There methinks would be enjoyment more than in this march of mind,

In the steamship, in the railway, in the thoughts that shake mankind.

There the passions cramp'd no longer shall have scope and breathing space;

I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky race.

Iron-jointed, supple-sinew'd, they shall dive, and they shall run,

168

Catch the wild goat by the hair, and hurl their lances in the sun;

Whistle back the parrot's call, and leap the

rainbows of the brooks,

Not with blinded eyesight poring over miserable books

Fool, again the dream, the fancy! but I know

my words are wild,

172

But I count the gray barbarian lower than the Christian child.

I, to herd with narrow foreheads, vacant of our glorious gains,

Like a beast with lower pleasures, like a beast

with lower pains!

176

Mated with a squalid savage-what to me were

sun or clime?

I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time

I that rather held it better men should perish one by one,

Than that earth should stand at gaze like

Joshua's moon in Ajalon!

Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range,

Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of change.

Thro' the shadow of the globe we sweep into the younger day:

Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of

Cathay.

Mother-Age, for mine I knew not,-help me as when life begun:

Rift the hills, and roll the waters, flash the lightnings, weigh the Sun.

180

184

O, I see the crescent promise of my spirit hath

not set.

Ancient founts of inspiration well thro' all my

fancy yet.

188

Howsoever these things be, a long farewell to Locksley Hall!

Now for me the woods may wither, now for me the roof-tree fall.

Comes a vapour from the margin, blackening over heath and holt,

Cramming all the blast before it, in its breast a thunderbolt.

Let it fall on Locksley Hall, with rain or hail, or fire or snow;

For the mighty wind arises, roaring seaward, and I go.

1842.

192

Lord Tennyson.

ANTONY TO CLEOPATRA

I AM dying, Egypt, dying!
Ebbs the crimson life-tide fast,
And the dark Plutonian shadows
Gather on the evening blast;

Let thine arms, oh Queen, support me,
Hush thy sobs and bow thine ear,

Listen to the great heart secrets

Thou, and thou alone, must hear.

Though my scarred and veteran legions
Bear their eagles high no more,

And my wrecked and scattered galleys
Strew dark Actium's fatal shore:

Though no glittering guards surround me,
Prompt to do their master's will,

I must perish like a Roman—

Die the great Triumvir still.

16

Let not Cæsar's servile minions
Mock the lion thus laid low;

'T was no foeman's arm that felled him,
'T was his own that struck the blow:
His who, pillowed on thy bosom,
Turned aside from glory's ray-
His who, drunk with thy caresses,
Madly threw a world away.

24

Should the base plebeian rabble
Dare assail my name at Rome,
Where my noble spouse, Octavia,
Weeps within her widowed home-
Seek her; say the gods bear witness-
Altars, augurs, circling wings-
That her blood, with mine commingled,
Yet shall mount the throne of kings. 32

As for thee, star-eyed Egyptian-
Glorious sorceress of the Nile!
Light the path to Stygian darkness,
With the splendor of thy smile;
Give the Cæsar crowns and arches,
Let his brow the laurel twine;
I can scorn the Senate's triumphs,
Triumphing in love like thine.

I am dying, Egypt, dying!

Hark! the insulting foeman's cry; They are coming-quick, my falchion! Let me front them ere I die.

40

c. 1860.

Ah! no more amid the battle

Shall my heart exulting swell;
Isis and Osiris guard thee-

Cleopatra-Rome-farewell!

48

William Haines Lytle.

THE LAST BUCCANEER

Он, England is a pleasant place for them that 's rich and high,

But England is a cruel place for such poor folks as I;

And such a port for mariners I ne'er shall see

again

As the pleasant Isle of Avès, beside the Spanish main.

There were forty craft in Avès that were both swift and stout,

All furnish'd well with small arms and cannons round about;

And a thousand men in Avès made laws to fair

and free

To choose their valiant captains and obey them

loyally.

8

Thence we sail'd against the Spaniard with his hoards of plate and gold,

Which he wrung by cruel tortures from the InIdian folk of old;