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258

INVOCATION

RA

ARELY, rarely, comest thou,

Spirit of Delight! wherefore hast thou left me now many

day and night? many a weary night and day 'tis since thou art fled away.

How shall ever one like me

win thee back again ?
with the joyous and the free

thou wilt scoff at pain.
Spirit false ! thou hast forgot
all but those who need thee not.

As a lizard with the shade

of a trembling leaf,
thou with sorrow art dismayed ;

even the sighs of grief
reproach thee, that thou art not near,
and reproach thou wilt not hear.

259 I love all that thou lovest,

Spirit of Delight!
the fresh Earth in new leaves drest

and the starry night ;
autumn evening, and the morn
when the golden mists are born.

I love snow and all the forms

of the radiant frost;
I love waves, and winds, and storms,

everything almost
which is Nature's, and may be
untainted by man's misery.

I love Love—though he has wings,

and like light can flee,
but above all other things,

Spirit, I love thee-
thou art love and life! O come !
make once more my heart thy home!

P. B. SHELLEY

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HOM

OW sweet the answer Echo makes ·

to Music at night
when, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
and far away o'er lawns and lakes
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
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,
breathed back again.

T. MOORE

261

THE WINTER'S EVENING

'HE sun is sinking in the fiery west;

wet wings;

the lightning, like an eagle from its nest,

in dazzling circles round the mountain springs ;

the groaning forest in the whirlwind swings, strewing the marble cliffs with branches hoar;

with cries of startled wolves the valley rings: and when the sullen sounds of earth are o’er, ocean lifts up his voice, and thunders on the shore. Now close the portal !—'Tis the hour of hours !

though ancient Winter lords it o'er the sky, and the snow thickens on our leafless bowers;

for now the few we love on earth are nigh.

Ianthe ! shall the livelong eve pass by without one song from that red lip of thine?.

come, fill the bowls, and heap the faggots high ! to birds and flowers let Summer's morning shine, to nobler man alone the Winter eve's divine.

G. CROLY

262

TO LUCASTA, ON GOING BEYOND THE SEAS

IF

F to be absent were to be

away from thee;
or that when I am gone

you or I were alone ;

then, my Lucasta, might I crave pity from blustering wind, or swallowing wave. Though seas and land betwixt us both,

our faith and troth, like separated souls,

all time and space controls:

above the highest sphere we meet unseen, unknown, and greet as Angels greet. So then we do anticipate

our after-fate,
and are alive i' the skies,

if thus our lips and eyes

can speak like spirits unconfined in Heaven, their earthy bodies left behind.

R. LOVELACE

263

MODERN GREECE
WHE

THEN riseth Lacedæmon's hardihood,

when Thebes Epaminondas rears again, when Athens' children are with hearts endued, when Grecian mothers shall give birth to men, then may'st thou be restored ; but not till then. A thousand years scarce serve to form a state ; an hour may lay it in the dust, and when

can man its shatter'd splendour renovate, recall its virtues back, and vanquish Time and Fate ?

Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild ;
sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,
thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled,
and still his honied wealth Hymettus yields;
there the blithe bee his fragrant fortress builds,
the freeborn wanderer of thy mountain-air ;
Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,

still in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare ;
Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is fair.

LORD BYRON

264

THE DEATH OF ASTROPHEL
BUT that immortall spirit, which was deckt

grace,
by soveraine choyce from th' hevenly quires select,
and lineally derived from Angels race,

O! what is now of it become aread ?

Ay me! can so divine a thing be dead ?
Ah! no: it is not dead, ne can it die,
but lives for aie in blissfull Paradise,
where like a new-borne babe it soft doth lie,
in bed of lillies wrapt in tender wise ;

and compast all about with roses sweet,

and daintie violets from head to feet. There thousand birds, all of celestiall brood, to him do sweetly caroll day and night ; and with straunge notes, of him well understood, lull him asleep in Angelick delight;

whilest in sweet dreame to him presented bee immortall beauties, which no eye may see.

E. SPENSER

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with garlands gay of various green ;
I praised the sea, whose ample field
shone glorious as a silver shield ;
and earth and ocean seem'd to say,
“Our beauties are but for a day.”
I praised the sun, whose chariot rolld
on wheels of amber and of gold;
I praised the moon, whose softer eye
gleam'd sweetly through the summer sky;
and moon and sun in answer said,
“Our days of light are numbered.”
O God! O good beyond compare!
if thus Thy meaner works are fair,
if thus Thy bounties gild the span
of ruin'd earth and sinful man,
how glorious must the mansion be,
where Thy redeem'd shall dwell with Thee !

R. HEBER 266

TO MY LORD OF LEICESTER

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OT that thy trees at Penshurst groan

oppressed with their timely load;
and seem to make their silent moan,

that their great Lord is now abroad:
they, to delight his taste or eye,
would spend themselves in fruit, and die.
Not that thy harmless deer repine,

and think themselves unjustly slain
by any other hand than thine,

whose arrows they would gladly stain: no, nor thy friends, which hold too dear that peace with France, which keeps thee there. All these are less than that great cause

which now exacts your presence here;
wherein there meet the divers laws

of public and domestic care:
for one bright Nymph our youth contends,
and on your prudent choice depends.

E. WALLER

267

HYMN TO DIANA

Q

UEEN and Huntress, chaste and fair,

now the sun is laid to sleep,
seated in thy silver chair,
state in wonted manner keep;

Hesperus entreats thy light,

goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade

dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
heaven to clear when day did close:

bless us then with wished sight,

goddess excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart

and thy crystal-shining quiver:
give unto the flying hart
space to breathe, how short soever:

thou that makest a day of night,
goddess excellently bright!

B. JONSON

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