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PAST AND future

ROOD not on things gone by,

BROOD

on friendships lost, and high designs o'erthrown,

and old opinions swept away like leaves

before the autumn blast.

brood not on things gone by!

thy house is left unto thee desolate,

thou canst not be again what once thou wert,
away, my soul, away!

no longer weakly cower

o'er the white ashes of extinguish'd hope,

nor hover ghostlike round the sepulchre
of thy departed joys:

another star hath risen,

another voice is calling thee aboard,

thy bark is launch'd, the wind is in thy sail;
away, my soul, away!

W. S. WALKER

ON HEARING A LADY SINGING

O nightingale did ever chant

of travellers in some shady haunt
among Arabian sands:

no sweeter voice was ever heard
in Spring-time from a cuckoo bird,
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,
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?

ON TIME

This a vessel under sail;

IME'S an hand's-breadth; 'tis a tale;

'tis an eagle in its way,
darting down upon its prey;

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'tis an arrow in its flight,
mocking the pursuing sight;
'tis a short-lived fading flower;
'tis a rainbow on a shower;
'tis a momentary ray,
smiling in a winter's day;
'tis a torrent's rapid stream;
'tis a shadow; 'tis a dream;
'tis the closing watch of night,
dying at the rising light;
'tis a bubble; 'tis a sigh;
be prepared, O man, to die.

MY

HERRICK

Y dearest love, since thou wilt go,
and leave me here behind thee;

for love or pity, let me know

the place where I may find thee.

AMARYLLIS

In country meadows, pearled with dew,
and set about with lilies:

there, filling maunds with cowslips, you
may find your Amaryllis.

HERRICK

What have the meads to do with thee,
or with thy youthful hours?

F. QUARLES

live thou at 'court, where thou may'st be
the queen of men, not flowers.

Let country wenches make 'em fine
with posies, since 'tis fitter

for thee with richest gems to shine,
and like the stars to glitter.

THE PURSUIT OF THE IDEAL

It is crystal brow, the moon's despair,

T is not Beauty I demand,

nor the snow's daughter, a white hand,
nor mermaid's yellow pride of hair:

give me, instead of Beauty's bust,
a tender heart, a loyal mind
which with temptation I would trust,
yet never linked with error find,—

R. HERRICK

226

one in whose gentle bosom I

could pour my secret heart of woes, like the care-burthen'd honey-fly

that hides his murmurs in the rose,—

my earthly comforter! whose love
so indefeasible might be,

that, when my spirit wonn'd above,
hers could not stay, for sympathy.

CLAIM TO LOVE

LAS! alas! thou turn'st in vain

ALAS

thy beauteous face away,

which, like young sorcerers, rais'd a pain
above its power to lay.

Love moves not, as thou turn'st thy look,
but here doth firmly rest;

he long ago thy eyes forsook,
to revel in my breast.

Thy power on him why hop'st thou more
than his on me should be?

the claim thou lay'st to him is poor,

to that he owns from me.

his substance in my heart excels

his shadow in thy sight;

fire, where it burns, more truly dwells,
than where it scatters light.

and gloomy realms of Pluto's rule
the happy soul hath come:

and hark, what music on the breeze?
'Twas like the tune of summer-bees
a myriad-floating hum.

From spirits like himself it flowed
a welcome to his blest abode,
that melody of sound:

and lo, the sky all azure clear,
and liquid-soft the atmosphere:
it is Elysian ground.

T. STANLEY

To mortals, who on earth fulfil
the great Olympian Father's will,
are given these happy glades;
where they, from all corruption free,
in unrestricted liberty

may dwell, etherial shades.

228 There is no bound of time or place; each spirit moves in endless space advancing as he wills:

229

the summer lightnings gleam not so,
as life with ever-varying flow
the tender bosom thrills.

And memory is unmixed with pain,
though consciousness they still retain
of joys they left behind;

whate'er on earth they held most dear,
to pure enjoyment hallowed here
in golden dream they find.

The pilgrim oft by whispering trees
hath stretcht his weary limbs at ease,
and laid his burden down;

the reaping man hath dropt his scythe,
around him gather'd harvests blithe
the field with plenty crown.

The warrior-chief in soft repose
bethinks him of his vanquisht foes,
and martial sounds begin

to rattle in his slumbering ear,
the rolling drum, the soldier's cheer,
and dreadful battle-din.

The lover, whom untimely fate
hath sever'd from a worthy mate,

expects the destined hour,

when she shall come, his bliss to share, in beauty clad, divinely fair,

with love's immortal dower.

Meanwhile in many a vision kind
he sees her imaged to his mind;

and for her brow he weaves

a mystic bridal coronal,

such as no poet's tongue can tell

nor human heart conceive.

Translated from SCHILLER

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COME

THE OAK

OME take a woodland walk with me,
and mark the rugged old Oak Tree,

how steadily his arm he flings

where from the bank the fresh rill springs,
and points the waters' silent way
down the wild marge of reed and spray.
Two furlongs on they glide unseen,
known only by the livelier green.

There stands he, in each time and tide,
the new-born streamlet's guard and guide.
To him spring shower and summer sun,
brown autumn, winter's sleet, are one:
but firmest in the bleakest hour

he holds his root in faith and power,
the splinter'd bark, his girdle stern,
his robe, grey moss and mountain fern.

A HYMN TO THE LARES

T was, and still my care is,

IT

to worship ye, the Lares,
with crowns of greenest parsley,
and garlick chives not scarcely:
for favours here to warm me,
and not by fire to harm me:
for gladding so my hearth here

with inoffensive mirth here;

that while the wassaile bowle here

with north-down ale doth trowl here,

no syllable doth fall here,

to mar the mirth at all here.

For which, whene'er I am able,
to keep a country-table,

great be my fare or small cheer,
I'le eat and drink up all here.

J. KEBLE

R. HERRICK