^^|^-|V#ft^~^?-^^--/" ^^^- -^^-^3:.-. r^
P ALGRAV E
THE
GOLDEN
TREASURY
m ii i riii n ir nTmrmin'iaif i rn ii iininnTnr i Ti i TTrm nm
1 1 yt/'
9>g
The s;olden
ooo. C5
UISIVE: ;iTYcfCALr-
a:
los angeles
LIBRARY
This book is DUE on the
date stamped belew
Cak? iEngltsIi dlasatrH
General Editor
LINDSAY TODD DAMON
Professor of English, Brown University
ADDISON AND STEELE — Sir Roger de Coverley Papers — Abbott
ADDISON AND STEELE — Selections from The Tatler and The Spec-
tator — Abbott
AUSTEN — Pride and Prejudice — Ward
BROWNING — Selected Poems — Reynolds
Builders of Democracy — Greenlaw
BUNYAN — The Pilgrim's Progress — Latham
BURKE — Speech on Conciliation with Collateral Readings — WARD
BURNS — Selected Poems \
CARLYLE — Essay on Burnsj^ vol.— Marsh
CHAUCER — Selections — Greenlaw
COLERIDGE- — The Ancient Mariner]^
LOWELL— I'isiora of Sir Launfal / 1 vol.— Moodt
COOPER — The Last of the Mohicans — Lewis
COOPER — The Spy — Damon
DANA — Two Years Before the Mast — Westcott
DEFOE — Robinson Crusoe — Hastings
Democracy Today — Gauss
DE OUINCEY— Tfte FUoht of a Tartar Tribe — French
DE OUINCEY- — Joan of Arc and Selections — Moody
DICKENS — .4 Christmas Carol, etc. — Bhoadus
DICKENS — A Tale of Two Cities — Baldwin
DICKENS — Daoid Coppcf/ieW— Baldwin
DRYDEN — Palamon and Arcite — Cook
ELIOT, GEORGE — Silas Marner — Hancock
ELIOT, GEORGE — The Mill on the Floss — Ward
EMERSON — Essays and Addresses — Heydrick
English Poems — From Pope, Gray, Goldsmith, Coleridge, Btron,
Macaulay, Arnold, and others — Scudder
English Popular Ballads — Hart
Essays — English and American — Alden
Familiar Letters, English and American — Greenlaw
FRANKLIN — Autobiography — Griffin
French Short Stories — Schweikert
GASKELL (Mrs.) — Cranford — Hancock
GOLDSMITH — The Vicar of Wakefield — Morton
HAWTHORNE — The House of the Seven Gables — Herrick
HAWTHORNE — Twice-Told Tales — Herrick and Brtiere
HUGHES — Tom Brown's School Days — DE Mille
IRVING — Life of Goldsmith— Krapp
IRVING — The Sketch Book — Krapp
^f)t Hafee Cnglisf) Clas^icsi— continuea
IRVING — Tales of a Traveller — and parts of The Sketch Book — Krapp
LAMB — Essays of Ella — Benedict
LONGFELLOW — Narrative Poems — Powell
LOWELL — Vision of Sir Launfal — See Coleridge
MACAULAY — Essays on Addison and Johnson — Xewcosier
MACAULAY — Essays on Clive and Hastings — Newcomer
MACAULAY — Goldsmith, Frederic the Great, Madame D' Arblay — New-
comer
MACAULAY — Essays on Milton and Addison — Newcomer
iAlUVOT^^L' Allegro, II Penseroso, Comus. and Lycidas — Neilson
MILTON — Paradise Lost, Books I and II — Farley
Old Testament Narratives — Rhodes
One Hundred Narrative Poems — Teter
PALGRAVE — The Golden Treasury — Newcomer
PARKMAN — The Oregon Trail — Macdonald
POE — Poems and Tales, Selected — Newcomer
POPE — Homer's Iliad, Books I, VI, XXII, XXIV — Cresst and Moodi
READE — The Cloister and the Hearth — DE Mille
RUSKIN — Sesame and Lilies — Linn
Russian Short Stories — SchweikeRT
SCOTT — Lady of the Lake — Moody
SCOTT — Lay of the Last Minstrel — Moody and Willard
SCOTT — Marmion — Moody and Willard
SCOTT — Ivanhoe — Simonds
SCOTT — Quentin Durward — Simonds
Selections from the Writings of Abraham Lincoln — HAMILTON
SHAKSPERE — The Neilson Edition — Edited by W. A. Neilson,
As You Like It Macbeth
Hamlet M idsummer-Night' s Dream
Henry V Romeo and Juliet
Julius Caesar The Tempest
Twelfth Night
SHAKSPERE— Tfte Merchant of Venice — Lovett
SOUTHEY — Life of Nelson — Westcott
STEVENSON — Inland Voyage and Travels with a Donkey — LeonaBD
STEVENSON — Kidnapped — Leonard
STEVENSON — Treasure Island — Broadus
TENNYSON — Selected Poems — Reynolds
TENNYSON — The Princess — Copeland
THACKERAY — English Humorists — Cdnliffe a.Vd Watt
THACKERAY — Henry Esmond — Phelps
THOREAU— TFaJden — BOWMAN
Three American Poems — The Raven, Snow-Bound, Miles Standish —
Greever
Types of the Short Story — Heydrick
VIRGIL — Aeneid — Allinson and Allinson
Washington, Webster, Lincoln, Selections from — Dennet
SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY
CHICAGO ATLANTA NEW YORK
^Ije TLakt Cnglisif) Clasigicg
REVISED EDITION WITH HELPS TO STUDY
THE GOLDEN TREASURY
OF SONGS AND LYRICS
WITH NOTES
BY
FRANCIS T. PALGRAVE
LATE PROFESSOK OF POETRY, THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD
WITH AN INTRODUCTION ON
THE STUDY OF POETRY
BY
ALPHONSO G. NEWCOMER
SOMETIME PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH, I.ELAND
STANFORD JUNIOR UNIVEK>ITY
. ' . • • • . • ' . * • i » ' J
> , • » ...... "••.',,',,,
■' ' ' " . • '• • » * 1^' -. . . ^
* - * ' ' '
SCOTT, FORESMAN AND COMPANY
CHICAGO ATLANTA NEW YORK
99829
COPYMGHT 1908, 1919
By Scott, Foresman and Company
265.24
Om^ .
(fiantrnta
PAGE
Introduction. The Study of Poetry v
Dedication 45
Preface 47
Book 1 51
Book II 106
Book III 183
Book IV 247
Notes 399
Index of Writers 421
Index of First Lines 431
Appendix
Helps to Study 438
Theme Subjects 444
ill
THE STUDY OF POETRY
Poetry, the highest form of hterature, is one
of the arts of expression, of which painting,,
sculptuie, architecture, and music are others.
It differs from these other arts in several ways.
It is less distinctly creative than music and archi-
tecture, both of which give shape, as it were, to
something that did not exist in any shape be-
fore. It is less directly imitative than sculpture
and painting, since these employ physical like-
ness of one sort or another, whereas poetry w^orks
only through the arbitrary symbols of ideas
which we call words. It is thus the least vivid
and least sensuous of the arts. It is also prob-
ably the narrowest in its appeal. The currency
of any particular poem is limited to the currency
of the language in which it is written. Ancient
Greek poetry spoke fully only to the ancient
Greek. If we would understand it, we must
either learn its language, which we can never do
perfectly, or have it translated for us with much
inevitable loss of beauty and significance. This
limitation holds to a certain extent in the other
arts, but far less fatally. Chinese music, f^-r
VT Palgrave's Golden Treasury
instance, does not affect us precisely as it does
the Chinese; yet music, Uke painting and sculp-
ture, comes much nearer to speaking a universal
language.
Notwithstanding all this, poetry is assuredly
chief of the arts, the most perfect expression of
the human spirit. This preeminence it owes to
its inclusiveness. The color of the painting, the
grace of the statue, the melody of the musical
air, may all be in some measure conveyed through
one and the same poem. And beyond and above
these are aspects of life and nature, shades of
thought, and ranges of feeling which only poetry
can express. To take a very simple example,
note the image and sentiment that constitute
the refrain of Victor Husro's Guitare:
't?"-
"The Avind that blows across the mountain-top
Will drive me mad."*
Or note the combination of melody and picture
in William Dunbar's The Merle and the Nightin-
.gale:
"Ne'er sweeter noise was heard by living man
Than made tliis merry, gentle nightingale:
Her sound went with the river, as it ran
Out through the fresh and flourished lusty vale."
These effects are possible only in poetry.
*Le vent qui vient a t ravers la montagne
Me rendra fou.
The Study oj Poetry vii
THE NATURE AND ATTRIBUTES OF POETRY
Many have attempted to define poetry, but
every definition leaves something unsaid. It is
better therefore to forego definition and rest
content with description. And the first thing
to be said has been best said by Shakspere when
he describes the poet as being "of imagination
all compact." Imagination is the magician that
gives poetry its peculiar power. Now imagi-
nation may work very simply, merely bringing
back the vision of things past and done, repro-
ducing after a fashion what the senses cannot
reproduce. But it often becomes in a meas-
ure creative. It is often pleased, for instance,
to reshape what has been seen or experienced,
softening what is harsh, illuminating what is
obscure, selecting, it may be, the more congruous
elements and combining them into lovelier crea-
tions of its own. Or it may take the simple
event or object and clothe it with a multitude
of relations, penetrating everywhere to the essen-
tial life and meaning of things. Or it may,
in the exercise of a still higher function, assume
to see in' the material some type or symbol
of the spiritual and through the one "body
forth" the other. But in whatever manner
the imagination may assert itself, wherever
it is active there is the possibility of poetry;
viii Palgrave's Golden Treasury
and unless it be active, there can be no poetry
at all.
But is not poetry then quite as often con-
cerned with fiction as with truth? Yes, if we
choose to put it so. But fiction is not the opposite
of truth. Fiction, to be sure, means something
that is not fact, something that has no exact
counterpart in the actual world, and poetry pre-
sents not a little such departure from the literal,
physical truth. Take, for example, Mercutio's
description of Queen Mab in Romeo and Juliet:
"She comes
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone
On the forefinger of an alderman,
Drawn with a team of little atomies
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners' legs." etc.
When Romeo protests that Mercutio is talking
of nothing, Mercutio admits that he talks of
dreams
"Which are the children of an idle brain,
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy."
Plato was disposed to condemn such fantasy,
and would have had no poets in his ideal Re-
public, because they were so much given to
reciting fables of imaginary gods and heroes.
But such a condemnation is too sw^eeping.
Shakspere's invention of a Queen Mab is not
meant to deceive and can do no harm; on the
The Study of Poetry ix
contrary it gives much innocent delight. It is
fancy, not falsification. Moreover, the poet's
fancy, even while it creates fictions, may be pre-
senting under this guise essential spiritual truth.
The hell and purgatory and paradise which
Dante describes in such concrete terms in his
Divina Commedia cannot possibly exist just as
he imagined them, but they are no less essentially
true in their portrayal of states of sin, suffering,
and happiness in the human soul. In such a
case the imagery of the poem may be regarded
as fiction if we please, but the poem is none the
less truth in the highest sense — truth that is not
to be tested by the low and imperfect test of
mere physical actuality. In fact we get the
highest poetry only when there is a fusion ot
both fact and fancy in the embodiment of some
lofty imaginative truth.
Along with the question of truth arises the
question of beauty. Poetry, as one of the fine
arts, should work through a medium of beauty
and to beautiful ends. In any art we may at
times find material which is in itself unlovely,
but such material must be so presented as
to give no offense, or the art ceases to be
art. The actual suffering of Laocoon and his
sons in the coils of the serpents would have been
an intolerable thing to witness, but the symbolic
X Palgrave's Golden Treasurif
representation of it in marble, with the signs oi
physical pain softened and subordinated to the
spiritual expression, is contemplated with admira-
tion; the observer is almost made to wish, says
Winckelmann, that he could bear misery like
that great man. Perhaps poetry ventures farther
than the plastic arts in depicting physical or
moral deformity and pain, but it does so only
to heighten some contrasted beauty, or to body
forth some truth the deep significance of which
is in itself a beauty. If it stops short with the
presentation of deformity, it is not poetry. The
wrath of Achilles is redeemed by his friendship
for Patroclus and his compassion on Priam.
The villainy of lago, as portrayed by Shakspere,
ultimately heightens our admiration of moral
worth. So, also, the barest philosophical truth,
having in itself neither beauty nor ugliness, may
be presented in so engaging a form as to take
at once the name of poetry. To be convinced
of this, it is only necessary to recall the finished
couplets of an artist like Pope.
But whether poetry present to us truth or
fiction, beauty or ugliness, it is absolutely essen-
tial that it be the product of feeling and that it
arouse feeling. It might almost be said that the
beginning and end of poetry is delight — delight,
that is, in no narrow sense of mere amusement,
The Study of Poetry xi
Dut in a sense which inchides the whole range cf
emotional satisfaction. This view of it is not
universal. The traditional Greek view made
delight incidental, or a means only, regarding as
the end of poetry the teaching of action and
character. But poetry in which this end is
deliberately sought is invariably characterized
as philosophic or didactic; and the terms imply
an inferior degree of poetic quality. The highest
poetry will no doubt teach, but that poetry
which teaches directly is never the highest, while
that which does nothing but teach is not, prop-
erly speakmg, poetry at all. The direct aim of
great poetry is to stir the nobler emotions, leav-
ing them to work out their own purposes in the
moral world; the ends of morality may be
served, but they are served best only when noth-
ing lessens the purity of the imparted delight.
The cry of "art for art's sake" becomes thus
"art for art's sake because that is also art for
morality's sake."
So much for the general nature and function
of poetry. Let us now pass to a consideration
of certain incidental attributes which further
distinguish it from prose — the ordinary prose of
science, of record, and communication. Here
our first guide shall be Milton, who, in differ-
entiating poetry from logic, declared it to be
xii Palgrave^s Golden Treasury
'''less subtle and fine but more simple, sensuous,
and passionate."
"Simple, Sensuous, and Passionate." — The
direct way to the heart is not through the reason,
but through the senses and emotions and the
language of the senses and emotions. Matter-
of-fact exposition, long-drawn argument, refine-
ments of logic, are manifestly out of place in
poetry. It must keep mainly to the things with
which all men are familiar, and it must put those
things in the language of experience. Love and
death, for instance, are themes of this kind, and
while it is true that few things could be made
the subjects of subtler logic or profounder specu-
lation, when poetry approaches them it prefers
to do so in the attitude of the simplest human
being who enjoys and suffers. In Wordsworth's
poem, "She dwelt among the untrodden ways,"
there is not a thought or an image that cannot
be grasped immediately by the most untutored
reader. Nor does it seem that any elaboration
of thought or expression could convey more
vividly the sorrow of bereavement than the
simple concluding lines,
"But she is in her grave, and oh
The difference to me!"
The prevailing sensuousness of poetry is well
shown by the fact that the poet draws a large
The Study of Poetry xiii
proportion of his images from the world of sense
— of eye and ear, of taste and smell and feeling.
So true is this of early epic poetry that in all the
Iliad there is but a single figure drawn from the
operations of the mind.* Note how Keats's Eve
of St. Agnes, one of the most widely known
and admired of modern poems, abounds in
pictures and images of sense. Mark in the more
ethereal To a Skylark of Shelley the same con-
oreteness of imagery — "Like a cloud of fire,"
"Like a star of heaven," "Like a rose embow-
ered," "Like a high-born maiden in a palace
tower." Could winter be more vividly portrayed
than in Shakspere's lines:
"When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail?"
Moreover, in poetry abstract conceptions are
constantly put into concrete form. When wo
are conscious that time is rapidly passing, the
poetic faculty within us leaps at once to an image
and says, "Time flies;" and Scott, in his stir-
ing Hunting Song, exclaims:
"Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk,
Staunch as hound and fleet as hawk!"
*Iliad, XV., 80.
xiv Palgrave's Golden Treasury
In the same manner Shakspere, with the reverse
conception writes:
"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death."
It must not, however, be assumed that sim-
pUcity and sensuousness are necessary and imi-
versal attributes of poetry, nor that the test of
great poetry lies in its appeal to the untutored
mind. To maintain this would be to limit poetry
at once to the simplest lyrics or ballads and to
set the concert-hall song above the Shaksperian
drama. Milton was merely drawing a distinc-
tion, not proposing a precise definition. There
are many kinds of poetry; and there are vary-
ing degrees of simplicity and sensuousness, as
there are varying degrees of intelligence to be
reached. What is simple to one man to-day
might not have been so yesterday and may
never be so to another. The poet cannot sink
always to the level of babes. He may, indeed,
address himself to most select audiences, basing
his appeals upon less familiar experiences and
involving them at times in subtle webs of thought.
Oidy, he will keep more on the side of sensuous-
ness and simplicity than if he were writing
philosophical prose.
The Study of Poetry
XV
Moreover, there is in Milton's statement a
third element to be considered, namely, that
poetry is marked by passion. Perhaps this is
the most important of the three. We have
already remarked how essential it is that poetry
be based upon feeling. The "noble emotions"
Oi which Ruskin makes so much in all art, the
"spiritual excitement" which Arnold considers
a necessary condition of lofty style, must l^e
present in some degree; and no doubt if they
are present in sufficient degree, if only the poet
be impassioned enough, his emotional intensity
and elevation will lift his thoughts, however
abstruse, into the region of poetry.
Generic, or Specific?— Is the generic or the
specific the better suited to the poet's purpose?
The fact that poetry shows a preference for the
simple, sensuous, and concrete, might seem to
decide the question at once in favor of the
specific. Dr. Johnson, however, has recorded in
Rasselas a somewhat different opinion:
"The business of a poet," said Imlac, "is to examine,
not the individual, but the species; to remark general
properties and large appearances. He does not number
the streaks of the tulip, or describe the different shades in
the verdure of the forest. He is to exhibit in liis por-
traits of nature such prominent and striking features as
recall the original to every mind, and must neglect the
minuter discriminations, which one may have remarked
and another have neglected, for those characteristics
which are alike obvious to vigilance and carelessness."
xvi Palgrave's Golden Treasury
The ideas and tastes of the eighteenth century
in these matters were somewhat different from
our own. Johnson, for instance, in The Vanity
of Human Wishes, contents himself in his enu-
meration of the tilings that make up the pomp
and splendor of a king's life, with such vaguely
outlined elements as "the regal palace," "the
luxurious board." Almost equally generalized
is Pope's description of the happy man, —
"Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire;
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter, fire."
In marked contrast to this are such lines as
Tennyson's
"The seven elms, the poplars four.
That stand beside my father's door."
Each poet pursues his purpose consistently. The
"flocks" and "trees" of Pope are as appropriate
to his generalized landscape as the "elms" and
"poplars" of Tennyson are to his particular one.
All we can say is that there is a preference on
the pare of probably the larger class of poets
for specific themes and methods — a preference
sometimes so marked that a poet like Keats
will swell the description of even an imaginary
bower with a wealth of "botanical circumstance."
The Study of Poetry xvii
These differences are really but differences of
emphasis which help us to define more exactly
the limits of poetry. We may agree with Ur.
Johnson in the main, yet feel that he went too
far in his restrictions. That which is obvious
to "vigilance" only, should certainly be as good
poetic material as that which is obvious to
"carelessness" merely. But it should always
be obvious, — not necessarily to the whole world,
for that would sink poetry to the level of the
commonplace, but obvious to the alert, the dis-
cerning, and the imaginative, in a word, to the
poet himself. Thmgs that are recondite, that
can be discovered and set forth only by abstract
reasoning, are not proper material for poetry.
Neither are those natural phenomena which
reveal themselves only to microscopic examina-
tion or which require the test of scientific
analysis. Such things are the material of the
philosopher and the scientist, and should be
handled through the medium of prose.
To state the principle broadly then, the poet
may safely generalize only up to the point where
perception readily follows, and he may be specific
only down to the same point. Such a general
t^uth as
"Slow rises worth by poverty depressed"
is poetic material l^ecause it is based upon
XA-iii Palgrave's Golden Treasury
observation of the more immediate kind, and
is readily verified by most men's experience.
But such a scientific generalization as, "In
animal life the ascent of the scale of creation is
a process of differentiation of functions," goes
bej^ond the proper realm of poetry. So with
particularization. The poet may number the
streaks of a tulip provided he can do it with a
glance of the eye. If the streaks are too faint
or too numerous for that, the numbering be-
comes a scientific and not a poetic jDrocess.
Even the numbering with a glance of the eye
may be unpoetic if done for other purposes than
delight. On the whole, it is plain what Dr.
.Johnson would have excluded — very minute
details, accidental peculiarities, methodically pre-
cise description and classification. In further
illustration, take Byron's description of the Lake
of Geneva as viewed from the castle of Chillon:
"A thousand feet in depth below
The massy waters meet and flow."
This might seem to be a violation of our prin-
ciple. But a second thought shows that it is
not. "Nine hundred and fifty-five feet" Avould
be such a violation, because we should then
have an exact reference to an abstract standard
of measurement. The round nmnber makes no
pretence to accuracy, even though the poet goes
The Study of Poetry xLx
on to speak of a fathom-line. The reader gets
merely an impression of vast depth. Whether
the statement even approaches exactness is a
matter of comparative indifference. Most fre-
quently, indeed, the poet avoids all reference
to such standards of measurement as feet, hours,
and the like. When Spenser would tell us the
time, he says:
"By this the northern Wagoner had set."
When Keats would indicate a certain distance,
he writes:
"About a young bird's flutter from the wood."'
The legions of Satan, according to Milton, lay
on the lake of fire,
"Tliick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks
In Vallombrosa."
In every case we are referred directly to the
powers of sense-perception.
Suggestion and Association. — While poetry
sometimes achieves its end of giving delight by
the simple method of filling the mind with pleas-
ing tales and pictures, more often perhaps, the
end is attained by opening avenvies of contempla-
tion and stimulating the mind to create its own
images. By the art of suggestion, or by playing
XX Palgravc's Golden Treasury
upon the law of association, the poet may set
up such a creative activity in the mind of his
auditor as yields perhaps the keenest of all
imaginative pleasures. For instance, he may
compress a dozen images into a single word, as
vvhen Collins speaks of " salloiv Autumn"; or
by a striking epithet he may start a long train
of thought, as when Shakspere discourses of the
"hungry ocean." An admiralile instance of the
effectiveness of suggestion may be seen in tlie
word "silent" as used by Keats in the last line
of his sonnet, On First Looking into Chapman' s
Homer. The ellipses so frequently found in
verse, the compounding of nouns, the suppres-
sion of verlis, the resort to exclamatory forms,
all owe part of their effectiveness to the fact
that they substitute suggestion for complete
expression.
The laws of mental association may likewise
be counted upon to stimulate this imaginative
activity. Words carry with them long trains
of associated ideas, varying of course with the
knowledge and experience of the individual.
The poet instinctively seeks that language
which is richest in associations. Milton, in
V Allegro and II Penseroso, plays upon class-
ical mythology and literature in a way to give
intense deUcjht to those versed in that lore.
The Study of Poetnj xxi
The first stanza of Shelley's Ode to the West
Wind calls up in succession all that we have
read or known of the mysteries of witchcraft,
of the horrors of plague, of funeral trains, muster-
ing armieS; and shepherded flocks.
"O wild West Wind, thou breatli of Autumn's being,
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing,
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
Pestilence-stricken multitudes! O thoil
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low.
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow
Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth, and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With hvang hues and odours plain and liill:
Wild Spirit, which art moving eveiywhere;
Destroyer and Preserver; Hear, oh hear!"
Imagination and Fancy. — We have already
used the word imagination in a broad sense as
virtually synonymous with all poetic or creative
activity. In a somewhat narrower sense, how-
ever, it is applied only to the higher and nobler
phases of this activity, while the word fancy is
employed to distinguish the lower phases. The
marks of fancy are to be found in such poetry
as deals with the merely pretty or amusing, the
diminutive, the superficial, the ephemeral, the
sentimental, and the like. At the lowest it
may descend to the palpably false. When Pope,
xxii Palgrave's Golden Treasury
for instance, in one of his early pastorals, de-
clares that at the nightingale's song "all the
aerial audience clapped their wings," he strains
^is fancy quite to the verge of the ridiculous.
Most of the stock images of poetry, like "rosy
cheeks" and "ivory brow," and especially those
which attempt to adorn nature with the attri-
butes of art, such as "silken wings" and "jewelled
skies," must.be regarded as creations of a not
very worthy fancy. From its worthier exercise,
however, may sprmg such an admirable poem
as, for instance, Gray's playful Ode on the Death
of a Favorite Cat, or the numerous graceful
trifles of Herrick, or the best of the sentimental
effusions of Moore. A good example of fancy
passing into imagination may be seen in Gray's
Ode on the Pleasure Arising from Vicissitude.
On the other hand, the heat and glow of the
pure imagination are at once stronger and
steadier than the passing gleams of fancy.
Imagination ranges beyond the immediate, deals
freely with the vast in space or power, penetrates
appearances and seizes and reveals whatever is
fundamentally true, beautiful, and good. It
is the native gift of the supreme poets. We may
trace its workings upon every page of Shak-
spere, the greatest master of both the secrets of
nature and the passions of men- It illuminates
The Study of Poetry xxiii
as with a kind of celestial radiance the lines of
Wordsworth's inspired odes. Unconditioned by
time or space, it freely transcends fact, but
never truth. Ideal truth is indeed one of its
essential characteristics. When Wordsworth
makes Nature say of Lucy that
"Beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face,"
we are at first startled as by something merely
fanciful and untrue. But a second thought
makes us see that this is no idle fancy, but the
profoundest of imaginative truth. Indeed, we
may conceive it to be the literal fact — that
harmonies which pass through the senses to
the mind may be reproduced in the organs of
the body. Literalness, however, is no necessary
quality. When Milton ventures upon the high
imaginings of a Paradise Lost, he does not bind
himself to fact, that is, to actual human experi-
ence. Much of the machinery of that great poem
is a palpable fiction. Through its daring sym-
bolism, however, it sets forth what Milton con-
ceived to be the deepest truths of the moral and
spiritual universe.
Select Diction. — Coleridge said that whereas
prose is simply "words in their best order,"
poetry, in his definition, is "the best words in
the best order." Naturally poetry, being con-
xxiv Palgrave^s Golden Treasury
secrated to the highest spiritual purposes, seeks
a consecrated hangviage. It avoids all words
that might shock or offend. It clings instinctively
to what is old and well-tried. Thus a greater
archaism is not only permitted to poetry than
to prose — it is almost forced upon it; and so
we find in it certain forms, hke "wast,"
"yon," "trod," "burthen," which prose no
longer uses. Now and then a poet will strike
out boldly into new fields, forcing to his pur-
poses a very modern or even local and technical
diction. But the difficulty is great and the
attempt dangerous, requiring for success a high
order of imagination and taste.* On the other
hand, verse-writers sometimes betray an exces-
sive tendency to keep to a special "poetic"
vocabulary. They think, for instance, that they
must write of "crystal" instead of "glass," of
"steed" or "courser" instead of "horse," of
"youths and maidens" instead of "boys and
girls." Poetry has doubtless shown a general
preference for the former of these terms, a
preference stronger at certain periods in the
history of our literature than at others. But
the preference is not always justifiable, since it
*Perhaps as good an example of this as could be found
(for by the nature of the case one is practically compelled
to select from contemporary verse) is Mr. Kipling's
MrAndreiv's Hymn.
1 he Studij of Foetry
XXV
does not follow that what is common is common-
place or that what is homely is unpoetical.
Sometimes the deepest feelings and the most
sacred associations go with the familiar, homely
word.
Indeed, poetry usually prefers the simple
word. This springs logically from the sim-
plicity which we have seen to be characteristic
of poetry in general. Long, hard words are
learned comparatively late in life; they have
not gathered about them so many associations,
nor do they call them up so readily; in fact,
they do not usually stand for the simpler human
feelings and relations, but rather for the refine-
ments of mature life and experience, when love
passes into regard, and ardent will into prefer-
ence, and joy into a measured gratification. Or
they stand for the subtle distinctions of philo-
sophic and scientific analysis, with which poetry
has little or no concern. But we may not be
dogmatic on this point, nor attempt to fix
arbitrary limits. Milton employs a highly Latin-
ized diction to suit the dignified character of
his epic, and he has clearly felt the poetic beauty
of certain long and resonant proper names. In
the sonnets of Rossetti, too, may be found many
such words as "desultory," "regenerate," "prim-
ordial," "irretrievably," " inexoral)le supremacy,"
xxvi Pali,rave's Golden Treasury
used nearly always with entire felicity both of
sound and sense. Everything of course depends
upon the atmosphere of the poem, the effect
aimed at, and the taste and skill of the poet.
Poetry prefers the beautiful word — a point in
which again the taste of the poet is supreme
arbiter. When Thomson writes "atween" in-
stead of "between" and Tennyson "marish"
instead of "marsh," we feel that they were
drawn by some peculiar beauty which, rightly
or wrongly, they conceived to lie in those forms.
Poems like Shelley's To a Skylark, or Keats's
Ode to Autumn, or Poe's The Raven are filled
with the most beautiful and melodious words
the language possesses. Of course, when a dif-
ferent effect is desired, uncouth and dissonant
words may be used; but this is in pursuance of
a special or temporary purpose, in which poetry
still, by nicely suiting the means to the end,
achieves that ultimate and integral beauty which
lies in the perfect harmonization of all elements.
Figurative Language, — Figurative language is
preeminently the language of the imagination,
which is constantly detecting subtle resemblances
or clothing abstractions in visible forms. It is
also the natural language of emotion, which not
only employs those rhetorical figures — exclama-
tion, and the like — that serve to make expres-
The Study uj Poetry
XXVll
sion more brief and vivid, but which sometimes
sees falsely and therefore, without realizing it,
speaks in hyperbole or under an untruthful
image. When, for example, in an excess of fear
or rage, or out of excessive love or sympathy,
one attributes life and sensation to that which
does not have them, he commits what Ruskin has
called a pathetic fallacy — a fallacy, that is, of the
feelings, natural and justifiable, and not to be con-
fused with the inexcusable fallacy of a cold-
blooded conceit. Lyric poetry is full of the
pathetic fallacy, as it is full indeed of figures of
every kind. On the other hand, it is to be
observed that some narrative poetry of the
highest type — Homer's Iliad, for example, and
Dante's Divina Commedia — uidulges in few fig-
ures, and those mostly of simple comparison,
such as the simile, in which there is no shadow
of mental confusion. Yet figures have remained,
first and last, one of the great distinguishing
marks of poetic expression.
POETIC FORM
Metre. — Nearly all definitions of poetry agree
in requiring that '.ts language shall be measured,
that is, be given metrical form. Metre, as applied
to English verse, may be defined as a recurrence
of accents or stresses at intervals measurably
xxviii Palgrovc's Golden Treasury
and continuously regular. The rhythm of prose
is distinguished from metre in not being con-
tinuous or so measurably regular. Metre obeys
a discoverable law. Without going into the
history of English verse or troubling ourselves
about the difference between accent and the
classical "quantity," we may give a very simple
outline of English metrics as practiced in modern
poetry.
The Foot. — The metrical unit is the foot.
This consists of one stressed syllable in combina-
tion with either one or two unstressed syllables.
The two-syllable feet are the iamb ( ^ ^ ) and
the TROCHEE ( _1 _ ).
The three-syllable feet are the anapest ( ,^ ^ _!. )
and the dactyl ( _1 _ _ ).
To these may be added the spondee ( _ _ ), a
foot of two heavy or nearly equally stressed
syllables, which is emploj^ed as a frequent sub-
stitute for the dactyl in dactylic verse.
From this scheme it is apparent that English
verse falls naturally into two great divisions or
classes — the iambic-trochaic class, or what may
be called duple measure, and the anapestic-
dactylic class, or triple measure.
Iambic and Trochaic Measures. — It is not
always possible to tell whether we shall call a
given duple-measure verse iambic or trochaic.
The Study of Poetry
XXIX
From the middle portion of the Hnes we could
not tell. If, however, the lines hegin regularly
with a light syllable, we call the measure iambic;
if with a stressed syllable, trochaic. Gray's
Elegy is iambic:
ft , t
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day.
Ambrose Philips's To Charlotte Pulteney (except-
ing its last two lines) is trochaic:
t I t '
Timely blossom, Infant fair.
Gray's The Bard is predominantly iambic, with
some trochaic lines. Milton's U Allegro and II
Penseroso are compounded almost equally of the
two measures.
In general, the iambic movement is the more
dignified and stately; the trochaic is lighter, with
a tripping effect. It may be noted further that
the iambic is the favorite English measure, in-
cluding a far greater proportion of verse than
all the other measures combined.
Anapestic and Dactylic Measures. — The two
movements in triple measure are likewise not
always kept distinct. Cowper's The Solitude of
Alexander Selkirk is an anapestic poem:
I am monarch of all I survey;
My right there is none to dispute.
XXX Palgrave's Golden Tn.asury
Hood's The Bridge of Sighs is dactylic:
One more Unfortunate
Weary of breath.
Scott's Pihrocl of Donuil Dhu is mainly dactylic,
with at least one stanza — the third — almost
entirely anapeotic. It should be noted that this
triple measure very freely admits duple feet as
substitutes for the triple; a good example is
Wolfe's The Burial of Sir John Moore:
t t » f
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note.
The Line. — The line is named according to
the number of feet it contains. A line of
One foot = MONOMETER Five feet = pentameter
Two feet = dimeter Six feet = hexameter
Three feet = trimeter Seven feet = heptameter
Four feet = tetrameter Eight feet = octometer
The line is then further described, according to
the character of its feet, as iambic, trochaic,
dactylic, or anapestic. Thus the line quoted
above from Gray is iaml^ic pentameter, that
from Philips is trochaic tetrameter (wanting a
final light syllable), and that from Wolfe is
anapestic tetrameter.
The lines most commonly used in lyric verse
The Study of Poetry xxxi
are from three to five feet in length; in narrative
and dramatic verse, from four to six feet. The
great English verse* is unquestionably the iamlDic
pentameter. It is used, with rhyme, for most
long narrative poems of the romantic cast, and
without rhyme (blank) for narrative of the
severer epic type and for the drama. From its
' former use it has obtained the name of the Eng-
lish "heroic." An iambic hexameter, when used
as an occasional variant in pentameter verse^
goes by the French name of "Alexandrine."
Metrical Variations. — Thus far we have de-
scribed verse as if it were absolutely regular —
as a child always Avishes to recite it, with
regular and equally stressed accents. Poets,
however, in their practice are constantly intro-
ducing variations, and there can be no proper
reading of poetry without taking account of the
numerous departures from the normal foot and
line. The variations are chiefly of ^hree kinds;
(1) variations in the number of light or unstressed
syllables; (2) variations in the weight of stressed
syllables; (3) variations in the relative position
of the stresses.
1 . An extra unstressed syllable is often allowed
*Note that "a verse" or "the verse" means technically
a single line. '' Verse" in the collective sense stands for
all metrically arranged language.
xxxii Palgrave^s Golden Treasury
in iambic and trochaic measure, especially at
the beginning or end of a line:
' t ft
Other flowering isles must be
r t It
In the sea of life and agony.
r t t t t
The wise want love and those who love want wisdom
The extra syllables within a line are usually-
such as may be easily slurred over (-er, -el, -en,
-y, the before a vowel, etc.):
Master of the niunnuring courts.
t r r t
She dw-elt among the untrodden ways.
So spake the imperial sage, purest of men.
r p r ft
Sweet fluttering sheet, even of her breath aware.
Sometimes an apostrophe is made to take the
place of the vowel of such syllables, but the
present tendency is rather against complete
elision. The syllable therefore should be pro-
nounced distinctly, though of course very lightly
and rapidly.
A light syllable may be omitted from three-
syllable (anapestic or dactylic) measure:
r t f t
A sensitive plant in a garden grew
A A
This is sometimes done so freely as quite to
change the character of the verse. For example,
The Study of Poetry ' xxxiii
Moore's Pro Patria Mori and Wolfe's The Burial
of Sir John Moore are both technically in anapestic
measure, but the second, with its greater free-
dom, gives much less the effect of singing and
more the effect of recitation.
Occasionally, the light syllable or syllables of
a foot are altogether omitted, their place being
supplied by a pause:
V -!- V -L V ^
Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
Over bank and over brae,
Hie away, hie away.
A
Rarely, as many as three light syllables are
allowed in a foot. If this is done continuously
we get virtually a new (quadruple) measure, the
feet of which have never been given a name in
English. Such feet, however, very easily resolve
themselves into trochees or iambs:
f i r
Though the bloodhound be mute and the rush beneath
my foot,
And the warder his bug/e should not blow.
(Scott's Eve of St. John.)
2. Stresses are not of uniform strength. Some-
times the place of the stress is occupied by a
xxxiv Palgrave's Golden Treasury
very weak syllable. In reading, such a syllable
is given the least accent possible — merely suffi-
cient to indicate the time-beat:
Amid the timbrels and the throng'd resort.
f r I r !
The mockery of my people and their bane.
The sound of merrimeni and chorus bland.
Iambic pentameters, notwithstanding their five
time-beats, show on the average only about four
strong stresses to the line.
Often the unstressed position is occupied b}'' a
heavy syllable, which must not, however, be
given the time-beat so long as there is an equally
heavy syllable in the stressed position:
But how to take last leave of all I love.
3. The position of stresses may occasionally
be shifted, yielding inverted feet:
-Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
r t t f f
Of that colossal wreck, hoiindless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Such inversion is most frequent at the begin-
ning of a line or after a pause. It is mainly con-
fined, too, to iambic verse, the other measures
— trochaic, anapestic, and dactylic — having their
accentual character more strongly marked.
The Study of Poetry :sxxv
Sometimes the shifting of stresses is carried
so far as to bring about a kind of fusion of two
feet into one long compound foot. The number
and weight of stresses remain the same, but
the alternation is temporarily lost:
' ' ' ' v^ _L
And the first gray of morning filled the east.
' ' ' ' ^^ A
Raised higher the faint head o'er which it hung.
Here the scansion of the italicized portion is
^ ^ j_ j_ instead of _ JL .^ .1 •
Rhyme. — Rhyme is a recurrence of the same
sound or sounds. According to present English
practice, two words are said to rhyme when
they are similar in sound from the vowel of the
last accented syllable to the close. It is com-
monly required that the consonants (or combi-
nation of consonants) preceding the accented
vowel be different. That is, fate, ate, rate, gate,
etc., may rhyme with grate, Imt not great with
grate, because of their complete identity; but
a few poets have followed the French custom
and allowed this identity. Spelling has nothmg
to do with the matter; strait and straight are
both rhymes to either great or grate.
Masculine rhyme is rhyme of a single syllable:
go - grow; felled - beheld.
Feminine or double rhyme (so named be-
cause of the svllabic addition to femmine words
xxxvi Palgrave's Golden Trtanury
in French) is rhyme of two syllables; going-
growing; city - pity.
Triple rhymf is also occasionally found:
tenderly - slenderly; bring to her - spring to her.
Slight variations in the vowel sounds and
(more rarely) in the consonant sounds are ad-
mitted by most poets : love - prove; Christ - mist;
prize - Paradise.
Weak or light rhyme occurs when one of the
rhyming syllables has only a secondary word-
accent : see - futurity; sped - piloted; spell - desir-
able.
Another musical device frequently employed
is ALLITERATION. This is merely beginning-
rhyme, or similarity of sound at the beginning
of words or syllables: now -never; Might -blos-
som; love - relent; strive - restrain. In early Eng-
lish poetry, alliteration was employed systemat-
ically, but now it is almost wholly incidental;
for example:
With just enough of Me to see
The last of suns go down on me.
To alliteration may be added assonance, or
similarity of sound (chiefly vowel) within words;
gray - save; gloaming - home. This also is but
an incidental element. Yet these incidental
elements often add great charm to verse. Ob-
serve, for example, how effectively the three
The Study of Poetry xxxvii
consonant sounds in the word Cupid are made
to play through the following lines:
Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
At cards for kisses: Cupid paid
and observe how extremely musical the follow-
ing stanza is made by the chiming and cadence
of its dominant sounds:
The low downs lean to the sea; the stream.
One loose thin pulseless tremulous vein,
Rapid and vivid and dumb as a dream,
Works downward, sick of the sun and the rain.
Blank Verse. — Blank verse is verse without
rhyme. It is commonly iambic pentameter, as
in Shakspere's dramas and Milton's Paradise
Lost. In this verse there are no metrical units
greater than the line; beyond that the verse
simply moves in rhythmical masses and falls into
paragraphs like those of prose:
"Is this the region, this the soil, the clime."
Said then the lost Archangel, "this the seat
That we must change for Heaven? — this mournful gloom
For that celestial light? Be it so, since He
Who now is sovran can dispose and bid
What shall be right; farthest from him is best,
Whom '•eason hath equalled, force hath made supreme
Above his equals. Farewell, happy fields.
Where joy forever dwells! Hail, horrors! hail,
Infernal World! and thou, profoundest Hell,
Receive thy new possessor — one who brings
A mind not to be changed by place or time.
The mind is its own place, and in itself
Can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven."
99«<:h
xxxviii Palgrave's Golden Treasury
Another familiar form of blank verse is the
DACTYLIC HEXAMETER, which is modelled upon
the Greek and Latin hexameter, with very
definite rules of its own. Among these rules are
the requirement that the sixth or last foot shall
always be a trochee; that a two-syllable foot
(properly a spondee, but often a trochee) may
be substituted for the dactyl of any foot but the
fifth; and that the chief rhetorical pause within
the line, technically kno\\Ti as the caesura,
shall not come at the end of a foot:
Awed by her own rash words she was still: || and her
eyes to the seaward^
Looked for an answer of wrath: far off, in the heart of
the darkness,
Bright white mists rose slowly; beneath them the wander-
ing ocean
Glimmered and glowed to the deepest abyss; and the
knees of the maiden
Trembled and sank in her fear, as afar, like a dawn in the
midnight,
Rose from their seaweed chamber the choir of the mys-
tical sea-maids.
Couplets. — The simplest use of rhyme is shown
in the couplet — two successive rhyming lines.
This, like blank verse, is most frequently iambic
pentameter. Two kinds of pentameter couplets
may be distinguished, the classic and the roman-
tic. In the former there is a marked pause at
The Study of Poetry xxxix
the end, each couplet constituting a pretty dis-
tinct rhetorical unit, with internal balance nicely
adjusted; as in the following example from Pope's
Rape of the Lock:
But now secure the painted vessel glides,
The sunbeams trembling on the floating tides;
While melting music steals upon the sky,
And soften'd sovmds along the waters die;
Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play,
Belinda smiled, and all the world was gay.
In the romantic couplet there are many "run-
on" lines, the pauses occurring at any point,
with frequently a full stop in the middle of a
line. The opening lines of Keats's Endymion
afford a good illustration:
A thing of beauty is a joy forever;
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
In either case these couplets are printed con-
tinuously, like blank verse, with large irregular
paragraph divisions.
Stanza Forms. — Rhyme is not only a musical
addition to verse, but it serves also to bind the
lines into the larger poetic units kno'v\Ti as stanzas.
Sometimes stanzas are constructed without
rhymes, as in Collins's ode To Evening, but this
xl Palgrave's Golden Treasury
is rare. The briefest stanza consists of two
lines. Couplets, as defined above, are not
stanzas. But when printed ' separately, they
constitute stanzas to which perhaps the name
of DisTicHS may be given. An example is
Whittier's Maud Midler. Specimens may be
found also of three-line stanzas, with triple
rhyme. Above this we reach the forms of the
more common stanzas, and the possible combi-
nations become obviously very numerous. We
shall indicate only the more frequent and char-
acteristic combinations, some of which have
distinctive names.
A QUATRAIN consists of four lines, usually
with alternate rhyme, a, b, a, h:
I see the rainbow in the sky,
The dew upon the grass,
I see tliem, and I ask not why
They ghmmer or they pass.
An important variation is that employed by
Tennyson in In Memoriam, with an enclosed
couplet, thus: a-, h, h, a. The lines are tetram-
eter:
I sing to him that rests below,
And, since the grasses round me wave,
I take the grasses of the grave
And make them pipes whereon to blow.
Another variation is the oriental quatram of
The Study of Poetry >li
Fitzgerald's Ruhaiyat: a, a, h, a. The lines of
this are pentameter:
Awake! for morning in the bowl of niglit
Has flung the stone that put the stars to fliglit:
And lo! the hunter of the east has caught
The sultan's turret in a noose of light.
Rhyme-royal is a seven-line pentameter
stanza, a, h, a, h, h, c, c. It was much used m
Chaucer's time. An example may lie found in
the familiar. Prelude of William ^Morris's Earthly
Paradise:
Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing,
I cannot ease the burden of your fears,
Or make quick-coming death a little thing,
Or bring again the pleasure of past years,
Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears,
Or hope again for aught that I can say,
The idle singer of an empty day.
Ottava rima is an eight-line pentameter
stanza, a, h, a, b, a, h, c, c. The stanza and the
name were borrowed from the Italian. Byron's
Don Juan will furnish an example:
And first one universal shriek there rushed
Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash
Of echoing thunder; and then all was hushed,
Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash
Of billows; but at intervals there gushed.
Accompanied with a convulsive splash,
A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry
Of some strong swimmer in his agony.
xlii Palgrave's Golden Treasury
Another Italian form, not really stanzaic, is
the terza rima, consisting of sets of triple rhymes
interlocked, a, b, a, h, c, b, c, d, c, d, e, d, etc.
See Shelley's Ode to the West Wind.
The Spenserian stanza, invented by Spenser
for his Faerie Queene, consists of nine lines —
eight iambic pentameter and the ninth an
Alexandrine — rhyming a, b, a, b, b, c, b, c, c.
The example following is from Spenser, but
the stanza may be seen also in Byron's Childe
Harold, Keats' s Eve of St. Agnes, and various
poems of Shelley's, such as the Stanzas Written
in Dejection near Naples:
One day, nigh weary of the irksome way,
From her unhasty beast she did ahght,
And on the grass her dainty Hmbs did lay
In secret shadow, far from all men's sight:
From her fair head her fillet she imdight,
And laid her stole aside. Her angel's face,
As the great eye of heaven, shined bright,
And made a sunshine in the shady place;
Did never mortal eye behold such heavenly grace.
The Sonnet. — The sonnet is a complete poem
of fourteen iambic pentameter lines. In the
strict Italian or Petrarchan form it is divided
formally, and usually also logically, into an
octave and a sestet. The octave contains but
two rhymes, in the order a, b, b, a, a, b, b, a.
The sestet may contain either two or three
The Study of Poetry xliii
rhymes arranged in any interlinked order-
ed d, c, d, c, d; c, c, d, c, c, d; c, d, e, c, d, e; c, d,
e, d, c, e, etc. The following example is from
Wordsworth :
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon I
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For tills, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not. — Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
The Shaksperian sonnet is arranged in three
quatrains and a couplet: a, b, a, b, c, d, c, d,
e. f, e, f, g, g:
That time of year thou may'st in me behold.
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sun-set fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest:
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire.
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie.
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong.
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
xliv Palgrave's Golden Treasury
The Ode. — The ode is usually composed of
lines of varying length, and divided into stanzas,
"or strophes. In the so-called ''Pindaric" ode
of Cowley and his imitators, these strophes are
entirely irregular in length and form. See Dry-
den's Alexanders Feast for an example.
In the Pindaric ode proper, the stanzas are
arranged in triads of strophe, antistrophe, and
epode, and these correspond throughout. That
is, some arrangement of lines and rhymes is?
selected for the strophe and preserved througt^.
all the succeeding strophes and antistrophes,
with a different arrangement for the epode,
which is likewise preserved through the follow-
ing epodes. See Gray's The Bard.
Many simpler arrangements of more or less
regular stanzas are also called odes, such as the
familiar odes of Shelley and Keats.
French Forms. — In recent years there has
been a revival of numerous old French forms of
verse, such as the ballade, the rondeau, the
TRIOLET, etc. Many of them are extremely
elaborate and artificial, making much use o^
the element of refrain. They are of value chiefly
as exercises of the fancy and of technical skill.
Seldom is poetry of the first order composed in
them and they call for no extended description
here.
The Studij of Poetry -xlv
KINDS OF POETRY
Poetry may be divided into three large classes,
Epic, Lyric, and Dramatic, with numerous
minor classes subdividing and to some extent
overlapping these.
Epic Poetry. — Epic poetr}' was originally the
poetry of recital or of rude chant. It is objec-
tive; that is, it deals with external events and
seldom expresses the feelmgs of the poet. It is
mainly narrative, usually of great length, and
in its earlier examples treats of the deeds and
prowess of some hero or tril^e. A distinction
may be made between the early folk-epic, or
hero-saga, and its later developments or imita-
tions. The former is comparatively simple and
of obscure origin, being sometimes a product of
slow growth and the work of various bards.
Such are the Iliad, the Nibelungenlied, and
Beowulf. The character of the folk-epic can-
not of course be adequately shown in an extract,
but possibly something of its spirit and general
manner may be thus conveyed. The following
is from our Old English epic, the alliterative
poem of three thousand lines which recounts
the deeds of the Teutonic hero Beowulf, who
delivered the country of xi\s. L*anes from a
dragon :
xlvi Palgrave's Golden Treasury
Then he saw mid the war-gems a weapon of victory,
An ancient giant-sword, of edges a-doughty,
Glory of warriors: of weapons 'twas choicest,
Only 'twas larger than any man else was
Able to bear to the battle-encounter,
The good and splendid work of the giants.
He grasped then the sword-hilt, brandished liis ring-sword;
Hopeless of living, hotly he smote her.
That the fiend-woman's neck firmly it grappled.
Broke through her bone-joints, the bill fully pierced her
Fate-cursed body, she fell to the ground then:
The hand-sword was bloody, the hero exulted.
(J. L. Hall's Translation.)
The ART-EPIC arises at a stage of higher devel-
opment, and is invariably the work of a single
poet who elaborates his story with all the devices
of a perfected art. The best type of this is the
great Roman epic of the Aeneid. Though Virgil
professedly followed Homer, writing a heroic
poem and employing indeed some of the same
legends, the difference of treatment may be. felt
in almost every line. The primitive character
is gone; the later poet is manifestly far removed
from the events which he describes, and literary
embellishment is more constantly added to direct
narration. The following lines describe Aeneas's
departure from Carthage, on his way tc found
Rome, at the bidding of a messenger from
heaven :
Now at the last, Troy's chief, by the sudden vision appalled,
Started from slumber, and loudly his sleeping manners
called:
The Study of Poetry xlvii
"Gallants! waken in haste! Each man to his bench and
his oar!
Hoist all sails with a will! From the heavenly heights
as before,
Comes an immortal God, sent dovra 'u-ith a mighty com-
mand
Straight to depart, and to sever the twisted cables from
land.
Holiest one! we obey thee, whatever thy title on high;
Lo! with rejoicing hearts to perform thy bidding we fly.
Be thou graciously near us, and make yon stars of the sky
Herald us weather fair." As he spake, from the scab-
bard his sword
Flamed as the lightning flashes, and sundered swiftly the
cord.
All are aglow, heave gaily amain, haste gladly to do.
Land in the distance fades, sails cover the seas, and the
crew
Labor the foaming waters, and cleave bright billows of
blue.
{Bowen's Translation.)
Sometimes the later poet attempts to imitate
the simphcity of the more primitive epic, as
Matthew Arnold has done in Sohrab and Rustum.
On the other hand the modern epic poet may
quite depart from the subjects and methods of
the early bards, and produce a great historical,
allegorical, or religious epic, like Camoen's
Lusiad, Spenser's Faerie Queene, or Milton's
Paradise Lost.
The FOLK-BALLAD, though much briefer and
partaking of a lyric character, remains essentially
objective and must be regarded as a variety of
epic poetry. There are numerous English ballads
xlviii Palgrave's Golden Treasury
of unknown origin, like Robin Hood or the Battle
of Otterhurn, and also numerous later ones,
especially since the time of Scott, composed in
more or less close imitation of them. The char-
acter of the rude, anonymous ballad is well
illustrated by the opening stanzas of Sir Patrick
Spence:
The king sits in Dumferling toune,
Drinking the bUide-reid wine:
"O whar will I get guid sailor,
To sail this schip of mine?"
Up and spak an eldern knicht,
Sat at the king's richt kne:
"Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor,
That sails upon the se."
The METRICAL TALE is another important
variety of the epic. It is usually highly romantic,
deriving its themes from deeds of chivalry, from
oriental manners, and the "like. Such are Scott's
longer poems, Byron's The Bride of Abydos, etc.
Sometimes the metrical tale is quite modem in
setting and spirit, as in Tennyson's English
Idyls.
Lyric Poetry. — Lyric poetry is the poetry of
song, though now seldom actually meant to be
sung. It is more or less subjective — that is, it
springs from and expresses the feelings of the
poet, and appeals less to the love of incident than
The Study of Poetry xiix
to the emotional and aesthetic sensibihties of the
reader. It in chides nearly all short poems and
many of considerable length — the great bulk,
indeed, of modern verse — and the sources of its
inspiration cover the entire range of human feel-
ing, from the religious worshiper's hymn or the
mother's tender lullaby over her sleeping infant
to the warrior's fierce cry of battle and victory.
Examples rise in perplexing number:
Take, O take those lips away
That so sweetly were forsworn,
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the mora;
But my kisses bring again,
Bring again —
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain,
Seal'd in vain I
— Shakspere.
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from heaven or near it
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.
— Shelley.
Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea J
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon, and blow.
Blow him again to me;
While my httle one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
— Tennyson.
Under the general head of lyric poetry must
be included a number of more or less specialized
1 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
varieties, such as elegies, or mourning poems,
of which Milton's Lycidas is the 'great Enghsh
example; epithalamia, or marriage hymns,
like Spenser's Epithalamion; and odes and
sonnets, both of which have been more fully
described in the preceding section on Poetic
Form.
Dramatic Poetry. — This is tlie poetry of en-
acted life. In it the poet drops the role of
narrator or interpreter and simply presents
his characters, allowing them to speak and
act for themselves. Sometimes poetic drama
is written only to Ije read, when we give it the
name of "closet-drama," but in the greatest
period of the English drama, the time of Queen
Elizabeth, it was invariably intended for actual
representation on the stage and the productions
were called simply "plays." Plays are com-
monly classified as either tragedies or com-
edies. A tragedy is solemn and lofty in char-
acter, usually portraying the struggle of an
individual against fate, and moving to a fatal
issue. Hamlet and Macbeth are familiar examples.
Comedy, on the other hand, presents a more or
less amusing plot with a happy ending. Usually
only the higher class of romantic comedies, such
as The Merchant of Venice and As You Like It,
are cast in poetic form; when comedy descends
The Study of Poetry li
toward the level of farce, its natural vehicle
is prose. *
To all these varieties of poetry — epic, lyric,
a»d dramatic, ^ — may be added some others not
easily classifiable, such as pastorals, satires,
EPIGRAMS, and the great body of reflective and
didactic verse.
READING AND INTERPRETATION
There are obviously several kinds of enjoy-
ment to l^e derived from poetry. The first is
the simple, immediate sense of something beau-
tiful or moving — the enjoyment which the poet
meant to give, and the only enjoyment which
the unschooled and perhaps even the average
hearer or reader ever gets. Nothing should be
allowed to obscure or diminish this enjoyment,
and the advice given by Dr. Johnson in the
preface to his edition of Shakspere in the year
1765 is well worth dwelling on:
'&
"Notes are often necessary, but they are necessary
evils. Let him that is yet unacquainted with the powers
of Shakespeare, and who desires to feel the highest pleas-
sure that the drama can give, read every play, from the
first scene to the last, with utter negligence of all his
commentators. When his fancy is once on the wng, let it
not stoop at correction or explanation. When his atten-
tion is strongly engaged, let it disdain alike to turn aside
to the name of Theobald and of Pope. Let him read on
through brightness and obscurity, through integrity ai''d
lii Palgrarc's Golden Treasury
corruption; let liim preserve his comprehension of the
dialogue and his interest in the fable. And when the
pleasures of novelty have ceased, let him attempt exact-
ness, and read the commentators."
It is a cardinal principle in the interpretation
of poetry that to feel is better than to know, or
rather that, except possibly in the severest
orders of didactic verse, feeling is the only true
knowledge. To know without feeling is after
all not to understand; none but he who follows
his poet with lively sympathy, with kindled
imagination, with sharpened sensibility to all
beauty and power, can have any true or vital
knowledge of him.
Poetry, then, should first of all be read, earn-
estly read, — neither studied on the one hand,
nor skimmed on the other. It should be read
aloud, if possible, both that the reading may be
done with care, and that the ear may get in
reality, and not through imagination only, the
melodies and harmonies of the verse. So organic
are these musical elements in all good poetry,
so intimately connected with the poet's thought
and feeling, that the only road to complete
sympathy with him lies through them. If the
reader's metrical sense is defective or untrained,
he must confine himself at first to the simpler
and more marked rhythms, gradually perfect-
ing his education in this particular ir the only
The Study of Poetry liii
possible way, namely, by reading more and
more verse. In time he will find, if he have
any faculty for rhythm at all, that the freest
of meters will give him little trouble and he
will instinctively make the nicest necessary
adjustments between rhetorical sense and metri-
cal law. The teacher of poetry can devise no
more profitable exercise than daily to read or
have read a short .selection of verse without
comment or criticism, depending on the mherent
power of the verse to command both interest
and appreciation.
Understanding is of course also necessary.
For however strong may be the appeal of poetry
to the senses, its language is the language of
reason, and it has always a pure intellectual
basis that cannot be ignored. One should not
rest content until the words and sentences
of a poem convey to him definite and accurate
ideas. Therefore it may sometimes be necessary
to paraphrase. For instance, readers who are
unfamiliar with the Scotch dialect and with the
less usual forms of our subjunctive construction
may require to have Burns's lines,
''O wad some power the giftie gie us," etc.,
turned into "If some power would but give us
the gift," etc, But if we stop there, the poetry
liv Palgrm'e's Golden Treasury
is destroyed. When the significance is gras^>ed
we must forget our paraphrase and revert to
the poet's language. Indeed, any needless trans-
lation of the poet's ideas and images into other
words is to be sedulously avoided, since it carries
with it the danger of irrecoverable loss. In a
well known essay Matthew Arnold has declared
that he would rather have a young person
ignorant of the moon's diameter than have him
think that a good paraphrase for Macbeth's
query,
''Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased?"
would be "Can you not Avait upon the lunatic?"
— and lovers of Shakspere find it not a little
hard to forgive Arnold for having made current
such a paraphrase even for the sake of impress-
ing a wholesome lesson.
In the more abstruse kinds of poetry, con-
scious analysis and interpretation must doubt-
less be resorted to freely. Some poetry of this
class exists chiefly for the message or moral it
conveys. Close study of it is therefore not only
legitimate, but is demanded, and it may be
pursued with little harm to the more purely
poetic enjoyment, since that becomes then a
minor consideration. Moreover, our skill in
interpreting will grow with our practice until
The Study of Poetry Iv
even difficult poetry becomes simple to us and
there is no longer any perceptible bar to the
appreciation of both its truth and its beauty.
When we have reached that stage, Shakspere
and Dante will not only yield delight as readily
as Bums and Tennyson did once, but the delight
will be greater in proportion to the greater ideas
and truths that accompany the poet's imagma-
tion and feeling.
A further pleasure to be derived from poetry
may lie in the discovery of the sources of
our primary enjoyment. This may be made
clearest, perhaps, by an illustration. Tennyson's
Mariana is a poem that requires no interpreta-
tion. One may read simply for the obvious
beauty and feeling in them, such lines as.
"About a stone-cast from the wall
A sluice with blackeu'd waters slept,
And o'er it many, round and small,
The cluster'd marish-mosses crept."
But, if he choose, he may return upon his read-
ing and trace the pleasurable effects to their
source. He will then discover that there is
music for the ear in the rich rhymes and the
alliterated syllables, that there is pleasure in
meeting with such words as "sluice" and "marish"
in poetic surroundings, that a subtle harmony
is to he detected between Mariana's depression
Ivi Palgrave's Golden Treasury
of spirit and the blackened, sleeping waters that
she looks upon, that the sense of sullen life and
purposed action on the part of the waters, im-
plied in the word "slept," imparts an atmosphere
of mystery and awe, that in the whole poem,
indeed, though the words "monotony" and
"melancholy" are nowhere used, every thought
and image contributes to produce a monotonous,
melancholy effect. Many will protest against
such analysis, as destroying the charm of poetry.
To those who find it disenchanting, the simple
advice is to let it alone. To all should be given ,
a caution against pushing it too far, for it is
precisely this kind of treatment that if over done
will deaden literature instead of making it alive.
Yet a certain amount of conscious study, pur-
sued with reverence and sympathy, can scarcely
result in harm.
After all, to increase in every way possible our
enjoyment of "the best that has been thought
and said in the world" is the great object. Per-
haps each one primarily demands of the poet his
own best thoughts and dreams given such expres-
sion as he himself is unable to give them. He
goes to the poet, as it were, saying: "I have
seen, in fact or in fancy, such and such things;
I have felt thus and so: But if I tried to express
it, I should not do myself justice. My words
The Study of Poetry Ivii
are poor, and I have no skill to sha^/e them
aright. Do you do it for me." And to one who
looks out upon nature, filled with the palpi-
tating joy of life, a Tennyson interprets the
throstle's song:
'• 'Summer is coming, summer is coming,
I know it, I know it. I know ir.
Light again, leaf again, life again, love again/
Yes, my wild little poet;"
and to one oppressed with sorrow a Longfellow
tells how
'Into each life some rain must fall.
Some days must be dark and dreary."
Thus, the needed expression is supplied, and
the pent-up feelings find an outlet.
Yet something more than this is possible.
The great poets have visions that we have not
seen, thoughts that never crossed our brain.
To follow and find these, to come into touch
with Wordsworth's subtle .sympathies, to rise
to the sublimity of Milton's lofty conceptions,
to sound the depths of Shakspere's knowledge
of the human soul, are things that wait only
upon the constant readhig and study of poetry.
For the attainment of these, can any sacrifice
of time or labor seem too great?
Alphoxso Ger.\ld Newcomer.
TO
ALFRED TENNYSON
POET LAUREATE
This book in its progress has recalled often to my memory
a man with whose friendship we were once honoured,
to whom no region of EngHsh Literature was unfamihar,
and who, wliilst rich in all the noble gifts of Nature, was
most eminently distinguished by the noblest and the
rarest, — ^just judgment and high-hearted patriotism. It
would have been hence a peculiar pleasure and pride to
dedicate what I have endeavoured to make a true national
Anthology of three centuries to Henry Hallam. But he
is beyond the reach of any human tokens of love and
reverence; and I desire therefore to place before it a
name united with liis by associations which, while Poetry
retains her hold on the minds of Englishmen, are not
likely to be forgotten.
Your encouragement, given while traversing the wild
scenery of Treryn Dinas, led me to begin the work; and
it has been completed under your advice and assistance.
For the favour now asked I have thus a second reason:
and to this I may add, the homage which is your right
as Poet, and the gratitude due to a Friend, whose regard
I rate at no common value.
45
Permit me then to inscribe to yourself a book which,
I hope, may be found by many a lifelong fountain of
innocent and exalted pleasure; a source of animation to
friends when they meet; and able to sweeten solitude
itself with best society,^ — with the companionship of
the wise and the good, with the beauty which the eye
cannot see, and the music only heard in silence. If
this Collection proves a storehouse of delight to Labour
and to Poverty, — if it teaches those indifferent to the
Poets to love them, and those who love them to love
them more, the aim and the desire entertained in framing
it will be fully accomplished.
F.T.R
May: 1861
m
PREFACE
This little Collection differs, it is believed, from others in
the attempt made to include in it all the best original
Lyrical pieces and Songs in our language (save a very few
regretfully omitted on account of length), by writers not
living, — and none beside the best. Many familiar verses
will hence be met with; many also which should be familiar:
— the Editor will regard as his fittest readers those who
love Poetry so well, that he can offer them nothing not
already known and valued.
The Editor is acquainted with no strict and exhaustive
definition of Lyrical Poetry; but he has found the task of
practical decision increase in clearness and in facility as
he advanced with the work, whilst keeping in view a few
simple principles. Lyrical has been here held essentially
to imply that each Poem shall turn on some single thought,
feeling, or situation. In accordance with this, narrative,
descriptive, and didactic poems, — unless accompanied by
rapidity of movement, brevity, and the colouring of human
passion, — have been excluded. Humourous poetry, ex-
cept in the very vmfrequent instances where a truly
poetical tone pervades the whole, with what is strictly
personal, occasional, and religious, has been considered
foreign to the idea of the book. Blank verse and the ten-
syllable couplet, with all pieces markedly dramatic, have
been rejected as alien from what is commonly understood
by Song, and rarely conforming to Lyrical 'conditions in
treatment. But it is not anticipated, nor is it possible,
that all readers shall think the line accurately drawn.
Some poems, as Gray's Elegy, the Allegro and Penseroso,
Wordsworth's Ruth or Campbell's Lord LTUin, might be
claimed with perhaps equal justice for a narrative or
descriptive selection: whilst with reference especially to
Ballads and Sonnets, the Editor can only state that he
has taken his utmost pains to decide without caprice or
partiality.
3 47
t-
48 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
This also is all he can plead in regard to a point even
more liable to question; — what degree of merit should
give rank among the Best. That a poem shall be worthy
of the writer's genius, — that it shall reach a perfection
commensurate with its aim, — that we should require
finish in proportion to brevity, — that passion, colour, and
originality cannot atone for serious imperfections in clear-
ness, unity or truth, — that a few good lines do not make
a good poem, that popular estima.te is serviceable as a
guidepost more than as a compass, — above all, that excel-
lence should be looked for rather in the whole than in the
parts, — such and other such canons have been always
steadily regarded. He may however add that the pieces
chosen, and a far larger number rejected, have been care-
fully and repeatedly considered; and that he has been
aided throughout by two friends of independent and
exercised judgment, besides the distinguished person
addressed in the Dedication. It is hoped that by this
procedure the volume has been freed from that one-sided-
ness which inust beset individual decisions: — but for the
final choice the Editor is alone responsible.
Chalmer's vast collection, with the whole works of all
accessible poets not contained in it, and the best Anthol-
ogies of different periods, have been twice systematically
read through: and it is hence improbable that any omis-
sions which may be regretted are due to oversight. The
poems are printed entire, except in a very few instances
where a stanza or passage has been omitted. These
omissions have been risked only when the piece could be
thus brought to a closer lyrical unity: and, as essentially
opposed to this unity, extracts, obviously such, are
excluded, fn regard to the text, the purpose of the book
has appeared to justify the choice of the most poetical
version, wherever more than one exists; and much labour
has been given to present each poem, in disposition, spell-
ing, and punctuation, to the greatest advantage.
In the arrangement, the most poetically-effective order
has been attempted. The English mind has passed
through phases of thought and cultivation so various and
so opposed during these three centuries of Poetry, that a
rapid passage between old and new, like rapid alteration,
of the eye's focus in looking at the landscape, will always
Preface 49
Dt wearisome and hurtful to the sense of Beauty. The
poems have been therefore distributed into Books corres-
ponding, I to the ninety years closing about 1616, II thence
to 1700, III to 1800, IV to the half century just ended.
Or, looking at the Poets who more or less give each portion
its distinctive character, they might be called the Books
of Shakespeare, Milton, Gray, and Wordsworth. The
volume, in this respect, so far as the limitations of its
range allow, accurately reflects the natural growth and
evolution of our Poetry. A rigidly chronological sequence,
however, rather fits a collection aiming at instruction than
at pleasure, and the wisdom which comes through pleasure:
— within each book the pieces have therefore been arranged
in gradations of feeling or subject. And it is hoped that
the contents of this Anthology will thus be found to pre-
sent a certain unity, 'as episodes,' in the noble language
of Shelley, 'to that great Poem which all poets, like the
co-operating thoughts of one great mind, have built up
since the beginning of the world.'
As he closes his long survey, the Editor trusts he may
add without egotism, that he has found the vague general
verdict of popular Fame more just than those have
thought, who, with too severe a criticism, would confine
judgments on Poetry to 'the selected few of many gener-
ations.' Not many appear to have gained reputation
without some gift or perfonnance that, in dvie degree,
deserved it: and if no verses by certain writers who show
less strength than sweetness, or more^ thought than
mastery of expression, are printed in this volume, it
should not be imagined that they have been excluded
without much hesitation and regret, — far less that they
have been slighted. Throughout this vast and pathetic
array of Singers now silent, few have been honoured with
the name Poet, and have not possessed a skill in words, a
sympathy with beauty, a tenderness of feeling, or serious-
ness in reflection, which render their works, although
never perhaps attaining that loftier and finer excellence
here required, — better worth reading than much of what
fills the scanty hours that most men spare for self-improve-
ment, or for pleasure in any of its more elevated and
permanent forms. — And if this be true of even mediocre
poetry, for how much more are we indebted to the best!
50 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
Like the fabled fountain of the Azores; but with a more
various power, the magic of this Art can confer on each
period of hfe its appropriate blessing: on early years
Experience, on maturity Calm, on age, Youthfulness.
Poetry gives treasures 'more golden than gold,' leading
us in higher and healthier ways than those of the world,
and interpreting to us the lessons of Nature. But she
speaks best for herself. Her true accents, if the plan has
been executed with success, may be heard throughout the
following pages: — wherever the Poets of England are
honoured, wherever the dominant language of the world
is spoken, it is hoped that they will find fit audience.
1861
Some poems, especially in Book I, have been added: —
either on better acquaintance; — in deference to critical
suggestions; — or vmknown to the Editor when first
gathering his harvest. For aid in these after-gleanings
he is specially indebted to the excellent reprints of rare
early verse given us by Dr. Hannah, Dr. Grosart, Mr.
Arber, Mr. BuUen, and others, — and (in regard to the
additions of 1883) to the advice of that distinguished
Friend, by whom the final choice has been so largely
guided. The text has also been carefully revised from
authoritative sources. It has still seemed best, for many
reasons, to retain the original limit by which the selection
was confined to those then no longer living. But the
Editor hopes that, so far as in him lies, a complete and
definitive collection of our best Lyrics, to the central year
of this fast-closing century, is now offered.
1883-1890-1891
CI)e (t^oltien Creatfurp
'Book JFim
SPRING
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring.
Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we to-witta-woo I
5 The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day.
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-w9o!
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet.
10 Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
Spring! the sweet Spring!
T. Nash.
51
52 JHalyrave's Golden Treasury [u
II
THE FAIRY LIFE
1
Where the bee sucks, there suck I:
In a cowsHp's bell I lie;
I'here I couch, when owls do ciy:
On the bat's back I do fly
5 A.iter summer merrily.
Merrily, merrily, shall I live now,
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough
III
Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd
The wild waves whist,
5 Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet Sprites, the burthen bear
Hark, hark!
Bow-bow.
The watch-dogs bark:
10 Bow-wow.
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow!
W. Shakespeare
IV
SUMMONS TO LOVE
Phoebus, arise J
And paint the sable skies
With azure, white, and red:
Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed
iv] Book First 63
That she may thy career with roses spread:
The nightingales thy coming each-where sing.
Make an eternal Spring!
Give Ufe to tliis dark world which lieth dead;
5 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
10 Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light
— This is that happy mom,
That day, long-wished day
Of all my life so dark,
(If cruel stars have not my ruin sworn
15 And fates my hopes betray).
Which, purely white, deserves
An everlasting diamond should it mark,
Tliis is the morn should bring unto this grcve
My Love, to hear and recompense my love.
20 Fair King, who all preserves,
But show thy blushing beams.
And thou two sweeter eyes
Shalt see than those which by Peneus' streams
Did once thy heart sui-prize.
25 Now, Flora, deck thyself in fairest guise:
If that ye winds would hear
A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre,
Your furious chiding stay;
Let Zephyr only breathe
30 And with her tresses play.
— The winds all silent are.
And Phoebus in his chair
Ensaffroning sea and air
Makes vanish every star:
35 Night like a drunkard reels
Beyond the hills, to shun his flaming wheels:
The fields with flowers are deck'd in every hue,
The clouds with orient gold spangle their blue;
Here is the pleasant place —
to And nothing wanting is, save She, alas!
W. Drummond of II author nden
54 Palgrave's Golden Treasury (v
V
TIME AND LOVE
When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of out-worn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed,
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;
5 When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
And the firm soil win of the watery main,
Increasing store with loss, and loss with store;
When I have seen such interchange of state,
10 Or state itself confounded to decay,
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate —
That Time will come and take my Love away:
— This thought is as a death, which cannot choose
But weep to have that which it fears to lose.
W. Shakespeare
VI
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o'ersways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
5 O how shall summer's honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days.
When rocks impregnable are not so stout
Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack!
10 Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back,
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O! none, unless this miracle have might.
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.
W. Shakespeare,
vii] Book First 66
VII
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
Come live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills antl valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
6 There will we sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will 1 make thee beds of roses
10 And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider' d all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
15 Fair Un^d slippers for the cold.
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
20 Come live with me and be my Love.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat.
Shall on an ivory table be
Prepared each day for thee and me.
25 The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May-moming:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my Love.
C. Marlowe
56 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [viii
vin
OMNIA VINCIT
i'ain would I change that note
To wliich fond Love hath charm'd me
Long long to sing by rote,
Fancying that that harm'd me:
5 Yet when this thought doth come
'Love is the perfect sum
Of all delight,'
I have no other choice
Either for pen or voice
10 To sing or write.
Love! they wrong thee much
That say thy sweet is bitter^
When thy rich fruit is such
As nothing can be sweeter.
15 Fair house of joy and bliss>
Where truest pleasure is
I do adore thee:
1 know thee what thoii art,
I serve thee with my heart,
W And fall before thee!
Anon.
IX
A MADRIGAL
Crabbed Age and Youth
Cannot live together:
Youth is full of pleasarfce.
Age is full of care;
Youth like summer mom,
Age like winter weather,
Youth like summer brave.
Age like winter bare:
x] Book First 57
Youth is full of sport,
Age's breath is short,
Youth is nimble, Age is lame:
Youth is hot and bold,
fi Age is weak and cold,
Youth is wild, and Age is tame. —
Age, I do abhor thee.
Youth; I do adore thee;
O! my Love, my Love is young'
IC Age, 1 do defy thee —
O sweet shepherd, hie thee.
For methinks thou stay'st toe long.
T^". Sliakespeare
Under the greenwood tree
Who loves to he with me,
i5 And turn his merrj' note
I'nto the sweet bird's throat —
Come hither, come hither, come hither!.
Here shall he see
Xo enemy
20 But -winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun
And loves to live i' the sun.
Seeking the food he eats
And pleased -nith what he gets^
25 Come hither, come hither, come hitherl
Here shall he see
No enemy
But winter and rough weather.
W. Shakes-peart
58 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xi
XI
It was a lover and liis lass
With a hey and a ho, and a hey noninol
That o'er the green corn-field did pass
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time.
5 When birds do sing hey ding a ding.
Sweet lovers love the Spring,
Between the acres of the rye
These pretty country folks would lie:
This carol they began that hour,
10 How that life was but a flower:
And therefore take the present time
With a hey and a ho and a hey noninol
For love is cro^\^led with the prime
In spring time, the only pretty ring time,
15 When birds do sing hey ding a ding:
Sweet lovers love the Spring.
TT'. Shakespeare
XII
PRESENT IN ABSENCE
Absence, hear thou this protestation
Against thy strength,
Distance, and length;
Do what thou canst for alteration:
6 For hearts of truest mettle
Absence doth join, and Time doth settle.
Who loves a mistress of such quality,
His mind hath found
Affection's ground
10 Beyond time, place, and mortality.
To hearts that cannot vary
Absence is present, Time doth tarry.
xiv] Book First 59
By absence this good means I gain,
That I can catch her,
Where none can match her,
In some close corner of my brain:
5 There I embrace and kiss her;
And so 1 both enjoy and miss her.
J. Donne
XIII
VIA AMORIS
High-way, since you my chief Parnassus be,
And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet.
Tempers her words to tramphng horses' feet
More oft than to a chamber-melody, —
5 Now, blessed you bear onward blessed me
To her, where I my heart, safe-left, shall meet;
My Muse and I must you of duty greet
With thanks and \\ishes, -^-ishing thankfully;
Be you still fair, honour'd by public heed;
10 By no encroachment wrong'd, nor time forgot;
Nor blamed for blood, nor shamed for sinful deedi
And that you know I en\'y you no lot
Of highest wish, I wish you so much bliss,-—
Hundreds of years you Stella's feet may kiss!
Sir P. Sidney
XIV
ABSENCE
Being your slave, wliat should I do but tend
Upon the hours and times of your desire?
I have no precious time at all to spend
Nor services to do, till you require:
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end-hour
Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you.
Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu:
60 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xiv
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,
But Hke a sad slave, stay and think of nought
Save, where you are, how happy you make those; — -
5 So true a fool is love, that in your will
Though you do anything, he thinks no ill.
W. Sliakespeare
XV
How like a winter hath my absence been
From Thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen,
What old December's bareness everywhere!
5 And yet this time removed was summer's time:
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase.
Bearing the wanton burden of the prime
Like widow'd wombs after their lord's decease:
Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me
10 But hope of orphans, and unfather'd fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee.
And, thou away, the very birds are mute;
Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer,
That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.
W. Shakespeare
XVI
A CONSOLATION
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone be weep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate;
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope.
Featured like him, like him with friends possest,
Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope.
With what I most enjoy contented least;
xviii] Book First 61
Yet in these thoughts myself ahnost despising,
Haply I think on Thee — and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
5 For thy sweet love remember'd, such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
W. Shakespeare
XVII
THE UNCHANGEABLE
O never say that I was false of heart,
Though absence seem'd my flame to qualify:
As easy might I from myself depart
As from my soul, which in thy breast doth lie;
5 That is my home of love; if I have ranged,
Like him that travels, I return again.
Just to the time, not with the time exchanged,
So that myself bring water for my stain.
Never believe, though in my nature reign'd
10 All frailties that besiege all kinds of blood,
That it could so preposterously be stain'd
To leave for nothing all thy sum of good:
For nothing this wide universe I call,
Save thou, my rose: in it thou art my all.
W. Shakespeare
XVIII
To me, fair Friend, you never can be old,
For as you were when first your eye I eyed
Such seems your beauty still. Three winters cold
Have from the forest shook three summers' pride;
5 Three beauteous springs to yellow autumn tum'd
In process of the seasons have I seen,
Three April perfumes in three hot Junes bum'd,
Since first I saw you fresh, which yet are green.
Ah! yet doth beauty, like a dial-hand,
10 Steaf from his figure, and no pace perceived;
'62 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xviii
So your sweet hue, which methinks still doth stand,.
Hath motion, and mine eye may be deceived:
For fear of which, hear this, thou age unbred, — •
Ere you were born, was beauty's summer dead.
W. Shakespeare
XIX
ROSALIXE
Like to the clear in highest sphere
Where all imperial glory shines,
Of selfsame colour is her hair
Whether vmfolded, or in twines:
5 Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,
Resembhng heaven by every wink;
The Gods do fear whenas they glow
And I do tremble when I think
10 Heigh ho, would she were mine!
Her cheeks are like the. blushing cloud
Tliat beautifies Aurora's face,
Or like the silver crimson shroud
That Phoebus' smiling looks doth grace;
\5 Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
Her hps are like two budded roses
Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh.
Within which bounds she balm encloses
Apt to entice a deity:
20 Heigh ho, would she were mine!
Her neck is like a stately tower _
Where Love himself imprison'd lies,
To watch for glances every hour
From her divine and sacred eyes:
25 Heigh ho, for Rosaline!
Her paps are centres of delight,
Her breasts are orbs of heavenly frame^
W^here Nature moulds the dew of light
To feed perfection with the same:
30 Heigh ho, would she were mine'
xk] Book First ^3
With orient pearl, with ruby red,
With marble white, with sapphire blue
Her body every way is fed,
Yet soft in touch and sweet in view;
5 Heigh ho, fair Rosaline!
Nature herself her shape admires;
The Gods are wounded in her sight;
And love forsakes his heavenly fires
And at her eyes his brand doth light:
10 Heigh ho, would she were mine!
Then muse not. Nymphs, though I bemoan
The absence of fair Rosaline.
Since for a fair there's fairer none,
Nor for her virtues so divine:
15 Heigh ho, fair Rosaline;
Heigh ho, my heart! would God that she were mine!
T. Lodge
XX
COLIX
Beauty sat bathing by a spring
Where fairest shades did hide her;
The winds blew calm, the birds did sing,
The cool streams ran beside her.
5 My wanton thoughts enticed mine eye
To see what was forbidden:
But better memory said, fie!
So vain desire was chidden: —
Hey nonny nonny O!
10 Hey nonny nonny 1
Into a slumber then I fell.
When fond imagination
Seemed to see, but could not tell
Her featiire or her fashion.
15 But ev'n as babes in dreams do smile,
And sometimes fall a-weeping,
So I awaked, as wise this while
As when I fell a-sleeping: —
Hey nonny nonny O!
20 Hey nomiy nonny!
The Shepherd Tonie
64 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xxi
XXI
A PICTURE
S'veet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory,
Subdue her heart, who makes me glad and sorry:
Out of thy golden quiver
Take thou thy strongest arrow
That will through bone and ma-row,
And me and thee of grief and fear deliver: — .
But come behind, for if she look upon thee,
Alas I poor Love! then thou art woe-begone thee!
Anon.
XXII
A SOXG FOR MUSIC
.Weep you no more, sad fountains: —
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heaven's sun doth gently waste!
5 But my Sun's heavenly eyes
View not your weeping,
That now lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies,
Sleeping.
iO Sleep is a reconciling,
A rest that peace begets: —
Doth not the svm rise smiling,
When fair at even he sets?
— Rest you, then, rest, sad eyest
1^ Melt not in weeping!
While She lies sleeping
Softly, now softly lies.
Sleeping!
Anon,
xxiv] Book First 65
XXIII
TO HIS LOVE
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date:
5 Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines.
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd:
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimm'd.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
10 Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest: —
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see.
So long lives tliis, and this gives life to thee.
W. Shakespeare
XXIV
TO HIS LOVE
When in the chronicle of wasted time
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
In praise of ladies dead, and lovely knights;
5 Then in the blazon of sweet beauty's best
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
I see their antiqvie pen would have exprest
Ev'n such a beauty as you master now.
So all their praises are but prophecies
iO Of this our time, all. you prefiguring:
And for they look'd but with divining eyes.
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:
For we, which now behold these present days,
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
W. Shakespeare
66 Palgrave's Golden Treasury |xxv
XXV
BASIA
Tvim back, you wanton flyer,
And answer my desire
With niutvial greeting.
Yet bend a little nearer, —
6 True beauty still shines clearer
In closer meeting!
Hearts with hearts delighted
Should strive to be united,
Each others arms with arms enchaining,—
10 Hearts with a thought,
Rosy lips with a kiss still entertaining.
What harvest half so sweet is
As still to reap the kisses
Grown ripe in sowing?
15 And straight to be receiver
Of that which thou art giver,
Rich in bestowing?
There is no strict observing
Of times' or seasons' swerving,
20 There is ever one fresh spring abiding; —
Then what we sow with our lips
Let us reap, love's gains dividing.
r. Campion
XXVI
ADVICE TO A GIRL
Never love unless you can
Bear with all the faults of man I
Men sometimes will jealous be
Though but little cause they see.
And hang the head as discontent,
And speak wliat straight they will repent.
xxvii] Book Fiist 67
Men, that but one Saint adore,
Make a show of love to more;
Beauty must be scorn'd in none,
Though but truly served in one:
5 For what is courtship but disguise?
True hearts may have dissembling eyes.
Men, when their affairs require.
Must awhile themselves retire;
Sometimes hunt, and sometimes hawk,
10 And not ever sit and talk: —
If these and such-like you can bear,
Then like, and love, and never fear!
T. Campion
XXVII
LOVE'S PERJURIES
On a day, alack the day!
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air:
5 Through the velvet leaves tlie wind
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow,
10 Air, would I might triumph so*
But, alack, my hand is sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.
15 Do not call it sin in me
That I am forsworn for thee*
Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiope were,
And deny himself for Jove,
20 Turning mortal for thy love.
W. Shakespears
68 Palgrave's Golden Treasury fxxvu
XXVIII
A SUPPLICATION
Forget not yet the tried intent
Of such a truth as 1 have meant:
My great travail so gladly spent,
Forget not yetf
5 Forget not yet when first began
The weary life ye know, since whan
The suit, the service none tell can;
Forget not yet'
Forget not yet the great assays,
10 The cruel wrong, the scornful w-ays,
The painful patience in delays,
Forget not yetf
Forget not! O, forget not this,_
How long ago hath been, and is
16 The mind that never meant amiss — •
Forget not yet!
Forget not then thine own approved
The which so long hath thee so loved,
Whose steadfast faith yet never moved —
20 Forget not this!
Sir T. Wna^
XXIX
TO AURORA
O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm, ,
And dost prejudge thy bliss, and spoil my rest;
Then thou would'st melt the ice out of thy breast
And thy relenting heart would kindly warm.
O if thy pride did not our joys controul.
What world of loving wonders should'st thou seel
For if I saw thee once transformed in me.
Then in thy bosom I would pour my soul;
XXX ;
Book First 89
Then all my thoughts should in thy visage shhie,
And if that aught niischanced thou should'st not moan
Nor bear the burthen of thy griefs alone;
No, 1 would have my share in what were thine:
And whilst we thus should make our sorrows one,
This happy harmony would make them none.
W. Alexander, Earl of Sterline
XXX
IN LACRIMAS
I saw my Lady weep,
And Sorrow proud to be a^lvanced so
In those fair eyes where all perfections keep.
Her face was full of woe,
5 But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts
Than Mirth can do with her enticing parts.
Sorrow was there made fair,
And Passion, wise; Tears, a delightful thing;
Silence, beyond all speech, a wisdom rare:
10 She made her sighs to sing,
And all things with so sweet a sadness move
As made my heart at once both grieve and love.
O fairer than aught else
The world can show, leave off in time to grieve:
15 Enough, enough: your joyful look excels:
Tears kill the heart, believe.
O strive not to be excellent in woe.
Which only breeds your beauty's overthrow.
Anon
70 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xxxi
XXXI
TRUE LOVE
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:-—
5 O no! it is an ever fixed mark
That looks on tempests, and is never shaken,
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
^0 Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out ev'n to the edge of doom: —
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
W. Shakespeare
XXXII
A DITTY
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for another given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss,
There never was a better bargain driven:
.5 My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.
His heart in me keeps him and me in one.
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides;
He loves my heart, for once it was his own,
I cherish his because in me it bides:
10 My true-love hath my heart, and I have his.
Sir P. Sidney
cxxiv] Book First f^
XXXIII
LOVE'S INSIGHT
Though others may Her brow adore
Yet more must I, that therein see far more
Than any other's eyes have power to see:
She is to me
5 More than to any others she can be*
I can discern more secret notes
That in tlie margin oi her cheeks Love quotes,
Than any else besides have art to read:
No looks proceed
10 From those fair eyes but to me wonder breed,
Amyn,
XXXIV
LOVE'S OMNIPRESENCE
Were I as base as is the lowly plain,
And you. my Love, as high as heaven above,
Yet should the thoughts of me your humble swain
Ascend to heaven, in honour of my Love.
5 Were I as high as heaven above the plain,
And you, my Love, as humble and as low
As are the deepest bottoms of the main,
Whereso'er you were, with you my love should go,
Were you the earth, dear Love, and I the skies,
My love should shine on you like to the sun,
10 AikI look upon you with ten thousand eyes
Till heaven wax'd blind, and till the world were done.
Whereso'er I am, below, or else above you,
Whereso'er you are, my heart shall truly love you,
J . Sylvester
72 PalgTave's Golden Treasury [xxxv
XXXV
CARPE DIEM
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear! your true-love's coming
That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
5 Journeys end in lovers meeting —
Every wise man's son doth know.
What is love? 'tis not heseatter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
10 In delay there lies no plenty, —
Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.
W. Shakespeare
xxxvi
AN HONEST AUTOLYCUS
Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave, and new,
Good penny-worths, — but money cannot move:
I keep a fair but for the Fair to view;
A beggar may be liberal of love.
6 Though all my wares be trash, the heart is true —
The heart is true.
Great gifts are guiles and look for gifts again;
My trifles come as treasures from my mind;
It is a precious jewel to be plain;
10 Sometimes in shell the orient'st pearls we find: —
Of others take a sheaf, of me a grain!
Of me a grain!
Anon.
^xxviii] Book First 73
XXXVIT
WINTER
When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail;
5 When Mood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl
Tu-whit !
Tu-who! A merry note!
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot,
10 When all about the wind doth blow,
An(d coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow.
And Marian's nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl —
15 Then nightly sings the staring owl
Tu-whit!
Tu-who! A merry note!
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
W. Shakespeare
XXXVIII
That time of year thou may'st in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang-
5 In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest:
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
to That on the ashes of his youth doth lie
As the death bed whereon it must expire,
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by;
74 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xxxviii
— This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more
strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.
W. Shakespeare
XXXIX
MEMORY
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
I summon up remembrance of tilings past,
I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,
And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste;
5 Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
And weep afresh loves long-since-cancell'd woe.
And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight.
Then can T grieve at grievances foregone,
10 And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,
Which I new pay as if not paid before:
— But if the while I think on thee, dear Friend,
All losses are restored, and sorrows end.
TF, Shakespeare
XL
SLEEP
Come, Sleep: O Sleep! the certain knot of peace.
The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe.
The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release,
Th' indifferent judge between the high and low;
With shield of proof shield me from out the prease
Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw:
make in me those civil wars to cease;
1 will good tribute pay, if thou do so.
xlii] Book First 75
Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed,
A chamber deaf of noise and blind of light,
A rosy garland and a weary^ head:
And if these things, as being thine in right,
5 Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me,
Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.
Sir P. Sidney
XLI
REVOLUTIOXS
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore
So do our minutes hasten to their end;
Each changing piace with that whicli goes before.
In sequent toil all forwards do contend.
5 Nativity, once in the main of light,
Crawls to maturity, wherewith being cro\\Ti'd,
Crooked eclipses 'gainst his glory fight.
And Time that gave, doth now his gift confound.
Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth,
10. And delves the parallels in beauty's brow;
Feeds on the rarities of nature's truth,
And nothing stands but for his scythe to mow: —
And yet, to times in hope, my verse shall stand
Praising Thy worth, despite his cruel hand.
TT^. Shakespeare
XLII
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou knov/'st thy estimate:
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
AjkI so my patent back again is swerving,.
Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xlii
Thyself, thou gav'st, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me, to whom thou gav'st it, else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing.
Comes home again, on better judgment making.
Thus have I had thee as a dream doth flatter;
In sleep, a king; but waking, no such matter.
W. Shakespeare
XLIII
THE LIFE WITHOUT PASSION
They that have power to hurt, and will do none,
That do not do the thing they most do show,
Who, moving others, are themselves as stone,
Unmoved, cold, and to temptation slow, —
5 They rightly do inherit heaven's graces.
And husband nature's riclies from expense;
They are the lords and owners of their faces.
Others, but stewards of their excellence.
The summer's flower is to the summer sweet,
10 Though to itself it only live and die;
But if that flower with base infection meet.
The basest weed outbraves his dignity;
For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
W. Shakespeare
XLIV
THE LOVER'S APPEAL
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay! for shame
To save thee from the blame
Of all my grief and grame.
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay!
^vl Book First Tl
And wilt thou leave me thus,
That hath loved thee so long
In wealth and woe among:
And is thy heart so strong
r As for to leave me thus?
Say nayi say nay!
And wilt thou leave me thus,
That hath given thee my heart
Never for to depart
to Neithe. for pain nor smart:
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay!
And wilt thou leave me thus,
And have no more pity
15 Of him that loveth thee?
Alas! thy cruelty!
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay!
Sir T. Wyai
XLV
THE NIGHTINGALE
As it fell upon a day
In the mern,' month of May,
Sitting in a pleasant shade
Wliich a grove of myrtles made,
5 Beasts did leap and birds did sing,
Trees did grow and plants did spring.
Every thing did banish moan
Save the Nightingale alone.
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
10 Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn,
And there sung the dolefuU'st ditty
That to hear it was great pity.
Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry:
Teru, teru, by and by.
1..^ That to hear' her so complain
Scarce I could from tears refrain
78 PaJgrave's Golden Treasury [xlv
For her griefs so lively shown
Made me think upon mine own.
— Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain.
None takes pity on thy pain:
5 Senseless trees, they cannot hear thee,
Ruthless beasts, they will not cheer thee;
King Pandion, he is dead,
All thy friends are lapp'd in lead:
All thy fellow birds do sing
10 Careless of thy sorrowing:
Even so, poor bird, like thee
None alive will pity me.
R. Barne field
XhVl
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the sable Night,
Brother to Death, in silent darkness born.
Relieve my languish, and restore the light;
With dark forgetting of my care return.
5 And let the day be time enough to mourn
The shipwreck of my ill-adventured youth:
Let waking eyes suffice to wail their scorn,
Without the torment of the night's untruth.
Cease, dreams, the images of day-desires,
10 To model forth the passions of the morrow;
Never let rising Svm approve you liars.
To add more grief to aggravate my sorrow:
Still let me sleep, embracing clouds in vain.
And never wake to feel the day's disdain.
S. Daniel
XLVII
The nightingale, as soon as April bringeth
Unto her rested sense a perfect waking.
While late-bare earth, proud of new clothing, springeth,
Sings out her woes, a thorn her song-book making;
xlviii] Book First 79
And mournfully bewailing,
Her throat in tunes expresseth
What grief her breast oppresseth
For Tereus' force on iier chaste will prevailing,
5 O Philomela fair, O take some gladness.
That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness:
Tliine earth now springs, mine fadeth;
Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.
Alas, she hath no other cause of anguish
10 But Tereus' love, on her by strong hand wroken,
Wherein she suffering, all her spirits languish,
Full womanlike complains her will was broken.
But I, who, daily craving,
Cannot have to content me,
15 Have more cause to lament me,
Since w-anting is more woe than too much having,
*0'
O Philomela fair, O take some gladness
That here is juster cause of plaintful sadness:
Thine earth now springs, mine fadeth;
20 Thy thorn without, my thorn my heart invadeth.
Sir P. Sidney
XLVIII
FRUSTRA
Take, O take those lips away
That so sweetly were forsworn.
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the mom:
But my kisses bring again,
Bring again —
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain,
Seal'd in vain!
W Shakespeare
80 I 'algravca Golden Treasury [xlix
XLIX
LOVE'S FAREWELL
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part, —
Nay I have done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free;
5 Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows.
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath,
10 When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies,
When faith is kneeling by his bed of death.
And innocence is closing up his eyes,
— Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over.
From death to life thou might'st him yet recover!
M. Drayton
IN IMAGINE PERTRANSIT HOMO
Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadowl
Though thou be black as night
And she made all of light,
Yet follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow!
5 Follow her, w'hose light thy light depriveth?
Though here thou liv'st disgraced.
And she in heaven is placed.
Yet follow her whose light the world revivethj
Follow those pure beams, whose beauty burneth,
10 That so have scorched thee
As thou still black must be
Till lier kind beams thy black to brightness turneth.
lii] Book First 81
Follow her, while yet her glory shineth!
There comes a luckless night
That will dim all her light;
— And this the black unhappy shade divineth.
5 Follow still, since so thy fates ordained!
The sun must have his shade,
Till both at once do fade, —
The sun still proved, the shadow still disdained.
T. Campion
LI
BLIXD LOVE
O me! what eyes liath Love put in my head
Which have no correspondence with true sight:
Or if they have, where is my judgment fled
That censures falsely what they see aright?
5 If that be fair whereon my false eyes dote.
What means the world to say it is not so?
If it be not, then love doth well denote
Love's eye is not so true as all men's: No,
How can it? O how can love's eye be true,
XO That is so vex'd with watching and with tears?
No marvel then though I mistake my view:
The sun itself sees not till heaven clears.
O cunning Love! with tears thou keep'st me blind,
Lest eyes well-seeing thy foul faults should find!
W. SJmkespeare
LII
Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not mel
For who a sleeping lion dares provoke?
It shall suffice me here to sit and see
Those lips shut Aip that never kindly spoke:
What sight can more content a lover's mind
Than beauty seeming harmless, if not kind?
82 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [lii
My words have charm'd her, for secure she sleeps,
Though guiUy much of wrong done to my love;
And in her slumber, see! she close-eyed weeps:
Dreams often more than waking passions move.
5 Plead, Sleep, my cause, and make her soft like thee:
That she in peace may wake and pity me.
T. Campion
LIII
THE UNFAITHFUL SHEPHERDESS
While that the sun with his beams hot
Scorched the fruits in vale and mountain,
Philon the shepherd, late forgot,
Sitting beside a crystal fountain,
5 In shadow of a green oak tree
Upon his pipe this song play'd he:
Adieu, Love, adieu. Love, untrue Love,
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu. Love;
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
10 So long as I was in your sight
I w-as your heart, your soul and treasure;
And evermore you sobb'd and sigh'd
Burning in flames beyond all measure:
— Three days endured your love to me.
15 And it was lost in other three!
Adieu, Love, adieu. Love, untrue Love,
Untrue Love, untrue Love, adieu. Love;
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Another Shepherd you did see
20 To whom your heart was soon enchained;
Full soon your love was leapt from me,
Full soon my place he had obtained.
Soon came a third, your love to win,
And we were out and he was in.
25 Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, vmtrue Love,
L'^ntrue Love, untrue Love, adieu. Love;
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
liv] Book First 83
Sure you have made me passing glad
That you your mind so soon removed.
Before that I tlie leisure had
To choose you for my best beloved:
5 For all your love was past and done
Two days before it was begun:—
.Adieu, Love, adieu, Love, untrue Love,
L'ntrue Love, untrue Love, adieu, Love;
Your mind is light, soon lost for new love.
Anon.
LIV
ADVICE TO A LOVER
The sea hath many thousand sands,
The sun hath motes as many;
The sky is full of stars, and Love
As full of woes as any:
6 Beheve me, that do know the elf,
And make no trial by thyselfl
It is in truth a pretty toy
For babes to play withal: —
But O! the honeys of our youth
10 Are oft our age's gall!
Self-proof in time will make thee know
He was a prophet told thee so;
A prophet that, Cassandra-hke,
Tells truth without belief;
15 For headstrong Youth will rvui his race,
Although his goal be grief: —
Love's Martyr, when his heat is past,
Proves Care's Confessor at the last.
Anon
84 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Iv
liV
A RENUNCIATION
Thou art not fair, for all thy red and wliite,
For all those rosy ornaments in thee, —
Thou art not sweet, though made of mere delight
Nor fair, nor sweet — unless thou pity me!
5 I will not soothe thy fancies: thou shalt prove
That beauty is no beauty without love.
— Yet love not me^ nor seek not to allure
My thoughts with beauty, were it more divine:
Thy smiles and kisses I cannot endure,
10 I'll not be wrapp'd up in those arms of thine-
— Now show it, if thou be a woman right —
Embrace and kiss and love me in despite!
T. Campion
LVI
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen
5 Because thou art not seen.
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh ho! the holly!
10 This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
Thou dost not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
15 Thy sting is not so shaq>
As friend remember'd not.
Heigh ho! sing heigh ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh ho! the holly!
20 This life is most jolly.
W. Shakespeare
Ivii] Book Fu-st 85
LVII
A SWEET LULLABY
Come little babe, come silly soul,
Thy father's shame, thy mother's grief,
Born as 1 doubt to all our dole,
And to thy self unhappy chief:
6 Sing Lullaby and lap it warm.
Poor soul that thinks no creature harm.
Thou little think'st and less "dost know,
The cause of this thy mother's moan,
Thou want'st the wit to wail her woe,
10 And I myself am all alone:
Why dost thou weep? why dost thou wail?
And knowest not yet what thou dost ail.
Come little wretch, ah silly heart,
Mine only joy, what can I more?
15 If there be any wrong thy smart
That may the destinies implore:
'Twas I, I say, against my will,
I wail the time, but be thou still.
And dost thou smile, oh thy sweet face!
20 Would God Himself He might thee see,
No doubt thou would'st soon purchase grace,
I know right well, for thee and me:
But come to mother, babe, and play,
For father false is fled away.
25 Sweet boy, if it by fortune chance,
Thy father home again to send.
If death do strike me with his lance.
Yet mayst thou me to him commend;
If any ask thy mother's name,
30 Tell how by love she purchased blame,
Then will his gentle heart soon yield,
I know him of a noble mind,
Although a Lion in the field,
86 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ivii
A Lamb in town thou shalt him find:
Ask blessing, babe, be not afraid,
His sugar'd words hath me betray'd.
Then mayst thou joy and be right glad,
5 Although in woe I seem to moan,
Thy father is no rascal lad,
A noble youth of blood and bone:
His glancing looks, if he once smile,
Right honest women may beguile.
10 Come, little boy,' and rock asleep,
Sing lullaby and be thou still,
I that can do nought else but weep;
Will sit by thee and wail my fill:
God bless my babe, and lullaby
15 From this thy father's quahty!
Anon.
LVIII
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies!
How silently, and with how wan a face!
What, may it be that e'en in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries!
5 Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case,
I read it in thy looks; thy languish'd grace.
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, e'en of fellowship, O Moon, tell me,
10 Is constant love deem'd there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue, there, ungratefulness?
Sir P. Sidney
Ix] Book First 87
LIX
CRU DELIS AMOR
When thou must home to shades of underground.
And there arrived, a new admired guest,
The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,
White lope, bhtlie Helen, and the rest,
5 To hear the stories of thy finish'd love
From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move;
Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights,
Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make,
Of tourneys and great challenges of Knights,
10 And all these triumphs for thy beauty's sake:
When thou hast told these honours done to thee,
Then tell, O tell, how thou didst nuu-der me!
T. Campion
LX
SEPHESTIA 'S SONG TO HER CHILD
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
Mother's wag, pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy;
5 When thy father first did see
Such a boy by him and me,
He was glad, I was woe,
Fortune changed made him so,
When he left his pretty boy
10 Last his sorrow, first his joy.
Weep not my wanton, smile upon my knee,
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.
Streaming tears that never stint.
Like pearl drops from a flint,
15 Fell by course from his eyes.
That one another's place supplies;
Thus he grieved in ever>' part,
Tears of blood fell from his heart,
W^hen he left his pretty boy,
20 Father's sorrow, father's joy.
88 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ix
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee.
When thou art ohl, there's grief enough for thee.
The wanton smiled, father wept,
Mother cried, baby leapt;
5 More he crow'd, more we cried.
Nature could not sorrow hide:
He must go, he must kiss
Cliild and mother, baby bless,
For he left his pretty boy,
to Father's sorrow, father's joy.
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee,
When thou art old, there's grief enough for thee.
R. Greene
LXI
A LAMENT
My thoughts hold mortal strife;
I do detest my life,
And with lamenting cries
Peace to my soul to bring
Oft call that prince which here doth monarchize
— But he, grim grinning King,
Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise,
Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb,
Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.
W. Drummond
Lxn
DIRGE OF LOVE
(jome away, come away, Death,
And in sad cyprer, let me be laid;
Fly away, fly away, breath;
I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
Ixiii] Book Fir si 89
My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O prepare it !
My part of death, no one so true
Did share it.
5 Not a flower, not a flower sweet
On my black coffin let there be strown;
Not a friend, not a friend greet
My poor corpse, where my bones shall be thrown*
A thousand thousand sighs to save,
10 Lay me, O where
Sad true lover never find my grave,
To weep there.
W. Shakespeare
LXIII
TO HIS LUTE
My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow
With thy green mother in some shady grove,
When immelodiovis winds but made thee move.
And birds their ramage did on thee bestow.
5 Siiice that dear Voice which did thy sounds approve
Which wont in such harmonious strains to flow,
Is reft from Earth to tune those spheres above,
What art thou but a harbinger of woe?
Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more,
10 But orphans' wailings to the fainting ear;
Each stroke a sigh, each sound draws forth a tear;
For which be silent as in woods before:
Or if that any hand to touch thee deign,
Like widow'd turtle, still her loss complain.
W. Drummond
90 PaJgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixiv
LXIV
FIDELE
Fear no more the heat o' the sun
Nor the furiovis winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone and ta'en thy wages,
5 Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great,
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke;.
Care no more to clothe and eat;
10 To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptie, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning flash
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
15 Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finish' d joy and moan:
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.
W. ShakespeaT'-
LXV
A SEA DIRGE
Full fathom five thy father lies:
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade.
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them, —
Ding, dong, bell.
ir. Shakespearp
Ixvii] Book First
LXVI
A LAND DIRGE
Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren,
Since o'er shady groves they hover
And with leaves and flowers do cover
The friendless bodies of unburied men.
5 Call unto his funeral dole
The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole
To rear him hillocks that shall keep him warm
And (when gay tombs are robb'd) sustain no harm;
But keep the wolf far thence, that's foe to men,
10 For with liis nails he'll dig them up again.
J. Webster
LXVI I
POST MORTEM
If Thou survive my well-contented day
When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover,
And shalt by fortune once more re-survey
These poor rude lines of thy deceased lover;
5 Compare them with the bettering of the time,
And though they be outstripp'd by every pen,
Reserve them for my love, not for their rhyme
Exceeded by the height of happier men.
O then vouchsafe me but this loving thought —
10 'Had my friend's Muse grown with tliis growing age,
A dearer birth than this his love had brought,
To march in ranks of better equipage:
But since he died, and poets better prove.
Theirs for their style I'll read, his for his love.'
W . Shakespeare
92 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixviii
LXVIII
THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world, that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell;
5 Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so.
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O if, I say, you look vipon this verse
10 When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.
But let your love even with my life decay;
Lest the wis^ world should look into your moan,
And mock you with me after I am gone.
W. Shakespeare
LXIX
YOUNG LOVE
Tell me where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply.
5 It is engender' d in the eyes;
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies:
Let us all ring Fancy's knell;
I'll begin it, — Ding, dong, bell.
TO — Ding, dong, bell.
W, Shakesveare
Ixxi] Book First 93
LXX
A DILEMMA
Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting
Which clad in damask mantles deck the arbours,
And then behold your hps where sweet love
harbours,
My eyes present me with a double doubting:
For viewing both aUke, hardly my mind supposes
V hether the roses be your lips, or your lips the roses
Anon.
LXXI
ROSALYND'S MADRIGAL
Love in my bosom, like a bee.
Doth suck his sweet;
Now with his wings he plays with me,
Now with his feet.
5 Within mine eyes he makes his nest,
His bed amidst my tender breast;
My kisses are his daily feiist,
And yet he robs me of my rest:
Ah! wanton, will ye?
IC And if I sleep, then percheth he
With pretty flight,
And makes his pillow of my knee
The livelong night.
Strike I my lute, he tunes the string;
15 He music plays if so I sing;
He lends me ever\' lovely thing,
Yet cruel he my heart doth sting
Whist, wanton, will yei*
Else I with roses every day
20 Will whip you hence.
94 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxi
And bind you, when you long to play,
For your offence;
I'll shut my eyes to keep you in;
I'll make you fast it for your sin;
6 I'll count your power not worth a pin;
— ^Alas! what hereby shall I win,
If he gainsay me?
What if I beat the wanton boy
With many a rod?
10 He will repay me with annoy,
Because a god.
Then sit thou safely on my knee,
And let thy bower my bosom be;
Lurk in mine eyes, I like of thee,
15 O Cupid! so thou pity me,
Spare not, but play thee!
T. Lodge
LXXII
CUPID AND CAMPASPE
Cupid and my Campaspe play'd
At cards for kisses; Cupid paid:
He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows,
His mother's doves, and team of sparrows;
5 Loses them too; then down he throws
The coral of his lip, the rose
Growing on's cheek (but none knows how);
With these, the crystal of his brow,
And then the dimple on his chin;
10 All these did my Campaspe win:
And last he set her both his eyes —
She won, and Cupid blind did rise.
O Love! has she done this to thee?
What shall, ?las! become of me?
J. Lylys
Ixxiv] Book First 95
LXXIII
Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day,
With night we banish sorrow;
Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft
To give my Love good-morrow!
5 Wings from the wind to please her mind
Notes from the lark I'll borrow;
Bird, pmne thy wing, nightingale sing,
To give my Love good-morrow;
To give my Love good-morrow;
10 Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Wake from thy nest, Robin-red-breast,
Sing, birds, in every furrow;
And from each hill, let music shrill
Give my fair Love good-morrow!
15 Blackbird and thrush in every bush,
Stare, linnet, and cock-sparrow!
You pretty elves, amongst yourselves
Sing my fair Love good-morrow;
To give my Love good-morrow
20 Sing, birds, in every furrow!
T. HeyiDood
LXXIV
PROTHALAMION
Calm was the day, and through the trembling ail
Sweet-breathing Zephyrus di'd softly play —
A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay
Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair;
5 When I, (whom sullen care.
Through discontent of my long fruitless stay
In princes' court, and expectation \ain
Of idle hopes, which still do fly away
Like empty shadows, did afflict my bra;..,
10 Walk'd forth to ease my pain
96 Palgrave's Golden Treasury pxxiv
Along the shore of silver-streaming Thames;
Whose rutty bank, the which liis river hems,
Was painted all with variable flowers,
And all the meads adorn'd -with dainty gems
5 Fit to deck maidens' bowers,
And crov\Ti their paramours
Against the bridal day, which is not long:
Sweet Thames! nm softly, till I end my song.
There in a meadow by the river's side
10 A ilock of nymphs I chanced to espy,
All lovely daughters of the flood thereby.
With goodly greenish locks all loose untied
As each had been a bride;
And each one had a little wicker basket
15 Made of fine twigs, entrailed curiously.
In which they gather'd flowers to fill their flasket,
And with fine fingers cropt full feateously
The tender stalks on high.
Of every sort which in that meadow grew
20 They gather'd some; the violet, pallid blue,
The little daisy that at evening closes.
The virgin lily and the primrose true,
With store of vermeil roses.
To deck their bridegrooms' posies
25 Against the bridal day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames! nm softly, till I end my song.
With that I saw two swans of goodly hue
Come softly swimming down along the Lee:
Two fairer birds I yet did never see;
SO The snow which doth the top of Pindus strow
Did never whiter show.
Nor Jove himself, when he a swan would be
For love of Leda, whiter cUd appear;
Yet Leda was (they say) as white as he,
35 Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near;
So purely white they were
That even the gentle stream, the which them bare,
Seem'd foul to them, and bade his billows spare
To wet their silken feathers, lest they might
40 Soil their fair plumes with water not so fair.
Ixxiv] Book First 97
And mar their beauties bright
That shone as Heaven's Ught
Against their bridal day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song,
5 Eftsoons the nymphs, which now had flowers their fill,
Ran all in haste to see that silver brood
As they came floating on the crystal flood;
Whom when they saw, thev stood amazed still
Their wondering eyes to fill;
10 Them seem'd they never saw a sight so fair
Of fowls, so lovely, that they sure did deem
Them heavenly born, or to be that same pair
Wliich through the sky draw Venus' silver team;
For sure they did not seem
15 To be begot of any earthly seed,
But rather Angels, or of Angels' breed;
Yet were they bred of summer's heat, they say.
In sweetest season, when each flower and weed
The earth did fresh array;
10 So fresh they seem'd as day,
Ev'n as their bridal day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
Then forth they all out of their baskets drew
Great store of flowers, the honour of the field,
25 That to the sense did fragrant odours yield,
All wliich upon those goodly birds they threw
And all the waves did strew,
That like old Peneus' waters they did seem
When down along by pleasant Tempe's shore
30 Scatter'd with flowers, through Thessaly they stream,
That they appear, through UUes' plenteous store,
Like a bride's chamber-floor.
Two of those nymphs meanwhile two garlands bound
Of freshest flowers which in that mead they found,
35 The which presenting all in trim array.
Their snowy foreheads therewithal they crown d;
Whilst one did sing this lay
Prepared against that da/.
Against their bridal day, which was not long:
40 Sweet Thames! run softly till I end my song
98 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxiv
'Ye gentle birds! the world's fair ornament,
^\nd Heaven's glory, whom tliis happy hour
Doth lead unto your lovers' blissful bower,
Joy may you have, and gentle hearts' content
5 Of your love's couplement;
And let fair Venus, that is queen of love,
With her heart-quelling son upon you smile,
Whose smile, they say, hath virtue to remove
All love's dislike, and fi'ieiidsliip's faulty guile
10 For ever to assoil.
Let endless peace your steadfast hearts accord,
And blessed plenty wait upon your board;
And let your bed with pleasures chaste abound.
That fruitful issue may to you afford
15 Which may your foes confound.
And make your joys redound
Upon your bridal day, which is not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.'
So ended she; and all the rest around
20 To her redoubled that her undersong,
Which said their bridal day should not be long:
And gentle Echo from the neighbour ground
Their accents did resound.
So forth those joyous birds did pass along
25 Adown the Lee that to them murmur'd low,
As he would speak but that he lack'd a tongue;
Yet did by signs his glad affection show.
Making his stream run slow.
-.4Lnd all the fowl which in his flood did dwell
30 'Gan flock about these twain, that did excel
The rest, so far as Cyntliia doth shend
The lesser stars. So they, enranged well.
Did on those two attend.
And their best service lend
35 Against their wedding day, which was not longi
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
At length they all to merry London came,
To merry London, my most kindly nurse.
That to me gave this life's first native source,
■to Though from another place I take my name,
[xxiv] Book First , 99
An house of ancient fame:
There when they came whereas those bricky towers
The wliich on Thames' broad aged back do ride.
Where now the studious lawyers have tJieir bowers,
5 There whilome wont the Templar-knights to bide,
Till they decay'd through pride;
Next whereunto there stands a stately place,
Where oft I gained gifts and goodly grace
Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell,
10 Whose want too well now feels my friendless case,
But ah! here fits not well
Old woes, but joys to tell
Against the bridal day, which is not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
15 Yet therein now doth lodge a noble peer,
Great England's glory and the world's wide wonder,
Whose dreadful name late through all Spain dirt
thunder,
And Hercules' two pillars standing near
Did make to quake and fear:
20 Fair branch of honour, flower of chivalry!
That fillest England with thy triumphs' fame
Joy have thou of thy noble victory,
And endless happiness of thine own name
That promiseth the same;
25 That through thy prowess and victorious arms
Thy country may be freed from foreign harms,
Ancl great Elisa's glorious name may rmg
Through all the world, fill'd with thy wide alarms.
Which some brave Muse may sing
30 To ages following:
Upon the bridal day, which is not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.
From those high towers this noble lord issuing
Like Radiant Hesper, when his golden hair
35 In th' ocean billows he hath bathed fair,
Descended to the river's open viewing
With a great train ensuing.
Above the rest were goodly to be seen
Two gentle knights of lovely face and feature.
lOG Paigrave s Goiaen Treasury Ixxiv
Beseeming •nell the bower of any queen,
With gifts of AA-it and ornaments of nature,
Fit for so goodly stature.
That hke the twins of Jove they seem'd in sight
5 Wliich deck tlie baldric of the Heavens bright;
They two, forth pacing to the river's side.
Received those two fair brides, their love's delight:
Which, at th' appointed tide,
Each one did make his bride
10 Against their bridal day, which is not long:
Sweet Thames' run softly, till I end my song.
E. Spenser
LXXV
THE HAPPY HEART
Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers?
O sweet content!
Art thou rich, yet is thy mind perplex'd?
O punishment !
5 Dost thou laugh to see how fools are vex'd
To add to golden numbers, golden numbers?
O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
Honest labour bears a lovely face;
10 Then hey nonny nonny, hey nonny nonny!
Canst drink the waters of the crisped spring?
O sweet content!
S'wimm'st thou in wealth, yet sink'st in thine own
tears?
O punishment!
15 Then he that patiently want's burden bears
No burden bears, but is a king, a king!
O sweet content! O sweet, O sweet content!
Work apace, apace, apace, apace;
Honest labour bears a lovely face;
20 Then hey nonny nonnv, bey nonny nonnv'
f. Dekker
XKv\\] Booh First 101
LXXVI
SIC TRAXSIT
Come, cheerful day, part of my life to me;
For while thou view'st me with thy fading light
Part of my life doth still depart vdth. thee,
And I still onward haste to my last -uglit;
5 Time's fatal wings do ever forward fly —
So every day we live a day we die.
But O ye nights, ordain'd for barren rest,
How are my days deprived of life in you
When hea\^ sleep' my soul hath dispossest,
10 By feigned death life sweetly to renew!
Part of my life, in that, you life deny:
So everv day we live, a day we die.
T. Campion
This Life, which seems so fair.
Is like a bubble blo-ivn up in the air
By sporting children's breath,
Who chase it everywhere
5 And strive who can most motion it bequeath.
And though it sometimes seem of its own might
Like to an eye of gold to be fix'd there,
And firm to hover in that empty height,
That only is because it is so light.
10 — But in' that pomp it doth not long appear;
For when 'tis most admired, in a thought.
Because it erst was nought, it turns to nought.
W. Drummond
102 Palyrave's Golden Treasury flxxviij
LXXVIII
SOUL AND BODY
Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
[Foil'd by] those rebel powers that thee arra;y,
Why dost thou pine within, and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
5 Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess.
Eat up thy charge? is this thy body's end?
Then, Soul, live thou upon thy servant's loss,
•.0 And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more: — •
So shalt thou feed on death, that feeds on men,
And death once dead, there's no more dying then.
W. Shakespeare
LXXIX
The man of life upright,
Whose guiltless heart is free
from all (hshonest deeds,
Or thought of vanity;
5 The man whose silent days
In harmless joys are spent,
Whom hopes cannot delude
Nor sorrow discontent:
That man needs neither towers
10 Nor armour for defence,
Nor secret vaults to fly
From thundei's violence:
Ixxx] Book First 103
He only can behold
With unaff righted eyes
The horrors of the deep
And terrors of the skies.
5 Thus scorning all the cares
That fate or fortune brings,
He makes the heaven his book,
His wisdom heavenly things;
Good thoughts his only friends,
1.0 His wealth a well-spent age,
The earth his sober inn
And quiet pilgrimage.
T. Campion
LXXX
THE LESSONS OF NATURE
Of this fair volume w^uch we World do name
If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care,
Of Him who it corrects, and did it frame,
We clear might read the art and wisdom rare:
5 Find out His power which wildest powers doth tame,
His providence extending everywhere.
His justice which proud rebels doth not spare.
In every page, no period of the same
But silly we, like foolish cliildren, rest
10 Well pleased with colour'd vellum, leaves of gold.
Fair dangling ribbands, leaving what is best,
On the great Writer's sense ne'er taking hold;
Or if by chance we stay our minds on aught.
It is some Picture on the margin wrought.
W. Drummond
104 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxi
LXXXl
Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move?
Is this the justice which on Earth we find?
Is this that firm decree which all doth bind?
Are these your influences, Powers above?
5 Those souls wliich vice's moody mists most blind,
Blind Fortune, blindly, most their friend doth prove;
And they who thee, poor idol Virtue! love.
Ply like a feather toss'd by storm and wind.
All! if a Providence doth sway tins all
10 Why should best minds groan under most distress?
Or why should pride humility make thrall,
And injuries the innocent oppress?
Heavens! hinder, stop this fate; or grant a time
When good may have, at; ws'I as bad, their prime!
W . Drummond
LXXXII
THE WORLD'S WAY
Tired with all these, for restful death J cry — ^
As, to behold desert a beggar bom,
And needy nothing trinmi'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
5 And gilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted.
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced.
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
10 And folly, doctor-like, controlHng skill,
And simple truth miscall 'd simphcity,
And captive Good attending captain 111: —
— Tired with all these, from these woukl I be gone,
Save that, to die I leave my Love alone.
W^. Shakespeare
Ixxivl Book First lOi
LXXXIII
A WISH
Happy were he could finish forth his fate
In some unhaunted desert where, obscure
From all society from love and hate
Of worldly folk, there should he sleep secure;
5 Then wake again, and yield God ever praise;
Content with hip, with haws, and brambleberry;
In contemplation passing still liis days.
And change of holy thoughts to make liim merry:
Who, when he dies, his tomb might be the bush
10 Where harmless robin resteth with the thrush:
— Happy were he I
R. Devereux, Ear] of Essex
LXXXIV
SAINT JOHN BAPTIST
The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King
Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild.
Among that savage brood the woods forth bring.
Which he more harmless found than man, and mil<l
5 His food was locusts, and what there doth spring.
With honey that from virgin liives distill 'd;_
Parch'd body, hollow eyes, some uncouth tiling
Made him aooear. long since from earth exiled.
There burst 'he forth: All ye whose hopes rely
10 On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn.
Repent, repent, and from old errors turn!
—Who listen'd to liis voice, obey'd his cry?
Only the echoes, which he made relent.
Rung from their flinty caves. Repent! Repent!
W . Drunwnond
Cl)e (tPoltien Creasurp
IBook Second
LXXXV
ODE ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S
NATIVITY
This is the- month, and this the happy morn
Wherein the Son of Heaven's Eternal King
Of wedded maid and virgin mother born,
Our great redemption from above did bring;
5 For so the holy sages once did sing
That He ovir deadly forfeit should release,
And with His Father work us a perpetual peace.
That glorious Form, Uiat Light unsufferable,
And that far-beammg blaze of Majesty
10 Wherewith He wont at Heaven's high council-table
To sit the midst of Trinal Unity,
He laid aside; and, here with us to be,
Forsook the courts of everlasting day.
And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay
15 Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein
Afford a present to the Infant God?
Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain
To welcome Him to this His new abode.
Now while the heaven, by the sun's team untrod,
20 Hath took no print of the approaching light.
And all the spangled host keep watch in squadron
bright?
Ixxxv] Book Secona - 107
See how from far, upon the eastern road,
The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet:
O run, prevent them witli thy humble ode
And lay it lowly at His blessed feet;
5 Have thou tlie honour first thy Lord to greet,
And join thy voice unto the Angel quire
From out His secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire.
THE HYMN
It was the winter wild
While the heaven-born Child
All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies:
Nature in awe to Hini
5 Had doff'd her gaudy trim.
With her great Master so to sympathize:
It was no season then for her
To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour.
Only with speeches fair
10 She woos the gentle air
To hide her guilty front with innocent snow;
And on her naked shame.
Pollute with sinful blame,
The saintly veil of maiden white to throw;
15 Confounded, that her Maker's eyes
Should look so near upon her foul deformities.
But He, her fears to cease,
Sent down the meek-eyed Peace;
She, crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding
20 Do\\-n through the turning sphere,
His ready harbinger,
\\'\X\\ turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing;
And waving wide her myrtle wand,
She strikes a universal peace through sea and land.
25 No war, or battle's sound
Was heard the world aroimd:
The idle spear and shield were high uphung;
The hooked chaiiot stoo»*
108 taigrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxv
Vnstain'd with hostile blood;
The trumpet spake not to the armed throng;
And kings sat still with awful eye,
As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
5 But peaceful was the night
Wherein the Prince of Light
His reign of peace upon the earth began:
The winds, with wonder whist.
Smoothly the waters kist
10 Whispering new joys, to the mild ocean —
Who now hath quite forgot to rave.
While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.
The stars, with deep amaze,
Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze,
15 Bending one way their precious influence;
And will not take their flight
For all the morning light,
Or Lucifer that often warn'd them thence;
But in their glimmering orbs did glow
20 LTntil their Lord Himself b^spake, and bid them go.
And though the shady gloom
Had given day her room,
The sun himself withheld his wonted speed,
And hid his head for shame,
25 As his inferior flame
The new-enlighten'd world no more should need;
He saw a greater Sun appear
Than his bright throne, or burning axletree could bear.
The shepherds on the lawn
30 Or ere the point of dawn
Sate simply chatting in a rustic row;
Full Httle thought they than
That the mighty Pan
Was kindly come to live with them below;
35 Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep
W^as all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep; —
When such music sweet
Their hearts and ears did greet
Ixxxv] Book Second 109
As never was by mortal finger strook —
Divinely-warbled voice
.\nswering the stringed noise,
As all their souls in blissful rapture took:
5 The air, such pleasure loth to lose,
With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly
close.
Nature, that heard such sound
Beneath the hollow round
Of Cynthia's seat the airy region thrilling^
10 Now was almost won
To think her part was done,
And that her reign had here its last fulfilling,
She knew such harmony alone
Could hold all Heaven and Earth in happier union.
15 At last surrounds their sight
A globe of circular light
That with long beams the shamefaced night array'd;
The helmed Cherubim
And sworded Seraphim
20 Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd,
Harping in loud and solemn quire
With unexpressive notes, to Heaven's new-born Heir.
Such music (as 'tis said)
Before was never made
25 But when of old the Sons of Morning sung,
Wlule the Creator great
His constellations set
And the well-balanced world on hinges hung;
And cast the dark foundations deep,
30 And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.
Ring out, ye crystal spheres!
Once biess our human ears.
If ye have power to touch our senses so;
And let your silver chime
35 Move in melodious time;
And let the bass of heaven's deep organ blow;
And with your ninefold harmony
Make up full consort to the angelic symphony.
J 10 Palgraves Golden Treasury [IxxxV
f bi ii such holy song
Enwrap our fancy long,
Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold;
And speckled Vanity
5 Will sicken soon and die,
And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould;
And Hell itself will pass away,
And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day
Yea, Truth and Justice then
10 Will down return to men,
Orb'd in a rainbow; and, Uke glories wearing,
Mercy will sit between
Throned in celestial sheen.
With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering;
15 And Heaven, as at some festival.
Will open wide the gates of her high palace-hall.
But wisest Fate says No;
This must not yet be so;
The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy
20 That on the bitter cross
Mvist redeem our loss;
So both Himself and us to glorify:
Yet first, to those ychain'd in sleep
The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the
deep;
25 With such a horrid clang
As on Mount Sinai rang
While the red fire and smouldering clouds out brake:
The aged Earth aghast
With terror of that blast
30 Shall from the surface to the centre shake,
When, at the world's last session,
The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread His
throne.
And then at last our bliss
Full and perfect is,
35 But now begins; for from this happy day
The old Dragon under ground,
In strait er limits bound,
Not ha'if so far c^sts his usurped swa/;
Ixxxv] Book Secona 111
And, wroth to see his kingdom fail.
Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail.
The Oracles are dumb;
No voice or hideous hum
5 Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving
Apollo from his shrine
Can no more divine,
With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving:
No nightly trance or breathed spell
10 Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
The lonely movintains o'er
And the resounding shore
A voice of weeping heard, and lovid lament;
From haunted spring and dale
15 Edged with poplar pale
The parting Genius is vrith. sighing sent;
With flower-inwoven tresses torn
The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets
mourn.
In consecrated earth
20 And on the holy hearth
The Lars and Lennires moan with midnight plaint-
In urns, and altars round
A drear and dying sound
Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint;
25 And the chill marble seems to sweat.
While each peculiar Power foregoes his wonted seat.
Peor and Baalim
Forsake their temples dim,
With that twice-batter'd god of Palestine;
30 And mooned Ashtaroth
Heaven's queen and mother both,
Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine;
The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn:
In vam the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz
mourn.
35 And sullen Moloch, fled,
Hath left in shadows dread
His burning idol all of blackest hue;
112 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxv
In vain with cymbals' ring
They call the grisly king.
In dismal dance about the furnace blue;
The brutish gods of Nile as fast,
5 Isis, and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste
Nor is Osiris seen
In Memphian grove, or green,
Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud:
Nor can he be at rest
10 Within his sacred chest;
Nought but profoundest Hell can be his shroud;
In vain with timbrell'd anthems dark
The sable-stoled sorcerers bear liis worsliipt ark.
He feels from Juda's land
16 The dreaded Infant's hand;
The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn;
Nor all the gods beside
Longer dare abide,
Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine:
20 Our Babe, to show His Godhead true,
Can in His swaddling bands control the damned crew
So, when the sun in bed
Curtain 'd with cloudy red
Pillows his chin upon an orient wave,
25 The flocking shadows pale
Troop to the infernal jail,
Each fetter'd ghost slips to his several grave;
And the yellow-skirted fays
Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loveo
maze.
30 But see! the Virgin blest
Hath laid her Babe to rest;
Time is, our tedious song should here have ending:
Heaven's youngest-teemed star
Hath fix'd her polish 'd car,
35 Her sleeping Lord with hand-maid lan;j.p attending:
And all about the courtly stable
Bright-harness 'd Angels sit in order serviceable.
J MilUm.
Ixxxvi] Book Second US
LXXXVI
SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY, 1687
From Harmony, from Heavenly Harmony
This universal frame began:
When Nature underneath a lieap
Of jarring atoms lay
5 And could not heave her head,
The tuneful voice was heard from high,
Arise, ye more than dead!
Then cold and hot and moist and dry
In order to their stations leap,
And Music's power obey.
From harmony, from heavenly harmony
This universal frame began:
From harmony to harmony
Through all tlie compass of the notes it ran,
15 The diapason closing full in Man.
What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
When Jubal struck the chorded shell
His listening brethren stood around,
And, wondering, on their faces fell
•20 To worship that celestial sound.
Less than a god they thought there coukl not dwell
Within the hollow of that shell
That rpoke so sweetly and so well,
What passion cannot Music raise and quell?
25 The trumpet's loud clangor
Excites us to arms,
With shrill notes of anger
And mortal alarms.
The double double double beat
30 Of the thundering drum
Cries 'Hark! the foes come;
Charge, charge, 'tis too late to retreat!'
The soft complaining flute
In dying notes discovers
114 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxvi
The woes of hopeless lovers,
Whose dirge is whisper'd by the warbling lute.
Sharp violins proclaim
Their jealous pangs and desperation,
5 Fury, frantic indignation,
Depth of pains, and height of passion
For the fair disdainful tlanie.
But oh! what art can teach.
What human voice can reach
*.0 The sacred organ's praise?
Notes inspiring holy love,
Notes that wing their heavenly ways
To mend the choirs above.
Orpheus could lead the savage race,
15 And trees unrooted left tlieir place
Sequacious of the lyre:
But bright Cecilia raised the wonder higher:
When to her Organ vocal breath was given
An Angel heard, and straight appear'd —
20 IVIistaking Earth for Heaven.
Qrand Chorus
As from the power oi sacred lays
The spheres began to move,
And sung the great Creator's praise
To all the blest above;
25 So when the last and dreadful hour
Tliis crumbling pageant shall devour,
The trumpet shall be heard on high,
The dead shall live, the living die,
And Music shall untune the sky.
J. Dryden
LXXXVII
ON THE LATE MASSACRE IX PIEDMONT
Avenge, O Lord I Thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones
Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold;
Even them who kept Thy truth so pure of old
When all our fathers worshipt stocks and stones,
txxxviii] tiook Second 11«''
Forget not: In Thy book record their groans
Who were Thy sheep, and in their ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that roll'd
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans
5 The vales redoubled to the hills, and they
To Heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow
O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway
The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow
A hundred-fold, who, having learnt Thy way,
10 Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
J. Milton
LXXXVIII
HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S
RETURN FROM IRELAND
The forward youth that would appear.
Must now forsake his Muses dear,
Nor in the shadows sing
His numbers languishing.
5 'Tis time to leave the books in dust,
And oil the vmused armour's rust,
Removing from the wall
The corslet of the hall.
So restless Cromwell could not cease
10 In the inglorious arts of peace,
But through adventurous war
Urged his active star:
And like the three-fork'd lightning, first
Breaking tlie clouds where it was nurst,
15 Did thorough liis own Side
His fiery way divide:
For 'tis all one to courage high,
The emulous, or enemy;
And with such, to enclose
20 Is more than to oppose-
116 Palgrave'a Golden Treasury [Ixxxvir'
Then burning through the air lie went
And palaces and temples rent;
And Caesar's head at last
Did through his laurels blast.
5 'Tis madness to resist or blame
The face of angry heaven's flame;
And if we would speak true,
Much to the Man is due
Who, from his private gardens, where
10 He lived reserved and austere,
(As if his highest plot
To plant the bergamot,)
Could by industrious valovir climb
To ruin the great work of time,
15 And cast the Kingdoms old
Into another mould;
Though Justice against Fate complain,
And plead the ancient Rights in vain —
But those do hold or break
20 As men are strong or weak;
Nature, that hateth emptiness,
Allows of penetration less,
And therefore must make room
Where greater spirits come.
25 What field of all the civil war
Where his were not the deepest scar?
And Hampton shows what part
He had of wiser art.
Where, twining subtle fears with hope,
30 He wove a net of such a scope
That Charles himself might chase
To Carisbrook's narrow case,
That thence the Royal actor borne
The tragic scaffold might adorn:
?5 While round the armed bands
Did clap their bloody hands.
/xxxvui
Book Second 117
He nothing common did or mean
Upon that memorable scene.
But with his keener eye
The axe's edge did try;
■i Nor call'd the Gods, wth vulgar spite,
To vindicate his helpless right;
But bow'd his comely head
Down, as upon a bed.
— This was that memorable hour
'0 Which first assured the forced power:
So when they did design
The Capitol's first line,
A Bleeding Head, where they begun,
Did fright the architects to run;
15 And yet in that the State
Foresaw its happy fate!
And now the Irish are ashamed
To see themselves in one year tamed:
So much one man can do
20 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.
25 Nor yet grown stiffer with command.
But still in the Republic's hand —
How fit he is to sway
That can so well obey!
He to the Commons' feet presents
30 A Kingdom for his first year's rents.
And (what he may) forbears
His fame to make it theirs:
And has his sword and spoils ungirfc
To lay them at the Public's skirt.
35 So when the falcon liigh
Fails heavy from the sky.
118 Palgrave's Goidea Treasury [Ixxxviii
She, having kill'd, no more doth search
But on the next green bough to perch,
Where, when he first does lure,
The falconer has her sure.
5 — What may not then our Isle presume
While victory his crest does plume?
What may not others fear
If thus he crowns each year?
As Caesar he, ere long, to Gaul,
.'0 To Italy an Hannibal,
And to all States not free
Shall climacteric be.
The Pict no shelter now shall find
Within his parti-colour'd mind,
15 But from this valour sad
Shrink underneath the plaid —
Happy, if in the tufted brake
The English hunter him mistake,
Nor lay his hounds in near
20 The Caledonian deer.
But Thou, the War's and Fortune s soUs
March indefatigably on;
And for the last effect
Still keep the sword erect:
25 Besides the force it has to fright
The spirits of the shady night.
The same arts that did gain
A power, must it maintain.
A. Marvell
LXXXIX
LYCIDAS
Elegy on a Friend drowned in the Irish Channel
1637
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more
Ye myrtles browTi, with ivy never sere,
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude-
And with forced fingers rude
Ixxxix] Book Second 119
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.
Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear
Compels me to disturb your season due:
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime,
5 Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
He must not float upon his watery bier
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,
10 Without the meed of some melodious tear.
Begin then, Sisters of the sacred well
That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring;
Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string.
Hence with denial vain and coy excuse:
15 So may some gentle Muse
AVith lucky words favour my destined urn;
And as he passes, turn
And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud.
For we were nursed upon the self-same hill,
20 Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill:
Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd
Under the opening eyelids of the Morn,
We drove a-field, and both together heard
What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn,
25 Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night,
Oft till the star that rose at evening bright
Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering
wheel
Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute,
Temper'd to the oaten flute,
30 Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel
From the glad sound would not be absent long;
And old Damoetas loved to hear our song.
But, oh! the heavy change, now thou art gone,
Now thou art gone, and never must return i
35 Thee, Shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves
With wild thyme and gadding vine o'ergrown,
And all their echoes, mourn:
The willows and the hazel copses green
Shall now no more be seen
40 Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays; —
120 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxix
As killing as the canker to the rose,
Or taint-worm to the weanhng herds that graze,
Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear
When first the white-thorn blows;
5 Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear.
Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep
Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas?
For neither were ye playing on the steep
Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie,
10 Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high,
Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream:
Ay me! I fondly dream —
Had ye been there . . . For what could that have
done?
What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore,
15 The Muse herself, for her enchanting son.
Whom universal nature did lament,
When by the rout that made the hideous roar
His gory visage down the stream was sent,
Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
20 Alas! what boots it with uncessant care
To tend the homely, slighted, shepherd's trade
And strictly meditate the thankless Muse?
Were it not better done, as others use,
To sport with Amaryllis in the shade,
25 Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair?
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise
(That last infirmity of noble mind)
To scorn delights, and live laborious days;
But the fair guerdon when we hope to find,
30 And think to burst out into sudden blaze.
Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears
And slits the thin-spun life. 'But not the praise'
Phoebus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears;
'Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil,
35 Nor in the glistering foil
Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies:
But. lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes
And perfect witness of all-judging Jove;
As he pronounces lastly on each deed,
40 Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.'
Ixxxix] Book Second 121
O fountain Arethvise, and thou honour'd flood
Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown'd with vocal reeds,
That strain I heard was of a higher mood.
Bvit now my oat proceeds,
5 And listens to the herald of the sea
That came in Neptune's plea;
He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds,
What hard mishap hath doom'd tliis gentle swain?
And question'd every gust of rugged wings
10 That blows from off each beaked promontory:
They knew not of his story;
And sage Hippotades their answer brings,
That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd;
The air was calm, and on the level brine
15 Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd.
It was that fatal and perfidious bark
Built in the eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark,
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.
Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow,
20 His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge
Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe:
'Ah! who hath reft,' quoth he, 'my dearest pledge!'
Last came, and last did go
25 The Pilot of the Galilean lake;
Two massy keys he bore of metals twain
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain);
He shook his mitred locks, and stem bespake:
'How well could I have spared for thee, young swain.
30 Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake
Creep and intrude and cHmb into the fold!
Of other care they little reckoi^ing make
Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest.
35 Blind mouths! tha* scarce themselves know how to
hold
A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least
That to the faithful herdman's art belongs!
What recks it them? What need they? They are
sped;
And when they list, their lean and flashy songs
122 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [Ixxxix
Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw;
The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed,
But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw
Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread:
5 Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw
Daily devours apace, and nothing said:
— But that two-handed engine at the door
Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.'
Return, Alpheus; the dread voice is past
10 That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse,
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast
Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues.
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks
15 On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks;
Throw hither all your quaint enamell 'd eyes
That on the green turf suck the honey'd showers
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers.
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies,
20 The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine,
The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet,
The glowing violet,
The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine.
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head,
25 And every flower that sad embroidery wears:
Bid amarantus all his beauty shed.
And daffadillies fill their cups with tears
To strew the laureat hearse where Lycid lies.
For so to interpose a little ease,
30 Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise: —
Ay me! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas
Wash far away, — where'er thy bones are hurl'd,
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides
Where thou perhaps, under the whelming tide,
35 Visitest the bottom of the monstrous world;
Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied,
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old.
Where the great Vision of the guarded mount
Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold,
40 — Look homeward. Angel, now, and melt with ruth:
— And, O ye dolphins^ waft the hapless youth!
xc'l Bwk Second 123
Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more,
For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead,
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor:
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed,
5 And yet anon repairs his drooping head
And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky:
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high
Through the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves;
10 Where, other groves and other streams qlong,
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves,
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love.
There entertain him all the Saints above
15 In solemn troops, and sweet societies.
That sing, and singing, in their glory move.
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more;
Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore
20 In thy large recompense, and shalt be good
To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and riils
While the still morn went out with sandals gray;
He touch'd the tender stops of various quills,
25 With eager thought warbling his Doric 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 blue:
To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.
J. Milton
xc
ON THE TOMBS IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY
Mortality, behold and fear
What a change of flesh is here!
Think how many royal bones
Sleep within these heaps of stones;
6 Here they lie, had realms and lands,
Who now want strength to stir their hands,
124 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xc
Where from their pulpits seal'd with dust
They preach, ' In greatness is no trust.'
Here's an acre sown indeed
With the richest royallest seed
5 That the earth did e'er suck in
Since the first man died for sin:
Here the bones of birth have cried
'Though gods they were, as men they died!'
Here are sands, ignoble things,
10 Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings:
Here's a world of pomp and state
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.
F. Beaumont
xci
THE LAST CONQUEROR
Victorious men of earth, no more
Proclaim how wide your empires are;
Though you bind-in every shore
And your triumphs reach as far
5 As night or day.
Yet you, proud monarchs, must obey
And mingle wdth forgotten ashes, when
Death calls ye to the crowd of common men.
Devouring Famine, Plague, and War,
10 Each able to undo mankind,
Death's servile emissaries are;
Nor to these alone confined.
He hath at will
More quaint and subtle ways to kill;
16 A smile or kiss, as he will use the art,
Shall have the cunning skill to break a heart.
J. Shirley
XCII
DEATH THE LEVELLER
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate:
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
xciii] Book Second 125
Sceptre and Crown
Must tumble down,
And m the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
5 Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill:
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still:
Early or late
10 They stoop to fate.
And must give up their murmuring breath
When they, pale captives, creep to death.
The garlands wither on your brow;
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
15 Upon Death's pui-ple altar now
See where the victor- victim bleeds:
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb;
Only the actions of the just
20 Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.
J . Shirley
XCIII
WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO
THE CITY
Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in Arms,
Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize,
If deed of honour did thee ever please,
Guard them, and him within protect from harms.
5 He can requite thee; for he knows the charms
That call fame on such gentle acts as these,
And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas,
Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms.
Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower:
10 Tlie great Emathian conqueror bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower
126 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [xciii
Went to the ground: and the repeated air
Of sad Electra's poet had the power
To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.
J. Milton
xciv
ON HIS BLINDNESS
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
5 To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest He returning chide, —
Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
I fondly ask: — But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies; God doth not need
10 Either man's work, or His o\\ti gifts: who best
Bear His mild yoke, they serve Him best: His state
Is kingly; thousands at His bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest: — -
They also serve who only stand and wait.
J. Milton
xcv
CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE
How happy is he bom and taught
That serveth not another's will;
Whose armour is his honest thought
And simple truth his utmost skill!
Whose passions not his masters are,
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Untied unto the world by care
Of public fame, or private breath;
xc\'i] Book Second 12^
Who envies none that chance doth raise
Nor vice; Who never understood
How deepest wounds are given by praise;
Nor rules of state, but rules of good:
5 Who hath his life from rumours freed,
Whose conscience is his strong retreat;
Whose state can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make oppressors great;
Who God doth late and early pray
10 More of His grace than gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
With a religious book or friend;
— This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise, or fear to fall;
15 Lord of liimself, though not of lands;
And havmg nothing, yet hath all.
Sir H . Wotton
XCVl
THE NOBLE NATURE
It is not growing hke a tree
In bulk, doth make Man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log at last, dry, bald, and sere:
5 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;
10 And ^n short measures hfe may perfect be.
B. Jonson
128 Palgrave's Golden Treasury Ixcvii
XCVII
1 HE GIFTS OF GOD
When God at first made Man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by;
Let us (said He) pour on him all we can:
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie,
5 Contract into a span.
So strength first inade a way;
Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honovir, pleasure
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that alone, of all His treasure,
10 Rest in the bottom lay.
For if I should (said He)
Bestow this jewel also on My creature,
He would adore My gifts instead of Ma,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature,
15 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
20 May toss him to My breast.
G. Herben
XCVIII
THE RETREAT
Happy those early days, when I
Shined in my Angel-infancy!
Before I understood this place
Appointed for my second race,
6 Or taught my soul to fancy aught
But a white, celestial thought;
When yet I had not walk'd above
A mile or two from my first Love.
xcix] Book Second 129
And looking back, at that short space
Could see a gUmpse of His bright face;
When on some gilded cloud or flower
My gazing soul would dwell an hour,
5 And in those weaker glories spy
Some shadows of eternity;
Before I taught my tongue to wound
My conscience with a sinful sound,
Or had the black art to dispense
10 A several sin to eveiy sense,
But felt through all this fleshly dress
Bright shoots of everlastingness.
O how I long to travel back.
And tread again that ancient track!
15 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
20 Is drunk, and staggers in the way: —
Some men a forward motion love.
But I by backward steps would move;
And when this dust falls to the urn,
In that state I came, return.
H. Vaughan
XCIX
TO MR. LAWRENCE
Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son,
Now that the fields are dank and ways are mire.
Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire
Help waste a sullen day, what may be won
From the hard season gaining? Time will run
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire
The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire
The lily and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.
130 Palgraves Golden Treasury [xcix
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise
To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?
5 He who of those delights can judge, and spare
To interpose them oft, is not unwise.
/. Milton
TO CYRIACK SKINNER
Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench
OT British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our laws,
Which others at their bar so often wrench;
6 To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting draws;
Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause,
And what the Swede intend, and what the French.
To measure life learn thou betimes, and know
10 Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;
For other things mild Heaven a time ordains,
And disapproves that care, though wise in show,
That with superfluous burden loads the day,
And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.
J. Milton
CI
A HYMN IN PRAISE OF NEPTUNE
Gi Neptune's empire let us sing.
At whose command the waves obey:
To whom the rivers tribute pay,
Down the high mountains sliding;
To whom the scaly nation yields
Homage for the crystal fields
V^herein they dwell;
cii] Book Second 131
And everj sea-god pays a gem
Yearly out of his watery cell,
To deck great Neptune's diadem.
The Tritons dancing in a ring,
c Before his palace gates do make
The water with their echoes quake,
Like the great thunder sounding:
The sea-nymphs chaunt their accents shrill,
A.nd the Syrens taught to kill
10 With their sweet voice,
Make every echoing rock reply,
Unto their gentle murmuring noise,
The praise of Neptune's empery.
T. Campion
CII
HYMN TO DIANA
Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair.
Now the sun is laid to sleep.
Seated in thy silver chair
State in wonted manner keep:
5 Hesperus entreats thy light..
Goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
10 Heaven to clear when day did close:
Bless us then with wished sight,
Goddess excellently bright.
T^ay thy bow of pearl apart
And thy crystal-shining quiver;
15 Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short soever:
Thou that mak'st a day of nighty
Goddess excellently bright!
B. J orison
132 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ciii
cm
WISHES FOR THE SUPPOSED MISTRESS
Whoe'er she be,
That not impossible She
That sliall command my heart and me;
Where'er she lie,
5 Lock'd np from mortal eye
In shady leaves of destiny;
Till that ripe birth
Of studied Fate stand forth,
And teach her fair steps tread our earth;
10 Till that divine
Idea take a shrine
Of crystal flesh, through which to shine:
— Meet you her, my Wishes,
Bespeak her to my blisses,
15 And be ye call'd, my absent kisses.
I wish her beauty
That owes not all its duty
To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie:
Something more than
20 TaiTata or tissue can.
Or rampant feather, or rich fan.
A face that's best
By its own beauty drest,
And can alone commend the rest:
25 A face made up
Out of no other shop
Than what Nature's white hand sets ope.
Sidneian showers
Of sweet discourse, whose powers
30 Can crown old Winter's head with flowers.
ciii] Book Second 133
Whate'er delight
Can make day's forehead bright
Or give down to the wings of. night.
Soft silken hours,
5 Open suns, shady bowers;
'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.
Days, that need borrow
No part of their good morrow
From a fore-spent night of sorrow:
10 Days, that in spite
Of darkness, by the light
Of a clear mind are day all night.
Life, that dares send
A challenge to his end,
15 And when it comes, say, 'Welcome, friend/
I wish her store
Of worth may leave her poor
Of wishes; and I wish — no more.
Now, if Time knows
20 That Her, whose radiant brows
Weave them a garland of my vows:
Her that dares be
What these Unes wish to see;
I seek no further, it is She.
25 'Tis She, and here
Lo! I unclothe and clear
My wishes' cloudy character.
Such worth as this is
Shall fix my flying wishes,
30 And determine them to kisses.
Let her full glory,
My fancies, fly before ye;
Be ye my fictions: — but her stoiy.
R. Crashaw
134 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [civ
CIV
2'HE GREAT ADVENTURER
Over the mountains
And over the waves,
Under the fountains
And under the graves;
£■ Under floods that are deepest,
Which Neptune obey;
Over rocks that are steepest
Love will find out the way.
Where there is no place
10 For the glow-worm to lie;
Where there is no space
For receipt of a fly;
Where the midge dares not venture
Lest herself fast she lay;
15 If love come, he will enter
And soon find out his way.
You may esteem him
A child for his might;
Or you may deem him
20 A coward from his flight;
But if she whom love doth honou»
Be conceal'd from the day,
Set a thousand guards upon her,.
Love will find out the way,
S/i Some think to lose him
By having him confined;
And some do suppose him,
Poor thing, to be blind;
But if ne'er so close ye wall him^
30 Do the best that you may,
Bhnd love, if so ye call him.
Will find out his way.
cv] Book Second l<^>iJ
You may train the eagle
To stoop to your fist;
Or you may inveigle
The phoenix of the east;
5 The lioness, ye may move her
To give o'er her prey;
But you'll ne'er stop a lover:
He will find out his way.
Anon
cv
THE PICTURE OF LITTLE T. C. IN A
PROSPECT OF FLOWERS
See with what simplicity
This nymph begins her golden days!
In the green grass she loves to lie.
And there with her fair aspect tames
5 The wilder flowers, and gives them names;
But only with the roses plays,
And them does tell
What colours best become them, and what smell.
Who can foretell for what high cause
iO This darling of the Gods was born?
Yet this is she whose chaster laws
Tlie wanton Love shall one day fear
And, under her command severe,
See his bow broke, and ensigns torn.
15 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;
20 Ere with their glancing wheels they drive
In triumph over hearts that strive,
And them that yield but more despise:
Let me be laid,
Where I may see the glories from some shade.
136 Palgrave's Golden Treasury fcv
Mean time, whilst every verdant thing
Itself does at thy beauty charm,
Reform the errors of the Spring;
Make that the tulips may have share
5 Of sweetness, seeing they are fair.
And roses of their thorns disarm;
But most procure
That violets may a longer age endure.
But O young beauty of the woods,
10 Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers,
Gather the flowers, but spare the buds;
Lest Flora, angry at thy crime
To kill her infants in their prime.
Should quickly make th' example yours;
15 And ere we see —
Nip in the blossom — all our hopes and thee.
A. Marvell
cvi
CHILD AND MAIDEN
Ah, Chloris! could I now but sit
As unconcern'd as when
Your infant beauty could beget
No happiness or pain!
5 When I the dawn vised to admire,
And praised the coming day,
I little thought the rising fire
Would take my rest away.
Your charms in harmless childhootl lay
10 Like metals in a mine;
Age from no face takes more away
Than youth conceal 'd in thine.
But as your charms insensibly
To their perfection prest,
15 So love as unperceived did fly,
And center'd in my breast.
cviii] Book Second 137
My passion with your beauty grew,
While Cupid at my heart,
Still as his mother favour'd you,
Threw a new flaming dart:
5 Each gloried in their wanton part;
To make a lover, he
Employ'd the utmost of his art —
To make a beauty, she.
Sir C. Sedley
CVII
CONSTANCY
I cannot change as others do,
Though you unjustly scorn,
Since that poor swain that sighs for you,
For you alone was born;
5 No, Phyllis, no, your heart to move
A surer way I'll try, —
And to revenge my slighted love.
Will still love on, and die.
When, kill'd with grief, Amintas lies,
10 And you to mind shall call
The sighs that now unpitied rise,
The tears that vainly fall.
That welcome hour that ends his smart
Will then begin your pain,
15 For such a faithful tender heart
Can never break in vain.
J . Wilrnot, Earl of Rochester
CVIII
COUNSEL TO GIRLS
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.
138 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cviii
The glorious Lamp of Heaven, the Sun,
The higher he's a-getting
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he's to setting.
5 That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times, still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your tiine;
10 And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once your prime,
You may for ever tarry.
R. Herrick
cix
TO LUCASTA, 0\ GOING TO THE WARS
Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind
That from the nunnery
Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind,
To war and arms I fly.
5 True, a new mistress now I chase.
The first foe in the field;
And with a stronger faith embrace
A sword, a horse, a shield.
Yet this inconstancy is such
iO As you too shall adore;
I could not love thee. Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more.
Colonel Lovelace
ex
ELIZABETH OF BOHEMIA
You meaner beauties of the night.
That poorly satisfy our eyes
More by yr-ur number than your light,
cxij Book Second 139
You common people of the skies,
What are you, when the Moon shall rise?
You curious chanters of the wood
That warble forth dame Nature's lays,
5 Thinking your passions understood
By your weak accents; what's your praise
When Philomel her voice doth raise?
You violets that first appear,
By your pure purple mantles known
10 Like the proud virgins of the year,
As if the spring were all your own, —
What are you, when the Rose is blown?
So when my Mistress shall be seen
In form and beauty of her mind,
15 By virtue first, then choice, a Queen,
Tell me, if she were not design 'd
Th' eclipse and glory cf her kind?
Sir H. Wotton
CXI
TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY
Daughter to that good Earl, once President
Of England's Council and her Treasury,
Who lived in both, unstain'd with gold or fee,
And left them botli, more in himself content,
5 Till the sad breaking of that Parliament
Broke him, as that dishonest victory
At Chaeroneia, fatal to liberty,
Kill'd with report that old man eloquent; —
Though later born than to have known the day?
10 Wherein your father flourish'd, yet by you.
Madam, methinks I see him living yet;
So well yom- words his noble virtues praise.
That air both judge you to relate them true,
And to possess them, honour'd Margaret.
J. Milton
140 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxii
CXII
THE TRUE BEAUTY
He that loves a rosy cheek
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to maintain his fires;
*i As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
But a smooth and steadfast mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calm desires.
Hearts with equal love combined,
Kindle never-dying fires: —
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks or lips or eyes.
T. Carew
CXIII.
TO DIANEME
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes
Which starlike sparkle in their skies;
Nor be you proud, that you can see
All hearts your captives; yours yet free:
5 Be you not proud of that rich hair
Wliich wantons with the lovesick air;
Whenas that ruby which you wear,
Sunk from the tip of your soft ear.
Will last to be a precious stone
10 When all your world of beauty's gone.
R. Herrick
cxiv
Love in thy youth, fair Maid, be wise;
Old Time will make thee colder.
And though each morning new arise
Yet we each day grow older.
cxvl Book Second 141
Thou as Heaven art fair and young,
Thine eyes Uke twin stars sliining;
But ere another day be sprung
All these will be dechning.
Then winter comes with all his fears,
And all thy sweets shall borrow;
Too late then wilt thou shower thy tears, —
And I too late shall sorrow!
Anon.
cxv
Go, lovely Rose!
Tell her, that wastes her time and me,
That now she knows,
When I resemble her to thee,
5 How sweet and fair she seems to l>e.
Tell her that's yovmg
And shuns to have her graces spied,
That hadst thou sprung
In deserts, where no men abide,
10 Thou must have uncommended died.
Small is the worth
Of beauty from the light retired:
Bid her come forth.
Suffer herself to be desired,
1" And not blush so to be admired.
Then die! that she
The common fate of all things rare
May read in thee:
How small a part of time they sliare
?0 That are so wondrous sweet and fair!
E. Waller
142 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxvi
cxvi
TO CELIA
Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with mine;
Or leave a kiss but in the cup
And I '11 not look for wine.
5 The thirst that from the soul doth rise
Doth ask a drink divine;
But might I of Jove's nectar sup,
I would not change for thine.
I sent thee late a rosy wreath,
10 Not so much honouring thee
As giving it a hope that there
It could not wither'd be;
But thou thereon didst only breathe
And sent'st it back to me;
15 Since when it gi'ows, and smells, I swear.
Not of itself but thee!
B. Jonson
CXVII
CHERRY-RIPE
There is a garden in her face
Where roses and white lilies blow;
A heavenly paradise is that place,
Wherein all pleasant fruits do grow;
B There cherries grow that none may buy,
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.
Those cherries fairly do enclose
Of orient pearl a double row,
Which when her lovely laughter shows,
10 They look like rose-buds fill 'd with snow:
Yet them no peer nor prince may buy,
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry.
cxviii] Book Second 143
Her eyes like angels watch them still;
Her brows like bended bows do stand,
Threat'ning with piercing frowns to kill
All that approach with eye or hand
5 These sacred cherries to come nigh,
Till Cherry-Ripe themselves do cry!
Anon.
CXVIII
CORINNA'S MAYING
Get up, get up for shame! The blooming mom
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.
See how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air:
5 Get up, sweet Slug-a-bed, and see
The dew bespangling herb and tree.
Each flower has wept, and bow'd toward the east,
Above an hour since; yet you not drest,
Nay! not so much as out of bed?
10 When all the birds have matins said.
And sung their thankful hymns: 'tis sin,
Nay, profanation, to keep in, —
Whenas a thousand virgins on this day.
Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch-in May.
15 Rise; and put on your foliage, and be seen
To come forth, like the Spring-time, fresh and green..
And sweet as Flora. Take no care
For jewels for your gown, or hair:
Fear not; the leaves will strew
20 Gems in abundance upon you:
Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some orient pearls imwept:
Come, and receive them while the light
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night:
25 And Titan on the eastern hill
Retires himself, or else stands still
Till you come forth. Wash, dress, be brief in praying:
Few' beads are best, when once we go a Maying.
144 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxviii
Come, my Corinna, come; and coming, mark
How each field turns a street; eacii street a park
Made green, and trimm'd with trees: see how
Devotion gives each house a bough
5 Or brancli: Each porch, each door, ere tliis,
An ark, a tabernacle is,
Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove;
As if here were those cooler shades of love.
Can such delights be in the street,
10 And open fields, and we not see't?
Come, we'll abroad: and let's obey
The proclamation made for May:
And sin no more, as we have done, by staying;
But, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.
15 There's not a budding boy, or girl, this day,
But is got up, and gone to bring in May.
A deal of youth, ere this, is come
Back, and with white-thom laden home.
Some have despatch'd their cakes and cream,
20 Before that we have left to dream:
And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth.
And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:
Many a green-gown has been given;
Many a kiss, both odd and even:
25 Many a glance too has been sent
From out the eye. Love's firmament:
Many a jest told of the keys betraying
This night, and locks pick'd:— Yet we're not a May-
— Come, let us go, while we are in our prime;
30 And take the harmless folly of the time!
We shall grow old apace, and die
Before we know our liberty.
Our life is short; and our days run
As fast away as does the sun : —
35 And as a vapour, or a drop of rain
Once lost, can ne'er be found again:
So when or you or I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade:
cxx] Book Second Ht
All love, all liking, all delight
Lies drown'd with us in endless night.
Then while time serves, and we are but decaying,
Come, my Corinna! come, let's go a Maying.
R. Herrick
cxix
THE POETRY OF DRESS
1
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness: — •
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction, —
6 An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher, —
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribbands to flow confusedly, —
A winning wave, deserving note,
10 In the tempestuous petticoat, —
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility,- —
Do more bewitch me, t'^an when art
Is too precise in every part.
R. Herrick
cxx
2
Whenas in silks my Julia goes
Then, then (methinks) how sweetly flows
That liquefaction of her clothes.
Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free;
O how that glittering taketh me!
R. Herrick
146 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxxi
CXXI
My Love in her attire doth shew her wic,
It doth so well become her:
For every season she hath dressings fit,
For, Winter, Spring, and Summer.
5 No beauty she doth miss
When all her robes are on:
But Beauty's self she is
When all her robes are gone.
Anon.
CXXII
ON A GIRDLE
That which her slender waist confined
Shall now my joyful temples bind:
No monarch but would give his crown
His arms might do wliat this has done.
5 It was my Heaven's extremest sphere,
The pale which held that lovely deer:
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love
Did all within this circle move.
A narrow compass! and yet there
10 Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair:
Give me but what this ribband bound,
Take all the rest the Sun goes round.
E. Waller
CXXIII
A MYSTICAL ECSTASY
j5'en like two little bank-dividing brooks,
Tliat M'ash the pebbles with their wanton streams.
And having ranged and search'd a thousand nooks.
Meet both at length in silver-breasted Thames,
5 Where in a greater current they conjoin:
So I my Best-Beloved's am; so He is mine.
c-xxiv] Book Second 147
E'en so we met; and after long pursuit,
E'en so we joined; we both became entire;
No need for either to renew a suit,
For I was flax and he was flames of fire:
5 Our firm-united souls did more than twine;
So I my Best-Beloved's am; so He is mine.
If all those glittering Monarchs that command
The servile quarters of this earthly ball,
Should tender, in exchange, their shares of land,
10 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 Beloved's mine.
F. Quarks
cxxiv
TO AN THE A WHO MAY COMMAND HIM
ANY THING
Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy Protestant to be:
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.
5 A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.
Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,
10 To honour thy decree:
Or bid it languish quite away,
And't shall do so for thee.
Bid me to weep, and I will weep
While I have eyes to sec:
15 And having none, yet I will keep
A heart to weep for thee.
Bid me despair, and I'll despair,
Under that cj'press tree:
Or bid me die, and I will dare
20 E'en Death, to die for thee
148 Palgrave's Golden Treasury fcxxiv
Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me,
And hast command of every part.
To live and die for thee.
R. Herrick
cxxv
Love not me for comely grace,
For my pleasing eye or face,
Nor for any outward part.
No, nor for my constant heart, —
5 For those may fail, or turn to ill,
So thou and I shall sever:
Keep therefore a true woman's eye.
And love me still, but know not why —
So hast thou the same reason still
10 To doat upon me ever!
Anon.
cxxvi
Not, Celia, that I juster am
Or better than the rest;
For I A\ ould change each hour, like 'them,
Were not my heart at rest.
5 But I am tied to very thee
By every thought I have;
Thy face I only care to see,
Thy heart I only crave.
All that in woman is adored
10 In thy dear self I find —
For the whole sex can but afford
The handsome and the kind.
Why then should I seek further store,
And still make love anew?
15 When change itself can give no more,
'Tis easy tc bo true.
Sir C. Sedley
cxxvii". Book Second 149
CXXVII
TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON
'When Love with unconfined wines
Hovers witiiin my gates,
And my divine Akhea brings
To whisper at the grates;
6 When I he tangled in her hair
And fetter'd to her eye,
The Gods that wanton in the air
Know no such hberty.
When flowing cups nm swiftly round
10 With no allaying Thames,
Our careless heads \\-ith roses bou''.d,
Our hearts with loyal flames;
When thirsty grief in wine we steep,
When healths and draughts go free —
15 Fishes that tipple in the deep
Know no such liberty.
When, (like committed linnets), I
With shriller throat shall sing
The sweetness, mercy, majesty
20 And glories of my King;
When I shall voice aloud how good
He is, how great should be.
Enlarged winds, that curl the flood,
Know no such liberty.
25 Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love
30 And in my soul am free,
Angels alone, that soar above.
Enjoy such liberty.
Colonel Lovelace
159 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxxviii
CXXVIII
TO LUC AST A, GOING BEYOND THE SEAS
If to be absent were to be
Away from thee;
Or that when I am gone
You or I were alone;
5 Then, my Lucasta, might I crave
Pity from bkistering wind, or swallowing wave.
But I'll not sigh one blast or gale
To swell my sail,
Or pay a tear to 'suage
10 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,
15 Like separated soul^,
All time and space controls:
Above the highest sphere we meet
Unseen, unknown, and greet as Angels greet.
So then we do anticipate
20 Our after-fate.
And are alive i' the skies,
If thus our lips and eyes
Can speak like spirits unconfined
In Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind.
Colonel Lovelace
CXXIX
ENCOURAGEMENTS TO A LOVER
Why so pale and wan, fond lover?
Prythee, why so pale?
Will, if looking well can't move her,
Looking ill prevail?
5 Prythee, why so pale?
Qxxx Book Second ^51
Why so dull and mute, young sinner?
Prythee, why so mute?
Will, when speaking well can't win her,
Saying nothing do't?
5 Prythee, why so mute?
Quit, quit, for shame! this will not move.
This cannot take her;
If of herself she will not love,
Notliing can make her:
10 The D— 1 take her!
Sir J . Suckling
cxxx
A SUPPLICATION
Awake, awake, my Lyre!
And tell thy silent master's humble tale
In sounds that may prevail;
Sounds that gentle thoughts inspire:
5 Though so exalted she
And I so lowly be
Tell her, such different notes make all thy harmony,
Hark, how the strings awake!
And, though the moving hand approach not near,
IC Themselves with awful fear
A kind of numerous trembling make.
Now all thy forces try;
Now all thy charms apply;
Revenge upon her ear the conquests of her eye.
15 Weak Lyre! thy virtu? sure
Is useless here, since thou art only found
To cure, but not to wound.
And she to wound, but not to cure.
Too weak too wilt thou prove
2C My passion to remove;
Physic to other ills, thou'rt nourishment to Love
152 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxxx
Sleep, sleep again, my Lyre!
For thou canst never tell my humble tale
In sounds that will prevail,
Nor gentle thoughts in her inspire;
5 All thy vain mirth lay by,
Bid thy strings silent lie,
Sleep, sleep, again, my Lyre, and let thy master die
A. Cowley
cxxxi
THE MANLY HEART
Shall I, wasting in despair.
Die because a woman's fair?
Or make pale my cheeks with care
'Cause another's rosy are?
5 Be she fairer than the day
Or the flowery meads in May —
If she think not well of me
What care I how fair she be?
Shall my silly heart be pined
10 'Cause I see a woman kind;
Or a well disposed nature
Joined with a lovely feature?
Be she meeker, kinder, than
Turtle-dove or pelican,
15 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
20 Make me quite forget mine 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?
^xxxii] Book Second i53
'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,
5 Tliinks what with them he would do
Who without them dares her woo;
And unless that mind I see,
What care I how great she be?
Great or good, or kind or fair,
10 I will ne'er the more despair;
If she love me, this beheve,
I will die ere she shall grieve;
If she slight me when I woo,
I can scorn and let her go;
1* For if she be not for me.
What care I for whom she be?
G. Wither
CXXXII
MELANCHOLY
Hence, all you vain delights,
As short as are the nights
Wherein you spend your folly:
There's nought in this life sweet
5 If man were wise to see't,
But only melancholy,
O sweetest Melancholy!
Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes,
A sigh that piercing mortifies,
10 A look that's fasten'd to the ground,
A tongue chain'd up without a sound!
Fountain-heads and pathless groves,
Places which pale passion loves!
Moonlight walks, when all the fowls
15 Are warmly housed save bats and owls!
A midnight bell, a parting groan!
These are the sounds we feeil upon;
Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley;
Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy.
J. Fletcher
154 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [c::xxiii
CXXXIII
FORSAKEN
O waly waly up the bank,
And waly waly down the brae,
And waly waly yon burn-side
Where I and my Love wont to gael
5 I leant my back vmto an aik,
I thought it was a trusty tree;
But first it bow'd, and syne it brak,
Sae my true Love did lichtly me.
O waly walj% but love be bonny
10 A little time while it is new;
But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld
And fades awa' like morning dew.
O wherefore should I busk my head?
Or v>-herefore should 1 liame my hair?
15 For my true Love has me forsook,
And says he'll never loe me mair.
Now Arthur-seat shall be my bed;
The sheets shall ne'er be prest by me:
Saint Anton's well sail be my drink,
20 Since my true Love has forsaken me.
Marti'mas wind, when wilt thou blaw
And shake the green leaves aff the tree?
O gentle Death, when wilt thou come?
For of my life I am wearie.
25 'Tis not the frost, that freezes fell,
Nor blawing snaw's incleinencie;
'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,
But my Love's heart grown cauld to mec
When we came in by Glasgow town
30 We were a comely sight to see;
My Love was clad in the black velvet,
And I mysell in cramasie.
cxxxiv] Book Second • 155
But had I wist, before I kist,
That love had been sae ill to -win;
I had lockt my heart in a case of gowd
And pinn'd it with a siller pin.
6 And, O! if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurse's knee^
And I mysell were dead and gane,
And the green grass growing over mef
Anon.
CXXXIV
Upon my lap my sovereign sits
And sucks upon my breast;
Meantime his love maintains my life
And gives my sense her rest.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing lullaby, mine only joy!
When thou hast taken thy repast,
Repose, my babe, on me;
So may thy mother and thy nurse
10 Thy cradle also be.
Sing lullaby, my httle boy,
Sing luHabj, mine only joy I
I grieve that duty doth not work
Al) that my wishing would,
.ifi Because J would not be to thee
But in the best 1 should.
Sing lullaby, my httle boy,
Sing lullaby, mine only joy!
Yet as I am, and as I may,
20 I must and will be thine.
Though all too little for thy self
Vouchsafing to be mine.
Sing lullaby, my little boy,
Sing lullaby, mine only joy!
Anon.
156 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [c&xse^
cxxxv
FAIR HELEN
I wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
O that I were wliere Helen lies
On fair Kirconnell lea!
5 Curst be the heart that thought the thought,
And curst the hand that fired the shot.
When in my arms burd Helen dropt.
And died to succor me!
think na but my iiear;, was sair
iO When my Love dropt down and spak nae Uiald
1 laid her down wi' meikle care
On fair Kirconnell lea.
As I went down the water-side,
None but my foe to be my guide,
15 None but my foe to be iny guide,
On fair Kirconnell lea;
I lighted down my sword to draw,
I hacked him in pieces sma',
I hacked him in pieces sma',
20 For her sake that died for me.
O Helen fair, beyond compare!
I'll make a garland of thy hair
Shall bind my heart for evermair
Until the day I die.
25 O that I were where Helen liesj
Night and day on me she cries;
Out of my bed she bids me rise,
Says, 'Haste and come to me!'
O Helen fair! O Helen chaste!
30 If I were with thee, I were blest,
Where thou lies low and takes thy rp-st
On fair Kirconnell lea.
cxxxvij BooTc Secona 157
I wish my grave were growing green,
A winding-sheet drawn ower my een,
And I in Helen's arms lying,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
5 1 wish I were where Helen lies;
Night and day on me she cries;
\nd I am weary of the skies,
Since my Love died for me.
Anon.
cxxxvi
THE TWA CORBIES
As i was walking all alane
1 heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t'other say,
'Where sail we gang and dine today?*
6 ' — In behint yon auld fail dyke,
I wot there lies a new-slain Knight;
And naebody kens that he lies there,
But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair,
'His hound is to the hunting gane,
10 His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame,
His lady's ta'en another mate.
So we may mak our dinner sweet.
'Ye '11 sit on his white hause-bane,
And I'll pick out his bonnie blue een:
]6 Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair
We'll theek our nest when it grows bare.
'Mony a one for him makes mane,
But nane sail ken where he is gane;
O'er his white banes, when they are bare,
20 The wind sail blaw for evermair.'
A non.
158 Falgrave's Golden Treasury fcxxxvii'
CXXXVII
ON THE DEATH OF AIR WILLIAM HERVEY
It was a dismal and a fearful night, —
Scarce could the Moni drive on tli' unwilling light,
When sleep, death s image, left my troubled breast.
By sometlung liker death possest.
5 My eyss wUh fears did uncommanded flow,
And on my soul lumg the dull weight
< )t some intolerable fate.
Whaf. bell was that? Ah me I Too much I knowl
My sweet companion, and my gentle peer,
10 Why hast thou left me thus unkindly liere,
Thj^ end for ever, and my life, to moan?
O thou hast left me all alone!
Thy soul <iiid body, when death's agony
Besieged around thy noble iieart,
15 Did not with more reluctance part
Than I. my dearest friend, do part from thee,
Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say,
Have ye not seen us walking every day?
Was there a tree about which did not know
20 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.
25 Large was his soul; as large a soul as e'er
Submitted to inform a body here;
High as the place 'twas shortly in Heaven to have,
But low and humble as his grave;
So high that all the virtues there did come
30 As to the chiefest seat
Conspicuous, and great;
So low that for me too it made a room.
cxxxviii] Book Second 159
Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught,
As if for him knowledge had rather sought;
Nor did more learnnig ever crowded lie
In such a short mortality.
5 Whene'er the skilful youth discoursed or writ,
Still did the notions throng
About his eloquent tongue;
Nor could Ills ink flow faster than his wit.
His mirth was the pure spirits of various wit,
30 Yet never did his God or friends forget.
And when deep talk and wisdom came in view,
Retired, and gave to them their due.
For the rich help of books he always took,
Though his own searching mind before
15 Was so with notions written o'er,
As if wise Nature had made that her book.
With as much zeal, devotion, piety.
He always hved, as other saints do die.
Still with his soul severe account he kept,
20 Weeping all debts out ere he slept.
Then down in peace and innocence he lay.
Like the sun's laborious light,
Which still in water sets at night,
Unsullied with his journey of the day.
A. Cowley
CXXXVIII
FRIENDS IN PARADISE
They are all gone into the world of light!
And I alone sit lingering here;
Their very memory is fair ami bright.
And my sad thoughts doth clear: —
It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,
Like stars upon some gloomy grove,
Or those faint beams in which this hill is dreet,
After the sun's remove
160 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxxxviii
I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days:
My days, which are at best but dull and hoary.
Mere glimmering and decays.
5 O holy Hope! and high Humility,
High as the heavens above!
These are your walks, and you have shew'd them me.
To kindle my cold love.
Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the just,
vO Shining no where, but in the dark;
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mark!
He that hath foimd some fledged bird's nest, may
know
At first sight, if the bird be flown;
15 But what fair well or grove ho 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,
20 And into glory peep.
H. Vaughan
CXXXIX
TO BLOSSOMS
Fair pledges oi a fruitful tree,
Why do ye fall so fast?
Your date is not so past,
But you may stay yet here aw hile
To blush and gently smile,
And go at last.
gxl] Book Second 161
What, were ye born to be
An hour or half's deUght
And so to bid good-night?
'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth
5 Merely to show your worth,
And lose you quite.
But you are lovely leaves, where we
May read how soon things have
Their end, though ne'er so brave:
10 And after they have shown their pride
Like you, awhilC; they glide
Into the grave.
R. Herrick
CXL
TO DAFFODILS
Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
You haste away so soon:
As yet the early-rising Sun
Has not attain'd his noon.
5 Stay, stay.
Until the hasting day
Has run
But to the even-song;
And, having pray'd together, we
10 Will go with you along.
We have short time to stay, as you,
We have as short a Spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay
As you, or any thing.
15 We die.
As your hours do, and dry
Away
Like to the Summer's rain;
Or as the pearls of morning's dew
20 Ne'er to be found again.
. R. Herrick
182 Palgraves Golden Treasury [cxti
CXLI
THE GIRL DESCRIBES HER FAWN
With sweetest milk and sugar first
I it at my owti fingers nursed;
And as it grew, so every day
It wax'd more white and sweet than they-
It had so sweet a breath! and oft
I bhish'd to see its foot more soft
And white, — shall I say, — than my hand?
Nay, any lady's of the land!
It is a wondrous thing how fleet
10 'Twas on those little silver feet:
With what a pretty skipping grace
It oft would challenge me the race: —
And when 't had left me far away
'Twould stay, and run again, and stay
15 For it was nimbler much than hinds,
And trod as if on the four winds.
I have a garden of my own,
But so \\ith roses overgrown
And lilies, that you would it guess
^0 To be a little wilderness.
And all the spring-time of the year
It only loved to be there.
Among the beds of lilies I
Have sought it oft, where it should He:
25 Yet could not, till itself would rise.
Find it, although before mine e^es: —
For in the flaxen lilies' shade
It like a bank of lihes laid.
cxlii] Book Second 183
Upon the roses it would feed,
Until its lips e'en seem'd to bleed;
And then to nie 'twould boldly trip
And print those roses on my lip.
5 But all its chief delight was still
On roses thus itself to fill,
And its pure virgin limbs to fold
In whitest sheets of lilies cold: —
Had it lived long, it wouhl have been
10 Lilies without — roses within.
A.' Marvell
CXLII
THOUGHTS IX A GARDEN
How vainly men themselves amaze
To win the palm, the oak, or bays,
And their uncessant labours see
Crown'd from some single herb or tree,
5 Whose short and narrow-verged 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
10 And Innocence thy sister dear!
Mistaken long, I sought you then
In busy companies of men:
Your sacred plants, if here below.
Only among the plants will grow:
15 Society is all but rude
To this delicious solitude.
No white nor red was ever seen
So amorous as this lovely green.
Fond lovers, cruel as their flame,
20 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.
164 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxlii
When we have run our passions' heat
Love hither makes his best retreat:
The gods, who mortal beauty chase,
Still in a tree did end their race;
5 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!
10 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 hand themselves do reach;
lb Stumbling on melons, as I pass.
Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.
Meanwhile the mind from pleasure less
Withdraws into its happiness;
The mind, that ocean where each kind
20 Does straight its own resemblance find;
Yet it creates, transcending these.
Far other worlds, and other seas;
Annihilating all that's made
To a green thought in a green shade.
25 Here at the fountain's sliding foot
Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root,
Casting the body's vest aside
My soul into the boughs does glide;
There, like a bird, it sits and sings,
30 Then whets and claps its silver wings,
And, till prepared for longer flight.
Waves in its plumes the various light.
Such was that happy Garden-state
While man there walk'd without a mate:
35 After a place so pure and sweet.
What other help could yet be meet!
But 'twas beyond a mortal's share
To wander solitary there:
cxiiii] Book Second 165
Two paradises 'twere in one,
To live in Paradise alone.
How well the skilful gardener drew
Of flowers and herbs tliis dial new."
E Where, from above, the milder sun
Does through a fragrant zodiac rur •
And, as it works, th' industrious bee
Computes its time as well as we.
How could such sweet and wholesome hours
10 Be reckon'd, but with herbs and flowers'
A. Marveu
CXLIII
FORT UN AT I XIMIUM
Jack and Joan, they think no ill.
But loving live, and merry still;
Do their week-day's work, and pray
Devoutly on the holy-day:
5 Skip and trip it on the green,
And help to choose the Summer Queen,
Lash out at a country feast
Their silver penny with the best.
Well can they judge of nappy ale,
10 And tell at large a winter tale;
Climb up to the apple loft.
And turn the crabs till they be soft.
Tib is all the father's joy.
And little Tom the mother's boy: —
15 All their pleasure is, Content,
j\.nd care, to pay their yearly rent.
Joan can call by name her cows
And deck her windows with green boughs;
She can wreaths and tutties make,
20 And trim with plums a bridal cake.
Jack knows what brings gain or loss.
And his long flail can stoutly toss:
Makes the hedge which others break,
And ever tliinks what he doth speak.
166 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxliii
— Now, you courtly dames and knightSj
That study only strange delights,
Though you scorn the homespun gray,
And revel in your rich array;
6 Though your tongues dissemble deep
And can your heads from danger keep;
Yet, for all yovir pomp and train,
Securer lives the silly swain!
T. Campion
CXLIV
L' ALLEGRO
Hence, loathed Melancholy,
Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born
In Stygian cave forlorn
'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights
unholy!
5 Find out some uncouth cell
Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings
And the night-raven sings;
There imder ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks
As ragged as thy locks,
10 In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
But come, thou Goddess fair and free,
In heaven yclept Euphrosyne,
And by men, heart-easing Mirth,
Whom lovely Venus at a birth
15 With two sister Graces more
To i\'7y-crowTied Bacchus bore;
Or whether (as some sager sing)
The frolic wind that breathes the spring
Zephyr, with Aurora playing,
20 As he met her once a-Maying —
There on beds of violets blue
And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew
Fill'd her with thee, a daughter fair,
So buxom, blithe, and debonair
cxliv] book Second 167
Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee
Jest, and youthful jollity,
Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles
f) Such as hang on Hebe's cheek,
And love to live in dimple sleek;
Sport that wrinkled Care derides,
Ajid Laughter holding both his sides: —
Come, and trip it as you go
10 On the light fantastic toe;
And in thy right hand lead with thee
The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty:
And if I give thee honour due
Mirth, admit me of thy crew,
15 To live with her and live with tbee
In unreproved pleasures free;
To hear the lark begin his flight
And singing startle the dull night
From his watch-tower in the skies,
20 Till the dappled dawn doth rise;
Then to come, in spite of sorrow,
And at my window bid good-morrow
Through the sweetbriar, or the vine,
Or the twisted eglantine:
25 While the cock with lively din
Scatters the rear of darkness thin,
And to the stack, or the barn-door.
Stoutly struts his dames before:
Oft listening how the hounds and horn
30 Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn.
From the side of some hoar hill.
Through the high wood echoing shrill:
Sometime walking, not unseen.
By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green,
35 Right against the eastern gate
Where the great Sun begins his state
Robed in fiames and amber light,
The clouds in thousand liveries dight;
While the ploughman, near at hand,
40 Whistles o'er tlie furrow'd land,
And the milkmaid singeth blithe
And the mower whets liis scythe.
168 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxliv
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures
Whilst the landscape round it measures;
6 Russet lawns, and fallows gray,
Where the nibbling flocks do stray;
Mountains, on whose barren breast
The labouring clouds do often rest;
Meadows trim with daisies pied,
10 Shallow brooks, and rivers wide;
Towers and battlements it sees
Bosom'd high in tufted trees,
Where perhaps some Beauty lies,
The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
15 Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes
From betwixt two aged oaks,
W^here Corydon and Thyrsis, met,
Are at their savoury dinner set
Of herbs, and other country messes
20 Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses;
Antl then in haste her bower she leaves
With Thestylis to bind the sheaves;
Or, if the earlier season lead,
To the tann'd haycock in the mead.
25 Sometimes with secure delight
The upland hamlets will invite,
W^hen the merry bells ring round,
And the jocund rebecks sound
To many a youth and many a maid,
30 Dancing in the chequer'd shade;
And young and old come forth to play
On a sun-shine holyday,
Till the live-long day-light fail:
Then to the spicy nut-brown ale,
35 With stories told of many a feat,
How Faery Mab the junkets eat: — _
She was pinch'd, and puU'd, she said;
And he, by Friar's lantern led;
Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat
40 To earn his cream-bowl duly set,
When in one night, ere glimpse of mom.
His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn
cxliv] Book Second 139
That ten day-labourers could not end;
Then lies him down the lubber fiend,
And, stretch'd out all the chimney's length,
Basks at the fire his hairy strength;
5 And crop-full out of doors he flings,
Ere the first cock his matin rings.
Thus done the tales, to bed they creep
By wliispering winds soon lull'd asleep.
Tower' d cities please us then
to And the busy hum of men,
Wliere throngs of knights and barons bold.
In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold,
With store of ladies, whose bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prize
'5 Of wit or arms, while both contend
To win her grace, whom all commend.
There let Hymen oft appear
In saffron robe, with taper clear.
And pomp, and feast, and revelry,
20 With mask, and antique pageantry;
Such sights as youthful poets dream
On summer eves by haunted stream.
Then to the well-trod stage anon.
If Jonson's learned sock be on,
25 Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child,
Warble his native wood-notes wild.
And ever against eating cares
Lap me in soft Lydian airs
Married to immortal verse,
30 Such as the meeting soul may pierce
In notes, with many a winding bout
Of finked sweetness long drawn out.
With wanton heed and giddy cunning,
The melting voice through mazes running,
35 Untwisting all the chains that tie
The hidden soul of harmony;
That Orpheus' self may heave his head
From golden slumber, on a bed
Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear
40 Such strains as would have won the sar
Of Pluto, to have quite set free
His half-regained Eurydice,
JK^' Palgrave's Golden Treasury Fcxliv
These delights if thou canst give,
Mirth, with thee I mean to Hve.
J. ;
J. Milten
CXLV
IL PENSEROSO
Hence, vain dehiding Joys,
The brood of Folly without father bred;
How little you bestead
Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys!
5 Dwell in some idle brain,
And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess
As thick and numberless
As the gay motes that people the sunbeams.
Or likest hovering dreams,
iO The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train.
But hail, thou goddess sage and holy,
Hail, divinest Melancholy!
Whose saintly visage is too bright
To hit the sense of human sight,
15 And therefore to our weaker view
O'erlaid Avith black, staid Wisdom's hue;
Black, but such as in esteem
Prince Memnon's sister might beseem,
Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove
20 To set her beauty's praise above
The sea-nymphs, and their powers offended
Yet thou art higher far descended:
Thee bright-hair'd Vesta, long of yore,
To solitary Satu -n bore;
25 His daughter she; in Saturn's reign
Such mixture was not held a stain:
Oft in glimmering bowers and glades
He met her, and in secret shades
Of woody Ida's inmost grove,
30 While yet there was no fear of Jove.
cxlv] Book Second 17 J
Come, pensive Nun, devout ?nd pur^.,
Sober, steadfast, and demure,
All in a robe of darkest grain
Foliowing with majestic train,
5 And sable stole of Cipres lawn
Over thy decent shoulders drawn:
Come, but keep thy wonted state,
With even step, and musing gait.
And looks commercing with the skies,
10 Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes:
There, held in holy passion still,
Forget thyself to marble, till
With a sad leaden downward cast
Thou fix them on the earth as fast:
15 And join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet,
Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet,
And hears the Muses in a ring
Aye round about Jove's altar sing:
And add to these retired Leisure
20 That in trim gardens takes liis pleasure: —
But first and chiefest, with thee bring
Him that yon soars on golden wing
Guiding the fiery-wheeled tlirone,
The cherub Contemplation;
25 And the mute Silence hist along,
'Less Philomel will deign a song
In her sweetest saddest plight
Smoothing the rugged brow of Night,
While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke
30 Gently o'er the accustom'd oak.
— Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly.
Most musical, most melancholy!
Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among
I woe, to hear thy even-song;
35 And missing thee, I walk unseen
On the dry smooth-shaven green,
To behold the wandering Moon
Riding near her highest noon.
Like one that had been led astray
40 Through the heaven's wide pathlciiS way,
And oft, as if her head she bow'd,
Stooping through a fleecy cloud.
172 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxl\
Oft, on a plat of rising ground
I hear the far-off Curfeu sound
Over some wide-water'd shore.
Swinging slow with sullen roar:
b Or, if the air will not pennit,
Some still removed place will fit,
Where glowing embers through the room
Teach light to coimterfeit a gloom;
Far from all resort of mirth,
10 Save the cricket on the hearth,
Or the bellman's drowsy charm
To bless the doors from nightly harm.
Or let my lamp at midnight hour
Be seen in some high lonely tower,
15 Where I may oft out-watch the Bear
With thrice-great Hermes, or imsphere
The spirit of Plato, to unfold
What worlds or what vast regions hold
The immortal mind, that hath forsook
20 Her mansion in this fleshly nook:
And of those demons that are found
In fire, air, flood, or under ground,
Whose power hath a true consent
With planet, or with element.
25 Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy
In scepter'd pall come sweeping by,
Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line,
Or the tale of Troy divine:
Or what (though rare) of later age
30 Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage.
But, O sad Virgin, that thy power
Might raise Musaeus from his bower.
Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
35 Drew iron tears dowm Pluto's cheek
And made Hell grant what Love did seekj
Or call up him that left half-told
The story of Cambuscan bold,
Of Camball, and of Algarsife,
10 And who had Canace to wife
That own'd the virtuous ring and glass;
And of the wondrous horse of brass
cxlv] Book Second 178
On which the Tartar king did ride.
And if aught else great bards beside
In sage and solemn tunes have sung
Of turneys, and of trophies hung,
3 Of forests, and enchantments drear.
Where more is meant than meets the ear.
Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career,
Till civil-suited Morn appear,
Not trick'd and frounced as she was wont
M With the Attic Boy to hunt,
But kercheft in a comely cloud
Wliile rocking winds are piping loud,
Or usher'd with a shower still,
When the gust hath blown his fill,
15 Ending on the rustling leaves
With minute drops from off the eaves.
And when the sun begins to fling
His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring
To arched walks of twilight groves,
20 And shadon's brown, that Sylvan loves,
Of pine, or monumental oak.
Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke,
Was never heard the nymphs to daunt
Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt
25 There in close covert by some brrvok
Where no profaner eye may look,
Hide me from day's garish eye.
While the bee with honey'd thigh
That at her flowery work doth sing,
30 And the waters murmuring.
With such consort as they keep
Entice the dewy-feather'd Sleep;
And let some strange mysterious dream
Wave at his wings in airy stream
35 Of lively portraiture display'd,
Softly on my eyelids laid:
And, as I wake, sweet music breathe
Above, about, or underneath.
Sent by some Spirit to mortals good,
40 Or the unseen Genius of the wood.
But let my due feet never fail
To walk the ctuthous cloister's pale.
I"f4 raigrave's Golden Treasury [c^v
Aj7.d kve the high-embowed roof,
With antique pillars massy proof,.
And storied windows richly dight
Casting a dim religious light.
5 There let the pealing organ blow
To the full-voiced quire below
In service high and anthems clear, _
As may with sweetness, through mine ear,
Dissolve me "nto ecstasies,
10 And bring all Heaven before mine eyes.
And may at last my weary age
Find out the peaceful hermitage,
The nairy gown and mossj cell
Where I may sit and rightly spell
15 Of every star that heaven doth shew,
And eveiy herb that sips the dew;
Till old experience do attain
To something like prophetic strain.
These pleasures, Melancholy, g^ve,
20 And I with thee will choose to hve.
J. Milton
CXLVI
SONG OF THE EMIGRANTS IN BERMUDA
Where the remote Bermudas ride
In the ocean's bosom unespied.
From a small boat that row'd along
The listening winds received this song.
r. 'What should we do but sing His praise
That led us through the watery maze
Where He the huge sea-monsters wracks,
That lift the deep upon tlieir backs,
Unto an isle so long unknowTi,
10 And yet far kinder than our own?
He lands us on a grassy stage,
Safe from the storms, and prelate's rage:
He gave us this eternal Spring
Which here enamels everytliing.
cxlvii] Book Second 175
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,
5 And does in the pomegranates close
Jewels more rich than Ormus shows:
He makes the figs our mouths to meet
And throws the melons at our feet;
But apples plants of such a price,
10 No tree could ever bear them twice.
With cedars chosen by His hand
From Lebanon He stores the land;
And makes the hollow seas that roar
Proclaim the ambergris on sho-e.
15 He cast (of which we rather boast)
The Gospel's pearl upon our coast;
And in these rocks for us did frame
A temple where to sound His name.
Oh! let our voice His praise exalt
20 Till it arrive at Heaven's vault,
Which thence (perhaps) rebounding may
Echo beyond the Mexique bay!'
— Thus sung they in the English boat
A holy and a cheerful note:
25 And all the way, to guide their chime,
With falling oars they kept the time.
A. MarveU
CXLVII
AT A SOLEMN MUSIC
Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy,
Sphere-bom harmonious Sisters, Voice and Verse I
Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ,
Dead things with inbreathed sense able to pierce;
And to our high-raised phantasy present
That undisturbed Song of pure concent
Aye sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne
To Him that sits thereon,
'76 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxlvL*
With saintly shout and solemn jubilee;
Where the bright Seraphim in burning row
Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow;
And the Cherubic host in thousand quires
5 Touch their immortal harps of golden wires,
With those just spirits that wear victorious palms,
Hymns devout and holy psalms
Singing everlastingly:
That we on Earth, with undiscording voice
10 May rightly answer that melodious noise;
As once we did, till disproportion' d sin
Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din
Broke the fair music that all creatures made
To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd
15 In perfect diapason, whilst they stood
In first obedience, and their state of good.
O may we soon again renew that Song,
And keep in tune with Heaven, till God ere long
To His celestial consort us unite,
To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of lightl
J. Milton
CXLVIII
NOX NOCTI IN Die AT SCIENTIAM
When I survey the bright
Celestial sphere:
So rich with jewels hung, that night
Doth like an Ethiop bride appear;
a My soul her wings doth spread,
And heaven-ward flies,
The Almighty's mysteries to read
In the large volumes of the skies.
For the bright firmament
10 Shoots forth no flame
So silent, but is eloquent
In speaking the Creator's name.
cxlviii] Book Second 1-77
No unregarded star
Contracts its light
into so small a character,
Removed far from our human sight,
5 But if we steadfast look,
We shall discern
In it as in some holy '^ook,
How man may heavenly knowledge learn.
It tells the Conqueror,
10 That far-stretch'd power
Which his proud dangers traffic for,
Is but the triumph of an hour.
That from the farthest North
Some nation may
15 Yet undiscover'd issue forth,
And o'er his new-got conquest sway.
Some nation yet shut in
With hills of ice,
May be let out to scourge his sin,
20 Till they shall equal him in vice.
And then they likewise shall
Their ruin have;
For as yourselves your Empires fall,
And every Kingdom hath a grave.
25 Thus those celestial fires,
Thovigh seeming mute,
The fallacy of our desires
And all the pride of life, confute.
For they have watch'd since first
30 The World had birth:
And found sin in itself accursed,
And nothing permanent on earth.
W. Habington.
178 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxli>j
CXLIX
HYMN^ TO DARKNESS
Hail thou most sacred venerable thing!
What Muse is worthy thee to sing?
Thee, from whose pregnant universal womb
All things, ev'n Light, thy rival, first did come.
6 What dares he not attempt that sings of thee
Thou first and greatest mystery?
Who can the secrets of thy essence tell?
Thou, like the light of God, art inaccessible.
Before great Love this monument did raise,
10 This ample theatre of praise;
Before the folding circles of the sky
Were tuned by Him, Who is all harmony
Before the morning Stars their hymn began.
Before the council held for man,
15 Before the birth of either time or place,
Thou reign'st unquestion'd monarch in the empty
space.
Thy native lot thou didst to Light resign,
But still half of the globe is thine.
Here with a quiet, bvit yet awful hand,
20 Like the best emperors thou dost command.
To thee the stars above their brightness owe,
And mortals their repose below:
To thy protection fear and sorrow flee.
And those that weary are of light, find rest in thee.
J. N orris of Bemerton
cli] Book Second 17&
CL
A VISION
I saw Eternity the other night,
Like a great ring of pure and endless light,
All calm, as it was bright: —
And round beneath it, Time, in hours, days, years,
e Driven by the spheres,
Like a vast shadow moved; in wliich the World
And all her train were hurl'd.
H. Vaughan
CLI
ALEXANDER'S FEAST, OR, THE POWER
OF MUSIC
'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won
By Philip's warlike son —
Aloft in awful state
The godlike hero sate
S On his imperial throne;
His valiant peers were placed around,
Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound,
(So should desert in arms be crown'd);
The lovely Thais by his side
\0 Sate like a blooming Eastern bride
In flower of youth and beauty's pride: —
Happy, happy, happy pair!
None but the brave
None but the brave
15 None but the brave deserves the fair!
Timotheus placed on high
Amid the tuneful quire
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky
20 And heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove
Who left his bUssful seats above —
180 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cli
Such is the power of mighty love!
A dragon's fiery form beUed the god;
Subhme on radiant spires lie rode
When he to fair Olympia prest,
5 And while he sought her snowy breast,
Then round her slender waist he curl'd.
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of the
world.
— The listening crowd admire the lofty sound;
A present deity! they shout around:
10 A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound-
With ravish'd ears
The monarch hears .
Assumes tlie god; *
Affects to nod
1£ And seems to shake the spheres.
The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung,
Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:
The jolly god in triumph comes;
Sound the tnmipets. beat the drums f
20 F'ush'd vdth a purple grace
He shows his honest facer
Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes'
Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain;
25 Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure:
Rich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure,
Sweet is pleasure after pain.
30 Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain;
Fought ah his battles o'er again,
And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew
the slain!
The master saw the madness rise.
His glowng cheeks, his ardent eyes;
35 And wliile he Heaven and Earth defied
Changed his hand and clieck'd his pride.
He chose a mournfid Muse
Soft pity to infuse:
cli] Book Second 181
He sung Darius great and good,
By too severe a fate
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his liigh estate,
5 And weltering in his blood;
Deserted at liis utmost need
By those his former bounty fed;
On the bare earth exposed he lies
With not a friend to close his eyes.
10 — ^\\'ith downcast looks the joyless victor sate,
Revolving in his alter'd soul
The various turns of Chance below;
And now and then a sigh he stole,
And tears began to flow.
15 The mighty master smiled to see
That love was in the next degree;
'Twas but a kindred-sound to move,
For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly sweet, in Lydian measures
20 Soon he soothed liis soul to pleasures.
War, he sving, is toil and trouble,
Honour but an empty bubble;
Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying;
25 If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, O think, it worth enjoying:
Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
Take the good the gods pro\ide thee!
— The many rend the skies with loud applause;
30 So Love was crowii'd, but Music won the cause.
The prince, unable to conceal liis pain.
Gazed on the fair
Who caused his care.
And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and look'd,
35 Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again:
At length with love and \\ine at once opprest
The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breast.
Now strike the golden lyre again :_
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain!
40 Break his bands of sleep asunder
And rouse him like a rattlina peal of thunder.
182 Palgrave's Golden Treasury ' [cli
Hark, hark I the horrid sound
Has raised up his head:
As awaked from the dead
And amazed he stares around.
6 Revenge, revenge, Timotheus cries,
See the Furies arise 1
• See the snakes that they rear
How they hiss in their hair,
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes!
10 Behold a ghastly band.
Each a torch in his hand!
Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain
And unburied remain
Inglorious on the plain:
15 Give the vengeance due
To the valiant crew!
Behold how they toss their torches on high,
How they point to the Persian abodes
And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
20 — The princes applaud with a furious joy:
And the King seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy;
Thais led the way
To light him to his prey.
And like another Helen, fired another TroyI
25 — Thus, long ago.
Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
While organs yet were mute,
Timotheus, to his breatliing flute
And sounding lyre
30 Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
At last divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the vocal frame;
The sweet enthusiast from her sacred store
Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
35 And added length to solemn sounds.
With Nature's mother- wit, and arts unknown before
— Let old Timotheus yield the prize
Or both divide the crown;
He raised a mortal to the skies;
40 She drew an angel down!
J. Dryden
Cije <tBoltien Creasurp
i
i5ook CfticD
CLII
ODE ON THE PLEASURE ARISING FROM'
VICISSITUDE
Now the golden Morn aloft
Waves her dew bespangled wing,
With vermeil cheek and whisper soft
She woos the tardy Spring:
5 Till April starts, and calls around
The sleeping fragrance from the ground.
And lightly o'er the living scene
Scatters his freshest, tenderest green.
New-born flocks, in rustic dance,
10 Frisking ply their feeble feet;
Forgetful of their wintry trance
The birds his presence greet:
But chief, the skylark warbles high
His trembling thrilling ecstacy;
15 And lessening from the dazzled sight,
Melts into air and liquid light.
Yesterday the sullen year
Saw the snowy whirlwind fly;
Mute was the music of the air,
20 The herd stood drooping by:
Their raptures now that wildly flow
No yesterday nor morrow know;
'Tis Man alone that joy descries
With forward and reverted eyes„
183
184 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clii
Smiles on past misfortune's brow-
Soft reflection's hand can trace,
And o'er the cheek of sorrow throw
A melancholy grace;
5 While hope prolongs our happier hour,
Or deepest shades that dimly lour
And blacken round our weary way,
Gilds with a gleam of distant day
Still, where rosy pleasure leads,
10 See a kindred grief pursue;
Behind the steps that misery treads
Approaching comfort view:
The hues of bliss more brightly glow
Chastised by sabler tints of woe,
15 And blended form, with artful strife.
The strength and harmony of life.
See the wretch that long has tost
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigour lost
20 And breathe and walk again:
The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale.
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening Paradise.
T. Gray
CLIII
ODE TO SIMPLICITY
O Thou, by Nature taught
To breathe her genuine thought •
In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong;
Who first, on mountains wild,
5 In Fancy, loveliest child,
Thy babe, or Pleasure's, nursed the powers of songi
Thou, who with hermit heart,
Disdain'st the wealth of art.
And gauds, and pageant weeds, and trailing pall,
10 But com'st, a decent maid
In Attic robe array' d,
O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call!
cliii] Book Third 185
By all the honey' d store
On Hybla's thymy shore,
By all her blooms and nungled murmurs dear
By her whose love-lorn woe
5 In evening musings slow
Soothed sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear:
By old Cepliisus deep,
V7ho spread his wavy sweep
In warbled wanderings round thy gi-een retreat;
10 On whose enaniell'd side.
When holy Freedom died.
No equal haunt allured thy future feet: —
O sister meek of Truth,
To my admiring youth
15 Thy sober aid and native charms infuse!
The flowers that sweetest breathe.
Though Beauty cuU'd the wreath.
Still ask thy hand to range their order'd hues
While Rome could none esteem
20 But Virtue's patriot theme.
You loved her hills, and led her laureat band;
But stay'd to sing alone
To one distinguish'd throne;
And tum'd thy face, and fled her alter'd land.
25 No more, in hall or bower.
The Passions own thy power;
Love, only Love, her forceless numbers mean:
For thou hast left her shrine;
Nor olive more, nor vine,
30 Shall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene.
Though taste, though genius, bless
To some divine excess.
Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole;
What each, what all supply
35 May court, may charm our eye;
Thou, only tliou, canst raise the meeting soul!
Of these let others ask
To aid some mighty task;
186 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cliii
T only seek to find thy temperate vale;
Where oft my reed might sound
To maids and shepherds round,
And all thy sons, O Nature! learn my tale.
W. Collins
CLIV
SOLITUDE
Happy the man, whose wish and care
A few paternal acres bound,
Content to breathe his native air
In his own ground.
5 Whose herds with milk, whost, fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire;
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
Blest, who can unconcern'dly find
10 Hours, days, and years, slide soft away
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day,
Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mixt, sweet recreation,
15 And innocence, which most does please
With meditation.
Thus let me live, unseen, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
20 Tell where I lie.
A. Pope
CLV
THE BLIND BOY
O say what is that thing call'd Light,
Which I must ne'er enjoy;
What are the blessings of the sight,
O tell your poor blind boy'
chi] Book Third 187
You talk of wondrous things you see,
You say the sun shines bright;
I feel him warm, but how can he
Or make it day or night?
5 My day or night myself I make
Whene'er I sleep or play;
And could I ever keep awake
With me 'twere always day.
With heavy sighs I often hear
10 You mourn my hapless woe;
But sure with patience I can bear
A loss I ne'er can know.
Then let not what I cannot have
My cheer of mind destroy:
15 Whilst thus I sing, I am a king,
Although a poor blind boy.
C. Cibber
CLVI
ON A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A
TUB OF GOLD FISHES
'Twas on a lofty vase's side.
Where China's gayest art had dyed
» The azure flowers that blow,
Demurest of the tabby kind
.5 The pensive Selima, reclined,
Gazed on the lake below.
Her conscious tail her joy declared:
The fair round face, the snowy beard.
The velvet of her paw^s,
10 Her coat that with the tortoise vies^
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes —
She saw, and purr'd applause.
Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide.
188 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clvj
The Genii of the stream:
Their scaly armour's Tyriaii hue
Through richest purple, to the view-
Bet ray' d a golden gleam.
5 The hapless Nymph with wonder saw:
A whisker first, and then a claw
With many an ardent wish
She stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize —
What female heart can gold despise?
10 What Cat's averse to fish?
Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again she stretch'd, again she bent.
Nor knew the gulf between — •
Malignant Fate sat by and smiled —
15 The slippery verge her feet beguiled;
She tumbled headlong in!
Eight times emerging from the flood
She mew'd to every watery God
Some speedy aid to send: —
20 No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd,
Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard —
A favourite has no friend!
From hence, ye Beauties! tmdeceived
Know one false step is ne'er retrieved,
25 And be with caution bold:
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts, is lawful prize, •
Nor all that glisters, gold!
T. Gray
CLVII
TO CHARLOTTE PULTEXEY
Timely blossom. Infant fair.
Fondling of a happy pair,
Every morn and every night
Their solicitous delight.
Sleeping, waking, still at ease.
clviii]
Book Third 38S
Pleasing, without skill to please;
Little gossip, blithe and hale,
Tattling many a broken tale,
Singing many a tuneless song,
5 Lavish of a heedless tongue;
Simple maiden, void of art.
Babbling out the very heart,
Yet abandon'd to thy will,
Yet imagining no ill,
10 Yet too innocent to blush;
Like the linnet in the bush
To the mother-linnet's note
Moduling her slender throat;
Chirping forth thy petty joys,
15 Wanton in the change of toys,
Like the linnet green, in May
Flitting to each bloomy spray;
Wearied then and glad of rest,
Like the Hnnet in the nest: —
20 This thy present happy lot
This, in time will be forgot:
Other pleasures, other cares,
Ever-busy Time prepares;
And thou shalt in thy daughter see,
25 This picture, once, resembled thee.
A. Philips
CLVIII
RULE BR I TAX XI A
When Britain first at Heaven's command
Arose from out the azure main.
This was the charter of her land.
And guardian angels sung the strain:
5 Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the vvavesl
Britons never shall be slaves.
The nations not so blest as thee
Must in their turn to tyrants fall,
Whilst thou shalt flourish great and free
(0 riic dread and envy of tliem all.
190 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clviii
Still more majestic shalt thou rise,
More dreadful from each foreign stroke:
As the loud blast that tears the skies
Serves but to root thy native oak.
5 Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame;
All their attempts to bend thee down
Will but arouse thy generous flame,
And work their woe and thy renown.
To thee belongs the rural reign;
10 Thy cities shall with commerce shine;
All thine shall be the subject main,
And every shore it circles thine!
The Muses, still with PVeedom found,
Shall to thy happy coast repair;
15 Lilest Isle, with matchless beauty crown'd
And manly hearts to guard the fair: —
Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the waves!
Britons never shall be slaves!
J. Thomson
CLIX
THE BARD
Pindaric Ode
'Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
Confusion on thy banners wait;
Tho' fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing
They mock the air with idle state.
5 Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail.
Nor e'en thy virtues. Tyrant, shall avail
To save thy secret soul from nightly fears.
From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!'
— Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
10 Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,
As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
He wound with toilsome march his long array:—
Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;
clix] Book Third 191
'To arms!' cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering
lance.
On a rock, whose haughty brow
Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood,
Robed in the sable garb of woe
& With haggard eyes the Poet stood;
(Loose his beard and hoary liair
Stream'd like a meteor to the troubled air)
And with a master's hand and prophet's fire
Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre:
10 ' Hark, how eacli giant-oak and desert-cave
Sighs to the torrent's awful voice beneath!
O'er thee, oh King! their hundred arms they wave.
Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe;
Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day,
15 To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
'Cold is Cadwallo's tongue,
That hush'd the stormy main:
Brave Urien sleeps upon his craggy bed:
Mountains, ye mourn in vain
20 Modred, whose magic song
Made huge Plinlimmon bow his cloud-topt head.
On dreary Arvon's shore they lie
Smear'd with gore and ghastly pale:
Far, far aloof the affrighted ravens sail;
25 The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by.
Dear lost companions of my tuneful art.
Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes,
Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart,
Ye died amidst your dying country's cries —
30 No more I weep; They do not sleep;
On yonder cliffs, a griesly band,
I see them sit; They linger yet.
Avengers of their native land:
With me in dreadful harmony they join,
35 And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Weave the warp and weave the I'nof
The winding sheet of Edward s race;
Give ample room and verge enough
The characters of hell to trace.
192 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clix
Mark the year, and mark the night.
When Severn shall re-echo with affright
The shrieks of death thro' Berkley's roof that ring,
Shrieks of an agonizing king!
5 She-wolf of France, with umelenting fangs
Thcd tear'st tlie bowels of thy mangled mate.
From thee be born, who o'er thy country hangs •
The scourge of heaven! What terrors round him icait!
Amazem,ent in his van, with flight combined,
10 And sorrow's faded form, and solitude behind.
'Mighty victor, mighty lord,
Loio on his funeral couch, he lies!
No pitying heart, no eye, afford
A tear to grace his obsequies.
15 7s the sable warrior fled?
Thy son is gone. He rests among the dead.
The sivarin that in thy noon-tide beam, ivere born?
— Gone to salute the rising morn.
Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows,
20 While proudly riding o'er the azure realm
In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes:
Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm:
Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway,
Thcd hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
I
25 'Fill high the sparkling bowl,
The rich repast prepare;
Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast:
Close by the regal chair
Fell Thirst and Famine scoid
30 A baleful smile upon their baffled guest,
Heard ye the din of battle bray,
Lance to lance, and horse to horse?
Long years of havock urge their destined course.
And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
35 Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame,
With many a foul and midnight murder fed,
Revere his consort's faith, his father's fame
*And spare the meek usurper's holy head!
Above., below, the rose of snow.
clixl Book Third 193
Twined with her blushing foe, ice spread:
The bristled boar in infant-gore
Walloivs beneath tlie thorny shade.
Now, brothers, bending o'er the accursed loom,
5 Stamp we our vengeance deep, and ratify his doom,
'Edward, lo! to sudden fate
(TT'eave we the woof; The thread is spun;)
Half of thy heart ive consecrate.
{The web is wove; The work is done.)
lO - — Stay, oh stay! nor thus forlorn
Leave me unbless'd, unpitied, here to mourn:
In yon bright track that fires the western skies
They melt, they vanish from my eyes.
But oh! what solemn scenes on Snowdon's height
15 Descending slow their glittering skirts unroll?
Visions of glory, spare my aching sight,
Ye unborn ages, crowd not on my soul!
No more our long-lost Arthur we bewail: —
All hail, ye genuine kings! Britannia's issue, hail!
20 'Girt with many a baron bold
Sublime their starry fronts they rear;
And gorgeous dames, and statesmen old
In bearded majesty, appear.
In the midst a form divine!
25 Her eye proclaims her of the Briton-line:
Her lion-port, her awe-commanding face
Attemper'd sweet to virgin-grace
What strings symphonious tremble in the air,
What strains of vocal transport round her play?
30 Hear from the grave, great Taliessin, hear;
They breathe a soul to animate thy clay.
Bright Rapture calls, and soaring a« she sings,
Waves in the eye of heaven he** many-colour' d wing§
'The verse adorn again
35 Fierce war, and faithful love.
And truth severe, by fairy fiction drest.
In buskin'd measures move
Pale grief, and pleasing pain.
With horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast.
40 A voice as of the cherub-choir
194 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clix
Gales from blooming Eden bear,
And distant warblings lessen on my ear
That lost in long futurity expire.
Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud
5 Raised by thy breath, has queneh'd the orb of day?
To-morrow he repairs the golden flood
And warms the nations with redoubled ray.
Enough for me: with joy I see
The different doom our fates assign:
10 Be thine despair and sceptred care,
To triumph and to die are mine.'
— He spoke, and headlong from the mountain's
height
Deep in the roaring tide he plunged to endless night.
T. Gray
CLX
ODE WRITTEN LY 1746
How sleep the brave, who sink to rest
By all their couiitry's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould,
5 She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung:
There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray,
10 To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there!
W. Collins
CLXI
LAMENT FOR CULLODEN
The lovely lass o' Inverness,
Nae joy nor pleasure can she see;
For e'en and morn she cries, Alas!
And aye the saut tear blins her ee:
5 Drumossie moor — Drumossie day —
clxii] Book Tnird 195
A waefu' day it was to me!
For there I lost my father dear,
My father dear, and brethren three.
Their winding-sheet the bluidy clay,
5 Their graves are growing green to see:
And by them hes the dearest lad
That ever blest a woman's ee!
Now wae to thee, thou cruel lord,
A bluidy man I trow thou be;
10 For monv a heart thou hast made sair
That ne'er did wrang to thine or thee.
R. Burns
CLXII
LAMENT FOR FLODDEN
I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking,
Lasses a' lilting before dawn o' day;
But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning —
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.
5 At bughts, in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorn-
ing,
Lasses are lonely and dowie and wae;
Nae dafiin', nae gabbin', but sighing and sabbing,
Ilk ane lifts her legUn and hies her away.
In har'st, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering,
10 Bandsters are lyart, and runkled, and gray;
At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching —
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.
At e'en, in the gloaming, nae younkers are roaming
'Bout stacks wi' the lasses at bogle to play;
15 But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie —
The Flowers of the Forest are weded away.
Dool and wae for the order, sent our lads to the Border!
The English, for ance, by guile wan the day;
The Flowers of the Forest, that fought aye the fore-
most,
20 The prime of our land, are cauld in the clay.
196 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxi.
We'll hear nae mair lilting at the ewe-milking;
Women and bairns are heartless and wae;
Sighing and moaning on ilka green loaning —
The Flowers of the Forest are a' wede away.
J. Elliott
CLXIII
THE BRAES OF YARROW
Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream,
When first on them I met my lover;
Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream,
When now thy waves his body cover!
5 For ever now, O Yarrow stream!
Thou art to me a stream of sorrow;
For never on thy banks shall I
Behold my Love, the flower of Yarrow!
He promised me a milk-white steed
10 To bear me to his father's bowers;
He promised me a little page
To squire me to his father's towere;
He promised me a wedding-ring, —
The wedding-day was fix'd to-morrow; —
15 Now he is wedded to his grave,
Alas, his watery grave, in Yarrow!
Sweet were his words when last we met;
My passion I as freely told him;
Clasp' d in his arms, 1 little thought
20 That I should never more behold him!
Scarce was he gone, I saw his ghost;
It vanish'd with a shriek of sorrow;
Thrice did the water-wraith ascend,
And gave a doleful groan thro' Yarrow.
25 His mother from the window look'd
With all the longing of a mother;
His little sister weeping walk'd
The green-wood path to meet her brother;
They sought him east, they sought him west,
30 They sought him all the forest thorough;
They only saw the cloud of night.
They only heard the roar of Yarrow.
clxJvl Book Third 197
No longer from thy window look —
Thou hast no son, thovi tender mother!
No longer walk, thou lovely maid;
Alas, thou hast no more a brother!
5 No longer seek him east or west
And search no more the forest thorough;
For, wandering in the night so dark,
He fell a lifeless corpse in Yarrow.
The tear shall never leave my cheek,
10 No other youth shall be my marrow —
I'll seek thy body in the stream,
And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow.
—The tear did never leave her cheek,
No other youth became her marrow;
15 She found his body in the stream,
And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow,
J . Logan
CLXIV
WILLY DROWNED IX YARROW
Down in yon garden sweet and gay
Where bonnie grows the lily,
I heard a fair maid sighing say,
'My wish be wi' sweet Willie!
5 'Willie's rare, and Willie's fair.
And Willie's wondrous bonny;
And WiUie hecht to marry me
Gin e'er he married ony.
'O gentle wind, that bloweth south,
10 From where my Love repaireth,
Convey a kiss frae liis dear mouth
And tell me how he fareth!
'O tell sweet Willie to come doun
And hear the mavis singing,
16 And sec the birtls on ilka bush
And leaves around them hinging.
198 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxiv
'The lav'rock there, Avi' her wliite breast
And gentle throat sae narrow;
There's sport eneuch for gentlemen
On Leader haughs and Yarrow.
5 *0 Leader haighs are wide and braid
And Yarrow haughs are bonny;
There Willie hecht to marry me
If e'er he married ony.
'But Willie's gone, whom I thought on,
10 And does not hear me weeping;
Draws many a tear frae true love's e'e
When other maids are sleeping.
'Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid^
The night I'll make it narrow,
15 For a' the live-lang winter night
I lie twined o' my marrow.
'O came ye by yon water-side?
Pou'd you the rose or' lily?
Or came you by yon meadow green,
20 Or saw you my sweet Willie?'
She sought him up, she sought him down,
She sought him braid and narrow;
Syne, in the cleaving of a craig.
She found him drown'd in Yarrow!
Anon.
CLXV
LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE
Toll for the Brave!
The brave that are no more!
All sunk beneath the wave
Fast by their native shore!
6 Eight hundred of the brave
Whose courage well was tried
Had made the vessel heel
And bid her on her side.
clxvi;! Book Third 199
A land-breeze shook the shrouds
And she was overset;
Down went the Royal George,
With all her crew complete.
6 Toll for the brave!
Brave Kempenfelt is gone;
His last sea-fight is fought,
His work of glory done.
It was not in the battle;
10 No tempest gave the shock;
She sprang no fatal leak,
She ran upon no rock.
His sword was in its sheath,
His fingers held the pen,
15 When Kempenfelt went down
With twice four hundred men.
• — Weigh the vessel up
Once dreaded by our foes!
And mingle with our cup
20 The tears that England owes.
Her timbers yet are sound.
And she may float again
Full charged with England's thunder.
And plough the distant main:
25 But Kempenfelt is gone.
His victories are o'er;
And he and his eight hundred
Shall plough the wave no more.
W. Cowper
CLXVI
BLACK-EYED SUSAN
All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,
The streamers waving in the wind.
When black-eyed Susan came aboard;
'O! where shall I my true-love find?
6 Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true
If my sweet William sails among the crew.*
200 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxvi
William, who high upon the yard
Rock'd with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard
He sigh'd, and cast his eyes below:
5 The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,
And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.
So the sweet lark, high poised in air,
Shuts close his pinions to his breast
If chance his mate's shrill call he hear,
10 And drops at once into her nest: —
The noblest captain in the British fleet
Might en\'y William's lip those kisses sweet.
'O Susan, Susan, lovely dear.
My vows shall ever true remain;
15 Let me kiss off that falling tear;
We only part to meet again.
Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.
'Believe not what the landmen say
20 Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind:
They'll tell thee, sailors, when away,
In every port a mistress find:
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so.
For Thou art present wheresoe'er I go.
25 'If to fair India's coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,
Thy skin is ivory so white.
Thus every beauteous object that I view
30 Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue
'Though battle call me from thy arms
Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms
William shall to his Dear return.
"^5 Love turns aside the balls that round me fly
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's ^ye.
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread
No longer must she stay aboard;
Plxviii Bool: Third 201
Thev kiss'd, she sigh'd, he hung his head.
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land;
' Adieu ! ' she cries ; and waved her lily hand.
J. Gay.
CLXVII
SALLY IN OUB ALLEY
Of all the girls that are so sma-rt
There's none like pretty Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
5 There is no lady in the land
Is half so sweet as Sally;
She is the darling of my heart
And she lives in our alley.
Her father he makes cabbage nets
10 And through the streets does cry 'em 5
Her mother she sells laces long
To such as please to buy 'em:
But sure such folks could ne'er beget
So sweet a girl as Sally !
15 She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
Wlien she is by, I leave my work,
I love her so sincerely;
My master comes, like any Turk,
20 And bangs me most severely —
But let him bang his bellyful,
I '11 bear it all for Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
2.5 Of all the days that's in the week
I dearly love but one day —
Apd that's the day that comes betwixt
A Saturday and Monday;
For then I'm drest all in my best
.",0 To walk abroad with Sally ;
She is the darling of my heart.
And slie lives in our alley.
202 Palgrave's Golden Treasury jclxvii
My master carries me to churchy
And often am I blamed
Because I leave him in the lurch
As soon as text is named;
5 I leave the church in sermon-time
And slink away to Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
When Christmas comes about again
10 O then I shall have money;
I'll hoard it up, and box it all,
I'll give it to my honey:
I would it were ten thousand pound,
I'd give it all to Sally;
15 She is the darling of my heart,
And she lives in our alley.
My master and the neighbors all
Make game of me and Sally,
And, but for her, I'd better be
20 A slave and row a galley;
But when my seven long years are out
O then I'll marry Sally, —
O then we'll wed, and then we'll bed.,
But not in our alley!
H. Carey
CLXVIII
A FAREWELL
Go fetch to me a pint o' wine.
An' fill it in a silver tassie;
That I may drink before I go
A service to my bonnie lassie:
The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith,
Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the ferry.
The ship rides bj the Berwick-law,
And I maun leave my bonnie Mary.
axixj Book Third 203
The trumpets sound, the banners fly,
The glittering spears are ranked ready;
The shouts o' war are heard afar,
The battle closes thick and bloody;
6 But it's not the roar o' sea or shore
Wad make me langer wish to tarry;
Nor shout o' war that's heard afar —
It's leaving thee, my bonnie Mary.
R. Burns
CLXIX
If doughty deeds my lady please
Right soon I'U mount my steed;
And strong his *rm, and fast his seat
That bears frae me the meed.
5 I'll wear thy colours in my cap
Thy picture at my heart;
And he that bends not to thine eye
Shall rue it to his smart!
Then tell me how to woo thee, Love;
10 O tell me how to woo thee!
For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take
Tho' ne'er another trow me.
If gay attire delight thine eye
I'll dight me in array;
15 I'll tend thy chamber door all night,
And squire thee all the day.
If sweetest sounds can win thine ear,
These sounds I'll strive to catch;
Thy voice I '11 steal to woo thysell,
20 That voice that nane can match.
But if fond love thy heart can gain,
I never broke a vow,
Nae maiden lays her skaith to me,
I never loved but you.
25 For you alone I ride the ring,
For you I wear the blue;
For you alone I strive to sing,
tell nic how to woo!
204 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [dxis
Then tell me how to woo thee, Love;
O tell me how to woo thee!
For thy dear sake, nae care I'll take,
Tho' ne'er another trow me.
E. Graham of Gartmore
TO A YOUNG LADY
Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid —
Silent and chaste she steals along,
Far from the world's gay busy throng:
5 With gentle yet prevailing force,
Intent upon her destined course;
Graceful and useful all she does,
Blessing and blest where'er she goes;
Pure-bosom'd as that watery glass,
10 And Heaven reflected in her face.
W. Cowper
CLXXI
THE SLEEPING BEAUTY
Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile —
Tho' shut so close thy laughing eyes,
Thy rosy lips still wear a smile
And move, and breathe delicious sighs!
5 Ah, nov7 soft blushes tinge her cheeks
And mantle o'er her neck of snow:
Ah, now she nnirmurs, now she speaks
What most I wish — and fear to know!
She starts, she trembles, and she weeps!
to Her fair hands folded on her breast:
^And now, how like a saint she sleeps!
A seraph in the realms of rest!
clsxiii] Book Third 205
Sleep on secure! Above controul
Thy thoughts belong to Heaven and thee:
And may the secret of thy soul
Remain within its sanctuary I
S. Rogers
CLXXII
For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
An unrelenting foe to Love,
And when we meet a mutual heart
Come in between, and bid us part?
9 Bid us sigh on from day to day.
And wish and wish the soul awav";
Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the life of Ufe is gone?
»^
But busy, busy, still art thou,
10 To bind the loveless joyless vow.
The heart from pleasure to delude,
To join the gentle to the rude.
For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer.
And I absolve thy future care;
la All other blessings I resign.
Make but the dear Amanda mine.
J. Thomson
CLXXIII
The merchant, to secure his treasure,
Conveys it in a borrow' d name:
Euphelia serves to grace my measure
But Cloe is my real flame.
5 My softest verse, my darling lyre
Upon Euphelia's toilet lay —
When Cloe noted her desire
That I should sing, that I should play.
My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,
10 But with my numbers mix my sighs;
And whilst I sing Euphelia's praise,
I fix my soul on Cloe's eyes.
206 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxiii
Fair Cloe blush'd; Euphelia frown'd:
I sung, and gazed; I play'd, and trembled:
And Venus to the Loves around
Remark'd how ill we all dissembled.
M. Prior
CLXXIV
LOVE'S SECRET
Never seek to tell thy love,
Love that never told can be;
For the gentle wind doth move
Silently, invisibly.
5 I told my love, I told my love,
I told her all my heart.
Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears:-
Ah! she did depart.
Soon after she was gone from me
10 A traveller came by,
Silently, invisibly:
He took her with a sigh,
W. Blake
CLXXV
When lovely woman stoops to folly
And finds too late that men betray,—
What charm can soothe her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye.
To give repentance to her lover
And wring his bosom, is — to die.
O. Goldsmith
clxxvii] Book Third 20>
CLXXVI
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon
How can ye blvime sae fair!
How can ye chant, ye little birds,
And I sae fu' o' care!
5 Thou '11 break my heart, thou bonnie bird
That sings upon the bough;
Thou niinds me o' the happy days
When my fause Luve was true.
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonnie bird
10 That sings beside thy mate;
For sae I sat, and sae I sang,
.\nd \Aist na o' my fate.
Aft hae I roved by bonnie Doon
To see the woodbine twine,
16 And ilka bird sang o' its love;
And sae did I o' mine.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose,
Frae aff its thorny tree;
And my fause luver staw the rose,
20 But left the thorn wi' me,
R. Bums
CLXXVII
THE PROGRESS OF POESY
A Pindaric Ode
Aw'ake, Aeolian lyre, awake,
And give to rapture all thy trembling strings,
From Helicon's harmonious springs
A thousand rills their mazy progress taV*?;
6 The laughing flowers that round them blow
Drink life and fragrance as they flow.
Now the rich stream of music winds along
Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong,
8
208 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxvii
Thro' verdant vales, and Ceres' golden reign;
Now rolling do\\ai the steep amain
Headlong, impetuous, see it pour:
The rocks and nodding groves re-bellow to the roar.
5 Oh! Sovereign of the willing soul,
Parent of sweet and solemn-breathing airs,
Enchanting shell! the sullen Cares
And fraiitic Passions hear thy soft controul,
On Thracia's hills the Lord of War
10 Has curb'd the furj' of his car
And dropt his thirsty lance at thy command.
Perching on the sceptred hand
Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king
With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing:
15 Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie
The terror of his beak, and lightnings of liis eye.
Thee the voice, the dance, obey
Temper'd to thy warbled lay.
O'er Idalia's velvet-green
20 The rosy-crowned Loves are seen
On Cytherea's day;
With antic Sport, and blue-eyed Pleasures,
Frisking light in frolic measures;
Now pursuing, now retreating,
25 Now in circling troops they meet:
To brisk notes in cadence beating
Glance their many-twinkling feet.
Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare:
Where'er she turns, the Graces homage pay:
30 With arms sublime that float upon the air
In gliding state she wins her easy way;
O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move
The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.
Man's feeble race what ills await!
35 Labour, and Penury, the racks of Pain,
Disease, and Sorrow's weeping train,
And Death, sad refuge from the storms of fateJ
The fond complaint, my song, disprove,
\nd justify the laws of Jove.
clxxviij Buulc Third 205:
Sa>, has he given in vain the heavenly Muse?
Night, and all her sickly dews,
Her spectres wan, and birds of boding cry
He gives to range the dreary sky:
5 Till down the eastern chffs afar
Hyperion's march they spy, and glittering shafts of war.
In climes beyond the solar road
Where shaggy forms o'er ice-built mountains roam,
The Muse has broke the twilight gloom
10 To cheer the shivering native's dull abode.
And oft, beneath the odorous shade
Of Chili's boundless forests laid,
She deigns to hear the savage youth repeat
In loose numbers wildly sweet
i5 Their feather-cinctured chiefs, and dusky loves.
Her track, where'er the goddess roves,
Glory pursue, and generous Shame,
Th' unconquei-able Mind, and Freedom's holy flame.
Woods, that wave o'er Delphi's steep,
20 Isles, that crown th' Aegean deep,
Fields that cool Ilissus laves.
Or where Macander's amber waves
In lingering labyrinths creep,
How do your tuneful echoes languish,
25 Mute, but to the voice of anguish!
Where each old poetic mountain
Inspiration breathed around;
Every shade and hallow'd fountain
Murmur' d deep a solemn sound:
30 Till the sad Nine, in Greece's evil hour
Left their Parnassus for the Latian plains.
Alike they scorn the pomp of tyrant Power,
And coward Vice, that revels in her chains.
When Latium had her lofty spirit lost,
35 They sought, oh Albion! next, thy sea-encircled coast.
Far from the sum and summer-gale
In thy green lap was Nature's Darling laid,
What time, where lucid Avon stray'd.
To him the mighty Mother did unveil
40 Her awful face: the dauntless child
Stretch'd forth his little arms, and smiled.
210 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxvil
'This pencil take' (she said), 'whose colours clear
Richly paint the vernal year:
Tliine, too, these golden keys, immortal Boy
Tliis can vmlock the gates of joy;
6 Of horror that, and thrilling fears,
Or ope the sacred source of sympathetic tears.'
Nor second He, that rode sublime
Upon the seraph -wings of Extasy
The secrets of the abyss to spy:
10 He pass'd the flaming bounds of place and times
The living Throne, the sapphire-blaze
Where angels tremble while they gaze,
He saw; but blasted with excess of light.
Closed his eyes in endless night.
15 Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car
Wide o'er the fields of glory bear
Two coursers of ethereal race.
With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding
pace.
Hark, his hands the lyre explore!
20 Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er.
Scatters from her pictured urn
Thoughts that breathe, and words that bum.
But ah! 'tis heard no more —
Oh! lyre divine, what daring spirit
25 Wakes thee now? Tho' he inherit
Nor the pride, nor ample pinion,
That the Theban eagle bear.
Sailing -vdth supreme dominion
Thro' the azure deep of air:
30 Yet oft before his infant eyes would run
Such forms as glitter in the Muse's ray
With orient hues, unborrow'd of the sun:
Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way
Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate:
36 Beneath the Good how far — but far above the Great.
T. Gray
clxxviii] Book Third 211
CLXXVIII
THE PASSIONS
An Ode for Music
When Music, heavenly maid, was young,,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
Throng'd around her magic cell
5 Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possest beyond the Muse's painting;
By turns they felt the glowing mind
Disturb'd, delighted, raised, refined:
'Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired,
10 Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired.
From the supporting myrtles round
They snatch'd her instruments of sound,
And, as they oft had heard apart
Sweet lessons of her forceful art,
15 Each (for Madness ruled the hour)
Would prove his own expressive power.
First Fear his hand, its skill to try,
Amid the chords bewilder'd laid,
And back recoil'd, he knew not why,
20 E'en at the sound liimself had made.
Next Anger rush'd, his eyes on fire.
In lightnings, own'd his secret stings;
In one rude clash he struck the lyre
And swept with hurried hand the strings.
25 With woeful measures wan Despair,
Low sullen sounds, his grief beguiled;
A solemn, strange, and mingled air,
'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild.
But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair,
30 What was thy delighted measure?
Still it whisper'd promised pleasure
And bade the lovely scenes at distance haill
Still would her touch the strain prolong;
And from the rocks, the woods, the vale
212 Palgrave's Golden Treasury Fclxxviii
She call'd on Echo still through all the song; ,
And, where her sweetest theme she chose,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close;
And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden
hair; —
5 And longer had she sung:^ — but with a frowTi
Revenge impatient rose:
He threw his blood-stain'd sword in thunder down;
And with a withering look
The war-denouncing trumpet took
10 And blew a blast so loud and dread,
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe!
And ever and anon he beat
The doubling drum with furious heat;
And, though sometimes, each dreary pause between,
15 Dejected Pity at his side
Her soul-subduing voice applied.
Yet still he kept his wild unalter'd mien.
While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from
his head.
Thy numbers. Jealousy, to nought were fix'd:
20 Sad proof of thy distressful state!
Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd;
And now it courted Love, now raving call'd on Hate.
With eyes up-raised, as one inspired,
Pale Melancholy sat retired;
25 And from her wild sequester'd seat,
In notes by distance made more sweet,
Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul:
And dashing soft from rocks around
Bubbling nmnels join'd the sound;
30 Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole,
Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay,
Round an holy calm diffusing.
Love of peace, and lonely musing
In hollow murmurs died away.
35 But O! how alter'd was its sprightlier tone
When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue.
clxxviii] Book Third 213
Her bow across her shoulder flung,
Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew,
Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,
The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad kno\\ii!
5 The oak-cro^\Ti'd Sisters and their chaste-eyed Queen.
Satyrs and Sylvan Boys, were seen
Peeping from forth their alleys green:
Brown Exercise rejoiced to hear;
And Sport leapt up, and seized his beechen spear.
10 Last came Joy's ecstatic trial:
He, with viny crown advancing,
First to the lively pipe his hand addrest:
But soon he saw the brisk awakening viol
Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best;
15 They would have thought who heard the strain
They sav/, in Tempe's vale, her native maids
Amidst the festal-sounding shades
To some unwearied minstrel dancing;
While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings,
20 Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round:
Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound;
And he, amidst his frolic play,
As if he would the charming air repay.
Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
25 O Music! sphere-descended maid,
Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid!
Why, goddess! why, to us denied,
Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside?
As in that loved Athenian bower
30 You learn'd an all-commanding power,
Thy mimic soul, O Nymph endear'd,
Can well recall what then it heard.
Where is thy native simple heart
Devote to Virtue, Fancy, Art?
35 Arise, as in that elder time,
Warm, encrgic, chaste, sublime!
Thy wonders, in that god-like age,
Fill thy recording Sister's page; —
'Tis said, and T believe the tale,
40 Thy humblest reed could more prevail,
214 t'algrave's Golden Treasury [clxxviii
Had more of strength, diviner rage,
Than all which charms this laggard age:
E'en all at once together found,
Cecilia's mingled world of sound: —
5 O bid our vain endeavours cease:
Revive the just designs of Greece:
Return in all thy simple state!
Confirm the tales her sons relate!
W. Collins
CLXXIX
THE SONG OF DAVID
He sang of God, the mighty source
Of all things, the stupendous force
On which all strength depends:
From Whose right arm, beneath Whose eyes,
S All period, power, and enterprise
Commences, reigns, and ends.
The world, the clustering sf heres He made,
The glorious light, the sootling shade,
Dale, champaign, grove and hill:
10 The multitudinous abyss.
Where secrecy remains in bliss.
And wisdom hides her skill.
Tell them, I AM, Jehovah said
To Moses: while Earth heard in dread,
15 And, smitten to the heart,
At once, above, beneath, around.
All Nature, without voice or sound,
Rephed, 'O Lord, THOU ART.'
C. Smart
eixxxi] Book Third 215
CLXXX
INFANT JOY
*1 have no name;
I am but two days old.'
—What shall I call thee?
'I happy am;
g Joy is my name.'
— Sweet joy befall thee!
Pretty joy!
Sweet joy, but two days old;
Sweet joy I call thee:
10 Thou dost smile:
I sing the while,
Sweet joy befall thee!
W. Blake
A CRADLE SONG
CLXXXI
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming in the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.
6 Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.
As thy softest limbs I feel,
10 Smiles as of the morning steal
O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast
Where thy httle heart doth rest.
Oh the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep!
15 When thy little heart doth wake.
Then the dreadful light shall break,
W. Blake
216 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxxii
CLXXXII
ODE ON THE SPRING
Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours,
Fair Venus' train, appear.
Disclose the long-expecting flowers
And wake the purple year!
5 The Attic warbler pours her throat
Responsive to the cuckoo's note,
The untaught harmony of Spring:
Wliile, whispering pleasure as they fly,
Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky
X) Their gather'd fragrance fling.
Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
A broader, browner shade,
Where'er the rude and moss-gro'wn beech
O'er-canopies the glade,
15 Beside some water's rushy brink
With me the Muse shall sit, and think
(At ease reclined in rustic state)
How vain the ardour of the crowd,
How low, how little are the proud,
20 How indigent the great!
Still is the toiling hand of Care;
The panting herds repose:
Yet hark, how thro' the peopled air
The busy murmur glows!
25 The insect-youth are on the wing,
Eager to taste the honied spring
And float amid the liquid noon:
Some lightly o'er the current skim.
Some show their gaily-gilded trim
30 Quick-glancing to the sun.
To Contemplation's sober eye
Such is the race of Man:
And they that creep, and they that fly
Shall end where they began.
35 Alike the Busy and the Gay
clxxxiii] Book Third . 217
But flutter thro' life's little day,
In Fortvme's varying colours drest:
Brush'd by the hand of rough Mischance,
Or chill'd by Age, their airy dance
5 They leave, in dust to rest.
Methinks I hear in accents low
The sportive kind reply:
Poor moralist! and what art thou?
A solitary fly!
10 Thy joys no glittering female meets,
No hive hast thou of hoarded sweets,
No painted plumage to display:
On hasty wings thy youth is flown;
Thy sun is set, thy spring is gone —
15 We frolic while 'tis May.
T. Gray
CLXXXIII
THE POPLAR FIELD
The poplars are fell'd; farewell to the shade
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade;
The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves,
Ncr Ouse on his bosom their image receives.
5 Twelve years have elapsed since I first took a ^^ew
Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew:
And now in the grass behold they are laid,
And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade!
The blackbird has fled to another retreat
10 Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat
And the scene where his melody charm'd me before
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more.
My fugitive years are all hasting away.
And I must ere long lie as lowly as they,
15 With a turf on my breast and a stone at my head.
Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.
218 _ Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxxdii
The change both my heart and my fancy employs;
I reflect on the frailty of man and his joys:
Short-lived as we are, yet our pleasures, we see,
Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we.
TT'. Cowper
CLXXXIV
TO A MOUSE
On turning her vp in her nest, with the plough,
November, 1785
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie,
what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi' bickering brattle!
6 I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee
Wi' murd'ring pattle!
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
10 Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor earth-born companion,
An' fellow-mortal!
1 doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun livel
15 A daimen-icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request:
I'll get a blessin' wi' the lave,
And never miss't!
Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin!
20 Its silly wa's the win's are strewin:
And naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's winds ensuin'
Baith snell an' keen!
dxxxv? Book Third 219
Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste
An' weary winter comin' fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
5 Till, crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.
That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble
Has cost thee niony a wearj^ nibble!
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
10 But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble
An' cranreuch cauld!
But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane
In proving foresight may be vain:
15 The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft a-gley.
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promised joy.
Still thou art blest, compared wi' me!
20 The present only toucheth thee:
But, Och! I backward cast my e'e
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear'
R. Burns
CLXXXV
A WISH
Mine be a cot beside the hill;
A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear;
A willowy brook that turns a mill.
With many a fall shall linger near.
5 The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch
Shall twitter from her clay-built nest;
Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch.
And sliare my meal, a welcome guest.
220 Palgrave's Golden Treasury fclxxxv
Around my ivied porch shall spring
Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew;
And Lucy, at her wheel, shall sing
In russet-gown and apron blue.
5 The village-church among the trees,
Where first our marriage-vows were given,
With merry peals shall swell the breeze
And point with taper spire to Heaven.
S. Rogers
CLXXXVI
ODE TO EVENING
If aught of oaten stop or pastoral song
May hope, O pensive Eve, to soothe thine ear
Like thy own solemn springs,
Thy springs, and dying gales;
5 O Nymph reserved.^ — while now the bright-hair'd sun
Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts,
With brede ethereal wove,
O'erhang his wavy bed;
Now air is husli'd, save where tlie weak-eyed bat
10 With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing,
Or where the beetle winds
His small but sullen horn.
As oft he rises midst the twilight path,
Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum, —
15 Now teach me, maid composed.
To breathe some soften'd strain
Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale,
May not imseemly with its stillness suit;
As, musing slow, I hail
20 Thy genial loved return.
tlxxxvi] Book Third 221
lor when thy folding-star arising shows
His paly circlet, at his warning lamp
The fragrant Hours, and Elves
Who slept in buds the day,
5 And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with
sedge
And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still,
The pensive Pleasures sweet,
Prepare tliy shadowy car.
Then let me rove some wild and heathy scene;
U\ Or find some ruin midst its dreary dells.
Whose walls more awful nod
By thy religious gleams.
Or, if cliill blustering winds oi driving rain
Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut
15 That, from the mountain's side.
Views wilds and swelling floods.
And hamlets brown, and dim-disco ver'd spires;
And hears their simple bell; and marks o'er all
Thy dewy fingers draw
20 The gradual dusky veil.
While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont,
And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve!
While Summer loves to sport
Beneath thy lingering hght;
25 While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;
Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,
Affrights thy shrinking train
And rudely rends thy robes;
So long, regardful of thy quiet rule,
30 Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace,
Thy gentlest influence owti,
And love thy favourite name!
W. Collins
222 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxx\ai
CLXXX\TT
ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY
CHURCHYARD
The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
5 Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds,
Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight,
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds:
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower
10 The moping owl does to the moon complain
Of such as, wandering near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap.
15 Each in his narrow cell for ever laid.
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,
20 No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
For them no more the blazing hearth shall bum
Or busy housewife ply her evening care:
No children nm to lisp their sire's return,
Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share,
25 Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield,
Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke;
How jocund did they drive their team afield!
How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke!
Let not ambition mock their useful toil,
30 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure;
Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile
The short and simple annals of the poor.
clxxxvii] Book Third 223
The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,
And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave
Awaits ahke th' inevitable hour: —
The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
5 Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault
If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, .
Where through the long-dra-wTi aisle and fretted vault
The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Can storied urn or animated bust
10 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath?
Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust.
Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid
Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire;
15 Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd,
Or waked to extasy the living lyre:
But knowledge to their eyes her ample page
Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;
Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,
20 And froze the genial current of the soul.
Full many a gem of purest ray serene
The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear:
Full many a flower is bom to blush unseen.
And waste its sweetness on the desert air.
25 Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood,
Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest.
Some Cromwell, guiltless of liis countiy's blood.
Th' applause of listening senates to command,
30 The threats of pain and ruin to despise.
To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land.
And read tlieir history in a nation's eyes
Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone
Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined;
35 Forbad to wade thro' slaughter to a throne.
And shut Jthe gates of mercy on mankind;
224 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [clxxx\a)
The struggling pangs of conscious tnath to hide,
To quench the bkishes of ingenuous shame,
Or heap the shrine of kixury and pride
Witli incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
5 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife
Their sober wishes n(>ver learn'd to strav:
Along the cool secjueiter'd vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenour of their way.
Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect
10 Some frail memorial still erected nigh.
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse,
The place of fame and elegy supply:
15 And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.
For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,
This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
20 Nor cast one longing lingering look beliind?
On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires;
E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries,
E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires.
25 For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led.
Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate, —
Haply some hoary-headed swain may say,
30 'Oft have we seen him at the Deep of dawn
Brushing with hasty steps the dews away.
To meet the sun upon the upland lawn;
'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech
That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,
86 His listless length at noon-tide would he stretch,
And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
3lxxxviii] Book Third ^25
'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,
Muttering liis wayward fancies he would rove;
Now drooping, woeful-wan, like one forlorn.
Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.
5 'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill,
Along the heath, and near his favourite tree;
Another came; nor yet beside the rill,
Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he;
'The next with dirges due in sad array
10 Slow through the church-way path we saw liim borne, —
Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay
Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'
THE EPITAPH
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth
A youth, to fortune and to fame imknown;
15 Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth
And melancholy mark'd him for her own.
Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere;
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to misery (all he had) a tear,
20 He gain'd from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.
No farther seek his merits to disclose.
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode,
(There they alike in trembling hope repose,)
The bosom of his Father and his God.
T. Gray
CLXXXVIII
MARY MORI SOX
O Mary, at thy window be.
It is the wish'd, the trysted hour!
Those smiles and glances let me see
That make the miser's treasure poor:
5 How blithely wad I bide the stoure,
A weary slave frae sun to sun,
Could I the rich reward seciu-e.
The lovely Mary Morison.
22P Poigrave's Golden Treasury [clxxxviii
Yestreen when to the trembling string
Tlie dance gaed thro' the hghted ha',
To thee my fancy took its wing, —
I sat, but neither heard nor saw:
5 Tho' this was fair, and that was braw.
And yon the toast of a' the town,
I sigh'd, and said amang them a',
'Ye are na Mary Morison.'
O Mary, canst thou wreck his peace
10 Wha for thy sake wad gladly dee?
Or canst thou break that heart of his,
Whase only faut is loving thee?
If love for love thou wilt na gie,
At least be pity to me shown;
15 A thought ungentle canna be
The thought o' Mary Morison.
R. Burns
CLXXXIX
BONNIE LESLEY
O saw ye bonnie Lesley
As she gaed o'er the border?
She's gane, like Alexander,
To spread her conquests farther.
S To see her is to love her.
And love but her for ever;
For Nature made her what she is,
And ne'er made sic anither!
Thou art a queen, Fair Lesley,
10 Thy subjects we, before thee;
Thou art divine, Fair Lesley,
The hearts o' men adore thee.
The Deil he could na scaith thee,
Or aught that wad belang thee;
Ifi He'd look into thy bonnie face.
And say 'I canna wrang thee!'
cxci) Book Third 227
The Powers aboon viill tent thee;
Misfortune sha' na steer thee;
Thou'rt like themselves sae lovely
That ill they'll ne'er let near thee.
6 Return again, Fair Lesley,
Return to Caledonie!
That we may brag we hae a lass
There's nane again sae bonnie.
R. Burns
cxc ,
O my Luve's like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June:
my Luve's like the melodie
That's sweetly play'd in tune.
B As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,
So deep in luve am I:
And I will luve thee still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry:
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear,
10 And the rocks melt wi' the sun;
1 will luve thee still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run.
Ifi
And fare thee weel, my only Luve I
And fare thee weel awhile!
And I will come again, my Luve,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile.
R, Burns
CXCI
HIGHLAND MARY
Ye banks and braes and streams around
The castle o' Montgomery,
Green be your woods, and fair your flowers,
Your waters never drumlie!
228 Palgrave's Golden Treasury l.cxci
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet Highland Mary.
5 How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk,
How rich the hawthorn's blossom,
As underneath their fragrant shade
I clasp' d her to my bosom!
The golden hours on angel wings
10 Flew o'er me and my dearie;
For dear to me as light and Ufa
Was my sweet Highland Mary.
Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace
Our parting was fu' tender;
15 And pledging aft to meet again,
We tore oursels asunder;
But, Oh! fell Death's untimely frost,
That nipt my flower sae early!
Now green's the sod, arid cauld's the clay,
20 That wraps my Highland Maryl
O pale, pale now, those rosy lips,
I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly!
And closed for aye the sparkling glance
That dwelt on me sae kindly;
25 And mouldering now in silent dust
That heart that lo'ed me dearly!
But still within my bosom's core
Shall live my Highland Mary.
R. Burns
ex CI I
AVLD ROBIN GRAY
When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye a hame.
And a' the warld to rest are gane.
The waes o' my heart fa' in showers frae my e'e,
While my gudeman lies sound by me.
cxcii] Booh Third 229
Young Jamie lo'ed me well, and sought me for his
bride;
But saving a croun he had naething else beside:
To make the croun a pund, young Jamie gaed to sea;
And the croun and tlie pund were baith tor me,
5 He hadna been awa' a week but only twa.
When my father brak liis arm, and the cow was
stown awa;
My mother she fell sick, and my Jamie at the sea —
And auld Robin Gray came a-courtin' me.
My father couldna work, and my mother couldna spin;
10 I toil'd day and night, but their bread I couldna win;
Auld Rob maintain'd them baith, and wi' tears in his
e'e
Said, Jennie, for their sakes, O, marry me!
My heart it said nay; I look'd for Jamie back;
But the wind it blew high, and the ship it was a
wrack ;
15 His ship it was a wrack — why didna Jamie dee?
Or why do I hve to cry, Wae's me?
My father urgit sair: my mother didna speak;
But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to
break"
They gi'ed him my hand, but my heart was at the sea;
20 Sae auld Robin Gray he was gudeman to me.
I hadna been a wife a week but only four,
When mournfu' as I sat on the stane at the door,
I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I couldna think it he
Till he said, I'm come hame to marry thee.
25 O sair, sair did we greet, and muckle did we say;
We took but ae kiss, and I bad him gang away;
I wish that I were dead, but I'm no like to dee;
And why was I born to say, Wae's me!
I gang like a ghaist, and I carena to spin;
30 I daurna think on Jamie, for that wad be a sin;
But I'll do my best a gude wife aye to be,
For auld Robin Gray he is kind unto me.
Lady A. Lindsay
230 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxciii
CXCIII
DUNCAN GRAY
Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't;
On blythe Yule right when we were fou,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't:
6 Maggie coost her head x'u' high,
Look'd asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh;
Ha; ha, the wooing o't I
Duncan fleech'd, and Duncan pray'd;
10 Meg was deaf as Ailsa Craig;
Duncan sigh'd baith out and in,
Grat his een baith bleer't and bUn'
Spak o' lowpin ower a hnn!
Time and chance are but a tide,
15 Shghted love is sair to bide;
Shall I, like a fool, quoth he,
For a haughty hizzie dee?
She may gae to — France for me!
How it comes let doctors tell,
20 Meg grew sick — as he grew well;
Something in her bosom wrings,
For rehef a sigh she brings;
And O, her een, they spak sic things!
Duncan was a lad o' grace;
25 Maggie's was a piteous case;
Duncan couldna be her death,
Swelling pity smoor'd his wrath;
Now they're crouse and canty baith:
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
R. Bums
cxciv] Book Third 231
cxciv
THE SAILOR'S WIFE
And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?
Is tliis a time to think o' wark?
Ye jades, lay by your wheel;
5 Is this the time to spin a thread,
When Colin's at the door?
Reach down my cloak, I'll to the quay,
And see him come ashore.
For there's nae luck about the house,
10 There's nae luck at a';
There's little pleasure in the house
When our gudeman's awa'.
And gie to me my bigonet,
My bishop's satin gown;
15 For I maun tell the baillie's wife
That Colin's in the town.
My Turkey slippers maun gae on,
My stockins pearly blue;
It's a' to pleasure our gudeman,
20 For he's baith leal and true.
Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside,
Put on the muckle pot;
Gie little Kate her button gown
And Jock his Sunday coat;
25 And mak their shoon as black as slaes,
Their hose as white as snaw;
It's a' to please my ain gudeman.
For he's been long awa.
There's twa fat hens upo' the coop
30 Been fed this month and mair;
Mak haste and thraw their necks about.
That Colin weel may fare;
And spread the table neat and clean,
Gar ilka thing look braw,
35 For wha can tell how Colin fared
When he was far awa?
232 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cxciv
Sae tnie his heart, sae smooth his speech.
His breath hke caller air;
His very foot has music in't
As he comes up the stair — •
5 And will I see his face again?
And will I hear him speak?
I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet!
If Colin's weel, and weel content,
10 I hae nae mair to crave:
And gin I live to keep him sae,
I'm blest aboon the lave:
And will I see his face again,
And will I hear him speak?
15 I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought,
In troth I'm like to greet.
For there's nae luck about the house.
There's nae luck at a';
There's little pleasure in the house
20 When our gudeman's awa'.
W. J. Mickle
cxcv
ABSENCE
When I think on the happy days
I spent wi' you, my dearie;
And now what lands between us lie,
How can I be but eerie!
How slow ye move, ye heavy hours,
As ye were wae and weary!
It was na sae ye glinted by
When I Avas wi' my dearie.
Anon.
cxcvi] Book Third 233
cxcvi
JEAX
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw
I dearly hke the West,
For there the bonnie lassie lives,
The lassie I lo'e best:
5 There wild woods grow, and rivers row.
And mony a hill between:
But day and night my fancy's flight
Is ever wi' my Jean.
I see her in the dewy flowers,
10 I see her sweet and fair:
I hear her in the tunefu' birds,
I hear her charm the air:
There's not a bonnie flower that springs
By fountain, shaw, or green,
15 There's not a bonnie bird that sings
But minds me o' my Jean.
O blaw ye westlin winds, blaw saft
Amang the leafy trees;
Wi' balmy gale, frae hill and dale
Bring hame the laden bees;
And bring the lassie back to me
That's aye sae neat and clean;
Ae smile o' her wad banish care,
Sae charming is my Jean.
20
25 What sighs and vows amang the knowes
Hae pass'd atween us twa!
How fond to meet, how wae to part
That night she gaed awa!
The Powers aboon can only ken
30 To whom the heart is seen,
That nane can bo sae dear to me
As my sweet lovely Jean!
R. Burns
234 Palgraves Golden Treasury [cxcrii
CXCVII
JOHN ANDERSON
John Anderson my jo, John,
When we were first acquent
Your locks were hke the raven,
Your bonnie brow was brent;
6 But now your brow is bald, John,
Your locks are like the snow;
But blessings on your frosty pow,
John Anderson my jo.
John Anderson my jo, John,
JO We clamb the hill thegither,
And mony a canty day, John,
We've had wi' ane anither:
Now we maun totter down, John,
But hand in hand we'll go,
15 And sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson my jo.
R. Burns
CXCVIII
THE LAND O' THE LEAL
Pm wearing awa', Jean,
Like snaw when its thaw, Jean,
I'm wearing awa'
To the land o' the leal,
5 There's nae sorrow there, Jean,
There's neither cauld noi care, Jea^jo.
The day is aye fair
In the land o' the leal.
Ye were aye leal and true, Jean,
10 Your task's ended noo, Jean,
And I'll welcome you
To the land o' the leal,
cxcix] Book Third 235
Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean,
She was baith gude and fair, Jean;
O we grudged her right sair
To the land o' the leal!
5 Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean,
My soul langs to be free, Jean,
And angels wait on me
To the land o' the leal.
Now fare ye weel, my ain Jean,
10 This warld's care is vain, Jean;
We'll meet and aye be fain
In the land o' the leal.
Lady Nairn
CXCIX
ODE ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF
ETON COLLEGE
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers
That crown the watery glade,
Where grateful Science still adores
Her Henry's holy shade;
5 And ye, that from the stately brow
Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey.
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
Wanders the hoary Thames along
10 His silver- winding way:
Ah happy hills! ah pleasing shade 1
Ah fields beloved in vain!
Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
A stranger yet to pain!
15 I feel the gales that from ye blow
A momentary bliss bestow.
As waving fresh their gladsome wing
My weary soul they seem to soothe,
And, redolent of joy and youth,
20 To breathe a second spring.
236 Palgraves Golden Treasury [cxciz
Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen
Full many a sprightly race
Disporting on thy margent green
The paths of pleasure trace;
5 Who foremost now delight to cleave
With pliant ann, thy glassy wave?
The captive linnet which enthral?
What idle progeny succeed
To chase the rolling circle's speed
10 Or urge the fljang ball?
Wliile some on earnest business bent
Their murmuring labours ply
'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint
To sweeten liberty:
15 Some bold adventurers disdain
The limits of their little reign
And unknown regions dare descr\"
Still as they nm they look behind,
They hear a voice in every -nind,
20 And snatch a fearful joy.
Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possest;
The tear forgot as soon as shed,
The sunshine of the breast:
26 Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue,
Wild wit, invention ever new,
And lively cheer, of xigour bom;
The thoughtless day, the easy night,
The spirits pure, the slumbers light
30 That fly th' approach of mom.
Alas! regardless of their doom
The little victims play;
No sense have they of ills to come
Nor care beyond to-day;
35 Yet see how all around 'em wait
The ministers of human fate
And black Misfortune's baleful train!
Ah show them where in ambush stand
To seize their prey, the murderous band,'
40 Ah, tell them they are men!
cxcix] Book Third 237"
These shall the fury Passions tear,
The vultures of the niind,
Disdainful .\nger, pallid Fear,
And Shame that sculks behind;
5 Or pining Love shall waste their youth.
Or Jealousy with rankling tooth
That inly gnaws the secret heart,
And En\'y wan, and faded Care,
Grim-visaged comfortless Despair,
10 And Sorrow's piercing dart.
Ambition this shall tempt to rise,
Then whirl the wretch from high
To bitter Scorn a sacrifice
And grinning Infamy.
15 The stings of Falsehood those shall try
And hard Unkindness' alter'd eye,
That mocks the tear it forced to flow;
And keen Remorse with blood defiled.
And moody Madness laugliing wild
20 Amid severest woe.
Lo, in the vale of years beneath
A griesly troop are seen.
The painful family of Death.
More hideous than their queen:
25 This racks the joints, this fires the veins,
That every labouring sinew strains.
Those in the deeper %atals rage:
Ivo! Poverty, to fill the band.
That numbs the soul with icy hand,
30 And slow-consuming Age.
To each his sufferings: all are men,
Condemn'd alike to groan;
The tender for another's pain,
Th' unfeeling for his own.
35 Yet, ah! why should they know their fate.
Since sorrow never comes too late.
And happiness too swiftly flies?
Thought would destroy their paradise.
No more; — where ignorance is bliss,
40 'Tis folly to be wise. T. Gray
238 Falgrave's Golden Treasury JCC
cc
THE SHRUBBERY
O happy shades! to me unblest!
Friendly to peace, but not to me!
How ill the scene that offers rest,
And heart that cannot rest, agree!
£ This glassy stream, that spreading pine.
Those alders quivering to the breeze.
Might soothe a soul less hurt than mine.
And please, if anything could please.
But fix'd imalterable Care
10 Foregoes not what she feels within,
Shows the same sadness everywhere.
And slights the season and the scene.
For all that pleased in wood or lawn
While Peace possess'd these silent bowe'*'
15 Her animating smile withdrawn.
Has lost its beauties and its powers.
The saint or moralist should tread
This moss-grown alley, musing, slow,
They seek like me the secret shade,
20 But not, like me, to nourish woe!
Me, fruitful scenes and prospects waste
Alike admonish not to roam;
These tell me of enjoyments past.
And those of sorrows yet to come.
W. Cowper
cci
HYMN TO ADVERSITY
Daughter of Jove, relentless power,
Thou tamer of the himian breast,
Whose iron scourge and torturing hour
The bad affright, afflict the best!
5 Bound in thy adamantine chain
The proud are taught to taste of pain,
And purple tyrants vainly groan
With pangs unfelt before, unpitied and alono.
"i] Book Third 239
When first tliy Sire to send on earth
Virtue, his darling child, design'd,
To' thee he gave the heavenly birth
And bade to form her infant mind.
b Stern, ragged nurse! thy rigid lore
With patience many a year she bore;
What sorrow was, thou bad'st her know,
.4nd from her own she learn'd to melt at others' woe
Scared at thy frowTi terrific, fly,
10 Self-pleasing Folly's idle brood,
Wild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,
And leave us leisure to be good.
Light they disperse, and with them go
The summer friend, the flattering foe;
15 By vain Prosperity received.
To her they vow their truth, and are again believed.
Wisdom in sable garb array'd
Immersed in rapturous thought profound,
And Melancholy, silent maid,
20 With leaden eye, that loves the ground,
Still on thy solemn steps attend:
Warm Charity, the general friend.
With Justice, to herself severe.
And Pity dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.
25 Oh! gently on thy suppliant's head
Dread goddess, lay thy chastening hand'
Not in thy Gorgon terrors clad,
Nor circled with the vengeful band
(As by the impious thou art seen)
30 With thundering voice, and threatening mien,
With screaming Horror's funeral cry.
Despair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty; —
Thy form benign, oh goddess, wear,
Thy milder influence impart,
35 Thy philosophic train be there
To soften, not to wound my heart.
The generous spark extinct revive,
Teach me to love and to forgive.
Exact my own defects to scan,
40 What others are to feel, and know myself a Man.
Q T. Gray
240
Palgraves Golden Treasury [ccii
10
15
2i>
80
ecu
THE SOLITUDE OF
ALEXANDER SELKIRK
I am monarch of all I survey;
My right there is none to dispute;
From the centre all round to the sea
I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Solitude! where are the charms
That sages have seen in thy face?
Better dwell in the midst of alarms,
Than reign in this horrible place.
1 am out of humanity's reach,
I must finish my journey alone,
Never hear the sweet music of speech;
I start at the sound of my own.
The beasts that roam over the plam
My form with indifference see;
They are so unacquainted with man,
Their tameness is shocking to me.
Society, Friendship, and Love
Divinely bestow^'d upon man,
Oh, had I the wings of a dove _
20 How soon would I taste you agaml
My sorrows I then might assuage
In the ways of religion and truth,
Might learn from the wisdom of age,
And be cheer' d by the sallies of youth.
Ye winds that have made me your sport,
Convey to this desolate shore
Some cordial endearing report
Ot a land I shall visit no more:
My friends, do they now and then send
A wish or a thought after me?
O tell me I yet have a friend,
Though a friend I am never to see.
cciii] Book Third 241
How fleet is a glance of the mind!
Compared with the speed of its flight,
The tempest itself lags behind,
And the swift-winged arrows of light.
5 When I think of my own native land
In a moment I seem to be there;
But alas! recollection at hand
Soon hurries me back to despair.
But the sea-fowl is gone to her nest,
10 The beast is laid down in his lair;
Even here is a season of rest,
And I to my cabin repair.
There's mercy in every place,
And mercy, encouraging thought!
16 Gives even affliction a grace
And reconciles man to his lot.
W. Coivper
CCIII
TO MARY UNWIN
Mary! I want a lyre with other strings,
Such aid from Heaven as some have feign'd they
drew,
An eloquence scarce given to mortals, new
And undebased by praise of meaner things,
5 That ere through age or woe I shed my wings
I may record thy worth with honour due.
In verse as musical as thou art true.
And that immortalizes whom it sings: —
But thou hast little need. There is a Book
10 By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light,
On which the eyes of God not rarely look,
A chronicle of actions just and bright —
There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine;
And since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine.
W. Cowptr
242 Palgrave's Golden Treasury fcciv
cciv
TO THE SAME
The twentieth year is well-nigh past
Since first our sky was overcast;
Ah would that this might be the last!
My Mary!
5 Thy spirits have a fainter flow,
I see thee daily weaker grow —
'Twas my distress that brought thee low,
My Mary!
Thy needles, once a shining store,
10 For my sake restless heretofore,
Now rust disused, and shine no more;
My Mary!
For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil
The same kind office for me still,
15 Thy sight now seconds not thy will,
My Mary!
But well thou play'dst the housewife's part,
And all thy threads with magic art
Have wound themselves about this heart,
m My Mary!
Thy indistinct expressions seem
Like language utter'd in a dream;
Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme.
My Mary!
25 Thy silver locks, once auburn bright,
Are still more lovely in my sight
Than golden beams of orient light,
My Mary!
For coul^ I view nor them nor thee,
30 What sight worth seeing could I see?
The sun would rise in vain for me,
My Mary!
cev] Book Third 243
Partakers of thy sad decline
Thy hands their httle force resign;
Yet, gently prest, press gently mine,
My Mary!
5 Such feebleness of limbs thou prov'st
That now at every step thou mov'st
Upheld by two; yet still thou lov'st,
My Mary!
And still to love, though prest with ill,
10 In wintry age to feel no chill,
With me is to be lovely still,
My Mary!
But ah! by constant heed I know
How oft the sadness that I show
15 Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe,
My Mary!
And should my future lot be cast
With much resemblance of the past.
Thy worn-out heart will break at last —
20 My Mary!
TT'. Cowper
ccv
THE CASTAWAY
Obscurest night involved the sky,
The Atlantic billows roar'd,
When such a destined wretch as I,
Wash'd headlong from on board,
5 Of friends, of hope, of all bereft,
His floating home for ever left.
No braver chief could Albion boast
Than he with whom he went,
Nor ever ship left Albion's coast
10 With warmer wishes sent.
He loved them both, but both in vain.
Nor him beheld, nor her again.
244 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccv
Not long beneath the whelming brine,
Expert to swim, he lay;
Nor soon he felt his strength decline;
Or courage die away;
5 But waged with death a lasting strife,
Supported by despair of life.
He shouted: nor his friends had fail'd
To check the vessel's course,
But so, the furious blast prevail'd,
10 That, pitiless perforce,
They left their outcast mate behind.
And scudded still before the wind.
Some succour yet they could afford;
And such as storms allow,
15 The cask, the coop, the floated cord,
Delay'd not to bestow.
But he (they knew) nor ship nor shore.
Whate'er they gave, should visit more.
Nor, cruel. as it seem'd, could he
20 Their haste himself condemn,
Aware that flight, in such a sea,
Alone could rescue them;
Yet bitter felt it still to die
Deserted, and his friends so nigh.
25 He long survives, who lives an hour
In ocean, self-iipheM;
And so long he, with unspent power,
His destiny repell'd;
And ever, as the minutes flew,
30 Entreated help, or cried 'Adieu!'
At length, his transient respite past.
His comrades, who before
Had heard his voice in every blast,
Could catch the sound no more;
35 For then, by toil subdued, he drank
The fitifliag wave, and then he sank.
cc\i] Book Third 245
No poet wept liim; but the page
Of narrative sincere,
That tells his name, Ms worth, his age,
Is wet with Anson's tear:
5 And tears by bards or heroes shed
Alike immortalize the dead.
I therefore purpose not, or dream,
Descanting on his fate.
To give the melancholy theme
10 A more enduring date:
But misery still delights to trace
Its semblance in another's case.
No voice divine the storm allay'd.
No light propitious shone,
15 When, snatch'd from all effectual aid.
We perish'd, each alone:
But I beneath a rougher sea.
And whelm'd in deeper gulfs than he.
W, Cowper
CCVI
TOMORROW
In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining,
May my fate no less fortunate be
Than a snug elbow-chair will afford for reclining,
And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea;
5 With an ambling pad-pony to pace o'er the lawn,
While I carol away idle sorrow.
And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn
Look forward with hope for Tomorrow.
With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade
too,
10 As the sunshine or rain may prevail;
And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade
too.
With a barn for the use of the flail:
A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game,
And a purse when a friend wants to borrow;
15 I'll envy no Nabob his riches or fame,
Or what honours may wait liim Tomorrow.
246 Palgrave's Golden Treasuiy [ccvi
From the bleak northern blast may my cot be com-
pletely
Secured by a neighboring hill;
And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly
By the sound of a murmuring rill:
• 5 And while peace and plenty I find at my board.
With a heart free from sickness and sorrow,
With my friends may I share what Today may afford,
And let them spread the table Tomorrow.
And when I at last must throw off this frail cov'ring
10 Which I've worn for three score years and ten,
On the brink of the grave I'll not seek to keep hov'r-
ing,
Nor my thread wish to spin o'er again:
But my face in the glass I'll serenely survey,
And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow:
15 As this old worn-out stuff, which is threadbare Today,
May become Everlasting Tomorrow.
J. Collins
CCVII
Life! I know not what thou art.
But know that thou and I must part;
And when, or how, or where we met
I own to me's a secret yet.
5 Life! we've been long together
Through pleasant and through cloudy weather:
'Tis hard to part when friends are dear —
Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear;
— Then steal away, give little warning,
10 Choose thine owai time;
Say not Good Night, — but in some brighter clime
Bid me Good Morning.
A. L. Barbauld
CI)e (tPolDen Creasurj^
IBook Jfourtt)
CCVIII
TO THE MUSES
Whether on Ida's shady brow,
Or in the chambers of the East,
The chambers of the sun, that now
From ancient melody have ceased;
5 AVhether in Heaven ye wander fair,
Or the green corners of the earth,
Or the blue regions of the air,
Where the melodious winds have birthj
Whether on crystal rocks ye rove
10 Beneath the bosom of the sea,
Wandering in many a coral grove,—
Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry;
How have you left the ancient love
That bards of old enjoy'd in you!
15 The langxiid strings do scarcely move,
The sound is forced, the notes are few.
W. Blake
CCIX
ODE ON THE POETS
Bards of Passion and of Mirth
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Have ye souls in heaven too,
Double-lived in regions new?
247
248 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cdx
— Yes, and those of heaven commune
With the spheres of sun and moon;
With the noise of fountains wond'rous
And the parle of voices thund'rous; /
5 With the whisper of heaven's trees
And one another, in soft ease
Seated on Elysian lawns
Browsed by none but Dian's fawns;
Underneath large blue-bells tented,
10- Where the daisies are rose-scented.
And the rose herself has got
Perfume which on earth is not;
Where the nightingale doth sing
Not a senseless, tranced thing,
15 But divine melodious truth;
Philosopliic numbers smooth;
Tales and golden histories
Of heaven and its mysteries.
Thus ye live on high, and then
.20 On the earth ye live again;
And the souls ye left beliind you
I, Teach us, here, the way to find you,
I Where your other souls are joying.
Never slumber'd, never cloying.
725 Here, your earth-born souls still speak
To mortals, of their little week;
Of their sorrows and delights;
Of their passions and their spites;
Of their glory and their shame;
30 What doth strengthen and what maim: —
Thus ye teach us, every day.
Wisdom, though fled far away.
Bards of Passion and of Mirth
Ye have left your souls on earth!
35 Ye have souls in heaven too.
Double-lived in regions new!
J. Keats
ccxi] Book Fourth 249
ccx
ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S
HOMER
Much have I travell'd in the reahns of gold
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne:
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene
Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
— Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
f^hen a new planet swims into his ken;
hke stout C ortpz . when with 'eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific — and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise —
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.
J. Keats
CCXI
LOVE
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
5 Oft in my waking dreams do I
Live o'er again that happy hour,
When midway on the mount I lay,
Beside the ruin'd tower.
The moonshine stealing o'er the scene
10 Had blended with the lights of eve;
And she was there, my hope, my joy,
My own dear Genevieve!
250 Falgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxi
She lean'd against the armed man,
The statue of the armed knight;
She stood and Hsten'd to my lay,
- Amid the hngering hght.
5 Few sorrows hath she of her own.
My hope! my joy! my Genevieve!
She loves me best, whene'er I sing
The songs that make her grieve.
I play'd a soft and doleful air,
10 I sang an old and moving story —
An old rude song, that suited well
That ruin wild and hoary.
She listen'd with a flitting blush.
With downcast eyes and modest grace;
15 For well she 'knew, I could not choose
But gaze upon her face.
I told her of the Knight that wore
Upon his shield a burniijg brand;
And that for ten long years he woo'd
20 The Lady of the Land.
I told her how he pined: and ah!
The deep, the low, the pleading tone
With which I sang another's love
Interpreted my own.
25 She listen'd with a flitting blush.
With downcast eyes, and modest grace;
And she forgave me, that I gazed
Too fondly on her face!
But when I told the cruel scorn
30 That crazed that bold and lovely Knight,
And that he cross'd the mountain-woods.
Nor rested day nor night;
That sometimes from the savage den,
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
35 And sometimes starting up at once
In green and sunny glade, —
ccxi]
10
Book Fourth 251.
There came and look'd him in tlie face
An angel beautiful and bright;
And that he knew it was a Fiend.
This miserable Knight!
And that unknowing what he did,
He leap'd amid a murderous band,
And saved from outrage worse than death
The Lady of the Land; —
And how she wept, and clasp'd his knees;
And how she tended him in vain —
And ever strove to expiate
The scorn that crazed his brain ;^
And that she nursed liim in a cave,
And how his madness went away,
15 When on the yellow forest-leaves
A dying man he lay; —
His dying words — but when I reach'd
That tenderest strain of all the ditty.
My faltering voice and pausing harp
20 Disturb'd her soul with pity!
All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrill' d my guileless Genevieve;
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;
M And hopes, and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng,
And gentle wishes long subdued.
Subdued and cherish' d long!
She wept with pity and delight,
30 She blush'd with love, and virgin shame;
And like the murmur of a dream,
1 heard her breathe my name.
Her bosom heaved — she stepp'd aside,
As conscious of my look she stept —
36 Then suddenly, with timorous eye
She fled to me and wept.
.252 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxi
She half inclosed me with her anus,
She press'd me with a meek embrace;
And bending back her head, look'd up,
And gazed upon my face.
5 'Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly 'twas a bashful art
That I might rather feel, than see.
The swelling of her heart.
I calm'd her fears, and she was calm,
10 And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beauteous Bride.
;S. T. Coleridge
CCXII
ALL FOR LOVE
O talk not to me of a name great in story;
The days of our youth are the days of our glory;
And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty
Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty.
5 What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is
wrinkled?
'Tis but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled:
Then away with all such from the head that is hoary—
What care I for the wreaths that can only give glory?
Fame! — if I e'er took delight in thy praises,
10 'Twas less for the sake of thy liigh-sounding phrases,
Than to see the bright eyes of the dear one discover
She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.
There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee;
Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee;
15 When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my
story,
1 knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.
Lord Byron
ccxiii]
Book Fourth 253
CCXIII
THE OUTLAW
O Brignall banks are wild and fair.
And Greta woods are green,
And you may gather garlands there
Would grace a summer-queen.
5 And as I rode by Dalton-Hall
Beneath the turrets high,
A Maiden on the castle-wall
Was singing merrily:
•O Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
10 And Greta woods are green;
I'd rather rcve with Edmund there
Than reign our English queen.'
*If, Maiden, thou wou'dst wend with me,
To leave both tower and town,
15 Thou first must liuess what life lead we
That dwell by daile and down.
And it thou canst that riddle read,
As read tuJl well you may.
Then to the greenwood shalt thou speed
20 As blithe as Queen of May.'
Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are fair,
And Greta woods are green;
I'd rather rove with Edmund there
Than reign our English queen.
25 'I read you, by your bugle-horn
And by your palfrey good,
I read you for a ranger sworn
To keep the king's greenwood.'
*A Ranger, lady, winds his horn,
30 And 'tis at peep of hght;
His blast is heard at merry mom.
And mine at dead of night.'
Yet sung she, 'Brignall banks are faii%
And Greta woods are gay;
35 I would I were with Edmund there
To reign his Queen of May!
%
.25'1 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxiii
'With burnish'd brand and musketoon
So gallantly you come,
I read you for a bold Dragoon
That Hsts the tuck of drum.'
5 ' I list no more the tuck of drum,
No more the trumpet hear;
But when the beetle sounds his hum
My comrades take the spear.
And O! though Brignall banks be fair
10 And Greta woods be gay,
Yet mickle must the maiden dare
Would reign my Queen of May!
'Maiden! a nameless Ufe I lead,
A nameless death I'll die;
15 The fiend whose lantern lights the mead
Were better mate than I!
And when I'm with my comrades met
Beneath the greenwood bough, —
What once we were we all forget,
20 Nor think what we are now.'
Chorus
'Yet Brignall banks are fresh and fair,
And Greta woods are green.
And you may gather garlands there
Would grace a summer-queen.'
Sir W. Scott
CCXIV
There be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like Thee;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me:
When, as if its sounds were causing
The charmed ocean's pausing.
The waves lie still and gleaming,
And the lull'd winds seem dreaming-
ccxv] Book Fourth 254
And the midnight moon is weaving
Ker bright chain o'er the deep,
Whose breast is gently heaving
As an infant's asleep:
S So the spirit bows before thee
To listen and adore thee;
With a full but soft emotion,
Like the swell of Summer's ocean.
Lord Byron
ccxv
THE INDIAN SERENADE
I arise from dreams of Thee
In the first sweet sleep of night
When the winds are breathing low
And the stars are shining bright;
5 I arise from dreams of thee^
And a spirit in my feet
Hath led me — who knows how?
To thy chamber- window, Sweet!
The wandering airs they faint
la On the dark, the silent stream — •
The champak odours fail
Like sweet thoughts in a dream;
The nightingale's complaint
It dies upon her heart,
15 As I must die on thine
beloved as thou art!
Oh lift me from the grass 1
1 die, I faint, I fail!
Let thy love in kisses rain
20 On my lips and eyelids pale.
My cheek is cold and white, alas J
My heart beats loud and fast;
Oh! press it close to thine again
Where it will break at last.
P. B. Shelle->,
256 Palgrave's Golden Treasury {ccxv!
ccxvi
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes;
6 Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Wliich heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress
to Or softly lightens o'er her face,
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek and o'er that brow
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
15 The smiles that win, the tints that glow
But tell of days in goodness spent, —
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent.
Lord Byron
ccxvii
She was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleam'd upon my sight;
A lovely Apparition, sent
To be a moment's ornament;
5 Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like Twihght's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May-time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
10 To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of \'irgin-liberty;
ccxviiij Book Fourth 257
A countenance in wliich did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food,
5 For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
And now I see with eye serene
The very pulse of the machine;
A being breathing thoughtful breath,
10 A traveller between life and death:
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill;
A perfect Woman, nobly plann'd
To warn, to comfort, and command;
15 And yet a Spirit still, and bright
With sometliing of an angel-light.
W. Wordsworth
CCXVIII
She is not fair to outward view
As many maidens be;
Her loveliness I never knew
Until she smiled on me.
5 O then I saw her eye was bright,
A well of love, a spring of light.
But now her looks are coy and cold,
To mine they ne'er reply.
And yet I cease not to behold
10 The love-light in her eye:
Her very frowns are fairer far
Than smiles of other maidens are.
H. Coleridge
258 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxis
ccxix
I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden;
Thou needest not fear mine;
My spirit is too deeply laden
Ever to burthen tliine.
I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion;
Thou needest not fear mine;
Innocent is the heart's devotion
With which I worship tliine.
P. B. Shelley
ccxx
She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove;
A maid whom there were none to praise.
And very few to love.
5 A violet by a mossy stone
Half-hidden from the eye!
— Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.
She lived unknown, and few could know
10 When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh.
The difference to me!
W. Wordsworth
ccxxi
I travell'd among unknown men
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor, England! did I know till then
What love I bore to thee.
ccxxii] Book Fourth 25\f
'Tis past, that melancholy dream!
Nor will I quit thy shore
A second time; for still I seem
To love thee more and more.
5 Among thy mountains did I feel
The joy of my desire;
And she I cherish'd turn'd her wheel
Beside an English fire.
Thy mornings show'd, thy nights conceal'd
10 The bowers where Lucy play'd;
And thine too is the last green field
That Lucy's eyes survey'd.
W. Wordstvorth
CCXXII
THE EDUCATIOX OF NATURE
Three years she grew in sun and shower;
Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown:
This Child I to myself will take;
5 She shall be mine, and I will make
A lady of my oaaii.
'Myself will to my darling ])e
Both law an-d impulse: and with me
The girl, in rock and plain,
10 In earth and heaven, in glade and bower.
Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.
'She shall l)o sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
15 Or up the mountain springs:
And her's shall be the breathing balm^
And her's the silence and tJie calm
Of mute insensate things.
260 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxii
'The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend;
Nor shall she fail to see
Ev'n in the motions of the storm
S Grace that shall mould the maiden's form
By silent sympathy.
'The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
10 Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of muimuring sound
Shall pass into her face.
'And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
15 Her virgin bosom swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together Uve
Here in this happy dell.'
Thus Nature spake — The work was done —
20 How soon my Lucy's race was run!
She died, and left to me
This heath, this calm and quiet scene;
The memory of what has been.
And never more will be.
W. Wordsworth
CCXXIII
A slumber did my spirit seal;
I had no human fears:
She seem'd a thing that could not feel
The touch of earthly years.
No motion has she now, no force;
She neither hears nor sees;
Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course
With rocks, and stones, and trees.
W. Wordsicorth
CCXxvU Book Fourth 261
ccxxiv
A LOST LOVE '
I meet thy pensive, moonlight face;
Thy thrilling voice I hear;
And former hours and scenes retrace,
Too fleeting, and too dear!
5 Then sighs and tears flow fast and free,
Though none is nigh to share;
And life has nought beside for me
So sweet as tliis despair.
There are crush'd hearts that will not break;
10 And mine, methinks, is one;
Or thus I should not weep and wake,
And thou to slumber gone.
I little thought it thus could be
In days more sad and fair —
15 That earth could have a place for me,
And thou no longer there.
Yet death cannot our hearts divide,
Or make thee less my own:
'Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side
20 Than watching here alone.
Yet never, never can we part.
While Memory holds her reign:
Thine, thine is still this wither'd heart,
Till we shall meet again.
H. F. Lyte
ccxxv
LORD VLLIN'S DAUGHTER
A Chieftain to the Highlands bound
Cries 'Boatman, do not tarry!
And I'll give thee a silver pound
To row us o'er the ferrvl'
262 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxv
'Now who be ye. would cross Lochgyle,
This dark and stormy water?'
'O I'm the chief of Ulva's isle,
And this, Lord Ullin's daughter.
5 'And fast before her father's men
Three days we've fled together.
For should he find us in the glen.
My blood would stain the heather.
'His horsemen hard behind us ride —
10 . Should they our steps discover.
Then who will cheer my bonny bride,
When they have slain her lover?'
Out spoke the hardy Highland wight,
'I'll go, my chief, I'm ready:
13 It is not for your silver bright.
But for your winsome lady: —
'And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;
So though the waves are raging white
20 I'll row you o'er the ferry.'
By this the storm grew loud apace,
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And in the scowl of Heaven each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.
25 But still as wilder blew the wind.
And as the night grew drearer,
Adown the glen rode armed men,
Their trampling sounded nearer.
'O haste thee, haste!' the lady cries.
30 'Though tempests round us gather;
I'll meet the raging of the skies,
But not an angry father.'
The boat has left a stormy land,
A stormy sea before her, —
35 When, oh! too strong for human hand
The tempest gather'd o'er her.
ccxxvi] Book Fourth 263
And still they row'd amidst the roar
Of waters fast prevailing:
Lord Ullin reach' d that fatal shore,—
His wrath was changed to wailing.
5 For, sore dismay'd, through storm and shade
His child he did discover: —
One lovely hand she stretch'd for aid.
And one was round her lover.
'Come back! come back!' he cried in grief
10 'Across tliis stonny water:
.\nd I'll forgive your Highland cliief,
My daughter!— Oh, my daughter!'
'Twas vain: the loud waves lash'd the shore.
Return or aid preventing:
The waters wild went o'er his child,
And he was left lamenting.
IS
T. Campbell
CCXXVI
LUCY GRAY
Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:
And when I cross'd the wild,
I chanced to see at break of day
The solitary child.
5 No mate, no comrade Lucy knew;
She dwelt on a wide moor,
The sweetest thing that ever grew
Beside a human door!
You yet may spy the fawn at play,
10 The hare upon the green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen.
'To-night will be a stormy night—
You to the town must go;
15 And take a lantern, Child, to light
Your mother through the snow.'
264 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxvi
'That, Father! will I gladly do:
'Tis scarcely afternoon —
The minster-clock has just struck two,
And yonder is the moon!'
5 At tliis the father raised his hook,
And snapp'd a faggot-band;
He plied his work; — and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand.
Not blither is the mountain roe:
10 With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powdery snow,
That rises up like smoke.
The storm came on before its time:
She wander'd up and down;
15 And many a hill did Lucy climb:
But never reach'd the town.
The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wnde;
But there was neither sound nor sight
20 To serve them for a guide.
At day-break on a hill they stood
That overlook 'd the moor;
And thence they saw the bridge of wood
A furlong from their door,
2i They wept — and, turning homeward, cried
In heaven we all shall meet!'
— When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet.
Then downward from the steep hill's edge
30 They track'd the footmarks small;
And through the broken hawthorn hedg©
And by the long stone wall:
And then an open field they cross'd:
The marks were still the same;
85 They track'd them on, nor ever lost;
And to the bridge they came:
CCXXvii] Book Fourth 266
They followed from the snowy bank
Those footmarks, one by one,
Into the middle of the plank;
And further there were none!
5 — Yet some maintain that to this day
She is a living child;
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome wild.
O'er rough and smooth she trips along,
10 And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind.
— W. Wordsworth.
CCXXVII
JOCK OF HAZELDEAN
'Why weep, ye by the tide, ladie?
Why weep ye by the tide?
I'll wed ye to my youngest son,
And ye sail be his bride:
5 And ye sail be his bride, ladie,
Sae comely to be seen' —
But aye she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock of Hazeldean.
'Now let this wilfu' grief be done,
10 And dry that cheek '^o pale;
Young Frank is chief of Errington
And lord of Langley-dale ;
His step is first in peaceful ha'.
His sword in battle keen' —
la But aye she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock of Hazeldean.
'A chain of gold ye sail not lack.
Nor braid to bind your hair,
Nor mettled hound, nor managed hawk,
20 Nor palfrey fresh and fair;
266 Pulgnivc's Golden Treasury [ccxxvji
And you the foremost o' them a'
Shall ride our forest-queen' —
But aye she loot the tears down fa'
For Jock of Hazeldean.
5 The kirk was deck'd at morning-tide.
The tapers glimmer'd fair;
The priest and bridegroom wait the bride,
And dame and knight are there:
They sought her baith by bower and ha';
10 The ladie was not seen!
She's o'er the Border, and awa'
Wi' Jock of Hazeldean.
Sir W. Scott
CCXXVIII
LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY
The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sw'eet emotion;
5 Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one another's being mingle —
Why not I with thine?
See the movmtains kiss high heaven.
10 And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdain'd its brother:
And the svmlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea —
15 What are all these hissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?
P. B. Shelley
ccxxx] Book Fourth 267
c;cxxix
ECHOES
How sweet the ans\\er Echo makes
To Music at night
When, roused by kite or horn, she wakes,
And far away o'er lawns and lakes
5 Goes answering light!
Yet Love hath echoes truer far
And far more sweet
Than e'er, beneath the moonlight's star,
Of horn or lute or soft guitar
10 The songs repeat.
'Tis when the sigh,^in youth sincere
And only then,
The sigh that's breathed for one to hear —
Is by that one, that only Dear
15 Breathed back again.
T. Moore
ccxxx
A SERENADE
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh,
The sun has left the lea.
The orange-flower perfumes the bower.
The breeze is on the sea.
6 The lark, his lay who thrill'd all day.
Sits hush'd his partner nigh;
Breeze, bird, and flower confess the hour.
But where is County Guy?
The \'illage maid steals through the shade
10 Her shepherd's suit to hear:
To Beauty shy, by lattice high,
Sings high-born Cavalier.
268 PaJgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxx
The star of Love, all stars above,
Now reigns o'er earth and sky,
And high and low the influence know —
But where is County Guv?
Sir Walter Scott
ccxxxi
TO THE EVENING STAR
Gem of the crimson-colour' d Even,
Companion of retiring day.
Why at the closing gates of heaven,
Beloved Star, dost thou delay?
5 So fair thy pensile beauty burns
When soft the tear of twilight flows;
So due thy plighted love returns
To chambers brighter than the rose;
To Peace, to Pleasure, and to Love
10 So kind a star thou seem'st to be,
Sure some enamour'd orb above
Descends and burns to meet wth thee.
Thine is the breathing, blushing hour
When all unheavenly passions fly,
15 Chased by the soul-subduing power
Of Love's delicious witchery,
O! sacred to the fall of day
Queen of propitious stars, appear,
And early rise, and long delay,
>0 When Caroline herself is here!
, Shine on her chosen green resort
Whose trees the sunward summit crown,
And wanton flowers, that well may court
An angel's feet to tread them down- —
25 Shine on her sweetly scented road
Thou star of evening's purple dome,
That lead'st the nightingale abroad.
And guid'st the pilgrim to his home.
ccxxxii] Book Fourth 269
Shine where my charmer's sweeter breath
Embalms the soft exhaUng dew,
Where dying winds a sigh bequeath
To kiss the cheek of rosy hue: —
5 Where, wmnow'd by the gentle air,
Her silken tresses darkly flow
And fall upon her brow so fair,
Like shadows on the mountain snow.
Thus, ever thus, at day's decline
10 In converse sweet to wander far —
O bring with thee my Caroline,
And thou shalt be my Ruling Star!
T. Campbell
CCXXXII
TO THE NIGHT
Swiftly walk over the western wave,
Spirit of Night!
Out of the misty eastern cave
Where, all the long and lone daylight,
5 Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear
Wliich make thee terrible and dear,—
Swift be thy flight!
Wrap thy form in a mantle gray
Star-inwrought;
10 Blind with thine hair the eyes of Day,
Kiss her until she he wearied out:
Then wander o'er city and sea and laud,
Touching all with thine opiate wand —
Come, long-sought!
15 When I arose and saw the dawn,
I sigh'd for thee;
When light rode high, and the dew was gone.
And noon lay heav-y on flower and tree,
And the weary Day turn'd to his rest
20 Lingering like an unloved jJest,
I sigh'd for thee.
270 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxxii
Thy brother Death came, and cried
Wouldst thou me?
Thy sweet child Sleep, the filmy-eyed,
Murmur'd like a noon-tide bee
5 Shall I nestle near thy side?
Wouldst thou me? — And I replied
No, not thee!
Death -nail come when thou art dead.
Soon, too soon —
10 Sleep will come when thou art fled;
Of neither would I ask the boon
I ask of thee, beloved Night-
Swift be thine approacliing flight,
Come soon, soon!
P. B. Shelley
CCXXXIII
TO A DISTANT FRIEND
Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant
Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air
Of absence withers what was once so fair?
Is there no debt to pay, no boon to grant?
5 Yet have my thoughts for thee been vigilant,
Bound to thy service with unceasing care —
The mind's least generous wish a mendicant
For nought but what thy happiness could spare.
Speak! — though this soft warm heart, once free to
hold
70 A thousand tender pleasures, thine and mine,
Be left more desolate, more dreary cold
Than a forsaken bird's-nest fill'd with snow
'Mid its own bush of leafless eglantine —
Speak, that my torturing doubts their end may know!
W. Wordsworth
ccxxxiv] Book Fourth 271
ccxxxiv
When we two parted
In silence and tears,
Half broken-hearted,
To sever for years,
5 Pale grew thy cheek and cold.
Colder thy kiss;
Truly that hour foretold
Sorrow to this!
The dew of the morning
10 Sunk chill on my brow;
It felt like the warning
Of what I feel now,
Thy vows are all broken,
And light is thy fame:
15 I hear thy name spoken
And share in its shame.
They name thee before me,
A knell to mine ear;
A shudder comes o'er me —
20 Why wert thou so dear?
They know not I knew thee
Who knew thee too well:
Long, long shall I rue thee,
Too deeply to tell.
25 In secret we met:
In silence I grieve
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee
30 After long years.
How should I greet thee? —
With silence and tears.
Lord Byron
10
272 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxxv
ccxxxv
HAPPY INSENSIBILITY
In a drear-nighted December,
Too happy, happy tree,
Xhy branches ne'er remember
Their green feUcity:
5 The north cannot undo them
With a sleety whistle through them,
Nor frozen thawings glue them
From budding at the prime.
In a drear-nighted December,
10 Too happy, happy brook,
Thy bubblings ne'er remember
Apollo's summer look;
But with a sweet forgetting
They stay their crystal fretting,
15 Never, never petting
About the frozen time.
Ah! would 'twere so with many
A gentle girl and boy!
But were there ever any
20 Writhed not at passed joy?
To know the change and feel it.
When there is none to heal it
Nor numbed sense to steal it —
Was never said in rhyme.
J. Keats
ccxxxvi
Where shall the lover rest
Wlx)m the fates sever
From his true maiden's breast
Parted for ever?
ccxxxvi] Book Fourth 273
Where, through groves deep and high
Sounds the far billow,
Where early violets die
Under the willow.
5 Eleu loro
Soft shall be his pillow.
There through the summer day
Cool streams are laving:
There, while the tempests sway,
10 Scarce are boughs waving;
There thy rest shalt thou take,
Parted for ever,
Never again to wake
Never, O never!
15 Eleu loro
Never, O never!
Where shall the traitor rest.
He, the deceiver,
Who could win maiden's breast,
20 Ruin, and leave her?
In the lost battle,
Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war's rattle
With groans of the dying;
25 Eleu loro
There shall he be lying.
Her wing shall the eagle flap
O'er the falsehearted;
His warm blood the wolf shall lap
30 Ere life be parted:
Shame and dishonour sit
By his grave ever;
Blessing shall hallow it
Never, O never!
35 Eleu loro
Never, O never!
Sir W. Scott
274 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxxvii
CCXXXVII
LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI
'O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.
5 'O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms! '
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel's granary is full,
And the harvest's done.
'I see a lily on thy brow
10 With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.'
'I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful — a faery's child,
15 Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
*I made a garland for her head.
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She look'd at me as she did love,
20 And made sweet moan.
'I set her on my pacing steed
And nothing else saw all day long.
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery's song.
25 'She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild and manna-dew.
And sure in language strange she said
"I love thee true."
'She took me to her elfin grot,
30 And there she wept and sigh'd full sore;
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
ccxxxviii] Book Fourth 275
'^4jid there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dream' d — Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream' d
On the cold hill's side.
5 'I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all:
They cried — "La belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!"
'I saw their starved lips in the gloam
10 With horrid warning gaped wide,
And I awoke and found me here
On the cold hill's side.
'And this is why I sojourn here
Alone and palely loitering,
IS Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake,
And no birds sing.'
J Keats
CCXXXVIII
THE ROVER
A weary lot is thine, fair maid,
A weary lot is thine!
To pull the thorn thy brow to braid,
And press the rue for wine.
5 A lightsome eye, a soldier's mien,
A feather of the blue,
A doublet of the Lincoln green —
No more of me you knew
My Love!
10 No more of me you knew.
'This mom is merry June, I trow,
The rose is budding fain;
But she shall bloom in winter snow
Ere we two meet again.'
276 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxxxviii
He turn'd bis charger as he spake
Upon the river shore,
He gave the bridal-reins a shake.
Said 'Adieu for evermore
My Love!
And adieu for evermore.'
Sir W. Scott
CCXXXIX
THE FLIGHT OF LOVE
When the lamp is shatter'd
The Ught in the dust hes dead —
When the cloud is scatter'd,
The rainbow's glory is shed.
5 When the lute is broken,
Sweet tones are remember'd not;
When the lips have spoken,
Loved accents are soon forgot.
As music and splendour
10 Survive not the lamp and the lute,
The heart's echoes render
No song when the spirit is mute —
No song but sad dirges.
Like the wind through a ruin'd cell,
15 Or the mournful surges
That ring the dead seaman's knell.
When hearts have once mingled,
Love first leaves the well-built nest;
The weak one is singled
20 To endure what it once possesst.
O Love! who bewailest
The frailty of all things here,
Why choose you the frailest
For your cradle, your home, and your bier?
ccxl] Book Fourth 277
Its passions will rock thee
As the storms rock the ravens on high;
Bright reason will mock thee
Like the sun from a wintry sky.
5 From thy nest every rafter
Will rot, and thine eagle home
Leave thee naked to laughter,
When leaves fall and cold winds come.
P. B. Shelley
CCXL
THE MAID OF NEIDPATH
O lovers' eyes are sharp to see,
And lovers' ears in hearing;
And love, in life's extremity,
Can lend an hour of cheering.
5 Disease had been in Mary's bower
And slow decay from mourning.
Though now she sits on Neidpath's tower
To watch her Love's returning.
All sunk and dim her eyes so bright,
10 Her form decay'd by pining.
Till through her wasted hand, at night,
You saw the taper shining.
By fits a sultry hectic hue
Across her cheek w^as flying;
15 By fits so ashy pale she grew
Her maidens thought her djnng.
Yet keenest powers to see and hear
Seem'd in her frame residing;
Before the watch-dog prick'd his ear
20 She heard her lover's riding;
Ere scarce a distant form was kenn'd
She knew and waved to greet him.
And o'er the battlement did bend
As on the wing to meet him.
278 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxl
He came — he pass'd — an heedless gaze
As o'er some stranger glancing;
Her welcome, spoke in faltering phrase,
Lost in his courser's prancing —
5 The castle-arch, whose hollow tone
Returns each whisper spoken,
Could scarcely catch the feeble moan
Which told her heart was broken.
Sir W. Scott
CCXLI
Earl March look'd on his dying child,
And, smit with grief to view her —
The youth, he cried, whom I exiled
Shall be restored to woo her.
5 She's at the window many an hour
His coming to discover:
And he look'd up to Ellen's bower
And she look'd on her lover —
But ah! so pale, he knew her not,
10 Though her smile on him was dwelling—
And am I then forgot — forgot?
It broke the heart of Ellen.
In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs,
Her cheek is cold as ashes;
16 Nor love's own kiss shall wake those eyes
To lift their silken lashes.
T. Campbell
CCXLII
Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art-
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,
And watching, with eternal lids apart.
Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite.
ccxliii] Book Fourth 279
The moving waters at their priestHke task
Of pure ablution round earth's human shores,
Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask
Of snow upon the mountains and the moors: —
5 No — yet still steadfast, still unchangeable,
Pillow'd upon my fair Love's ripening breast
To feel forever its soft fall and swell,
Awake forever in a sweet unrest;
Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath,
10 And so live ever, — or else swoon to death.
J. Keats
CCXLIU
THE TERROR OF DEATH
When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain.
Before high-piled books, in charact'ry
Hold Hke rich garners the full-ripen 'd grain;
5 When I behold, upon the night's starr'd face.
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance
And when I feel, fair Creature of an hour!
10 That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faerj^ power
Of unreflecting love — then on the shore
Of the wide world I stand alone, and think
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
J. Keata
280 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxliv
CCXLIV
DESIDERIA
Surprized by joy — impatient as the wind —
I turn'd to share the transport — Oh I witli whom
But Thee — deep buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
5 Love, faithful love recall'd thee to my mind —
But how could I forget thee? Through what power
Even for the least division of an hour
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss! — That thought's retura
10 Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart's best treasure was no more:
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore,
W. Wordsworth
CCXLV
At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly
To the lone vale we loved, when life shone warm in
tliine eye;
And I think oft, if spirits can steal from the regions
of air
To revisit past scenes of delight, thou wilt come to
me there
5 And tell me our love is remember'd, even in the skyi
Then I sing the wild song it once was rapture to hear
When our voices, commingling, breathed like one on
the ear;
And as Echo far off through the vale my sad orison
rolls.
ccxlvi] Book Fourth 281
I think, oh my Love! 'tis thy voice, from the Kingdom
of Souls
Faintly answering still the notes that once were so
dear.
T. Moore
CCXLVI
ELEGY ON THYRZA
And thou art dead, as young and fair
As aught of mortal birth;
And forms so soft and charms so rare
Too soon return'd to Earth!
6 Though Earth received them in her bed,
And o'er the spot the crowd may tread
In carelessness or mirth,
There is an eye which could not brook
A moment on that grave to look.
BO I will not ask where thou liest low
Nor gaze upon the spot;
There flowers or weeds at will may grow
So I behold them not:
It is enough for me to prove
15 That what I loved, and long must love,
Like common earth can rot;
To me there needs no stone to tell
'Tis Nothing that I loved so well.
Yet did I love thee to the last,
20 As fervently as thou
Who didst not change through all the past
And canst not alter now.
The love where Death has set his seal
Nor age can chill, nor rival steal,
25 Nor falsehood disavow:
And, what were worse, thou canst not see
Or wrong, or change, or fault in mc.
282 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxlvi
The better days of life were ours;
The worst can be but mine:
The sun that cheers, the storm that lours.
Shall never more be tliine.
S The silence of that dreamless sleep
I en',y now too much to weep;
No" need I to repine
That all those charms have pass'd away
I might have wateh'd through long decay.
10 The flower in ripen'd bloom unmatch'd
Must fall the earliest prey;
Though by no hand untimely snatch'd.
The leaves must drop away.
And yet it were a greater grief
i5 To watch it withering, leaf by leaf,
Than see it pluck'd today;
Since earthly eye but ill can bear
To trace the change to foul from fair.
I know not if I could have borne
20 To see thy beauties fade;
The night that follow'd such a mom
Had worn a deeper shade:
Thy day without a cloud hath past.
And thou wert lovely to the last,
25 Extinguish'd, not decay 'd;
As stars that shoot along the sky
Shine brightest as they fall from high.
As once I wept, if I could weep,
My tears might weW be shed
30 To think I was not near, to keep
One \agil o'er thy bed:
To gaze, how fondly! on thy face.
To fold thee in a faint embrace,
Uphold thy drooping head;
35 And show that love, however vain,
Nor thou nor I can feel again.
Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free.
The loveliest things that still remaip
40 Than thus remember thee!
ccxlviii] Book Fourth 283
The all of thine that cannot die
Through dark and dread Eternity
Returns again to me,
And more thy buried love endears
5 Than aught except its living years.
Lord Byron
CCXLVII
One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,
One feeling too falsely disdain'd
For thee to disdain it.
5 One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother,
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
I can give not what men call love;
10 But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above
And the Heavens reject not:
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow,
15 The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?
P. B. Shelley
CCXLVIII
GATHERING SOXG OF DONALD THE BLACK
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
Pibroch of Donuil
Wake thy wild voice anew.
Summon Clan Conuil.
284 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxlviii
Come away, come away,
Hark to the summons!
Come in your war-array,
Gentles and commons.
5 Come from deep glen, and
From mountain so rocky:
The war-pipe and pennon
Are at Inverlocky.
Come every hill-plaid, and
10 True heart that wears one,
Come every steel blade, and
Strong hand that bears one.
Leave untended the herd.
The flock without shelter;
15 Leave the corpse uninterr'd,
The bride at tha altar;
Leave the deer, leave the steer.
Leave nets and barges;
Come with your fighting gear,
20 Broadswords and targes.
Come as the winds come, when
Forests are rended,
Come as the waves come, when
Navies are stranded:
25 Faster come, faster come.
Faster and faster,
Chief, vassal, page and groom,
Tenant and master.
Fast they come, fast they come;
30 See how they gather!
Wide waves the eagle plume
Blended with heather.
Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
Forward each man set!
35 Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
Knell for the onset!
Sir W. Scott
icl] Book Fourth 28b
CCXLIX
A wet sheet and a flowing sea,
A wind that follows fast
And fills the white and rustling sail
And bends the gallant mast;
5 And bends the gallant mast, my boys,
While like the eagle free
Away the good ship flies, and leaves
Old England on the lee.
O for a soft and gentle wind!
10 I heard a fair one cry;
But give to me the snoring breeze
And white waves heaving high;
And white waves heaving high, my lads,
The good ship tight and free —
15 The world of waters is our home,
And merry men are we.
There's tempest in yon horned moon.
And lightning in yon cloud;
But hark the music, mariners!
2G The wind is piping loud;
The wind is piping loud, my boys,
The lightning flashes free —
While the hollow oak our palace is.
Our heritage the sea.
A. Cunningham
CCL
Ye Mariners of England
That guard our native seas!
Whose flag has braved, a thousand years.
The battle and the breeze!
Your glorious standard launch again
To match another foe:
286 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccl
And sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow;
While the battle rages loud and long
And the stormy winds do blow.
5 The spirits of your fathers
Shall start from every wave —
For the deck it was their field of fame.
And Ocean was their grave:
Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell
10 Your manly hearts shall glow,
As ye sweep through the deep.
While the stormy winds do blow;
While the battle rages loud and long
And the stormy winds do blow.
5 Britannia needs no bulwarks,
No towers along the steep;
Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,
Her home is on the deep.
With thunders from her native oak
20 She quells the floods below —
As they roar on the shore,
When the stormy winds do blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.
25 The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn;
Till danger's troubled night depart
And the star of peace return.
Then, then, ye ocean-warriors!
30 Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,
When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.
T. Campbell
ccli] Book Fourth 28?
CCLI
BATTLE OF THE BALTIC
Of Nelson and the North
Sing the glorious day's renown.
When to battle fierce came forth
All the might of Denmark's crown,
5 And her arms along the deep proudly shone;
By each gun the lighted brand
In a bold determined hand.
And the Prince of all the land
Led them on.
10 Like leviathans afloat
Lay their bulwarks on the brine;
While the sign of battle flew
On the lofty British hne:
It was ten of April mom by the chime:
15 As they drifted on their path
There was silence deep as death;
And the boldest held his breath
For a time.
But the might of England flush'd
20 To anticipate the scene;
And her van the fleeter rush'd
O'er the deadly space between.
'Hearts of oak!' our captains cried, when each gun
From its adamantine lips
25 Spread a death-shade round the ships,
Like the hurricane eclipse
Of the sun.
Again! again! again!
And the havoc did not slack,
30 Till a feeble cheer the Dane
To our cheering sent us back; —
Their shots along, the deep slowly boom: —
Then ceased — and all is wail,
As they strike the shatter'd sail;
35 Or in conflagration pale
Light the gloom.
288 Palgravc's Golden Treasury [ccLi
Out spoke the victor then
As he hail'd them o'er the wave,
'Ye are brothers! ye are men!
And we conquer but to save: —
6 So peace instead of death let us bring;
But yield, proud foe, thy fleet
With the crews, at England's feet,
And make submission meet
To our King.'
10 Then Denmark bless'd our chief
That he gave her Vvounds repose;
And the sounds of joy and grief
From her people wildly rose,
As death withdrew his shades from the day:
15 While the sun look'd smiling bright
O'er a wide and woeful sight,
Where the fires of fvmeral light
Died away.
Now joy, old England, raise!
20 For the tidings of thy might, '
By the festal cities' blaze,
Whilst the wine-cup shines in light;
And yet amidst that joy and uproar,
Let us think of them that sleep
25 Full many a fathoin deep
By thy wild and stonny steep,
Elsinore!
Brave hearts! to Britain's pride
Once so faithful and so true,
?0 On the deck of fame that died.
With the gallant good Riou:
Soft sigh the winds of Heaven o'er theii gravel
While the billow mournful rolls
And the mermaid's song condoles
35 Singing glory to the souls
Of the brave'
T. Campbell
ccliij Book Fourth 289
CCLII
ODE TO DUTY
Stem Daughter of the Voice of God!
O Duty! if that name thou love
Who art a Hght to guide, a rod
To check the erring, and reprove;
5 Thou vk^ho art victory and law
When empty terrors overawe:
From vain temptations dost set free,
And calm'st the weary strife of frail humanity!
There are who ask not if thine eye
10 Be on them; who, in love and truth
Where no misgiving is, rely
Upon the genial sense of youth:
Glad hearts! without reproach or blot,
Who do thy work, and know it not:
15 Oh! if through confidence misplaced
They fail, thy saving arms, dread Power! around them
cast.
Serene will be our days and bright
And happy will our nature be
When love is an unerring light,
20 And joy its own security.
And they a blissful course may hold
Ev'n now, who, not unwisely bold,
Live in the spirit of this creed;
Yet seek thy firm support, according to their need.
25 I, loving freedom, and untried,
No sport of every random gust,
Yet being to myself a guide.
Too blindly have reposed my trust:
And oft, w^ien in my heart was heard
30 Thy timely mandate, I deferr'd
The task, in smoother walks to stray;
But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may.
290 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclii
Through no disturbance of my soul
Or strong compunction in me wrought,
I supplicate for thy controul,
But in the quietness of thought:
5 Me this uncharter'd freedom tires;
I feel the weight of chance-vdesires:
My hopes no more must change their name;
I long for a repose that ever is the same.
Stem Lawgiver! yet thou dost wear
10 The Godhead's most benignant grace;
Nor know we anything so fair
As is the smile upon thy face:
Flowers laugh before thee on their beds,
And fragrance in thy footing treads;
15 Thou dost preserve the Stars from wrong;
And the most ancient Heavens, through Thee, are
fresh and strong.
To humbler functions, awful Power!
I call thee: I myself commend
Unto thy guidance from this hour;
20 Oh let my weakness have an end!
Give unto me, made lowly wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give;
And in the light of truth thy Bondman let me live.
W. Wordsworth
CCLIII
ON THE CASTLE OF CHILLON
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Brightest in dungeons. Liberty! thou art,
For there thy habitation is the heart —
The heart which love of Thee alone can bind;
And when thy sons to fetters are consign'd.
To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom,
Their country conquers with their martyrdom.
And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind.
cclv] Book Fourth 291
Chillon! thy prison is a holy place
And thy sad floor an altar, for 'twas trod,
Until his very steps have left a trace
Worn as if thy cold pavement were a sod,
5 By Bonnivard! May none those marks efface!
For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Lord Byron
CCLIV
ENGLAND AND SWITZERLAND, 1802
Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea,
One of the Mountains; each a mighty voice:
In both from age to age thou didst rejoice,
They were thy chosen music. Liberty!
5 There came a tyrant, and with holy" glee
Thou fought'st against him, — but hast vainly striven :
Thou from thy Alpine holds at length art driven,
Where not a torrent murmurs heard by thee.
— Of one deep bliss thine ear hath been bereft;
10 Then cleave, O cleave to that which still is left —
For, high-soul 'd Maid, what sorrow would it be
That Mountain floods should thunder as before,
And Ocean bellow from his rocky shore.
And neither awful Voice be heard by Thee!
W. Wordsworth
CCLV
ON THE ENTINCTION OF THE VENETL4.N
REPUBLIC
Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee
And was the safeguard of the West; the worth
Of Venice did not fall below her birth,
Venice, the eldest child of Liberty.
292 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cciv
She was a maiden city, bright and free;
No guile seduced, no force could violate;
And when she took unto herself a mate,
She must espouse the everlasting Sea.
5 And what if she had seen those glories fade,
Those titles vanish, and that strength decay, —
Yet shall some tribute of regret be paid
When her long life hath reach'd its final day:
Men are we, and must grieve when even the sliade
10 Of that which once was great is pass'd away.
W. WordswortTi
CCL.VI
LONDON, 1802
O Friend 1 I know not which way I must look
For. comfort, being, as I am, opprest
To think that now our life is only drest
For show; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook,
B Or groom! — We must run glittering like a brook
In the open sunshine, or we are un blest;
The wealthiest man among us is the best:
No grandeur now in nature or in book
Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense,
10 This is idolatry; and these we adore:
Plain living and high thinking are no more:
The homely beauty of the good old cause
Is gone; our peace, our fearful innocence,
And. pure religion breathing household laws.
W. Wordsworth
CCLvn
THE SAME
Miltonl thou shouldst be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen.
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
eclix] Book Fourth 293
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men:
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
5 Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart:
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea,
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free;
So didst thou travel on life's common way
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
10 The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
W. Wordsworth
CCLVIII
When I have borne in memory what has tamed
Great nations; how ennobling thoughts depart
When men change swords for ledgers, and desert
The student's bower for gold, — some fears unnamed
5 I had, my Country! — am I to be blamed?
Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art,
Verily, in the bottom of my heart
Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed.
For dearly must we prize thee; we who find
10 In thee a bulwark for the cause of men;
And I by my affection was beguiled:
What wonder if a Poet now and then.
Among the many movements of his mind.
Felt for thee as a lover or a child!
W. Wordsworth
CCLIX
HOHENLINDEN
On Linden, when the sun was low.
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow;
And dark as winter was the flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
294 Palgrave's Golden Treasury (ccLa
But Linden saw another sight,
When the drum beat at dead of night
Commanding fires ot death to hght
The darkness of her scenery.
6 By torch and trumpet fast array'd
Each horseman drew his battle-blade,
And furious every charger neigh'd
To join the dreadful revelry.
Then shook the liills with thunder riven;
10 Then rush'd the steed, to battle driven;
And louder than the bolts of Heaven
Far flash'd the red artillery.
But redder yet that light shall grow
On Linden's hills of stained snow;
15 And bloodier yet the torrent flow
Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
'Tis morn; but scarce yon level sun
Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun,
Where furious Frank and fiery Him
20 Shout in their sulphurous canopy.
The combat deepens. On, ye Brave
Who rush to glory, or the grave!
Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave.
And charge with all thy chivalry!
25 Few, few shall part, where many meet!
The snow shall be their winding-sheet,
And every turf beneath their feet
Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
T. Campbell
CCLX
AFTER BLENHEIM
It was a summer evening,
Old Kaspar's work was done,
And he before his cottage door
Was sitting in the sun;
6 And by him sported on the green
His little grandchild Wilhelmine.
cclx] Book Fourth 295
She saw her brother Peterkiii
Roll something large and round
Which he beside the rivulet
In playing there had founr',
5 He came to ask what he had foinid
That was so large and smooth and round.
Old Kaspar took it from the boy
Who stood expectant by;
And then the old man sliook his head,
10 And with a natural sigh
"Tis some poor's fellow's skull,' said he,
'Who fell in the great victory.
'I find them in the garden.
For there's many here about;
15 And often when I go to plough
The ploughshaK? turns them out.
For many thousand men,' said he,
'Were slain in that great victory.'
'Now tell us what 'twas all about,'
20 Young Peterkin he cries:
And httle Wilhelmine looks up
With wonder- waiting eyes;
'Now tell us all about the war.
And what they fought each other for.'
25 'It was the EngHsh.' Kaspar cried,
'Who put the French to rout;
But what they fought each other for
I could not well make out.
But every body said,' quoth he,
m 'That 'twas a famous victory.
'My father lived at Blenheim then,
Yon little stream hard by;
They burnt his dwelling to the ground.
And he was forced to fly;
35 So with his wife and child he fled,
Nor had he where to rest his head.
'With fire and sword the country round
Was wasted far and wide.
296 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclx
And many a childing mother then
And newborn baby died:
But things hke that, you know, must be
At every famous victory.
6 'They say it was a shocking sight
.After the field was won;
For many thousand bodies here
Lay rotting in the sun:
But things hke that, you know, must be
10 After a famous victory.
'Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won
And our good Prince Eugene;'
'Why 'twas a very wicked thing!'
Said httle Wilhelmine;
15 'Nay . . nay . . my little girl,' quoth he,
'It was a famous victory.
'And every body praised the Duke
Who this great fight did win.'
' But what good came of it at last?'
20 Quoth little Peterkin:—
'Why that I cannot tell,' said he,
' But 'twas a famous victory.'
R. Southey
CCLXI
PRO P ATRIA MORI
When he who adores thee has left but the name
Of his fault and his sorrows behind,
•Oh! say wilt thou weep, when they darken the fame
Of a life that for thee was resign'd!
fes. weep, and however my foes may condemn,
Thy tears shall efface their decree;
For, Heaven can witness, though guilty to them,
I have been but too faithful to thee.
cclxii] Book Fourth 297
With thee were the dreams of my earliest love;
Every thought of my reason was thine:
In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above
Thy name shall be mingled with mine!
5 Oh! blest are the lovers and friends who shall live
The days of thy glorj^ to see;
But the next dearest blessing that Heaven can give
Is the pride of thus dving for thee.
T. Moore
CCLXII
THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE
AT CORUXNA
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corpse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning;
By the struggling moonbeam's misty hght
And the lantern dimly burning.
No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
10 Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
}5 But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead^
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we hoUow'd his narrow bed
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger w^ould tread o'er his
head,
20 And we far away on the billow!
Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him, —
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
298 Palgravc's Golden Treasury [cclxij
But half of ovir heavy task was done
When the clock struok the hour for retiring:
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.
5 Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone.
But we left him alone with his glory.
C. Wolfe
CCLXIII
SIMON LEE THE OLD HUNTSMAN
In the sweet shire of Cardigan,
Not far from pleasant Ivor Hall,
An old man dwells, a little man, —
'Tis said he once was tall.
5 Full five-and-thirty years he lived
A running huntsman merry;
And still the centre of his cheek
Is red as a ripe cherry.
No man like him the horn could sound,
10 And hill and valley rang with glee,
When Echo bandied, round and round,
The halloo of Simon Lee.
In those proud days he little cared
For husbandry or tillage;
15 To blither tasks did Simon rouse
The sleepers of the village.
He all the country could outrun,
Could leave both man and horse behind:
And often, ere the chase was done,
20 He reel'd and was stone-blind.
And still there's something in the world
At which his heart rejoices;
For when the chiming hounds are out,
He dearly loves their voices.
cclxiii] Book Fourth 299
Bue oh the heavy change! — bereft
Of health, strength, friends and kindred, seel
Old Simon to the world is left
In hveried poverty: —
5 His master's dead, and no one now
Dwells in the Hall of Ivor;
Men, dogs, and horses, all are dead;
He is the sole sur\'ivor.
And he is lean and he is sick,
10 His body, dwindled and awry.
Rests upon ankles swoln and thick;
His legs are tliin and dry.
One prop he has, and only one, —
His wife, an aged woman,
15 Lives with him, near the waterfall,
Upon the village common.
Beside their moss-grown hut of clay,
Not twenty paces from the door,
A scrap of land they have, but they
20 Are poorest of the poor.
This scrap of land he from the heath
Enclosed when he was stronger;
But what to them avails the land
Which he can till no longer?
25 Oft, working by her husband's side,
Ruth does what Simon cannot do;
For she, with scanty cause for pride,
Is stouter of the two.
And, though you with your utmost skill
30 From labour could not wean them,
'Tis httle, very Utile, all
That they can do between them.
Few months of life has he in store
As he to you will tell,
35 For stiU, the more he works, the more
Do his weak ankles swell.
My gentle Reader, I perceive
How patiently you've waited.
And now I fear that you exj^ect
40 Some tale will be related.
300 Palgrave's Golden Treasury rcclxiii
O Reader! had you in your mind
Such stores as silent thought can bring,
gentle Reader! you would find
A tale in every thing.
5 What more I have to say is short,
And you must kindly take it:
It is no tale; but, should you think.
Perhaps a tale you'll make it.
One summer-day I chanced to see
10 This old Man doing all he could
To unearth the root of an old tree,
A stump of rotten wood.
The mattock totter'd in his hand;
So vain was his endeavour
15 That at the root of the old tree
He might have work'd for ever.
'You're overtask'd, good Simon Lee,
Give me your tool,' to him I said;
And at the word right gladly he
20 Received my proffer'd aid.
1 struck, and with a single blow
The tangled root I sever'd,
At which the poor old man so long
And vainly had endeavour'd.
25 The tears into his eyes were brought.
And thanks and praises seem'd to run
So fast out of his heart, I thought
They never would have done.
— I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deed
30 With coldness still returning;
Ala»! the gratitude of men
Hath oftener left me mourning.
W. Wordsworth
CCLXIV
THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES
I have had playmates, I have had companions.
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
cclxv] Book Fourth 301
I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I loved a Love once, fairest among women:
5 Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her —
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man:
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.
10 Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood.
Earth seem'd a desert I was bound to traverse.
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.
Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling?
15 So might we talk of the old familiar faces.
How some they have died, and some they have left
me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
C. Lamb
CCLXV
THE JOURNEY ONWARDS
As slow our sliip her foamy track
Against the wind was cleaving,
Her trembling pennant still look'd ba"-k
To that dear isle 'twas leaving.
'■') So loth we part from all we love,
From all the links that bind us;
So turn our hearts, as on we rove,
To those we've left beliind us!
When, round the bowl, of vanish'd years
10 We talk with joyous seeming —
With smiles that might as well be tears,
So faint, so sad their beaming;
302 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxv
While memory brings us back again
Each early tie that twined us,
Oh, sweet's the cup that circles then
To those we've left behind us!
5 And when, in other climes, we meet
Some isle or vale enchanting,
Where all looks flowery, wild, and sweet,
And nought but love is wanting;
We think how great had been our bliss
10 If Heaven had but assign'd us
To live and die in scenes like this,
With some we've left behind us!
As travellers oft look back at eve
When eastward darkly going,
15 To gaze upon that light they leave
Still faint behind them glowing, —
So, when the close of pleasure's day
To gloom hath near consign'd us,
We turn to catch one fading ray
20 Of joy that's left behind us.
T. Moore
CCLXVI
YOUTH AND AGE
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes
away
When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's
dull decay;
'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone,
which fades so fast.
But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth
itself be past.
6 Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of
happiness
Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt, or ocean of excess:
The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in
vain
The shore to which their shiver'd sail shall never
stretch again.
cclxvii] Book Fourth 303
Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself
comes down;
It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its
own;
That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain ot our
tears,
And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where t!.e
ice appears.
5 Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth
distract the breast,
Through midnight hours that yield no more their
former hope of rest;
'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreathe,
All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and
gray beneath.
. Oh could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have been,
10 Or weep as I could once have wept o'er many a van-
ish 'd scene, —
As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish
though they be,
So midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would
flow to me!
Lord Byron
CCLXVII
A LESSON
There is a Flower, the lesser Celandine,
That shrinks like many more from cold and rain,
And the first moment that the sun may shine,
Bright as the sun himself, 'tis out again!
5 When hailstones have been falling, swarm on swarni,
C>r blasts the green field and the trees distrest,
Oft have I seen it muffled up from harm
In close self-shelter, like a thing at rest.
But lately, one rough day, this Flower I past,
10 And recognized it, though an alter'd form.
Now standing forth an offering to the blast,
And buffeted at will bv rain and storm.
304 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxvii
I stopp'd and said, with inly-mutter'd voice,
' It doth not love the shower, nor seek the cold
This neither is its courage nor its choice.
But its necessity in being old.
5 .'The sunshine may not cheer it, nor the dew;
It cannot help itself in its decay;
Stiff in its members, wither'd, changed of hue,' — •
And, in my spleen, I smiled that it was gray.
To be a prodigal's favourite — then, w'orse truth,
10 A miser's pensioner — behold our lot!
O Man! that from thy fair and shining youth
Age might but take the tilings Youth needed not!
W. Wordsworth
CCLXVIII
PAST AND PRESENT
I remember, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
5 He never came a wink too soon
Nor brought too long a day;
But now, I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.
I remember, I remember
10 The roses, red and white.
The violets, and the lily-cups —
Those flowers made of light!
The lilacs where the robin built.
And where my brother set
15 The laburnum on his birth-day, —
The tree is living yet!
I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing.
And thought the air must rush as fresh
90 To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then
That is so heavy now.
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow.
celxlx] Booh Fourth 305
I remember, I remember
The fir trees dark and high;
I used to think their slender tops
"Were close ap-ainst the sky:
5 It was a childish ignorance,
But now 'tis little joy
To know I'm farther off from ITeaven
Than when I was a boy.
T. Hood.
CCLXIX
THE LIGHT OF OTHEB DATS
Oft in the stilly night
Ere slumber's chain has bound me.
Fond Memory brings the light
Of other days around me:
5 The smiles, the tears
Of boyhood's years.
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm'd and gone,
10 The cheerful hearts now broken:
Thus in the stilly night
Ere slumber 's chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
15 When I remember all
The friends so link'd together
I've seen around me fall
Like leaves in wintry weather,
I feel like one
20 Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
AVhose lights are fled
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!
25 Thus in the stilly night
Ere slumber's cliain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
T. Moore
306 Palgrave'a Golden Treasury [cclxx
CCLXX
STANZAS WRITTEN IN DEJECTION
NEAR NAPLES
The sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright,
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
The purple noon's transparent might:
5 The breath of the moist earth is light
Around its unexpanded buds;
Like many a voice of one delight —
The winds', the birds', the ocean -floods' —
The city's voice itself is soft like Solitude's.
10 I see the deep's untrampled floor
With green and purple sea- weeds strown;
I see the waves upon the shore
Like light dissoL'ed in star-showers thrown:
I sit upon the sands alone;
15 The lightning of the noon-tide ocean
Is flashing round nie, and a tone
Arises from its measured motion — •
How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion
Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
20 Nor peace within nor calm around.
Nor that content, surpassing wealth,
The sage in meditation found,
And walk'd with inward glory crown'd — •
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure;
25 Others I see Avhom these svirround —
Smihng they live, and call life pleasure;
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Yet now despair itself is mild
Even as the winds and waters are;
30 I could lie down like a tired child.
And weep away the life of care
Which I have borne, and yet must bear, —
Till death like sleep might steal on me,
And I might feel in the wann air
35 My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea*
Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
P. B. Shelley
ctixxii] Book Fourth 30i
CCLXXI
THE SCHOLAR
My days among the Dead are past;
Around nie I behold,
Where'er these casual eyes are cast,
''"he mighty minds of old:
5 My never-failing friends are they,
With whom I converse day by day
With them I take delight in weal
And seek relief in woe;
And while I understand and feel
10 How much to them I owe,
My cheeks have often been bedew'd
With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
My thoughts are with the Dead; with them
I live in long-past years,
15 Their virtues love, their favilts condemn,
Partake their hopes and fears.
And from their lessons seek and find
Instruction with an humble mind.
My hopes are with the Dead; anon
20 My place with them will be,
And I with them shall travel on
Through all Futurity;
Yet leaving here a name, I trust,
That will not perish in the dust.
R. Southey
CCLXXII
THE MERMAID TAVERN
Souls of Poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern.
Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
S Have ye tippled drink more fine
Than mine host's Canary wine?
308 Palgrave's Golden Treasury Icclxxii
Or are fruits of Paradise
Sweeter than those dainty pies
Of venison? O generous food!
Drest as though bold Robin Hood
5 Would, with his Maid Marian,
Sup and bowse from horn and can.
I have heard that on a day
Mine host's sign-board flew away
Nobody knew whither, till
10 An astrologer's old quill
To a sheepskin gave the story,
Said he saw you in your glory,
Underneath a new-old sign
Sipping beverage di\ane,
15 And pledging with contented smack
The Mermaid in the Zodiac.
Souls of Poets dead and gone,
What Elysium have ye known,
Happy field or mossy cavern,
20 Choicer than the Mermaid Tavern?
J. Keats
CCLXXIII
THE PRIDE OF YOUTH
Proud Maisie is in the wood,
Walking so early;
Sweet Robin sits on the bush.
Singing so rarely.
5 'Tell me, thou bonny bird,
When shall I marry me?
— 'When six braw gentlemen
Kirkward shall carry ye.'
'Who makes the bridal bed,
10 Birdie, say truly?'
— 'The gray-headed sexton
That delves the grave duly.
ccixxi\] Book Fourth 309
'The glowworm o'er grave and stone
Shall light thee steady;
The owl from the steeple sing
Welcome, proud lady.'
Sir W. Scott
CCLXXIV
THE BRIDGE OF SI-GHS
One more Unfortunate
Weary of breath
Rashly importunate,
Gone to her death!
5 Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
Fashion 'd so slenderly.
Young, and so fair!
Look at her garments
10 Clinging like cerements;
Whilst the wave constantly
Drips from her clothing;
Take her up instantly,
Loving, not loatliing.
15 Touch her not scornfully;
Think of her mournfully,
Gently and hvmianly;
Not of the stains of her —
All that remains of her
20 Now is pure womanly.
Make no deep scrutiny
Into her mutiny
Rash and innlutiful:
Past all dishonour,
25 Death has left on her
Only the beautiful.
Still, for all slips of hers,
One of Eve's family —
Wipe those poor lips of hers
30 Oozing so cUimmily.
310 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxiv
Loop up her tresses
Escaped from the comb,
Her fair auburn tresses;
Whilst wonderment guesses
5 Where was her home?
Who was her father?
Who was her mother?
Had'she a sister?
Had she a brother?
10 Or was there a dearer one
Still, and a nearer one
Yet, than all other?
Alas! for the rarity
Of Christian charity
15 Under the sun!
Oh! it was pitiful!
Near a whole city full,
Home she had none.
Sisterly, brotherly,
20 Fatherly, motherly
Feelings had changed:
Love, by harsh evidence.
Thrown from its eminence;
Even God's providence
25 Seeming estranged.
Where the lamps quiver
So far in the river,
With many a light
From window and casement,
30 From garret to basement,
She stood, with amazement,
Houseless by night.
The bleak wind of March
Made her tremble and shiver
35 But not the dark arch.
Or the black flowing river:
Mad from life's history,
cclxxiv] Book Fourth 311
Glad to death's mystery
Swift to be hurl'd—
Any where, any where
Out of the world!
5 In she plunged boldly,
No matter how coldly
The rough river ran, —
Over the brink of it, ,
Picture it — think of it, !
10 , Dissolute Man!
TL.ave in it, drink of it.
Then, if you can!
Take her up tenderly,
Lift her with care;
15 Fashion'd so slenderly, i*.
Young, and so fair!
Ere her limbs frigidly
Stiffen too rigidly.
Decently, kindly,
20 Smooth and compose themj
And her eyes, close them,
Staring so blindly!
Dreadfully staring
Thro' muddy impurity,
25 As when with the daring
Last look of despairing
Fix'd on futurity.
Perishing gloomily,
Spurr'il by contumely,
30 Cold inhumanity,
Burning insanity.
Into her rest.
— Cross her hands humbly
As if praying dumbly,
35 Over her breast!
Owning her weakness,
Her evil behaviour,
And leaving, with meekness.
Her sins to her Saviour.
T. Hood
312 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxv
CCLXXV
ELEGY
Oh snatch'd away in beauty's bloom!
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year,
5 And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:
And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, .
And feed deep thought with many a dream.
And lingering pause and lightly tread;
10 Fond wretch! as if her step disturb'd the deadl
Away! we know that tears are vain.
That Death nor heeds nor hears distress:
Will this unteach us to complain?
Or make one mourner weep the less?
15 And thou, who tell'st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.
Lord Byron
CCLXXVI
HESTER
When maidens such as Hester die
Their place ye may not well supply,
Though ye among a thousand try
With vain endeavour.
5 A month or more hath she been dead,
Yet cannot I by force be led
To think upon the wormy bed
And her together.
A springy motion in her gait,
10 A rising step, did indicate
Of pride and joy no common rate
That flush'd her spirit:
I know not by what name beside
I shall it call: if 'twas not pride,
15 It was a joy to that allied
She did inherit.
cclxxvii] Book Fourth 313
Her parents held tlie Quaker rule,
Which doth the human feeling cool;
But she was train'd in Nature's schooij
Nature had blest her.
5 A waking eye, a prying mind,
A heart that stirs, is hard to bind;
A hawk's keen sight ye cannot blind.
Ye could not Hester.
My sprightly neighbour! gone before
10 To that unknown and silent shore,
Shall we not meet, as heretofore
Some summer morning —
When from thy cheerful eyes a ray
Hath struck a bliss upon the day,
15 A bliss that would not go away,
A sweet fore-warning?
C. Lamb
CCLXXVII
TO MARY
If I had thought thou couldst have died,
I might not weep for thee;
But I forgot, when by thy side.
That thou couldst mortal be:
6 It never through my mind had past
The time wouUl e'er be o'er.
And I on tliec should look my last.
And thou shouldst smile no more!
And still upon that face I look,
10 And third-: 'twill smile again;
And still the tliought I will not brook
That I must look in vain!
"But when I speak — thou dost not say
What thou ne'er left'st unsaid;
15 And now I feel, as well I may.
Sweet Mary! thou art dead!
314 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxv'
If thou wouldst stay, e'en as thou art,
All cold and all serene —
I still might press thy silent heart,
And where thy smiles have been.
6 While e'en thy chill, bleak corse I have,
Thou seemest still mine own;
But there I lay thee in thy grave —
And I am now alone!
I do not think, where'er thou art,
10 Thou hast forgotten me;
And I, perhaps, may soothe this heart,
In thinking too of thee:
Yet there was round thee such a dawn
Of light ne'er seen before,
16 As fancy never could have drawn,
And never can restore!
C. Wolfe
CCLXXVIII
CORONACH
He is gone on the mountain,
He is lost to the forest,
Like a summer-dried fountain,
When our need was the sorest.
6 The font reappearing
From the raindrops shall borrow,
But to us comes no cheering,
To Duncan no morrow!
The hand of the reaper
10 Takes the ears that are hoary,
But the voice of the weeper
Wails manhood in glory.
The autumn winds rushing
Waft the leaves that are searest,
15 But our flower was in flushing
When bhghting was nearest.
Fleet foot on the correi,
Sage counsel in cumber.
Red hand in the foray,
20 How sound is thy slumberJ
cclxxx] Book Fourth 314
Like the dew on the mountain,
Like the foam on the river,
Like the bubble on the fountain.
Thou art gone; and for ever!
Sir W. Scott
CCLXXIX
THE DEATH BED
We watch'd her breathing thro' the night.
Her breathing soft and low,
As in her breast the wave of life
Kept heaving to and fro.
5 So silently we seem'd to speak,
So slowly moved about.
As we had lent her half our powers
To eke her living out.
Our very hopes belied our fears,
10 Our fears our hopes belied — -
We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died.
For when the mom came dim and sad
And chill with early showers,
15 Her quiet eyelids closed — she had
Another morn than ours.
T. Hood
CCLXXX
AGNES
I saw her in childhood —
A bright, gentle thing.
Like the dawn of the mom,
Or the dews of the spring:
The daisies and hare-bells
Her playmates all day;
Herself as light-hearted
And artless as they.
316 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxx
I saw her again —
A fair girl of eighteen,
Fresh ghttering with graces
Of mind and of mien.
5 Her speecli was all music;
Like moonlight she shone;
The envy of many,
The g'ory of one.
Years, years fleeted over —
10 I stood at her foot:
The bud had grown blossom.
The blossom was fruit.
A dignified mother,
Her infant she bore;
15 And look'd, I thought, fairer
Than ever before.
I saw her once more —
'Twas the day that she died;
Heaven's light was around her,
2Q And God at her side;
No wants to distress her,
No fears to appal —
O then, I felt, then
She was fairest of all!
H. F. Lyte
CCLXXXI
ROSABELLE
O listen, listen, ladies gay!
No haughty feat of arms I tell;
Soft is the note, and sad the lay
That mourns the lovely Rosabelle.
'Moor, moor the barge, ye gallant creWi
And, gentle ladye, deign to stay!
Rest thee in Castle Ravensheuch,
Nor tempt the stormy firth to-day.
cclxxxi] Book Fourth 3lT
'The blackening wave is edged with white;
To inch and rock the sea-mews fly;
The fishers have heard the Water-Sprite,
Whose screams forebode that wreck is nigh,
5 'Last night the gifted Seer did view
A wet shroud swathed round ladye gay;
Then stay thee, Fair, in Ravensheuch;
Why cross the gloomy firth to-day?
"Tis not because Lord Lindesay's heir
10 To-night at Roslin leads the ball,
But that my ladye-mother there
Sits lonely in her castle-hall.
'Tis not because the ring they ride,
And Lindesay at the ring rides well,
15 But that my sire the wine will chide
If 'tis not fill'd by Rosabelle.'
-O'er Roslin all that dreary night
A wondrovis blaze was seen to gleam;
'Twas broader than the watch-fire's light,
20 And redder than the bright moonbeam.
It glared on Roslin 's castled rock.
It ruddied all the copse-wood glen;
'Twas seen from Dryden's groves of oak.
And seen from cavern'd Hawthornden.
25 Seem'd all on fire that chapel proud
Where Roslin's chiefs uncoffin'd lie.
Each Baron, for a sable shroud,
Sheathed in his iron panoply.
Seem'd all on fire within, around,
30 Deep sacristy and altar's pale;
Shone every pillar foliagc-boimd,
And glimmer'd all the dead men's mail.
Blazed battlement and piimot high.
Blazed every' rose-carved l)uttress fair —
35 So still tlicy blaze, when fate is nigh
The lordly fine of high Saint Clair,
318 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxxi
There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold —
Lie buried within that proud chapelle;
Each one the holy vault doth hold —
But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle.
5 And each Saint Clair was buried there,
With candle, with book, and with knell;
But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung
The dirge of lovely Rosabelle.
Sir W. Scott
ccLxxxn
OX AN INFANT DYING AS SOON AS BORN
I saw where in the shroud did lurk
A curious frame of Nature's work;
A flow'ret crushed in the bud,
A nameless piece of Babyhood,
5 Was in her cradle-coffin lying;
Extinct, with scarce the sense of dying:
So soon to excliange the imprisoning womb
For the darker closets of the tomb!
She did but ope an eye, and put
10 A clear beam forth, then straight up shut
For the long dark: ne'er more to see
Through glasses of mortality.
Riddle of destiny, who can show
What thy short visit meant, or know
15 What thy errand here below?
Shall we say, that Nature blind
Check'd her hand, and changed her mind
Just when she had exactly wrought
A finish'd pattern without fault?
20 Could she flag, or could she tire.
Or lack'd she the Promethean fire
(With her nine moons' long workings sicken'd)
That should thy little limbs have quicken'd?
Limbs so firm, they seem'd to assure
25 Life of health, and days mature:
Woman's self in miniature!
cclxxxii] Book Fourth 319
Limbs so fair, they might supply
(Themselves now but cold imagery)
The sculptor to make Beauty by.
Or did the stern-eyed I'ate descrj-
5 That babe or mother, one must die;
So in mercy left the stock
And cut the branch; to save the shock
Of young years widow'd, and the pain
When Single State comes back again
10 To tlie lone man who, reft of wife,
Thenceforward drags a maimed life?
The economy of Heaven is dark,
And wisest clerks have miss'd the mark
Why human buds, like tliis, should fall,
15 More brief than fly ephemeral
That has his day; while shrivell'd crones
Stiffen with age to stocks and stones;
And crabbed use the conscience sears
In sinners of an hundred years.
20 — Mother's prattle, mother's kiss,
Baby fond, thou ne'er wilt miss:
Rites, which custom does impose.
Silver bells, and baby clothes;
Coral redder than those lips
25 Which pale death did late eclipse;
Music framed for infants' glee,
Whistle never tuned for thee;
Though thou want'st not, thou shalt have them,
Loving hearts were they which gave them.
30 Let not one be missing; nurse,
See them laid upon the hearse
Of infant slain by doom perverse.
Why should kings and nobles have
Pictured tropliies to their grave,
35 And we, churls, to thee deny
Thy pretty toys with thee to lie —
A more hannless vanity?
C. Lamb
320 Palgrave^s Golden Treasury [cclx^xJii
CCLXXXIII
7-V MEMORIAM
A child's a plaything for an hour;
Its pretty tricks we try
For that or for a longer space. —
Then tire, and lay it by.
5 But I knew one that to itself
AU seasons could control:
That would have moek'd the sense of pain
Out of a grieved soul.
Thou straggler into lo\ing arms,
10 Young climber up of knees,
"When I forget thy thousand ways
Then Hfe and all shall cease!
M. Lamb
ccLxxxnr
THE AFFLICTIOX OF MARGARET
Where art thou, my beloved Son,
Where art thou, worse to "me than dead?
Oh find me, prosperous or undone!
Or if the grave he now thy bed.
5 Why am I ignorant of the same
That I may rest; and neither blame
Nor sorrow may attend thy name?
Seven years, alas! to have received
No tidings of an only child —
10 To have despair'd, have hoped, beheved.
And been for evermore beguiled, —
Sometimes with thoughts of very bUss!
I catch at them, and then I miss;
Was ever darkness Uke to this?
15 He was among the prime in worth.
An object beauteous to behold:
Well bom. well bred: I sent him forth
Ingenuous, innocent, and bold:
If things ensued that wanted grace
20 As hath been said, they were not ba.se:
And never blush was on mv face.
cclxxxiv] Book Fourth 321
Ah! little doth the youug-one dream
When full of play and childish cares,
What power is in liis wildest scream
Heard by liis mother unawares!
5 He knows it not, he cannot guejs;
Years to a mother bring distress;
But do not make her love the less.
Neglect me! no. I suffer'd long
From that ill thought; and being blind
10 Said 'Pride shall help me in my wrong:
Kind mother have I been, as kind
As ever breathed:' and that is true;
I've wet my path with tears like dew.
Weeping for Inm when no one knew.
15 My Son, if thou be humbled, poor,
Hopeless of honour and of gain,
Oh! do not dread thy mother's door;
Think not of me with grief and pain:
I now can see with better eyes;
20 And worldly grandeur I despise
And fortune with her gifts and lies.
&'
Alas! the fowls of heaven have wings,
And blasts of heaven will aid their flight;
They mount — how short a voyage brings
25 The wanderers back to their delight!
Chains tie us down by land and sea;
And wishes, vain as mine, may be
All that is left to comfort thee.
Perhaps some dungeon hears thee groan
30 Maim'd, mangled by inhuman men;
Or thou upon a desert throwia
Inheritest the lion's den;
Or hast been summon 'd to the deep
Thou, thou, and all thy mates, to keep
35 An incommunicable sleep.
I look for ghosts: but none will force
Their way to me; 'tis falsely said
That there was ever intercourse
Between the living and the dead;
322 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxxiv
For surely then I should have sight
Of him 1 wait for day and night
"With love and longings infinite.
My apprehensions come in crowds;
5 I dread the rustling of the grass;
The very shadows of the clouds
Have power to shake me as they pass:
I question things, and do not find -
One that will answer to my mind;
10 And all the world appears vmkind. "
Beyond participation lie
My troubles, and beyond relief:
If any chance to heave a sigh
They pity me, and not my grief.
15 Then come to me, my Son, or send
Some tidings that my woes may end!
I have no other earthly friend.
W. Wordsworth
CCLXXXV
HUNTING SONG
Waken, lords and ladies gay.
On the mountain dawns the day;
All the jolly chase is here
With hawk and horse and hunting-spear;
5 Hounds are in their couples yelling.
Hawks are whistling, horns are knelling,
Merrily merrily mingle they,
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'
Waken, lords and ladies gay.
10 The mist has left the mountain gray,
Springlets in the dawn are steaming.
Diamonds on the brake are gleaming;
Anil foresters have busy been
To track the buck in thicket green;
15 Now we come to chant our lay
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'
ccixxxvij Book Fourth 323
\\'aken, lords and ladies gay.
To the greenwood haste away;
We can show you where he lies,
Fleet of foot and tall of size;
5 We can show the marks he made
When 'gainst the oak liis antlers fray'd;
You shall see him brought to bay;
'Waken, lords and ladies gay.'
Louder, louder chant the lay
10 Waken, lords and ladies gay!
Tell them youth and mirth and glee
Run a course as well as we;
Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk.
Stanch as hound and fleet as hawk;
15 Think of tliis, and rise with day.
Gentle lords and ladies gay!
Sir W. Scott
CCLXXXVI
TO THE SKYLARK
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!
Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound?
Or while the wings aspire, are heart and eye
Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
5 Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will.
Those quivering wings composed, that music still!
To the last point of vision, and beyond
Mount, daring warbler! — that love-prompted strain
— 'Twixt thee and thine a never-failing bond —
10 Thrills not the less the bosom of the plain:
Yet might 'st thou seem, proud privilege! to sing
All independent of the leafy Spring.
Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;
.\ privacy of glorious light is thine,
l'> Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with instinct more divine;
Tj-pe of the wise, who soar, but never roam —
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home.
W. Wordsivorth
324 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxxvii
CCLXXXVII
TO A SKYLARK
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from heaven, or near it
Pourest thy full heart
5 In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.
Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest,
Like a cloud of fire,
The blue deep thou wingest.
10 And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
In the golden lightning
Of the sunken sun
O'er which clouds are brightening,
Thou dost float and run,
15 Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
The pale purple even
Melts around thy flight;
Like a star of heaven
In the broad daylight
20 Thou art unseen, but yet I hear thy shrill delight:
Keen as are the arrows
Of that silver sphere,
Whose intense lamp narrows
In the white dawn clear
25 Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there.
All the earth and air
With thy voice is loud.
As, when night is bare.
From one lonely cloud
30 The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is over-
flow'd.
What thou art we know not;
What is most like thee?
From rainbow clouds there flow not
Drops so bright to see
35 As from thy presence showers a rain of melody; —
cclxxxv-ii]' Booh Fourth 325
Like a poet hidden
In the Hght of thought,
Singing hymns unbidden.
Till the world is wrought
5 To sympathy with liopes and tears it heeded not:
Like a high-born maiden
In a palace tower.
Soothing her love-laden
Soul in secret hour
10 With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower:
Like a glow-worm golden
In a dell of dew,
Scattering unbeholden
Its aerial hue
15 Among the flowers and grass, which screen it from
the view:
Like a rose embower'd
In its own green leaves,
By warm winds deflower'd,
Till the scent it gives
20 Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged
thieves.
Sound of vernal showers
On the twinkling grass,
Rain-awaken'd flowers,
All that ever was
25 Joyous, and clear, and fresh, thy music doth surpass.
Teach us, sprite or bird,
What sweet thoughts are thine:
I have never heard
Praise of love or wine
30 That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.
Chorus hymeneal
Or trivnn])lial chaunt
Match'd witli tliine, would be all
But an empty vaunt — -
35 A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.
326 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxx\-ii
What objects are the fountains
Of thy happy strain?
What fields, or waves, or mountains?
What shapes of sky or plain?
5 What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?
With thy clear keen joyance
Languor cannot be:
Shadow of annoyance
Never came near thee:
10 Thou lovest; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Waking or asleep
Thou of death must deem
Things more true and deep
Than we mortals dream,
15 Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?
We look before and after,
And pine for what is not:
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
20 Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest
thought.
Yet if we could scorn
Hate, and pride, and fear;
If we were things born
Not to shed a tear,
25 I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.
Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
30 Thy skill to poet were, thou scomer of the ground!
Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness
From my lips would flow,
35 The world should listen then, as I am listening now?
P. B. Shelley
cclxxxviii] Book Fourth 327
CCLXXXVIII
THE GREEN LIXXET
Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed
Their snow-white blossoms on my head,
With brightest sunshine round me spread
Of Spring's unclouded weather,
5 In tliis sequester'd nook how sweet
To sit upon my orchard-seat!
And flowers and birds once more to greet,
My last year's friends together.
One have I mark'd, the happiest guest
tC In all this covert of the blest:
Hail to Thee, far above the rest
In joy of voice and pinion!
Thou, Linnet! in thy green array
Presiding Spirit here to-day
£5 Dost lead the revels of the May;
And this is thy dominion.
While birds, and butterflies, and flowers,
Make all one band of paramours.
Thou, ranging up and down the bowers,
20 Art sole in thy emplojonent:
A Life, a Presence like the air.
Scattering thy gladness without care,
Too blest with any one to pair;
Thyself thy own enjojTnent.
25 Amid yon tuft of hazel trees
That twinkle to the gusty breeze,
Behold him perch'd in ecstasies
Yet seeming still to hover;
There 1 where the flutter of his wings
30 Upon his back and body flings
shadows and sunny glimmerings,
That cover liim all over.
My dazzled sight he oft deceives —
A brother of the dancing leaves;
^h Then flits, and from the cottage-eaves
Pours fortli his song in gushes;
328 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cclxxxviii
As if by that exulting strain
He mock'd and treated with disdain
The voiceless Form he chose to feign,
"Wliile fluttering in the bushes.
W. Wordsworth
CCLXXXIX
TO THE CUCKOO
blithe new-comer! I have heard,
1 hear thee and rejoice:
Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird,
Or but a wandering Voice?
5 While I am lying on the grass
Thy twofold shout I hear;
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far off and near.
Though babbling only to the vale
10 Of sunshine and of flowers,
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.
Tiarice welcome, daiiing of the Spring!
Even yet thou art to me
15 No bird, but an invisible thing.
A voice, a mysteiy;
The same whom in my school-boy days
1 listen'd to; that Cry
Which made me look a thoi.sand ways
20 In bush, and tree, and sky.
To seek thee did I often rove
Through woods and on the green;
And thou wert still a hope, a love;
Still long'd for, never seen!
25 And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain
And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.
ccxc] Book Fourth 329
O blessed Bird! the earth we pace
Again appears to be
An unsubstantial, faery place,
That is fit home for Thee!
W. Wordsivorth
ccxc
ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
5 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot.
But being too happy in thine happiness, — •
That thou, hght- winged Dryad of the trees,
In some melodious plot
Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,
10 Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been
Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth.
Tasting of Flora and the country green.
Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirthl
15 O for a beaker full ot the wami South,
Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,
With beaded bubbles winking at the brim.
And purple-stained mouth;
That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,
20 And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret
Here, w^here men sit and hear each other groan;
25 Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-tliin, and dies
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs;
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
30 Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
330 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxc
Away! away! for I will fly to thee,
Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,
But on the viewless wings of Poesy,
Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:
5 Already with thee! tender is the night,
And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,
Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;
But here there is no light.
Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown
10 Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy
ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,
Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,
But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet
Wherewith the seasonable month endows
15 The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;
White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;
Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;
And mid-May's eldest child,
The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,
20 The munnurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Darkling I listen; and for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath;
25 Now more than ever seems it rich to die.
To cease upon the midnight with no pain.
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad
In such an ecstasy!
Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain —
30 To thy high requiem become a sod.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In. ancient days by emperor and clown:
35 Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick tor
home.
ccxci] Book Fourth 331
She stood in tears amid the ahen corn;
The same that oft-times hatli
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
5 Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is famed to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
10 Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley -glades :
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
J. Keats
CCXCI
UPOX WESTMIXSTER BRIDGE,
SEPT. 3, 1802
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be" of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
5 The beauty of the morning: silent, bare,
Sliips, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky, —
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun niore beautifully steep
10 In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river giideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep:
And all that miglity heart is lying still!
TT*. Wordsworth
332 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxcii
ccxcii
To one who has been long in city pent,
'Tis very sweet to look into the fair
And open face of heaven, — to breathe a prayer
Full in the smile of the blue finnament.
5 Who is more happy, when, with heart's content.
Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair
Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair
And gentle tale of love and languishment?
Returning home at evening, with an ear
10 Catching the notes of Philomel, — an eye
Watching the sailing cloudlet's bright career,
He mourns that day so soon has glided by:
E'en like the passage of an angel's tear
That falls through the clear ether silently.
J. Keats
CCXCIII
OZYMANDIAS OF EGYPT
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them on the sand,
Half sunk, a shatter'd visage lies, whose frown
6 And wrinkled lip and sneer of cold command
Tell that its sculptor well thos? passions read
Which yet survive, stamp'd on these lifeless things,
The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed ;
And on the pedestal these words apJDear:
10 'My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!'
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
P. B. Shelley
ccxcv] Book Fourth 333
ccxciv
COMPOSED AT X EI DP AT H CASTLE. THE
PROPERTY OF LORD QUEEXSBERRY,
1803
Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy lord!
Whom mere despite of heart could so far please
And love of havoc, (for with such disease
Fame taxes liim,) that he could send forth word
5 To level with the dust a noble horde,
A brotherhood of venerable trees,
Leaving an ancient dome, and towers like these,
Beggar'd and outraged! — Many hearts deplored
The fate of those old trees; and oft with pain
10 The traveller at this day will stop and gaze
On wrongs, wliich Nature scarcely seems to heed:
For shelter'd places, bosoms, nooks, and bays,
And the pure mountains, and the gentle Tweed,
And the green silent pastures, yet remain.
W. Wordsworth
ccxcv
THE BEECH TREE'S PETITION
O leave this barren spot to me!
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree!
Though bush or floweret never grow
My dark un warming shade below;
5 Nor summer bud perfume the dew
Of rosy blush, or yellow hue;
Nor fruits of autumn, blossom-born,
My green and glossy leaves adorn; _
Nor munnuring tribes from me derive
10 Th' ambrosial amber of the hive;
Yet leave this barren spot to me:
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree I
334 Falgrave's Golden Treasury [ccxcv
Thrice twenty summers I have seen
The sky grow bright, the forest green ;
And many a wintry wind have stood
In bloomless, fruitless solitude,
5 Since childhood in my pleasant bower
First spent its sweet and sportive hour;
Since youtliful lovers in my shade
Their vows of truth and rapture made,
And on my trunk 's surviving frame
10 Carved many a long-forgotten name.
Oh ! by the sighs of gentle sound.
First lareathed upon this sacred ground;
By all that Love has whisper 'd here,
Or Beauty heard with ravish 'd ear;
15 As Love 's own altar honour me :
Spare, woodman, spare the beechen tree !
T. Campbell
ccxcvi
ADMONITION TO A TBAVELLEB
Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye!
- — The lovely Cottage in the guardian nook
Hath stirr'd thee deeply; with its own dear brook,
Its own small pasture, almost its own sky!
5 But covet not the abode ; forbear to sigh
As many do, repining while they look;
Intruders — who would tear from Nature's book
This precious leaf with harsh impiety.
— Think what the home must be if it were thine,
10 Even thine, though few thy wants! — Roof, window,
door,
The very flowers are sacred to the Poor,
The roses to the porch which they entwine:
Yea, all that now enchants thee, from the day
On which it should be touch 'd, would melt away!
W. Wordsicorth
ccxcvii] Book Fourth 335
CCXCVII
TO THE HIGHLAND GIRL OF
LWERSNEYDE
Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower
Of beauty is thy earthly dower!
Twice seven consenting years have shed
Their utmost bounty on thy head:
5 And these gray rocks, that household lawn,
Those trees — a veil just half withdrawn,
This fall of wat3r that doth make
A murmur near the silent lake,
This little bay, a quiet road
10 That holds in shelter thy abode:
In truth together ye do seem
Like something fashion'd in a dream;
Such forms as from their covert peep
When earthly cares are laid asleep!
15 But O fair Creature! in the light
Of common day, so heavenly bright
I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human heart:
God shield thee to thy latest years!
20 Thee neither know I nor thy peers:
And yet my eyes are fill'd with tears.
With earnest feeling I shall pray
For thee when I am far away;
For never saw I mien or face
25 In which more plainly I could trace
Benignity and home-bred sense
Ripening in perfect innocence.
Here scatter'tl, like a random seed.
Remote from men, Thou dost not need
30 The embarrass'd look of shy distress,
And maidenly shamefacedness:
Thou wear'st upon thy forehead clear
The freedom of a Mountaineer:
A face with gladness overspread;
iF, Soft smiles, by human kindness bred;
12
336 Palgrave's Golden Treasury Tccxcvii
And seemliness complete, that sways
Thy courtesies, about thee plays;
With no restraint, but such as springs
From quick and eager visitings
5 Of thoughts that lie beyond the reach
Of thy few words of English speech:
A bondage sweetly brook'd, a strife
That gives thy gestures grace and life!
So have I, not unmoved in mind,
10 Seen birds of tempest-loving kind —
Thus beating up against the wind.
What hand but would a garland cull
For thee who art so beautiful?
happy pleasure! here to dwell
15 Beside thee in some heathy dell;
Adopt your homely ways, and dress,
A shepherd thou a shepherdess!
But I could frame a wish for thee
More like a grave reality:
20 Thou art to me but as a wave
Of the wild sea: and I would have
Some claim upon thee, if I could,
Though but of common neighbourhood.
What joy to hear thee, and to see!
25 Thy elder brother I would be,
Thy father — anything to thee.
Now thanks to Heaven! that of its grace
Hath led me to this lonely place:
Joy have I had; and going hence
30 I bear away my recompence.
In spots like these it is we prize
Our Memory, feel that she hath eyes:
Then why should I be loth to stir?
1 feel this place was made for her;
35 To give new pleasure like the past,
Continued long as life shall last.
Nor am I loth, though pleased at heart,
Sweet Highland Girl! from thee .to part;
For I, methinks, till I grow old
ccxcviii] Book Fourth 337
As fair before me shall behold
As I do now, the cabin small,
The lake, the bay, the waterfall;
And Thee, the Spirit of them all!
W. Wordsworth
CCXCVIII
THE REAPER
Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass!
Reaping and singing by herself;
Stop here, or gently pass!
6 Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain;
listen! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.
No nightingale did ever chaunt
10 More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers m some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands:
A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard
In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird
15 Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.
Will no one tell me what she sings?
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
20 And battles long ago:
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day?
Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again!
25 Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending;
1 saw her singing at her work.
And o'er the sickle bending; —
I listen'd, motionless and still;
338 Palgrave's Golden Treasury Fccxcviii
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The nuisic in my heart 1 bore
Long after it was heard no more.
W. Wordsworth
ccxcix
THE REVERIE OF POOR SUSAN
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears,
Hangs a Thrush that sings loud, it has sung for three
years :
Poor Susan has pass'd by the spot, and has heard
In the silence of morning the song of the bird.
'Tis a note of enchantment; what ails her? She sees
A mountain ascending, a vision of trees;
Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide.
And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.
10
Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale
Down which she so often has tripp'd with her pail;
And a single small cottage,, a nest like a dove's,
The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.
She looks, and her heart is in heaven: but they fade,
The mist and the river, the hill and the shade;
15 The stream will not flow, and the hill will not rise.
And the colours have all pass'd away from her eyes!
ir. Wordsworth
ccc
TO A LADY, WITH A GUITAR
Ariel to Miranda: — Take
This slave of music, for the sake
Of him, who is the slave of thee;
And teach it all the harmony
In which thou canst, and only thou,
Make the delighted spirit glow,
Till joy denies itself again
And. too intense, is tum'd to pain.
ccc] Book Fourth 339
For by permission and command
Of thine own Prince Ferdinand,
Poor Ariel sends this silent token
Of more than ever can be spoken;
5 Your guardian spirit, Ariel, who
From life to life must still pursue
Your happiness, for thus alone
Can Ariel ever find his own.
From Prospero's enchanted cell,
10 As the mighty verses tell.
To the throne cf Naples he
Lit you o'er the trackless sea,
Flitting on, your prow before,
Like a living meteor.
15 When you die, the silent INIoon
In her interlunar swoon
Is not sadder in her cell
Than deserted Ariel: —
When you live again on earth,
20 Like an unseen Star of birth
Ariel guides you o'er the sea
Of life from your nativity: —
Many changes have been nm
Since Ferdinand and you begun
25 Your course of love, and Ariel still
Has track'd your steps and served your will.
Now in humbler, happier lot.
This is all remember'd not;
And now, alas! the poor Sprite is
30 Imprison'd for some fault of his
In a body like a grave —
From you he only dares to crave,
For his service and his sorrow
A smile to day, a song to morrow.
35 The artist who this idol wrouglit
To echo all harmonious thought,
Fell'd a tree, while on the steep
The woods were in their winter sleep,
Rock'il in that repose divine
40 On the wind-swept Apennine;
And dreaming, some of Autumn past,
340 Palgrave's Golden Treasury (ccc
And some of Spring approaching fast.
And some of April buds and showers.
And some of songs in July bowers,
And all of love: And so tliis tree, — •
5 Oh that such our death may be! —
Died in sleep, and felt no pain,
To live in happier form again:
From which, beneath heaven's fairest star.
The artii^t wrought this loved Guitar;
10 And taught it justly to reply
To all who question skilfully
In language gentle as thine owTi;
Wliispering in enamour'd tone
Sweet oracles of woods and dells,
15 And summer winds in sylvari cells:
— For it had learnt all harmonies
Of the plains and of the skies.
Of the forests and the mountains,
And the many-voiced fountains;
20 The clearest echoes of the hills.
The softest notes of falling rills,
The melodies of birds and bees,
The munnuring of summer seas.
And pattering rain, and breathing dew,
26 And airs of evening; and it knew
That seldom-heard mysterious sound
Which, driven on its diumal round,
As it floats through boundless day,
Our world enkindles on its way:
30 —All this it knows, but will not tell
To those who cannot question well
The Spirit that inhabits it;
It talks according to the wit
Of its companions; and no more
35 Is heard than has been felt before
By those who tempt it to betray
These secrets of an elder day.
But, sweetly as its answers will
Flatter hands of perfect skill,
40 It keeps it.'! highest holiest tone
For our beloved Friend alone.
P. B. Shelleii
cccii] Book Fourth 341
ccci
THE DAFFODILS
I wander'd lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and lulls.
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host of golden daffodils,
5 Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that sliine
And twinkle on the milky way.
They stretch'd in never-ending line
10 Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: — •
15 A Poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company!
I gazed — and gazed — but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought;
For oft, when on my couch I lie
20 In vacant or in pensive mood.
They flash upon that inward ej^e
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
TF. Wordsworth
CCCII
TO THE DAISY
With little here to do or see
Of tilings tliat in the great world he..
Sweet Daisy! oft I talk to thee
For thou art worthy,
ff Thou unassuming Common-place
Of Nature, with that homely face,
And yet with soiuothing of a grace
Which Love makes for thee'
342 Palgrave's Golden Treasunj [cccii
Oft on the dappled turf at ease
I sit and play with similes,
Loose types of things through all degrees.
Thoughts of thy raising;
5 And many a fond and idle name
I give to thee, for praise or blame
A.S is the humour of the game,
While I am gazing.
A nun demure, of lowly port;
TO Or sprightly maiden, of Love's court.
In thy simplicity the sport
Of all temptations;
A queen in crown of rubies drest;
A starveling in a scanty vest;
ID Are all, as seems to suit thee best> ^
Thy appellations.
A little Cyclops, with one eye
Staring to threaten and defy,
That thought comes next — and instantly
20 The freak is over,
The shape will vanish, and behold'
A silver shield with boss of gold
That spreads itself, some faery bold
In fight to cover.
2.". I see thee glittering from afar —
And then thou art a pretty star,
Not quite so fair as many are
In heaven above thee?
Yet like a star with glittering crest,
30 Self-poised in air thou seem'st to rest; —
May peace come never to his nest
Who shall reprove thee!
Sweet Flower! for by that name at last
When all my reveries are past
35 I call thee, and to that cleave fast.
Sweet silent Creature!
That breath'st with me in sun and air.
Do thou, as thou art wont, repair
My heart with gladness, and a share
«» Of thy meek nature!
W. Wordsworth
<;cciii3 Book Fourth 343
CCCIII
ODE TO AUTUMN
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the ^^nes that round the thatch-eaves run
5 To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees.
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shelU
With a sweet kernel; to set budding morf-
And still more, later flowers for the bees
10 Until they think warm days will never cease i
For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammj ceJ'ij.
Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store V
Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find
Thee sitting careless on a granary floor,
15 Thy hair soft-lifted by the winnowing wind'
Or on a half-reap 'd furrow sound asleep,
Drowsed with the fume of poppies, while thy hook
Spares the next swath and all its twined flowers.
And sometimes hke a gleaner thou dost keep
20 Steady thy laden head across a brook;
Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,
Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours.
Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, —
25 While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day
And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river-sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
30 And full-grown lami)s loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies,
J. Keats
344 Palgrave's Golden Treasury (ecciv
ccciv
ODE TO WINTER
Germany, December, 1800
When first the fiery-mantled Sun
His heavenly race began to rvni,
Round the earth and ocean blue
His children four the Seasons flew.
5 First, in green apparel dancing,
The young Spring smiled with angel-grace;
Rosy Summer next advancing,
Rush'd into her sire's embrace —
Her bright-hair 'd sire, who bade her keep
10 For ever nearest to his smiles,
On Calpe's olive-shaded steep
Or India's citron-cover'd isles:
More remote, and buxom-brown,
The Queen of vintage bow'd before his throne;
15 A rich pomegranate gemm'd her crown,
A ripe sheaf bound her zone.
But howling Winter fled afar
To hills that prop the polar star;
And loves on deer-borne car to ride
20 With barren darkness by liis side,
Round the shore where loud Lofoden
Whirls to death the roaring whale,
Round the hall where Runic Odin
Howls his war-song to the gale;
25 Save when adown the ravaged globe
He travels on his native stonn,
Deflowering Nature's grassy robe
And trampling on her faded fonn: —
Till light's returning Lord assume
30 The shaft that drives him to his polar field,
Of power to pierce his raven plume
And crystal-cover'd shield.
Oh, sire of storms! whose savage ear
The Lapland drvim delights to hear,
35. When Frenzy with her blood-shot eye
Implores thy dreadful deity —
cccv] Book Fourth 345
Archangel. Power of desolation!
Fast descending as thou art.
Say, hath mortal invocation
Spells to touch thy stony heart?
5 Then, sullen Winter! hear my prayei;
And gently rule the ruin'd year;
Nor chill the wanderer's bosom bare
Nor freeze the wretch's falliiag tear:
To shuddering Want's unman tied bed
10 Thy horror-breathing agues cease to lend,
And gently on the oi-phan head
Of Innocence descend.
But chiefly spare, O king of clouds-
The sailor on his airy shrouds,
15 When wrecks and beacons strew the steep.
And spectres walk along the deep.
Milder yet thy snowy breezes
Pour on yonder tented shores,
Where the Rhine's broad billow freezes,
20 Or the dark-brown Danube roars
Oh, winds of Winter! hst ye there
To many a deep and dying groan?
Or start, ye demons of the midnight air
At shrieks and thunders louder than your owtj?
25 Alas! ev'n your unhallow'd' breath
May spare the victim fallen low;
But Man will ask no truce to death, —
No boimds to human woe.
T. Campbell
cccv
YARROW UNVISITED
1803
From Stirling Castle we had seen
The mazy Forth unravell'd,
Had trod the banks of Clyde and Tay
And with the Tweed had travell'd;
6 And when we came to Clovenford,
Then said my 'winsome Marrow,'
'Whate'er bedde, we'll turn aside.
And see the Braes of Yarrow.'
346 Pal'Qrave's Golden Treasury cccvl
'Let Yarrow folk, frae Selkirk town.
Who have been buying, selling,
Go back to Yarrow, 'tis their o\\'n,
Each maiden to her dwelling!
6 On Yarrow's banks let herons feed.
Hares couch, and rabbits burrow;
But we will downward with the Tweed,
Nor turn aside to Yarrow.
'There's Gala Water, Leader Havighs,
10 Both lying right before us;
And Drj-burgh, where with chiming Tweed
The lintwhites sing in chorus;
There's pleasant Tiviot-dale, a land
Made blithe with plough and harrow:
15 Why throw away a needful day
To go in search of Yarrow?
'What's Yarrow but a river bare
That glides the dark bills under?
There are a thousand such elsewhere
20 As worthy of your wonder.'
— Strange words they seeni'd of slight and scorn;
My True-love sigh'd for sorrow,
And look'd me in the face, to think
I thus could speak of Yarrow!
25 *0 green,' said I, 'are Yarrow's holms,
And sweet is Yarrow flowing!
Fair hangs the apple frae the rock.
But we will leave it gro\\ing.
O'er hilly path and open strath
30 We'll wander Scotland thorough;
But, though so near, we \nll not turn
Into the dale of Yarrow.
'Let beeves and home-bred kine partake
The sweets of Biim-mill meadow;
35 The swan on still Saint Marj^'s Lake
Float double, swan and shadow!
We will not see them; will not go
To-day, nor yet to-morrow;
Enough if in our hearts we know
40 There's such a place as Yarrow.
3ccvil Book Fourth 347
'Be Yarrow stream unseen, unknown!
It must, or we shall rue it:
We have a vision of our own,
Ah! why should we undo it?
The treasured dreams of times long past,
We'll keep them, winsome Marrow!
For when we're there, although 'tis fair,
'Twill be another Yarrow!
'If Care with freezing years should come
IC And wandering seem but folly, —
Should we be loth to stir from home,
And yet be melancholy;
Should life be dull, and spirits low,
'Twill soothe us in our sorrow
15 That earth has something yet to show,
The bonny holms of Yarrow!'
W . Wordsworth
cccvi
YARROW VISITED
September, 1814
And is this — Yarrow? — This the stream
Of which my fancy cherish'd
So faithfully, a waking dream,
An image that hath perish'd?
5 O that some minstrel's harp were near
To utter notes of gladness
And chase this silence from the air,
That fills my heart with sadness!
Yet why? — a silvery current flows
10 With uncontroH'd meanderings;
Nor have these eyes by greener hills
Been soothed, in all my wanderings.
And, through her depths, Saint Mary's Lake
Is visibly delighted;
15 For not a feature of those hills
Is in the mirror slighted.
348 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccvi
A blue sky bends o'er Yarrow Vale,
Save where that pearly wliiteness
Is round the rising sun diffused,
A tender hazy brightness;
5 Mild dawn of promise! that excludes
All profitless dejection;
Though not unwilling here to admit
A pensive recollection.
Where was it that the famous Flower
i® Of Yarrow Vale lay bleeding?
His bed perchance was yon smooth mound
On which the herd is feeding:
And haply from this crystal poo',
Now peaceful as the morning,
15 The Water-wraith ascended thrice,
And gave his doleful warning.
Delicious is the lay that sings
The haunts of happy lovers,
The path that leads them to the grove,
20 The leafy grove that covers;
And pity sanctifies the Verse
That paints, by strength of sorrow,
The unconquerable strength of love;
Bear witness, rueful Yarrow!
25 But thou that didst appear so fair
To fond imagination,
Dost rival in the light of day
Her delicate creation:
Meek loveliness is round thee spread,
30 A softness still and holy:
The grace of forest charms decay'd,
And pastoral melancholy.
That region left, the vale unfolds
Rich groves of lofty stature,
35 With Yarrow winding through the pomp
Of cultivated nature;
And rising from those lofty groves
Behold a ruin hoary,
The shatter'd front of Newark's towers,
40 Eenown'd in Border storv.
cccvii] Book Fourth 349
Fair scenes for childhood's opening bloom,
For sportive youth to stray in,
For manhood to enjoy liis strength,
And age to wear away in!
5 Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss,
A covert for protection
Of tender thoughts that nestle there —
The brood of chaste afTection.
How sweet on this autumnal day
10 The wild-wood fruits to gather.
And on my True-love's forehead plant
A crest of blooming heather!
And what if I enwreathed my own?
'Twere no offence to reason;
15 The sober hills thus deck their brows
To meet the wintry season.
I see — but not by sight alone.
Loved Yarrow, have I won thee;
A ray of Fancy still survives —
20 Her sunshine plays upon thee!
Thy ever-youthful waters keep
A course of lively pleasure;
And gladsome notes my lips can breathe
Accordant to the measure.
25 The vapours linger round the heights,
They melt, and soon must vanish;
One hour is theirs, nor more is mine —
Sad thought! which I would banish.
But that I kno\Y, where'er I go,
30 Thy genuine image, Yarrow!
Will dwell with me, to heighten joy, .
And cheer my mind in sorrow.
W. Wordsivjrth
CCCVII
THE IXVITATION
Best and brightest, come away,-
Fairer far than this fair Day,
350 Palgrave's Golden Treasury jcccvii
Which, Hke tliee, to those in sorrow
Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow
To the rough year just awake
In its cradle on the brake.
5 The brightest hour of unborn Spring
Through the winter wandering,
Found, it seems, the halcyon mom
To hoar February bom;
Bending from heaven, in azure mirth.
10 It kiss'd the forehead of the earth.
And smiled upon the silent sea.
And Dade the frozen streams be free.
And waked to music all their fountains,
And breathed upon the frozen mountains^
15 And like a prophetess of May
Strew'd flowers upon the barren way,
Making the wintry world appear
Like one on whom thou smilest, dear.
Away, away, from men and towns,
20 To the wild wood and the downs — -
To the silent wilderness
Where the soul reed not repress
Its music, lest it should not find
An echo in another's mind,
25 While the touch of Nature's art
Harmonizes heart to heart.
Radiant Sister of the Day
Awake! arise! and come away!
To the wild woods and the plains,
30 To the pools where winter rains
Image all their roof of leaves,
Where the pine its garland weaves
Of sapless green, and ivy dun.
Round stems that never kiss the sun;
35 Where the lawns and pastures be
And the sandhills of the sea;
Where the melting hoar-frost wets
The daisy-star that never sets.
And wind-flowers and violets
40 Which yet join not scent to hue
Crown the pale year weak and new:
cccviii] Book Fourth 351
When the night is left behind
In the deep east, dim and bUnd,
And the blue noon is over us,
And the multitudinous
5 Billows murmur at our feet,
Where the earth and ocean meet,
And all things seem only one
In the universal Sun.
P. B. Shelley
CCCVIII
THE RECOLLECT lOX
Now the last day of many days
All beautiful and bright as thou,
The loveliest and the last, is dead:
Rise, Memory, and write its praise!
5 Up — to thy wonted work! come, trace
The epitaph of glory fled,
For now the earth has changed its face,
A frown is on the heaven's brow.
We wander'd to the Pine Forest
10 That skirts the Ocean's foam;
The Ughtest wind was in its nest.
The tempest in its home.
The whispering waves were half asleep.
The clouds were gone to play,
15 And on the bosom of the deep
The smile of heaven lay;
It seem'd as if the hour were one
Sent from beyond the skies
Which scatter'd from above the sun
20 A light of Paradise!
We paused amid the pines that stood
The giants of the waste,
Tortured by storms to shapes as rude
As serpents interlaced, —
25 And soothed by every azure breath
That under heaven is blown.
352 Palgrave's Golden Treasury fcccviij
To harmonies and hues beneath,
As tender as its own:
Now all the tree-tops lay asleep
Like green waves on the sea,
6 As still as in the silent deep
The ocean-woods may be.
How calm it was! — The silence there
By such a chain was bound.
That even the busy w-oodpecker
10 Made stiller with her sound
The inviolable quietness;
The breath of peace we drew
With its soft motion made not less
The calm that round us grew.
15 There seem'd, from the remotest seat
Of the white mountain waste
To the soft flower beneath our feet,
A magic circle traced, —
A spirit interfused around,
20 A thrilling silent life;
To momentary peace it bound
Our mortal nature's strife; —
And still I felt the centre of
The niagic circle there
25 Was one fair form that fill'd with love
The lifeless atmosphere.
We paused beside the pools that lie
Under the forest bough;
Each seem'd as 'twere a little sky
30 Gulf'd in a world below;
A firmament of puq^le light
Which in the dark earth lay,
More boundless than the depth of night
And purer than the day —
35 In which the lovely forests grew
As in the upper air,
More perfect both in shape and hue
Than any spreading there.
There lay the glade and neighbouriuj,' lavra,
40 And through the dark-green wood
cccix] Book Fourth 353
The white sun twinkhng Hke the dawn
Out of a speckled cloud.
Sweet views in which our world above
Can never well be seen
5 Were imaged in the water's "love
Of that fair forest green:
And all was interfused beneatii
With an Elysian glow,
An atmosphere without a breath,
10 A softer day below.
Like one beloved, the scene had lent
To the dark water's breast
Its every leaf and lineament
With more than truth exprest;
15 Until an envious wind crept by,
Like an unwelcome thought
Wliich from the mind's too faithful eye
Blots one dear image out.
— Though thou art ever fair and kind,
20 The forests ever green.
Less oft is peace in Shelley's mind
Than calm in waters seen!
P. B. Shelley
CCCIX
BY THE SEA
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free;
The holy time is qtiiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquillity;
5 The gentleness of heaven is on the Sea:
Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder — everlastingly.
Dear child! dear girl! that walkest with me heve.
10 If thou appear untouch'd by solemn thought
Thy nature is not therefore less divine:
J54 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccix
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year,
And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not
W. Wordsworth
cccx
SONG TO THE EVENING STAR
Star that bringest home the bee,
And sett'st the weary labourer free!
If any star shed peace, 'tis Thou
That send'st it from above,
5 Appearing when Heaven's breath and brow
. Are sweet as hers we love.
Come to the luxuriant skies.
Whilst the landscape's odours rise,
Whilst far-off lowing herds are heard
10 And songs when toil is done.
From cottages whose smoke unstirr'd
Curls yellow in the sun.
Star of love's soft interviews,
Parted lovers on thee muse;
15 Their remembrancer in Heaven
Of thrilling vows thou art,
Too delicious to be riven
By absence from the heart.
T. Campbell
CCCXI
• DATUR MORA QUIETI
The sun upon the lake is low.
The wild birds hush their song,
The hills have evening's deepest glow,
Yet Leonard tarries long.
6 Now all whom varied toil and care
From home and love divide,
In the calm sunset may repair
Each to the loved one's side.
cccxiiil Book Fourth 355
The noble dame, on turret high,
Wlio waits her gallant knight,
Looks to the western beam to spy
The flash of armour bright.
5 The village maid, with hand on brow
The level ray to shade.
Upon the footpath watches now
For Colin's darkening plaid.
Now to their mates the wild swans row,
10 By day they swam apart,
And to the thicket wanders slow
The liind beside the hart.
The W'Oodlark at his partner's side
Twitters his closing song —
15 All meet whom day and care divide,
But Leonard tarries long!
Sir W. Scott
CCCXII
TO THE MOOX
Art thou pale for weariness
Of climbing heaven, and gazing on the earth,
Wandering companionless
Among the stars that have a different birth, —
5 And ever-changing, like a joyless eye
That finds no object worth its constancy?
P. B. Shelley
CCCXIII
TO SLEEP
A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by
One after one; the sound of rain, and bees
Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas,
Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky;
5 I've thought of all by turns, and yet do lie
Sleepless; and soon the small bird's meloilies
Must hear, first utter'd from my orciiard trees,
And the first cuckoo's melancholy cr\'.
'-^56 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxiii
Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay.
And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth:
So do not let me wear tonight away:
Without Thee what is all the morning's wealth?
5 Come, blessed barrier between day and day,
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health!
W. Wordsworth
CCCXIV
THE SOLDIER'S DREAM
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lower'd,
And the sentinel stars set their watch in the sky;
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower'd,
The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die.
5 When reposing that night on my pallet of straw
By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain,
At the dead of the night a sweet Vision I saw;
And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again.
Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array
10 Far, far, I had roam'd on a desolate track:
'Twas Autumn, — and sunshine arose on the way
To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back,
I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft
In life's morning march, when my bosom was young;
15 I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft.
And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers
sung.
Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I swore
From my home and my weeping friends never to
part ;
My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er,
20 And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart.
'Stay — stay with us! — rest! — thou art weary and
worn ! ' —
And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay, —
But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn,
And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away
T. CampbeU
cccxv] Book Fourth 357
cccxv
A DREAM OF THE UXKNOW.Y
I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way
Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,
And gentle odours led my steps astray,
Mix'd with a sound of waters murmuring
5 Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling
Its green anns round the bosom of the stream,
But kiss'd it and then fled, as Thou mightest in dream.
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
10 Daisies, those pearl'd Arcturi of the earth,
The constellated flower that never sets;
Faint oxlips; tender blue-bells, at whose birth
The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets
Its mother's face with heaven-collected tears,
15 When the low wind, its playmate's voice, it hears.
And in the warm hedge grew lusli eglantine,
Green cow-bind and the moonlight-colour'd May,
And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew yet drain 'd not by the day;
20 And wild roses, and ivy serpentine '
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
And flowers azure, black, and streak'd with gold,
Fairer than any waken'd eyes behold.
And nearer to the river's trembling edge
25 There grew broad flag-flowers, purjjle prank'd with
white.
And starry river-buds among the sedge,
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
Which lit the oak that overhung the liedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
30 And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green
As soothed the dazzled eye with sober slieen.
Mcthought that of these visionarj' flowers
I made a nosegay, bound in such a wav
358 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxv
That the same hues, which in th^ir natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Kept these imprison 'd children of the Hours
Within my hand, — and then, elate and gay,
5 I hasten'd to the spot whence I had come
That I might there present it — O! to Whom?
P. B. Shelletj
CCCXVI
KUBLA KHAN
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
5 Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills
Where blossom'd many an incense-bearing tree;
10 And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm wliich slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
15 As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
20 Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
25 Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reach'd the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'miJ chis tumult Kubla heard from far
30 Ancestral voices prophesying war!
cccxvii] Book Fourth 356
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
5 It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
10 And on her dulcimer vshe play'd,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me
15 That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice I
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
20 His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed.
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
S. T. Coleridge
CCCXVII
THE INNER VISION
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes
To pace the ground, if path be there or none,
While a fair region round the traveller lies
Which he forbears again to look upon;
•"' Pleased rather with some soft ideal scene,
The work of Fancy, or some happy tone
Of meditation, slipping in between
The beauty coming and the beauty gone.
—If Thought and Love desert us, from that day
10 Let us break off all commerce with the Muse:
With Thought and Love companions oi oar way-
360 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxvii
Whate'er the senses take or may refuse, — •
The Mind's internal heaven shall shed her dews
Of inspiration on the humblest lay.
W. Wordsworth
CCCXVIII
THE REALM OF FANCY
Ever let the Fancy roam;
Pleasure never is at home:
At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth,
Like to bubbles when rain pelteth;
5 Then let winged Fancy wander
Through the thought still spread beyond her:
Open wide the mind's cage-door,
She'll dart forth, and cloudward soar.
O sweet Fancy! let her loose;
10 Summer's joys are spoilt by use,
And the enjoying of the Spring
Fades as does its blossoming;
Autumn's red-lipp'd fruitage too.
Blushing through the mist and dew,
15 Cloys with tasting: What do then?
Sit thee by the ingle, when
The sear faggot blazes bright.
Spirit of a winter's night;
When the soundless earth is mufflpd,
20 And the caked snow^ is shuffled
From the ploughboy's heavy shoon;
When the Night doth meet the Noon
In a dark conspiracy
To banish Even from her sky.
25 Sit thee there, and send abroad,
With a mind self-overaw'd,
Fancy, high-commission'd: — send her?
She has vassals to attend her:
She will bring, in spite of frost,
30 Beauties that the earth hath lost;
She will bring thee, all together.
All delights of summer weather;
All the buds and bells of May,
cccxviii] Book Fourth 361
From dewy sward or thorny spray;
All the heaped Autumn's wealth,
With a still, mysterious stealth:
She will mix these pleasures up
5 Like three fit wines in a cup,
And thou shalt quaff it: — thou shalt hear
Distant harvest-carols clear;
Rustle of the reaped corn;
Sweet birds antheming the morn:
10 And, in the same moment — harkl
'Tis the early April lark,
Or the rooks, with busj^ caw,
Foraging for sticks and straw.
Thou shalt, at one glance, behold
15 The daisy and the marigold;
White-plumed lilies, and the first
Hedge-grown primrose that hath burst;
Shaded hyacinth, alway
Sapphire queen of the mid-May;
20 And every leaf, and every flower
Pearled with the self-same shower.
Thou shalt see the field-mouse peep
Meagre from its celled sleep;
And the snake all winter-thin
25 Cast on sunny bank its skin;
Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see
Hatching in the hawthorn-tree,
When the hen-bird's wing doth rest
Quiet on her mossy nest;
30 Then the hurry and alarm
When the bee-hive casts its swarm
Acorns ripe down-pattering.
While the autimm breezes sing.
Oh, sweet Fancy! let her loose;
35 Everything is spoilt by use:
W^here's tlie check that doth not fade,
Too much gazed at? Where's the maid
Whose lip mature is ever new?
Where's the eye, however blue,
40 Doth not weary? Where's the face
One would meet in everj' place?
Where's the voice, however soft,
362 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxviii
One would hear so very oft?
At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth
Like to bubbles when rain pelteth.
Let then winged Fancy find
'i Thee a mistress to thy mmd:
Dulcet-eyed as Ceres' daughter,
Ere the God of Torment taught her
How to frown and how to chide;
With a waist and with a side
10 White as Hebe's, when her zone
Slipt its golden clasp, and down
Fell her kirtle to her feet,
While she held the goblet sweet.
And Jove grew languid. — Break the mesh
If Of the Fancy's silken leash;
Quickly break her prison-string.
And such joys as these she'll bring.
— Let the winged Fancy roam,
Pleasure never is at home.
J. Keats
CCCXIX'
WRIT TEX IX EARLY SPRIXG
I heard a thousand blended notes
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
5 To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What Man has made of Man.
Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower,
10 The periwinkle trail'd its wreaths;
And 'tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopp'd and play'd,
Their thoughts I cannot measure, —
15 But the least motion which they made
It seem'd a thrill of pleasure.
cccxx] Book Fourth 363
The budding twigs spread out their fan
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
ff If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature's holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What Man has made of Man?
ir. Wordsworth
cccxx
RUTH: OR THE INFLUENCES OF NATURE
When Ruth was left half desolate
Her father took another mate;
And Ruth, not seven years old,
A slighted child, at her own will
S Went wandering over dale and liill,
In thoughtless freedom, bold.
And she had made a pipe of straw,
And music from that pipe could draw
Like sounds of winds and floods;
10 Had built a bower upon the green,
As if she from her birth had been
An infant of the woods.
Beneath her father's roof, alone
She seem'd to live; her thoughts her own;
15 Herself her own delight:
Pleased with herself, nor sad nor gay;
And passing thus the live-long day,
She grew to woman's height.
'ihere came a youth from Georgia's shore—
20 A military casque he wore
With splendid feathers drest:
He brought them from the C'herokees;
The feathers nodded in the breeze
And made a gallant crest.
364 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxx
From Indian blood you deem him sprung:
But no! he spake tlie EngHsh tongue
And bore a soldier's name;
And, when America was free
5 From battle and from jeopardy,
He 'cross the ocean came.
With hues of genius on his cheek,
In finest tones the youth could speak;
— ^While he was yet a boy
10 The moon, the gloiy of the sun,
And streams that munnur as they run
Had been his dearest joy.
He .was a lovely youth! I guess
The panther in the wilderness
15 Was not so fair as he;
And when he chose to sport and play,
No dolphin ever was so gay
Upon the tropic sea.
Among the Indians he had fought;
20 And with him many tales he brought
Of pleasure and of fear;
Such tales as, told to any maid
By such a youth, in the green shade,
Were perilous to hear.
23 He told of girls, a happy rout!
Who qviit their fold with dance and shout,
Their pleasant Indian town,
To gather strawberries all day long;
Returning with a choral song
30 When daylight is gone down.
He spake of plants that hourly change
Their blossoms, through a boundless range
Of intermingling hues;
With budding, fading, faded flowers,
36 They stand tlie wonder of the bowers
From mom to evening dews.
He told of the magnolia, spread
High as a cloud, high over head!
The cypress and her spire;
cccxx] Book Fourth 365
— Of flowers that with one scarlet gleam
Cover a hundred leagues, and seem
To set the hills on fire.
The youth of green savannahs spake,
5 And many an endless, endless lake
With all its fairy crowds
Of islands, that together lie
As quietly as spots of sky
Among the evening clouds.
10 'How pleasant,' then he said, 'it were
A fisher or a hunter there.
In sunsliine or in shade
To wander with an easy mind,
And build a household fire, and find
15 A home in every glade!
'What days and what bright years! Ah me I
Our life were life indeed, with thee
So pass'd in quiet bliss;
And all the while,' said he, 'to know
29 That we were in a world of woe.
On such an earth as tliis!'
And then he sometimes interwove
Fond thoughts about a father's love,
'For there,' said he, 'are spun
25 Around the heart such tender ties.
That our own children to our eyes
Are dearer than the sun.
'Sweet Ruth! and could you go with m
My helpmate in the woods to be,
30 Our shed at night to rear;
Or run, my owti adopted bride,
A sylvan huntress at my side,
And drive the flying deer!
'Beloved Ruth!' — No more he said.
35 Tho wakeful Ruth at midnight shed
A solitary tear:
She thought again — and did agree
With him to sail across the sea,
And drive the flying deer.
366 Palgravc's Golden Treasury [cccxs
'And now, as fitting is ai.d right,
We in the church our faith will plight,
A husband and a wife.'
Even so they did; and I may say
6 That to sweet Ruth that happy day
Was more than human life.
Through dream and vision did she sink,
Delighted all the while to think
That, on those lonesome floods
*0 And green savannahs, she should share
His board with lawful joy, and bear
His name in the wild woods.
But, as you have before been told,
This Stripling, sportive, gay, and bold,
15 And with his dancing crest
So beautiful, through savage lands
Had roam'd about, with vagrant bands
Of Indians in the West.
The wind, the tempest roaring high,
20 The tumult of a tropic sky
Might well be dangerous food
For liim, a youth to whom was given
So much of earth — so much of heaven.
And such impetuous blood.
25 Whatever in those climes he found
Irregular in sight and sound
Did to his mind impart
A kindred impulse, seem'd aUied
To his own powers, and justified
30 The workings of his heart.
Nor less, to feed voluptuous thought,
The beauteous forms of Nature wrought, —
Fair trees and gorgeous flowers;
The breezes their own languor lent;
35 The stars had feelings, which they sent
Into those favour'd bowers.
Yet, in his worst pursuits, I ween
That sometimes there did intervene
Pure hopes of liigh intent:
iccxx] Book Fourth 367
For passions link'd to forms so fair
And stately, needs must have their share
Of noble sentiment.
But ill he lived, much evil saw,
I With men to whom no better law
Nor better life was known;
Deliberately and undeceived
Those wild men's vices he received,
And gave them back his own.
10 His genius and his moral frame
Were thus impair'd, and- he became
The slave of low desires:
A man who without self-control
Would seek what the degraded soul
15 Unworthily admites.
And yet he with no feign 'd delight
Had woo'd the maiden, day and night
Had loved her, night and morn:
What could bf less than love a maid
19 Wliose heart with so much nature play'd—
So kind and so forlorn?
Sometimes most earnestly he said,
'O Ruth! I have been worse than dead;
False thoughts, thoughts bold and vain
25 Encompass'd me on every side
When I; in confidence and pride,
Had cross'd the Atlantic main.
'Before me shone a glorious world
Fresh as a banner bright, unfurl'd
30 To music suddenly:
I look'd upon those hills and plains.
And seem'd as if let loose from chains
To live at Uberty!
'No more of this — for now, by thee,
35 Dear Ruth! more happily set free,
With nobler zeal I burn;
My soul from darkness is released
Like the whole sky when to the east
13 The morning doth return.'
368 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxx
Full soon that better mind was gone;
No hope, no wish remain'd, not one, —
They stirr'd him now no more;
New objects did new pleasure give,
S And once again he wish'd to live
As lawless as before.
Meanwhile, as thus with him it fared,
They for the voyage were prepared,
And went to the sea-shore:
10 But, when they thither came, the youth
Deserted his poor bride, and Ruth
Could never find him more.
God help thee, Ruth! — Such pains she had
That she in half a year was mad
16 And in a prison housed;
And there, with many a doleful song
Made of wild words, her cup of wrong
She fearfully caroused.
Yet sometimes milder hours she knew,
20 Nor wanted sun, nor rain, nor dew,
Nor pastimes of the May,
— They all were with her in her cell;
And a clear brook with cheerful knell
Did o'er the pebbles play.
25 When Ruth three seasons thus had lain,
There came a respite to her pain;
She from her prison fled;
But of the Vagrant none took thought;
And where it liked her best she sought
"0 Her shelter and her bread.
Among the fields she breathed again:
The master-current of her brain
Ran permanent and free;
And, coming to the banks of Tone.
3" There did she rest; and dwell alone
Under the greenwood tree.
The engines of her pain, the toois
That shaped her sorrow, rocks and Dools.
And airs that gently stir
cccxxj Book Fourth 369
The vernal leaves — she loved them still,
Nor ever tax'd them with the ill
Wliich had been done to her.
A barn her Winter bed supplies;
5 But, till the warmth of Sununer skies
And Summer days is gone,
(And all do in this tale agree)
She sleeps beneath the greenwood tree,
And other home hath none.
10 An innocent life, yet far astray!
And Ruth will, long before her day.
Be broken dowTi and old.
Sore aches she needs must have! but less
Of mind, than body's wretchedness,
15 From damp, and rain, and cold.
If she is prest by want of food
She from her dwelling in the wood
Repairs to a road-side;
And there she begs at one steep place
20 Where up and down with easy pace
The horsemen-travellers ride.
That oaten pipe of hers is mute
Or thrown away: but with a flute
Her loneliness she cheers;
i5 This flute, made of a hemlock stalk,
At evening in his homeward walk
The Quantock woodman hears.
I, too, have pass'd her on the hills
Setting her little water-mills
30 By spouts and fountains wild —
Such small machinery as she turn'd
Ere she had wept, ere she liad mourn'd,— •
A young and happy child!
Farewell! and when thy days are told,
35 Ill-fated Ruth! in hallow'd mould
Thy corpse shall buried be;
For thee a funeral bell shall ring.
And all the congregation sing
A Christian psalm for thee.
W. Wordsworth
370 Palgruve's Golden Treasury [cccxxi
cccxxi
WRITTEN AMONG THE
EUGANEAN HILLS
Many a green isle needs must be
In the deep wide sea of Misery,
Or the mariner, worn and wan,
Never thus could voyage on
5 Day and night, and night and day.
Drifting on his dreary way,
AVith the solid darkness black
Closing round his vessel's track;
Whilst above, the sunless sky
13' Big with clouds, hangs heavily,
And behind the tempest fleet
Hvirries on with lightning feet,
Riving sail, and cord, and plank.
Till the ship has almost drank
15 Death from the o'er-brimming deep;
And sinks do\^'n, down, hke that sleep
When the dreamer seems to be
Weltering through eternity;
And the dim low line before
20 Of a dark and distant shore
Still recedes, as ever still
Longing with divided will.
But no power to seek or shun,
He is ever drifted on
25 O'er the unreposing wave,
To the haven of the grave.
Ah, many flowering islands lie
In the waters of wide Agony;
To such a one this morn was led
30 My bark, by soft winds piloted,
— 'Mid the movmtains Eviganean
I stood listening to the paean
With which the legion'd rooks did hail
The Sun's uprise majestical:
35 Gathering round with wings all hoar,
cccxxi] Book Fourth 371
Through the dewy mist they soar
Like gray shades, till the eastern heaven
Bursts; and then, — as clouds of even
Fleck'd with fire and azure, lie
5 In the unfathomable sky, —
So their plumes of purple grain
Starr'd with drops of golden rain
Gleam above the sunlight woods,
As in silent multitudes
10 On the morning's fitful gale
Through the broken mist they sail;
And the vapours cloven and gleaming
Follow down the dark steep streaming,
Till all is bright, and clear, and still
i5 Round the solitary hill.
Beneath is spread like a green sea
The waveless plain of Lombardy,
Bounded by the vaporous air,
Islanded by cities fair;
20 Underneath Day's azure eyes,
Ocean's nursling, Venice Ues, —
A peopled labyrinth of walls,
Amphitrite's destined halls,
Which her hoary sire now paves •
25 With his blue and beaming waves.
Lo! the sun upsprings behind.
Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined
On the level quivering line
Of the waters crj^stalline;
30 And before that chasm of light.
As within a furnace bright,
Column, tower, and dome, and spire,
Sliine hke obelisks of fire.
Pointing with inconstant motion
35 From the altar of dark ocean
To the sapphire-tinted skies;
As the flames of sacrifice
From the marble shrines did rise
As to pierce tlie dome of gold
40 Where Apollo spoke of old.
Sun-girt Ci+y! thou hast been
372 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [ccexxi
Ocean's child, and then his queen;
Now is come a darker day,
And thou soon must be his prey,
If the power that raised thee here
5 Hallow so thy watery bier.
A less drear ruin then than now,
With thy conquest-branded brow
Stooping to the slave of slaves
From thy throne among the waves
to Wilt thou be, — when the sea-mew
Flies, as once before it flew.
O'er thine isles depopulate.
And all is in its ancient state,
Save where many a palace-gate
i5 With green sea-flowers overgrown
Like a rock of ocean's own.
Topples o'er the abandon'd sea
As the tides change sullenly.
The fisher on his watery way
20 Wandering at the close of day,
Will spread his sail and seize his oar
Till he pass the gloomy shore,
Lest thy dead should, from their sleep.
Burstijig o'er the starlight deep,
25 Lead a rapid masque of death
O'er the waters of his path.
Noon descends around me now:
'Tis the noon of autunm's glow
When a soft and purple mist
30 Like a vaporous amethyst,
Or an air-dissolved star
Mingling light and fragrance, far
From the curved horizon's bound
To the point of heaven's profound,
35 Fills the overflowing sky;
And the plains that silent lie
Underneath; the leaves unsodden
Where the infant Frost has trodden
With his morning-winged feet
40 Whose bright print is gleaming yet;
A.nd the red and golden vine«
cccxxi] Book Fourth 373
Piercing with their trellised lines
The rough, dark-skirted wilderness;
The dun and bladed grass no less,
Pointing from tliis hoary tower
5 In the windless air; tiie flower
Glimmering at my feet; the line
Of the olive-sandall'd Apennine
In the south dimly islanded;
And the Alps, whose snows are spread
10 High between the clouds and sun;
And of living things each one;
And my spirit, wliich so long
Darken'd this swift stream of song, —
Interpenetrated lie
15 By the glory of the sky;
Be it love, light, harmony,
Odour, or the soul of all
Which from heaven like dew doth fall.
Or the mind which feeds this verse,
20 Peopling the lone universe.
Noon descends, and after noon
Autumn's evening meets me soon.
Leading the infantine moon
And that one star, which to her
25 Almost seems to minister
Half the crimson light she brings
From the sunset's radiant springs:
And the soft dreams of the morn
(Which like winged winds had borne
30 To that silent isle, wliich lies
'Mid remember'd agonies,
The frail bark of this lone being).
Pass, to other sufferers fleeing,
And its ancient pilot, Pain,
35 Sits beside the helm again.
Other flowering isles must be
In the sea of Life and Agony:
Other spirits float and flee
O'er that gulf: Ev'n now, perhaps,
40 On some rock the wild wave wrapt.
374 Palgrave's Golden Treasury Icccxxi
With folded wings they waiting sit
For my bark, to pilot it
To some calm and blooming cove;
Where for me, and those I love,
. 5 May a windless bower be built,
Far from passion, pain, and guilt,
In a dell 'mid lawny hills
Which the wild sea-murmur fills,
And soft sunsliine, and the sound
10 Of old forests echoing round,
And the light and smell divine
Of all flowers that breathe and shine.
— We may live so happy there,
That the Spirits of the Air
15 Envying us, may ev'n entice
To our healing paradise
The polluting multitude:
But their rage would be subdued
By that clime di\ane and calm,
20 And the winds whose wings rain balm
On the uplifted soul, and leaves
Under which the bright sea heaves;
While each breathless interval
In their whisperings musical
25 The inspired soul suppHes
With its ovm deep melodies;
And the Love which heals all strife
Circling, like the breath of life,
All things in that sweet abode
30 With its own mild brotherhood: —
They, not it, would change; and soon
Every sprite beneath the moon
Would repent its envy vain.
And the Earth grow young again.
P. JB. Shelley
cccxxii] Book Fourth 375
CCCXXII
ODE TO THE WEST WIND
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being.
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing.
Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,
5 Pestilence-stricken multitudes! O thou
Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed
The winged seeds, where they lie cold and low.
Each like a corpse within its grave, until
Thine azure sister of the Spring shall blow
10 Her clarion o'er the dreaming earth and fill
(Driving sweet buds like flocks to feed in air)
With hving hues and odours plain and hill:
Wild Spirit, which art moving everywhere;
Destroyer and Preserver; Hear, oh "hear!
15 Thou on whose stream, 'mid the steep sky's com-
motion.
Loose clouds like earth's decaying leaves are shed.
Shook from the tangled boughs of heaven and ocean.
Angels of rain and hghtning ! there are spread
On the blue surface of thine airy surge,
20 Like the bright hair uplifted from the head
Of some fierce Maenad, ev'n from the dim verge
Of the horizon to the zenith's height —
The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge
Of the dying year, to wliich this closing night
25 Will be the dome of a vast sepulchre,
Vaulted with all thy congregated might
Of vapours, from whose solid atmosphere
Black rain, and fire, and hail, will burst: Oh hear!
Thou who didst waken from liis summer-dreams
30 The blue Mediterranean, where he lay,
Lull'd by the coil of his crystalline streams,
Beside a pumice isle in Baiae's bay,
And saw in sleep old palaces and towers
Qu'vering within the wave's intenser day,
376 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxij
All overgrowTi with azure moss, and flowers
So sweet, the sense faints picturing them! Thou
For whose path the Atlantic's level powers
Cleave themselves into chasms, while far below
5 The sea-blooms and the oozy woods which wear
The sapless foliage of the ocean, know
Thy voice, and suddenly grow gray with fear
And tremble and despoil themselves; Oh heari
If I were a dead leaf thou mightest bear;
10 If I were a swift cloud to fly with thee;
A wave to pant beneath thy power, and share
The impulse of thy strength, only less free
Than Thou, O uncontrollable! If even
I were as in my boyhood, and could be
15 The comrade of thy wanderings over heaven,
As then, when to outstrip thy skiey speed
Scarce seem'd a vision, — I would ne'er have striken
As thus with thee in prayer in my sore need.
Oh! lift me as a wave, a leaf, a cloud!
20 I fall upon the thorns of life! I bleed!
A hea\'y weight of hours has chain'd and bow'd
One too like thee — tameless, and swift, and proud.
Make me thy lyre, ev'n as the forest is:
"What if my leaves are falling like its own I
25 The tumult of thy mighty harmonies
Will take from both a deep autumnal tone,
Sweet though in sadness. Be thou, Spirit fierce,
My spirit! be thou me, impetuous one!
Drive my dead thoughts over the universe,
30 Like wither'd leaves, to qiiicken a new birth;
And, by the incantation of this verse.
Scatter, as f»-om an unextinguish'd hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth
S5 The trumpet of a prophecy: O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?
P. B. Shelley
cccxxiii] Book Fourth 377
cccxxiii
NATURE AND THE POET
Suggested by a Picture of Peele Castle in a Storm,
painted by Sir George Beaumont
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile!
Four summer weeks I dwelt in sight of thee:
I saw thee every day; and all the while
Thy Form was sleeping on a glassy sea.
5 So pure the sky, so quiet was the air!
So bke, so very like, was day to day!
Whene'er I look'd, thy image still was there;
It trembled, but it never pass'd away.
How perfect was the calm! It seem'd no sleep,
10 No mood, which season takes away, or brings:
I coukl have fancied that the mighty Deep
Was even the gentlest of all gentle tilings.
Ah! then — if mine had been the painter's hand
To express what then I saw; and add the gleam
15 The light that never was on sea or land,
The consecration, and the Poet's dream, —
I wovild have planted thee, thou hoary pile,
Amid a world how different from this!
Beside a sea that could not cease to smile;
20 On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss.
Thou shouldst have seem'd a treasure-house divine
Of peaceful years; a chronicle of heaven; —
Of all the sunbeams that did ever shine
The very sweetest had to thee been given.
25 A picture had it been of lasting ease,
Elysian quiet, without toil or strife;
No motion but the mo\'ing tide; a breeze;
Or merely silent Nature's breathing life
378 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxiii
Such, in the fond iUusion of my heart,
Such picture would I at that time have made;
And seen the soul of truth in every part,
A steadfast peace that might not be betray'd.
5 So once it would have been, — 'tis so no more;
I have submitted to a new control:
A power is gone, which nothing can restore;
A deep distress hath humanized my soul.
Not for a moment could I now behold
10 A smiling sea, and be what I have been:
The feeling of my loss will ne'er be old;
This, which I know, I speak with mind serene.
Then, Beaumont, Friend! who would have been the
friend
If he had lived, of Him whom 1 deplore,
15 This work of tliine I blame not, but commend;
This sea in anger, and that dismal shore.
'tis a passionate work! — yet wise and well,
Well chosen is the spirit that is here;
That hulk which labours in the deadly swell,
20 This rueful sky, this pageantry of fear!
And this huge Castle, standing here sublime,
1 love to see the look with which it braves,
— Cased in the unfeeling armour of old time —
The lightning, the fierce wind, and trampling waves.
25 — Farewell, farewell the heart that lives alone
Housed in a dream, at distance from the Kind!
Such happiness, wherever it be knowTi,
Is to be pitied; for 'tis surely blind.
But welcome fortitude, and patient cheer,
/O And frequent sights of w'hat is to be borne!
Such sights, or worse, as are before me here: —
Not without hope we suffer and we mourn.
W. Wordsworth
cccxxv] Book Fourth 37i3
cccxxiv
THE POET'S DREAM
On a Poet's lips I slept
Dreaming like a love-adept
In the sound his breathing kept;
Nor seeks nor finds he mortal blisses,
5 But feeds on the aerial kisses
Of shapes that haunt Thought's wildernesses.
He will watch from dawn to gloom
The lake-reflected sun illume
The yellow bees in the ivy-bloom,
10 Nor heed nor see what things they be —
But from these create he can
Forms more real than living Man,
Nurslings of Immortality!
P. B. Shelley
cccxxv
GLEN-ALMAIX, THE X ARROW GLEN
In this still place, remote from men,
Sleeps Ossian, in the Narrow (ileii;
In this still place, where murmurs on
But one meek streamlet, only one:
5 He sang of battles, and the breath
Of stormy war, and violent death;
And should, methinks, when all was past.
Have rightfully been hud at last
Where rocks were rudely heap'd, antl rent
10 As by a spirit turbulent;
Where siglits were rough, and sounds were wild.
And everything unreconciled;
In some complaining, dim retreat.
For fear and melancholy meet;
15 But this is calm; there cannot be
A more entire tranquillity.
380 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxv
Does then the Bard sleep here indeed?
Or is it but a groundless creed?
What matters it? — I blame them not
Whose fancy in this lonely spot
5 Was moved; and in such way express'd
Their notion of its perfect rest.
A convent, even a hermit's cell,
Would break the silence of this Dell:
It is not quiet, is not ease;
10 But something deeper far than these:
The separation that is here
Is of the grave; and of austere
Yet happy feelings of the dead:
And, therefore, was it rightly said
15 That Ossian, last of all his race!
Lies buried in this lonely place.
W. Wordsworth
cccxxvr
The World is too much with us; late and soon.
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers;
"Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
■> Tills Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours
And are up-gather'd now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for every thing, we are out of tune;
It moves VIS not. — Great God! I'd rather be
10 A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn, —
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea.
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
W. Wordsworth
cccxxviii] Book Fourth 381
CCCXXVII
WITHIN KING'S COLLEGE CHAPEL,
CAMBRIDGE
Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense,
With ill-mateh'd aims the Architect who plann'd
(Albeit labouring for a scanty band
Of white-robed Scholars only) this immense
5 And glorious work of fine intelligence!
— Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore
Of nicely-calculated less or more: —
So deem'd the man who fashion 'd for the sense
These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof
10 Self-poised, and scoop'd into ten thciusand cells
Where light and shade repose, where music dwells
Lingering — and wandering on as loth to die;
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yicldeth proof
That they were born for immortality.
W. Wordsworth
CCCXXVIII
ODE ON A GRECIAN URN
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan liistorian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme
5 What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both.
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or trods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What strup;gle to escape?
10 What pipes and timbrels? WHiat wild "ecstasy?
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual car, but, more endear'd,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
382 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxx\aii
Tair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss.
Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve;
5 She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss.
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Yovir leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
10 For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy 'd.
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
15 That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.
Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
20 And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore.
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel.
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
25 Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought.
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
30 Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st,
35 'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' — that is all
^e know on earth, and all ye need to know.
J. Keats
cccxxix] Book Fourth 383
cccxxix
YOUTH AXD AGE
Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee —
Both were mine! Life went a-maying
Witli Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
3 When I was young 1
When I was young? — Ah, woful when!
Ah! for the change 'twixt Now and Then J
This breathing house not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
10 O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands
How lightly then it flash'd along:
Like those trim skifTs, unknown of yore,
On winding lakes and rivers wide.
That ask no aid of sail or oar,
15 That fear no spite of wind or tide!
Nought cared this body for wind or weather
When youth and I hved in't together.
Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;
Friendship is a sheltering tree;
20 O! the joys, that came down shower-like,
Of Friendship. Love, and Liberty,
Ere I was old!
Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere,
Wliich tells me, Youth's no longer herel
25 O Youth! for years so many and sweet,
'Tis knowni that Thou and I were one,
I'll think it but a fond conceit —
It cannot be, that Thou art gone!
Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toU'd: —
30 And thou wert aye a masker bold!
What strange disguise hast now i)ut on
To make believe tliat Thou art gone?
I see these locks in silvery slips.
This drooping gait, this alter'd size;
35 But Springtide blossoms on thy lips.
And tears take sunshine from thine eyes!
i.ife is but Thought: so think I will
Tliat Youth and I are huuse-mates still,
384 Falgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxix
Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
But the tears of mournful eve!
Where no hope is, hfe's a warning
That only serves to make us grieve
5 When we are old:
— That only serves to make us grieve
With oft and tedious taking-leave,
Like some poor nigh-related guest
That may not rudely be dismist,
10 Yet hath out-stay'd his welcome while,
And tells the jest without the smile.
S. T. Coleridge
cccxxx
THE TWO APRIL MORNINGS
We walk'd along, while bright and red
Uprose the morning sun;
And Matthew stopp'd. he look'd, and said
'The will of God be done!'
5 A village schoolmaster was he,
With hair of glittering gray;
As blithe a man as you could see
On a spring holiday.
And on that morning, through the grass
«0 And by the steaming rills
We travell'd merrily, to pass
A day among the hills.
'Our work,' said I 'was well begun;
Then, from thy breast what thought,
16 Beneath so beautiful a sun,
So sad a sigh has brought?'
A second time did Matthew stop;
And fixing still his eye
Upon the eastern mountain-top,
20 To me he m^ade reply.
cccxxx] Book Fourth
'Yon cloud with that long purple cleft
Brings fresh into my mind
A day like this, which I have left
Full thirty years behind.
3 And just above yon slope of com
Such colours, and no otlier^
Were in the sky that April morn.
Of tills the very brother.
'With rod and line I sued the sport
10 Which that sweet season gave,
And to the church-yard come, stopp'd short
Beside my daughter's grave.
'Nine summers had she scarcely seen,
The pride of all the vale;
1,5 And then she sang. — she would have been
A very nightingale.
'Six feet in earth my Emma lay;
And yet I loved her more —
For so it seem'd,— than till that day
20 I e'er had loved before.
'And turning from her grave, I met.
Beside the churchyard yew,
A blooming (iirl, whose hair was wet
With points of morning dew.
25 'A basket on her head she bare;
Her brow was smooth and white:
To see a child so very fair,
It was a pure delight!
'No fountain from its rocky cave
>,0 E'er tripped with foot so free;
She seeni'd as happy as a wave
"That dances on the sea.
'There came from me a sigh of pain
Which I could ill confine;
••- I look'd at her, and look'd again:
And did not wish her mine!'
386 Polgravc's Golden Treasury [cccxxx
— Matthew is in his grave, yet now
Methink? I see him stand
As at that moment, with a bough
Of wilding in his hand.
TT'. Wordsworth
cccxxxi
THE FOUNTAIX
A Conversation
We talk'-' with open heart, and tongue
Affectionate anil true,
A pair of friends, though I was young,
And Matthew seventy-two.
5 We lay beneath a spreading oak,
Beside a mossy seat;
And from the turf a fountain broke
And gurgled at our feet.
'Now, Matthew!' said I, 'let us match
10 This water's pleasant tune
With some old border-song, or catch
That suits a sunmier's noon;
'Or of the church -clock and the chimes
Sing here beneath the shade
15 That half-mad thing of AA-itty rhjTnes
Which you last April made!'
In silence Matthew lay, and eyed
The spring beneath the tree;
And thus the dear old man replied,
20 The gray-hair'd man of glee:
'No check, no stay, this Streamlet fears,
How merrily it goes!
'Twill murmur on a thousand years
And flow as now it flows
cccxxxi] Book Fourth 387
'And here, on this dehghtful day,
I cannot choose but think
How oft, a vigorous man, I lay
Beside this fountain's brink.
5 'My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirr'd,
For the same sound is in my ears
Wliich in those days I heard.
'Thus fares it still in our decay:
10 And yet the wiser mind
Mourns less for what Age takes away.
Than w^hat it leaves behind.
'The blackbird amid leafy trees,
The lark above the liill,
15 Let loose their carols when they please.
Are quiet when they will.
'With Nature never do they nage
A foolish strife; they see
A happy youth, and their old age
20 Is beautiful and free:
'But we are press'd by heavy laws;
And often, glad no more.
We wear a face of joy, because
We have been glad of yore.
25 'If there be one who need bemoan
His kindred laid in earth,
The housoliokl hearts that were his own,—
It is the man of mirth.
'My days, my friend, are almost gone,
30 My life has been approved.
And many love me; but by none
Am I enough beloved.'
'Now both himself and me he wrongs,
The man who thus complains!
35 I live and sing my idle songs
Upon these happy plains:
388 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxxj
'And Matthew, for thy children dead
I'll be a son to thee!'
At this he grasp'd my hand and saidj
'Alas! that cannot be.'
5 — We rose up from the fountain-side;
And down the smooth descent
Of the green sheep-track did we glide;
And through the wood we went;
And ere we came to Leonard's rock
10 He sang those witty rhymes
About the crazy old church-clock,
And the bewilder'd chimes.
W. Wordsworth
CCCXXXII
THE RIVER OF LIFE
The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages:
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years hke passing ages.
5 The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.
But as the care-worn cheek grows wan,
10 And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye Stars, that measure life to man.
Why seem your courses quicker?
When joys have lost their bloom and breath
And life itself is vapid,
15 Why, as we reach the Falls of Death
Feel we its tide more rapid?
It may be strange — yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding.
When one by one our friends have gone
20 And left our bosoms bleeding?
cccxxxiv] Book Fourth 389
Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indemnifying fleetness;
And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportion'd to their sweetness.
T. Campbell
CCCXXXIII
THE HUMAN SEASONS
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year;
There are four seasons in the mind of man:
He has his lusty Spring, when fancy clear
Takes in all beauty with an easy span:
5 He has his Summer, when luxuriously
Spring's honey'd cud of youthful thought he loves
To ruminate, and by such dreaming high
Is nearest unto heaven: quiet coves
His soul has in its Autumn, when his wings
10 He furleth close; contented so to look
On mists in idleness — to let fair things
Pass by unheeded as a threshold brook.
He has his Winter too of pale misfeature,
Or else he would forego liis mortal nature.
J. Keats
CCCXXXIV
A DIRGE
Rough wind, that moanest loud
Grief too sad for song;
Wild wind, when sullen cloud
Knells all the night long;
Sad storm whose tears are vain,
Bare woods whose branches stain,
Deep caves and dreary main, —
Wail for the world's wrong!
P. B. Shelley
390 Palyravc's Golden Treasury [cccxxxv
cccxxxv
THRENOS
O World! O Life! O Time!
On wliose last steps I climb,
Trembling at that where I had stood before r
When will return the glory of your prime?
5 No more — Oh, never more!
Out of the day and night
A joy has taken flight:
Fresh spring, and summer, and winter hoar
Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight
10 No more — Oh, never more!
P. B. Shelley
CCCXXXVI
THE TRO SACHS
There's not a nook witliin this solemn Pass,
But were an apt confessional for One
Taught by his summer spent, his autumn gone.
That Life is but a tale of morning grass
5 Wither'd at eve. From scenes of art which chase
That thought away, turn, and with watchful eyes
Feed it 'mid Nature's old felicities,
Rocks, rivers, and smooth lakes more clear than glass
Untouch'd, unbreathed upon: — Thrice happy quest,
10 If from a golden perch of aspen spray
(October's workmansliip to rival May),
The pensive warbler of the ruddy breast
That moral sweeten by a heaven-taught lay.
Lulling the year, with all its cares, to rest!
W. Wordsworth
cccxxxviii] Book Fourth 391
CCCXXXVII
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky :
So was it when my life began,
So is it now I am a man,
3 So be it when I shall grow old
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man:
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
W. Wordsworth
CCCXXXVIII
ODE OX IXTIMATIOXS OF IMMORTALITY
FROM RECOLLECTIOXS OF EARLY
CHILDHOOD
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream.
The earth, and every common sight
To me did seem
Apparell'd in celestial light,
5 The glory and the freshness of a dream.
It is not now as it hath been of yore; — •
Turn wheresoe'er I may.
By night or day,
The tilings which I have seen I now can see no more.
10 The rainbow comes and goes,
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
15 Are beautiful and fair;
The sunshine is a glorious birtli;
But yet I know, wliere'er I go.
That there hath past away a glory from the earth.
Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song.
20 And while the young lambs bound
As to the tabor's sound,
392 Palgrave^s Golden Treasury [cccxxxviii
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong.
The cataracts blow their tnunpets from the steep; —
5 No inore shall grief of mine the season wrong:
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,
The winds come to me froin the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea
10 Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday; —
Thou child of joy
Shovit round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy
Shepherd-boy !
15 Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call
Ye to each other make; I see
The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee;
My heart is at your festival,
My head hath its coronal,
20 The fulness of your bliss, I feel — I feel it all.
Oh evil day! if I were sullen
While Earth herself is adorning
This sweet May-morning;
And the children are culling
25 On every side
In a thousand valleys far and wide,
Fresh flowers; while the sun shines warm
And the babe leaps up on his mother's arm: —
I hear, I hear, with joy I hear!
30 — But there's a tree, of many, one,
A single field which I have look'd upon,
Both of them speak of something that is gone:
The pansy at my feet
Doth the same tale repeat:
35 Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where it is now, the glory and the dream?
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting;
The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star,
Hath had elsewhere its setting
40 And Cometh from afar;
cccxxxviii] Book Fourth 393
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory we do come
From God, who is our home:
5 Heaven lies about us in our infancy!
Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing Boy.
But he beholds the light, and whence it flows,
He sees it in his joy;
10 The Youth, who daily farther from the east
Must trayel, still is Nature's priest,
And by the vision splendid
Is on his way attended;
At length the Man perceives it die away,
15 And fade into the light of common day.
Earth fills her lap \\ith pleasures of her own;
Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind,
And, even with sometliing of a rnother's mind
And no unworthy aim,
20 The homely nurse doth all she can
To make her foster-child, her inmate, Man,
Forget the glories he hath known.
And that imperial palace whence he came.
Behold the Child among liis new-born blisses,
25 A six years' darling of a pigmy size!
See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies,
Fretted by sallies of liis mother's kisses.
With light upon him from his father's eyes!
See, at his feet, some little plan or chart,
30 Some fragment from his dream of human life,
Shaped by himself witii newly-learned art;
A wedding or a festival,
A mourning or a funeral:
And this hath now his heart,
35 And imto this he frames his song:
Then will he fit his tongue
To dialogues of business, love, or strife;
But it will not be long
Ere this be thrown aside.
40 And with new joy au'l pride
394 Palgrave's Golden Treasuri/ [cccxxxviii
The little actor cons anotlier part;
Filling from time to time his 'humorous stage'
With all the Persons, down to palsietl Age^
That life brings with her in her equipage;
5 As if his whole vocation
Were endless imitation.
Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy soul's immensity;
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
10 Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind.
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal Mind, —
Mighty Prophet! Seer blest!
On whom those truths do rest
15 Wliich we are toiling all our lives to find.
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;
Thou, over whom thy Immortality
Broods like the day, a master o'er a slave,
A Presence whicli is not to be put by;
20 Thou httie chikl, yet glorious in the might
Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height,
Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke
The years to bring the inevitable yoke.
Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife?
25 Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight,
And custom lie upon thee with a weight
Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life!
O joy! that in our embers
Is something that doth live,
30 That Nature yet remembers
What was so fugitive!
The thought of our past years in me doth breed
Perpetual benediction: not indeed
For that which is most worthy to be blest,
35 Delight and liberty, the simple creed
Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest,
With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast: —
— Not for these I raise
The song of thanks and praise;
40 But for those obstinate questionings
cccxxxviii] Book Fourth 305
Of sense and outward things,
Fallings from iis, vanishings;
Blank misgivings of a creature
Moving about in worlds not realized,
5 High instincts, before wliich our mortal nature
Did jtremble like a guilty thing surprized:
But for those first affections.
Those shadowy recollections,
Wliich, be they what they may,
10 Are yet the fountain-light of all our day.
Are yet a master-light of all our seeing;
Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make
Our noisy years seem moments in the being
Of the eternal Silence: truths that wake,
15 To perish never;
Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour,
Nor man nor boy
Nor all that is at enmity with joy.
Can utterly abolish or destroy!
20 Hence, in a season of calm weather
Though inland far we be,
Our souls have sight of that immortal sea
Which brought us hither;
Can in a moment travel tiiither —
25 And see the children sport upon the shore,
And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore.
Then, sing ye birds, .sing, sing a joyous song!
And let the yomig lambs boimd
As to the tabor's sound!
30 We, in thought, will join your throng
Ye that pipe and ye that play,
Ye that through your hearts to-day
Feel the gladness of the May!
What though the radiance which was once so bright
35 Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains beliind;
40 In the primal synipatliy
Whicli liaving been must ever be;
396 Palgrave's Golden Treasury [cccxxxviii
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering:
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind.
5 And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves,
Forbode not any severing of our loves!
Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might;
I only have relinquish'd one delight
To live beneath your more habitual sway:
10 I love the brooks which down their channels fret
Even more than when I tripp'd lightly as they;
The innocent brightness of a new-born day
Is lovely yet;
The clouds that gather round the setting sun
15 Do take a sober colouring from an eye
That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality;
Another race hath been, and other palms are won.
Thanks to the human heart by which we live,
Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears,
20 To me the meanest flower that blows can give
Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.
W. Wordsworth
cccxxxix
Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory —
Odours, when sweet violets sicken.
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heap'd for the beloved's bed:
And so thy thoughts, when Thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
P. B. Shelley
NOTES
INDEX OF WRITERS
AND
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
NOTES
(1861—1891)
Summary of Book First
The Elizabethan Poetry, as it is rather vaguely termed, forms
the substance of this Book, which contains pieces from Wyat
under Henry VIII to Shakespeare midway through the reign
of James I, and Drummond who carried on tlie early manner
to a still later period. There is here a wide range of style; —
from simplicity expressed in a language hardly yet broken-in
to verse, — through the pastoral fancies and Italian conceits of
the strictly Elizabethan time, — to the passionate reality of Shake-
speare: yet a general uniformity of tone prevails. Few readers
can fail to observe the natural sweetness of the verse, the single-
hearted straightforwardness of the thoughts: — nor less, the limi-
tation of subject to the many phases of one passion, which then
characterized our lyrical poetry, — unless when, as in especial
with Shakespeare, the 'purple light of Love' is tempered by a
spirit of sterner reflection. For the didactic verse of the century,
although lyrical in form, yet very rarely rises to the pervading
emotion, the golden cadence, proper to the lyric.
It should be observed that this and the following Summaries
apply in the main to the Collection here presented, in which
(besides its restriction to Lyrical Poetry) a strictly representa-
tive or historical Anthology has not been aimed at. Great
excellence, in human art as in human character, has from the
beginning of things been even more uniform than mediocrity,
by virtue of the closeness of its approach to Nature: — and so
far as the standard of Excellence kept in view has been attained
in this volume, a comj)arative absence of e.xtreme or temporary
phases in style, a sinnlarity of tone and manner, will be found
throughout: — something neither modern nor ancient, but true
and speaking to the heart of man alike throughout all ages.
14 399
400 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
PAGE NO,
52 iii tvhisl: hushed, quieted.
— iv Rouse Memnon's mother: Awaken the Dawn from the
dark Earth and the clouds where she is resting. This
is one of that hmited class of early mythes which may
be reasonably interpreted as representations of natural
phenomena. Aurora in the old mythology is mother
of Memnon (the East), and wife of Tithonus (the appear-
ances of Earth and Sky during the last hours of IVight).
She leaves him every morning in renewed youth, to
prepare the way for Phoebus (the Sun), whilst Tithonus
remains in perpetual old age and grayness.
53 — 1. 23 by Peneus' stream: Phoebus loved the Nymph
Daphne whom he met by the river Peneus in the vale
of Tempe. L. 27 Amphion's lyre: He was said to have
built the walls of Thebes to the sound of his music.
L. 35 Night like a drunkard reels: Compare Romeo and
Juliet, Act II, Scene 3: 'The grey-eyed morn smiles,'
&c. — It should be added that three lines, which appeared
hopelessly misprinted, have been omitted in this Poem.
54 vi Time's chest: in which he is figuratively supposed to
lay up past treasures. So in Troilus, Act III, Scene
3, 'Time hath a wallet at his back', &c. In the Arcadia,
chest is used to signify tomb.
55 vii A fine example of the highwrought and conventional
Elizabethan Pastoralism, which it would be unreason-
able to criticise on the ground of the unshepherdlike
or unreal character of some images suggested Stanza
6 was perhaps inserted by Izaak Walton.
56 viii This beautiful lyric is one of several recovered from
the very rare Elizabethan Song-books, for the publi-
cation of which our thanks are due to Mr. A. H. Bullen
(1887, 1888).
58 xii One stanza has been here omitted, in accordance with
the principle noticed in the Preface. Similar omis-
sions occur in a few other poems. The more serious
abbreviation by which it has been attempted to bring
Crashaw's 'Wishes' and Shelley's 'Euganean Hills,'
with one or two more, within the scheme of this selec-
tion, is commended with much diffidence to the judg-
ment of readers acquainted with the original pieces.
^9 xiii Sidney's poetry is singularly unequal; his short life,
his frequent absorption in public employment, hin-
dered doubtless the development of his genius. His
great contemporary fame, second only, it appears, to
Spenser's, has been hence obscured. At times he is
heavy and even prosaic; his simplicity is rude and bare;
his verse unmelodious. These, however, are the 'de-
fects of his merits.' In a certain depth and chivalry
of feeling, — ^in the rare and noble quality of disinter-
estedness (to put it in one word), — he has no superior,
hardly perhaps an equal, amongst our Poets; and after
or beside Shakespeare's Sonnets, his Astrophel and
Xotes 401
PAGE NO.
Stella, in the Editor's judgment, offers the most intense
and powerful picture of the passion of love in the whole
range of our poetry. — Hundreds of years: 'The very
rapture of love,' says Mr. Ruskin; 'A lover like this
does not believe his mistress can grow old or die.'
62 xix Readers who have visited Italy will be reminded of
more than one picture by this gorgeous Vision of Beauty,
equally sublime and pure in its Paradisaical natural-
ness. Lodge wrote it on a voyage to 'the Islands of
Terceras and the Canaries;' and he seems to have caught,
in those southern seas, no small portion of the qualities
which marked the almost contemporary Art of Venice,
—the glory and the glow of Veronese,' Titian, or Tin-
toret. — From the same romance is No. 71: a charm-
ing picture in the purest style of the later Italian Renais-
sance.
The clear (1. 1) is the crystalline or outermost heaven
of the old cosmography. For a fair there's fairer none:
If you desire a Beauty, there is none more beautiful
than Rosaline.
64 xxii Another gracious lyric from an Elizabethan Song-
book, first reprinted (it is believed) in Mr. W. J. Lin-
ton's 'Rare Poems,' in 1883.
65 xxiii that fair thou owest: that beauty thou ownest.
66 XXV From one of the three Song-hooks of T. Campion,
who appears to have been author of the words which
he set to music. His merit as a lyrical poet (recognized
in his own time, but since then forgotten) has been
again brought to light by Mr. Bulleh's taste and re-
search: — swerving (st. 2) is his conjecture for chang-
ing in the text of 1601.
70 xxxi the star Whose worth's vnknoirn, although his height
be taken: apparently. Whose stellar influence is uncal-
culated, although liis angular altitude from the plane
of the astrolabe or artificial horizon used l)y astrologers
has been determined.
70 xxxii This lovely song appears, as here given, in Put ten-
ham's 'Arte of English Poesie,' 1.589. A longer and
inferior form was p\iblished in the '.Arcadia' of 1590,
but Puttenham's prefatory words clearly assign his
version to Sidney's own authorship.
73 xxxvii keel: keep cooler by stirring round.
74 xxxix expense: loss.
— xl prease: press.
75 xli Nativity, once in the main of light: when a star has
risen and entered on the full stream of light; — another
of the astrological phrases no longer familiar.
Crooked eclipses: as coming athwart the Sun's apparent
course.
Wordsworth, thinking probably of the 'Venus' and the
'Lucrece,' said finely of Shakespeare: 'Shakespeare
402 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
PAGE NO.
could not have written an Epic; he would have died
of plethora of thought.' This prodigality of nature is
exemplified equally in his Sonnets. The'copious selec-
tion here given (which from the wealth of the material,
required greater consideration than any other portion
of the Editor's task), — contains many that will not be
fully felt and understood without some earnestness of
thought on the reader's part. But he is not likely to
regret the labour.
76 xlii upon misprision growing: either, granted in error, or,
on the growth of contempt.
— xliii With the tone of this Sonnet compare Hamlet's
'Give me that man That is not passion's slave,' &c.
Shakespeare's writings show the deepest sensitiveness
to passion: — hence the attraction he felt in the con-
trasting effects of apathy.
76 xliv grame: sorrow. Renaissance influences long impeded
the return of English poets to the charming realism
of this and a few other poems by Wyat.
78 xlv Pandion in the ancient fable was father to Philomela.
79 xlvii In the old legend it is now Philomela, now Procne
(the swallow) who suffers violence from Tereus. This
song has a fascination in its calm, intensity of passion;
that 'sad earnestness and vivid exactness"' which Car-
dinal Newman ascribes to the master-pieces of ancient
poetry.
81 1 proved: approved.
— li censures: judges.
— lii Exquisite in its equably-balanced metrical flow.
82 liii .Judging by its style, this beautiful example of old
simplicity and feeling may, perhaps, be referred to the
earlier years of Elizabeth. Latg forgot: lately.
85 Ivii Printed in a little Anthology by Nicholas Breton,
1597. It is, however, a stronger and finer piece of
work than any known to be his. — St. 1 silly: simple;
dole: grief: chief: chiefly. St. 3 If there be ... : ob-
scure: Perhaps, if there be any who speak harshly of
thee, thy pain may plead for pity from Fate.
This poem, with 60 and 143, are each graceful varia-
tions of a long popular theme.
86 Iviii That busij archer: Cupid. Descries: used actively;
points out. — 'The last line of this poem is a little ob-
scured by transposition. He means, Do they call un-
gratefulness there a virtue?' (C. Lamb).
87 lix White lope: suggested, Mr. Bullen notes, by a passage
in Propertius fiii, 20) describing Spirits in the lower
world :
Vobiscum est lope, vobiscum Candida Tjto.
88 Ixii cypres or Cyprus, — used by the ohi writers for crape:
whether from the French crespe or from the Island
whence it was imported. Its accidental similarity in
Xotes 403
PAGE NO.
spelling to cypress has, here and in Milton's Penseroso,
probably confused readers.
89 Ixiii ramage: confused noise.
91 Ixvi 'I never saw anything like this funeral dirge,' says
Charles Lamb, 'except the ditty which reminds Fer-
dinand of his drowned father in the Tempest. .\s that
is of the water, watery; so this is of the earth, earthy.
Both have that intenseness of feeling, which seems to
resolve itself into the element whiclr it contemplates.'
93 Ixx Paraphrased from an Italian madrigal
Non so conoscer pel
Se voi le rose, o sian le rose in voi.
94 Ixxii crystal: fairness.
95 Ixxiii stare: starling.
— Ixxiv This 'Spousal Verse' was written in honour of the
Ladies Elizabeth and Katherine Somerset. Xouhere
has Spenser more emphatically displayed himself as
the very poet of Beauty: The Renaissance impulse in
England is liere seen at its highest and purest.
The genius of Spenser, like Chaucer's, does itself justice
only in poems of some length. Hence it is impossible
to represent it in this volume by other pieces of equal
merit, but of impracticable dimensions. And the same
applies to such poems as the Lover's Lament or the
Ancient Mariner.
96 — entrailed: twistecL Feateously: elegantly.
98 — sliend: shame.
99 — a noble peer: Robert Devereux, second Lord Essex,
then at the height of his brief triumph after taking
Cadiz: hence the allusion following to the Pillars of
Hercules, placed near Gades by ancient legend.
— — Elisa: Elizabeth.
100 — twins of Jove: the stars Castor and PoUu.x: baldric,
belt; the zodiac.
1C2 Ixxix This lyric may with very high probability be as-
signed to Campion, in whose first Book of .\irs it ap-
peared (1601). The evidence sometimes quoted ascrib-
ing it to Lord Bacon appears to be valueless.
Summary of Book Second.
This division, embracing generally the latter eighty years of
the Seventeenth century, contains tlie close of our Early i)oetical
style and tlie commencement of the .Modern. In Dryden we
see the first master of the new: in .Milton, whose genius donhnates
here as Shakespeare's in the former l)Ook, — the crown and con-
summation of the early i)eriod. Their splendid Odes are far
in advance of any prior attempts, Spenser's excepted: they
404 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
exhibit that wider and grander range which years and experience
and the struggles of the time conferred on Poetry. Our Muses
now give expression to political feeling, to religious thought, to
a high philosophic statesmanship in writers such as MarvelL
Herbert, and Wotton: whilst in Marvell and Milton, again, we
find noble attempts, hitherto rare in our literature, at pure
description of nature, destined in our own age to be continued
and equalled. Meanwhile the poetry of simple passion, although
before 1660 often deformed by verbal fancies and conceits of
thought, and afterwards by levity and an artificial tone, — pro-
duced in Herrick and Waller some charmihg pieces of more fin-
ished art than the Elizabethan: until in the courtly compliments
of Sedley it seems to exhaust itself, and lie almost dormant for
the hundred years between the days of Wither and Suckling and
the days of Burns and Cowper. — That the change from our early
stvle to the modern brought with it at first a loss of nature and
simplicity is undeniable: vet the bolder and wider scope which
Poetry took between 1620 and 1700, and the successful efforts
then made to gain greater clearness in expression, in their results
have been no slight compensation.
PAGE NO.
108 Ixxxv 1. 8 iMst: hushed.
— 1. 32 than: obsolete for then: Pan: used here for the
Lord of all.
109 — 1. 38 consort: Milton's spelling of this word, here and
elsewhere, has been followed, as it is uncertain whether
he used it in the sense of accompanying, or simply for
concert.
111 — 1. 21 Lars and Lemiires: household gods and spirits of
relations dead. Flamens (1. 24) Roman priests. That
twice-batter'd god (1. 29) Dagon.
112 — 1. 6 Osiris, the Egyptian god of Agriculture (here,
perhaps by confusion with Apis, figured as a Bull),
was torn to pieces by Typho and embalmed after death
in a sacred chest. This mythe, reproduced in Syria
and Greece in the legends of Thammuz, Adonis, and
perhaps Absyrtus, may have originally signified the
annual death of the Sun or the Year under the influ-
ences of the winter darkness. Horus, the son of Osiris,
as the New Year, in liis turn overcomes Typho. L. 8
unshoiver'd grass: as watered by the Nile only. L. 33
youngest-teemed: last-born. Bright-harness' d (1. 37)
armoured.
114 Ixxxvii The Late Massacre: the Vaudois persecution,
carried on in 16.55 by the Duke of Savoy. No more
mighty Sonnet than this 'collect in verse,' as it has
been justly named, probably can be found in any lan-
guage. Readers should observe that it is constructed
on the original Italian or Provencal model. This form,
in a language such as ours, not affluent in rhyme, pre-
sents great difficulties; the rhymes are apt to be forced,
or the substance commonplace. But, when success-
Xotes 405
PAGE NO.
fully handled, it has a unity and a beauty of effect
which place the strict Sonnet above the less compact
and less lyrical systems adopted by Shakespeare, Sid-
ney, Spenser, and other Elizabethan poets.
115 Ixxxviii Cromwell returned from Ireland in 1650, and
Marvell probably wrote his lines soon after, whilst liv-
ing at Nunappleton in the Fairfax household. It is
hence not surprising that (st. 21 — 24) he should have
been deceived bv Cromwell's professed submissiveness
to the Parliament which, when it declined to register
his decrees, he expelled by armed violence: — one despot-
ism, by natural law, replacing another. The poet's
insight has, however, truly prophesied that result in
his last two lines.
This Ode, beyond doubt one of the finest in oul* lan-
guage, and more in Milton's style than has been reached
by any other poet, is occasionally obscure from imita-
tion of the condensed Latin syntax. The meaning of
St. 5 is 'rivalry or hostility are the same to a lofty
spirit, and limitation more hateful than opposition.'
The allusion in st. 11 is to tlie old physical doctrines
of the non-existence of a vacuum and the impenetra-
bility of matter: — in st. 17 to the omen traditionally
connected with the foundation of tlie Capitol at Rome:
— forced, fated. The ancient belief that certain years
in life complete natural periods and are hence peculiarly
exposed to death, is introduced in st. 26 by the word
climacteric.
118 Ixxxix Lycidas: The person here lamented is Milton's col-
lege contemporary, Edward King, drowned in 1637
whilst crossing from Chester to Ireland.
Strict Pastoral Poetrv was first written or perfected
by the Dorian Greeks settled in Sicily: but the con-
ventional use of it, exhibited more magnificently in
Lycidas than in anv other pastoral, is apparently of
Roman origin. Milton, employing the noljle freedom
of a great artist, has here united ancient mythology,
with what mav be called the modern mythology of
CamiKS and Sa'int Peter,— to direct Christian images.
Yet the poem, if it gains in historical interest, suffers
in poetry bv the harsh intrusion of the writer's narrow
and violent "theological politics. — The metrical structure
of this glorious elegy is partly derived from Italian
models.
iig — 1. 11 Sisters of the sacred well: the Muses, said to fre-
quent the Pierian Spring at the foot of Mount Olyn'pus.
120 — 1. 10 Mono: .\nglesea, called by the Welsh poets, the
Dark Island, frotn its dense forests. Dn-a (1. 11) the
Dee: a river which niav have derived its magical char-
acter from Celtic traditions: it was long the boundary
of Briton and English. — The.se places are introduced,
as being near the scene of the shipwreck. Orpheus (1.
14) was torn to pieces by Thracian women. AmtuyUis
406 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
PAGE NO.
• and Neaera (1. 24, 25) names used here for the love-
idols of poets: as Damoetas previously for a shepherd.
L. 31 tha blind Fury: Atropos, fabled "to cut the thread
of life.
121 Ixxxix Arethuse (1. 1) and Mincius: Sicilian and Itahan
waters here alluded to as representing the pastoral
poetry of Theocritus and Vergil. L. 4 oat: pipe, used
here Uke Collins' oaten stop 1. 1, No. 186, for Song. L.
12 Hippotades: Aeolus, god of the Winds. Panope
(1. 15) a Nereid. Certain names of local deities in the
Hellenic mythology render some feature in the natural
landscape, which the Greeks studied and analysed with
their usual unequalled insight and feeling. Panope
seems to express the boundlessness of the ocean-horizon
• when seen from a height, as compared with the limited
sky-line of the land in hilly countries such as Greece or
Asia Minor. Camus (1. 19) the Cam: put for King's
University. The sanguine flower (1. 22) the Hyacinth
of the ancients: probably our Iris. The Pilot (1. 25)
Saint Peter, figuratively introduced as the head of the
Church on earth, to foretell 'the ruin of our corrupted
clergy,' as Milton regarded them, 'then in their heighth'
under Laud's primacy.
122 — 1. 1 scrannel: screeching; apparently Milton's coinage
(Masson). L. 5 the ivolf: the Puritans of the time were
excited to alarm and persecution by a few conversions
to Roman Catholicism which had' recently occurred.
Alpheus (1. 9) a stream in- Southern Greece, supposed
to flow underseas to join the Arethuse. Swart star
(1. 15) the Dog-star, called swarthy because its heliacal
rising in ancient times occurred soon after midsummer:
1. 19 rathe: early. L. 36 moist rows: either tearful
prayers, or prayers for one at sea. Bellcrvs (1. 37) a
giant, apparently created here bv Milton to personify
Belerium, the ancient title of the Land's End. Tfie
great Vision: — the story was that the Archangel Michael
had appeared on the rock by Marazion in Mount's Bay
which bears his name. Milton calls on him to turn
his eyes from the south homeward, and to pity Lycidas,
if his body has drifted into the troubled waters off the
Land's End. Finisterre being the land due south of
Marazion, two places in that district (then through our
trade with Corunna probably less unfamiliar to Eng-
lish ears), are named. — Namancos now Mujio in Galicia,
Bayona north of the Minho, or perhaps a fortified rock
" (one of the Cies Islands) not unlike Saint Michael's
Mount, at the entrance of Vigo Bay.
123 Ixxxix 1. 6 ore: rays of golden light. Doric lay (1. 25)
Sicilian, pastoral.
125 xciii The assault was an attack on Tjondon expected in
1642, when the troops of Charles I reached Brentford.
'Written on his door' was in the original title of this
sonnet. Milton was then living in Aldersgate Street,
Xotes 407
PAGE NO.
125 xciii The Emathian Conqueror: When Thebes was destroyed
(B.C. 3.35) and the citizens massacred by thousands,
Alexander ordered the house of Pindar to be spared.
126 — 1. 2, the repeated air Of sad Electra's poet: Plutarch
has a tale that when the Spartan confederacy in 404
B.C. took Athens, a proposal to demolish it was rejected
through the effect produced on the commanders by
hearing part of a chorus from tlie Electra of Euripides
sung at a feast. There is however no apparent con-
gruity between the lines quoted (167, 168 Ed. Dindorf)
and the result ascribed to them.
126 xcv A fine example of a peculiar class of Poetry, — that
written by thoughtful men who practised this Art but
little. Jeremy Taylor, Bishop Berkeley, Dr. Johnson,
Lord Macaulay, have left similar specimens.
128 xc\iii These beautiful verses should be compared with
Wordsworth's great Ode on Immortalit:j: and a copy
of Vaughan's very rare little volume appears in tlie
list of Wordsworth's library. — In imaginative intensity,
Vaughan stands beside his contemporary Marvell.
129 xcix Favonius: the spring wind.
130 c Themis: the goddess of justice. Skinner was grand-
son by his mother to Sir E. Coke:— hence, as pomted
out by Mr. Keightley, Milton's allusion to the bench.
L. 8: Sweden was then at war with Poland, and France
with the Spanish Netherlands.
132 ciii 1. 28 Sidneian showers: either in allusion to the con-
versations in the 'Arcadia,' or to Sidney himself as a
model of 'gentleness' in spirit and demeanour.
135 cv Delicate humour, delightfully united to thought, at
once simple and subtle. It is full of conceit and para-
dox, but these are imaginative, not as with most of
our Seventeenth Century poets, intellectual only.
138 ex Elizabeth of Bohemia: Daughter to James I, and an-
cestor of Sophia of Hanover. These hues are a line
specimen of gallant and courtly compliment.
139 cxi Lady M. Ley was daughter to Sir J. Ley. afterwards
Earl of Marlborough, who died March, 1629, coinci-
dently with the dissolution of the third Parliament of
Charles' reign. Hence Milton poetically compares his
death to that of the Orator Isocrates ol Athens, after
Philip's victory in 328 b.c.
143 cx\iii A masterpiece of humour, grace, and gentle feeling,
all, with Herrick's unfailing art, kept precisely within
the peculiar kev which he chose,— or Nature for him,
—in his Pastorals. L. 2 the god unshorn: Imberbis
Apollo. St. 2 beads: prayers.
146 cxxiii With better taste, and less diffu.^eness. Quarh-s
might (one would think) hsi.ve retamed more of that
lOS Palgrave's Golden Treasury
PAGE NO.
high place which he held in popular estimate among
his contemporaries.
149 cxxvii From Prison: to which his active support of Charles
I twice brought the high-spirited writer. L. 7 Gods:
thus in the original; Lovelace, in his fanciful way, mak-
ing here a mythological allusion. Birds, commonly
substituted, is without authority. St. 3, 1. 1 com-
mitted: to prison.
150 cxxviii St. 2 1. 4 blue-god: Neptune.
154 cxxxiii Waly waly: an exclamation of sorrow, the root
and the pronunciation of which are preserved in the
word cnterwaid. Brae, hillside: hum, brook: busk, adorn.
Saint Anton's Well: below Arthur's Seat by Edinburgh.
Cramasie, crimson.
155 cxxxiv This beautiful example of early simplicity is found
in a Song-book of 1620.
156 cxxxv burd, maiden.
157 cxxxvi corbies, crows: fail, turf: hause, neck: tlieek, thatch.
— If not in their origin, in their present form this, with
the preceding poem and 133, appear due to the Seven-
teenth Century, and have therefore been placed in
Book II.
158 cxxxvii The poetical and the prosaic, after Cowley's
fashion, blend curiously in this deeply-felt elegy.
162 cxli Perhaps no poem in this collection is more delicately
fancied, more exquisitely finished. By placing his
description of the Fawn in a young girl's mouth. Mar-
veil has, as it were, legitimated that abundance of
'imaginative hyperbole' to which he is always partial:
he makes us feel it natural that a maiden's favourite
should be whiter than milk, sweeter than sugar — 'lilies
without, roses within.' The poet's imagination is justi-
fied in its seeming extravagance by the intensity and
unity with which it invests his picture.
163 cxlii The remark quoted in the note to No. 65 applies
equally to these truly wonderful verses. Marvell here
throws himself into the very soul of the Garden with
the imaginative intensity of Shelley in his West Wind.
— This poem appears also as a translation in Marvell's
works. The most striking verses in it, here quoted
as the book is rare, answer more or less to stanzas 2
and 6: —
Alma Quies, teneo te! et te, germana~Quietis,
Simplioitas! vos ergo diu per templa, ler urbes
Qiiaesivi, regnm perque alta palatia, frustra:
Sefl Aos hortorum per opaca silentia, longe
Celarunt plantae virides. et concolor umbra.
Notes -109
PAGE NO.
165 cxliii St. 3 tutties: nosegays. St. 4 silly: simple.
L'jillegro and II Penseroso. It is a striking proof of
Milton's astonishing power, that these, the earliest great
Lyrics of the Landscape in our language, should still
remain supreme in their style for range, variety, and
melodious beauty. The Bright and the Thoughtful
aspects of Nature and of Life are their subjects: but
each is preceded by a mythological introduction in a
mixed Classical and Italian manner. — With that of
L' Allegro may be compared a similar mythe in the first
Section of the first Book of S. Marmion's graceful Cupid
and Psyche, 1637.
166 cxliv The mountain-nymph; compare Wordsworth's Son-
net, No. 254. L. 38 is in apposition to the preceding,
by a syntactical license not uncommon with Milton.
168 — 1. 14 Cynosure; the Pole Star. Corydon, Thyrsis, &c.:
Shepherd names from the old Idylls. Rebeck (1. 28)
an elementary form of violin.
169 — 1. 24 Jonson's learned sock: His comedies are deeply
coloured by classical study. L. 28 Lydian airs: used
here to express a light and festive style of ancient
music. The 'Lydian Mode,' one of the seven original
Greek Scales, is nearly identical with our 'Major.'
170 cxlv 1. 3 bestead: avail. L. 19 starr'd Ethiop queen: Cassi-
opeia, the legendary Queen of Ethiopia, and thence
translated amongst the constellations.
171 — Cynthia, the Moon: Milton seems here to have trans-
ferred to her chariot the dragons anciently assigned to
Demeter and to Medea.
172 — Hermes, called Trismegistus, a mystical writer of the
Neo-Platonist school. L. 27 Thebes, &c.: subjects of
Athenian Tragedy. Buskin'd (1. 30) tragic, in opposi-
tion to sock above. L. 32 Musaeus: a poet in Mythol-
ogy. L. 37 him that left half-told: Chaucer in his in-
complete 'Squire's Tale.'
173 — great bards: Ariosto, Tasso, and Spenser, are here pre-
sumably intended. L. 9 frounced: curled. The Attic
Boy (1. 10) Cephalus.
174 cxlvi Emigrants supposed f be driven to.vards America
by the government of Chavles I.
175 — 1. 9, 10. But apples, &c. A fine example of Marvell's
imaginative hyperbole.
cxhii 1. 6 concent: harmony.
178 cxlix A lyric of a strange, fanciful, yet solemn beauty: —
Cowley's style intensified by the mysticism of Henry
More.— St. 2 monument: the World.
179 cli Entitled 'A Song in Honour of St. Cecilia's Dav: '697.'
410 Falgrave's Golden Treasury
Summarii of Hook Third
It is more difficult to churactM-ize the English Poetry of the
Eighteenth century than that of any other. For it was an age
not only of spontaneous transition, but of bold experiment: it
includes" not only such absolute contrasts as distinguish the
'Rape of the Lock' from the 'Parish Register,' but such vast
contemporaneous differences as lie between Pope and Collins,
Burns and Cowper. Yet we may clearly trace three leading
moods or tendencies:— the aspects of courtly or educated life
represented by Pope and carried to exhaustion by his followers;
the poetry of Nature and of Man, viewed through a cultivated,
and at the same time an impassioned frame of mind by Collins
and Gray: — lastly, the study of vivid and simjjle narrative, in-
cluding natural description, begim by Gay and Thomson, pur-
sued by Burns and others in the north, and established in England
by Goldsmith, Percy, Crabbe, and Cowper. Great varieties in
style accompanied these diversities in aim: poets could not always
distinguish the manner suitable for sulijects so far apart: and
the union of conventional and of common language, exhibited
most conspicuously by Burns, has given a tone to the poetry
of that century which is better explained by reference to its
historical origin than by naming it artificial. There is, again,
a nobleness of thought, a courageous aim at high and, in a strict
sense manly, excellence in many of the writers: — nor can that
period be justly termed tame and wanting in originality, which
produced poems such as Pope's Satires, Gray's Odes and Elegy,
the ballads of Gay and Carey, the songs of Burns and Cowper.
In truth Poetry at this, at as all times, was a more or less un-
conscious mirror of the genius of the age: and the many complex
causes which made the Eighteenth century the turning-time
in modern European civilization are also more or less reflected
in its verse. An intelligent reader will find the influence of
Newton as markedly in the poems of Pope, as of Elizabeth in
the plays of Shakespeare. On this great subject, however,
these indications must here be sufficient.
PAGE NO.
184 cliii We have no noet more marked by rapture, by the
ecstasy which Plato held the note of genuine inspira-
tion, "than Collins. Yet but twice or thrice do his
Ivrics reach that simplicity, that sinceram sermonis
Atiici gratinm to which this ode testifies his enthu-
siastic "devotion. His style, as his friend Dr. Johnson
trulj^ remarks, was obscure; his diction often harsh
and' unskilfully laboured; he struggles nobly against
the narrow, artificial manner of his age, but his too
scanty years did not allow him to reach perfect mastery.
St. :V Hi/hla: near Syracuse. Her whose . . . woe: the
nisrhtingale, 'for which Sophocles seems to have enter-
tained a peculiar fondness'; ('ollins here refers to the
famous chorus in the Oedipus at Colonus. St. 4 Cephisvs:
the stream encircling Athens on the north and west,
oassing Colonus. St. 6 stny'd to sing: stayed her song
Xotes 411
PAGE ^0.
when Imperial tyranny was established at Rome. St.
7 refers to tlie Italian amourist poetry of the Renais-
sance: In Collins' day, Dante was almost unknown in
England. iSt. 8 meeting soul: which moves sympatheti-
cally towards Simplicity as she comes to inspire the
poet. St. 9 Of these: Taste and Genius.
The Bard. In 1757, when tliis splendid ode was com-
pleted, so very little had been printed, whether in
Wales or in England, in regard to Welsh poetry, that
it is hard to discover whence Gray drew his Cymric
allusions. The fabled massacre of the Bards (shown to
he wholly groundless in Stepliens' Literature of the
Kymry) appears first in the family history of Sir Jolm
Wynn of Gvvydir (cir. 1600J, not pubhslied till 1773;
but the story seems to have passed in MS. to Carte's
History, whence it may have been taken by Gray.
The references to high-born Hoel and soft Llewellyn; to
Cadwallo and Urien; may, similarly, have been derived
from the 'Specimens' of early Welsh poetry, by the
Rev. E. Evans: — as, although not published till 1764,
the MS., we learn from a letter to Dr. Wharton, was in
Grav's hands by Julv 1760, and may have reached him by
1757. It is, however, doul)tful whether Gray (of whose
acquaintance with Welsh we have no evidence) must
not have been also aided by some Welsh scholar. He
is one of the poets least likely to scatter epithets at
random: 'soft' or gentle is the epithet emphatically and
specially given to Llewelyn in contemporary Welsh
poetry, and is hence here used with partic:ular propriety.
Yet, without such assistance as we have suggested. Gray
could hardlv have selected the epithet, although applied
to the King (p. 141-3) among a crowd of others, in
Llygad Gwr's Ode, printed by Evans.— After lament-
ing his comrades (st. 2, 3) the Bard prophesies the fate
of Edward II, and the conquests of Edward III (4):
his death and that of the Black Prince (5): of Richard
II, with the wars of York and Lancaster, the murder of
Henry VI (the meek usurper), and of Edward V and his
brother (6). He turns to the glory and prosperity fol-
lowing the accession of the Tudors (7), through Eliza-
beth's reign (8): and concludes with a vision of the
poetry of Shakespeare and Milton.
190 clix 1. 13 Glo'ster: Gilbert de Clare, son-in-law to Edward.
Mortimer, one of the Lords Marchers of Wales.
191 clix High-horn Hoel, soft Llewellyn (1. 15); the Dissertatio
de Bardis of Evans names the first as son to the King
Owain Gwynedd: Llewelyn, last King of North vviilef,
was murdeVed 1282. L. 16 Cadwollo: Cadwallon ((he(
631) and Urien Rheged (early kings of Gwynedd and
Cumbria respectively) are mentioned by Evans (p. 78)
as bards none of wliose poetry is extant. L. 20 Modred:
Evans supplies no data for this name, which Gray (it
has been supposed) uses for Merlin (Myrddin \Vyht),
412 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
PAGE NO.
held prophet as well as poet, — The Italicized lines mark
where the Bard's sons is joined by that of his prede-;
cessors departed. L. 22 Arvon: the shores of Carnar-
vonshire opposite Anglesey. Whether intentionally or
through ignorance of the real dates, Gray here seems to
represent the Bard as speaking of these poets, all of
earlier days, Llewelyn excepted, as his own contem-
poraries at the close "of the thirteenth century.
Gray, whose penetrating and powerful genius rendered
him' in many ways an initiator in advance of his age,
is probably the first of our poets who made some acquaint-
ance withthe rich and admirable poetry in which Wales
from the Sixth Century has been fertile. — before and
since his time so barbarously neglected, not in England
only. Hence it has been thought worth while here to
enter into a little detail upon his Cymric allusions.
192 — 1. .5 She-wolf: Isabel of France, adulterous Queen of
Edward II. — L. 35 Tourers of Julius: the Tower of Lon-
don, built in part, according to tradition, by Julius
Caesar.
193 — 1. 2 bristled boar: the badge of Richard III. L. 8 Half
of thii heart: Queen Eleanor died soon after the con-
quest of Wales. L. 18 Arthur: Henry VII named his
eldest son thus, in deference to native feeling and story.
194 clxi The Highlanders called the battle of Culloden, Dru-
mossie.
195 clxii lilting, singing blithely: loaning, broad lane: blights,
pens: scorning, rallying: dowie, dreary: daffin' and gab-
bin', joking and chatting: leglin, milkpail: shearing,
reaping: bandsters, sheaf-binders: lyart, grizzled: runkled,
wrinkled: fleeching, coaxing: gloaming, twilight: bogle,
ghost: dool, sorrow.
197 clxiv The Editor has found no authoritative text of this
poem, to his mind superior to any other of its class in
melodv and pathos. Part is probably not later than
the seventeenth century: in other stanzas a more mod-
ern hand, much resembling Scott's, is traceable. Logan's
poem (163) exhibits a knowledge rather of the old
legend than of the old ver.ses. — Hecht, promised; the
obsolete hight: maris, thrush: ilka, every: lav'rock, lark:
haughs, valley-meadows: twined, parted from: marrow,
mate: syne, then.
198 clxv The Roval George, of 108 guns, whilst undergoing a
partial careening at Soithead, was over.set about 10
A.M. Aug. 29, 1782. The total loss was beheved to be
nearlv 1000 souls. — This little poem might be called
one of our trial-pieces, in regard to taste. The reader
who feels the vigour of description and the force of
pathos underlying Cowper's bare and truly Greek sim-
plicity of phrase, may a.ssure himself se ralde profecisse
in poetry.
Notes 413
PAGE NO.
201 clxvii A little masterpiece in a very difficult style: Catullus
himself could hardly have bettered it. In grace, ten-
derness, simplicity, and humour, it is worthy of the
Ancients: and even more so, from the completeness and
unity of the picture presented.
205 clxxii Perhaps no writer who has given such strong proofs
of the poetic nature has left less satisfactory poetry
than Thomson. Yet this song, with 'Rule Britannia'
and a few others, must make us regret that he did not
more seriously apply himself to lyrical writing.
206 clxxiv With what insight and tenderness, yet in how few
words, has this painter-poet here himself told Love's
Secret!
207 clxxvii 1. 1 Aeolian lyre: the Greeks ascribed the origin
of their Lyrical Poetry to the Colonies of Aeolis in Asia
^linor.
208 — Thracia's hills (1. 9) supposed a favourite resort of
Mars. Feather'd king (1. 1.3) the Eagle of Jupiter, ad-
mirably described bv Pindar in a passage here imitated
by Gray. Idalia (1. 19) in Cyprus, where Ci/iherea
(Venus) was especially worshipped.
209 — 1. 6 Hyperion: the Sun. St. 6—8 allude to the Poets
of the Islands and Mainland of Greece, to those of Rome
and of England.
210 — 1. 27 Theban Eagle: Pindar.
213 clxxviii 1. 5 chaste-eyed Queen: Diana.
214 clxxix From that wild rhapsody of mingled grandeur, ten-
derness, and obscurity, that 'medley between inspira-
tion and possession,' which poor Smart is believed tc
have written whilst in confinement for madness.
215 clxxxi the dreadful light: of life and experience.
216 clxxxii Attic warbler: the nightingale.
218 clxxxiv sleekit, sleek: bickering brattle, flittering flight:
laith, loth: pattle. ploughstaft': whiiles. at times: a daim-
enicker, a corn-ear now and then: thrare, shock: lave,
rest: fnggage, after-grass: snell. l)iting: but hold, with-
out dwelling-place: thole, bear: rrnnrenrh, hoar-frost:
thy lane, alone: a-gley, off the right line, awry.
225 clxxxviii stoure, dust-storm; braw, smart.
226 clxxxix scaith, hurt: tent, guard: steer, molest.
227 cxci drumlie, muddy: birk, birch.
228 cxcii greet, crv: davrna, dare not. — There can hardly exist
a i)bem more trulv tragic in the highest sense than thisj
nor, perhaps, Sappho excepited, has any Poetess equalled
it.
414 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
PAGE NO.
230 cxciii fou, merry with drink: coost, carried: unco skeigh,
very proud: gart, forcpd: abeigh, aside: Ailsa craig, a
rock in tiie Firth of Clyde: grat his een bleert, cried till
his eyes were bleared: lowpin, leaping: linn, waterfall:
sair, sore: smoor'd, smothered: crouse and canty, blithe
and gay.
231 cxciv Burns justly named this 'one of the most beautiful
songs in the Scots or any other language.' One stanza,
interpolated by Beattie, is here omitted: — it contains
two good lines, but is out of harmony with the original
poem. Bigonet, little cap: probably altered from bi-
guinette: thraw, twist: caller, fresh.
232 cxcv Burns himself, despite two attempts, failed to im-
prove this little absolute masterpiece of mu.sic, ten-
derness, and simplicity: this 'Romance of a life' in
eight lines. — Eerie: strictly, scared: uneasy.
233 cxcvi airts, quarters: row, roll: shaw, small wood in a
hollow, spinney: knowes, knolls. The last two stanzas
are not by Burns.
234 cxcvii jo, sweetheart: brent, smooth: pow, head.
• — cxcviii leal, faithful. St. 3 ^ain, happy.
235 cxcix Henry VI founded Eton.
238 CO Written in 1773, towards the beginning of Cowper's
second attack of melancholy madness — a time when he
altogether gave up prayer, saying, ' For him to implore
mercy would only anger God the more.' Yet had he
given it up when sane, it would have been 'maior in
sania.
241 cciii The Editor would venture to class in the very first
rank this Sonnet, which, with 204, records Cowper's
gratitude to the Lady whose affectionate care for many
years gave what sweetness he could enjoy to a Hfe
radically wretched. Petrarch's sonnets have a more
ethereal grace and a more perfect finish; Shakespeare's
more passion; Milton's stand supreme in stateliness;
Wordsworth's in depth and delicacy. But Cowper's
unites with an exquisiteness in the" turn of thought
which the ancients would have called Irony, an intensity
of pathetic tenderness peculiar to his loving and ingen-
uous nature. — There is much mannerism, much that is
unimportant or of now exhausted interest in his poems:
but where he is great, it is with that elementary great-
ness which rests on the most universal human feelings.
Cowper is our highest master in simple pathos.
243 cev Cowper's last original poem, founded upon a story
told in Anson's 'Voyages.' It was written March 1799;
he died in next year's April.
245 ccvi Very little except his name appears recoverable with
regard' to the author of this truly noble poem, which
Notes 4l5
PAGE NO.
appeared in the ' Scripscrapologia, or Collins' Doggerel
Dish of All Sorts,' with three or four other pieces of
merit, Birmingham, 1804. — Everlasting: used with
side-allusion to a cloth so named, at the time when
Collins wrote.
Summary of Book Fourth
It proves sufficiently the lavish wealth of our own age in Poetry
that the pieces which, without conscious departure from the
standard of Excellence, render this Book by far the longest,
were with very few exceptions composed during the first thirty
vears of the Nineteenth century. Exhaustive reasons can
hardly be given for the strangely sudden appearance of indi-
vidual genius: that, however, which assigns the splendid national
achievements of our recent poetry to an impulse from the France
of the first Repubhc and Empire is inadequate. The first French
Revolution was rather one result,— the most conspicuous, in-
deed vet itself in great measure essentially retrogressive,— of
that 'wider and more potent spirit which through enquiry and
attempt, through strength and weakness, sweeps mankind round
the circles (not? as some too confidently argue, of Advance, but)
of eradual Transformation: and it is to this that we must trace
the literature of Modern Europe. But, without attenipting dis-
cussion on the motive causes of Scott, Wordsworth, Shelley, and
others we may observe that these Poets earned to further per-
fection the later tendencies of the Century preceding m sim-
nlicitv of narrative, reverence for human Passion and Character
m every sphere, and love of Nature for herself:— that, whilst
maintaining on the whole the advances in art made since the
Restoration, they renewed the half-forgotten melody and depth
of tone which marked the best Elizabethan writers:— that, lastly,
to what was thus inherited they added a richness in language
and a variety in metre, a force and fire in narrative, a tender-
ness and bloom in feeling, an insight into the finer passages of
the Soul and the inner meanings of the landscape, a larger sense
of Humanity,— hitherto scarcely attained, and perhaps unat-
tainable even by predecessors of not inferior individual genius.
In a word, the xNf^tion which, after the Greeks in their glory
inav fairly claim that during six centuries it has proved itself
the most nchly gifted of all nations for Poetry, expressed m Uiese
men the highest strength and pro.Ugality of its nature They
Interpreted the age to itself-hence the many leases of t^hought
and stvle thev present:— to sympathize with each, fervently and
fmBartlallv witlio.it fear anrf without fancifulness. is no. doubt-
ful st en m the higher education of the soul. For nunty in taste
s absolute V proportionate to strengtl.-and vvlien once the
mind has raise.! itself to grasp and to delight in excellence, those
who love most will be found to love most wisely.
But the gallerv which this Book offers to the reader will aid
him more than any preface. It is a royal Palace of Poetry which
he is invited to enter:
416 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
Adparet domus intiis, et atria lon^a patescunt —
though it is, indeed, to tlie sympathetic eye only that its treas-
ures will be ^•isible.
PAGE NO.
247 ccviii This beautiful lyric, printed in 1783, seems to
anticipate in its imaginative music that return to our
great early age of song, which in Blake's own lifetime
was to prove, — how gloriously! that the English Muses
had resumed their 'ancient melody': — Keats, Shelley,
Byron, — he overlived them all.
249 OCX stout Cortez: History would here suggest Balhoa:
(A.T.) It may be noticed, that to find in Chapman's
Homer the 'pure serene' of the original, the reader
must bring with him the imagination of the youthful
poet; — he must be 'a Greek himself,' as Shelley finely
said of Keats.
252 ccxii The most tender and true of Byron's smaller poems.
253 ccxiii This poem exemplifies the peculiar skill with which
Scott employs proper names: — a rarely misleading sign
of true poetical genius.
263 ccxx%'i Simple as Lucy Gray seems, a m'jre narrative of
what 'has been, and may be again,' yet every touch
in the child's picture is marked by the deepest and
purest ideal character. Hence, pathetic as the situa-
tion is, this is not strictly a pathetic poem, such as
Wordsworth gives us in 221, Lamb in 264, and Scott
in his Maid of Neidpath, — 'almost more pathetic' as
"Tennyson once remarked, 'than a, man has the right
to be.' And Lyte's lovely stanzas (224) suggest, per-
haps, the same remark.
272 ccxxxv In this and in other instances the addition for
the change) of a Title has been risked, in hope that the
aim of the piece following may be grasped mor6 clearly
and immediately.
278 ccxiii This beautiful Sonnet was the last word of a youth,
in whom, if the fulfillment may ever safely be pro-
phesied from the promise, England lost one of the
most rarely gifted in the long roll of her poets. Shakes-
peare and Milton, had their lives been closed at twenty-
five, would (so far as we know) have left poems "of
less excellence and hope than the youth who. from
the petty school and the London siirgery, passed at
once to a place with them of 'high collateral glory.'
280 ccxlv It is impossible not to regret that Moore has ■«Titten
so little in this sweet and genuinely national style.
281 ccxhi A masterly example of Byron's command of strong
thoue-ht and close reasoning in verse: — as the next is
equally characteristic of Shelley's wayward intensity.
29C ccliii Bonnivard, a Genevese, was imprisoned by the Duke
of Savoy in Chi lion on the lake of Geneva for his oour-
Notes 417
eA.a£ NO.
ageous defence of his country against the tyranny with
which Piedmont threatened it during the first half of
the Seventeenth century. — This noble Sonnet is worthy
to stand near Milton's on the Vaudois massacre.
291 ccliv Switzerland was usurped by the French under Napo-
leon in 1800: Venice in 1797 (255).
293 cclix This battle was fought Dec. 2, 1800, between the
Austrians under Archduke John and the French under
Moreau, in a forest near Munich. Hohen Linden means
High Limetrees.
2c»7 cclxii After the capture of Madrid by Napoleon, Sir J.
Moore retreated before Soult and Ney to Corunna, and
was killed whilst covering the embarkation of his troops.
307 cclxxii The Mermaid was the club-house of Shakespeare.
Ben Jonson, and other choice spirits of that age.
308 cclxxiii Maisie: Mary. — Scott has given us nothing more
complete and lovely than this little song, which unites
simplicity and dramatic power to a wild-wood music
of the rarest quality. No moral is drawn, far less any
conscious analysis of feeling attempted: — the pathetic
meaning is left to be suggested by the mere present-
ment of the situation. A narrow criticism has often
named this, which may be called the Homeric manner,
superficial, from its apparent simple facility; but first-
rate excellence in it is in truth one of the least com-
mon triumphs of Poetry. — This style should be com
pared with what is not less perfect in its way, the search-
ing out of inner feeling, the expression of hidden mean-
ings, the revelation of the heart of Nature and of the
Soul within the Soul, — the analytical method, in short,
—most completely represented by Wordsworth and by
Shelley.
313 cclxxvii Wolfe resembled Keats, not only in his earlydeath
'by consumption and the fluent freshness of his poetical
style, but in beautv of character;— brave, tender, ener-
getic unselfish, modest. Is it fanciful to find some
reflex of these quaUties in the Burial and Mary? Out
of the abundance of the heart . . .
314 cc•lxx^■iii correi: covert on a hillside. Cumber: trouble.
315 cclxxx This book has not a few poems of greater power and
more perfect execution than Aqves and the extract
which we have ventured to make from the deep-hearted
author's Sad Thoughts (No. 224). But none are more
emphatically marked by the note of exquisiteness.
316 cclxxxi St. 3 inch: island,
320 cclxxxiii From Pnetn/ for Children (1809), by Charles and
Marv LamI). This tender and original little piece
seems clearly to reveal the work of that nol)le-minded
and afflicted sister, who was at once the happiness, the
418 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
PAGE NO
misery, and the life-long blessing ot her equally noble-
minded brother.
328 cclxxxix This poem has an exaltation and a glory, joined
with an exquisiteness of expression, which place it in the
highest rank among the many masterpieces of its illus-
trious Author.
339 ccc interlunar swoon: interval of the moon's invisibility.
344 ceciv Calpe: Gibraltar. Lofoden: the Maelstrom whirl-
pool off the N.W. coast of Norway,
345 cccv This lovely poem refers here and there to a ballad
by Hamilton on the subject better treated in 163 and
164.
357 cccxv Arcturi: seemingly used for northern stars. And
wild roses, &c. Our language has perhaps no line mod-
ulated with more subtle sweetness.
358 cccxvi Coleridge describes this poem as the fragment of
a dream-vision, — perhaps, an opium-dream? — which
composed itself in his mind when fallen asleep after
reading a few lines about 'the Khan Kubla' m Pur-
chas ' Pilgrimage.
362 cccxviii Ceres' daughter: Proserpine. God of Torment:
Pluto.
370 cccxxi The leading idea of this beautiful description of a
day's landscape in Italy appears to be — On the voyage
of life are many moments of pleasure, given by the
sight of Nature, who has power to heal even the worldli-
ness and the uncharity of man.
371 — • L 23 Amphitrite was daughter to Ocean.
375 cccxxi! 1. 21 Maenad: a frenzied Nymph, attendant on
Dionysos in the Greek mythology. May we not call
this the most vivid, sustained, and impassioned amongst
all Shelley's magical personifications of Nature?
376 — I. 5 Plants under water sympathize with the seasons
of the land, and hence with the winds which affect
them.
377 cccxxiii Written soon after the death, l)y shipwreck, ot
Wordsworth's brother John. This poem may be pro-
fitably compared with Shelley's following it. Each
is the" most complete expression of the innermost spirit
of his art given by these great Poets: — of that, Idea
which, as in the case of the true Painter, (to quote the
words of Reynolds,) 'subsists only in the mind: The
sight never beheld it, nor has'.the hand expressed it:
it is an idea residing in the breast of the artist, w^hich
he is always labouring to impart, and which he dies
at last without imparting.'
"^78 — the Kind: the human race.
Notes 419
PAGE NO.
381 cccxxvii the Royal Saint: Henry VI.
381 cccxxviii st. 4 this folk: its has been here plausibly but,
perhaps, unnecessarily, conjectured. — Every one knows
the general story of the Italian Renaissance, of the
Revival of Letters. — From Petrarch's day to our own,
that ancient world has renewed its youth: Poets and
artists, students and thinkers, have yielded themselves
wholly to its fascination, and deeply penetrated its
spirit. Yet perhaps no one more truly has vivified,
whilst idealizing, the picture of Greek country life in
the fancied Golden Age, than Keats in these lovely (if
somewhat unequally executed) stanzas: — his quick
imagination, by a kind of 'natural magic,' more than
supplying the scholarship which his youth had no
opportunity of gaining.
155 cxxxiv These stanzas are by Richard Verstegan ( — c. 1635),
a poet and antiquarian, published in his rare Odes
(1601), under the title Our Blessed Ladies Lullaby, and
reprinted by Mr. Orby Shipley in his beautiful Carmina
Mariana (1893). The four stanzas here given form
the opening of a hymn cf twenty-four.
INDEX OF WRITERS
WITH DATES OF BIRTH AND DEATH
PAGE
Alexander, William (15S0-1G40).
To Aurora 6h
Barbauld, Anna Lsntitia (1743-182").
To Life 246
Barnefiei.d, Richard (IGtli century).
The Nightingale 77
Beaumont, Francis (158G-1616).
On the Tombs in Westminster Alihey 123
Blake, William (1757-1827K
Love's Secret 206
Infant Joy 215
A Cradle Song 21.5
To the Muses 247
BiRNS, Robert (1750-1796).
Lament for Oulloden 194
A Farewell 202
Ye Banks and Braes o' Bonnie Doon 207
To a Mouse 218
Mary Morison 22.5
Bonnie Lesley 226
O mv Luve's like a red, red rose 227
Highland Mary 277
Duncan Gray 2:!0
Jean 2;53
John Anderson 234
Byron, George Gordon Noel (178S-1S24I.
All for Love 2;'2
There be none of Beauty's daughters 2.>4
She walks in beauty, like the night 256
When we two parted 271
421
422 Palgravc's Golden Treasury
PAGE
Byrox, G. G. N. (continued).
Elegy on Thyrza 281
On the Castle of Chillon 290
Youth and Age 302
Elegy 312
Campbell, Thomas (1777-1844).
Lord Ullin's Daughter 261
To the Evening Star 268
Earl March look'd on his dying child 278
Ye Mariners of England 285
Battle of the Baltic 28T
Hohenlinden 293
The Beech Tree's Petition 333
Ode to Winter 344
Song to the Evening Star 354
The Soldier's Dream 356
The River of Life 388
Campion, Thomas (c. 1567-1620).
Ba&ia 66
Advice to a Girl 66
In Imagine Pertransit Homo 80
Sleep, angry beauty, sleep 81
A Renunciation 84
O Crudelis Amor 87
Sic Transit 101
The man of life upright 102
A Hymn in Praise of Ncptuno 130
Fortunati Nimium 165
Carew, Thomas (15S9-1639).
The True Beauty 140
Caret, Henrv i —1743).
Sally in our Alley 201
CiBBER, Colley (1671-1757).
The Blind Boy 186
Coleridge, Hartley (1796-1849).
She is not fair to outward view 257
Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834).
Love (Genevieve) 249
Kul)la Khan 358
Youth and Age 383
CoLLixs, .Tohn (ISth century).
Tomorrow 245
Collins, William (1720-1756).
Ode to Simplicity 184
Ode written in 1746 194
The Passions 211
Ode to Evening 220
Index of Writers 423
PAGE
Cowley, Abraham (iei8-1667>.
A Supplication lol
On the Death of Mr, William llciviy 158
CowPER, William (1731-1800).
Loss of the Royal George 198
To a Young Lady 206
The Poplar Field 217
The Shrubbery 2:i8
The Solitude of Alexander Selkirk 24(»
To Mary Unwin 241
To the same 242
The Castaway 24:!
Crashaw, Richard (1615?-1652).
Wishes for the Supposed Mistress i:!2
CrxxiXGHAM, Allan (1784-1842).
A wet sheet and a flowing sea 2S.>
Daxiel, Samuel (1562-1610).
Care-Charmer Sleep 1 8
Deicker, Thomas ( 16SS?).
The Happy Heart 100
Devereux, Robert (Earl of Kssex) (1 ."CT-Kio: ).
A Wish lO.j
DoxxE, John (1573-16.31).
Present in Absence 58
Draytox, Michael (1563-16311.
Love's Farewell 80
Drummoxd, William (1585-1640). _,
Summons to Love >2
A Lament 88
To his Lute 80
This life, which seems so fair 101
The Lessons of Nature l*'->
Doth then the world go thus? 104
Saint John Baptist 10^
Dryden, John (1631-1700).
Song for St. I'ecilia's Day, 16S7 ll.>
Alexander's Feast 179
Elliott, Jane (18th century).
The Flowers of the Forest (Floddeu) lOo
Fletcher, John (1576-1625).
Melancholy l^-*
Gay. John (1685-1732).
Black-eyed Susan IJ'J
424 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
PAGE
Goldsmith, Oliver (1728-1774).
When lovel.\ woman stoops to folly 206
Graham, Robert (1735-1797").
If doughty deeds my lady please 203
Gray, Thomas (171(i-1771).
Ode on the I'leusure arising from Vicissitude . . 183
On a Favourite Cat 187
The Bard 190
The Progress of Poesy 207
Ode on the Spring 216
Elegv written in a Country Churchyard .... 222
Ode on a Distant Prospect of Eton College . . . 235
Hymn to Adversity 238
Greene, Robert (1561?-lo92).
Sephestia's Song to her Child 87
Habingtox, William (1605-164.5).
Xox Noctj Indicat Scientiam 176
Herbert, George (1593-1G32).
The Gifts of God 128
Herrick, Robert (1591-1674?).
Counsel to Girls 137
To Diancme 140
Corinna's Maying • 143
The Poetry of Dress. 1 145
' II 145
To Anthea 147
To Blossoms 160
To Daffodils 161
Heywood, Thomas ( 1049?).
Give my Love good-morrow . 95
Hood, Thomas (1798-1845).
I'ast and Present 304
The Bridge of Sighs 309
The Death Bed 315
JONSON, Ben (1574-1637).
The Noble Nature 127
Ilvmn to Diana 131
To Celia 142
Keats, John (1795-1821).
Ode on the Poets 247
On first looking into Chapman's Homer .... 249
Happy Insensibility 272
La Belle Dame sans Merci 274
Bright Star! 278
The Terror of Death . 279
The Mermaid Tavern „ . 307
Index of Writers 425
PAGE
Keats, J. (continued).
Ode to a Nightingale 329
To one wtio has been long in city pent 332
Ode to Autumn 343
The Realm of Fancy 360
Ode on a Grecian Urn 381
The Human Seasons 389
Lamb, Mary (1764-1847).
In Memoriam 320
T.AMB. Charles (1775-1835).
The Old Familiar Faces 300
Hester 312
On an Infant dying as soon as boru 318
LiXD.SAT, Anne (1750-1825).
Auld Robin Gray 228
Lodge, Thomas (1556-1625).
Rosaline 62
Rosalynd's Madrigal 93
LOGAX, John (1748-1788).
The Braes of Yarrow 19G
Lovelace, Richard (1618-1658).
To Lucasta, on going to the W.irs . . . . . . 138
To Althea from Prison 149
To Lucasta, going beyond the .Seas 150
Ltlye. John (1554-1600).
Cupid and Campaspe 94
Lyte, Henry Francis (1793-1847).
A Lost Love 261
Agnes 315
Marlowe, Christopher (1562-1593).
The Passionate Shepherd to his Love 55
Marvell, Andrew (1620-1678).
Iloratian Ode, upon Cromwell s return from Ireland 115
The Picture of little T. C 135
The Girl describes her Fawn 162
Thoughts in a Garden 163
Song of the Emigrants in Bermuda 174
MiCKLE, William Julius (1734-1788).
The Sailor's Wife .231
MiLTOx, John (1608-1674).
Ude o£i the Morning of Christ's Nativity .... 106
On the late Massacre in Piedmont 114
Lycidas 118
426 Palgraie's Golden Treasury
PAGE
MiLTOX, J. iconlitnuO).
When tbe Assault was intended to the City . . . 125
On his Blindness 126
To Mr. Lawrence 129
To Cyriack Skinner 130
To the Lady Alargaret Ley 139
L'Allegro 1G6
li Penseroso 170
At a Solemn Music 175
Moore, Thomas (1780-1852).
Echoes 267
At the mid hour of night 280
Pro Patria Mori 296
Tlie Journey Onwards 301
The Light of other Days 305
Nairn, Carolina (1766-1845).
The Land o' the Leal 234
Nash, Thomas (1567-1601?).
Spring 51
NoRRTS, ,Tohn (1657-1711).
Hymn to Darkness 178
Philips, Ambrose (1671-1740).
To Charlotte Pulteney 188
Pope, Alexander (1688-1744).
Solitude , 186
Prior, Matthew (1662-1721).
The merchant, to secure his treasure . . ... . 205
QuARLES, Francis (1592-1644).
A Mystical Ecstasy 146
Rogers, Samuel (1762-1855).
The Sleeping Beauty 204
A Wish . 219
Scott. Walter (1771-18r!2).
The Outlaw 253
.lock of Hazeldean 265
A Serenade 267
AVhere shall the Lover rest? 272
The Rover 275
The Maid of Xeidpath 277
Gathering Song of I)<jnalil the Black 283
The Pride of Youth 308
Coronach 314
Rosabelle 316
Hunting Song 322
Datur Hora Quicti 354
index of Writers 427
PAGE
Sedley, Charles (1639-1701).
Child and Maiden 136
Not, Celia, that I juster am 14S
Shakespeare, William (1564-1610).
The Fairy Life, I 52
" " II 52
Sonnet-Time and Love, I 54
'•II 54
A Madrigal 56
I'nder the greenwood tree 57
It was a lover and his lass 58
Sonnet — Absence 59
59
" A Consolation 60
" The Unchangealile 61
Sonnet 61
To his Love 65
" " " •' 65
Love's Perjuries 67
Sonnet — True Love 70
Carpe Diem 72
Winter , 73
Sonnet — That time of year 73
" Memory 74
" Revolutions 75
Farewell ! . 75
" The Life without Passion 76
Frustra — Take, O take those lips away 79
Sonnet — Blind Love 81
Blow, blow, thou winter wind 84
Dirge of Love 88
Fidelie — Fear no more the h(>at 90
A Sea Dirge 90
Sonnet — Post Mortem 91
The Triumph of Death 92
Young Love 92
Sonnet — Sovil and Bodv 102
The World's Way 104
Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822).
The Indian Serenade 255
I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden 258
Love's Philosophy 266
To the Night 269
The Flight of Love 276
One word is too often profaned 283
Stanzas written in Dejection near Xa|)l<>s .... 306
To a Skylark 324
: Ozymandias of Egvpt 332
To a Lady, with a Guitar 33«
The Invitation 349
The Recollection 351
To the Moon 355
A Dream of the Unknown 357
Written among the Eugan(>au Hills ...... 370
4^8 Fnl gravels Golden Treasury
PAGE
Shelley, P. B. (rontintirrj) .
Ode to the West Wind 875
The Poefs Dream 8 79
A Dirge HSO
Threnos "90
Music, when soft voices die 396
Shirley, Tames f 1596-1666).
The Last Conqueror 124
Death the Leveller 124
Sidney, Philip (1554-1586).
Via Amoris 59
A Ditty 70
Sleep 74
The Nightingale >...... 78
The Moon / 86
Smart, Christapher (1722-1770).
The Song of David 214
SOUTHEY, Robert (1774-184?.).
After Blenheim 294
The Scholar 307
Spbxser, Edmund (1553-1598-9).
Prothalamion 95
SrCKLTNo. .John (1608-0-1641).
Encouragements to a Lover 150
Sylvester, .Toshua (1563-1618).
Love's Omnipresence 71
Thomson, .Tames (1700-1748).
Rvile Britannia 189
For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove 205
Vaughan, Henry (1621-1695).
The Retreat 128
Friends in Paradise 159
A Vision 179
Verstegan, Richard (c. 1635).
Upon my lap my sovereign sits . 155
Waller, Edmund a605-1687).
Go, lovelv Rose 141
On a Girdle • 146
Webster, Tohn ( 1638?).
A Land Dirge 91
WiLMOT. .Tohn (1647-1680).
Constancy ,. = o...- 1-j<
hvdex of Writers 429
PAGE
Wither, George (1588-1667).
The Manly Heart 152
"WoLPE, Charles (1791-1823).
The Burial of Sir John Moore 29T
To Mary 313
Wordsworth, William (1770-1850).
She was a phantom of delight 256
She dwelt among the untrodden waj-s 258
I travell'd among unknown men 258
The Education of Nature 259
A slumber did my spirit seal 2(50
-*Lucy Gray 263
To a distant Friend 2T0
Desideria 2S0
Ode to Duty 289
England and Switzerland, 1802 2D1
On the extinction of the Venetian Republic .' . . 291
London, 1802 292
" " 292
When I have borne in memory 29."i
Simon Lee 298
A Lesson ;:r)3
The Affliction of Margaret 320
To the Sljylark .';23
The Green Linnet 327
'•To the Cuckoo .328
Upon Westminster Bridge 331
Composed at Neidpath Castle 333
Admonition to a Traveller 334
To the Highland Girl of Inversneydi* 335
The Reaper 337
The Reverie of poor Susan 338
«| The Daffodils 341
To the Daisy 341
Yarrow Unvisitcd, 1803 345
Yarrow Visited, 1814 347
By the Sea 353
To Sleep 355
The Inner Vision 359
Written in Early Spring 362
Ruth, or the Influences of Nature 363
Nature and the Poet 377
Glen-Almain, the Narrow Glen 379
The World is too much with us 380
Within King's College Chapel, Cambridge .... 381
The Two April Mornings 384
The Fountain 386
The Trossactis 390
My heart leaps up 391
■%Ode on Intimations of Immortality 391
WOOTTON, Henry (1508-1639).
('haracter of a Happy Life 126
Elizabeth of Bohemia 138
430 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
rAGi
Wyat, Thomas (1503-1541:).
A Supplication 68
The Lover's Appeal 76
, JONTMOrS.
Omnia Vincit 56
Colin 63
A Picture 64
A Song for Music 64
In Lacrimas 69
Love's Insight 71
An honest Autolycus 72
The Unfaithful Shepherdess 82
Advice to a I^over 83
A sweet Lullahy 85
A Dilemma 93
The Great Adventurer i:!4
Love in thy youth, fair Maid 140
Cherry Ripe 142
My Love in her attire 146
Love not me for comely grace 148
Forsaken 154
Fair Helen 156
The Twa Corbies 157
Willie Drowned in Yarrow 197
Absence ..*,.,..», 232
INDEX OF FIRST LINES
PAGE
A Chieftain to the Highlands bound 261
A child's a plaything for an hour 320
A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by 355
A slumber did my spirit seal 260
A sweet disorder in the dress 145
A weary lot is thine, fair maid 275
A wet sheet and a flowing sea 285
Absence, hear thou this protestation 58
Ah, Chloris! could I now but sit 136
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh 267
All in the Downs the fleet was moor'd 199
All thoughts, all passions, all delights 249
And are ye sure the news is true 231
And is this — Yarrow? — This the Stream 347
And thou art dead, as young and fair 281
And wilt thou leave me thus 76
Ariel to Miranda: — Take 338
Art thou pale for weariness 355
Art thou poor, yet hast thou golden slumbers 100
As it fell upon a day "7
As I was walking all alane 157
As slow our ship her foamy track 301
At the corner of Wood Street, when daylight appears . . 338
At the mid hour of night, when stars are weeping, I fly . 280
Avenge, O Lord! Thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones . . 114
Awake, Aeolian lyre, awake 207
Awake, awake, my Lyre 151
Bards of Passion and of Mirth 247
Beauty sat bathing by a spring 63
Behold her, single in the field 337
Being your slave, what should I do but tend 59
Beneath these fruit-tree boughs that shed 327
Best and brightest, come away 349
Bid me to live, and I will live 147
Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heaven's joy 175
Blow, blow, thou winter wind 84
Bright Star! would I were steadfast as thou art .... 278
Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren 91
Calm was the day, and through the trembling air ... . 95
Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in Arms 125
Care-charmer Sleep, son of the Sable Night 78
15 431
432 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
PAGE
Come away, come away, Death 88
Come, cheerful day, part of my hfe to me 101
Come little babe, come silly soul 85
Come live with me and be my Love 55
Come, Sleep: O Sleep! the certain knot of peace 74
Come unto these yellow sands 52
Crabbed Age and Youth 56
Cupid and my Campasp^ play'd 94
Cyriack, whose grandsire, on the royal bench 130
Daughter of Jove, relentless power 238
Daughter to that good Earl, once President 139
Degenerate Douglas! oh, the unworthy lord 333
Doth then the world go thus, doth all thus move .... 104
Down in yon garden sweet and gay 197
Drink to me only with thine eyes 142
Duncan Gray cam here to woo 230
Earl March look'd on his dying child 278
Earth has not anything to show more fair 331
E'en like two little bank-dividing brooks 146
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind 290
Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky 323
Ever let the Fancy roam 360
Fain would I change that note 56
Fair Daffodils, we weep to see 161
Fair pledges of a fruitful tree 160
Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing 75
Fear no more the heat o' the sun 90
Fine knacks for ladies, cheap, choice, brave and new ... 72
Follow thy fair sun, unhappy shadow 80
For ever. Fortune, wilt thou prove 205
Forget not yet the tried intent 68
Four Seasons fill the measure of the year 389
From Harmony, from heavenly Harrriony 113
From Stirling Castle we had seen 345
Full fathom five thy father lies 90
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may 137
Gem of the crimson-colour'd Even 268
Get up, get up for shame! The blooming morn 143
Go fetch to me a pint o' wine 202
Go, lovely Rose 141
Hail thou most sacred venerable thing 178
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit 324
Happy the man, whose wish and care 186
Happy those early days, when I 128
Happy were he could finish forth his fate 105
He that loves a rosy cheek 140
He is gone on the mountain 314
Hence, all you vain dehghts 153
Hence, loathed Melancholy 166
Hence, vain deluding Joys 170
He sang of God, the mighty source 214
High-way, since you my chief Parnassus be 59
Index of First Lines 433
PACJE
How happy is he born and taught 126
How Uke a winter hath my absence been 60
How sleep the brave who sink to rest 194
How sweet the answer Echo makes 267
How vainly men themselves amaze 163
I am monarch of all I survey 240
I arise from dreams of Thee 255
I cannot change, as others do 137
I dream'd that as I wander'd by the way 357
I fear thy kisses, gentle maiden 258
I have had playmates, I have had companions 300
I have no name 215
I heard a thousand blended notes 362
I meet thy pensive, moonlight face 261
I met a traveller from an antique land 332
I remember, I remember 304
I saw Eternity the other night 179
I saw her in childhood 315
I saw my lady weep 69
I saw where in the shroud did lurk 318
I travell'd among unknown men 258
I wander'd lonely as a cloud 341
I was thy neighbour once, thou rugged Pile 377
I wish I were where Helen lies 156
If aught "f oaten stop or pastoral song 220
If doughty deeds my lady please 203
If I had thought thou couldst have died 313
If Thou survive my well-contented day 91
If to be absent were to be 150
I'm wearing awa', Jean 234
In a drear-nighted December 272
In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining .... 245
In the sweet shire of Cardigan 298
In this still place, remote from men 379
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 358
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free 353
It is not growing like a tree 127
It was a dismal and a fearful night 158
It was a lover and his lass 58
It was a summer evening 294
I've heard them lilting at our ewe-milking 195
Jack and Joan, they think no ill 165
John Anderson my jo, John 234
Lady, when I behold the roses sprouting 93
Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son 129
Let me not to the marriage of true minds 70
Life! I know not what thou art 246
Like as the waves make towards the pebbled sliorc ... 75
Like to the clear in highest sphere 62
Love in my bosom, like a bee 93
Love in thy youth, fair Maid, be wise 140
Love not me for comely grace 148
Lol where the rosy-bosom'd Hours 216
434 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
PAGE
Many a green isle needs must be 370
Mary! I want a lyre with otlier strings 241
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour 292
Mine be a cot beside the hill 219
Mortality, behold and fear 123
Most sweet it is with unuplifted eyes 359
Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold 249
Music, when soft voices die 396
My days among the Dead are past 307
My heart aches, and a drowsy numt)ness pains 329
My heart leaps up when I behold 391
My Love in her attire doth shew her wit 146
My lute, be as thou v/ert when thou didst grow .... 89
My thoughts hold mortal strife 88
My true-love hath my heart, and I have his 70
Never love unless you can 66
Never seek to tell thy love 206
No longer mourn for me when I am dead 92
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note 297
Not, Celia, that I juster am 148
Now the golden Morn aloft 183
Now the last day of many days 351
O blithe new-comer! I have heard 328
O Brignall banks are wild and fair 253
O Friend! I know not which way I must look 292
O happy shades! to me unblest 238
O if thou knew'st how thou thyself dost harm 68
O leave this barren spot to me 333
O listen, listen, ladies gay 316
O lovers' eyes are sharp to see 277
O Mary, at thy window be 225
O me! what eyes hath love pvit in my head 81
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming 72
O my Luve's like a red, red rose 227
O never say that I was false of heart 61
O saw ye bonnie Lesley 226
O say what is that thing call'd Lipht 186
O talk not to me of a name great in story 252
O Thou, by Nature taught 184
O waly waly up the bank 154
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms 274
O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being . . . 375
O World! O Life! O Time 390
Obscurest night involved the sky 243
Of all the girls tliat are so smart 201
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw 233
Of Nelson and the North 287
Of Neptune's empire let us sing 130
Of this fair volume which we World do name 103
Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray 263
Oft in the stilly night 305
Oh snatch'd away in beauty's bloom 312
On a day, alack "the day 67
On a Poet's lips I slept 379
Index of First Lines 435
PAGE
Once did She hold the gorgeous East in fee 291
One more Unfortunate 309
One word is too often profaned 283
On Linden, when the sun was low 293
Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had lowerVl . . 356
Over the mountains 134
Pack, clouds, away, and welcome day 95
Phoebus, arise 52
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu 283
Poor Soul, the centre of my sinful earth 102
Proud Maisie is in the wood 308
Queen and Huntress, chaste and fair 131
Rough Wind, that meanest loud 389
Ruin seize thee, ruthless King 190
Season of mist and mellow fruitfulness 343
See with what simplicity 135
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day 65
Shall 1, wasting in despair 152
She dwelt among the untrodden ways 258
She is not fair to outward view 257
She walks, in beauty, like the night 256
She was a Phantom of delight 256
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea ... 54
Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part .... 80
Sleep, angry beauty, sleep and fear not me 81
Sleep on, and dream of Heaven awhile 204
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright 215
Souls of Poets dead and gone 307
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king . . 51
Star that bringest home the bee 354
Stern Daughter of the Voice of God 289
Surprized by joy — impatient as the wind 280
Sweet, be not proud of those two eyes 140
Sweet Highland Girl, a very shower 335
Sweet Love, if thou wilt gain a monarch's glory .... 64
Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade 204
Swiftly walk over the western wave 269
Take, O take those lips away 79
Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense 381
Tell me not. Sweet, I am unkind 138
Tell me where is Fancy bred 92
That time of year thou may'st in me behold 73
"That which her slender waist confined 146
'The curfew tolls the knell of parting day 222
The forward youth that would appear 115
The fountains mingle with the ri\er 266
The glories of our blood and state 124
The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King 105
The lovely lass o' Inverness 194
The man of life upright 102
The merchant, to secure his treasure . 205
i36 Palgrave's Golden Treasury
PAGE
The more we live, more brief appear 388
The Nightingale, as soon as April l)ringeth 78
The poplars are fell'd; farewell to the shade 217
There be none of Beauty's daughters 2.54
There is a flower, the lesser Celandine 303
There is a garden in her face 142
There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away 302
There's not a nook within this solemn Pass 390
There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream . . .391
The sea hath many thousand sands 83
The sun is warm, the sky is clear 306
The sun upon the lake is low 354
The twentieth year is well-nigh past 242
The world is too much with us; late and soon 380
They are all gone into the world of light 159
They that have power to hurt, and will do none .... 76
This is the month, and this the happy morn 106
This Life, which seems so fair 101
Though ethers may her brow adore 7i
Thou art not fair, for all thy red and white 84
Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness 381
Three years she grew in sun and shower 2o9
Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream 196
Timely blossom. Infant fair 188
Tired witli all these, for restful death I cry 104
Toll for the Brave ,• , j a.
To me, fair Friend, you never can be old oi
To one who has been long in city pent 332
Turn back, you wanton flyer oo
'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won 179
'Twas on a lofty vase's side . . .' 187
Two Voices are there; one is of the Sea 291
Under the greenwood tree £7
Upon my lap my sovereign sits ■'■•'O
Verse, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying 383
Victorious men of earth, no more 124
Waken, lords and ladies gay 322
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin', tim'rous beastie ^i»
Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee 87
Weep you no more, sad fountains o4
Were I as base as is the lowly plain . . . . : 71
We talk'd with open heart, and tongue 38b
We walk'd along, while bright and red 384
We watch'd her breatlhng thro' the night 3lo
Whenas in silks my Julia goes • • • }Sa
When Britain first at Heaven's command 189
When first the fiery-mantled Sun 344
When God at first made Man ,••••• ;^^^
When he who adores thee has left but the name .... 29b
When icicles hang by the wall 7^
When I consider how my light is spent • • •. j,^%
When I have borne in memory what has tamed z^d
When I have fears that 1 may cease to be 279
Index of First Lines 437
PAGE
When V have seen by Time's fell hand defaced 54
When I survey the bright i;^o
When I think on the happy days . -i-
When in disgrace with fortune and men s eyes ou
When in the chronicle of wasted time o5
TV^hen lovely woman stoops to folly -^o
When Love with unconfined wings ^^^
When maidens such as Hester die gj-
When Music, heavenly maid, was young ^li
When Ruth was left half desolate ^o^
When the lamp is shatter'd . . . • • • • • -.;°
When the sheep are in the fauld, and the kye at hame . 22S
When thou must home to shades of underground .... »7
When to the sessions of sweet silent thought 74
When we two parted ^71
Where art thou, my beloved Son ^-u
Where shall the lover rest -'^
Where the bee sucks, there suck I o-
Where the remote Bermudas ride i^4
Whether on Ida's shady brow -4/
While that the sun with his beams hot »^
Whoe'er she be ••;• ^- •,■••,■ \ 070
Why art thou silent? Is thy love a plant 270
Why so pale and wan, fond lover io^
Why weep ye by the tide, ladie ••.■•,••••,.■••• -"'^
With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb st the skies . . »t)
With little here to do or see ^^l
With sweetest milk and sugar first io-
Ye banks and braes and streams around 227
Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon -]>'
Ye distant spires, ye antique towers -•«
Ye Mariners of England -»2
Yes, there is holy pleasure in thine eye f^*
Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more ii»
You meaner beauties of the night J-'iS
APPENDIX
(Adapted, and enlarged, from the Mamial for the Study
of English Classics, by George L. Marsh)
HELPS TO STUDY
The following suggestions and questions have mainly
to do with Books II, III, and IV, as Book I is not in-
cluded among the requirements for college entrance.
On the Study of Poetry
What reasons are there for regarding poetry as the
"chief of the arts" (p. vi) ? What is the most im-
portant quality that poetry must have (p. vii) ? What
defense is there for the actual lack of truth that is often
found in poetry (pp. viii, ix) ? What defense is there
ever for ugliness in poetry (p. x) ? Should poetry teach
(p.xi)?
What chief characteristics did Milton say poetry should
have (p. xii), and how are they respectively to be ex-
plained? From the poems read, add illustrations of these
characteristics to those given by the editor.
Find good illustrations, in the poems read, of effective
use of specific details, specific words. (See, e. g., pp. 144,
343, 375, 376.)
Find examples, similarly, of suggestive use of words
such as the editor describes on page 6.
What distinctions are to be made between fancy and
438
APPENDIX 439
imagination (pp. 7-9) ? Find examples of each in the
poems read.
What sort of words are usually to be preferred in
poetry (p. 11) and why ? What is the ' ' pathetic fallacy ' '
(p. 13)?
Find examples of the various measures, lengths of
lines, and metrical variations described on pages 14-21.
Find examples of double and triple rhyme; of inac-
curate rhymes; of weak or light rhymes (all explained,
p. 22). Find good examples of effective alliteration; of
effective assonance (or combinations of assonance and
alliteration). Do you find any alliteration that seems to
be excessive and therefore ineffective?
Find examples of as many as possible of the stanzas
described on pages 25-28. Note other stanzaic forms,
writing out the rhyme schemes and noting the number of
accents in each line. (See, e. g., pp. 107, 143, 218, 269,
etc.)
What are the chief kinds of poetry, and the most im-
portant subdivisions of each (pp. 31-37) ? Are all di-
visions represented in this volume (p. 47)?
Why should poetry be read aloud as much as possible
(pp. 38, 39) ? What benefits result from study of poetry
(pp. 40 flf.) ?
Questions on Specific Poems
What stanzaic forms are used in Milton's "Nativity
Ode" (pp. 106 ff.) ? Do these forms have any feature in
common? There are a good many inaccurate rhymes in
this poem. Are they all to be accounted for by differ-
ences of pronunciation in Milton's time and ours? Pick
out some stanzas in this poem in which the sound is par-
ticularly well adapted to the sense. Is the ending in any
440 APPENDIX
way weak or inartistic? Why are so many heathen gods
brought into the poem?
Note the very striking sonority of sound through the
use of long o's in the sonnet from Milton on pages 114,
115. What indications of Milton's character do you
find in the sonnets read from him? What is his attitude
in relation to his blindness (p. 126) ?
What were the circumstances of the composition of
Lyeidas (pp. 118-123) ? Note the divisions of the poem.
Is the lament for King an expression of genuine feeling,
or is it only conventional? Is this lament the main
theme? Point out the pastoral elements in Lyeidas.
Collect examples of lapses from the pastoral form. Do
lines 70 ff . illustrate Milton 's own spirit in taking up the
poetical career? Is the attack on the corruption in the
church (p. 121) appropriate? How is transition made to
and from this passage?
In Dry den's two poems on St. Cecilia's day (pp. 113 ff.,
179 ff.), point out some of the most successful variations
of meter to suit the thought. Does the attractiveness of
these poems lie chiefly in their subject or their form?
Note how repetitions are used, especially in the latter of
the two. What fundamental thought and purpose is
common to the two — and why?
Who is supposed to have influenced Milton in the com-
position of L' Allegro and II Fenseroso (pp. 166-174)?
Make a comparison of the two poems as to introduc-
tion and invocation, plan and structure, versification
and use of words, dramatic background and picture paint-
ing, and conclusion. What two different attitudes toward
life are represented? Which poem do you think represents
Milton's genuine attitude? Give the rhyme schemes for
thf* introduction and the main parts of both poems. Vis-
APPENDED 441
ualize with care the series of pictures in L' Allegro — the
morning, the noon-day, and the evening scenes. Those
in II Penseroso — the night and morning scenes. Why
does the hero of L' Allegro invoke the lark and that of
II Penseroso the nightingale? Why does the series of
pictures in L 'A llegro begin with the morning and that in
II Penseroso with the evening? How do you harmonize
Milton 's Puritanism with his evident delight in the pleas-
ures mentioned in these poems?
Point out a few of the best examples of Herrick's pe-
culiar grace and felicity of phrasing. Some of his most
effective bits of realistic detail.
How many different lengths of line do you find in the
poems trom Herrick? How many different forms of
stanzas? Are all the forms interesting and effective?
What popular customs are reflected by Herrick (e. g.,
pp. 143 ff.) ?
Find examples, in the poems read from Collins, of both
the merits and the faults mentioned on page 410. What
various metrical and stanzaic forms does Collins use?
Which of his poems is unrhymed? Would it be more or
less effective, in your opinion, if rhymed? Was the use
of unrhymed verse significant in Collins' time?
How many different stanzaic forms and lengths of lines
do you find in the poems from Gray? What is your gen-
eral impression as to the metrical variety and effectiveness
of his work? Sum up the substance of the history of
poetry as Gray gives it (pp. 207-10). Find variations
of metrical movement to fit the sense, and compare them
with such variations in Dryden and in Collins (pp.
211-14).
Do you agree with Palgrave's comment on Cowper's
442 APPENDIX
"Loss of the Eoyal George" (p. 412)? Discuss also
his comment on Cowper's finest sonnet (p. 414).
Do you find advantages in the metrical form of Gray's
"Elegy" pp. 222-225)? What uses does Gray make of
external nature? What kind of nature does he prefer?
Why? What is Gray's attitude toward humble life? Com-
pare him with Goldsmith as to depth of sympathy with
humble life. Note the great number of adjectives used
in the ' ' Elegy ' ' — almost every noun has at least one
epithet. Do they ever seem monotonous? Make a col-
lection of the lines and phrases of the "Elegy" that
have passed into popular speech. How do you account
for the popularity of the poem?
What attitude toward animals is indicated in Burns 's
"To a Mouse" (pp. 218, 219) ? How is the poem given
a personal application?
Study the songs of Burns to discover if they are really
singable. Have you a favorite among those selected, or a
favorite stanza? Discuss the choice, with reasons.
Does the historical error (p. 416) in what is perhaps
Keats 's most famous sonnet seriously detract from its
effectiveness?
It has been suggested that there is a logical flaw in
the "Ode to a Nightingale" (pp. 329-31) — can you find
it? Suppose it exists, is the poem injured seriously?
What is the dominant thought as to art in the "Ode
on a Grecian Urn" (pp. 381, 382)?
Which poems of Keats are in the meter of L 'Allegro
and II Fenseroso? And what is their spirit?
Study the plan of "La Belle Dame sans Merci" <pp.
274, 275) — note who are the speakers in the different
stanzas.
APPENDIX 443
Discuss the judgment expressed on page 416 as to a
favorite among Byron's sliorter poems.
Try similarly to decide upon a favorite among the se-
lections from Scott (see p. 417). Would you say, for ex-
ample, that the "Pibroch" (p. 283) or the "Coronach"
(p. 314) challenges "Provid Maisie"?
What is the relation of the last part of ' ' Kubla Khan ' '
(p. 358) to the preceding? What lines of this poem can
be taken as descriptive of Coleridge?
•Pick out allusions to Shelley himself in the selections
from him (e. g., pp. 306, 339, 376). How is the metrical
form of the "Ode to the West Wind" (p. 375) appro-
priate to its meaning? Is the same true of " To a Sky-
lark" (pp. 324-26)? Compare this poem with Words-
worth's poem on the same bird (p. 323). What appro-
priateness is there in Shelley's calling himself Ariel
Cp. 338)?
What are the most striking merits of Campbell's pa-
triotic poems (pp. 285 ff., 293) ?
What is there unusual about the form of "The Bridge
of Sighs" (pp. 309-11)? Is it effective?
Are there examples in the selections from Wordsworth
(e. g., pp. 263-65, 363-69, 384-88) of his carrying his
theory as to poetic diction too far?
In •' ' Ruth " is it necessary or desirable to have so much
explanation of the Georgian's reasons for deserting
Euth?
In Wordsworth's own arrangement of his poems (later
than those written in youth), "My heart leaps up," etc.
■(p. 391), was placed first. Can you suggest why?
What main idea is common to "The Daffodils" (p.
341) and "To the Cuckoo" (p. 328)?
What alternations of mood are there in the first four
444 APPENDIX
stanzas of the "Ode on Immortality" (pp. 391 fE.)?
Wliieh mood conquers in the end? What is the connection
between stanzas iv and v? Which stanza brings out tne
central thought of the poem? State this central thought
briefly.
THEME SUBJECTS
1. The pastoral life as conceived by the Elizabethans
(pp. 55, 82, etc.).
2. Nature pictures in Spenser's " Prothalamion "
(pp. 95 ff.).
3. A connected summary of Milton's "Nativity
Ode" (pp. 106 ff.).
4. Lycidas as a personal lament. (Cf. Shelley's
Adonais, Tennyson's In Memoriam, or Arnold's Thyrsis.)
5. Pastoral elements in Lycidas.
6. A defense or criticism of the digression on cor-
ruption in the church (p. 121) as a part of this poem.
7. The relation of Milton's Minor Poems to his
Puritanism.
8. Summaries or condensed paraphrases of L' Alle-
gro and II Pcnscroso.
9. Comparison of the poems just mentioned, as to
invocation, plan, versification, etc. Comparison of the two
theories of life 's purposes shown by the two poems.
10. Nature pictures in these poems (or the subject
may be limited to one of them, or to some specific pic-
ture).
11. Amusements that Milton enjoyed.
12. Maying in Herrick's time and now (pp. 143-45).
13. The power of music (as illustrated in Dryden 's
poem, pp. 179-82).
APPENDIX 445
14. The story of Gray's Bard (pp. 190-94; supply
imaginatively any deficiencies).
15. Your favorite song of Burns.
16. The story of "Lucy" (an imaginary one sug-
gested by Wordsworth's poems; pp. 258-60).
17. The story of Lord Ullin's daughter (pp. 261-63).
18. At the court of "La Belle Dame sans Merci"
(pp. 274, 275).
19. An account of the Battle of the Baltic (pp.
287, 288).
20. Comparison of Wordsworth 's and Shelley 's ' ' Sky-
lark" poems (pp. 323-26).
21. A story suggested by "Kubla Khan" (a continu-
ation of Coleridge's poem; pp. 358, 359).
22. The story of Euth (pp. 363-69).
23. A description of the Grecian urn that Keats saw
(suggested by pp. 381, 382).
DIVERSITY of CALL
AT
\NGELES