ilty ibcir foM and lift dietn hi^h ; 
Tliou care'n, a littlr habjr thing 
Thai nude a woRias cry. 

Soa of Man, to right my lot 

Naught but Thy ptnencc cm anil ; 
Yet 00 the road Thjr ubeds arc oot. 
Nor on the Ka Thy uil I 

My liow or wbra Thou wilt not heed, 

But come down Thine own secret stair, 
That I'hon mayst answer alt niy Deed— 
Yea, every bygone prayer. 

DANTE GABRIEL ROSSLTTI 
71. The BUsskd 'Damaxei 

iM-ttSt 

'YHE UeMM Danwzri lea&'d em 

■* From the gold bar of Hrarm : 

Her blue gra« eyes were deeper macfa 

Thia ■ deep water, eren. 
She had iJutc liUes in her h^iod. 

And the »lan b her hair were icmi. 



DANTE GABRIEL ROSfi 



Hcf robr, ungitt rraoi diisp to 
No wTOoght 9awm did xlora, 

But * wlitw rose of Mary's pft 
On the OKk meetty womi 

And her lu«r, lying down bcr 
Wu yellow like ripe corn. 

HoMem'd she scarce had bera . 

One of God'« cbori»«r»; 
The wonder was oot ftt quite 

From that [till look of hen] 
Albeit, to than she left, her day 

Had counted as ten ytats. 

(To oar tl i» ten y»ara of yean: 
. ; . Yet iww, here io this place 

Sureljr she lean'd o'er me, — ber haif 
Fell aU about my face. 

Nothinjt: the Aiitiumi-/all of lea' 
The whole year seta Bpace.| 



t leans^ 



It wu the terrace of God's 
That abe was standing oo, — 

By Cod built over tlie ibcrr depth 
la which SjMce is begun ; 

So high, lliat looking downward the 
She tcaroe couM loe the no. 

It lies from Heatm across Uie flon 

Of ether, as a bridge. 
Bene^ith, the tides of day and ni^it 

W'iih flame aad darkness ridge 
The Toid, as low as where this ean 

Spina like a fretful mklgr. 

m 




DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI 

Dm m iboM tncts, with her, It wu 

Tbe peK« of uttrr lijin 
And litnue. For no breeze tnty itir 

Along the Keady flight 
or smpbiiB ; DO echo ibere. 

Beyond all depth or height. 

Hrud htrdljr, mbio of hex new rrieods^ 

Playing « holj gwnn, 
Spake, gnitle-fiMutfa'd, among ibcnasdvet^ 

Their fifgioal cha*le turaet; 
And the Mwb, —^"i"g up to God, 

Wcu by her like thin fanua. 

And itill ihe bow'd benrlf, and ttoop'd 

loco the TUt irutc calm ; 
T3I her boMm'i pmsurc mnn haie made 

The bar ibe leaoM on want^ 
And the Uies luy a» if uleep 

Aloflg her bended ann. 

Prom the fixt lull of Hearrn, &hc hw 

TidK, like a pulsr, &h^c fierce 
TlwMgh all the woikli. Her gaxc sttll »lroi^ 

la that iteep gulf, to pierce 
"^K awann ) and then ^le ipoke, at wbea 

The Stan aang in their tpfacrcs. 

* I with dut he were com* to nw, 

For be will come,' she said. 
'Hare I not pny'd in solenn Hcuteaf 

On eutfa, baa he Dot pray'd? 
Are not two ptayen a perfect a o en gth ? 

And ibaU 1 feel afiaklf 

9*S 




An 

I 

t 



m 

•At 

I 

13m 

S 

Fine 

(Ah 
fiefb 
Ate 



DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI 



I 



AU% and though the end were rmch'd t . 

Wu lij put undmiood 
Or bcKM in uuit ! AoA for her take 

ShaH this (oo bt fouod good? — 
MsT ihr clue lips that kocw not prajrcf 

PruK et«f, thovxh ihcy would?) 

•We two,* the wid, 'will seek the gtotw 

Where the lidy Muy ii. 
With brr 6*« hmdnuidou, whoie n»atn 

An Eve swe<^t tymphontei i— 
Ceeilj, Gennidc, M^igdakti, 

Margarrt and Rowly». 

'Grclc-wise sit Uiey, with bound lock* 

And boMnu co*eiid ; 
Into the fine cloth, white like Hiine, 

Weating the golden ihrod. 
To (i»hion the binh-robe^ for tlmi 

Wbo in juu boro, being dead. 

'He (kill fear, haply, and be dumb. 

Then I wiH Itf tny cheek 
To Im, end lell about tmr Iotc, 

Not o«ice ab««h'd or wnk: 
And tbe dtar Mother will tppnsn 

Mjr pride, and let me speak. 

* Henelf shall bnng na, hand in luad. 
To HiiD toood whom all BouJa 

Knc«l— the uanijmbrr'd aolenm htada 
Boiv'd with their auieolcs: 

Aod Aogds, meeting us «hall sing 
To their citbnna and ciiolea. 





DANTE GABRIEL ROSSEl 

'There will I ask of ChHst the La 

Thus much for bim and me: — 
To have more blessing ihaii on earth 

lo nowise ; but to be 
As then we were, — being m thea 

At peace. Yea, verily. , 

' Yea, verily j when he is come ^^| 
We will do thus and thus : 

Till this my vigil seero quite strange 
And almost fabulous; 

We two will live at once, ooe life) 
And peace shall be with us.' 

She gazed, and lisiea'd, aod then sd 
Less sad of speech thao mild, — 

'All this is when he comes.' She 
The hght thrill'd past her. fill'd 

With Angels, in strong level lapse. 
Her eyes pray'd, and she smiled. 

(I saw her smile.) But sooa their t 
Was vague 'mid the poised sphere 

Aod then she cast her arms along 
The golden barriers, 

And Lid her face between her hjndj 



And 



(I hejrd her teai^s.) 



CEORGE MEREDITH 



Lwe m the frailer 

ktSM 

%K yoedn bnch-tnt siogtc on the gren-swa/d, 
hiefa'd uriih her iixM behind bur fjolclm hu»d, 
|d tmsct foUed to itip and ripple idl/, 
tojr yoong love sleeping in the slude. 
be be*rt lo slide un iim beneath her, 
ibcr {uniug lij« H her wust 1 gAiher tk>w, 
^ munDcni At could not but enbnMX me: 
woald she hold bm and never let ne go J 



m 



jbe tqiurret lod mym/d u the svrallow, 
In the vwatlow «loi^ tbc rirtr's light 
% tbc suHace to meet tis inirtor'd wingleu, 
r Uie seems in her stay ibu in her iSght. 
ike tKjtuirel that lex|ia unoDg the pt)K-U)|», 
Old as the swiUow oierhead at set of sun, 

I lore is hud to utcfa aad coaijncr, 
libnt O the glory of tbc winaiiig wen bhc woal 



flKKber tends her before tbe Uugbii^ raiiror, 
vf her bees, looping up her hair, 
dnsks, were this wild thing wedded, 
should I lui'e, and much tevt care, 
tr moiher tends her before the lighted mirror, 
uag her laces, corabtog down her curb, 
t tUnks, were this wild thing wedded, 
Id nuss but one for mmj hoys and girls. 
> - * 




GEORGE MEREDITH 

Heartless she ia u the shxlow in the lunAi 

Flying u> the hilb oo a blue aad hrwiy a 
No, she i> Btbim and drinkUig up her wmwli 

Eanh to htr is jouag u tbe iJ^ of the J 
Vhiii she an iinkinclKSi, 'tis but her rapid ifl 

Evrn as in ■ duicc; lod ber wiile can h< 
L&e ihe sonngtm May-doud that pdu the 
hoibtoon 

Off a wnojr border, xhc wu nutde n 



LoTcty ve tbe cimes of the white owl 

Wavy in tbe diak lit by one Urgt v 
Lone on the fir-bnndi, ha ratde-note un 

Brooding o'er the gloom, spini tbe brown 
Darker gron-s the ralley. more and more for 

So weir it with me if forgetting could be 
Tell the giamy boltow that holds tbe bubbly 

Tell it to (orgM the source that keep4 it i 

Stepping down tbe hill with her (ak 

Arm in arm, all agaioit the raying West, 
Boldly she angs, to the merry tune sbe 

BriiTc t« her ^ape, and swcrter ubjxmscm' 
Sweeter, for sbe is what my hcait first 

Whiipcr'd the world w.isi morning light ii 
Loie that so deiires would fahi keep her 

FaiQ would fiiog the net, and &in have ht 

Happy happy time, when the white star 
Low oter diin fields fnslk wid) bloomy 

Near tbe face of dawn, that draws athwart 
Threading k with colour, lil:e sewbcnia 



GEORGE MEREDITH 

cr crowd tint tfaadn u th« frate Eut decpni* 
tlowing, and wkh crioMa » loojt cloud iwdlx. 
en wU 111* mora »; and Mraoj^ the ti. Mid tccrn; 
' her eyes ; her clwck* m coM as cold wa^shelU. 

leaning on our wMihcrv hills and EglUsns 
^ild clood-mounoin* thit drag the tiilb aloBf;, 
tnd> die daj of j-our shifting biillbat lugbter 

■s a dull face rrowoing on a MAg. 

abows \\tt South-west a ri(>|>le-fe)ther'd bowm 

lo tdvei whil« the dowh ate »bak«i and ascend 
; lite raid-heBTcn* a* they stream, tbm cooncs a ivi><t 
ich, deep Eke lore in beauty witboo nid. 



dawn ihe »ighi, aad like an bfani to the wndov 
gnite ejn cnviag light, rdeaicd from dreaiDK, 
the ioais, like a white vsUr-lily 
■I of bud to b4rais of the ttreanu. 
When fiwn bed ahe t\ae> clothed (ma neck to ankle 
Ib ber tong nightgown iwm aa bought of May, 

Efiil »he look*, hke a ull gtrdci»^ily 
; from the night, and splendid for the day. 
r of iInc dewi, dufc rye4«sb'd twilighl, 
L>ew-41dded twitighl, o'er ihe valley's bnm, 
RnaadfBg oa thy breast wnga ihc dcw-drltghlcd tkylatk, 
Qow as though the dewdnps had their loice in hira. 
ECddcB where the rose-flush drinks the njlass planet, 
Pb — ah -fall he poore ths ipsyiag fawBda-tho w i a . 
Let ne hnr her Infhter, I woidd bs«« ber effr 
Cool as dew n twiligbl, the larit aboim the tkf»tt%. 



GEORGE MEREDITH 

Vll the ^ih m out wkb tbrir baakcta for 

U]i laaca, wood* through, they troop in 
My sven tucU : *he knowi not why, but 

Eyn ibc bent incmome*, and hangs btr 
Such a look will tell that the violets an 

Coming the tosc: and uaawarc a cry 
Springs in bcr bosom lor odows and for coli 

Covert and the nigbliagxie | blie knot 



Kcrchirfd bud and cMn she d<ru between 

Strctming like a willow gray id arrowy 
Some bend bciiirti cherk lo graicl, and their 

She will be; &he lifts them, and oo she 
Black the dii'ing raincloud breasts the iron 

Sbc is forth to chtex « neighbosr lacking 
So when sky and grau met rolling dumb f 

Saw I once a wliitc dove, sole ligbt of. i 
• • • 

Prim Etde schotan are the ttowcra ot 

Train'd to »iand in rows, and asking 
1 might love them wcU but for loving more 

O my wild ones ! they tdl nte more than | 
You, my wild one, you tell of honied field-r 

Violet, blueing e^aotine in hk ; and ere 
They by the waytidc ate caicnt of your 

You aie of life's, on the banks that line 



Peering al her dumber the white crowns 
Ja!<miiic windi tlic jiMch with nvs two 

Paitcd is the n-indow ; she steejis i ifac 
Breathes a falling breath that caaies 



GEORGE MEREDITH 

tweeter unpossess'd, hiTe I said ol ha mj 
Not while she sleeps : «faile she sleeps die JHUDetRdfaes. 

^ming her to loie; she sleeps; the surrj psone 
Belts me to her pillow mider white me-msA^ 

feUow whh birdfaot-trefmi nc the gns-gbdes; 

YcOow wKh dDqoefeil of the dew -gnj lerf*; 
fdlow with sio ne cr ty; the moss-flwands vc jdlov; 

Bhe-neck'd the wbett sways, yeflvws^ «> the Aaf. 
Greeit-jeUow, bunts fitom the copse the bi^ilo g nfle; 

Shup as a sickle b the edge of shadr and shiae: 
Eafth in her bcait laiiglw lookiitf at the hej rem, 

Tbioking of the barrcM : I look aod thiDk af him. 

Tbb I ma; kaow: her drc»sg and Bsdmaag 

Such a change of light shows as when the akin in iport 
Sbilt from dood to moooEght; or ed^g orer dmder 

Slips a ny of sen ; or sweeping into pan 
White sails fuH; or on the ocean borders 

White sails lean aka^ the warn icMfia^ green. 
Visioas of her shower before mc, bat Iron ey eiigfa i 

Guarded she would be like the sno were she leea. 

Front door and back of the mos^d M farmhoofe 

Open with the motn, and m a biec/y liDk 
Freshly sparkles garden to soipe-shadow'd orchard. 

Green across a rill iritere on satid the mimiows wink. 
Busy in the grass the early sun of summer 

Swanns, and the blackbird's mellow fluting notes 
Call my darling up with round and roguish challenge: 

Quaintest, richest carol of all the sin^ng throats i 



GEORGE MEREDITH 



% 



Cool was the woodadej coo! is bet wliia dl 
Keqiing sweet ihe crcam-pMi and there 

school, 
CricltMing below, nish'd brown »nd red with ; 

O the dark translucence of the drep-r^ c 
Spying from the farm, herself she fctch'd > p 

Full of milk, and tilted for each ia taro dl 
Then a little fellow, mouth up and on Ui<U)^ 

Said, ' I will kiss you ' : she laugh'd and 



1 



DoTea of the fir-wood walling high our 

Through the Jong noon coo, cnwabg tliroi 
Loose droop the leaves, and down the iJecK 

Sometimes pii>es a chaffinch i loose droo^ 
CoH-5 t|jp a slow tail knee-de*p in the ti»«? 

Breathless, given up to sun and gnat and t 
Nowhere if. she seen ; and if I sec her nttwt 

Li^hming may come, straight rains itai 



m 



GEORGE MEREDITH 

Ntghilonf on hUck pfim-bnacbrt our bccck-m* 
Gaics in tfaii wbiteivu: nightlong could I. 

M«re nuy hft on dotli or death on life be painced. 
Let me clup ber soal to know the cacDot die ! 

Gossips count ber fauhs; tbey soour > nvrow cbaiuber 
Where there ii no window, read not heaven or her. 

* When »he «-» » ^Jy' ooe «f>M womtn ({luvers, 
Pluck* M my hcstn and lodi me bjr ihe ear, 

Faslta the had eacc as she Icant'd to luo and tumbled t 
Faults of ftaCufC 8Cme Me, bMuty not complete. 

Yet, good goosips, beauty that niak«s boly 

^ Earth wd air, mair h«i>e fulu from bead lo Teet. 



Hither she comn ; she conKs to me ; she tinger*. 

Deefena ber brown eyebrows, while in new MTfitiie 
High riM the lashes in wonder of a manger ; 

Yet im I the light nad \mng of her ryn. 
Something framda bare told ber fills her hean to brimming. 

Nets her in her bl-ushes, and wounds ber, aod tames. — 
Sore of ber haTen, O like a doie alighting. 

Arms up, she dropp'd : cnif souls were in our namrt. 



Soon will she lie like a white frost sumise. 

Yellow oats and brown wheat, barley pole a* rye, 
I^oflg since your sheaTea have yielded to the tbreiha. 

Felt ibe girdle looKo'd, aeeti tbe trcMcx Uy. 
SoOB will fthe lie like a blood-red nunsct. 
' Swift with the to-morTow, grteo-wiog'd Spring ! 
StBg froRi the South-v'est, bring brr back ilie traants, 
.Nightingale and iwatlow, wng and dijiping wing. 



Mf 





Fiir u in 

Codd IGnd 
I would ^ 

Every woodl 
Flashing I 

Flushing like 
Streaming 

Flashing as i 
All seem 1 



773- 

WHEN I 
Sente 
Mindful were 
Who: and 
Mindful were 
Bent a bur 
How the rasi 
Sister of h 

c 

i 
1 



GEORGE MEREDITH 

Chirping none, the scukt cicalas croodi'd ia nnks : 

SUck the thistle-bnd piled its down-«lk gray: 
Scuce Um ttoay lizard suck'd hollows in his flanks: 
lliick on spots of ranfaiage our drovsed flocks hj. 
SuddcQ bow'd the chestnuts hwi#^*h a wind unhcanL 

Lengtheo'd ran the grasses, the tkj grew ^ate; 
Thco amid a swift flight of wing'd seed whiu as curd, 
Clear of Umb a Youth sniote the maner's gate. 
God! of whom music 
And soDg and falood m pun, 
The daj is dctct darken'd 
That had ihn hoe obscme. 

Water, first of singers, o'er rockjr mount and mnd, 

First of earthly HOgen, the stm-loted riU, 
Smg of him, and flooded the triples on the reed, 

Seddog whom to waken and what ew filL 
Water, sweetett soother to kiss a wotrnd aad cool. 

Sweetest and divinest, the sky-bora brook, 
Chackied, with a whimper, and made a mirrar-pool 

Round the goest we wdcoRKd, the strange hand sbouk. 
God! of ^XNn music 
Aad song and blood are pun^ 
The day is ncter daikcs'd 
That had thee here obscure. 

IXaay swarms of wild bees descentkd on oar fields: 

Sutely stood the wheatsialk with head bent highi 
Big of heart we Uioar'd >t storing mighty yieUs, 

Wool and com, and clusters lo make men cry ! 
Hand-like msh'd the rmtage; we strung the bellied skins 

Plnmp, and at the sealing the Yoioh's roice rose: 
Maidens dang in circle, on linle fists their chins; 

GoNle beasties throng posh'd a cold loog nose. 
Hh, m 




Hdpk 

Safe the 
WlarTi 

Hnng tbi 
Reddei 



Tales we 

Rocks 
Tales of! 

Ease b> 
Pleasant r 

Sure as 
He that i 

Danced 



Lo, tbe h 

Shtees i 

Ere the st 



GEORGE MEREDITH 

tiirccch'd about lus ftet, labour done, \wa« as you Kc 

Red pomccncutM tuinUe and bunt hard nnd. 
So brgaa coountion to gire ddigtu xad be 
Excclkiu m thingt iiim'd to tMlte life kind. 
Cod I of whom music 
And song and blood are putCi 
TIk dajr is ncrtr ditken'd 
That had tlxe hen obocum 

You with «belly boms, raois I and, promontory goats, 

You wboM broming beard* dip in coldest d«w I 
Bulls, Uui walk the pHCurci in kingly'flaskipg cousl 

LaurrI, trf, Tine, wreathed for ficuts not few t 
You ilut build (be ahade-roof, and you that court the raya, 

Yuo iti3i leap besprinkling the rock Mnafli-reni: 
He has been our fellow, the morning of our days t 
Ui he choie for hotumnates, and this way weaL 
God I of whom rminc 
Aad song and blood are pure. 
The day is nerer dxtken'd 
T^ bad thee bcrc obscure. 



774- 7*rd)' Sj>rmg 

'^OW the North wind ceawf, 
*^ The warm Somh-wcsl awakes; 
S»-ifl fly the ilecces, 
Thick the hlosMro-flalces. 

Now hill to hill has nude the stridr, 
And diiuaoF wa*es the withoui-endi 
Kow in tbe brant a door flings wide; 
Our fanhnt miles, our next is (Hcnd. 



GEORGE MEREDITH 

And King of Engtutd's nab of llawen 
Is thit full btrcu with mellow atopi, 
That ipau the lark for shior, Tor showm 
He drinlu his hurmd Ittjtht, and dropi. 
The lur in mmiory !ieon thac tfaingi, 
Which out of iiKiinen'd turf aod cbjr, 
Aitnia (or light pstb fMtkm ringi, 
Of Inp 10 Gfld the viurway, 
Tis tx|U4l to a «'ooda dooe, 
Whainn noifile limt renew 
Their uictu beneath the bther sm, 
A» though they cwght a broken duel 
So bird was earth an cyewinlc back; 
Ituc now the oomnoo life has coroe, 
The btoiting cloud a dappled pack, 
7*he gru»r« one nst tutdertian- 
A City clothed in snow and soot, 
With bxKpi for daf in ghoMly rows, 
Dre^s to ibc scene of boots afoot, 
The river that rellectire Bows: 
Arid there did fog down crypts of 
Play spectre upon eye aod mouth:— 
Tlietr faces are a gtats to greet 
This magic of the vhirl for South. 
A burly joy each creature swcUs 
Will) souftd of its own buogtr; queS; 
Earth bas to till her empty nxUs, 
And speed tbe service of the nest; 
The phantom of the snuw^wreatfa mdl, 
That haunts the farmer's look abroad, 
Who sees what tomb a white night bwU, 
Where flocks dow bleat aod sprouu the 
For iron Wiimr held her fimt 




GEORGE MERI-DITH 

Across her sky be laid his hand; 
And bird he surved, be uiflira'd worm; 
A lifbtlrss hnven, ■ iharrn bod. 
Her ihiTCTiag Spring ffignM Tast Hlrqs 
Tbe biurn bud« dared not unfold : 

I We need on roadft and ice to keep 
'Ilioaght of the girl we lo*c from cold. 



But DOW ths Nwtb wiad ceaKS, 
Tbe warm Sovili-west awakes, 
The heateai are out in Ikttn, 
And eanh's green banner ahakn. 



Love's Grave 



,"\jl ARK wbrre the pmsiog wind sivoots jarclin-likr, 
"^'^ la ikcletoa shadow on the beood-back'd wave'. 
Here ii a ittin| apot to dig Loiv'b grave ; 
Hrre where the poodcTMii Ireakers plunge aad stiikr, 
And dan tlieii hiuing toognes high up the landi 
In bearing of the ocean, and in xight 
or thow ribb'd wind-<ti«aks runttir.g into white. 
If I the death of Lote had dcqily plann'd, 
I ncicr could hiie made it half so Mire, 
As by the imbleu kiuea whkh ii|braid 
Tbe AiU-waked sense i or failing that, degrade I 
Ti* mannnj: btit no laoraiag can reuotr 
^Vhat we have forfettcd. I see no sin i 
The wrong rt mix'd. In tiagic life, God wc«, 
No villain rwcd be I Passions spin liie plot: 

Cy'd bv wbn is falw within. 



GEORGE MEREDITH 

776. Lucifer ih Starlight 

/^N a starred night Prince Ludter uproie. 

^— ' Tired of his dark donuniOD swung liu; fioJ 

Above the rolling tall ia cloud part scrtxn'd. 
Where sinners hugg'd their spectre of rejiose- 
Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were thoK. 

And now upon his western wing he Ican'ti, 

Now his huge bulk o'er Afric's sands cartco'd, 
Now the black planet shadow'd Arctic snows. 
Soaring through wider zones that piick.'d his scan 

With memory of the old revolt from Awe, 
He reach'd u middle height, and at the stars, 
Which are the brain of heaven, be look'd, and sank. 
Around the ancient track march'd, rank on izak, 

The army of unalterable law. 



ALEXANDER SMITH 



ALEXANDER SMITH 

All things hare something more than barren use; 

There b a scent upon the brier, 
A tremuloos splendour in the autumn dews, 

Cold morns are fringed with fire. 

The clodded earth goes up in sweet-breath'd flowen; 

In music dies poor human speech, 
And into beauty blow those hearts of ours 

When Love is born in each. 

Daisies are white upon the churchyard sod, 
Sweet tears the clouds lean down and giTC. 

The world is very lovely. O my God, 
I thank Thee that I life I 



77&. Barbara 

ON the Sabbath-day, 
Through the churchyard old and gray, 
wr the crisp and yellow leaves I held my rusding wajr; 
od amid the words of mercy, falling on my soul like balms, 
Eid the gorgeous storms of music — in the mellow organ- 
calms, 
[id the upward- streanung prayers, aod the rich and solemn 
psalms, 

I stood careless, Barbara. 

My heart was otherwhere. 
While the organ shook the air, 
nd the priest, with outspread hands, bless'd the people 

with a prayer; 
It when rising to go homeward, with > ituld and saint- 
like shioe 



ALEXANDER SMITH 



Gleun'd a face of ur? beauty with tts 

mine — 
Gicam'd and vanlsh'd in » moment — O duti 

thine 

Out of heaven, Buhara [ 




O pallid, pallid face 1 

O earnest eyes of grace I 
When last I saw thee, dearest, it was in am 
You came running forth to meet me with m 
your wrist : J 

The flutter of a long white dress, then all wasi 
A purple slain of agony was on tht mouth ] 

That wild morning, Barbara. 



I search'd, in my despair, 
Sunny noon and midnight air j 

I could not drive away the thought tliat yd 
there. 

O manv and manv a winter nieht I sat wbeti i 



J 



ALEXANDER SMITH 

In the yean I'tc ciuinj;nt i 
Wild and far my heart hu rxnffiL, 
And naaj lifi* and crrora now lure been on me aiengeij; 
BmI to you I hflTc bcm faithful whalxocier good I hck'd : 
r t lend )KM, and above my life nill hangs that Ion laaxt— 
I Your love tbe tronblins rainbow, I ihi i«cUcM cauraci. 
Still I loTc you, Barban. 

Yn, hott, I am unblm ; 
With niaay doubit oppicsc, 
. I wiodct Ifte the di-&eit wind without a fUet of mt. 
Codtt I but win you foe an hour from oft that vtarry sboce. 
The hnttga of my muI were sitli'di for Death hath wld 

you more 
Thin the mcbDcboly woild dotb know — things deeper than 
all Ion 
Yod codd cndi me, BiutanL 

In rain, in vain, m vain! 
Vou »in nfver come ngtin. 
Th*rr dfOo|M tipon ibe dtwry hills a mouniFtil frinp of 

rain: 
Tbe sioamiog closes slowly roond, knid winds are in the 

tree, 
Round ad&ih thorea for ever mmns th« hurt and wounded 

sea: 
There is no rest wpoo the wrtli, peace b with Death aed 
thee — 
Batbnl 



Mf 




T 

T* 

Th 

] 

Th 

I 

« 

Te 

I 

Ev. 

» 

Th 

Th 

r 



h 

t 

Me 



CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTi 

Now then tn poppin b ber locks, 
Whhe [toppies khe muu wuri 

, Muvt wear a red to shrosd her fxcc 
And ibc want gratxn tbcrc: 

[Oi is the Irangcr fed x length. 
Cast otr the aiti 

We never mw het with a smile 

Or with a firown ; 
Her bed Kcm'd ocTcr soft to her, 

Tliough tojs'd of dowsi 
She lillJe benlcd what sJic wore, 

Kiltie, o( wreath, or jtown i 
We think bcT while brows ohea acbed 

BescMh her crown, 
Till siliery hain show'd tti her iocks 

That uted to be to browrn. 

We itevcr heard her sjieak in bauei 

Her tone* were sweet, 
And iDodulaied ju« m much 

As it WM BMct; 
Her heart u( sitnt ihioogh the mom 

And coocourw of the siieet. 
There was no hurry in her lusds, 

No huny in het ^: 
Tbrre was no bliu drew nigh to ber, 

Th«i *he tnigbt ran to greet. 

You should have wept her yesterday, 

Waaing upon ber bed : 
'fiat wbercfore should jiou weep to-day 
That she is titadi 



BT 


Iff 


1^^^^^^^ 


UpTH 


^^^^^^^H 
^^^^^H 


1 


1 III 


V 


[ 




11 


ill 


If 
i 


1 7S]. 

1 



CHRISTINA CEORGINA ROSSETTI 

Be the gftro gnu thvn otc 
Vfilh tttavtn lad dewdropi wct( 

Awl if thou wih, reroem b er, 
And if (Jkw wik, forgK. 

I sbdil aot Mc Uie shadowat 

I shall DM fetl the ran; 
I iliall not bear tbe nightin^e 

Sing on, u if b pus; 
And d/eaning through thr twilight 

That doth not nue nor set, 
Hifj; I larf femember, 

And h«p)y niajr (brget. 



TvBKf 

T TOOK my hurt i& my hand 
* (O (uy low, O my loire), 
I said: Let me M or stand. 

Let me Iitc oh die, 
But this once heai me ipeak 

(O my love, O my lovc>— 
Yet a woman's words arc wnkt 

Yoa should speak, not I. 

Yoa took my heart in your hand 

With a friendly smile. 
With t critical eye you scann'd, 

Then set it down, 
Aad said, 'It it still unripe, 

Better wait awhile; 
Wait while tbe skylarks pipe. 

Till the com grows brown.' 



9*0 



CHRISTINA GEORGINA RC 



*»1 




9S' 



As yoa set h down it broke 
Broke, but I did not wina 

I smiled at the speech you sj 
At your judgement I hem 

But I bare not often smiled 
Since then, nor question'd 

Nor cared for cornflowers wi] 
Nor sung with the singing 

I take my heart in my hand, 
O my God, O my God, 

My broken heart in my hand 
Thou hast seen, judge Thi 

My hope was written on san( 

my God, O my God: 
Now let thy judgement stand 

Yea, judge rae now. 

This contcmn'd of a man. 

This niarr'd one heedless d 
This hc.irt Like thou to scan 

Both within ^ind without : 
Refine with Cue its gold. 

Purge Tliou its itross awaj 
Ym, hold it in Thy hold. 

Whence none can [iluck it 

I take my heart in my hand- 

1 -iluil! not die, but live — 
Before Thy face I sund ; 

I, for Thou cdlest such; 
All that I hai-e I bring. 

All that I am 1 give. 
Smile Thou and I shall sing. 

But shall not ijuestion muc 




[RISTINA CtiORGINA ROSSETTI 



783. Uphill 

r\OES ihe rosd wind upluU aQ ihe vwfi 
^ Y«, to tbe very nxl. 
Will the Axf'% jouTTKy uk« the whole long Aa.j^ 
From morn 10 n^ht, my ftknd. 

But a tbnv for the sight a mtiD]t-|ilace ? 

A roof for when the slow, dark houni begin. 
Majr noc tbe darknns hide it from my hiaei 

Yon caonot mus that ton. 



I 



Sh^ I Bwet other way^iren al night? 

Those who bate gone before. 
Tbn mint t knock, or call wben jott in aigbt I 

Tbey will not keep jrou waiting at that door. 

Shall I find comrorr, iraTd>Mre and weak? 

or bbovr fOu shall fiod the sum. 
Will tboe be bed* for me and all wbo atek? 

Tea, beds for all who come. 




Passing ylwaf 

ASSING away, saitli tbe World, [tusioj away: 
Chances, beauty aod yooih lapp'd day by day: 
ly lifc ncrer conttnnetli tn one Way. 
the eye waxen dim, » tbe dark h^r changing to gray 
It bKh won achbrr laurel nor bay? 
dull dodie mysdr in Spring and bod in May: 
Thon, root-acricken, ahalt ttot reboild thy decay 
On my boiora for aye. 
Thai t answer'd: Yea. 

19 





CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSITI 



PuHng awajr, laiih my Soul, |aKHSg nrtyi 
Vfhii iu burden of lev aod iutfe, of bboitr 
HearkcD what the pxst doth witneo and tajr 
Rum ia thy gold, a moth n ia tliine Mmj, 
A canker b io thy bud, thy leaf must dtcay. 
At midoijibt, at coclcctow, at tuoniUig, one 
l.o, the Dndegroom ihaU come and iluU iiot|| 
W«ch thou aod |iny. 
Then I anawer'di Yea. 

PassiDg away, stilh my God, |>aning 
WJBier posseth after tbt long delay : 
New grapes on tbt vise, new <i|;!> oo X 
Tuttle calleth tunle ia Heaien's May. 
Though I tarry, wait lor me, trust me, watch 
Aiiae, come awayi night ia put, and lo, it 
My lore, tny sister, my spouse, tboa ri iak 
Then I answer'd: Yd. 




7*;. 



Marvel of Marvels 



\h ARVEL of marteb, if I myself sbaU 
^'^ With mine own eyes my King to Hi> cityl 
Where the least of lambs b ipotleat white ia 
Where the least and Ian of Hints in spotless wl 
Where the diituncst head beyond a mooa is 
O s^int^, my belovid, now mouldering to tnould ia 
Shall 1 sec you lift your heads, see your cer 
See with these very eyes^ who now in darli 
Tremble for the midnight cry, the rapture, the \ 
Tht BriJigr^om ttimeth, nmHh, Hit £ridt to 

Cold it is, my belotid, since your fiiaeral bell ' 
Cold it is, O my Kin^ how cold alone on 



CHRISTINA CEORGINA ROSSETTl 



rU. fs it U^ell wilh the CbiU? 

CAFE where I c*ni>« dw jw, 
"^ Safe where I hope lo lir too, 
Safe Aon) ibe Itime inJ tl>f Tmi 
Yon, and you, 

Whom 1 r.tTCT focgct. 
Skft- from the froo and the snow, 

Sifr from the stonn ud th« «un, 
Safe where the Mtds wak to grow 
One by one, 

And to come tnck in blow. 



f»7. 



Remember 



D EMEMBER mc whm I am gone awt]r> 
^^ Gooc fu awa]F io^ t^ Mlmt bad; 

Wlieo you can no more hold me by tbe band, 
Nor I half nam to go, yet niraing suy. 
Remmibet me when no mote day by day 

Yo« tell tnc of our future tim you [ttaon'd : 

Only rasKmbei me; you tmdentand 
It wiQ be late to couoid then or pray. 
Yet if you vbouM fofgct me foe a while 

Aod aiWwards renxmber, do not griere; 

For if th« darkoeu aod comption kaiv 

A reMife of the ibooghts that otKe I had, 
Better by lar yon &bouUl forget aod »niile 

Than that you should remcmbcT and be tad. 



CHRISTINA CEORGINA ROSJ 



78S. Aloof 

"T^HE iirctpodKitc tilence of the Unil, 
^ Tbe iimponsivc (ouniliag of Utr tea, 

S[itali both oM mcsugr of one vna* to Rir;| 
Aloof, aloof, w« vaieA atoof, m> vaaA 
Thou too aloof, InmiuI with the flawlcM btid 

or inner solitude | we ImmI mk lhc« ; 

But who from diy ftdf-chain shall cm thee h 
What hrari shall touch thy hean i What haad lii; 
Aotl I am soiRCtincs proud aod socnctinxi mcd 

And UKneiimet I remember days of old 
When fillowsbip seemM not m far to seek. 

And all the world and I seem'il much Ins o 

And at the rainbow's foot by niirly goU, 
And hope f^ wrong, and life tttcif not 



?H. 



Rest 




/*\ EARTH, tic bcarily upon her ejvs 
^^ Seal h« sweet eyes weary of wa: 

Lie close aiDund lier; leave no room for 
Whh tt3 haisli laughter, oor for aouod of sj^ 
She hath do ^ctioiB, die hath no rrplin, 

Hu»h'd is and cmcun'd with a blessjd dnni 

Ol' all that irk'd her from the ho«r of birtfai 
Wtih siiUnesa that is almoU Paradtw. 
Darkness more clear than noowLay boldcUi fair, 

Silence more imiMcal than «ny soog; 
Etcn lier Tery heart has ccawd to siir: 
Until the rooming of Elc/mty 
Her rot ihall not begm nor end, but bet 

And when the wakes she mil not thtnit 



rpo. 



THOMAS EDWARD BROWN 
ZJew 



QHE knrlt upon her bnxhn'ft grave, 
"^ My liitk jiri of wx ytam old— 
He UKd to be »o good and bnn, 

Tbe iwccmc Umb of all our f<M ; 
He uMd to iihout, br lurd lo siag. 
Of ill our tribe the little kioi- — 
And M unto tbe turf her ear sbc Iwd, 
To h»k if Mi!) b that diik ]il>ce be piby'd. 

No sound ! IM MHind ! 

Dtaifa'i silence wta ftotouoAi 

And honor crept 

Imo her acliiag hmt, aod Dora wcpc 

If thii is as it ou{;bt to br, 

M]r God, I lc4rc it unto Tfacc. 



•^••v; 



7$ '• y^f^'^ 

"^^HEN Jessie comes with hei toh breast, 

^^ And yielda the golden kejn, 
Then b h a* if God coreu'd 

Twin b^i upon Hii knees — 
Twin babe« thai, each to other pre«'d, 
■last fed the Fathcr'a ann», wbercwiih tlii-^f both arc bleu'iL 

But when I think if we mutt put. 

And all thit penonil dreani be fled — 
O then my heart ! O then my u*elcu heart t 

Wouid Cod that thou wert dead— 
A clod inseiHSile to joy« and tlb — 
A stone teinotc in some bleak fully of tbe hiU* ! 




THOMAS EDWARD BROl 



Salve! 



792. 

' I "0 live within a cave — it is moat good 
' But, if God make a day, i 

And some one come, and say, 
'Lo! I have gather'd faggots in the woodf 

E'en let him stay, 
And light a (ire, and fan a temporal mood! 

So sit till morning ! when the light is grown 
That he the path can read, 
Then bid the man God-speed i 
His morning is not ihtne ; yet must thou ow* 
They have a cheerful waimth — those uhes oa 



79i- 



My Garden 



A GARDEN is a loresome thing, God woi 
■^ ' Rose plot, 

Fringod pool, 
Fcrn'd grot— 

The veriest school 

Of peace; and yet the fool 
Contends thnt Cod is not — 
Not God ! in g.irdc'ns ! when the eve is cool 

N.iy, but I have a sign ; 

'Tis very sure God walks in mine. 



J 



W6 



lEDWARD ROBi-RT BULWtR LYTTON, 
EARL OF LYTTON 

794- A Night in Ttafy 

CWEEtT «fc ihc rosy mi-iODrics of liie &p9 

"^ That lint liiss*d ours alhcit tbry km no more : 

BwcM i> the Hght of tunxt-Hilbg ship*. 
Altbo' tlicy Irave us ob a lonely shorn 

8«Mt are familiar songs, tho' MuMC difs 
Her hoUow ihcU in Thought's ferioront wcUs: 
And sweet, iho' sad, the sound of midnight Mia 

When th« oped casemeDi with the night-rain dn[». 

rbeic is s plraMtre which b bom of pain ; 

*[%« grai* of all thiogs hath its vi<JeL 
Vote why, thro' days which crrer come again, 

Rjoams Hope with that sinnge longing, like Regret : 
Vliy pK the posy in the cold dead hand \ 

Why plant the rose abore the lonely griTC? 

Why bring the corpnc acran the nit sM-wait \ 
KVhj deem the dead nvoce near in natiTc land? 

Vhy name haih been a nikncc in my life 

I So long, it fatlcrv upon Unguage now, 

) more to nac ihan sisier of ihaa wife 

OiK« ■ . . and now— nMking ! It is haid to know 
Dut such tlungs have boot, and aie not ; aad yet 
Life loiters, keeps a p«lse si nvn nicaMirv, 
And goes opon its biuiness and its pkniMirc, 
ksd knows ooc all the depths of its regret. > . . 



EARL OF LVTTOfJ 



Ah, could the memory asi her spots, as 
The snake's braod theire in spring ! ax 

^\^holly rcnew'd, lo dwell i' die time thai 
With no raiieranee of those pngs of ) 

Peace, peace ! My wild song will go wu 
Too wanioniy, down p^ths a primic pi 
Hath trodden bare. What was it jarr'i 

Some crush 'd illusion, left with ciumplcd 

Tangled in Music's web of twiotd siring! 

That started that false noie^ and crack' 
In its beginning. Ah. forgotten things 

Stumble back strangely ! and the ghost 
Stands by Deccmi>er's fire, cold, cold I a 

The last spark ouc — How could I siii 

With those old airs haunting me all tb 
And those old steps that sound when dt] 

For back she comes, tad mores reproacbl 

The mistress of my moods, and looks 

(Cruel to the last!) as tho' 'twere I, ool 



EARL OF LYTTON 

One draught of whu 1 thaU mil not igaia 

Sate wbcn my bnin with thy dark wine is brimm'i),— 

Om draught I kod tlvn uraigbi onward, spile of pain, 
And sfnte of all ihin^i clvwjted, with gaze undimm'd, 

Low'a fnotMcpt tliro' the waning Past to cxpk)cc 
Undaunted ; and to caivc in the wan liglK 
Of Hope's lut ooqKWta, on Son;;'* utmost hrisbt, 

The ud meiablMKc of an hour or niott. 

Cdnigbt, and lore, and youth, and Italy I 
I.oTe in the Und where love mtnt lotely Mvm* I 
ind of my love, tbo' I he (ar from thee, 
l-end, for love's wke, the light of thy itMonbeans, 

The spirit of thy cypress-grove* and all 
Thy daik-eyed beauty (at a little while 
To my desire. Yet once more let her smile 

'all o'ei me : o'er me let ha long hair f.ill. . . . 

Jnder tKe UessM darkons uareproted 

We were alone, in thai beM hour of time 
PtTbich (int reveal'd to us bow much we loved, 

'Neath the thick uarlight. The young night sublime 
■lung IreniMii^ o'er us. At htt fret 1 kivrlt, 

Aod gaied up from her feet ioio her tjf%. 

Her face wu bow'd : we breathed each other's sighs : 
Wk did oo< speak: not move: we took'd: we fdt. 

nie night nid not a word. The breeze was dead. 

The leaf lay vitboul whispering oil the nee, 
A* I lay at her feet. Droop'd was her head: 

One hand in mine : and one still pensively 
Vent wandering through my hair. We were togetlter. 

How i Where 1 VHm matter ! Somewhere in a dream. 

Drifting, slow drifting down a wiunl stream : 
KTliitbet? Together I tben whii matter whither f 



EARL OF Lvrroi 



It was enough for me to clasp hn h«i 
To blend with her love-looks my own ! 

Enough (with thoughts like ships that can 
Blown by faint winds about a magic sh 

To realize, in each mystetious feeling, j 
The droop of the warm cheek so dcM 
The cool white nnn about my shoulder 

Those exquisite fair feet where I was 



% 



Ho* little know they life's dJvinesC bliss. 
That know not to possess and yet rcfr; 

Let the young Psyche roam, a Beciinj ku 
Grasp it — a few poor grains of dusi ra 

See how those floating flowers, ifae butieri 
Hover the garden thro', and take do r< 
Desire for ever hath a flying foot : 

Free pleasure comes and goes beneath the 



EARL OF LYTTON 

H«9*<ti pDts an >rro oat. Sh« u ufe. The sbote 
Gbia* (oidc new roumain; or the lilicd Uwn 
A rarer ton of rose : but ah. jioot Faun ! 
To ibee ilie sbill be ctumged for vnrmon. 



not too do«e the fadtng rapture. Lean 
To Love hit toog aurorss, slowly 6eca. 

Be ready lo rcbaM ss to receive. 

Deem ihoae the ncaiest, soul to vnA, betwera 

Wbooe iJpB yet lingers rtTereace oo ■ iigb. 

Judge wbx thy mdk can reach not, laosi ilnnc vwo, 
If oQce thy soul bath seiud it. The unknown 

If Bfc to lote, religion, poeuy. 



« 



The moon had ict. Then w» not iny light, 
S»e of ihe Iciodjr kgioa'd viichfUrs pale 

In outer air, aod what by fit* nude bright 
Hot fAaaim in a roty nk 

SeaiA'd by the Umping ^y, whoac littk aftA 
Went m and out, like pauioo'ft fatsUiil hope. 
MeaawhBe th« ikepy globe began to slope 
peadctoM ihouhfer unwaid thio' the darit. 



And the nigbt pi*i'i la beauty like a dieant. 

Aloof in tboae dark beavetu pused DeMinj, 
Wiih her last star detoendlng b the ^eam 

Of the cold morrow, fron> the emptied sky. 
The hour, the diMUK« from ba old leit, all 

The lureliy and Imcneea of the pboe 

Had left a lovely awe oo ibaa fiir £mc, 
And all the bnd gitw strange and magical. 

li ^ 



EARL OF LYTTOl 

As droops some billowy cloud to the en 
Heavy with 3II heaven's leais. for all 

She droop'd lutto me, without force or 1 
And sank upon iny bosom, raurmuring 

A woman's inarticulate passiooate words. 
O moment of all momenis upon canh 
O life's supreme ! How worth, how 

Whole worlds of flame, to kuow this wi 



i 



What even Eternity can not restore ! 

When nil the ends of life t>kc hands 
Kound centres of sweet fire. Ah, npvn 

Ah never, shall the bitter with the si 
Be minglfd so m the jiale after-yeais ! 

One hour of life immortal sprits ]<ossi 

This drains the world, and leaves but 
And parching passion, and peqilextng 

Sad is it, that we cannot even k«ep 
That hour 10 sweeten htc's last Uott 



JAMES THOMSON 



7prf. 



/« the Trmin 



I 
I 



AS «c ni»h, u we nisb in tlie Tiun, 
' ^^ The iren aod ihe huuicK go wfai-eling back, 
! But the surry lieatciu abore the plain 
Come Aying <m our UkIi. 

AJI tli« braiHifuI nan of the sky, 

The ulrer dores of the Ibreat of Nighi, 

Oi(T the dull mih swann and Ay, 
CompoiMoos or our flight. 

We will rush ever on without fur ; 

Let the tool be f«r, tlte f1if;ht be Aeet I 
For we c»rry the Hc3n»i with m, dear. 

While ibc Earth Jijts JVom our f«l! 



7. SuaJa/ up the River 

kjf Y love o'er the wnccr bends <lieiaiins i 
It f>lidei}i and gbdeth Mrnvf. 
■ She am ibcrc ber owa beauty, gleamiag 
Through shadow aad ti|i|>le aod apnj. 

lel) her, thou imimuriDg river, 
As pan bet your light warcteu loti, 
low steadfast thai imajje for eivr 
Sfairtn pure in poic dqnhi of my aool. 




t~^ IVE ■ man a hone he can tide, 
^-^ Give a man a boat he can siiJ ; 
And his raok and wealth, his suength jnd 
On sea nor shore rfiall fail. 



fi 



Give a man a pipe he can smoke, 
Give a man a book he can read : 

And hb home is bright with a calm dtlighl 
Though the room be poor iodced. 

Give 3 man a gill he cto love, ^| 

As I, O my love, lo^e thee ; 
And his heart is great with the pulse of Fl 

At home, on land, on sea. 



799- 



The Fine 



'T'HE wine of Love is music, 

*■ And the feast of Love is sorg : 
And when Love sits down to the bancjw 
Love sits long : 

Sits long and arises drunken, 

But not with the feast and the v. i\ie ; 
He recleth with his own heart, 
That great, rich Vine. 



Sh 



\ 



WILLIAM MORRIS 

too. &pttmer 7)aitm 

I^RAY but one prayer lar nw 'twixt tity doie<! Iifi», 
' Tlunk but one ihoujht of me vp Ja the Mm. 
The fumincr eight wiMth, the morning Bgbt dips 

Fiiat And gray 'iwixt the learn of the Hpeo, beiwixi 
the cloud-lurs. 
That ire p«tieatly wdtiog there fat the dawn: 

FUfent ■nd colourten, though HeaTcn's (old 

Kls to AoM throogh them ^ong with the tun. 
otrt in the meadowt, above the young com, 
he heary ebns wait, aiul rcsiJeM and cold 
The uDniy wind riw« i the mes lie dim i 
Thioqgb tiMi loiiK Iwilitbt ihcf pny for the dan 
the looe house in the midst of the com. 
Speak bet one word to mc over the com, 
Otef the teedcr, Itow'd loclis of the com. 



roj. 



Jjox/e is enough 



^OVE n eMugh; though the World be B-wnnrng, 
And the woods hx\t no Toice but th« Toicc of com- 
plaining, 
hough the sky be too dark for dim eyes to discover 
The gold-cvp* and d«nes &ir blooming thereunder, 
flhough the hill* be held shaduvn, lod the sea ■ dark woder, 
^PAnd this day dnw a nil oicr all ikedi pi»M over, 
Tet their handx «hail not trnnbir, thrir fert ahall not fiher ; 
The void shall doc weary, the kxt i^al) ttoc alter 

Tht^t ltp« and tbeic eye> of the torcd and the tovet. 



WILLIAM MORRIS 



So2. The Nymph's Smg to ffyiai 

T KNOW R Utile g>nlfQ^0M 
* Set thick with tily uxl red rosr. 
Where f would wiadet if I migltt 
From dewy dawn to dewy night. 
And hvK ooe witl) lae wandering. 

And ibo^gb vilhin it no birds ting. 
And though no jiillat'd houK U then, 
And though the apple boujtiu are bat 
Of frait and blosMcn, woold to God, 
Her leet upoa the green gran itod. 
And I b^eld them as before ! 

There comes a nnirmiir from the ibocp. 
And in the pbce two fair iireami are, 
Draivn from the piride bills aJar, 
Drawn ilown unto the tvnless «ea: 
The bilh wboK flowers ne'er led the bee. 
The shore no ship bis ever seen, 
Still beaten by the billows green. 
Whose mummr oomcs unccMitgly 
Unto the place for which I cry. 

For which I cry both day and night, 
For which I let slip alt delight. 
That maketh me both deaf and blind. 
Careless to win, unskill'd to find. 
And quick to lose what all men seek. 

Yet lottering u I am, nd weak. 
Still have I left a Uttle breath 
To sctk within the jaws of death 



WILLIAM MORRIS 

An tamncc to tb» htfpj placv; 

Oaee ttea, once kist'd, otM.'^r reft fren me 
Aiugh tbe iDunDunos of tlw »e>. 



ODEN BERKELEY WRIOTHESLEY NOEL 



TSe tf^ater-Nym^ and the Bo/ 

T FLUNG me reond him, 
^ I drew him under ; 
I chingi I drown'd btm. 
H7 own white wonder ! . . . 

Father aad mother, 
Weeping and wild, 
Cuw to the foKM, 
Calliiv tbe cVM. 
Came from tbe palace, 
Down to the pool, 
Calling my dailin^ 
My beautiiiil! 
UodcT the water, 
Cold and 10 pale! 
Could it be lore made 
Beauty 10 fail? 

AJ) HM for moRalsl 
In a few mooni, 
If I bad k'ft him, 
After M>me Junes 



HON. RODEN NOEL 



111 



11 



He would have bdtd. 

Faded away. 

He, the young foamrch, whom 

AH would obey, 

Fairer than day ; 

Alien to springtime, 

Joylef I and gray, 

He \ >ald have faded, 

Fadeu away, 

Movii J a mockeiy. 

Scorn d of the day ! 

Naw [ have taken him 

AH ia his prime. 

Saved from slow poisoning 

Pi tiles* Time, 

Fill'd with his happiness. 

One with the prime, 

Saved from the cruel 

Dishonour of Time. 

Luid him, my beautiful, 

Laid him to rest. 

Loving, adorable. 

Softly U) rest, 

Here in my crystalline. 

Here in my breast ! 



804. The Old 

'T'HEY ate waiting on the shore 

For the bark to take them home 1 
They will toil and grieve no more; 
The hour for release h^th come. 

gee 



HON. RODEN NOEL 

All tbrir long life lie* behind 
Like ■ dimly blending dmm i 

There is ooihtng left lo bind 
To the rvalou that only mtiu. 

Tbey ue vailini; (<at the bo«i 
There is Dodiing left to <Io! 

What wu near them grtiwt rtmtnt, 
Hijipy tileocc fjJls like dew; 

Now the ihwJow^ blirk is come, 

And the weary iruy go honte. 

By mU wuet they wodd icat 
In the shadow of ttie tree I 

After battle tlcrp U bnt, 
Aiiei noite, tranquilLty. 



THOMAS ASHE 

hf. Mm tf^e no Antels, TansU? 

^ 1*16-109 

/"^AME, 00 ■ SibbMh nooo, tny sweet, 
^^ Id white, to find her loier; 
The fra&i grew f«oud beoeath her leet, 
The gften elro-leates >bore bm-^ 
Meet we no angcli, Pansie? 

She uid, ' We meet oa tngels now ' [ 
And toft &gha Knara'd upoa hnri 
And with white hand sbe imich'd a bough) 
She did it that great honour; — 
Whatl nttct BO •ngds, P<n»ef 

tij tfl* 




THOMAS ASHE 



\ 



O sweei brown hat, brown hdr, brown eji 
Down-dropp'd brown eyes, so lender ! 

Then what said I .' GaiJaDC rephes 
Seem flattery, and offend ber; — 
But — meet no angels, Fansic? 



Sotf. 



To Two Bereaved 



I 



VOU must be sad ; for though it is to Heai 
■^ 'Tis hard to yielii a little girl of seven. 
Alas, for me 'tis hard my grief to nile. 
Who only met her as she went to school j ^A 
Who never heard t!ie little lips so sweet ^^ 
Say even 'Good morning,' though our eyes woi 
As whose would fain be friends ! How must f 
Sick (or your loss, when eren so sod am I. 
Who never clasp'd the smiill hands any day! 
Fdir flowers thrive round the little grave, I [ira; 



THEODORE WATTS-UUNTON 

S07. iV assail Chorus at the Merfnaid '. 

/"^HRiSTMAS knows a merry, merrj- 
^--' Where lie goes witli fondest lace. 

Brightest eye, brightest hrtir ; 
Tell tlie Mermaid where is that one place. 
Where > 



Riilfi^h, 



'Tis by Devon's glorious halls. 

Whence, dear Ber, I come again : 

Bright of golden roofs and walls — 
lil Dorado's rare domain — 

9/0 



I I 



r 



THEODORE WATTS-DUNTON 

Seem iJioK haUi when *nnliglM launchet 
Shilu of gold thra' leaScu bniicho, 

■ Whne tbr winlei^« fnthcry mimk bluKhM 
Firld and fann and line. 

KOmi. ChnsUBis kootn a tntrry, mnry j'bcc, Ac 

(Til where Ayoo's wood-sjmtes »«j»e 
Through the boughs a Uct of rime. 
While ilie bdls of CbriMoias Ere 
Fling for Will the Si»tlbtd-chime 
O'er ibe rirer-Aafi embcoa'd 
Rkh wkh Downy lunet of fron — 
O'er the hicmU wbctc snowy lufu an lou'd — 
Siruia of olden time. 

HOKin. CItrinnus knows a mcny, meny place, Ac 

iaieifMn't Fritmd. 

"Tis, iDcthinks, on sny ground 
W Where o«r Shakespeare's frrt m ml 

B There Rnilcs ChristniM, holly-crowo'd 
~ Wiih his blithest coronet; 

Friendship's Tace he k»eth well: 
"Tis a countenance wlioie spell 
Sheds a bilni o'er ereiy mead and deD 
Where we lacd to lirtt. 

FUS. CliriMmM knows a mcrty, iserry place, &c 
More ibaa all the pictures, Ben, 

Winter weares l^ wood or stream, 
Cbrbuais loves our Lomdoo, when 
Rise (hy clouds of wusil-stcuB— 



THEODORE WATTS-DUNI 

Clouds like these, ihu, nrling, d^ 
Forms of faces gone, and w»ke 
Many a lay from lips vte io»«d, mi. 
Londos like a dream. 
Chokus. Chriaunu knows a merry. 

Bai Jenion. 

Love's old Mags shall nerer die^ 

Yet the new shall sutTer proofij 
Love's old drink of Yule brew I 
Wassail for new love's behoof. 
Drink the drink I brew, and singj 
Till the berried branches swing. 
Till our song make all the Men 
Yea, from rush lo roof. 

FlKAL«, 

Christmas loves this meny, merry ^ 

Christmas saith with fondest fate 
Brightest eye, brightest hair : 
'Ben. the drink tastes laic of Bck at 



d sing 
-iog, J 
ermaiifl 

n 




ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 



Come wiib bows bcm ukI wiib cntptjing of qaiTCn, 

Maiden roost perfect, lady of light, 
_Wnh ■ noise of wind* ind many rinrs, 

Willi a clanour of waters, tad with niighi ; 
lind on thy undali, O thou mou Sen, 
)vcr tJie s|>l(ndoBr tad tpced of thy feet ) 
^or (be Tmiu eut ({tjlckeni, the wan weft sbiven. 
Round the feet oif the d*y jM the feet of ilte night. 

xlull wc find her, how shall we liog to ber, 
Fold out luadt round her koea, and cling f 
ibu Bun't heart were as Hre aad could sfring ui lier. 
Fire, ot t)ie strength of the screams llu« tfi^iog ! 
For the iiMtt and the winds «r« unto htr 
At raiment, as so^gs of tlie hsip-pUyer; 

I or th« risen stus aod the fallen cling to her. 
And the southwest- wind and tlie west-wind sing. 
or winter's nios and ruins arc orrr. 
And sll the season of soon-s and sinsj 
The diys dJiiding lover and lover. 

The light tltat loses, the night that wins i 
And liiiw mMtnber'd is grief forgotten, 
Aod froan are sbin and flowers brgoctm. 
And in green underwood and corer 
Blossom by blossom the sitring begins. 

The full slreams feed on Bower of rushes. 

Ripe grasses trammel a tnrelling foot. 
The laini fresh flame of the young year flushes 

From leaf lo flower and flown- to fhiii j 
And frvit and leaf >rv as gold and firci 
And the oat is bcacd abore the lyre, 
the hoofM bcel of a satyr crushes 

The chesuutf-faiok at tlie chcMnut-root. 

m 



ALGERNON CHARLES SWINE 



And Pan by noon and Bacchus by ni^ 

Fleewr of foot ihan ihe fleet-foot kk 

Follows with dancLQg and liils with del 

The Mxnad and the Bassarid ; M 

And soft as lips that laugh and hide * 

The laughing leaves of the uees diridc, 

And screea from seeing and leave in si 

The god pursuing, the matdeo hid. 

The ivy falls with the BicchanaJ's hair 

Over her cytbrows hiding her eyes ; 
The wild vine slipping down leaves ban 
Her bright breast shortening into wgl 
The wild vine slips with the weight of 
But the berritiil ivy catches and dcavrs 
To the limbs that glitter, the feet that 
The wolf that follows, the fawn 



Sop. 



Herth* 



awn thtt 

M 



ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 

First life oa my sources 

First drifted and swam; 
Out of me are the forces 
That save it or damn; 
It of me man aod woman, and witd-beut sod biid: 
before God was, I am. 

Beside or aboie me 

Naught b there to got 
Lore or nnlove me, 
UnlcDow me or know, 
am that which unloTes me and kotreit I am itncken, 
and I am the blov. 

I the mark that is misi'd 

And the arrows that miss, 
I the mouth that is kiss'd 
And the breath in the kiss, 
K search, and the sought, and the seder, the tuul and 
the body that is. 

I am that thing which blesses 

My spirit elate; 
That which caiesses 
With bands uncreate 
J Kmbs unbegotten that measure the length of the measure 
of fate. 

But what thing dost thou now. 

Looking Godward, to cry, 
'I am I, tboa art thou, 
I am low, thoa art high ' I 
am thou, whom thou seekest to Gad him { find thou but 
thyself, thou art L 



ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBl 



I the gnin ind Uif furrow, 

llie |Jouf>h-cli>fC(i clod 
And ili( ploughthwr drawii 
The gmn uid the sod, 
The drad and tbc dotf, Hue seed tod the »v| 
which B God. 

HaK chou known how I fa: 

Child, underground I 
Ftic Uiot imjaMion'd Uiee, 
Inm UiM boand, 
J>im chanf-M of water, what thing of all 
kouwa of or found ! 

Canst ihou uy tn thine bean 

Thou haM wen with thinr cy< 
With what cunning of art 

l^ou wast wtou^ in what wi 
hf what force of what stiifT thou wast *ha|«0| 
ou Diy i}rrjsc to the tkics ! 

Who hath giTen, iriio bath sold 

Koawledgc of me { 
Has the wildemcu told n theef 
Ha$i tbou IcarM of the tea J 
Ha*t iliau cotunntned in spirit with night i ka> 
tuken coudmI with tbccf 

Hare I set sacb a «tar ^M 

To show light oa thy brew 
That thou «awen £ram thi 
What I ihow to thee now? 
Have ye spokeo ts bnUucn together, 
mounuios aad tbou i 



fGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 
Wh&i is hen, (tost ibou know h.t 
WhM wu, hast tboa kaownf 
Profhet nor poet 
Nor (ripod DOr ibrene 
nor flesh can nuke antwet, but odjr thy nmtfart 
Mother, ikx tnaker, 
BoTflt Ritd n« nudei 
Th«u{b her children fomke her, 
Allured or tifnid, 
lajioit pniycn to ibe God of thetr fuhion, die stin doc 
for all tbil haie pray'd. 

I A c/eed tt ft rodi 

And a crown is of nigbi t 
But this thing is Cod. 
To be mm wiU) thy might, 
'o 2>ow straight in the suength of thy ijiirh, and 1!(* out 
Iby life as the li^ht. 

t] am w thee to saw thee. 
As my soul in thee snith; 
Gire thou » I gaTc t)iee, 
lliy life-blood and bteatfa, 
RM leatea of thy labour, white flowers of thj thought, 
and red fruit of thy death. 



I 



OC 19 



Be the ways of thy giving 

As mine were to thee; 

The free life of thy ItTio^ 

Be the gift of it free; 

semat to lord, BOt m muter to sbte, sbah ihon 

give tbee to me. 





ALGERNON CHARLES SWQlh 



im 



children of banisttmcnt, 
Souls OTercast, 

Were the lights ye set Tanisfa IBM 
Alway to last, 
Vc would know not the sun overshining the t 
stars overpast. 

1 that saw where ye trod ^1 
The dim paths of the night 

Set the shadow call'd God 
In your skies to give light ; 
But the morning of manhood is risen, and tb( 
soul is in sight. 



I 



The tree many'raoted 

That swells to the sky 
With fiondage red-fruited. 
The life-tree am I ; 
In the buds of your lives is the sap of mv 
i\\,i\\ live and not die. 

But the Gods of your fashion 

That lake and that give. 
In their pity and passion 
That scourge and forgive, 
They are worms that are bred in the bark thi 
they shall die and not live. 

Mv own blood is what stanches 

The wounds in my bark ; 
Stars caught in ray branches 
Make day of the dark. 
And are worshipp'd as suns till the sunrise sha 
their fires as a sprk. 
9?8 



i, 



ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 

Whm dnd ago hide under 
The lite ruou of ihc tree, 
In my dvluiFtt ibe (buadtr 
Mikes uCtcnncc of me ; 
lo due dad) of my bought vhh each otbcr yt heir the 
wave* H>und of the sn. 

That (KHM is of Time, 

A> hi* feathers are spreaj 
And his feet k< to climb 
Tfarangh the bough* ovcrheai], 
Aad my foliage rings round hin and nutlet, ud fanacbcf 
atr bent with bis ircwL 



I 



The stomfviods of age* 

Blow throu}^ mc and ceaw. 
The vrar-witnl Uu* r»ges 

The nfni^wind of \)fXf. 
Ere tbe bieath cif tbem toughen oiy trestn. ere 
mjr bloMoma incrvat*. 



one oT 



All •owhI* of all cluDgcs, 
All sbKkmra and lights 
Oit Uic world'* momuin-raagea 
And ■tmnMiTOi baglm, 
Whine tooRoe i* the wind's longiR aod Unguagc of uona- 
cIoikIs oa earth-«hAkii)g nigbist 

All Fonns of all laces. 

Ail works of all hands 
In ■MtSfckable placrs 
or time-stricken lands. 
(\ll deatb and all liic. and all reigns and aU rain, drop 
through me as uadi. 



L 



ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBUI 

Though MTc be tn^ bwdeo 
And more than jv know, 
Aod my itrowth hare do 
But only to ([row, 
Vn I fail not of |;rainng far \ighuuogt 
drathwtnot bcW. 

ThcM too halt tbrir put in r 

At I too in thew; 
Svch fitv it ai bran m me, 
Such np ia this trrc'«. 
Which hath \a it all sounds and ail secrets 
and of wjs. 

Id the tpnnj-colonr'd bows 

When my mind wm u Ma) 
Tlvrre btake forth of me to% 
By cemurie* of days, 
5^1/oaE UlMsomf with perfume of manhood, 
my spirit 4ls rays. 

And the sound of ihem springinf 

And mdl of ilietr shoots 
Were as warmth and swvet sioging 
And ttrrngth lo mr toots ; 
And the Itro of my diildrea nuide perfect 
of aou) were my ftints. 

1 bid you but bet 

I bin need not of prayer; 
1 ban need of you fnc 
A) youf months of nuoe attj 
I'hx my beut nay be {rcatcr withio me, 
fruits of me fatr. 



ALGERNON CHARLES SWlNBURNli 

More fiir (h«n ttmtgc Tniit a 

Of fiutbi yc espmdct 
In roe only lix root is 
ThM blooms in yovr booshs: 
Itold now your God tfaat ye luMfe you, to feed turn 
witti Cntb of your raws. 

In tfae daikrning lad whitening 

Abysses adored, 
With (bysprioj and lightning 
For bmp uitt for swon). 
bd tbuodert in heaicn, and his aagd* ue red wiili the 
wmh of tbe Lord. 

IO my MM. O too dutiful 
Toward Gods not of me, 
Wai not I coough beautiful? 
Was it turd to be free^ 
or bdvold, I am with you, am in you and of yout look 
fonh DOW aod see. 

ILo, wing'd with world's wondeis, 
VTuh iRiracIn shod. 
With the 6m of bis thunders 
For raiment and rod, 
od trembles in bc«Ten, aod h» aogels arc white with 
tbe terror of God. 

»FoT bis twilight is coou on him, 
His anguish is facte ; 
And his ipiriu gue dumb on him. 
Grown gray frcm his fe« t 
mI bb hour ukrth bold on him suicken, the last of hit 
iofinitc yea/. 




ALGERNON CHARLES SWI 



Thoughl made him and bml| 
Truth slays and forgives; 



Ell 



lake 



you, as tunc 
This new ihiog a giies, 
E»cn love, the beloved Republic, ihat feedj 
and lives. 

For truth only is living, 
Truth only is whole. 
And the love of his giviog 
Man's polcstar and polej 
Man, pulse of my centre, and fruit of my 
of my sod. 

One hirth of my bosom : 

One beam of mine eye; 

One topmost blossom 

That icales the sky t 

Man, equal and one with me, man that is 

man tliat is I. _ 



i 



ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 

alwajri thee th« l«T*id bn^d glorin 
ADuvd of heavier suns in mightier skin; 
Thine nn knew aU dw waodering watery nglia 

rhere Uie sea tob« nwnd Lesbian pKunoncoricft, 
The barren kiss of |Hl«ous wave to vraiv 
Th^t ktto-vi DM where is that LeuCKliati grave 

^hich hides too deep the supreme heul of song. 
Ah, salt sod sterile as her kisses were, 
The wild »c» winds her and the green golft bear 

•od thither, and rex and work her wroai;, 
BBnd gods that ca&noi tpart. 



au sawest, in thin« old singing seasoa, broilicr, 
Secrets and sorrows unbehcld of ut: 
Fierce lov«s, sod lovdjr leaT-buds pasoootB, 
to tliy subtler eye, but for none other 
Blowiag hy night m some unbreathed-in dime ; 
The Udden turrest of luxurious time, 
without shape, and pleasure without tptecti; 
And where strange drrams m a tuniuhuoui sleep 
Maks ihr shut eyn of stricken spirits wctrp; 
wid) each fucx tliou uwr^t the shadow on each. 
ScMig as men tow men reap. 



ileepleM lieart attd sombre sod un^ceping. 
That wen athim for sleep and no iDore life 
And DO more lore, for peace and no more nrifi:! 
Vow the dim gods of death ba«v in their keeping 
SFUit and body a»d all the springs of song, 
Ii it wcU now wbtrt Iotc can do bo wrong, 

1* 



ALGERNON CHARLES SWI 

Wbecr stinglefs pleasuie has no foam dl 
Behind the unopening dosute of ber 

Is it not well where soul from body 

And flesh from bone divides without a p 

As dew from fiuwer-bcll drips J 



nninf 



O 



It ia enough ; the end knd the be^n 
Are one thing to thee, who m |iBst 
O hand unclasp'd of unbcholdcn Ftie 

For thee no fruits to pbck. no palms fol 
No Iriuinph ind no labgux and no li 
OnJy dead yew-lcavcs and a little dt 
quiet eyes wherein the light sailh naug 
Whereto the day is dumb, nor any 
With obscure finger silences your sij 

Nor in your speech the sudden touI spea! 
Sleep, and baTe sleep for light. 

Now all strange hours and all strm^ 1h 

Dreams and desires and sombie son| 
II,. 



r. _ J 1 — 




ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 



TIm mou h^h Mums that fiillil all agc« 
Weep, and our Goit'i heart yeutin. 

^OT, Bpinng of hi> ucrrd itrcngth, not often 
Among us dttlding here the lorii of light 
Makes mxaireu hb music knd hb mi^ht 

n hMra that open ind jo Wpn ihit lofien 

Wiih ihe »ofi flame ind hnx of MngTi that shine. 
T>i)f lips indeed he tnxh'd with bttter wme, 

Lnd nourish 'd them indeed with bitter bread ; 

Yet nrely from bis hand thjr soul's food cami*, 
The lir« ihit scarr'd thjr spirit U hit flame 

^i> lighted, sod thine huagcrrng heart he fed 
Who feeds our hearts with fame. 



rtierefore he too now ai thjr soul's sanseiting, 

Ctid of all Mffls and tongri, he too befwls down 
To mix his Uurcl vrith tbf cypirss crown. 

Lad 'ave thjr dest from blame and from forgetting. 

Tlicrcfore h« too, seeing aJI thou wert and »it, 

Companionate, with jad and sacred he-an, 

urns thee of many his chUdreo tlie lau dead, 

And hallows with smnge tears and alien sighs 

lliine cnmctodioTis mouth and sankss eyes, 

knd onr thine iirciocable head 

Slieds light from the under sliin. 

one weeps with him in the wa^ Leihettn, 
And suins with tcan hrr changing bosom chill ; 
Thai obscure Venus or tlie boUow tull, 
at tiling trmsfotiu'd which was the Cytherean. 
Wiih lips that Ion tlMr CiMian bugh divine 
Long since, sod face no nton catl'd Erydne — 



ALGERNON CHARLES SI 



A ghoot, a btner and luxwiotB god. 
Thee alto with fair fiesb and 
Did she, a tad xid tecond fnj, CMajj 

Into thr footku jiaea once raora trod, 
Aed shadows bot froni hell. 

And now no sacred tuff shall bmk in 
No choral saltiution lure to light 
A qHrit sick wiili petfunw aod sw««t 

And lote's tired eyes and haods and faanei 
TItcre is no help for thevc things; 
And oooe to mar; not all our fongs 

Will nuke death clear or make life durable, 
Howbcit with rote uid iry and wild 
And with wiM ootn about this dust 

At lean I lill tlie place wiiac wfailc 
Aod wreathe ao uoMtn sliriac. 

Sleep i and if life was bluer to thee, pardoij 
If sweet, ciie tlunks) thou hast ito 
And to fjivc thinlu b good, and to 

Oift of the mplic and the mouiniiil garden 
Where all day through ihtne hands in 
Wore the »ck Aowcn of secrecy and 

Green buds of sorrow and sin, and mn 
Sweet-stnellbg, pale with poisoa, sanj 
PauioM that spewg from sleep and thougl 

Shall death not bring m all as tbee one da; 
Among the days departed? 

For thee, O now a silent soul, my brotl 
Take at my hand* this garland, and 
"niin is the leaf, and chill the wintry 

And chill the solemn earth, a taiul 



ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 



I 

^H Wiih Mdder than the Nioboo womb, 
^H^ AbiI in Uie hollow of her brewts a (omih. 
^HCoaCem ihec, tiow^ocW, whoic diy% ire dooc ; 
^H TSne 1)M not anjr troublous thing brforc, 
^V Nor sight nof (ouad lo wu again»i tltcc taott, 
For whom all viodf arc qmt ts the ■un. 
All waters at the shore. 



ttylus 

^WALLOW, my jiKer, O sis«r swallow. 
How can thine linit be full of the sprioj ? 
A thoosaad lummers arc ortr and dead. 
h«U thou fouod ia if)« spring to follow F 

What hast thou fouod in dbine heart to singf 
Wlut wilt thou do when the lummer is ihed? 

swallow, sister, O fair swift swallow, 
Why wilt thou Ry ifto- spring to the south, 
The soft south whitber thine h>rjn is set i 
BQt the grief of the old lime foUow \ 
Shall Ml (he song iliereof clears to thy mouth f 
Haw thou forgotten ere 1 (brgetf 

my sister, O fleet sweet swallow. 
Thy way is loag to the sun and the south; 
B«t I, fulfdl'd of my hcui's desire, 
ig my song upon height, upon hollow. 
From tawny body atkd sweet small moolh 
Feed tine heart of the oigikt with fire. 

the mghtingale all spring through, 

O swallow, sister, O changing swallow. 



ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURN 

All spting through till Uir a}irin]( be do«, 
C'l(Mii«d with the bght of the ught oo ihc dn 
Sing, while the hours and the wild bitd> F( 
Take tlijhi and lollow lad &nd the WB.. 

Siiiter, my nster, O soft light iiwallow, 

Though all thing* Jtsut ia the ipriag*! gunH 
How hist ihou hesn u> be glad thnwrf 
For where tbon flic*t I shtll not follow, 
Till life fbrficl and death rcmcinbcf, 
Till tbon rciDnnbec and I forgn. 

Swallow, m; lister, O tinging itvatlow, 
J know not how thou haA hcan lo friag. 
HaM thou tl!« hean! is k all put oterf 
Tliy lord tlic suninicT ts (;i9od to follow, 
Aad fair the ft-rt of thy lom the spring; 
Bm what wik thou say to the spnog 

O swallow, sititer, O Revting swallow. 
My heart in me ui a molten ember 
Arid otcr my head tbe warcn have 
Jlut thou wouldst Lirry or I would follow 
Could I forget or thou rnnembrr, 
Couldst ihou remembet and I forget. 

O iweet stray »»er, O shifting swallow, 
Tbe heart's division dindetfa nx. 

Thy hesut is light u a leaf of ■ tire ; 
Bui mine goes fottb anMng tMt-£ulfs billow 
I'o the place of the slaying of Ityhis, 
The fesn of DniBs, the Thntdaa to. 

O swallow, sister, O lapid swaUow, 
I pray thee sing not a litde spaofe 
Ma 




ALGERNON CHARLKS SWINBURNE 

Arc not ih» rooh aod the Itawli vtnl 
The worai web thai wm filia Ui follow, 
Tbe null tUifl body, U>v flown-likc t$XM, 
Cm I niDcnibtr if tbou forget f 

O MMn, tincr, thy fint-fatgoOcnl 

Tint tuod* that cliag tod the fm tbit foUow, 
The *aic« of ihe child'* blood erpng ytt, 
/f£v lati rrmtntrr'4 ml f «Mio halh fargollm f 
Tbou hau forgotten, O lunuticr »w4luw, 
But ibe world »1mU aid when I forget. 



I 



WILLIAM DEAN H0WELL8 
t2. Earliest Spring 



T^OSSING hb maae of mows Id wUdni cddin uid 
^ tonulM, 

Waiiikc Hirch coineth in, boane, whh tcmpcstnotu bnatfa. 
rhrDU};h «U the moaning cJumiicyi, and 'thwvt all the 
hoUowi aod angtn [death. 

Rouod tbt ihiKldcciag liousc, brrsthi^g of winter ud 

But \a my heaii I feel the life of the wood attd the 
meadow 

Thrilling the poises that owo kindred wrih fib<«s ihM lift 
Ind aod bltde (o tb« suowud, withia the tnscnsiable (hadow, 

Deep ia the oak'a dull cote, under the gatbtring drBt. 

vft u> nnh's hft and muie sorMe pcnenoe or dream or 
dcsiie [goc* — 

(How thall I name it arighc?) come* for a monient aitd 
Jpoire of life inelUile, perfect — ta if in ibc btier, 
Licaflen there by my dow, tiemUn the aeaw of a row. 




ff^bat the Ballet sia^ 

O JOY of creation, 
To be! 

rapture, to fljr 

And be fVn! 
Be the battle lost or won. 
Though its smoVe shall hide 

1 shall find my love — the on 

Bom for me I 

I shall know him where he i 

All alone, 
With the power in his hand: 

Not o'erthtown ; 
I shall know him by his faci 
By his gndlike front and grai 
I shall hold him for a space 

All my own ! 

s he— 

So buid! 
It is I — all thy love 

Forelold \ 
It is I— O love, what bliss ! 
Dost thou answer to my kis! 
O sweetheart ! what is tliis 

Lieth there so coli 



JOHN TODHUNTER 

JUaureen 

YOU plant the paio in taj heart with your visiful 

Girl of my choice, Mnrrcn ! 
iU jrou drive nw miid for the kissn your ihy, sweet 
OMUth <leiiM9» 

Maureen i 

k* ■ walluag shoot I am, >ad do words to woo. 

White roK of the West, Haureen : 
V- m'» |ule you are, amj the fear that's on you is o*er 

me too, 
^K Maurcral 

^ht's OM con{diiat that's oo US| utbORi thii day, 

Pl Bride of my dttants, Maurtn : 

ne viurt of the bee (hat siuog m bis hooey must cure, 

|j^*«7 »y. 

^m Maumti I 

ll eoax (he light to your eyes, and the rose to your face, 

Maoouraeea, tny owa Maureeo ! 
fhea I feel the wamtb of youi bceui, and your ncsi is 

my arm'* embrace, 
^_ Maureen! 

Prktc was the King o' the World thai day — only mml 

My OM troe love, Maureen ! 
lOd yo« the Queen with nae thti^ and your ihrooc ia my 
hcvt, machree, 
Manrecnt 

xlc 9n 



JOHN TODHUNTER 



8tf. 



ytghaiJoe 



HTHERE'* a filade ia Aghadoe, AghMloe, 
^ Tbcrr \ 1 gmn ind silent glade in Agl) 
Whciv wc in<t, my lore and I, Lo>e'& fair pUnn in I 
O'er thn swMt and sUtnt glade in Ashadoe. 

Then '9 a gleo in Aghadoe, Agbadoe, Aghadoc^ 
There'* a deep and necret glen b Aghador, 

Where I lii<l from the eyes of the red-«oats uid dM 
Tlu! )Yii the tnniUe came ta Aghadoe. 

O, my cune on one btack heart in Aghadoe, 
On ShauD Dbu, my mother'i ton is Aghadoe I 

When your throat fric* in heU's dnMth, salt the 
in your mouth, 
For the tmchery jrou did in Aglodoe ( 

For they inck'd me (o that glen in Aghadoe, aJ 
When the price was 00 hi» bcAd in Aghadoe: 

O'cf the mounuin, through the wood, as I stole ta 
food, 
Wherv in hiding lone he by is A^iadoc;, 

But they never took him living in Aghadoe^ 
With the bullets m lus Iieut m Aghadoe, 

There lie lay, the bud, my brvau keeps the ' 
'twould rtH, 
Gone, to win the tnutot's gold, fi'on Agb 

1 walk'd to Mallow town from A^Jx^Aot, Agh 
Brought his head from the gaol's gate to __. 

Then I oover'd him with fern, and I piled on him 
Like an Iriih Ring he deeps in Agliadoe. 



JOHN TODHUNTER 

to cnep inui thx caira in Ajludoe, Aghadoe I 
There lo rcxt upon hb breui in Af;luidoe 1 
^urr yiMt dog for fou could die with no tnrr hnrt thao I, 
YcHtf own lotc, cold on jrour cairn to Aghadoe. 



sm. 



WILFRm SCAWEN BLUNT 
Sfng 



o 



b.iS40 



FLY aoc, Pkasure, pleaMiil>hMned Plnsuni 
Fold me ihy wings, I prithee, j-ct and suy : 
For my hcait no mcR-siirc 
Knows, nor other ucature 
To bay ■ prland for my love to-day. 

dioii, too, Sorrow, irnder-lieaned Sorrow, 
TIkju gr»y-eycd mourner, fly not y« sway : 
For I (tin would borrow 
Thy Md weeds to-raofrow. 
To Rial(« 1 mouroing lor toTc's yMtenJiy. 

roioe of Kty, Time's diYine dc»r PSty, 
Moved me lo uan '. 1 ducd not uy thvm nay, 

Bat po*^ forth rrwn the diy. 

Making tfaia roy ditty 
Of fair love lost for ever and a day. 



r/7. 







TAr Vfsolate City 



m 



lARK to me b the eatth. Dark to i»r are the hravtns. 
Where ts she lliat 1 lottd, tltc wom-in with «yrt 
I like tun? 

[je are the Kieeta. DrsoJate b the ciiy. 
:iiy taken by storm, where none ve left but ibe Uiin. 



Wll-FRID SCAWEN 



Sadlf I rose at dawn, undid the latch of I 
Thinking to let in light, but I oatf Irt 

fiiidc in the boughs wen: awake ; I listeo'd to 
Etch oat Mug 10 bis loTC) only I 



This, I mi in rajr bean, ix the hour of Idv 
Now each creMure on earth hu h» joy, aai 

l^ach in another's eyes (loAs tight, the ligb^ 
This b the noraent of pity, this b the 

Spetdt, O dcMlatc city ! Spnk, O silence I 
Where it site ihM I lotcd in niy 
to my soul? 
Where are those paiaionate eyes that 
in {MsioB? 
Where is the mouth that Itiu'd me, 



to my 



owni 



Speak, iliou sou] of niy soul, for rage in 
Tell me. where did^t thoo flee in llic 
and (tari 

See, my atnu icill enftJd thee, enfolding 
See, my desire it fulfill'd in thee, for it] 

Thus in my grief I lamented. Tlwn tura'd 1 1 
Tum'd tu the stair, and the ofen door, and j 

Crying aloud in my gmf, far there was 
None to mock my weakness, none to 

Growing I went, ai blind. I sought ber bou^ 
There I atopp'd at the ulent door, 
ihc latch. 
Lore, I cried, dott thou slumber? Thi« is 
Tilts is the hour of love, and love I 
9fi 



WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT 

knew the hounr, with its wimlowii burr'd, aoA in ladeu 

fig-irw, 
Climbing round bjr ilw dooretrp, the only one b the stnct ; 
knew where my bo|ie had cHinb'd to its god and therr 

encircled 
AU that thow dnoktc walb onot beld, my bclovM'i hekn. 

ttttc in my grief Ae contoled tne. She loved me when 
I loved no*. 

Sbff put her hiad !n my hand, and set her lips lo my 1>{m. 
(be told me all her paia and show'd me all Iter trouble. 

I, like a fool, scarce hnrd, hardly rdvm'd her kiis. 

.ore, ihy eyes were like torches. They changed ■» I 
beheld them. 
Lore, thy lip9 were tile genu, the *eal thou t>ette»t on 
my liie. 

Love, if I loTcd not then, behold this hour thy reageance i 
Tins is tbc fruit of thy loreand thee, the unwix grown wiie. 

Weeping itraogled my voice. I call'd out, but none inswer'd ; 

Blindly the windows guxd back at me, dumbly the door ( 
She n^oni t toie, who loved me, look'd not on my yearning, 

Care me no nwre her hands to kiss, xhow'd me no more 
her »obL 

Therefore the eanh i* dark to me, the sunlight blacknen, 
Therrfore I go in tears >ml *lone, by night and dayi 

Tbcreibre I find no love in hcaten, no light, no benty, 
A heaven taken by jtorm, where none are left but ibc abin ! 



WILFRID SCAWEN 



8tS. 



IVith Esthtr 



IJ E who has once been hippy b 
*■ -^ Out of destruction's reach. 
Holds nothing sccnrt; aod Eternity, i 

Which is a mystery to other mr 
His like 3 woman given him its joj 

Time is his conquest. Life, if it 
Has paid him tribute. He can bear 

He who has once been happy I W 
Tlie world before rac and surrey its r 

Its mean amlntions, its scant fsniasi 
The shreds of plea^tire which for lack 

Men wrap around them and cail ha\ 
The poor delights which are the talc 
Of the world's courage in iLs many 



lyii 

mi a 



IVteo I hear laughter from a tavern 
When I see crowds agape and tn tl 



WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT 

819. To Manon, on bis Fortune in loving^ Her 

~b DID not choose thee, dearesC It was Lore 
"^ That made the choice, not L Mitie eyes were blind 
^\% ■ ntde shepherd's who to some lone grore 
!t8 offering brings and cares not at what shrine 
!e bends his knee. The gifts alone were mine; 
rest wu Love's. He took me by the hand, 
.^hiM) fired the sacrifice, and poured the wine, 
Ami spoke the words I might not understand- 

I WIS unwise in all but the dear chance 
V/luch was mjr fortune, and the blind desire 
\vi»ch led my foolish steps to Lore's abode, 
And youth's suUime unreason'd prescience 
Which raised an altar and inscrSied in fire 
la dedication To tht Unhtamtu Gad. 



820. St. yalmtine's "Daf 

n^O-DAY, alt day, I rode upon the down, 
^ With hounds and horsemen, a brave company 
On (his «de in its glory by the sea, 
On that the Sussex weald, a sea of brown. 
Tlie wind was light, aod brightly the sun shone. 
And still we gallop'd on from gorse to gorse : 
And ottcc, when check'd, a thrush sang, and my horse 
Rick'd lus quick eats as to a sound unknown. 

I knew the Spring was come. I knew it eren 
Better than all l^ this, that through my chase 
In bush and stone and hill and sea and heaven 
I seem'd to sec and follow still your face. 
Your face my quarry was. For it I rode. 
My boTse a thing tS wings, myself a god. 



WILFRID SCAWEN BLt 



821. 



GihraltAt 



CEVEN weeks of sw, aod twi« bc 
^ UpoQ ihe huge Atlaatic, and ooc* 
We ride Iau> Kill water and the calm 
or a «weel erentag, screen'd by either »hi 
or Spain and Barbaiy. Our todb are o'en 
Onr exile ix accofliplith'd. Once ^igiia 
We look oa Euro|x, mistirss u of jwv 
or the fur earth and of the heaiu or 
Ay, this is the famed rock which H 
And CotI) and Moor be<)ncatli'd ui. At 
Eci^d stands sentry. Cod I to hear 
Sweet trtUe of her fifes upon the brccxc^ 
And at the Kummons of the roclc gun's n 
To ytt her red coats nnrchtn| from the I 



Sii. 



f^ritten at Florenee 



/^ WORLD, in rety tjfiitb Ukw m to 
^^ When wilt thoo leani 10 wear the | 
World, Willi ihy covering of yellow flowen 
Hast thoa forgot what generations spniog 
Out of ihy loias and loved tliee and are 
Hast tliou DO place in all (bcir heritage 
Wiete thoQ dost only weep, that t may 
Nor feai tlie mockery of lliy yellow flov 

world, in very truth thou art loo 
The heroic wealth of postioiuic empdze 
Uuilt tliec fair cities for thy lultrd plains 
How hnst ihou set thy fliutuner growth i 



WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT 

broken Monn wluch wtrt their pabcnl 
thou forgot llw dukntw wixn U lies 
nude thee beuitirul, or have thy bee* 
und our kui grave to buiU their hoaeycotahal 

worid, in vety tnitb thou art too young t 

gave thee lote who meawred out thy tfcies, 
• hen Uiey found for tbce uiotbrr war, 
■iMk a fntival aad Hnliglttvay hong 
jfMd on thy neck. O mavf «rarU, 
tbov forgot the {lory of thow eyn 
blefi first loolc'd love to thine f Thou Kau not fwrl'd 
banner of thy bndal car for them. 
!^0 world, in tery truth tfaoti an too young. 
was a Toic« which ang about thy tpring, 
winur froic the swtctans of his lipt, 
lo, the warms lud hardly left his tongue 
■Ion thy nighiingaira were contc again, 
world, what couraf^e hast thou thus to eing? 
y, has thy metiiincnt no secret pain, 
■udden wcarincu that thou aix young? 



i2}. Tie Tvec Highwaymen 

T LONG have had a <|uanrl set with Time 

^ Because he robb'd me. Every day of life 

Was wrested &oin me after bitter stiifo: 

I never yet covld we the sun go down 

But I was angry tn my heart, nor bear 

The h'avn fall in the wind witfaoiat a tear 

Over the dying summer. I hi*c known 

No truc« with Tine nor Time's accomplice, Drath. 

Kk3 MM 



WILFRID SCAWEN BLt 

The fair world a the witntw of ■ 
Repeated iver^ liour. For tiA uid bmth 
Ate 9w«et CO all who litei md bitterly 
The voices of these robben of the hetfh 
Sound ID each ear and chill the p(u«er-by. 
— Wlu» h»»e we done to thee, thou inon«i 
What have we done to Death that w« 



AUSTIN DOBSON 

824, A GarJm Song 

OERE ia this 6c<}Drs(cr'iJ cli 
-^ ^ Bloom the hyactmh aod to- 
Her* brskle the modest stock 
riauacs the Aariog botlybock: 
Here, without a pMg, one sees 
Ranks, condhiODs, aad degrees^ 

All the seasons nn their 
In this qoiet resting-place t 
Peach and a|iricot aod fig 
Hero wil) r^ien and grow big; 
Here is store and oTrrpfai. 
More had not AkJaoQil 

Here, m lUejrs cool and 
Far ahead the thnisb is sc«D|3 
Here along the «outheni wiJI 
Keeps the bee hit festirali 
All is quiet else— aCu- 
Sounds of toil aad mnoil 



AUSTIN DOBSON 

Hov be shadows brj^ *nd loogt 
Here be spaces meet for soogi 
Grtot, O gadta-foA, ilui I, 
Now tbxi none profane is oigh, — 
Now that mood and moment please, — 
Find the fair I^eHdes! 



C/rceas Exit 

Trxo&t 

T INTENDED aa Ode, 

^ And 11 icra'd to a Soooet. 

It began d ia noJe, 

1 miEoded an Ode; 

But Rose crosa'd the road 

In her bwKt new boooet ; 
I intended an Ode; 

And it tuni'd to a Sonnet. 

RmJtam 

TN after dajrs when grasses high 
^ O'er-Up the stooe where I sliall Br, 
Tboogh ill oe well the world adjust 
My sleoder daim to hooout'd diut, 
1 shall not i]uestio(i nor nifly. 

I iluO not SM the iBontog sfc^; 
I dttU not hear ibe ntght-wind light 
I >h^ be mate, as all earn naM 
In after days I 



AUSTIN DOBSCa 

But yet, now liring, r4in tM 

That some one then should I 

Saying — ' He held his pen 

To Art, not scrring shJiD 

Will Done? — Then lei my m 



Id afta tk^ 1 



4 



HENRY CLARENCE KE 



927. 



J/oent 



LJ E thai is by Mooof 

* * Sees the waier-sapphin 

Where the River Spirit, dirimi' 

Sli«j)s by tali and Tountain sires 

Under lute of leaf and boogh 



TI_^^. _ I 



I 

I 



HENRY CLARENCE KENDALL 

WNo that dwelli by Atooni yet, 
Pvels in flowcrful fotnt Mcbes 
Smitint win{i and bmth iluit [wrcbn 
Where itronil Scmmer'* puli of march j*, 

And ihe tuns in tbuoileT Kt ! 
Houwd bcitrsilh the gnicioai lunte 
Of the shidowy wrMcr-cnytile — 
Winds may kiss with hru and hunlc^ 

He b ufc by Mooni yitt 

Days then were when he who tings 
(Diimb M long through jMsMnn';! k>MC«) 
Stood when Mooei't ivKcr croen 
Shining tncks of grcvn-hair'd lOMSO, 

Like * Mul with ndijnt wings : 
Then the fBtim the wind rrhnrsrs — 
Then the long the scmnt dis|>enes— 
Lent X beamy to kit vcnes, 

Who le-oight of Mooni wgu 

Ah, the theme — the ud, gny theme I 
Cettain dty« arc noi ahote nK, 
Ceiuin beans h*ve c«ued to love nK^ 
Ccititn fiutcKs fail 10 n)o«e me. 

Like the effliKut laoroing dream. 
Head whenon the vrhtte b xtealinic 
Hcut wbooe butu ace paM sll beahng, 
\\'hm t> now the firat, pure foeliotf 

Ah, llw (heme— the ud, gray ihene I 



Sdll U) be by Moooi cool — 
Where ibe wurr-faiotaonu glister, 



MtB 



HENRY CLARENCE KENDALL , 

Anil by ^tafnin^ vale aad vi*u 
Sia the Englith AjiriJ's sister. 

Soft and xweet and woodcrfut I 
Jutt to rest bateath tbe bumiqg 
Outer world— its sneers and 
Ah, my he;in— my htan is 

Still to be by hloaai cool I 



ARTHUR WILLIAM EDO 
O'SHAUGHNESSY 



828. O^f 

\//^ an the iDusic-nukcn, 

" And »« »re the dffjimcrB of 1 
WjndCTiog by loK Mt-txcakers, 

And sitting by dcsolttr siraotsi 
World-loiets and worM-fotsaker), 

On whom the pale mooo ijleamK; 
Yet wc are the riovot and ihakcni 

or the wofid for eivr, it •eemi. 



dtit^ 



Whli wondeifiiJ deathless dtttjn 
Wc build vp the wotM's gnat dti 

And out of a fabdoas Kocy 

We tishion an empire's glory t 
Od« man with a dream, at pleawre^ 

Shall go forth and conquer a crown i 
And three with a new tong's meuwre 

Can inntplc an emirire down, 
lood 



ARTHUR O'SHAUCHNESSY 

Wc, in the »g<a lying 

In the buried put of the <anh, 
Dult NiiKVch with our nibbing. 

And Babel ttxlt' with oui minli [ 
And oVfthrcw iliciu viiili projihetyiag 

To the old of the new wotld's wonhi 
For each age a a dteun that ni dyiqg. 

Or oat that a coming to biitfa. 



T MADE aaotber garden, yea, 

^ t'ut my new Loi'o : 

I Mt the dead rose wliere it lay 

Afid Mt die new abo*e. 
Why did my Sufiunct not begin? 

Why did mj bean not baste? 
My old Lore uow and walk'd therein, 

And laid the garden wme. 

She cntct'd with hex weary male, 

Juft as of old I 
Slie loolc'd around a little while 

And thircr'd with the cold : 
Her pa»iiig touch vtt death to all, 

Hrt pasitDg look a blight; 
She BiAde the white roW'iKtils (tH, 

And tom'd Out nd tow white. 

Her pale rcbe cingiqg to the gnu 

Sccin'd like a sukc 
I'hK bit the gts&i jod ground, aba*. 

And a sad tnul did ouke. 

roar 



[II 




1 Fw 

And ma 
You ! 

For t 
You sha 
At leng 

Very p. 
For ] 
And 

Alike f 
FuU 
And 

But out 

And tx 

And ii 
So E 
And 

To hin 
You 
Kne 

And y 



ARTHUR O'SHAUGHNESSY 



I 



For it grown incl it jtrovn, «i though leafing 
Up highrr ibe mon one b thinkings 

I And cTcr itA lunrt ^ on xiaking 

More iwiEnmlly into the rtn : 

Ym, so blessM *nd good m«ti» tbM foufltttn^ 
Ruch'd aritT dry drmi and mounuia, 

You shall fall down at length ia your weeping 

Anl bathe your ud Ihoe in the tean. 

Then alat I while you lie there a scaMn 
And tob between tiring and dying, 
And ^vc up the laud you were trying 

To Tind 'mid your ho|>c3 and your fears i 

— O the world shall come up and paa o'er you, 
SuoDg men shall not stay to care for you, 

Nor wonder indeed for wb^t reason 

Your way should seem barda than theirs. 

But perhaps, while you lit, ner« lifting 
Your cheek fiom tJie wet lea?es tt pieMCS, 
Not caring to rvM your wet trtsKS 

And look bow the cold world appears — 
O perhaps the mere ttleoce* round you— • 
All thing* in that pbce Grief hath fotmd you— 

Yea, e'en to the clouds o'er you drifting, 

May soothe you sontcwhat through your tears. 

You may feel, when a filing leaf bnnbts 

Yow Eaoe, as tiMugh some one had kiv'd yo«t 
Or think at least aonie one wIm miis'd you 

Had sent you a tbouglil, — if that cheen t 
Or a bird's litile song, latnt aitd bcokei^ 
M^ pus lor a tender word spoken : 

"•Enough, while ananid ym tbnv rushes 

That life-diQwning lorreni of tears. 




ARTHUR OSHAUGHNESSY 

And tbe itan thiill fiow futn And fiutcr, 
Bran om mm) bafflo re«isui»cc, 
And roll down bl«u'd roads lo cacb 

Of pan desolation and yt*m 
Till they cov«r the |jace of «ach 
And leatc ]m no put Mid no morrow i 

For wli4t maa it able to master 

And stem the great Fonniain of Tcara ? 

But the flood) and tbc tnn iqcm and gitbtr; 
The somA of ihcm aU groivi like tbuoderi 
— O into what bowm, I wonder, 

I* pour'd the wbole sorrow of years } 
For Eternity only seems keeprog 
Account of the great human weepjng; 

May God, then, ihc Makpr ai>.l Failwr— 

May He lind a pUce for the tears ! 



JOHN BOYLE OREILLV 

831. A ff^hitt Jiese 

' I 'HE red ro«e wfabpnx of pudon, 
* And the white rose breathes of lorei 
O, the red rose is a fikon, 
And the while rose is a (love. 

But I tend you a ctean-wfatie 
With a Audi on its petal dp; 

For the I01-C that is puiew uid sweetest 
Has a kiss of dcare 00 the lipa. 




ROBERT BRIDGES 

S}2. M/ 'Jieiigbl an^ Th/ 'DtUgbt 

\XY delight aad ih]r <l«liglH 

J'l Walking, like two ansclt wluu^ 

In the gardens of the iujt'>*- 

Mj daire end thy dcsiir 
Twining to a tongue of fin, 
Lopiog lite, and laughing higlieri 

Thro' the nvrlasdng stn& 
In the mirstcrf of life. 



Low, (rom whom the wotM bfjun, 
Hatli the secret of the sun. 

Love on tell, and love alone. 
Whence ibe million iiun were vtrcwn, 
Why tach aiom knows its own, 
How, in ipitc of woe and death, 
G«y b Efc, and sweet is bresth: 

t\a he taught UK, thit we knew, 
H^^ in hU science Iiuc, 
H^nd in hand u wc stood 
"Krath the shadows of the wood. 
Heart to heait as we lay 
In the dawning of die day. 



b •lit 



ROBERT BRIDGES 



Ssj. Spirits 

ANGEL spiriu of sleep, 
"^ White-robed, with si 
Id your meadows fair. 
Where ihe willows wetp, 
And the saA laoaahraia 
On the gliding stream 
Writes her scattered drtamt 

Angel spirits of sleep. 
Dancing to the weir 
In the hollow roar 
Of its W3tci5 deep; 
Know ye how men say 
That ye haunt no moie 
Isle and gtassy shore 
With your moonlit play; 
That ye dance not here. 
While-robed spirits of sleeps 



ROBERT BRIDGES 

A ihroe of th« heux, 
luMC pining visions dim, fofbiddrn hojm gitorotifid, 
No dying udcacc nor kmg sigh cin sound, 

For all out art. 

Alooe, tloud in Ux npturcd car of ratti 
Wc pour our dark nocnirail secret t uul then, 

Aa night is wiLhiirawn 
From thMt sweet-springing mraiii jnd bunting bougbsi of May, 
DrtMB, while tlie innumptable cl)oir of day 

Weicome the diwo. 



*/r. 



^ Tasser-i/ 



''HITHER, O splendid ship, thy white siils crowding. 
Leaning across th« bosom of the urfient West, 
at fcamt nor sea rising, nor sky clouding. 
Whither away, fair rover, and what thy ifuettf 
Ah ! Mon, when Winter has all our vales oyprvi, 

skies arc cold and misty, and hail is hurling. 
Will ihoil gjUc on the blue Pacilic, or rest 
■ MnuDer haTCO Mkvp, thy while sails furling. 

there before thee, in the country that well thou koowest, 
Already arriTrd am inhaling the odorou air: 
watch thee enter unerringly where thou goeit. 
And anchor queen of the strange shipping there, 
Thy avis for awnifigs spread, thy nusts bare : 
r Is aMghi (tool the foaming re«f to the soow-capp'il grandest 
Peak, that b oicr the feuheiy palms, note &ir 
_Thaa thou, so npt^ht, so natdy and ttiO ibou vandost. 



ROBERT BRUXSEiSi 

And ytt, O sptctttfiil ship, onluil'd 
I know noi if, «isiin{ a fancy, I 

That thou htu ;i jMirpoK joyfvl, ■ 
Th/ port anioinl ia i happier bnA] 
But for all I lure given thrt, bcxut) 

A% thou, asbnt with trim tackle and 
Prom the praad nottril otne of a I 

In the oSag scatterat foant, thy wliiti 



8 J 6. Abstrtct 

VJ(7HEN my tow wis awa^,] 

** Full three daja were 
I caught my fancy uiny 
Thinking if ibe were dcMl, 

And I <lou, alooc: 
It Kcin'd in my nuKty 
In all the world was none 
Eirr so looe as L 

I wept[ bm it did not shame ' 
Not comfon my heart : away 
I Tode as I might, and came 
To my love at close of day. 

The si^ of her will'd my fe« 
My faire&t-heaited lore: 
Ani! yet in her eyes were 
Which when I qucstjoo'd 



'O now thou art eo«i»,' 
"T» fled: but I ibon^ 
1 nerer cotild here abide, 
If thou wen longer away.* 

MI4 



ji 



ROBERT BRIDGES 



8S7. 



Oh a 7}eaJ ChiU 



pGRFECT Hnle body, witboot &nlt or itun on thw, 
^ Wiilt proiDue of strength and manhood (iill uid £iir! 

Though cold umI ftark and bore, 
Tht bJoom and the charm of life doth awhite rcituJa oa (bc«. 

Thy mother's treasure wert ihouj — alas I no loager 
To rait ber bcm with wondrous Joy i to be 
Thy Ettber's pnde:— ah, he 
Muu gather his ftith tojetber, sod hb strength make stronger. 

To me, as I moTc Uiee now in the laH duty, 
Do» thoti with a nun or gnlure aooo reload; 
Sunting my fancy fond 
With a chaooe auhuk of ihc bead, a fieak of beauty. 

Tby hand clasps, as 'twas wont, my finger, and holds h; 
But the grasp is the clasp of Death, brartbreaktng and itiirt 
Yet feels to my hand as if 
'^was still thy will, thy pleasure und miM that enfolds it. 

So I by thee then, thy sunken eyelids closing, — 
Go be tbou (here in thy coffin, ibj l>tt tittle bed! — 
Ptoppog thy wise, sul head, 
Thy fitm, pale haads across thy chest dispoaiaft 

So quiet I doth ihc chaoge content thee?— Death, whitber 
hath be t^ea thee? 
To a world, do I think, that rights ibe disaster of this I 
The nuoB of which I miss, 
_Wbo weefi for the body, and wish but to wann thee uid 
awaken thee? 




ROBERT BRIDGES 



Ah ! Utile at best can bU aur hopes avail 

To lift this sorro*, or cbcer us, wheq 

Unwilling, alone wc tmbark, 

And the things we have sccD and hs' 

heard of, fill us. 



SiS. 



Ta/er Filie 



1 



CENSE with keenest edge irnn 
^ Yet unsteel'd by scathing li 
Lovely feet as yet unbruised 

On the ways of dark desire ; 
Sweetest hop« tiiat looltest smilic 
O'er the wiJderness defiling ! 

Why such beauty, lo be biighted 
By the swum of foul dntiuci 

Why such innowncc d^lighud, 
When sin stalks to thy seduct 

All the litanies e'er chaunlcd 



RODfiRT BRIDGES 



tVmter Nightfoll 

T^HE dif Ugins to droop, — 
^ Its GOyne is donei 
But Mtliiag ullf the place 
Of the Mtting siui. 

The haiy dukons dwpma, 

And up the Une 
YoD may heir, but unnoi Ke, 

The homing wain. 

An engine ptnti xnA bums 

In the fann hard by: 
Its lowTiing smoke is lost 

In the towering iky. 

The sinking brsnchea drifs 

And all nighl ihrcnigh 
The dfO|>png will dm cease 

In ihc ateoue. 

A tall man there io the home 

Must ktep his chair: 
He knows be will never again 

Breathe the spring air : 

His heart i« worn with work} 

He it giddy and skk 
If he rhc to go as far 

As the nearest rick: 

He thinks of his mom of tife^ 
His hale, stroog '/tin i 

And \xxm as be tnay the ntgbt 
Of darkneu and tears. 



fj 




840- l^'hcn 'Deati to -Either' 

W/'HEN Death to dther shJl 

I pray it be first w mc,- 

B? happy as ercr at hnmc. 

If so. 33 I u'ish, it be. 

Possess Uiy hcirt, my own ; 

And sing to the child on 
Or read to thyself slooe 

The songs thai I made for tLi 



ANDREW LANO-J 
The Qdytie^ 

S one that for a weary space hi 
Lull'd by the song of Circe w. 




84^- 



WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY 
/nvicfits 



OUT of the r.igln ih« coww roc, 
Bi^ck m the pit from pole to pole, 
1 tkuik wlmtcver godi laty be 
Fot my iinconqunable muI. 

In the Ml dutch of dmunnancc 
I b»e not winced oor died alowL 

UtKln the bludgcomngs of chxiR 
My hMd b bloody, but nnboiv'd. 

B«]rand thii place of wnth »od itan 
Loom!) but Uk Horror of the sh»dc, 

Aod yet (he tacnixx of the yew* 
Fiods and ih^ find me tinafnid. 

It matters not how strait the gate, 

How char;^ with [unishnictitt the ktoIIi 

I an) tbe nuscer of niy fate: 
1 tin tbc Gjqitaia of my soul. 



b iftM 



S4J. Afarg/irifte Sonri 

A LATE latk twmen fram the qintt »ktn 
■*»■ And from the wwi, 
Where the «un, his Arft woric esded, 
Lingera as in ccntnil, 
There fills 0« the old, gray city 
An iaAsenct krelnout and VRoe, 
A ihininj peace. 



WILLIAM ERNEST HE» 



I 



The smoke ascends 
In a rosy-and-golden haip. The 
Shine and are changed. In the » 
Shjdows rise. The brk sings oo 
Closing his benediction, 
Sinks, and the darkenisg air 
Thrills with a sense of the 
Night with her Uain of stare 
And her great gift of sleep. 



i 



So be my passing ! 

My task accomplish'd and ihe Ion 

My wages taken, and in my hean 

Some late lark singing, i 

Let me be gather'd lo the quiet " 
The sundown splendid and serene, 
Dealh. 




■ V/hetti 



WILLIAM ERNRST HENLEY 



Where iJull ibc watcliful nm, 

En|land, nj EngUad, 
M^tch the nuMcr-w«rk fOuV done, 

EnjUnd, my own? 
Wbtn slull he rejoice tgfti 
Svch a breed of mighty mm 
At come Ibrwanl, one to ten, 

To the Song oo jronr bugl« blown, 
EBghnd- 

Dowo the fan on pur bugles blovnJ 

Ettr the raitb cndum, 

Cnglind, tttj England:— 
'T»ke tad breik us: we are yourj, 

England, my own! 
Life » good, aad joy runs high 
Between En^ltth eanh ud skj: 
Deatli 19 death i but we shall die 

To the Song on your bugles blown, 
England — 

To the stars on youi buglen Uownl' 

They call yon proud aod han), 

England, my Engkind ; 
You with woridt to watch and ward, 

England, my own ! 
You whox mail'd hjnd keeps the keys 
Of Mcb teeming dntiniec, 
Yon could know nor drod nor ea«e 

Were the Song oo your bugtrs blown, 
England, 

Round the Pit on your bv^les blown! 



WILLIAM ERNEST HI 

Mother of Sliipi wfioK tnighi, 

Engluid. my Eaglaad, 
It the licTce old Sm'« delight, 

EngUad, my ova, 
Chowo (taugliur of (be Lord, 
Spouse-tn-Chief of the indcM 8« 
That'* the menace of tlie Word 

Id the Song oo your bugle* blon 
Eoglud'^ 

Ont of heaven oo your bugtes 



EDMUND COSSE 

S4 f. Jtevthlion 

T NTO d»e dTef nighi 
*• She brought with her 
The topiz IflDihora- light, 
At)d daned sgilcodout o'er the laodf 
Aiound her la a tMul, 
Rirignnked aad pied, the great soft mc 

And fldpfiing with their mad wiitgi, 
The Aickrring flame, aKcnding, falling, 

Behind the thorny pnk 

CloM wall of bloMom'd may, 

I giized thro* one green cbink 

And law no more than ihocundB miy,^ 

Saw tweetness, letider ind gay, — | 

Saw full row lipi as rounded m the 

Saw braided locks aiorc daHt than bay, | 
And flashing eye* decorous, put^ 



EDMUND GOSSS 

With food foe ftiny TrinNb 

She pa.ik'd, h«r bmp utd Ae, 
Till MTM and gable-rod* 
Hid ill that MJfroa BhiMa from ne; 
Around my roiy tree 
)ik:c more the birei-tnury night was sKinitij, 
With dcf^tis of hnvcn, dewy and (m, 
erywals of a atrta inooa declining. 

Alas) for him who dweUs 
In frigid air of thuugkt. 
When wann«T light diiipels 
Tlie IroicQ calm hii tpirit sought i 
By life too latrly uught 
le »en the eciuiic Human front him steaBng ; 
RccU from the joy experience brooght, 

dam not cbUh wtut Lore was lulf reiraling. 



ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 
'^Sa^. Bemtxnce 

I WILL nuke y«u brooches and toys for your delight 
Of bird-song at morning and nar-thinc at night, 
•ill Rukc a [lalacc 6t for yon and me, 
* grem days in fomts and bloc days at sea. 
bet 



ill make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room, 
here white flows the riivr and bright blows the broom, 
And you shall wash your linm and lieep ymir body white 
In rainfall at moraiog and dcwftU at oigfai. 






ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSO 

And this shall be for music when do ooe c 
The fine song for aiogiag, the rare song to 
That only I rnnembtr, that only you admin 
Of the broad road that stretches and the ra 



S47. 



/a the Highlands 



1 




T N the highlands, in the country places, 

^ Where the old plain men have rosy I 

And the young fair maidt-ns 

Quiet eyes ; 

Where essential silence chills and blesses, 

And For ever in the hill-recesses 1 

Her more lovely music 

Broods and dies- 

O to mount again where erst I haunted ; 
Whi'jc the old reJ hills are bird-cnchanit 
And (lie low green mc:iilows 
Bright with sward ; 
And when even dies, the million-tinted. 
And the night has come, and planets glii 
Lo, the valley hollow 
Lanii^bestJiT'd I 

O to dieam, to awake and wander 
There, an J with delight to take and rend 
Through the trance of silence, 
Quiet breath ! 
Lo ! fur there, among the flowers and gr 
Only the mightier movement sounds and 
Only winds and rivers, 
Life and death. 



ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 



r 



848. Requiem 

r TNOER tbr wide aad Many &ky 
^^ DiK the grave and let im liei 
GUd dill I live ind gbdiy die. 
And 1 laid me down with « will. 

Th» be the *ctM you ^ava for me i 

Hti if Fill vrhtrl it IsKg'd It it / 

Hemt it lit laiifr, iemt frtm mj, 
jtmi iht bumlrr borne /rtm lit US. 

T. W. ROLLESTON 

849. The "Dead at Clonmacnois 
raok THE IRISH or akous o'cillax 



k.»jj 



'^N a quiet waicr'd bad, a Und of roics, 
-^ Stands Snnt Kietaa's city &ir| 

-And the wanion of Eria in their fanioui genentioBt 
Slianber there. 

There beixath the dewy hiltudc sleep the noblest 
Of the clan of Conn, 
Each below bis Mone with name in braacbiDi Oj>bam 
Aod the sacred knot thereon. 

There ihey laid to rest the screo King^ of Ton, 
Tliere the »on« of C»ibrJ sleep— 

of the Gael that in Kiena'i plaia of cmwt 
Now their final hosting keep. 

And in Cloonucaots thejr laid th« nwB of TeSa, 

And right many a lord of Breagh | 
Deep the sod abote Claa Cn*d» and Clan ConaiU, 

Kiod in bail and fierce in tiaj. 

lI mh 



T. W. ROLLBS 



Many and many a son of Conn 

In the red earth lies at restj 

Matty a blue eye of Clan ColTmo ih 
Many a swan-white bnasi. 



\ 



Syo. 



Song 



T^HE boat ii chafing at our 
* And we must leave tcxi 



JOHN DAVIDSO> 

\ 

s 

The spicy sea-pinks and iJic tnh 
The uwcy sindi, the moon. 

Keep us, O Thetis, in ow wes 
Watch from thy pearly ihnmi 

Our vessel, plunging deeper 
To reach a land unknown. 



«per am 
Jiown. 1 

m 



JOHN DAVmSON 

Till tbc Digfat 
Was uodoae 
In hrr lisht 
With the MO. 

The bran orb in mte rMe^ 
And cniiHon he shone GrM| 
While from the high *ine 
or bearra iIk dawn botst, 
Suinng the great iom 
From ely-Iiae to tkyline. 

The red rose of mora 

A while rote u ooon turo'dl 

But M tuoMf reboni 

AM red ^gaio toon buin'd. 

Then the pale rote of aooodiy 

Rcbloom'd in tbe night, 

And spectrally while 

In the liglii 
Of tbe mooo ttif. 

Bin tbe vast rose 

Was KmtleM, 
And this is ihe reuucii 
When the Mast loae 

Relratlen, 
And brought in due ««uoa 
The Miow rose, the tut rote 
ConpaTd in iu breath. 
Then came with it tmioo) 
Tbe tiailor wai Death. 

la keTaUey) crowded, 
The rimf asd ihc bitdt 




JOHN DAVID 



beid^ 



Were fioira and ihjwn 
In flighis and in he 

In hjgtways 
And byways 
The young and the old 
Were tonureJ and madd 
And m'd by the colA 
Bui many were gladden* 
By the beautify last ros 
The blossoTu of do autv 
That carae when ihe soi 

In dartncss uafurl'd 

The wonderful ¥ast tose 
That BU'd all the wt 



world 



WILLIAM WATSO: 



WILLIAM WATSON 



Ode in May 

T ET me go forth, and share 
" The oTwflowing Sun 

With oac wiie friend, ot floe 
Bettrr thu wise, being fai/, 
Where ihe pcwii wheels ind dips 

On heights of bncken «id liag, 
Aod Evth, unto her Icailct tips, 

Tingles with the Spriog. 

What is so sweet and dear 
As a prosperous mom in May, 
The coolident prime of the day, 

And the d^unOes^ youtJi of the year. 

When trothing that ^s for bliu, 
Askiojt aright, is denied, 

And h^f of the world a bridcj^noin ia, 
And lulf uf the world a briJe ? 

The Song of Minglittg ftov*, 

Grave, cereoionial, pre, 

As ooce, from lif« ihu endure^ 
The cotoiic dc«caat rose, 
When the temporal lord of life, 

Going his goMeo w-^r. 
Had taken a woedtoui nuid to wife 

That bog had ^d him nay. 

For of old the Sun, our sire, 
Qixat wooiDg the mother of raeti, 
Eaith, that was tirgiml then, 

Vesul fire to his fire. 

SilcM het boaoBi aad coy, 

Bw the ttrons god sued ind press'dt 



WILLIAM WATS 



ma 



And bom of their starry nitptiai j 
Are all that iliink of h« bnas 

And the triumph of him that beg 
And the trawul of her that but 
Behold they are erertnorc 

As waq) and weft in our lob 

We are children of spleodoar 
Of shuddering, also, and tears. 

Ma^iJicent oat of the dust we a 
And abject from the Sphcrca^ 

O bright irreaslibic lord! ^ 

Wc are fruit of Earth's wnmb. 
And fruit of thy loins, O Sua 

Whence first was the seed otitpou 

To thee as our Failier wc boWj^ 
Forbidden thy Father (O SttP% 

Who is older and grtater thaa w 
Art greater and oJder than we. 

Thou art but as a wonl of hts ^ 



WILLIAM WATSON 

•The afi«T-sikt)ce, when the fewtt n o'er, 

AmI void the placa whrrc the miosticl* stood, 

Dil&fs to noygbt from whut hith bccti before, 
Aad it nor ill oor good/ 

. Ah, but the ApitarilioB — the dumb sign — 

The beckoning finger bidding me forgo 
*I*he fL-llowthip, the ooonne, and the wioc. 
The •(»£», llic fesul glow ! 

Asd kh, u> know not. while with friends I til. 
And while llie purple foj is pass'd ■boot, 

\^'hcthcr 'lb ampler dty ditinelier lie 
Or hon»cle» night without t 

And whether, stcpjitng fonh, oijr soul thill see 
New (cospccts, or fall sheer — a blinditl thing t 

Tttrt is, O gtjre. thy hourly tictory, 
And there, O dcafa, thy siing. 



HEKRY CHARLES BEECHING 

Ptvyers 

GOD who created me 
Nimble 4od light of limb, 
In ihrre dcmentt free, 

To run, to ride, to swim : 
Not wbcn the sense is diai, 

hvl now Irom the heart of joy, 
I would rcmeniber Him: 
Take the thinks of > boy. 



b.il» 



"»" 



HENRY CHARLES BEE 







Je^u, King and Lord, 

Whose are my foe* 
Gird mc with Thy swop 

Swift and sliarp and brij 
Thee would I serve if I n 

And conquer if I can. 
From day-dawn nil night, 

Tate the strength of a i 

Spirit of Love and Truth, 

Breathing in grosser day 
The light and flame of yot 

Delight of men in the fi 
Wisdom in strength's decaj 

From pain, strife, wrong 
This best gift I pray, 

Take mj spirit to Thw. 



S^6. Gohig down Hill oii 

A BOV's SOKS 



i 



HENRY CHARLES DEECHING 

S«]r, butrt, is thtn night like thit 
In a ivoild Out is full of bkni 
Tis mure than skatinB, buood 
Stecl-ihod to the Icid ground. 

Speed tJackms now, I Drat 
A<*)iilc in my airy boAi; 
IMI, when ihr tvbocls tcarcr enwl, 
My fM 10 llic uewUcs kU. 

Alas, that the lonf;cA kill 
Muit end in a rale; but still, 
Wbo dimbs with toil, whcrcvoc'cf, 
Shall find Wtn^s waitiog tbcre. 



BLISS CARMAN 



l^OR a utnc unknown, 
^ Whose fame unblvwo 
Sleeps in tbe hills 
Foe ever sod aj-eg 

For her who hrara 
The uir of the yean 
Go by oa the wiad 
By nighi aoJ day; 

And bceds do thujt 
Of tbe twnb of %}'nng. 
Of ■Btumn'a wundet 
Or winter's chtU ( 



k.iK> 




8fS. 



U 

Fa 

J 

Ab 

r 

W. 

M; 

In 



DOUGLAS HYDE 

WcR 1 and mjr duliog— 
O bcafi^riticr wouodl — 

On botrd of the ship 
Fof Amcriei bouod. 

On ■ gnco bed of nuiwi 

AB Um night I lay, 
And I flung h ahnad 

With the beat of ihc dajr. 

Aod mjr Lore came behind mc, 
He canie rrom the Soutli| 

H» UtiM to tay bowni, 
His nxMith to isy niouth. 



ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BENSON 

hfi. Tie Thanix 

D V Inihen green, urosa Casbctn 
*^ The pilgrims iradt the Phenux lloira, 
By E"°* *>* sirvw'd IB waste ud wood. 
And jfwcU'd plumes K rxidoni thiowa. 

Till waodering iiir, by mooo ■nd stv . 

Tbc; nCutd bcnlc the fruitrul f^ie, 
Where breskiog bright with ungube Ijgbt 

The impd&iic bird forgets his aire. 

Tbove Mbes Khioe like ruby wine, 
Like bag of Tynan mumc *pih, 

Tbe cUw, ibr jowl of the flying fowl 
Are with the gioriovi u£i»>h gilc 




ARTHUR CHRISTOPHER BJ 

So rare the iighi, SO lich the s^ 
Those pilgrim nm, oa profit I 

Ctop hanth and eyn aod iscrcln 
And aic with gazing moa con 



\ 



HENRY NEWBOLT 
860. He fell among Thievti 

'VE have robb'd,' said he, 'ye ha*c slaug 
^ an end, . 

Take your ill-got plunder, and bury tftfl 

What will yc more of your guest and sonn 
' Blood for our blood,' they sud. 

He laugh'd; 'If one may settle the score 
I am r^dy ; but let ^ reckoBWg sttod 

I have loved the sunlight u dearly as aoy 
'You shall die at dawo,' said tliey. jj 



HENRY NEWBOI.T 

r Uk gray link church ■crois tbe pack, 
mouod* that bid the lotcd and honour'd dcadi 

atmao *rcb, ihc chancel to/tJ/ duk, 
bnasn black tod ivd. 

» ibe School CIom, vmay ami gTteo, 
Irunner bnidc bini, the stand by the pmpel wall, 
IBant tape, and the crowd toaiing between, 
fmra oaine over all. 

L the dnk wakwcot aod limber'd roof, 
I loDg tabin, and the facrs mciry and krcni 
lege Eight and their traitter dittSg alooT, 
Dobs on tbe dils sercot. 



f. 



tacb'd tbe linn's Mem giloughing the foam, 
lek her trembling speed aad ibc ibraah of her scrrw ; 
■nl the {uweogers' voices talking of bonne, 
Ml* tbe 6ag she flew. 

bw it wa» dawn. He rose strong on bis (ect, 
1 mode to hi« niia'd camp below the wood ; 

uIl tbe bnaih of tbe nMndng cool and twweti 

nonleirre routtd him Rood. 

on the Lasp«r hilb was broadcniag fa«, 
bloodTcd Miow-peaka chili'd to a dazzling wUr; 
I'd, and saw tbe golden circle at hut, 
the Eastern height. 

Life, Who dwcllcn in earth and sun, 
I praise and adore Tbcc.' 

A sword swept, 
pan the roicn one by one 

sad tbe hill jlei<. 



ma 



J 



S6t. 



GILBERT PARKER. 
Rtimited 




Vy/HEN yoo and I have play'd ihe little hou^ 

*' Have seen the tail subaltern Life to Dcjth 

Yield up his swon' ■, and, smiling, draw the bta 

The first long breath if rreedom ; when the flower 

Of Recompnise hath flutter'd to our fret, 

As to an actor's ; and, the curtain down. 

We turn to face each other all alone — 

Alone, we two, who never yet did meet. 

Alone, and absolute, and free i then, 

O then, most dear, how shall be told die tale? 
Clasp'd bands, press'd lips, and so dasp'd hands i\ 
No words- But as thf proud wind fills the s^ 
My love 1(1 yours shall reach, then one deep I 
Of Joy, and then our iafiniie Alone. 



I 



WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS 

S62 (Vhere My Books go 

ALL the words thai I utter, 
And all ilie words that I write, 
Must ^presd out their wings sintiring, 

And ni'ver rest in thi'ir flight. 
Till tlicy come where your sad, sad heart i 

And sing to you in the night. 
Beyond where the waters are moving, 
Storm-darken'd ot starry bright. 



WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS 



S6s. ff^ben Tw an Old 

W/^HEN yiM art oM snd gny aad full of tletp 
** Aad modeling bjr the Gre, take down Utii book. 
Arxl Jnm\y n»A, and dic-un of the tah look 
Yo«r eyc« b*d odcc, aad of their aludows (k«pj 

How nuniy loved your nunMots of gbd gncr, 
Aod loved your bnnty whh lora &lw or met 
But DM nu luTcd tbe pil]{nin Mul in you, 

And lovod tbe MiTom of your changing (mk. 

And bending down bn*d« (he glowing hmi 
MBraur, ■ Sttle wdly, bow lore fltxl 
And pKcd i^xm tJw iwounHJaa oretiitad, 

And bid bb face amid a crowd of sms. 



8<!4. The Lake IsU «/" Innisfm 

WILL arise aikd go aow, Mid go to Inoislice, 
And a small cabin buld there, of clay aad waitlea made i 
Jioe beaa row* will 1 have there, a luve for the hooey bet, 
And ItTc alone in tbe bcc-loud glade. 

I »tull haTc lonx peace Ibcrc, for peace comet dropping 
flow, 
)R^Dg ftam the teili of the moming to wkoe the cricket 

siagat 
niidoighi'a all a glimmer, aad noon a purple glow, 
And creDtDg fiill of the linnet's wingt. 

will ariw aad go now, for always night and day 
hear lake water lapt«ng with lew souads by the »horci 
I stand on the roadway, or on tlie pai-cmefiU gray, 
1 hear it is the deep heart's cote. 




GvMtK 

If there b 
Thy ha 

Where I 
I know 

One insta 

Stands 

Of that 1 

To Tl 

Who, le; 

Bring'; 
Godlike 

And 1 

The dep 
Th= I 

Thou ki 
Thou 

One sto 

In th 

Tf is en 



RDDYARD KIPLING 

Take not that mion rrain my keni 
O, •KbaiKK'tT nwy ^potl or f^prrd, 

Help mc lo necil do »d from men, 
TIkU 1 Ruy hrip wch men as dmiII 



Sd/S. 



VEnwt 



THF.RE't a whi^*T down the MA whtre the ytar has 
* thot li« yield 
And the ricks stand gray to the strn, 
Smtingj— 'Over llien. oomc oirr, foe the bee has i|uii 
the c!o»cr 
And your Enjiliah summn's (tnne.* 

You haw heard the ticat of the off-shore wind 
And the thtwh of the derg^-Kn rain; 
You bm heard the song — how long! how loeg! 
V\!i\ out on the trail again I 

done with the Tents of Sbem, dear lao, 
b'tc seen the seasons through, 

it's lime to iwn on the tA\ trait, oui a«rn tnil, the 
out trail, 

oat, pull out, on the Long Trsil— the trail thai is 
always oew. 

t's North yon may rxm to tlw Hmc-rrngM sua, 
I Or Soath to the blind Horn's hate : 
East alt the a-iy into Miubup]ii Bay, 
We«t to the Golden Gale; 

the Uicdest UdFi hold good, dear bas, 
the wildest talcs are Inte, 

the ncfi bulk big on the old trail, our own tnil, the 
on trait, 

lifr rani brgc on the Loog TrnI— the trail that is 
always Ocw 




lit 



RUDYARD KIPLING 



The days are nek and cold, and rhe skies are gnj 

And the twice-breathed aire blow damp; 
And I'd sell my tired soul for tfae bucking bean 

Of a black Bilbao tramp ; 
Wi(.h her load-lbe over her hatch, dear las%^H 
And a druaken Dago crew, ^| 

And her nose held down od the old uaH, our 

the out trail, 
From Cadiz Bar on the Lon^ Tml — the tra 
always new. 

There be triple ways to taJce, of the eagle or di 
Or the way of a man with a maid ; 

But the sweetest way to me i« a ship's upon thi 
lo the heel of the North-East Trade. 

Can you hear the crash on her bows, dear lass, 

Aiid ihc drum of tht racing scrt-w, 

As she ships it green on the old trail, our own 
out trail, 

As she lifts and 'scecds on the Long Trail— tin 
is always new ! 

Si'f the shaking funnels roar, with the Piter dt 

And the fenders grind and heave. 
And the derricks clack and grate, as the tji 

the crati', 
And the fall-rope whines through the sheave ; 
It 's ' Gang-plank up and in,' dear lass. 
It's 'Hawsers warp her through! ' 
And it's 'AH clear aft' on the old trail, our 

the out trail, 
We're backing down on the Long Trail — the i 

always new. 



11 



RUDYARD KIPLING 



O the msofrt owrskic, wbcn the port-fog holdb «s tied, 

And the tirens hoot ihrir dnodl 
Wbcn Toot inj foot we crvrp o'er tlic hueless newlesi decji 

To (be ftob of tbe qucstiag lead I 
It's liava tij the Lower Hope, <lear Um, 
With tbe Guofieet Sands in view. 
Till ibc Mouse swinji green on the old mil, oar own 

trail, (he oat trail, 
And the Gull Light &ftt OB the Loog Trail — the trail 
thu is alwiys ncv. 

O the bUzing tropic dight, wheo the wake 's a welt of light 

That holds the hot sky taine, 
And the Mcady fore-foot snores throcgh the {Janet-powdet'd 

Boots 
Where the seated whale ftukes in dame I 
Her fUics ire scsrr'd by the snn, dear lass, 
And her ropes are taunt with tbc dew, 
For we're booming down on the old trail, our own trail, tlie 

out trail, 
We're sag^g aouUi oo the Loog Trail— the trail that b 

always new. 

home, get her borne, where the drunken roOers cooib^ 
And the shouting teas drire by, 

the cngiiKS slan^ and ring, and the wet bows reel 
and awing, 
And the Soutbem Cross rides high ! 
(he oM Ion Rars wheel bnck, dear last, 
It blaze in the relTct blur. 
I^cy'rc all old (nends on the old trul, our own udl, (he 
out trail, 

re God's own gtndes on tfao Loa( Trail — the iml 
that is a!way» new. 





Fly forwarii, O my iicart, from the FotcUikI U 

We're steaming all too slow, 
And it's twenty thousand mile to our little b 

Where the trumpet-orciiids blow ! 
You have heaid the call of the otT-shore wind 
And the voice of the deep-sea rain; 
You have heard the song — how long ! how Ic 

Pull out on the trail agun? 

The Lord knows what we may find, dear lat 
And the deuce knows what we may do — 
But we're back once more on the old trail, o«» 

the out trail, 
We're down, hull down on the Long Trail — i 

is always new. ^^m 



f(67- Jiecessiotial 

Juni 22, iS^J 

f~~* OD of our fathfrs, known of c 
^-'' Lord Cjf our f.ir*iliing b.iltlo-li 
lienrath who*ie nwfu! Hand we hold 

Dumirion over ]j:ilm and pine — 
Lord God of Hosts, be with us ye 
Lest we fiirget, lest we forget 1 

The tumult and the shouiing dies — 
The capUiins and the kings depar 

Still stands Thine ancient sacrilicc. 
An humlilf and a conirite heart. 

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yc 

Lest wc forgtt, lest we forget I 

I Hit 



RUDYARD KIPLING 

Far-<aU*d our uviet nwh »'**j — 

Oa dune and headland sink* the (itt — 

Lo, all our poni|> o( ycMfrdny 
Is OM with NiacTth aod Tyn I 

Judge of the N;itioa3, spare us yet, 

Lta we fbrgel, lesi we forget I 

If, dnink with tight of |iawet, we loose 
Wild toog<xs that lure acA Thee is awe — 

Such bowning M the Ceoule* u*e 
Or IciLier btcrxU without the Law — 

Lord God of Ho»i3, be with u y«. 

Lest we forgn, lest we forget! 

For bciihi-D heart that put* her tniat 
In rctkb][ tube and iron Hhard — 

All taKut dust thu builds oa dm, 

Afid goirdtng calU not Tbw 10 guard— 

Fo* fntotic boaM wd foolish »-ord, 

Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord I 

RICHARD LE GALLIEMMB 

m. s^s 

SHE *s wnwwberc b the ssligfal tunof, 
H«f tr^n arc in the faUinx nia. 
She calh flw in the wind's soft MAf, 
Aod with the Aowms she comes agna. 

Yon bird i* but her acswager, 
The iDooa i* but her silver cw) 

Yt>! HD awl roood are seat by her. 
And tnif wistful waiting star. 



RICHARD LE GAL1 



86p. The Second Crucijtx 

T OUD mockers in the roa 

-^ Say Christ is crucified : 

Twice pierced His gospel-bea 

Twice broken His great ht 

I heur, and to myself I smile 
For Christ nilks with me all 



No acge] now to roll the sio 

From olT His unawakiag s 

Id rain shall Mary watch alo 

In vain (he soldiers vigil k 

Yet while they deem my Loi 
My eyes are on Hti sluning 

Ah ! never more shall Mary 



RICHARD LE GALLIE>n4E 

No raoce Hilo ihe nnbborn heart 

With ^entfe Icoocking ihall Hr plr*d, 

Ko morv ifae myKic pty tun. 

For Chriu tiricc dnd is dmi iadcnl. 

So in the Etmet I hnr mtn uy. 
Y« Christ i> with mc all tlw diy. 



*70. 



LAURENCE BINYON 
lavocatkn to Tautb 



htH* 



f/^OME tbni, n vtft, like tbr wind n norniflg! 
^"^ Joyous, O Youth, ia the agM wotid Ri>rw 
FiMhceis to TmI the ewniiies inwrnl it, 
Rau, BtiLTS Bad clooiUi fi^t uxl the Mcred dew, 
Tltf strong sua ^ioes kbove ihrc; 
Thii atiVQgth, tlut radUocc bnngj 
If \VtMer conae lo Winter, 
When shall nxn hope for Spring? 



f7/. y^or/d*, if iW>i/«- 

O WORLD, be nobler, for her <ake! 
If ihe bat knew ihce whn ihon on, 
What wron)^ are borne, what deeds «te done 
In tbce, beneath thy dtily mm, 

Know** tboH not that ber tmdcr hevt 
For paiit and very «haine would break f 
O Worid, be nobler, Air her sake I 




'A. EJ 



S72. By the Margin of the Great Z> 

■yy/HEN the breath of twilight blows to flunc t 

*^ skies, 
All its vaporous sapphire, riolet glow and si]»er g 
With their niagic flood me through the gateway of I 
I am one with the twilight's dream. 

When the trees and skies and fields are one tn dnsi 
Every heart of man is rapt within the mother's h 
Full of peace and sleep and dreams tn the vasty 
I am one with their hearts at test. 

From our immemorial joys of hearth and home a 
Stray'd away along tJie margin of the unknowo vt 
All its reach of soundless cahn can thrill roe br 

Word or touch from the Iij>s besidi?. 

Aye, and deep and deep and deeper let me drink : 
Vmm the olden fountain more than light or jieacc 
Jjuth [irini.tval being as o'edills the heart with aw 
Growing one with its silent stream. 



S73. 



The Great Breath 



T T3 edges fo.im'd with amethyst and rose, 
■* Withers once more the old blue flower 1 
There where tl:e ether like a diamond gloi^S 
lis pttals fade away. 

A shadowy tumult stirs the dusky air ; 
Sparkle the delicate dews, the distant sno.vs 
The great deep thrills — for through it everj-n 
The breath of Beauty blows, 
1048 



|.li 



'A. E.' 



I nw how dl thr irvmb&ng Kg^ fust. 
Moulded to her by dcrp «nd deeper bmtti, 

tNcar'd to tbc bour when Uctuty btv^tha bcr lui 
Aad kaows hcnelf b ilMtli. 
'Sh 



T. STURGE MOORE 



jt 'Duet 



In nr. 



' pLOWERS nodding gtily, Ktnt 

' Flnwcn po»itd, flowen for the hair, 
Skvpy flowers, (lowers bald to «afe ■' 
■O pick mo MRiel 



'Shell* with lip, or lootb, or blc«lb{| gctn. 
T«tl-tale ihdU, «id ibelh that vtuiper Cwv, 
Sheik th» atantmcr, blush, and jet ue duaib— ^* 
■ O let me hear.' ' ' ' ' 



'Eyes so hlack they draw one lienibliit^ nnr. 
Brown eyes, caTcrtis Soodtd wkh a war, 

Cloudleis eyes, btve eyes so wiady clnf ' 

•O look ai roe!' 

'Eissn udly blown acrots the tea, 
Dukling kisMt, kiurs f*ir aod £rc«^ 

Bob^-cbeny k^«e> 'neath a tree ' 

'0 pre nx oacl' 



^lu nog a king and qneen io Baliyloo. 




With bum 

The Mood I 
And dipp'd 
When the « 

Till it grew 
And hot as 

And drows 
With moutl 

A child an 
Treading tl 
But betwee 
Lay, fell I 

She turn'd, 
Aod saw ■ 
And snatc 
With—* K 

And Us ! 
Trembled 

And ioy, 




I 



FRANCIS THOMPSON 

For he nw what ibe <fid doc iw. 
Thai— n kindled by to owo fvnttxf— 
The verge •hnTcU'd imrud iii>iiiiiit<iiinlj i 



And wddenty 'tvrixt h» h.-iad aad hen 
He koew the nrentjr wnhcr'd ftan — 
No flower, but twenty Kkniril'd ytan. 

' Wn sever soch thiaj until daii how,' 
Low (o lus hon he utd; 'the flowei 
Of sleep brings vr>kenios u> roe, 
And of oblitioa wauarj.' 

*W4s neter thit thing to mr,* be uid, 

* Tlwugh with brvuM pO|i|ries my Cm we red ! 
And igain lo his own bcatt very low : 

' O chUd ! I loT«, for 1 lore and know ■, 

* But you, who love nor know at all 

Tlw diverse dtaaibtn in Lore's gaest-hiU, 
Wlmc sone tise eariy, few stt long: 
In how diHerinic kosUs hew the ihraag 
Hi« gmu Penteconal toogoei 

'Wbo know not love from •nnty. 

Nor tBf rc|»ited self baa me ; 

A fail- fit gift is tius, meMcm*, 

You give — this witbenDg flower of drcttiu. 

■O fmMy lickle, and fickly true. 
Do you luMw what the dtyt will do u you t 
To yoor Lorc and yM wliai the days will Aa, 
O &iAly KcUr, Md Bdtiy inef 



FRANCIS THOMi 

' You htn toted mc, Fsir, three ■ 
Twill pass wnh the [ocsiag of ay 
But where / go, your face goes 
To wjsch ku I play false to 70a. 

' I m but, ntf swt«t, yoor foatcr-l 
Knowing well whtn cctuio j<-tn 
You rwiish from nw to ano