at - ie a ts ae ¥e or) a5 ar Nee) x ea 2 I aRGrE CEE 1 RAG NE DATE DUE ai HEROIC IDYLS, WITH ADDITIONAL POEMS. BY WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. Hondo: T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 1863. [THE RIGHT OF TRANSLATION IS RESERVED.] rm a # PR AOD Ht Bled Aeneqey fe TO EDWARD TWISLETON. Dedications are often superfluous, and sometimes worse. Forgive my first fault of the kind. Vanity is almost as common to the old as to the young, and I feel it creeping on me when I remember your expression of regret that you had not known me earlier in life than last spring. All my old friends are dead, let their place continue to be supplied by Edward Twisleton. Florence, August 25th, 1863. PREFACE. He who is within two paces of the ninetieth year may sit down and make no excuses; he must be unpopular, he never tried to be much otherwise, he never contended with a contemporary, but walked alone on the far eastern uplands, meditating and remembering. To the Idyls a few slight matters have been ap- pended, as tassels are to a purse. The Greek proper names have Greek terminations, not Latin, or French, or English. CorrEctT. For Hippomenes, read Hippomanes. Last v. ? after smile. v. 9 Demeter since have blest. v.10 For Mothras, read Aithras. For v. 7, substitute “Somewhat, if indirect, yet applicable.” % 1 For and, read who. v. After v. 7, Aurelius speaks. “) v. 2 For those, read have.-~--~ | Last v. Omit “ Lucian!” y 11 For the. read thee. 2 For dregs, read dugs. 9 For freezing, read fiery. 8 For the, read their. 1 For Ceti, read Celi. ast v. For Looky,‘read Zooks! ast v, For sweetest, read sweeter. 4 For price, read pulp. 7 For dragon, read dragoon. 1 For place, read pate. Pees sf 4 !after peace. 5 For fled, read fill’d. 7 3 For To, read 7wo. ; 7 For and, read tho’ ee 5 For own, read join. 6 For those, read he. 16 For Tibulling, read Tibullus. 5 For valets, read Variets. 11 For Looks, read Zooks. 10 For Salnon, read Salmi, 5 For who, read one. 8 Comma, after love. Sessssese8essesu HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. Homer. Is this Laertes who embraces me Ere a word spoken? his the hand I grasp? e- LAERTES. Zeus help thee, and restore to thee thy sight, My guest of old! Iam of years as many, And of calamities, as thou thyself, I, wretched man! who have outlived my son Odysseus, him thou knewest in this house, A stripling fond of quoits and archery, B 2 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. Thence to be call’d for counsel mid the chiefs Who storm’d that city past the farther sea, Built by two Gods, by more than two defended. Homer. Hither I came to visit thee, and sing His wanderings and his wisdom, tho’ my voice Be not the voice it was; yet thoughts come up, And words to thoughts, which others may recite When I am mute, and deaf as is my grave, If any grave in any land be mine. LAERTES. Men will contend for it in after times, And cities claim it as the ground whereon A temple stood, and worshippers yet stand. Long hast thou travell’d since we met, and far. Homer. T have seen many cities, and the best And wisest of the men who dwelt therein, The children and their children now adult, HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA, Nor childless they. Some have I chided, some Would soothe, who, mounted on the higher sod, . Wept as the pebbles tinkled, dropping o’er A form outstretcht below; they would not hear Story of mine, which told them there were fields Fresher, and brighter skies, but slapping me, Cried worse, and ran away. LAERTES. Here sits aside thee A child grey-headed who will hear thee out. Here shalt thou arm my son again, in mail No enemy, no time, can strip from him, But first I counsel thee to try the strength Of my old prisoner in the cave below: The wine will sparkle at the sight of thee, If there be any virtue left in it. Bread there is, fitter for young teeth than ours, But wine can soften its obduracy. At hand is honey in the honeycomb, And melon, and those blushing pouting buds That fain would hide them under crisped leaves. Soon the blue dove and particolor’d hen _ | Shall quit the stable-rafter, caught at roost, B2 4 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. And goat shall miss her suckling in the morn ; Supper will want them ere the day decline. Homer. So be it: I sing best when hearty cheer Refreshes me, and hearty friend beside. LAERTES. Voyagers, who have heard thee, carried home Strange stories; whether all be thy device I know not: surely thou hadst been afraid Some God or Goddess would have twitcht thine ear. Homer. They often came about me while I slept, And brought me dreams, and never lookt morose. They loved thy son and for his sake loved me. Lazrrtes. Apollo, I well know, was much thy friend. Homer. He never harried me as Marsyas Was harried by him; lest he should, I sang His praise in my best hymn : the Gods love praise. HUMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. 5 LAERTES. I should have thought the Gods would more approve Good works than glossy words, for well they know All we can tell them of themselves or us. Have they enricht thee? for I see thy cloak Is ragged. Homer. Ragged cloak is songster’s garb. LAERTES. T have two better; one of them for thee. Penelope, who died five years ago, Spun it, her husband wore it only once, And ’twas upon the anniversary Of their espousal. Homer. Wear it I will not, But I will hang it on the brightest nail 6 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA, Of the first temple where Apollo sits, Golden hair’d, in his glory. LAERTES. So thou shalt Tf so it please thee: yet we first will quaff The gifts of Bakkos, for methinks his gifts Are quite as welcome to the sons of song And cheer them oftener. [AcaTHA enters with a cup of wine. ] Maiden! come thou nigh, And seat thee there, and thou shalt hear him sing, After a while, what Gods might listen to: But place that cup upon the board, and wait Until the stranger hath assuaged his thirst, For songmen, grasshoppers, and nightingales Sing cheerily but when the throat is moist. Homer. I sang to maidens in my prime; again, But not before the morrow, will I sing ;, HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA, 7 Let me repose this noontide, since in sooth Wine, a sweet solacer of weariness, Helps to unload the burden. LAERTES. Lie then down Along yon mat bestrown with rosemary, Basil, and mint, and thyme. . She knows them all ‘And has her names for them, some strange enough. Sound and refreshing then be thy repose! Well may weak mortal seek the balm of sleep When even the Gods require it, when the stars Droop in their courses, and the Sun himself Sinks on the swelling bosom of the sea. Take heed there be no knot on any sprig; After, bring store of rushes and long leaves Of cane sweet-smelling from the inland bank Of yon wide-wandering river over-sea Famed for its swans; then open,and take out From the black chest the linen, never used These many years, which thou (or one before) Spreadst for the Sun to bleach it; and be sure, 8 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. Be sure, thou smoothen with both hands his couch Who has the power to make both young and old Live throughout ages. AGATHA. And look well through all ? LarrteEs. Aye, and look better than they lookt before, AGaTHA, I wish he could make me so, and without My going for it anywhere below. I am content to stay in Ithaca, Where the dogs know me, and the ferryman Asks nothing from me, and the rills are full After the rain, and flowers grow everywhere, And bees grudge not their honey, and the grape Grows within reach, and figs, blue, yellow, green, Without my climbing; boys, too come at call; And, if they hide the ripest, I know where To find it, twist and struggle as they may ; HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA, 9 Impudent boys! to make me bring it out, Saying I shall not have it if I don’t! LAERTES. How the child babbles! pardon her! behold Her strength and stature have outgrown her wits! In fourteen years thou thyself wast not wise. Homer. My heart is freshen’d by a fount so pure At its springhead ; let it run on in light. ° Most girls are wing’d with wishes, and can ill Keep on their feet against the early gale That blows impetuous on unguarded breast ; But this young maiden, I can prophecy, Will be thy staff when other staff hath fail’d. AGATHA. May the Gods grant it! but not grant it yet! Blessings upon thy head ! 10 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. Homer. May they bestow Their choicest upon thine! may they preserve Thy comeliness of virtue many years For him whose hand thy master joins to thine ! AGATHA, O might I smoothen that mild wrinkled brow With but one kiss ! LAERTES. Take it. Now leave us, child, And bid our good Metampos to prepare That brazen bath wherein my rampant boy Each morning lay full-length, struggling at first, Then laughing as he splasht the water up Against his mother’s face bent over him. Is this the Odysseus first at quoit and bar? Is this the Odysseus call’d to counsel kings, He whose name sounds beyond our narrow sea? HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA, 11 AGATHA. O how I always love to hear that name! LAERTES. But linger not; pursue the task at hand: - Bethink thee ’tis for one who has the power To give thee many days beyond old-age. AGATHA. O! tell him not to do it if he can: He cannot make youth stay: the swallows come And go, youth goes, but never comes again. LAERTES. He can make heroes greater than they were. AGATHA, By making them lay by the wicked sword? How I shall love him when he has done that! 12 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. LarErTeEs. No, but he gives them strength by magic song. AGATHA. The strength of constancy to love but one? As did Odysseus while he lived on earth, And when he waited for her in the shades. LazRTES. The little jay! go, chatterer. Acatua to Homer. Do not think, O stranger, he is wroth; he never is With Agatha, albeit he stamps and frowns And shakes three fingers at her, and forbears To do the like to any one beside. Hark! the brass sounds, the bath is now pre- pared. HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA, 13 LAERTES. More than the water shall her hand assuage Thy weary feet, and lead thee back, now late. 14 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. HOMER. LAERTES. AGATHA. In the Morning. Homer. Whose is the soft and pulpy hand that lies Athwart the ridges of my craggy one Out of the bed? can it be Agatha’s? AGATHA. I come to bring thee, while yet warm and frothy, A draught of milk. Rise now, rise just half-up, And drink it. Hark! the birds, two at a time, Are singing in the terebinth. Our king Hath taken down his staff and gone afield To see the men begin their daily work. HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. 15 Homer. Go thou to thine: I will arise. How sweet Was that goat’s milk! AGATHA. We have eleven below, All milchers. Wouldst thou now the tepid bath ? Homer. Rather when thou hast laid on the left-hand My sandals within reach ; bring colder lymph To freshen more the frame-work of mine eyes, For eyes there are, altho their orbs be dark. AGATHA, Tis here; let me apply it. Homer. Bravely done ! Why standest thou so still and taciturn ? 16 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. AGATHA, The king my master hath forbidden me Ever to ask a question: if I might, And were not disobedience such a sin, I would ask chee, so gentle and so wise, Whether the story of that bad Calypso Can be all true, for it would grieve me sorely To think thou wouldst repeat it were it false, And some ill-natured God (such Gods there are) Would punish thee, already too afflicted. Homer. My child! the Muses sang the tale I told, And they know more about that wanton Nymph Than they have uttered into mortal ear. I do rejoice to find thee fond of truth. AGATHA. I was not always truthful. I have smarted For falsehood, under Queen Penelope, When I was little. I should hate to hear More of that wicked creature who detain’d HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. 17 Her lord from her, and tried to win his love. I know ’twas very wrong in me to listen. Homer. A pardonable fault : we wish for listeners Whether we speak or sing, the young and old Alike are weak in this, unwise and wise, Cheerful and sorrowful. AGATHA. ‘ O! look up yonder! Why dost thou smile? everything makes thee smile At silly Agatha, but why just now? Homer. What was the sight ? AGATHA. O inconsiderate ! O worse than inconsiderate! cruel! cruel! c 18 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. Homer. Tell me, what was it? I can see thro’ speech. AGATHA. A tawny bird above ; he prowls for hours, Sailing on wilful wings that never flag Until they drop headlong to seize the prey. The hinds shout after him and make him soar Eastward: our little birds are safe from kites And idler boys. Tis said (can it be true ?) In other parts men catch the nightingale To make it food. Homer. Nay, men eat men. AGATHA, Ye Gods ! But men hurt one another, nightingales Console the weary with unwearied song, HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. 19 Until soft slumber on the couch descends. The king my master and Penelope Forbade the slaughter or captivity Of the poor innocents who trusted them, Nor robbed them even of the tiniest grain. Homer. Generous and tender is thy master’s heart, Warm as the summer, open as the sky. AGATHA. How true! how I do love thee for these words! Stranger, didst thou not hear him wail aloud, Groan after groan, broken, but ill supprest, When thou recitedst in that plaintive tone How Anticleia met her son again Amid the shades below ? Thou shouldst have stopt Before that tale was told by thee; that one At least was true, if none were true before. In vain, O how in vain, I smote my breast C2 20 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. To keep more quiet what would beat within ! Never were words so sweet, so sad, as those. I sobb’d apart, I could not check my tears: Laertes too, tho’ stronger, could not his, They glistened in their channels and would run, Nor could he stop them with both hands: he heard ‘My sobs, and call’d me little fool for them; Then did he catch and hold me to his bosom, And-bid me never do the like again. Homer. The rains in their due season will descend, And so will tears; they sink into the heart To soften, not to hurt it. The best men Have most to weep for, whether foren lands Receive them (or stil worse!) a home estranged. AGATHA. Listen. I hear the merry yelp of dogs, And now the ferrel’d staff drops in the hall, And now the master’s short and hurried step Advances: here he is: turn round, turn round. HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA, 21 LAERTES. Hast thou slept well, Mieonides ? Homer. I slept Three hours ere sunrise, ’tis my wont, at night I lie awake for nearly twice as long. LAERTES. Ay ; singing birds wake early, shake their plumes, And carol ere they feed. Sound was thy sleep? Homer. I felt again, but felt it undisturb’d, The pelting of the little curly waves, The slow and heavy stretch of rising billows, And the rapidity of their descent. ‘ LAERTES. Marvellous things are dreams! methinks we live 22 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA, An age in one of them, we traverse lands A lifetime could not reach, bring from the grave Inhabitants who never met before, : And vow we will not leave an absent friend We long have left, and who leaves ws ere morn. Apollo, who deprived thee of thy light When youth was fresh and nature bloom’d around, Bestowed on thee gifts never dim with age, And rarely granted to impatient youth. The crown thou wearest reddens not the brow Of him who wears it worthily ; but some Are snatcht by violence, some purloin’d by fraud, — Some dripping blood, not by the Gods unseen. To thee, O wise Moeonides, to thee Worthless is all that glitters and attracts The buzzing insects of a summer hour. The Gods have given thee what themselves enjoy, And they alone, glory through endless days. The Lydian king Sarpedon never swayed Such sceptre, nor did Glaucos his compeer, Nor Priam. Priam was about my age, He had more sorrows than I ever had; I lost one son, some fifty Priam lost ; This is a comfort, I may rub my palms Thinking of this, and bless the Powers above. HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA,. 23 Homer. One wicked son brought down their vengeance on him, And his wide realms invited numerous foes, LAERTES. Alas! alas! are there not cares enow In ruling nearly those five thousand heads, Men, women, children ; arbitrating right And wrong, and hearing maids and: mothers wail ; For flax blown off the cliff when almost bleacht, And curlew tamed in vain and fled away, Albeit one wing was shortened; then approach To royal ear the whisper that the bird Might peradventure have alighted nigh, And hist upon the charcoal, skinn’d and split. Bounteous as are the Gods, where is the wealth To stop these lamentations with a. gift Adequate to such losses? words are light, And words come opposite, with heavy groans. 24 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. Homer. The pastor of the people may keep watch, Yet cares as wakeful creep into the fold. LAERTES. Beside these city griefs, what mortal knows The anxieties about my scattered sheep ? Some bleeting for lost offspring, some for food, Scanty in winter, scantier in the drought Of Sirius ; then again the shrubs in spring ; Cropt close, ere barely budded, by the goats. Methinks these animals are over-nice About their food, else might they pick sea-weeds, But these foresooth they trample on, nor deign To taste even samphire, which their betters cull. There also are some less solicitudes About those rocks, when plunderers from abroad Would pilfer eggs and nestlings; my own folk Are abstinent, without their king’s decree. Homer. To help thee in such troubles, and in worse, Where is thy brave Telemakos ? HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA, 25 LAERTES. That youth Is gone to rule Dulikeon, where the soil Tho’ fitter than our Ithaca for tilth, Bears only turbulence and idleness. He with his gentle voice and his strong arm, Will bring into due train the restive race. Homer. Few will contend with gentleness and youth, Even of those who strive against the Laws, But some subvert them who could best defend, And in whose hands the Gods have placed the sword. On the mainland there are, unless report Belie them, princes who, possessing realms Wider than sight from mountain-head can reach, Would yet invade a neighbour’s stony croft, Pretending danger to their citadels From fishermen ashore, and shepherd boys Who work for daily and but scanty bread, And wax the reeds to pipe at festivals, Where the dogs snarl at them above the bones. 26 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA, LAERTES. What !, would the cloth’d in purple, as are some, Rip off the selvage from a ragged coat? Accursed be the wretch, and whosoe’er Upholds him, or.connives at his misdeeds. Away with thoughts that sadden even this hour ! Homer. I would indeed away with ’em, but wrath Rings on the lyre and swells above the song. It shall be heard by those who stand on high, But shall not rouse the lowlier, long opprest, Who might be madden’d at his broken sleep, And wrenching out the timbers of his gate Batter the prince’s down. LAERTES. Ye Gods forbid ! Thou makest the skin creep upon my flesh, Albeit the danger lies from me afar. Now surely this is but a songman’s tale, Yet songman never here discourst like thee, HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. 27 Or whispered in low voice what thou hast sung, Striking the lyre so that the strings all trembled. Are people anywhere grown thus unruly ? Homer. More are they who would rule than would be ruled, Yet one must govern, else all run astray. The strongest are the calm and equitable, And kings at best are men, nor always that. LAERTES. I have known many who have call’d me friend, Yet would not warn me tho’ they saw ten skiffs Grating the strand with three score thieves in each. Curse on that chief across the narrow sea, Who drives whole herds and flocks innumerable, And whose huge presses groan with oil and wine Year after year, yet fain would carry off The crying kid, and strangle it for crying. Now art thou not, from such long talk, athirst ? Split this pomegranate then, and stoop the jar. Hold! I can stoop it: take this cup..’tis fill’d. 28 HOMER, LAERTES, AGATHA. Homer. Zeus! God of hospitality! vouchsafe To hear my prayer, as thou hast often done, That, when thy lightnings spring athwart the sea, And when thy thunders shake from brow to base The Acrokerauneans, thy right hand protect This Ithaca, this people, and this king ! * * It has been doubted and denied that Homer and Laertes were contemporary. af HIPPOMYNES AND ATALANTA. 29 HIPPOMENES AND ATALANTA. Hippoménes and Atalanta strove To win a race: he lov’d her: but she shunn’d All lovers, and her royal sire had sworn That none should marry her unless the one Swifter of foot, believing none could match His girl in fleetness, and decreed that all Should surely die who fail’d in such attempt. Courageously came forth Hippoménes. She once beheld him, and she pitied him, For she had made a vow to Artemis That she would never violate a word Her father had exacted. . Now the hour Had come to prove her faith ; the venturous youth Stood now before her. Down she cast her eyes, 30 HIPPOMENES AND ATALANTA. And cried in broken words, ‘‘Rash youth: depart, The Fates (thou seest them not) are close behind; Seven brave youths, hardly less brave than thou, Have fallen for contending in the race With wretched Atalanta. . . Go.” HIpPOMENES. To live For Atalanta is the first of glory, To die for her the next: this they enjoyed In death, the better they bequeathe to me. ATALANTA, Pity I gave them, do not ask for more, Nor for such cause ; let me not weep again, Let that be the last time. HIPPoMENES. So may it be! So shall it; for the Gods have given me strength And confidence : one name for victory. Certain I am to win. HIPPOMENES AND ATALANTA, 31 ATALANTA, No, thou rash boy! If thou must try such hazard. .if thou must. .. Must? what impels thee? madness! ‘There is time Yet to turn back; I do implore thee . . go. Artemis sees me. HIPPoMENES. Aphrodite sees Me, and smiles on me, and instructs me how. . ATALANTA. Cease, cease, this instant: I abhor the name; My Goddess hates her, should not I? I do. HIPpoMENES. I love all Goddesses, the kindest most, And I beseech her now to make me grateful. 32 HIPPOMENES AND ATALANTA. ATALANTA. All I can hope for is thy swift escape ; Be prompt: I see white sails below the cliff; My father soon shall know ’twas my command, He wills obedience, he shall value thine, And send thee gifts. HIproMENES. I want but one, which one The king shall give me. ATALANTA. What is that? HieroMenss. This hand. ATALANTA. And snatchest thou my hand? audacious crea- ture! HIPPOMENES AND ATALANTA, 33 No man hath dared to touch it until now, Nor I converst with any half so long.. HIPPOMENES. Not half so long have any loved as I. ATALANTA. Insane! it was but yesterday we met. HipPpoMENEs. In yesterday, its day and nia lay years. ATALANTA, I never was dissembler. I will pass Unyoked thro’ life. HIPPOMENES. O Atalanta ! love No yoke imposes, he removes the heaviest The Destinies would throw around the neck D 34 HIPPOMENES AND ATALANTA. Of youth, who wearies in the dismal way Of lonely life. ATALANTA, I do not comprehend Those flighty words, they sound like idle song. HIPPOMENES. Scoff not, add not another to the seven, Without a race for it; my breath is failing. ATALANTA, O perfidy ! to make me weep again ! Others too may have loved. HIpPPoMENEs, - But not like me; Else would the Gods have rais’d them to them- selves, Ay, and above themselves, in happiness, Crowning the best of them with amaranth. HIPPOMENES AND ATALANTA, 35 ATALANTA, Zeus holds the scales of weal and woe. s HIPPoMENES. Zeus holds them, But little Eros with light finger stoops : The balance-bowl: Zeus shakes his head and smiles, ATALANTA. What wouldst thou ? HIPPoMENES. Thee ; thee only; no rich ile, No far dominion over land and sea. ATALANTA, Easier to win than what thou seekest here. Remember last year’s fruit ; it lies beneath The seven hillocks of yon turf, ill-squared D2 36 HIPPOMENES AND ATALANTA. And disunited yet, on the left hand. Shame! thus to weaken me in my resolve, And break my father’s heart! no, thou shalt not. HIPPoMENES. I blame not tears for those who bravely fell. ATALANTA. T never did shed tears, and never will. Come, let us lose no time, if strive we must. The sward is level here and sound and soft ; Throw off thy sandals, I will throw off mine. Start. They both started; he, by one stride, first, For she half pitied him so beautiful, Running to meet his death, yet was resolved To conquer: soon she near’d him, and he felt The rapid and repeated gush. of breath Behind his shoulder. From his hand now dropt A golden apple: she lookt down and saw A glitter on the grass, yet on she ran. He dropt a second; now she seem’d to stoop: HIPPOMENES AND ATALANTA. 37 He dropt a third; and now she stoopt indeed : Yet, swifter than a wren picks up a grain Of millet, rais’d her head: it was too late, Only one step, only one breath, too late. Hippomenes had toucht the maple goal With but two fingers, leaning pronely forth. She stood in mute despair; the prize was won. Now each walkt slowly forward, both so tired, And both alike breathed hard, and stopt at times. When he turn’d round to her, she lowered her face Cover’d with blushes, and held out her hand, The golden apple in it. “ Leave me now,” Said she, ‘I must walk homeward.” He did take The apple and the hand. “ Both I detain,” Said he, “‘ the other two I dedicate To the two Powers that soften virgin hearts, Eros and Aphrodité ; and this one To her who ratifies the nuptial vow.” She would have wept to see her father weep ; But some God pitied her, and purple wings (What God’s were they ?) hovered and interposed. 38 SAPPHO, ALCHUS, ANACREON, PHAON, SAPPHO, ALCASUS, ANACREON, PHAON. SapPPHo. I wonder at the malice of the herd Against us poets. O what calumnies Do those invent who can invent nought else! *Tis said, Alczeus, thou hast run away From battle. ALCZUS. Idlers show no idleness In picking up and spreading false reports. Nay, ’tis said also (thing incredible) That women carry them from house to house, And twirl and sniff them as they would a rose. SAPPHO, ALCEUS, ANACREON, PHAON. 39 Nothing is lighter than an empty tale, Or carried farther on with fresh relays ; No ball do children leap at with more glee, Catch, and look more triumphant, than do men At lies: such men, day after day, come here : Yet, Sappho, which among the worst can say I love thee not? SAPPHO. Well, well! ALCZUs. To be beloved By Sappho raises mortal nigh the Gods In bliss and glory; not to love her sinks The proudest head below the beasts that perish. They who look down from heaven into our hearts See truth, how deep! in mine. SAPPHO. They know the true, They know the brave, and value them alike. 40 SAPPHO, ALCAIUS, ANACREON, PHAON. ANACREON. Pick up thy shield, man! There was no delay Upon that meadow, soft to run upon, Where even the tenderest grass seem’d strong enough To impede thee like a barrier, every reed A pointed spear, and every twittering bird Sounded like trumpet, when two lifted hands Shielded two ears upright as leveret’s. t SAPPHO. I never thought Anacreon was so fierce, But even doves are vicious now and then, ALCAUS. T burn to smite him on the mouth for this. SAPPHO. Sit down, Alcgeus ; none are angry here. Do wise men rear and start at sparks of wit? SAPPHO, ALCEUS, ANACREON, PHAON, 41 ALCAUS. Sparks fly up, drop, and die; pure incense burns Without them. SAPPHO. Incense usually begins In smoke, and ends in ashes. ALCAUS. Not so mine. SAPPHO. I wish thy voice attuned to notes less grave. ALC&US. Ah! can it ever be attuned to thine ? Love checks it. ANACREON, Love, it seems, may check thy tongue, 42 SAPPHO, ALCAUS, ANACREON, PHAON. But not thy feet. I wish my verses ran On feet as light as those which left their soles Behind them at the clarion’s nearer blasts; The lightest lyre would have been heavy there. SappHo. (PHAON entering.) Be calm, Alczus! be less petulant, Anacreon! Thy persuasive voice, my Phaon, May harmonize these wranglers. PHAON. Ah! what voice Could ever harmonize like thine the chords Of the most rigid breast! a ray of thine Awakes to song, as the, bright Morn awakes Upon the desert sand her Memnon’s lyre. ANACREON. By Zeus! he beats us both. Sing, sing away, Alczus ! I will try another time. SAPPHO, ALCAUS, ANACREON, PHAON. 43 (To SarPxHo.) Already this brave warrior hath confest His voice defective in the praise of thee. ALC &US. I did confess it, and will prove it now. (Sings .) Glory of Lesbos! where Apollo’s hand Led thee among us mortals, nor withdrew When Aphrodité claim’d thee for her own, Over what distant ages shalt thou pass, And thro what distant regions men shall hear The song of Sappho, and her praise in all. Praon (¢o SappHo). I hate such sing-song from my very soul ; ’Tis only proper for hard-fisted girls Who, crouching on low tressel, milk the goat. As for that tippler on the other side, 44 SAPPHO, ALCHUS, ANACREON, PHAON. I often hear his verses in the street ; There children stagger, imitating him, And he runs sidelong after them, and trips. SAPPHO. Why lookest thou so gloomily? say, speak. Surely thou art not jealous, like a poet. PHAon. Jealous Iam not; but can ill endure To see arival wear a gift of thine. SAPPHo. I would not give it hadst not thou been by. PHaon. Songsters are ever most importunate. SAPPHO. We like a bird to sing to us sometimes, SAPPHO, ALCHUS, ANACREON, PHAON. 45 PHAON. \ Some birds would put their beaks on softer ones. SAPPHO. I have known maidens let their sparrow do it, Holding the wing on purpose. Thou art cold And peevish: be what thou hast been till now. Whenever Phaon came, all went away, As those have done. PHAON. But thou hast given my gift, If mine it was. SAPPHO. O cruelest of words ! Were it not thine, and worn till it was dead, The kitten had been tearing it for play ; I wore it only for thy coming, sure To have a fresher, so now give it me, 46 SAPPHO, ALCAUS, ANACREON, PHAON, Or lay it on the table: if not, take Some trouble with it in a fitter place, Where thou hast often spent much time and tried Contrivances, and tried again, to bend A riotous curl obedient to thy will. Paaon. Forgive me, Sappho. Let me twine it round Thy sadden’d brow: how hot itis! Had love And not vexation caus’d it, even then I might almost have griev’d. Yes! any pain Thou feelest, I feel more. SapPHo. Of love? PHAON. That worst. Until thy breath wafted it all away. SAPPHO. When thy love perishes, I shall believe SAPPHO, ALCHUS, ANACREON, PHAON. 47 The Gods have perisht too, one only lett, And he to laugh and taunt me. Puaon. Truth herself Shall first leave earth and heaven. Now wipe thine eyes. SAPPHO. Thou shalt then lower thy lips, PHAoN. And crush that iile? 48 THESEUS AND HIPPOLYTA. THESEUS AND HIPPOLYTA. Hrerouyta. Eternal hatred I have sworn against The persecutor of my sisterhood ; In vain, proud son of Aigeus, hast thou snapt Their arrows and derided them ; in vain Leadest thou me a captive ; I can die, And die I will. THESEUS. Nay ; many are the years Of youth and beauty for Hippolyta. HIprotyta. I scorn my youth, I hate my beauty. Go! THESEUS AND HIPPOLYTA. 49 Monster! of all the monsters in these wilds Most frightful and most odious to my sight. THESEUS. I boast not that I saved thee from the bow Of Scythian. Hiprouyta. And for what? to die disgraced. Strong as thou art, yet thou art not so strong As Death is, when we call him for support. THESEUS. Him too will I ward off; he strikes me first, Hippolyta long after, when these eyes Are closed, and when the knee that supplicates Can bend no more. HIpro.yra. Is the man mad? D af 50 THESEUS AND HIPPOLYTA. THESEUS. He is. HIPPouyta. So, thou canst tell one truth, however false In other things. THESEUS. What other? Thou dost pause, And thine eyes wander over the smooth turf As if some gem (but gem thou wearest not) Had fallen from the remnant of thy hair. Hippolyta! speak plainly, answer me, What have I done to raise thy fear or hate? Hrproryta. Fear I despise, perfidy I abhor. Unworthy man! did Heracles delude The maids who trusted him ? THESEUS AND HIPPOLYTA. 51. THESEUS. Did ever I? Whether he did or not, they never told me: I would have chided him. Hippouyta. ; Thou chide him! thou! The Spartan mothers well remember thee. THESEUS. Scorn adds no beauty to the beautiful. Heracles was beloved by Omphalé, He never parted from her, but obey’d Her slightest wish, as Theseus will Hippolyta’s. HIpPouyta. Then leave me, leave me instantly ; I know ° The way to my own country. THESEUS. This command, 2D 52 THESEUS AND HIPPOLYTA. And only this, my heart must disobey. My country shall be thine, and there thy state Regal. HIppo.yta. Am Ia child? give me my own, And keep for weaker heads thy diadems. Thermodon I shall never see again, Brightest of rivers, into whose clear depth My mother plunged me from her warmer breast, | And taught me early to divide the waves With arms each day more strong, and soon to chase And overtake the father swan, nor heed His hoarser voice or his uplifted wing. Where are my sisters? Are there any left? THESEUS. I hope it. Hiprouyta. And I fear it: theirs may be A fate like mine; which, O ye Gods, forbid! THESEUS AND HIPPOLYTA. 53 , THESEUS. I pity thee, and would assuage thy grief. HIPPoiyta. Pity me not; thy anger I could bear. THESEUS. There is no place for anger where thou art. Commiseration even men may feel For those who want it: even the fiercer beasts Lick the sore-wounded of a kindred race, Hearing their cry, albeit they may not help. Hippoiyta. This is no falsehood: and can he be false Who speaks it ? I remember not the time When I have wept, it was so long ago. Thou forcest tears from me, because .. because .. I can not hate thee as I ought te do. THE TRIAL OF ASSCHYLOS. JUDGE. Bring into court the culprit, him accused Of having, and deliberately, betray’d The mysteries of Hleusis. ZESCHYLOS. Here I stand, No culprit, and no jailer brings me forth. JUDGE. Hast thou not, Aischylos, divulged the rites Taught by Demeter ? ASCcHYLOS. * What have I divulged Beside the truths the Gods to men impart, THE TRIAL OF ASCHYLOS. 55 And none beside the worthy do they trust. . The human breast they open and they close, And who can steal their secrets ? who shall dare Infringe their laws, or who arraign their will? Ye men of Athens! before you I stand, Known to ye long ago, nor only here, But on the plain of Marathon: who flincht In that fierce fray ? did I? and shall I now? The brave man venerates, the base man fears, I scorn to supplicate, or even to plead, For well I know there is a higher court, A court of last appeal. JUDGE. We know it not; Where is it situated ? ARISCHYLOS. In man’s heart. In life it may be barr’d, so dark that none See into it, not he himself; Death comes, And then the Furies leave their grove and strike. 56 THE TRIAL OF ASCHYLOS. CITIZEN. He spake no wiser words upon the stage, Where all men speak their wisest and their best. ANOTHER CITIZEN. I wish he had not said a word about Those Furies ; Death is bad enough. First CIvizEen. Hush! hush! The Arkon rises up and waves his hand. JUDGE. What say ye, men of Athens, to the charge Ye heard denounced this morning ? Are ye mute? Sadness I see in some, in others wrath, Wrath ill becomes the seat I occupy ; And even sadness I would fain suppress. But who can bear irreverence to his Gods ¢ Their profanation (by your laws) is death. THE TRIAL OF SCHYLOS. 57 AMYNTOS (Rushes forward and bares his brother’ s scars) What have these merited? These wounds he won From Persia, nothing else. Let others show The purple vestures, stript from satraps slain, He slew them, and left those for weaker hands To gather up, and to adorn their wives. (To dischylos.) ZESCHYLOS. Amyntos is my brother, so are ye, But why display my ragged white-faced scar ? Why show the place where one arm was, if one Keeps yet its own ? this left can wield the sword. AMYNTOS. Fling not thy cloak about thee, nor turn round, Nay, brother, thou shalt not conceal the scars With that one hand yet left thee. 58 THE TRIAL OF ASCHYLOS. Citizens ! Behold the man, that impious man, who smote Those who defiled the altars of your Gods. Look up: is Pallas standing on yon hill? She would not have been standing there unless Men like the man before ye had well fought At Marathon, not braver than some here — [limb. Who fought with him and bound his shattered If Aschylos your comrade had profaned Her mysteries, would Denieter, have blest Your fields with what we call the staff of life, To give ye strength and courage to protect Your country, wives, and friends. Ye want him not, But ye may miss him in the hour of need. If irreligious wretch hath violated What all hold sacred, Aischylos not least, To death condemn him, Weep not thou, whoe’er Thou art, nor stamp thou other, no, nor shout, Impatient men! impatient as for battle. If there be any here who deem him guilty, To death condemn him, or to worse than death, Drive him from Athens, bid him raise no more Your hearts and souls, for he no more can fight THE TRIAL OF AISCHYLOS. 59 To save our country, nor call heroes down To stand before ye, not more brave than he, Alas! alas! nor more unfortunate. Crriznn. Truth, by the Gods! thou speakest. JUDGE. Speak ye too, Judges who sit beside me. JUDGE. Thou art absolved By all the people; we confirm the voice. Aschylos, go in peace. CITIZEN. In glory go. Are there no clarions nigh, to waft him home With their strong blast? no harp to ring before? 60 THE TRIAL OF ZSCHYLOS. ANOTHER - CITIZEN. No olive ? none there had been but for him In all this land. ANOTHER CITIZEN. At least we can raise up Our voices to the hymn they have begun, And call our children to come forth and kiss The threshold that our Auschylos hath crost. MARCUS AURELIUS AND LUCIAN. AURELIUS. Lucian! in one thing thou art ill advised. Lucian. And in one only? Tell me which is that ? AURELIUS. In scoffing, as thou hast done openly, At all religions; there is truth in all. Lucian. Ah, could we see it ! but the well is deep. Each mortal calls his God inscrutable, And this at least is true, then why not stop ? 62 AURELIUS AND LUCIAN. Some subsidize him, others split him down From nape to navel, others bandage him, Forcing the sub-divisions to unite. These should have lived in Saturn’s day, his son Methinks had found them easier work to do. Eclectic are we Romans, yet we run (Pardon me, Pontifex!) from bad to worse. Those which Fear palsies and which Fraud sustains, Not the erect and strenuous, I deride. The worshiper of Mgthras lifts his eyes To hail his early rising, for he knows Who ripens all the grain to nourish him: Olympus and the Alps are hills alike To him, and goats their best inhabitants. Did Epictetus take our rotten staves To walk with uprightly ? did Cicero Kneel down before our urban deities ? He carried in his mouth a Jupiter Ready for senates when he would harang, Then wiped him clean and laid him down again. AURELIUS. Gratitude to the Gods, to men, good will— Is the religion I would cultivate, AURELIUS AND LUCIAN. 63 Leaving as many gods upon the ground As, season after season, may spring up And stifle one another. Lucian. Well, no harm! AURELIUS. Let each man weed his croft, not turn his kine Into his neighbour’s. What, if some prefer The lofty holyhock, another bend Over the bed where hang the modest bells Of early cluster-lily. When we fight The Parthian, ’tis not that we hate his God, The glorious Sun, for he is our God too. When Alexander saw the Ganges roll Before him, did he persecute a race Devote to Budda? did that race cut throats To make men run the readier at their side? All things deteriorate, religions most. 64 AURELIUS AND LUCIAN. LucIAN. I set a drunken man upon his legs And show him his own door, but enter not, Therefore he curses me, and calls me lost, And spits at me, and bids me go to hell. AURELIUS. Altho’ we now are talking in our greek, We both know Latin. Lucian. Well, what then ? AURELIUS. I hate Quotations, and hate worse to intermix Two languages: this we may do in talk, But not in writing; you Greeks never did. AURELIUS AND LUCIAN, 65 Lucian. *Twere folly ; for what legs get faster on By straddling round the shoulders of another ? i AURELIUS. " Little of Roman poetry I hold In memory, yet one sentence comes to hand From the most amiable and least prolix. Lucian. What then could he have said upon religion? , AURELIUS. Smmawhef. fe enelrects vet” Nothing-indeed;-but somewhat applicable. All have not the same faces, yet they all Bear sisterly resemblance. Lucian. His nymphs might, Our last was born in the decrepitude E 66 | AURELIUS AND LUCIAN. Of her poor mother,-aad-now leans on crutch, Which she can swing about her if provoked. AURELIUS. Lucian! I think as thou dost, but abstain From words that irritate where all should soothe. I seldom laugh, and never in men’s faces. Lucian. The peace proclaimers bellow the most loud ; My voice by nature is too weak to curse. Religions, true or false, may lend support = + To man’s right conduct ; some deter from evil By fear, and others lead by gentleness, Benevolence in thought, beneficence In action, and from these springs gratitude, Which often widens into patriotism Whereby men struggle for their native land. ped Luctan. So much the worse for them. Did Julius spare The Druid in his grove? our Divus wrencht AURELIUS AND LUCIAN. 67 The golden sickle from the mistletoe, And burnt the wicker basket ere it held Upon the sacred oak the wretch within. AURELIUS. I doubt it: well he knew the use of priests And spared the Druids, proud unruly race, Nor with their bloody rites would interfere. Ambition was his fault, but clemency Could over-rule ambition. .. Luctan. .. When the world Lay at his feet and he too, was a God. AURELIUS. Ambition is at best but selfishness, And stoops to scramble as the needy do. Lucian. O Marcus, Marcus! art not thou ambitious ? E2 68 AURELIUS AND’ LUCIAN. Who holding in one hand the peopled globe, Yet wouldst thou more? AURELIUS. Lucian! Not I indeed. Lucian. Thou wouldst have much beyond this visible Diurnal sphere, wouldst catch Fame, flying Fame. AURELIUS. ‘Quiet be mine! and let Fame follow me. Say on. Lucian. Well then thou art an innovator, Thou art a revolutionist. AURELIUS. ce -daucian t+ How so ? AURELIUS AND LUCIAN, 69. Luctan. Ay, greatest of all revolutionists, The battle-field, O Marcus, thou hast turn’d Tnto the corn-field. What would Julius say, If Julius were not now among the Gods ? AURELIUS. He did some evil, he removed much more. He would not irritate weak intellects, Nurst in religion, learnt by heart and rear’d Upon a mother’s knee, thence justly dear. Lucian. Founded on falsehood are not all religions, And copied more or less from older ones ? Some by transfusion purified, and some Weakened, and pour’d again upon the dregs, Until they first ferment and then turn sour. AURELIUS. The mildest and most genial is our own. 70 AURELIUS AND LUCIAN. Lucian. Five carts conveying hither Gods from Veii, Broke down and left their fragments in the road,. Yet plenty stil remain to pick and choose, And all are not fastidious ; stern would look Old Cato at some tasters of our fasti And pelt them with what turnips were unsound, Or but half rotten in his frugal farm : His addled eggs he kept for favorite slaves, . Severe he would be where one calls a God To help him in his vengeance on a neighbour, Who puts his left leg where he should the right, And will not draw it back, but walk strait on. His God was Terminus, his fane, the field. AURELIUS, Temples I seldom enter. Not a God Minds me above the atoms of the earth Whereof we, great and little, are composed, Such is the purest doctrine to uphold ; But to divulge even this may be unsafe. Have we not known a sage of Palestine AURELIUS AND LUCIAN, 71 Derided, persecuted, crucified ? Have we not seen his simple followers Slaughter’d in this our city, this our Rome, Some thrown among wild beasts, some burnt alive: Lucian. Woefully true! and thieves and murderérs Have sprung up from the ground whereon they bled. AURELIUS. Woefully true this also, but unwise Because unsafe to utter. Truth is more Unsafe than falsehood, and was ever so. Do not exasperate by pointed wit The proud and the morose, but rather stoop To raise them up from their infirmities. Lucian. Poor creatures ! they will kick me in the face If at such office I bend over them ; Better to strip the sophists of their rings 72 AURELIUS AND LUCIAN. And trailing trappings femininely loose, With chanting boys in marshal’d troops before, Waving fat incense up against their beards : Soon at the Via Sacra they may halt And choose an imperator of their own. AURELIUS. Friend Lucian! thou art more jocose than ever. Why not imagine they may take my horse From under me, then round men’s shoulders strap The curule chair and hoist a priest thereon? Thy wit and wisdom, Lucian, long I’ve known, But never found the, poet until now, . Homer feign’d Polyphemus and Calyps, Imagination left him on the strand With those: he never saw even in a dream, So strange a rider on a seat so strange: Give him my purple, make the scene complete. © DAMOCLES AND HIERA. *HIeRA. A kiss, indeed! was ever boy so bold? Who taught you such bad manners? Run away. Or presently I may be very angry : Stay; beg my pardon first. You look ashamed And shame becomes the guilty. Kiss, indeed! Did ever maid or mortal hear the like! How many summers have you seen above Twelve at the most ? Ia whole twelvemonth more Learn to revere your elders in your youth. DaAmocLes. Shake not my arm, it makes me feel so strange. I do ask pardon, lovely Hiera. 74 DAMOCLES AND HIERA. HIERA. Gods give me power to grant it! I am weak From such a sudden and severe a blow. DaMOCcLEs. Iam not; though I should be: ’twas so wrong. HIERA. The Gods take pity on the penitent. Damoc.es. Do maidens never? can they do amiss In doing what the Gods do ? HIER. You perplex me ; To question so the deeds of those above Is impious. DAMOCLES AND HIERA. 75 DAMOCLEs. a I would pray, but first to you. For you are like them in all other things, Why not in this? Hisera. You talk beyond your years : Only rude men talk so. DaMoctes. Give but one sign Of pardon. HIERA. And what sign ? DAMOCLES. Dare I repeat What I implored ? 76 DAMOCLES AND HIERA. HIERA. What was it? I forget. DAMOCLES. One kiss; I ask but one. Hera. You foolish boy ! Well: take it: I don’t give it, mind you that. He gave the one; she added twenty more For his obedience ; and he never sued After that eventide. A swain averr’d That he descried in the deep wood a cheek At first aslant, then lower, then eclipst. Another said it was not in the wood, But in the grotto near the water-fall, And he alone had seen it. The dispute Ran high; a third declared that both were wrong. A FRIEND TO THEOCRITOS IN EGYPT. Dost thou not often gasp with longdrawn sighs. Theocritos, recalling Sicily ? Glorious is Nile, but rather give me back ‘Our little rills, which fain would run away And hide themselves from persecuting suns In summer, under oleander boughs, And catch its roses as they flaunt above. Here are no birds that sing, no sweeter flower Than tiny fragile weak-eyed resida, Which faints upon the bosom it would cool. Altho’ the royal lotos sits aloof - On his rich carpet, spred from wave to wave, I throw myself more gladly where the pine Protects me, loftier than the palace-roof, Or where the linden and acacia meet Across my path, in fragrance to contend. 78 A FRIEND TO THEOCRITOS. Bring back the hour, Theocritos, when we Shall sit together on a thymy knoll, With few about us, and with none too nigh, And when the song of shepherds and their glee We may repeat, perchance and gaily mock, Until one bolder than the rest springs up And slaps us on the shoulder for our pains. Take thou meanwhile these two papyrus-leaves, Recording, one the loves and one the woes Of Pan and Pitys, heretofore unsung. Aside our rivers and within our groves The pastoral pipe hath dropt its mellow lay, And shepherds in their contests only try Who best can puzzle. Come, Theocritos, Come, let us lend a shoulder to the wheel And help to lift it from this depth of sand. EUCRATES TO THE GOD SLEEP. No God to mortals oftener descends Than thou, O sleep! yet*thee the sad alone Invoke, and gratefully thy gifts receive. Some thou invitest to explore the sands Left by Pactolos, some to climb up higher, Where points Ambition to the pomp of War ; Others thou watchest while they tighten robes Which Law throws round them loose, and they meanwhile Wink at the judge, and he the wink returns. Apart sit fewer, whom thou lovest more And leadest where unrufiled rivers flow, Or azure lakes neath azure skies expand. These have no wider wishes, and no fears, Unless a fear by motion to molest The silent, solitary, stately swan, Disdaining the garrulity of groves Nor seeking shelter there from sun or storm. 80 EUCRATES TO THE GOD SLEEP. Me also hast thou led among such scenes, ‘Gentlest of Gods! and Age appear’d far off While thou wert hovering round about the couch Until he stoopt and said, close over it, ‘ Sleep often plays with me, as once he used, ‘¢ Refreshing in his way the vernal flowers, “ Flowers that had droopt and but for him had died. , ‘¢ He now departs from thee, but leaves behind “« His own twin-brother, beauteous as himself,* ‘* Who soon shall take my place .. men call him Death. ‘« Thou heavest me, nor troublest, as most do, “ In sooth why shouldst thou? what man hast thou wrong’d ‘‘ By deed or word? few dare ask this within.” There was a pause; then suddenly said Age ‘ He whom I warn’d approacheth: so farewell.” * There is an ancient statue of a Genius representing Death in the form of a beautiful youth. Dr. Young has introduced the God, in full feather, to the world, leading him to a seat of eyelashes not damp under him. PAN. Pan led me to a wood the other day, Then, bending both hoofs under him, where moss Was softest and where highest was the tuft, Said he, ‘sit thou aside me; there is room Just for us two; the tinklers are below To catch the little birds and butterflies, Nor see us nor would heed us if they saw. I minded thee in Sicily with one I dearly love; I heard thee tell my loss Of Pitys; and he swore that none but thou Could thus contend with him, or ever should. Though others had loud lyres and struck them well, Few could bring any harmony from reeds By me held high, and higher since thou hast breath’d ‘ Thy gentle breath o’er Pitys and her Pan.” F NIOBE. Amid nine daughters slain by Artemis Stood Niobe: she rais’d her head above Those beauteous forms which had brought down the scath Whence all nine fell, rais’d it, and stood erect, And thus bespake the Goddess enthroned on high. “Thou heardest, Artemis, my daily prayer That thou wouldst guide these children in the pass Of virtue, through the tangling wilds of youth, And thou didst ever guide them : was it just To smite them for a beauty such as thine? Deserv’d they death because thy grace appear’d In every, modest motion ? ’twas thy gift, The richest gift that youth from heaven receives. True, I did boldly say they might compare NIOBE. 8 Even with thyself in virgin purity : May not a mother in her pride repeat What every mortal said ? One prayer remains For me to offer yet. _ Thy quiver holds | More than nine arrows: bend thy bow: ain here, I see, I see it glimmering through a cloud. Artemis thou at length art merciful. My children will not hear the fatal twang.” Tuirp Day. LAERTES. HOMER. AGATHA. Homer. And now, Meonides, the sun hath risen These many spans above the awaken’d earth, Sing me that hymn, which thou hast call’d thy best, In glory to the God who gives it light. First I will call the child to hear thee sing, For girls remember well and soon repeat What they have heard of sacred more or less. I must forbear to join in it, although That blessed God hath helpt to rear my grain. High as my knee, and made it green and strong. Alas! I cackle when I aim to sing, Which I have sometimes done at festivals, But, ere a word were out, methought I felt A beard of barley sticking in my throat. (Agatha enters.) LAERTES, HOMER, AGATHA. 8 Now, with a trail of honey down the cup (Agatha, drop it in), commence thy chaunt. (About the 500th verse Laertes falls asleep anakening he finds Agatha in the same state and chides her.) Hast thou no reverence for a song inspired ? AGatHA (in a whisper). Hush! O my king and lord, or he may hear. You were asleep the first: I kept my eyes Wide open, opener than they ever were, While I do think I could have counted more Than half a thousand of those words divine, Had both my hands not dropt upon my lap. LAERTES. Another time beware of drowsiness When reverend men discourse about the Gods. Now lead him forth into the cooler porch, Entreating him that he will soon renew His praises of Apollo. 86 LAERTES, HOMER, AGATHA. AGATHA. I will bear Your words to him ; he might care less for mine, And, sooth to say, I would much rather hear Some other story, where more men than Gods Shine on the field. LaskzRrEs. Of men thou know’st enough. AGATHA. Too much: then why show Gods almost as bad? They can not be. .least of all Artemis ; *Twas she directed and preserved Odysseus. LaEzRTES. Blessings upon thee! While thou wast a babe He fondled thee, nor saw when thou couldst walk. Few love so early or so long: We say We love the Gods: we lie; the seen alone We love, to those unseen we may be grateful. LAERTES, HOMER, AGATHA. 8% AGATHA. But when they are no more before our eyes... LAERTES. That never is, altho’ earth come between. Perplex not thou thy simple little head With what the wise were wiser to let be. AGATHA. I go, and will not be again perplext. (Aside.) He has been dozing while we have converst. Meonides! rise and take this arm To lead thee where is freshness in the porch. My master tells me thou another time Wilt finish that grand hymn about Apollo. Hast thou no shorter one for Artemis ? Homer. Such thou shalt have for her, but not to-day. 88 LAERTES, HOMER, AGATHA. AGATHA. O, I can wait, so (I am sure) can she. Homer. Faint are the breezes here, less faint above ; Gladly then would I mount that central peak Which overlooks the whole of Ithaca, That peak I well remember I once clomb (What few could do) without the help of beast. AGATHA. Here are sure-footed ones, who weed our thistles, And give us milk, grey dappled as the dawn : Their large and placid eyes well know that path, And they will bring us safely to the top And back again, treading more warily Than up the ascent. I will call forth two boys To lead them, without switches in the fist. These two can lift thee up; I at thy side Require no help, and can, whisk off the flies. LAERTES, HOMER, AGATHA,. 89 Homer. I know not what impels me to retrace Scenes I can see no more: but so it is Thro’ life. If thou art able, lead me forth, And let none follow; we are best alone. AGATHA. Come forward ye. Now lift up carefully The noblest guest that ever king received And the Gods favor most. Well done! now rest, Nor sing nor whistle til we all return, And reach the chesnut and enjoy the shade. Homer (at the summit). I think we must be near the highest point, For now the creatures stop, who struggled hard, And the boys neither cheer ’em, nor upbraid. *Tis somewhat to have mounted up so high, Profitless as it is, nor without toil. 90 LAERTES, HOMER, AGATHA. AGATHA. Dost thou feel weary ? Homer. Short as was the way It shook my aged bones at every step ; My shoulders ache, my head whirls round and round. ‘ AGATHA. Lean on my shoulder, place thy head on mine, Tis low enough. What were those words ?..I heard Imperfectly...shame on me! Dost thou smile? Homer. Child! hast thou ever seen an old man die? AGATHA. The Gods defend me from so sad a sight! LAERTES, HOMER, AGATHA. 91 Homer. Sad if he die in agony, but blest If friend be nigh him, only one true friend. AGATHA. Tho’ most of thine be absent, one remains ; Is not Laertes worthy of the name? Homer. And Agatha, who tends me to the last. AGATHA. I will, I will indeed, when comes that hour. Homer. That hour is come. Let me lay down my head On the cool turf; there I am sure to rest. 92 LAERTES, HOMER, AGATHA. Agatua (after a pause). How softly old men sigh! Sleep, gentle soul! He turns his face to me. Ah how composed ! Surely he sleeps already...hand and cheek Are colder than such feeble breeze could make ’em. Meonides! hearest thou Agatha? He hears me not.,.Can it...can it be...death ? Impossible...’tis death...’tis death indeed... Then, O ye Gods of heaven! who would not die, If thus to rest eternal, he descend ? O, my dear lord! how shall I comfort thee? How look unto thy face and tell my tale, And kneeling clasp thy knee? to be repulst Were hard, but harder to behold thy grief. This poem could not come in in time for its proper place. The following note was subjoined :— Homer’s age is uncertain. He may have been, or may not, the contemporary of Laertes. Chronology and poesy are not twins. Two heavy volumes might never have befallen us if their author had consulted Pericles and Aspasia. Among the hymns attribated to Homer is one to Apollo, which may well have made an old man and a young girl somnolent. THE GARDENER AND THE MOLE. A gardener had watcht a mole And caught it coming from its hole. “¢ Mischievous beast !’’ he cried, ‘ to harm The garden as thou dost the farm. Here thou hast had thy wicked will Upon my tulip and jonquil. Behold them drooping and half dead Upon this torn and tumbled bed.” The mole said meekly in reply, “My star is more to blame than I. To undermine is mole’s commission, Our house stil holds it from tradition. What lies the nearest us is ours. Decreed so by the higher Powers. We hear of conies and of hares. But when commit we deeds like theirs ? We never touch the flowers that blow, And only bulbs that lurk below. 94 THE GARDENER AND THE MOLE. Tis true, where we have run, the ground Is rais’d a trifle, nor quite sound, Yet, after a few days of rain, Level and firm it lies again ; Wise men, like you, will rather wait For these than argue against fate, Or quarrel with us moles because We simply follow Nature’s laws. We raise the turf to keep us warm, Surely in this there is no harm. Ye break it up to set thereon A fortress or perhaps a throne, And pray that God cast down his eyes Benignly on burnt sacrifice, The sacrifice of flesh and bone Fashioned, they tell us, like His own, Ye in the cold lie all the night Under thin tents, at morn to fight. Neither for horn'd nor fleecy cattle Start we to mingle in the battle, Or in the pasture shed their blood To pamper idleness with food. Indeed we do eat worms ; what then ? Do not those very worms eat men, And have the impudence to say THE GARDENER AND THE MOLE. 95 Ye shall ere long be such as they ? We never kill or wound a brother, Men kill by thousands one another, And, though ye swear ye wish but peace, Your feuds and warfares never cease.” Such homebrought truths the gardener, Though mild by nature, could not bear, And lest the mole might more have said He chopt its head off with the spade. MEMORY. The mother of the Muses, we are taught, Is Memory: she has left me; they remain, And shake my shoulder, urging me to sing About the summer days, my loves of old. Alas! alas! is all I can reply. Memory has left with me that name alone, Harmonious name, which other bards may sing, But her bright image in my darkest hour Comes back, in vain comes back, call’d or uncall’d. Forgotten are the names of visitors Ready to press my hand but yesterday ; Forgotten are the names of earlier friends Whose genial converse and glad countenance Are fresh as ever to mine ear and eye; To these, when I have written, and besought Remembrance of me, the word Dear alone Hangs on the upper verge, and waits in vain. A blessing wert thou, O oblivion, If thy stream carried only weeds away, But vernal and autumnal flowers alike It hurries down to wither on the strand. . ERIN. t Erin! thou art indeed of ancient race, Erynnys bore thee, she who brought with her That apple which retain’d in endless strife Three Goddesses on Ida, she who urged A few years later the fierce son of Thetis To threaten Agamemnon : hardly could Pallas withhold him, and his lifted sword. Forgettest thou thy merriment, thy jokes, Thy genial hours, thy hospitable heart Swift to fly open with the whiskey-cork ? Forgettest thou thy bard, who hurried home From distant lands and, bent by poverty, Reposed among the quiet scenes he loved In native Auburn, nor disdain’d to join The village dancers on the sanded floor? No poet since hath Nature drawn so close To her pure bosom as her Oliver. Thou hearest yet the melodies of Moore, 6 98 ERIN. Who sang your blue-eyed maidens worthily, If any voice of song can reach so high. Why art thou, Erin, like a froward child Struggling with screams to scratch its nurse’s face, And, pincht by hunger, throwing food away? Thy harp sounds only discords: wilt thou never Awake from dreams of murder? Shall the priest Chaunt pax vobiscum and, before he leaves The chapel, thrust a dagger in a hand Working to grasp it? But not all who chaunt Are alike bloody-minded : one I knew Familiar with:his flock, nor much averse To fare with it the seventh day, or sixth, Or any other in the calendar. By summer’s heat his lips were often parcht, By winter’s cold as often. The Right Reverend My lord the bishop scantily provided For this poor brother ; was it not enough To own him, and to ask him how he did? His modesty might have been deeply hurt Had he seen sundry rents in certain parts Where rents are most unseemly, and the girls Might titter at em as they sew’d ’em up. Then, had not the Right Reverend given him ERIN. 99 Quite as much food as raven gave Elijah By that divine commission from above? Elijah was no curate, but a prophet, And men should feed according to their station. Poor were my friend’s parishioners: he met The wealthiest of them: ‘Faith and troth!” he cried, “ My eyes are ready to leap out to see Thy merry face, Mic! Are all well at home? Judy, that pattern wife, Bess, that brave girl, Match for a lord, if lord were match for her.” “Bedad! my eyes would have met yours halfway, Said honest Mic, and kist the proffer’d hand. “Ours are all well; but Bess hath two feet lame With chilblains, broken or about to break ; They plague her, and our Judy plagues her worse Because she would put stockings on, the minx ! And how the divil find another pair Entire and dacent for Saint Patrick’s day ? Judy’s will fit no other leg than hers, And she has only one to bless her with, This one she cannot spare; it may please God To send another in His own good time, And then, who knows? we all must live in hope. Now, father, will your Reverence step indoors ?” G2 ” 00 ERIN. Impossible, I must be home to dinner. That have you? buttermilk?” “ The cow is kilt nd barrel’d, and at Bristow by the stamer.” “A slice of bacon ?” ‘“‘ Bacon? plenty, plenty, ome Michaelmas, my blessed saint’s own day. ook yonder; there he lies and winks at us, nd rises not, even to your Reverence. ut he shall pay for it, come Michaelmas, 1e pay-day and the saint’s day the world over. runt, grunt away, boy! thou shalt change thy note or shriller, longer-winded ; wait awhile.” “Mic, we must all await the appointed hour. at him be aisy, and don’t bother him cause thou art the luckier of the two, or thou canst shove thy sins upon my shoulder ad leave wet eyes behind when thine are dry.” “ Father! that ugly baist hath made you low.” “Well, I do think I would be better for drop, or half a drop, of cool nate whiskey.” ‘Was ever such bad luck since stills were stills ! e drank the last to comfort her poor child.” THE TWO NILES. There are two Niles, the white and blue ; Little it interests me and you Whether this springs from a lagoon, That from the mountains of the moon. But whether our old Thames be ours To-morrow, or another Power’s, Is now the question in dispute And not a Briton should be mute. , Did ever wily France lie still, Unsatisfied her ravenous will ? Satisfied one brief hour, the next Again she springs, and seems perplext What else to lay her hands upon, From Arctic to Antarctic zone, 102 THE TWO NILES. And now she says aloud, ‘ The Rhine With all on the left hand is mine, Proving it must be hers because Her sword thrust down his throat her laws. 4 ' Thus if you catch a thief and tear From him the stolen goods, “‘ Beware,” Cries he, ‘‘ Fait accompli! let go.” He swears and shakes his fist. Just so Says France to Europe; Europe hears, Trembles, and staggers, and forbears. FRA DOLCINO AND MARGARITA OF TRENT. (Mariotti has related these events.) Dolcino was pursued with fire and sword, | Until the bloodhounds which had suckt the dregs hurd. Of Rome’s old wolf had trackt him, coucht among His native hills. At Serravalle first He halted briefly’; there they scented him Amid the faithful poor whose bread he ate. Bread freely proffered and blest gratefully. Next was his flight to the castellated Robialto, where Biandrate held to him A hospitable hand, a hand unmail’d But rarely. Long the pious fugitive Would not imperil him who stood observed 104 FRA DOLCINO AND MARGARITA. In eminence of station. More obscure Emiliano Sola, who contrived How from Dalmatia he might best return To Italy, now brought to Campertogno The weary pilgrim. Emiliano Sola Would rather leave his home and fertile mead Along Valsesia than desert his friend. He loaded many teams with wheat and wool, And drove before him oxen, freed from yoke, Unused to mount steep crags ; the household dog Followed, though oft rebukt, and halting oft Under the shadow of the panting kine. Two winters then were spent above the snow, And food was wanting both for man and beast, So that the direst famine shrivel’d them, Leaving but hearts what they had been before. Escape was none; five thousand foes around, After five thousand had already tinged With ropy gore the Sesia, like red snakes Twisting, convolving, clashing, numberless. Who has not seen Varallo, and not paused Amid the beauteous scene to mourn the fate Of men so brave, of women brave no less, Whose flesh was torn from them while wolves around FRA DOLCINO AND MARGARITA. 105 Growl’d for it as ’twas cast into the flames ; But there was little for them had they all. Ranieri di Perzana was ordained Lord Bishop of Vercelli, proud alike Of crosier and of sword, and rendering each Its service to the other ; princely state Was his, with palaces and wide domains, While over icebergs, over precipices, Homeless and roofless, with eight hundred men, Women, and children, Fra Dolcino fled. ““ Now,” said the bishop to his holy band, “ See, what avails it to have purified Our violated church with fire and blood Of thousand thousand reprobates, while one Defies. us from his Alpine fastnesses, Consorted with that wicked Margarita Of Trent, who shares his faith and who pretends To live with him in virgin purity, Altho’ she never took the cloistral vows Nor call’d the Church’s blessing. ; They presume To read that book which we alone may read, Christ’s WILL AND TESTAMENT, bequeathed to us, Residuary legatees of all In his rich treasury for our use lockt up, 106 FRA DOLCINO AND MARGARITA. And Peter’s heir holds in his hand the key., Against the abomination rise, my sons, And leave on yonder mount no soul alive. But there are some whom we may first convert. Tell the rude rabble, snorting now and rearing Against that sacred chair which Christ himself Placed for St. Peter and St. Peter’s heirs, “That I prepare in my dispensary An application for stiff necks and wry, The which shall straiten them and set them up.”’ Familarly and pleasantly, as wont, Thus spake Ranieri, by the Grace of God And God’s vicegerent, Bishop of Vercelli. A patriot, bold as those whose hardy deeds He traces with a poet’s fire, relates How winter after winter, destitute Of fuel and of food, these mountaineers Maintained their post, nor daunted nor deceived. How not the stronger sex alone sustained The brunt of battle: of the weaker stood A hundred, fighting til a hundred fell. Men, it is said, by famine so reduced, Have eaten their slain enemies; one wretch, Askt if ’twere worse to eat men than to slay, To eat the murderer than to slay the helpless ; FRA DOLCINO AND MARGARITA. 107 Then, turning to a priest who taunted him, “ Madden'd by famine brought on us by you We ate our enemies, you eat your God.” Pincers tore out the tongue that thus blasphemed. After long winters and hard fights against Successive hosts, the fortalice was won : Few the survivors; one Dolcino was, Another was the virgin; neither wish’d For life, both yearn’d for truth and truth alone. Dolcino was led forward : pots of pitch And burning charcoal were paraded round The cart that bore him, iron pincers glowed With fire, and these contending priests applied To every portion of his naked flesh Until the bones were bare; then was he dragg’d Thither where Margarita stood above Small fagots, for her lingering death prepared. Few and faint words she spoke, nor heard he these. “ Have we not lived together, O Dolcino, In sisterhood and brotherhood a life Of chastity, God helping this desire, Nor leaving other in the cleansed heart.” She paused ; his head hung low; then added she “ Qur separation is the worst of pangs 108 FRA DOLCINO AND MARGARITA. We suffer: bear even this: pincers and barbs I now feel too.” “Dolcino, art thou faint? Speakest thou not? then is thy spirit fled® Mine follows.” There was on each eye a tear (For Margarita was but woman yet) Not one had fallen, else the flames had dried it. She uttered these last words, scarce audibly, “‘ Blessed be God, thou seest his face, Dolcino, O may I see it! may he grant it soon!” TO VENICE. Dishonor’d thou hast been, but not debased, O Venice! he hastes onward who will bring The girdle that enclosed thy virgin waist, And will restore to thee thy bridal ring. Venice! on earth are reptiles who lift high The crested head, both venomous and strong Are they; and many by their fangs shall die, But one calm watcher crushes them ere long. So fare who ever twists in tortuous ways, Strown with smooth promises and broken vows, Who values drunken shouts, not sober praise, And spurns the scanty pittance Truth allows. SYRACUSE. In brighter days the Dorian Muse Extoll’d the kings of Syracuse. Hieros and Gelons shook the rein Of coursers on the Olympic plain, Victors at Elis, where they won A crown no king can leave his son. There Pinder struck his harp aloud, And shared the applauses of the crowd. Then Science from deep study rais’d A greater man than bards have praised. When Syracuse met Roman foes, Above her proudest he arose ; He called from heaven the Lord of Light To lend him his all-piercing might. The patriot’s pious prayer was heard, And vaunting navies disappeared ; % SYRACUSE. 111 Through clouds of smoke sparks widely flew, And hissing rafts the shore bestrew ; Some on the Punic sands were cast, And Carthage was avenged at last. Alas! how fallen art thou since, O Syracuse! how many a prince Of Gallia’s parti-color’d brood Have crept o’er thee to suck thy blood ! Syracuse ! raise again thy head, Long hast thou slept, but art not dead. A late avenger now is come Whose voice alone can split the tomb. Hearest thou not the world throughout Cry Garibaldi? One loud shout Arises, and there needs but one To shatter a polluted throne. TO SIR RODERIC MURCHESON. ' What see I through the mist of years? a friend, If the most ignorant of mortal men In every science, may pronounce his name Whom every science raises above all.. Murcheson! though art he. Upon the bank Of Loir thou camest to me, brought by Hare The witty and warm-hearted, passing through That shady garden whose broad tower ascends From chamber over chamber ; there I dwelt, The flowers my guests, the birds my pensioners, Books my companions, and but few beside. After two years the world’s devastor Was driven forth, yet only to return And stamp again upon a fallen race. Back to old England flew my countrymen ; TO SIR RODERIC MURCHESON. 118 Even brave Bentham, whose inventive skill Baffled at Chesmé and submerged the fleet Of Ottoman,* urged me to flight with him Ere the infuriate enemy arrived. I wrote to Carnot. Lam here at Tours, And will remain. He prais’d my confidence In the French honour; it was placed in As. No house but mine was left unoccupied In the whole city by the routed troops. Ere winter came ’twas time to cross the Alps, Como invited me; nor long ere came Southey, a sorrowing guest, who lately lost His only boy. We walkt aside the lake, And mounted to the level downs above, Where if we thought of Skiddaw, named it not. I led him to Bellaggio, of earth’s gems The brightest. We in England have as bright, Said he, and turn’d his face toward the west. I fancied in his eyes there was a tear, I know there was in mine: we both stood still. Gone is he now to join the son in bliss, * Potemkin had the credit and the reward. The ships were built by Bentham on his own model, and he directed the attack. H 114 TO SIR RODERIC MURCHESON. Innocent each alike, one longest spared To show that all men have not lived in vain. Gone too is Hare: afar from us he lies In sad Palermo, where the most accurst Cover his bones with bones of free men slain. Again I turn to thee, O Murcheson! Why hast thou lookt so deep into the earth To find her treasures? Gold we thought had done Its worst before: now fields are left untill’d, And cheerful songs speed not the tardy woof. How dare I blame thee? “twas not thy offence, And good from evil springs, as day from night. The covetous and vicious delve the mine And sieve the dross that industry may work For nobler uses: soon shall crops arise More plenteous from it, soon the poor shall dwell In their own houses, and their children throw Unstinted fuel on the Christmas blaze With shouts that shake the holly-branch above. TO ARTHUR DE NOE WALKER. Arthur! whose path is in the quiet shade, After hot days in the wide wastes of war, Where India saw thy sword shine bright above , The helms of thousand brave. Peace, wooed and won, . Could not detain thee from that Tauric coast Where lay the wounded, festering in their gore, And none to raise them up, thou hastenedst To succour: often thy strong shoulder bore : , Amid the freezing sleet and heavier hail our The wretch whom Death lookt down on and ' past by : Thou fearedst not, for what hadst thou to fear From Death ?’ the standard of his vanquisher Thou never hast deserted ; thee he call’d To work his will, and saw the call obey’d. TO KOSSUTH, PRESIDENT OF HUNGARY. Man is not what God made him: God ordain’d That he should walk upright and bend the brow To Him alone; God gave to Man our earth Created by His breath few days before. Kossuth! what demons burst into the midst Of this his Eden, this his Paradise, These lofty trees that bore their fruit unpruned Nor crawl’d upon by reptiles from below. Look round thee, and what seest thou? men in form, Gaming with minor men as they were dice Or cards, and sweeping them from off the board. What millions have succumb’d, and stil succumb, To light these gamblers at their deadly game! How many lands, once till’d, lie desolate To widen their wild hunting-ground, and glut TO KOSSUTH. 117 With human venison the royal feast ! Exchanges are now made of flocks and herds Biped: see Nice and Venice led in chains ; See Poland, flay’d, dismember’d, parcel’d out Among the bloodhounds ; see thy Hungary Offer’d a note promissory instead Of the seal’d parchment of her titledeeds. The arctic icebergs make more nigh approach Year after year to sunnier climes and threaten To bar all intercourse of free with free : In this condition is the world of Mind. TO ALFIERI. Alfieri, thou art present in my sight Tho’ far removed from us, for thou alone Hast toucht the inmost fibres of the breast, Since Tasso’s tears made damper the damp floor Whereon one only light came thro’ the bars ; Love brought it, and stood mute, with broken wing. The vision of Leonora could not raise His heavy heart, and staid long nights in vain. Thou scornedst thy own country, scorn thou wouldst Many who dwell within it now her bonds Are broken: adulation at all times Was her besetting sin, nor leaves her yet, But thou couldst tell her, and couldst make her hear, That Corsic honey* which attracts the hive Is poison . . turn then from the mortal taste. _* Much of the honey in Corsica is extracted from the flower of box and unwholesome. TO WILLIAM SANDFORD. Sandford! the friend of all the brave, Whether sent forward to their grave, Or whether wearing life away With eyes that ache to see that day, When freedom’s arm shall rend the links From him who groans and him who thinks. The winds that vex the Appennines And hold their children from the Vines Will soon lie down again, and rest On Ocean’s gentler-swelling breast. Then, whether Rhodes your feet detain, Or Scio with her merrier train, Or Smyrna, proud of him she bore And struggled for, in days of yore, With six great cities . . leave them all At more than Friendship’s distant call, For one hag promist me to bring Her rosebud hither in the spring. , 120 TO WILLIAM SANDFORD. If you find crowds upon their knees And shaking off too festive fleas, Tis not in reverence of a saint Glorious in gold, sublime in paint. Look forward ; not far off you’ll see A saint as female saints should be. No glory yet around her head Is visible; aray of red There is, this Modesty has given, A gift she brought with her from heaven. Distant she will not let you stand, Nay, you shall even touch her hand. This promise to you I will keep, I can not promise you sound sleep. TO COLONEL EDWARD STOPFORD. O for the friends, the few I had, The hearts my presence once made glad! I mourn the memory ; those are gone And, Stopford, you remain alone. While you look back upon the day You left behind the great and gay Destin’d in Freedom’s holy war To guide the course of Bolivar, Dozing below my Abbey’s wall I dreamt I heard a Muse’s call. . “ Come with me to Pan’s favorite tree, “* There is reserv’d a place for thee, “« And there, if thou wilt wait awhile, ““ A Nymph may lean on thee and smile, “ Until Maeonides appear “ Bidding thee listen well, and hear “ What to fit audience thou shalt tell, ‘¢ By whom and where Pelides fell.” TO CAREY, ON HIS APPOINTMENT TO A LOW OFFICE IN THE BRITISH MUSEUM. Carey! I fear the fruits are scanty Thou gatherest from the fields of Dante, But thou hast found at least a shed Wherin to cram thy truckle-bed ; The porter’s lodge of the Museum May daily hear thee sing Te Deum. Peaches and grapes are mostly found Richest the nearest to the ground: Our gardeners take especial care To keep down low all boughs that bear. Dante’s long labyrinthine line Is straiten’d and drawn tight by thine: Hell, devil, dog, in force remain, And Paradise blooms fresh again. AN OLD POET TO SLEEP. No God to mortals oftener descends Than thou, O Sleep ! yet thee the sad alone Invoke, and gratefully thy gift receive. Some thou invitest to explore the sands Left by Pactolos, some to climb up higher, Where points Ambition to the pomp of War; Others thou watchest while they tighten robes Which Law throws round them loose, and they meanwhile Wink at a judge, and he the wink returns. Apart sit. fewer, whom thou lovest more And leadest where unruffled rivers flow, Or azure lakes neath azure skies expand. These have no wider wishes, and no fears, Unless a fear, in turning, to molest The silent, solitary, stately swan, Disdaining the garrulity of groves Nor seeking shelter there from sun or storm. 124 AN OLD POET TO SLEEP. Me also hast, thou led among such scenes, Gentlest of Gods! and Age appear’d far off While thou wast standing close above the couch, And whispered’st, in whisper not unheard, “T now depart from thee, but leave behind My own twin-brother, friendly as myself, Who soon shall take my place; men call him Death. : Thou hearest me, nor tremblest, as most, do, In sooth why shouldst thou ? what man hast thou wrong’d By deed or word? few dare ask this within.” There was a pause; then suddenly said Sleep “He whom I named approacheth, so farewell.” TO THE EMPRESS. Proud may be all who fairly claim Montijo’s unpolluted name, Altho’ I neither love nor hate Those whom the vulgar call the great, My heart is rais’d as bends my knee, Bright lodestar of thy sex, to thee. . She whom my Stopford boasts for his Thy girlish smile afar must miss. On high Castilia’s breezy plains Loved by thy mother she remains, And makes her at some hours forget Her loss, and find a daughter yet. These homely words each courtier bard Around thee would with scoffs discard. Wishes are left: of what? Of wealth ? There is enough where there is health ; Of glory ? there where God approves The woman whom a nation loves. Unvaried be henceforth thy life, Be blest as mother, blest as wife ; With friends in every state sit down, Nor feel the burden of a crown. J MARGUERITE. Ah Marguerite ! with you are gone The light and life of Kensington. Alone in Florence, griev’d I view Those scenes to which you bade adieu. Oft, gazing from the river-wall Up to the terrace, I recall The happy evenings there we past, Nor thought how briefly they would last. Can Paris ever make amends To you for Italy and friends ? Can all the world to me atone For losing you, and you alone, Or for that yearly summons. . Come While your two lilacs are in bloom ? THE POETS OF SCOTLAND. Thompson, there born where mist and snow Are the sole change the Seasons know, Saw them alternate in his dreams, And woke to charm the Nymphs of Thames. The generous Scott and stalwart Burns Blew Caledonia’s pipe by turns ; _And Campbell with no fainter voice Bade her in one more bard rejoice, When Hohenlinden made reply To “ Glorious death or victory !” Jonson to Shakespeare was preferr’d By the bell-jingling low-brow’d herd, Cowley to Milton. Who would mind The stumbles of the lame and blind ? 128 THE POETS OF SCOTLAND. We may regret their sad estate, But can not make them amble strait Tn youth I heard a story told, Written, it seems, in days of old, About a lawyer and a dog, And it was styled an Apologue. Perhaps it may be truth; if so, Tt must have happened long ago, For now the name of Slick is known Among the Americans alone. CHARLES II. OF SPAIN, TO HIS PRIME MINISTER, Medina Celi, you well know LOX Our treasury is sadly low, And I have scarcely in my pocket Enough to buy the queen a locket. Now surely out of twenty-one ‘Burnt heretics, ’twere better done To have put under every man And woman a wide dripping-pan ; We might have lighted, had we done so, The Virgin and Saint Idefonzo. 130 THE SPITEFUL. oo There are who, when they read a book And find not that for which they look, Spit venom over every page With viperine and deadly rage. What hurts them so? if hurt is done ’Tis by their home-fed scorpion. Imprudently they lick their sore, A rabid tongue inflames it more. PROPHECY. The Mexicans will flay the Spaniards And throw their skins into the tanyards ; The tawny tribes around will wrench Their beards and whiskers off the French, And, after a good hearty scourging, Devote them to the Blessed Virgin. 131 ON A STONE IN A FIELD, GIVEN TO THE POOR BY LUCY LADY NUGENT. Thou liest within the church’s door, Lucy, thou mother of the poor! Nugent, my friend from early years, Freshens this turf with daily tears, Where many wretches bend the knee Who were less wretched once thro’ thee. IRONY. Irony is the imp of wit, The truly witty banish it. Where are the mountebank and clown Who can not turn things upside down? When one has fail’d in his endeavour The other cries, Leeky! thou art clever. 12. 132 ALARM AT ROME. —_——- We fear that Christ must come once more To land Saint Peter on our shore, For never were the Fisher’s sails So torn and tattered by the gales. What if his Lord he did deny, And added many another lie, Was he not long ago forgiven And made the viceroy king of heaven ? Must he then stoop his crown from thence To catch in it a pauper’s pence ? O shame of shames! his eldest son Quizzes, and cries By Jove ! what fun! 133 ON SOUTHEY’S TOMB. Few tears, nor those too warm, are shed By poet over poet dead. Without premeditated lay To catch the crowd, I only say, As over Southey’s slab I bend, The best of mortals was my friend. Cursing Milton, Hampden, Sidney,. And all others of their kidney, Satan’s sons, who drew the sword *Gainst the anointed of our Lord, Whence this day hath been appointed, Sacred to our Lord’s anointed, We will close it with a prayer Such as He may deign to hear. Short prayer after long banning. “Ever be there worshipt by us. Kings as merciful and pious! 134 ON SOUTHEY’S TOMB. Live, Sweetbriar, and protect the bones Of him who lies beneath these stones. Tho’ perriwinkles cover o’er His relics, they can do no more. Bid idle girls, who come to gather Thy blossoms, look for others rather, Showing them, if they will not mind, Avenger Nemesis is behind, Who threatens they shall search in vain That finger with the guilty stain. They smile on us by Time cut down Who always while we lived lookt sour, So grass smells sweetest when it’s mown Than fresh and waving in full flower. 135 ~ TO MEMORY. Thy daughters often visit me And call thee mother, Memory ! Doubtful if thou art quite divine, I never askt them who was thine Altho’ these children are so good, There's somewhat acrid in thy blood, For here and there I think I trace A more than freckle in thy face. Why tell me how serenely bright Shone over me the morning light ? Why lead me backward far away And make me wish for close of day ? To see the cities and to know the men Of many lands, in youth was Homer’s lot; In age to visit his far home agen The Gods, who never feel it, granted not. 136 How many lives we live in threescore years ! If any Power could bring one back-again Would we accept it, ‘offer’d us entire, Forbidden to scoop out the priee~alone ? We think we would; but never did deceit Illude us more: a little while we look, And but a little, on the proffer’d gift, Then we start off from it, and feebly cry ““ Go restless youth! insatiate manhood! go... Age! art thou here too?” Let us bend an arm Under the weary head and doze awhile; Before another noon we may have found A softer turf for sleeper, ’tis the grave’s. 137 THE DAUGHTER OF DANTE. | Thou, Beatrice, hast found an earlier rest * Than did thy father (holy as thyself) In this Ravenna. May we hope that he Shall view from heaven his countrymen at last Loose from Teutonic and from Gallic chains, And other more disgraceful forged at Rome. TO ROSE. Another may despise my verse And ery, What poet could write worse, With Loves in legions at his beck And looking at them from her neck. I see them quite as well as they, And haply what I see might say, But I have always known that you Far beyond all things prize the true, And that you raise your eyes above And list to Virtue more than Love, Tho’ amicably both contend To take precedence as your friend. * In the Convent of St Stefano dell’ Uliva. 138 ON THE DEATH OF ADMIRAL SIR SIDNEY SMITH. I am invited (why ?) in latin phrase To write thy epitaph. Two glorious men, Sydney, have borne thy name through distant lands, But here no sailor, here no orphan, lifts His mournful head to read what Rome would write And place among the noblest, wert thou hers. Children, in earlier or in later life, May play grave follies in the sculptured aisle, And lengthen out in it the stiffer tongue ; It suits not me to make the rustic stare And ask what booby never learnt to spell A name that every cabin-boy has chalkt, And every sunday-school-girl has prickt out Upon her sampler for the brighter silk, The name of Sidney; of that Admiral Who left his ship and stood on Acre’s tower Tottering beneath him, and drove back dismayed The renegate of honor and of God. More than one realm by that one blow he saved ; Some by their weakness are about to fall, Some by their violence...may these fall the first ! 139 TO THE COUNTESS OF ARRAN, ON THE DECEASE OF GEN. SIR W. NAPIER. You, who can trace with golden pen The features of departed men, Leave darling Poesy awhile On weaker, giddier, heads to smile. Now two less happy years are gone And Sorrow further off has flown, Show how your father knew to blend The sage, the soldier, and the friend, To make even History love Truth, At variance from their early youth. 140 TO THE EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH. Pleas’d was I when you told: me how In hat that buffeted the brow And mason’s loose habiliment ‘With masons thro’ Ham’s gate you went. Heartily glad was I to see A prisoner, though a prince, set free. “ Prince!” said I,. “ you’ve escaped two worst Of evils.” “T have known a first,” Said you, “ but that is only one, Tell me the other.” “Tis a throne.” I could not add what now I might, It keeps the worthy out of sight, Nor lets the sitter sit upright. Can there be pleasure to keep down In rusty chains a struggling town? » Can there be any to hear boom Your cannon o’er the walls of Rome? Or shows it strength to break a word As easily as girls. a cord TO THE EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH. 141 Of flimsy cotton, when the bell Calls them to dinner ?...To rebel Against rebellion in your eyes Is criminal, to crouch is wise. Louis! your father thought not so ; His scepter he disdain’d to owe To falsehood ; all his cares he bent To make the realm he ruled content. He proved, what many people doubt As often as they look about, A wonderful unheard of thing... An honest man may be a king. Lyndhurst came up to me among A titled and untitled throng, And after a few words were said About the living and the dead, Whom we had known together more Than half a century before, He added: “ Faith! your choice was best Amid the woods to build a nest. But why so seldom wing it down, To look at us who toil in town?” “Would you change place with me?” said L To this a laugh was a reply. 142 TO CHAUCER. Chaucer, O how I wish thou wert Alive and, as of yore, alert! Then, after bandied tales, what fun Would we two have with monk and nun. Ah, surely verse was never meant To render mortals somnolent. In Spenser’s labyrinthine rhymes I throw my arms o’erhead at times, Opening sonorous mouth as wide As oystershells at ebb of tide. Mistake me not: I honour him Whose magic made the Muses dream Of things they never knew before, And scenes they never wandered o’er. I dare not follow, nor again Be wafted with the wizard train. TO CHAUCER. 143° No bodyless and soulless elves I seek, but creatures like ourselves. If any poet now runs after The Faeries, they will split with laughter, Leaving him in the desert, where Dry grass is emblematic fare. Thou wast content to act the squire Becomingly, and mount no higher, Nay, at fit season to descend Into the poet with a friend, Then ride with him about thy land In lithesome nutbrown boots well-tann’d, With lordly greyhound, who would dare Course against law the summer hare, Nor takes to heart the frequent crack Of whip, with curse that calls him back. The lesser Angels now have smiled To see thee frolic like a child, And hear thee, innocent as they, Provoke them to come down and play. Lyons! thou art a grateful city, To feel for Pius so much pity. 144 His velvet slippers now look neater, With so much bullion clubbed for Peter. But thou could’st offer nothing less, For wearing thy embroider’d dress, Well suiting that three-storied steeple, Ringing its bells above the people, Instead of harbouring those poor Who now infest thy weaver’s door. 145 TO SIR SAMUEL MEYRICK. Meyrick, when I had gazed on all ' The treasures round each trophied wall, Where armour of past ages shows How brave were some whom no one knows, You did not point out, just beneath, The house of him* who conquer’d Death, Swift that dragon who fought with pen, nog! Against the chief of black-mail’d men oS Who kickt, headforemost, Truth downstairs On grudging him his pence for prayers. * Swift’s family was from Goodrick. 146 TO GENERAL CLARGES. Threescore and ten the years since Rugby saw My bloody battles on the cricket-ground, And, Clarges, you remember that I fought Never with any but an older lad} And never lost but two fights in. thirteen. Why wonder then if I so little heed The petulance of weaker than myself, Who play the judge and take the seat above ? See you not what they want? they scarce hope wrath, It would be something would I but reply. T let them light on any balder place, pale As flies do, and forbear to ae them c To buffet them is but an invitation To come again and blacken the repast. 147 REMONSTRANCE TO MACAULAY, ON ATTACKING THE MEMORY OF W. PENN. Macaulay ! Envy’s self must praise The spirit of thy Roman ‘ Lays.” None cheer’d more heartily than I. When the triumphal car roll’d by, Follow’d by songs which well become The chaste and stately Muse of Rome. Why drawest thou a gall-black pen Across the face of quiet men ? Deserves he this who mildly taught That some are brave yet never fought, Who dared mid fiercest hordes to stand With open breast and open hand. He show’d them what their soil could bear Better than tomahawk and spear ; That the Great Spirit, lord of all More gladly hears the widow’s call Than cruelly exultant yell Shaking the very gate of Hell. Macaulay ! let one hero rest By millions after millions blest. K 2 148 REMONSTRANCE AND ADVICE TO BYRON. Say, Byron, why is thy attar Profasely dasht with vinegar? Each of them in its place is good, But neither fit for daily food. Open thy latticed window wide For breezes from the Mgean tide ; And from Hymettus may its bee Bear honey on each wing to thee: But keep apart these two perfumes For hospitals and drawing-rooms. Now one more counsel : let alone The fatty that outflanks the throne, Nor fancy you can cure a leper With poultices of cayenne-pepper. + 149 THORWALDSEN LEAVING ROME FOR COPENHAGEN. Thorwaldsen, thou art going forth To brave the breezes of the north. Its star attracts thee, and (above That stedfast star) the star of Love ; Not Love the God whom poets feign To lead us idlers in his train, But such as patriots see him stand Pointing toward their native land. Revisit her, but leave behind The brood of thy creative mind. Partial is Italy to those Hearing whose voice the Arts arose, Amid them Buonarotti sate, Proud monarch of a triple state, Until he bow’d his aged head And bade thee reign o’er one instead. 150 THE CONTRITE PRIEST. Inclina, O Mary, from thy throne To hear a contrite sinner own His manifold and grievous sins, Thick as the serried ranks of pins, But first (for time is precious) hear What the black score in part may clear. -I always ate (for ’twas thy wish, On Fridays we should dine on fish) Turbot or lamprey or whate’er The cook thought proper to prepare ; Ay, I have been constrain’d to stoop To creeping things, and sigh o’er soup Founded on oysters, taught to swim For the first time in beardless trim. Ah, lady! couldst thou only know The anguish of my heart and toe! Help! tis impossible without Thy help to keep at bay the gout. SCENE. James II, or Scots, HARL oF ATHOL, SIR ROBERT STEW- ART, HIS GRANDSON, AND GRAHAM. Scene:—A bed-chamber in the Dominican Convent, Perth, Kune. Uncle! and thou too with these murderers ! Nay, hide not thy grey head behind that door Half broken down. See I thee, cousin Robert ? Thee, with a dagger in thy grasp! the intent Is plain. I ask no grace of thee, for thou Who never hast known love canst not know pity Ear. If thou hadst not, this realm had never stoopt Before a scepter in a stranger’s hand.” 152 A SCENE. GRAHAM. We come to vindicate our country’s rights And have no time to parley. ; Ear. Thou, my liege, Hast injured all of us. What lord is safe In his own castle from thy vengeful laws ? GRAHAM. Answer us that. Kane. What honest traveler Is safe from rapine where your wide domains And power usurpt from soverainty extend. GRAHAM. Are there no ladies in this land of ours. Worthy to mate with any king ? A SCENE. 153 Kine. Yea, many. GRAHAM, Why then should England force upon the throne An alien brood. Kina. Cease, villain ! I was free. So are ye all in this ; rich, poor, alike ; Are kings alone debarr’d? I chose a mate Of royal blood, not for her royalty, Unless such royalty as God imparts When he gives grace and virtue; these are Jane’s. Would ye slay her too ? Ear. - We war not with women. Kine. Ye war against them when ye strike the breast They cling to. 154 A SCENE. EARL. Thou shouldst have been stil her minstrel. Is it becoming in a king to ride About the country with a single groom, And crouch thro’ half-rooft cottages, and ask The creatures to complain of aught amiss? As if they had not plenty to blab out Against their lords ; are they not our born serfs? Answer us that. Kine. Iam God’s bailiff, sir, Not yours, to Him alone I give account. GRAHAM. That shalt thou speedily ; the book is closed ; Take it him. ‘ Haru. Well done, Graham, strike again. A SCENE. 155 GRAHAM. He folds his cloak around him so, and lifts So high both upright arms, there is no place. Harn Well, well, methinks we have done enough to- day. He speaks tho’. Kine. Robert! art chow here ? RoBEnrt. My liege! Here am J. What may be our lord’s commands? Kine. Thou at least art no robber...take my ring... Give it to her. .but first wipe off the blood If there be any on it. 156 A SCENE. GRAHAM. She has one, And can not want another: ruby rings Suit ill for marriages, and worse for deaths. RoBERt. Peace, Graham, peace. Sire, thy behest is sacred. Kine. Robert! thou art again for this half-hour ” What thou wast when we both were only boys. RoBert. Sire, your breath fails you. (Aside) Faith! and mine fails too. Kine. Give it her,..call some holy man ..haste...go. 157 ABERTAWY. It was no dull tho’ lonely strand Where thyme ran o’er the solid sand, Where snap-dragons. with yellow eyes Lookt down on crowds that could not rise, Where Spring had fed with dew the moss In winding dells two strides across. There tiniest thorniest roses grew To their full size, nor shared the dew: Acute and jealous, they took care That none their softer seat should share ; ‘A weary maid was not to stay Without one for such churls as they. I tugg’d and lugg’d with all my might To tear them from their roots outright ; At last I did it. .eight or ten... We both were snugly seated then ; But then she saw a half-round bead, And cried, Good gracious ! how you bleed ! 158 ABERTAWY. Gently she wiped it off, and bound With timorous touch that dreadful wound. To lift it from its nurse’s knee I fear’d, and quite as much fear’d she, For might it not increase the pain And make the wound burst out again ? She coaxt it to lie quiet there With a low tune I bent to hear ; How close I bent I quite forget, I only know I hear it yet. Where is she now? Call’d far away, By one she dared not disobey,’ To those proud halls, for youth unfit, Where princes stand and judges sit. Where Ganges rolls his widest wave She dropt her blossom in the grave ; Her noble name she never changed, Nor was her nobler heart estranged. 159 PRAYER OF WALTER MAPES TO HIS HOLINESS THE POPE. Beatitude ! we humbly ask For each poor priest his second flask. Hourly we pray for daily bread. Take half, and give us wine instead. Thou keepest, as we know, the keys Of heaven and earth ; now, one of these Can ope the cellar as thou wilt; Trust us, no drop shall there be spilt. If ever should a vintage fail (God help us !) we must come to ale. In sooth our sins deserve it all, Yet never may such evil fall Upon the priesthood and the grapes Most fervently prays Walter Mapes. 160 VICTOR HUGO. Whether a poet yet is left In France I know not, and who knows? But Hugo, of his home bereft, In quiet Jersey finds repose. Honour to him who dares to utter A word of truth in writ or speech In Hugo’s land the brave but mutter Half one, in dread whose ear it reach. 161 CROMWELL. God’s servant, Milton’s friend ! what higher praise ‘Can man attain who labors all his days ? Protector of three realms! a power was thine Dangerous to hold, more dangerous to resign. England proclaimed thee with her trumpet voice, And England’s will was ever Cromwell’s choice. Let weaker men, and weaker all men are, How they would mount such eminence beware. Outcast of his own slaves, one dared to mock The voice of Truth...he rots upon a rock : The vultures and the cormorants fly round To feast upon a heart so long unsound. Each says, ‘I am his kindred; and the least He should bequeath me is a final feast.” Cunning ‘the wretch may be, but never wise, Who thinks a head is safe that rests on lies. 162 THE PRIEST AND THE SINNER. Once an old sinner call’d a priest And told him he would be confest. The priest in horror heard him tell Sin after sin, and threaten’d hell With all its torments after death, Its fires, its gnashings of the teeth Eternally : to all the rest Denounced as certain by the priest The wretch grew more and more afraid, But what about the teeth was said Seem’d more like comfort: the good father No reasons for such change could gather. He cried, ‘ Thou shudderest not, my son, At what so soon is coming on.” “ Alas!” the penitent exclaimed, ‘‘] shuddered when that fire was named. Now, father, if they would but spare That cursed fire, I should not care About the teeth ; but two remain, And they can never gnash again.” 163 ON THE POISONING OF SPARROWS. My fondled ones ! whom every day In childhood I call’d forth to play, A call ye minded not until The crumbs were on the window-sill ; Then down ye fluttered; then ye fought More fiercely than good sparrows ought, For there was not a speckled breast To cause a jealous one unrest, And not a Lesbia at whose beck There came a pouting lip to peck. Ah me! what rumour do I hear? It makes me shrivel up with fear. Can it...it never can...be true, That poison is prepared for you, Who clear the blossoms as they shoot And watch the bud and save the fruit? Turn, turn again your sideling eyes On one more grateful and more wise. L2 164 DICKENS. You ask me what I see in Dickens. . A game-cock among bantam chickens. THE COLONELS’ CRY. Sire! sire! cast off the worn-out garb Of that old Brutus ; mount thy barb, Leap o’er the Channel, spurn and spit on The turbulent and faithless Briton. Blood we must have, for without blood Who can digest his daily food ? Give us it; rather than have none, We would a brother’s or our own. Already are our brave made frantic By their confinement to the Atlantic, When Glory, true French Glory, calls To batter Montezuma’s walls. Remember, ’tis your mission, sire, To set two hemispheres a fire. \ 165 A MOTHER TO A BOY. “God writes down every idle word He and His Angels round have heard.” So spake a mother: in reply The little fellow cried, “ O my! | His writing I should like to see ; How big the copybook must be! Can you not let me get a peep, Mamma, before I go to sleep?” 166 THE VIRGIN OF IMPRUNETA. In Impruneta may be seen An image of our heavenly queen, Who once appear’d in full court-dress Us, who adore her there, to bless ; Hence amethysts and sapphires shine For ever round that head divine. But lest the other self awake Our piety, and we mistake, She makes her face as black as ink, And seldom has been known to wink. We pray the black for timely rain, The white to send the sun again. 167 GIRL AND DIOGENES. ‘“* Men call you dog: now tell me why,” A little girl said : in reply Diogenes said, smiling at her, “ My child! how wickedly men flatter!” My verses, all I wrote of late, To Vulcan I would dedicate, But it is right that you precede With larger offering, gentle Reade ! TO ROSE. I see a man whom age should make more wise Unable to repress his swelling sighs At sight of you. Ah! let him be forgiven... Thus swells old Ocean when the queen of heaven In fullest, brightest, majesty appears, Ascending calmly mid attendant stars. 168 TO A LITERARY CONFRATERNITY. Keep honest, sobersided men, Across your mouths the impatient pen, I -will supply you with a dozen When your ink ceases to be frozen. “Come, let us fight, my hoy !” said one, Boldly enough, to Philip’s son : And cooly Philip’s son replied “J fight with kings, and none beside.” Pardon our enemies, we pray Devoutly every sabbath-day ; Ere the next morn we change our notes, And blow them up or cut their throats. Above us and below meanwhile The Angels weep, the Devils smile. oa 169 Unhappy he whom Love beguiles With wavering and insidious smiles ; Unhappier, who has lived to prove That Friendship is as frail as Love. Snap at me, Malice! snap; thy teeth are rotten And hurt me not: all know thee misbegotten ! The cureless evil runs throughout thy race, And from Cain downward thy descent we trace. There are a hundred now alive Who buz about the summer hive, Alas! how very few of these Poor little busy poet bees Can we expect again to hum When the next summer shall have come. A scholar was about to marry, His friend said, ‘‘ Ere thou dost, be wary. So wise art thou that I forsee — A wife will make a fool of thee. 170 Foolishest of all fools are those Wise men led daily by the nose. It hardly seems a woman’s while The fond half-witted to beguile : And yet I must confess, my friend, Sometimes they do so condescend. They tell us, the persuasive Greek, When from the bema he would speak, To make more clear some weighty truth Roll’d a round pebble in his mouth. Napoleon, try this help again, Or any other, to speak plain, For now, your words so strangely jar, War sounds like peace and peace like war. TO A GERMAN. You think all liquor must be weak if clear, Find wit in Goethe, miss it in Voltaire. Your beer has plertty both of malt and hop, But of the bright and sparkling not a drop. 171 A ROYAL PRESENT TO A LEARNED PROFESSOR. George * sent the skull of Robert Bruce To Blumenbach. ‘ Sire! of what use,” Said Blumenbach, ‘is Bruce’s skull ? And who was Bruce? now, were it full Of hock or (better) old tokay, Id drink your health some jolly day And never mind whose scalp it was, But toss it off and let it pass.” * George IV., who knew little of Blumenbach and cared less for Bruce, whom the learned Blumenbach had never heard of.— See Haywagps’ Faust, p. 329. 172 THE SQUIRE. A village church one Sabbath-day, Many had entered there to pray. Some knelt along the flagstone floor, Old men, old women, halt and poor. Piously in response they said “ Give us this day our daily bread.” Whether they got it, I don’t know, But twice or thrice they pleaded so. . Those words the squire repeated too Above his cushion’d giltnail’d-pew. Sudden a distant shot he heard, And up his portly girth was reared. “ Jim!’ cried he, “ drowsy devil! run, Tell heeper...by the Lord!...a gun! Zounds! Iam always in bad luck... Perhaps there goes my fattest buck !”’ 173 A FUNERAL. A hearse is passing by in solemn state, Within lies one whom people call the great. Its plumes seem nodding to the girls below As they gaze upward at the rareeshow, [run Boys from the pavement snatch their tops, and To know what in the world can be theffun. FRIENDS. The heaviest curse that can on mortal fall Ts ‘* who has friends may he outlive them all!” This malediction has awaited me Who had so many...I could once count three. FAVOUR. On holy Westminster’s recording-stone Hallam has epitaph, and Napier none! 174 We have old women and to spare None fit to judge like thine, Moliere ; Youngsters and dotards shove to teach, And carp at what they can not reach. Belzebub, never be afraid To lose thy chaplain doctor Wade, No sleeping partner, tired of trade. In church he neither prays nor preaches, Mobs, all that mobs require, he teaches, ‘Well leaven’d at thy fire his speeches. Without a fee he will not have His mother’s touch his father’s grave ; Thy imps hear this and cry O brave ! He says, ‘“‘ In Paradise the trees “ Grew well apart, for sun and breeze, “Why closer then my plants than these ? “Tombs are but momuments to pride ‘* In chancels: I can ill abide “« Such practise.” Then he adds, aside, . “Yet our poor brethren must be fed “On bodies that are cased in lead, ‘“‘ So...give ten pounds...and bless the dead.” _— a ee 175 The slender birds enjoy their cages, Captivity the strong enrages. While piping finches wag their tails Before the catcher at Versailles, Against the Czar the brave rebell And hate the Kaisar worse than hell. With frowning brow o’er pontif-kings elate. Stood Dante, great the man, the poet great. Milton in might and majesty surpast The triple world, and far his shade was cast. On earth he sang amid the Angelic host, And Paradise to him was never lost. But there was one who came these two between With larger light than yet our globe had seen. Various were his creations, various speech Without a Babel he bestow’d on each. Raleigh and Bacon towered above that earth Which in their day had given our Shakespeare birth, And neither knew his presence ! they half-blind Saw not in him the grandest of mankind. 176 Flies have alighted on the shanks of Pan, And some have settled upon Homer’s head ; We whisk them off with jewel-studded fan Till few escape and many more lie dead. Ye who have toil’d uphill to reach the haunt Of other men who lived in other days, Whether the ruins of a citadel Rais’d on the summit by Pelasgic hands, Or chamber of the distaff and the song... Ye will not tell what treasure there ye found, But I will. Ye found there the viper laid Full-length, flat-headed, on a sunny slab, Nor loth to hiss.at ye while crawling down. Ye saw the owl flap the loose ivy leaves And, hooting, shake the berries on your heads. Now, was it worth your while to mount so high Merely to say ye did it, and to ask If those about ye ever did the like? Believe me, O my friends, ’twere better far To stretch your limbs along the level sand As they do, where small children scoop the drift, Thinking it must be gold, where curlews soar And scales drop glistening from the prey above. 177 Why wouldst thou hang thyself, O Kett? If all God’s laws thou didst forget, One English law was worth recalling To memory...that against forestalling. Where, Cross of Savoy ! shall be found To fix thee on, a palm of ground ? The Churche’s son by right divine Seizes on every span of thine. But do not so lament thy loss While yet remains another Cross : A sister Cross of prouder stem Invites thee to Jerusalem. Jerusalem thou stil mayst get to, Mounting an Angel at Loreto. From Youth’s bright wing the soonest fall The brightest feathers of them all : Few of the others that remain Are there without some darker stain ; Youth, when at these old Age looks grim, Cries, ‘‘ Who the devil cares for him?” M 178 WRITTEN IN A CATULLUS. Among these treasures there are some That floated past the wreck of Rome ; But others, for their place unfit, Are sullied by uncleanly wit. So in its shell the pearl is found With rank putridity around. Upon his death-bed lay a pagan priest ; A pious brother when the worst had ceast Consoled him thus. “¢ Think now what pleasure yields The nearer prospect of Elysian fields,” “ Ah! said he, “all about those fields we know But mushrooms, are good mushrooms there below? 179 Toward Maiano let me look again Across my narrow plain. What there to see ? an image, nothing more. Nina, in days of yore, There listened to the warbling of that bird Whose voice last night I heard Just opposite my terrace; it had kept My heart awake, nor slept All night itself. .. Maiano, she may claim The grandest Tuscan name. Nina of Dante; she it was whose song Was felt our woods among Before the mightier Alighieri rose To blast his country’s foes. Above these olives I shall often see, Nina! the Shade of thee. The sea has depths no plummet-line Can reach, no science can divine ; And earth has poems so profound No line can ever reach the ground ; They fly about in empty air And boys catch at ’em here and there. M 2 180 A poor artificer had sold Some sweepings of his master’s gold, And when he was brought into court The jury had condemned him for’t, But the wise judge, more angry with The plaintiff than the needy smith, Said, ‘Is it not too shabby, sir, To make for sweepings such a stir?” “ My lord,” said he, * you little know The worth of gold who reckon so. These sweepings in a year or two Weigh more than what the king pays you.” ‘ Call me not forth,” said one who sate retired, Whom Love had once, but Envy never, fired. “‘T scorn the crowd : no clap of hands he seeks Who walks among the stateliest of the Greeks.” Sometimes a Jesuit’s* words are true, For proof one specimen may do. “To malice all an ear incline, ‘* Even the few who don’t malign.” * Vavassor. 181 Blest are the bad alone while here; Alone they never shed a tear, The wise and virtuous grieve the most. . Southey, until all sense was lost, Bewail’d a son’s untimely end, And Tennyson embalm’d a friend. I dare not place my name with those, But have not I, too, wept for Rose? My fragrant Lime, I loved thee long before, Rose calls thee Linden, now I love thee more. Her breath can make the unripe blossom blow, And Spring revive afresh, entombed in snow. Squibs, crackers, serpents, rockets, Bengal lights, Lead thousands running to the Dardanelles, Where girls by sackfuls bubble thro’ the wave ; I, leaving good old Homer, not o’erlong, Enjoy the merriment of Chaucer’s tales Or louder glee of the large-hearted Burns, And then partaking Southey’s wholesome fare, Plenteous, and savoury, without spice, I turn, To my own sofa, where incontinent Wordsworth’s low coo brings over me sound sleep, — 182 Rancour is often the most bitter Between two mongrels of one litter. The old bitch Themis grins to teach Her whelps where lies the prey for each. They crack the hard, they tear the tough, And never think they gorge enough. From Death alone would they crouch back, For Death shows bones they can not crack. ———. Fiesole’s bishop overlookt A flock of lambkins, these he crookt With crook that slightly hurt the skin Of those he tenderly drew in. I would have seen the little flock, But found the fold was under lock. I heard some sighs and. . Oh my lord! Then followed not another word. Why should the scribblers discompose Our temper? would we look like those? There are some curs in every street Who snarl and snap at all they meet: The taller mastif deems it aptest To lift a leg and play the baptist. 183 WRITTEN IN SPAIN. Citisus ! wherefor here exude Til drowsy flocks forget their food ? Thy soporific incense keep For church, where all are bound to sleep. ADVICE TO AN OLD POET. ——— After edition comes edition, And scarce a dozen copies gone ; Suppose you take another “ mission” And let the weary press alone. 184 RECALL OF SIR EDMUND HEAD. Our ministers, we hear, recall The Governor from Montreal. I wonder whom they send instead, T only know they want a Head. — Two rival lawyers, Gabb and Gabell, Make Abergany comfortable. To Welshmen stiff and heady quarrels - Are needful as their cwrw-barrels ; Of both they quaff, sup after sup, Until they fairly are laid up. Thou hast not lost all glory, Rome ! With thee have found their quiet home yo Fe whom we followers most admire Of those that swell our sacred quire ; And many a lowered voice repeats Hush! here lies Shelley! here lies Keats ! A FOREN RULER. He says, My reign is peace, so slays A thousand in the dead of night. Are you all happy now ? he says, And those he leaves behind cry quite. He swears he will have no contention, And sets all nations by the ears ; He shouts aloud, No intervention / Invades, and drowns them all in tears. A DOMESTIC RULER. Outrageous hourly with his wife is Peter, Some do aver he has been known to beat her. “ She seems unhappy,” said a friend one day, Peter turn’d sharply . . “‘ What is that you say ? Her temper you have there misunderstood, She dares not be unhappy, if she wou’d.” —_—_— 186 Of thoge who speak about Voltaire The least malicious are unfair. The groundlings neither heed nor know The victories of Apollo’s bow ; What powers of darkness he withstood And stampt upon the Python’s blood. Observing stil his easy pace, They call it levity, not grace. A dying man was sore perplext About what people would do next. « Now was it not too bad that lead Should fasten down the helpless dead ? And iron coffins must be made To suit the tricksters of the trade ! I will not have one, for I doubt How in the world I should get out. A strip of deal is not so tough, Yet may be troublesome enough. — “ Song of the Shirt.” Strange! very strange, This shirt will never want a change, Nor ever will wear out so long As Britain has a heart or tongue. 187 REPLY TO AN INVITATION. Will you come to the bower I have shaded for you ? Our couch shall be roses all spangled with den. Tommy Moore, Tommy Moore, I’ll be hang’d if I do, It would give me a cough, and a rheumatise too. The girl. who i is prudent, I take it would rather Repose (and alone) upon horsehair or feather. Poor Peggy O’Corcoran listened to some Who sang in her ear, Will you come? Will you come ? [pose is She swells and she squaddles .. so what I sup- She must have been lying one day upon roses. Come lads, the day is all before ye, Jerrold will tell a merry story, And ere ye go to bed ye may Regale on Wordsworth’s curds and whey. T can not as you, for I question If such things suit with my digestion. 188 J well remember one departed now, Who rais’d in wonder an unbraided brow, When I said, ‘“‘ Come to me, my pretty child!”. She hesitated, ran to me, and smiled. “¢ Now mind!” cried she, ‘ don’t tumble my lace frill ! Nothing like that would dear mamma take ill.” She grew in beauty to her twentieth year, Then knew, nor fear’d to know, that death wa near. Like ripen’d corn was laid her patient head, Yet say not, impious Man! that she is dead. Oft, when the Muses would be festive, Unruly Pegasus runs restive, And, over the Pierian fount Flies upward to their sacred mount ; Aware that marshes rot the hoof He proudly wings his way aloof. He loves the highest ground the best, And takes where eagles soar his rest. 189 DECLARATION OF WAR BY SPAIN. Is haughty Spain again in arms? What honest flame her bosom warms ? Rise thou who tookest once thy stand On gloomy Calpé’s subject strand, And while the lightning of the brave Cast a dire splendour o’er the wave, Didst see destruction at their side From billow upon billow stride. Tn clouds the thundering demon came, Clouds were without, within was flame ; Dismay cried, ‘‘ where is Gades’ shore ?”’ And scream’d and hurried swift before, While Britons rais’d their prostrate foes From shatter’d wrecks of blasted prows. Leaving for thee her Paphian domes, The Goddess of Lucretius comes ! Pours upon thee her heavenly light, Arms thee with all her Marsis might, And tempers with eternal fire For thee* Ausonia’s golden lyre. * Rob Smith, author of Mare Liberum. 190 ANSWER TO A DOG’S INVITATIO} Faithfullest of a a faithful race, Plainly I read it in thy face Thou wishest me to mount the stairs And leave behind me all my cares. No ; I shall never see again Her who now sails across the main ; Nor wilt thou ever, as before, Rear two white feet against her door. Therefor do thou nor whine nor roam, But rest thee and curl round at home. How calm, how bland, appears the moon abov us ! Surely there dwell the Spirits who most love us. So think we, and gaze on: the well-pois’d glass Suddenly bids the sweet illusion pass, And tells us, bright as may be this outside, Within are gulphs and desolation wide, °* Craters extinct and barren rocks around, And darkest depths no plummet-line could sound Then on the heart these jarring words descend. Man! hast thou never found such in a friend ? 191 EXCOMMUNICATION DENOUNCED ON JANUARY, 30, 1850. Cursed be the wretch who snarls At theblessed martyr Charles, And who traitorously opposes Shitting ears and shortening noses. Fifty thousand Devils scourge The blasphemers of Saint George. Let our Church with annual rites Celebrate the first of knights, While the choir more loudly sings Glory to the best of kings! Here are two millstones, and thou must O Italy! be ground to dust. Who can say which most grinds thee, whether It be the upper or the nether ? 192 TO TACHA. To-morrow, brightest-eyed of Avon’s train, To-morrow thou art slavelike bound and sold, Another’s and another’s ; haste away, Winde thro’ the willows, dart along the path, It nought avails thee, nought our plaint avails. O happy these before me, who could say *‘ Short tho’ thy period, sweet Tacea, short Ere thou art destined to the depths below, Thou passest half thy sunny hours with me.” I mourn not, envy not, what others gain, Thee, and thy venerable elms I mourn, Thy old protectors, ruthless was the pride, And gaunt the need that bade their heads lie lov I see the meadow’s tender grass start back, See from their prostrate trunks the gory glare. Ah! pleasant was it once to watch thy waves Swelling o’er pliant beds of glossy weed ; TO TACHA, 193 Pleasant to watch them dip amid the stones, Chirp, and spring over, glance and gleam along, And tripping light their wanton way pursue. Methinks they now with mellow mournfulness Bid their faint breezes chide my fond delay, Nor suffer on the bridge nor on the knee My poor irregularly pencil’d page. Alas, Tacea, thou art sore deceived ! Here are no foren words, no fatal seal, But thou and all who hear me shall avow The simple notes of sorrow’s song are here. 194 TO ROSINA, ON HER TENTH BIRTHDAY. While you are chirping as the lark We heard above in Prior-park, Perhaps below it your old bard May be asleep in that churchyard, Our races to the bridge all past And dust upon his dust be cast ; Not such as once your nimbler feet Threw back on his. Soon friends will meet Your beauty and your growth to praise. And wish you many natal days. To make her happier some may dare To tell mama how like you are ; And some will press to kiss her brow, As in fond fancy I do now. 195 ON THE DEATH OF IANTHE. » 3 ——— I dare hot trust my pen it trembles so ; It seems to feel a portion of my woe, And makes me credulous that trees and stones At mournful fates lave uttered mournful tones. While I look back again on days long past How gladly would I yours might be my last. Sad our first severance was, but sadder this, When death forbids one hour of mutual bliss. Ricasoli, thou wantest power At present, and must wait thy hour When thou shalt smoke away the drones That mount from hassocks over thrones. That hour assuredly will come When they shall cease to sting and hum. Now thou hast only to stand wide Of plunderers upon every side. Thou hast high-pressure friends, and those Are the most dangerous of thy foes. N 2 196 WRITTEN ON MILTON’S DEFENCI PRO POPULO ANGLICANG, —————— Iberians ! Belgians ! Gauls! ye rage in vain, Cromwell shall rule the land, and Blake th main. A greater man, if greater man there be, Milton, hath undersign’d the Lord’s decree. Who in this later day shall there arise To pierce the cloud that overspreads thy skies, Fair, trustful, Italy ! too long beguiled By one who treats thee like a pouting child. - Break off the painted handle of his whip, And spring no more to kiss that frothy lip. Alone in Garibaldi place thy trust, There shalt thou find a guardian brave and just. 197 We hear no more an attic song, Teuton cuts out the Athenian’s tongue, And witches, ghosts, and goblins fill Each crevice of the Aonian hill. Sit on the sofa, gallant Erskine, “And rest your feet upon the bearskin. Rose, I forsee, will turn away Nor seem to hear a word we say : Altho’ I spangle her with wit She will not care a straw for it. Our friends may think she looks at me, Impossible as that must be. Of all odd truths this truth is oddest, The best dissemblers are the modest. I never ask her what can ail her Observing her each day grow paler. Cruize, conqueror, and when home you come, Bring back the richest prize, her bloom. Soon as the sails are down the mast Let a sheet-anchor hold you fast. 198 An Irishwoman sat to rest Upon the bridge of Hatfordwest * Until her husband could bring up Their baggage from a stranded sloop. A Welshman saw with wanton eyes The whiff from her short pipe arise, And thought it would not be amiss Just to replace it with a kiss. We mortals to our fate are -blind.. Her Paddy, who was close behind, Sprang forth and caught him by the nap Struggling, but vainly, to escape. “ Baste!” cried he, “is it not a shame To make an honest woman scrame ? What in the world wou’d yer be a’ter? Och! our last pipe is in the whater. No shame is in thee, but thou shalt Pick up a little ere we halt, Thou bloody tyrant !” Then as thick As hail kick follow’d upon kick. Into his homestead Taffy.ran A conjugally contrite man, * Haverfordwest so pronounced. 199 Told how he fell upon the stones, And showed he had no broken bones. He never turn’d in bed all night, Dreaming of enemy in sight ; Heavenward lookt up his brawny chine As deprecating wrath divine. FASHIONABLE PHRASEOLOGY. The day is pluvious; they will rue it Who have great coat and wont indwe it. JULIAN NO APOSTATE. Julian ! thou virtuous, brave, and wise, Thou never didst apostatize, Like those who one true God disown, O’erturn his seat and seize his crown. 200 EUTOPIA. Forgers of wills were hanged in other lands ; Here the black cap is threadbare, and instead A triple crown is mounted, and amends Made for the loss of patrimonial wealth, Farms in all countries, houses, slaves, in all. Such are the men who make some doubt : virtue. All-seeing Providence, all-judging Judge, Save them from scourges, carry back the ladder Restore their own to them, restore that house Two Angels brought from Bethlehem, and refit Its kitchen, frying every fish therein Fresh from the sea of Galilee...be quick, Or ye must pickle it to make it keep. 201 TRASH. I have thrown more behind the grate Than would have bought a fair estate. And I might readily have sold My drops of ink for grains of gold. A bladder sounds with peas within, Boys shake it and enjoy the din : There is some poetry that bears Its likeness, made for boyish ears. “What is the matter with your spouse? Lately we hear she keeps the house.” To this enquiry the reply Was, “ You know quite as much as I. It is not a lockt jam, be sure ; For other ailments there’s a cure, But hers is chronic, and began When first I was a married man, And sadly do I doubt if ever She gets the better of this fever.” 202 Two youths were standing somewhere near the Louvre, 5 When thus the younger said : ‘¢ Can you discover Yon words half-chisel’d out and hard to trace?” ELDER. Res publica. YOUNGER. What do they mean ? ELDER. Disgrace ! To France, of liberty’s brief life bereft, What else than shame and sorrow is there left, And where assemble unforsworn old men, The visit of a hangman now and then, A court where gleams the fratricidal sword, And judges kneel, and prelates praise their Lord. Where are true friends? a thousand hearts com- plain That heaven has these, and that the false remain. 208 BYRON. f= . Like mad-dog in the hottest day * Byron runs snapping strait away, And those’ unlucky fellows judge ill» Who go without a whip or cudgel. The boots I wear are high and strong, Wherefore I take no whip or thong ; Yet, I confess it, I am loth, People should see them daub’d with froth, Tho’ dogs that rave with this disease ‘Lift not their heads above my knees, It’s prudent not to carry home The worst of poison in their foam. Poe oe Two nations may contend which stands the highest In sight of Europe for one warlike deed.* Struck down, O Venice, in thy blood thou liest, France, O Helvetia, swears thou too shalt bleed. * The Switzers at Morat, the Venetians at Agnadello. —— 204 The pathway to the gate of Death Grows darker at each step we take, And when we reach it, out of breath, Our bones, before we rest them, ach But suddenly, as if a spell Came over us, we fall asleep. In Earth’s warm bossom cuddled well Her children never toss and weep. It was late in the winter, and late in the day When there stealthily crept to the house of E Gray A Trinity tutor, a rigid divine, Of a visage, and more than a visage, equine. Well, where is the hurt ?...I don’t know wh the hurt is, I shrewdly suspect that’s a question for Curtis * A surgeon in Oxford, 1798. 205 An aged man who loved to doze away An hour by daylight, for his eyes were dim, And he had seen too many suns go down And rise again, dreamt phat he saw two forms Of radiant beauty : he Would clasp them both, But both flew stealthily away. : He cried In his wild dream, ‘ “¢T never thought, O Youth, _That thou, altho’ so cherisht, wouldst return, But I did think that he who came with thee, Love, who could swear more sweetly than birds sing, Would never leave me comfortless and lone.” A sigh broke thro’ his slumber, not the last. Sais ; When a loose tooth and a loose friend are lost, Pray can you tell me which should vex us most. There are who say we are but dust, We may be soon, but are not yet, Nor should be while in Love wé trust . . And never what he taught forget. 206 r REPLY TO: SOME, HUDIBRASTICS, O could I cull such rhymes as thou Cullest from under cloudless brow ; Such as were erst the Faeries gift To Butler and his godson Swift. But here ’tis plainly seen that I’m A very bad one at a rhyme. The Graces now are past their dancing days, The Muses have forgot their earlier lays, _ And of the latter you would give a score For one fresh ballad of light-hearted Moore. ' Of the nine sisters eight are grown uncouth, And even the ninth has lost the bloom of youth. Some jealous poet may have written so ; Is there truth in it? Tell me, yes or no. A sage of old hath gravely said Man’s life is hung upon a thread ***'Y the cheated tradesmen hope That thine may hang upon a rope. 207 Love-making is like haymaking, soon over, And both are mutable throughout their season. Haymaker ! hear me; thou too hear me, lover, Nor scorn experience nor be deaf to reason. Be quick at work ; the sunny hours won’t last, And storms may come before they half are past. The Devils in the herd of swine May madly run down hill, Hallooed by never shout of mine, Shall they be, shout who will. Let them with grunts each other shove, Their grunts molest not me above. Upon the Pindan turf our horse Beats other breeds in wind and force : He shows activity, and yet No groom can teach him to curvet : Young riders twitch him, but in vain, He plunges, and trots home again. 208 They whom blind love hath led to take a wife Often have changed soft flute for shriller fife, And felt how different from the pliant maid She who now trims the brow with horn cockade. Cesar and Marlboro’ bore it in times past, And Garibaldi will not be the last. Against the wedded harlot weak men cry, The braver scorn her and the wiser fly. Dante soon lost his Beatrice, and fell From Paradise to Gemma and to Hell. Of ribald lords ’twas hard to mount the stairs, To climb his own was worse than climbing theirs. Bitter it seem’d by strangers to be fed, Bitterest of all he found the household bread. When Delia was another’s more than his, Tibulli#e wooed avenging Nemesis. Her hand dispell’d from life its early gloom And waved away the faithless from his tomb. In his own land the bones of Albius rest, Why was the wandering Dante not so blest ? ; Let a man once be down, and then He will be fallen on by ten. 209 THE SICK NURSE. My sister went to see her nurse, Aged, but suffering little worse, And askt her that which people ask On meeting : it appeared a task To answer : with a groan she said, “Ah, Miss! you find me welly dead. My heart tells my last hour is come, I hear it beat across the room : What ails it? sure the deuce is in it, It won’t lie still a single minute ; Tormenting me so, night and day, It makes me swear when I might pray ; Yet (Lord o’ mercy!) much I fear, This heart so bangs, he could not hear.” Grief is unquiet, and no less Unquiet is man’s happiness. Change is for ever what he wants ; Dead is the heart that never pants. oO 210 BELL-RINGING IN ITALY. Ye poor Italians who are plunged in hell Have yet one comfort left, ye never hear At morn and noon and night the eternal bell ; All other torments be resigned to bear. I struggle not when valets poke Me back on stouter outside folk. These catch and hug me, for they know One who lived with ’em long ago, And say, “‘ Too hearty to complain, Thou shalt live with us few again.” By our last ledger-page we ascertain What friends have fail’d and fled, and what re- main. Content, in summing up, to find how few Are scored for false, how many starr’d for true. 211 TO YOUNG POETS, FROM AN OLDER. Children ! why pull ye one another’s hair ? May not Callimachus or Bion wear A sprig of bay or myrtle they have found Lying since nightfall on neglected ground? THE WOUNDED NIGHTINGALE. Altho thou lovest much to sit alone, Why stayest thou when all the rest are gone ? Thus spoke I to a nightingale ; then she Stepping a little farther on the tree. “ One night a cruel archer heard me sing, “ And came at early morn and broke my wing. “ The leaves were denser then; he could not find “The prey he sought, and left me thus behind.” She fluttered, but alas! no more she flew, And softly I, with backward step, withdrew. 02 212° TO IANTHE. We once were happier ; true ; but were Our happiest hours devoid of care ? Remains there nothing like the past, But calmer and less overcast By clouds no effort could dispell, And hopes we neither dared to tell? I wish that hand were earlier free Which Love should have preserv’d for me. Content, if sad, I must be now With what the sparing Fates allow, And feel, tho’ once the hope seem’d vain, There may be love that feels no pain. To my ninth decad I have tottered on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady; She, who once led me where she would, is gone, So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready. 213 ON THE DEATH OF G. P. R. JAMES. —— et James ! thou art gone, art gone afar, To sleep beneath an eastern star, Beneath which star Venetia lies, Ambition’s bleeding sacrifice. ON MAN. In his own image the Creator made His own pure sunbeam quicken’d thee, O man! Thou breathing dial! since thy day began The present hour was ever markt with shade! — A voice I heard and hear it yet, We meet not so again ; My silly tears you must forget, Or they may give you pain. 214 CALVERTON DOWNS. He whom the Fates forbid to dwell Beside the Loire or the Moselle, And who abhors the din of towns, Should nestle here beneath these downs. ON SOME OBSCURE POETRY. In vain he beats his brow who thinks To get the better of a Sphynx. The tears that on two faces meet My Muse forbids to dry, She keeps them ever fresh and sweet When hours and years run by. Both men and poets of the Saxon race Excell in vigour, none excell in grace. 215 TO A LIZARD. Why run away, poor lizard? why Art thou so diffident and shy ? Trust to my word; I only want To look awhile and see thee pant. For well I know thy pantings are No signs of sorrow or of care, Altho’ they swell thy jewel’d breast And never let it lie at rest : Even when thou sinkest to repose None ever saw thy eyelids close. Turn, I beseech thee, turn again, So mayst thou watch no fly in vain. Let fools place Fortune with the Gods on high, Prudence, be thou my guardian deity , T have neglected thee, alas, too long ! But listen now and hear life’s evensong. 216 THE LATER DAY. oe Who in this later day shall there arise To pierce the cloud that overspreads thy skies, Fair trustful Italy, too long beguiled By one who treats thee like a pouting child. Break off the painted handle of his whip, And spring no more to kiss his frothy lip: Alone in Garibaldi place thy trust, There shalt thou find a guardian brave and just. THE FORMER DAY. Iberians, Belgians, Gauls! ye rage in vain, Cromwell shall rule the land and Blake the main, A greater man, if greater man there be, Milton, hath undersign’d the Lord’s decree. 217 TO A PRUDE. Prude! shall I whisper what you are ? A catskin that would fain be vair. A little boy had done amiss, His mother call’d him up for this. Child! said she, with a shake and frown, God writes all evil doings down : His righteous rod is always ready To smite the wicked and unsteady. The child, affrighten’d and amazed, Exclaimed, while two wide eves he rais’d. Leeks ! what a copybook is God’s ; My eyes ! and what a sight of rods! O mamma! there must surely grow More birch in heaven than below. On all the common all the geese, Tho’ they might club ten quills apiece, Could not afford enow of pens For all bad doings, boys’ and men’s. 218 CONFESSION OF JEALOUSY. Jealous, I own it, I was once, That wickedness I here renounce. I tried at wit...it would not do... At tenderness...that fail’d me too, Before me on each path there stood The witty and the tender Hood. I lie upon my last made bed, About to share it with the dead. Death’s cold hand makes me think the more Of other hands less cold before. I will not press too close; no fear Of finding any rival near ; Nor will ye turn your heads away From the fond things I used to say, Nor shall hear. Now, I declare, You jealous man! how changed you are. Too true indeed is that remark, And ye may see it in the dark. 219 TO A MOTHER, ON A CHILD’S DEATH. The scythe of time, alas ! alas! Always cuts down the freshest grass, Nor spares the flowers that would adorn _ The tranquil brow of blooming morn : He lets the corn grow ripe, then why Bids he the germ be knipt and die? Janthe took me by both ears and said You are so rash, I own I am afraid. Prop, or keep hidden in your breast, my name, But be your love as lasting as your fame. All men are liars, said a sage of old, He was not, he who this sad tale hath told. Preachers of peace, with paunches pursy, (Not empty tho’) on controversy, Roar worse than children with the gripes, While Moslems smile and smoke their pipes. 220 ' TO PORSON. Let alone, my old friend, our best'poet; ask Parr If I keep not stout harness well buckled for war. Of the birch in my field I have wasted no twig On a petulant Jeffrey or any such prig ; But run not you foul on the wise and the kind, Or you'll soon have to clap your ten fingers be- hind. ) A Muse would visit an old man, And fluently her flattery ran. “ Ay, ay!” replied he, “ well I know You only come to mock and mowe. Too often have I seen my betters Entangled in your flowery fetters : Too long they held me, and too fast, But I am fairly free at last. Tho’ young and old alike are vain, T will not dance in them again.” 221 CONSOLATION ON A BABE’S DEATH. That mortal has imperfect trust In God who thinks him only just. God writes among his chosen few Those who have loved and wept like you. He numbers every tear they shed Upon his last-born children dead. A generous action may atone For many a less worthy one, Yet take thou heed the generous be In number as threescore to three. A friend by accident met Socrates, And hail’d, accosting him in words like these. There are two miseries in human life, To live without a dog and with a wife! My Xanthos in his early doghood died Xantippa sticks like pitch against thy side ; Men, were such wives unfaithful, might forgive, But ah! they are so faithful, and they live. 222 Dare ye, malicious rogues, deny My reverend friend’s rare piety ? He on his knees implored his Maker To grant success against the baker, And force him, should he be unwilling, To change (as given him) a bad shilling. Wrath makes the wisest indiscreet. The baker threw it in the street, And, what his neighbours thought was mad, Gave a good shilling for a bad. When throughout Bath this tale was told, Many more spectacles were sold, And touchstones were in such request, Tradespeople fought to get the best. That shilling (for pure brass sounds clear) Sounds hourly in the Reverend’s ear, And people, as they pass, remark The scene of action at Green-park. If to the public eye we show In Tribsa half the crimes we know, Her lawyer by the purse will seize us And make his client rich as Croesus. 223 ON THE DEATH OF G. P. R. JAMES, AT VENICE. Where upon earth shall now be found Fancy so bright, and thought so sound, As thine, O James! to England lost When England wants thy genius most. What various scenes thy pencil drew! What vast creations start to view! The brave and beauteous, proud and grand, . Come readily at thy command. Again their destinies I read, Forwarn’d in vain my breast must bleed. Alighting on some sunnier part, I think how far from home thou art, How far from all who loved thee most, Save one, upon Venetia’s coast, Where even Manin could not save A people, nor secure a grave. 224 Wrongs I have suffer’d, great and many, Insufferable never any Like that prepensely murderous one An Oxford hang-dog rogue has done, Who shov’d me on a bench with men Biting the point of Chaucer’s pen. Chaucer I always loved, for he Led,me to woo fair Poesie. He, of our craft the worthy foreman, Stood gallantly against the Norman, And in good humour tried to teach Reluctant churls our native speech. Now I must mount my cob and hurry To join his friends at Canterbury, A truly English merry party, Tho’ none so jocular and hearty. We may repair and fix again A shatter’d or a broken pane, Not friendship so: it lies beyond Man’s wit to piece a diamond. peoeeerete 225 TO ARCHDEACON HARE, WITH THE IDYL OF PAN AND PITYS. Julius, the playful sylvan Muse, Leaving her grot by Syracuse, Whisper’d me that no other man Should sing of Pitys and of Pan. She sigh’d in saying he was gone And left his reed to me alone. Ah, could I half her words believe! But the nine sisters all deceive. O immortality of fame! What art thou ? even Shakespeare’s name Reaches not Shakespeare in his grave. The wise, the virtuous, and the brave, Resume ere long their common clay, And worms are longer lived than they. At last some gilded letters show What those were call’d who lie below. P 226 THE GROWTH OF LIES. A burdock’s dryest slenderest thread Thro’ a whole garden soon is spred, And every shoot you tear away Sends up a hundred day by day. Such is a lie; but lies are sown With diligence, and, fully grown, Each busy neighbour multiplies By culture its varieties. Guilford ! it was not I who broke The promise made when last we met, It was that sharp and sudden stroke You feel no more, but I feel yet. What drove you from your cherished ile? Said I...“ .A Savage,” you replied With playful wit and genial smile, “‘ Few could perform that feat beside.” Cold is the heart so warm that day, The spirit to its home is fled. Alas ! alas ! the votive bay Encircles but a sculptured head. 227 AN UNCLE’S SURMISE. “ Landor, now hang me but I think You are in love with Rose. Don’t blink The question.” My good Admiral, Would you that I alone of all Who see and hear her should not prove (As suits their age and station) love ? But who can leap the gulph between Dark fifty-nine and bright sixteen? Let us both try which loves her most, I shall be happy to have lost. I wonder what the wise would say If they could only see me play With little children half the day. The tiniest hand can soonest heal With its soft pulp the wounds we feel From sharper strokes than struck with steel, And is best able to repair The crevice on the brow of Care, P2 228 The dead are soon forgotten, and not all Who walk aside and bear the sable pall Sleep the less soundly at that evening’s close. I in my vigil think I heard a toll Such as it boom’d when Teresita’s soul In heaven’s own purity to heaven arose. I own I like plain dishes best, And those the easiest to digest. Take in the fresher, tougher, harder, But hook them longer in the larder. Show me that humble village inn Where Goldsmith tuned his violin, Then leave me, at the close of day, To muse in the churchyard with Gray. There are sweet flowers that only blow by night, And sweet tears are there that avoid the light; No mortal sees them after day is born, They, like the dew, drop trembling from their thorn, , 229 On days gone by us we look back As on a last year’s almanack. We never think ’tis worth our while To crowd with it the dusty file, Yet might the cast-off sheet supply, If studied, some true prophecy. Rejoice all ye Who once were free, And what ye were again shall be ; Freedom hastes home To ruin’d Rome And Venice rises from the sea. A sparrow was thy emblem, O Catullus! A dove was thine, tender and true Tibullus ! No truer and no tenderer was the dove Whom Noe chose all other birds above To be the parent inmate of his ark, When earth was water and the sun was dark. Ser 230 Ye poor Italians who are plunged in hell Have yet one comfort left, ye never hear At morn and noon and night the eternal bell... All other torments be resign’d to bear. The sorrowing heart will seek no pleasant place To rest in, but drops down on each sharp thorn. Poor self-tormentor ! were not pangs enow Thine heretofore ? must wrongs aftlict thee stil? Must Pleasure bring thee fresh, with Memory Recalling them, then leaving her behind ? So ’tis decreed : drop on thy thorn, and die. Well I remember how you smiled To see me write your name upon The soft sea-sand...“* O! what a child ! You think yow re writing upon stone!” I have since written what no tide Shall ever wash away, what men Unborn shall read o’er ocean wide And find Ianthe’s name agen. 231 Ah, Reade! a bear is not a kitten Else were thy hand less fiercely bitten. Sometimes a pen, sometimes a bear Objects to handling ; so beware. The scriptures teach us that our Lord Writes in his book man’s idlest word. Now surely he must find it worse Than what he suffered on the cross. In evil hour I strove to read Some poems of one lately dead, And humbly hoped the sable pall Might cover and atone for all. A good old Englishwoman, who had come Back to her country from the sights at Rome, Was askt about them. ‘¢ Well then, I have seen Robes on men’s shoulders rich as round our queen.. Strangers, who know no better, may miscall A well-stuft strutting sausage cardinal: It is not often we so gut a name, But cardinal and carnal are the same. 232° MILTON IN ITALY. O Milton! couldst thou rise again and see The land thou lovedst in thy earlier day, See springing from her tomb fair Italy (Fairer than ever) cast her shroud away, That tightly-fasten’d triply-folded shroud, Torn by her children off their mother’s face! O couldst thou see her now, more justly proud Than of an earlier and a stronger race! Why are there mists and clouds to-day ? It is that Rose is far away: The sun refuses to arise, And will not shine but from her eyes. How often, when life’s summer day Is waning, and its sun descends, Wisdom drives laughing wit away, And lovers shrivel into friends ! 233 TO D’ORSAY GOING TO FRANCE. You lose your liberty ; no cross Or ribbon can supply that loss ; Naught could your friend bequeath you save The less warm refuge of the grave ? Who was it squandered all her wealth. And swept away the bloom of health ? The Revelations want a guide To draw the mystic veil aside ; For these perhaps one guide may do, But Geethe’s Epigrames want two. Death indiscriminately gathers The flowering children and rough-rinded fathers : His eyes are horny, thus he knows No different color in the dock and rose. 234 SHAKESPEARE IN ITALY. Beyond our shores, past Alps and Appennines, Shakespeare, from heaven came thy creative breath, Mid citron groves and over-arching vines Thy genius wept at Desdemona’s death. In the proud sire thou badest anger cease And Juliet by her Romeo sleep in peace ; Then rose thy voice above the stormy sea, And Ariel flew from Prospero to thee. Disturbers of the earth! who make Her fairest regions quail and quake, As torne Vesuvius at this hour By some alike infernal power. God’s realm with God ye might possess, But ye will ever strive for less. Fools! fools! the fragile crowns ye wear Sink into slough and leave you there. ———a, 235 What ! show Laertes meanly fed, ‘And offering an old guest stale bread ? Yes ; Ithaca bore then no wheat, I doubt if she bears any yet, And the coast opposite so bleak, None there that golden treasure seek. Ceres, when Pluto bore away Her Proserpine, was heard to say, “ Laugh, Bacchus, laugh...but never more We meet on yon unthrifty shore.” Each lord here reapt his rye and oats And stored the stubble for his goats ; Yet each brought stoutly down the hill Wherewith their well-dried skins to fill, And housewives, frugal and exact, Took special care they never crackt. Of early days, and promist hours, And eyes that brightened shady bowers, Visions had floated round the head Of Sophron ; he awoke and said, Ah! were but all things what they seem Then life were nearly worth a dream. 236 Doctor’d by Bacon and Montaigne My eyebrows may sprout forth again, Worne by hard rubbing to make out Plato’s interminable doubt. Around him were some clever folks Until they stumbled into jokes ; Incontinent I quitted these To stroll with Aristophanes. Td rather sup on cold potato, Than on a sakmon cookt by Plato, Who, always nice but never hearty, Says Homer shall not join the party. Give me for life the honest name, Then take my due arrears of fame. I am grown deaf, and shall become A trifle deafer in the tomb. Gibbon ! tho’ thou art grave and grand And Rome is under thy command, Yet some in cauliflower-white wigs, Others put lately into brigs, Instead of bending back and knee, Would pull thy chair from under thee. 237 THE ARCHBISHOP OF TARANTO SENT BY THE POPE TO RESIDE AT NAPLES, Taranto now has lost her guide, A prelate without prelate’s pride. On that Parthenopean coast Incredulous of fog or frost, His Median puss he smiles to see Leap boldly on a stranger’s knee, And stretch out flat and lick his fur, And switch his tail, and gape and purr. O my two friends! may, many a day, Both think of me when far away ! There are two rival foes for every breast, And both alike are enemies to rest. Fear, of these combatants, is much the strongest Yet Hope upon the battle-ground stays longest. - 238 WRITTEN ON THE STEPS AT HAMPDEN. Along that avenue below, With drooping neck, and footstep slow, Came wounded Hampden’s horse ; he stood Steaming with sweat surcharged with blood. Within that chamber overhead Died the most mourn’d of all the dead. — That critic must indeed be bold Who pits new authors against old. Only the ancient coin is prized, The dead alone are canonized : What was even Shakespeare until then? A poet scarce compared with Ben : And Milton in the streets no taller Than sparkling easy-ambling Waller. Waller now walks with rhyming crowds, While Milton sits above the clouds, Above the stars, his fixt abode, : And points to men their way to God. 239 A PAINTER’S REPROOF. Reviler! you should have been taught Better than to hold kings at nought. Look on my pallet; don’t you see How precious some of them may be? Let them, like mummies, be well ground, And then their uses may be found, You ask how I, who could converse With Pericles, can stoop to worse: How I, who once had higher aims, Can trifle so with epigrams. I would not lose the wise from view, But would amuse the children too; Beside, my breath is short and weak, And few must be the words I speak. 240 A HEAVY FALL ON CHRISTMAS-DAY, 1792. Lucilla slapt my hand that day Of Christmas when she heard me say. What she declared was like my folly, ‘“O for that little sprig of holly! O for that holly sprig to wear Within my bosom all the year !” For I had noticed who it was That shook its rime off on the grass. Tlept to snatch it from the ceiling ; It hung too high. .so, tottering, reeling, A headlong fall I could not check, But fell outright upon her neck. If you are not a poet you may live With poets pleasantly: but if you are, A little piece of counsel let me give... Praise one you speak with. . praise none else... beware ! 241 INVITATION OF PETRONIUS TO GLYCON. Trypheena says that you must come To dine with us at Tusculum. She has invited few to share Her delicate but.frugal fare. Contrive the dinner to make out With venison ortolans, and trout; These may come after haunch of boar, Or neck, which wise men relish more ; And, Glycon, ’twould not be unpleasant To see among them spring a pheasant. I voted we should have but two At dinner, these are quite enow. One of them, worth half Rome, will meet "UB, Low-station’d high-soul’d Epictetus. He told his mind the other day To ruby-finger’d Seneca, Who, rich and proud as Nero, teaches The vanity of pomp or riches. Q 242 Just Epictetus can assure us How continent was Epicurus, How gorged and staggering Romans claim With hiccups that immortal name. ‘Would you hear fables from the east Told gravely by a tonsured priest, When he has counted out so many, Out with your purse and pay your penny, Else will he, having power divine, Blast all your limbs from nape to chine. Nugent! I hope ere long to see In leaf my lately planted tree. Alas! that there will stand no more She whose weak wrists the burden bore Half-way down that smooth grassy mead, And said, ‘“‘ No help of yours I need. But you may hold it if you nill, And the deep gap let Nugent fill.” Another gap was soon to hold That graceful form, that heart now cold. — 243 I saw upon his pulpit-perch A well-fed gamecock of the church Spread out his plumes, and heard him crow To his lean pullets croucht below. ‘‘ Wretches! ye raise your throats to men Who pry into your father’s pen ; Look at. your betters, do as they do, And be content to chant a credo.” *Twas far beyond the midnight hour And more than half the stars were falling, And jovial friends, who lost the power Of sitting, under chairs lay sprawling ; Not Porson so; his sttonger pate Could carry more of wine and Greek Than Cambridge held; erect he sate ; He nodded, yet could somehow speak. ‘Tis well, O Bacchus! they are gone, Unworthy to approach thy altar! The pious man prays best alone, Nor shall thy servant ever falter.’ Q2 244 Then Bacchus too, like Porson, nodded, Shaking the ivy on his brow, And graciously replied the Godhead, ‘‘T have no votary staunch as thou.” Julius, dear Julius, never think My spirits are inclined to sink Because light youths are swimming by Upon their bladders; so did I. When in our summer we swam races I splasht the water in their faces ; And little hands, now only bone, Clapt me, and call’d the prize my own. Will nothing but from Greece or Rome Please me? is nothing good at home? Yes ; better; but I look in vain For a Moliere or La Fontaine. Swift in his humour was as strong But there was gall upon his tongue. Bitters and acids may excite, Yet satisfy not appetite. 245 “T wish you would but read those Tracts I sent you.” T have red the Acts: And these, if duly follow’d, teach What jarring churchmen ought to preach. Well have I beaten brake and stubble, And bagg’d what ill repaid the trouble. Where is the pointer or retriever That can scent out the true believer ? Moravians share the meal of Christ, His home-made bread and meat unspiced : But these poor souls are not the people To venerate the stole and steeple. —— There is a tribute all must pay, - Willing or not, on Christmas-day. I would be generous, nor confine Within too narrow limits mine. For such warm. wishes, and such true Assurances as come from you, I almost doubt I send enough Tn sending a full pinch of snuff. 246 Some, when they would appear to mourn, The tomb like drawing-room adorn ; And foren flowers of richest scents Bestrew the way to compliments. Grief never calls on Grace or Muse, Nor dares the Fates and Stars accuse, Demanding clamorously why They doom’d one so belov’d to die. In her dim chamber solitary She sits; her low tones little vary ; Now on the earth her eyes are bent, Now heavenward rais’d implore content. Awaiting me upon a shore Which friends less loved had reacht before, Stood one, my well-known voice drew nigh, And said. . but said it with low sigh, Lest Proserpine might hear afraid . . Ah ! were we somewhat more than shade. I threw my arms her neck around, I woke; it was an empty sound. In groves, in grots, on hills, on plains, With me that Vision stil remains. — 247 TO A POET. I never call’d thy Muse splay-footed, Who sometimes wheez’d, and sometimes hooted, As owls do on a lonely tower, Awaiting that propitious hour When singing birds retire to rest, And owls may pounce upon the nest. IT only wish she would forbear From sticking pins into my chair, And let alone the friends who come To neutralize thy landanum. What my Last Fruits are when you see, Don’t wish ’em longer on the tree, Nor, touching with the finger-tips, Refuse to let ’em reach your lips. I do remember well the day When many others worse than they Were for my sake received with grace, And found the warmest resting-place. 248 Kind friends forgive me, if you can, For calling Slick an honest man. Derision is enough ; I see Wit lies remote from irony. Let me devise, if I am able, Instead of irony, a fable. A dog by sudden spring had got A pudding, smoking from the pot. He was a wise old dog and knew In this dilemma what to do. He dipt it in the gutter, then Ran on with it and dipt again. Boys, girls, and women, trundled after And clapt their hands and roar’d with laughter. When clear of them, the bag he tore And lickt the dainty o’er and o’er, Until it was less hot; at last He broke outrageously his fast, Then lickt his lips by way of grace, And sought some cool and quiet place Where his siesta he could take, Nor hear what cries the cook might make. Men may learn much from dogs, and Slick Learnt from said dog his clever trick. He lowers his muzzle and he eats With ravening maw the foulest meats. 249 TO RISTORMEL.* ee Known as thou art to ancient fame, My praise, Ristormel, shall be scant: The Muses gave thy sounding name, The Graces thy inhabitant. Cease to contend upon that slippery field In which alone, Emilia, you must yield. There comes one stronger, in whose steps we trace All Dryden’s vigour and all Prior’s grace. Ivan from madden’d sire none else could save, Or Casabianca from the flaming wave. No maid of Hellas ever rais’d so high A strain as she, ’twould crack your voice to try. Felicia’s varied harmonies run o’er, , But close the copybook and write no more. * A villa in Cornwall. 250 Ipsley ! when, hurried by malignant fate, I left thy court and heard thy closing gate, I sighed; but, sighing, to myself I said Now for the quiet cot and mountain-shade. Ah! what impetuous madness made me roam From cheerful friends and hospitable home ? Whether in Arrow’s vale or Tachbrook’s grove, My lyre resounded liberty and love. “ Let me once more my native fields regain, Bounding with steady pride and high disdain, Then will I pardon all the wrongs of fate, And hang fresh garlands, Ipsley, round thy gate. Lean’d on a bank, I seemed to hear A tree’s faint voice, and some one near. Yes, sure enough; I saw a maid With wakeful ear against it laid. Silent was everything around While thus the tree, in quivering sound: ‘They pant to cull our fruit, and take A leaf (they tell us) for our sake, On the most faithful breast to wear And keep it til both perish there. Sad pity such kind hearts should pant So hard! We give them all they want. 25) They come soon after, and just taste The fruit, then throw it on the waste. Again they come, and then pluck off What poets call our hair, and scoff, And, long ere winter, you may see These leaves fall fluttering round the tree. They come once more .. then, then, you find The root cut round and undermined : Chains are clencht round it; that fine head Whereon stil finer words were said, Serves only to assist the blow And lend them aid to lay it low.” Methinks I heard a gentle sigh . . Tell me, who can, the reason why. It may have been for what was said Of leaves and fruit, of root and head. Thank heaven, Nezra, once again Our hands and ardent lips shall meet, And Pleasure, to begin his reign, Scatter in largess kisses sweet : Then cease repeating as you mourn “1 wonder when he will return.” 252 A GREEK TO THE EUMENIDES. Your lips, old beldames, will get dry, ’Tis time to lay the spindle by. With that incessant hum ye make Ye will not let me lie awake, Or, what is better, fall asleep . . Ah! what a doleful din ye keep ! Unvaried all the year around The tiresome tune; its tremulous sound By fits and starts makes tremble too Me who would fain get rid of you. Maids are ye! maids whom Love derides Until he almost cracks his sides. He points at you, all skin and bones, And stiff as horn and cold as stones. I can not bear your nearer breath, A pleasanter is that of Death. 253 Let me look back upon the world before T leave it, and upon some scattered graves, Altho’ mine eyes are dim with age and tears, . And almost all those graves lie far remote. Memory ! thou hast not always been so kind As thou art now; at every step I come Nigher to those before me: part I owe To thee, and part to age: I ask no more, For I have seen enough, and go to rest. Ah, wherefor should you so admire The flowing words that fill my song? Why call them artless, yet require “‘ Some promise from that tuneful tongue ?” Doubt only whether Fate could part A tuneful tongue and tender heart. -_— Such the protuberance that abuts From pope’s and king’s enormous guts, That to shake hands should either try, A flock of geese between might fly, And any parley would require Some fathoms of electric wire. 254 Soon does the lily of the valley die, Later the rose droops o’er her family, - Fresh children press about her couch of moss And she forgets, as they repair, her loss. The hapless lily none such comfort knows, But sinks the paler at the sight of rose. No truer word, save God’s, was ever spoken, Than that the largest heart is soonest broken. Bold Atlas carried on his shoulder The globe, but Antonelli bolder Shuflles it off, and kicks it down And crushes with a triple crown. When from above the busy crowd I see, The great and little seem one-sized to me. 255 ON THE RESTORATION OF LOUIS XVIIL, A FRENCH POET SINGS. Descend, ye Muses, one and all, Obedient to a Frenchman’s call. Which of you e’er refused to sing The feats of a most christian king, Or help to raise the Oriflamme Above the towers of Notre-Dame? Three cities, three without one blow, Fell at the trumpet of Boileau : He would have play’d without a line, The devil with the Philistine, No need, against him to prevail, The weightier broadsword of Corneille. Voltaire struck down with flash of pen - The League, the Iberian, and Mayenne, And, if ye help me, with a touch I doubt not I can do as much. Then shall ye see the lilies bloom Upon the seven hills of Rome. Our Louis never shows the scars His doublet suffer’d under Mars, 256 Tho’ many creatures daily fell ” Before him ere the vesper bell. But said, on looking down his file Of steel and silver with a smile, Far better thus than bid our men go For empty glory to Marengo. Shelley and Keats, on earth unknown One to the other, now are gone Where only such pure Spirits meet And sing before them words as sweet. There is a restless mortal who Feeds on himself, and eats for two. - Heartburn all day and night he feels And never tries to walk but reels. Boy! on the table set the taper And bring your lucifer ; this paper I must without delay set fire on Or folks may fancy I mean Byron. Be petty larcenies forgiven, The fire he stole was not from heaven. 257 ON ENGLISH HEXAMETERS. Porson was askt what he thought of hexameters written in English : “ Show me,” said he, “any five in continuance true to the meter, Five where a dactyl has felt no long syllable puncht thro’ his midrif, Where not a trochee or pyrric has stood on one leg at the entrance Like a grey fatherly crane keeping watch. on the marsh at Cayster. Zounds ! how they hop, skip, and jump! Old Homer, uplifting his eyebrows, Cries to the somnolent Gods..‘‘O ye blessed who dwell on Olympos! What have I done in old-age? have I ever com- plain’d of my blindness ? Ye in your wisdom may deem that a poet sings only the better (Some little birds do) for that; but why are my ears to be batter’d Flat to my head as a mole’s or a fish’s, if fishes have any ? R 256 t58- ON ENGLISH HEXAMETERS. Why do barbarians rush with a fury so headstron, against me? Have they no poet at home they can safely and readily waylay ?” Then said a youth in his gown, “‘I do humbly beg pardon, Professor, But are you certain that you, to whom all the wide Hellas is open, Could make Homer, who spoke many dialects with many nations, Speak, as we now have attempted to teach him, our pure Anglo-saxon. Then the Professor, ‘“ I wager a dozen of hock or of claret, Standing on only one foot I can throw off more verses and: better Than the unlucky, that limp and halt and have “no foot to stand on.” ““*Pon my word, as I live!” said ayounger, “I really think he has done it, Every soul of us here, by a score of hexameters, quizzing.”* * It isto be hoped that Milton may escape this profanation. Dryden, the master of rhyme, would have violated the Muse of Zion. That poet’s ears must be stiff with indurated wax which receive not at least an equal pleasure from the cadences of Milton's verse as from Homer’s. Every people has its pet poet ; one unwieldy like Dante, another skittish ike Voltaire; but Homer and Milton have been venerated wherever have been prominent the organs of een nundinwn Mas wa San nnl 259 TIBULLUS. nly one poet in the worst of days Jisdain’d the usurper in his pride to praise. \h, Delia! was it wantonness or whim ‘hat made thee, once so tender, false to him ? ‘o him who follow’d over snows and seas fessala storming the proud Pyrenees. 3ut Nemesis avenged him, and the tear Mf Rome’s last poet fell upon his bier. zately our poets loiter’d in green lanes, Jontent to catch the ballads of the plains ; fancied I had strength enough to climb i loftier station at no distant time, and might securely from intrusion doze Jpon the flowers thro’ which Ilissus flows. a those pale olive grounds all voices cease, nd from afar dust fills the paths of Greece. [y slumber broken and my doublet torn, find the laurel also bears a thorn. 2k 260 WILLIAM VENOUR, COMMANDER OF THE CALYPSO. Venour, my brave boy-guardian, who at school Taught me the grammar he had lately learnt, And led me over noun and five-barr’d verb, Where is he? There he sleeps below the waves ° Of the Atlantic, there where all creation Is mute, nor hears the voice that calls his name ; But others shall, and far and wide beyond. When elder prest around him and declared He could not sail, for sure the Admiral Knew not Calypso’s state, he thus replied My orders are to sail: he sail’d.. and sank. Short is my story : I could be prolix, But the small casket holds things valued most. The scentless laurel a broad leaf displays, Few and by fewer gather’d are the bay’s ; Yet these Apollo wore upon his brow.. The boughs are bare, the stem is twisted now. 261 The Muses at the side may move But can not hold the wings of Love. Lesbia was faithless to Catullus, And Delia wandered from Tibullus, . “Who closer when Death came would stand. And yield to him alone her hand. The tender heart is ever true And all its world contains but two, Inseparable those, nor cold Until they mingle with the mould. ‘hy war against free brethren? God forbid Ye split asunder your own native land? ‘orst of barbarians, hear!.. the pyramid Built upon cannon-balls not long can stand. I do not think that praises ever Derange a sound and healthy liver, Altho’ they get into the head Of some who are too highly fed ; A hungry mountain swain meanwhile From bitter crust o’erflows with bile. ——— 262 There was one powerful man, and only one In God’s wide world ; what could he not achieve? He might have driven from her citadel Defiant Falsehood, and her tawdry guards And bastard progeny innumerable: He might have propt up cities with one arm And driven with the other from the temple Sellers of bones, of charms, of opiates, Of glittering gauds and cutlery occult : He, like the blessed one of Nazareth, Might have restored the sight of the stone-blind And rais’d the prostrate cripple up erect. Earth spread her feast before him, millions rose To serve him and to bless him ; did he bring An honest man with him? he brought instead Desperate swordsmen and astuter knaves, Who sit around him, and will sit until The night fall heavily on their carouse, And the seats reel beneath ’em, unregain’d. Changarnier and a poet with a De Now to his name cry freedom / and make free, O Rome, to quarter hungry thieves on thee. 263 ON A FAWN’S HOOF. Have I not seen thee, little hoof, before Thou wast a handle to my stable-door ? Have I not seen thee trotting o’er the park In dread when distant hounds began to bark ? Ah! how much rather would I see thee now With branching horns above thy lifted brow, Commanding me by angry stamp to go And keep away from where lie fawn and doe. I never thought to feel again for deer The guilt of murder that confronts me here. So sad a mourner never bent Against a marble monument As, poorest of the paupers, she On the damp grass who bends the knee _ O’er her one lost; her words are few, What shall Ido! what shall I do! _Are all she says, but those aloud, And pity moves the silent crowd. She rises... she must carry back The lent and oft darn’d gown of black. 264 PTOLEMAIS. No city on the many peopled earth Hath been the witness of such valiant deeds As thou hast, Ptolemais ! and by whom Were they achiev’d? by Britons, one and all. The first our lion-hearted king may claim ; And who the second ? he who drove across The torrid desert the (til then uncheckt) Invader, from those realms the Ptolemies Ruled, and the Ceesars follow’d in their train, Sidney, the last of chivalry .. One more Rode o’er the sea to win the crown that hung Inviting on thy walls: he also bore A name illustrious even as Sidney’s own, Napier was he. *Tis somewhat to have held His hand in mine, ’tis somewhat to record One of his actions in the crowded page. We send a thief a thief to catch And Peter’s bastard finds his match. 265 ON GESNER’S IDYLS. tesner, to Sicily he does no wrong Vho listens fondly to thy pastoral song. he Muses, nurst by Nature, bow’d the head nd sigh’d in silence when thy spirit fled. fomer’s sole rival, Mincio’s youthful swain o catch Sicilian tones essay’d in vain. ‘one dared take up the broken pipe, for none mong the wistful claim’d it as his own. sunny clime call’d many a piper forth, ut only thy strong pinion braved the north. Under his pulpit lies poor Sydney,* And few are left us of his kidney. With me, my friends, you can but lunch, For a good dinner go to Punch. * Sydney Smith. 264 PTOLEMAIS. No city on the many peopled earth Hath been the witness of such valiant deeds As thou hast, Ptolemais ! and by whom Were they achiev’d? by Britons, one and all. The first our lion-hearted king may claim ; And who the second ? he who drove across The torrid desert the (til then uncheckt) Invader, from those realms the Ptolemies Ruled, and the Cesars follow’d in their train, Sidney, the last of chivalry . . One more Rode o’er the sea to win the crown that hung Inviting on thy walls: he also bore A name illustrious even as Sidney’s own, Napier was he. *Tis somewhat to have held His hand in mine, ’tis somewhat to record One of his actions in the crowded page. We send a thief a thief to catch And Peter’s bastard finds his match. 265 ON GESNER’S IDYLS. Gesner, to Sicily he does no wrong Who listens fondly to thy pastoral song. The Muses, nurst by Nature, bow’d the head And sigh’d in silence when thy spirit fled. Homer’s sole rival, Mincio’s youthful swain To catch Sicilian tones essay’d in vain. None dared take up the broken pipe, for none Among the wistful claim’d it as his own. A sunny clime call’d many a piper forth, But only thy strong pinion braved the north. Under his pulpit lies poor Sydney,* And few are left us of his kidney. With me, my friends, you can but lunch, For a good dinner go to Punch. * Sydney Smith, 266 DISTRIBUTION OF HONOURS FOR LITERATURE. The grandest writer of late ages Who wrapt up Rome in golden pages, Whom scarcely Livius equal’d, Gibbon, Died without star or cross or ribbon. TO THE AUTHOR OF VESTIGES OF CREATION. Wise was Democritos, nor less the sage Whom Philip call’d to guide his wilful son, Not tardy to shake off the dust that fell Upon the eyelids of the Athenian youths From quaintnesses and quibbles in a school Where Truth, if ever sought, was never found. Our teachers find her, some of them on earth, Some in the wilderness above the skies. Thou hast gone after them and close behind, Briton! thou who hast traced the vestiges Of God’s creation! Deem it not presumption AUTHOR OF VESTIGES OF CREATION. 267 If I dare question thee why thou hast call’d - The vulture, wolf, and boa, the police Ordain’d to keep in order and suppress Us bipeds, when we come in crowds too dense. Were it not better to reward the stout And vigilant, for every bird and beast Of rapine they shall kill? Even in our land Vipers and snakes and hawks and kites are seen. Is there no shame in this ? why not propound A stated price for every head of them ? Were it not better so than fifty-fold For fellow men to slaughter fellow men And feed the hungry cannon’s mouth alone? Is there none brave enough to seize the scourge Now sounding in our ears ? let that be done, Then to the vipers and the birds of prey. We hear no more an attic song, Teuton cuts out the Athenian’s tongue, And witches and hobgoblins fill Each crevice of the Aonian hill. Many can rule and more can fight, But few give myriad hearts delight. 268 TO W. STORY. Story ! whose sire maintained the cause Of freedom and impartial laws, How would he have rejoiced to see A field far smoother trod by thee. Ah! could he from the grave but hear The voice of Europe, far and near, Extol thy sculptures that retrace What Rome had lost of attic grace. Poets as strong as ever were, Formerly breath’d our British air: Ours now display but boyish strength, And rather throw themselves full length. Waller was easy, so was Sedley, Nor mingled with the rhyming medley. Descending from her higher places The Muse led Prior to the Graces: He was the first they condescended To visit... are their visits ended? 269 ON THE TOMB OF QUEEN ANNE. ——— A queen who snatcht from Marlboro’s hand The bay-girt baton of command Lies here: and courtiers now malign The creature whom they call’d divine ; Yet none among them has denied That she was sober when she died. TO SCOTCH CRITICS. Why should ye sourly criticise A poet more profuse than wise. The gentle Muse would not send from her Her Ovid, tho’ preferring Homer. Mind, wise was gentle Ovid too, And equal’d in his art by few. Sirs, malice is a worse disease Than all your itch and all your fleas. 270 ON THE WIDOW’S ORDEAL, BY WASHINGTON IRVING. Chaucer I fancied had been dead Some centuries, some four or five ; By fancy I have been misled Like many: he is yet alive. The Widon’s Ordeal who beside Could thus relate? Yes, there is one, He bears beyond the Atlantic wide The glorious name of Washington. GIBBON. Gibbon has planted laurels long to bloom Above the ruins of sepulchral Rome. He sang no dirge, but mused upon the land Where Freedom took his solitary stand. To him Thucydides and Livius bow, And Superstition veils her wrinkled brow. 271 TO SIR WILLIAM DRUMMOND. Drummond, your praises have been ever dear, But most when pour’d into that willing ear Which, turn’d away from flattery’s voice, would bend To catch the slightest word that fell from friend. She* tells me, time and studious hours have bow’d That gracile form which shunn’d the ignoble crowd ; And few even of the learned you admit To share your wisdom and enjoy ‘your wit: And you expect and watch without dismay, As virtuous courage bids, life’s closing day : Long may it linger yet, serenely bright, And our last star stil guide us thro’ the night. No, I will never weave a sonnet, Let others wear their patience on it ; A better use of time I know Than tossing shuttles to an fro. * The Idler in Italy. 272 TO AN ESPOUSED. Never has any house pour’d forth On east and west, on south and north, In any age so many men Powerful alike with sword and pen As Napier’s: from that house you send Glad tidings, Nora, to your friend, That such a race not soon shall cease, But flourish fresh with rich increase ; And the next season may produce A scion to a branch of Bruce. Hic jacent cineres are words that show Burnt were the bodies of the dead below. Some tell us that live heretics alone Were thus consumed when Mary graced the throne ; But others, more inquisitive, maintain It was the practise in a later reign, And point to recent tombstones that attest Where not the dones but where the ashes rest. 273 FOR A GRAVESTONE IN SPAIN. Say thou who liest here beneath, To fall in battle is not death. You, tho’ no pall on you was cast, Heard the first trump nor fear’d the last. Parrots have richly color’d wing, Not so the sweetest bird that sings ; Not so the lonely plaintive dove ; In sadder stole she moans her love, And every Muse in every tongue Has heard and prais’d her nightly song. A man there is who was believ’d By many ; all he has deceiv’d ; To one on earth may he prove true, O lady, and that one be you. 8 274 TO THE COUNTESS BALDELLI, ——— To-morrow if the day is fine I visit you before you dine. Juliet a little shy may be, But Blanche will sit upon my knee, Just as another some years older Sate once with arm about my shoulder. This is all twaddle, folks will say, But you are wiser far than they. Head upon head they could not reach The lines of this unspoken speech. Forgive me, Gertrude, if I’m proud, Your hand has rais’d me o’er the crowd. — One tooth has Wordsworth, but in sooth No man has such another tooth: Such a prodigious tooth would do To moor the bark of Charon to, And better than the Sinai stone To grave the Ten Commandments on. 375 TO PETER THE FISHERMAN. Thou hast been ever active, Peter, And netted loads on loads of fish ; Could we but get them somewhat sweeter *Twere well . . alas, how vain the wish ! We must remember that they come Close-hamper’d all the way through Rome. TO THE WORTHY SON OF A GREAT JURIST. Story! could thy good father come Again and see his shattered home, Then might fraternal discord cease And Valour yield the palm to Peace. 82 276 BID TO THINK OF FAME. Rather than flighty Fame give me A bird on wrist or puss on knee. Death is not to be charm’d by rhymes Nor shov’d away to after-times. Ot maiden’s or of poet’s song Did anything on earth sound long? Why then should ever mortal care About what floats in empty air? All we devise and all we know Is better kept for use than show. Perhaps we deem ourselves the wise, Other may see with clearer eyes. Little I care for Fame or Death, Or groan for one gasp more of breath. Death, in approaching me, looks grim, Tin return but smile at him. 277 GREECE! BE TOLERANT. “‘ Children of Pallas!” is the voice that swells Above the lofty Parthenon, “‘ awake, awake From heavy slumber and illusive dreams, Throw the door open.. Look at Babylon, Corinth and Carthage and Jerusalem, Earth’s giant offspring whom she rear’d in vain: They all are dust, or worse than dust, a haunt Of brutes, and brutal men, who tear the beard One off another to cram down their throats Incredibilities which both call creeds. Whatever stands must fall; the dust alone We trample on rises and keeps its form. There was one holy man who said to all ‘ Love ye each other :’ all have heard the words, Few mind them ; prayer serves for obedience. Grivas! whom Hellas now envokes by name, Albeit that name was never heard of yore 278 And time has paralized the mother tongue... Do thou forbid the insidious foot to tread Thy sacred land: let speech and thought be free; So shalt thou hear such hymns as shook the fanes When Aischylos from Marathon return’d, And Athens envied most the wounded brave.” Never must my bones be laid Under the mimosa’s shade. He to whom I gave my all Swept away her guardian wall, And her green and level plot Green or level now is not. 279 TO ARTHUR DE NOE WALKER. Few verses, and those light, I send, A paltry present to my friend. Heroes and heroines none remain Upon my wide Hellenic plain, While many a weak unthrifty stem Germinates in the place of them. As in Atlantic woods, unsown And not worth sowing, plants are grown Where ancient forests high and grand Tower’d over leagues of subject land. To your protecting care I trust The scraps you rescued from the dust. Save, you who saved embattled men, The feebler offspring of my pen. 280 Ultima, lector, habes ignoti carmina vatis, Ista peregrini scripta fuere manu Italize nullos hoeredes Naso reliquit, Et segetem nullam fert Latialis ager. Extitit haud alius, tristi Sulmone relicto, Qui coluit Musas ut voluere coli, Arripui plectrum semel aut bis vatis Horati ; Et mihi dilectam Lesbia fidit avem. Hospite Verona est uno gavisa Catullo, Undaque trajecto risit aprica lactis. Liquit, ut audiret recitantem Larius Alpes, Nec magis aversus forsitan Arnus erit. Si mendacia mane vesperique Discit Napoleo, atque voce clara Cuncta edicta refert, stupere noli ; Antonellius huic fuit magister. 281 CREDITE. Posse sacerdotem precludire Tartara vobis Credite, coelestes posse aperire domos ; Exhibito nummo salseeque aspergine lymphx Quodcunque est sceleris posse abolere notam ; Credite summissum pedibus dare jura per orbem Debere, et pavidis regibus esse ducem ; Credite, perpessi, donec clamaverit alter Quis deus, O populi! jusserit ista pati ? AD REGEM SARDINIA. Haud unquam tetigit regum mea dextera dextram, Horum alii jaceant ut lubet ante pedes. Dixerit haud quisquam me solicitasse potentim Munera, que dederint aut potuere dare. Est egitur licitum jam denique plaudere soli Qui manibus puris sceptra paterna gerit. Vive, salus patrie! neque cessent preelia donec Projectus fuerit Noricus ensis humi! Restituat Rome popularia jura tribunus Qui tua nunc intrat castra, vir ante vios. 282 . AD GARIBALDUM. Dum patrio sermone meo celebrare parabam Facta tua, Italie gloria summa, Liger! Héc monitn calamum correptum Musa repressit .. “ Conveniunt potius verba latina duci. Ile quidem Liger est, sed et est Romanus, et Urbem. Tutatus, vindex protulit arma foras. Concinuere tube fulgentque sub Alpibus illa. . Quo fugit Austriacus? quo fugit iste minax? Libertatem alii produnt, victricia foedant Signa, sed absimilis regibus unus adest: Ergo Romani Garibaldus voce canendus Atque inter fastos concelebrandus erit.” I trans sequor Atlanticum, libelle ! I qua stella Columbie refulget, Kt salvere jube hospites benignos : Si Britannia erat noverca quondam. Nos fratres sumus, et sumus futuri. 483 AD ROMAM. O Roma! sortem quis tuam non defleat ! Ut acerba contigit piis! Deos Deasque mox videbimus nate Nuda, atque vix superstitem. Sed una restat quee tibi servat fidem, Laverna ; liquit filium, De Vaticano monte qui vibrat faces Ht fulmina et tonitrua. Fragore ridens artifex vafer suo Benedicite! ait, “ Benedicite!” Queruntur esse de puellarum satis Jocosiorum lusibus. Pindum colentes virgines, vos ferreum Projecite eum de vertice Qui, dum juventus adfuit, non riserit Aut flérit ob Cupidinem. 284 DE VIRGINIS IMMATURA MORTE. Seva procella tu cadis obruta Florente vité: virginibus parum est Tniqua sors; flevere nunquam Degenerem peperisse prolem, He sepe fregit pectora fortibus Ipsis, quibuscum Gloria constitit Domi forisque; heu! saepe pravis Succubuere animi viriles. CANUM TRIUM SEPULCHRA. Canes valete queis benignus Demido Sedem sepulturee dedit Hortos amzenos inter; hos obambulet Dun vivit, et vivat diu! Mihi, O fideles, vestra contingat quies Semoto ab infidelibus! 285 FAMA. Persequitur mala Fama bonam, mox calcibus in- stat, Denique sub pedibus candida palla jacet. GAIETA EXPUGNATA. Toto optata anno terraque marique duobus Regibus, ‘ eternam famam Gaeta,” tulisti... Dedita Caldino; neque egebit Etruria laudis, Quam nec hyems repulit nec flamma, sed acrius ursit. Hunc infra lapidem sepelitur adultera conjux, Si proba sis, mulier! si vir honestus, abi Felix qui natos videat genitoris amantes ! Felix qui sanctos dormiit inter avos! 286 AD ITALUM. Quot quantique tibi mendacia vendit aruspex, O Itale! hunc audis? si vir es, esse proba. Fabellis nutricis amas inhiare, nec horres Id quodcunque putri molliit ore senex. Preeteritos annos revoco mihi pectore tristi, Quos prius haud sineres triste manere diu, Mortua sis aliis, mihi non motieris, Ianthe! Hoc jurare jubet, dum sepeliris, Amor. Immemores non sunt omnes virtutis avite. Bellatoris equi jam Sarmata quassit habenam, Et propiore juba domino stat celsior ipso Hinnitus iterare claros longéque sonantes, Inque aciem, naribus fumantibus, arrigit aures : Audiit hunc Tibris, Padus audiit, audiet Ister: 287 SAVONAROLA. Ut deflendus es, O Savonarola ? Orans pro patrie salute, Legis nil veriti deosve nutu Impuri nebulonis interisti Igne, quem meruit magis, crematus, Ingrato populo ingerente torres, Rome pontifices cruore gaudent Et ritus Druidum ferunt per orbem. Vincti perpetuoque vinciendi, Qui semper dominos habere vultis In sparsos cineres Savonarole Dantes frangite imaginem, supraque Altare erigite altero tyranno, Heres legitimus (sed id negatur) Sedem cedat avunculus nepoti. 288 AD DIVUM PATREM. Dive Pater? natos, at non impune, voristi ; Saturnuo poenas sub Jove nonne dedit ? AD LIVAM. Nulla puellarum levis est occultave culpa, Tu superos igitur, Livia, teque time. AD REGIS MINISTRUM. ———— Mel tibi protendit Corsus, tu rejice donum Lethale, in Corso melle venena latent. 289 DE CARMINIBUS LUCRETII STYLO SCRIPTIS. Secula vix alium bis nona tulere poetam Qui Musas Italas audit& voce vocaret, Omnes exilium Nasonis triste dolentes, Denique vir* surgit carmen sublime Lucreti Exsuperans, et humi prosterans omne priorum Quot genuit cretas ignavo semine tellus. Pax fugit Italiam: Discordia sola gubernat, Imperitat populis, regibus imperitat. Improbus hec tam culta novalia miles habebit ? Barbarus has segetes ?...Gallus habebit ; habet. Nulla columba, diu sperata, reducit olivam, Et Philomela suo meeret abacta Pado. * Robert Smith. 290 AD POERIUM. — Diva illa que nunc exulat Neapoli Sub Alpibus non algida est, Thi illa diva, fortibus semper comes, Te amplectitur, Poerio. ‘ Non ego famoso perstrinxi carmine quemquam.” Id facilis Naso dixit, idemque velim : At memori gratum est mihi falsa rependere vero, Nec nocuisse aliis qui nocuere mihi. OVIDIUS. —_— Me nescis, Ovidi? tecum mea prima juventus Lusit, ob hoc semper tu mihi carus eris ; Et quia viventes poteras laudare poetas ; Tale hominum nobis interit omne genus. 291 CATULLUS CALVO SUO. Benacus est amcenus, estque Larius, Neutrum revisere hyems acerba me sinit, Nam tusse, sum quassatus, atque ea impulit Ad molliorem apricioremque aera, Ubi retusa est Alpium ferocitas, Fratrum gigantum qui minabantur Jovi. Albee volueres mi supervolant caput, Undis marinis litori irruentibus Ab Adria. Satis tibi rescribitur, Patiere tu quoque hac mea gravedine Si plura: dormi dum licet, dum salvus es. Poema vis: Ceecilium adi, dabit tria Tribus dicata, acceptaque illa, Gratiis. Ne verte chartam, nil ibi est poematis. 292 STATIUS. Statius Aonias tentat decorare puellas, Sed cadit elaté lapsa corolla manu. Audit agrum ventos gelidos perflare Latinum Et vacuas spicas linquit abacta Ceres. ARNOLDUS SAVAGIUS. Parietibus pictis, populo quos curia monstrat Nescio quot proceres obtinuere locum. At tibi nulla datur sedes, Arnolde Savagi, Quo sine nulla esset curia: fortis eras; Fortis eras sapiensque, et (territus ante) senatus Preside te vires sumpsit, erantque tue. Solus nempe audax audaccemque ante tyrannum Fatus es, adsurgens, ista silente domo. “* Voce loquor populi: dum jura infecta manere Tu sinis, haud eris subsidia ulla dabit.* * Rapinus, in historia sua hoec verba de homine refert qui primus in Parlamento, quum preses eligeretur, rege presente jura populi vindicavit, 293 IN OBITUM ELISABETH SORORIS. Ingenuo vultu, forma quam Gratia finxit, O soror! haud paucis solicitata procis, Est visum potius matris vigilare senectam Et dare pauperibus, dum requierat, opem. Aiqué nobilibus grata cbscurisque fuisti, Sic casa cum lacrymis, sic gemit aula, vale. AD PUELLAM ARCITINENTEM. Hos inter juvenes parata parvum Arcum tendere, non vides ut ista est Ludus virginibus periculosus, ‘ Atque ut difficile est tibi et sorori Evitare Cupidinis sagittam ? Sese abscondit ; ego assidens sub ulmo. Talem voce seniliter tremente Inaurem monitum edidi; repente Tratus puer irruit. ‘“ Quid audes” Dixit “in mea juru ? tu dolebis.” 294 AD VETUTAM IMPUDICAM. Etsi non es Ariminensis ortu Ista ut Folia jam notata Flacco, Et notata nigerrima notarum, Prona accepta sit aure cantilena Quam canto tibi, plurimique cantant. Macra amplexibus improbis puella Non est ausa loqui pater quod ausus. At nos impavidi sumus, venenum Acre nil veriti tuum osculorum. Invidia! quid te in orbe toto est foeditis Sed adsides mortalium, Summis, corum utrinque nemo pluribus Stipatus est clientibus. Poeta dextram dum poete porrigit, Tibi sinistram pone dat. Sapientibus piisque mos idem est, viris Ac foeminis, dum vivitur : Deos precantur supplices, surgis supra, Diis omnibus potentior. 295 HORATI VERSUS NOVI. _—_—_— Perfide! die per omnes Te deos oro, Italiam cur properas premendo Perdere? cur avitum Oderis campum impatiens liberioris auree ? \ IN ETRURIAM POST X. ANNOS REVERSURUS. Jam mihi preetereunt octava decennia vite, Perque pigras venas ultima serpit hyems. Anne revisurus sim, scepe vocatus, amicos Nescio, semper enim est Spes malefida mihi. Sperabam placidos redeunti occurrere natos, Lusistique iterum, Spes fugitiva, senem. Attamen est aliquid mitem usque fuisse parentem, Vulnere ob hoc apsum con graviore dolat. Non merui...has voces itero fletum inter acerbum, Heu! solatioli non meruisse parum est. 296 AD ERSCHINUM. Erschine ! nostra paras tutari litora classe, Dux operum patiens, strenuus, atque sagax. Navita mente alacri jussis obtemperat omnis Ut puer, et partem se putat esse tui; Namque alius nemo sic novit lene severo Miscere, utque suo tempore utrumque decet. Tot curas inter tua fertur epistola nobis, Nataliem haud dubii letificare novum. Anno nondum acto te villula nostra recepit Uno cum socio: sit reditura dies ! AD NAPIERIUM DUCEM, Napieri! cubito inclinanti pauca legenda Sunt mea, sed scribo; sis memor usque mei! Sis memor ut colui te paucos inter amicos, Innumeris curis vulneribusque gravem. Vertm es qualis eras animo, si viribus impar, Agnoscuntque tuam Gallus lberque manum. Historie tendit tibi jure Britannia palmam, Nec sola est gladio gloria parta tuo. tw ian) aI AD ROSAM, LIBEROS SUOS DOCENTEM. Toto in filiolis die occupata, Sed non immemor inter-hos amici, Ut horas ages, O Rosa, innocentes ! Tales semper erant, erant beatee Semper, at minus antequam doceres Qui sulcus traheretur, exarantem Plus una macula oblitum libellum, Palparesque genam et manum obséquenti. Te revisere Fata mi negarunt ; “ Unum hoc maceror,” at tua ora menti Auferre haud potuere, nec loquelam Castam illam ingenuo lepore tinctam. Una vocula me parum dolebat Que nunc excruciat ; valere jussus Novi vespere crastino futurum Ut prias fuit; heu! procul remotum Nullo vespere me jubes valere. Si veré mihi sola tu maneres Ipsa, nec fugitura mox imago, Esse non sineres gravem senectam ; 298 ‘Nunc tantum obveniunt, favente somno, Isti currere seriam atque inertem Acri garrulitate provocantes, Pultantes humerum aut pedam trahentes, Id silens nemus, illa querna sedes, Et candens domus hospitis, supraque Hortus pensilis adfluenta rivo. Ristormel,* Rosa! liberi, valete ! MANINUS. Te, Mannine, virum ducemque, cordi est Versu concelebrare non inepto, Sed parem meritis quis illud? urbis Antique Venetum decus salusque Dum visum Superis eras, nec ignes Nec ferrum fugere hostium sinebas. At quum infidus avunculus neposque Speranda omnia prodidére, pectus Firmum frangitur ; exul occidisti, Sevo cum gemitu omnium Italorum. * Ristormel, domus in Cornubia. an 299 Mendaciorum prolificus pater Conculcat orbem: dicite quamdiu Idem coronatus sacerdos ‘ineidum generi imperabit. Ad arma rursus! surgite, surgite, Vivi quot estis! Te merito ducem Astroea descendens salutat, Stringe pium, Garibalde ferrum. Vir ante primos Italie viros (Et terra nusquam est prole beatior) Audis, reversuroque plaudit, Hoste pedem retrahente, Roma. Est digna consors militiz tue Que vulneratis auxilium tulit, Medelaque ipsa est visa tantim Luminibus gravibus dolore. Vultu severo occurrere Cypridi Minerva tandem desiit; annuit, Et pulchrior fit pulchritudo Quam fuit in nitida juventa. 300 Secunda vertunt te duce prelia, Urbes resurgunt; jam caput erigit Dejecta, calpestrata, regum Parthenope pede barbarorum. Hand otiosam nunc Capuam vides, Baias-ve solis divitibus datas Obambulari, nec cavernam Purpuream Capre inquinandam. Messana meesto lumine, fortium In busta, forti nunc aperit sinum, Scylleeque latrantes silescunt, Nec fremit ut fremuit Carybdis. Aptat solutas pastor arundines Ad labra, certans carmine mutuo, Et virgines raptore pulso Floribus Enna novis coronat. Extrema cerno litera Brundust Leetata tantis hospitibus ; probat, Virtute priscd non sepulta, Ut Lacedemonium est Tarentum. 301 VATICINIUM. Unus homo Roma cunctando restituit Rem ; Restituet non cunctando (deus adjuvet !) alter. O mea! si mea sis quam sommia sola reducunt, Rursus in hunc gremium nocte silente veni! Id saltem licet, amplexu non detinet alter, Et nequit obsistens te prohibere soror. Queruntur esse de puellarum satis Jocsiorum lusibus. Pindum colentes virgines! vos ferreum Projicite ab illo vertice Qui dum juventus adfuit non riserit Aut flérit ob Cupidinem. 302 AD POETAM. QUI MARE LIBERUM ALCAI METRO SCRIPSIT. Audax juventé Pindarieum melos Tentare ccepi, sed cecidit lyra _ Imbelliori, Musa risit Et facilem dedit insonandam. Roberte! solus tu potes addere Sublime carmen Pierio choro, Potare Dircen, deque Pindi Vertice volvere dithyrambos. 303 AD GARIBALDUM. Victoriarum gloria provocat Multos subactis montibus Alpum, Multos amictos veste nigra, Syrmate versicolore multos. Si sint aperto in marte pericula, Sunt et silenti nocte latentium Sicariorum pugiones, Poculaque insidiosa ccenis. Discriminorum victor es omnium, At obsecramus te reducem domi Semper peregrinos latrones Canidiasque mares cavere. Deos precamur (non hebetes deos Pinguesque, rubris cruribus) obsidem. Te, pace firmata, tueri Civibus Italizeque toti. 304 AD VILLAM IN AGRO MEDIOLANENSI. O villa amicis leeta frequentibus Aistate quondam, non bifores patent Uti solebant, has refringit Barbarus, et dominatur urbi. En! militantim turba procacium Invadit hortos; non acer educat Vitem reluctantem, nec infra Nympha videt fragiles aquarum. Flecti columnas propter imagines Atlas deorum ; sed veniet dies Quando he relucebunt et ille, Et fugiet malefidus hospes. Predam latroni preeripiens latro Stricto ense nunquam nocte minabitur ; Tandem inter heec arbusta sole Lusciniz: meruleque certent ! 305 Napoleo! visa est tibi gloria fallere gentes ? Cur qui tanta potes non potes esse probus? Nos venale genus fulmusque sumusque poeta, At quis egenus ita est ut tua facta canat ? Singula quando obolo mendacia vendidit uno Ditior Assyriis regibus Irus erit. Ver erat extinctum, languere inceperat annus, Ibam ubi secreto in litore Larna jacet, Ut nimis assiduos tandem frustrarer amicos Utque aura fruerer liberiore maris. Vicina oppidulo formose villa Philippe Stabat, in oppidulo cepit utrasque domus. Vecta redibat equo, nonnunquam vespere sero, Et semper lateri leetus adesse fui. Parvulus Asturco me vexit, at iste protervus Continud huic fricuit, me minitante, genu. Nescio ut acciderit, sed eram proclivior ultra, Dixi aliquid, forsan vix satis aure procul : Tunc ea.. non dextram missura, sed arctius usu Stringens, ut subito scepe pavore solet.. “Quid facis? improbior vis Asturcone videri? Desine.. vis clamem?..desine.. nulla dabo.” v 306 PRECES PRO SALUTE REGIS QUI MORBO PEDICULARI LABCRAT. Ut Natura jubet, pisces sint piscibus esce ; Atqui, pedicule, parce tu pediculo. Usque clientele fidissimus hospes adhere ; Vivax sit ille, diis bene annuentibus, Quamvis-per tenebras et claustra diutius audit Paucos gementiim (ut ante) queis gavisus est. Carminibus Superos calidis pietate precamur Vivat, pediculis simul cohortibus ; Quumque suprema dies illuxerit, ista legantur . . PEDICULORUM MAXIMUM HOC MAR- MOR TEGIT. Per strictos gladios et per deserta locorum Egit iter mulier saneta, secuta virum : Succubuit tandem Garibaldo digna marito, Lassa fame, insomni lassa labore vie. —— 307 PRO PORTA, PER HANC PORTAM INGRESSUS EST URBEM GARIBALDUS, SICILLE LIBERATOR, ROMAM LIBERATURUS. Occupat ecce iterum Corsus capitolia Brennus, Militeque ejecto plebs jacet ante pedes. Restituenda quidem sunt libera jura, sed armis, Et non Romulea restituenda manu. Gallia promissis nunquam stetit, omnia vertit, Semper erat fortis, perfida semper erat. Creditis huic, Italia? aut estis simulare coacti Qua virtus jocus est et dolus ingenium ? Pro domo. His in caedibus natus est, patria nondum venundata, Sicilize Italiz-que liberator GARIBALDUS, multos insignes Roma, plures Greecia, celebravit, vos propius videtis vestratem clariorem. v2 308 AD LAGOUM QUI THEBAIDA MISERAT. Tentare rursus, O Lagéé, me jubes Thebaida ; cur hec perpeti coegeris Crudeliora quam Thebe patrata erant ? Fugi, fatebor, et cucurri ad extera ; Minora ibi graviora sunt; cautis vice Saburra erat calcanda.. sed subegimus. Felix qui natos videat genitoris amantes ! Felix qui sanctos dormiit inter avos! Improbus est patriam qui vendidit, improbus emptor ; Regibus, O Itali, quantula habenda fides ! Parthenope fortes amat adsequiturque Sicanos ; Ecce! duas gentes liberat unus homo. Unus homo Rome cunctando restituit Rem, At non cunctando restituet melior : Vive, vale, Garibalde! parat tibi certa triumphos, Jam gladio fracto perfidus hostis abit. 309 MORBUS POETARUM. Set, Expertes pauci livore fuere poeta, Purus erat scabie Naso, Tibullus erat. Quisque suum morbum est catulus perpessus, adultis Non manet: ah! certe sunt meliore luto. Tu pro libertate fatigas voce senatum, Esse nequis Graccus, Gracculus esse potes. Si nunquam volui tecum czenare vocatus Est quia me solita sede sedere juvat. Diffugis a dextra Burdette, volasque sinistra, Infaustum id visum est omen aruspicibus. Tandem laborum desino, neque amplius Mea charta sub stylo crepat. Ceenee, sodales, parva ut est, accumbite, Ego interim dormitum eo. 310 MORS NUPTA. Mors, illa advena pluribus Importuna, toro institit Pyrrhe, que timuit parum Acclinem faciem deez. Sed dilexerat Aciden Ab ludis puerilibus, Atque illum propits videns, Protenté male dextera Inquit, difficili halitu, “ Flettis desine inutilis, “ Te solabitur altera, “ Cujus par sit amor meo! ““ Me specta.. viden.. haud fleo. “ Hheu! nescio cur mihi “ Sic implent lacryme sinum.” His dictis gemuit semel, Mors pulchrum tetigit caput, Et constant lachryme gelu. Tres esse honestos hac in urbe crederes ? Tta est.. at unus est canis. 311 EPITAPHIUM SAVONAROLA. In hoc loco crematus est vivus, Pontifice Maximo jubente, Hieronomus Savonarola. Pro animé ejus precari supervacaneum est, Salvam esse certiores facti. Vobiscum ita sit qui legitis! Infructuosi jam laboris desino Quo charta sub dextra crepat. Ceenee parates vos, amici, accumbite, Surgo, atque dormitum eo. 312 PRO SEPULCHRO. Parce novum, reverende latro, violare sepulchrum, Nullas invenies quo sepelimur opes.. Tu contentus abi, conjux prits abstulit aurum, Flaccidaque, ut nésti, colla monile gerunt. Ubi ille in alto qui solet zthere Volare? ubi ales qui jovis ad latus Sedere ? bubonem videmus, Occinit in mediis ruinis. Qui liberandum protenus Adriam Edixit alta voce vocantibus Idem resurgentem vetustis Implicat Italiam catenis. Urbes reclamant..‘‘ I, caput occule, Nec pejeratum laurea protegat ! I, regibus solis fidelis ! I, maculate cruore nostro.” En! colla torquet libera pontifex Quem Roma dudum finibus expulit. Inulta-ne sternum manebit O Superi! Perusina coedes ? 313 AD SUTHEIUM. Laudare que calens juventé scripseram Primus fuisti, forsitan neque ultimus, Utcunque id est, hac pauca parvaque accipe Lantonianis involuta nubibus Que dissipaveris benigno lumine. AD POETAM AMORE LABORANTEM. Quum cupidineo igne torquearis, Cur versus scythico crepat rigore ? Cor mihi dolet intimum, unde versus Tam plenus fluit et fluet perennis. 314 HIANTIUS ET PERILLA. Olim dixit Hiantio Perilla; “ Quum defloruerit mihi venustas, Et forsan prits, ardour omnis ille Quo nunc angeris, aut videris angi, Ne demum in cinerem cadet timendum est.” Tunc Hiantius, ut solent amantes, Jurans plurima, et applicans sigillum Quod semper juvenes habent paratum, “* Non credis quod ais, Perilla! crede , Uni, fallere nescio puellas ; Si decreverit ardor ob senectam, Et sunt queis ita contigit, miselli! Mea (ah ne properes eam obsecro te) Ipsa frigida non erit favilla.”’ GARIBALDI UXOR. Per strictos gladios et per deserta viarum, Victa fame, insomni victa labore vie, Succubuit tandem Garibaldo digna marito Extorrem mulier sancta secuta virum. 315 IN OBITUM SUTHEII LAUREADONATI. Suthei! mortuus es; paremque frustra Ullum querimus aut virum aut amicum. Si minus dolet invidus poeta, Est saltem docilis dolere, visus Flores projicere in recens sepulchrum. Tllud non facio; probent ut angor He vere lacryme in lacum cadentes. AD PONTIFICEM. CIVIUM CADE IN URBE PERUGIA JESSU EJUS PATRATA. Fallere non sat erat populos, quin cade latrones Pascis, et infantfim sanguine tingis avos. Haud facis ipse, inquis; ve! perfide! nonne coronam Imponisque duci concelebrasque diem ? Proh scelus! et Galli circim sine vindice dextra Talia facta vident intuituque probant ! Exul eris, fraudesque tuse ceedesque patescent . . Vive Dei oblitus ; non erit ille tui. 316 AD HEROINAM. Quoenam dearum stat medié vid? Qué me morantem voce jubet sequi ? Gressum recognosco superbum Atque oculos aliter timendos. Trivultiorum filia nobilis ! Nuper benigno lumine Larium Lustrans, reliquisti paternze De proavis ditionis Alpes, Vallesque flavas et juga vitium Obducta pronis retibus; est acer Pubentibus fidus minister, Sunt nemora undisonique fontes. Parendum.. Hamus qua tuba concitat Ad arma fortes Ausonie viros, Qua Roma vexillis coruscat At nemora Albunez sonantis. Corneliarum non domus interit, Non mersa fulvo gurgite Clelia, Non Arriz ferrum vetustas (Hoe geris increpitans) peredit. AD HEROINAM. 317 En! vulneratis illam adhibes manum Quam gloria esset tangere regibus, Nec dentium stridorem acutum Nec saniem refugis nigrantem. Citum latronis nunc retrahit pedem Detrusa agristi milite Gallia, Diu sibi ipsi non fidelis, Ast aliis malefida semper. Musee (fatebor sponte) Britannicz In calceo alto pes patulus natat, Nec Gratize zonam modest Pectoribus religant anhelis : Sed barbarorum cruda loquentia Te non lacesset ; non vacuum melos Tibi insusurrandum, nec ibis Deciduo decorata serto. Ad imperantis Justitiz latus Guttam supremam sanguinis ablues, Post bella, post regum tumultus, Egeriz gelido liquore. 318 AD LIBERTATEM, O que revisis Romulcas domos, Urbesque opimas mollis Etruriz, Udosque fines Sirmionis Et Venetum Ligurumque portus ; Quae nunc Canopum, nunc Arabum sinus Regisque mersi mobilibus vadis, Indique montanas latebras Ostiaque ulteriora Gangis, Reduz adibis Hesperios viros, Viros Iberos? an pateram libet Lymphé salubri implere ab Istri Fontibus oppositique Rheni? Infra relucent Helvetiee lacus, Et arcta rident pascua vallium Dulcem referri cantilenam Voce domum revocante vaccas. AD LIBERTATEM, 319 Torrentis alti et fluminis abditi Audire plangorem Helvetios juvat, Et mox susurros, dein cachinnos, Tune fremitum et rabiem; ruinam Utrinque lapsam ab culmine montium Adscendere inter, stare super, vides. Qui magna consuescunt tueri Magna ferent, facientque magna. Refringis istis et glaciem Alpium Metumque pellis pensilibus jugis ; Quacunque venisti renident Lumine candidiore soles. Horentia intras mcenia vepribus Queis Archimedis contegitur globus, Callesque quos ferro notavit Empedocles deus Agrigenti. Messana, tendens brachia, vinculis Exserta, pubes te Drepani vocat, Sublimiorem te propinqua. Tollit Erix redivivus arcem. ——ae 320 RICARDUS MILNES, Vir sagax, eloquens, eruditus, probus, quum Senatui ut preesset vocaretur id unum patriz negavit ; oblatos a principibus titulos modeste et leniter amovit. Semper amicitie maneant mihi, semper amores! Hos equidem solé mente manere gemo. Fugit amor primus, fugiens tres liquit amicos, Ingenio paucos aut pietate pares. Ut defletus eras et adhue deflendus amicis Pluribus! haud unus te moriente venit : Haud venit, expirat dum spiritus ultimus, unus Qui premat ardentem febre,* Lagéé, manum. Ah quotias illo ludebam nomine quondam ! Nunc prohibent omnes Fata severa jocos. Ipse facetus eras aliique fuere faceti Te duce, nunc fractus mussat abitque Lepos, Nam procul 4 patrid tua conditur urna Panormi, Kt sero hdc tristi carmine nota jacet. * Francis Hare. 321 AD PUELLAM. Te laudare quis ausus est? tacemus, Nam summe addere non licet column. ¢ ° Cordata! certé nomen habes tuum. Jussu deorum, que gladium manu Stringis virili; jam minatur Exitium réliquis tyrannus. Quid plura? carmen sit breve, nam brevis In orbe nostro vita fuit tibi Cordata! sed feliciorem Fama dabit peritura sero. Non quod eras forma preestantior omnibus, Anna, Exequias sequerer corde dolente tuas, Non quod Saxonicis de regibus esset origo Et poteras priscum nobilitare genus, Sed quia pauperibus solatia ferre solebas Et grave, depulsa morte, levare caput. Ww FRATRUM NAPIERIUM CONCORDIA. Severioribus preesse literis Est magna gloria, major est Viros potentes, imperarites, regios, Humanitate vincere. Quam tucolebas haud erit tui immemor Historia, Martis ad latus, Et ille, fratrum utrique constringens manum, Mirabitur concordiam. Hospes! ruderibus que restant parce sepulchri, Namque sacro lapidi litera nulla manet. Tutari melius reges potuere jacentem, Anne fuit salvis in foribusque metus ? Nec civis melior fuit aut elementior hostis, Quem -ve ita prosequitur militis altus amor. 323 BANDELLI FRATRES. _—_—_— In ceelo Geminos videmus inter Altioraque clarioraque astra Queis divi sua nomina indiderunt. His zequi pueres fuere fratres Bandelli, ante oculos humi jacentes. Illis vita erat una, et una mors est, Extinctis simul; impio tyranno Anglus prodidit ; heu! pudet fateri. Chartam, quam mihi fert Camzena puram, Hujus nomine nullus inquinabo, Quo damnabitur ultimo Britanno. Fratres ! occubuistis, haud peristis. Incertus stylus est dicis mihi, veraque dicis, Sed duo de ccelo mi comitantur iter. Nubilus interdum est, interdum purus, Apollo, Ht soror ; utcunque est Luna pudica, vaga est ; Nunc alta ingreditur, nunc parva humilisque recedit, Jam facie tota pallida, jamque rubet. 2w 324 MOECHA. Te, si quis pius est apud poetas, Atque si quis amator est, vocabit Deliis, scelerata, Lesbiisque Infidelibus infideliorem. PATAVINIS. Lapidem Tito Livio sacrum, O cives pii, Nolite prolixis inscriptionibus temerare ; Ab horé matutin4 in his legendis laboravimus, Date respiraturis locum. BEMBI EPITAPHIUM. Heic situs est Bembus: servabat Apollinis aram, Longé abigens alium cum genetrice deum. 325 THEBAIDE PERLECTA. Thebaidos quicunque graves superavit arenas Sit pius, est ultra nulla timenda sitis. Diis agimus grates quum surgere nausea cessat Et portum intravit victo Aquilone ratis. Scandere qui violata diu Capitolia tendis Siste pedem ; haud iterum diripienda vide. Mox poteris Italos Gallis haud esse minores Scire, nec apricos repere semper humi. Allobrigum solio rex est stabilitus avito ; Nondum adeé6 fidum vendiderat populum ; Nondum tradiderat servilibus hostibus arcem Unde patent Itale queis spoliantur opes ; Nondum abigi Rom4 quas jussit adesse cohortes Viderat, aut cives tam violenta pati. 326 AD PSYCHEN CUM CATELLO. Psyche, nobilis es neque es superba, Idcirco tibi quem petis catellum Committo tenerum : hune scio fovebis, Quantum nescio, nec sciens faterer Si mollem in gremio sinas cubare Et narem gelidum applices tepenti. Priscum est huic genus. .id manet legendum In libris veterum sacris..priusquam Nos essemus homunculi, creatum. Forti pectore seepe militabat Insignis genitor, minus fidelis (Aiunt) conjugio : ut pudica proles, Et conjtantior ut tibi sit uni, Hance collo injice sericam catenam. ITALLZ DIR. Cesis civibus, ut fit, urbe capta, Diras Italie diu gementis Partiuutur avunculus neposque. PSYCHE RESPONDET. Munus accipio tuum lubenter. Est auro pretiosior catena Illa serica que ligat catellum ; Esset aurea forsitan, sed auri Nullam particulam tenet crumena Quam nevi tibi, nam latro sacerdos Et conjux, bene juncta in his latroni, Omnem surripuere, teque rident. 328 ‘ LUDLONIS EPITAPHIUM APUD HELVETIOS. Libera gens olim te, Ludlo invicte, recepit Et non ingrato condidit ossa solo : Tantis pro meritis hoc unum est, occidis exul.. Debueras patrize carior esse tuee. Ie parum expertem te ducit, America, culpz Cui spumant labia et cui jecora egra tument. Africa non paucos, non paucos India, morbos Intulit, at periit tempore quisque suo. Sunt soli eterno tacti livore poete, Nec maculam delet diminuit-ve dies. Unus inhorrueret majorem occidere fratrem Sutheius: quianam deperit omne genus? Maluit idem agnos heedosque fovere tenellos, Et coluit flores quos dedit ipse Deus. 329 MONUMENTA MINUS ILLUSTRIUM IN ADE DIVI PAULI. Quot monumenta vides parvis erecta poetis Atque aliis alium qui meruere locum ! Miltonum, egregios qui claruit ante Britannos, Queris? in ignot& cond*tus sede jacet. Supprime (si potis es, neque justa excandeat) iram. . Est aliquid tali talibus esse procul. Forsitan inscriptas aliquo rudiore colono Immetita tegant gramina literulas. Sceptrigerum nullus vixit sine laude poete, At quis egenus ita est ut velit esse tuus ? —_ Plurima sunt mentem que diffugére sequacem, Plurima que cuperes non meminisse manent. 330 AD ALEXANDRUM CASSAREM. Si vis antiquis nova jungere firmaque regna Nil prohibet, quod avi non potuere potes ; Conciliare potes tibi pectora fida virorum, Fortia, quam fuerint forcia, facta probant. Crede mihi, Scythico fas haud est vincere ferro Caucasium, aut luxu debilitare, genus. Cede igitur validis montes venatibus aptos, Cede minus validis pascua, cede casas, De quibus ad ceelum fumus solet ire serenum, Nec ferrugineo grandine tecta quati. Respice, sit quamvis longinquus, respice finem ; Morte alii reges non periere sua. Phasidis in ripé cupidus transire sinistram, Siste pedem, ulterius si gradiare peris. Forsan in hac terra liquit Medea nepotes, Atque herbas, quales legerat illa, legent. Persequitur mala Fama bonos, bona longius abstat, Sera venit, seré sidera nocte micant. 331 NOMINA ERUDITORUM. Inter lumina clara literarum Est Meibommius, est Morhoffiusque, Puffendorfius, Heidelhammerusque, Gruterusque (ita vox sonat suilis) Et Schneiderius ore paulum aperto, Nare latius, et magis sonante, Sternutans bene, nomen haud male edit. Et Rhunkenius, ortus ad paludem, Longa retia qua trahit Batavus. Swedenborghius, insecutus Umbras, Quas ille ad libitum evocat vel arcet. Tunc Schleghellius, aureis catenis Ut multa cruce nobilis coruscat Donati parili latinitate Brawnius gravis, ingemens podagra, Et Stillegius, applicans lacertum Ac firmans baculo pedem sinistra : Nec Strabellus abest, cliens fidelis. 332 Quamvis ferreus est mihi atque acutus Stylus, his aciem timet retundi, Et campum sterilem horret exarare. AD AMICAM. Dura! cur iterum abruis sedile Quod junctis genubis tibi apparavi ? Satisne esse putas prope adsedere Vel collo dare dexteram reclini? Me spes, ut levioribus, fefellit. At saltem liceat (gravé invidenti) Saxum sternere molliore musco. 333 Musa que veteres fovet, per omnes Terras quando iérat, vocans poetas Et divos, neque adesse pertinaces, Nasoni facilis magistro Amoris Mutatas dedit exhibere formas Ipsius Jovis ac Jovis nepotum. Stant infra Capitolium canentes Quidam grandiloqui, poeta nullus. Tomi conditur urna (si sit urna) Vatis tam teneri omnibusque cari. GRATLZ PRO CARMINIBUS ACTA. Indomitis gelidas superavi passibus Alpes, Seevus erat labor et seevior inde sitis : Eéce mihi mittis tua carmina! nec labor ullus Ante fuit, parilis-nec fuit ulla sitis. 334 EUROPA. En pulsis aquilis Alpes novus occupat hostis, Et suus Helvetiz clauditur ipse lacus. Sed modo Libertas apparuit ; ecce reversam Pandit ubi extremas barbarus Ister aquas ; Scilicet his in aquis, ripam super ense reposto, Romulidum soboles fortia membra lavit. Sunt semperque fuere qui potentes Laudant ut dapibus fruantur, istos Jure ventriloquos potes vocare. AXgrotus cubuit Petri locupletior hceres Quem voluit memorem spurca puella sui. Solari studuit frater, dixitque gementi Unumquemque suam ferre necesse crucem. Tune Petri soboles. Eheu, sanctissima Virgo! Sit satis; hanc iterum (scis) iterumque tuli. Si fuerit posthac eadem mihi poena luenda, Ne sit in extremis, ut solet esse, precor. AD GALLUM IN ROMA. Galle, soles templis arisque revellere divos, Deinde auferre domo quicquid haberet opum. In viteres dominos nunc vincula rupta minaris, Servus es, at servos dedecet esse truces. Crediderim, nisi te scieram bene, tristia passum, Velle alios vita liberiore frui. Triplex deposui manu volumen A quo Lesbia Deliaque emicantes Demulcent animos tepore molli : Cur friget tua Cynthia, O Properti ! Magnanimo Pico cur hostis, Bembe, fuisti ? Artibus ingenuis claruit ille simul. Forsitan id propter celata incanduit ira, Nam facile ignoscit nemo poeta pari. 336 IN OBITUM VIRI REGII. Stat silens populus domum ante clausam Quia intus Pietas Amorque meerent. PAX. Pax est quum cecidere qui penates Ausi sunt quasi liberi, tueri. O illud quasi / Conspicare amictu Seepe versicolore, seepe et atra, Libertatem .. ubi nunc foras ituram ! Ceca carceris intimis tenebris Nescit, siqua dies, die potiri. Pax est; ipse ita dixit imperator. Ferrum vibrat et hoste non reperto, Civem interficit incubante nocte :. Mille conticuere ; in urbe pax est; Ingratique superstites queruntur. 337 INVIDIA. Debilis Invidia est, sed multo debilior vir Qui nequeat pedibus subjecere Invidiam. LAUDATOR. Non assem neque frusta sum daturus, Vel frusto levius vel asse carmen, Ut datis pretio pari vicissim. Vestrum non aveo aut volo favorem Qui solos veneramini potentes. 338 AD JURANTEM. Forsan tantillum tu credebare priusquam Jurares ; sonus est debilis in vacuo. AD JULIUM. Laudes accipio tuas, egenus Laudis, non avidus, poematum ergo. Si veré mihi sit quod esse dicis Id certé satis est. Iter cameli Mulique has steriles eant arenas, | Interdumque refrigerentur aura Et fontem inveniant brevi scatentem : Haud ego insequor, haud ego antecessi. 339 Quot olim habebam ruris incolas mei Venatibusque curribusque idoneos Haud vendidi ullum, sed potiri gramine Jussi atque avend, donec adforet dies Superstitem ruptura-dentium ordinem, Nec trahere plaustra, nec media urbium via Quassare inanem ad os ligatum sacculum. Mors militaris cuique contigit seni Quem valle amzend viderat Lantonia, Hinnitibus gavisa, tunc silentibus. AD BALBUM. Rome forisque, trans cacumina Alpium Tui frere nominis multi inclyti : Pares eorum te genuisse filios Cognovimus ; nec flentis est paterna vox Audita, ni sit intima forsan domo Solatium amicis adferens dolentibus. Bini sub armis occubuere, sed manet Alter paratus sanguinem profendere In campo eodem. Si resurrectura sit Italia, sacros inter hymnos concinat Te, Balbe, filiosque tam dignos patre. 340 IN ADE. Si pii estis, O cives, nolite prolixis inscriptionibus hanc edem temerare ; ita morbum vestrum teterrimum, verborum diarrheam, curet ormnipotens Deus. Gens nunquam prits omnis est precata Pro salute vivi unius, precatur Nune simul, Garibalde, et audiunt Dii “« Heec vera est pietas,”’ Detim supremus Inquit, ‘‘salvus erit, diuque vivet.”’ Canem amicum suum egregié cordatum, qui appellatus fuit Pomero, Savagius Landor infra sepelivit. 341 AD ITALIAM. Sperasti incertam tibi conciliare sororem. . En! tibi juncta novis Gallia compedibus. Scandere qui violata diu Capitolia tendis Siste pedem ; haud iterum diripienda vides. Mox poteris Italos Gallis haud esse minores Scire, nec apricos repere semper humi. Obtecta abietibus, super saburram, Innixa in cubitum puella sedit, Expectans juvenem : quis ille? nomen Musa me jubet et Pudor tacere. Hune vidit, nisi fallor, at videre Quemquam dissimulavit, extulitque Crura longius ut sopore vincta. Dixerunt veterum molestiores Scitas fallere vel catos puellas. Ut quandoque necesse fit, supina 342 Atque immobilis osculum ferebat. Duplex forsitan aut triplex misella. Surgens, nec subitd, increpare ccepit, Dirum nescio quid viro minata Qui tantum scelus ausus est patrare. Verum omnes veniam dabunt pudicee Delictis gravioribus precanti, Si rite, ut voluere dii, precatur. GARIBALDI ADVENTUS AD NOVUMCOMUM. Lari! nunc jubeo tuas avere Nymphas, et calathis referre plenis Laurum, si superest, duci Italorum. Alpine rosea manu puelle Carpserunt thyma, quae capre negarunt Atque heedo (doleat licet) tenello. Rarus flos manet integer prope oram Benaci, redolent vize resectis, Ergo currite et obviam itie, Nymphe, Tam bellas pudet esse tardiores. a 343 Nullus amicorum superest mihi, forsitan unus Aut alter vellet jam meminisse mei. Illos in gremium maternum Terra recepit ; Heu quoties dixi Sum quoque, Terra, tuus. Invidiam nunquam sensi pris, ergone venit Innocuo, tangens dura senile caput ? Non ego cuncta velim credas mihi; credere noli Qui leetare hodie cras doliturus, eris. Vix audit strepitum velox Fortuna rotarum Queis vehitur, subter florea serta cadunt. Meta prope est, sed et est obscuraque nudaque meta, Ht calcata nimis palluit herba diu. Vox audita fuit, sed vox fuit ista poetes, “* Majestas et Amor non bene conveniunt.” Indignatus Amor verba execranda refellit, Sceptraque gesturis adstitit equus Hymen. “ Vivite felices ’”’ inquit ‘“‘ memoresque parentum, Clarius exemplar Terra dedisse negat.” Desuper intuitu grassantem avertere Martem Tu potes, aretoi stella serena maris! 344 In te soliciti convertunt ora Britanni, Deque tua jactat gens oriunda domo. Lumine pernoctes quo nunc spectaris eodem, Et seram inficiant nubila nulla diem! Regibus est fatuos populis imponere reges, Est populis fatuos pellere ; fugit Otho: Germanis solidam dedit esurientibus escam, Interea periit Attica turba fame. Plurima gens vincta est neque rumpere vincula certat, Grecia sublimi stat capite inter avos: Jamque diem festum properat celebrare Decem- bris. Harmodiosque iterum voce sonante loqui. Non deerit melior myrtus nectenda puelle, - Nec deerit calvo mitis oliva seni. Nunquam relinquens in Superis locum, Mortalibus Spes invigilat pia Queis perstiterunt fortitudo Corporis atque animi viriles. 345 Tu nec fuisti languidus otio Nec marte iniquo, Sarmata, frangeris, Ergo resurget Cosciusco Protinus, omine faustiore. Certaminum olim Gloria constitit Comes tuorum: non sine carmine Tbas triumphali ; canendum Est aliud, reticente nostro. Sonabit illud clarius, altius, Dum tardioris vulnere militis Plaudentibus circa propinquis Firmat amata pedem puella. Consedere duo vir et puella, Alter alterius manum tenebat. His erat solitum vocare ab alta Turri, ques super imminet, columbam, Et panis dare ferculum minuti. Obstipo capite et vafris ocellis, Cursitans propius remotiusque, Leni murmure, dein gravi, minatur 346 Quassis haud semel avolare pennis Si nil adjiceretur inquietz Ob jejunia post-meridiana. Non uni tibi (ne querare!) dixit Matris esurientium misertus Qui diu extulerint aperta rostra, Est spes irrita mestaque, O columba ! Et, me si dubitas, roga adsidentem. PETENTI VERSUS LATINOS. Ramos vetustos scandere roboris Periculosum est, nec minus ageredi Sedes poetarum priorum Qui Latii coluere campos. 347 Id ausus olim, nunc peragro loca Dilecta frustra, laurus ibi aruit Et myrtus, at frondem recentem Accipies humilis myrice. Reges deorum non timent tonitrua Neque alteras czeli minas ; Iidem popelli vocibus frementibus Humi reformidant sonum, Puque devenere et inflexo genu Orant sacerdotum preces. . Unam surriperem media de valle rosarum, Tuque mihi hanc unam dura puella negas. Vivere amem nisi quidam alius donatus haberet, Huic nimis esse nequis prompta negare .. nega. 348 Jamque duos animis fortes validosque juventa Abripuit nostra mors violenta domo. Pro patrid si dulce fuit deponere vitam, Nonne esset satius vivere pro patria? Exardens lacrymas si gloria siccat amicis, Funera cuncta dolent, funera sera minus. Jucundum est laudare bonos, laudare potentes Utile, sed quiddam est utilitate prius. Dii dent quem venerer quanquam procul absit ut ipsi, Non nihil est tales cui sit amare datum. re T. C, Newby, Publisher, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square. INSERTIONS. Page 2, after the 8rd verse, insert : Homer. He rests, and to the many toils endur’d There was not added the worse weight of age. LAERTES. He would be growing old had he remain’d Until this day, tho’ scarcely three-score years Had he completed ; old.I seem’d to him For youth is fanciful, yet here am I, Stout, a full twenty summers after him: But one of the three sisters snapt that thread Which was the shortest, and my boy went down When no light shines upon the dreary way. i. Page 21, after the 10th verse insert: I thought I heard a Triton’s shell, a song Of sylvian Nymph, and laughter from behind Trees not too close for voices to come thro’, Or beauty, if Nymph will’d it, to be seen ; And then a graver and a grander sound Came from the sky, and last a long applause. Page 22, between the 5th and 6th verse, insert: Homer. Dreams are among the blessings Heaven bestows On weary mortals; nor are they least Altho’ they disappoint us and are gone When we awake! Tis pleasant to have caught The clap of hands below us from the many, Amid the kisses of the envious few. There is a pride thou knowest not, Laertes, In carrying the best strung and loudest harp. LAERTES. Apollo, &e. ee eee ul. Page 27th, after the 15th verse, ensert: Alas, Mceonides, the weakest find Strength enough to inflidt deep injuries. Much have I borne, but ’twas from those below; Thou knowest not the gross indignities From goat-herd and from swine-herd I endur’d When my Odysseus had gone far away ; How they consumed my substance, how the proud Divided my fat kine in this my house, And wooed before mine eyes Penelope, Reluctant and absconding til return’d Her lawful lord, true, chaste, as she herself. Homer. I know it, and remotest men shall know. If we must suffer wrong, ’tis from the vile The least intolerable. LAERTES. True, my son Avenged me: more than one God aided him, But one above the rest ; the Deity Of wisdom, stronger even than him of war, lv. Guided the wanderer back, and gave the arms And will and prowess to subdue our foes, And their own dogs lapt up the lustful blood Of the proud suitors. Sweet, sweet is revenge ; Her very shadow, running on before, Quickens our pace until we hold her fast. Homer. Rather would I sit quiet than pursue. LAzERTES. Now art thou, &e. Page 66, after verse 2, insert: Her dogmatists would narrow our Elysion, And would extend the realm of Tartaros And dam up Phlegethon to overflowing. ie areata us