(ANTljOLOGY OF 
 ENGLISH POETRJf 
 
 'WHI'JiirORJD 
 
Class _r?^AL15 
 Copyrightls^" 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 "BEOWULF TO KIPUNG 
 
 FOR SECONDARY SCHOOLS, COLLEGES. ANO G^ 
 LITERATURE CLASSES 
 
 .BY 
 
 ROBERT N. WHITEFORD, PH.D. 
 
 HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH LITERATURE 
 THE PEORIA HIGH SCHOOL 
 
 " Ther nis no newe gyse. that it nas old" 
 
 — Chaucer 
 
 ov TToXX' aWa iroXv 
 
 BENJ. H. SANBORN & CO. 
 
 BOSTON, U. S. A. 
 

 tVie library of 
 congress, 
 
 Two Copies Received 
 
 JUN 15 1903 
 
 . Copyright Entry . 
 
 a; LASS CL ^0- Nc 
 
 COPY B. 
 
 Copyright, 1903, 
 By Robert N. Whiteford, Ph.D. 
 
 SAMUEL USHER 
 
 176-184 high street 
 Boston, Mass. 
 
1^ 
 
 Preface 
 
 That there is need of an Anthology of English Poetry for 
 use in the upper classes of the secondary school recent 
 correspondence with a large number of schools has amply 
 proven. Too much emphasis cannot be put upon this study, 
 and pupils who are ignorant of the great body of English 
 poetry should not be graduated from any English course in a 
 secondary school. 
 
 As the book follows the plan by which literature, both 
 prose and poetry, is taught in most colleges, it is believed 
 that here also the book will find a cordial welcome. 
 
 In this Anthology a background of the historical periods 
 in the development of English literature has been used as a 
 setting for poems which have been carefully selected. The 
 poems are linked together by notes and quotations calculated 
 to make pupils susceptible to philosophical and aesthetic 
 criticism. The few questions introduced possess the formal 
 unity of showing the indebtedness of best poetry to preceding 
 poetry. To illustrate, when pupils are studying Collins' 
 "Ode To Evening," they are asked to interpret it by applying 
 as a touchstone the imagery of Milton's " II Penseroso." By 
 this method, as advance is made from masterpiece to master- 
 piece, pupils realise that they are responsible for previously 
 mastered material. 
 
 This Anthology^ does not [contain a bibliography. The 
 books mentioned in the " Introduction " supply such a need, 
 and teachers of English are always well provided with read- 
 ing guides and handbooks. The arrangement of the subject 
 
IV PREFACE 
 
 matter is such that the study of English poetry is made sci- 
 entific, and, as far as possible, all vagueness and illusions are 
 removed from its teaching. 
 
 In the preparation of this work thanks are due Richard G. 
 Moulton, Professor of Literature in English in the University 
 of Chicago, for a thorough examination of the manuscript ; 
 to Professor Alexander Smith of the same University, for a 
 careful reading and the recommendation to others ; to Pro- 
 fessor Charles F. Johnson of Trinity College, Hartford, Conn., 
 for valuable suggestions and cursory notes in the manuscript ; 
 to Mr. C. W. French, Principal of the Hyde Park High 
 School, Chicago, for suggested material to adapt the book to 
 the ordinary high school ; to Professor George H. Meyer of 
 the University of Illinois, for his careful and scholarly read- 
 ing of the proof ; to Messrs. D. C. Heath & Co., for permis- 
 sion to use an excerpt from Professor James Lesslie Hall's 
 "Translation of Beowulf"; to Messrs. Macmillan & Co., 
 Ltd., London, for permission to use Mr. Stopford Brooke's 
 blank verse translation of the Anglo-Saxon elegy, "The 
 Wanderer " ; and, finally, to my publishers, for many helpful 
 suggestions and courtesies. 
 
 R. N. W. 
 June, 1903 
 
Introduction 
 
 This Anthology contains poems which for the most part 
 have been classified as the masterpieces of English poetry. 
 The selections have been arranged according to the various 
 historical periods in the development of English literature 
 from " Beowulf " to Kipling. The first part of the Anthology, 
 from the Anglo-Saxon Period to the Puritan Period, may be 
 completed in three months ; the second part, from the Puritan 
 Period to the Neo-Romantic Period, in six. 
 
 The poems have been annotated for colleges, general 
 classes in English literature, and for the third and fourth 
 year grades in high schools. 
 
 In our public schools, in the study of English poetry, a 
 poem should be approached from three sides: (i) pupils 
 should understand that there are two settings, one belonging 
 to the past, and another to the present, that its materials of 
 conception have been taken from former English poems and 
 from contemporary ones ; (2) pupils must study past and 
 present mental, moral, and social history that has made the 
 poem existible, thereby analysing the poetical spiritual 
 energy as presented by the light of a past or a present his- 
 torical setting ; and (3) they must fully appreciate that the 
 form and the metre have come either from a past or from a 
 present model. 
 
 In studying the selections in this Anthology, pupils are 
 constantly to be instructed by the method of interpreting 
 poems by means of those which previously have been read. 
 They should observe that all English poets have more or less 
 
VI INTRODUCTION 
 
 drunk from one Hippocrene, which is the poetic past of Eng- 
 land, for their moods, psychology, and eesthetics. On taking 
 up each new poem, they should hear a mono-chord such as 
 Rossetti's : 
 
 " Oh ! what is this that knows the road I came, 
 The flame turned cloud, the cloud returned to flame, 
 The lifted, shifted steeps and all the way ? " 
 
 Collins' " Ode to Evening" and Gray's " Elegy " should be 
 interpreted by Milton's " L'Allegro " and "II Penseroso " ; 
 Goldsmith's " The Deserted Village " by " L'Allegro," " II 
 Penseroso," and " Lycidas " ; Burns' "The Cotter's Satur- 
 day Night "by Gray's " Elegy " ; and Kipling's " Recessional " 
 by the tone and sentiment of Milton's " On The Late 
 Massacre In Piedmont." 
 
 These poems have been mentioned since obviously they 
 are similar in theme and vocabulary. Though it is difficult 
 in many poems to prove that poets have a general storehouse 
 ^to which they go for poetic materials, it is assuredly evident 
 that great phrases have been coined with the same stamp in 
 the evolution of English poetry. It is easy to see where 
 Gray has obtained, 
 
 " Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air," 
 
 if Waller's " Go ! Lovely Rose " and Pope's " The Rape Of 
 The Lock " have been read. By this assertion no charge of 
 plagiarism is preferred against Gray, only that emotional 
 thoughts of English poets have been inspired by past poetical 
 materials. Observe in " On The Receipt Of My Mother's 
 Picture " Cowper's debt to Milton, and in the last stanza of 
 Burns' " To A Mountain Daisy, " what Byron unconsciously 
 used in his last poem. Likewise Matthew Arnold in " Self- 
 Dependence " ran to the literary past of Keats' " Bright star, 
 
INTRODUCTION Vll 
 
 would I were steadfast as thou art," and to a certain line 
 in Wordsworth's sonnet " To Milton." 
 
 These examples show the first method of interpreting the 
 poems. Secondary school pupils may at all times be held 
 responsible for poetic details mastered in previously read 
 poems, and are perfectly competent to use them as touch- 
 stones on succeeding ones. They can compare the ways in 
 which literary artists have felt the heart-beat of nature. When 
 in " The Bride of Lammermoor," in a ruinous tower over- 
 looking the stormy German ocean and the Kelpie's Flow, 
 are seen for the first time the thin grey hairs and the sharp, 
 high features of Caleb Balderstone, we realise that here is 
 the strong character of the novel. Now, the reader familiar 
 with the landscape of Scott's fiction, by the lightning flash 
 that illuminates Caleb, ought to recognise in the cell of Cop- 
 manhurst, where Scott has brought king and outlaw face to 
 face in the carousal of a night, a Richard Coeur-de-Lion who 
 is not a piece of stuffed armour, but a brother of Sir Walter's 
 whose every characteristic is known. As strong in flesh and 
 blood is Scott's king as Scott's servant. 
 
 Such comparative work is not beyond the comprehension 
 of the secondary school pupil. " Ivanhoe " is not " The 
 Bride of Lammermoor " ; it is different from its predecessor, 
 since it is a new species, but it has the same characteristics, 
 when it comes to measuring Richard with Caleb. As in 
 fiction, so is it in poetry. The only way of getting at paren- 
 tal traits of a new poetic piece is by measuring it with a 
 similar species of the same class : the new combination must 
 be compared with the old. 
 
 Now, the pupil moves on to the estimation of the perso- 
 nalities of the poets, and by many episodes in their lives he 
 accounts for the composition of certain poems. It is inter- 
 esting to find reasons for Pope's invective leveled at Addison ; 
 to find Cowper's explanation of the quarrel between Mrs. 
 
VUl INTRODUCTION 
 
 Unwin and Lady Austen in " The Rose " ; to know why 
 Burns wrote "To Mary In Heaven," and how he composed 
 "Tarn O' Shanter " ; to comprehend why Keats hung crape 
 on the imagery of his " Ode To A Nightingale " ; and what 
 made Tennyson write " Break, Break, Break," and how 
 " Merlin And The Gleam " serves as his autobiography. 
 
 The pupil, in passing from the specific to the general, 
 from the poets to their environments, becomes fascinated by 
 the problem of how far the historical has affected their tem- 
 peramental qualities ; how, by their criticisms of the dominant 
 thought of their epochs, may be measured their intellectual 
 stature and the amount of their ethical acumen. 
 
 Milton, undeterred by the unappreciative age of Charles I. 
 that gave prizes to poets dealing with trivial subjects, wrote 
 a classical pastoral elegy which he knew would fall far short 
 of desert, and which lost him contemporary fame. Though 
 many of his contemporaries considered " Lycidas " a still- 
 born product of his pen, he continued to write unhampered 
 by public opinion, governing his taste by that Puritanism 
 which afterwards swayed all his poetry. Dryden was pre- 
 cisely otherwise ; like a chameleon, his poetry was coloured 
 with every new historical environment. His poetry was now 
 " Lines On The Death Of Cromwell," now " Astraea Redux," 
 now " Religio Laici," and finally " The Hind And The 
 Panther." Pope at Binfield and Twickenham willingly be- 
 came a slave of utilitarian poetry current in the Augustan 
 age, and expressed views of life in unvaried melodic cadences 
 through models set by the classical writers. Cowper, by the 
 slow winding Ouse, heard church-bells from distant spires, 
 saw graceful hedges, meditated on African slave-trade, Puss, 
 Tiney, and Bess, and rejected the ancient classical canons of 
 literary judgment by incorporating into his poetry a profound 
 love of God, nature, man, and animal. To the mysticism, 
 symbolism, and aspiration of romanticism in its first phase, 
 
INTRODUCTION IX 
 
 Shelley and Keats added a passion for the beautiful, and 
 
 sang of 
 
 " A power more strong in beauty, born of us 
 And fated to excel us." 
 
 The poets of the third phase of Romanticism, of the critical 
 school of Victorian literature, devoted themselves to religious, 
 socialistic, and scientific problems. Tennyson found science 
 antagonistic to his religion, and triumphantly fought against 
 skepticism in " Two Voices " and " In Memoriam." Matthew 
 Arnold, satisfied neither with theism nor with agnosticism, 
 sobbed out the futility of religion in " Dover Beach " and 
 the unprofitableness of atheistical life in "Rugby Chapel." 
 Robert Browning, undisturbed by any question presented by 
 science to religion, found rest from ceaseless struggle in such 
 poems as " Saul " and " Rabbi Ben Ezra." The social prob- 
 lem erected itself on the materials of " The Rape Of The 
 Lock," "The Deserted Village," and "The Task," in the 
 poetry of Thomas Hood, who tenderly wrote of the London 
 poor. Arnold wrote " East London " and " West London " ; 
 Morris, " The Day Is Coming " and " All For The Cause ; " 
 and Kipling has portrayed the deplorable experiences of 
 Tommy Atkins. Science itself became a part of mod- 
 ern poetry, lending the finest description to Arnold's "The 
 Forsaken Merman " ; its astronomy, botany, and geology 
 are found on the pages of Tennyson ; and its achieve- 
 ments have been sung by Kipling in " The Deep - Sea 
 Cables " and in " Mc Andrew's Hymn." Rossetti, uninter- 
 ested in the religion, socialism, and science, of his age, sadly 
 and morbidly turned to his Lady Beauty, who beckoned to 
 him with the symbol of media^valism. 
 
 Now, the fourth phase of Romanticism, or the second 
 phase of Neo-Romanticism, has been reached. The present 
 tendency of poetry is to extol brute force. The classification 
 of present poetry into a school is hazardous, yet what is seen 
 
X INTR OD UC TION 
 
 should be averred. Neither theology nor nature strongly 
 appeals to the poets of virility ; nor humanitarianism ; nor 
 that beauty which Shelley has incarnated in Emilia Viviani 
 of his " Epipsychidion," and which Keats sought to make 
 eternal in his " Ode On A Grecian Urn. " These poets do 
 not greatly care for religious or social questions, and seem- 
 ingly they only care for science because of its helping 
 Englishmen to extend Britannia's rule by sea and by land. 
 For some years, John Davidson, William Ernest Henley, and 
 Rudyard Kipling, have lauded the achievements of national 
 Imperialism. The strongest of this virile school has been 
 Kipling whose verses have been in apotheosis of the expan- 
 sion of England by means of science and militarism. But 
 since 1900 Kipling's note of Imperial expansion has not 
 been loudly sounded. The poems which now come from his 
 pen are similar to the " Recessional." Kipling points the 
 finger of fate at a nation which fetters itself to " reeking 
 tube and iron shard." Though true democracy rests on an 
 imperial basis, though the many must be managed by the 
 brainy few of large hearts and iron nerves, he clearly sees 
 that England, " drunk with power," may learn the r^ Spdaavz: 
 Tzadelv of the ancients, since brute violence and questionable 
 methods may cause England's spiritual and material ruin. 
 At this time Kipling is the poet " of the sense of Imperial 
 responsibilities." 
 
 Now, after the study of historical background, there 
 remains the knowledge of epic, ballad, lyric, sotmet, pastoral, 
 idyl, elegy, ode, etc., and of the metres used in such forms of 
 verse. A pupil must be able to scan any line in any poem, 
 evincing an accurate knowledge of various metres in English 
 poetry, and must memorise the finest lyrics. 
 
 Syle's " From Milton To Tennyson," Pancoast's " Intro- 
 duction To English Literature," Halleck's " History Of Eng- 
 hsh Literature," Moody and Lovett's " A History Of English 
 
INTRODUCTION XI 
 
 Literature," and Painter's " History Of English Literature," 
 which contain study Hsts and references, should be on the 
 teachers' desks for continual consultation. These books, 
 with Pancoast's " Standard English Poems," are fine direct- 
 ive agencies in studying the literary periods and the lives of 
 the poets. Gayley's " Classic Myths In English Literature " 
 will explain all mythological allusions ; and Crawshaw's 
 " Interpretation of Literature " and Gayley and Scott's " Lit- 
 erary Criticism, " Vol. I, should be accessible. C. F. John- 
 son's " Elements of Literary Criticism " is indispensable, and 
 must constantly be used by teacher and class in order that 
 pupils independently may select dexterous, felicitous, and dy- 
 namic phrases, which test the poetic power of any poet. 
 
 Throughout the book, the great phrases, which have been 
 struck off at a white heat by the poets, except those, in the 
 selected poems, are given ; and the poems from which these 
 have been chosen are named. These examples of phrasal 
 power, though separated from the context, are to be memo- 
 rised ; for, by so doing, the pupil gains the ability to rank 
 English poets, and to discriminate between the true and 
 false. In the study of Dry den four phrases are given, any 
 of which may be used in classifying the many found in 
 " Alexander's Feast." 
 
 From the study of the anthology by these three suggested 
 methods : (i) the indebtedness of best poetry to preceding 
 and present poetry ; (2) its indebtedness to past and present 
 historical environment ; (3) its indebtedness for forms and 
 metres to preceding and present models, the pupils will have 
 become acquainted with the technique of poetics, will have 
 acquired a love for English poetry, and so far as possible a 
 critical ability. 
 
 In order that pupils may become literary analysts a few 
 stimulating questions eliciting the analysis of the poems have 
 been submitted for the purpose of calling their intellects as 
 
XII INTRODUCTION 
 
 well as their emotions into play. They, who have viewed 
 a piece of literature intellectually, emotionally, and ethically, 
 from the points of view of sources of materials for concep- 
 tion, of technical construction, and of aesthetics of effect, have 
 become critics of the highest kind. 
 
 In conclusion, the questions are not disconnected but 
 serve to link poem to poem. They show, whenever possible, 
 the indebtedness of best poetry to preceding poetry. By this 
 formal unity the pupils are kept alive in their experience of 
 English poetry, and by the variety of the notes are made 
 susceptible to an all-round development. 
 
Contents 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface .......... iii 
 
 Introduction ......... v 
 
 The Formative Or Anglo-Saxon Period 
 Beowulf [Beowulf's Fight With Grendel] .... 4 
 The Wanderer ........ 9 
 
 The Compactive Or Anglo-Norman Period 
 Cuckoo Song ......... 14 
 
 The Initiative Period 
 
 Chaucer 
 The Prioresses Tale ........ i6 
 
 The Retrogressive Period 
 
 Sir Patrick Spens ........ 24 
 
 The Nut-Brown Maid ....... 26 
 
 The Twa Corbies ........ 38 
 
 The Renaissance Period 
 Spenser 
 The Faery Queene [Selections from Cantos I., III. and 
 
 XII. of Book I.] 41 
 
 Lyly 
 Apelles' Song [Cupid And Campaspe] .... 52 
 
 Greene 
 Sephestia's Lullaby ........ 53 
 
 The Song Of The Shepherdess 54 
 
 xiii 
 
xiv ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 PACK 
 
 Campion 
 Fortunati Nimium 56 
 
 Marlowe 
 The Passionate Shepherd To His Love .... 58 
 
 Raleigh 
 The Nymph's Reply ........ 60 
 
 Nashe 
 Spring 62 
 
 Sidney 
 On Sleep, A Sonnet 63 
 
 Drayton 
 Since There's No Help, Come Let us Kiss And Part, A 
 
 Sonnet ......... 64 
 
 Shakespere 
 Sonnets 66 
 
 JONSON 
 
 To Celia 69 
 
 Hymn To Diana 7° 
 
 Fletcher 
 Melancholy 7* 
 
 The Puritan Period 
 
 Herbert 
 
 Virtue . 73 
 
 Suckling 
 I Prithee Send Me Back My Heart . . , , . 74 
 
CONTENTS XV 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Lovelace 
 To Lucasta, On Going To The Wars .... 76 
 
 To Althea From Prison ....... 76 
 
 Shirley 
 Death, The Leveller . 79 
 
 Herrick 
 
 Corinna's Going A-Maying ...... 81 
 
 To Primroses Filled With Morning Dew .... 85 
 
 To Daffodils 86 
 
 Waller 
 Go, Lovely Rose . . 87 
 
 Milton 
 L'Allegro 91 
 
 II Penseroso ......... 96 
 
 Lycidas . . . . . . . . . .102 
 
 Sonnet, On The Late Massacre In Piedmont . . , 109 
 Sonnet, On His Blindness no 
 
 The Restoration Period 
 
 Dryden 
 Alexander's Feast; Or, The Power Of Music , . .112 
 
 The Augustan Age 
 
 Pope 
 Epistle To Dr. Arbuthnot (Selection) . . . .121 
 
 Collins 
 Ode To Evening .... ... 126 
 
 Gray 
 Elegy Written In A Country Churchyard . . . .129 
 
XVI ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Goldsmith 
 The Deserted Village . . ... 
 
 When Lovely Woman Stoops To Folly 
 
 135 
 149 
 
 The Georgian Era 
 
 COWPER 
 
 The Poplar Field 151 
 
 The Rose . . . . . . . . . .152 
 
 On The Receipt Of My Mother's Picture Out Of Norfolk . 153 
 
 Blake 
 The Tiger 158 
 
 Burns 
 The Cotter's Saturday Night 
 To A Mouse 
 To A Mountain Daisy 
 John Anderson, My Jo 
 Highland Mary 
 The Banks Of Doon . 
 Farewell To Nancy 
 Contented Wi' Little And Cantie Wi' 
 Tarn O'Shanter 
 A Bard's Epitaph 
 
 Mair 
 
 161 
 167 
 169 
 171 
 172 
 
 173 
 174 
 
 17s 
 176 
 
 183 
 
 Wordsworth 
 Lines Composed A Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey 
 Ode, Intimations Of Immortality 
 The Solitary Reaper .... 
 
 I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud 
 
 Sonnet, To Milton 
 
 Sonnet, Composed Upon Westminster Bridge 
 Sonnet, It Is A Beauteous Evening 
 Sonnet, The World Is Too Much With Us 
 
 187 
 192 
 
 202 
 
 203 
 204 
 205 
 206 
 206 
 
CONTENTS XVll 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Byron 
 Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Cantos II., III. Nature 
 (Selections); Canto IV. Cascata Del Marmore ; 
 The Ocean ........ 210 
 
 Don Juan, Canto II. The Shipwreck . . . .217 
 
 Manfred, Act I. Mont Blanc; Act III. The Coli- 
 seum . . . . . . . . . .218 
 
 Don Juan, Canto III. The Isles Of Greece . . . 221 
 
 Stanzas For Music . ....... 226 
 
 She Walks In Beauty 227 
 
 Stanzas To Augusta ........ 228 
 
 On This Day I Complete My Thirty-Sixth Year . . 230 
 
 Scott 
 The Lay Of The Last Minstrel, Canto II. 1-18; 
 
 70-128; Melrose Abbey 234 
 
 The Lady Of The Lake, Canto VI. XV-XIX. The 
 
 Battle Of Beal' An Duine 238 
 
 Coleridge 
 The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner ..... 246 
 Kubla Khan 270 
 
 SOUTHEY 
 
 The Curse Of Kehama ; II. The Curse, 14 ; X. Mount 
 
 Meru, g, 10 ........ 273 
 
 Keats 
 
 The Eve Of St. Agnes 279 
 
 Ode On A Grecian Urn 295 
 
 Ode To A Nightingale 297 
 
 La Belle Dame Sans Merci ...... 301 
 
 On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer . . . 304 
 
 Last Sonnet ......... 304 
 
 Shelley 
 
 Adonais 307 
 
 To A Skylark . . 328 
 
XVlll ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Campbell 
 
 Battle Of The Baltic 333 
 
 Lord Ullin's Daughter 337 
 
 Moore 
 
 The Light Of Other Days 339 
 
 Farewell ! But Whenever — 340 
 
 Hood 
 
 The Bridge Of Sighs 342 
 
 It Was The Time Of Roses 346 
 
 The Victorian Era 
 
 Tennyson 
 
 The Lady Of Shalott 350 
 
 Ulysses . . . . . . . . -357 
 
 Break, Break, Break . . . . . . . .361 
 
 The Days That Are No More (The Princess) . . . 362 
 
 To Virgil 363 
 
 Merlin And The Gleam 368 
 
 Crossing The Bar . . . ' 373 
 
 Browning 
 
 Childe Roland To The Dark Tower Came .... 376 
 
 Prospice .......... 386 
 
 Epilogue (Asolando) ........ 387 
 
 Elizabeth Barrett Browning 
 
 A Musical Instrument ....... 390 
 
 Sonnet, How Do I Love Thee ? (Sonnets From The 
 
 Portuguese) 392 
 
 Arnold 
 
 The Forsaken Merman 394 
 
 Dover Beach 400 
 
 Self-Dependence 402 
 
CONTENTS XIX 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Swinburne 
 
 The Triumph Of Time (Selections) 404 
 
 ROSSETTI 
 
 Sonnet, Sibylla Palmifera ....... 408 
 
 Sonnet, Lovesight (House Of Life IV.) .... 409 
 
 The Blessed Damozel . . . . . . .410 
 
 Morris 
 
 An Apology (Earthly Paradise) ...... 416 
 
 Atalanta Victorious (Atalanta's Race In Earthly Paradise) . 419 
 
 Kipling 
 
 Recessional ......... 424 
 
ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The Formative Or Anglo-Saxon Period 
 449-1066 
 
 Optiotial Old English Poems 
 
 Widsith. 
 
 Deor's Lament. 
 
 Caedmon's Genesis A. i. The Fall Of The Angels; Genesis 
 B. I. Satan's Address To His Followers. 
 
 Judith: I. The Slaying Of Holofernes. 
 
 The Dream Of The Rood. 
 
 Cynewulf's Elene : i. The Battle; 2. The Voyage; 3. Auto- 
 biographic Rune-Passage. 
 
 The Phcenix. 
 
 The Battle Of Brunanburh. 
 
 The Batde Of Maldon. 
 
 Verse or prose translations of these poems are contained in 
 Cook and Tinker's " Translations From Old English Poetry.'' 
 Ginn & Company, 1902. 
 
 BEOWULF 
 
 Optional Portions 
 
 Beowulf's Fight With Grendel's Mother. 
 
 Beowulf's Fight With The Fire-Dragoo. 
 
 I 
 
^ ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Similes 
 
 1. flota f ami-heals fugle gelicost. ... 218. 
 boat foamy-necked to a bird most like. 
 
 2. ligge gelicost leoht unfaeger. 727. 
 a loathsome light most like to flame. 
 
 3. waes steda naegla gehwylc style gelicost. . . . 985. 
 each of the places of the nails was most like to steel. 
 
 4. LIxte se leoma, leoht inne stod, 
 efne swa of hefene hadre scIneS 
 rodores candel. 1 570-1 572. 
 
 The light gleamed, the light stood within, 
 
 even as from heaven glitteringly shines the candle of the sky. 
 
 5. faet hit eal gemealt Ise gelicost. . . . 1608. 
 that it all melted most like to ice. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 ?5£er gelyfan sceal 
 Dryhtnes dome se J^e hine deatS nimeS. 440-441. 
 
 He whom death takes must give himself over into the keeping 
 of God. 
 
 GS5 a wyrd swa hlo seel. 455. 
 Fate goes ever as she must. 
 
 Fela sceal gebldan 
 leofes ond lacJes, se )je longe her 
 on Syssum win-dagum worolde bruce5. 1060- 1062. 
 
 Many pleasant and disagreeable things must he endure, he who 
 long here in earthly life enjoys the world. 
 
 Swa sceal man don, 
 fonne he aet gutJe gegan |'ence5 
 longsumne lof, na ymb his lif cearatJ. 1 534-1 536. 
 
 As one shall do when he thinks to secure everlasting fame in 
 war, — cares not at all about his life. 
 
BEOWULF 3 
 
 ealle wyrd forsweop 
 mine magas to metod-sceafte, 
 eorlas on elne ; ic him aefter sceal. 28 14-2816. 
 
 According to predestination Fate has swept away all of my 
 ancestors, valourous earls : after them shall I. 
 
 DeaS bis sella 
 eorla gehwylcum j>onne edwit-llf. 2890-2891. 
 
 To each of earls death is better than an ignoble life. 
 
 " Beowulf " is our one folk-epic : it is a collection of ballads in 
 3,182 lines extolling Beowulf's great fights with Grendel, Gren- 
 del's Mother, and the Fire-Dragon. 
 
 According to Ten Brink the epic sprang into existence on the 
 Continent soon after 512 A. D. It spread rapidly throughout the 
 country of the Angles and was brought by them to Britain when 
 they settled Bemicia, Deira, and Mercia. It probably received 
 definite shape during the seventh century. 
 
 The kernel of the epic is tlioroughly mythical, pagan, and we 
 are glad that this has not been destroyed by the Christian inter- 
 polation. 
 
 As to the versification of " Beowulf," the normal line consists of 
 two alliterative syllables in the first half-line and one in the second 
 half-line. The following lines from the close of Fytte XII. of 
 " Beowulf " will show the internal structure of Anglo-Saxon poetry 
 according to Sievers' metrical schemes : 
 
 D? t6m 1 unlytel. ( )?aet waes tacen | sweotSl, C. 
 B. s^fS^n hfldle-deor | hond ajlegde, A. 
 A. e^rm §nd | eaxle | (faer waes e^ [ geador C. 
 A Grendlls ( grapl) | 6ndir geap|nl hrof. B. 
 
 The following line is given to show type E. 
 E. lifigend? | la5. | Llc-sar g?|bad. E. 
 
 On the island of Seeland, Hrothgar, king of the Danes, built a 
 hall and named it Heorot. For twelve winters a water-monster 
 
4 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 called Grendel had made it uninhabitable by night. He was a 
 man-eater who destroyed as many as thirty thanes in a single at- 
 tack. 
 
 Beowulf, the son of Ecgtheow, a young hero living in southern 
 Sweden in the land of the Geats, hearing of Hrothgar's trouble, 
 with fourteen men sets sail and in twenty-four hours had crossed 
 the sea to Seeland. On the morning of the second day he was 
 ushered into the presence of Hrothgar, who gladly welcomed him 
 as a champion against Grendel. When night came Beowulf was 
 encouraged by king and queen. After the beer-drinking, the Danes 
 retired, leaving the Geats in possession of Heorot. Beowulf now 
 awaited the coming of Grendel. 
 
 BECmJLF'S FIGHT WITH GRENDEL 
 
 " Beowulf," 711-836. [Prof. J. L. Hall's Translation of Beowulf, by permis- 
 sion of the publishers, D, C. Heath & Co.] 
 
 XII. 
 
 GRENDEL AND BEOWULF 
 
 'Neath the cloudy cliffs came from the moor then 
 
 Grendel going, God's anger bare he. 
 
 The monster intended some one of earthmen 
 
 In the hall-building grand to entrap and make way with ; 
 
 715 He went under welkin where well he knew of 
 The wine-joyous building, brilliant with plating. 
 Gold-hall of earthmen. Not the earliest occasion 
 He the home and manor of Hrothgar had sought : 
 Ne'er found he in life-days later nor earlier 
 
 720 Hardier hero, hall-thanes more sturdy ! 
 
 Then came to the building the warrior marching. 
 Bereft of his joyance. The door quickly opened 
 On fire-hinges fastened, when his fingers had touched it ; 
 The fell one had flung then — his fury so bitter — 
 
 725 Open the entrance. Early thereafter 
 
BEOWULF 5 
 
 The foeman trod the shining hall-pavement, 
 Strode he angrily ; from the eyes of him glimmered 
 A lustre unlovely likest to fire. 
 He beheld in the hall the heroes in numbers, 
 
 730 A circle of kinsmen sleeping together, 
 
 A throng of thanemen : then his thoughts were exultant, 
 He minded to sunder from each of the thanemen 
 The life from his body, horrible demon, 
 . Ere morning came, since fate had allowed him 
 
 735 The prospect of plenty. Providence willed not 
 To permit him any more of men under heaven 
 To eat in the night-time. Higelac's kinsman 
 Great sorrow endured how the dire-mooded creature 
 In unlooked-for assaults were likely to bear him. 
 
 740 No thought had the monster of deferring the matter, 
 But on earliest occasion he quickly laid hold of 
 A soldier asleep, suddenly tore him. 
 Bit his bone-prison, the blood drank in currents, 
 Swallowed in mouthfuls : he soon had the dead man's 
 
 745 Feet and hands, too, eaten entirely. 
 
 Nearer he strode then, the stout-hearted warrior 
 Snatched as he slumbered, seizing with hand-grip, 
 Forward the foeman foined with his hand ; 
 Caught he quickly the cunning deviser, 
 
 750 On his elbow he rested. This early discovered 
 
 The master of malice, that in middle-earth's regions, 
 'Neath the whole of the heavens, no hand-grapple greater 
 In any man else had he ever encountered : 
 Fearful in spirit, faint-mooded waxed he, 
 
 755 Not off could betake him ; death he was pondering, 
 Would fly to his covert, seek the devils' assembly : 
 His calling no more was the same he had followed 
 Long in his lifetime. The liege-kinsman worthy 
 Of Higelac minded his speech of the evening, 
 
6 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 760 Stood he up straight and stoutly did seize him. 
 His fingers crackled ; the giant was outward, 
 The earl stepped farther. The famous one minded 
 To flee away farther, if he found an occasion, 
 And off and away, avoiding delay, 
 
 765 To fly to the fen-moors ; he fully was ware of 
 
 The strength of his grapple in the grip of the foeman, 
 'T was an ill-taken journey that the injury-bringing. 
 Harrying harmer to Heorot wandered : 
 The palace re-echoed ; to all of the Danemen, 
 
 770 Dwellers in castles, to each of the bold ones, 
 Earlmen, was terror. Angry they both were, 
 Archwarders raging. Rattled the building ; 
 'T was a marvellous wonder that the wine-hall with 
 
 stood then 
 The bold-in-battle, bent not to earthward, 
 
 775 Excellent earth-hall ; but within and without it 
 Was fastened so firmly in fetters of iron, 
 By the art of the armorer. Off from the sill there 
 Bent mead-benches many, as men have informed me, 
 Adorned with gold-work, where the grim ones did struggle. 
 
 780 The Scylding wise men weened ne'er before 
 
 That by might and main-strength a man under heaven 
 Might break it in pieces, bone-decked, resplendent, 
 Crush it by cunning, unless clutch of the fire 
 In smoke should consume it. The sound mounted up- 
 ward 
 
 785 Novel enough ; on the North Danes fastened 
 A terror of anguish, on all of the men there 
 Who heard from the wall the weeping and plaining, 
 The song of defeat from the foeman of heaven, 
 Heard him hymns of horror howl, and his sorrow 
 
 790 Hell-bound bewailing. He held him too firmly 
 
 Who was strongest of main-strength of men of that era. 
 
BEOWULF \ 
 
 XIII 
 
 GRENDEL IS VANQUISHED 
 
 For no cause whatever would the earlmen's defender 
 Leave in life-joys the loathsome newcomer, 
 He deemed his existence utterly useless 
 
 795 To men under heaven. Many a noble 
 
 Of Beowulf brandished his battle-sword old, 
 Would guard the life of his lord and protector, 
 The far-famous chieftain, if able to do so ; 
 While waging the warfare, this wist they but little, 
 
 800 Brave battle-thanes, while his body intending 
 To slit into slivers, and seeking his spirit : 
 That the relentless foeman nor finest of weapons 
 Of all on the earth, nor any of war-bills 
 Was willing to injure ; but weapons of victory 
 
 805 Swords and suchlike he had sworn to dispense with. 
 His death at that time must prove to be wretched, 
 And the far-away spirit widely should journey 
 Into enemies' power. This plainly he saw then 
 Who with mirth of mood malice no little 
 
 810 Had wrought in the past on the race of the earthmen 
 (To God he was hostile), that his body would fail him. 
 But Higelac's hardy henchman and kinsman 
 Held him by the hand ; hateful to other 
 Was each one if living. A body-wound suffered 
 
 815 The direful demon, damage incurable 
 
 Was seen on his shoulder, his sinews were shivered, 
 His body did burst. To Beowulf was given 
 Glory in battle ; Grendel from thenceward 
 Must flee and hide him in the fen-cliffs and marshes, 
 
 820 Sick unto death, his dwelUng must look for 
 Unwinsome and woful ; he wist the more fully 
 The end of his earthly existence was nearing. 
 
8 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 His life-days' limits. At last for the Danemen, 
 When the slaughter was over, their wish was accom- 
 plished. 
 
 825 The comer-from-far-land had cleansed then of evil, 
 Wise and valiant, the war-hall of Hrothgar, 
 Saved it from violence. He joyed in the night-work, 
 In repute for prowess ; the prince of the Geatmen 
 For the East-Danish people his boast had accomplished, 
 
 830 Bettered their burdensome bale-sorrows fully, 
 The craft-begot evil they erstwhile had suffered 
 And were forced to endure from crushing oppression, 
 Their manifold misery. 'T was a manifest token, 
 When the hero-in-battle the hand suspended, 
 
 835 The arm and the shoulder (there was all of the claw 
 Of Grendel together) 'neath great-stretching hall-roof. 
 
 (750) " On his elbow he rested," ond ■wiS earm gesaet. Note Tink- 
 er's translation, "fastening upon the arm." (757) " His calling no more 
 was the same," ne -waes his drohtotS J)£er. Prof. James W. Bright 
 correctly translates " drohtoS " as " experience." 
 
 (835-836) Beowulf certainly placed the hand, arm, and shoulder of 
 Grendel on the outside of Heorot, " ofer heanne hrof." The next 
 morning Hrothgar, Beowulf, ladies, and jester, leave the burg by the 
 "medo-stig," mead-road, and climb "on stapole," on the terrace or 
 knoll in front of the hall and " geseah steapne hrof | golde fahne ond 
 Grendles hond," saw the steep roof shining with gold and Grendel's 
 hand. In (983) the son of Ecglaf examines the hand " ofer heanne 
 hrof," and in (991-992) Hrothgar orders that the bloody hall be adorned, 
 decorated "innan-weard folmum," inward with hands. Note the antith- 
 esis to the outward decoration of Heorot with Grendel's hand. 
 
 When night descends Grendel's mother comes, seizes ^schere be- 
 loved by Hrothgar and the hand of her dear son, and hides in the re- 
 cesses of her cave at the bottom of a mere. When morning comes 
 Beowulf follows, plunges into the bloody mere of the nicors, fights 
 with the mere-wLfe, and after an awful struggle slays her with the magic 
 sword of the giants. He is laden with presents by Hrothgar and re- 
 turns to his native land, where he soon becomes king. At eighty years 
 
THE WANDERER 9 
 
 of age he fights a fire-dragon, which he kills, but dies himself by reason 
 of inhaling the flames. 
 
 The best edition of " Beowulf " is A. J. Wyatt's. It is published 
 by the University Press, Cambridge, England. Reprinted 1901. 
 
 THE WANDERER 
 
 The author and the date of this finest of the Anglo-Saxon 
 elegies are unknown. Emily H. Hickey., in Cook and Tinkers 
 " Translations from Old English Poetry" translates the lyric into 
 hexameter verse with rime. The translation given below is in the 
 blank verse of Stopford Brooke. 
 
 THE PROLOGUE 
 
 A lonely man full often finds his grace, 
 God's tender pity : though in care of mind 
 Need drive him many days o'er ocean's path 
 To push with hands the frost-cold sea, and sail 
 5 The exile-tracks ! O Wyrd is fully wrought ! 
 Thus quoth a Wanderer, mindful of his woes, 
 Of direful slaughters, and of kinsman's death. 
 
 THE WANDERER 
 
 " Oft must I, lonely, at each early dawn 
 Bewail my care. There 's not one living man 
 
 10 To whom I now dare tell my hidden heart 
 With open freedom — O full well I know, 
 It is a noble habit in an earl, 
 To lock the cupboard of his soul, and safe 
 Keep his thought-hoard, while, as he will, he thinks, 
 
 1 5 A wearied mind may not withstand the Wyrd, 
 Nor any troubled spirit plan its aid ; 
 Wherefore those eager for their Honour bind. 
 Close-locked within the coffer of their breast, 
 
lO ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Their dreary thought — and so must I tie up 
 
 20 My soul in fetters ; I, so poor, careworn, 
 Cut off from home, from all my kinsmen far, 
 Since, long, long years ago, the dark of earth 
 Wrapt my Gold-friend ; and I have ever since 
 Gone winter-woeful o'er the woven-seas ! 
 
 25 Sad then, I sought a treasure-giver's hall, 
 
 Where I might find, or far or near, some Lord, 
 Who in the mead-hall would my memory know, 
 Or will to comfort me a friendless man, 
 Or pleasure me with joys ! 
 
 Who tries it, knows 
 
 2yO How cruel sorrow for a comrade is 
 
 To him who few of loved fore-standers has ! 
 He holds the exile's path, not plaited gold ; 
 A frozen bosom, not the fruits of earth ! 
 He minds him of the hall, of heroes there, 
 
 35 Of taking gifts, and how his golden friend 
 
 Feasted his youth. Fallen, fallen is all that joy ! 
 O well he knows this, who must long forego 
 The wise redes of his loved, his friendly Lord, 
 But most when sleep and sorrow, both at one, 
 
 40 Bind up the poor, the lonely Avanderer's soul ! 
 Him dreameth then that he doth clip and kiss 
 His Man-lord, and together head and hands 
 Lay on his knee, as once, when at his will, 
 In days gone by the Gift-stool he enjoyed. 
 
 45 Then doth the friendless man awake again. 
 And sees before him heave the fallow waves. 
 The foam-birds bathe, and broaden out their wings, 
 And falling sleet and snow, shot through with hail: 
 Then all the heavier is his wound of heart, 
 
 50 Sore for its own, and sorrow is renewed. 
 In dreams, his kinsmen flit across his mind, 
 
THE WANDERER I I 
 
 With songs he greets them, glad, he watches them ; 
 But these heroic comrades swim away ! 
 The ghost of these air-floaters brings to him 
 
 55 Few well-known words ! Once more his grief is new, 
 Who now must send, again and yet again, 
 His weary spirit o'er the binding seas ! 
 So in this world I may not understand 
 Wherefore my mind does not grow black as night, 
 
 60 Whene'er I think all on the life of men. 
 
 How suddenly they gave their house-floor up, 
 These mighty-mooded Thegns ! Thus doth Mid-Garth, 
 Day after day, droop down and fall to nought. 
 Wherefore no man is wise, till he has owned 
 
 65 His share of years on earth ! The wise must be 
 Patient, not too hot-hearted, nor of words 
 Too quick, nor heedless, nor too weak in war, 
 Too fearful, or too fain, nor yet of goods 
 Too greedy, nor too keen to boast, until 
 
 70 He know his way ! A man must wait, whene'er 
 He make a vow, till, bold, he surely know 
 Whither will turn the thought within his heart. 
 Grave men should feel how phantom-like it is, 
 When all this world's weal stands awaste ; as now, 
 
 75 Unnumbered, o'er this land, are ruined towns, 
 Swept by the storm, thick covered by white frost, 
 Dismantled all their courtyards, and the Hall 
 Where wine was drunk, in dust ! Low lies its Lord, 
 Bereft of joy ; and all the peers have fallen, 
 
 80 Haughty, before the rampart. War seized some 
 And bore them on death-paths ; and one a ship 
 Took o'er the towering wave ! The hoary wolf 
 Another tore when dead ; and one an earl 
 Hid in the hollowed earth with dreary face. 
 
 85 So hath men's Maker wasted this Earth's home, 
 
12 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Until the work of elder giants stood 
 
 Void of its Burghers, all bereft of joys ! 
 
 Who wisely has thought o'er this ruined Stead, 
 
 And this dark life doth deeply muse upon ; — 
 90 Gray-haired in soul — in exile oft recalls 
 
 Uncounted slaughters, and this Word cries out — 
 ' Where went the horse, where went the Man ? Where 
 went the Treasure-giver ? 
 
 Where have the seats of feasting gone ? and where th:: 
 joys in hall ? 
 
 Alas, the beaker bright ! alas, the byrnied warrior ! 
 or Alas, the people's pride ! O how is fled that time. 
 
 Beneath the Night-helm gloomed, as if it ne'er had been. 
 
 Alone is left, to tell of those loved peers. 
 
 This wall huge-high, spotted with carven snakes ! 
 
 The strength of ashen spears took off the earls, 
 1 00 Blood-thirsty weapons, and the far-famed Wyrd ! 
 
 Lo ! these hewn cliffs are beaten by the storms. 
 
 The snow-drift driving down binds up the earth, 
 
 Winter's wild terror, when it cometh wan ! 
 
 Night's shadow blackens, sending from the North 
 
 Fierce slants of hail for harmfulness to men ! 
 
 Wyrd's dooming changes all beneath the heaven ; 
 
 Here fleets our wealth, and here is fleeting friend, 
 
 Here fleets the kinsman, here is fleeting man ; 
 
 The roots of all this earth are idle made.' " 
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 So quoth the Wise of mood ! Apart 
 He sat, and made his runes. 
 Who keeps his troth, is brave of soul, 
 Nor shall he, over-rash, 
 1 1 5 Ever give voice to woe of heart 
 
 105 
 
THE WANDERER 1 3 
 
 Till first its cure he knows ; 
 So acts a man of fortitude ! 
 Yet, well for him who seeks 
 Strength, mercy from the Father, where 
 1 20 Our fortress standeth sure. 
 
 (5) "Wyrd, fate. This is the keynote of the theme — man tossed 
 about by the unrelenting wrath of Fate. (38) redes, counsels. (41) 
 clip, call. (44) Gift-stool, the throne from which a king or lord gives 
 gifts. (58) Observe the change in emotion; subjective dolour passes 
 into objective grief. The Wanderer forgets his own sorrow in seeing 
 everywhere people and things subjected to the cruel plottings of Wyrd. 
 (62) Mid-Garth, earth. A. S. middan-geard, earth. (64) Observe the 
 traits which mark the true English mind ever ready to endure punish- 
 ment at the hands of omnipotence. (80-84) Note the kinds of death 
 liable to come to such a man as the Wanderer: death by war; death 
 by sea-battle ; death by banishment ; and death which can come to a 
 man before he can do a deed of valour. (88) Stead, a ruined burg. 
 (92-95) Such lyrical questions are common in Old English poetry, 
 (no) The lyric closes as it begins, with its theme. As Chaucer says, 
 everything is made perfect and stable by the Father above until de- 
 scending into nature it becomes corruptible and transient. The Epi- 
 logue is an addition by a Christian poet who contrasts finely between 
 the fleeting things of earth and the fixed fortress of heaven. 
 
 The best text of the poem is contained in Bright's " Anglo-Saxon 
 Reader." 
 
14 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The Compactive Or Anglo-Norman Period 
 1 066- 1 340 
 
 optional Poems 
 
 Layamon's Brut. 
 
 Orni's Ormulum. 
 
 Sir Gawayne And The Green Knight. 
 
 The Pearl. 
 
 Alison. 
 
 Spring-Time. 
 
 CUCKOO SONG 
 
 Sumer is icumen in, 
 
 Lhude sing cuccu ! 
 Groweth sed, and bloweth med, 
 And springth the wude nu, — 
 5 Sing cuccu ! 
 
 Awe bleteth after lomb, 
 
 Lhouth after calve cu ; 
 Bulluc sterteth, bucke verteth, 
 
 Murie sing cucu ! 
 
 10 Cuccu, cuccu, well singes thu, cuccu: 
 Ne swike thu naver nu ; 
 Sing cuccu, nu, sing cuccu, 
 Sing cuccu, sing cuccu, nu ! 
 
 6. A-we, ewe. 7. Lhouth, loweth. 11. swike, cease. 
 
CHAUCER 
 
 15 
 
 The Initiative Period 
 1340-1400 
 
 GEOFFREY CHAUCER 
 
 1340-1400 
 
 Dan Chaucer, well of English undefyled. ... — Edmund Spenser. 
 
 Optio7ial Poems 
 
 The Canterbury Tales. 
 
 The Prologue. 
 
 The Knightes Tale. 
 
 The Man Of Law's Tale. 
 
 The Nonne Preestes Tale. 
 
 The Pardoners Tale. 
 
 The Clerkes Tale. 
 The Legend Of Good Women. 
 (The Prologue.) 
 
 Phrases 
 
 The wordes mote be cosin to the dede. A. 742. 
 
 Ther nis no newe gyse, that it nas old. A. 2125. 
 
 Men may the olde at-renne, and noght at-rede. A. 2449. 
 
 To maken vertu of necessitee. A. 3042. 
 
 Wei bet is roten appel out of hord 
 
 Than that it rotie al the remenaunt. A. 4406-4407. 
 
 whyl that iren is hoot, men sholden smyte. ... B. 2226. 
 
 he hasteth wel that wysely can abyde. . . . B. 2244. 
 
 Love is noght old as whan that it is newe. E. 857. 
 
 bet than never is late. G. 1410, 
 
1 6 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH POE TR Y 
 
 The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne. . . . 
 
 The Parlement of Foules. 
 
 THE PRIORESSES TALE 
 Here biginneth the Prioresses Tale 
 
 Ther was in Asie, in a greet citee, 
 Amonges Cristen folk, a Jewerye, 
 Sustened by a lord of that contree 
 For foule usure and lucre of vilanye, 
 5 Hateful to Crist and to his companye ; 
 
 And thurgh the strete men mighte ryde or wende, 
 For it was free, and open at either ende. 
 
 A litel scole of Cristen folk ther stood 
 Doun at the ferther ende, in which ther were 
 lo Children an heep, y-comen of Cristen blood. 
 That lerned in that scole yeer by yere 
 Swich maner doctrine as men used there. 
 This is to seyn, to singen and to rede, 
 As smale children doon in hir childhede. 
 
 15 Among thise children was a widwes sone, 
 A litel clergeon, seven yeer of age, 
 That day by day to scole was his wone, 
 And eek also, wher-as he saugh th' image 
 Of Cristes moder, hadde he in usage, 
 
 20 As him was taught, to knele adoun and seye 
 His Ave Marie, as he goth by the weye. 
 
 Thus hath this widwe hir litel sone y-taught 
 Our blisful lady, Cristes moder dere. 
 To worshipe ay, and he forgat it naught, 
 25 For sely child wol alday sone lere ; 
 
 But ay, whan I remembre on this matere, 
 
CHA UCER I 7 
 
 Seint Nicholas stant ever in my presence, 
 For he so yong to Crist did reverence. 
 
 This Utel child, his litel book lerninge, 
 30 As he sat in the scole at his prymer, 
 
 He Alma redeinptoris herde singe, 
 
 As children lerned hir antiphoner ; 
 
 And, as he dorste, he drough him ner and ner, 
 
 And herkned ay the wordes and the note, 
 35 Til he the firste vers coude al by rote. 
 
 Noght wiste he what this Latin was to seye. 
 For he so yong and tendre was of age ; 
 But on a day his felaw gan he preye 
 T'expounden him this song in his langage, 
 40 Or telle him why this song was in usage ; 
 This preyde he him to construe and declare 
 Ful ofte tyme upon his knowes bare. 
 
 His felaw, which that elder was than he, 
 Answerde him thus : ' this song, I have herd seye, 
 45 Was maked of our blisful lady free, 
 Hir to salue, and eek hir for to preye 
 To been our help and socour whan we deye. 
 I can no more expounde in this matere ; 
 I lerne song, I can but smal grammere.' 
 
 50 'And is this song maked in reverence 
 
 Of Cristes moder ? ' seyde this innocent ; 
 
 * Now certes, I wol do my diligence 
 
 To conne it al, er Cristemasse is went ; 
 
 Though that I for my prymer shal be shent, 
 55 And shal be beten thryes in an houre, 
 
 I wol it conne, our lady for to honoure.' 
 
l8 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 His felaw taughte him homward prively, 
 Fro day to day, til he coude it by rote, 
 And than he song it wel and boldely 
 60 Fro word to word, acording with the note ; 
 Twyes a day it passed thurgh his throte, 
 To scoleward and homward whan he wente ; 
 On Cristes moder set was his entente. 
 
 As I have seyd, thurgh-out the Jewerye 
 65 This htel child, as he cam to and fro, 
 
 Ful merily than wolde he singe, and crye 
 
 O Alma redemptoris ever-mo. 
 
 The swetnes hath his herte perced so 
 
 Of Cristes moder, that, to hir to preye, 
 70 He can nat stinte of singing by the weye. 
 
 Our firste fo, the serpent Sathanas, 
 That hath in Jewes herte his waspes nest, 
 Up swal, and seide, ' O Hebraik peple, alias ! 
 Is this to yow a thing that is honest, 
 75 That swich a boy shal walken as him lest 
 In your despyt, and singe of swich sentence, 
 Which is agayn your lawes reverence ? ' 
 
 Fro thennes forth the Jewes han conspyred 
 This innocent out of this world to chace ; 
 80 An homicyde ther-to han they hyred. 
 That in an aley hadde a privee place ; 
 And as the child gan for-by for to pace, 
 This cursed Jew him hente and heeld him faste, 
 And kitte his throte, and in a pit him caste. 
 
 85 I seye that in a wardrobe they him threwe 
 Wher-as these Jewes purgen hir entraille. 
 
CHAUCER 19 
 
 O cursed folk of Herodes al newe, 
 What may your yvel entente yow availle ? 
 Mordre wol out, certein, it wol nat faille, 
 90 And namely ther th'onour of god shal sprede, 
 The blood out cryeth on your cursed dede. 
 
 ' O martir, souded to virginitee. 
 Now maystou singen, folwing ever in oon 
 The whyte lamb celestial,' quod she, 
 95 ' Of which the grete evangelist, seint John, 
 
 In Pathmos wroot, which seith that they that goon 
 Biforn this lamb, and singe a song al newe, 
 That never, fleshly, wommen they ne knewe.' 
 
 This povre widwe awaiteth al that night 
 100 After hir litel child, but he cam noght ; 
 
 For which, as sone as it was dayes light, 
 
 With face pale of drede and bisy thoght, 
 
 She hath at scole and elles-wher him soght, 
 
 Til finally she gan so fer espye 
 105 That he last seyn was in the Jewerye. 
 
 With modres pitee in hir brest enclosed, 
 She gooth, as she were half out of hir minde, 
 To every place wher she hath supposed 
 By lyklihede hir litel child to finde ; 
 no And ever on Cristes moder meke and kinde 
 She cryde, and atte laste thus she wroghte. 
 Among the cursed Jewes she him soghte. 
 
 She frayneth and she preyeth pitously 
 To every Jew that dwelte in thilke place, 
 115 To telle hir, if hir child wente oght for-by. 
 They seyde, ' nay ' ; but Jesu, of his grace, 
 
20 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Yaf in hir thought, inwith a Utel space, 
 That in that place after hir sone she cryde, 
 Wher he was casten in a pit bisyde. 
 
 1 20 O grete god, that parfournest thy laude 
 By mouth of innocents, lo heer thy might ! 
 This gemme of chastitee, this emeraude, 
 And eek of martirdom the ruby bright, 
 Ther he with throte y-corven lay upright, 
 
 1 2 5 He 'Alma rcdemptoris ' gan to singe 
 
 So loude, that al the place gan to ringe. 
 
 The Cristen folk, that thurgh the strete wente, 
 In coomen, for to wondre up-on this thing, 
 And hastily they for the provost sente ; 
 130 He cam anon with-outen tarying, 
 
 And herieth Crist that is of heven king. 
 And eek his moder, honour of mankinde, 
 And after that, the Jewes leet he binde. 
 
 This child with pitous lamentacioun 
 135 Up-taken was, singing his song alway ; 
 
 And with honour of greet processioun 
 
 They carien him un-to the nexte abbay. 
 
 His moder swowning by the here lay ; 
 
 Unnethe might the peple that was there 
 140 This newe Rachel bringe fro his here. 
 
 With torment and with shamful deth echon 
 This provost dooth thise Jewes for to sterve 
 That of this mordre wiste, and that anon ; 
 He nolde no swich cursednesse observe. 
 145 Yvel shal have, that yvel wol deserve. 
 
 Therfor with wilde hors he dide hem drawe. 
 And after that he heng hem by the lawe. 
 
CHA UCER 2 1 
 
 Up-on his here ay lyth this innocent 
 Biforn the chief auter, whyl masse laste, 
 150 And after that, the abbot with his covent 
 Han sped hem for to burien him ful faste ; 
 And whan they holy water on him caste, 
 Yet spak this child, whan spreynd was holy water, 
 And song, — ' O Abna redemptoris juater ! ' 
 
 155 This abbot, which that was an holy man 
 
 As monkes been, or elles oghten be. 
 
 This yonge child to conjure he bigan, 
 
 And seyde, ' o dere child, I halse thee, 
 
 In vertu of the holy Trinitee, 
 160 Tel me what is thy cause for to singe, 
 
 Sith that thy throte is cut, to my seminge ? ' 
 
 ' My throte is cut un-to my nekke-boon,' 
 Seyde this child, ' and, as by wey of kinde, 
 I sholde have deyed, ye, longe tyme agoon, 
 165 But Jesu Crist, as ye in bokes finde, 
 
 Wil that his glorie laste and be in minde ; 
 And, for the worship of his moder dere, 
 Yet may I singe " O Abna " loude and clere. 
 
 This welle of mercy, Cristes moder swete, 
 
 170 I lovede alwey, as after my conninge ; 
 And whan that I my lyf sholde forlete. 
 To me she cam, and bad me for to singe 
 This antem verraily in my deyinge. 
 As ye han herd, and, whan that I had songe, 
 
 175 Me though te, she leyde a greyn up-on my tcnge. 
 
 Wherfor I singe, and singe I moot certeyn 
 In honour of that blisful mayden free, 
 
i2 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Til fro my tonge of-taken is the greyn ; 
 And afterward thus seyde she to me, 
 1 80 " My litel child, now wol I fecche thee 
 
 Whan that the greyn is fro thy tonge y-take ; 
 Be nat agast, I wol thee nat forsake." ' 
 
 This holy monk, this abbot, him mene I, 
 Him tonge out-caughte, and took a-wey the greyn. 
 185 And he yaf up the goost ful softely. 
 
 And whan this abbot had this wonder seyn, 
 His sake teres trikled doun as reyn. 
 And gruf he fil al plat up-on the grounde, 
 And stille he lay as he had been y-bounde. 
 
 190 The covent eek lay on the pavement 
 
 Weping, and herien Cristes moder dere, 
 
 And after that they ryse, and forth ben went, 
 
 And toke awey this martir fro his bere, 
 
 And in a tombe of marbul-stones clere 
 195 Enclosen they his litel body swete ; 
 
 Ther he is now, god leve us for to mete. 
 
 O yonge Hugh of Lincoln, slayn also 
 With cursed Jewes, as it is notable, 
 For it nis but a litel whyle ago ; 
 200 Preye eek for us, we sinful folk unstable. 
 That, of his mercy, god so merciable 
 On us his grete mercy multiplye. 
 For reverence of his moder Marye, Amen. 
 
 Here is ended the Prioresses Tale. 
 
 (10) y-comen, pp. y-, a prefix used especially with the pp., like 
 the A. S. ge-, Ger. ge-. (16) clergeon, a chorister-boy. (17) wone, 
 cu.stom. (25) sely, simple; A. S. sSlig; Ger. selig. (32) antiphoner 
 anthem-book. (35) coude, prt. could, knew ; A. S. cunnan, to know. 
 (36) ^Rriste, prt. of wite, to know ; A. S. witan. (54) shent, pp. of 
 
CHA UCER 
 
 23 
 
 shende, hurt, ruin, scold; A. S. scendan, to shame. (83) hente, pret. 
 of henten, to seize ; A. S. hentan. (85) wardrobe, an out-house. 
 (92) aouded, pp. confirmed, soldered. (113) frayneth, pr. s. prays, 
 beseeches. (114) thilke, that; A. S. J>illic, the like. (117) yaf, prt. 
 of yeve, to give. (131) herieth, pr. s. of herie, to praise; A. S. herian. 
 (139) unnethe, adv. with difficulty. (142) to sterve, to die; A. S. 
 steorfan; Ger. sterben. (153) spreynd, pp. of springen, to sprinkle. 
 (15S) halse, pr. s. conjure; A. S. healsian, to beseech. (175) me 
 thoughte, it seemed to me ; me is in the dative case, thoughte is an 
 impersonal verb in the prt. s. from thynke, to seem; A. S. J>yncan; 
 Ger. diinken. (176) moot, may, must, ought (pi. pr. moten), prt. 
 moste, muste. {199) nis (ne + is), a, contraction of the adv. ne, not, 
 and the verb is. 
 
 Note the seven-line stanzaic arrangement. The following lines will 
 show how Chaucer uses his iambic pentameter : 
 
 And fn | a tftmbe | of marb|iil stftn|6s clere 
 
 EficlSs|6n they | Ms lit|61 b6d|y swete ; 
 
 Thgre he | Is nftw, | g6d live | tis f6r | tO mite. 
 
 Compare these lines with the first four lines of " Piers The Plowman," 
 written by William Langland, a contemporary of Chaucer's 
 
 In a somer seson* whan soft was the sonne, 
 I shope me in shroudes * as I a shepe were. 
 In habite as an heremite* unholy of workes, 
 Went w^de in J)is world* wondres to here. 
 
 Note how Chaucer departed from the Old English alliterative verse 
 of unfixed line-length. He chose from the French lines containing 
 definite numbers of stressed and unstressed syllables and adopted 
 rime. He is the author of the heroic couplet. 
 
 Note lines which are most felicitous in expressing pathos, the beauty 
 of fate. Matthew Arnold said if he were to sum up Chaucer's truth of 
 substance and fluidity of style in one line, that one hne would be, 
 "O martir, souded to virginitee." This story presents Chaucer's finest 
 pathos, and should be contrasted with " The Nonne Preestes Tale," 
 where is portrayed Chaucer's finest sense of humour. 
 
24 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The Retrogressive Period 
 1400-1500 
 
 optional Ballads 
 
 Chevy Chase. 
 
 Robin Hood And The Monk. 
 
 SIR PATRICK SPENS 
 
 The king sits in Uumferling toune, 
 Drinking the blude-reid wine: 
 
 " O whar will I get guid sailor, 
 To sail this schip of mine ? " 
 
 5 Up and spake an eldern knicht, 
 Sat at the kings richt kne : 
 " Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor, 
 That sails upon the se." 
 
 The king has written a braid letter, 
 10 And signd it wi his hand, 
 
 And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, 
 Was walking on the sand. 
 
 The first line that Sir Patrick red, 
 A loud lauch lauched he ; 
 15 The next line that Sir Patrick red, 
 The teir blinded his ee. 
 
 *' O wha is this has done this deid, 
 This ill deid don to me, 
 
BALLADS 
 
 25 
 
 To send me out this time o' the yeir, 
 20 To sail upon the se ! 
 
 " Mak hast, mak haste, my mirry men all, 
 Our guid schip sails the morne : " 
 
 " O say na sae, my master deir, 
 For I feir a deadlie storme. 
 
 25 " Late late yestreen I saw the new moone, 
 Wi the auld moone in hir arme, 
 And I feir, I feir, my deir master. 
 That we will cum to harme." 
 
 O our Scots nobles wer richt laith 
 30 To weet their cork-heild schoone ; 
 Bot lang owre a' the play wer playd, 
 Thair hats they swam aboone. 
 
 O lang, lang may their ladies sit, 
 Wi thair fans into their hand, 
 35 Or eir they se Sir Patrick Spence 
 Cum sailing to the land. 
 
 O lang, lang may the ladies stand, 
 Wi thair gold kems in their hair, 
 Waiting for thair ain deir lords, 
 40 For they'll se thame na mair. 
 
 Haf owre, haf owre to Aberdour, 
 
 It's fiftie fadom deip, 
 And thair lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, 
 
 Wi the Scots lords at his feit. 
 
 Define a folk-ballad. Note the common ballad-metre. Observe the 
 historical, enveloping action of this ballad. 
 
26 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 THE NUT-BROWN MAID 
 
 " Be it ryght or wrong, these men among 
 
 On women do complayne, 
 Affyrmynge this, how that it is 
 
 A labour spent in vayne 
 5 To love them wele, for never a dele 
 
 They love a man agayne : 
 For late a man do what he can 
 
 Theyr favour to attayne. 
 Yet yf a newe do them persue, 
 lo Theyr first true lover than 
 
 Laboureth for nought, for from her thought 
 
 He is a banyshed man." 
 
 " I say nat nay, but that all day 
 
 It is bothe writ and sayd, 
 15 That womans faith is, as who sayth. 
 
 All utterly decayd ; 
 But neverthelesse, ryght good wytnesse 
 
 In this case might be layd. 
 That they love true, and continue : 
 20 Recorde the Not-browne Mayde ; 
 
 Which, when her love came, her to prove, 
 
 To her to make his mone, 
 Wolde nat depart, for in her hart 
 
 She loved but hym alone." 
 
 25 " Than betwaine us late us dyscus 
 What was all the manere 
 Betwayne them two ; we wyll also 
 
 Tell all the payne and fere 
 That she was in. Nowe I begyn, 
 30 So that ye me answere : 
 
BALLADS 27 
 
 Wherefore all ye that present be, 
 
 I pray you gyve an ere. 
 I am the knyght, I come by nyght, 
 
 As secret as I can, 
 35 Sayinge, ' Alas ! thus standeth the case, 
 
 I am a banyshed man.' " 
 
 SHE. 
 
 " And I your wyll for to fulfyll 
 
 In this wyll nat refuse, 
 Trustying to shewe, in wordes fewe, 
 40 That men have an yll use 
 
 (To theyr own shame), women to blame, 
 
 And causelesse them accuse : 
 Therfore to you I answere nowe. 
 
 All women to excuse, — 
 45 ' Myne owne hart dere, with you what chere ? 
 
 I pray you tell anone : 
 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 
 I love but you alone.' " 
 
 HE. 
 
 " It standeth so : a dede is do 
 50 Wherof grete harme shall growe. 
 My destiny is for to dy 
 
 A shamefuU deth, I trowe, 
 Or elles to fle : the one must be : 
 None other way I knowe, 
 55 But to withdrawe as an outlawe, 
 And take me to my bowe. 
 Wherfore, adue, my owne hart true, 
 
 None other rede I can ; 
 For I must to the grene wode go 
 60 Alone, a banyshed man." 
 
28 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 SHE, 
 " O Lord, what is thys worldys blysse 
 
 That changeth as the mone ! 
 My somers day in lusty May 
 Is derked before the none. 
 65 I here you say farewell : Nay, nay, 
 We depart nat so sone. 
 Why say ye so ? wheder wyll ye go ? 
 
 Alas, what have ye done ? 
 All my welfare to sorrowe and care 
 7 o Sholde chaunge, yf ye were gone : 
 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 I love but you alone." 
 
 HE. 
 
 " I can beleve it shall you greve, 
 
 And somewhat you dystrayne ; 
 75 But aftyrwarde your paynes harde, 
 
 Within a day or twayne, 
 Shall sone aslake, and ye shall take 
 
 Comfort to you agayne. 
 Why sholde ye ought ? for, to make thought 
 80 Your labour were in vayne : 
 And thus I do, and pray you to, 
 
 As hartely as I can : 
 ForT must to the grene wode go 
 
 Alone, a banyshed man." 
 
 SHE. 
 
 85 " Now syth that ye have shewed to me 
 The secret of your mynde, 
 I shall be playne to you agayne, 
 Lyke as ye shall me fynde : 
 
BALLADS 
 
 Syth it is so that ye wyll go, 
 90 I wolle not leve behynde ; 
 
 Shall never be sayd the Not-browne Mayd 
 
 Was to her love unkynde. 
 Make you redy, for so am I, 
 Allthough it were anone ; 
 95 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 I love but you alone." 
 
 HE. 
 
 " Yet I you rede to take good hede 
 
 What men wyll thynke, and say ; 
 Of yonge and olde it shall be tolde, 
 100 That ye be gone away 
 
 Your wanton wyll for to fulfill, 
 
 In grene wode you to play ; 
 And that ye myght from your delyght 
 
 No lenger make delay. 
 105 Rather than ye sholde thus for me 
 
 Be called an yll woman. 
 Yet wolde I to the grene wode go 
 
 Alone, a banyshed man." 
 
 SHE. 
 
 " Though it be songe of old and yonge 
 1 10 That I sholde be to blame, 
 
 Theyrs be the charge that speke so large 
 
 In hurtynge of my name. 
 For I wyll prove that faythfulle love 
 
 It is devoyd of shame, 
 115 In your dystresse and hevynesse, 
 
 To part with you the same ; 
 And sure all tho that do not so, 
 
 True lovers are they none ; 
 
 29 
 
30 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 1 20 I love but you alone." 
 
 " I counceyle you remember howe 
 
 It is no maydens lawe, 
 Nothynge to dout, but to renne out 
 
 To wode with an outlawe, 
 125 For ye must there in your hand bere 
 
 A bowe, redy to drawe, 
 And as a thefe thus must you lyve, 
 
 Ever in drede and awe ; 
 Wherby to you grete harme myght growe ; 
 130 Yet had I lever than 
 
 That I had to the grene wode go 
 
 Alone, a banyshed man." 
 
 SHE. 
 
 " I thinke nat nay ; but, as ye say, 
 
 It is no maydens lore ; 
 135 But love may make me for your sake, 
 
 As I have sayd before, 
 To come on fote, to hunt and shote 
 
 To gete us mete in store ; 
 For so th^t I your company 
 140 May have, I aske no more; 
 
 From which to part, it maketh my hart 
 
 As colde as ony stone : 
 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 
 I love but you alone." 
 
 HE. 
 
 145 " For an outlawe this is the lawe, 
 That men hym take and bynde, 
 
BALLADS 3 1 
 
 Without pyte hanged to be, 
 
 And waver with the wynde. 
 If I had nede, (as God forbede !), 
 150 What rescous could ye fynde ? 
 Forsoth, I trowe, ye and your bowe 
 
 For fere wolde'drawe behynde : 
 And no mervayle ; for lytell avayle 
 
 Were in your counceyle than ; 
 155 Wherefore I wyll to the grene wode go 
 
 Alone, a banyshed man." 
 
 SHE, 
 
 " Ryght wele knowe ye that women be 
 
 But feble for to fyght ; 
 No womanhede it is indede , 
 160 To be bolde as a knyght. 
 
 Yet in such fere yf that ye were. 
 
 With enemyes day or nyght, 
 I wolde withstande, with bowe in hande, 
 
 To greve them as I myght, 
 165 And you to save, as women have. 
 
 From deth ' men ' many one : 
 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 
 I love but you alone." 
 
 " Yet take good hede ; for ever I drede 
 170 That ye coude nat sustayne 
 
 The thornie wayes, the depe valeies, 
 
 The snowe, the frost, the rayne. 
 The colde, the hete ; for, dry or wete, 
 We must lodge on the playne ; 
 175 And us above none other rofe 
 But a brake bush or twayne, 
 
32 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Which sone sholde greve you, I beleve, 
 
 And ye wolde gladly than 
 That I had to the grene wode go 
 1 80 Alone, a banyshed man." 
 
 SHE. 
 
 " Syth I have here bene partynere 
 
 With you of joy and blysse, 
 I must also parte of your wo 
 
 Endure, as reson is ; 
 185 Yet am I sure of one plesure, 
 
 And shortely, it is this : 
 That where ye be, me semeth, parde, 
 
 I coude nat fare amysse. 
 Without more speche, I you beseche 
 190 That we were sone agone ; 
 
 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 
 I love but you alone." 
 
 HE. 
 
 "If ye go thyder, ye must consyder 
 
 When ye have lust to dyne, 
 195 There shall no mete be for you gete, 
 
 Nor drinke, bere, ale, ne wyne ; 
 Ne shetes clene to lye betwene. 
 
 Made of threde and twyne ; 
 None other house but leves and bowes 
 200 To cover your hed and myne. 
 
 O myne harte swete, this evyll dyete 
 
 Sholde make you pale and wan : 
 Wherfore I wyll to the grene wode go 
 
 Alone, a banyshed man," 
 
BALLADS 
 
 SHE. 
 
 205 " Among the wylde dere such an archere 
 As men say that ye be 
 Ne may nat fayle of good vitayle, 
 
 Where is so grete plente ; 
 And water clere of the ryvere 
 210 Shall be full swete to me, 
 
 With which in hele I shall ryght wele 
 
 Endure, as ye shall see ; 
 And or we go, a bedde or two 
 I can provyde anone ; 
 215 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 I love but you alone." 
 
 HE. 
 
 " Lo, yet before, ye must do more, 
 
 Yf ye wyll go with me, 
 As cut you here up by your ere, 
 220 Your kyrtel by the kne ; 
 
 With bowe in hande, for to withstande 
 
 Your enemyes, yf nede be ; 
 And this same nyght, before day-lyght, 
 
 To wode-warde wyll I fie ; 
 225 Yf that ye wyll all this fulfill, 
 
 Do it shortely as ye can : 
 Els wyll I to the grene wode go 
 
 Alone, a banyshed man." 
 
 SHE. 
 
 " I shall as nowe do more for you 
 230 Than longeth to womanhede, 
 To shorte my here, a bow to bere, 
 To shote in tyme of nede. 
 
 33 
 
34 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 O my swete mother, before all other, 
 For you I have most drede ! 
 235 But nowe, adue ! I must ensue 
 Where fortune doth me lede. 
 All this mark ye ; now let us fie ; 
 
 The day comet h fast upon ; 
 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 240 I love but you alone." 
 
 HE. 
 
 " Nay, nay, nat so ; ye shall not go ; 
 
 And I shall tell ye why ; — 
 You appetyght is to be lyght 
 
 Of love, I wele espy : 
 245 For lyke as ye have sayed to me, 
 
 In lyke wyse, hardely, 
 Ye wolde answere, whosoever it were, 
 
 In way of company. 
 It is sayd of olde, Sone bote, sone colde, 
 250 And so is a woman ; 
 
 Wherefore I to the wode wyll go 
 
 Alone, a banyshed man." 
 
 SHE. 
 
 " Yf ye take hede, it is no nede 
 
 Such wordes to say by me ; 
 25s For oft ye prayed, and longe assayed, 
 
 Or I you loved, parde. 
 And though that I, of auncestry 
 
 A barons daughter be, 
 Yet have you proved howe I you loved, 
 260 A squyer of lowe degre ; 
 And ever shall, whatso befall, 
 
 To dy therfore anone ; 
 
BALLADS 35 
 
 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 I love but you alone." 
 
 HE. 
 
 265 "A barons chylde to be begylde, 
 It were a cursed dede ! 
 To be felawe with an outlawe 
 
 Almighty God forbede ! 
 Yet beter were the pore squyere 
 270 Alone to forest yede, 
 
 Than ye sholde say another day, 
 
 That by my cursed dede 
 Ye were betrayed ; wherfore, good mayd, 
 The best rede that I can 
 275 Is that I to the grene wode go 
 Alone, a banyshed man." 
 
 SHE. 
 
 " Whatever befall, I never shall 
 
 Of this thyng you upbrayd ; 
 But yf ye go, and leve me so, 
 280 Than have ye me betrayd. 
 
 Remember you wele, howe that ye dele, 
 
 For yf ye, as ye sayd. 
 Be so unkynde to leve behynde 
 
 Your love, the Not-browne Mayd, 
 285 Trust me truly, that I shall dy, 
 
 Sone after ye be gone ; 
 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 
 I love but you alone." 
 
 HE. 
 
 " Yf that ye went, ye sholde repent, 
 290 For in the forest nowe 
 
36 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 I have purvayed me of a mayd, 
 
 Whom I love more than you : 
 Another fayrere than ever ye were 
 
 I dare it wele avowe ; 
 295 And of you bothe eche sholde be wrothe 
 
 With other, as I trowe. 
 It were myne ese to lyve in pese ; 
 
 So wyll I, yf I can ; 
 Wherfore I to the wode wyll go 
 300 Alone, a banyshed man." 
 
 SHE. 
 
 " Though in the wode I undyrstode 
 
 Ye had a paramour, 
 All this may nought remove my thought. 
 
 But that I wyll be your ; 
 305 And she shall fynde me soft and kynde, 
 
 And courteys every hour, 
 Glad to fulfyll all that she wyll 
 
 Commaunde me, to my power ; 
 For had ye, lo, an hundred mo, 
 310 'Of them I wolde be one.' 
 
 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 
 I love but you alone." 
 
 HE. 
 
 " Myne own dere love, I se the prove 
 That ye be kynde and true ; 
 315 Of mayde and wyfe, in all my lyfe 
 The best that ever I knewe. 
 Be mery and glad, be no more sad, 
 
 The case is chaunged newe ; 
 For it were ruthe, that for your truthe 
 320 Ye sholde have cause to rewe. 
 
BALLADS 37 
 
 Be nat dismayed : whatsoever I sayd 
 
 To you, whan I began, 
 I wyll nat to the grene wode go ; 
 
 I am no banyshed man." 
 
 SHE, 
 
 325 " These tydings be more gladd to me 
 Than to be made a quene, 
 Yf I were sure they sholde endure ; 
 
 But is often sene, 
 Whan men wyll breke promyse, they speke 
 330 The wordes on the splene. 
 
 Ye shape some wyle me to begyle, 
 
 And stele from me, I wene ; 
 Than were the case worse than it was, 
 And I more wo-begone ; 
 335 For in my mynde, of all mankynde 
 I love but you alone." 
 
 HE. 
 
 " Ye shall nat nede further to drede : 
 
 I wyll nat dysparage 
 You, (God defend !) syth ye descend 
 340 Of so grete a lynage. 
 
 Now undyrstande, to Westmarlande, 
 
 Which is myne herytage, 
 I wyll you brynge, and with a rynge, 
 
 By way of maryage, 
 345 I wyll you take, and lady make, 
 
 As shortely as I can : 
 Thus have you won an erlys son, 
 
 And not a banyshed man." 
 
38 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 AUTHOR. 
 Here may ye se, that women be 
 350 In love meke, kynde, and stable : 
 Late never man reprove them than, 
 
 Or call them variable ; 
 But rather pray God that we may 
 To them be comfortable, 
 355 Which sometyme proveth such as he loveth, 
 Yf they be charytable. 
 For syth men wolde that women sholde 
 
 Be meke to them each one, 
 Moche more ought they to God obey, 
 360 And serve but hym alone. 
 
 This sweetest of all the ballads is presented in dramatic form of a 
 dialogue between two lovers who are standing near the edge of a forest. 
 Observe the stanzas which seem to indicate that feminine hands have 
 touched the ballad. Observe the moral at the end. Didactism is not 
 usually found in the folk ballad. Note the refrain of each lover, and 
 the internal rime so frequently used throughout the poem. 
 
 THE TWA CORBIES 
 
 As I was walking all alane, 
 
 I heard twa corbies making a mane ; 
 
 The tane unto the tither did say, 
 
 " Whar sail we gang and dine the day ? " 
 
 " In behint yon auld fail dyke, 
 
 I wot there lies a new-slain knight ; 
 
 And naebody kens that he lies there, 
 
 But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair. 
 
BALLADS 39 
 
 " His hound is to the hunting gane, 
 lo His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, 
 His lady's ta'en anither mate, 
 So we may mak our dinner sweet. 
 
 " Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane, 
 And I'll pike out his bonny blue e'en : 
 15 Wi' ae lock o' his gowden hair, 
 
 We'll theek our nest when it grows bare. 
 
 " Mony a one for him maks mane, 
 But nane sail ken whar he is gane ; 
 O'er his white banes, when they are bare, 
 20 The wind sail blaw for evermair." 
 
 In this ballad with barbaric fitness are woven the strands of a plot as 
 unnatural and gruesome as that in "Hamlet," — " frailty thy name is 
 woman," man's foul treachery, and a carcass supplying food for the re- 
 gion ravens. (13) Cf. "The Braes O Yarrow": 
 
 " Her hair it was three quarters lang, 
 It hang baith side and yellow ; 
 She tied it round her white hause-bane, 
 ' And tint her life on Yarrow.' " 
 
40 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The Renaissance Period 
 1500-1630 
 
 EDMUND SPENSER 
 
 1552-1599 
 
 . . . the poet's poet. — Char/.es Lamb. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 Astrophel. 
 Sonnet LXXV. 
 Epithalamion. 
 
 An Hymne In Honour Of Beautie. 
 Prothalamion. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 The noblest mind the best contentment has. 
 
 A dram of sweete is worth a pound of sowre. . . . 
 
 Deepe written in my heart with yron pen, 
 
 That blisse may not abide in state of mortall men. 
 
 Sleepe after toyle, port after stormie seas, 
 
 Ease after warre, death after life does greatly please. 
 
 — F. Q. Book r. 
 So love of soule doth love of bodie passe, 
 No less than perfect gold surmounts the meanest brasse. 
 
 — F. Q. Book IV. 
 Ill can he rule the great that cannot reach the small. 
 
 — F. Q. Book V. 
 For of the soule the bodie forme doth take ; 
 For soule is forme, and doth the bodie make. 
 
 — An Hymne In Honour Of Beautie, 
 
SPENSER 
 
 41 
 
 THE FIRST BOOKE OF THE FAERY QUEENE 
 
 Contayning the Legend of the Knight of the Red Crosse, or of Holinesse 
 
 1 Lo I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske, 
 As time her taught, in lowly Shepheards weeds, 
 Am now enforst, a far unfitter taske, 
 
 For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine oaten reeds. 
 And sing of knights and ladies gentle deeds ; 
 Whose praises having slept in silence long. 
 Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds 
 To blazon broade emongst her learned throng : 
 Fierce warres and faithfull loves shall moralize my song, 
 
 2 Helpe then, O holy virgin chiefe of nine. 
 Thy weaker novice to performe thy will ; 
 Lay forth out of thine everlasting scryne 
 
 The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still. 
 Of Faerie knights and fairest Tanaquill, 
 Whom that most noble Briton prince so long 
 Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill. 
 That I must rue his undeserved wrong : 
 O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong. 
 
 3 And thou most dreaded impe of highest Jove, 
 Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart 
 At that good knight so cunningly didst rove. 
 That glorious fire it kindled in his hart, 
 
 Lay now thy deadly heben bow apart. 
 And with thy mother milde come to mine ayde ; 
 Come both, and with you bring triumphant Mart, 
 In loves and gentle jollities arrayd. 
 After his murdrous spoiles and bloudy rage allayd. 
 
 4 And with them eke, O Goddesse heavenly bright, 
 Mirrour of grace and majestic divine. 
 
42 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Great Lady of the greatest isle, whose light 
 Like Phoebus lampe throughout the world doth shine, 
 Shed thy faire beames into my feeble eyne, 
 And raise my thoughts, too humble and too vile, 
 To thinke of that true glorious type of thine, 
 The argument of mine afflicted stile : 
 The which to heare, vouchsafe, O dearest dread, a while. 
 
 CANTO I 
 
 The patron of true Holinesse 
 
 foule Errour doth defeate ; 
 Hypocrisie him to entrappe 
 
 doth to his home entreate. 
 
 1 A gentle Knight was pricking on the plaine, 
 Ycladd in mightie armes and silver shielde. 
 Wherein old dints of deepe wounds did remaine, 
 The cruel markes of many a bloudy fielde ; 
 
 Yet armes till that time did he never wield : 
 His angry steede did chide his foming bitt. 
 As much disdayning to the curbe to yield : 
 Full jolly knight he seemd, and faire did sitt. 
 As one for knightly giusts and fierce encounters fitt. 
 
 2 And on his brest a bloudie crosse he bore, 
 The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, 
 
 For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore. 
 And dead as living ever him ador'd : 
 Upon his shield the like was also scor'd. 
 For soveraine hope, which in his helpe he had : 
 Right faithfuU true he was in deede and word, 
 But of his cheere did seeme too solemne sad ; 
 Yet nothing did he dread, but ever was ydrad, 
 
SPENSER 43 
 
 3 Upon a great adventure he was bond, 
 That greatest Gloriana to him gave, 
 
 That greatest glorious Queene of Faerie lond, 
 To winne him worship, and her grace to have, 
 Which of all earthly things he most did crave ; 
 And ever as he rode, his hart did earne 
 To prove his puissance in battell brave 
 Upon his foe, and his new force to learne ; 
 Upon his foe, a dragon horrible and stearne. 
 
 4 A lovely ladie rode him faire beside, 
 Upon a lowly asse more white then snow. 
 Yet she much whiter, but the same did hide 
 Under a vele, that wimpled was full low, 
 And over all a blacke stole she did throw, 
 As one that inly mournd : so was she sad. 
 And heavie sat upon her palfrey slow : 
 Seemed in heart some hidden care she had. 
 
 And by her in a line a milke white lambe she lad. 
 
 5 So pure and innocent, as that same lambe. 
 She was in Ufe and every vertuous lore. 
 And by descent from royall lynage came 
 
 Of ancient Kings and Queenes, that had of yore 
 Their scepters stretcht from east to westerne shore, 
 And all the world in their subjection held ; 
 Till that infernall feend with foule uprore 
 Forwasted all their land, and them expeld ; 
 Whom to avenge, she had this knight from far compeld. 
 
 6 Behind her farre away a dwarfe did lag. 
 That lasie seemd in being ever last, 
 
 Or wearied with bearing of her bag 
 
 Of needments at his backe. Thus as they past, 
 
44 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The day with cloudes was suddeine overcast, 
 And angry Jove an hideous storme of raine 
 Did poure into his lemans lap so fast, 
 That everie wight to shrowd it did constrain. 
 And this faire couple eke to shroud themselves were fain. 
 
 /;/ this wood the Knight subdues the dragon, E1T07: After leaz>- 
 ing the forest, Una and the Knight ?neet Archimago, Hypocrisy, 
 who i}ivites them to his hermitage, wherein, by a false dream, the 
 Knight abandons Una. The Red Cross Knight now meets Diiessa 
 with a Saracen named Sansfoy, whom he kills, and then makes 
 love to Duessa, who represents Mary Stuart, or fascinating Cathol- 
 
 CANTO III 
 
 Forsaken Truth long seekes her love, 
 
 and makes the Lyon mylde, 
 Marres blind Devotions mart, and fals 
 
 in hand of treachour vylde. 
 
 1 Nought is there under heav'ns wide hoUownesse, 
 That moves more deare compassion of mind. 
 Then beautie brought t' unworthy wretchednesse 
 Through envies snares, or fortunes freakes unkind. 
 I, whether lately through her brightnesse blind, 
 Or through alleageance and fast fealtie, 
 
 Which I do owe unto all woman kind, 
 Feele my hart perst with so great agony, 
 When such I see, that all for pitty I could die. 
 
 2 And now it is empassioned so deepe, 
 For fairest Unaes sake, of whom I sing, 
 
 That my fraile eyes these lines with teares do steepe. 
 To thinke how she through guilefull handeling, 
 
SPENSER 45 
 
 Though true as touch, though daughter of a king, 
 Though faire as ever Uving wight was faire, 
 Though nor in word nor deede ill meriting, 
 Is from her knight divorced in despaire, 
 And her dew loves deriv'd to that vile witches share. 
 
 3 Yet she most faithfull ladie all this while 
 Forsaken, wofuU, solitarie mayd. 
 
 Far from all peoples preace, as in exile. 
 In wildernesse and wastfuU deserts strayd. 
 To seeke her knight ; who subtily betrayd 
 Through that late vision, which th' enchaunter wrought, 
 Had her abandond. She of nought afifrayd, 
 Through woods and wastnesse wide him daily sought ; 
 Yet wish . tydings none of him unto her brought. 
 
 4 One day nigh wearie of the yrkesome way, 
 From her unhastie beast she did alight, 
 And on the grasse her dainty limbs did lay 
 In secret shadow, far from all mens sight : 
 From her faire head her fillet she undight, 
 And laid her stole aside. Her angels face, 
 As the great eye of heaven shyned bright. 
 And made a sunshine in the shadie place ; 
 
 Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace. 
 
 5 It fortuned out of the thickest wood 
 A ramping lyon rushed suddainly. 
 Hunting full greedy after salvage blood ; 
 Soone as the royall virgin he did spy, 
 With gaping mouth at her ran greedily. 
 To have attonce devourd her tender corse : 
 But to the pray when as he drew more ny, 
 His bloody rage aswaged with remorse. 
 
 And with the sight amazd, forgat his furious forse. 
 
46 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 6 In stead thereof he kist her wearie feet, 
 And lickt her UUy hands with fawning tong, 
 As he her wronged innocence did weet. 
 
 O how can beautie maister the most strong, 
 And simple truth subdue avenging wrong ! 
 Whose yielded pride and proud submission, 
 Still dreading death, when she had marked long. 
 Her hart gan melt in great compassion, 
 And drizling teares did shed for pure affection. 
 
 7 The lyon lord of everie beast in field, 
 Quoth she, his princely puissance doth abate, 
 And mightie proud to humble weake does yield, 
 Forge tfuU of the hungry rage, which late 
 
 Him prickt, in pittie of my sad estate : 
 But he my lyon, and my noble lord. 
 How does he find in cruell hart to hate, 
 Her that him lov'd, and ever most adord. 
 As the God of my life ? why hath he me abhord ? 
 
 8 Redounding teares did choke th' end of her plaint, 
 Which softly ecchoed from the neighbour wood ; 
 And, sad to see her sorrowfull constraint. 
 
 The kingly beast upon her gazing stood ; 
 With pittie calmd, downe fell his angry mood. 
 At last in close hart shutting up her paine, 
 Arose the virgin borne of heavenly brood, 
 And to her snowy palfrey got againe 
 To seeke her strayed champion, if she might attaine. 
 
 9 The lyon would not leave her desolate, 
 But with her went along, as a strong gard 
 Of her chast person, and a faithfuU mate 
 Of her sad troubles and misfortunes hard : 
 
SPENSER 47 
 
 Still when she slept, he kept both watch and ward, 
 And when she wakt, he waited diligent. 
 With humble service to her will prepard : 
 From her faire eyes he tooke commandement, 
 And ever by her lookes conceived her intent. 
 
 U?ia with her lio/i, national ho?unir, now meets Archiffiago dis- 
 guised as the Red Cross Knight. Archimago's deceit is made 
 tna7iifest by his Jight with Safis-loy, who., after an encoutiter with 
 the Hon., carries off Una. 
 
 Duessa led the Knight to the House of Pride., f 7-0 ni which he 
 escapes by the aid of the dwarf. But no sooner is he freed than he 
 falls a prisoner to Orgoglio, who represents Philip II of Spain. 
 
 Una, who had been saved from Sajis-loy by a troop of satyrs, 
 came across Prince Arthur. A search is now inade for the Red 
 Cross Knight. The dwarf leads them to Orgoglid's castle. Here 
 Arthur fights for the Knight and kills Orgoglio. The Knight is 
 such a physical and mental wreck that he needs to be born again, 
 to be respiritualised, to be dipped into the livitig well. Accordingly 
 he is taken to the House of Holiness, where he undergoes a purifi- 
 cation process so as to become a spotless bridegroom for Una. With 
 the strength of his new Holiness he slays the dragon ivhich had 
 ravaged the country of Una''s father, and as a reward for this 
 doughty deed is betrothed to Una. 
 
 CANTO XII 
 
 2 1 Then forth he called that his daughter faire, 
 The fairest Un' his onely daughter deare, 
 His onely daughter, and his onely heyre ; 
 Who forth proceeding with sad sober cheare, 
 As bright as doth the morning starre appeare 
 Out of the east, with flaming lockes bedight. 
 To tell that dawning day is drawing neare, 
 And to the world does bring long wished light : 
 So faire and fresh that lady shewd her selfe in sight : 
 
48 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 2 2 So faire and fresh, as freshest flowre in May ; 
 For she had layd her mournefull stole aside, 
 And widow-like sad wimple throwne away. 
 Wherewith her heavenly beautie she did hide, 
 Whiles on her wearie journey she did ride ; 
 And on her now a garment she did weare 
 All lilly white, withoutten spot or pride. 
 That seemd like silke and silver woven neare, 
 But neither silke nor silver therein did appeare. 
 
 23 The blazing brightnesse of her beauties beame, 
 And glorious light of her sunshyny face, 
 To tell, were as to strive against the streame : 
 My ragged rimes are all too rude and bace 
 Her heavenly lineaments for to enchace. 
 Ne wonder ; for her own deare loved knight, 
 All were she dayly with himselfe in place, 
 Did wonder much at her celestiall sight : 
 Oft had he scene her faire, but never so faire dight. 
 
 37 His owne two hands the holy knots did knit, 
 That none but death for ever can divide ; 
 
 His owne two hands, for such a turne most fit, 
 The housling fire did kindle and provide, 
 And holy water thereon sprinckled wide ; 
 At which the bushy teade a groome did light, 
 And sacred lamp in secret chamber hide. 
 Where it should not be quenched day nor night, 
 For feare of evill fates, but burnen ever bright. 
 
 38 Then gan they sprinckle all the posts with wine, 
 And made great feast to solemnize that day ; 
 They all perfumde with frankincense divine, 
 And precious odours fetcht from far away, 
 
SPENSER 49 
 
 That all the house did sweat with great aray : 
 And all the while sweete musicke did apply 
 Her curious skill, the warbling notes to play, 
 To drive away the dull melancholy ; 
 The whiles one sung a song of love and jollity. 
 
 39 During the which there was an heavenly noise 
 Heard sound through all the pallace pleasantly, 
 Like as it had bene many an angels voice 
 Singing before th' eternall Majesty, 
 
 In their trinall triplicities on hye ; 
 Yet wist no creature whence that heavenly sweet 
 Proceeded, yet eachone felt secretly 
 Himselfe thereby reft of his sences meet. 
 And ravished with rare impression in his sprite. 
 
 40 Great joy was made that day of young and old, 
 And solemne feast proclaimd throughout the land, 
 That their exceeding merth may not be told : 
 Suffice it heare by signes to understand 
 
 The usuall joyes at knitting of loves band. 
 Thrise happy man the knight himselfe did hold, 
 Possessed of his ladies hart and hand ; 
 And ever, when his eye did her behold, 
 His heart did seeme to melt in pleasures manifold. 
 
 41 Her joyous presence, and sweet company. 
 In full content he there did long enjoy ; 
 Ne wicked envy, ne vile gealosy. 
 
 His deare delights were able to annoy : 
 Yet swimming in that sea of blissfull joy. 
 He nought forgot how he whilome had sworne, 
 In case he could that monstrous beast destroy, 
 Unto his Faerie Queene backe to returne ; 
 The which he shortly did, and Una left to mourne. 
 
50 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 42 Now Strike your sailes ye jolly Mariners, 
 For we be come unto a quiet rode, 
 Where we must land some of our passengers, 
 And light this weary vessell of her lode. 
 Here she awhile may make her safe abode. 
 Till she repaired have her tackles spent, 
 And wants supplide. And then againe abroad 
 On the long voyage whereto she is bent : 
 Well may she speede, and fairely finish her intent. 
 
 1. (2) The Shepheards Calender, published by Spenser in 1579. 
 
 2. (i) Clio, the Muse of history. (5) Tanaquill, a British princess, 
 is Queen Elizabeth. (6) Prince Arthur allegorically represents the 
 Earl of Leicester. 
 
 3. Note that Spenser invokes the aid of Cupid, Venus, and Mars. 
 
 4. Observe the fulsome adulation which marks Spenser's attitude to- 
 ward Elizabeth. 
 
 CANTO I 
 
 I. The Red Cross Knight is reformed England. He wears the 
 armour of the Christian Church, which had been in many encounters. 
 In detail explain the metrical construction of a Spenserian stanza. 
 
 3. (9) The dragon represents the Devil, Rome, and Spain, fostering 
 falsehood on the earth. 
 
 4. (i) Una, who represents the Church in purity. 
 
 5. Una's lineage is derived from the Church Universal. 
 
 6. (i) The dwarf is common sense, a good rear-guard. 
 
 CANTO III 
 
 3. (3) preace, a throng. 
 
 5. (2) The lion is national honour. The lion is subdued by the power 
 of the beauty of purity. 
 
 CANTO XII 
 
 22. Note that Una throws aside her mourning weeds and dons her 
 bridal costume. 
 
 37. (4) housling fire, the sacramental fire. In Rome the bridegroom 
 received his bride in the home with fire and water. (6) teade, the 
 nuptial torch. Cf . Milton's " taper clear " of Hymen's in " L' Allegro," 
 126. 
 
SPENSER 5 I 
 
 39. (5) trinall triplicities. According to a medieval belief the 
 heavenly beings were divided into three Hierarchies, each hierarchy 
 being subdivided into three orders. 
 
 I 
 
 1 Seraphim 
 
 2 Dominations 
 
 2 
 Cherubim 
 Virtues 
 
 3 
 Thrones 
 Powers 
 
 3 Principalities 
 
 Archangels 
 
 Angels. 
 
 41. (8) The Red Cross Knight according to his vow has yet six years 
 to serve the Faerie Queene. (9) The Church in its purity cannot always 
 have a protector present ready to fight for it. 
 
52 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 JOHN LYLY 
 
 1553-1606 
 
 optional Poetn 
 Spring's Welcome 
 
 APELLES' SONG 
 
 Cupid and my Campaspe play'd 
 At cards for kisses ; — Cupid paid : 
 He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows. 
 His mother's doves, and team of sparrows ; 
 5 Loses them too ; then down he throws 
 The coral of his lip, the rose 
 Growing on 's cheek (but none knows how) ; 
 With these, the crystal of his brow, 
 And then the dimple of his chin ; 
 ID All these did my Campaspe win ; 
 At last he set her both his eyes — 
 She won, and Cupid blind did rise. 
 
 O Love ! has she done this to thee ? 
 
 What shall, alas ! become of me ? 
 
 (11-12) Cf. Shakespere's M. S. N. Dr., I. 1.: 
 
 " Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind ; 
 And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. ..." 
 Define a lyric. 
 
GREENE 53 
 
 ROBERT GREENE 
 
 1560-1592 
 
 optional Poem 
 Samela 
 
 SEPHESTIA'S LULLABY 
 
 Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee ; 
 When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee. 
 Mother's wag, pretty boy, 
 Father's sorrow, father's joy ; 
 5 When thy father first did see 
 
 Such a boy by him and me, 
 He was glad, I was woe ; 
 Fortune changed made him so, 
 When he left his pretty boy, 
 10 Last his sorrow, first his joy. 
 
 Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee ; 
 When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee. 
 Streaming tears that never stint. 
 Like, pearl-drops from a flint, 
 15 Fell by course from his eyes. 
 
 That one another's place supplies ; 
 Thus he grieved in every part. 
 Tears of blood fell from his heart. 
 When he left his pretty boy, 
 20 Father's sorrow, father's joy. 
 
 Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee ; 
 When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee. 
 
5 4 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The wanton smiled, father wept, 
 
 Mother cried, baby leapt ; 
 25 More he crow'd, more we cried, 
 
 Nature could not sorrow hide : 
 
 He must go, he must kiss 
 
 Child and mother, baby bliss, 
 
 For he left his pretty boy, 
 30 Father's sorrow, father's joy. 
 
 Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, 
 When thou art old there 's grief enough for thee. 
 
 In this lyric Greene pathetically lifts his voice in repentance for leav- 
 ing his wife and child in far Norwich. In London at this time he was 
 riotously running a course of dissipation which was to lead him to a 
 death at the hands of one of the seven deadly sins — Gluttony. The 
 poem is a passionate sob for his former pure country life. 
 
 THE SONG OF THE SHEPHERDESS 
 
 Ah ! what is love ! it is a pretty thing 
 As sweet unto a shepherd as a king. 
 
 And sweeter too : 
 For kings have cares that wait upon a crown, 
 5 And cares can make the smoothest brow to frown : 
 
 Ah then, ah then, 
 If country loves such sweet desires gain. 
 What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? 
 
 His flocks are folded, he comes home at night 
 10 As merry as a king in his delight, 
 And merrier too : 
 For kings bethink them what the state require, 
 When shepherds careless carol by the fire : 
 Ah then, ah then, 
 15 If country loves such sweet desires gain, 
 What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? 
 
GREENE 55 
 
 He kisseth first, then sits as blithe to eat 
 
 His cream and curd as doth the king his meat, 
 
 And blither too : 
 20 The kings have often fears when they sup, 
 
 Where shepherds dread no poison in their cup : 
 
 Ah then, ah then. 
 If country loves such sweet desires gain, 
 What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? 
 
 25 Upon his couch of straw he sleeps as sound 
 As doth the king upon his bed of down. 
 
 More sounder too : 
 For cares cause kings full oft their sleep to spill 
 Where weary shepherds lie and snort their fill : 
 
 30 Ah then, ah then. 
 
 If country loves such sweet desires gain. 
 What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? 
 
 Thus with his wife he spends the year as blithe 
 
 As doth the king at every tide or syth, 
 35 And blither too : 
 
 For kings have wars and broils to take in hand. 
 
 When shepherds laugh and love upon the land : 
 Ah then, ah then. 
 
 If country loves such sweet desires gain, 
 40 What lady would not love a shepherd swain ? 
 
 Observe the exquisite refrain which contains the note so often sounded 
 by the Elizabethan lyrists. Note as in the former poem the call of the 
 country to "the man-stifled town." (25-29) Cf. Shakespere, II Henry 
 IV. 3. I.: 
 
 " And in the calmest and most stillest night, 
 With all appliances and means to boot, 
 Deny it to a king ? Then happy low, lie down I 
 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown." 
 
56 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 THOMAS CAMPION 
 
 i567?-i6i9 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 Cherry-Ripe. 
 Integer Vitae. 
 
 FORTUNATI NIMIUM 
 
 Jack and Joan, they think no ill, 
 But loving live, and merry still ; 
 Do their week-day's work, and pray 
 Devoutly on the holy-day : 
 5 Skip and trip it on the green, 
 
 And help to choose the Summer Queen ; 
 Lash out at a country feast 
 Their silver penny with the best. 
 
 Well can they judge of nappy ale, 
 
 I o And tell at large a winter tale ; 
 Climb up to the apple loft, 
 And turn the crabs till they be soft. 
 Tib is all the father's joy. 
 And little Tom the mother's boy: — 
 
 15 All their pleasure is. Content, 
 And care to pay their yearly rent. 
 
 Joan can call by name her cows 
 And deck her windows with green boughs ; 
 She can wreaths and tutties make, 
 20 And trim with plums a bridal cake. 
 
CAMPION 5 7 
 
 Jack knows what brings gain or loss, 
 And his long flail can stoutly toss : 
 Makes the hedge which others break, 
 And ever thinks what he doth speak. 
 
 35 Now, you courtly dames and knights, 
 
 That study only strange delights, 
 
 Though you scorn the homespun gray, 
 
 And revel in your rich array ; 
 
 Though your tongues dissemble deep 
 30 And can your heads from danger keep ; 
 
 Yet, for all your pomp and train, 
 
 Securer lives the silly swain ! 
 
 Fortunati Nimium, happy beyond measure. Cf. Virgil, Georg. II. 
 458: "O fortunatos nimium," etc. (19) tutties, nosegays. Note the 
 metre of the poem. Classify and analyse the finest phrase. In this 
 lyric contrast city and court life with country life. Compare the previ- 
 ously read poems of Greene's. 
 
58 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE 
 
 1564-1593 
 
 By the force of poetry, not of dramatic art, Marlowe made a noble porch to 
 the temple which Shakespeare built. — Stopford Brooke. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 , . . whoever loved that loved not at first sight. . . . 
 
 • — Hero And Leander. 
 
 Was this the face that launch 'd a thousand ships, 
 And burnt the topless towers of Ilium ?^ — • 
 Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss. 
 
 — Doctor Faustiis. 
 
 O, thou art fairer than the evening air 
 Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars. . . . 
 
 — Doctor Faustus. 
 
 One thought, one grace, one wonder at the least, 
 
 Which into words no virtue can digest. — Tamburlatnt. 
 
 THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE 
 
 Come live with me, and be my love, 
 And we will all the pleasures prove. 
 That valleys, groves, hills and fields, 
 Woods or steepy mountains yields. 
 
 S And we will sit upon the rocks. 
 
 Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks 
 By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals. 
 
MARLOWE 
 
 And I will make thee beds of roses, 
 lo And a thousand fragrant posies, 
 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle, 
 Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle ; 
 
 A gown made of the finest wool, 
 Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; 
 15 Fair-lined slippers for the cold, 
 With buckles of the purest gold ; 
 
 A belt of straw and ivy-buds, 
 With coral clasps and amber studs : 
 And if these pleasures may thee move, 
 20 Come live with me, and be my love. 
 
 The shepherd swains shall dance and sing 
 For thy delight each May morning : 
 If these delights thy mind may move, 
 Come live with me, and be my love. 
 
 59 
 
60 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 SIR WALTER RALEIGH 
 
 1552-1618 
 
 THE NYMPH'S REPLY 
 
 If all the world and love were young, 
 And truth in eveiy shepherd's tongue, 
 These pretty pleasures might me move 
 To live with thee, and be thy love. 
 
 5 But time drives flocks from field to fold, 
 When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold ; 
 Then Philomel becometh dumb, 
 The rest complains of cares to come. 
 
 The flowers do fade, and wanton fields 
 10 To wayward winter reckoning yields ; 
 A honey tongue, a heart of gall. 
 Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. 
 
 Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, 
 Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, 
 1 5 Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten ; 
 In folly ripe, in reason rotten. 
 
 Thy belt of straw and i\7-buds, 
 Thy coral clasps and amber studs, 
 All these in me no means can move, 
 20 To come to thee and be thy love. 
 
RALEIGH 6 1 
 
 But could youth last, and love still breed, 
 Had joys no date, nor age no need ; 
 Then these delights my mind might move. 
 To live with thee and be thy love. 
 
 Observe how Raleigh differs from Marlowe in his conception of the 
 allurements of the country. Winter has its drawbacks, and youth and 
 love possess no setting to make them permanent. 
 
62 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 THOMAS NASHE 
 
 1567-1601 
 
 optional Poem 
 In Time Of Pestilence. 
 
 SPRING 
 
 Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king ; 
 Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, 
 Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, 
 Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! 
 
 5 The palm and May make country houses gay ; 
 Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, 
 And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay, 
 Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! 
 
 The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, 
 10 Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit. 
 In every street these tunes our ears do greet, 
 Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! 
 Spring, the sweet Spring ! 
 
 By previously read lyrics interpret this poem. From the point of 
 yiew of construction, the poem possesses artificiality. 
 
SIDNEY (i^ 
 
 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY 
 
 1554-1586 
 
 Optio7tal Poems 
 The Bargain. 
 Sonnet XXXI. (Astrophel and Stella.) 
 
 SONNET XXXEX. ON SLEEP. 
 
 (From Astrophel and Stella.) 
 
 Come, Sleep 1 O Sleep, the certain knot of peace, 
 The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, 
 The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, 
 The indifferent judge between the high and low ; 
 5 With shield of proof shield me from out the prease 
 Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw ; 
 
 make in me those civil wars to cease ; 
 
 1 will good tribute pay, if thou do so. 
 
 Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed ; 
 10 A chamber deaf to noise, and blind of light; 
 A rosy garland and a weary head : 
 And if these things, as being thine in right, 
 Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me, 
 Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see. 
 
 What is a sonnet ? Explain its construction. In this sonnet does 
 the thought in the sestet transcend the thought in the octave .-' What 
 is the one completely evolved thought ? 
 
 Stella was Penelope Devereux, daughter of the Earl of Essex. She 
 became Lady Rich. Sidney represents himself as Astrophel, lover of 
 the star, — Stella. 
 
 ( 1-4 ) Cf. Shakespere's metaphors applied to sleep in *' Macbeth," 
 Act IL 2. 
 
64 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 MICHAEL DRAYTON 
 1563-1631 
 
 optional Poems 
 
 Agincourt. 
 
 To His Coy Love. 
 
 SONNET LXI. (IDEA'S MIRROR) 
 
 Since there's no help, come let us kiss and part — 
 
 Nay, I have done, you get no more of me ; 
 
 And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, 
 
 That thus so cleanly I myself can free ; 
 5 Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows. 
 
 And when we meet at any time again, 
 
 Be it not seen in either of our brows 
 
 That we one jot of former love retain. 
 
 Now at the last gasp of Love's latest breath, 
 10 When, his pulse failing. Passion speechless lies, 
 
 When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death, 
 
 And Innocence is closing up his eyes, — 
 
 Now if thou would'st, when all have given him over, 
 From death to life thou might'st him yet recover ! 
 
 In form, compare this sonnet witli the one previously analysed. 
 
SHAKESPERE 
 
 WILLIAM SHAKESPERE 
 1564-1616 
 
 To Shakespeare the intellect of the world, speaking in divers accents, appli'-s 
 witli one accord his own words: ' How noble in reason! how infinite in fac- 
 ulty ! in apprehension how like a god ! ' — Sidney Lee. 
 
 Optional Poetns 
 When Icicles Hang By The Wall. 
 Where The Bee Sucks, There Suck I. 
 Under The Greenwood Tree. 
 Blow, Blow, Thou Winter Wind. 
 Take, O Take Those Lips Away. 
 Hark! Hark! The Lark At Heaven's Gate Sings. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 . . . the prophetic soul 
 Of the wide world dreaming on things to come. . . , 
 
 — Sonnet CVII. 
 . . . love ... 
 . . . builded far from accident. . . . 
 
 — Sonnet CXXIV. 
 The expense of spirit in a waste of shame 
 Is lust in action. ... — Sonnet CXXIX. 
 
 . . . some sweet oblivious antidote. . . . — Macbeth. 
 
 . . . my way of life 
 Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf. . . . — Macbeth. 
 
 . . . jealousy; 
 It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock 
 The meat it feeds on. . . . — Othello. 
 
 Of one that loved not wisely but too well. ... — Othello. 
 
66 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, 
 Absent thee from felicity awhile, 
 And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain, 
 To tell my story. — Hatnlet. 
 
 One touch of nature makes the whole world kin. . . . 
 
 — Troilus And Cressida 
 
 Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, 
 And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, 
 Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. — II Henry VI. 
 
 We are such stuff 
 As dreams are made on, and our little life 
 Is rounded with a sleep. — The Tempest. 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 XXIX 
 
 When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, 
 I all alone beweep my outcast state 
 And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries 
 And look upon myself and curse my fate, 
 5 Wishing me like to one more rich in hope. 
 
 Featured like him, hke him with friends possess'd, 
 Desiring this man's art and that man's scope, 
 With what I most enjoy contented least ; 
 Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, 
 ID Haply I think on thee, and then my state, 
 Like to the lark at break of day arising 
 From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate ; 
 For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings 
 That then I scorn to change my state with kings. 
 
 Note the riming couplet which characterises the Shakesperian sonnet. 
 The sonnets from I to CXXVI are addressed to a young man, prob- 
 ably the Earl of Southampton; those from CXXVI to CLIV are 
 addressed to a " dark lady." Sidney Lee says : " It was the exacting 
 conventions of the sonnetteering contagion, and not his personal expe- 
 
SHAKESPERE 
 
 67 
 
 riences or emotions, that impelled Shakespeare to celebrate the cruel 
 distain of a ' dark lady ' in his ' Sonnets.' " 
 
 We may safely assume that there are very few auto-biographical 
 touches in the sonnets of Shakespere. 
 
 (11-12) Cf. Cymbeline, Act II. 2, song, "Hark! hark! the lark at 
 heaven's gate sings. ..." 
 
 XXX 
 
 When to the sessions of sweet silent thought 
 I summon up remembrance of things past, 
 I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, 
 And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste : 
 5 Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow. 
 
 For precious friends hid in death's dateless night, ->»^ 
 And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe, 
 And moan the expense of many a vanish 'd sight : • 
 Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, 
 10 And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er 
 The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, 
 Which I new pay as if not paid before. 
 
 But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, 
 All losses are restored and sorrows end. 
 
 Classify and analyse the fine phrases. 
 LXXIII 
 
 That time of the year thou mayst in me behold 
 When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang 
 Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, 
 Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. 
 5 In me thou see'st the twilight of such day 
 As after sunset fadeth in the west, 
 Which by and by black night doth take away, 
 Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. 
 In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire 
 10 That on the ashes of his youth doth lie, 
 
68 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 As the death-bed whereon it must expire 
 Consumed with that which it was nourish 'd by. 
 
 This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more 
 strong, 
 
 To love that well which thou must leave ere long. 
 
 ( 2) Cf. " Macbeth," Act V. 3. : 
 
 " I have lived long enough : my way of life 
 Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf. ..." 
 
 Classify and analyse the one great phrase. 
 
 CXVI 
 Let me not to the marriage of true minds 
 Admit impediments. Love is not love 
 Which alters when it alteration finds, 
 Or bends with the remover to remove : 
 5 O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark 
 
 That looks on tempests and is never shaken : 
 It is the star to every wandering bark. 
 Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 
 Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 
 10 Within his bending sickle's compass come; 
 Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 
 But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 
 
 If this be error and upon me proved, 
 
 I never writ, nor no man ever loved. 
 
 Prof. C. F. Johnson calls attention to the rhythmical scheme over- 
 lying the metrical structure of this sonnet. There are three tumultuous 
 waves of emotion rising above the metre : the first wave being felt at 
 " not " in the first line ; the second at " no ! " in the fifth line ; and the 
 third at "star " in the seventh line. This emotion which accepts and 
 disregards metre is called " sense-rhythm " ; it is found in prose, and is 
 a mark of all great poetry. It is lacking in most of our modern, metri- 
 cally correct poetry. Read the first two lines according to scansion, 
 and then according to sense-rhythm. 
 
yONSON 69 
 
 BEN JONSON 
 
 1573-1637 
 
 . . . none of them {his fellow-dramatists ) wrote anything that surpasses !':. 
 songs and snatches in his plays. — Saintsbury. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 Simplex Munditiis. 
 
 See The Chariot At Hand Here of Love — 
 To The Memory Of My Master William Shakespeare. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 In small proportions we just beauties see ; 
 And in short measures, life may perfect be. 
 
 — A Part Of An Ode To Sir Lucius Gary 
 And Sir H. M orison. 
 
 He was not of an age but for all time ! 
 
 — To The Memory Of Shakespeare. 
 
 ... a good poet's made, as well as born. 
 
 — To The Memory Of Shakespeare. 
 
 TO CELIA 
 
 Drink to me only with thine eyes, 
 
 And I will pledge with mine ; 
 Or leave a kiss but in the cup, 
 
 And I'll not look for wine. 
 5 The thirst that from the soul doth rise, 
 
 Doth ask a drink divine : 
 But might I of Jove's nectar sup, 
 
 I would not change for thine. 
 
70 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 I sent thee late a rosy wreath, 
 lo Not so much honouring thee, 
 
 As giving it a hope, that there 
 
 It could not withered be. 
 But thou thereon didst only breathe, 
 And sent'st it back to me : 
 15 Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, 
 Not of itself, but thee. 
 
 HYMN TO DIANA 
 
 Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, 
 
 Now the sun is laid to sleep. 
 Seated in thy silver chair, 
 
 State in wonted manner keep : 
 5 Hesperus entreats thy light, 
 
 Goddess excellently bright. 
 
 Earth, let not thy envious shade 
 
 Dare itself to interpose ; 
 Cynthia's shining orb was made 
 10 Heaven to clear, when day did close : 
 
 Bless us then with wished sight, 
 Goddess excellently bright. 
 
 Lay thy bow of pearl apart, 
 
 And thy crystal shining quiver ; 
 15 Give unto the flying hart 
 
 Space to breathe, how short soever : 
 Thou that mak'st a day of night, 
 Goddess excellently bright. 
 
 i 
 
FLETCHER jri 
 
 JOHN FLETCHER 
 
 1579-1625 
 
 optional Poems 
 Sleep. 
 
 Love's Emblems. 
 Beauty Clear And Fair. 
 Weep No More. 
 
 MELANCHOLY 
 
 Hence, all you vain delights, 
 
 As short as are the nights 
 
 Wherein you spend your folly ! 
 
 There's nought in this life sweet, 
 5 If man were wise to see't, 
 
 But only melancholy — 
 
 O sweetest melancholy ! 
 Welcome, folded arms, and fixed eyes, 
 A sigh that piercing mortifies, 
 10 A look that's fasten'd to the ground, 
 A tongue chain 'd up without a sound! 
 
 Fountain-heads and pathless groves, 
 
 Places which pale passion loves ! 
 
 Moonlight walks, when all the fowls 
 1 5 Are warmly housed, save bats and owls ! 
 
 A midnight bell, a parting groan — 
 
 These are the sounds we feed upon ; 
 Then stretch our bones in a still gloomy valley ; 
 Nothing's so dainty sweet as lovely melancholy. 
 
 Note the meaning of the word " melancholy " as Fletcher uses it. 
 
72 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The Puritan Period 
 1630-1660 
 
 Some Caroline Lyric Poets 
 
 Another time he read aloud a song by one of the chivalrous poets of Charles 
 the First's time, perhaps Lovelace's " Althea," which Wordsworth also used to 
 croon in the woods, and said, " There I I would give all my poetry to have 
 made one song like that ! " — Aubrey de I 'ere, tn reminiscence of Tennyson. 
 
 GEORGE HERBERT 
 1593-1633 
 
 optional Poems 
 
 Constancy. 
 Man's Medley. 
 The Flower. 
 The Church Porch. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 Dare to be true. Nothing can need a lie : 
 
 A fault, which needs it most, grows two thereby. 
 
 For he, that needs five thousand pounds to live, 
 Is full as poor as he that needs but five. 
 
 Kneeling ne'er spoil'd silk stocking : quit thy state. 
 All equal are within tlje church's gate. 
 
 — The Church Porch. 
 
HERBERT 73 
 
 VIRTUE 
 
 Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright! 
 
 The bridal of the earth and sky, 
 The dew shall weep thy fall tonight ; 
 For thou must die. 
 
 5 Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, 
 Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, 
 Thy root is ever in its grave. 
 And thou must die. 
 
 Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, 
 10 A box where sweets compacted lie. 
 My music shows ye have your closes. 
 And all must die. 
 
 Only a sweet and virtuous soul, 
 Like season'd timber, never gives ; 
 15 But though the whole world turn to coal. 
 Then chiefly lives. 
 
 Note the evidence of the growth of a fervent English religious 
 feeling. 
 
74 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 JOHN SUCKLING 
 
 1609-1642 
 
 optional Poems 
 Why So Pale And Wan — 
 The Perfect Lover. 
 The Careless Lover. 
 Ballad On A Wedding. 
 Desire Changes. 
 Loving And Beloved. 
 Drinking Song. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 I touch her as my beads, with devout care, 
 And go into my courtship as my prayer. 
 
 ■ — Love Song. 
 
 I PRITHEE SEND ME BACK MY HEART 
 
 I prithee send me back my heart, 
 
 Since I cannot have thine ; 
 For if from yours you will not part, 
 
 Why then shouldst thou have mine ? 
 
 5 Yet, now I think on't, let it lie ; 
 To find it were in vain ; 
 For thou'st a thief in either eye 
 Would steal it back again. 
 
 Why should two hearts in one breast lie, 
 10 And yet not lodge together? 
 O Love ! where is thy sympathy, 
 If thus our breasts thou sever ? 
 
SUCKLING 75 
 
 But love is such a mystery, 
 I cannot find it out ; 
 IS For when I think I'm best resolved, 
 I then am in most doubt. 
 
 Then farewell care, and farewell woe ; 
 
 I will no longer pine ; 
 For I'll believe I have her heart 
 20 As much as she has mine. 
 
 Contrast this poem in quality of levity with Herbert's seriousness in 
 •• Virtue," and from such pass judgment on Charles the First's court- 
 lings. 
 
76 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 RICHARD LOVELACE 
 
 1618-1658 
 
 optional Poems 
 
 To Lucasta, From Prison. 
 A Mock Song. 
 
 TO LUCASTA, ON GOING TO THE WARS 
 
 Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind, 
 
 That from the nunnery 
 Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind 
 
 To war and arms I fly. 
 
 5 True, a new mistress now I chase. 
 The first foe in the field ; 
 And with a stronger faith embrace 
 A sword, a horse, a shield. 
 
 Yet this inconstancy is such, 
 10 As you too shall adore, 
 
 I could not love thee, dear, so much, 
 Loved I not honour more. 
 
 Observe the historical enveloping action of this lyric. Analyse the 
 fine phrase. 
 
 TO ALTHEA FROM PRISON 
 
 When love with unconfined wings 
 
 Hovers within my gates, 
 And my divine Althea brings 
 
 To whisper at the grates ; 
 
LOVELACE 77 
 
 5 When I lie tangled in her hair 
 And fettered to her eye, 
 The birds that wanton in the air 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 When flowing cups run swiftly round 
 lo With no allaying Thames, 
 
 Our careless heads with roses bound, 
 
 Our hearts with loyal flames ; 
 When thirsty grief in wine we steep, 
 When healths and draughts go free, — 
 15 Fishes that tipple in the deep 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 When, like committed linnets, I 
 
 With shriller throat shall sing 
 The sweetness, mercy, majesty, 
 20 And glories of my king ; 
 
 When I shall voice aloud, how good 
 
 He is, how great should be. 
 Enlarged winds that curl the flood 
 
 Know no such liberty. 
 
 25 Stone walls do not a prison make, 
 Nor iron bars a cage ; 
 Minds innocent and quiet take 
 
 That for an hermitage ; 
 If I have freedom in my love, 
 30 And in my soul am free. 
 Angels alone, that soar above, 
 Enjoy such liberty. 
 
 (25-32) Cf. Shakespere, Rich. II. Act V. 5, where Richard, a prisoner 
 in Pomfret Castle, makes a realm of his soul, peopling it with subjects 
 of his brain so that he may still be king of England and uncrown Boling- 
 broke. Through the texture of his thoughts ever runs the red thread 
 
•• t 
 
 yS ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY ' ' '' 
 
 of royalty — once a king, always a king. Lovelace, like Shakespere, 
 knew how to spar in a mental gymnasium. In this lyric he makes a 
 good physician, a good curate, for a soul suffering from afflictions of the 
 body. As St. Bernard walked all day beside Lake Geneva, seeing it 
 not, so this Cavalier lover in prison forgot his body by thinking of that 
 greater, other prison, wherein his soul was fettered to Althea. What 
 English poets have composed in prison ? 
 
SHIRLEY 
 
 79 
 
 JAMES SHIRLEY 
 1596-1666 
 
 DEATH, THE LEVELLER 
 
 The glories of our blood and state 
 
 Are shadows, not substantial things ; 
 There is no armour against fate ; 
 Death lays his icy hand on kings : 
 5 Sceptre and crown 
 
 Must tumble down, 
 And in the dust be equal made 
 With the poor crooked scythe and spade. 
 
 Some men with swords may reap the field, 
 10 And plant fresh laurels where they kill; 
 But their strong nerves at last must yield ; 
 They tame but one another still : 
 Early or late 
 They stoop to fate, 
 1 5 And must give up their murmuring breath, 
 When they, pale captives, creep to death. 
 
 The garlands wither on your brow ; 
 
 Then boast no more your mighty deeds I 
 Upon Death's purple altar now 
 20 See, where the victor-victim bleeds. 
 Your heads must come 
 To the cold tomb : 
 Only the actions of the just 
 Smell sweet and blossom in their dust. 
 
8o ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Note the historical enveloping action. " purple altar." Homer re- 
 peatedly calls " death " purple. Classify and analyse the great phrase. 
 This poem is said to have made Oliver Cromwell tremble. Scan 
 (5-8). Shirley cannot properly be called a Caroline poet; he is an 
 Elizabethan. 
 
HERRI CK 8 1 
 
 ROBERT HERRICK 
 
 1591-1674 
 
 optional Poems 
 To The Virgins — 
 To Violets. 
 
 Sweet, Be Not Proud — 
 The Primrose. 
 Go, Happy Rose — 
 The Country Life. 
 To Blossoms. 
 
 A Sweet Disorder In The Dress — 
 A Thanksgiving For His House. 
 The Litany. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. . . . 
 
 — To The Virgins, To Make Much Of Ti?ne. 
 
 That man lives twice that lives the first life well. 
 
 — Virtue. 
 
 CORINNA'S GOING A-MAYDSfG 
 
 Get up ! get up for shame ! the blooming morn 
 Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. 
 
 See how Aurora throws her fair 
 
 Fresh-quilted colours through the air : 
 5 Get up, sweet slug-a-bed and see 
 
 The dew bespangling herb and tree ! 
 Each flower has wept and bow'd toward the east 
 Above an hour since : yet you not dress'd ; 
 
 Nay ! not so much as out of bed ? 
 10 When all the birds have matins said 
 
82 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 And sung their thankful hymns, 'tis sin, 
 
 Nay, profanation to keep in, 
 Whereas a thousand virgins on this day 
 Spring, sooner than the lark, to fetch in May. 
 
 15 Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen 
 
 To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green, 
 And sweet as Flora. Take no care 
 For jewels for your gown or hair : 
 Fear not ; the leaves will strew 
 20 Gems in abundance upon you : 
 
 Besides, the childhood of the day has kept. 
 Against you come, some orient pearls unwept. 
 Come, and receive them while the light 
 Hangs on the dew-locks of the night : 
 25 And Titan on the eastern hill 
 
 Retires himself or else stands still 
 Till you come forth ! Wash, dress, be brief in praying. 
 Few beads are best, when once we go a-Maying. 
 
 Come, my Corinna, come ; and coming, mark 
 30 How each field turns a street, each street a park 
 Made green and trimm'd with trees ! see how 
 Devotion gives each house a bough 
 Or branch ! each porch, each door ere this 
 An ark, a tabernacle is, 
 35 Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove ; 
 As if here were those cooler shades of love. 
 Can such delights be in the street 
 And open fields and we not see't ? 
 Come, we'll abroad ; and let's obey 
 40 The proclamation made for May, 
 
 And sin no more, as we have done by staying ; 
 But, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying. 
 
HERRICK 83 
 
 There's not a budding boy or girl this day 
 But is got up, and gone to bring in May. 
 45 A deal of youth, ere this is come 
 
 Back, and with white-thorn laden home : 
 Some have dispatched their cakes and cream, 
 Before that we have left to dream : 
 And some have wept and woo'd and plighted troth, 
 50 And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth : 
 Many a green-gown has been given, 
 Many a kiss, both odd and even : 
 Many a glance, too, has been sent 
 From out the eye, love's firmament : — - 
 55 Many a jest told of the keys betraying 
 
 This night, and locks pick'd : yet we're not a-Maying ! 
 
 Come, let us go while we are in our prime, 
 And take the harmless folly of the time ! 
 We shall grow old apace, and die 
 60 Before we know our liberty. 
 
 Our life is short, and our days run 
 As far away as does the sun. 
 And, as a vapour or a drop of rain, 
 Once lost, can ne'er be found again, 
 65 So when or you or I are made 
 
 A fable, song, or fleeting shade, 
 All love, all liking, all delight 
 Lies drown'd with us in endless night. 
 Then, while time serves, and we are but decaying, 
 70 Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying. 
 
 Compare (1-28) to Chaucer's sunrise in "The Knight's Tale," where 
 Emily goes forth into the garden to do observance to May, and classify 
 the similitudes. Likewise, compare Herrick's sunrise to Chaucer's in 
 "The Knightes Tale," where Arcite does observance to May. (21-22) 
 Cf. Shakespere, Ham. Act I. i. 166-167; 
 
84 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 " But, look, the morn in russet mantle clad, 
 Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill. ..." 
 
 and Milton, P. L. 5. 1-2 : 
 
 " Now morn, her rosy steps in the eastern clime 
 Advancing, sowed the earth with orient pearl." 
 
 (25) " And Titan on the eastern hill. . . ." Cf. Spenser, F. Q., Book 
 I. Canto II. 7 : 
 
 " Now when the rosy-fingred morning faire. 
 Weary of aged Tithones saffron bed, 
 Had spread her purple robe through deawy aire. 
 And the high hils Titan discovered, . . ." 
 
 (67-68) " All love, all liking, all delight 
 
 Lies drown'd with us in endless night." 
 
 Compare the kst stanza in Campion's " To Lesbia " : 
 
 " When timely death my life and fortunes ends 
 Let not my hearse be vext with mourning friends ; 
 But let all lovers, rich in triumph, come 
 And with sweet pastimes grace my happy tomb : 
 And, Lesbia, close up thou my little light. 
 And crown with love my ever-during night." 
 
 (69-70) " Then while time serves, and we are but decaying, 
 Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying." 
 
 On reading this couplet a shiver steals over the optimist, while a 
 laugh twists the mouth of the pessimist ; for we are transferred to the 
 Forest of Arden, where Jaques, who has seen the motley fool take a 
 dial from his poke, is hearing the soliloquy : 
 
 " It is teii o'clock : 
 Thus we may see . . . how the world wags : 
 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine. 
 And after one hour more 'twill be eleven : 
 And so from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. 
 And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot ; 
 And thereby hangs a tale." 
 
HERRICK 85 
 
 TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW 
 
 Why do ye weep, sweet babes ? Can tears 
 Speak grief in you, 
 Who were but born 
 Just as the modest morn 
 5 Teem'd her refreshing dew ? 
 
 Alas ! You have not known that shower 
 That mars a flower, 
 Nor felt th' unkind 
 Breath of a blasting wind, 
 10 Nor are ye worn with years, 
 Or warp'd as we, 
 Who think it strange to see 
 Such pretty flowers, like to orphans young, 
 To speak by tears, before ye have a tongue. 
 
 15 Speak, whimp'ring younglings, and make known 
 The reason why 
 Ye droop and weep ; 
 Is it for want of sleep ? 
 Or childish lullaby ? 
 20 Or that ye have not seen as yet 
 The violet? 
 Or brought a kiss 
 From that sweetheart to this ? 
 No, no, this sorrow shown 
 25 By your tears shed 
 
 Would have this lecture read : 
 That things of greatest, so of meanest worth, \ 
 
 Conceiv'd with grief are, and with tears brought forth. \ 
 
 Comment on the dainty artificiality of the poem presented by the 
 rime system. 
 
S6 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 TO DAFFODILS 
 
 Fair daffodils, we weep to see 
 
 You haste away so soon ; 
 As yet the early-rising sun 
 Has not attain 'd his noon. 
 5 Stay, stay 
 
 Until the hasting day 
 
 Has run 
 But to the evensong ; 
 And, having prayed together, we 
 ID Will go with you along. 
 
 We have short time to stay, as you, 
 
 We have as short a spring. 
 As quick a growth to meet decay, 
 
 As you, or anything. 
 15 We die, 
 
 As your hours do, and dry 
 Away 
 
 Like to the summer's rain ; 
 Or as the pearls of morning's dew, 
 
 Ne'er to be found again. 
 
 Observe that the tender pathos is presented by the subjective 
 method. The complex system of rime does not spoil spontaneity in 
 the poem. 
 
WALLER 
 
 87 
 
 EDMUND WALLER 
 
 1606-1687 
 
 optional Poems 
 
 On A Girdle. 
 
 The Soul's Dark Cottage — 
 
 GO, LOVELY ROSE 
 Go, lovely Rose, 
 
 Tell her that wastes her time and me, 
 That now she knows, 
 When I resemble her to thee, 
 5 How sweet and fair she seems to be. 
 
 Tell her that's young, 
 And shuns to have her graces spied, 
 That had'st thou sprung 
 In deserts where no men abide, 
 10 Thou must have uncommended died. 
 
 Small is the worth 
 Of beauty from the light retired ; 
 Bid her come forth, 
 Suffer herself to be desired, 
 15 And not blush so to be admired. 
 
 Then die — that she 
 
 The common fate of all things rare 
 
 May read in thee ; 
 
88 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 How small a part of time they share 
 20 That are so wondrous sweet and fair ! 
 
 In this poem are blended two elements, the trivial and the serious, 
 of the Puritan period. Cf. Herrick's " Go, Happy Rose." The woman 
 honoured by this lyric was Sacharissa, — Lady Dorothy Sidney. 
 
MIL TON 89 
 
 JOHN MILTON 
 
 1608-1674 
 
 In the sure and flawless perfection of his rhythm and diction he is as 
 admirable as Virgil or Dante, and in this respect he is unique amongst us. 
 No one else in English literature and art possesses the like distinction. 
 
 — Matthew Arnold. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 On Shakespeare. 
 
 On The Morning Of Christ's Nativity. 
 
 Comus. 
 
 Samson Agonistes. 
 
 Sonnet: To The Memory Of His Second Wife. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 PARADISE LOST 
 BOOK I 
 
 And courage never to submit or yield : 
 And what is else not to be overcome. . . . 
 
 Better to reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven. 
 
 Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds. . . . 
 
 . . . his face 
 Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care 
 Sat on his faded cheek. . . . 
 
 Tears such as Angels weep. . . . 
 
 A fabric huge 
 Rose like an exhalation, with the sound 
 Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet. . , . 
 
90 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 . . . from morn 
 To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, 
 A summer's day ; and with the setting sun 
 Dropt from the zenith, like a falling star, 
 On Lemnos, the /Egasan isle. 
 
 BOOK II 
 
 Or where the gorgeous East with richest hand 
 Showers on her kings barbaric pearl and gold. . . 
 
 So frowned the mighty combatants, that Hell 
 Grew darker at their frown. . . . 
 
 BOOK III 
 
 Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven first-bom ! 
 
 Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks 
 Invisible, except to God alone. . . . 
 
 BOOK IV 
 
 ... to thee I call, 
 But with no friendly voice, and add thy name, 
 O Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams. . . . 
 
 Evil, be thou my Good. . . . 
 
 Not that fair field 
 Of Enna, where Proserpin gathering flowers, 
 Herself a fairer flower, by gloomy Dis 
 Was gathered — which cost Ceres all that pain 
 To seek her through the world. . . . 
 
 For contemplation he and valour formed, 
 
 For softness she and sweet attractive grace. . . . 
 
 BOOK V 
 
 Among the faithless faithful only he. . . , 
 
MILTON 91 
 
 BOOK VIII 
 Grace was in all her steps, heaven in her eye. . . . 
 
 BOOK XI 
 
 Nor love thy life, nor hate : but what thou liv'st 
 Live well ; how long or short permit to Heaven. 
 
 COMUS 
 
 So dear to Heaven is saintly chastity 
 That, when a soul is found sincerely so, 
 A thousand liveried angels lackey her. . . . 
 
 Beauty is Nature's coin ; must not be hoarded 
 But must be current. . . . 
 
 Or, if Virtue feeble were. 
 Heaven itself would stoop to her. 
 
 L'ALLEGRO 
 
 Hence, loathed Melancholy 
 
 Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born 
 In Stygian cave forlorn, 
 
 ' Mongst horrid shapes and shrieks, and sights 
 unholy ! 
 5 Find out some uncouth cell, 
 
 Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous 
 wings. 
 And the night-raven sings, 
 
 There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, 
 As ragged as thy locks, 
 10 In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 
 But come, thou Goddess, fair and free, 
 In heaven yclept Euphrosyne, 
 
92 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 And by men heart-easing Mirth ; 
 Whom lovely Venus, at a birth 
 
 15 With two sister Graces more, 
 To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore : 
 Or whether (as some sager sing) 
 The frolic wind that breathes the spring, 
 Zephyr, with Aurora playing, 
 
 20 As he met her once a-Maying, 
 There, on beds of violets blue. 
 And fresh-blown roses washed in dew, 
 Filled her with thee, a daughter fair, 
 So buxom, blithe, and debonair. 
 
 25 Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee 
 Jest, and youthful Jollity, 
 Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles, 
 Nods, and becks and wreathed smiles, 
 Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, 
 
 30 And love to live in dimple sleek : 
 Sport that wrinkled Care derides, 
 And Laughter holding both his sides. 
 Come, and trip it as you go. 
 On the light fantastic toe ; 
 
 35 And in thy right hand lead with thee 
 The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty ; 
 And, if I give thee honour due. 
 Mirth, admit me of thy crew, 
 To live with her and live with thee, 
 
 40 In unreproved pleasures free: — 
 
 To hear the lark begin his flight. 
 And singing, startle the dull night. 
 From his watch-tower in the skies. 
 Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; 
 
 45 Then to come, in spite of sorrow. 
 And at my window bid good-morrow, 
 
MILTON 93 
 
 Through the sweet-briar, or the vine, 
 
 Or the twisted eglantine ; 
 
 While the cock, with lively din, 
 50 Scatters the rear of darkness thin. 
 
 And to the stack, or the barn-door, 
 
 Stoutly struts his dames before ; 
 
 Oft listening how the hounds and horn 
 
 Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn, 
 55 From the side of some hoar hill. 
 
 Through the high-wood echoing shrill ; 
 
 Some time walking, not unseen. 
 
 By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green 
 
 Right against the eastern gate 
 60 Where the great sun begins his state 
 
 Robed in flames and amber light, 
 
 The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; 
 
 While the ploughman, near at hand, 
 
 Whistles o'er the furrowed land, 
 65 And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 
 
 And the mower whets his scythe, 
 
 And eveiy shepherd tells his tale 
 
 Under the hawthorn in the dale. 
 
 Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, 
 70 Whilst the landscape round it measures ; 
 
 Russet lawns and fallows gray, 
 
 Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; 
 
 Mountains, on whose barren breast 
 
 The labouring clouds do often rest ; 
 75 Meadows trim, with daisies pied, 
 
 Shallow brooks, and rivers wide ; 
 
 Towers and battlements it sees 
 
 Bosomed high in tufted trees, 
 
 Where, perhaps, some beauty lies, 
 80 The cynosure of neighbouring eyes. 
 
94 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Hard by, a cottage chimney smokes 
 From betwixt two aged oaks, 
 Where Corydon and Thyrsis met. 
 Are at their savoury dinner set 
 
 85 Of herbs, and other country messes, 
 Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses, 
 And then in haste her bower she leaves, 
 With Thestylis to bind the sheaves ; 
 Or, if the earlier season lead, 
 
 90 To the tanned haycock in the mead. 
 Sometimes, with secure delight, 
 The upland hamlets will invite, 
 When the merry bells ring round. 
 And the jocund rebecks sound 
 
 95 To many a youth and many a maid 
 Dancing in the checkered shade, 
 And young and old come forth to play 
 On a sunshine holiday. 
 Till the livelong daylight fail : 
 100 Then to the spicy nut-brown ale, 
 With stories told of many a feat : 
 How fairy Mab the junkets eat ; 
 She was pinched and pulled, she said ; 
 And he, by friar's lantern led, 
 105 Tells how the drudging goblin sweat 
 To earn his cream-bowl duly set. 
 When, in one night, ere glimpse of morn, 
 His shadowy flail hath threshed the corn 
 That ten day-labourers could not end ; 
 110 Then lies him down the lubber-fiend, 
 
 And stretched out all the chimney's length, 
 Basks at the fire his hairy strength. 
 And, crop-full, out of doors he flings, 
 Ere the first cock his matin rings. 
 
MILTON 95 
 
 115 Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, 
 
 By whispering winds soon lulled asleep. 
 Towered cities please us then, 
 
 And the busy hum of men. 
 
 Where throngs of knights and barons bold, 
 120 In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold, 
 
 With store of ladies, whose bright eyes 
 
 Rain influence, and judge the prize 
 
 Of wit or arms, while both contend 
 
 To win her grace, whom all commend. 
 125 There let Hymen oft appear 
 
 In saffron robe, with taper clear, 
 
 And pomp, and feast, and revelry. 
 
 With masque and antique pageantry ; 
 
 Such sights as youthful poets dream 
 130 On summer eves by haunted stream. 
 
 Then to the well-trod stage anon, 
 
 If Jonson's learned sock be on. 
 
 Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, 
 
 Warble his native wood-notes wild. 
 135 And ever, against eating cares, 
 
 Lap me in soft Lydian airs 
 
 Married to immortal verse. 
 
 Such as the meeting soul may pierce, 
 
 In notes with many a winding bout 
 140 Of linked sweetness long drawn out. 
 
 With wanton heed and giddy cunning. 
 
 The melting voice through mazes running, 
 
 Untwisting all the chains that tie 
 
 The hidden soul of harmony ; 
 145 That Orpheus' self may heave his head, 
 
 From golden slumbers on a bed 
 
 Of heaped Elysian flowers and hear 
 
 Such strains as would have won the ear 
 
g6 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Of Pluto to have quite set free 
 150 His half-regained Eurydice, 
 
 These delights if thou canst give, 
 Mirth, with thee I mean to live. 
 
 Explain the mythological allusions which appear here and there 
 throughout the poem. (1-6S) Contrast the attendants of Mirth with 
 those of Melancholy in " II Penseroso." Compare Milton's power of 
 describing a sunrise with that of Chaucer's and Herrick's. (69-90) 
 Buckinghamshire scenery is here depicted. (91-116) Compare the 
 pranks of Puck in " Midsummer Night's Dream " with those of " the 
 drudging goblin." (i 17-134) A masque is a scenic allegorical pageant, 
 in the dialogue of which are interwoven lyrics and declamations. Read 
 the great masque in Shakespere's " Tempest," Act IV. I, and Milton's 
 " Comus." Shakespere warbles " his native wood-notes wild " in A. Y. 
 L. I. and in W. T. Comment on open and concealed alliteration in 
 (133-144). (135-152) The modes of music used by the ancient Greeks 
 were the Doric, the severe ; the Phrygian, the animated; and the Lydian, 
 the voluptuous. How is the Orpheus myth treated in " II Penseroso " 
 and in " Lycidas " } Analyse the best dexterous and felicitous phrases 
 appearing in the poem. Note the regular metre, which Milton changes 
 from time to time for relief of monotony. 
 
 IL PENSEROSO 
 
 Hence, vain deluding Joys, 
 
 The brood of Folly, without father bred ! 
 How little you bested, 
 
 Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys ! 
 5 Dwell in some idle brain, 
 
 And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess 
 As thick and numberless 
 
 As the gay motes that people the sunbeams, 
 Or likest hovering dreams, 
 [o The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. 
 But, hail ! thou Goddess sage and holy, 
 Hail, divinest Melancholy ! 
 
MILTON 
 
 Whose saintly visage is too bright 
 To hit the sense of human sight, 
 
 15 And, therefore, to our weaker view, 
 
 O'erlaid with black, staid Wisdom's hue ; 
 Black, but such as in esteem 
 Prince Memnon's sister might beseem. 
 Or that starred Ethiop queen that strove 
 
 20 To set her beauty's praise above 
 
 The Sea-Nymphs and their powers offended. 
 Yet thou are higher far descended : 
 Thee bright-haired Vesta, long of yore, 
 To solitary Saturn bore ; 
 
 25 His daughter she ; in Saturn's reign 
 Such mixture was not held a stain : 
 Oft in glimmering bowers and glades 
 He met her, and in secret shades 
 Of woody Ida's inmost grove, 
 
 30 Whilst yet there was no fear of Jove. 
 
 Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure. 
 Sober, steadfast, and demure, 
 All in a robe of darkest grain. 
 Flowing with majestic train, 
 
 35 And sable stole of cypress lawn 
 Over thy decent shoulders drawn. 
 Come ; but keep thy wonted state, 
 With even step, and musing gait. 
 And looks commercing with the skies, 
 
 40 Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes : 
 There, held in holy passion still, 
 Forget thyself to marble, till, _ 
 With a sad leaden downward cast, 
 Thou fix them on the earth as fast. 
 
 45 And join with thee calm Peace and Quiet, 
 Spare Fast, that oft with gods doth diet, 
 
 97 
 
98 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 And hears the Muses, in a ring, 
 Aye round about Jove's altar sing. 
 And add to these retired Leisure, 
 
 50 That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ; 
 But first and chiefest, with thee bring 
 Him that yon soars on golden wing. 
 Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, 
 The Cherub Contemplation; 
 
 55 And the mute Silence hist along, 
 'Less Philomel will deign a song. 
 In her sweetest saddest plight, 
 Smoothing the rugged brow of Night, 
 While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke 
 
 60 Gently o'er the accustomed oak. 
 
 Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly, 
 Most musical, most melancholy ! 
 Thee, chauntress, oft, the woods among, 
 I woo, to hear thy even-song ; 
 
 65 And, missing thee, I walk unseen 
 On the dry smooth-shaven green, 
 j To behold the wandering moon 
 
 Riding near her highest noon. 
 Like one that had been led astray 
 
 70 Through the heaven's wide pathless way, 
 And oft, as if her head she bowed, 
 Stooping through a fleecy cloud. 
 
 Oft, on a plat of rising ground, 
 I hear the far-off curfew sound 
 
 75 Over some wide-watered shore. 
 Swinging slow with sullen roar ; 
 Or, if the air will not permit, 
 Some still, removed place will fit, 
 \ Where glowing embers through the room 
 
 80 Teach light to counterfeit a gloom ; 
 
MIL TON 
 
 Far from all resort of mirth, 
 Save the cricket on the hearth, </ 
 Or the bellman's drowsy charm 
 To bless the doors from nightly harm. 
 85 Or let my lamp, at midnight hour, 
 Be seen in some high lonely tower 
 Where I may oft outwatch the Bear 
 With thrice great Hermes, or unsphere 
 The spirit of Plato, to unfold 
 90 What worlds or what vast regions hold 
 The immortal mind that hath forsook 
 Her mansion in this fleshly nook ; 
 And of those demons that are found 
 In fire, air, flood, or underground, 
 95 Whose power hath a true consent, 
 With planet or with element. 
 Sometime let gorgeous Tragedy, 
 In sceptred pall, come sweeping by, 
 Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, 
 
 100 Or the tale of Troy divine. 
 
 Or what (though rare) of later age 
 Ennobled hath the buskined stage. 
 
 But, O, sad Virgin, that thy power 
 Might raise Musaeus from his bower ; 
 
 105 Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing 
 
 Such notes as, warbled to the string, 
 
 Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek. 
 
 And made Hell grant what love did seek ; -f- 
 
 Or call up him that left half told 
 
 no The story of Cambuscan bold, 
 Of Camball, and of Algarsife, 
 And who had Canace to wife. 
 That owned the virtuous ring and glass, 
 Arjd (9(f (the wondrous horse of brass, 
 
 99 
 
lOO ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 115 On which the Tartar king did ride ; 
 And if aught else great bards beside 
 In sage and solemn tunes have sung, 
 Of turneys, and of trophies hung, 
 Of forests and enchantments drear, 
 
 120 Where more is meant than meets the ear. 
 
 Thus, Night, oft see me in thy pale career, 
 Till civil-suited Morn appear, 
 Not tricked and frounced as she was wont. 
 With the Attic boy to hunt, 
 ^ 125 But kerchieft in a comely cloud , 
 
 While rocking winds are piping loud ; 
 Or ushered with a shower still, 
 When the gust hath blown his fill, 
 Ending on the rustling leaves, 
 
 130 With minute drops from off the eaves. 
 And, when the sun begins to fling 
 His flaring beams, me. Goddess, bring 
 To arched walks of twilight groves, 
 And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, 
 
 135 Of pine, or monumental oak. 
 
 Where the rude axe with heaved stroke 
 Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, 
 Or fright them from their hallowed haunt. 
 There in close covert by some brook, 
 
 140 Where no profaner eye may look. 
 Hide me from day's garish eye. 
 While the bee, with honeyed thigh, 
 That at her flowery work doth sing, 
 And the waters murmuring, 
 
 145 With such consort as they keep. 
 Entice the dewy-feathered Sleep ; 
 And, let some strange mysterious dream 
 Wave at his wings, in airy stream 
 
MILTON lOI 
 
 Of lively portraiture displayed, 
 150 Softly on my eyelids laid. 
 
 And, as I wake, sweet music breathe 
 
 Above, about, or underneath, 
 
 Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, 
 
 Or the unseen Genius of the wood. 
 155 But let my due feet never fail 
 
 To walk the studious cloister's pale, 
 
 And love the high embowed roof, 
 
 With antique pillars massy proof. 
 
 And storied windows richly dight, j 
 
 160 Casting a dim religious light: 
 
 There let the pealing organ blow, 
 
 To the full-voiced choir below, 
 
 In service high, and anthems clear, 
 
 As may with sweetness through mine ear, 
 165 Dissolve me into ecstasies. 
 
 And bring all Heaven before mine eyes. 
 
 And may at last my weary age 
 
 Find out the peaceful hermitage. 
 
 The hairy gown and mossy cell, 
 70 Where I may sit and rightly spell 
 
 Of every star that heaven doth shew, 
 
 And every herb that sips the dew. 
 
 Till old experience do attain 
 
 To something like prophetic strain. 
 175 These pleasures, Melancholy, give. 
 
 And I with thee will choose to live. 
 
 (1-30) Observe Milton's meaning of "melancholy"; and note the 
 various senses in which the word has been used in ancient and modern 
 times. Cf. Burton's " The Author's Abstract of Melancholy " and 
 Fletcher's " Hence, all you vain delights." Observe the lines of beau- 
 tiful darkness which are added by the classical legends. (31-60) By the 
 description of Melancholy, we are reminded of what character in Book 
 
102 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 I. Canto I. of the " Faerie Queene " ? How are Melancholy's attend- 
 ants balanced by those of Mirth in " L'Allegro " ? " Smoothing the 
 rugged brow of Night." Cf. Milton's " Comus," 251 : " smoothing the 
 ^ raven down | Of darkness till it smiled ! " (61-96) Balance all night 
 sounds with those of day in " L'Allegro." Note the assonance and 
 the manipulation of consonants which are employed by Milton to make 
 the curfew correctly meet the ear in melancholy pleasure. (97-120) 
 Ascertain what ancient classical characters in tragedy are presented 
 in "Thebes, or Pelops' line | Or the tale of Troy divine." In "The 
 Squieres Tale " Chaucer has told the story of the horse of brass. 
 Boiardo, Ariosto, Tasso, and Spenser, are the mediaeval writers of im- 
 pure allegory. Analyse Milton's definition of allegory, (i 21-176) Read 
 the close of " Westminster Abbey " where Irving uses the imagery of 
 " II Penseroso." In English poetry, Timon, Duke Frederick, Jaques, 
 and Manfred, characters suffering from melancholy, have sought the 
 hairy gown and mossy cell. Classify the finest phrases. Analyse the 
 one great dynamic phrase. Explain the mythological allusions through- 
 out the poem. 
 
 LYQDAS 
 
 Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more, 
 
 Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, 
 
 I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, 
 
 And with forced fingers rude 
 5 Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 
 
 Bitter constraint and sad occasion dear 
 
 Compels me to disturb your season due ; 
 
 For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, 
 
 Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer. 
 10 Who would not sing for Lycidas ? he knew 
 
 Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. 
 
 He must not float upon his watery bier 
 
 Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, 
 — Without the meed of some melodious tear. 
 15 Begin then. Sisters of the sacred well 
 
 That from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring ; 
 
 Begin, and somewhat loudly sweep the string. 
 
MILTON 
 
 103 
 
 Hence with denial vain and coy excuse : 
 
 So may some gentle Muse 
 20 With lucky words favour my destined urn, 
 
 And as he passes turn, 
 
 And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud ! 
 For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, 
 
 Fed the same flock, by fountain, shade, and rill ; 
 25 Together both, ere the high lawns appeared 
 
 Under the opening eye-lids of the Morn, '~ 
 
 We drove a-field, and both together heard 
 
 What time the grey-fly winds her sultry horn, 
 
 Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night, 
 30 Oft, till the star that rose at evening bright 
 
 Toward heaven's descent had sloped his westering 
 wheel. 
 
 Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute ; 
 
 Tempered to the oaten flute, 
 
 Rough Satyrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel 
 35 From the glad sound would not be absent long ; 
 
 And old Damoetas loved to hear our song. 
 
 But, oh ! the heavy change, now thou art gone, < 
 
 Now thou art gone, and never must return ! 
 
 Thee, shepherd, thee the woods and desert caves, 
 40 With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, 
 
 And all their echoes, mourn. 
 
 The willows, and the hazel copses green. 
 
 Shall now no more be seen 
 
 Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft lays. 
 45 As killing as the canker to the rose, "*" 
 
 Or taint-worm to the weanling herds that graze. 
 
 Or frost to flowers, that their gay wardrobe wear, 
 
 When first the white-thorn blows ; 
 
 Such, Lycidas, thy loss to shepherd's ear. 
 50 Where were ye, Nymphs, when the remorseless deep 
 
I04 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas ? 
 For neither were ye playing on the steep 
 Where your old bards, the famous Druids, lie, 
 Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, 
 
 55 Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream. 
 Ay me ! I fondly dream 
 " Had ye been there," ... for what could that have 
 
 done ? 
 What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, 
 The Muse herself, for her enchanting son, 
 V^ 60 Whom universal nature did lament. 
 
 When, by the rout that made the hideous roar. 
 His gory visage down the stream was sent, 
 Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore ? 
 Alas ! what boots it with uncessant care 
 
 65 To tend the homely, slighted shepherd's trade, 
 And strictly meditate the thankless Muse ? 
 Were it not better done, as others use, 
 
 To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, 
 
 Or with the tangles of Neaera's hair ? 
 
 70 Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 
 — (That last infirmity of noble mind) 
 
 To scorn delights and live laborious days ; 
 But, the fair guerdon when we hope to find, 
 And think to burst out into sudden blaze, 
 
 75 Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, 
 And slits the thin-spun life. " But not the praise," 
 Phoebus replied, and touched my trembling ears : 
 " Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil. 
 Nor in the glistering foil 
 
 80 Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies. 
 But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes 
 And perfect witness of all-judging Jove ; 
 As he pronounces lastly on each deed, 
 
 
MILTON 
 
 105 
 
 Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed." 
 85 O fountain Arethuse, and thou honoured flood, 
 Smooth-sliding Mincius, crowned with vocal reeds, 
 That strain I heard was of a higher mood. 
 But now my oat proceeds, 
 And listens to the Herald of the Sea, 
 90 That came in Neptune's plea. 
 
 He asked the waves, and asked the felon winds, 
 What hard mishap hath doomed this gentle swain ? 
 And questioned every gust of rugged wings 
 That blows from off each beaked promontory. 
 95 They knew not of his story ; 
 
 And sage Hippotades their answer brings. 
 That not a blast was from his dungeon strayed : 
 The air was calm, and on the level brine 
 Sleek Panope with all her sisters played. 
 
 1 00 It was that fatal and perfidious bark, 
 
 Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark. 
 That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. 
 
 Next, Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow. 
 His mantle hairy and his bonnet sedge, 
 
 105 Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 
 Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe, 
 " Ah ! who hath reft," quoth he, " my dearest pledge ? ' 
 Last came, and last did go. 
 The Pilot of the Galilean Lake ; 
 
 1 1 o Two massy keys he bore of metals twain 
 (The golden opes, the iron shuts amain). 
 He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake : — 
 " How well could I have spared for thee, young swain. 
 Enow of such as, for their bellies' sake, 
 
 115 Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold ! 
 Of other care they little reckoning make 
 Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, 
 
I06 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 And shove away the worthy bidden guest. 
 
 Blind mouths ! that scarce themselves know how to hold 
 
 1 20 A sheep-hook, or have learnt aught else the least 
 That to the faithful herdman's art belongs! 
 What recks it them ? What need they ? They are sped : 
 And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs 
 Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw ; 
 X. 125 The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed. 
 
 But, swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, 
 Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread ; 
 Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw 
 Daily devours apace, and nothing said. 
 
 130 But that two-handed engine at the door 
 
 Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more." 
 
 Return, Alpheus ; the dread voice is past 
 That shrunk thy streams; return Sicilian Muse, 
 And call the vales, and bid them hither cast 
 
 135 Their bells and flowerets of a thousand hues. 
 Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use 
 Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks. 
 On whose fresh lap the swart star sparely looks, 
 Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes, 
 
 1 40 That on the green turf suck the honeyed showers, 
 And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 
 Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies. 
 The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, 
 The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, 
 
 145 The glowing violet. 
 
 The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine. 
 With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, 
 And every flower that sad embroidery wears ; 
 Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, 
 
 150 And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, 
 
 To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. 
 
MILTON 
 
 107 
 
 For so, to interpose a little ease, 
 
 Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise, 
 
 Ay me ! whilst thee the shores and sounding seas 
 
 155 Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurled ; 
 Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, 
 Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide 
 Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world ; 
 Or whether thou, to our moist vows denied, 
 
 160 Sleep 'st by the fable of Bellerus old, 
 
 Where the great Vision of the guarded mount 
 Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold. 
 Look homeward, Angel, now, and melt with ruth : 
 And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth. 
 
 165 Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, 
 For Lycidas, your sorrow, is not dead. 
 Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. 
 So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed. 
 And yet anon repairs his drooping head, 
 
 170 And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore 
 
 Flames in the forehead of the morning sky : — * 
 
 So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high. 
 Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves. 
 Where, other groves and other streams along, 
 
 17s With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves 
 And hears the unexpressive nuptial song. 
 In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. 
 There entertain him all the Saints above, 
 In solemn troops, and sweet societies, 
 
 180 That sing, and singing in their glory move, 
 And wipe the tears forever from his eyes. 
 Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more ; 
 Henceforth thou art the Genius of the shore. 
 In thy large recompense, and shalt be good 
 
 185 To all that wander in that perilous flood. 
 
I08 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, 
 While the still morn went out with sandals grey : 
 He touched the tender stops of various quills, 
 With eager thought warbling his Doric lay : 
 190 And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, 
 And now was dropt into the western bay. 
 At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue : 
 To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. 
 
 (1-14) Briefly give a biography of Edward King. (15-49) Name the 
 two fountains of poetic inspiration. Explain " my destined urn." 
 (23-36) These lines refer to the undergraduate days spent by Milton 
 and King at Cambridge. " sultry horn." Leigh Hunt : " which epithet 
 contains the heat of a summer's day." Note the thought sequence 
 leading to the introduction of " shepherd " in (39). (50-63) Compare the 
 allusion to Oipheus to that in P. L., Book 7. 30-38. (64-84) These 
 lines refer to the canons of poetic taste which ruled poets in the year 
 of the composition of " Lycidas." It is questionable whether Edward 
 King would have become famous as a poet. A great poet should not 
 pander to Lydian tastes in order to gain worldly praise ; in spite of his- 
 torical environment, he should work out his poetic themes. (85-102) 
 Show logical sequence in the introduction of pastoral elements. " A 
 higher mood." In the preceding digression Milton is conscious that he 
 has strayed beyond the strict limits of a pastoral. In a good English 
 pastoral it is not legitimate to introduce Greek and Latin mythological 
 characters. (103-131) The University of Cambridge is in mourning. 
 Milton has found an opportunity for a second digression. Note that 
 Milton, a Puritan, uses "mitred " with "locks." The passage in P. L., 
 Book 4. 188-193, throws light on (115). Explain Ruskin's definition 
 of the broken metaphor " Blind mouths." Read his analysis of the 
 whole digression in "Sesame and Lilies," §§20 et seq., q. v. "grim 
 wolf " and " two-handed engine ": the Catholic Church and the sword 
 of the Reformation. In order to understand how the sheep were fool- 
 ishly entranced by lean and flashy pastoral (ministerial) music, the pupil 
 should know the history of England from 1 636-1 641 ; he should realise 
 that " Lycidas " was published in the memorable year of 1638, wherein, 
 on the twenty-seventh of February, the National Covenant met in Grey 
 Friars Churchyard, Edinburgh. Morley, in his " Life of Cromwell," 
 says, "It is in this National Covenant of 163S that we find ourselves at 
 
MIL TON 
 
 109 
 
 the heart and central fire of militant Puritanism of the seventeenth 
 century." Likewise, it may be said of this classical pastoral that we are 
 at the heart and central fire of poetic Puritanism in the seventeenth 
 century. {132-164) Explain " the dread voice." Here Milton artisti- 
 cally returns from his digression to the unity of his pastoral. Give 
 a brief biography of the Sicilian Muse. Ascertain the reason for in- 
 voking Alpheus and Theocritus. Comment on Ruskin's classification 
 of (142-J48), in " Modem Painters" II. Pt. III. Chap. III. (165-193) 
 Observe how religion again sways the poem. The poem ends in truly 
 pastoral style. In what way does music referred to in " L' Allegro " and 
 "II Penseroso " throw light on (189) } In his second digression Milton 
 portrays most emotional power in the elegy, and this is not surprising. 
 Name the great monodies in English poetry, and state by whom these 
 have been written. What elegies seem to be outpourings of genuine 
 grief, and which is best from this point of view ? What English elegiac 
 writers have been lukewarm in expressing sorrow .' In spite of Milton's 
 contempt for the Cavalier poets, where does he seem to write in a light 
 lyrical vein, characteristic of Herrick .'' Is the love of nature here de- 
 picted as strong as in " L'Allegro " and " II Penseroso " .-' Where, in the 
 monody, is the subject matter that changes for all time his poetry ? 
 Explain the metrical structure of the Ottava Rima which ends the elegy. 
 In Samuel Johnson's " Life of Milton " read the strictures on " Lycidas." 
 Put over against Johnson's adverse criticism this opinion of Tennyson's 
 that " Lycidas " is "a test of any reader's poetic instinct." 
 
 ON THE LATE MASSACRE DM PIEDMONT 
 
 Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones 
 Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold ; 
 Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, 
 When all our father's worshiped stocks and stones, 
 
 Forget not : in thy book record their groans 
 Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold 
 Slain by the bloody Piemontese, that rolled 
 Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans 
 
 The vales redoubled to the hills, and they 
 
 To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow 
 
no ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway 
 The triple Tyrant ; that from these may grow 
 A hundredfold, who, having learnt thy way, 
 Early may fly the Babylonian woe. 
 
 Note the enveloping action which caused the writing of this sonnet. 
 Classify the many kinds of sonnet. Fully analyse the Miltonic form. 
 Read Wordsworth's estimation of this variety in his extempore sonnet, 
 composed in a short walk on the western side of Rydal Lake, entitled 
 " Scorn not the Sonnet." How does the Miltonic differ from the 
 Shakesperian and the modern, contemporary sonnet ? In regard to 
 the excellence of sonnet form of verse, read Rossetti's " The Sonnet " 
 and Theodore Watts' " The Sonnet's Voice." 
 
 ON HIS BLINDNESS 
 
 When I consider how my light is spent 
 
 Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, 
 And that one talent which is death to hide 
 Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 
 5 To serve therewith my Maker, and present 
 My true account, lest He returning chide, 
 " Doth God exact day-labour, light denied ? " 
 I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent 
 
 That murmur, soon replies, " God doth not need 
 lo Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best 
 
 Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state 
 
 Is kingly : thousands at his bidding speed, 
 And post o'er land and ocean without rest ; 
 They also serve who only stand and wait." 
 
 From the meekness of disposition in these lines, can it be imagined 
 that Milton had been violent in quarrel with Mary Powell, that he had 
 smitten Salmasius to death in " Pro Populo Anglicano Defensio," and 
 that perhaps at the very moment of writing this sonnet he had abused 
 his little children ? 
 
DkYDEN III 
 
 The Restoration Period 
 1660-1688 
 
 JOHN DRYDEN 
 
 1631-1 700 
 
 The versification, of which he had learned the art by long practice, is excel- 
 lent, but his haste has led him to fill out the measure of lines with phrases that 
 add only to dilute, and thus the clearest, the most direct, the most manly versifier 
 of his time became, without meaning it, the source (fans et origo maloruni) of 
 that poetic diction from which our poetry has not even yet recovered. — yames 
 Russell Lowell. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 Absalom And Achitophel. 
 
 Mac Flecknoe. 
 
 To The Memory Of Mrs. Anne Killigrew. 
 
 A Song For St. Cecilia's Day. 
 
 Under Mr. Milton's Picture Before His Paradise Lost. 
 
 Paraphrase Of Horace. Book I. Ode 29. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 A fiery soul, which working out its way, 
 Fretted the pigmy body to decay. . . . 
 
 Great wits are sure to madness near allied. . . . 
 
 Stiff in opinion, always in the wrong ; 
 
 Was everything by starts, and nothing long. . . , 
 
 — A bsalom A nd A ch itophel. 
 
I 1 2 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH POE TR Y 
 
 Errors, like straws, upon the surface flow ; 
 
 He who would search for pearls, must dive below. 
 
 — Prologtte. All For Love; Or, The World IP^ell Lost. 
 
 ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR, THE POWER OF MUSIC 
 
 'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won 
 By Philip's warlike son : 
 Aloft, in awful state 
 The godlike hero sate 
 5 On his imperial throne ; 
 
 His valiant peers were placed around ; 
 Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound : 
 
 (So should desert in arms be crowned.) 
 The lovely Thais, by his side, 
 ID Sate like a blooming eastern bride, 
 In flower of youth and beauty's pride. 
 Happy, happy, happy pair ! 
 None but the brave. 
 None but the brave, 
 15 None but the brave deserves the fair. 
 
 Timotheus placed on high 
 Amid the tuneful quire, 
 With flying fingers touched the lyre: 
 The trembling notes ascend the sky, 
 20 And heavenly joys inspire. 
 
 The song began from Jove, 
 Who left his blissful seats above, 
 (Such is the power of mighty love.) 
 A dragon's fiery form belied the god : 
 25 Sublime on radiant spires he rode, 
 When he to fair Olympia pressed ; 
 And while he sought her snowy breast, 
 
DRY DEN 113 
 
 Then round her slender waist he curled, 
 And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign of the -J 
 world. 
 30 The listening crowd admire the* lofty sound, 
 A present deity, they shout around ; 
 A present deity, the vaulted roofs rebound : 
 With ravished ears 
 The monarch hears, 
 35 Assumes the god. 
 
 Affects to nod. 
 And seems to shake the spheres. 
 
 The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung. 
 Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young. 
 40 The jolly god in triumph comes ; 
 
 Sound the trumpets, beat the drums ; 
 Flushed with a purple grace 
 He shows his honest face : 
 Now, give the hautboys breath ; he comes, he comes, 
 45 Bacchus, ever fair and young, 
 
 Drinking joys did first ordain ; 
 Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, 
 Drinking is the soldier's pleasure ; 
 Rich the treasure, 
 50 Sweet the pleasure. 
 
 Sweet is pleasure after pain. 
 
 Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain ; 
 Fought all his battles o'er again ; 
 And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he slew 
 the slain. 
 55 The master saw the madness rise, 
 
 His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes ; 
 
1 14 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 And, while he heaven and earth defied, 
 Changed his hand, and checked his pride. 
 He chose a mournful muse, 
 60 Soft pity to infuse ; 
 
 He sung Darius great and good, 
 
 By too severe a fate, 
 Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen. 
 
 Fallen from his high estate, 
 65 And weltering in his blood ; 
 Deserted at his utmost need 
 By those his former bounty fed ; 
 On the bare earth exposed he lies, 
 With not a friend to close his eyes. 
 70 With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, 
 Revolving in his altered soul 
 
 The various turns of chance below : 
 And, now and then, a sigh he stole, 
 And tears began to flow. 
 
 75 The mighty master smiled, to see 
 That love was in the next degree ; 
 'Twas but a kindred sound to move, 
 - For pity melts the mind to love. 
 
 Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, 
 80 Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures. 
 
 War, he sung, is toil and trouble : 
 Honour but an empty bubble ; 
 
 Never ending, still beginning. 
 
 Fighting still, and still destroying : 
 
 85 If the world be worth thy winning, 
 
 Think, O think it worth enjoying : 
 
 Lovely Thais sits beside thee. 
 
 Take the good the gods provide thee. 
 
DRY DEN 
 
 115 
 
 The many rend the skies with loud applause ; 
 90 So love was crowned, but music won the cause. 
 The prince, unable to conceal his pain, 
 Gazed on the fair 
 Who caused his care, 
 And sighed and looked, sighed and looked, 
 95 Sighed and looked, and sighed again ; 
 
 At length, with love and wine at once oppressed. 
 The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast. 
 
 Now strike the golden lyre again ; 
 A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. 
 100 Break his bands of sleep asunder. 
 
 And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. 
 Hark, hark ! the horrid sound 
 Has raised up his head ; 
 As awaked from the dead, 
 105 And, amazed, he stares around. 
 
 ' Revenge, revenge ! ' Timotheus cries ; 
 
 * See the Furies arise ; 
 See the snakes that they rear, 
 How they hiss in their hair, 
 no And the sparkles that flash from their eyes ! 
 
 Behold a ghastly band. 
 Each a torch in his hand ! 
 Those are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain, 
 And unburied remain 
 115 Inglorious on the plain: 
 
 Give the vengeance due 
 To the valiant crew. 
 Behold how they toss their torches on high, 
 How they point to the Persian abodes, 
 120 And glittering temples of their hostile gods.' 
 
I I 6 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The princes applaud with a furious joy ; 
 
 And the king seized a flambeau with zeal to destroy ; 
 
 Thais led the way, 
 
 To light him to his prey, 
 125 And, like another Helen, fired another Troy. 
 
 Thus, long ago. 
 Ere heaving bellows learned to blow. 
 While organs yet were mute, 
 Timotheus, to his breathing flute 
 130 And sounding lyre, 
 
 Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire. 
 At last divine Cecilia came, 
 Inventress of the vocal frame ; 
 The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, 
 135 Enlarged the former narrow bounds. 
 
 And added length to solemn sounds. 
 With nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. 
 Let old Timotheus yield the prize, 
 Or both divide the crown : 
 140 He raised a mortal to the skies ; 
 
 She drew an angel down. 
 
 (1-51) Consult Benjamin Ide Wheeler's "Life of Alexander the 
 Great " to ascertain the prominent traits in Alexander's character. 
 Note the various metres. Comment on Timotheus' tact in touching 
 the lyre in praise of Jove, and then quickly touching it in praise of Bac- 
 chus. Alexander killed his dearest friend Clitus at Samarkand in Sog- 
 diana. (52-74) Observe the logical connection between these lines and 
 (3S-51). Comment on the fate of Darius, in its moving Alexander to 
 tears. (75-97) These lines are in proper continuity to (52-74). Note 
 how the measures are made to sound voluptuousness. Observe that 
 in the contemplation of Thais, Alexander is in pain. Scan (91-97). 
 (98-125) These lines are in unity of development to the emotion ex- 
 pressed in (75-97). Note the parallelism between Thais and Helen. 
 Persepolis is the scene of the poem. Scan (11S-122). (126-141) 
 
 i 
 
DRY DEN 117 
 
 Analyse fine dexterous and felicitous phrases throughout the poem. 
 This ode has not become popular by reason of lofty thought, but by 
 reason of melodic diction. This ode has been satisfactorily criticised 
 by John Henry Newman, when he says, " Dryden's ' Alexander's Feast' 
 is a magnificent composition, and has high poetical beauties ; but to a 
 refined judgment there is something intrinsically unpoetical in the enl 
 to which it is devoted, the praises of revel and sensuality." 
 
1 i8 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The Augustan Age; 
 
 Or, 
 
 The Classical School Of Queen Anne 
 
 I 688- I 744 
 
 Classical writing presents to us conceptions calmly realized in words that 
 exactly define them, conceptions depending for their attraction not on their 
 halo, but on themselves. — Sidney Colvin. 
 
 ALEXANDER POPE 
 
 1688-1 744 
 
 Johnson was guilty of no Byronic extravagance, when he told Boswell that 
 " a thousand years may elapse before there shall appear another man with a 
 power of versification equal to that of Pope." — A. W. Ward. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 The Dying Christian To His Soul. 
 
 Essay On Criticism. 
 
 The Rape Of The Lock. 
 
 Elegy To The Memory Of An Unfortunate Lady. 
 
 Eloisa To Abelard. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 Those oft are stratagems which error seem, 
 Nor is it Homer nods, but we that dream. 
 
 Whatever nature has in worth denied, 
 
 She gives in large recruits of needful pride. . . . 
 
 Trust not yourself ; but your defects to know, 
 Make use of ev'ry friend, and ev'ry foe. 
 
POPE I 1 9 
 
 A little learning is a dang'rous thing ; 
 Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring. 
 
 'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call. 
 But the joint force and full result of all. 
 
 True Wit is Nature to advantage dress'd. 
 
 What oft was thought, but ne'er so well express'd. . . . 
 
 In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold ; 
 Alike fantastic, if too new, or old : 
 Be not the first by whom tlie new are try'd, 
 Nor yet the last to lay the old aside. 
 
 True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, 
 As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance. 
 
 Some praise at morning what they blame at night, 
 But always think the last opinion right. 
 
 To err is human, to forgive, divine. 
 
 Fear not the anger of the wise to raise ; 
 Those best can bear reproof, who merit praise. 
 
 Nay, fly to altars ; there they'll talk you dead : 
 For Fools rush in where Angels fear to tread. 
 
 — Essay On Criticism. 
 
 Think not, when Woman's transient breath is fled, 
 That all her vanities at once are dead. . . . 
 
 If to her share some female errors fall, 
 Look on her face, and you'll forget 'em all. 
 
 Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare. 
 And beauty draws us with a single hair. 
 
 At ev'ry word a reputation dies. 
 
 What Time would spare, from Steel receives its date, 
 And monuments, like men, submit to fate ! 
 
I20 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll ; 
 Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul. 
 
 — The Rape Of The Lock. 
 
 How happy is the blameless Vestal's lot ! 
 
 The world forgetting, by the world forgot. . . . 
 
 — Eloisa To . "• :■ ' 
 
 All are but parts of one stupendous whole, 
 Whose body Nature is, and God the soul. . . . 
 
 Know then thyself, presume not God to scan ; 
 The proper study of Mankind is Man. 
 
 Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, 
 As, to be hated, needs but to be seen ; 
 Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, 
 We first endure, then pity, then embrace. 
 
 Order is Heav'n's first law. . . . 
 
 Honour and shame from no Condition rise ; 
 Act well your part, there all the honour lies. 
 
 An honest Man's the noblest work of God. 
 
 If Parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd. 
 The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind. . . . 
 
 — Essay On Man. 
 
 Who shall decide, when Doctors disagree. . . . 
 
 — Moral Essays, Epistle III. 
 
 Waller was smooth ; but Dryden taught to join 
 The varying verse, the full resounding line. 
 The long majestic March, and Energy divine. 
 
 Ev'n copious Dryden wanted, or forgot, 
 The last and greatest Art, the Art to blot. 
 
 — Imitations Of Ho7-ace, Epistle I. To Augustus. 
 
POPE 121 
 
 EPISTLE TO DR. ARBUTHNOT 
 
 (125-214) 
 
 125 Why did I write? What sin to me unknown 
 
 Dipt me in ink, my parents', or my own ? 
 
 As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, 
 
 I lisp'd in numbers, for the numbers came. 
 
 I left no calling for this idle trade, 
 130 No duty broke, no father disobey'd. 
 
 The Muse but served to ease some friend, not Wife, 
 
 To help me thro' this long disease, my Life, 
 
 To second, Arbuthnot ! thy Art and Care, 
 
 And teach the Being you preserv'd to bear. 
 135 By why then publish ? Granville the polite. 
 
 And knowing Walsh, would tell me I could write ; 
 
 Well-natur'd Garth, inflam'd with early praise ; 
 
 And Congreve lov'd, and Swift endur'd my lays ; 
 
 The courtly Talbot, Somers, Sheffield, read ; 
 140 Ev'n mitred Rochester would nod the head. 
 
 And St. Johi's self, (great Dryden^s friends before) 
 
 With open arms receiv'd one Poet more. 
 
 Happy my studies, when by these approv'd ! 
 
 Happier their author, when by these belov'd ! 
 145 From these the world will judge of men and books ; 
 
 Not from the Bnrnets, Oldmixons and Cookes. 
 Soft were my numbers ; who could take offence, 
 
 While pure Description held the place of Sense ? 
 
 Like gentle Fa)iny's was my flow'ry theme, 
 150 A painted mistress, or a purling stream. 
 
 Yet then did Gildon draw his venal quill ; — 
 
 I wish'd the man a dinner, and sat still. 
 
 Yet then did Dennis rave in furious fret ; 
 
 I never answer'd, — I was not in debt. 
 
122 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 155 If want provok'd, or madness made them print, 
 I wag'd no war with Bedlam or the Mint. 
 
 Did some more sober Critic come abroad ; 
 If wrong, I smil'd ; if right, I kiss'd the rod. 
 Pains, reading, study, are their just pretence, 
 160 And all they want is spirit, taste, and sense. 
 Commas and points they set exactly right, 
 And 'twere a sin to rob them of their mite. 
 Yet ne'er one sprig of laurel grac'd these ribalds. 
 From slashing Bentley down to pidling Tibalds : 
 165 Each wight, who reads not, and but scans and spells, 
 Each Word-catcher, that lives on syllables, 
 Ev'n such small Critics some regard may claim, 
 Preserv'd in MiUon's or in SJiakespeare' s name. 
 Pretty ! in amber to observe the forms 
 170 Of hairs, or straws, or dirt, or grubs, or worms ! 
 The things, we know, are neither rich nor rare. 
 But wonder how the devil they got there. 
 
 Were others angry : I excus'd them too ; 
 Well might they rage, I gave them but their due. 
 175 A man's true merit 'tis not hard to find ; 
 But each man's secret standard in his mind, 
 That Casting-weight pride adds to emptiness. 
 This, who can gratify ? for who can guess ? 
 The Bard whom pilfer'd Pastorals renown, 
 180 Who turns a Persian tale for half a Crown, 
 Just writes to make his barrenness appear. 
 And strains, from hard-bound brains, eight lines a year ; 
 He, who still wanting, tho' he lives on theft. 
 Steals much, spends little, yet has nothing left : 
 185 And He, who now to sense, now nonsense, kaning. 
 Means not, but blunders round about a meaning : 
 And He whose fustian's so sublimely bad, 
 ^ It is not Poetry, but prose run mad : 
 
POPE 
 
 123 
 
 All these, my modest Satire bade translate, 
 190 And own'd that nine such Poets made a Tate. 
 
 How did they fume, and stamp, and roar, and chafe ! 
 
 And swear, not Addison himself was safe. 
 
 Peace to all such ! but were there One whose fires 
 
 True Genius kindles, and fair Fame inspires ; 
 195 Blest with each talent and each art to please, 
 
 And born to write, converse, and live with ease : 
 
 Should such a man, too fond to rule alone. 
 
 Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne. 
 
 View him with scornful, yet with jealous eyes, 
 200 And hate for arts that caus'd himself to rise ; 
 
 Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer, — 
 
 And without sneering, teach the rest to sneer ; 
 
 Willing to wound, and yet afraid to strike, 
 
 Just hint a fault, and hesitate dislike ; 
 205 Alike reserv'd to blame, or to commend, 
 
 A tim'rous foe, and a suspicious friend ; 
 
 Dreading ev'n fools, by Flatterers besieg'd. 
 
 And so obliging, that he ne'er oblig'd ; 
 
 Like Cato, give his little Senate laws, > 
 210 And sit attentive to his own applause; 
 
 While Wits and Templars ev'ry sentence raise, 
 
 And wonder with a foolish face of praise : — 
 
 Who but must laugh, if such a man there be ? 
 
 Who would not weep, if Atticus were he ? 
 
 (125-134) At the age of thirteen Pope had written a long epic, " Al- 
 cander." His father helped him in the polishing of his verses, but was 
 not willing to have him take up literature as a profession. Pope's lady 
 friends were Lady Wortley Montagu, Teresa and Martha Blount. In 
 (132) the pathos of Pope's life is revealed. Arbuthnot, yohn. A court 
 physician belonging to the Scribblerus Club, who with Swift participated 
 in literature and politics. (135-146) Granville. A nobleman who 
 modeled his poetry after that of Waller's. Walsh. A critic who had 
 
124 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 pronounced judgment of merit on Pope's " Pastorals." Garth. A doctor, 
 author of " The Dispensary," an early friend of Pope. Congreve. A 
 fine dramatist of the Orange period, whose felicitous phrase " Music has 
 charms to soothe a savage breast," is not forgotten. Talhoi. Duke 
 of Shrewsbury. Somers. Lord Keeper under William III. Sheffield. 
 Duke of Buckingham, whose " Essay on Poetry " Pope had greatly 
 admired. Rochester. Dr. Atterbury, Bishop of Rochester. St. yohn's. 
 Henry St. John, Viscount Bolingbroke, at one time a patron of poets. 
 Burnets, Oldmixons, Cookes. Authors of scandalous history. Cooke 
 wrote " The Battle of Poets," wherein Swift and Pope were defeated by 
 inferior poets. (147-192) Line {150) characterises Pope's style in the 
 "Rape of the Lock" and in "Windsor Forest." Gddon. One who 
 scurrilously attacked Pope in a pamphlet life of William Wycherley, 
 the Restoration writer of coarse comedies. Dennis, yohn. An author 
 who was antagonistic to Pope, because he had been adversely criticised 
 in the "Essay on Criticism." Mint. According to Warburton, "a 
 place where congregated a band of insolvent debtors, who mutually ben- 
 efited each other against their creditors." Beniley. Dr. Richard Bent- 
 ley, who edited " Paradise Lost." Tibald. Lewis Theobald, the original 
 hero of the "Dunciad" and editor of Shakespere, who found much 
 fault with Pope's edition of the immortal bard. {180) Ambrose Philips, 
 a writer of pastorals, who translated the " Persian Tales." (190) Tate, 
 Nahum. A writer who altered " King Lear," and almost ruined " Absa- 
 lom and Achitophel " by attempting to finish it. (193-214) In 1711, 
 the two coteries of literary men were presided over by Swift on the 
 Tory side and by Addison on the Whig. Pope found favour with the 
 latter, for Addison was loud in his praises of the " Essay on Criticism,'' 
 though he thought Pope had been too severe with Dennis and Black- 
 more. 
 
 This defence of Dennis wounded the dwarf, and the cicatrice while 
 still raw was irritated by Addison's censure of the addition of the Rosi- 
 crucian machinery of gnomes and sprites to " The Rape of the Lock." 
 Cautiously he waited, drinking tea with more stratagem and shaipening 
 his poisonous darts for the destruction of this giant crane. Finally the 
 chance for a petty soul to get revenge came, when Addison pronounced 
 his friend Tickell's edition of the Iliad, Book I., a better translation 
 than that of Pope's. In a letter written July 15, 1715, to Secretary 
 Craggs, Pope vented his spleen concerning the perfidy of Atticus. The 
 quarrel should have been ended at this time, but the smallness of his 
 disposition treasured hatred through the years until in 1735 he revised 
 his invective for the " Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot," which is monumental 
 
POPE 
 
 125 
 
 to his fame as a poet and to his shame as a man. It is the finest ex- 
 ample of the literary heartlessness of the eighteenth century extant. 
 
 Pope is a second-rate poet because he could not create a dynamic 
 phrase, and also by reason of the animus of hatred which brought into 
 existence his best poetry — the poetry of satire. 
 
 Discuss Prof. Charles F. Johnson's criticism of (193-214): We can- 
 not conceive of Shakespeare writing in such a vein, nor Wordsworth, 
 nor Scott, nor Longfellow, nor Lowell, when "their singing robes were 
 on." p. 267, " Elements of Literary Criticism.'' Has Pope portrayed 
 any of Addison's faults that were real ? What is Macaulay's opinion of 
 the quarrel between Addison and Pope expressed in his essay on Addi- 
 son ? Name the great diatribes or satires in English poetry. Define 
 the heroic couplet, and comment on its use. In this excerpt, analyse 
 the best dexterous phrases. 
 
I 2 6 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH FOE TR Y 
 
 WILLIAM COLLINS 
 
 1721-1759 
 
 Collins had twenty times the lyric genius of Gray ; we feel his fire in our 
 cheeks. — Mrs. E, B. Browning. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 How Sleep The Brave — 
 
 The Passions. An Ode For Music. 
 
 Dirge In Cymbeline. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 How sleep the brave who sink to rest, 
 By all their country's wishes blessed ! 
 
 ODE TO EVENING 
 If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song. 
 May hope, chaste eve, to soothe thy modest ear, 
 
 Like thy own solemn springs. 
 
 Thy springs, and dying gales ; 
 
 5 O nymph reserved, while now the bright-haired sun 
 Sits in yon western tent, whose cloudy skirts. 
 With brede ethereal wove, 
 O'erhang his wavy bed : 
 
 Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat 
 10 With short, shrill shriek, flits by on leathern wing; 
 Or where the beetle winds. 
 His small but sullen horn, 
 
COLLINS I 2 7 
 
 As oft he rises 'midst the twilight path, 
 Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum : 
 15 Now teach me, maid composed, 
 
 To breathe some softened strain, 
 
 Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, 
 May, not unseemly, with its stillness suit. 
 As, musing slow, I hail 
 20 Thy genial loved return 1 
 
 For when thy folding star arising shows 
 His paly circlet, at his warning lamp 
 
 The fragrant hours, and elves 
 
 Who slept in flowers the day, 
 
 25 And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge 
 And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, 
 The pensive pleasures sweet 
 Prepare thy shadowy car : 
 
 Then leap, calm votaress, where some sheety lake 
 30 Cheers the lone heath, or some time-hallowed pile, 
 Or upland fallows grey 
 Reflect its last cool gleam. 
 
 But when chill blustering winds or driving rain, 
 Forbid my willing feet, be mine the hut, 
 35 That from the mountain's side, 
 
 Views wilds, and swelling flood, 
 
 And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires ; 
 And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all 
 Thy dewy fingers draw 
 40 The gradual dusky veil. 
 
I 2 8 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH POE TR Y 
 
 While spring shall pour his showers as oft he wont, 
 And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest eve ! 
 
 While summer loves to sport 
 
 Beneath thy lingering light ; 
 
 45 While sallow autumn fills thy lap with leaves ; 
 Or winter, yelling through the troublous air, 
 Affrights thy shrinking train, 
 And rudely rends thy robes : 
 
 So long, sure-found beneath the sylvan shed, 
 50 Shall fancy, friendship, science, rose-lipped health. 
 Thy gentlest influence own, 
 And hymn thy favourite name ! 
 
 (1-28) The metrical structure of an ode is usually irregular. Classify 
 the metre of this ode. By the " Fafe'rie Queene" or "Lycidas " explain 
 " oaten stop." (16) Is " softened strain " copied from " II Penseroso," 
 where music ushers in the evening ? (29-40) What reminiscences of 
 " L'Allegro" and " II Penseroso "are present in imagery ? (41-52) "the 
 sylvan shed." Explain this phrase by " II Penseroso." Detect the sub- 
 dued touches of romanticism in this ode. 
 
GRAY 
 
 129 
 
 THOMAS GRAY 
 
 1716-1771 
 
 He is the scantiest and frailest of classics in our poetry, but he is a classic. 
 Matthew Arnold. 
 
 Optional Poetns 
 
 Ode To Spring. 
 
 On Mr. Walpole's Cat. 
 
 Ode On Adversity. 
 
 Ode On A Distant Prospect Of Eton College. 
 
 The Bard. 
 
 The Progress Of Poesy. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 . . , and snatch a fearful joy. — Ode On Eton College. 
 
 . . . where ignorance is bliss, 
 'Tis folly to be wise. — Ode On Eton College. 
 
 We frolic while 'tis May. — Ode To Spring. 
 
 ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCHYARD 
 
 The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, 
 The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, 
 
 The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, 
 And leaves the world to darkness and to me. 
 
 5 Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, 
 And all the air a solemn stillness holds, 
 Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, 
 And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds : 
 
130 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRV 
 
 Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 
 10 The moping owl does to the moon complain 
 Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, 
 Molest her ancient solitary reign. 
 
 Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, 
 Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 
 15 Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 
 
 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 
 
 The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, 
 
 The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, 
 The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, 
 20 No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. 
 
 For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, 
 Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; 
 
 No children run to lisp their sire's return. 
 Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. 
 
 25 Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield. 
 
 Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; 
 How jocund did they drive their team afield ! 
 
 How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! 
 
 Let not ambition mock their useful toil, 
 30 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 
 Nor grandeur hear with a disdainful smile 
 The short and simple annals of the poor. 
 
 The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, 
 And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, 
 35 Await alike the inevitable hour. 
 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave. 
 
GRAY 
 
 131 
 
 Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, 
 
 If memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise 
 Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault, 
 40 The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. 
 
 Can storied urn or animated bust 
 
 Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? 
 
 Can honour's voice provoke the silent dust. 
 Or flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death ? 
 
 45 Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid 
 
 Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire ; 
 Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed 
 Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre. 
 
 But knowledge to their eyes her ample page 
 50 Rich with the spoils of time did ne'er unroll ; 
 Chill penury repressed their noble rage. 
 And froze the genial current of the soul. 
 
 Full many a gem of purest ray serene 
 
 The dark unf athomed caves of ocean bear ; 
 55 Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its sweetness on the desert air. 
 
 Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast. 
 
 The little tyrant of his fields withstood. 
 Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, 
 60 Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. 
 
 The applause of listening senates to command, 
 The threats of pain and ruin to despise, 
 
 To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land. 
 And read their history in a nation's eyes, 
 
132 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 65 Their lot forbade ; nor circumscribed alone 
 
 Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined ; 
 Forbade to wade thro' slaughter to a throne, 
 And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, 
 
 The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, 
 70 To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame. 
 Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride 
 With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. 
 
 Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, 
 Their sober wishes never learned to stray ; 
 75 Along the cool sequestered vale of life 
 
 They kept the noiseless tenour of their way. 
 
 Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect 
 
 Some frail memorial still erected nigh, 
 With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked, 
 80 Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 
 
 Their name, their years, spelt by the unlettered Muse, 
 
 The place of fame and elegy supply : 
 And many a holy text around she strews. 
 
 That teach the rustic moralist to die. 
 
 85 For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey. 
 
 This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned, 
 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day. 
 Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? 
 
 On some fond breast the parting soul relies, 
 90 Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; 
 E'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries, 
 E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. 
 
GRAY 
 
 133 
 
 For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonoured dead. 
 Dost in these Unes their artless tale relate ; 
 95 If chance, by lonely contemplation led, 
 
 Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, — 
 
 Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, 
 
 ' Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn 
 Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, 
 100 To meet the sun upon the upland lawn. 
 
 ' There at the foot of yonder nodding beech. 
 That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, 
 
 His listless length at noontide would he stretch, 
 And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 
 
 105 ' Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, 
 
 Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove ; 
 Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn. 
 
 Or crazed with care, or crossed in hopeless love. 
 
 ' One morn I missed him on the customed hill, 
 1 10 Along the heath, and near his favourite tree ; 
 Another came ; nor yet beside the rill. 
 
 Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he : 
 
 < The next, with dirges due in sad array 
 
 Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne : 
 115 Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay 
 Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.' 
 
 THE EPITAPH 
 
 Here rests his head upon the lap of earth 
 
 A youth, to fortune and to fame vmknown : 
 Fair science frowned not on his humble birth, 
 120 And melancholy marked him for her own. 
 
134 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, 
 Heaven did a recompense as largely send : 
 
 He gave to misery (all he had) a tear, 
 
 He gained from heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend. 
 
 125 No farther seek his merits to disclose, 
 
 Or draw his frailties from their dread abode, 
 (There they alike in trembling hope repose,) 
 The bosom of his Father and his God. 
 
 (1-28) What imagery is familiar by comparison to "II Penseroso"? 
 What " L' Allegro " nature pictures can no more be appreciated by the 
 dead villagers ? (21-24) Note the " true pathos and sublime of human 
 life," which is as old as when Ulysses sought Penelope. (29-52) Under 
 what circumstances did General Wolfe quote lines from this elegy ; and 
 how did these lines illustrate dramatic fore-shadowing ? What " II 
 Penseroso " phrase explains " storied urn " ? (53-56) In what previously 
 read poem has this thought been analysed ? Cf . Pope's " Rape of the 
 Lock," Canto IV. 154-158, and Emerson's " Rhodora." If Dr. Samuel 
 Johnson had written the first draft of (57-60), would he, like Gray, have 
 changed Cato to Hampden, Tully to Milton, and Caesar to Cromwell ? 
 Did Gray make this change in his proper nouns because of romanticism ? 
 Comment on non-classicism elsewhere noticeable in the elegy. (93-128) 
 Observe Gray's custom at Stoke-Pogis. What quatrain contains strong 
 reminiscences of "II Penseroso"? That Gray should have rejected 
 after (116) as parenthetical the stanza, 
 
 " There scattered oft, the earliest of the year. 
 
 By hands unseen, are showers of violets found ; 
 The redbreast loves to build and warble there, 
 And little footsteps lightly print the ground," 
 
 shows what characteristic trait of his genius ? Dr. Samuel Johnson 
 claimed the " Elegy " to be full of platitudes on life and death. State 
 your opinion. What are the finest felicitous phrases .'' 
 
GOLDSMITH 
 
 135 
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH 
 
 1728-1774 
 
 Nullum fer6 scribendi genus non tetigit ; nullum quod tetigit non ornavit. — 
 Samuel yohnson. 
 
 Kindness and gentleness are never out of fashion ; it is these in Goldsmith 
 which make him our contemporary. — W. D. Howelh. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 The Traveller. 
 
 The Hermit. 
 
 Elegy On Death Of A Mad Dog. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 Man wants but little here below, 
 Nor wants that little long. 
 
 And what is friendship but a name. . . . 
 
 The modern fair one's jest. ... — T]ie Hermit. 
 
 THE DESERTED VILLAGE 
 
 Sweet Auburn ! loveliest village of the plain ; 
 
 Where health and plenty cheer'd the labouring swain, 
 
 Where smiling spring its earliest visit paid, 
 
 And parting summer's lingering blooms delay'd : 
 
 Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, 
 
 Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, 
 
 How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green, 
 
 Where humble happiness endear'd each scene 1 
 
 How often have I paus'd on every charm, 
 
 The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm, 
 
136 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The never-failing brook, the busy mill, 
 The decent church that topt the neighbouring hill, 
 The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, 
 For talking age and whispering lovers made ! 
 
 15 How often have I blest the coming day. 
 When toil remitting lent its turn to play. 
 And all the village train, from labour free, 
 Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree, 
 While many a pastime circled in the shade, 
 
 20 The young contending as the old survey 'd ; 
 And many a gambol frolick'd o'er the ground. 
 And sleights of art and feats of strength went round. 
 And still, as each repeated pleasure tir'd. 
 Succeeding sports the mirthful band inspir'd ; 
 
 25 The dancing pair that simply sought renown 
 By holding out to tire each other down ; 
 The swain mistrustless of his smutted face. 
 While secret laughter titter'd round the place ; 
 The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love, 
 
 30 The matron's glance that would those looks reprove. 
 These were thy charms, sweet village ! sports like these, 
 With sweet succession, taught even toil to please : 
 These rovmd thy bowers their cheerful influence shed : 
 These were thy charms, but all these charms are fled. 
 
 35 Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn. 
 
 Thy sports are fled and all thy charms withdrawn ; 
 Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen, 
 And desolation saddens all thy green : 
 One only master grasps the whole domain, 
 
 40 And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain. 
 No more thy glassy brook reflects the day, 
 But, chok'd with sedges, works its weedy way ; 
 Along thy glades, a solitary guest, 
 The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest ; 
 
GOLDSMITH 
 
 m 
 
 45 Amidst thy desert-walks the lapwing flies, 
 
 And tires their echoes with unvaried cries ; 
 
 Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, 
 
 And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall ; 
 
 And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, 
 50 Far, far away thy children leave the land. 
 
 Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey. 
 
 Where wealth accumulates, and men decay : 
 
 Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade ; 
 
 A breath can make them, as a breath has made : 
 55 But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, 
 
 When once destroy'd, can never be supplied. 
 A time there was, ere England's griefs began, 
 
 When every rood of ground maintain 'd its man ; 
 
 For him light labour spread her wholesome store, 
 60 Just gave what life requir'd, but gave no more : 
 
 His best companions, innocence and health ; 
 
 And his best riches, ignorance of wealth. 
 
 But times are alterd ; trade's unfeeling train 
 
 Usurp the land, and dispossess the swain ; 
 65 Along the lawn, where scatter 'd hamlets rose, 
 
 Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose. 
 
 And every want to opulence allied, 
 
 And every pang that folly pays to pride. 
 
 These gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, 
 70 Those calm desires that ask'd but little room. 
 
 Those healthful sports that grac'd the peaceful scene, 
 
 Liv'd in each look, and brighten'd all the green ; 
 
 These, far departing, seek a kinder shore. 
 
 And rural mirth and manners are no more. 
 75 Sweet Auburn ! parent of the blissful hour, 
 
 Thy glades forlorn confess the tyrant's power. 
 
 Here, as I take my solitary rounds 
 
 Amidst thy tangling walks and ruin'd grounds, 
 
138 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 And, many a year elaps'd, return to view 
 80 Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, 
 
 Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, 
 
 Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. 
 In all my wanderings round this world of care. 
 
 In all my griefs — and God has given my share — 
 85 I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown. 
 
 Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down ; 
 
 To husband out life's taper at the close. 
 
 And keep the flame from wasting by repose : 
 
 I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, 
 90 Amidst the swains to show my book-learn'd skill, 
 
 Around my fire an evening group to draw, 
 
 And tell of all I felt, and all I saw ; 
 
 And, as an hare whom hounds and horns pursue 
 
 Pants to the place from whence at first she flew, 
 95 I still had hopes, my long vexations past. 
 
 Here to return — and die at home at last. 
 O blest retirement, friend to life's decline, 
 
 Retreats from care, that never must be mine ! 
 
 How happy he who crowns in shades like these 
 100 A youth of labour with an age of ease ; 
 
 Who quits a world where strong temptations try, 
 
 And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly! 
 
 For him no wretches, born to work and weep. 
 
 Explore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep ; 
 105 No surly porter stands in guilty state. 
 
 To spurn imploring famine from the gate ; 
 
 But on he moves to meet his latter end. 
 
 Angels around befriending virtue's friend ; 
 
 Bends to the grave with unperceiv'd decay, 
 no While resignation gently slopes the way ; 
 
 And, all his prospects brightening to the last. 
 
 His heaven commences ere the world be past 1 
 
GOLDSMITH 1 39 
 
 Sweet was the sound, when oft at evening's close 
 Up yonder hill the village murmur rose. 
 
 115 There, as I passed with careless steps and slow, 
 The mingling notes came soften'd from below ; 
 The swain responsive as the milk-maid sung, 
 The sober herd that low'd to meet their young, 
 The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, 
 
 120 The playful children just let loose from school, 
 
 The watch-dogs voice that bay'd the whispering wind, 
 And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind ; — • 
 These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, 
 And fiird each pause the nightingale had made. 
 
 125 But now the sounds of population fail. 
 No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, 
 No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread. 
 For all the bloomy flush of life is fled. 
 All but yon widow'd, solitary thing, 
 
 130 That feebly bends beside the plashy spring: 
 She, wretched matron, forc'd in age, for bread. 
 To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread, 
 To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn, 
 To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn ; 
 
 135 She only left of all the harmless train. 
 The sad historian of the pensive plain ! 
 
 Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd, 
 And still where many a garden-flower grows wild ; 
 There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, 
 
 r4o The village preacher's modest mansion rose. ^ 
 
 A man he was to all the country dear. 
 And passing rich with forty pounds a year ; 
 Remote from towns he ran his godly race, 
 Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place ; 
 
 145 Unpractis'd he to fawn, or seek for power. 
 By doctrines fashion 'd to the varying hour; 
 
140 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Far other aims his heart had learn 'd to prize, 
 * More skill'd to raise the wretched than to rise. 
 
 His house was known to all the vagrant train ; 
 150 He chid their wanderings but relieved their pain : 
 
 The long remember'd beggar was his guest, 
 
 Whose beard descending swept his aged breast ; 
 
 The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, 
 
 Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd ; 
 155 The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, 
 
 Sat by his fire and talk'd the night away. 
 
 Wept o'er his wounds or tales of sorrow done, 
 
 Shoulder'd his crutch and show'd how fields were won. 
 
 Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn 'd to glow, 
 1 60 And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; 
 
 Careless their merits or their faults to scan. 
 
 His pity gave ere charity began. 
 
 Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride. 
 
 And e'en his failings leaned to virtue's side ; 
 165 But in his duty prompt at every call. 
 
 He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all ; 
 r And, as a bird each fond endearment tries 
 
 To tempt its new-fledg'd offspring to the skies. 
 
 He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay, 
 170 AUur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way. 
 Beside the bed where parting life was laid. 
 
 And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismay'd. 
 
 The reverend champion stood ; at his control 
 
 Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul ; 
 175 Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, 
 
 And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise. 
 At church, with meek and unaffected grace. 
 
 His looks adorn 'd the venerable place ; 
 
 Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, 
 180 And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray. 
 
GOLDSMITH I4I 
 
 The service past, around the pious man, 
 
 With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ; 
 
 Even children follow 'd with endearing wile, 
 
 And pluck 'd his gown to share the good man's smile. 
 185 His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest: 
 
 Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares distrest : 
 
 To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, 
 
 But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven : | 
 
 As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form, 
 190 Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, 
 
 Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, 
 
 Eternal sunshine settles on its head. 
 
 Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, 
 
 With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, 
 195 There in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, 
 
 The village master taught his little school. 
 
 A man severe he was and stem to view ; 
 
 I knew him well and every truant knew : 
 
 Well had the boding tremblers learn 'd to trace 
 200 The day's disasters in his morning face ; 
 
 Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee 
 
 At all his jokes, for many a joke had he ; 
 
 Full well the busy whisper, circling round, 
 
 Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown 'd ; 
 205 Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught. 
 
 The love he bore to learning was in fault. 
 
 The village all declar'd how much he knew : 
 
 'Twas certain he could write and cipher too ; 
 
 Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, 
 210 And even the story ran that he could gauge. 
 
 In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill, 
 
 For even though vanquish 'd, he could argue still ; 
 
 While words of learned length and thundering sound 
 
 Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around ; 
 
142 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 215 And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew, 
 That one small head could carry all he knew. 
 
 But past is all his fame ; the very spot 
 Where many a time he triumph 'd is forgot. 
 Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, 
 
 220 Where once the sign-post caught the passing eye, 
 
 Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspir'd, 
 Where grey-beard mirth and smiling toil retir'd, 
 Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound, 
 And news much older than their ale went round. 
 
 225 Imagination fondly stoops to trace 
 
 The parlovir splendours of that festive place : 
 The white-wash 'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, 
 The varnish'd clock that click 'd behind the door ; 
 The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay, 
 
 230 A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; 
 The pictures plac'd for ornament and use. 
 The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose ; 
 The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day, 
 With aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay ; 
 
 235 While broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show, 
 Rang'd o'er the chimney, glisten 'd in a row. 
 Vain transitory splendours ! could not all 
 Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall ? 
 Obscure it sinks, nor shall it more impart 
 
 240 An hour's importance to the poor man's heart. 
 Thither no more the peasant shall repair 
 To sweet oblivion of his daily care ; 
 No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale. 
 No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail ; 
 
 245 No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, 
 Relax his ponderous strength and lean to hear ; 
 The host himself no longer shall be found 
 Careful to see the mantling bliss go round ; 
 
GOLDSMITH 1 43 
 
 Nor the coy maid, half willing to be prest, 
 250 Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest. 
 
 Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain, 
 
 These simple blessings of the lowly train ; 
 
 To me more dear, congenial to my heart, 
 
 One native charm, than all the gloss of art ; 
 255 Spontaneous joys, where nature has its play. 
 
 The soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway, 
 
 Lightly they frolic o'er the vacant mind, 
 
 Unenvied, unmolested, unconfin'd. 
 
 But the long pomp, the midnight masquerade, 
 260 With all the freaks of wanton wealth array'd — 
 
 In these, ere triflers half their wish obtain, 
 
 The toiling pleasure sickens into pain ; 
 
 And, even while fashion's brightest arts decoy, 
 
 The heart distrusting asks, if this be joy. 
 265 Ye friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey 
 
 The rich man's joys increase, the poor's decay, 
 
 'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand 
 
 Between a splendid and an happy land. 
 
 Proud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore, 
 270 And shouting folly hails them from her shore; 
 
 Hoards even beyond the miser's wish abound, 
 
 And rich men flock from all the world around ; 
 
 Yet count our gains ; this wealth is but a name 
 
 That leaves our useful products still the same. 
 275 Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride 
 
 Takes up a space that many poor supplied ; 
 
 Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, 
 
 Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds : 
 
 The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth 
 280 Has robbed the neighboring fields of haK their growth ; 
 
 His seat, where solitary sports are seen, 
 
 Indignant spurns the cottage from the green : 
 
144 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Around the world each needful product flies, 
 For all the luxuries the world supplies ; 
 
 285 While thus the land, adorn'd for pleasure, all 
 In barren splendour feebly waits the fall. 
 
 As some fair female, unadorn'd and plain, 
 Secure to please while youth confirms her reign, 
 Slights every borrow'd charm that dress supplies, 
 
 290 Nor shares with art the triumph of her eyes ; 
 
 But when those charms are past, for charms are frail. 
 When time advances, and when lovers fail. 
 She then shines forth, solicitous to bless, 
 In all the glaring impotence of dress. 
 
 295 Thus fares the land, by luxury betray'd : 
 In nature's simplest charms at first array'd. 
 But verging to decline, its splendours rise ; 
 Its vistas strike, its palaces surprise : 
 While, scourg'd by famine from the smiling land, 
 
 300 The mournful peasant leads his humble band. 
 And while he sinks, without one arm to save. 
 The country blooms — a garden, and a grave. 
 
 Where then, ah ! where, shall poverty reside, 
 To 'scape the pressure of contiguous pride ? 
 
 305 If to some common's fenceless limits stray'd 
 He drives his flock to pick the scanty blade. 
 Those fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide. 
 And even the bare-worn common is denied. 
 If to the city sped — what waits him there ? 
 
 310 To see profusion that he must not share ; 
 To see ten thousand baneful arts combin'd 
 To pamper luxury and thin mankind ; 
 To see those joys the sons of pleasure know 
 Extorted from his fellow-creature's woe. 
 
 315 Here while the courtier glitters in brocade, 
 There the pale artist plies the sickly trade ; 
 
 J 
 
GOLDSMITH 1 45 
 
 Here, while the proud their long-drawn pomps display, 
 
 There, the black gibbet glooms beside the way. 
 
 The dome where pleasure holds her midnight reign 
 320 Here, richly deckt, admits the gorgeous train : 
 
 Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, 
 
 The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. 
 
 Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy ! 
 
 Sure these denote one universal joy ! 
 325 Are these thy serious thoughts ? — Ah, turn thine eyes 
 
 Where the poor houseless shivering female lies. 
 
 She once, perhaps, in village plenty blest. 
 
 Has wept at tales of innocence distrest ; 
 
 Her modest looks the cottage might adorn, 
 330 Sweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn : 
 
 Now lost to all, — her friends, her virtue fled, — 
 
 Near her betrayer's door she lays her head, 
 
 And, pinched with cold, and shrinking from the shower, 
 
 With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, 
 335 When idly first, ambitious of the town, 
 
 She left her wheel, and robes of country brown. 
 
 Do thine, sweet Auburn, — thine the loveliest train, — 
 
 Do thy fair tribes participate her pain ? 
 
 Even now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led, 
 340 At proud men's doors they ask a little bread. 
 Ah no ! To distant climes, a dreary scene. 
 
 Where half the convex world intrudes between, 
 
 Through torrid tracts with fainting steps they, go, 
 
 Where wild Altama murmurs to their woe. 
 345 Far different there from all that charm'd before 
 
 The various terrors of that horrid shore ; 
 
 Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray, 
 
 And fiercely shed intolerable day ; 
 
 Those matted woods, where birds forget to sing, 
 350 But silent bats in drowsy clusters cling; 
 
146 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Those poisonous fields with rank luxuriance crown 'd, 
 Where the dark scorpion gathers death around ; 
 Where at each step the stranger fears to wake 
 The rattling terrors of the vengeful snake ; 
 
 355 Where crouching tigers wait their hapless prey, 
 And savage men more murderous still than they ; 
 While oft in whirls the mad tornado flies, 
 Mingling the ravag'd landscape with the skies. 
 Far different these from every former scene, 
 
 360 The cooling brook, the grassy-vested green, 
 The breezy covert of the warbling grove. 
 That only shelter 'd thefts of harmless love. 
 
 Good Heaven ! What sorrows gloom 'd that parting day. 
 That call'd them from their native walks away ; 
 
 365 When the poor exiles, every pleasure past. 
 
 Hung round the bowers and fondly look'd their last. 
 And took a long farewell, and wish'd in vain 
 For seats like these beyond the western main, 
 And shuddering still to face the distant deep, 
 
 370 Return 'd and wept, and still return 'd to weep. 
 The good old sire the first prepar'd to go 
 To new-found worlds, and wept for others' woe ; 
 But for himself, in conscious virtue brave. 
 He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave. 
 
 375 His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, 
 The fond companion of his helpless years. 
 Silent went next, neglectful of her charms, 
 And left a lover's for a father's arms. 
 With louder plaints the mother spoke her woes, 
 
 380 And blest the cot where every pleasure rose. 
 
 And kiss'd her thoughtless babes with many a tear, 
 And clasp'd them close, in sorrow doubly dear, 
 Whilst her fond husband strove to lend relief 
 In all the silent manliness of grief. 
 
GOLDSMITH 1 47 
 
 385 O luxury! thou curst by Heaven's decree, 
 
 How ill exchang'd are things like these for thee 1 
 
 How do thy potions, with insidious joy, 
 
 Diffuse their pleasures only to destroy ! 
 
 Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, 
 390 Boast of a florid vigour not their own : 
 
 At every draught more large and large they grow, 
 
 A bloated mass of rank, unwieldy woe ; 
 
 Till sapp'd their strength, and every part unsound, 
 
 Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. 
 395 Even now the devastation is begun, 
 
 And half the business of destruction done ; 
 
 Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, 
 
 I see the rural virtues leave the land. 
 
 Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, 
 400 That idly waiting flaps with every gale. 
 
 Downward they move, a melancholy band. 
 
 Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. 
 
 Contented toil, and hospitable care, 
 
 And kind connubial tenderness, are there ; 
 405 And piety with wishes plac'd above. 
 
 And steady loyalty, and faithful love. 
 
 And thou, sweet poetry, thou loveliest maid, 
 
 Still first to fly where sensual joys invade ; 
 
 Unfit in these degenerate times of shame 
 410 To catch the heart, or strike for honest fame ; 
 
 Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried. 
 
 My shame in crowds, my solitary pride ; 
 
 Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe, 
 
 That found'st me poor at first, and keep'st me so ; 
 415 Thou guide by which the nobler arts excel, 
 
 Thou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well 1 
 
 Farewell, and O ! where'er thy voice be tried, 
 
 On Torno's cliffs, or Pambamarca's side, 
 
148 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Whether where equinoctial fervours glow, 
 420 Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, 
 
 Still let thy voice, prevailing over time. 
 
 Redress the rigours of the inclement clime ; 
 
 Aid slighted truth with thy persuasive strain ; 
 
 Teach erring man to spurn the rage of gain ; 
 425 Teach him, that states of native strength possest. 
 
 Though very poor, may still be very blest ; 
 
 That trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay. 
 
 As ocean sweeps the labour 'd mole away ; 
 
 While self-dependent power can time defy, 
 430 As rocks resist the billows and the sky. 
 
 (1-82) In Goldsmith's treatment of his pastoral, what " L' Allegro " 
 imagery is recalled? In Dr. Samuel Johnson's "London," written in 
 1738, is found the original of (51-52): "Slow rises worth, by poverty 
 depress'd." (83-96) Goldsmith is true to life in asserting that he longs 
 for death amid the scenes of his childhood. Cf. Irving's close to his 
 " Stratford-On-Avon " : " He who has sought renown about the world, 
 and has reaped a full harvest of worldly favor, will find after all, that 
 there is no love, no admiration, no applause, so sweet to the soul as 
 that which springs up in his native place. It is there that he seeks to 
 be gathered in peace and honor among his kindred and his early friends. 
 And when the weary heart and failing head begin to warn him that the 
 evening of life is drawing on, he turns as fondly as does the infant to 
 the mother's arms, to sink to sleep in the bosom of the scene of his 
 childhood." (97-112) What previously read poem interprets this pas- 
 sage ? (i 13-136) Comment on the imagery used in common by Milton, 
 Collins, Gray, and Goldsmith, in describing an evening, and note what 
 poet's imagery is the best. Goldsmith's "wretched matron " is not an 
 imaginary character. Cf. Wordsworth's characters Goody Blake and 
 the leech-gatherer. (137-192) Goldsmith intended the village preacher 
 to be a portrayal of his father. Cf. Chaucer's " Poure Persoun " and 
 Goldsmith's "Vicar of Wakefield." Observe the fine simile which 
 indicates the curate's position in the moral and the material world of 
 Auburn. Describe the cliffs, the heights of which are conveyed by 
 words, in " Hamlet," Act I. 4, " King Lear," Act IV. 6, and Shelley's 
 
GOLDSMITH 
 
 149 
 
 " Cenci," Act III. i. (193-216) The original schoolmaster was Paddy 
 Byrne. (217-430) Note the line which shows Goldsmith's poverty. Dr. 
 Samuel Johnson on hearing of the death of Goldsmith said, " Was ever 
 poet so trusted before ? " Goldsmith died ^^2,000 in debt. The seven 
 deadly sins are left behind by the exiles. Six virtues they take with 
 them. According to Goldsmith, note the function of poetry. Usually 
 the didactical element in a pastoral detracts from its merits. Observe 
 that the poet is sensitive to pain and melancholy in almost every line 
 of the poem. Analyse some of the felicitous phrases. Where does 
 the heroic couplet verse at times convey conceptions that do not be- 
 long to classicism but to romanticism? 
 
 WHEN LOVELY WOMAN STOOPS TO FOLLY 
 
 When lovely woman stoops to folly, 
 And finds too late that men betray, 
 
 What charm can soothe her melancholy ? 
 What art can wash her guilt away ? 
 
 5 The only art her guilt to cover, 
 
 To hide her shame from every eye, 
 To give repentance to her lover, 
 And wring his bosom, is — to die. 
 
 I said, " Do you like Goldsmith's ' When lovely woman stoops to folly' ?" 
 And he replied : " 1 love it." — Locker-LampsoTi to Tennyson, as related in Mem- 
 oirs, II. 7j>. 
 
1 50 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH POE TR Y 
 
 The Georgian Era 
 1744-1832 
 
 The Romantic School 
 
 The poets of romanticism are those who present conceptions not calmly 
 realised, but such as depend on their halo for their attraction, — the halo 
 consisting of four primitive colours : love for God, love for nature, love 
 for man, and love for animals. The blending of these four colours in 
 English poetry is accomplished by means of the elements of mystery and 
 aspiration, which, according to Prof. H. A. Beers, are quite lacking in the 
 classical school. 
 
 WILLIAM COWPER 
 
 1731-1800 
 
 Cowper is a domestic poet, although he was neither a husband nor a 
 father ; he is the poet of his own home, the private life of which was sweetly 
 attuned to actions of integrity ; he is the poet of the thicket which was visible 
 at the farther end of the garden, or of the chimney nook. Sainte-Beuve. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 To Mary. 
 John Gilpin. 
 
 On The Loss Of The Royal George. 
 The Castaw^ay. 
 
 Phrases 
 God made the country, and man made the town. . . . 
 
 — The Task, Book I. 
 
 Oh for a lodge in some vast wilderness, 
 Some boundless contiguity of shade. . . . 
 
 — The Task, Book II. 
 
CO IVPER I 5 I 
 
 . . . the cups 
 That cheer but not inebriate. . . . 
 
 — The Task, Book IV. 
 
 Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much ; 
 Wisdom is humble that he knows no more. 
 
 — The Task, Book VI. 
 
 An idler is a watch that wants both hands, 
 
 As useless when it goes as when it stands. — Retirement. 
 
 THE POPLAR FIELD 
 
 The poplars are felled, farewell to the shade, 
 And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade ; 
 The winds play no longer and sing in the leaves, 
 Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives. 
 
 5 Twelve years have elapsed, since I last took a view 
 Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew ; 
 And now in the grass behold they are laid, 
 And the tree is my seat, that once lent me a shade. 
 
 The black bird has fled to another retreat, 
 ID Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat. 
 And the scene where his melody charmed me before, 
 Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more. 
 
 My fugitive years are all hasting away, 
 And I must ere long lie lowly as they, 
 15 With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head. 
 Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead. 
 
 The change both my heart and my fancy employs, 
 I reflect on the frailty of man and his joys ; 
 Short-lived as we are, yet our pleasures we see, 
 20 Have a still shorter date, and die sooner than we. 
 
152 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 (4) " Nor Ouse on his bosom their image receives." Cf. " The Task," 
 Book I. : 
 
 " Here Ouse, slow winding through a level plain 
 Of spacious meads with cattle sprinkled o'er, 
 Conducts the eye along his sinuous course 
 Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bank, 
 Stand, never overlooked, our favorite elms. 
 That screen the herdsman's solitary hut. . . ." 
 
 Scan (7) and compare with (i) and (2). Where, before, has such 
 metre been presented ? F. J. Palgrave in personal recollection affirms 
 that Tennyson, after reading Cowper's " Poplar Field," said: "People 
 nowadays, I believe, hold this style and metre light : I wish there were 
 any who could put words together with such exquisite flow and even- 
 ness." The poem "The Poplar Field" was published in 1785, the 
 year in which Cowper thought it fitting to tell his friends about his 
 literary retreat, the Boudoir, where, undisturbed by visitors, he could 
 gaze out of the door on a garden full of roses, pinks, and honeysuckles, 
 and out of a window on the orchard of his neighbor. The poems 
 written on the table of his little summer-house partake of the charm 
 of " Poplar Field " ; they vibrate to a breeze which comes from across 
 the Ouse, where are groves, grapevine hedges, heaths, smoky villages, 
 square towers, and tall spires from which comes undulating the sound 
 of church bells. 
 
 THE ROSE 
 
 The rose had been washed, just washed in a shower, 
 
 Which Mary to Anna conveyed, 
 The plentiful moisture encumbered the flower, 
 
 And weighed down its beautiful head. 
 
 5 The cup was all filled, and the leaves were all wet, 
 And it seemed, to a fanciful view, 
 To Weep for the buds it had left with regret. 
 On the flourishing bush where it grew. 
 
 I hastily seized it, unfit as it was 
 10 For a nosegay, so dripping and drowned, 
 And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas 1 
 I snapped it, it fell to the ground, 
 
cow PER 153 
 
 And such, I exclaimed, is the pitiless part 
 Some act by the delicate mind, 
 15 Regardless of wringing and breaking a heart 
 Already to sorrow resigned. 
 
 This elegant rose, had I shaken it less. 
 
 Might have bloomed with its owner a while ; 
 And the tear that is wiped with a little address, 
 20 May be followed perhaps by a smile. 
 
 (1-20) Mary is Mrs. Unwin, who made Cowper a poet ; Anna is Lady 
 Austen, who made him popular as a poet. Note the allegorical signifi- 
 cation of the stem-broken weeping rose. Analyse the fine felicitous 
 phrase. Scan (17-20). Sainte-Beuve, in his essay on Cowper in 
 " Causeries du Lundi," in analysis of this poem says : " This delight- 
 ful little poem tells everything of the pure joy and the pathos existing 
 between Cowper and these two women, of their transient and ephem- 
 eral union, and of the rose which was accidentally broken before one 
 could present it to the other." 
 
 ON THE RECEIPT OF MY MOTHER^S PICTURE 
 OUT OF NORFOLK 
 
 Oh that those lips had language ! Life has passed 
 With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 
 Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, 
 The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; 
 
 5 Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, 
 ' Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away ! ' 
 The meek intelligence of those dear eyes 
 (Blessed be the art that can immortalize, 
 The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim 
 
 3 To quench it) here shines on me still the same. 
 Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 
 Q welcome guest, though unexpected here 1 
 
154 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Who bidst me honour with an artless song, 
 Affectionate, a mother lost so long, 
 
 15 I will obey, not willingly alone. 
 
 But gladly, as the precept were her own : 
 And, while that face renews my filial grief, 
 Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief. 
 Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, 
 
 20 A momentary dream that thou art she. 
 
 My mother ! when I learnt that thou wast dead. 
 Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? 
 Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, 
 Wretch even then life's journey just begun ? 
 
 25 Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss : 
 Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — 
 Ah, that maternal smile ! It answers — Yes. 
 I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, 
 I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, 
 
 30 And, turning from my nursery window, drew 
 A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! 
 But was it such ? — It was. — Where thou art gone 
 Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. 
 May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, 
 
 35 The parting word shall pass my lips no more ! 
 Thy maidens, grieved themselves at my concern, 
 Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. 
 What ardently I wished I long believed, 
 And, disappointed still, was still deceived. 
 
 40 By expectation every day beguiled. 
 Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. 
 Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, 
 Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, 
 I learned at last submission to my lot ; 
 
 45 But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot, 
 
COWPER 155 
 
 Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, 
 Children not thine have trod my nursery floor ; 
 And where the gardener Robin, day by day, 
 Drew me to school along the public way, 
 
 50 Delighted with my bauble coach and wrapped 
 In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped, 
 'Tis now become a history little known, 
 That once we called the pastoral house our own. 
 Short-lived possession ! but the record fair 
 
 55 That memory keeps, of all thy kindness there. 
 Still outlives many a storm that has effaced 
 A thousand other themes less deeply traced. 
 Thy nightly visits to my chamber made. 
 That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid ; 
 
 60 Thy morning bounties ere I left my home. 
 The biscuit or confectionery plum ; 
 The fragrant waters on my cheek bestowed 
 By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed ; 
 All this, and more endearing still than all, 
 
 65 Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall, 
 Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and brakes 
 That humour interposed too often makes ; 
 All this still legible in memory's page, 
 And still to be so to my latest age, 
 
 70 Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay 
 Such honours to thee as my numbers may ; 
 Perhaps a frail memorial, but sincere, 
 Not scorned in heaven, though little noticed here. 
 Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hours, 
 
 75 When playing with thy vesture's tissued flowers, 
 The violet, the pink, and jessamine, 
 I pricked them into paper with a pin 
 (And thou wast happier than myself the while, 
 Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile.) 
 
156 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 80 Could those few pleasant days again appear, 
 
 Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ? 
 I would not trust my heart — the dear delight 
 Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might. — 
 But no — what here we call our life is such 
 
 85 So little to be loved, and thou so much. 
 That I should ill requite thee to constrain 
 Thy unbound spirit into bonds again. 
 
 Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast 
 (The storms all weathered and the ocean crossed) 
 
 90 Shoots into port at some well-havened isle. 
 
 Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, 
 There sits quiescent on the floods, that show 
 Her beauteous form reflected clear below, 
 While airs impregnated with incense play 
 
 95 Around her, fanning light her streamers gay ; 
 
 So thou, with sails how swift ! hast reached the shore, 
 "Where tempests never beat nor billows roar." 
 And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide 
 Of life long since hast anchored by thy side. 
 100 But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest. 
 
 Always from port withheld, always distressed — 
 Me howling blasts drive devious, tempest tost. 
 Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and compass lost, 
 And day by day some current's thwarting force 
 105 Sets me more distant from a prosperous course. 
 Yet, Oh, the thought that thou art safe, and he 1 
 That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. 
 My boast is not, that I deduce my birth 
 From loins enthroned and rulers of the earth ; 
 
 no But higher far my proud pretensions rise — 
 The son of parents passed into the skies ! 
 And now, farewell — Time unrevoked has run 
 His wonted course, yet what I wished is done. 
 
COWPER 157 
 
 By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
 115 I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again; 
 To have renewed the joys that once were mine, 
 Without the sin of violating thine : 
 And, while the wings of Fancy still are free, 
 And I can view this mimic show of thee, 
 120 Time has but half succeeded in his theft — ' 
 Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left. 
 
 (1-20) What line is a note from "L' Allegro"? (21-45) Cowper 
 does not claim too much by the felicitous phrase (40-41). (46-73) 
 Cowper in his portrayal of an eighteenth century mother shows that 
 mothers never change. Note the word in (71) which belongs to the 
 classical school. (74-87) Does Cowper use his flowers as Milton in 
 " Lycidas " ? (88-121) Note the Miltonic roll of rhythm and sentence 
 structure in (100-105). Cf. P. L. Book II. 1043-44: 
 
 " And, like a weather-beaten vessel, holds 
 Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn." 
 
 Classify the phrases in the poem. Tennyson's lines are applicable to 
 Cowper : 
 
 " How pure at heart and sound in head, 
 With what divine affections bold 
 Should be the man whose thought would hold 
 An hour's communion with the dead." 
 
 — In Memoriam XCIV. 
 
 And once when I asked him for the " Lines on my Mother's Por- 
 trait," his voice faltered as he said, if I wished it ; but he knew he 
 should break down. — Palgrave in conversation with Tennyson, Memoirs 
 11. SOI. 
 
 In what lines would Tennyson have broken down ? 
 
 Read Mrs. Browning's " Cowper's Grave." 
 
I 5 8 ANT HO L OGY OF ENGLISH POE TR Y 
 
 WILLIAM BLAKE 
 
 1757-1827 
 
 He possessed in a rare degree the secret by which the loveliness of a scene 
 can be arrested and registered in a line of verse, and he often displays a fault- 
 less choice of language, and the finest sense of poetic melody. — Comyns Carr. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 The Garden Of Love. 
 
 To The Muses. 
 
 To The Evening Star. 
 
 Night. 
 
 On Another's Sorrow. 
 
 The Lamb. 
 
 Piping Down The Valleys Wild — 
 
 Ah, Sunflower ! 
 
 THE TIGER 
 
 Tiger, tiger, burning bright 
 In the forests of the night, 
 What immortal hand or eye 
 Could frame thy fearful symmetry ? 
 
 5 In what distant deeps or skies 
 Burnt the fire of thine eyes ? 
 On what wings dare he aspire ? 
 What the hand dare seize the fire ? 
 
 And what shoulder, and what art, 
 10 Could twist the sinews of thy heart? 
 And when thy heart began to beat, 
 What dread hand ? and what dread feet ? 
 
BLAKE 159 
 
 What the hammer ? what the chain ? 
 In what furnace was thy brain ? 
 5 What the anvil ? what dread grasp 
 Dare its deadly terrors clasp ? 
 
 When the stars threw down their spears, 
 And watered heaven with their tears, 
 Did He smile His work to see ? 
 20 Did He who made the lamb make thee ? 
 
 Tiger, tiger, burning bright 
 In the forests of the night, 
 What immortal hand or eye 
 Dare frame thy fearful symmetry ? 
 
 Observe the perplexing questions which are asked of Providence. Is 
 nature quite unethical; is the tiger neither just nor unjust ? 
 
 The leopard follows his nature as the lamb does, and acts after the 
 leopard law; she can neither help her beauty nor her courage, nor her 
 cruelty; nor a single spot on her shining coat; nor the conquering 
 spirit which impels her; nor the shot which brings her down. — Thack- 
 eray in Henry Esmond. 
 
 In " The Tempest " Shakespere shows that he who made an Ariel 
 made a Caliban, and that he who made a Prospero made an Antonio. 
 
 Contrast the poem with " The Lamb." 
 
l6o ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 ROBERT BURNS 
 
 1759-1796 
 
 We arrive best at the real estimate of Burns, I think, by conceiving his work as 
 having truth of matter and truth of manner, but not the accent or the poetic 
 virtue of the highest masters. — Matthew Arnold. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 A Winter Night. 
 
 To Mary In Heaven. 
 
 Duncan Gray. 
 
 Bannockburn. 
 
 Hark ! The Mavis — 
 
 For A' That An' A' That. 
 
 I Love My Jean. 
 
 Auld Lang Syne. 
 
 Afton Water. 
 
 A Red, Red Rose. 
 
 O Wert Thou In The Cauld Blast — 
 
 Phrases 
 
 O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us 
 
 To see oursels as others see us ! — To A Louse. 
 
 To make a happy fireside clime 
 
 To weans and wife, 
 That's the true pathos and sublime 
 
 Of human life. — To Dr. Blacklock. 
 
 The rank is but the guinea's stamp, 
 The man's the gowd for a' that. 
 
 — A Man's A Man For A' That. 
 
BURNS l6l 
 
 THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT 
 
 Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, 
 Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; 
 
 Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile, 
 The short but simple annals of the poor. — Gray. 
 
 My loved, my honoured, much respected friend I 
 No mercenary bard his homage pays ; 
 With honest pride, I scorn each selfish end, 
 My dearest meed, a friend's esteem and praise : 
 5 To you I sing, in simple Scottish lays, 
 The lowly train in life's sequestered scene ; 
 The native feelings strong, the guileless ways ; 
 What Aiken in a cottage would have been ; 
 Ah ! though his worth unknown, far happier there, I ween. 
 
 ID November chill blaws loud wi' angry sugh ; 
 
 The short'ning winter-day is near a close ; 
 
 The miry beasts retreating frae the pleugh ; 
 
 The black 'ning trains o' craws to their repose ; 
 
 The toil-worn Cotter frae his labour goes, — 
 15 This night his weekly moil is at an end. 
 
 Collects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes. 
 
 Hoping the morn in ease and rest to spend. 
 
 And weary, o'er the moor, his course does hameward bend. 
 
 At length his lonely cot appears in view, 
 
 20 Beneath the shelter of an aged tree ; 
 
 Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin, stacher thro', 
 To meet their Dad, wi' flichterin noise an' glee. 
 His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnily, 
 His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie wifie's smile, 
 
 25 The lisping infant prattling on his knee, 
 Does a' his weary carking cares beguile, 
 An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil. 
 
1 62 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Belyve, the elder bairns come drapping in, 
 At service out, amang the farmers roun' ; 
 
 30 Some ca' the pleugh, some herd, some tentie rin 
 A cannie errand to a neebor town : 
 Their eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown, 
 In youthfu' bloom, love sparkling in her e'e. 
 Comes hame, perhaps, to show a braw new gown, 
 
 35 Or deposite her sair-won penny-fee. 
 
 To help her parents dear, if they in hardship be. 
 
 Wi' joy unfeigned brothers and sisters meet. 
 An' each for other's welfare kindly spiers : 
 The social hours, swift-winged, unnoticed fleet, 
 
 40 Each tells the uncos that he sees or hears ; 
 The parents, partial, eye their hopeful years. 
 Anticipation forward points the view. 
 The mother, wi' her needle an' her sheers, 
 Gars auld claes look amaist as wheel's the new ; 
 
 45 The father mixes a' wi' admonition due. 
 
 Their master's an' their mistress's command, 
 The younkers a' are warned to obey ; 
 And mind their labours wi' an eydent hand. 
 And ne'er, tho' out o' sight, to jauk or play : 
 50 'And, oh ! be sure to fear the Lord alway, 
 And mind your duty, duly morn and night ! 
 Lest in temptation's path ye gang astray, 
 Implore His counsel and assisting might : 
 They never sought in vain that sought the Lord aright ! 
 
 55 But, hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; 
 Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, 
 Tells how a neibor lad came o'er the moor, 
 To do some errands, and convoy her hame. 
 The wily mother sees the conscious flame 
 
BURJVS 163 
 
 60 Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; 
 
 Wi' heart-struck anxious care, inquires his name, 
 While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak ; 
 Weel pleased the mother hears, it's nae wild worthless 
 rake. 
 
 Wi' kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben ; 
 65 A strappan youth ; he takes the mother's eye ; 
 
 Blythe Jenny sees the visit's no ill ta'en ; 
 
 The father cracks of horses, pleughs, and kye. 
 
 The youngster's artless heart o'erflows wi' joy, 
 
 But, blate and laithfu', scarce can weel behave ; 
 70 The mother, wi' a woman's wiles, can spy 
 
 What makes the youth sae bashfu' an' sae grave ; 
 
 Weel pleased to think her bairn's respected like the lave. 
 
 Oh happy love ! where love like this is found 1 
 
 O heart-felt raptures ! bliss beyond compare ! 
 75 I've paced much this weary mortal round. 
 
 And sage experience bids me this declare — 
 
 ' If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare. 
 
 One cordial in this melancholy vale, 
 
 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, 
 80 In other's arms breathe out the tender tale. 
 
 Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening 
 gale ! ' 
 
 Is there, in human form, that bears a heart 
 
 A wretch ! a villain ! lost to love and truth ! 
 
 That can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art, 
 S5 Betray sweet Jenny's unsuspecting youth ? 
 
 Curse on his perjured arts ! dissembling smooth ! 
 
 Are honour, virtue, conscience, all exiled ? 
 
 Is there no pity, no relenting ruth. 
 
 Points to the parents fondling o'er their child ? 
 90 Then paints the ruined maid, and their distraction wild. 
 
164 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 But now the supper crowns their simple board, 
 The halesome parritch, chief o' Scotia's food : 
 The sowpe their only hawkie does afford, 
 That 'yont the hallan snugly chows her cood ; 
 95 The dame brings forth in complimental mood. 
 To grace the lad, her weel-hained kebbuck, fell, 
 An' aft he's prest, an' aft he ca's it guid ; 
 The frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell 
 How 'twas a towmond auld, sin' lint was i' the bell. 
 
 100 The cheerfu' supper done, wi' serious face, 
 They, round the ingle, form a circle wide ; 
 The sire turns o'er, wi' patriarchal grace, 
 The big ha'-Bible, ance his father's pride : 
 His bonnet reverently is laid aside, 
 
 105 His lyart haffets wearing thin an' bare ; 
 
 Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, 
 
 He wales a portion with judicious care ; 
 
 And ' Let us worship God ! ' he says, with solemn air. 
 
 They chant their artless notes in simple guise ; 
 1 10 They tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim : 
 
 Perhaps ' Dundee's ' wild warbling measures rise, 
 
 Or plaintive ' Martyrs,' worthy of the name ; 
 
 Or noble ' Elgin ' beets the heavenward flame. 
 
 The sweetest far of Scotia's holy lays : 
 115 Compared with these, Italian trills are tame; 
 
 The tickled ears no heart-felt raptures raise ; 
 
 Nae unison hae they with our Creator's praise. 
 
 The priest-like father reads the sacred page, 
 How Abram was the friend of God on high ; 
 120 Or Moses bade eternal warfare wage 
 With Amalek's ungracious progeny ; 
 Or how the royal Bard did groaning lie 
 
BURNS 165 
 
 Beneath the stroke of Heaven's avenging ire ; 
 Or Job's pathetic plaint, and wailing cry; 
 125 Or rapt Isaiah's wild, seraphic fire; 
 
 Or other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre. 
 
 Perhaps the Christian volume is the theme, 
 
 How guiltless blood for guilty man was shed ; 
 
 How He, who bore in Heaven the second name, 
 130 Had not on earth whereon to lay His head : 
 
 How His first followers and servants sped ; 
 
 The precepts sage they wrote to many a land : 
 
 How he, who lone in Patmos banished. 
 
 Saw in the sun a mighty angel stand ; 
 135 And heard great Babylon's doom pronounced by 
 Heaven's command. 
 
 Then kneeling down, to Heaven's Eternal King, 
 The saint, the father, and the husband prays : 
 Hope ' springs exulting on triumphant wing,' 
 That thus they all shall meet in future days : 
 140 There ever bask in uncreated rays. 
 
 No more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear, 
 
 Together hymning their Creator's praise, 
 
 In such society, yet still more dear ; 
 
 While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere. 
 
 145 Compared with this, how poor Religion's pride, 
 
 In all the pomp of method, and of art. 
 
 When men display to congregations wide 
 
 Devotion's every grace, except the heart 1 
 
 The Power, incensed, the pageant will desert, 
 150 The pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole; 
 
 But haply, in some cottage far apart. 
 
 May hear, well pleased, the language of the soul ; 
 
 And in His book of life the inmates poor enroll. 
 
1 66 ANTHOLOG Y OF ENGLISH POE TR Y 
 
 Then homeward all take off their several way ; 
 
 155 The youngling cottagers retire t6 rest: 
 The parent-pair their secret homage pay, 
 And proffer up to Heaven the warm request, 
 That He, who stills the raven's clamorous nest. 
 And decks the lily fair in flowery pride, 
 
 160 Would, in the way His wisdom sees the best. 
 For them, and for their little ones provide ; 
 But chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside. 
 
 From scenes like these old Scotia's grandeur springs, 
 That makes her loved at home, revered abroad : 
 
 165 Princes and lords are but the breath of kings ; 
 ' An honest man's the noblest work of God ' : 
 And certes, in fair virtue's heavenly road, 
 The cottage leaves the palace far behind ; 
 What is a lordling's pomp ? a cumbrous load, 
 
 170 Disguising oft the wretch of human kind, 
 
 Studied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined ! 
 
 O Scotia ! my dear, my native soil ! 
 
 For whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent, 
 
 Long may thy hardy sons of rustic toil 
 175 Be blest with health, and peace, and sweet content! 
 
 And oh ! may Heaven their simple lives prevent 
 
 From luxury's contagion, weak and vile ! 
 
 Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, 
 
 A virtuous populace may rise the while, 
 180 And stand a wall of fire around their much-loved Isle. 
 
 O Thou ! who poured the patriotic tide 
 That streamed thro' Wallace's undaunted heart; 
 Who dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride, 
 Or nobly die, the second glorious part, 
 185 (The patriot's God peculiarly Thou art 
 
BUKNS 167 
 
 His friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward ! ) 
 
 O never, never, Scotia's realm desert ; 
 
 But still the patriot, and the patriot-bard. 
 
 In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard ! 
 
 (1-72) This poem shows "the true pathos and sublime | Of human 
 life." In the Odyssey, Ulysses says to Nausicaa, " There is neither 
 anything better nor more beautiful than a man and a woman inhabiting 
 a home, making it one by the heart." What poem previously read has 
 given Burns the formal unity of his poem ? Classify the poetical im- 
 agery of Milton, Gray, and Goldsmith's, that is present in the poem. 
 (73-81) Bums' "sage experience" never possessed "wisdom's root." 
 His father was the prototype of the sire who " reads the sacred page." 
 The worship at the " ingle " is an imitation of service in the Covenanter 
 Church. (165) What similar sentiment has been expressed in "The 
 Deserted Village " ? What poem was written at Dumfries that shows 
 "the prophetic soul | Of the wide world dreaming on things to come," 
 and which has for its theme (166) " An honest man's the noblest work 
 of God " ? Note Burns' admiration for Pope. Note the form of verse 
 in which the poem is written, and the stanzas which are faultily con- 
 structed. Compare this poem in theme with Whittier's "Snowbound." 
 Consult a glossary of Lowland Scotch for the dialect words. 
 
 TO A MOUSE 
 
 On Turning Her Up In Her Nest With The Plough, November, 1785. 
 
 Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie, 
 O, what a panic's in thy breastie ! 
 Thou need na start awa sae hasty, 
 
 Wi' bickering brattle ! 
 5 I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee, 
 
 Wi' murd'ring pattle ! 
 
 I'm truly sorry man's dominion 
 Has broken Nature's social union, 
 An' justifies that ill opinion, 
 10 Which makes thee startle 
 
 At me, thy poor, earth-born companion, 
 An' fellow-mortal ! 
 
1 68 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 I doubt na, whiles, but thou may thieve ; 
 What then ? poor beastie, thou maun Uve I 
 1 5 A daimen-icker in a thrave 
 
 'S a sma' request : 
 I'll get a blessing wi' the lave, 
 
 And never miss't ! 
 
 Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin ! 
 20 Its silly wa's the win's are strewin ! 
 An' naething, now, to big a new ane, 
 
 O' foggage green ! 
 An' bleak December's winds ensuin, 
 
 Baith snell an' keen ! 
 
 25 Thou saw the fields laid bare and waste, 
 An' weary winter comin' fast, 
 An' cozie here, beneath the blast. 
 
 Thou thought to dwell, 
 Till crash ! the cruel coulter past, 
 
 30 Out thro' thy cell. 
 
 That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, 
 Hast cost thee mony a weary nibble ! 
 Now thou 's turn'd out for a' thy trouble, 
 
 But house or hald, 
 35 To thole the winter's sleety dribble, 
 
 An' cranreuch cauld ! 
 
 But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane. 
 In proving foresight may be vain : 
 The best laid schemes o' mice an' men 
 40 Gang aft a-gley, 
 
 An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain, 
 For promis'd joy. 
 
BURNS 169 
 
 Still thou art blest, compar'd wi' me ! 
 The present only toucheth thee : 
 45 But, Och ! I backward cast my e'e 
 
 On prospects drear ! 
 An' forward, tho' I canna see, 
 
 I guess an' fear ! 
 
 (1-48) The tragical occurrences at Mossgiel had developed a sympa- 
 thetic nature in Bums. Observe where Bums is gifted with prophecy. 
 This poem is an example of one phase of the romantic school. 
 
 TO A MOUNTAIN DAISY 
 
 On Turning One Down With The Plough, In April, 1786. 
 
 Wee, modest, crimson-tipped flow'r, 
 Thou's met me in an evil hour ; 
 For I maun crush amang the stoure 
 
 Thy slender stem. 
 5 To spare thee now is past my pow'r, 
 
 Thou bonnie gem. 
 
 Alas 1 it's no thy neebor sweet, 
 The bonnie Lark, companion meet ! 
 Bending thee ' mang the dewy weet 1 
 lo Wi ' spreckl'd breast, 
 
 When upward-springing, blythe, to greet 
 The purpling east. 
 
 Cauld blew the bitter -biting north 
 Upon thy early, humble birth ; 
 15 Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth 
 
 Amid the storm, 
 Scarce rear'd above the parent-earth 
 
 Thy tender form. 
 
170 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The flaunting flow'rs our gardens yield, 
 20 High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield, 
 But thou, beneath the random bield 
 
 O' clod or stane, 
 Adorns the histie stibble-field, 
 
 Unseen, alane. 
 
 25 There, in thy scanty mantle clad. 
 Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, 
 Thou lifts thy unassuming head 
 
 In humble guise ; 
 But now the share uptears thy bed, 
 
 30 And low thou lies 1 
 
 Such is the fate of artless Maid, 
 Sweet flow 'ret of the rural shade ! 
 By love's simplicity betray 'd, 
 
 And guileless trust, 
 35 Till she, like thee, all soil'd is laid 
 
 Low i' the dust. 
 
 Such is the fate of simple Bard, 
 On life's rough ocean luckless starr'd ! 
 Unskilful he to note the card 
 40 Of prudent lore. 
 
 Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, 
 And whelm him o'er ! 
 
 Such fate to suffering worth is giv'n. 
 Who long with wants and woes has striv'n, 
 45 By human pride or cunning driven 
 
 To mis'ry's brink. 
 Till wrench 'd of ev'ry stay but Heav'n 
 
 He, ruin'd, sink! 
 
BURNS 171 
 
 Ev'n thou who mourn'st the Daisy's fate, 
 50 That fate is thine — no distant date ; 
 Stern Ruin's ploughshare drives, elate, 
 
 Full on thy bloom, 
 Till crush 'd beneath the furrow's weight, 
 
 Shall be thy doom ! 
 
 (1-54) Compare Bryant's treatment of his fringed gentian and 
 Emerson's treatment of his rhodora with Burns' treatment of his 
 daisy. A tragical prophetic strain is noticeable, and reasons may be 
 found in the life of Burns for such. (37-42) Cf. Pope, Essay On Man : 
 
 " On life's vast ocean diversely we sail, 
 Reason the card, but passion is the gale." 
 
 For a fine appreciation of this poem, read Wordsworth's " Mossgiel 
 Farm." 
 
 JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO 
 
 John Anderson, my jo, John, 
 
 When we were first acquent, 
 Your locks were like the raven. 
 
 Your bonnie brow was brent ; 
 5 But now your brow is beld, John, 
 
 Your locks are like the snaw ; 
 But blessings on your frosty pow, 
 
 John Anderson, my jo. 
 
 John Anderson, my jo, John, 
 ID We clamb the hill thegither ; 
 And mony a canty day, John, 
 
 We've had wi' ane anither : 
 Now we maun totter down, John, 
 
 But hand in hand we'll go. 
 And sleep thegither at the foot, 
 
 John Anderson, my jo. 
 
17^ ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Bums, with high seriousness, has again sounded the true pathos of 
 human life. 
 
 HIGHLAND MARY 
 
 Ye banks, and braes, and streams around 
 
 The castle o' Montgomery, 
 Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, 
 
 Your waters never drumlie ! 
 5 There simmer first unf auld her robes, 
 
 And there the langest tarry ; 
 For there I took the last fareweel 
 
 O' my sweet Highland Mary. 
 
 How sweetly bloom 'd the gay green birk, 
 lo How rich the hawthorn's blossom ; 
 As underneath their fragrant shade 
 
 I clasp 'd her to my bosom! 
 The golden hours on angel wings, 
 Flew o'er me and my dearie ; 
 15 For dear to me, as light and life, 
 Was my sweet Highland Mary. 
 
 Wi' mony a vow, and lock'd embrace. 
 
 Our parting was fu' tender ; 
 And, pledging aft to meet again, 
 20 We tore oursels asunder ; 
 
 But Oh ! fell death's untimely frost. 
 
 That nipt my flower sae early ! 
 Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, 
 
 That wraps my Highland Mary 1 
 
 25 O pale, pale now those rosy lips, 
 I aft hae kiss'd sae fondly ! 
 
BURNS 1 73 
 
 And clos'd for aye the sparkling glance, 
 
 That dwelt on me sae kindly ; 
 And mouldering now in silent dust, 
 30 That heart that lo'ed me dearly ! 
 But still within my bosom's core, 
 
 Shall live my Highland Mary. 
 
 Where was this poem written, and what caused him to write it ? 
 What was the actual romance of his parting from Mary ? In this 
 passionate outburst of grief there is genuine feeling. Cf. " To Mary In 
 Heaven," which he had written three years earlier. 
 
 THE BANKS OF DOON 
 
 Ye banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, 
 
 How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair ; 
 How can ye chant, ye little birds. 
 
 And I sae weary, fu' o' care ! 
 5 Thou 'It break my heart, thou warbling bird. 
 
 That wantons thro' the flowering thorn : 
 Thou minds me o' departed joys, 
 
 Departed, never to return. 
 
 Oft hae I rov'd by bonnie Doon, 
 10 To see the rose and woodbine twine; 
 And ilka bird sang o' its luve. 
 
 And fondly sae did I o' mine. 
 Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose, 
 Fu' sweet upon its thorny tree : 
 15 And my fause luver staw my rose, 
 But ah ! he left the thorn wi' me. 
 
 What occasioned the composition of this lyric ? Compare this third 
 version with the one originally struck off, and with the second. 
 
174 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 FAREWELL TO NANCY 
 
 Ae fond kiss and then we sever ; 
 Ae fareweel, and then for ever ! 
 Deep in heart-wrung tears I '11 pledge thee, 
 Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. 
 5 Who shall say that fortune grieves him 
 While the star of hope she leaves him ? 
 Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me ; 
 Dark despair around benights me. 
 
 I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy, 
 ID Naething could resist my Nancy : 
 
 But to see her Avas to love her ; 
 
 Love but her and love for ever. 
 
 Had we never lov'd sae kindly, 
 
 Had we never lov'd sae blindly, 
 1 5 Never met — or never parted, 
 
 We had ne'er been broken-hearted. 
 
 Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest ! 
 Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest ! 
 Thine be ilka joy and treasure, 
 2o Peace, enjoyment, love and pleasure ! 
 Ae fond kiss, and then we sever : 
 Ae fareweel, alas, for ever ! 
 Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee. 
 Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. 
 
 What occasioned this poem ? What lines are selected by Matthew 
 Arnold to illustrate his definition of poetry as " a criticism of life " ? 
 Arnold is correct in judging the rest of the poem a jumble of non- 
 sense. 
 
BURNS 175 
 
 CONTENTED Wr LITTLE, AND CANTIE WI' MAIR 
 
 Contented wi' little, and cantie wi' mair, 
 Whene'er I forgather wi' sorrow and care, 
 I gie them a skelp, as they're creepin alang, 
 Wi' a cog o' guid swats, and an auld Scottish sang. 
 
 5 I whyles claw the elbow o' troublesome thought ; 
 But man is a soger, and life is a f aught : 
 My mirth and guid humour are coin in my pouch. 
 And my freedom's my lairdship nae monarch dare touch. 
 
 A towmond o' trouble, should that be my fa', 
 10 A night o' good fellowship sowthers it a' : 
 When at the blithe end o' our journey at last, 
 Wha the deil ever thinks o' the road he has past ? 
 
 Blind chance, let her snapper and stoyte on her way ; 
 Be't to me, be't frae me, e'en let the jade gae : 
 15 Come ease, or come travail ; come pleasure or pain, 
 My warst word is — " Welcome, and welcome again ! " 
 
 In its bearing on his past life Burns thought that this poem was an 
 exact portrait of his mind. This poem is an explanation of Swift's 
 motto " Vive la Bagatelle." Compare this view of life to that ex- 
 pressed in Byron's " To Thomas Moore " : 
 
 " Here's a sigh to those who love me, 
 And a smile to those who hate ; 
 And whatever sky's above me, 
 Here's a heart for every fate." 
 
176 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 TAM O'SHANTER 
 
 When chapman biUies leave the street, 
 And drouthy neebors, neebors meet, 
 As market-days are wearing late, 
 An' folk begin to tak the gate ; 
 5 While we sit bousing at the nappy, 
 An' getting fou and mico happy, 
 We think na on the lang Scots miles, 
 The mosses, waters, slaps, and styles, 
 That lie between us and our hame, 
 
 10 Whare sits our sulky sullen dame. 
 
 Gathering her brows like gathering storm. 
 Nursing her wrath to keep it warm. 
 This truth fand honest Tam o' Shanter, 
 As he frae Ayr ae night did canter, 
 
 15 (Auld Ayr, wham ne'er a town surpasses, 
 For honest men, and bonny lasses.) 
 O Tam 1 hadst thou but been sae wise, 
 As ta'en thy ain wife Kate's advice ! 
 She tauld thee weel thou wast a skellum, 
 
 20 A blethering, blustering, drunken blellum ; 
 That frae November till October, 
 Ae market-day thou was nae sober ; 
 That ilka melder, wi' the miller. 
 Thou sat as lang as thou had siller ; 
 
 25 That ev'ry naig was ca'd a shoe on. 
 The smith and thee gat roaring fou on ; 
 That at the Lord's house, ev'n on Sunday, 
 Thou drank wi' Kirkton Jean till Monday. 
 She prophesy'd that, late or soon, 
 
 30 Thou would be found deep drown 'd in Doon ; 
 Or catch'd wi' warlocks in the mirk, 
 By AUoway's auld haunted kirk. 
 
BURNS 177 
 
 Ah, gentle dames ! it gars me greet, 
 
 To think how mony counsels sweet, 
 35 How mony lengthen 'd sage advices, 
 
 The husband frae the wife despises ! 
 But to our tale : Ae market night, 
 
 Tam had got planted unco right ; 
 
 Fast by an ingle, bleezing finely, 
 40 Wi' reaming swats, that drank divinely ; 
 
 And at his elbow, Souter Johnny, 
 
 His ancient, trusty, drouthy crony ; 
 
 Tam lo'ed him like a vera brither ; 
 
 They had been fou for weeks thegither. 
 45 The night drave on wi' sangs an' clatter ; 
 
 And ay the ale was growing better : 
 
 The landlady and Tam grew gracious, 
 
 Wi' favours, secret, sweet, and precious: 
 
 The souter tauld his queerest stories : 
 50 The landlord's laugh was ready chorus: 
 
 The storm without might rair and rustle, 
 
 Tam did na mind the storm a whistle. 
 Care, mad to see a man sae happy. 
 
 E'en drown 'd himsel amang the nappy : 
 55 As bees flee hame wi' lades o' treasure. 
 
 The minutes wing'd their way wi' pleasure ; 
 
 Kings may be blest, but Tam was glorious. 
 
 O'er a' the ills o' life victorious ! 
 
 But pleasures are like poppies spread, 
 60 You seize the flow'r, its bloom is shed ; 
 
 Or like the snow-falls in the river, 
 
 A moment white — then melts for ever ; 
 
 Or like the borealis race, 
 
 That flit ere you can point their place ; 
 65 Or like the rainbow's lovely form 
 
 Evanishing amid the storm. — 
 
178 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Nae man can tether time or tide ; 
 
 The hour approaches Tam maun ride ; 
 
 That hour, o' night's black arch the key-stane, 
 
 70 That dreary hour he mounts his beast in ; 
 And sic a night he taks the road in, 
 As ne'er poor sinner was abroad in. 
 
 The wind blew as 'twad blawn its last ; 
 The rattling show'rs rose on the blast ; 
 
 75 The speedy gleams the darkness swallow'd ; 
 Loud, deep, and lang, the thunder bellow'd : 
 That night, a child might understand, 
 The Deil had business on his hand. 
 Weel mounted on his grey mare, Meg, 
 
 80 A better never lifted leg, 
 
 Tam skelpit on thro' dub and mire. 
 Despising wind, and rain, and fire ; 
 Whiles holding fast his guid blue bonnet ; 
 Whiles crooning o'er some auld Scots sonnet ; 
 
 85 Whiles glow'ring round wi' prudent cares, 
 Lest bogles catch him unawares ; 
 Kirk-Alloway was drawing nigh, 
 Whare ghaists and houlets nightly cry. — 
 By this time he was cross the ford, 
 
 90 Where in the snaw, the chapman smoor'd ; 
 And past the birks and meikle stane, 
 Whare drunken Charlie brak's neck-bane ; 
 And thro' the whins, and by the cairn, 
 Whare hunters fand the murder'd bairn ; 
 
 95 And near the thorn, aboon the well, 
 
 Whare Mungo's mither hang'd hersel. — 
 Before him Doon pours all his floods ; 
 The doubling storm roars thro' the woods ; 
 The lightnings flash from pole to pole ; 
 100 Near and more near the thunders roll: 
 
BURNS 1 79 
 
 When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, 
 
 Kirk-AUoway seem'd in a bleeze ; 
 
 Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing ; 
 
 And loud resounded mirth and dancing, — 
 105 Inspiring bold John Barleycorn ! 
 
 What dangers thou canst make us scorn ! 
 
 Wi' tippenny we fear nae evil ; 
 
 Wi' usquebae, we'll face the devil ! 
 
 The swats sae ream'd in Tammie's noddle, 
 no Fair play, he car'd na deils a boddle. 
 
 But Maggie stood right sair astonish'd, 
 
 Till, by the heel and hand admonish'd, 
 
 She ventur'd forward on the light ; 
 
 And vow ! Tarn saw an unco sight ! 
 115 Warlocks and witches in a dance ; 
 
 Nae cotillion brent new frae France, 
 
 But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels, 
 
 Put life and mettle in their heels. 
 
 A winnock-bunker in the east, 
 120 There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast; 
 
 A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large, 
 
 To gie them music was his charge : 
 
 He screw'd the pipes and gart them skirl, 
 
 Till roof and rafters a' did dirl. — 
 125 Coffins stood round like open presses, 
 
 That shaw'd the dead in their last dresses ; 
 
 And by some devilish cantrip slight — 
 
 Each in its cauld hand held a light, — 
 
 By which heroic Tam was able 
 130 To note upon the haly table, 
 
 A murderer's banes in gibbet aims ; 
 
 Twa span-lang, wee, unchristen'd bairns ; 
 
 A thief, new-cutted frae the rape, 
 
 Wi' his last gasp his gab did gape ; 
 
l8o ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 135 Five tomahawks, wi' blude red rusted ; 
 
 Five scymitars, wi' murder crusted ; 
 
 A garter, which a babe had strangled ; 
 
 A knife, a father's throat had mangled, 
 
 Whom his ain son o' life bereft, 
 140 The grey hairs yet stack to the heft; 
 
 Wi' mair o' horrible and awfu', 
 
 Which ev'n to name wad be unlawfu'. 
 As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd and curious. 
 
 The mirth and fun grew fast and furious : 
 145 The piper loud and louder blew ; 
 
 The dancers quick and quicker flew ; 
 
 They reel'd, they set, they cross'd, they cleekit, 
 
 Till ilka carlin swat and reekit. 
 
 And coost her duddies to the wark, 
 150 And linket at it in her sark ! 
 
 Now Tam, O Tam ! had thae been queans, 
 
 A' plump and strapping in their teens ! 
 
 Their sarks, instead o' creeshie flainen. 
 
 Been snaw-white seventeen-hunder linen ! — 
 155 Thir breeks o mine, my only pair, 
 
 That ance were plush, o' guid blue hair, 
 
 I wad hae gi'en them off my hurdies, 
 
 For ae blink o' the bonnie burdies ! 
 
 But wither'd beldams, auld and droll, 
 160 Rigwoodie hags wad spean a foal, 
 
 Louping an' flinging on a crummock, 
 
 I wonder didna turn thy stomach. 
 
 But Tam kenn'd what was what fu' brawlie, 
 
 There was ae winsome wench and waulie, 
 165 That night enlisted in the core, 
 
 (Lang after kenn'd on Carrick shore ; 
 
 For mony a beast to dead she shot. 
 
 And perish 'd mony a bonny boat, 
 
BURNS l8l 
 
 And shook baith meikle corn and bear, 
 170 And kept the country-side in fear,) 
 
 Her cutty sark, o' Paisley harn, 
 
 That while a lassie she had worn, 
 
 In longitude tho' sorely scanty, 
 
 It was her best, and she was vauntie. — 
 175 Ah! little kenn'd thy reverend grannie, 
 
 That sark she coft for her wee Nannie, 
 
 Wi' twa pund Scots ('twas a' her riches), 
 
 Wad ever grac'd a dance o' witches ! 
 But here my muse her wing maun cour ; 
 180 Sic flights are far beyond her pow'r ; 
 
 To sing how Nannie lap and flang, 
 
 (A souple jade she was, and Strang,) 
 
 And how Tam stood, like ane bewitch'd. 
 
 And thought his very een enrich'd ; 
 185 Even Satan glowr'd, and fidg'd fu' fain. 
 
 And hotch'd and blew wi' might and main : 
 
 Till first ae caper, syne anither, 
 
 Tam tint his reason a' thegither, 
 
 And roars out, " Weel done, Cutty-sark ! " 
 190 And in an instant all was dark : 
 
 And scarcely had he Maggie rallied, 
 
 When out the hellish legion sallied. 
 As bees bizz out wi' angry fyke, 
 
 When plundering herds assail their byke , 
 195 As open pussie's mortal foes, 
 
 When, pop ! she starts before their nose ; 
 
 As eager runs the market-crowd. 
 
 When, " Catch the thief ! " resounds aloud ; 
 
 So Maggie runs, the witches follow, 
 200 Wi' mony an eldritch skreech and hollow. 
 
 Ah, Tam ! Ah, Tam ! thou'll get thy f airin 1 
 
 In hell they'll roast thee like a herrin ! 
 
1 82 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 In vain thy Kate awaits thy comin ! 
 
 Kate soon will be a woefu' woman ! 
 205 Now, do thy speedy utmost, Meg, 
 
 And win the key-stane o' the brig : 
 
 There at them thou thy tail may toss, 
 
 A running stream they darena cross. 
 
 But ere the key-stane she could make, 
 210 The fient a tail she had to shake 1 
 
 For Nannie, far before the rest. 
 
 Hard upon noble Maggie prest. 
 
 And flew at Tarn wi' furious ettle ; 
 
 But little wist she Maggie's mettle — 
 215 Ae spring brought off her master hale 
 
 But left behind her ain grey tail : 
 
 The carlin claught her by the rump. 
 
 And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. 
 Now, wha this tale o' truth shall read, 
 220 Ilk man and mother's son, take heed, 
 
 Whene'er to drink you are inclin'd. 
 
 Or cutty-sarks run in your mind, 
 
 Think, ye may buy the joys o'er dear, 
 
 Remember Tam o' Shanter's mare. 
 
 (1-32) In Shairp's " Bums," E. M. L., p. 121, read the testimony of the 
 wife of Burns in regard to the poet's behaviour during poetic composition. 
 Bums drew Tam, Souter Johnny, and "sullen dame," from real life. {^2,y- 
 58) Note that this storm swirling outside the tavern represents Tarn's wife. 
 Tam, ensconced by the "ingle," drinking his divine " nappy " ale, pays 
 careless attention to the " rair and rustle " without. He seems oblivious 
 of the ghost of his wife, who rides in her attacks on the back of a storm ; 
 but as time passes, dramatic harmony is appreciated, — the hurricane 
 without is met by as great a tempest within the breast, when his con- 
 science feels the home-call of his Kate. " O'er a' the ills o' life victorious " 
 is a motto which Bums afterward obeyed in " sage experience " at the 
 Globe tavern of Dumfries. (59-104) Observe the felicitous phrases 
 which rise in greatness above the dialect. This is unusual in the poems 
 
BURNS 183 
 
 of Burns.' Detect faint traces of the midnight ride of Ichabod Crane. 
 (105-224) " Inspiring bold John Barleycorn!" Cf. " Scotch Drink " : 
 
 " Leeze me on tjiee, John Barleycorn, 
 Thou king o' grain ! " 
 
 aiid " Holy Fair " : 
 
 " Leeze me on drink ! it gies us mair 
 Than either school or college." 
 
 What fault may be found with Bums' treatment of the supernatural? 
 Compare the comical elements in the poem with those presented in 
 " The Legend of Sleepy Hollow." Name ten rides in English and 
 American literature and the famous rides in German poetry that have 
 been written by Burger and Goethe. Bums has not strongly painted a 
 moral. Consult E. M. L. " Wordsworth," p. 149, for a criticism of " Tam 
 o' Shanter." 
 
 A BARiyS EPITAPH 
 
 Is there a whim-inspired fool, 
 
 Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule, 
 
 Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool ? • 
 
 Let him draw near ; 
 5 And owre this grassy heap sing dool, 
 
 And drap a tear. 
 
 Is there a bard of rustic song, 
 Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, 
 That weekly this area throng ? — 
 10 O, pass not by ! 
 
 But, with a frater-feeling strong, 
 
 Here, heave a sigh. 
 
 Is there a man, whose judgment clear, 
 Can others teach the course to steer, 
 15 Yet runs, himself , life's mad career, 
 
184 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Wild as the wave ? — 
 Here pause — - and, through the starting tear, 
 Survey this grave. 
 
 The poor inhabitant below, 
 20 Was quick to learn and wise to know, 
 And keenly felt the friendly glow. 
 
 And softer flame, 
 But thoughtless follies laid him low. 
 
 And stain'd his name. 
 
 25 Reader, attend — whether thy soul 
 
 Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, 
 
 Or darkling grubs this earthly hole. 
 In low pursuit ; 
 
 Know, prudent, cautious self-control, 
 30 Is wisdom's root. 
 
 (1-12) " Who, noteless, steals the crowds among." Consult E. M. 
 L. "Robert Bums," p. 162, for Shairp's account of the indifference of 
 the people of Dumfries to their poet, when he appeared on the streets. 
 (19-24) Note how justly Bums has analysed the failure of his life. 
 (25-30) Bums is not asking sympathy at our hands ; the emotion 
 expressed in the last line forbids. This poem appeared as early as the 
 Kilmamock edition of 1786, and holds good in portrayal of Bums for 
 ten years to the day of his death. Read Wordsworth's " At the Grave 
 of Bums." 
 
WORDSWORTH 1 85 
 
 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH 
 
 1770-1850 
 
 Wordsworth's poetry is great because of the extraordinary power with whicii 
 Wordsworth feels the joy offered to us in nature, the Joy offered to us in the 
 simple primary affections and duties. ... — Matthew Arnold. 
 
 He seems to me, at the best on the whole the greatest English poet since 
 Milton. — Tennyson. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 We Are Seven — 
 
 A Poet's Epitaph. 
 
 Michael. 
 
 Heart-Leap Well. 
 
 My Heart Leaps Up — 
 
 The Leech -Gatherer. 
 
 To A Highland Girl. 
 
 Mossgiel Farm. 
 
 She Was A Phantom Of Delight — 
 
 Ode To Duty. 
 
 Laodamia. 
 
 Character Of The Happy Warrior. 
 
 Brougham Castle. 
 
 Sonnet ; To Sleep. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 And beauty born of murmuring sound 
 
 Shall pass into her face. — Three Years She Grew. 
 
 A reasoning, self-sufficing thing, 
 
 An intellectual All-in-all ! — A Poet's Epitaph. 
 
I 8 6 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH POE TR V 
 
 The harvest of a quiet eye, 
 
 That broods and sleeps on his own heart. 
 
 — A Poefs Epitaph. 
 
 . . . when the secret cup 
 Of still and serious thought went round. . . . — Matthew. 
 
 The sweetest thing that ever grew 
 Beside a human door ! — Lucy Gray. 
 
 Never to blend our pleasure or our pride 
 With sorrow of the meanest thing diat feels. 
 
 — Heart'Leap Well. 
 
 The child is father of the man. . . . 
 
 — My Heart Leaps Up — ■ 
 
 . . . Chatterton, the marvellous boy, 
 The sleepless soul that perished in his pride. . . . 
 
 — The Leech-Gatherer. 
 
 The light that never was, on sea or land, 
 
 The consecration, and the poet's dream. ... — Peele Castle. 
 
 . . . the whole earth, 
 The beauty wore of promise, that which sets 
 
 The budding rose above the rose full blown. 
 
 — French Revolution. 
 
 Of truth, of grandeur, beauty, love and hope, 
 
 And melancholy fear subdued by faith ; 
 
 Of blessed consolations in distress ; 
 
 Of moral strength and intellectual power ; 
 
 Of joy in widest commonalty spread. ... — The Recluse. 
 
 i Strongest minds 
 
 Are often those of whom the noisy world 
 Hears least. . . . — The Excursion, Book I. 
 
WORDSWORTH 
 
 LINES 
 
 Composed A Few Miles Above Tintern Abbey, On Revisiting The Banks Of 
 The 'Wye, During A Tour. July 13, 1798. 
 
 Five years have past ; five summers, with the length 
 Of five long winters ! and again I hear 
 These waters, rolling from their mountain-springs 
 With a soft inland murmur. — Once again 
 5 Do I behold these steep and lofty cliffs, 
 That on a wild secluded scene impress 
 Thoughts of more deep seclusion ; and connect 
 The landscape with the quiet of the sky. 
 The day is come when I again repose 
 
 10 Here, under this dark sycamore, and view 
 
 These plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts, 
 Which at this season, with their unripe fruits. 
 Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves 
 ' Mid groves and copses. Once again I see 
 
 15 These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines 
 Of sportive wood run wild : these pastoral farms, 
 Green to the very door : and wreaths of smoke 
 Sent up, in silence, from among the trees 1 
 With some uncertain notice, as might seem 
 
 20 Of vagrant dwellers in the houseless woods, ^ 
 Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire 
 The Hermit sits alone. These beauteous forms, 
 Through a long absence, have not been to me 
 As is a landscape to a blind man's eye : | 
 
 25 But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din 
 Of towns and cities, I have owed to them 
 In hours of weariness, sensations sweet. 
 Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart ; 
 And passing even into my purer mind, 
 
 30 With tranquil restoration : — feelings too 
 
1 88 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Of unremembered pleasure : such, perhaps, 
 As have no sUght or trivial influence 
 On that best portion of a good man's life, 
 His little, nameless, unremembered acts 
 
 35 Of kindness and of love. Nor less, I trust. 
 To them I may have owed another gift, 
 Of aspect more sublime ; that blessed mood, 
 In which the burthen of the mystery. 
 In which the heavy and the weary weight 
 
 40 Of all this unintelligible world, 
 
 Is lightened : - — that serene and blessed mood, 
 In which the affections gently lead us on, — 
 Until, the breath of this corporeal frame 
 And even the motion of our human blood 
 
 45 Almost suspended, we are laid asleep 
 In body, and become a living soul : 
 While with an eye made quiet by the power 
 Of harmony, and the deep power of joy. 
 We see into the life of things. If this 
 
 50 Be but a vain belief, yet, oh ! how oft — 
 In darkness and amid the many shapes 
 Of joyless daylight ; when the fretful stir 
 Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, 
 Have hung upon the beatings of my -heart — 
 
 55 How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, 
 
 O sylvan Wye ! thou wanderer thro' the woods, 
 How often has my spirit turned to thee ! 
 And now, with gleams of half-extinguished thought, 
 With many recognitions dim and faint, 
 
 60 And somewhat of a sad perplexity. 
 The picture of the mind revives again : 
 While here I stand, not only with the sense 
 Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts 
 That in this moment there is life and food 
 
WORDSWORTH 
 
 189 
 
 65 For future years. And so I dare to hope, 
 
 Though changed, no doubt, from what I was when first 
 I came among these hills ; when like a roe 
 I bounded o'er the mountains, by the sides 
 Of the deep rivers, and the lonely streams, 
 
 70 Wherever nature led: more like a man 
 
 Flying from something that he dreads, than one 
 Who sought the thing he loved. For nature then 
 (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days. 
 And their glad animal movements all gone by) 
 
 75 To me was all in all. — I cannot paint 
 What then I was. The sounding cataract 
 Haunted me like a passion ; the tall rock, 
 The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood. 
 Their colours and their forms, were then to me 
 
 80 An appetite ; a feeling and a love. 
 
 That had no need of a remoter charm. 
 By thought supplied, nor any interest 
 Unborrowed from the eye. — That time is past, 
 And all its aching joys are now no more, 
 
 85 And all its dizzy raptures. Not for this 
 Faint I, nor mourn nor murmur ; other gifts 
 Have followed ; for such loss, I would believe, 
 Abundant recompense. For I have learned 
 To look on nature, not as in the hour 
 
 90 Of thoughtless youth ; but hearing oftentimes 
 
 The still, sad music of humanity, "^ 
 
 Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power 
 To chasten and subdue. And I have felt 
 A presence that disturbs me with the joy 
 
 95 Of elevated thoughts ; a sense sublime 
 Of something far more deeply interfused, 
 Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, 
 And the round ocean and the living air, 
 
190 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 And the blue sky, and in the mind of man ; 
 
 100 A motion and a spirit, that impels 
 
 All thinking things, all objects of all thought, 
 And rolls through all things. Therefore am I still 
 A lover of the meadows and the woods. 
 And mountains ; and of all that we behold 
 
 1 05 From this green earth ; of all the mighty world 
 Of eye, and ear, — both what they half create, 
 And what perceive ; well pleased to recognise 
 In nature and the language of the sense, 
 The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse, 
 
 no The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul 
 Of all my moral being. Nor perchance, 
 If I were not thus taught, should I the more 
 Suffer my genial spirits to decay : 
 For thou art with me here upon the banks 
 
 115 Of this fair river ; thou my dearest Friend, 
 
 My dear, dear Friend ; and in thy voice I catch 
 The language of my former heart, and read 
 My former pleasures in the shooting lights 
 Of thy wild eyes. Oh ! yet a little while 
 
 120 May I behold in thee what I was once. 
 
 My dear, dear Sister ! and this prayer I make, 
 V Knowing that Nature never did betray 
 1 The heart that loved her ; 'tis her privilege, 
 Through all the years of this our life, to lead 
 
 125 From joy to joy ; for she can so inform 
 The mind that is within us, so impress 
 1 With quietness and beauty, and so feed 
 With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, 
 Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, 
 
 130 Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all 
 The dreary intercourse of daily life. 
 Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb 
 
WORDS IVOR TH 1 9 1 
 
 Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold 
 Is full of blessings. Therefore let the moon 
 
 135 Shine on thee in thy solitary walk ; 
 
 And let the misty mountain-winds be free 
 To blow against thee : and, in after years, 
 When these wild ecstasies shall be matured 
 Into a sober pleasure ; when thy mind 
 
 140 Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, 
 Thy memory be as a dwelling-place 
 For all sweet sounds and harmonies ; oh ! then, 
 If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief. 
 Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts 
 
 145 Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, 
 
 And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance — 
 If I should be where I no more can hear 
 Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams 
 Of past existence — wilt thou then forget, 
 
 150 That on the banks of this delightful stream 
 We stood together ; and that I, so long 
 A worshipper of Nature, hither came 
 Unwearied in that service : rather say 
 With warmer love — oh ! with far deeper zeal 
 
 155 Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget 
 That after many wanderings, many years 
 Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, 
 And this green pastoral landscape, were to me 
 More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake ! 
 
 (1-57) In the description of Wye scenery, what are the pastoral 
 echoes of " L'Allegro " ? What dynamic phrase grandly expresses the 
 step from the conscious to the unconscious influence of nature ? Cf. 
 (35-49) to (40-44) in " II Penseroso " in order to understand how 
 nature may exert its third influence, the " beatifica visio " or " blessed 
 mood." As the Wye was to Wordsworth, so the Thames might have 
 been to Matthew Arnold, if he had been like the scholar gypsy, " on 
 
192 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Glanvil's page," who relieved his fever of the world by a love of 
 nature. 
 
 " O bom in days when wits were fresh and clear, 
 And life ran gaily as the sparkling Thames." 
 
 • — The Scholar-Gypsy. 
 
 But Arnold finds in nature only his heart's dissatisfaction caused by 
 a lack of belief in God ; in the placidity of English landscape he always 
 finds a storm in which lightnings of his soul flash out for a purification 
 in vain. 
 
 (58-102) Five years before the composition of this poem Words- 
 worth had only interpreted nature from a physical delight point of 
 view, due to the conscious influence of nature. Now, after five years, 
 note how he interprets the unconscious influence of nature which was 
 audible at times conveying " The still, sad music of humanity." Observe 
 the interpretation of nature's third, the divine influence contained in 
 * Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns," of which dynamic phrase 
 Tennyson says, " The line is almost the grandest in the English lan- 
 guage, giving the sense of the abiding in the transient." Analyse this 
 Tennysonian tribute. (102-159) Wordsworth's sister is an example 
 of how the three influences of nature affected the poet. Nature had 
 made him take keen delight in the physical beauty of Dorothy ; then it 
 generated an intellectual love, and finally it begot the spiritual or soul 
 love with which he reverenced his sister. Wordsworth has accurately 
 described his gypsy Dorothy of the wild eyes and stammering voice. 
 See De Quincey, Literary Reminiscences, Vol. I. 270-273 ; 358-365. 
 Dorothy's devotion to her brother in his pedestrian tour of England 
 was great. According to De Quincey, he traveled i8o,coo miles. 
 Analyse the dynamic phrases in the poem. 
 
 ODE ON INTIMATIONS OF IMMORTALITY FROM 
 RECOLLECTICaMS OF EARLY CHILDHOOD. 
 
 There was a time when meadow, grove, and stream, 
 The earth, and every common sight, 
 
 To me did seem 
 
 Apparelled in celestial light, 
 5 The glory and the freshness of a dream. 
 
WORDSWORTH Jq^ 
 
 It is not now as it hath been of yore ; — 
 Turn wheresoe'er I may, 
 By night or day, 
 The things which I have seen I now can see no more. 
 
 II 
 lo The Rainbow comes and goes 
 
 And lovely is the Rose ; 
 The Moon doth with delight 
 Look round her when the heavens are bare ; 
 Waters on a starry night 
 1 5 Are beautiful and fair ; 
 
 The sunshine is a glorious birth ; 
 
 But yet I know, where'er I go, 
 
 That there hath past away a glory from the earth. 
 
 Ill 
 Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song, 
 20 And while the young lambs bound 
 As to the tabor's sound. 
 To me alone there came a thought of grief : 
 A timely utterance gave that thought relief, 
 And I again am strong : 
 25 The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep ; 
 No more shall grief of mine the season wrong ; 
 I hear the Echoes through the mountains throng, 
 The Winds come to me from the fields of sleep, 
 And all the earth is gay ; 
 30 Land and Sea 
 
 Give themselves up to jollity, 
 And with the heart of May 
 Doth every Beast keep holiday ; — 
 Thou Child of Joy, 
 35 Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy 
 Shepherd-boy 1 
 
194 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Ye blessed Creatures, I have heard the call 
 
 Ye to each other make ; I see 
 The heavens laugh with you in your jubilee ; 
 40 My heart is at your festival, 
 My head hath its coronal. 
 The fulness of your bliss, I feel — I feel it all. 
 Oh evil day ! if I were sullen 
 While Earth herself is adorning, 
 45 This sweet May-morning, 
 
 And the Children are culling 
 
 On every side, 
 In a thousand valleys far and wide. 
 Fresh flowers ; while the sun shines warm, 
 50 And the Babe leaps up on his Mother's arm: — 
 I hear, I hear, with joy I hear ! 
 — But there's a Tree, of many, one, 
 A single Field which I have looked upon, 
 Both of them speak of something that is gone : 
 55 The Pansy at my feet 
 
 Doth the same tale repeat : 
 Whither is fled the visionary gleam ? 
 Where is it now, the glory and the dream ? 
 
 V 
 
 V . Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting : 
 60 The Soul that rises with us, our life's Star, 
 Hath had elsewhere its setting. 
 
 And cometh from afar : 
 
 Not in entire forgetfulness, 
 
 And not in utter nakedness, 
 
 65 But trailing clouds of glory do we come 
 
 From God, who is our home : 
 
 Heaven lies about us in our infancy 1 
 
WORDS WORTH 1 9 5 
 
 Shades of the prison-house begin to close 
 
 Upon the growing Boy, 
 70 But He beholds the light, and whence it flows 
 
 He sees it in his joy ; 
 The Youth, who daily farther from the east 
 
 Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, 
 
 And by the vision splendid 
 75 Is on his way attended ; I 
 
 At length the Man perceives it die away, 
 And fade into the light of common day. 
 
 VI 
 
 Earth fills her lap with pleasures of her own ; 
 Yearnings she hath in her own natural kind, 
 80 And even with something of a Mother's mind. 
 And no unworthy aim. 
 The homely Nurse doth all she can 
 To make her Foster-child, her Inmate Man, 
 Forget the glories he hath known, 
 85 And that imperial palace whence he came. 
 
 Behold the Child among his new-born blisses, 
 
 A six years' Darling of a pigmy size ! 
 See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies. 
 Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, 
 90 With light upon him from his father's eyes 1 
 See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, 
 Some fragment from his dream of human life, 
 Shaped by himself with newly-learned art ; 
 A wedding or a festival, 
 95 A mourning or a funeral ; 
 
 And this hath now his heart, 
 And unto this he frames his song : 
 
196 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Then will he fit his tongue 
 To dialogues of business, love, or strife : 
 100 But it will not be long 
 
 Ere this be thrown aside, 
 And with new joy and pride 
 The little Actor cons another part ; 
 Filling from time to time his ' humorous stage ' 
 105 With all the Persons, down to palsied Age, 
 That Life brings with her in her equipage ; 
 As if his whole vocation 
 Were endless imitation. 
 
 Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie 
 
 no Thy Soul's immensity ; 
 
 Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep 
 Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind. 
 That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, 
 Haunted forever by the eternal mind, — 
 
 115 Mighty Prophet ! Seer blest ! 
 
 On whom those truths do rest, 
 Which we are toiling all our lives to find, 
 In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave ; 
 Thou, over whom thy Immortality 
 
 120 Broods like the Day, a Master o'er a Slave, 
 A Presence which is not to be put by ; 
 Thou little Child, yet glorious in the might 
 Of heaven-born freedom on thy being's height, 
 Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke 
 
 125 The years to bring the inevitable yoke, 
 
 Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife ? 
 Full soon thy Soul shall have her earthly freight, 
 And custom lie upon thee with a weight. 
 Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life 1 
 
WORDSWORTH 
 
 197 
 
 IX 
 
 130 O joy ! that in our embers 
 
 Is something that doth Hve, 
 That nature yet remembers, 
 What was so fugitive ! 
 The thought of our past years in me doth breed 
 135 Perpetual benediction : not m deed 
 
 For that which is most worthy to be blest ; 
 Delight and liberty, the simple creed 
 Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, 
 With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast : — 
 140 Not for these I raise 
 
 The song of thanks and praise ; 
 But for those obstinate questionings 
 Of sense and outward things, 
 Fallings from us, vanishings ; 
 145 Blank misgivings of a Creature 
 
 Moving about in worlds not realised. 
 High instincts before which our mortal Nature 
 Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised : 
 But for those first affections, 
 150 Those shadowy recollections. 
 
 Which, be they what they may, 
 Are yet the fountain light of all our day. 
 Are yet a master light of all our seeing ; 
 
 Uphold us, cherish, and have power to make 
 155 Our noisy years seem moments in the being 
 Of the eternal Silence : truths that wake, 
 
 To perish never ; 
 Which neither listlessness, nor mad endeavour, 
 Nor Man nor Boy, 
 160 Nor all that is at enmity with joy, 
 Can utterly abolish or destroy ! 
 
 Hence in a season of calm weather 
 
198 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Though inland far we be, 
 Our Souls have sight of that immortal sea 
 165 Which brought us hither, 
 
 Can in a moment travel thither, 
 And see the Children sport upon the shore, 
 And hear the mighty waters rolling evermore. 
 
 X 
 
 Then sing, ye Birds, sing, sing a joyous song ! 
 170 And let the young Lambs bound 
 
 As to the tabor's sound ! 
 We in thought will join your throng, 
 Ye that pipe and ye that play, 
 Ye that through your hearts to-day 
 175 Feel the gladness of the May ! 
 
 What though the radiance which was once so bright 
 Be now forever taken from my sight, 
 
 Though nothing can bring back the hour 
 Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower ; 
 180 We will grieve not, rather find 
 
 Strength in what remains behind ; 
 In the pri .?al sympathy 
 Which having been must ever be ; 
 In the soothing thoughts that spring 
 185 Out of human suffering ; 
 
 In the faith that looks through death, 
 In years that bring the philosophic mind. 
 
 And O, ye Fountains, Meadows, Hills, and Groves, 
 Forebode not any severing of our loves ! 
 190 Yet in my heart of hearts I feel your might ; 
 I only have relinquished one delight 
 To live beneath your more habitual sway. 
 
WORDS WOR TH 1 99 
 
 I love the Brooks, which down their channels fret, 
 Even more than when I tripped lightly as they : 
 
 195 The innocent brightness of a new-born Day 
 Is lovely yet ; 
 The Clouds that gather round the setting sun 
 Do take a sober colouring from an eye 
 That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality ; 
 
 200 Another race hath been, and other palms are won. 
 Thanks to the human heart by which we live, 
 Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears. 
 To me the meanest flower that blows can give f 
 Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. 
 
 (19-36) Scan this stanza from the pomt of view of detecting reflective 
 lines which form the normal metre of the ode. (37-58) The poet 
 physically feels the "wild joys of living." While objectively nature 
 presents such pastoral delights, note the exquisite pathos which sub- 
 jectively influences Wordsworth. (59-77) Observe the use Wordsworth 
 has made of Plato's doctrine of pree.xistence. Did Plato believe that 
 " Heaven lies about us in our infancy " ? In travelling westward, the 
 boy continually is " Nature's Priest." The heaven of infancy is the 
 pillar of cloud by day and fire by night which always follows him until 
 he becomes a man. (78-108) In stanza VI, nature tries to make the 
 child forget the glories of the imperial palace. Cf. Robert Browning's 
 " An Epistle of Karshish the Arab Physician," where Lazarus is por- 
 trayed as a man unfit for the duties of this life by reason of the three 
 days he had spent in heaven. Wordsworth had Hartley Coleridge in 
 mind in " A six years' Darling." In Shakespere's A. Y. L. I., Act II. 7, 
 ascertain the seven ages of man and compare with Wordsworth's ages. 
 Cf. Pope, Essay On Man, II. 275-282. 
 
 Human life is Plato's h.vi.\x.vf\a\s [remembering] and Aristotle's filfirja-is 
 [imitating]. (109-129) Cf. Emerson's "Sphinx," where a babe is thus 
 described : 
 
 " Shines the peace of all being. 
 Without cloud, in its eyes ; 
 And the sum of the world 
 In soft miniature lies." 
 
200 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Test the metaphor " Eye among the blind " applied to the babe. The 
 child is haunted by the eternal mind, which has ever presented to man 
 the unsolved riddle, or the pure allegory of the universe. (130-168) 
 Analyse the dynamic phrase (134-135). Wordsworth thanks his past 
 years not only for the delight, liberty, and hope they contained, but 
 also 
 
 "... for those obstinate questionings 
 Of sense and outward things. 
 Fallings from us, vanishings," 
 
 which were always present. Some quotations from the poets will aid in 
 interpreting these difficult lines. 
 
 " Eternal process moving on, 
 
 From state to state the spirit walks ; 
 And these are but the shatter'd stalks, 
 Or ruin'd chrysalis of one. " 
 
 — In Memoriam, LXXXII. 
 
 And this from Tennyson, when he wrote with a rapturous gleam in 
 his eye to prove that the miracle of matter exceeds the miracle of spirit : 
 
 " Let visions of the night or of the day 
 Come as they will ; and many a time they come, 
 Until this earth he walks on seems not earth. 
 This light that strikes his eye-ball is not light, 
 This air that smites his forehead is not air 
 But vision — yea, his very hand and foot — 
 In moments when he feels he cannot die, 
 And knows himself no vision to himself, 
 Nor the high God a vision, nor that One 
 Who rose again. . . . " — The Holy Grail. 
 
 Or when Prospero, explaining the masque of the goddesses to 
 Ferdinand, shows how much of our real world, if not all, is intangible 
 as a dream conjured by enchantment, where Shakespere by idealism 
 crushes all materialism : 
 
 " These our actors. 
 As I foretold you, were all spirits, and 
 Are melted into air, into thin air ; 
 And like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
 The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 
WORDSWORTH 20I 
 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
 
 Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve. 
 
 And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
 
 Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 
 
 As dreams are made on, and our little life 
 
 Is rounded with a sleep." — The Tempest, Act IV. i. 
 
 Analyse these phrases, (145-146), and (155-156) : 
 
 " Our noisy years seem moments in the being 
 Of the eternal Silence." 
 
 (164-165) Cf. The Passing Of Scyld in "Beowulf," the Passing Of 
 Arthur, and Merlin's enigmatic words to Bellicent and Guinevere in 
 Tennyson's " Idylls Of The King " : 
 
 "... where is he who knows ? 
 From the great deep to the great deep he goes." 
 
 Cf . Wordsworth's " The Excursion," Book IV. : 
 
 " I have seen 
 A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract 
 Of inland ground, applying to his ear 
 The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell : 
 To which, in silence hushed, his very soul 
 Listened intensely ; and his countenance soon 
 Brightened with joy ; for from within were heard 
 Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed 
 Mysterious union with its native sea. 
 Even such a shell the universe itself 
 Is to the ear of Faith ; and there are times, 
 I doubt not, when to you it doth impart 
 Authentic tidings of invisible things ; 
 Of ebb and flow, and ever-during power ; 
 And central peace, subsisting at the heart 
 Of endless agitation." 
 
 (169-187) Explain "the primal sympathy." Analyse (186-187). 
 (188-204) I" old age Wordsworth loved nature far more deeply than 
 when a boy, because by means of it he could fully analyse death. 
 
 "... time is come round, 
 And where I did begin, there shall I end. ..." 
 
202 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 said Shakespere of his Cassius, who had read aright his forebodings. 
 Infancy and old age are one. Nature is ever greater in didactical 
 power to the meditative man than to the thoughtless youth. The old 
 man, like a child, contentedly moves with his primal sympathy toward 
 death as to a second birth. He reads death as a birth in the setting 
 sun. God is as great in the setting sun as in the rising sun. With the 
 weight of years, animal delight in nature has changed to the "faculty 
 divine," and by aid of this " light that never was on sea or land " he 
 recognises God whose dwelling is the light of setting suns. Words- 
 worth again rejoices in the nature of his boyhood days which had gone 
 with him through the tract of years to make out of itself a lasting 
 heaven toward which he was going. Byron says : 
 
 " If from society — we learn to live 
 'Tis solitude should teach us how to die." 
 
 And Shakespere adds: 
 
 "... all that lives must die, 
 Passing through nature to eternity." 
 
 Compare the last two lines of this ode with the last two in Herrick's 
 " To Primroses Filled With Morning Dew." 
 
 THE SOLITARY REAPER 
 
 Behold her, single in the field, 
 Yon solitary Highland Lass ! 
 Reaping and singing by herself ; 
 Stop here, or gently pass ! 
 5 Alone she cuts and binds the grain, 
 And sings a melancholy strain ; 
 O listen ! for the Vale profound 
 Is overflowing with the sound. 
 
 No Nightingale did ever chaunt 
 lo More welcome notes to weary bands 
 Of travellers in some shady haunt 
 Among Arabian sands : 
 
WORDS IVOR TH 2 03 
 
 A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard 
 In spring-time from the Cuckoo-bird, 
 1 5 Breaking the silence of the seas 
 Among the farthest Hebrides. 
 
 Will no one tell me what she sings ? — 
 Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow 
 For old, unhappy, far-off things, 
 20 And battles long ago : 
 
 Or is it some more humble lay, 
 Familiar matter of to-day ? 
 Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, 
 That has been, and may be again ? 
 
 25 Whate'er the theme, the Maiden sang 
 
 As if her song could have no ending ; 
 
 I saw her singing at her work. 
 
 And o'er the sickle bending ; — 
 
 I listened, motionless and still ; 
 30 And, as I mounted up the hill. 
 
 The music in my heart I bore. 
 
 Long after it was heard no more. 
 
 (1-32) Analyse the dynamic phrase which tells why the Highland 
 lass sings with tears in her voice. 
 
 I WANDERED LONELY AS A CLOUD 
 
 I wandered lonely as a cloud 
 
 That floats on high o'er vales and hills, 
 
 When all at once I saw a crowd, 
 
 A host, of golden daffodils ; 
 
 Beside the lake, beneath the trees, 
 
 Fluttering and dancing in the breeze. 
 
204 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Continuous as the stars that shine 
 And twinkle on the milky way, 
 They stretched in never-ending line 
 lo Along the margin of a bay : 
 Ten thousand saw I at a glance, 
 Tossing their heads in sprightly dance. 
 
 The waves beside them danced ; but they 
 Out-did the sparkling waves in glee : 
 15 A poet could not but be gay, 
 In such a jocund company : 
 I gazed — and gazed — but little thought 
 What wealth the show to me had brought. 
 
 For oft, when on my couch I lie 
 20 In vacant or in pensive mood, 
 They flash upon that inward eye 
 Which is the bliss of solitude ; 
 And then my heart with pleasure fills, 
 And dances with the daffodils. 
 
 (1-24) These daffodils grew along the shores of Ulleswater. Observe 
 that Wordsworth has used the objective, analytic method in his treat- 
 ment of the daffodils. What poet, previously read, has treated his 
 daffodils by the subjective method ? (21-22) These lines were written 
 by Mrs. Wordsworth. What poem of Wordsworth's describes her ? 
 Her personal appearance and character have been well described by 
 De Quincey in his " Literary Reminiscences," Vol. I., pp. 267-270. 
 
 SONNETS 
 
 TO MILTON 
 
 Milton ! thou should'st be living at this hour : 
 England hath need of thee : she is a fen 
 Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, 
 Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, 
 
WORDSWORTH 205 
 
 5 Have forfeited their ancient English dower 
 Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; 
 Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; 
 And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. 
 Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart : 
 I o Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea : 
 Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, 
 So didst thou travel on life's common way,' 
 In cheerful godliness ; and yet thy heart 
 The lowliest duties on herself did lay. 
 
 Wordsworth has depicted English life of 1802. Classify the phrases. 
 Milton's style has been accurately defined. 
 
 COMPOSED UPON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE 
 
 Earth has not anything to show more fair : 
 Dull would he be of soul who could pass by 
 A sight so touching in its majesty : 
 This City now doth, like a garment, wear 
 5 The beauty of the morning ; silent, bare. 
 Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie 
 Open unto the fields, and to the sky ; 
 All bright and glittering in the smokeless air. 
 Never did sun more beautifully steep 
 10 In liis first splendour, valley, rock or hill ; 
 Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep 1 
 The river glideth at his own sweet will : 
 Dear God ! the very houses seem asleep ; 
 And all that mighty heart is lying still ! 
 
 Consult the diary of Miss Wordsworth, and read the entry of July 30, 
 1802. 
 
206 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 IT IS A BEAUTEOUS EVENING 
 
 It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, 
 The holy time is quiet as a Nun 
 Breathless with adoration ; the broad sun 
 Is sinking down in its tranquillity ; 
 5 The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea : 
 Listen ! the mighty Being is awake, 
 And doth with his eternal motion make 
 A sound like thunder — everlastingly. 
 Dear Child ! Dear Girl ! that walkest with me here, 
 lo If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, 
 Thy nature is not therefore less divine. 
 Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year ; 
 And worship'st at the Temple's inner shrine, 
 God being with thee when we know it not. 
 
 The beach near Calais is the scene of this sonnet, and Dorothy is 
 his companion. Classify the great phrases, and note the way Words- 
 worth thought their truths appealed to his companion. 
 
 THE WORLD IS TOO MUCH WITH US 
 
 The world is too much with us : late and soon, 
 Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers : 
 Little we see in Nature that is ours ; 
 We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon 1 
 5 This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon ; 
 The winds that will be howling at all hours. 
 And are upgathered now like sleeping flowers ; 
 For this, for everything, we are out of tune ; 
 It moves us not. — Great God! I'd rather be 
 lo A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn : 
 So might I, standing on this pleasant lea. 
 Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ; 
 
WORDSWORTH 20/ 
 
 Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea ; 
 Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. 
 
 Analyse the thought of the octave by (50-56) in " Tmtem Abbey." 
 England in 1806 was given over to the sordid, to the material, to high 
 living and plahi thinkmg. In the sestet, analyse the phrase which 
 reveals a desire for the ancient Greek civilization, which ever wor- 
 shipped the freshness of nature. This same desire is expressed at the 
 close of Arnold's " The Scholar-Gypsy." 
 
 Coleridge, Southey, and De Quincey, lived m " Wordsworth- 
 shire." Consult Rolfe's " Select Poems of Wordsworth," look at the 
 illustrations, and describe by aid of the map in the Addenda the 
 scenery of Windermere, Rydal Water, Grasmere, Derwent Water, 
 Thirlmere, and Ulleswater. Describe Greta Hall, the home of Southey 
 and Coleridge; Allan Bank, the home of De Quincey, after 1813; and 
 Rydal Mount, the home of Wordsworth. The pupils should read 
 Matthew Arnold's appreciations of Wordsworth's poetry in " Memorial 
 Verses, April, 1850," and in " The Youth Of Nature." 
 
2o8 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 GEORGE GORDON BYRON 
 
 1788-1824 
 
 Along with his astounding power and passion he had a strong and deep 
 sense for what is beautiful in nature, and for what is beautiful in human action 
 and suffering. — Matthew Arnold. 
 
 Optional Poefns 
 To D — 
 To Thyrza. 
 Epistle To Augusta. 
 Maid Of Athens. 
 Fare Thee Well. 
 When We Two Parted. 
 Sonnet On Chillon. 
 The Prisoner Of Chillon. 
 Stanzas To The River Po. 
 The Destruction Of Sennacherib. 
 Ode To Napoleon Buonaparte. 
 The Prophecy Of Dante. 
 Darkness. 
 
 English Bards And Scotch Reviewers. 
 Childe Harold [Waterloo], Canto III. XXI-XXV. 
 Ode On Venice. 
 Mazeppa. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 I tum'd from all she brought to those she could not bring. 
 
 — Childe Harold. 
 
 Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven ! 
 
 — Childe Harold. 
 
BYROM 209 
 
 Far along, 
 From peak to peak, the rattling crags among 
 Leaps the live thunder ! — Childe Harold. 
 
 He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes 
 Were with his heart, and that was far away. 
 
 — Childe Harold. 
 And every woe a tear can claim 
 Except an erring sister's shame. — The Giaour. 
 
 Better to sink beneath the shock 
 
 Than moulder piecemeal on the rock. — 77/1? Giaour. 
 
 What lost a world, and bade a hero fly? 
 
 The timid tear in Cleopatra's eye. — The Corsair. 
 
 He who of old would rend the oak, 
 
 Dream'd not of the rebound. . . . 
 
 — Ode To Napoleon Buonaparte. 
 
 Many are poets who have never penn'd. . . . 
 
 — The Prophecy Of Dante. 
 
 Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel 
 
 He nursed the pinion which impell'd the steel. . . . 
 
 — English Bards Atid Scotch Reviewers. 
 
 Yes — one — the first — the last — the best — 
 The Cincinnatus of the west. . . . 
 
 — Additional Stanzas To Napoleon Buoftaparte. 
 
 Man's love is of man's life a thing apart, 
 
 'Tis woman's whole existence. ... — Don Juan. 
 
 ... a small drop of ink 
 
 . . . makes thousands, perhaps millions, think. 
 
 — Don Juan. 
 
2IO ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 NATURE 
 CHILDE HAROLD CANTO II 
 
 Dear Nature is the kindest mother still, 
 Though always changing, in her aspect mild ; 
 From her bare bosom let me take my fill, 
 Her never-wean'd, though not her favour'd child. 
 
 5 Oh ! she is fairest in her features wild, 
 
 Where nothing polish'd dares pollute her path : 
 
 To me by day or night she ever smiled, 
 
 Though I have mark'd her when none other hath, 
 
 And sought her more and more, and loved her best in 
 wrath, 
 
 Scan and classify the metrical system. What previously read poem 
 of Wordsworth's reveals in one great phrase the maternity of nature ? 
 
 CANTO HI 
 XIII 
 
 Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends ; 
 Where roll'd the ocean, thereon was his home ; 
 Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends, 
 He had the passion and the power to roam : 
 
 5 The desert, forest, cavern, breaker's foam, 
 Were unto him companionship ; they spake 
 A mutual language, clearer than the tome 
 Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake 
 
 For Nature's pages glass'd by sunbeams on the lake. 
 
BYRON 211 
 
 But in Man's dwellings he became a thing 
 Restless and worn, and stern and wearisome, 
 Droop'd as a wild-born falcon with dipt wing, 
 To whom the boundless air alone were home : 
 
 5 Then came his fit again, which to o'ercome, 
 As eagerly the barr'd-up bird will beat 
 His breast and beak against his wiry dome 
 Till the blood tinge his plumage, so the heat 
 
 Of his impeded soul would through his bosom eat. 
 
 I live not in myself, but I become 
 
 Portion of that around me : and to me 
 
 High mountains are a feeling, but the hum 
 
 Of human cities torture : I can see 
 5 Nothing to loathe in nature, save to be 
 
 A link reluctant in a fleshly chain, 
 
 Class'd among creatures, when the soul can flee, 
 
 And with the sky, the peak, the heaving plain 
 Of ocean, or the stars, mingle, and not in vain. 
 
 What lines in " Tintem Abbey " are filled with similar sentiment ? 
 
 Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part 
 
 Of me and of my soul, as I of them ? 
 
 Is not the love of these deep in my heart 
 
 With a pure passion ? should I not contemn 
 
 All objects, if compar'd with these ? and stem 
 
 A tide of suffering, rather than forego 
 
 Such feelings for the hard and worldly phlegm 
 
212 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Of those whose eyes are only turn'd below, 
 Gazing upon the ground, with thoughts which dare not 
 glow. 
 
 What echoes of " Tintem Abbey " are again heard ? Matthew 
 Arnold asserts that so soon as Byron reflects he is a child. Compare 
 the philosophy contained in these stanzas to what Schopenhauer says 
 in Book III. of " The World As Idea " : " Whoever now has, after the 
 manner referred to, become so absorbed and lost in the perception of 
 nature that he only continues to exist as the pure knowing subject, be- 
 comes in this way directly conscious that, as such, he is the condition, 
 that is, the supporter, of the world and all objective existence ; for this 
 now shows itself as dependent upon his existence. Thus he draws 
 nature into himself, so that he sees it to be merely an accident of his 
 own being." 
 
 CASCATA DEL MARMORE 
 
 CANTO IV 
 LXIX-LXXII 
 
 The roar of waters ! — from the headlong height 
 
 Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice ; 
 
 The fall of waters ! rapid as the light 
 
 The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss ; 
 
 5 The hell of waters ! where they howl and hiss, 
 And boil in endless torture ; while the sweat 
 Of their great agony, wrung from out this 
 Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet 
 
 That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set, 
 
 LXX 
 
 lo And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again 
 Returns in an unceasing shower, which round, 
 With its unemptied cloud of gentle rain, 
 Is an eternal April to the ground. 
 Making it all one emerald : — how profound 
 
BYRON 
 
 213 
 
 1 5 The gulf ! and how the giant element 
 
 From rock to rock leaps with delirious bound, 
 Crushing the cliffs, which, downward worn and rent. 
 With his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a fearful vent 
 
 LXXI 
 
 To the broad column which rolls on, and shows 
 20 More like the fountain of an infant sea 
 
 Torn from the womb of mountains by the throes 
 
 Of a new world, than only thus to be 
 
 Parent of rivers, which flow gushingly, 
 
 With many windings through the vale : — Look back ! 
 25 Lo ! where it comes like an eternity. 
 
 As if to sweep down all things in its track, 
 Charming the eye with dread, — a matchless cataract, 
 
 LXXII 
 
 Horribly beautiful ! but on the verge. 
 
 From side to side, beneath the glittering morn, 
 
 30 An Iris sits, amidst the infernal surge. 
 
 Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn 
 
 Its steady dyes, when all around is torn 
 
 By the distracted waters, bears serene 
 
 Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn : 
 
 35 Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene, 
 Love watching Madness with unalterable mien. 
 
 I saw the " Cascata del Marmore " of Terni twice, at different periods ; 
 once from tlie summit of the precipice, and again from the valley 
 below. — Byron. The Velino, fifty miles northeast of Rome, in three 
 leaps covers in turbulence of waters six hundred and fifty feet. In 
 " Tintern Abbey " is there a confession by Wordsworth that he passed 
 through the Byronic stage, in which one gets only physical pleasure 
 from contemplating the fiercest phenomena of nature .-' Analyse the 
 finest phrase in the four stanzas. Contrast " Cascata del Marmore " 
 with the poet's description of calm Lake Leman, " Childe Harold," 
 Canto III. LXXXV-XCI. 
 
214 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 THE OCEAN 
 
 CLXXVIII-CLXXXVI 
 
 There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 
 There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
 There is society where none intrudes. 
 By the deep Sea, and music in its roar : 
 
 5 I love not Man the less, but Nature more. 
 From these our interviews, in which I steal 
 From all I may be, or have been before, 
 To mingle with the Universe, and feel 
 
 What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. 
 
 lo Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll ! 
 Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; 
 Man marks the earth with ruin — his control 
 Stops with the shore ; — upon the watery plain 
 The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain 
 
 15 A shadow of man's ravage, save his own. 
 When, for a moment, like a drop of rain. 
 He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan. 
 Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown. 
 
 His steps are not upon thy paths — thy fields 
 20 Are not a spoil for him — thou dost arise 
 
 And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields 
 For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, 
 Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies. 
 And send'st him shivering in thy playful spray 
 25 And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies 
 His petty hope in some near port or bay. 
 And dashest him again to earth : — there let him lay. 
 
BYRON 215 
 
 The armaments which thunderstrike the walls 
 
 Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, 
 30 And monarchs tremble in their capitals, 
 
 The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make 
 
 Their clay creator the vain title take 
 
 Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ; 
 
 These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, 
 35 They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar 
 Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 
 
 CLXXXII 
 
 Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — 
 Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ? 
 Thy waters washed them power while they were free, 
 
 40 And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey 
 The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay 
 Has dried up realms to deserts : — not so thou. 
 Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — 
 Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — 
 
 45 Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. 
 
 Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form 
 Glasses itself in tempests ; in all time, 
 Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm. 
 Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
 50 Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime — 
 The image of Eternity — the throne 
 Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime 
 The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 
 Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. 
 
2 1 6 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH FOE TR V 
 
 55 And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy 
 Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be 
 Borne, like thy bubbles, onward : from a boy 
 I wanton 'd with thy breakers — they to me 
 Were a delight ; and if the freshening sea 
 
 6o Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, 
 For I was as it were a child of thee. 
 And trusted to thy billows far and near, 
 And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here. 
 
 CLXXXV 
 
 My task is done — my song hath ceased — my theme 
 
 65 Has died into an echo : it is fit 
 
 The spell should break of this protracted dream. 
 The torch shall be extinguish'd which hath lit 
 My midnight lamp — and what is writ is writ — 
 Would it were worthier ! but I am not now 
 
 70 That which I have been — and my visions flit 
 Less palpably before me — and the glow 
 Which in my spirit dwelt is fluttering, faint, and low. 
 
 CLXXXVI 
 
 Farewell ! a word that must be, and hath been - — 
 A sound which makes us linger ; — yet — farewell ! 
 
 75 Ye ! who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene 
 Which is his last, if in your memories dwell 
 A thought which once was his, if on ye swell 
 A single recollection, not in vain 
 He wore his sandal-shoon and scallop-shell ; 
 
 80 Farewell ! with /rim alone may rest the pain. 
 If such there were — with j>otf, the moral of his strain. 
 
BYRON 21 J 
 
 (1-9) As in "Tintem Abbey" show the conscious, the unconscious, 
 and the divine influence of nature. (10-18) This is the finest apos- 
 trophe in English poetry, except Milton's 
 
 " Hail, holy Light, offspring of Heaven first-bom ! " 
 
 (55-63) In Moore's " Life of Byron," p. 172, there is an account of how 
 Byron swam the Hellespont; and in Trela^\Tly's '' Recollections of Shel- 
 ley and Byron," Ch. VI., read the interesting passage that tells of his swim- 
 ming out to the Bolivar. Cf. " Childe Harold," Canto III. 11. : 
 
 "... for I am as a weed. 
 Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam to sail 
 Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail." 
 
 Everywhere in Byron's poetry the ocean is portrayed either in simple 
 description or in explanation of human life as in " Don Juan " : 
 
 " The eternal surge 
 
 Of time and tide rolls on, and bears afar 
 
 - Our bubbles ; as the old burst, new emerge, 
 
 Lash'd from the foam of ages ; while the graves 
 
 Of empires heave but like some passing waves." 
 
 (73-81) Byron is fond of the word " Farewell "; it is in " The Corsair," 
 and in " Fare Thee Well," and it bears us with heavy wings of thought 
 to the church vault, not far from Newstead Abbey, in Hucknall, where 
 beneath the escutcheon of his noble house the palmer sleeps in the 
 scene which is his last. 
 
 THE SHIPWRECK 
 
 DON JUAN, CANTO 11. LI-LIII 
 
 At half-past eight o'clock, booms, hen-coops, spars, 
 
 And all things, for a chance, had been cast loose, 
 That still could keep afloat the struggling tars, 
 
 For yet they strove, although of no great use. 
 5 There was no light in heaven but a few stars ; 
 
 The boats put off, o'er crowded with their crews ; 
 She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port. 
 
 And going down head-foremost — sunk, in short. 
 
2 1 8 ANTHOLOG Y OF ENGLISH FOE TR Y 
 
 LII 
 Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell ; 
 lo Then shrieked the timid, and stood still the brave ; 
 Then some leaped overboard, with dreadful yell, 
 
 As eager to anticipate their grave ; 
 And the sea yawned round her like a hell, 
 
 And down she sucked with her the whirling wave, 
 1 5 Like one who grapples with his enemy. 
 
 And strives to strangle him before he die. 
 
 LIII 
 
 And first a universal shriek there rushed, 
 Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash 
 
 Of echoing thunder ; and then all was hushed, 
 2o Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash 
 
 Of billows ; but at intervals there gushed 
 Accompanied with a convulsive splash, 
 
 A solitary shriek — the bubbling cry 
 Of some strong swimmer in his agony. 
 
 What previously read lines reveal the same remorseless attitude of 
 the ocean toward man ? Is this scene of horror drawn with the effective- 
 ness of his " hell of waters " (" Cascata del Marmore " ) ? This descrip- 
 tion of the shipwreck, which disgusted Keats on account of its heartless 
 cynicism, is marvelously accurate and truly contains a tigerish ferocity 
 which Byron never conceals when he sees the deposition of man at the 
 hands of nature. 
 
 MONT BLANC 
 
 MANFRED, ACT I. SCENE I 
 Voice of the "^Second Spirit 
 Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains, 
 
 They crown 'd him long ago 
 On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, 
 With a diadem of snow. 
 5 Around his waist are forests braced, 
 The avalanche in his hand; 
 
BYRON 219 
 
 But ere it fall, that thundering ball 
 
 Must pause for my command. 
 The glacier's cold and restless mass 
 10 Moves onward day by day; 
 But I am he who bids it pass, 
 
 Or with its ice delay. 
 I am the spirit of the place, 
 
 Could make the mountain bow 
 15 And quiver to his cavern 'd base — 
 
 And what with me wouldst Thou ? 
 
 Observe in this beautiful lyric that nature's forces are hostile toward 
 man. Cf. Coleridge's "Morning Hymn to Mt. Blanc," and Shelley's 
 " Mont Blanc." 
 
 THE COLISEUM 
 
 MANFRED, ACT III. SCENE IV. INTERIOR OF THE TOWER 
 
 Manfred Alone 
 The stars are forth, the moon above the tops 
 Of the snow-shining mountains. — Beautiful ! 
 I linger yet with nature, for the night 
 Hath been to me a more familiar face 
 5 Than that of man ; and in her starry shade 
 Of dim and solitary loveliness, 
 I learn'd the language of another world. 
 I do remember me, that in my youth. 
 When I was wandering — upon such a night 
 
 10 I stood within the Coliseum's wall, 
 
 Midst the chief relics of almighty Rome ; 
 The trees which grew along the broken arches 
 Waved dark in the blue midnight, and the stars 
 Shone through the rents of ruin ; from afar 
 
 15 The watch-dog bay'd beyond the Tiber: and, 
 More near, from out the Caesars' palace came 
 
 » 
 
2 20 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The owl's long cry, and, interruptedly, 
 
 Of distant sentinels the fitful song 
 
 Begun and died upon the gentle wind. 
 20 Some cypresses beyond the time-worn breach 
 
 Appear'd to skirt the horizon, yet they stood 
 
 Within a bowshot. — Where the Caesars dwelt. 
 
 And dwell the tuneless birds of night, amidst 
 
 A grove which springs through levell'd battlements, 
 25 And twines its roots with the imperial hearths. 
 
 Ivy usurps the laurel's place of growth; — - 
 
 But the gladiators' bloody Circus stands, 
 
 A noble wreck in ruinous perfection ! 
 
 While Caesar's chambers, and the Augustan halls, 
 30 Grovel on earth in indistinct decay. — 
 
 And thou didst shine, thou rolling moon, upon 
 
 All this, and cast a wide and tender light. 
 
 Which soften 'd down the hoar austerity 
 
 Of rugged desolation, and fiU'd up, 
 35 As 'twere anew, the gaps of centuries; 
 
 Leaving that beautiful which still was so. 
 
 And making that which was not, till the place 
 
 Became religion, and the heart ran o'er 
 
 With silent worship of the great of old ! — 
 40 The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule 
 
 Our spirits from their urns. — 
 
 ' Twas such a night ! 
 
 'Tis strange that I recall it at this time; 
 
 But I have found our thoughts take wildest flight 
 
 Even at the moment when they should array 
 
 Themselves in pensive order. 
 
 If Wordsworth at times recognises agencies making for evil in nature, 
 Byron occasionally dwells on mild and passive phases of nature, such 
 as are contained in his descriptions of Lake Leman m " Childe Harold," 
 or of Alpine loveliness in his perfect poem to his half-sister Augusta : 
 
BYRON 221 
 
 " The world is all before me ; I but ask 
 
 Of Nature that with which she will comply — 
 
 It is but in her summer's sun to bask, 
 
 To mingle with the quiet of her sky, 
 
 To see her gentle face without a mask, 
 
 And never gaze on it with apathy. 
 
 She was my early friend, and now shall be 
 My sister — till I look again on thee." 
 
 (1-46) Manfred, in the contemplation of Alpine scenery, is thinking 
 of the relics of almighty Rome in ruinous perfection. Locate the build- 
 ings, and what history thereby is suggested ? Analyse (40-41) felici- 
 tous phrases which express the pathos of Rome's past. Cf. " Childe 
 Harold " : 
 
 " The Niobe of nations ! there she stands 
 Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe, 
 An empty urn, within her wither'd hands, 
 Whose holy dust was scatter'd long ago. . . ." 
 
 and : 
 
 " Chaos of ruins ! who shall trace the void. 
 
 O'er the dim fragments cast a lunar light. 
 
 And say, ' here was or is,' where all is doubly night ? " 
 
 THE ISLES OF GREECE 
 
 DON JUAN, CANTO III 
 
 The isles of Greece ! the isles of Greece ! 
 
 Where burning Sappho loved and sung, 
 Where grew the arts of war and peace, 
 
 Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! 
 Eternal summer gilds them yet. 
 But all, except their sun, is set. 
 
 The Scian and the Teian muse, 
 The hero's harp, the lover's lute. 
 
 Have found the fame your shores refuse : 
 Their place of birth alone is mute 
 
 To sounds which echo further west 
 
 Than your sires' " Islands of the Blest." 
 
222 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The mountains look on Marathon — 
 And Marathon looks on the sea; 
 15 And musing there an hour alone, 
 
 I dreamed that Greece might still be free ; 
 For, standing on the Persians' grave, 
 I could not deem myself a slave. 
 
 A king sate on the rocky brow 
 20 Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; 
 And ships, by thousands, lay below. 
 
 And men in nations; — all were his! 
 He counted them at break of day — 
 And when the sun set, where were they? 
 
 25 And where are they? and where art thou, 
 My country ? On thy voiceless shore 
 The heroic lay is tuneless now — 
 
 The heroic bosom beats no more ! 
 And must thy lyre, so long divine, 
 30 Degenerate into hands like mine ? 
 
 ' Tis something in the dearth of fame, 
 Though link'd among a fetter'd race, 
 
 To feel at least a patriot's shame, 
 Even as I sing, suffuse my face ; 
 35 For what is left the poet here ? 
 
 For Greeks a blush — for Greece a tear. 
 
 Must 7ve but weep o'er days more blest ? 
 
 Must we but blush? — Our fathers bled. 
 Earth ! render back from out thy breast 
 40 A remnant of our Spartan dead ! 
 Of the three hundred grant but three, 
 To make a new Thermopylae ! 
 
BYRON 223 
 
 What, silent still? and silent all? 
 
 Ah ! no ; — the voices of the dead 
 45 Sound like a distant torrent's fall, 
 
 And answer, ' Let but one living head, 
 But one arise, — we come, we come ! ' 
 ' Tis but the living who are dumb. 
 
 In vain — in vain: strike other chords; 
 50 Fill high the cup with Samian wine! 
 Leave battles to the Turkish hordes, 
 And shed the blood of Scio's vine ! 
 Hark! rising to the ignoble call- — 
 How answers each bold Bacchanal ! 
 
 55 You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet; 
 
 Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone ? 
 Of two such lessons, why forget 
 
 The nobler and the manlier one ? 
 You have the letters Cadmus gave — ■ 
 60 Think ye he meant them for a slave ? 
 
 Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! 
 
 We will not think of themes like these ! 
 It made Anacreon's song divine : 
 
 He served — but served Polycrates — ■ 
 65 A tyrant ; but our masters then 
 
 Were still, at least, our country-men. 
 
 The tyrant of the Chersonese 
 
 Was freedom's best and bravest friend ; 
 That tyrant was Miltiades ! 
 70 Oh! that the present hour would lend 
 Another despot of the kind ! 
 Such chains as his were sure to bind. 
 
2 24 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Fill high the bowl with S ami an wine ! 
 
 On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore, 
 75 Exists the remnant of a line 
 
 Such as the Doric mothers bore ; 
 And there, perhaps, some seed is sown, 
 The Heracleidan blood might own. 
 
 Trust not for freedom to the Franks — 
 80 They have a king who buys and sells ; 
 In native swords, and native ranks, 
 The only hope of courage dwells : 
 But Turkish force, and Latin fraud, 
 Would break your shield, however broad. 
 
 85 Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! 
 
 Our virgins dance beneath the shade — - 
 I see their glorious black eyes shine ; 
 But gazing on each glowing maid. 
 My own the burning tear-drop laves, 
 90 To think such breasts must suckle slaves. 
 
 Place me on Sunium's marble steep, 
 
 Where nothing, save the waves and I, 
 May hear our mutual murmurs sweep ; 
 — - There, swan-like, let me sing and die : 
 
 95 A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine — 
 Dash down yon cup of Samian wine ! 
 
 (7-12) Scian. Cf. " The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle." 
 
 — The Bride of Abydos. 
 Teian. Vide (63) " Islands of the Blest." Cape de Verde, or the 
 Canaries. {13-42) Marathon, Salamis, and Thermopylae. Consult a 
 history of Greece, from 490-480 B.C. (55-60) " Pyrrhic dance " ; " Pyrrhic 
 phalanx." Consult history of Greece and history of Rome for the years 
 281-275 ^-C- (61-66) Polycrates, tyrant of Samos. (67-72) What 
 stanza is recalled by the mention of Miltiades ? (73-78) Suli ; Parga ; 
 
BYRON 225 
 
 in Epirus. (79-84) " a king." Louis XVIII. " Turkish force." This 
 lyric should appeal to young people because of the late war between 
 Greece and Turkey. It strongly recalls the year 1824, when, for the 
 sake of liberty, Byron at Missolonghi said, " Give me now a little sleep," 
 crowning a bad life with a fair death. ( 85-96 ) Sunium. The Greek 
 sailors rounding this point could see the helmet of Pallas Athene spark- 
 ling in the sunlight miles away on the Acropolis. Thus they realised 
 the glory of a nation which had chiseled the Parthenon. 
 
 " Alone, and friendless, on the magic shore, 
 Whose arts and arms but live in poets' lore ; 
 Oft as the matchless dome I tum'd to scan. 
 Sacred to gods, but not secure from man, 
 The past retum'd, the present seem'd to cease. 
 And Glory knew no clime beyond her Greece ! " 
 
 — The Curse of Minerva, 
 
 Compare the closing chorus in " Hellas," where Shelley dreamed that 
 Greece might still be free and that its restoration would be effected by 
 means of the golden years : 
 
 The world's great age begins anew, 
 
 The golden years return. 
 The earth doth like a snake renew 
 
 Her winter weeds outworn. 
 Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam 
 
 Like wrecks of a dissolving dream. 
 
 A brighter Hellas rears its mountains 
 
 From waves serener far ; 
 A new Peneus rolls its fountains 
 
 Against the moming-star. 
 Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep 
 
 Young Cyclads, on a sunnier deep. 
 
 A loftier Argo cleaves the main, 
 
 Fraught with a later prize ; 
 Another Orpheus sings again, 
 
 And loves, and weeps, and dies. 
 A new Ulysses leaves once more 
 
 Calypso for his native shore. 
 
2 26 ANT HO L OGY OF ENGLISH POE TR Y 
 
 Oh, write no more the tale of Troy, 
 If earth's Death's scroll must be I 
 
 Nor mix with Laian rage the joy 
 Which dawns upon the free : 
 
 Although a subtler sphinx renew 
 
 Riddles of death Thebes never knew. 
 
 Another Athens shall arise, 
 
 And to remoter time 
 Bequeath, like sunset to the skies, 
 
 The splendour of its prime ; 
 And leave if naught so bright may live, 
 
 All earth can take or Heaven can give. 
 
 — Hellas. 
 
 STANZAS FOR MUSIC 
 
 There's not a joy the world can give like that it takes 
 
 away, 
 When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull 
 
 decay : 
 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which 
 
 fades so fast, 
 But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be 
 
 past. 
 
 5 Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of hap- 
 piness, 
 Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt or ocean of excess : 
 The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in 
 
 vain 
 The shore to which their shiver'd sail shall never stretch 
 again. 
 
 Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself 
 comes down ; 
 lo It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own; 
 
BYRON 
 
 227 
 
 That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, 
 And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice 
 appears. 
 
 Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract 
 
 the breast, 
 Through midnight hours that yield no more their former 
 
 hope of rest ; 
 15 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath, 
 All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey 
 
 beneath. 
 
 Oh could I feel as I have felt, — or be what I have been, 
 Or weep as I could once have wept o'er many a vanish'd 
 
 scene ; 
 As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though 
 
 they be, 
 20 So, midst the wither 'd waste of life, those tears would flow 
 
 to me. 
 
 What did Byron write to Moore in regard to the composition of this 
 poem ? Cf. (12) to this couplet from " The Corsair" : 
 
 " Full many a stoic eye and aspect stem 
 Mask hearts where grief hath little left to learn. ..." 
 
 Are you sure that Byron is not parading or posing in this strain of an 
 unwept tear? 
 
 SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY 
 
 She walks in beauty, like the night 
 Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; 
 
 And all that's best of dark and bright 
 Meet in her aspect and her eyes : 
 5 Thus mellow 'd to that tender light 
 Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 
 
2 28 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 One shade the more, one ray the less, 
 Had half impair'd the nameless grace 
 
 Which waves in every raven tress, 
 lo Or softly lightens o'er her face ; 
 
 Where thoughts serenely sweet express 
 How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 
 
 And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, 
 So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 
 1 5 The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 
 But tell of days in goodness spent, 
 
 A mind at peace with all below, 
 A heart whose love is innocent ! 
 
 What circumstances caused this poem to be written ? 
 
 STANZAS TO AUGUSTA 
 
 Though the day of my destiny's over. 
 
 And the star of my fate hath declined, 
 Thy soft heart refused to discover 
 
 The faults which so many could find ; 
 5 Though thy soul with my grief was acquainted 
 
 It shrunk not to share it with me, 
 And the love which my spirit hath painted 
 
 It never hath found but in thee. 
 
 Then when nature around me is smiling, 
 ID The last smile which answers to mine, 
 I do not believe it beguiling, 
 
 Because it reminds me of thine ; 
 And when winds are at war with the ocean, 
 As the breasts I believed in with me, 
 15 If their billows excite an emotion, 
 It is that they bear me from thee. 
 
BYRON 
 
 Though the rock of my last hope is shivered, 
 And its fragments are sunk in the wave, 
 
 Though I feel that my soul is delivered 
 20 To pain — it shall not be its slave. 
 
 There is many a pang to pursue me : 
 
 They may crush, but they shall not contemn — 
 
 They may torture, but shall not subdue me — 
 'Tis of thee that I think — not of them. 
 
 25 Though human, thou didst not deceive me 
 Though woman, thou didst not forsake, 
 Though loved, thou forborest to grieve me. 
 
 Though slandered, thou never couldst shake, — 
 Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me, 
 30 Though parted, it was not to fly, 
 
 Though watchful, 'twas not to defame me 
 Nor mute, that the world might belie. 
 
 Yet I blame not the world, nor despise it, 
 Nor the war of the many with one — 
 35 If my soul was not fitted to prize it, 
 'Twas folly not sooner to shun : 
 And if dearly that error hath cost me. 
 
 And more than I once could foresee, 
 I have found that whatever it lost me, 
 40 It could not deprive me of thee. 
 
 From the wreck of the past which hath perished, 
 
 Thus much I at least may recall. 
 It hath taught me that what I most cherished 
 
 Deserved to be dearest of all : 
 45 In the desert a fountain is springing, 
 
 In the wild waste there still is a tree, 
 And a bird in the solitude singing, 
 
 Which speaks to my spirit of thee. 
 
 229 
 
230 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 " Be careful in printing the stanzas beginning, ' Though the day of 
 my destiny's,' etc., which I think well of as a composition." — Byron. 
 This poem was written at Campagne Diodati, near Geneva, July 24, 
 1816. His half-sister, Mrs. Leigh, championed his cause when British 
 society calumniated him. Compare this poem to Byron's other poem, 
 entitled " Epistle to Augusta." Read Edgar A. Poe's estimation of 
 this poem given in his " The Poetic Principle." Scan (45-48). 
 
 ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR 
 
 Missolonghi, Jan. 32, 1824. 
 
 'Tis time this heart should be unmoved, 
 Since others it hath ceased to move : 
 Yet, though I cannot be beloved, 
 Still let me love ! 
 
 ] 5 My days are in the yellow leaf ; 
 
 The flowers and fruits of love are gone : 
 The worm, the canker, and the grief 
 Are mine alone ! 
 
 The fire that on my bosom preys 
 10 Is lone as some volcanic isle ; 
 No torch is kindled at its blaze — 
 A funeral pile ! 
 
 The hope, the fear, the jealous care, 
 The exalted portion of the pain 
 15 And power of love, I cannot share. 
 But wear the chain. 
 
 But 'tis not thus — and 'tis not heir — 
 
 Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now, 
 Where glory decks the hero's bier, 
 20 Or binds his brow. 
 
BYRON 231 
 
 The sword, the banner, and the field, 
 Glory and Greece, around me see ! 
 The Spartan, borne upon his shield, 
 Was not more free. 
 
 25 Awake ! (not Greece — she is awake !) 
 
 Awake, my spirit ! Think through whom 
 Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake. 
 And then strike home ! 
 
 Tread those reviving passions down, 
 30 Unworthy manhood ! — unto thee 
 Indifferent should the smile or frown 
 Of beauty be. 
 
 If thou regrett'st thy youth, why live 1 
 The land of honourable death 
 35 Is here : — up to the field, and give 
 Away thy breath ! 
 
 Seek out — less often sought than found — 
 
 A soldier's grave, for thee the best ; 
 Then look around, and choose thy ground, 
 40 And take thy rest. 
 
 " There is perhaps no production within the range of mere human 
 composition, round which the circumstances and feelings under which 
 it was written cast so touching an interest." — Moore. 
 
 What is Count Gamba's account of the writing of this last poem of 
 Byron's? The thought contained in (1-4) finds similar utterance in a 
 poem of 1819, " Stanzas to the River Po ": 
 
232 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 "'Tis vain to struggle — let me perish young — 
 Live as I lived, and love as I have loved ; 
 To dust if I return, from dust I sprung. 
 
 And there, at least, my heart can ne'er be moved." 
 
 Explain (23-24). What prophetic words in this poem have found 
 similar utterance in a previously read poem of Bums' ? This lyric recalls 
 (94) in " The Isles of Greece." From this poem could the inference be 
 made that, if Byron had not shortly died, he would have reformed ? 
 
SCOTT 
 
 233 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT 
 
 1771-1832 
 
 ... as Nature is bright, serene, or gloomy, Scott takes her temper, and 
 paints her as she is ; nothing of himself being ever intruded, except that far- 
 away Eolian tone, of which he is unconscious. ... — yohn Kuskin. 
 
 Optional Poer/is 
 
 Jock Of Hazeldean. 
 
 Edmund's Song ( Rokeby ). Canto III. XVI. 
 
 Song: A Weary Lot Is Thine (Rokeby). Canto III. XXVIII. 
 
 Madge Wildfire's Song (The Heart Of Midlothian). 
 
 The Battle Of Flodden ( Marmion ). Canto VI. XXV-XXXIV. 
 
 The Chase (The Lady Of The Lake). Canto I. 28-167. 
 
 Soldier Rest! Thy Warfare O'er (The Lady Of The Lake). 
 
 Canto I. XXXI-XXXII. 
 Coronach (The Lady Of The Lake). Canto III. XVI. 
 The Combat (The Lady Of The Lake). Canto V. IX-XVII. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 Oh, what a tangled web we weave, 
 
 When first we practise to deceive ! — Marmion. 
 
 Breathes there a man, with soul so dead, 
 Who never to himself hath said, 
 This is my own, my native land ? 
 
 — Lay Of The Last Minstrel. 
 
234 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 MELROSE ABBEY 
 
 THE LAY OF THE LAST MINSTREL, CANTO 11. I-18 ; 70-I2^ 
 
 I 
 
 If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, 
 
 Go visit it by the pale moonlight ; 
 
 For the gay beams of lightsome day 
 
 Gild but to flout the ruins gray. 
 5 When the broken arches are black in night. 
 
 And each shafted oriel glimmers white ; 
 
 When the cold light's uncertain shower 
 
 Streams on the ruined central tower ; 
 
 When buttress and buttress, alternately, 
 I o Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; 
 
 When silver edges the imagery, 
 
 And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die ; 
 
 When distant Tweed is heard to rave, 
 
 And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, 
 1 5 Then go — but go alone the while — 
 
 Then view Saint David's ruined pile ; 
 
 And, home returning, soothly swear 
 
 Was never scene so sad and fair ! 
 
 70 Again on the knight looked the churchman old. 
 And again he sighed heavily ; 
 For he had himself been a warrior bold. 
 
 And fought in Spain and Italy. 
 And he thought on the days that were long since by, 
 75 When his limbs were strong, and his courage was high: 
 
SCOTT 235 
 
 Now, slow and faint, he led the way 
 
 Where, cloistered round, the garden lay ; 
 
 The pillared arches were over their head, 
 
 And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead. 
 
 80 Spreading herbs and flowerets bright 
 Glistened with the dew of night ; 
 Nor herb nor floweret glistened there 
 But was carved in the cloister-arches as fair. 
 The monk gazed long on the lovely moon, 
 85 Then into the night he looked forth ; 
 And red and bright the streamers light 
 Were dancing in the glowing north. 
 So had he seen, in fair Castile, 
 
 The youth in glittering squadrons start, 
 90 Sudden the flying jennet wheel, 
 And hurl the unexpected dart. 
 He knew, by the streamers that shot so bright, 
 That spirits were riding the northern light. 
 
 By a steel-clenched postern door 
 95 They entered now the chancel tall ; 
 The darkened roof rose high aloof 
 
 On pillars lofty and light and small : 
 The keystone that locked each ribbed aisle 
 Was a fleur-de-lys or a quatre-feuille ; 
 100 The corbels were carved grotesque and grim ; 
 And the piflars, with clustered shafts so trim. 
 With base and with capital flourished around, 
 Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had bound. 
 
236 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Full many a scutcheon and banner riven 
 105 Shook to the cold night-wind of heaven, 
 Around the screened altar's pale ; 
 And there the dying lamps did burn 
 Before thy low and lonely urn, 
 O gallant Chief of Otterburne ! 
 no And thine, dark Knight of Liddesdale I 
 O fading honors of the dead ! 
 O high ambition lowly laid ! 
 
 The moon on the east oriel shone 
 Through slender shafts of shapely stone, 
 115 By foliaged tracery combined ; 
 
 Thou wouldst have thought some fairy's hand 
 'Twixt poplars straight the osier wand 
 
 In many a freakish knot had twined, 
 Then framed a spell when the work was done, 
 120 And changed the willow wreaths to stone. 
 The silver light, so pale and faint, 
 Showed many a prophet and many a saint. 
 
 Whose image on the glass was dyed ; 
 Full in the midst, his cross of red 
 125 Triumphant Michael brandished. 
 
 And trampled the Apostate's pride. 
 The moonbeam kissed the holy pane, 
 And threw on the pavement a bloody stain. 
 
 (6) oriel. Cf. Tennyson's correct use of the word in " Lancelot 
 and Elaine " : 
 
 " All in an oriel on the summer side, 
 Vine-clad, of Arthur's palace. . . ." 
 
SCOTT 237 
 
 (12) scrolls. What two lines in Gray's "Elegy" are recalled? 
 (14) owlet. Cf. Gray's "Elegy," 10. 
 
 Has Scott thrown into this description subjective feelings and senti- 
 ments or has the fourteenth century ruin been described as Scott usu- 
 ally portrays nature, objectively ? Ruskin says : " Observe Scott's habit 
 of looking at nature, neither as dead, nor merely material, nor as 
 altered by his own feelings ; but as having an animation and pathos 
 of its own, wholly irrespective of human passions." Cf. Congreve's 
 description of the interior of a cathedral in his " The Mourning Bride," 
 Act II. I : 
 
 " 'Tis 
 dreadful ! 
 How reverend is the face of this tall pile, 
 Whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, 
 To bear aloft its arched and ponderous roof. 
 By its own weight made steadfast and immoveable, 
 Looking tranquillity ! It strikes an awe 
 And terror on my aching sight ; the tombs 
 And monumental caves of death look cold, 
 And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. 
 Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice ; 
 Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear 
 Thy voice — my own affrights me with its echoes." 
 
 Compare Scott's attitude toward the external world with that of 
 Byron's depicted in his description of the Coliseum by moonlight. 
 
 The " Lay of the Last Minstrel " begins with a feast in Branksome 
 Hall. While the knights are making merriment prior to departure, the 
 Ladye who has gone to her bower hears spirits of the flood and of the 
 mountain decree the destiny of her daughter, — that she must marry 
 the hated Lord Cranstoun. The Ladye has so much pride that she 
 will defy fate's oracle, and sends William of Deloraine to Melrose 
 Abbey, wherein is the tomb of the Wizard, Michael Scott, who had 
 had buried with him the magical volume which could be used by the 
 goblin to prevent the marriage ; but as subsequent events prove, as in 
 Macbeth's forcing of his witches to furnish his security, the means to 
 prevent disaster cause it. After all. Lord Cranstoun wins the Ladye's 
 daughter by the goblin's spell. In the lines that have been omitted 
 (19-69) Deloraine appears at the abbey, arouses the porter, passes the 
 wicket, enters the cell of the priest, and announces to him the purpose 
 
238 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH FOE TR Y 
 
 of his nightly visit. (109) Chief of Otterburne. James, Earl of 
 Douglas. The battle of Otterburne was fought on August 15, 13S8, 
 for which read the ballad of Chevy Chase, (no) dark Knight of 
 Liddesdale. William Douglas, who treacherously killed Sir Alexan- 
 der Ramsay. He lived in the time of David II. In Melrose are 
 buried Alexander II. and Robert Bruce's heart. (113) east oriel. 
 According to Scott, it is a matchless piece of Gothic architecture. 
 (121-123) Cf. Milton's "II Penseroso " : 
 
 " And storied windows richly dight, 
 Casting a dim religious light." 
 
 (125-126) "Triumphant Michael brandished, 
 
 And trampled the Apostate's pride. . . ." 
 
 Cf. Tennyson's " Idylls of the King," The Last Tournament, where 
 Tristram is describing King Arthur : 
 
 ". . . he seem'd to me no man 
 But Michael trampling Satan. . . ." 
 
 (127-128) "The moonbeam kissed the holy pane. 
 
 And threw on the pavement a bloody stain." 
 
 Cf. Keats' " Eve of St. Agnes," where Madeline kneeling is covered 
 with " gules " on account ot the moonbeams passing through the col- 
 oured casement window : 
 
 " Full on this casement shone the wintry moon. 
 And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast," 
 
 / etc. It is hardly necessary to add that Scott and Keats have committed 
 blessed impossibilities with the moonlight. 
 
 BATTLE OF BEAL* AN DUINE 
 
 THE LADY OF THE LAKE, CANTO VI, XV-XIX 
 
 XV 
 
 " The minstrel came once more to view 
 370 The eastern ridge of Benvenue, 
 For ere he parted, he would say 
 Farewell to lovely Loch Achray — 
 
SCOTT 239 
 
 Where shall he find, in foreign land, 
 So lone a lake, so sweet a strand ! — 
 375 There is no breeze upon the fern. 
 Nor ripple on the lake. 
 Upon her eyrie nods the erne, 
 
 The deer has sought the brake ; 
 The small birds will not sing aloud, 
 380 The springing trout lies still. 
 
 So darkly glooms yon thunder-cloud, 
 That swathes, as with a purple shroud, 
 
 Benledi's distant hill. 
 Is it the thunder's solemn sound 
 385 That mutters deep and dread. 
 
 Or echoes from the groaning ground 
 
 The warrior's measured tread ? 
 Is it the lightning's quivering glance 
 That on the thicket streams, 
 390 Or do they flash on spear and lance 
 The sun's retiring beams ? — 
 I see the dagger-crest of Mar, 
 I see the Moray's silver star. 
 Wave o'er the cloud of Saxon war, 
 395 That up the lake comes winding far I 
 To hero bound for battle-strife. 
 
 Or bard of martial lay, 
 ' Twere worth ten years of peaceful life, 
 One glance at their array ! 
 
 XVI 
 
 400 " Their light-arm'd archers far and near 
 Survey'd the tangled ground. 
 Their centre ranks, with pike and spear, 
 A twilight forest frown 'd, 
 
240 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Their barbed horsemen, in the rear, 
 405 The stern battaUa crown 'd. 
 
 No cymbal clash'd, no clarion rang, 
 
 Still were the pipe and drum ; 
 Save heavy tread, and armor's clang, 
 The sullen march was dumb. 
 410 There breathed no wind their crests to shake, 
 Or wave their flags abroad ; 
 Scarce the frail aspen seem'd to quake. 
 
 That shadow'd o'er their road. 
 Their vaward scouts no tidings bring, 
 415 Can rouse no lurking foe, 
 Nor spy a trace of living thing. 
 
 Save when they stirr'd the roe ; 
 The host moves, like a deep-sea wave, 
 Where rise no rocks its pride to brave, 
 420 High-swelling, dark, and slow. 
 
 The lake is pass'd, and now they gain 
 A narrow and a broken plain, 
 Before the Trosachs' rugged jaws : 
 And here the horse and spearmen pause, 
 425 While, to explore the dangerous glen. 
 Dive through the pass the archer-men. 
 
 XVII 
 
 " At once there rose so wild a yell 
 Within that dark and narrow dell. 
 As all the fiends from heaven that fell 
 430 Had peal'd the banner-cry of hell ! 
 
 Forth from the pass in tumult driven, 
 Like chaff before the wind of heaven. 
 
 The archery appear : 
 For life ! for life ! their flight they ply — 
 
SCOTT 241 
 
 435 And shriek, and shout, and battle-cry, 
 And plaids and bonnets waving high, 
 And broadswords flashing to the sky, 
 
 Are maddening in the rear. 
 Onward they drive, in dreadful race, 
 440 Pursuers and pursued ; 
 
 Before that tide of flight and chase. 
 How shall it keep its rooted place. 
 
 The speannen's twilight wood ? — 
 ' Down, down,' cried Mar, 'your lances down ! 
 445 Bear back both friend and foe ! '-- 
 
 Like reeds before the tempest's frown, 
 That serried grove of lances brown 
 At once lay levell'd low ; 
 And closely shouldering side to side, 
 450 The bristUng ranks the onset bide. — 
 ' We'll quell the savage mountaineer. 
 As their Tinchel cows the game ! 
 They come as fleet as forest deer. 
 We'll drive them back as tame.' — 
 
 455 " Bearing before them in their course, 
 The relics, of the archer force. 
 Like wave with crest of sparkling foam. 
 Right onward did Clan- Alpine come. 
 Above the tide, each broadsword bright 
 460 Was brandishing like beam of light. 
 Each targe was dark below ; 
 And with the ocean's mighty swing, 
 When heaving to the tempest's wing, 
 They hurl'd them on the foe. 
 
242 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 465 I heard the lance's shivering crash, 
 As when the whirlwind rends the ash ; 
 I heard the broadsword's deadly clang, 
 As if an hundred anvils rang ! 
 But Moray wheel'd his rearward rank 
 470 Of horsemen on Clan- Alpine's flank, — 
 ' My banner-man, advance ! 
 I see,' he cried, ' their column shake. 
 Now, gallants ! for your ladies' sake. 
 Upon them with the lance ! ' — 
 475 The horsemen dash'd among the rout. 
 As deer break through the broom ; 
 Their steeds are stout, their swords are out, 
 
 They soon make lightsome room. 
 Clan- Alpine's best are backward borne — 
 480 Where, where was Roderick then ! 
 
 One blast upon his bugle-horn 
 
 Were worth a thousand men. 
 And refluent through the pass of fear 
 The battle's tide was pour'd ; 
 485 Vanish 'd the Saxon's struggUng spear, 
 Vanish'd the mountain-sword. 
 As Bracklinn's chasm, so black and steep. 
 
 Receives her roaring linn, 
 As the dark caverns of the deep 
 490 Suck the wild whirlpool in, 
 
 So did the deep and darksome pass 
 Devour the battle's mingled mass : 
 None linger now upon the plain. 
 Save those who ne'er shall fight again. 
 
 495 " Now westward rolls the battle's din, 
 That deep and doubling pass within. ■ 
 
SCOTT 
 
 Minstrel, away ! the work of fate 
 Is bearing on : its issue wait, 
 Where the rude Trosachs' dread defile 
 500 Opens on Katrine's lake and isle. — 
 Gray Benvenue I soon repass'd. 
 Loch Katrine lay beneath me cast. 
 The sun is set ; — the clouds are met, 
 The lowering scowl of heaven 
 505 An inky hue of livid blue 
 
 To the deep lake has given ; 
 Strange gusts of wind from mountain glen 
 Swept o'er the lake, then sunk again. 
 I heeded not the eddying surge, 
 510 Mine eye but saw the Trosachs' gorge, 
 Mine ear but heard the sullen sound. 
 Which like an earthquake shook the ground. 
 And spoke the stern and desperate strife 
 That parts not but with parting life, 
 515 Seeming, to minstrel ear, to toll 
 The dirge of many a passing soul. 
 Nearer it comes — the dim-wood glen 
 The martial flood disgorged again, 
 But not in mingled tide ; 
 520 The plaided warriors of the North 
 High on the mountain thunder forth 
 
 And overhang its side ; 
 While by the lake below appears 
 The dark'ning cloud of Saxon spears. 
 525 At weary bay each shatter 'd band. 
 Eyeing their foeman, sternly stand ; 
 Their banners stream like tatter'd sail, 
 That flings its fragments to the gale, 
 And broken arms and disarray 
 530 Mark'd the fell havoc of the day. 
 
 243 
 
244 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The scene of the above excerpt from " The Lady of the Lake " is 
 laid between Lochs Achray and Katrine in the western highlands of 
 Perthshire. The place, the pass of the man, a rough, precipitous defile, 
 by reason of the thickly matted undergrowth and jagged rocks, is called 
 the Trosachs. It was here Fitz-James (James V. of Scotland) lost his 
 horse and gained the battle of Beal' an Duine. Such a battle in detail 
 was never fought ; Scott drew' on his imagination from a small skirmish 
 which occurred after the reign of James. 
 
 According to the poem, at daybreak Roderick Dhu was mortally 
 wounded by Fitz-James, and was taken to the guard-room of Stirling 
 Castle. At noon on this day began the combat in the Trosachs that 
 lasted until sunset. In the prison, Allan-Bane, the old minstrel, sings 
 the victory of Mar and Moray over the Gaels, at the conclusion of 
 which the wounded Roderick dies, knowing that Douglas and Clan- 
 Alpine have passed from power in Scotland. 
 
 (370) Benvenue. A mountain 2,386 feet high, to the southwest of 
 Loch Achray. (383) Benledi's distant hill. Benledi, " Mountain of 
 God," 2,882 feet high, to the northeast of Loch Achray. Note the 
 passivity of the scene : that calm which comes before the storm. The 
 pathetic fallacy is used : the thunder cloud is Moray's force in the east. 
 Nature feels the approaching catastrophe to the Gaels. 
 
 (400-426) Here we can feel the rapid approach of the army of doom 
 to Clan-Alpine by reason of the trimeters which, at intervals, follow 
 the tetrameters. Seldom has the martial been portrayed so that we 
 can feel it as in this three-fold, booming, swinging verse. The power 
 of the movement of the narrative depends on these trimeters. (452) 
 Tinchel. " A circle of sportsmen, who, by surrounding a great space, 
 and gradually narrowing, brought immense quantities of deer together, 
 which usually made desperate efforts to break through the Tinchel." 
 — Scott, 
 
 (457-458) " Like wave with crest of sparkling foam, 
 Right onward did Clan-Alpine come." 
 
 Here is a fine example of simplicity in simile, necessitated by the 
 rapidity of the attack, no time being given for slowness, for an elaborate 
 simile such as is given by Tennyson in " Lancelot and Elaine " in his 
 pentameter portrayal of the line of knights who endeavoured to bear 
 Lancelot back to defeat at the barrier of the lists : 
 
 " Bare, as a wild wave in the wide North-sea, 
 Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears, with all 
 
SCOTT 245 
 
 Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies, 
 Down on a bark, and overbears the bark, 
 And him that helms it, so they overbore 
 Sir Lancelot and his charger. ..." 
 
 (495) The battle has rolled from noon to sunset. Obser\'e that the 
 minstrel has changed his position to the Katrine opening of the Tros- 
 achs, and that the storm has descended upon the loch at the moment 
 Clan-Alpine has been driven out of the defile a disbanded force. 
 
 Scott's use of dramatic background in this instance is artistically 
 comparable to Shakespere's in " Julius Caesar," " Macbeth," and " King 
 Lear." 
 
 This contest and the battle of Flodden described in " Marmion " 
 should be compared from the point of view of excellence in narration. 
 
246 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE 
 
 1772-1834 
 
 All that he did excellently might be bound up in twenty pages, but it should 
 be bound in pure gold. — Stafford Brooke. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 Genevieve ; Or, Love. 
 
 Morning Hymn To Mt. Blanc, 
 
 Christabel. 
 
 Work Without Hope. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 Alas ! they had been friends in youth : 
 
 But whispering tongues can poison truth. . . 
 
 Neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, 
 Shall wholly do away, I ween. 
 The marks of that which once hath been. 
 
 — Christabel. 
 
 Christabel. 
 
 ... we receive but what we give 
 And in our life alone does nature live. — Dejection : An Ode. 
 
 Work without Hope draws nectar in a sieve. 
 And Hope without an object cannot live. 
 
 — Work Without Hope. 
 
 THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER 
 
 PART I 
 
 It is an ancient Mariner, 
 
 And he stoppeth one of three. 
 
 " By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, 
 
 Now wherefore stopp'st thou me ? 
 
COLERIDGE 
 
 5 " The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, 
 And I am next of kin ; 
 The guests are met, the feast is set : 
 Mayst hear the merry din." 
 
 He holds him with his skinny hand 
 lo " There was a ship," quoth he. 
 
 " Hold off ! unhand me, grey-beard loon ! " 
 Eftsoons his hand dropt he. 
 
 He holds him with his glittering eye — 
 The Wedding-Guest stood still, 
 15 And listens like a three years' child : 
 The Mariner hath his will. 
 
 The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone : 
 He cannot chuse but hear ; 
 And thus spake on that ancient man, 
 20 The bright-eyed Mariner. 
 
 " The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared. 
 
 Merrily did we drop 
 
 Below the kirk, below the hill, 
 
 Below the lighthouse top. 
 
 25 " The Sun came up upon the left, 
 Out of the sea came he I 
 And he shone bright, and on the right 
 Went down into the sea. 
 
 " Higher and higher every day, 
 30 Till over the mast at noon — " 
 
 The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast. 
 For he heard the loud bassoon. 
 
 247 
 
248 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The bride hath paced into the hall, 
 Red as a rose is she ; 
 35 Nodding their heads before her goes 
 The merry minstrelsy. 
 
 The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, 
 Yet he cannot chuse but hear ; 
 And thus spake on that ancient man, 
 40 The bright-eyed Mariner. 
 
 " And now the storm-blast came, and he 
 Was tyrannous and strong : 
 He struck with his o'ertaking wings. 
 And chased us south along. 
 
 45 " With sloping masts and dipping prow, 
 As who pursued with yell and blow 
 Still treads the shadow of his foe, 
 And forward bends his head, 
 The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, 
 
 50 And southward aye we fled. 
 
 " And now there came both mist and snow. 
 And it grew wondrous cold : 
 And ice, mast-high, came floating by. 
 As green as emerald. 
 
 55 " And through the drifts the snowy cliffs 
 Did send a dismal sheen : 
 Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken — 
 The ice was all between. 
 
 " The ice was here, the ice was there, 
 60 The ice was all around : 
 
COLERIDGE 249 
 
 It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, 
 Like noises in a swound ! 
 
 " At length did cross an Albatross. 
 Thorough the fog it came ; 
 65 As if it had been a Christian soul, 
 We hail'd it in God's name. 
 
 " It ate the food it ne'er had eat, 
 And round and round it flew. 
 The ice did split with a thunder-fit, 
 70 The helmsman steered us through. 
 
 " And a good south wind sprung up behind ; 
 
 The Albatross did follow, 
 
 And every day, for food or play, 
 
 Came to the mariners' hollo ! 
 
 75 " In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud. 
 It perched for vespers nine ; 
 Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, 
 Glimmered the white moon-shine." 
 
 " God save thee, ancient Mariner ! 
 80 From the fiends that plague thee thus ! — 
 Why look'st thou so ? " — " With my cross-bow 
 I shot the Albatross." 
 
 PART II 
 
 " The Sun now rose upon the right : 
 Out of the sea came he, 
 85 Still hid in mist, and on the left 
 Went down into the sea. 
 
250 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 " And the good south wind still blew behind, 
 But no sweet bird did follow, 
 Nor any day for food or play 
 90 Came to the mariners' hollo ! 
 
 " And I had done a hellish thing, 
 And it would work 'em woe : 
 For all averred, I had killed the bird 
 That made the breeze to blow. 
 95 ' Ah wretch ! ' said they, * the bird to slay, 
 That made the breeze to blow ! ' 
 
 " Nor dim nor red, like God's own head 
 The glorious Sun uprist : 
 Then all averred, I had killed the bird 
 100 That brought the fog and mist. 
 
 ' 'Twas right,' said they, ' such birds to slay, 
 That bring the fog and mist.' 
 
 " The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, 
 The furrow followed free ; 
 105 We were the first that ever burst 
 Into that silent sea. 
 
 " Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 
 'Twas sad as sad could be ; 
 And we did speak only to break 
 no The silence of the sea! 
 
 " All in a hot and copper sky, 
 The bloody Sun, at noon. 
 Right up above the mast did stand, 
 No bigger than the Moon. 
 
COLERIDGE 
 
 115 " Day after day, day after day, 
 We stuck, nor breath nor motion ; 
 As idle as a painted ship 
 Upon a painted ocean. 
 
 " Water, water, everywhere, 
 120 And all the boards did shrink; 
 Water, water, everywhere. 
 Nor any drop to drink. 
 
 " The very deep did rot : O Christ ! 
 That ever this should be ! 
 125 Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs 
 Upon the slimy sea. 
 
 " About, about, in reel and rout 
 The death-fires danced at night ; 
 The water, Hke a witch's oils, 
 130 Burnt green, and blue, and white. 
 
 " And some in dreams assured were 
 Of the spirit that plagued us so ; 
 Nine fathom deep he had followed us 
 From the land of mist and snow. 
 
 135 " And every tongue, through utter drought, 
 Was withered at the root ; 
 We could not speak, no more than if 
 We had been choked with soot. 
 
 " Ah I well-a-day ! what evil looks 
 1 40 Had I from old and young ! 
 
 Instead of the cross, the Albatross 
 About my neck was hung." 
 
 251 
 
252 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 PART III 
 " There passed a weary time. Each throat 
 Was parched, and glazed each eye. 
 1 45 A weary time ! a weary time ! 
 How glazed each weary eye, 
 When, looking westward, I beheld 
 A something in the sky, 
 
 " At first it seemed a little speck, 
 150 And then it seemed a mist ; 
 
 It moved and moved, and took at last 
 A certain shape, I wist. 
 
 " A speck, a mist, a shape I wist ! 
 And still it neared and neared : 
 155 As if it dodged a water-sprite, 
 
 It plunged and tacked and veered. 
 
 " With throats unslacked, with black lips baked, 
 We could nor laugh nor wail ; 
 Through utter drought all dumb we stood ! 
 160 I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, 
 And cried, A sail ! a sail ! 
 
 " With throats unslacked, with black lips baked, 
 Agape they heard me call : 
 Gramercy ! they for joy did grin, 
 165 And all at once their breath drew in. 
 As they were drinking all. 
 
 " See ! see ! (I cried) she tacks no more ! 
 Hither to work us weal ; 
 Without a breeze, without a tide, 
 170 She steadies with upright keel! 
 
COLERIDGE 
 
 " The western wave was all a-flame, 
 The day was well-nigh done ! 
 Almost upon the western wave 
 Rested the broad bright Sun ; 
 175 When that strange shape drove suddenly 
 Betwixt us and the Sun. 
 
 " And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, 
 (Heaven's Mother send us grace !) 
 As if through a dungeon grate he peered 
 180 With broad and burning face. 
 
 " Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) 
 How fast she nears and nears ! 
 Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, 
 Like restless gossameres ? 
 
 185 " Are those her ribs through which the Sun 
 Did peer, as through a grate ? 
 And is that woman all her crew ? 
 Is that a Death ? and are there two ? 
 Is Death that woman's mate ? 
 
 190 " Her lips were red, her looks were free, 
 Her locks were yellow as gold : 
 Her skin was as white as leprosy, 
 The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she 
 Who thicks man's blood with cold. 
 
 195 •' The naked hulk alongside came. 
 And the twain were casting dice ; 
 • The game is done ! I've won, I've won ! ' 
 Quoth she, and whistles thrice. 
 
 253 
 
2 54 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 " The Sun's rim dips ; the stars rush out ; 
 200 At one stride comes the dark ; 
 
 With far-heard whisper o'er the sea 
 Off shot the spectre-bark. 
 
 " We listened and looked sideways up ! 
 
 Fear at my heart, as at a cup, 
 205 My life-blood seemed to sip ! 
 
 The stars were dim, and thick the night, 
 
 The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white ; 
 
 From the sails the dew did drip — 
 
 Till clomb above the eastern bar 
 210 The horned Moon, with one bright star 
 
 Within the nether tip. 
 
 " One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, 
 Too quick for groan or sigh. 
 Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, 
 215 And cursed me with his eye. 
 
 " Four times fifty living men, 
 (And I heard nor sigh nor groan,) 
 With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, 
 They dropped down one by one. 
 
 220 " The souls did from their body fly, — 
 They fled to bliss or woe 1 
 And every soul, it passed me by, 
 Like the whizz of my cross-bow ! " 
 
 PART IV 
 
 " I fear thee, ancient Mariner ! 
 225 I fear thy skinny hand! 
 
 And thou art long, and lank, and brown, 
 As is the ribbed sea-sand. 
 
COLERIDGE 25^ 
 
 " I fear thee and thy gUttering eye, 
 And thy skinny hand, so brown." — 
 230 " Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest I 
 This body dropt not down. 
 
 " Alone, alone, all, all alone, 
 Alone on a wide, wide sea ! 
 And never a saint took pity on 
 235 My soul in agony. 
 
 " The many men, so beautiful 1 
 And they all dead did lie : 
 And a thousand thousand slimy things 
 Lived on ; and so did I. 
 
 240 "I looked upon the rotting sea. 
 And drew my eyes away ; 
 I looked upon the rotting deck. 
 And there the dead men lay. 
 
 " I looked to heaven, and tried to pray ; 
 245 But or ever a prayer had gusht, 
 A wicked whisper came, and made 
 My heart as dry as dust. 
 
 " I closed my lids, and kept them close, 
 And the balls like pulses beat ; 
 250 For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky 
 Lay like a load on my weary eye, 
 And the dead were at my feet. 
 
 " The cold sweat melted from their limbs, 
 Nor rot nor reek did they : 
 255 The look with which they looked on me 
 Had never passed away. 
 
^56 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 " An orphan's curse would drag to hell 
 A spirit from on high ; 
 But oh ! more horrible than that 
 260 Is the curse in a dead man's eye ! 
 
 Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, 
 And yet I could not die. 
 
 " The moving Moon went up the sky, 
 And nowhere did abide : 
 265 Softly she was going up. 
 And a star or two beside — 
 
 " Her beams bemocked the sultry main, 
 Like April hoar-frost spread ; 
 But where the ship's huge shadow lay, 
 270 The charmed water burnt alway 
 A still and awful red. 
 
 " Beyond the shadow of the ship, 
 I watched the water-snakes : 
 They moved in tracks of shining white, 
 275 And when they reared, the elfish light 
 Fell off in hoary flakes. 
 
 " Within the shadow of the ship 
 I watched their rich attire : 
 Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, 
 280 They coiled and swam ; and every track 
 Was a flash of golden fire. 
 
 " O happy Hving things I no tongue 
 Their beauty might declare : 
 A spring of love gushed from my heart, 
 285 And I blessed them unaware; 
 
COLERIDGE 257 
 
 Sure my kind saint took pity on me, 
 And I blessed them miaware. 
 
 " The self-same moment I could pray ; 
 And from my neck so free 
 !go The Albatross fell off, and sank 
 Like lead into the sea." 
 
 " Oh Sleep ! it is a gentle thing, 
 Beloved from pole to pole ! 
 To Mary Queen the praise be given ! 
 295 She sent the gentle sleep from heaven. 
 That slid into my soul. 
 
 " The silly buckets on the deck. 
 That had so long remained, 
 I dreamt that they were filled with dew ; 
 300 And when I awoke, it rained. 
 
 " My lips were wet, my throat was cold, 
 My garments all were dank ; 
 Sure I had drunken in my dreams. 
 And still my body drank. 
 
 305 " I moved, and could not feel my limbs : 
 I was so light — - almost 
 I thought that I had died in sleep, 
 And was a blessed ghost. 
 
 " And soon I heard a roaring wind : 
 310 It did not come anear ; 
 
 But with its sound it shook the sails, 
 That were so thin and sere. 
 
258 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 " The upper air burst into life ! 
 And a hundred fire-flags sheen, 
 315 To and fro they were hurried about ! 
 And to and fro, and in and out, 
 The wan stars danced between. 
 
 " And the coming wind did roar more loud, 
 And the sails did sigh like sedge ; 
 320 And the rain poured down from one black cloud, 
 The Moon was at its edge. 
 
 " The thick black cloud was cleft, and still 
 The Moon was at its side : 
 Like waters shot from some high crag, 
 325 The lightning fell with never a jag, 
 A river steep and wide. 
 
 " The loud wind never reached the ship, 
 Yet now the ship moved on ! 
 Beneath the lightning and the Moon 
 330 The dead men gave a groan. 
 
 " They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, 
 Nor spake, nor moved their eyes ; 
 It had been strange, even in a dream, 
 To have seen those dead men rise. 
 
 335 " The helmsman steered, the ship moved on ; 
 
 Yet never a breeze up blew ; 
 
 The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, 
 
 Where they were wont to do ; 
 
 They raised their limbs like lifeless tools — 
 340 We were a ghastly crew. 
 
COLERIDGE 
 
 259 
 
 " The body of my brother's son 
 Stood by me, knee to knee : 
 The body and I pulled at one rope, 
 But he said nought to me." 
 
 345 " I fear thee, ancient Mariner ! " 
 ** Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest ! 
 'Twas not those souls that fled in pain, 
 Which to their corses came again, 
 But a troop of spirits blest : 
 
 350 " For when it dawned — they dropped their arms, 
 And clustered round the mast ; 
 Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, 
 And from their bodies passed. 
 
 " Around, around, flew each sweet sound, 
 355 Then darted to the Sun ; 
 
 Slowly the sounds came back again, 
 Now mixed, now one by one. 
 
 " Sometimes a-dropping from the sky 
 I heard the sky-lark sing ; 
 360 Sometimes all little birds that are. 
 
 How they seemed to fill the sea and air 
 With their sweet jargoning ! 
 
 " And now 'twas like all instruments, 
 Now like a lonely flute ; 
 365 And now it is an angel's song. 
 That makes the heavens be mute. 
 
 " It ceased ; yet still the sails made on 
 A pleasant noise till noon, 
 
260 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 A noise like of a hidden brook 
 370 In the leafy month of June, 
 
 That to the sleeping woods all night 
 Singeth a quiet tune. 
 
 " Till noon we quietly sailed on, 
 Yet never a breeze did breathe : 
 375 Slowly and smoothly went the ship. 
 Moved onward from beneath. 
 
 " Under the keel nine fathom deep, 
 From the land of mist and snow, 
 The spirit slid : and it was he 
 380 That made the ship to go. 
 
 The sails at noon left off their tune. 
 And the ship stood still also. 
 
 " The Sun, right up above the mast, 
 Had fixed her to the ocean : 
 385 But in a minute she 'gan stir, 
 With a short uneasy motion — 
 Backwards and forwards half her length, 
 With a short uneasy motion. 
 
 " Then, like a pawing horse let go, 
 390 She made a sudden bound : 
 
 It flung the blood into my head, 
 And I fell down in a swound. 
 
 " How long in that same fit I lay, 
 I have not to declare ; 
 395 But ere my living life returned, 
 I heard, and in my soul discerned 
 Two voices in the air. 
 
COLERIDGE 26 1 
 
 " ' Is it he ? ' quoth one, * Is this the man ? 
 By Him who died on cross, 
 400 With his cruel bow he laid full low 
 The harmless Albatross. 
 
 " ' The spirit who bideth by himself 
 In the land of mist and snow. 
 He loved the bird that loved the man 
 405 Who shot him with his bow.' 
 
 " The other was a softer voice, 
 
 As soft as honey-dew ; 
 
 Quoth he, ' The man hath penance done, 
 
 And penance more will do.' " 
 
 PART VI 
 
 First Voice 
 410 " ' But tell me, tell me ! speak again, 
 Thy soft response renewing — 
 What makes that ship drive on so fast ? 
 What is the ocean doing ? ' 
 
 Second Voice 
 
 " ' Still as a slave before his lord, 
 415 The ocean hath no blast; 
 
 His great bright eye most silently 
 Up to the Moon is cast — 
 
 " ' If he may know which way to go ; 
 For she guides him smooth or grim. 
 420 See, brother, see 1 how graciously 
 She looketh down on him.' 
 
262 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 First Voice 
 
 " ' But why drives on that ship so fast, 
 Without or wave or wind ? ' 
 
 Second Voice 
 
 " ' The air is cut away before, 
 425 And closes from behind. 
 
 " ' Fly, brother, fly ! more high, more high ! 
 Or we shall be belated : 
 For slow and slow that ship will go, 
 When the Mariner's trance is abated.' 
 
 430 " I woke, and we were sailing on 
 As in a gentle weather : 
 
 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high ; 
 The dead men stood together. 
 
 " All stood together on the deck, 
 435 For a charnel-dungeon fitter: 
 All fixed on me their stony eyes, 
 That in the Moon did glitter. 
 
 " The pang, the curse, with which they died, 
 Had never passed away : 
 440 I could not draw my eyes from theirs, 
 Nor turn them up to pray. 
 
 " And now this spell was snapt : once more 
 I viewed the ocean green, 
 And looked far forth, yet little saw 
 445 Of what had else been seen — 
 
COLERIDGE 263 
 
 " Like one that on a lonesome road 
 Doth walk in fear and dread, 
 And having once turned round walks on, 
 And turns no more his head ; 
 450 Because he knows, a frightful fiend 
 Doth close behind him tread. 
 
 " But soon there breathed a wind on me, 
 Nor sound nor motion made : 
 Its path was not upon the sea, 
 455 In ripple or in shade. 
 
 " It raised my hair, it fann'd my cheek, 
 Like a meadow-gale of spring — 
 It mingled strangely with my fears, 
 Yet it felt like a welcoming. 
 
 460 '' Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, 
 Yet she sailed softly too : 
 Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze — 
 On me alone it blew. 
 
 " Oh ! dream of joy ! is this indeed 
 465 The light-house top I see ? 
 
 Is this the hill ? is this the kirk ? 
 Is this mine own countree ? 
 
 " We drifted o'er the harbour-bar, 
 And I with sobs did pray — 
 470 O let me be awake, my God ! 
 Or let me sleep alway. 
 
 " The harbour-bay was clear as glass, 
 So smoothly it was strewn I 
 
264 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH FOETRY 
 
 And on the bay the moonlight lay, 
 475 And the shadow of the Moon. 
 
 " The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, 
 That stands above the rock : 
 The moonlight steeped in silentness 
 The steady weather-cock. 
 
 480 " And the bay was white with silent light, 
 Till, rising from the same, 
 Full many shapes, that shadows were. 
 In crimson colours came. 
 
 " A little distance from the prow 
 485 Those crimson shadows were : 
 
 I turned my eyes upon the deck — 
 Oh, Christ ! what saw I there ! 
 
 " Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat. 
 And by the holy rood 1 
 490 A man all light, a seraph-man, 
 On every corse there stood. 
 
 " This seraph-band, each waved his hand, 
 It was a heavenly sight ! 
 They stood as signals to the land, 
 495 Each one a lovely light; 
 
 " This seraph-band, each waved his hand, 
 No voice did they impart ^ — 
 No voice ; but oh ! the silence sank 
 Like music on my heart. 
 
COLERIDGE 265 
 
 500 " But soon I heard the dash of oars, 
 I heard the Pilot's cheer ; 
 My head was turned perforce away, 
 And I saw a boat appear. 
 
 " The Pilot and the Pilot's boy, 
 505 I heard them coming fast : 
 
 Dear Lord in heaven ! it was a joy 
 The dead men could not blast. 
 
 " I saw a third — I heard his voice : 
 It is the Hermit good ! 
 510 He singeth loud his godly hymns 
 That he makes in the wood. 
 He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away 
 The Albatross's blood." 
 
 PART VII 
 
 " This Hermit good lives in that wood 
 515 Which slopes down to the sea. 
 
 How loudly his sweet voice he rears ! 
 He loves to talk with marineres 
 That come from a far countree. 
 
 " He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — 
 520 He hath a cushion plump: 
 
 It is the moss that wholly hides 
 The rotted old oak stump. 
 
 " The skiff-boat neared : I heard them talk, 
 ' Why, this is strange, I trow ! 
 525 Where are those lights so many and fair. 
 That signal made but now ? ' 
 
266 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 " ' Strange, by my faith ! ' the Hermit said — 
 ' And they answered not our cheer. 
 The planks looked warped ! and see those sails, 
 530 How thin they are and sere ! 
 I never saw aught like to them, 
 Unless perchance it were 
 
 " ' Brown skeletons of leaves that lag 
 My forest-brook along ; 
 535 When the i\y-tod is heavy with snow, 
 
 And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, 
 That eats the she-wolf's young.' 
 
 " ' Dear Lord ! it hath a fiendish look — 
 (The Pilot made reply) 
 540 I am a-feared.' — ' Push on, push on ! ' 
 Said the Hermit cheerily. 
 
 " The boat came closer to the ship, 
 But I nor spake nor stirred ; 
 The boat came close beneath the ship, 
 545 And straight a sound was heard. 
 
 " Under the water it rumbled on, 
 Still louder and more dread : 
 It reached the ship, it split the bay : 
 The ship went down like lead. 
 
 550 " Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, 
 
 Which sky and ocean smote, 
 
 Like one that hath been seven days drowned 
 
 My body lay afloat ; 
 
 But, swift as dreams, myself I found 
 555 Within the Pilot's boat. 
 
COLERIDGE 26; 
 
 " Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, 
 The boat spun round and round ; 
 And all was still, save that the hill 
 Was telling of the sound. 
 
 560 " I moved my lips — the Pilot shrieked 
 And fell down in a fit ; 
 The holy Hermit raised his eyes, 
 And prayed where he did sit. 
 
 " I took the oars : the Pilot's boy, 
 565 Who now doth crazy go, 
 
 Laughed loud and long, and all the while 
 His eyes went to and fro. 
 ' Ha ! ha ! ' quoth he, ' full plain I see. 
 The Devil knows how to row.' 
 
 570 "And now, all in my own countree, 
 I stood on the firm land ! 
 The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, 
 And scarcely he could stand. 
 
 " ' O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man ! ' 
 575 The Hermit crossed his brow. 
 
 ' Say quick,' quoth he, ' I bid thee say — 
 What manner of man art thou ? ' 
 
 " Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched 
 With a woeful agony, 
 5S0 Which forced me to begin my tale; 
 And then it left me free. 
 
 " Since then, at an uncertain hour, 
 That agony returns : 
 And till my ghastly tale is told, 
 585 This heart within me burns. 
 
268 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 " I pass, like night, from land to land ; 
 I have strange power of speech ; 
 That moment that his face I see, 
 I know the man that must hear me : 
 590 To him my tale I teach. 
 
 " What loud uproar bursts from that door ! 
 The wedding-guests are there : 
 But in the garden-bower the bride 
 And bride-maids singing are : 
 595 And hark the little vesper bell, 
 Which biddeth me to prayer. 
 
 " O Wedding-Guest ! this soul hath been 
 Alone on a wide, wide sea : 
 So lonely 'twas, that God himself 
 600 Scarce seemed there to be. 
 
 " O sweeter than the marriage feast, 
 'Tis sweeter far to me. 
 To walk together to the kirk 
 With a goodly company ! — 
 
 605 " To walk together to the kirk. 
 And all together pray. 
 While each to his great Father bends. 
 Old men, and babes, and loving friends, 
 And youths and maidens gay ! 
 
 610 " Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell 
 To thee, thou Wedding-guest ! — 
 He prayeth well, who loveth well 
 Both man and bird and beast. 
 
COLERIDGE 269 
 
 " He prayeth best, who loveth best 
 615 All things both great and small ; 
 For the dear God who loveth us, 
 He made and loveth all." 
 
 The Mariner, whose eye is bright, 
 Whose beard with age is hoar, 
 620 Is gone : and now the Wedding-Guest 
 Turned from the Bridegroom's door. 
 
 He went like one that hath been stunned, 
 And is of sense forlorn : 
 A sadder and a wiser man 
 625 He rose the morrow morn. 
 
 (1-142) Observe the form of verse. Note the dramatic setting of the 
 poem. The Mariner's story is interrupted from time to time by the 
 merriness within the marriage hall. Through6ut the poem, classify 
 grotesque, weird imagery, and all touches that characterise the Romantic 
 School. Allegorically, ice is presented as lending an element of the 
 horrible to the situation of the Mariner in order to show that the man 
 has a frozen heart. Allegorically, the change from ice to the heat of 
 tropical waters means that God is thawing out the man's heart. The 
 Mariner becomes lord of his sin. Nemesis now begins to work. (232- 
 235) Cf. Byron's " Childe Harold," Canto I. : 
 
 " And now I'm in the world alone, 
 Upon the wide, wide sea : 
 But why should I for others groan. 
 When none will sigh for me .^ " 
 
 (244-247) Cf. Wordsworth's " Excursion," Book I. : 
 
 ". . . the good die first. 
 And they whose hearts are dry as summer dust 
 Bum to the socket.'' 
 
 (255-256) Cf. Tennyson's " In Memoriam," LI. : 
 
 " There must be wisdom with great Death : 
 The dead shall look me thro' and thro'. 
 
270 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 " Be near us when we climb or fall : 
 
 Ye watch, like God, the rolling hours 
 With larger other eyes than ours, 
 To make allowance for us all." 
 
 In the Mariner's recognition of supernal beauty in the ugliness of the 
 water-snakes, one feels that a wonderful change has come to the man 
 who hated the albatross. In " The Pilgrim's Progress " how did Chris- 
 tian rid himself of his burden ? Note the physical blessings which follow 
 the Mariner's regeneration. Observe that Nemesis is exacting in requir- 
 ing him to love that which he had hated. (446-451) Read, in Charles 
 Lamb's Essays of Elia, " Witches, And Other Night Fears," wherein is 
 analysed this fear which is purely spiritual, and compare with De 
 Quincey's use of the same in his " Spanish Nun" 17. — " Kate stands 
 alone on the Summit of the Andes." Irving in " The Legend of Sleepy 
 Hollow " has analysed this spiritual fear. (492-495) The dead are ever 
 ready to help the living who are truly repentant. (514-625) From an 
 allegorical point of view, the ship's sinking is necessary. His past 
 wicked environment is forever removed. Observe the knowledge of 
 human nature shown by Coleridge in binding the Mariner to a constant 
 reiteration of his story. The Mariner's selection of a wedding-guest 
 as an auditor is artistically delightful. Where is the resume of the 
 entire poem ? 
 
 It is sometimes better to attend the funeral of a wicked man's past 
 than it is to attend a man's wedding that promises everything for his 
 future. The doors of the hall are flung open so that we may know the 
 wedding has taken place. This comedy makes the tragedy all the more 
 emphatic, adding an illumination to the reality of the funeral of his past 
 wickedness, and finally making us believe that he has become a bride- 
 groom fit for the marriage supper of the Lamb. 
 
 KUBLA KHAN 
 
 In Xanadu did Kubla Khan 
 
 A stately pleasure dome decree : 
 Where Alph, the sacred river, ran 
 Through caverns measureless to man 
 Down to a sunless sea. 
 So twice five miles of fertile ground 
 
COLERIDGE 2 J I 
 
 I 
 
 With walls and towers were girdled round : 
 
 And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills 
 Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ; 
 ID And here were forests ancient as the hills, 
 Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. 
 
 But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted 
 Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover ! 
 A savage place ! as holy and enchanted 
 
 15 As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted 
 By woman wailing for her demon-lover ! 
 And from this chasm with ceaseless turmoil seething, 
 As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, 
 A mighty fountain momently was forced ; 
 
 20 Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst 
 
 Huge fragments vaulted Hke rebounding hail, 
 Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail : 
 And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever 
 It flung up momently the sacred river. 
 
 25 Five miles meandering with a mazy motion 
 Through wood and dale the sacred river ran. 
 Then reached the caverns measureless to man. 
 And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean : 
 And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far 
 
 30 Ancestral voices prophesying war ! 
 
 The shadow of the dome of pleasure 
 Floated midway on the waves ; 
 Where was heard the mingled measure 
 From the fountain and the caves. 
 35 It was a miracle of rare device, 
 
 A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice ! 
 
 A damsel with a dulcimer 
 In a vision once I saw : 
 
272 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 It was an Abyssinian maid, 
 40 And on her dulcimer she played, 
 
 Singing of Mount Abora. 
 
 Could I revive within me. 
 
 Her symphony and song, 
 
 To such deep delight 'twould win me 
 45 That with music loud and long, 
 
 I would build that dome in air, 
 That sunny dome ! those caves of ice ! 
 And all who heard should see them there, 
 And all should cry. Beware ! Beware ! 
 50 His flashing eyes, his floating hair ! 
 
 Weave a circle round him thrice, 
 And close your eyes with holy dread, 
 For he on honey-dew hath fed, 
 And drunk the milk of Paradise. 
 
 ( 1-54 ) Why is this poem a fragment ? Comment on the arrange- 
 ment of sibilants. In ( 18 ) observe the explosives and the labio-dentals. 
 In ( 19) notice the alternate alliteration. Comment on the general use 
 of assonance. Observe the characteristic touches of the Romantic 
 School. Coleridge desires the power possessed by the Abyssinian maid 
 in order that he may be the lyric bard of all the ages. Edgar A. Poe 
 expresses a similar wish in his " Israfel." Compare the effect of the 
 music of Israfel's lute with that of the Abyssinian maid's dulcimer. 
 Classify and analyse the finest phrases. 
 
SOUTHEY 
 
 ^7Z 
 
 ROBERT SOUTHEY 
 
 1 774-1843 
 
 ... he was a poet; and, by all men's confession, a respectable poet, bril- 
 liant in his descriptive powers, and fascinating in his narration, however much 
 he might want of The vision and the faculty divine.' — De Quincey. 
 
 Optional Poeins 
 
 The Battle Of Blenheim. 
 
 Remembrance. 
 
 The Holly-Tree. 
 
 The Inchcape Rock. 
 
 My Days Among The Dead Are Passed. 
 
 The Cataract Of Lodore. 
 
 Verses To A Dead Friend. 
 
 THE CURSE 
 
 THE CURSE OF KEHAMA, II. I4 
 
 ( Ladurlad, a man of India, in the act of defending the piaity 
 of his dattghter, Kailyal, had slaitt the wicked Arvalan, son of 
 Kehafna, the mighty rajahgod of evil. Keha7na called up the 
 spirit of his so7i from the tomb, and, fitiding him clatnoring for 
 lasting revenge on Ladurlad, pronounced . the following curse on 
 the mtirderer of Arvalan.) 
 
 I charm thy life 
 
 From the weapons of strife 
 
 From stone and from wood, 
 From fire and from flood, 
 5 From the serpent's tooth, 
 And the beasts of blood ; 
 
2 74 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 From Sickness I charm thee, 
 And Time shall not harm thee : 
 But Earth, which is mine, 
 lo Its fruit shall deny thee ; 
 And Water shall hear me. 
 And know thee and fly thee ; 
 And the Winds shall not touch thee 
 When they pass by thee, 
 15 And the Dews shall not wet thee 
 When they fall nigh thee : 
 And thou shalt seek Death 
 To release thee, in vain ; 
 Thou shalt live in thy pain, 
 20 While Kehama shall reign, 
 With a fire in thy heart, 
 And a fire in thy brain ; 
 And Sleep shall obey me, 
 And visit thee never, 
 25 And the Curse shall be on thee 
 Forever and ever. 
 
 Observe the normal metre that swings the curse. Note lines which are 
 anapestic, amphibrach, and dactylic. Compare this curse in thought 
 and metre with the curse in Byron's " Manfred," Act. I. i. : 
 
 "When the moon is on the wave, 
 
 And the glow-worm in the grass, 
 And the meteor on the grave, 
 
 And the wisp on the morass ; 
 When the falling stars are shooting, 
 And the answer'd owls are hooting. 
 And the silent leaves are still 
 In the shadow of the hill, 
 Shall my soul be upon thine, 
 With a power and with a sign. 
 
 " Though thy slumber may be deep. 
 Yet thy spirit shall not sleep ; 
 
SOUTHEY 275 
 
 There are shades which will not vanish, 
 There are thoughts thou canst not banish 
 By a power to thee unknown, 
 Thou canst never be alone ; 
 Thou art wrapt as with a shroud, 
 Thou art gather'd in a cloud; 
 And forever shalt thou dwell 
 In the spirit of this spell. 
 
 " And a magic voice and verse 
 Hath baptized thee with a curse 
 And a spirit of the air 
 Hath begirt thee with a snare; 
 In the wind there is a voice 
 Shall forbid thee to rejoice; 
 And to thee shall Night deny 
 All the quiet of her sky ; 
 And the day shall have a sun, 
 Which shall make thee wish it done. 
 
 " And on thy head I pour the vial 
 Which doth devote thee to this trial ; 
 Nor to slumber, nor to die. 
 Shall be in thy destiny ; 
 Though thy death shall still seem near 
 To thy wish, but as a fear ; 
 Lo ! the spell now works around thee, 
 And the clankless chain hath bound thee ; 
 O'er thy heart and brain together, 
 Hath the word been pass'd — now wither ! " 
 
 THEY SIN WHO TELL US LOVE CAN DIE 
 
 THE CURSE OF KEHAMA, X. MOUNT MERU, 9, lO 
 
 {Kailyal escapes the curse by reason of her graspittg the idol 
 Marriataty, the goddess of the poor, and tiitnbling into the river 
 with it J frovi the stream she is rescued by her father, at whose 
 
276 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 touch the waters recede, according to the curse of Kehama. The 
 daughter and the father are together for a time, until Ladurlad''s 
 curse is greater than he can bear; therefore, he leaves Kailyal 
 sleeping in that slumber which is denied to him, and to the dews 
 which never can bathe his fevered brow. Kailyal soon awakes 
 and tries to find her father. In the forest she is pursued by the 
 spectre of Arvalan, who would have seized her, if it had not been 
 for Pollear, the god of travelers, in whose sanctuary she receives 
 protection. Now, an angel, Ereenia, of the Glendoveers, carries 
 her to the grove of Casyapa, the sire of gods j from here, in order 
 to escape Kehama, she is taken in a ship of Heaven to Swerga, the 
 bower of bliss j and, by her further pleadings, permission is granted 
 Ladurlad for a time to rest from the ciirse in the awful place 
 where the Ganges had its second birth below the sphere of Indra on 
 the shores of Mount Meru^s lovely lake. Yedillian, Ladurlad's 
 dead wife, now comes, and the joys of the family are complete. 
 
 The daughter and husband's ecstasies at the sight of Yedillian, 
 " Fram'd of tlie elements of Heaven,^'' whose beauties have been 
 refined by death, form the contents of the following exquisite 
 verses.) 
 
 9 
 
 The Maid that lovely form surveyed ; 
 Wistful she gazed, and knew her not ; 
 But Nature to her heart conveyed 
 A sudden thrill, a startling thought, 
 5 A feeling many a year forgot, 
 
 Now like a dream anew recurring, 
 
 As if again in every vein 
 Her mother's milk was stirring. 
 With straining neck and earnest eye, 
 10 She stretched her hands imploringly, 
 As if she fain would have her nigh, 
 Yet feared to meet the wished embrace, 
 At once with love and awe oppressed. 
 Not so Ladurlad ; he could trace. 
 
sou THEY 
 
 15 Though brightened with angelic grace, 
 His own Yedillian's earthly face : 
 He ran, and held her to his breast ! 
 Oh joy above all joys of Heaven ! 
 By Death alone to others given, 
 20 This moment hath to him restored 
 The early-lost, the long-deplored. 
 
 They sin who tell us Love can die : 
 With life all other passions fly, 
 All others are but vanity. 
 25 In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell, 
 Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell ; 
 Earthly these passions of the Earth, 
 They perish where they have their birth. 
 But Love is indestructible : 
 30 Its holy flame forever burneth ; 
 
 From Heaven it came, to Heaven retumeth ; 
 Too oft on Earth a troubled guest, 
 At times deceived, at times oppressed, 
 It here is tried and purified, 
 35 Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest : 
 It soweth here with toil and care ; 
 But the harvest-time of Love is there. 
 
 Compare Southey's definition of love with that of Coleridge's found 
 in the first stanza of his ballad, " Love " : 
 
 " All thoughts, all passions, all delights, 
 Whatever stirs this mortal frame, 
 All are but ministers of love, 
 And feed his sacred flame." 
 
278 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 JOHN KEATS 
 
 1795-1821 
 
 No one else in English poetry, save Shakespeare, has in expression quite 
 the fascinating felicity of Keats, his perfection of loveliness. — Matthew Arnold. 
 
 If I should die, I have left no immortal work behind me — nothing to make 
 my friends proud of my memory ; but I have loved the principle of beauty in 
 ail things, and if I had had time, I would have made myself remembered. — 
 Keats. 
 
 Optional Poetns 
 
 I Stood Tip-Toe Upon A Little Hill — 
 
 Lamia. 
 
 Ode On Melancholy. 
 
 Sonnet To Homer. 
 
 Fragment Of An Ode To Maia. 
 
 Sonnet : A Dream, After Reading Dante's Episode Of Paulo 
 
 And Francesca. 
 Sonnet: The Day Is Gone — 
 
 Phrases 
 
 Here are sweet peas on tip-toe for a flight: 
 
 With wings of gentle flush o'er delicate white. . . . 
 
 — I Stood Tip-Toe Upon A Little Hill- 
 
 Where swarms of minnows show their little heads, 
 Staying their wavy bodies 'gainst the streams, 
 To taste the luxury of sunny beams 
 Temper'd with coolness. 
 
 — / Stood Tip-Toe Upon A Little Hill- 
 
 A thing of beauty is a joy forever. . . . — ■ Endymion. 
 
KEATS 
 
 279 
 
 The spirit culls 
 Unfaded amaranth, when wild it strays 
 Through the old garden-ground of boyish days. — Endymion. 
 
 There is a budding morrow in midnight. . . . 
 
 — Sonnet To Homer. 
 
 . . . that second circle of sad hell, 
 Where 'mid the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw 
 Of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell 
 
 Their sorrows. — Paulo And Francesca. 
 
 And Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips 
 Bidding adieu. ... — Ode On Melancholy. 
 
 Rich in the simple worship of a day. 
 
 — Fragment Of An Ode To Maia. 
 
 So the two brothers and their murder'd man 
 Rode past fair Florence. ... — Isabella. 
 
 A power more strong in beauty, born of us 
 And fated to excel us. . . . — Hyperion. 
 
 THE EVE OF ST. AGNES 
 
 St. Agnes' Eve — Ah, bitter chill it was ! 
 The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ; 
 The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass, 
 And silent was the flock in woolly fold : 
 Numb were the Beadsman's fingers while he told 
 His rosary, and while his frosted breath. 
 Like pious incense from a censer old, 
 Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death, 
 Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith. 
 
286 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 lo His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man; 
 
 Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees, 
 And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan, 
 Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees : 
 The sculptur'd dead, on each side, seem to freeze, 
 
 15 Emprison'd in black, purgatorial rails: 
 
 Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat'ries, 
 He passeth by ; and his weak spirit fails 
 To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. 
 
 in 
 
 Northward he turneth through a little door, 
 20 And scarce three steps, ere Music's golden tongue 
 
 Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor ; 
 
 But no — already had his death-bell rung ; 
 
 The joys of all his life were said and sung : 
 
 His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve : 
 25 Another way he went, and soon among 
 
 Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve. 
 And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve. 
 
 IV 
 
 That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft ; 
 And so it chanc'd, for many a door was wide, 
 
 30 From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft, 
 
 The silver, snarling trumpets 'gan to chide : 
 The level chambers, ready with their pride. 
 Were glowing to receive a thousand guests : 
 The carved angels, ever eager-eyed, 
 
 35 Star'd, where upon their heads the cornice rests. 
 
 With hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their 
 breasts, 
 
KEATS 281 
 
 At length burst in the argent revelry, 
 With plume, tiara, and all rich array, 
 Numerous as shadows haunting faerily 
 
 40 The brain, new-stuff'd, in youth, with triumphs gay 
 Of old romance. These let us wish away. 
 And turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady there, 
 Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day, 
 On love, and wing'd St. Agnes' saintly care, 
 
 45 As she had heard old dames full many a time declare. 
 
 They told her how, upon St. Agnes' Eve, 
 Young virgins might have visions of delight, 
 And soft adorings from their loves receive 
 Upon the honey 'd middle of the night, 
 50 If ceremonies due they did aright ; 
 
 As, supperless to bed they must retire. 
 And couch supine their beauties, lily-white ; 
 Nor look behind, nor sideways, but require 
 Of Heaven with upward eyes for all that they desire. 
 
 vir 
 
 55 Full of this whim was thoughtful Madeline: 
 The music, yearning like a God in pain. 
 She scarcely heard : her maiden eyes divine, 
 Fix'd on the floor, saw many a sweeping train 
 Pass by — she heeded not at all : in vain 
 
 60 Came many a tip-toe, amorous cavalier, 
 
 And back retir'd, not cool'd by high disdain, 
 But she saw not : her heart was otherwhere ; 
 She sigh'd for Agnes' dreams, the sweetest of the year. 
 
282 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 She danc'd along with vague, regardless eyes, 
 65 Anxious her lips, her breathing quick and short : 
 The hallow 'd hour was near at hand : she sighs 
 Amid the timbrels, and the throng'd resort 
 Of whisperers in anger, or in sport, 
 'Mid looks of love, defiance, hate, and scorn, 
 70 Hoodwink'd with faery fancy, all amort. 
 Save to St. Agnes and her lambs unshorn. 
 And all the bliss to be before to-morrow morn. 
 
 IX 
 
 So, purposing each moment to retire, 
 
 She linger'd still. Meantime, across the moors, 
 
 75 Had come young Porphyro, with heart on fire 
 For Madeline. Beside the portal doors, 
 Buttress 'd from moonlight, stands he, and implores 
 All saints to give him sight of Madeline, 
 But for one moment in the tedious hours, 
 
 80 That he might gaze and worship all unseen, 
 
 Perchance speak, kneel, touch, kiss — in sooth such 
 things have been. 
 
 He ventures in : let no buzz'd whisper tell: 
 All eyes be muffled, or a hundred swords 
 Will storm his heart, Love's fev'rous citadel : 
 
 85 For him those chambers held barbarian hordes, 
 Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords, 
 Whose very dogs would execrations howl 
 Against his lineage : not one breast affords 
 Him any mercy, in that mansion foul, 
 
 90 Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul. 
 
KEATS 283 
 
 Ah, happy chance ! the aged creature came, 
 Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand, 
 To where he stood, hid from the torch's flame, 
 Behind a broad hall-pillar, far beyond 
 95 The sound of merriment and chorus bland : 
 He startled her ; but soon she knew his face. 
 And grasp'd his fingers in her palsied hand. 
 Saying, " Mercy, Porphyro ! hie thee from this place : 
 They are all here to-night, the whole blood-thirsty race ! 
 
 XII 
 
 TOO "Get hence! get hence! there's dwarfish Hilde- 
 brand ; 
 He had a fever late, and in the fit 
 He cursed thee and thine, both house and land : 
 Then there's that old Lord Maurice, not a whit 
 More tame for his grey hairs — Alas me ! flit ! 
 105 Flit like a ghost away." " Ah, Gossip dear, 
 We're safe enough ; here in this arm-chair sit, 
 And tell me how" — "Good Saints! not here, not 
 here : 
 Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier." 
 
 He foUow'd through a lowly arched way, 
 no Brushing the cobwebs with his lofty plume; 
 And as she mutter'd " Well-a — well-a-day ! " 
 He found him in a little moonlight room. 
 Pale, latticed, chill, and silent as a tomb. 
 " Now tell me where is Madeline," said he, 
 115 " O tell me, Angela, by the holy loom 
 
 Which none but secret sisterhood may see, 
 When they St. Agnes' wool are weaving piously. 
 
284 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 " St. Agnes ! Ah ! it is St. Agnes' Eve — 
 Yet men will murder upon holy days : 
 
 120 Thou must hold water in a witch's sieve, 
 
 And be liege-lord of all the Elves and Fays, 
 To venture so : it fills me with amaze 
 To see thee, Porphyro ! St. Agnes' Eve ! 
 God's help ! my lady fair the conjuror plays 
 
 125 This very night: good angels her deceive! 
 
 But let me laugh awhile, I've mickle time to grieve." 
 
 XV 
 
 Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon. 
 While Porphyro upon her face doth look, 
 Like puzzled urchin on an aged crone 
 
 130 Who keepeth clos'd a wond'rous riddle-book. 
 As spectacled she sits in chimney nook. 
 But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told 
 His lady's purpose ; and he scarce could brook 
 Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold, 
 
 135 And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old. 
 
 Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, 
 Flushing his brow, and in his pained heart 
 Made purple riot : then doth he propose 
 A stratagem, that makes the beldame start : 
 140 "A cruel man, and impious thou art : 
 
 Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep, and dream 
 Alone with her good angels, far apart 
 From wicked men like thee. Go, go ! I deem 
 Thou canst not surely be the same that thou didst seem. 
 
KEATS 285 
 
 XVII 
 
 145 "I will not harm her, by all saints I swear," 
 Quoth Porphyro : " O may I ne'er find grace 
 When my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer. 
 If one of her soft ringlets I displace, 
 Or look with ruffian passion in her face : 
 
 150 Good Angela, believe me by these tears ; 
 Or I will, even in a moment's space, 
 Awake, with horrid shout, my foemen's ears, 
 And beard them, though they be more fang'd than wolves 
 and bears." 
 
 " Ah ! why wilt thou afifright a feeble soul ? 
 
 155 A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, churchyard thing. 
 Whose passing-bell may ere the midnight toll ; 
 Whose prayers for thee, each morn and evening, 
 Were never miss'd." Thus plaining, doth she bring 
 A gentler speech from burning Porphyro, 
 
 160 So woeful, anji of such deep sorrowing. 
 That Angela gives promise she will do 
 Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe. 
 
 XIX 
 
 Which wasj to lead him, in close secrecy. 
 Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide 
 
 165 Him in a closet, of such privacy 
 
 That he might see her beauty unespied, 
 And win perhaps that night a peerless bride, 
 While legion'd fairies paced the coverlet, 
 And pale enchantment held her sleepy-eyed, 
 
 170 Never on such a night have lovers met, 
 
 Since Merlin paid his Demon all the monstrous debt 
 
286 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 "It shall be as thou wishest," said the Dame ; 
 " All cates and dainties shall be stored there 
 Quickly on this feast-night : by the tambour frame 
 
 175 Her own lute thou wilt see : no time to spare, 
 For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dare 
 On such a catering tmst my dizzy head. 
 Wait here, my child, with patience kneel in prayer 
 The while : Ah ! thou must needs the lady wed, 
 
 180 Or may I never leave my grave among the dead." 
 
 So saying she hobbled off with busy fear. 
 The lover's endless minutes slowly pass'd ; 
 The dame return'd, and whisper'd in his ear 
 To follow her, with aged eyes aghast 
 185 From fright of dim espial. Safe at last, 
 Through many a dusky gallery, they gain 
 The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd and chaste; 
 Where Porphyro took covert, pleas 'd amain. 
 His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain. 
 
 190 Her falt'ring hand upon the balustrade. 
 Old Angela was feeling for the stair. 
 When Madeline, St. Agnes' charmed maid, 
 Rose, like a mission 'd spirit unaware : 
 With silver taper's light, and pious care, 
 
 195 She turn'd, and down the aged gossip led 
 To a safe level matting. Now prepare. 
 Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed ; 
 She comes, she comes again, like ring-dove fray'd and 
 fled. 
 
KEATS 287 
 
 Out went the taper as she hurried in ; 
 200 Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died : 
 
 She closed the door, she panted, all akin 
 
 To spirits of the air, and visions wide : 
 
 No utter'd syllable, or woe betide ! 
 
 But to her heart, her heart was voluble, 
 205 Paining with eloquence her balmy side ; 
 
 As though a tongueless nightingale should swell 
 Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell. 
 
 A casement high and triple-arch'd there was, 
 All garlanded with carven imag'ries 
 
 210 Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, 
 And diamonded with panes of quaint device, 
 Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, 
 As are the tiger-moth's deep damask'd wings ; 
 And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, 
 
 215 And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, 
 
 A shielded scutcheon blush 'd with blood of queens and 
 kings. 
 
 Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, 
 And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, 
 As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon ; 
 
 220 Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, 
 And on her silver cross soft amethyst, 
 And on her hair a glory, like a saint : 
 She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest. 
 Save wings, for heaven : — Porphyro grew faint : 
 
 225 She knelt so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint. 
 
188 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Anon his heart revives : her vespers done, 
 Of all its wreathed pearls her hair she frees, 
 Unclasped her warmed jewels one by one, 
 Loosens her fragrant bodice ; by degrees 
 230 Her rich attire creeps rustling to her knees. 
 Half-hidden, like a mermaid in sea-weed. 
 Pensive awhile she dreams awake, and sees, 
 In fancy, fair St. Agnes in her bed, 
 But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled. 
 
 235 Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, 
 In sort of wakeful swoon, perplex 'd she lay. 
 Until the poppied warmth of sleep oppress'd 
 Her soothed limbs, and soul fatigued away ; 
 Flown, like a thought, until the morrow-day, 
 
 240 BHssfuUy haven 'd both from joy and pain, 
 
 Clasp'd like a missal where swart Paynims pray, 
 Blinded aUke from sunshine and from rain. 
 As though a rose should shut, and be a bud again. 
 
 Stol'n to this paradise, and so entranced, 
 
 245 Porphyro gaz'd upon her empty dress, 
 
 And listen 'd to her breathing, if it chanced 
 To wake into a slumberous tenderness ; 
 Which, when he heard, that minute did he bless. 
 And breath 'd himself : then from the closet crept, 
 
 250 Noiseless as fear in a wide wilderness 
 
 And over the hush'd carpet, silent, stept. 
 And 'tween the curtains peep'd, where, lo ! — how fast 
 she slept. 
 
KEATS 289 
 
 XXIX 
 
 Then by the bed-side, where the faded moon 
 
 Made a dim, silver twihght, soft he set 
 255 A table, and, half-anguish'd, threw thereon 
 
 A cloth of woven crimson, gold, and jet : — 
 
 O for some drowsy Morphean amulet ! 
 
 The boisterous, midnight, festive clarion, 
 
 The kettle-drum, and far-heard clarionet, 
 .?6o Affray his ears, though but in dying tone ; — 
 
 The hall-door shuts again, and all the noise is gone. 
 
 XXX 
 
 And still she slept an azure-lidded sleep, 
 In blanched linen, smooth and lavender'd, 
 While he from forth the closet brought a heap 
 
 265 Of candied apple, quince, and plum, and gourd, 
 With jellies soother than the creamy curd, 
 And lucent syrops, tinct with cinnamon, 
 Manna and dates, in argosy transferr'd 
 From Fez ; and spiced dainties, every one, 
 
 270 From silken Samarcand to cedar 'd Lebanon. 
 
 XXXI 
 
 These delicates he heap'd with glowing hand 
 On golden dishes and in baskets bright 
 Of wreathed silver : sumptuous they stand 
 In the retired quiet of the night, 
 275 Filling the chilly room with perfume light. — 
 " And now, my love, my seraph fair, awake I 
 Thou art my heaven, and I thine eremite : 
 Open thine eyes, for meek St. Agnes' sake, 
 Or I shall drowse beside thee, so my soul doth ache." 
 
290 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 XXXII 
 
 280 Thus whispering, his warm, unnerved arm 
 Sank in her pillow. Shaded was her dream 
 By the dusk curtains : — 'twas a midnight charm 
 Impossible to melt as iced stream : 
 The lustrous salvers in the moonlight gleam ; 
 
 285 Broad golden fringe upon the carpet lies: 
 It seem'd he never, never could redeem 
 From such a steadfast spell his lady's eyes ; 
 So mus'd awhile, entoil'd in woofed phantasies. 
 
 XXXIII 
 
 Awakening up, he took her hollow lute, — 
 290 Tumultuous, — and, in chords that tenderest be, 
 He play'd an ancient ditty, long since mute. 
 In Provence call'd " La belle dame sans mercy : " 
 Close to her ear touching the melody ; — 
 Wherewith disturb'd, she utter'd a soft moan : 
 295 He ceased — she panted quick — and suddenly 
 Her blue affrayed eyes wide open shone : 
 Upon his knees he sank, pale as smooth-sculptured stone. 
 
 XXXIV 
 
 Her eyes were open, but she still beheld, 
 Now wide awake, the vision of her sleep : 
 
 300 There was a painful change, that nigh expell'd 
 The blisses of her dream so pure and deep ; 
 At which fair Madeline began to weep, 
 And moan forth witless words with many a sigh ; 
 While still her gaze on Porphyro would keep ; 
 
 305 Who knelt, with joined hands and piteous eye. 
 Fearing to move or speak, she look'd so dreamingly. 
 
KEA TS 
 
 XXXV 
 
 291 
 
 " Ah, Porphyro ! "" she said, " but even now 
 Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine ear. 
 Made tuneable with every sweetest vow ; 
 
 310 And those sad eyes were spiritual and clear: 
 
 How chang'd thou art ! how pallid, chill, and drear ! 
 Give me that voice again, my Porphyro, 
 Those looks immortal, those complainings dear ! 
 Oh leave me not in this eternal woe, 
 
 315 For if thou diest, my Love, I know not where to go." 
 
 XXXVI 
 
 Beyond a mortal man impassion 'd far 
 At these voluptuous accents, he arose, 
 Ethereal, flush'd, and like a throbbing star 
 Seen mid the sapphire heaven's deep repose, 
 320 Into her dream he melted, as the rose 
 Blendeth its odour with the violet, — ■ 
 Solution sweet : meantime the frost-wind blows 
 Like Love's alarum pattering the sharp sleet 
 Against the window-panes ; St. Agnes' moon hath set. 
 
 XXXVII 
 
 325 'Tis dark: quick pattereth the flaw-blown sleet: 
 " This is no dream, my bride, my Madeline ! " 
 'Tis dark : the iced gusts still rave and beat : 
 " No dream, alas ! alas ! and woe is mine ! 
 Porphyro will leave me here to fade and pine. — 
 
 330 Cruel ! what traitor could thee hither bring ? 
 I curse not, for my heart is lost in thine, 
 Though thou forsakest a deceived thing ; — 
 A dove forlorn and lost with sick unpruned wing." 
 
292 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 " My Madeline ! sweet dreamer ! lovely bride ! 
 
 335 Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest? 
 
 Thy beauty's shield, heart-shap'd and vermeil dyed ? 
 Ah, silver shrine, here will I take my rest 
 After so many hours of toil and quest, 
 A famish'd pilgiim, — saved by miracle. 
 
 340 Though I have found, I will not rob thy nest 
 Saving of thy sweet self ; if thou think'st well 
 To trust, fair Madeline, to no rude infidel." 
 
 XXXIX 
 
 " Hark ! 'tis an elfin storm from faery land. 
 Of haggard seeming, but a boon indeed : 
 
 345 Arise — arise! the morning is at hand; — 
 The bloated wassailers will never heed : — 
 Let us away, my love, with happy speed ; 
 There are no ears to hear, or eyes to see, — 
 Drown'd all in Rhenish and the sleepy mead : 
 
 350 Awake ! arise ! my love, and fearless be. 
 
 For o'er the southern moors I have a home for thee." 
 
 XL 
 
 She hurried at his words, beset with fears. 
 For there were sleeping dragons all around. 
 At glaring watch, perhaps, with ready spears ; 
 
 355 Down the wide stairs a darkling way they found. 
 In all the house was heard no human sound. 
 A chain-droop'd lamp was flickering by each door ; 
 The arras, rich with horseman, hawk, and hound. 
 Flutter 'd in the besieging wind's uproar ; 
 
 360 And the long carpets rose along the gusty floor. 
 
KEATS 
 
 XLI 
 
 293 
 
 They glide, like phantoms, into the wide hall ; 
 Like phantoms to the iron porch they glide. 
 Where lay the Porter, in uneasy sprawl, 
 With a huge empty flagon by his side : 
 365 The wakeful bloodhound rose, and shook his hide. 
 But his sagacious eye an inmate owns : 
 By one, and one, the bolts full easy slide : — 
 The chains lie silent on the footworn stones ; 
 The key turns, and the door upon its hinges groans ; 
 
 XLII 
 
 370 And they are gone : aye, ages long ago 
 These lovers fled away into the storm. 
 That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe, 
 And all his warrior-guests, with shade and form 
 Of witch, and demon, and large coflin-worm, 
 
 375 Were long be-nightmar'd. Angela the old 
 
 Died palsy-twitch'd, with meagre face deform : 
 The Beadsman, after thousand aves told. 
 For aye unsought-for slept among his ashes cold. 
 
 (1-108) Throughout the poem classify objects presenting the en- 
 veloping action of coldness. Analyse the dynamic phrase " black, 
 purgatorial rails," fully explaining the subjective adjective. Contrast 
 the Beadsman in the crypt as he is listening to the golden tongue of 
 music with Porphyro, who is all on fire in " Love's fev'rous citadel." 
 Analyse " Flatter'd to tears " in its power of revealing pathos in the past 
 life of the devotee. Contrast the reflective Beadsman in the ashes keep- 
 ing the eve of St. Agnes with Madeline oblivious in religious fei-vor of 
 melody, revelry, and man, preferring the voluble music of her heart. 
 Observe the beauty of dramatic antithesis shown in balancing Angela 
 with Madeline. Note the pathos in Angela's life revealed by her warm 
 sympathy that makes it possible for Porphyro to win Madeline. (109- 
 207) Behind Angela's laugh is the element of the tragical. Analyse 
 
294 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 "asleep in lap of legends old." Comment on the purity of the tragical 
 unselfishness of Angela presented in {154-162). Contrast frost and 
 fire : the helplessness of old age and the self-sustained ardour of youth. 
 By Tennyson's " Merlin and Vivien " explain the monstrous debt Merlin 
 paid his demon, and show by this how the enveloping action is not for- 
 gotten. When Angela leaves Porphyro in Madeline's apartment, we 
 grow thotightful in contemplating an old woman's endeavour to live again 
 her love-days, such as she would have had them, in all romanticism ; and 
 another serious thought arises in seeing two loved ones at one end of 
 life, and two unloved ones at the other : Porphyro and Madeline ; the 
 Beadsn«an and Angela. (208-261) Cf. (217-225) with 270-275 in Tenny- 
 son's " The Coming of Arthur " : 
 
 " Down from the casement over Arthur, smote 
 Flame colour, vert, and azure, in three rays 
 One falling upon each of three fair queens." 
 
 In Scott, where is there a similar effect of moonlight ? Cf. (237) with 
 " Drows'd with the fume of poppies " in " To Autumn." Analyse (241). 
 Cf. " as I've read love's missal " in " The Day Is Gone," and " There is 
 a budding morrow in midnight," in " To Homer." Notice the tender- 
 ness of Keats in portraying Porphyro's inability to breathe except in 
 the tumultuous moments of Madeline's slumber. (257-261) Cf. Shake- 
 spere's " If music be the food of love, play on." What a rare affection 
 is. dreaming itself into existence between the tumult of wicked revelry 
 and the calm of prayers agonizingly lifted heaven-ward by the almsman 
 and Angela ! (262-378) Analyse " azure-lidded sleep " by comparing 
 
 ". . . violets dim, 
 But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes 
 Or Cytherea's breath." W. T. Act IV. 3. 
 
 Note the contrast which is effected by "glowing hand" (271) and 
 "chilly room" (275); by "warm, unnerved arm" (280) and "iced 
 stream" (283). Alain Chartier in the fifteenth century wrote " La belle 
 dame sans mercy." What masterpieces have been read where characters 
 were awakened by delightful melodies ? Note the fine art produced at 
 this point by drawing attention to the enveloping action. (352) The 
 description causes tragical suspense. (370-378) Tears are forced to the 
 eyes, though we are certain that these lovers have found life and happi- 
 ness, leaving behind death and misery. We think that now the romance 
 is as if it had never been, that they are " Cold, cold as those who lived 
 
KEATS 295 
 
 and loved | A thousand years ago." There is the pathos of the transient, 
 but is there not joy of the permanent since they were not unsuccessful 
 lovers like Tristram and Iseult, Abelard and Eloisa, Paolo and Fran- 
 cesca, Antonio and Ginevra ? The deepest pathos is in the added thought 
 that only those who love are sought for ; those being unable to elicit 
 affection die palsy-twitched as Angela, or remain forever cold among 
 the ashes as the Beadsman. Note the poet's sense of the fitness of 
 unity in closing his poem as he began it with the same dramatic setting. 
 In Lowell's "Vision of Sir Launfal " classify objects presenting the 
 enveloping action of coldness. Analyse Tennyson's " St. Agnes' Eve," 
 and comment on its enveloping action. 
 
 ODE ON A GRECIAN URN 
 
 Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness, 
 
 Thou foster-child of silence and slow time, 
 Sylvan historian, who canst thus express 
 
 A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme : 
 5 What leaf-fring'd legend haunts about thy shape 
 
 Of deities or mortals, or of both, 
 In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? 
 
 What men or gods are these ? What maidens loth .^ 
 What mad pursuit ? What struggle to escape ? 
 10 What pipes and timbrels ? What wild ecstasy ? 
 
 II 
 
 Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard 
 
 Are sweeter ; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on ; 
 Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, 
 
 Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone ! 
 15 Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave 
 
 Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare ; 
 Bold lover, never, never, canst thou kiss, 
 
 Though winning near the goal — yet, do not grieve ; 
 
296 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bUss, 
 20 Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair ! 
 
 HI 
 
 Ah, happy, happy boughs ! that cannot shed 
 
 Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu ; 
 And happy melodist, unwearied, 
 
 Forever piping songs forever new ; 
 25 More happy love ! more happy, happy love! 
 
 Forever warm and still to be enjoy'd. 
 Forever panting, and forever young ; 
 
 All breathing human passion far above. 
 That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy'd, 
 30 A burning forehead, and a parching tongue. 
 
 Who are these coming to the sacrifice ? 
 
 To what green altar, O mysterious priest, 
 Lead'st thou that heifer lowing at the skies. 
 
 And all her silken flanks with garlands drest ? 
 35 What little town by river or sea-shore, 
 
 Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, 
 Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn ? 
 
 And, little town, thy streets forever more 
 Will silent be ; and not a soul to tell 
 40 Why thou art desolate, can e'er return. 
 
 O Attic shape ! Fair attitude ! with brede 
 Of marble men and maidens overwrought, 
 
 With forest branches and the trodden weed ; 
 Thou, silent form ! dost tease us out of thought 
 
KEA TS 297 
 
 45 As doth eternity. Cold Pastoral ! 
 
 When old age shall this generation waste, 
 Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe 
 
 Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, 
 " Beauty is truth, truth beauty, — that is all 
 50 Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." 
 
 (1-50) (7) "In Tempe." Cf. Collins' "The Passions," 86-88: 
 " They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, 
 Amidst the festal sounding shades. 
 To some unwearied minstrel dancing." 
 
 What previously read poem explains the "dales of Arcady".^ 
 (8-10) Cf. Miriam and Donatello's dance in Hawthorne's " The Mar- 
 ble Faun." (17-20) Observe Keats' power of connotation in the 
 soothing consolation given to the lover who has lost and yet has won 
 what Alexander could not by all his ardent glances win from Thais. 
 Keats has applied the permanency of the beautiful to inanimate 
 objects as well as to human beings. (38) A wild thrill of ecstasy is felt 
 in the desolation of a town which is to be forever silent. {41) Explain 
 " Attic shape." Analyse the metaphor " Cold Pastoral." What is the 
 urn's lesson ? Is it subject to adverse criticism ? In what way has the 
 romantic been applied to the classical in the ode ? Contrast this poem 
 with the close of " The Eve of St. Agnes," where is presented a study 
 in the pathos of transient affection. 
 
 ODE TO A NIGHTINGALE 
 
 My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains 
 
 My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, 
 Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains 
 
 One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk : 
 'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot. 
 But being too happy in thine happiness, — 
 That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, 
 In some melodious plot 
 
298 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, 
 10 Singest of summer in full-throated ease. 
 
 O, for a draught of vintage ! that hath been 
 
 Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth. 
 Tasting of Flora and the country -green, 
 
 Dance, and Provencal song, and sunburnt mirth 
 15 O for a beaker full of the warm South, 
 
 Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, 
 With beaded bubbles winking at the brim. 
 And purple-stained mouth ; 
 That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, 
 20 And with thee fade away into the forest dim ; 
 
 Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget 
 
 What thou among the leaves hast never known. 
 The weariness, the fever, and the fret 
 
 Here, where men sit and hear each other groan ; 
 25 Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, 
 
 Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies ; 
 Where but to think is to be full of sorrow 
 And leaden-eyed despairs. 
 Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, 
 30 Or new Love pine at them beyond tomorrow. 
 
 Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee. 
 
 Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, 
 
 But on the viewless wings of Poesy, 
 
 Though the dull brain perplexes and retards : 
 
KEATS 299 
 
 35 Already with thee ! tender is the night, 
 
 And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, 
 Cluster 'd around by all her starry Fays ; 
 But here there is no light. 
 Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown 
 40 Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways. 
 
 I cannot see what flowers are at my feet. 
 
 Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, 
 But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet 
 Wherewith the seasonable month endows 
 45 The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild ; 
 White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine ; 
 Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves ; 
 And mid-May's eldest child. 
 The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, 
 50 The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves. 
 
 VI 
 
 Darkling I listen ; and, for many a time 
 
 I have been half in love with easeful Death, 
 Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, 
 To take into the air my quiet breath ; 
 55 Now more than ever seems it rich to die. 
 
 To cease upon the midnight with no pain. 
 While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad 
 In such an ecstasy ! 
 Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — 
 60 To thy high requiem become a sod. 
 
 Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird I 
 No hungry generations tread thee down ; 
 
500 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The voice I hear this passing night was heard 
 In ancient days by emperor and clown : 
 65 Perhaps the self-same song that found a path 
 
 Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, 
 She stood in tears amid the alien corn ; 
 The same that oft-times hath 
 Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam 
 70 Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn. 
 
 Forlorn ! the very word is like a bell 
 
 To toll me back from thee to my sole self ! 
 Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well 
 As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf. 
 7 5 Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades 
 
 Past the near meadows, over the still stream, 
 Up the hill-side ; and now 'tis buried deep 
 In the next valley-glades : 
 Was it a vision, or a waking dream ? 
 80 Fled is that music : — Do I wake or sleep ? 
 
 {1-80) The death of Thomas Keats occasioned this poem. Explain 
 (6). Cf. (11-12) to a prose parallel in a letter to his sister: "and, 
 please heaven, a little claret wine cool out of a cellar a mile deep." 
 Keats purposely departs from the regular metre of the ode with 
 an Alexandrine in (20). (26) Cf. Keats' letter to Brown from Rome, 
 30th Nov. 1820: "it runs in my head we shall all die young." (Refer- 
 ring to his family.) Keats, while listening to the nightingale's song, be- 
 wails the fact that the mighty abstract idea of beauty takes away all 
 peace from the mind of man. (41) Notice the sensuous art of Keats 
 in guessing at Nature's sweetness in the dark. Analyse " embalmed 
 darkness." Observe that the sensuous last two lines of stanza five 
 suggest the thoughts of the sixth stanza. (52) Where was Keats bur- 
 ied ? Shelley in his preface to " Adonais " says : " It might make 
 one in love with death to think that one should be buried in so sweet a 
 place." (55) A rich and easeful death did not come to Keats. (59) 
 Shelley in " The Sensitive Plant " writes : 
 
KEATS 301 
 
 " Only overhead the sweet nightingale 
 Ever sang more sweet as the day might fail, 
 And snatches of its Elysian chaunt 
 Were mixed with the dreams of the Sensitive Plant." 
 
 (60) Here, in a sybaritic manner, Keats expresses the ecstasy of dying 
 to the notes of a nightingale. Compare : 
 
 " Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard 
 Are sweeter." — Ode On A Grecian Urn. 
 
 Also, compare Poe's " For Annie," where this sensuousness of death is 
 morbidly painted : 
 
 " For now, while so quietly 
 Lying, it fancies 
 A holier odor 
 
 About it, of pansies — 
 A rosemary odor. 
 
 Commingled with pansies, 
 With rue and the beautiful 
 Puritan pansies." 
 
 Wherein (41-60) are nature pictures similar to those of Milton's.'' 
 (62) Explain in reference to Keats' life. Analyse (67), and how does 
 this line suggest a fine lyric of Wordsworth's with which you are famil- 
 iar? Compare {72) with these lines from " Endymion ": 
 
 ". . . how crude and sore 
 The journey homeward to habitual self ! " 
 
 LA BELLE DAME SANS MERQ 
 I 
 
 O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, 
 Alone and palely loitering ? 
 
 The sedge has wither'd from the lake, 
 And no birds sing. 
 
 O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms, 
 So haggard and so woe-begone ? 
 
;02 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The squirrel's granary is full, 
 And the harvest's done. 
 
 I see a lily on thy brow 
 
 With anguish moist and fever dew, 
 And on thy cheeks a fading rose 
 
 Fast withereth too. 
 
 I met a lady in the meads, 
 
 Full beautiful — a faery's child, 
 1 5 Her hair was long, her foot was light, 
 And her eyes were wild. 
 
 I made a garland for her head, 
 
 And bracelets too, and fragrant zone ; 
 
 She look'd at me as she did love, 
 And made sweet moan. 
 
 I set her on my pacing steed, 
 
 And nothing else saw all day long, 
 
 For sidelong would she bend, and sing 
 A faery's song. 
 
 25 She found me roots of relish sweet. 
 And honey wild, and manna dew. 
 And sure in language strange she said 
 " I love thee true." 
 
KEA TS 303 
 
 She took me to her elfin grot, 
 30 And there she wept, and sigh'd full sore, 
 And there I shut her wild wild eyes 
 With kisses four. 
 
 IX 
 
 And there she lulled me asleep. 
 
 And there I dream'd — Ah ! woe betide ! 
 35 The latest dream I ever dream'd 
 On the cold hill's side. 
 
 I saw pale kings and princes too, 
 
 Pale warriors, death-pale were they all ; 
 They cried — " La Belle Dame sans Merci 
 40 Hath thee in thrall ! " 
 
 I saw their starved lips in the gloam, 
 With horrid warning gaped wide, 
 
 And I awoke and found me here, 
 On the cold hill's side. 
 
 45 And this is why I sojourn here, 
 Alone and palely loitering. 
 Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake. 
 And no birds sing. 
 
 ( 1-48 ) This production is a triumph of mediaeval romanticism. 
 This poem is a bit of impressionism; i. e., a single object presented 
 from a single point of view, or a piece of nature tinged with the colour 
 of a fleeting mood. What episode in Spenser's " Faerie Queene," Book 
 
304 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 I. Canto II. Stanzas 28-45, ^^^^ influenced the plot of the ballad ? Is 
 Lord Houghton's version ( 29-32 ) preferable to that in " The Indi- 
 cator" : 
 
 " She took me to her elfin grot, 
 
 And there she gaz'd and sighed deep, 
 And then I shut her wild sad eyes — 
 So kiss'd to sleep." 
 
 ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER 
 
 Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold, 
 And many goodly states and kingdoms seen : 
 Round many western islands have I been 
 
 Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. 
 5 Oft of one wide expanse had I been told 
 
 That deep-brow'd Homer rul'd as his demesne: 
 Yet did I never breathe its pure serene 
 
 Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : 
 
 Then felt I like some watcher of the skies 
 10 When a new planet swims into his ken; 
 
 Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes 
 He stared at the Pacific — and all his men 
 
 Look'd at each other with a wild surmise — 
 Silent, upon a peak in Darien. 
 
 Ascertain what occasioned the poem. This sonnet is a fine example 
 of unity in composition. 
 
 LAST SONNET 
 
 Written On A Blank Page In Shakespeare's Poems, 
 Facing " A Lover's Complaint." 
 
 Bright star ! would I were steadfast as thou art — 
 Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night, 
 
 And watching, with eternal lids apart, 
 Like Nature's patient sleepless Eremite, 
 
KEATS 305 
 
 5 The moving waters at their priest-like task 
 
 Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, 
 
 Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask 
 
 Of snow upon the mountains and the moors — 
 
 No — yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, 
 10 Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, 
 
 To feel forever its soft fall and swell, 
 Awake forever in a sweet unrest, 
 
 Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath. 
 
 And so live ever — or else swoon to death. 
 
 (1-14) Where and under what circumstances was this sonnet written ? 
 Note the form of its sonnet structure. What lines bear comparison to 
 (55-60) of "Ode To A Nightingale"? In one of Keats' letters is an 
 exclamation, " O for a life of sensations rather than of thoughts ! " In 
 these few poems which you have read he is under the control of the 
 senses. 
 
3o6 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRV 
 
 PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY 
 
 1792-1822 
 
 ... a beautiful and ineffectual angel, beating in the void his luminous 
 wings in vain. — Matthew Arnold. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 The Sensitive Plant. 
 Ode To The West Wind. 
 The Cloud. 
 
 View From The Euganean Hills. 
 
 Beatrice's Expostulation With Death (The Cenci, Act V. IV.). 
 Life Of Life ! Thy Lips Enkindle (Prometheus Unbound, 
 
 Act IL v.). 
 A Lament. 
 Love's Philosophy. 
 I Arise From Dreams Of Thee — 
 When The Lamp Is Shattered — • 
 Arethusa. ■ 
 Stanzas Written In Dejection Near Naples. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 With hue like that when some great painter dips 
 His pencil in the gloom of earthquake and eclipse. 
 
 — Revolt Of Islam. 
 
 Life of Life ! thy lips enkindle 
 
 With their love the breath between them. . . . 
 
 — Prometheus Unbound. 
 
 Death is the veil which those who live call life ; 
 
 They sleep and it is lifted. . . . — Pro>netheus Unbound. 
 
 To love and bear ; to hope till Hope creates 
 From its own wreck the thing it contemplates. . . . 
 
 — Prometheus Unbound. 
 
SHELLE Y 
 
 307 
 
 True love in this differs from gold and clay, 
 
 That to divide is not to take away. — Epipsychidion. 
 
 The fountains of our deepest life shall be 
 
 Confused in passion's golden purity. ... — - Epipsychidion. 
 
 Most wretched men 
 Are cradled into poetry by wrong ; 
 They learn in suffering what they teach in song. 
 
 — jfulian And Maddalo. 
 
 ADONAIS 
 
 I weep for Adonais — he is dead ! 
 Oh, weep for Adonais ! though our tears 
 Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head ! 
 And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years 
 To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers, 
 And teach them thine own sorrow ; say : With me 
 Died Adonais ; till the Future dares 
 Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be 
 An echo and a light unto eternity 1 
 
 II 
 
 Where wert thou, mighty Mother, when he lay 
 When thy son lay, pierced by the shaft which flies 
 In darkness ? where was lorn Urania 
 When Adonais died ? With veiled eyes, 
 'Mid listening Echoes, in her Paradise 
 She sate, while one, with soft enamoured breath, 
 Rekindled all the fading melodies. 
 With which, like flowers that mock the corse beneath, 
 He had adorned and hid the coming bulk of death. 
 
308 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 III 
 
 Oh, weep for Adonais — • he is dead ! 
 
 Wake, melancholy Mother, wake and weep ! 
 20 Yet wherefore ? Quench within their burning bed 
 
 Thy fiery tears, and let thy loud heart keep, 
 
 Like his, a mute and uncomplaining sleep ; 
 
 For he is gone, where all things wise and fair 
 25 Descend: — oh, dream not that the amorous Deep 
 
 Will yet restore him to the vital air ; 
 Death feeds on his mute voice, and laughs at our despair. 
 
 IV 
 
 Most musical of mourners, weep again ! 
 Lament anew, Urania ! — He died, 
 
 30 Who was the Sire of an immortal strain. 
 
 Blind, old, and lonely, when his country's pride 
 The priest, the slave, and the liberticide 
 Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite 
 Of lust and blood ; he went, unterrified, 
 
 35 Into the gulf of death ; but his clear Sprite 
 
 Yet reigns o'er earth, the third among the sons of light. 
 
 Most musical of mourners, weep anew ! 
 Not all to that bright station dared to climb : 
 And happier they their happiness who knew, 
 
 40 Whose tapers yet burn through that night of time 
 In which suns perished ; others more sublime. 
 Struck by the envious wrath of man or God, 
 Have sunk, extinct in their refulgent prime ; 
 And some yet live, treading the thorny road, 
 
 45 Which leads, through toil and hate, to Fame's serene 
 abode. 
 
SHELLE V ^6g 
 
 But now, thy youngest, dearest one, has perished, 
 The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew 
 Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherished, 
 And fed with true love tears instead of dew ; 
 50 Most musical of mourners, weep anew ! 
 
 Thy extreme hope, the loveliest and the last, 
 The bloom, whose petals nipt before they blew 
 Died on the promise of the fruit, is waste ; 
 The broken lily dies — the stprm is overpast. 
 
 VII 
 
 55 To that high Capital, where kingly Death 
 Keeps his pale court in beauty and decay, 
 He came ; and bought, with price of purest breath, 
 A grave among the eternal. — Come away ! 
 Haste, while the vault of blue Italian day 
 
 60 Is yet his fitting charnel-roof ! while still 
 He lies, as if in dewy sleep he lay ; 
 Awake him not ! surely he takes his fill 
 Of deep and liquid rest, forgetful of all ill. 
 
 He will awake no more, oh, never more ! 
 65 Within the twilight chamber spreads apace 
 
 The shadow of white Death, and at the door 
 
 Invisible Corruption waits to trace 
 
 His extreme way to her dim dwelling-place ; 
 
 The eternal Hunger sits, but pity and awe 
 70 Soothe her pale rage, nor dares she to deface 
 
 So fair a prey, till darkness and the law 
 Of change shall o'er his sleep the mortal curtain draw. 
 
lO ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Oh, weep for Adonais ! — The quick Dreams, 
 The passion-winged Ministers of thought, 
 75 Who were his flocks, whom near the Hving streams 
 Of his young spirit he fed, and whom he taught 
 The love which was its music, wander not,— 
 Wander no more, from kindling brain to brain. 
 But droop there, whence they sprung; and mourii 
 their lot 
 So Round the cold heart, where, after their sweet pain, 
 They ne'er will gather strength, nor find a home 
 again. 
 
 X 
 
 And one with trembling hand clasps his cold head, 
 And fans him with her moonlight wings, and cries, 
 " Our love, our hope, our sorrow, is not dead ; 
 
 85 See, on the silken fringe of his faint eyes, 
 Like dew upon a sleeping flower, there lies 
 A tear some dream hath loosened from his brain." 
 Lost Angel of a ruined Paradise ! 
 She knew not 'twas her own, as with no stain 
 
 90 She faded, like a cloud which had outwept its rain. 
 
 One from a lucid urn of starry dew 
 Washed his light limbs, as if embalming them ; 
 Another dipt her profuse locks, and threw 
 The wreath upon him, like an anadem, 
 95 Which frozen tears instead of pearls begem ; 
 Another in her wilful grief would break 
 Her bow and winged reeds, as if to stem 
 A greater loss with one which was more weak ; 
 And dull the barbed fire against his frozen cheek. 
 
SHELLEY 
 
 3" 
 
 loo Another Splendour on his mouth alit, 
 
 That mouth whence it was wont to draw the breath 
 Which gave it strength to pierce the guarded wit, 
 And pass into the panting heart beneath 
 With lightning and with music ; the damp death 
 
 105 Quenched its caress upon its icy lips; 
 And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath 
 Of moonlight vapour, which the cold night clips, 
 It flushed through his pale limbs, and passed to its 
 eclipse. 
 
 * XIII 
 
 And others came, — Desires and Adorations, 
 no Winged Persuasions, and veiled Destinies, 
 
 Splendours and Glooms and glimmering Incarnations 
 Of hopes and fears, and twilight Phantasies ; 
 And Sorrow, with her family of Sighs, 
 And Pleasure, blind with tears, led by the gleam 
 115 Of her own dying smile instead of eyes. 
 
 Came in slow pomp ; — the moving pomp might 
 seem 
 Like pageantry of mist on an autumnal stream. 
 
 XIV . 
 
 All he had loved, and moulded into thought 
 
 From shape, and hue, and odour, and sweet sound, 
 
 120 Lamented Adonais. Morning sought 
 
 Her eastern watch-tower, and her hair unbound. 
 Wet with the tears which should adorn the ground. 
 Dimmed the aerial eyes that kindle day ; 
 Afar the melancholy thunder moaned, 
 
 125 Pale Ocean in unquiet slumber lay. 
 
 And the wild winds flew around, sobbing in their dismay. 
 
312 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Lost Echo sits amid the voiceless mountains, 
 And feeds her grief with his remembered lay, 
 And will no more reply to winds or fountains, 
 
 130 Or amorous birds perched on the young green spray, 
 Or herdsman's horn, or bell at closing day ; 
 Since she can mimic not his lips, more dear 
 Than those for whose distain she pined away 
 Into a shadow of all sounds : — a drear 
 
 135 Murmur, between their songs, is all the woodmen hear. 
 
 Grief made the young Spring wild, and she threw down 
 Her kindling buds, as if she Autumn were. 
 Or they dead leaves ; since her delight is flown, 
 For whom should she have waked the sullen year ? 
 140 To Phoebus was not Hyacinth so dear. 
 Nor to himself Narcissus, as to both 
 Thou, Adonais ; wan they stand and sere 
 Amid the faint companions of their youth, 
 With dew all turned to tears, odour to sighing ruth. 
 
 145 Thy spirit's sister, the lorn nightingale. 
 
 Mourns not her mate with such melodious pain : 
 
 Not so the eagle, who like thee could scale 
 
 Heaven, and could nourish in the sun's domain ■, 
 
 Her mighty youth with morning, doth complain, \ 
 
 150 Soaring and screaming round her empty nest, J 
 
 As Albion wails for thee ; the curse of Cain »i 
 
 Light on his head who pierced thy innocent breast, | 
 
 And scared the angel soul that was its earthly guest ! \ 
 
SHELLE V 
 
 313 
 
 Ah, woe is me ! Winter is come and gone, 
 155 But grief returns with the revolving year ; 
 
 The airs and streams renew their joyous tone ; 
 
 The ants, the bees, the swallows, re-appear ; 
 
 Fresh leaves and flowers deck the dead Seasons' bier ; 
 
 The amorous birds now pair in every brake, 
 160 And build their mossy homes in field and brere ; 
 
 And the green lizard, and the golden snake. 
 Like unimprisoned flames, out of their trance awake. 
 
 XIX 
 
 Through wood and stream and field and hill and Ocean 
 A quickening life from the Earth's heart has burst, 
 
 165 As it has ever done, with change and motion, 
 From the great morning of the world when first 
 God dawned on Chaos ; in its stream immersed. 
 The lamps of Heaven flash with a softer light ; 
 All baser things pant with life's sacred thirst, 
 
 170 Diffuse themselves, and spend in love's delight 
 The beauty and the joy of their renewed might. 
 
 The leprous corpse, touched by this spirit tender, 
 Exhales itself in flowers of gentle breath ; 
 Like incarnations of the stars, when splendour 
 
 175 Is changed to fragrance, they illumine death, 
 
 And mock the merry worm that wakes beneath ; 
 Nought we know dies. Shall that alone which knows 
 Be as a sword consumed before the sheath 
 By sightless lightning ? th' intense atom glows 
 
 180 A moment, then is quenched in a most cold repose. 
 
314 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Alas ! that all we loved of him should be, 
 But for our grief, as if it had not been, 
 And grief itself be mortal ! Woe is me ! 
 Whence are we, and why are we ? of what scene 
 185 The actors or spectators? Great and mean 
 
 Meet massed in death, who lends what life must borrow. 
 As long as skies are blue, and fields are green, 
 Evening must usher night, night urge the morrow, 
 Month follow month with woe, and year wake year to 
 sorrow. 
 
 XXII 
 
 190 He will awake no more, oh, never more! 
 
 " Wake thou," cried Misery, " childless Mother, rise 
 Out of thy sleep, and slake, in thy heart's core, 
 A wound more fierce than his with tears and sighs." 
 And all the Dreams that watched Urania's eyes, 
 
 195 And all the Echoes whom their sister's song 
 Had held in holy silence, cried : " Arise ! " 
 Swift as a Thought by the snake Memory stung, 
 From her ambrosial rest the fading Splendour sprung. 
 
 XXIII 
 
 She rose like an autumnal Night, that springs 
 200 Out of the East, and follows wild and drear 
 
 The golden Day, which, on eternal wings. 
 
 Even as a ghost abandoning a bier. 
 
 Has left the Earth a corpse. Sorrow and fear 
 
 So struck, so roused, so rapt Urania, 
 205 So saddened round her Hke an atmosphere 
 
 Of stormy mist, so swept her on her way, 
 Even to the mournful place where Adonais lay. 
 
SHELLEY 
 
 15 
 
 Out of her secret Paradise she sped, 
 
 Through camps and cities rough with stone and steel, 
 210 And human hearts, which to her aery tread 
 
 Yielding not, wounded the invisible 
 
 Palms of her tender feet where'er they fell ; 
 
 And barbed tongues, and thoughts more sharp than 
 they, 
 
 Rent the soft Form they never could repel, 
 215 Whose sacred blood, like the young tears of May, 
 Paved with eternal flowers that undeserving way. 
 
 In the death-chamber for a moment Death, 
 Shamed by the presence of that living Might, 
 Blushed to annihilation, and the breath 
 
 220 Revisited those lips, and life's pale light 
 
 Flashed through those limbs, so late her dear delight. 
 " Leave me not wild and drear and comfortless. 
 As silent lightning leaves the starless night ! 
 Leave me not ! " cried Urania : her distress 
 
 225 Roused Death; Death rose and smiled, and met her 
 vain caress. 
 
 XXVI 
 
 " Stay yet awhile ! speak to me once again ; 
 Kiss me, so long but as a kiss may live ; 
 And in my heartless breast and burning brain 
 That word, that kiss shall all thoughts else survive, 
 230 With food of saddest memory kept alive, 
 Now thou art dead, as if it were a part 
 Of thee, my Adonais ! I would give 
 All that I am to be as thou now art ! 
 But I am chained to Time, and cannot thence depart ! 
 
3 1 6 ANTHOLOG Y OF ENGLISH POE TR Y 
 
 XXVII 
 
 23s " O gentle child, beautiful as thou wert, 
 
 Why didst thou leave the trodden paths of men 
 Too soon, and with weak hands though mighty heart 
 Dare the unpastured dragon in his den ? 
 Defenceless as thou wert, oh ! where was then 
 
 240 Wisdom the mirror'd shield, or scorn the spear? 
 Or hadst thou waited the full cycle, when 
 Thy spirit should have filled its crescent sphere, 
 The monsters of life's waste had fled from thee like deer. 
 
 " The herded wolves, bold only to pursue, 
 245 The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead, 
 The vultures, to the conqueror's banner true, 
 Who feed where Desolation first has fed. 
 And whose wings rain contagion, — how they fled, 
 When, like Apollo, from his golden bow, 
 250 The Pythian of the age one arrow sped 
 
 And smiled ! — The spoilers tempt no second blow ; 
 They fawn on the proud feet that spurn them lying low. 
 
 " The sun comes forth, and many reptiles spawn ; 
 
 He sets, and each ephemeral insect then 
 255 Is gathered into death without a dawn. 
 
 And the immortal stars awake again : 
 
 So it is in the world of living men ; 
 
 A godlike mind soars forth, in its delight 
 
 Making earth bare, and veiling Heaven, and when 
 260 It sinks, the swarms that dimmed or shared its light 
 Leave to its kindred lamps the spirit's awful night." 
 
SHELLE Y 
 
 XXX 
 
 317 
 
 Thiis ceased she ; and the mountain shepherds came, 
 Their garlands sere, their magic mantles rent ; 
 The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame 
 
 265 Over his living head like Heaven is bent, 
 An early but enduring monument, 
 Came, veiling all the lightnings of his song 
 In sorrow ; from her wilds lerne sent 
 The sweetest lyrist of her saddest wrong, 
 
 270 And love taught grief to fall like music from his tongue. 
 
 'Midst others of less note, came one frail Form, 
 A phantom among men, companionless 
 As the last cloud of an expiring storm. 
 Whose thunder is its knell ; he, as I guess, 
 275 Had gazed on Nature's naked loveliness, 
 Actaeon-like, and now he fled astray 
 With feeble steps o'er the world's wilderness, 
 And hi.= own thoughts, along that rugged way, 
 Pursued, like raging hounds, their father and their 
 prey. 
 
 XXXII 
 
 280 A pard-like Spirit beautiful and swift — 
 A love in desolation masked — a Power 
 Girt round with weakness — it can scarce uplift 
 The weight of the superincumbent hour ; 
 It is a dying lamp, a falling shower, 
 
 285 A breaking billow ; — even whilst we speak 
 Is it not broken ? On the withering flower 
 The killing sun smiles brightly ; on a cheek 
 The life can burn in blood, even while the heart may 
 break. 
 
3l8 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 His head was bound with pansies overblown, 
 290 And faded violets, white, and pied, and blue ; 
 And a light spear topped with a cypress cone, 
 Round whose rude shaft dark ivy tresses grew 
 Yet dripping with the forest's noon-day dew. 
 Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart 
 295 Shook the weak hand that grasped it; of that crew 
 He came the last, neglected and apart ; 
 A herd-abandoned deer, struck by the hunter's dart. 
 
 All stood aloof, and at his partial moan 
 
 Smiled through their tears ; well knew that gentle band 
 
 300 Who in another's fate now wept his own ; 
 As in the accents of an unknown land 
 He sang new sorrow ; sad Urania scanned 
 The Stranger's mien, and murmured : " Who art thou ? " 
 He answered not, but with a sudden hand 
 
 305 Made bare his branded and ensanguined brow, 
 
 Which was like Cain's or Christ's. Oh ! that it should 
 be so ! 
 
 What softer voice is hushed over the dead ? 
 
 Athwart what brow is that dark mantle thrown ? 
 
 What form leans sadly o'er the white death-bed, 
 310 In mockery of monumental stone. 
 
 The heavy heart heaving without a moan ? 
 
 If it be he, who, gentlest of the wise, 
 
 Taught, soothed, loved, honoured the departed one ; 
 
 Let me not vex, with inharmonious sighs, 
 315 The silence of that heart's accepted sacrifice. 
 
StiELLEY 319 
 
 Our Adonais has drunk poison — oh ! 
 What deaf and viperous murderer could crown 
 Life's early cup with such a draught of woe ? 
 The nameless worm would now itself disown ; 
 320 It felt, yet could escape the magic tone 
 
 Whose prelude held all envy, hate, and wrong, 
 But what was howling in one breast alone, 
 Silent with expectation of the song, 
 Whose master's hand is cold, whose silver lyre unstrung. 
 
 325 Live thou, whose infamy is not thy fame ! 
 
 Live ! fear no heavier chastisement from me, 
 
 Thou noteless blot on a remembered name ! 
 
 But be thyself, and know thyself to be ! 
 
 And ever at thy season be thou free 
 330 To spill the venom when thy fangs o'erflow; 
 
 Remorse and Self-contempt shall cling to thee ; 
 
 Hot Shame shall burn upon thy secret brow, 
 And like a beaten hound tremble thou shalt — as now. 
 
 XXXVIII 
 
 Nor let us weep that our delight is fled 
 335 Far from these carrion-kites that scream below ; 
 
 He wakes or sleeps with the enduring dead ; 
 
 Thou canst not soar where he is sitting now. 
 
 Dust to the dust ! but the pure spirit shall flow 
 
 Back to the burning fountain whence it came, 
 340 A portion of the Eternal, which must glow 
 
 Through time and change, unquenchably the same, 
 Whilst thy cold embers choke the sordid hearth of shame. 
 
320 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Peace, peace ! he is not dead, he doth not sleep — 
 He hath awakened from the dream of hfe — 
 
 345 'Tis we, who, lost hi stormy visions keep 
 With phantoms an unprofitable strife. 
 And in mad trance strike with our spirit's knife 
 Invulnerable nothings — We decay 
 Like corpses in a charnel ; fear and grief 
 
 350 Convulse us and consume us day by day. 
 
 And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay, 
 
 He has outsoared the shadow of our night ; 
 Envy and calumny, and hate and pain. 
 And that unrest which men miscall delight, 
 
 355 Can touch him not, and torture not again; 
 
 From the contagion of the world's slow stain 
 He is secure, and now can never mourn 
 A heart grown cold, a head grown grey in vain ; 
 Nor when the spirit's self has ceased to burn, 
 
 360 With sparkless ashes load an unlamented urn. 
 
 He lives, he wakes — 'tis Death is dead, not he ; 
 Mourn not for Adonais. — Thou young Dawn, 
 Turn all thy dew to splendour, for from thee 
 The spirit thou lamentest is not gone ; 
 365 Ye caverns and ye forests, cease to moan ! 
 
 Cease ye faint flowers and fountains, and thou Air, 
 Which like a mourning veil thy scarf hadst thrown 
 O'er the abandoned Earth, now leave it bare 
 Even to the joyous stars which smile on its despair ! 
 
SHELLE y 321 
 
 370 He is made one with Nature : there is heard 
 His voice in all her music, from the moan 
 Of thunder to the song of night's sweet bird ; 
 He is a presence to be felt and known 
 In darkness and in light, from herb and stone, 
 
 375 Spreading itself where'er that Power may move 
 Which has withdrawn his being to its own ; 
 Which wields the world with never wearied love 
 Sustains it from beneath, and kindles it above. 
 
 XLIII 
 
 He is a portion of the loveliness 
 
 380 Which once he made more lovely : he doth bear 
 His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress 
 Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there 
 All new successions to the forms they wear, 
 Torturing th' unwilling dross that checks its flight 
 
 385 To its own likeness, as each mass may bear ; 
 And bursting in its beauty and its might 
 From trees and beasts and men into the Heaven's light. 
 
 The splendours of the firmament of time 
 May be eclipsed, but are extinguished not ; 
 
 390 Like stars to their appointed height they climb, 
 And death is a low mist which cannot blot 
 The brightness it may veil. When lofty thought 
 Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair, 
 And love and life contend in it, for what 
 
 395 Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there, 
 
 And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air. 
 
32 2 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH FOE TR Y 
 
 XLV 
 
 The inheritors of unfulfilled renown 
 
 Rose from their thrones, built beyond mortal thought, 
 
 Far in the Unapparent. Chatterton 
 400 Rose pale, his solemn agony had not 
 
 Yet faded from him ; Sidney, as he fought 
 
 And as he fell, and as he lived and loved, 
 
 Sublimely mild, a Spirit without spot. 
 
 Arose ; and Lucan, by his death approved ; 
 405 Oblivion as they rose shrank like a thing reproved. 
 
 And many more, whose names on Earth are dark, 
 But whose transmitted efiiuence cannot die 
 So long as fire outlives the parent spark, 
 Rose, robed in dazzling immortality. 
 410 " Thou art become as one of us," they cry; 
 
 " It was for thee yon kingless sphere has long 
 Swung blind in unascended majesty, 
 Silent alone amid a Heaven of song. 
 Assume thy winged throne, thou Vesper of our throng ! " 
 
 XL VII 
 
 415 Who mourns for Adonais ? oh come forth, 
 
 Fond wretch ! and know thyself and him aright. , 
 Clasp with thy panting soul the pendulous Earth ; 
 As from a centre, dart thy spirit's light 
 Beyond all worlds, until its spacious might 
 
 420 Satiate the void circumference : then shrink 
 Even to a point within our day and night ; 
 And keep thy heart light, lest it make thee sink 
 When hope has kindled hope, and lured thee to the brink. 
 
SHELLEY 323 
 
 XVLIII 
 
 Or go to Rome, which is the sepulchre, 
 425 Oh, not of him, but of our joy : 'tis nought 
 That ages, empires, and religions, there 
 Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought ; 
 For such as he can lend, — they borrow not 
 Glory from those who made the world their prey ; 
 430 And he is gathered to the kings of thought 
 
 Who waged contention with their time's decay. 
 And of the past are all that cannot pass away. 
 
 XLIX 
 
 Go thou to Rome, — at once the Paradise, 
 The grave, the city, and the wilderness ; 
 
 435 And where its wrecks like shattered mountains rise, 
 And flowering weeds and fragrant copses dress 
 The bones of Desolation's nakedness. 
 Pass, till the Spirit of the spot shall lead 
 Thy footsteps to a slope of green access, 
 
 440 Where, like an infant's smile, over the dead 
 
 A light of laughing flowers along the grass is spread. 
 
 And grey walls moulder round, on which dull Time 
 Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand ; 
 And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime, 
 
 445 Pavilioning the dust of him who planned 
 This refuge for his memory, doth stand 
 Like flame transformed to marble ; and beneath 
 A field is spread, on which a newer band 
 Have pitched in Heaven's smile their camp of death, 
 
 450 Welcoming him we lose with scarce extinguished breath. 
 
324 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 LI 
 
 Here pause : these graves are all too young as yet 
 To have outgrown the sorrow which consigned 
 Its charge to each ; and if the seal is set, 
 Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind, 
 455 Break it not thou ! too surely shalt thou find 
 Thine own well full, if thou returnest home, 
 Of tears and gall. P'rom the world's bitter wind 
 Seek shelter in the shadow of the tomb. 
 What Adonais is, why fear we to become ? 
 
 LII 
 
 460 The One remains, the many change and pass ; 
 
 Heaven's light forever shines. Earth's shadows fly; 
 Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, 
 Stains the white radiance of Eternity, 
 Until Death tramples it to fragments. — Die, 
 
 465 If thou wouldst be with that which thou dost seek ! 
 Follow where all is fled ! — Rome's azure sky, 
 Flowers, ruins, statues, music, words are weak 
 The glory they transfuse with fitting truth to speak. 
 
 LIII 
 
 Why linger, why turn back, why shrink, my Heart ? 
 
 470 Thy hopes are gone before : from all things here 
 They have departed ; thou shouldst now depart ! 
 A light is past from the revolving year. 
 And man, and woman ; and what still is dear 
 Attracts to crush, repels to make thee wither. 
 
 475 The soft sky smiles, — the low wind whispers near: 
 'Tis Adonais calls ! oh, hasten thither. 
 No more let Life divide what Death can join together. 
 
SHELLEY 
 
 LIV 
 
 325 
 
 That light whose smile kindles the Universe, 
 That Beauty in which all things work and move, 
 
 480 That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse 
 
 Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love 
 Which, through the web of being blindly wove 
 By man and beast and earth and air and sea. 
 Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of 
 
 485 The fire for which all thirst, now beams on me. 
 Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality. 
 
 LV 
 
 The breath whose might I have invoked in song 
 
 Descends on me ; my spirit's bark is driven 
 
 Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng 
 490 Whose sails were never to the tempest given ; 
 
 The massy earth and sphered skies are riven ! 
 
 I am borne darkly, fearfully afar ; 
 
 Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, 
 
 The soul of Adonais, like a star, 
 495 Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are. 
 
 (1-117) Tell the meaning of the word "Adonais." When Shelley 
 heard of the death of Keats, he was living at Pisa. It was in the 
 spring of 1821 that this elegy was written. What line in " Lycidas" is 
 recalled by (10) ? Surely one recounts with "soft enamoured breath" 
 the melodic poems of Keats'. In what poem does Keats make death so 
 beautiful that it is rich to die ? (29-36) Milton was the sire of an im- 
 mortal strain. Homer and Virgil were the two other "sons of light." 
 (37-45) Many mediocre poets " tapers " had been happier in their 
 obscurity than if they had climbed to Milton's " bright station " ; many 
 illustrious poets " in their refulgent prime ' ' had perished miserably, as 
 Edmund Spenser, neglected by man or God ; and " some yet live," 
 Byron and Shelley, who are 
 
 ". . . treading the thorny road. 
 Which leads, through toil and hate, to Fame's serene abode." 
 
326 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 (46-49) Read stanza LIII. of Keats' " Isabella " where the maiden 
 sheds tears over her "sweet Basil." Interpret (62-63) ^y " Ode to a 
 Nightingale." Explain " The eternal Hunger." The heart of Keats' is 
 regarded as the fold of the sheep of dreams, (i 18-153) Scan 126. 
 Compare the grief of Spring with that in " Lycidas." Where, before, 
 has the Hyacinth legend been mentioned.-' Shelley erroneously be- 
 lieved that Keats had come to his death on account of adverse criticism 
 meted out by Gifford. Shelley is not really sick at heart by reason of 
 the death of Keats. Compare Milton's grief for Edward King, (i 54-189) 
 From nature's phenomena, Shelley tries to prove that nought of matter 
 dies. Keats soon will be as if he had never been, and those who grieve 
 will soon be as he; therefore, grief is mortal and as subject to change as 
 nature. (190-252) (190) Here for the second time is the wild throb of 
 a compressible pulse, which reminds us of Professor C. F. Johnson's 
 words: "This poem of ^^y(j««w is so surcharged with emotion that it 
 causes us to doubt if Shelley could have been a long-lived man had he 
 escaped the violent death he was soon to meet." Give Trelawny's 
 account of Shelley's death by drowning. " Recollections of Shelley and 
 Byron," Chapter XI. What books were being read by him at the time ? 
 (244-252) Professor C. F. Johnson in his "Elements of Literary 
 Criticism," commenting on the wolves, ravens, and vultures, says these 
 "are to Shelley, not a particular set of living men, but rather the prin- 
 ciples of stupidity, greed, and selfishness, which manifest themselves in 
 society in continual conflict with righteousness, love, and spiritual 
 illumination." Byron's javelins were flung in " English Bards and Scotch 
 Reviewers " at Brougham and Jeffrey. Keats when attacked by the 
 savage Quarterly did not use the same tactics. (253-288) Note Shelley's 
 return to pastoral style. Byron is the Pilgrim of Eternity. Moore is 
 the sweetest of Ireland's lyrists. Shelley is represented by 
 
 ". . . frail Form, 
 A phantom among men." 
 
 (275-279) Some of these consuming thoughts, pursuing him from a 
 questionable past, are reminders of his cruel treatment of Harriet West- 
 brook. (289-342) Notice the heart that shows the wildly vibrating 
 pulse of Shelley's. (297) Cf. A. Y. L. I., Act II. i. 30-63. (300) Here 
 there is a recognition on the part of Shelley that the premature death of 
 Keats may come to him, since in some respects their lives had been 
 similar. From Shelley's life explain (305). The poet and critic who 
 possessed the " softer voice " was Leigh Hunt. In what poem does 
 
SHELLEY 327 
 
 Keats express the feeling as if iie had drunk poison and had sunk Lethe- 
 wards? (343-369) Here begins Part II. of the elegy. Observe the 
 skill in the transition from the difficulty of believing Keats to be dead 
 to the acceptance of it : the consolation from now on is to be afforded 
 by calm philosophy such as avers whatever is must be right. Where in 
 " Lycidas " is a similar, abrupt transition ? {370-405) Keats has gone to 
 join his immortal bird so that he may make more sweet all of nature's 
 music; his presence will everywhere be felt since he is one with the 
 love which burns at the core of the universe. All things are beautiful 
 since they have made possible the beautiful ; everything is forced by 
 " plastic stress " to produce beauty, even Death bears such in its ugli- 
 ness so that it may usher a mortal into heaven's light. (388-396) 
 Whatever on earth was beautiful forever retains its beauty. Death 
 seems a veil, but in reality it is a raised one. A change to the beauty 
 of another life is destined for the heart of Keats, who had yearned after 
 that ineffable glory of beauty which has never been revealed to the 
 greatest of those who have sought to pierce the azure or to ransack the 
 tomb. Death moves like a wind of light over the dark waters of a cur- 
 rent moving towards heaven, and pushes a vessel laden with the soul 
 gently to the longwished for port, where transitory beauty is abiding and 
 permanent such as Keats found traced on the brede of his " Cold 
 Pastoral." Explain (397). Why should Thomas Chatterton welcome 
 Keats ? Spenser's " Astrophel " suggested this elegiac use of Sir 
 Philip Sidney. Why should Keats be compared to Lucan.-" (406-441) 
 Shelley finely classifies Keats' poetry by elevating the poet to the 
 throne on the hitherto kingless sphere as the "Vesper of our throng' 
 of poets that have untimely died. (415-423) Explain. Cf. Byron's 
 "Cain," Act II. Sc. i, where the first murderer is drawn to the utmost 
 bounds of space, where he looks backward on the cosmos in search of 
 earth, and sees in a mass of innumerable lights something which hardly 
 shines as bright as a firefly. Who are Rome's sceptred sovereigns that 
 still rule us from their urns .'' What stanzas of " Childe Harold " are 
 remembered ? (442-477) Analyse a great, dynamic phrase. (47S-486). 
 Explain (482-485)-(4S7-495). What poets, previously known, have writ- 
 ten lines dramatically foreshadowing premature deaths ? Compare the 
 close of this elegy with those of previously read monodies. Professor 
 C. F. Johnson makes a fine general estimate of the whole poem when 
 he says of Shelley: " He could not have been more in earnest — more 
 thrilled in every fibre of his being — had he seen the embodiments of 
 the spiritual forces face to face." 
 
 What is the sum of the indebtedness of " Adonais " to " Lycidas " ? 
 
328 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 TO A SKYLARK 
 
 Hail to thee, blithe spirit — 
 
 Bird thou never wert — 
 That from heaven or near it 
 Pour est thy full heart 
 5 In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. 
 
 Higher still and higher 
 
 From the earth thou springest, 
 Like a cloud of fire ; 
 
 The blue deep thou wingest, 
 10 And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest. 
 
 In the golden lightning 
 
 Of the sunken sun, 
 O'er which clouds are bright'ning, 
 Thou dost float and run, 
 15 Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun. 
 
 The pale purple even 
 
 Melts around thy flight ; 
 Like a star of heaven. 
 
 In the broad daylight 
 20 Thou art unseen, — but yet I hear thy shrill delight - 
 
 Keen as are the arrows 
 
 Of that silver sphere 
 Whose intense lamp narrows 
 
 In the white dawn clear, 
 25 Until we hardly see, — we feel, that it is there. 
 
 All the earth and air 
 With thy voice is loud, 
 
SHELLEY 329 
 
 As, when night is bare, 
 From one lonely cloud 
 30 The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is over- 
 flowed. 
 
 What thou art we know not ; 
 
 What is most like thee ? 
 From rainbow clouds there flow not 
 
 Drops so bright to see 
 35 As from thy presence showers a rain of melody : — 
 
 Like a poet hidden 
 
 In the light of thought, 
 Singing hymns unbidden. 
 
 Till the world is wrought 
 40 To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not : 
 
 Like a high-born maiden 
 
 In a palace tower, 
 Soothing her love-laden 
 Soul in secret hour 
 45 With music sweet as love — which overflows her bower : 
 
 Like a glow-worm golden 
 
 In a dell of dew, 
 Scattering unbeholden 
 Its aerial hue 
 50 Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the 
 view : 
 
 Like a rose embowered 
 
 In its own green leaves. 
 By warm winds deflowered, 
 Till the scent it gives 
 55 Makes faint with too much sweet these heavy-winged 
 thieves. 
 
330 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Sound of vernal showers 
 On the twinkling grass, 
 Rain-awakened flowers, — 
 All that ever was, 
 60 Joyous and clear and fresh, — thy music doth surpass. 
 
 Teach us, sprite or bird, 
 
 What sweet thoughts are thine : 
 I have never heard 
 Praise of love or wine 
 65 That panteth forth a flood of rapture so divine. 
 
 Chorus hymeneal 
 
 Or triumphal chaunt, 
 Matched with thine, would be all 
 
 But an empty vaunt — 
 70 A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want. 
 
 What objects are the fountains 
 
 Of thy happy strain ? 
 What fields, or waves, or mountains ? 
 
 What shapes of sky or plain ? 
 75 What love of thine own kind ? what ignorance of pain ? 
 
 With thy clear keen joyance 
 
 Languor cannot be : 
 Shadow of annoyance 
 
 Never came near thee : 
 80 Thou lovest, — but ne'er knew love's sad satiety. 
 
 Waking or asleep, 
 
 Thou of death must deem 
 Things more true and deep 
 
 Than we mortals dream, 
 85 Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream ? 
 
SHELLEY . 331 
 
 We look before and after, 
 
 And pine for what is not : 
 Our sincerest laughter 
 
 With some pain is fraught; 
 90 Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest 
 thought. 
 
 Yet, if we could scorn 
 
 Hate and pride and fear. 
 If we were things born 
 
 Not to shed a tear, 
 95 I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. 
 
 Better than all measures 
 
 Of delightful sound, 
 Better than all treasures 
 
 That in books are found, 
 1 00 Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! 
 
 Teach me half the gladness 
 That thy brain must know ; 
 
 Such harmonious madness 
 From my lips would flow 
 105 The world should listen then — as I am Ustening now, 
 
 (1-15) Read Mrs. Shelley's " Note on the Poems of 1820" in regard to 
 the composition of this ode. In (6-10) note the high vowel (i) which 
 causes us to tilt our heads in watching the flight of the lark, and the 
 sibilants that aid the ear in catching the rustling of its wings. The 
 poet does not describe the lark's plumage as Emerson does in portray- 
 ing his snowbird in " The Titmouse." To Shelley the lark is " an un- 
 bodied joy." (16-70) In (21-25) count the number of high vowels 
 which increase in tension to denote that tlie song of the lark is almost 
 beyond hearing ; that the soaring has brought the bird to a tremendous 
 height. Note the simile interpreting Shelley's mission in English 
 poetry. In (76-85), what lines in Keats' " Ode To A Nightingale " are 
 echoed ? Cf. (86-90) with I., VII. and VIII. of Keats' od'C, and analyse 
 
332 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 the similitudes. What hnes of Byron are recalled by (88-89) ^ (9i~i05) 
 Observe that Shelley desires the lyrical powers of the lark. Compare 
 Coleridge's desire for the symphony of the Abyssinian's voice and dulci- 
 mer; and Edgar A. Poe's desire for the lute music of Israfel's. Analyse 
 this finest lyric in our language by applying the touchstone of these 
 lines : 
 
 The desire of the moth for the star, 
 
 Of the night for the morrow, 
 The devotion to something afar 
 From the sphere of our sorrow. 
 
 To . 
 
 Scan Stanza XVI (76-80). 
 
 In this poem each stanza seems to be a passionate outburst forming 
 a full note of the lark's. The first four lines are composed of staccato 
 trills, forming a half-note until by the metre of the fifth line there is a 
 lingering trill that completes the stanzaic note with unsurpassable 
 sweetness. It can be plausibly urged that Shelley, on the eventful 
 evening of the composition of this lyric near Leghorn, while the warb- 
 ling lark ascended perpendicularly, stood nervously writing the jerky 
 trimeters; and that, when the bird gave prolonged trills as it zigzagged 
 rests for easier upward movements, Shelley slid his pencil accordingly, 
 doubling the trimeters into Alexandrines. 
 
 Shelley conveys distance by his Alexandrines as Keats does in his 
 one iambic hexameter in "The Ode To A Nightingale." The dash in 
 (105) seems to indicate that the lark's voice is no longer heard; that 
 the poet is listening in vain, sobbing out, instead of the bird, the 
 pathetic note of all the staccatos and Alexandrines in the ode. Shel- 
 ley leaves the lark singing at heaven's gate. Cf. Wordsworth's " Sky- 
 lark," where the bird is brought back to its nest. 
 
 Scan stanza four of Part I. of " The Sensitive Plant." What would 
 the poets of the Classical School have thought of such a metrical 
 system? Scan (21-30) of "The Cloud." 
 
CAMPBELL 2iZ2i 
 
 THOMAS CAMPBELL 
 
 1 777-1844 
 
 The best singer of war in a race and language which are those of the best 
 singers and not the worst fighters in the history of the world, — in the race of 
 Nelson and the language of Shakespeare. — Saintsbury. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 Ye Mariners Of England — 
 
 Hohenlinden. 
 
 The Soldier's Dream. 
 
 A Thought Suggested By The New Year. 
 
 Lochiel's Warning. 
 
 Drink Ye To Her That Each Loves Best — 
 
 Phrases 
 
 'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view. . . . 
 
 — The Pleastires Of Hope. PL T. 
 
 Like angel visits, few and far between. . . . 
 
 — The Pleasures Of Hope. Pt. //. 
 
 Few, few shall part, where many meet! — Hohenlittden. 
 
 'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, 
 And coming events cast their shadows before. 
 
 — LochieVs li'^arntng. 
 
 BATTLE OF THE BALTIC 
 
 Of Nelson and the North, 
 Sing the glorious day's renown 
 
334 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH POE TR Y 
 
 When to battle fierce came forth 
 All the might of Denmark's crown, 
 5 And her arms along the deep proudly shone ; 
 By each gun the lighted brand, 
 In a bold determined hand, 
 And the Prince of all the land 
 Led them on. — 
 
 lo Like leviathans afloat, 
 
 Lay their bulwarks on the brine ; 
 
 While the sign of battle flew 
 
 On the lofty British line : 
 
 It was ten of April morn by the chime : 
 15 As they drifted on their path, 
 
 There was silence deep as death ; 
 
 And the boldest held his breath. 
 
 For a time. — 
 
 III 
 
 But the might of England flushed 
 20 To anticipate the scene ; 
 
 And her van the fleeter rushed 
 
 O'er the deadly space between. 
 
 " Hearts of oak ! " our captains cried, when each gun 
 
 From its adamantine lips 
 25 Spread a death-shade round the ships. 
 
 Like the hurricane-eclipse 
 
 Of the sun. — 
 
 IV 
 
 Again ! again ! again ! 
 
 And the havoc did not slack, 
 
CAMPBELL 
 
 30 Till a feeble cheer the Dane 
 To our cheering sent us back : 
 Their shots along the deep slowly boom ; 
 Then ceased — and all is wail, 
 As they strike the shattered sail ; 
 
 35 Or, in conflagration pale. 
 Light the gloom, — 
 
 Out spoke the victor then, 
 
 As he hailed them o'er the wave ; 
 
 " Ye are brothers ! ye are men ! 
 40 And we conquer but to save : — 
 
 So peace instead of death let us bring ; 
 
 But yield, proud foe, thy fleet. 
 
 With the crews, at England's feet. 
 
 And make submission meet 
 45 To our King." — 
 
 VI 
 
 Then Denmark blessed our chief, 
 That he gave her wounds repose ; 
 And the sounds of joy and grief 
 From her people wildly rose, 
 50 As death withdrew his shades from the day, 
 While the sun looked smiling bright 
 O'er a wide and woeful sight, 
 Where the fires of funeral light 
 Died away. — 
 
 VII 
 
 55 Now joy. Old England, raise ! 
 For the tidings of thy might, 
 
 335 
 
12,6 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 By the festal cities' blaze, 
 Whilst the wine-cup shines in light ; 
 And yet amidst that joy and uproar, 
 60 Let us think of them that sleep, 
 Full many a fathom deep, 
 By thy wild and stormy steep, 
 Elsinore ! — 
 
 VIII 
 
 Brave hearts ! to Britain's pride 
 65 Once so faithful and so true, 
 
 On the deck of fame that died. 
 
 With the gallant good Riou : 
 
 Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave ! 
 
 While the billow mournful rolls, 
 70 And the mermaid's song condoles. 
 
 Singing glory to the souls 
 
 Of the brave ! — 
 
 Consult Southey's " Life of Nelson," Ch. VII., so as to give an accu- 
 rate account of the naval engagement. (19-20) John Tyndall said of 
 Tennyson in connection with this poem, " He admired the bold swing 
 of ' The Battle of the Baltic,' though it had some very faulty lines. 
 He took me up rather quickly when I referred to the verses begin- 
 ning : 
 
 ' But the might of England flushed 
 To anticipate the scene ; ' 
 
 remarking that it was the most faulty line in the piece." Note the 
 fault. (23-27) According to Tyndall, these lines were highly praised 
 by Tennyson. (64-72) " And the mermaid's song condoles." Tenny- 
 son claims that this line is infelicitous phrasing, which serves as a false 
 note, lending bathos to the poem. He has correctly estimated its 
 poetic demerits. Name the martial lyrics in English poetry. 
 
CAMPBELL 537 
 
 LORD ULLESf'S DAUGHTER 
 
 A chieftain, to the Highlands bound, 
 
 Cries, " Boatman, do not tarry ! 
 And I'll give thee a silver pound 
 
 To row us o'er the ferry." — 
 
 5 " Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, 
 This dark and stormy water ? " 
 " O, I'm the chief of Ulva's Isle, 
 And this Lord UUin's daughter. — 
 
 " And fast before her father's men 
 lo Three days we've fled together, 
 For should he find us in the glen, 
 My blood would stain the heather. 
 
 " His horsemen hard behind us ride ; 
 Should they our steps discover, 
 15 Then who will cheer my bonny bride 
 When they have slain her lover ? " — 
 
 Outspoke the hardy Highland wight, 
 
 " I'll go, my chief — I'm ready : 
 It is not for your silver bright ; 
 20 But for your winsome lady : 
 
 " And by my word ! the bonny bird — 
 
 In danger shall not tarry ; 
 So though the waves are raging white, 
 
 I'll row you o'er the ferry." 
 
 25 By this the storm grew loud apace. 
 The water-wraith was shrieking ; 
 And in the scowl of heaven each face 
 Grew dark as they were speaking. 
 
338 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 But Still as wilder blew the wind, 
 30 And as the night grew drearer, 
 Adown the glen rode armed men, 
 Their trampling sounded nearer. — 
 
 " O haste thee, haste ! " the lady cries, 
 " Though tempests round us gather ; 
 35 I'll meet the raging of the skies, 
 But not an angry father," — 
 
 The boat has left a stormy land, 
 
 A stormy sea before her, — 
 When, oh ! too strong for human hand, 
 40 The tempest gathered o'er her. — ■ 
 
 And still they rowed amidst the roar 
 
 Of waters fast prevailing : 
 Lord Ullin reached that fatal shore ; 
 
 His wrath was changed to wailing. 
 
 45 For sore dismayed, through storm and shade, 
 His child he did discover : — 
 One lovely hand she stretched for aid, 
 And one was round her lover. 
 
 " Come back 1 come back ! " he cried in grief, 
 50 " Across this stormy water : 
 
 And I'll forgive your Highland chief, 
 My daughter I — oh my daughter ! " 
 
 'Twas vain : the loud waves lashed the shore, 
 Return or aid preventing : — 
 55 The waters wild went o'er his child, 
 And he was left lamenting. 
 
MOORE 
 
 339 
 
 THOMAS MOORE 
 
 1779-1852 
 
 His is the poetry of the bath, of the toilette, of the saloon, of the fashionable 
 world : not the poetry of nature, of the heart, or of human life. — Hazlitt. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 Come, Rest In This Bosom — 
 
 As Slow Our Ship — 
 
 Love's Young Dream. 
 
 The Time I've Lost In Wooing — 
 
 The Last Rose Of Summer. 
 
 The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls — 
 
 Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms — 
 
 Phrases 
 
 I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart, 
 I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art. 
 
 — Come^ Rest In This Boiom. 
 
 THE LIGHT OF OTHER DAYS 
 
 Oft in the stilly night. 
 
 Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, 
 Fond Memory brings the light 
 Of other days around me : 
 5 The smiles, the tears. 
 
 Of boyhood's years. 
 The words of love then spoken ; 
 The eyes that shone. 
 Now dimmed and gone, 
 10 The cheerful hearts now broken ! 
 
340 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Thus in the stilly night, 
 
 Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, 
 
 Sad Memory brings the light 
 Of other days around me. 
 
 15 When I remember all 
 
 The friends so linked together 
 I've seen around me fall, 
 
 Like leaves in wintry weather, 
 I feel like one 
 20 Who treads alone 
 
 Some banquet-hall deserted, 
 Whose lights are fled, 
 Whose garlands dead, 
 And all but him departed. 
 25 Thus in the stilly night. 
 
 Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, 
 Sad Memory brings the light 
 Of other days around me. 
 
 Here is depicted manufactured emotion similar to Antony's for Fulvia, 
 of which Enobarbus says," indeed the tears live in an onion that should 
 water this sorrow." Cf. Ant. & Cleo. Act I. 2. Cf. " The Old 
 Familiar Faces " by Charles Lamb, and "I Remember, I Remember " 
 by Thomas Hood, wherein we see vapid pathos of insincere artists. In 
 " The Last Tournament " Tennyson falls into a like error, when he 
 uses the same " unmeaning bit of decoration " in his picture of Lance- 
 lot, arbiter of the jousts, who, languidly indifferent to the overthrow of 
 Arthur's knights, is 
 
 " Sighing weariedly, as one 
 Who sits and gazes on a faded fire, 
 When all the goodlier guests are past away." 
 
 FARE\rELLI— BUT WHENEVER - 
 
 Farewell ! — but whenever you welcome the hour 
 That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower, 
 
MOORE 34 T 
 
 Then think of the friend who once welcomed it too, 
 And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you. 
 5 His griefs may return, not a hope may remain 
 
 Of the few that have brighten 'd his pathway of pain, 
 But he ne'er will forget the short vision that threw 
 Its enchantment around him, while lingering with you. 
 
 And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up 
 ID To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup. 
 Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright, 
 My soul, happy friends, shall be with you that night ; 
 Shall join in your revels, your sports and your wiles. 
 And return to me beaming all o'er with your smiles — 
 1 5 Too blest, if it tells me that, 'mid the gay cheer, 
 
 Some kind voice had murmur'd, " I wish he were here 1 " 
 
 Let fate do her worst ; there are relics of joy, 
 Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy, 
 Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, 
 2o And bring back the features that joy used to wear. 
 Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'd ! 
 Like the vase, in which roses have once been distill'd — 
 You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will, 
 But the scent of the roses will hang round it still. 
 
 Classify the fine phrase. Interpret the poem from the point of view 
 of its having been criticised as salable pathos. The songs of the Caro- 
 line poets are echoed in Moore's vers de soci'ete and Irish melodies. 
 
342 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 THOMAS HOOD 
 
 1 798-1845 
 
 One of the noblest — and, speaking of Fancy, one of the most fanciful of 
 modern poets, was Thomas Hood. — Edgar A. Poe. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 Flowers. 
 
 The Fair Ines. 
 
 The Death-Bed. 
 
 I Remember, I Remember. 
 
 The Dream Of Eugene Aram. 
 
 The Haunted House. 
 
 The Song Of The Shirt. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 To know I'm farther off from heaven 
 Than when I was a boy. 
 
 — / Remember, I Eemember. 
 
 THE BRIDGE OF SIGHS 
 
 One more Unfortunate, 
 Weary of breath, 
 Rashly importunate, 
 Gone to her death ! 
 
 5 Take her up tenderly, 
 Lift her with care ; — 
 Fashion'd so slenderly. 
 Young, and so fair ! 
 
HOOD 343 
 
 Look at her garments, 
 lo Clinging like cerements ; 
 Whilst the wave constantly 
 Drips from her clothing ; 
 Take her up instantly, 
 Loving, not loathing. — 
 
 15 Touch her not scornfully 
 Think of her mournfully, 
 Gently and humanly ; 
 Not of the stains of her, 
 All that remains of her 
 
 20 Now, is pure womanly. 
 
 Make no deep scrutiny 
 Into her mutiny 
 Rash and undutiful ; 
 Past all dishonor, 
 25 Death has left on her 
 Only the beautiful. 
 
 Still, for all slips of hers. 
 One of Eve's family — 
 Wipe those poor lips of hers, 
 
 30 Oozing so clammily ; 
 Loop up her tresses 
 Escaped from the comb. 
 Her fair auburn tresses ; 
 Whilst wonderment guesses 
 
 35 Where was her home? 
 
 Who was her father ? 
 Who was her mother ? 
 
344 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Had she a sister ? 
 Had she a brother ? 
 40 Or was there a dearer one 
 Still, and a nearer one 
 Yet, than all other ? 
 
 Alas ! for the rarity 
 Of Christian charity 
 45 Under the sun ! 
 Oh ! it was pitiful ! 
 Near a whole city full, 
 Home she had none. 
 
 Sisterly, brotherly, 
 50 Fatherly, motherly. 
 
 Feelings had changed ; 
 
 Love, by harsh evidence. 
 
 Thrown from its eminence ; 
 
 Even God's providence 
 55 Seeming estranged. 
 
 Where the lamps quiver 
 So far in the river. 
 With many a light 
 From window and casement, 
 60 From garret to basement, 
 She stood, with amazement, 
 Houseless by night. 
 
 The bleak wind of March 
 Made her tremble and shiver ; 
 65 But not the dark arch, 
 Or the black flowing river ; 
 
HOOD 
 
 Mad from life's history, 
 Glad to death's mystery 
 Swift to be hurled — 
 70 Anywhere, any^vhere 
 Out of the world ! 
 
 In she plunged boldly, 
 No matter how coldly 
 The rough river ran, — 
 75 Over the brink of it. 
 Picture it, — think of it, 
 Dissolute Man ! 
 Lave in it, drink of it 
 Then, if you can ! 
 
 80 Take her up tenderly, 
 Lift her with care ; 
 Fashioned so slenderly. 
 Young, and so fair ! 
 
 Ere her limbs frigidly 
 85 Stiffen too rigidly. 
 Decently, — kindly, — 
 Smooth and compose them ; 
 And her eyes, close them, 
 Staring so blindly ! 
 
 go Dreadfully staring 
 
 Through muddy impurity. 
 As when with the daring 
 Last look of despairing 
 Fixed on futurity. 
 
 345 
 
346 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 95 Perishing gloomily, 
 Spurred by contumely, 
 Cold inhumanity, 
 Burning insanity, 
 Into her rest, — 
 loo Cross her hands humbly, 
 As if praying dumbly, 
 Over her breast ! 
 
 Owning her weakness. 
 Her evil behaviour, 
 105 And leaving, with meekness. 
 Her sins to her Saviour I 
 
 This poem is the first picture of a " man-stifled town " in English 
 poetry since " The Rape of the Lock," " The Deserted Village," and 
 "The Task." It is an analysis of the dissolute in London of 1844, of 
 which Shelley in " Peter Bell The Third " had earlier written : 
 
 " Hell is a city much like London — 
 
 A populous and a smoky city ; 
 There are all sorts of people undone, 
 And there is little or no fun done ; 
 
 Small justice shown, and still less pity." 
 
 Scan (43-48) {56-62). For a similar dark picture of New York life 
 in ante-bellum days read " Unseen Spirits," by N. P. Willis. 
 
 IT WAS THE TIME OF ROSES 
 
 It was not in the winter 
 Our loving lot was cast ; 
 It was the time of roses, 
 We pluck'd them as we pass'd. 
 
 5 That churlish season never frown 'd 
 On early lovers yet : 
 
HOOD 
 
 Oh ! no — the world was newly crown'd 
 With flowers when first we met ! 
 
 'Twas twilight, and I bade you go, 
 lo But still you held me fast; 
 It was the time of roses, 
 We pluck'd them as we pass'd. 
 
 What else could peer thy glowing cheek. 
 That tears began to stud ? 
 15 And when I ask'd the like of Love, 
 You snatch'd a damask bud ; 
 
 And op'd it to the dainty core, 
 Still glowing to the last. 
 It was the time of roses, 
 20 We pluck'd them as we pass'd. 
 
 347 
 
348 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The Victorian Era 
 1832-1900 
 
 The Neo-Romantic School of scientific, religious, 
 socialistic, and imperialistic controversy. 
 
 ALFRED TENNYSON 
 
 1 809- 1 892 
 
 With regard to this particular and very critical gift (felicity of using nature 
 in every way by means of the finest metaphors and similes), it seems to us that 
 he may challenge comparison with almost any poet, either of ancient or mod- 
 ern times. — W. E. Gladstone. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 The Poet. 
 CEnone. 
 
 The Death Of CEnone. 
 The Palace Of Art. 
 The May Queen. 
 The Lotos-Eaters. 
 A Dream Of Fair Women. 
 Locksley Hall. 
 
 Locksley Hall Sixty Years After. 
 St. Agnes' Eve. 
 Sir Galahad. 
 
 Sir Launcelot And Queen Guinevere. 
 Enoch Arden. 
 The Brook. 
 
 Ode On The Death Of The Duke Of Wellington. 
 The Charge Of The Light Brigade. 
 The Grandmother. 
 In Memoriam. 
 
TENNYSON 349 
 
 Maud. 
 
 Idylls Of The King. 
 
 Tiresias. 
 
 Frater Ave Atque Vale. 
 
 Demeter And Persephone. 
 
 Far-Far-Away. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 That men may rise on stepping-stones 
 Of their dead selves to higher things. — /;/ Mcmoria)ii. 
 
 'Tis better to have loved and lost 
 Then never to have loved at all. — /;/ Menioriatn. 
 
 Move upward, working out the beast, 
 And let the ape and tiger die. — In Memoriant. 
 
 . . . one far-off divine event 
 To which the whole creation moves. — /// Memoriant. 
 
 ... a sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier 
 things. — Locksley Hall. 
 
 Universal ocean softly washing all her warless Isles. 
 
 — Locksley Hall Sixty Years After. 
 
 The league-long roller thundering on the reef. . . 
 
 — Enoch Arden. 
 
 Wearing the white flower of a blameless life. . . . 
 
 — Idylls Of The King. Dedication. 
 
 Closed his death-drowsing eyes, and slept the sleep. • . . 
 
 — Balin And Balan. 
 
 Man dreams of Fame, while woman wakes to love. 
 
 — Merlin And Vivien. 
 
 For men at most differ as Heaven and earth. 
 But women, worst and best, as Heaven and Hell. 
 
 — Merlin And Vivien. 
 
3 5 O ANTHOLOG Y OF ENGLISH POE TR Y 
 
 He is all fault who hath no fault at all. . . . 
 
 — Lancelot A nd Elaine. 
 
 He makes no friend who never made a foe. 
 
 — • Lancelot A nd Elaine. 
 
 O, sweeter than all memories of thee, 
 Deeper than any yearnings after thee 
 
 Seem'd those far-rolling, westward-smiling seas. . . . 
 
 — The Last Tournament. 
 
 And rolling far along the gloomy shores, 
 The voice of days of old and days to be. 
 
 — The Passing Of Arthur. 
 
 THE LADY OF SHALOTT 
 
 PART I 
 
 On either side of the river lie 
 Long fields of barley and of rye, 
 That clothe the wold and meet the sky ; 
 And thro' the field the road runs by 
 5 To many-tower'd Camelot; 
 
 And up and down the people go, 
 Gazing where the lilies blow 
 Round an island there below 
 
 The island of Shalott. 
 
 lo Willows whiten, aspens quiver, 
 Little breezes dusk and shiver 
 Thro' the wave that runs forever 
 By the island in the river 
 
 Flowing down to Camelot. 
 1 5 Four gray walls, and four gray towers. 
 Overlook a space of flowers, 
 And the silent isle imbowers 
 
 The Lady of Shalott. 
 
TENNYSON 
 
 By the margin, willow-veil'd, 
 20 Slide the heavy barges trail'd. 
 By slow horses ; and unhail'd 
 The shallop flitteth silken-sail'd 
 
 Skimming down to Camelot ; 
 But who hath seen her wave her hand ? 
 25 Or at the casement seen her stand ? 
 Or is she known in all the land, 
 
 The Lady of Shalott ? 
 
 Only reapers, reaping early 
 In among the bearded barley, 
 30 Hear a song that echoes cheerly 
 From the river winding clearly, 
 
 Down to tower 'd Camelot: 
 And by the moon the reaper weary, 
 Piling sheaves in uplands airy, 
 35 Listening, whispers " ' Tis the fairy 
 Lady of Shalott." 
 
 PART II 
 
 There she weaves by night and day 
 
 A magic web with colours gay. 
 
 She has heard a whisper say, 
 40 A curse is on her if she stay 
 
 To look down to Camelot. 
 
 She knows not what the curse may be 
 
 And so she weaveth steadily, 
 
 And little other care hath she, 
 45 The Lady of Shalott, 
 
 And moving thro' a mirror clear 
 That hangs before her all the year, 
 
 351 
 
352 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Shadows of the world appear. 
 There she sees the highway near 
 50 Winding down to Camelot : 
 
 There the river eddy whirls, 
 And there the surly village-churls, 
 And the red cloaks of market girls. 
 
 Pass onward from Shalott. 
 
 55 Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, 
 An abbot on an ambling pad. 
 Sometimes a curly shepherd-lad. 
 Or long-hair'd page in crimson clad, 
 
 Goes by to tower 'd Camelot ; 
 60 And sometimes thro' the mirror blue 
 The knights come riding two and two. 
 She hath no loyal knight and true, 
 The Lady of Shalott. 
 
 But in her web she still delights 
 65 To weave the mirror's magic sights, 
 For often thro' the silent nights 
 A funeral, with plumes and lights 
 
 And music, went to Camelot. 
 Or when the moon was overhead, 
 70 Came two young lovers lately wed ; 
 " I am half sick of shadows," said 
 The Lady of Shalott. 
 
 PART III 
 
 A bow-shot from her bower-eaves. 
 He rode between the barley-sheaves, 
 75 The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, 
 And flamed upon the brazen greaves 
 Of bold Sir Lancelot. 
 
TENNYSON 
 
 A red-cross knight forever kneel'd 
 To a lady in his shield, 
 80 That sparkled on the yellow field, 
 
 Beside remote Shalott. 
 
 The gemmy bridle glitter 'd free, 
 Like to some branch of stars we see 
 Hung in the golden Galaxy. 
 
 85 The bridle bells rang merrily 
 
 As he rode down to Camelot 
 And from his blazon 'd baldric slung 
 A mighty silver bugle hung. 
 And as he rode his armour rung, 
 
 90 Beside remote Shalott. 
 
 All in the blue unclouded weather 
 Thick-jewell'd shone the saddle-leather, 
 The helmet and the helmet-feather 
 Burn'd like one burning flame together. 
 
 As he rode down to Camelot. 
 As often thro' the purple night. 
 Below the starry clusters bright, 
 Some bearded meteor, trailing light. 
 
 Moves over still Shalott. 
 
 353 
 
 95 
 
 100 His broad clear brow in sunlight glow'd; 
 On burnish'd hooves his war-horse trode ; 
 From underneath his hemlet flow'd 
 His coal-black curls as on he rode. 
 
 As he rode down to Camelot. 
 105 From the bank and from the river 
 He flash'd into the crystal mirror, 
 " Tirra hrra," by the river 
 
 Sang Sir Lancelot. 
 
354 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 She left the web, she left the loom, 
 no She made three paces thro' the room, 
 She saw the water-lily bloom, 
 She saw the hemlet and the plume, 
 
 She look'd down to'Camelot. 
 Out flew the web and floated wide ; 
 115 The mirror crack'd from side to side; 
 " The curse is come upon me," cried 
 The Lady of Shalott. 
 
 PART IV 
 
 In the stormy east-wind straining, 
 The pale yellow woods were waning, 
 120 The broad stream in his banks complaining, 
 Heavily the low sky raining, 
 
 Over tower'd Camelot ; 
 Down she came and found a boat 
 Beneath a willow left afloat, 
 125 And round about the prow she wrote 
 The Lady of Shalott. 
 
 And down the river's dim expanse 
 Like some bold seer in a trance, 
 Seeing all his bold mischance - — ■ 
 
 130 With a glassy countenance 
 
 Did she look to Camelot. 
 And at the closing of the day 
 She loosed the chain, and down she lay ; 
 The broad stream bore her far away, 
 
 135 The Lady of Shalott. 
 
 Lying, robed in snowy white. 
 
 That loosely flew to left and right — 
 
TENNYSON 355 
 
 The leaves upon her falling light — 
 Thro' the noises of the night 
 140 She floated down to Camelot: 
 
 And as the boat-head wound along 
 The willow hills and fields among, 
 They heard her singing her last song, 
 The Lady of Shalott. 
 
 145 Heard a carol, mournful, holy. 
 Chanted loudly, chanted lowly. 
 Till her blood was frozen slowly, 
 And her eyes were darken 'd wholly, 
 
 Tum'd to tower'd Camelot. 
 150 For ere she reach 'd upon the tide 
 The first house by the water-side, 
 Singing in her song she died. 
 
 The Lady of Shalott. 
 
 Under tower and balcony, 
 155 By garden-wall and gallery, 
 
 A gleaming shape she floated by. 
 Dead-pale between the houses high, 
 
 Silent into Camelot. 
 Out upon the wharfs they came, 
 160 Knight and burgher, lord and dame, 
 
 And round the prow they read her name. 
 The Lady of Shalott. 
 
 Who is this ? and what is here ? 
 And in the lighted palace near 
 165 Died the sound of royal cheer ; 
 
 And they cross 'd themselves for fear, 
 
 All the knights at Camelot : 
 
356 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 But Lancelot mused a little space ; 
 He said, " She has a lovely face; 
 170 God in his mercy lend her grace, 
 
 The Lady of Shalott." 
 
 " Canon Ainger in his Tennyson for the Young quotes the following 
 interpretation, given him by my father : 
 
 " The new-born love for something, for some one in the wide world 
 from which she has been so long secluded, takes her out of the region 
 of shadows into that of realities." — Memoirs I. 117. 
 
 "The Lady of Shalott " was first published in 1832. When it was 
 revised in 1842, the lady was deprived of her velvet bed, her pearl 
 garland, her "blinding, diamond bright," and her sumptuous vesture, 
 because Tennyson saw that, if he presented her in simple attire, her 
 purity and beauty would be shown to much greater advantage. Vide 
 "Memoirs"!. 190-191. 
 
 This poem should encourage the pupils to read the " Idylls of the 
 King," since it is almost imperative that they read " Lancelot and 
 Elaine." The Lady of Shalott and the Lily Maid of Astolat are identi- 
 cal, Shalott being a contraction of Astolat, Guilford, in Surrey. Define 
 an idyl. In this poem, there is an antithesis intended between the homely 
 and the heroic. (5) " To many-tower'd Camelot." Cf. " Gareth and 
 Lynette," 184-190; " The Holy Grail," 225-231. (7) " Gazing where the 
 lilies blow." Cf. (iii) "She saw the water-lily bloom." (lo-ii) Cf. 
 "Lancelot and Elaine," 408-409; 520-522. (28-36) Cf. Shelley's "Ode 
 To A Skylark," 41-45. (37-45) Cf. "Lancelot and Elaine," where the 
 maid weaves the silken case with braided blazonings for Lancelot's shield. 
 Cf. " Lancelot and Elaine," 1027-1039. (80) Cf. " Lancelot and Elaine," 
 1-27. (107) Cf. " Lancelot and Elaine," 340-350. (i 1 1) Cf. " Lancelot 
 and Elaine," 1141 and 1331, where the emblem of the purity of Elaine's 
 unrequited affection is a lily. Likewise, compare " Balin and Balan," 
 254-263, where Lancelot, among the lilies of the long white walk leading 
 toward the bower, tells his spiritual dream to Guinevere of how the 
 maiden saint in the shrine received light only from the spotless lily in 
 her hand. (116) Cf. "Lancelot and Elaine": "And loved him with that 
 love which was her doom." (136) Cf. "Lancelot and Elaine," 1151. 
 Note that which suggests the myth of the dying swan in (136-144). (154- 
 162) Cf. " Lancelot and Elaine," where the crisis of the " Idylls " is pre- 
 sented. Lancelot and Guinevere are in the oriel overlooking the river 
 quarreling about the diamonds until the queen, in jealousy, ilings them 
 
TENNYSON 357 
 
 athwart the bow of Elaine's barge. The tomb had been only a shadow, 
 now it becomes substance, since on the stream of the present floats the 
 chance of Lancelot's past. This scene typifies the passing of purityfrom 
 Camelot, leaving sense the victor over Arthur and his knights. As Elaine 
 was served by Lancelot, so was Arthur by Guinevere. (154) Cf. " Lance- 
 lot and Elaine,' 1235-1263. In (168) cf. "Lancelot and Elaine," 1260, 
 " And Lancelot later came and mused at her." Observe in Part III. 
 that Lancelot receives profuse imagery in detail of knightly equipment, 
 while on the contrary throughout the poem the Lady of Shalott receives 
 no other adornment than that afforded by her simple white robe. How 
 is the idyl strengthened by this forcible contrast ? The refrain in this 
 poem indicates a relationship to the original folk-ballad. 
 
 ULYSSES 
 
 It little profits that, an idle king, 
 By this still hearth, among these barren crags, 
 Matched with an aged wife, I mete and dole 
 Unequal laws unto a savage race, 
 5 That hoard and sleep and feed and know not me. 
 I cannot rest from travel : I will drink 
 Life to the lees. All times I have enjoyed 
 Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those 
 That loved me, and alone : on shore, and when 
 
 10 Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades 
 Vexed the dim sea. I am become a name ; 
 For, always roaming with a hungry heart. 
 Much have I seen and known — cities of men, 
 And manners, climates, councils, governments 
 
 15 (Myself not least, but honoured of them all) — 
 And drunk delight of battle with my peers 
 Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. 
 I am a part of all that I have met ; 
 Yet all experience is an arch where through 
 
 20 Gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades 
 Forever and forever when I move. 
 
558 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 How dull it is to pause, to make an end, 
 
 To rust unbumished, not to shine in use ! 
 
 As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life 
 
 25 Were all too little, and of one to me 
 Little remains ; but every hour is saved 
 From that eternal silence — something more, 
 A bringer of new things ; and vile it were 
 For some three suns to store and hoard myself, 
 
 30 And this gray spirit yearning in desire 
 To follow knowledge like a sinking star, 
 Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. 
 
 This is my son, mine own Telemachus, 
 To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle — 
 
 35 Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil 
 
 This labour, by slow prudence to make mild 
 A rugged people, and through soft degrees 
 Subdue them to the useful and the good. 
 Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere 
 
 40 Of common duties, decent not to fail 
 In offices of tenderness, and pay 
 Meet adoration to my household gods 
 When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. 
 There lies the port ; the vessel puffs her sail ; 
 
 45 There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners. 
 
 Souls that have toiled and wrought and thought with me, 
 
 That ever with a frolic welcome took 
 
 The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed 
 
 Free hearts, free foreheads, you and I are old. 
 
 50 Old age hath yet his honour and his toil. 
 Death closes all ; but something ere the end, 
 Some work of noble note, may yet be done. 
 Not unbecoming men that strove with gods. 
 The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks ; 
 
 55 The long day wanes j the slow moon climbs ; the deep 
 
TENNYSON 359 
 
 Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 
 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. 
 Push off, and sitting well in order, smite 
 The sounding furrows ; for my purpose holds 
 
 60 To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 
 Of all the western stars, until I die. 
 It may be that the gulfs will wash us down ; 
 It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, 
 And see the g^eat Achilles, whom we knew. 
 
 65 Though much is taken, much abides ; and though 
 We are not now that strength which in old days 
 Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are : 
 One equal temper of heroic hearts. 
 Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will 
 
 70 To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. 
 
 " Ulysses was written soon after Arthur Hallam's death, and gave 
 my feeling about the need of going forward, and braving the struggle 
 of life perhaps more simply than anything in ' In Memoriam.' " — Mem- 
 oirs I. igb. The opening lines portray the restive spirit of the sea- 
 rover who had been doomed in the under-world by Tiresias to w^innow 
 constantly with an oar to lands and peoples knowing not Poseidon or 
 the taste of bread mingled with salt, and, finally, after giving sacrifices 
 to Poseidon, to find such a death as that given by the skatebone at the 
 hands of his son Telegonus. 
 
 (2) " among these barren crags "(Ithaca), rprjxet^ dXX' dyadr} KovpoTp6(pos. 
 It is rugged but a kindly nurse«of heroes. — Odyssey IX. 27. (6-7) " I 
 will drink | Life to the lees." Cf. "Macbeth," Act II. 3: "and the 
 mere lees | Is left this vault to brag of." Give an account of the wan- 
 derings of Ulysses wherein he greatly enjoyed and suffered. (10) Cf. 
 Pluviasque Hyadas geminosque Triones. — ^n. I. 744. (11) "I am 
 become a name." Cf. Byron's " Prophecy of Dante," Canto I. : 
 
 " And pilgrims come from climes where they have knowTi 
 The name of him — who now is but a name." 
 
 In (22-24), cf. " Merlin and Vivien," 470-478. Merlin while talking to 
 Vivien said he once met a squire with wooden shield, on which was 
 
360 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 painted a golden eagle soaring in azure to the golden sun, and under 
 was written " I follow fame." 
 
 "And speaking not, but leaning over him, 
 I took his brush and blotted out the bird, 
 And made a gardener putting in a graff, 
 With this for motto, ' Rather use than fame.' " 
 
 {43) Comment on " He works his work, I mine." (45) This line 
 shows the fascination of his old life. (56) " The deep | Moans round 
 with many voices." Cf. " Demeter and Persephone," " the waves that 
 moan about the world," and " The Voyage," " The houseless ocean's 
 heaving field." (57) "'Tis not too late to seek a newer world." Cf. 
 Longfellow's " Morituri Salutamus " : 
 
 and 
 
 " Ah, nothing is too late 
 Till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate. . . ." 
 
 " What then .' Shall we sit idly down and say 
 The night hath come ; it is no longer day ? 
 The night hath not yet come ; we are not quite 
 Cut off from labor by the failing light ; 
 * Something remains for us to do or dare ; 
 
 Even the oldest tree some fruit may bear; 
 Not CEdipus Coloneus, or Greek Ode, 
 Or tales of pilgrims that one morning rode 
 Out of the gate-way of the Tabard Inn, 
 But other something, would we but begin ; 
 For age is opportunity no less 
 ; Than youth itself, though in another dress. 
 And as the evening twilight fades away, 
 The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day." 
 
 (59-61) Cf. "The Last Tournament," 581-583: 
 
 " O sweeter than all memories of thee. 
 Deeper than any yearnings after thee 
 Seem'd those far-rolling, westward smiling seas." 
 
 (62-64) " These lines do not make me weep, but there is in me what 
 would fill whole Lachrymatories as I read." — Thomas Carlyle. As we 
 
TENNYSO^V 361 
 
 read " It may be that the gulfs will wash us down," these lines in 
 " Demeter and Persephone " come to mind: 
 
 " And souls of men who grew beyond their race 
 And made themselves as Gods against the fear 
 Of Death and Hell." 
 
 According to Dante's " Inferno," Canto 26, they pushed beyond the 
 Pillars of Hercules into the Atlantic past the "land's last limit," and 
 while anxiously peering at the verge of the horizon for Elysian fields, 
 a league-long roller with inaudible tread washed them into the gulfs. 
 Thus occurred the passing of Ulysses. As in a former poem, how has 
 the romantic been applied to the classical ? " Ulysses " is a fine ethical 
 antidote to " The Lotos-Eaters." 
 
 BREAK, BREAK, BREAK 
 
 Break, break, break 
 
 On thy cold gray stones, O Sea ! 
 And I would that my tongue could utter 
 
 The thoughts that arise in me. 
 
 5 O well for the fisherman's boy, 
 
 That he shouts with his sister at play ! 
 O well for the sailor lad, 
 
 That he sings in his boat on the bay ! 
 
 And the stately ships go on 
 10 To their haven under the hill; 
 
 But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, 
 And the sound of a voice that is still 1 
 
 Break, break, break. 
 
 At the foot of thy crags, O Sea ! 
 1 5 But the tender grace of a day that is dead 
 Will never come back to me. 
 
362 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 When and where was this poem written ? " Half a mile to the south 
 of Clevedon in Somersetshire, on a lonely hill, stands Clevedon Church, 
 ' obscure and solitary,' overlooking a wide expanse of water ; where the 
 Severn flows into the Bristol Channel. It is dedicated to St. Andrew, 
 the chancel being the original fishermen's chapel. 
 
 " From the graveyard you can hear the music of the tide as it washes 
 against the low cliffs not a hundred yards away. In the manor aisle of 
 the church, under which is the vault of the Hallams, may be read this 
 epitaph to Arthur Hallam, written by his father. . ." — Memoirs I.2g^-6. 
 The burial of Arthur took place on January 3rd, 1834. 
 
 " On the evening of one of these sad winter days, my father had 
 already noted down in his scrap-book some fragmentary lines, which 
 proved to be the germ of ' In Memoriam.' 
 
 Where is the voice I loved? Ah where 
 Is that dear hand that I would press .'' 
 Lo ! the broad heavens cold and bare. 
 The stars that know not my distress !" 
 
 — Memoi7-s I. loj. 
 
 Tennyson had not visited Hallam's grave before writing this poem. 
 
 THE DAYS THAT ARE NO MORE 
 
 ' Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean ; 
 Tears from the depth of some divine despair 
 Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, 
 In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, 
 5 And thinking of the days that are no more. 
 
 ' Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, 
 That brings our friends up from the underworld, 
 Sad as the last which reddens over one 
 That sinks with all we love below the verge ; 
 10 So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. 
 
 ' Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns 
 The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds 
 To dying ears, when unto dying eyes 
 
TENNYSON 363 
 
 The casement slowly grows a glimmering square ; 
 15 So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. 
 
 ' Dear as remember'd kisses after death, 
 And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd 
 On lips that are for others ; deep as love. 
 Deep as first love, and wild with all regret ; 
 20 O Death in Life, the days that are no more.' 
 
 He told me that he was moved to write " Tears, idle tears " at 
 Tintern Abbey ; and that it was not real woe, as some people might 
 suppose, " it was rather the yearning that young people occasionally 
 experience for that which seems to have passed away from them for- 
 ever." That in him it was strongest when he was quite a youth. He 
 said, " Old Carlyle, who is never moved by poetry, once quoted those 
 lines of mine, while we were out walking." 
 
 — Mr. Frederick Locker-Lampson, A/einoirs II. 7j. 
 
 " It is a perfect piece of art with a certain sentimental and feminine 
 quality, which we do not find in the virile and rugged Browning," — ■ 
 yohnson. Elements of Literary Criticism, p. 220. . 
 
 Is this canon of criticism applicable to the poem : " A poem which 
 is all sweetness is detestable, and a composition of any kind which con- 
 sists of fine phrases with no intellectual coherence is hardly less so " ? 
 See yohnson. Elements of Literary Criticism, p. 221. 
 
 In this poem, as in Wordsworth's line " Whose dwelling is the light 
 of setting suns," you are conscious of the pathetic abiding of the tran- 
 sient. What phrases in Wordsworth's " Ode On Immortality " are at 
 once remembered on reading the first four lines ? In the second stanza 
 we are reminded of what " passings " in Tennyson's poetry ? This lyric 
 is cast in what form of verse ? 
 
 TO VIRGIL 
 
 I 
 
 Roman Virgil, thou that singest 
 
 Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire, 
 
 Ilion falling, Rome arising, 
 
 wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre ; 
 
364 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH PQETRY 
 
 5 Landscape-lover, lord of language 
 
 more than he that sang the Works and Days, 
 All the chosen coin of fancy 
 
 flashing out from many a golden phrase ; 
 
 Thou that singest wheat and woodland, 
 10 tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd ; 
 
 All the charm of all the Muses 
 
 often flowering in a lonely word ; 
 
 IV 
 
 Poet ^)f the happy Tityrus 
 
 piping underneath his beechen bowers ; 
 15 Poet of the poet-satyr 
 
 whom the laughing shepherd bound with flowers 
 
 Chanter of the Pollio, glorying 
 
 in the blissful years again to be, 
 
 Summers of the snakeless meadow, 
 
 unlaborious earth and oarless sea ; 
 
 VI 
 
 Thou that seest Universal 
 
 Nature moved by Universal Mind ; 
 Thou majestic in thy sadness 
 
 at the doubtful doom of human kind ; 
 
 25 Light among the vanish 'd ages ; 
 
 star that gildest yet this phantom shore ; 
 Golden branch amid the shadows, 
 
 kings and realms that pass to rise no more 
 
TENNYSON 365 
 
 VIII 
 
 Now thy P'orum roars no longer, 
 30 fallen every purple Caesar's dome — 
 
 Tho' thine ocean-roll of rhythm 
 
 sound forever of Imperial Rome — 
 
 Now the Rome of slaves hath perish'd, 
 
 and the Rome of freemen holds her place, 
 35 I, from out the Northern Island 
 
 sunder'd once from all the human race, 
 
 X 
 
 I salute thee, Mantovano, 
 
 I that loved thee since my day began, 
 Wielder of the stateliest measure 
 40 ever moulded by the lips of man. 
 
 II. Hesiod wrote " Works and Days." "many a golden phrase." 
 Some fine examples of Virgil's phrasal power are : 
 
 " Nesciaque humanisprecibus mansuescere corda." — Georg. IV. 470. 
 " Sunt lacrimac rerum et mentem mortalia tangunt." — ^n. I. 462. 
 "Dis aliter visum. . . ." — ^n. II. 42S. 
 
 "Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis. . . ." — ^En. VI. i2y. 
 " quae lucis miseris tarn dira cupido ?" — ^n. VI. y2i. 
 
 In the sixth book of the " vEneid," 473-474, there is pathos of love, 
 where Dido spurns ^neas in Hades, preferring her first and true to 
 her last and false : 
 
 "Conjunx ubi pristinus illi 
 Respondet curis a:quatque Sychaeus amorem." 
 " Where her former husband Sychaeus sympathises with all her 
 sorrows and loves her with a love equal to her own." — Sellar. 
 
 III. Cf. Georg. I. IT. IV. Ill ''m a lonely word." "In April the Presi- 
 dent of Magdalen, Oxford, and Mrs. Warren called upon us. My 
 father spoke of Virgil to him, saying, ' Milton had evidently studied 
 
366 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Virgil's verse.' Warren mentioned tiie ' lonely word ' in the ode to 
 Virgil : 
 
 "'All the charm of all the Muses often flowering in a lonely word.' 
 "'Yes,' my father said, and quoted '■ cunctantem ramum,' in Book VI. 
 as an instance." — Memoirs LI. 384-^8^. 
 
 It seems that "Demoror," Book II. 648, is preferable, where 
 7\nchises on the couch during the burning of Troy at first refuses to go 
 with iEneas, lest he should prove too great an encumbrance. " De- 
 moror " pictures the pathos of old age which would refuse to ruin 
 youth. 
 
 IV. Cl.Georg.IV.s6s-j(}6: 
 
 " Carmina qui lusi pastorum, audaxque juventa, 
 Tityre, te patulas cecini sub tegmine fagi." 
 
 Also, Ecloga I. 
 
 " Poet of the poet-satyr. . . ." Ci. Ecloga VI. Varus. 
 This eclogue gives an amusing account of the entrapment of Silenus, 
 who, under compulsion, sings of the creation and of various myths. 
 
 V. Cf. Georg. Ecloga IV. Pollio. Virgil with power of Messianic 
 inspiration prophesies a golden age in a child, who, with the virtues of 
 his fathers, shall rule the land of Saturnus. 
 
 "Summers of the snakeless meadow," etc. 
 
 " Occidet at serpens, et fallax herba veneni | Occidet." — IV. 24. 
 
 " Cedet et ipse mari vector, nee nautica pinus 
 Mutabit merces : omnis feret omnia tellus." — IV. 38-jg. 
 
 VI. " Universal Nature moved by Universal Mind." Cf. ^neid VI. 
 727. " Mens agitat molem et magno se corpore miscet." 
 
 Virgil holds a deep sense of the eternal mysteries. Throughout the 
 " j^neid " are scattered questions and vague conjecturings on human life. 
 Virgil holds out perpetual rest as the best for which mortals may hope, 
 but even in this he dramatically hedges when he makes ^neas ask his 
 father Anchises why a throng unable to possess "longa oblivia" is 
 gathered on the banks of the sullen river desiring again to enter this 
 world of labour and pain. 
 
 " quae lucis miseris tam dira cupido ? " 
 
TENNYSOAr 367 
 
 What hopelessness is written in this line and in " Secures latices et 
 longa oblivia potant," suggesting perhaps that neither heaven nor hell 
 is a permanent abode, that recognisable rest i^nowhere by reason of 
 the endless agitation of mind which works with matter. 
 
 VII. But most Virgilian of all are the two central lines: 
 
 Light among the vanish'd ages ; star that gildest yet this phantom 
 
 shore ; 
 Golden branch amid the shadows, kings and realms that pass to 
 
 rise no more. 
 
 Ay, this it is which lives for us out of the confused and perishing 
 Past ! The gross world's illusion and the backward twilight are lit by 
 that sacred ray. 
 
 And how noble a comparison is that of the elect poet himself to his 
 one golden bough in Avernus' forest, which gleamed amid the sea of 
 green ! 
 
 Talis erat species auri frondentis opaca 
 
 nice; sic leni crepitabat bractea vento. — Frederic IV. H. Myers. 
 
 VIII. What is the metrical system of the " yEneid " .'' 
 
 " thine ocean-roll of rhythm." The "/Eneid " is full of sonorous lines, 
 showing perfection of rhythmical arrangement, such as : 
 
 " Talia voce refert : ' O terque quaterque beati. . . ." — /. g^. 
 " Praecipitat suadentque cadentia sidera somnos." — //. g. 
 " Incipit et dono divom gratissima seq)et. . . ." — II. sbg. 
 " Non fugis hinc praeceps, dum praecipitare potestas. 
 
 lam mari turbari trabibus, saevasque videbis 
 
 Conlucere faces, iam fervere litora flammis. . . ." — IV.j6j-j6j. 
 " Tum rauca adsiduo longe sale saxa sonabant. . . ." — F. 866. 
 " Tu regere imperio populos; Romane, memento. . . ." — VI. Sji. 
 " Parcere subiectis, et debellare superbos." — VI. Sjj. 
 
 IX. X. Who discovered the northern island (Ultima Thule) .'' Scan 
 X. 
 
 Classify the finest phrase in the poem. Observe the matchless unity 
 of this poem. W. H. Myers says : " And surely that ode ' To Virgil,' 
 read with due lightening of certain trochaic accents in the latter half 
 of each line, touches the high-water mark of English song." 
 
368 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 MERLIN AND THE GLEAM 
 I 
 
 young Mariner, 
 You from the haven 
 Under the sea-cliff, 
 You that are watching 
 
 5 The gray Magician 
 With eyes of wonder, 
 
 1 am MerUn, 
 And I am dying, 
 I am Merlin 
 
 lo Who follow The Gleam, 
 ir 
 
 Mighty the Wizard 
 
 Who found me at sunrise 
 
 Sleeping, and woke me 
 
 And learn 'd me Magic I 
 15 Great the Master, 
 
 And sweet the Magic, 
 
 When over the valley, 
 
 In early summers, 
 
 Over the mountain, 
 20 On human faces, 
 
 And all around me. 
 
 Moving to melody. 
 
 Floated The Gleam. 
 Ill 
 
 Once at the croak of a Raven 
 who crost it, 
 25 A barbarous people. 
 
 Blind to the magic. 
 
 And deaf to the melody, 
 
 Snarl'd at and cursed me. 
 
 A demon vext me, 
 
TENNYSON 369 
 
 30 The light retreated, 
 The landskip darken'd, 
 The melody deaden 'd, 
 The Master whisper'd 
 "Follow The Gleam." 
 
 IV 
 
 35 Then to the melody, 
 
 Over a wilderness 
 
 Gliding, and glancing at 
 
 Elf of the woodland, 
 
 Gnome of the cavern, 
 40 Griffin and Giant, 
 
 And dancing of Fairies 
 
 In desolate hollows, 
 
 And wraiths of the mountain, 
 
 And rolling of dragons 
 45 By warble of water. 
 
 Or cataract music 
 
 Of falling torrents, 
 
 Flitted The Gleam. 
 
 Down from the mountain 
 50 And over the level, 
 
 And streaming and shining on 
 
 Silent river. 
 
 Silvery willow. 
 
 Pasture and plowland, 
 55 Horses and oxen. 
 
 Innocent maidens. 
 
 Garrulous children, 
 
 Homestead and harvest, 
 
 Reaper and gleaner, 
 
370 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 60 And rough-ruddy faces 
 Of lowly labour, 
 Slided The Gleam. — 
 
 VI 
 
 Then with a melody 
 Stronger and statelier, 
 
 65 Led me at length 
 
 To the city and palace 
 Of Arthur the king ; 
 Touch'd at the golden 
 Cross of the churches, 
 
 70 Flash'd on the Tournament, 
 Flicker 'd and bicker 'd 
 From helmet to helmet, 
 And last on the forehead 
 Of Arthur the blameless 
 
 75 Rested The Gleam. 
 
 VII 
 
 Clouds and darkness 
 
 Closed upon Camelot ; 
 
 Arthur had vanish'd 
 
 I knew not whither, 
 80 The king who loved me, 
 
 And cannot die ; 
 
 For out of the darkness 
 
 Silent and slowly 
 
 The Gleam, that had waned to a 
 wintry glimmer 
 85 On icy fallow 
 
 And faded forest, 
 
 Drew to the valley 
 
 Named of the shadow, 
 
TENNYSON 
 
 And slowly brightening 
 90 Out of the glimmer, 
 
 And slowly moving again to a melody 
 
 Yearningly tender, 
 
 Fell on the shadow, 
 
 No longer a shadow, 
 95 But clothed with The Gleam. 
 
 And broader and brighter 
 
 The Gleam flying onward. 
 
 Wed to the melody. 
 
 Sang thro' the world ; 
 100 And slower and fainter, 
 
 Old and weary. 
 
 But eager to follow, 
 
 I saw, whenever 
 
 In passing it glanced upon 
 105 Hamlet or city. 
 
 That under the Crosses 
 
 The dead man's garden, 
 
 The mortal hillock, 
 
 Would break into blossom ; 
 no And so to the land's 
 
 Last limit I came — 
 
 And can no longer. 
 
 But die rejoicing, 
 
 For thro' the Magic 
 1 1 5 Of Him the Mighty, 
 
 Who taught me in childhood. 
 
 There on the border 
 
 Of boundless Ocean, 
 
 And all but in Heaven 
 120 Hovers The Gleam. 
 
 371 
 
372 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 IX 
 
 Not of the sunlight, 
 
 Not of the moonlight, 
 
 Not of the starlight ! 
 
 O young Mariner, 
 125 Down to the haven, 
 
 Call your companions, 
 
 Launch your vessel, 
 
 And crowd your canvas, 
 
 And, ere it vanishes 
 130 Over the margin. 
 
 After it, follow it. 
 
 Follow The Gleam. 
 
 Consult " Memoirs " I. Preface, 12-15, for a running commentary on 
 autobiographical elements in this poem. When was this poem written? 
 See " Memoirs "II. 366. { 1 1 ) In " Merlin and Vivien," it was Bleys who 
 taught magic to Merlin, who speedily outran his master in the art. 
 (35-48) Here is the callow poetry of Tennyson colouring nature with 
 the tinge of passing moods by which it ascends the first mountain peak 
 of his art. (49-62) Fantastic imagery and mountain scenery make 
 poetry, but Tennyson realises that his art has a plateau level, where 
 may be pictured the pastoral that touches the lives of English peasants. 
 (62-75) With maturity of expression which conies from a man in his 
 prime, Tennyson writes with all the light of the gleam about Arthur in 
 Camelot, " the city of shadowy palaces." Describe Camelot as it ap- 
 pears in " Gareth and Lynette "; the palace, in the " Holy Grail "; and 
 Arthur as presented in " The Coming of Arthur," where a momentary 
 likeness of himself flashed about his order. (76-78) Arthur H. Hallam 
 and King Arthur are here united. (79-81) Cf. " Morte d' Arthur," 295- 
 
 298: 
 
 "... and all the people cried, 
 
 ' Arthur is come again : he cannot die.' 
 
 Then those that stood upon the hills behind 
 
 Repeated — ' Come again, and thrice as fair.'" 
 
 (93-95) " In Memoriam," XXII : 
 
 "... somewhere in the waste 
 The Shadow sits and waits for me." 
 
TENNYSON 373 
 
 (96-109) Without premature methodisation in arrangement of knightly 
 panoply, Tennyson tilted with his sharp lance of faith and hit the shadow 
 that ceased to be a shadow when he finished writing his "In Memoriam." 
 All of his subsequent poetry breathes with the spirit of his immortal 
 elegy ; death fascinates him to the last, and here the grave is lit, " Would 
 break into blossom," by the gleam of a reachable ideal, (i 10- 1 1 1) 
 " And so to the land's 
 Last limit I came." 
 
 He has followed ideal poetry through wilderness, across valley, up 
 mountain, down pastoral levels, to the city built to music and therefore 
 never built at all, from the Arthurian palace without its King to hamlet 
 and city, from their dead to the land's last limit, where lies " the far- 
 rolling westward-smiling seas," to where the Gleam beckons as it did 
 to the blameless King. In October, 1892, Tennyson passed to. where, 
 beyond these voices (raven-croaks) ui the city built forever, he secured 
 Coleridge's Abyssinian maid's symphony and Poe's Israfelic fire, — the 
 perfect adaption of poetic imagination to metre, " The Gleam," the 
 ideal lyrical gift. This poem is cast in what metre ? 
 
 CROSSING THE BAR 
 
 Sunset and evening star, 
 
 And one clear call for me ! 
 And may there be no moaning of the bar, 
 
 When I put out to sea, 
 
 5 But such a tide as moving seems asleep, 
 Too full for sound and foam, 
 When that which drew from out the boundless deep 
 Turns again home. 
 
 Twilight and evening bell, 
 I o And after that the dark ! 
 
 And may there be no sadness of farewell. 
 When I embark ; 
 
 For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place 
 The flood may bear me far, 
 15 I hope to see my Pilot face to face 
 When I have crost the bar. 
 
374 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 "'Crossing The Bar' was written in my father's eighty-first year, on 
 a day in October when we came from Aldworth to Farringford. Before 
 reaching Farringford he had the Moaning of the Bar in his mind, and 
 after dinner he showed me this poem written out. 
 
 " I said, 'That is the crown of your life work.' He answered, 'It 
 came in %. moment.' He explained the ' Pilot ' as ' That Divine and 
 Unseen Who is always guiding us.' 
 
 " A few days before my father's death he said to me : ' Mind you put 
 "Crossing The Bar" at the end of all editions of my poems.'" — Me- 
 moirs II, ^bb-l- Cf. Tennyson's poetic passings: The Lady of Shal- 
 ott ; Ulysses ; Enoch Arden ; Arthur Hallam in " In Memoriam " CHI; 
 and Arthur and Elaine in the "Idylls of the King." Also, read "The 
 Passing of Scyld " in fytte one of "Beowulf "and the passing of Hia- 
 watha. (5-8) Cf. The "Coming of Arthur": 
 
 " And then the two 
 Dropt to the cove, and watch'd the great sea fall, 
 Wave after wave, each mightier than the last. 
 Till last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep 
 And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged 
 Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame : 
 And down the wave and in the flame was borne 
 A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's feet. 
 Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried " The King I 
 Here is an heir for Uther ! " 
 
 Merlin, on being questioned in regard to Bleys' account of Arthur's 
 birth, explained the problem of birth by presenting the one of death 
 in his tercet rime : 
 
 " Rain, sun, and rain ! and the free blossom blows : 
 Sun, rain, and sun ! And where is he who knows 
 From the great deep to the great deep he goes." 
 
 After reading this poem and thinking on Tennyson's going to the 
 great deep in 1892, the pupil will appreciate these lines from " In Me- 
 moriam " : 
 
 " But there is more than I can see, 
 And what I see I leave unsaid, 
 Nor speak it, knowing Death has made 
 His darkness beautiful with thee." 
 
 For an account of the beautiful death of the poet, the pupils should 
 read " Memoirs " II. 427-428. 
 
BROWNING 375 
 
 ROBERT BROWNING 
 
 1812-1889 
 
 Browning never greatly cares about the glory of words or beauty of form : 
 he has told me that the world must take him as it finds him. ... I wish I 
 had written his two lines : 
 
 " The little more and how much it is, 
 
 The little less and what worlds away." 
 
 He has plenty of music in him, but he cannot get it out. — Tennyson. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 How They Brought The Good News From Ghent To Aix. 
 
 Soliloquy Of The Spanish Cloister. 
 
 Cristina. 
 
 De Gustibus — 
 
 Saul. 
 
 My Star. 
 
 By The Fireside. 
 
 The Boy And The Angel. 
 
 The Last Ride Together. 
 
 A Grammarian's Funeral. 
 
 Andrea Del Sarto. 
 
 Cleon. 
 
 Gold Hair ; A Story Of Pornic. 
 
 Evelyn Hope. 
 
 Abt Vogler. 
 
 A Face. 
 
 In A Balcony. 
 
 Reverie. 
 
 Rabbi Ben Ezra. 
 
 Pippa's Songs (Pippa Passes). 
 
 Earl Mertoun's Song (Blot In The 'Scutcheon). 
 
376 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH POE TRY 
 
 Phrases 
 
 There are flashes struck from midnights. . . . — Cristiita. 
 
 ... ' tis not what man Does which exalts him, but what 
 man Would do ! — Satil. 
 
 Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, 
 Or what's a heaven for? — Andrea del Sarto. 
 
 But here is the finger of God, a flash of the will that can. . . . 
 
 — Abt Vogler. 
 
 On the earth the broken arcs ; in the heaven a perfect 
 round. — Abt Vogler. 
 
 God stooping shows sufficient of his light 
 For us i' the dark to rise by. And I rise. 
 
 — The Ring and the Book. 
 
 CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME 
 
 I 
 
 My first thought was, he lied in every word, 
 That hoary cripple, with malicious eye 
 Askance to watch the working of his lie 
 
 On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford 
 5 Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored 
 Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby. 
 
 What else should he be set for, with his staff ? 
 What, save to waylay with his lies, insnare 
 All travelers who might find him posted there, 
 ID And ask the road ? I guessed what skull-like laugh 
 
 Would break, what crutch gin write my epitaph 
 For pastime in the dusty thoroughfare, 
 
BROWNING 377 
 
 III 
 
 If at his counsel I should turn aside 
 
 Into that ominous tract which, all ag^ee, 
 15 Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescingly 
 I did turn as he pointed : neither pride 
 Nor hope rekindling at the end descried. 
 
 So much as gladness that some end might be. 
 
 IV 
 
 For, what with my whole world-wide wandering, 
 20 What with my search drawn out through years, my 
 hope 
 Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope 
 With that obstreperous joy success would bring, — 
 I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring 
 
 My heart made, finding failure in its scope. 
 
 25 As when a sick man very near to death 
 
 Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end 
 The tears, and takes the farewell of each friend, 
 And hears one bid the other go, draw breath, 
 Freelier outside (" since all is o'er," he saith, 
 30 " And the blow fallen no grieving can amend ") ; 
 
 VI 
 
 While some discuss if near the other graves 
 Be room enough for this, and when a day 
 Suits best for carrying the corpse away, 
 
 With care about the banners, scarves, and staves : 
 35 And still the man hears all, and only craves 
 
 He may not shame such tender love and stay. 
 
378 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Thus, I had so long suffered in this quest, 
 Heard failure prophesied so oft, been writ 
 So many times among " The Band " — to wit, 
 40 The knights who to the Dark Tower's search addressed 
 
 Their steps — that just to fail as they, seemed best. 
 And all the doubt was now — should I be fit ?• 
 
 So, quiet as despair, I turned from him, 
 That hateful cripple, out of his highway 
 45 Into the path he pointed. All the day 
 Had been a dreary one at best, and dim 
 Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim 
 Red leer to see the plain catch its estray. 
 
 For mark ! no sooner was I fairly found 
 50 Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two. 
 
 Than, pausing to throw backward a last view 
 O'er the safe road, 't was gone ; gray plain all round ; 
 Nothing but plain to the horizon's bound, 
 
 I might go on : naught else remained to do. 
 
 55 So, on I went. I think I never saw 
 
 Such starved, ignoble nature ; nothing throve : 
 For flowers — as well expect a cedar grove ! 
 But cockle, spurge, according to their law 
 Might propagate their kind, with none to awe, 
 60 You'd think ; a burr had been a treasure trove. 
 
BROWNING 379 
 
 No ! penury, inertness, and grimace, 
 
 In some strange sort, were the land's portion. " See 
 Or shut your eyes," said Nature peevishly, 
 
 " It nothing skills : I cannot help my case : 
 65 'Tis the Last Judgment's fire must cure this place, 
 Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free." 
 
 XII 
 
 If there pushed any ragged thistle stalk 
 
 Above its mates, the head was chopped ; the bents 
 Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents 
 70 In the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to balk 
 
 All hope of greenness ? 'tis a brute must walk 
 Pashing their life out, with a brute's intents. 
 
 As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair 
 
 In leprosy : thin dry blades pricked the mud 
 75 Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood. 
 One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare. 
 Stood stupefied, however he came there : 
 
 Thrust out past service from the Devil's stud 1 
 
 XIV 
 
 Alive ? he might be dead for aught I know. 
 With that red gaunt and colloped neck astrain, 
 And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane ; 
 
 Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe ; 
 
 I never saw a brute I hated so : 
 
 He must be wicked to deserve such pain. 
 
380 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 85 I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart. 
 As a man calls for wine before he fights, 
 I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights, 
 Ere fitly I could hope to play my part. 
 Think first, fight afterward — the soldier's art : 
 90 One taste of the old time sets all to rights. 
 
 XVI 
 
 Not it 1 I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face 
 Beneath its garniture of curly gold, 
 Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold 
 An arm in mine to fix me to the place, 
 95 That way he used. Alas, one night's disgrace ! 
 Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold. 
 
 Giles, then, the soul of honor — there he stands 
 Frank as ten years ago when knighted first. 
 What honest man should dare (he said) he durst. 
 
 Good — but the scene shifts- — faugh! what hangman 
 hands 
 
 Pin to his breast a parchment ? His own bands 
 Read it. Poor traitor, spit upon and curst 1 
 
 Better this present than a past like that ; 
 
 Back therefore to my darkening path again ! 
 105 No sound, no sight as far as eye could strain. 
 Will the night send a howlet or a bat ? 
 I asked : when something on the dismal flat 
 
 Came to arrest my thoughts and change their train. 
 
BROWNING 381 
 
 A sudden little river crossed my path 
 
 As unexpected as a serpent comes. 
 
 No sluggish tide congenial to the glooms ; 
 This, as it frothed by, might have been a bath 
 For the fiend's glowing hoof — to see the wrath 
 
 Of its black eddy bespate with flakes and spumes. 
 
 115 So petty, yet so spiteful ! All along, 
 
 Low scrubby alders kneeled down over it ; 
 Drenched willows flung them headlong in a fit 
 Of mute despair, a suicidal throng : 
 The river which had done them all the wrong, 
 120 Whate'er that was, rolled by, deterred no whit. 
 
 Which, while I forded, — good saints, how I feared 
 To set my foot upon a dead man's cheek. 
 Each step, or feel the spear I thrust to seek 
 
 For hollows, tangled in his hair or beard ! 
 125 — It may have been a water-rat I speared, 
 But, ugh ! it sounded like a baby's shriek. 
 
 Glad was I when I reached the other bank. 
 
 Now for a better country. Vain presage ! 
 
 Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage 
 130 Whose savage trample thus could pad the dank 
 Soil to a plash ? Toads in a poisoned tank, 
 
 Or wild cats in a red-hot iron cage — 
 
2,82 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The fight must so have seemed in that fell cirque. 
 
 What penned them there, with all the plain to choose ? 
 135 No footprint leading to that horrid mews, 
 None out of it. Mad brewage set to work 
 Their brains, no doubt, like galley-slaves the Turk 
 
 Pits for his pastime. Christians against Jews. 
 
 And more than that — a furlong on — why, there ! 
 140 What bad use was that engine for, that wheel, 
 Or brake, not wheel — that harrow fit to reel 
 Men's bodies out like silk ? with all the air 
 Of Tophet's tool, on earth left unaware. 
 
 Or brought to sharpen its rusty teeth of steel. 
 
 145 Then came a bit of stubbed ground, once a wood. 
 
 Next a marsh, it would seem, and now mere earth 
 Desperate and done with ; (so a fool finds mirth. 
 Makes a thing, and then mars it, till his mood 
 Changes and off he goes !) within a rood — 
 150 Bog, clay, and rubble, sand and stark black dearth. 
 
 Now blotches rankling, colored gay and grim, 
 Now patches where some leanness of the soil's 
 Broke into moss or substances like boils : 
 
 Then came some palsied oak, a cleft in him 
 155 Like a distorted mouth that splits its rim 
 
 Gaping at death and dies while it recoils. 
 
BROWNING 383 
 
 And just as far as ever from the end : 
 
 Naught in the distance but the evening, naught 
 To point my footstep farther ! At the thought, 
 160 A great black bird, ApoUyon's bosom friend. 
 
 Sailed past, nor beat his wide wing dragon-penned 
 That brushed my cap — perchance the guide 
 sought. 
 
 For, looking up, aware I somehow grew, 
 
 'Spite of the dusk, the plain had given place 
 165 All round to mountains — with such name to grace 
 
 Mere ugly heights and heaps now stolen in view. 
 
 How thus they had surprised me, — solve it, you 1 
 How to get from them was no clearer case. 
 
 Yet half I seemed to recognize some trick 
 170 Of mischief happened to me, God knows when 
 
 In a bad dream, perhaps. Here ended then, 
 Progress this way. When in the very nick 
 Of giving up, one time more, came a click 
 
 As when a trap shuts — you're inside the den. 
 
 175 Burningly it came on me all at once, 
 
 This was the place ! those two hills on the right, 
 Crouched like two bulls locked horn in horn in fight ; 
 While to the left, a tall scalped mountain — Dunce, 
 Dotard, a-dozing at the very nonce, 
 180 After a life spent training for the sight 1 
 
384 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 What in the midst lay but the Tower itself ? 
 
 The round squat turret, blind as the fool's heart, 
 Built of brown stone, without a counterpart 
 
 In the whole world. The tempest's mocking elf 
 185 Points to the shipman thus the unseen shelf 
 He strikes on, only when the timbers start. 
 
 Not see ? because of night perhaps ? — why, day 
 Came back again for that ! before it left. 
 The dying sunset kindled through a cleft : 
 190 The hills, like giants at a hunting lay, 
 
 Chin upon hand, to see the game at bay, — 
 
 " Now stab and end the creature — to the heft ! " 
 
 Not hear ? when noise was everywhere ! it tolled 
 Increasing like a bell. Names in my ears 
 195 Of all the lost adventurers my peers, — 
 
 How such a one was strong, and such was bold, 
 And such was fortunate, yet each of old 
 
 Lost 1 lost I one moment knelled the woe of years. 
 
 There they stood, ranged along the hill-sides, met 
 To view the last of me, a living frame 
 For one more picture ! in a sheet of flame 
 I saw them and I knew them all. And yet 
 Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set. 
 
 And blew ''Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came. 
 
BROWNING 385 
 
 (1-48) Observe that the simile of the dying man throws a light on 
 the hero's mentality. (48) Explain "estray." (85-108) His past life 
 does not contain happy reminiscences which enable him to throw off 
 the sensuous waves that beat against his brain from the starved ig- 
 noble nature and the grotesque horse. In the presence of physical 
 failure mental portraits of past successes in the lives of his friends do 
 not sustain and soothe. (109-126) The wrathful river is filled with the 
 bodies of those who have failed in reaching their ideals. (127-156) 
 Note that the scenery by the hero's movement has become more horri- 
 ble. Progression means the recognition on his part of an " Inferno " 
 where annihilation is unshunnable. Retrogression would neither re- 
 move these " Tophet tools " of torture nor relieve the monotony of the 
 situation. Browning is marvelously accurate in describing nature af- 
 fected with physical foulness such as came upon Job when Satan 
 touched him : in this respect analyse the portrayal of " the palsied 
 oak." (157-174) It is evening, and this scenery beyond the river how- 
 ever sterile can produce life ; as the previous landscape had its horse, 
 so this possesses its bird. The redness of sunset has given way to the 
 blackness of night ; the devil's stallion has given birth to the bird of 
 ill-omen. Note the change which now occurs in nature. The place of 
 the stunted, impassable mountains is no worse than the plain of abor- 
 tive fecundation. The hero has come to the end of progression and 
 is in the presence of failure when he hears the click of its trap. (175- 
 204) All of our hero's former life had been ruined by man, and now 
 the hostile attitude of nature is added to make the catastrophe com- 
 plete. The " dying sunset " lends an artistic power. Childe Roland 
 now hears the reveille of death and the roll-call of the failures who, as 
 he, had sought the ideal; " lambent annihilation," "a sheet of flame," 
 has come, and the ghosts of those who had failed are lined up to see 
 him come, as they had come, in sight of that which materially is im- 
 possible to obtain in this part of the universe. 
 
 This poem is thoroughly Browningesque in teaching that all must 
 " Tiy the clod ere test the star " and that : 
 
 " Life is probation and the earth no goal. 
 But starting point of man : compel him strive. 
 Which means, in man as good as reach the goal." 
 
 Note the difference between pure and impure allegory. Name the 
 three great allegories in English literature, and tell by whom these have 
 been written. In each, what is x, the unknown quantity ? Supply 
 the missing x in each of the following pieces : 
 
386 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 The Vision of Mirza. — Joseph Addison. 
 The Deserted House. — Alfred Tennyson. 
 The Idylls of the King. — Alfred Tenityson. 
 Merlin and the Gleam. — Alfred Tennyson. 
 Crossing the Bar. — Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 "Where Lies The Land To Which The Ship Would Oo>" — A.A. 
 C lough. 
 
 The Beleaguered City. — H. W. Longfelloiv. 
 
 Compare the x in " Childe Roland " to that found in Longfellow's 
 " Excelsior " and " Victor and Vanquished." Ls "Childe Roland" an 
 example of pure allegory .'' 
 
 PROSPICE 
 
 Fear death ? — to feel the fog in my throat, 
 
 The mist in my face, 
 When the snows begin, and the blasts denote 
 
 I am nearing the place, 
 5 The power of the night, the press of the storm, 
 
 The post of the foe ; 
 Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form. 
 
 Yet the strong man must go : 
 For the journey is done and the summit attained, 
 lo And the barriers fall. 
 
 Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained, 
 
 The reward of it all. 
 I was ever a fighter, so — one fight more. 
 
 The best and the last ! 
 1 5 I would hate that death bandaged my eyes and forbore, 
 
 And bade me creep past. 
 
 No ! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers 
 
 The heroes of old. 
 Bear the brunt, in a minute pay life's glad arrears 
 2o Of pain, darkness and cold. 
 
BROWNING 387 
 
 For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, 
 
 The black minute's at end, 
 And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, 
 
 Shall dwindle, shall blend, 
 25 Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain. 
 
 Then a light, then thy breast, 
 O thou soul of my soul ! 
 
 I shall clasp thee again, 
 And with God be the rest ! 
 
 (17-20) "... fare like peers 
 
 The heroes of old," etc. 
 
 Cf. " Beowulf," 2814-16: "... ealle wyrd forsweop 
 Mine magas to metod-sceafte, 
 Eorlas on elne ; ic him aefter sceal." 
 
 " Fate has swept all my kinsmen away into eternity, princes in chiv- 
 alry ; I must after them." — The Deeds of Beowulf, Earle. 
 Beowulf to Wiglaf before meeting death in the flames of the fire- 
 drake. (27) Browning would clasp his wife's soul. Mrs. Browning's 
 death caused this poem to be written. Has Tennyson written anything 
 in a similar strain ? What strong likeness exists between this poem and 
 Longfellow's " Victor and Vanquished " .■" Read Matthew Arnold's " A 
 Wish " m order to see how an agnostic poet faces death. 
 
 EPILOGUE 
 
 (From Asolando) 
 
 At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time, 
 When you set your fancies free, 
 
 Will they pass to where — by death, fools think, impris- 
 oned — 
 
 Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so, 
 — Pity me ? 
 
388 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH PQETRY 
 
 Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken ! 
 
 What had I on earth to do 
 With the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly ? 
 Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless did I drivel 
 10 — Being — who ? 
 
 One who never turned his back but marched breast for- 
 ward, 
 
 Never doubted clouds would break. 
 Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would 
 
 triumph. 
 Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, 
 15 Sleep to wake. 
 
 No, at noon-day in the bustle of man's work-time 
 
 Greet the unseen with a cheer ! 
 Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be, 
 " Strive and thrive ! " cry " Speed, — fight on, fare ever 
 20 There as here ! " 
 
 (1-20) Compare the view of death presented in this poem of 1889 
 with the views of death of 1855 and 1864 in " Childe Roland" and 
 "Prospice." One evening before his death illness, as Browning was 
 correcting the proof of this poem, what did he say to his daughter-in- 
 law and sister concerning the third verse ? 
 
 The whole poem is an inspiration for young people by faith and 
 activity to fight against feelings of depression, slothfulness, and coward- 
 liness. What phase of nineteenth century thought does Browning 
 represent ? Cf. Tennyson. 
 
ELIZABE Til BARRETT BROWNING 389 
 
 ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 
 
 1806-1861 
 
 The most inspired woman of all who have composed in ancient or modrrn 
 tongues, or flourished in any land or time. — E. C. Stedman. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 Cowper's Grave. 
 
 Lady Geraldine's Courtship. 
 
 The Lady's " Yes." 
 
 The Cry Of The Children. 
 
 A Song For The Ragged Schools. 
 
 The Dead Pan. 
 
 A Court Lady. 
 
 My Heart And \. 
 
 De Profundis. 
 
 Sonnets From The Portuguese. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 Or from Browning some " Pomegranate," which, if cut deep 
 
 down the middle, 
 Shows a heart within blood-tinctured, of a veined humanity. 
 
 — -Lady Geraldine's Courtship. 
 
 For God, in cursing, gives us better gifts 
 Than men in benediction. — Aiirora Leigh. 
 
 And floated from me like a silent cloud 
 
 That leaves the sense of thunder. — Aurora Leigh. 
 
 . . . the eyes smiled too, 
 
 But 'twas as if remembering they had wept, 
 
 And knowing, they should, some day, weep again. 
 
 — Aurora Leigh. 
 
390 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 A holiday of miserable men 
 
 Is sadder than a burial-day of Kings. — Aurora Leigh. 
 
 Albeit softly in our ears her silver song was ringing, 
 
 The foot-fall of her parting soul is softer than her singing. 
 
 • — Felicia Hemans. 
 Hold, in high poetic duty. 
 Truest Truth the fairest Beauty ! — The Dead Pan. 
 
 A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT 
 
 I 
 
 What was he doing, the great god Pan, 
 
 Down in the reeds by the river ? 
 Spreading ruin and scattering ban. 
 Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat 
 And breaking the golden lilies afloat 
 With the dragon-fly on the river ? 
 
 He tore out a reed, the great god Pan, 
 From the deep cool bed of the river. 
 The limpid water turbidly ran. 
 And the broken lilies a-dying lay, 
 And the dragon-fly had fled away, 
 Ere he brought it out of the river. 
 
 High on the shore sate the great god Pan, 
 While turbmiy flowed the river, 
 15 And hacked and hewed as a great god can 
 With his hard bleak steel at the patient reed, 
 Till there was not a sign of a leaf indeed 
 To prove it fresh from the river. 
 
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING 
 
 He cut it short, did the great god Pan, 
 (How tall it stood in the river !) 
 
 Then drew the pith like the heart of a man 
 
 Steadily from the outside ring, 
 
 Then notched the poor, dry, empty thing 
 In holes as he sate by the river. 
 
 ^"5 " This is the way," laughed the great god Pan, 
 (Laughed while he sate by the river !) 
 " The only way since gods began 
 To make sweet music they could succeed." 
 Then dropping his mouth to a hole in the reed, 
 
 30 He blew in power by the river ! 
 
 Sweet, sweet, sweet, O Pan, 
 Piercing sweet by the river ! 
 
 Blinding sweet, O great god Pan ! 
 
 The sun on the hill forgot to die, 
 35 And the lilies revived, and the dragon-fly 
 Came back to dream on the river. 
 
 Yet half a beast is the great god Pan 
 
 To laugh as he sits by the river, 
 Making a poet out of a man. 
 40 The true gods sigh for the cost and the pain — 
 For the reed which grows never more again 
 
 As a reed with the reeds of the river. 
 
 ;9i 
 
392 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Compare this poem with James Russell Lowell's " The Finding of 
 the Lyre " and with Thomas Moore's " The Origin of the Haip." 
 Andrew Marvell of the seventeenth century, in " The Garden," writes : 
 
 " When we have run our passion's heat, 
 Love hither makes his best retreat. 
 The gods, who mortal beauty chase, 
 Still in a tree did end their race ; 
 Apollo hunted Daphne so. 
 Only that she might laurel grow; 
 And Pan did after Syrinx speed, 
 Not as a nymph, but for a reed." 
 
 HOW DO I LOVE THEE ? 
 
 (Sonnets from the Portuguese) 
 XLIII. 
 
 How do I love thee ? Let me count the ways. 
 I love thee to the depth and breadth and height 
 My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight 
 For the ends of Being, and ideal Grace. 
 5 I love thee to the level of every day's 
 Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. 
 I love thee freely, as men strive for Right ; 
 I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise. 
 I love thee with the passion put to use 
 lo In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith. 
 I love thee with a love I seemed to lose 
 With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath, 
 Smiles, tears, of all my life ! and if God choose, 
 I shall but love thee better after death. 
 
 Discuss the overlying, beautiful " sense-rhythm " that transcends 
 this sonnet's metrical structure, and compare the waves of emotion to 
 those in the systolic and diastolic sonnet CXVI. of Shakespere's. 
 
ARNOLD 39- 
 
 MATTHEW ARNOLD 
 
 Tell Mat not to write any more of those prose things, like ' Literature and 
 Dogma,' but to give us something like his ' Thyrsis," ' Scholar Gypsy,' or ' For- 
 saken Merman.' — Tennyson. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 Requiescat. 
 
 Resignation. 
 
 Sohrab And Rustum. 
 
 Tristram And Iseult. 
 
 West London. 
 
 Immortality. 
 
 The Strayed Reveller. 
 
 Philomela. 
 
 A Wish. 
 
 The Scholar-Gypsy. 
 
 Rugby Chapel. 
 
 Thyrsis. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 Cold, cold as those who lived and loved 
 
 A thousand years ago. — Tristram and Iseult. 
 
 The aids to noble life are all within. — Worldly Place. 
 
 . . . that cold succor, which attends 
 The unknown little from the unknowing great, 
 And points us to a better time than ours. — West London. 
 
 . . . only he 
 His soul well-knit, and all his battles won. 
 Mounts, and that hardly, to eternal life. — Immortality. 
 
394 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 And some find death ere they find love ; 
 
 So far apart their lives are thrown 
 
 From the twin-soul that halves their own. — Faded Leaves. 
 
 . . . this strange disease of modern life, 
 With its sick hurry, its divided aims, 
 
 Its heads o'ertaxed, its palsied hearts. . . . 
 
 — 77/6' Scholar Gypsy. 
 
 The Spirit of the world .... 
 
 let a sardonic smile, 
 For one short moment, wander o'er his lips. 
 That smile was Heine ! — Heine'' s Grave. 
 
 Wandering between two worlds, one dead. 
 The other powerless to be born. . . . 
 
 — The Grande Chartreuse. 
 
 THE FORSAKEN MERMAN 
 
 Come, dear children, let us away; 
 Down and away below ! 
 Now my brothers call from the bay. 
 Now the great winds shoreward blow, 
 5 Now the salt tides seaward flow ; 
 Now the wild white horses play. 
 Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. 
 Children dear, let us away ! 
 This way, this way ! 
 
 I o Call her once before you go — 
 
 Call once yet ! 
 
 In a voice that she will know : 
 
 " Margaret ! Margaret ! " 
 
 Children's voices should be dear 
 15 (Call once more) to a mother's ear; 
 
ARNOLD 
 
 Children's voices, wild with pain^ 
 Surely she will come again ! 
 Call her once and come away ; 
 This way, this way ! 
 20 " Mother dear, we cannot stay! 
 
 The wild white horses foam and fret." 
 Margaret ! Margaret ! 
 
 Come, dear children, come away down ; 
 Call no more ! 
 25 One last look at the white-wall 'd town, 
 
 And the little grey church on the windy shore ; 
 Then come down I 
 
 She will not come though you call all day ; 
 Come away, come away ! 
 
 30 Children dear, was it yesterday 
 
 We heard the sweet bells over the bay ? 
 In the caverns where we lay. 
 Through the surf and through the swell, 
 The far-off sound of a silver bell ? 
 
 35 Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, 
 Where the winds are all asleep ; 
 Where the spent lights quiver and gleam. 
 Where the salt weed sways in the stream, 
 Where the sea-beasts, ranged all rovmd, 
 
 40 Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground ; 
 Where the sea-snakes coil and twine. 
 Dry their mail and bask in the brine ; 
 Where great whales come sailing by, 
 Sail and sail, with unshut eye, 
 
 45 Round the world for ever and aye ? 
 When did music come this way ? 
 Children dear, was it yesterday ? 
 
 395 
 
396 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Children dear, was it yesterday 
 
 (Call yet once) that she went away ? 
 50 Once she sate with you and me, 
 
 On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea. 
 
 And the youngest sate on her knee. 
 
 She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well, 
 
 When down swung the sound of a far-olif bell. 
 55 She sigh'd, she looked up through the clear green sea; 
 
 She said : "I must go, for my kinsfolk pray 
 
 In the little grey church on the shore to-day. 
 
 'Twill be Easter-time in the world — ah me ! 
 
 And I lose my poor soul, Merman ! here with thee." 
 60 I said : " Go up, dear heart, through the waves ; 
 
 Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves ! " 
 
 She smiled, she went up through the surf in the bay. 
 
 Children dear, was it yesterday ? 
 
 Children dear, were we long alone ? 
 65 " The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan ; 
 
 Long prayers," I said, " in the world they say ; 
 
 Come ! " I said ; and we rose through the surf in the 
 bay. 
 
 We went up the beach, by the sandy down 
 
 Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town ; 
 70 Through the narrow-paved streets, where all was still, 
 
 To the little grey church on the windy hill. 
 
 From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, 
 
 But we stood without in the cold blowing airs. 
 
 We climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains, 
 75 And we gazed up the aisle through the small leaded 
 panes. 
 
 She sate by the pillar ; we saw her clear : 
 
 " Margaret, hist ! come quick, we are here ! 
 
 Dear heart," I said, " we are long alone ; 
 
ARXOLD 
 
 The sea grows stormy, the Httle ones moan." 
 80 But, ah, she gave me never a look, 
 
 For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book ! 
 Loud prays the priest ; shut stands the door. 
 Come away, children, call no more ! 
 Come away, come down, call no more ! 
 
 85 Down, down, down ! 
 
 Down to the depths of the sea ! 
 
 She sits at her wheel in the humming town, 
 
 Singing most joyfully. 
 
 Hark what she sings : " O joy, O joy, 
 90 For the humming street, and the child with its toy ! 
 
 For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well ; 
 
 For the wheel where I spun, 
 
 And the blessed light of the sun ! " 
 
 And so she sings her fill, 
 95 Singing most joyfully. 
 
 Till the spindle drops from her hand. 
 
 And the whizzing wheel stands still. 
 
 She steals to the window, and looks at the sand. 
 
 And over the sand at the sea ; 
 1 00 And her eyes are set in a stare ; 
 
 And anon there breaks a sigh. 
 
 And anon there drops a tear, 
 
 From a sorrow-clouded eye, 
 
 And a heart sorrow-laden, 
 105 A long, long sigh ; 
 
 For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden 
 
 And the gleam of her golden hair. 
 
 Come away, away children ; 
 Come children, come down ! 
 1 1 o The hoarse wind blows coldly ; 
 
 \97 
 
398 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Lights shine in the town. 
 
 She will start from her slumber 
 
 When gusts shake the door; 
 
 She will hear the winds howling, 
 115 Will hear the waves roar. 
 
 We shall see, while above us 
 
 The waves roar and whirl, 
 
 A ceiling of amber, 
 
 A pavement of pearl. 
 120 Singing : " Here came a mortal, 
 
 But faithless was she ! 
 
 And alone dwell forever 
 
 The kings of the sea." 
 
 But, children, at midnight, 
 125 When soft the winds blow, 
 
 When clear falls the moonlight, 
 
 When spring-tides are low ; 
 
 When sweet airs come seaward 
 
 From heaths starr'd with broom, 
 130 And high rocks throw mildly 
 
 On the blanch 'd sands a gloom ; 
 
 Up the still, ghstening beaches, 
 
 Up the creeks we will hie. 
 
 Over banks of bright seaweed 
 135 The ebb-tide leaves dry. 
 
 We will gaze, from the sand-hills. 
 
 At the white, sleeping town ; 
 
 At the church on the hill-side — 
 
 And then come back down, 
 1 40 Singing : " There dwells a loved one, 
 
 But cruel is she ! 
 
 She left lonely forever 
 
 The kings of the sea," 
 
ARNOLD 
 
 399 
 
 (1-9) Explain " Now my brothers call from the bay." Test the meta- 
 phor "the wild white horses." (10-22) Note that the grip of the sea 
 is seemingly as fierce on the mer-race as the power of religion on Mar- 
 garet. "The wild white horses foam and fret." (30-47) Observe in 
 their delirious pain that in intensity of wrong the past is confused with 
 the present : the tragical present seems never to have had a causative 
 past. What bell did the mer-race once hear, which now makes them 
 hate all sweet music ? Observe dramatic harmony in an agony pre- 
 sented by the unshut eyes of great whales which in search of something 
 forever and aye sail round and round the world. Compare this accurate 
 description of the sea bottom with that contained in Clarence's dream, 
 "Richard III.," I. 4; in Keats' "Endymion" III. 1 19-136; in Shel- 
 ley's " Prometheus Unbound," Act IV., Panthea's vision ; andin Kipling's 
 " The Deep-sea Cables." (48-63) No promise is given in (62). (64-84) 
 Subjective misery finds the objective scenery of a desolate grave-yard, 
 where we are shut out in the blowing airs with the merchildren who 
 feel the shiver of Margaret's coldness of heart, which is more frozen 
 by far than the stones round about. (S5-107) Here is presented the 
 daily life of mother Margaret, whose heart 
 
 "... chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure 
 Thrill the deepest notes of woe." 
 
 One half of the world's pleasure is drawn out of the other half's pain, 
 and across the coffin of her past she reaches for the Bible and totters 
 to the prison-bars, where are visible the wild white horses foaming and 
 fretting above her little mermaiden. Arnold has let out the stops fur- 
 nishing a deep labouring adagio to a poem whose theme is : What will 
 a woman give in exchange for her soul ? (108-123) Observe the way 
 in which the woe is intensified. (124-143) The poem closes showing 
 that forever, so long as the merman and his mermaids and boys live, 
 they shall love Margaret by perpetual creepings along the dunes to the 
 windy hill and to the church. It seems harder for these heathen to 
 resist the sea than it is for Margaret to resist the call of the priest and 
 the holy well. In agony they give up their natural element, thus evinc- 
 ing stronger religious zeal than Margaret when she is nearest to the 
 holy book. Their love far exceeds the love of Margaret, who never 
 tries to come to them for one word of explanation in regard to her 
 desertion. Have similar spiritual tragedies been presented in English 
 fiction : e. g., in Reade's " The Cloister and the Hearth " and Mrs. 
 Voynich's " The Gadfly " ? What is the normal metre of the poem .'' 
 Scan 23-29, 98-107. 
 
400 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 DOVER BEACH 
 
 The sea is calm to-night. 
 The tide is full, the moon lies fair 
 Upon the straits ; — on the French coast the light 
 Gleams and is gone : the cliffs of England stand, 
 5 Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay. 
 Come to the window, SM'eet is the night-air ! 
 Only, from the long line of spray 
 Where the sea meets the moon-blanched sand, 
 Listen ! you hear the grating roar 
 lo Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, 
 At their return, up the high strand, 
 Begin, and cease, and then again begin, 
 With tremulous cadence slow, and bring 
 The eternal note of sadness in. 
 
 15 Sophocles long ago 
 
 Heard it on the ^gean, and it brought 
 
 Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow 
 
 Of human misery ; we 
 
 Find also in the sound a thought, 
 20 Hearing it by this distant northern sea. 
 
 The Sea of Faith 
 
 Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore 
 Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled ! 
 But now I only hear 
 25 Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar, 
 Retreating, to the breath 
 Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear 
 And naked shingles of the world. 
 
 Ah, love, let us be true 
 30 To one another ! for the world, which seems 
 
ARNOLD 401 
 
 To lie before us like a land of dreams, 
 So various, so beautiful, so new, 
 Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, 
 Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain ; 
 35 And we are here as on a darkhng plain 
 
 Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, 
 Where ignorant armies clash by night. 
 
 (1-20) " moon-blanched sand." Cf. " Sohrab and Rustum " : 
 
 "... as the vast tide 
 Of the bright rocking ocean sets to shore 
 At the full moon." 
 
 Cf. " Tristram and Iseult " : 
 
 "... the roar 
 Of the near waves came, sadly grand, 
 Through the dark, up the drowned sand." 
 
 Cf. "A Summer Night": "moon-blanched street," and (131) of 
 " The Forsaken Merman " ; " blanched " is one of Arnold's favourite 
 adjectives. (14) " The eternal note of sadness." In " Philomela " the 
 refrain of the nightingale is : 
 
 " Eternal passion ! 
 Eternal pain ! " 
 
 (21-28) This passing of faith is applicable to Arnold's life. Cf. " Sohrab 
 and Rustum " : 
 
 " For we are all, like swimmers in the sea. 
 Poised on the top of a huge wave of fate. 
 Which hangs uncertain to which side to fall ; 
 And whether it will heave us up to land. 
 Or whether it will roll us out to sea, — 
 Back out to sea, to the deep waves of death, — 
 We know not, and no search will make us know ; 
 Only the event will teach us in its hour." 
 
 (29-37) Analyse this highest expression of Arnold's poetical power 
 that voices the agnosticism that finally made him quit writing poetry. 
 
402 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 SELF-DEPENDENCE 
 Weary of myself, and sick of asking 
 What I am, and what I ought to be, 
 At this vessel's prow I stand, which bears me 
 Forwards, forwards, o'er the starlit sea. 
 
 5 And a look of passionate desire 
 
 O'er the sea and to the stars I send : 
 
 " Ye who from my childhood up have calmed me, 
 
 Calm me, ah, compose me to the end ! " 
 
 " Ah, once more," I cried, " ye stars, ye waters, 
 lo On my heart your mighty charm renew ; 
 Still, still let me, as I gaze upon you, 
 Feel my soul becoming vast Hke you ! " 
 
 From the intense, clear, star-sown vault of heaven, 
 Over the lit sea's unquiet way, 
 15 In the rustling night-air came the answer: 
 
 " Wouldst thou be as these are ? Live as they. 
 
 " Unaffrighted by the silence round them, 
 Undistracted by the sights they see, 
 These demand not that the things without them 
 20 Yield them love, amusement, sympathy. 
 
 " And with joy the stars perform their shining. 
 And the sea its long moon-silver'd roll : 
 For self-poised they live, nor pine with noting 
 All the fever of some differing soul. 
 
 25 " Bounded by themselves and unregardful 
 In what state God's other works may be, 
 In their own tasks all their powers pouring, 
 These attain the mighty life you see." 
 
ARNOLD 403 
 
 O air-born voice ! long since, severely clear, 
 30 A cry like thine in mine own heart I hear : 
 " Resolve to be thyself ; and know that he 
 Who finds himself loses his misery ! " 
 
 Analyse this poem from the point of view of its interpreting a most 
 selfish view of human life. In " Empedocles on Etna," Arnold ex- 
 presses a similar poetic longing : 
 
 " Once read thy own breast right, 
 And thou hast done with fears ; 
 Man gets no other light, 
 Search he a thousand years. 
 Sink in thyself ! there ask what ails thee, at that shrine." 
 
 In " Switzerland," he reaches out for 
 
 " The hush among the shining stars, 
 The calm upon the moonlit sea ! " 
 
 In "A Summer Night " Arnold, with " the old unquiet breast "which 
 is neither quite possessed by passion nor quite benumbed by the world, 
 gazing at the heavens, which present neither languor, nor trouble, nor 
 uncertainty, longs for that incontaminate calmness of equipoise that 
 is in their mild deeps which know not the silent pain of one who has 
 longed deeply and longed in vain. Arnold would have it said of him 
 as Wordsworth said of Milton, " Thy soul was like a Star and dwelt 
 apart." How do Arnold's poems show one phase of nineteenth century 
 thought t Compare " Self -Dependence" with the last sonnet of Keats'. 
 
404 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE 
 
 1837- 
 
 He is a reed through which all things blow into music. — Tennyson. 
 
 Optional Poevis 
 
 Atalanta In Calydon. 
 
 Ave Atque Vale. 
 
 A Match. 
 
 Rococo. 
 
 By The North Sea. 
 
 Itylus. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 " Who swims in sight of the third great wave 
 That never a swimmer shall cross or climb." 
 
 ■ — '- The Triumph Of Time. 
 
 DISAPPOINTMENT EST LOVE 
 
 (The Triumph Of Time) 
 
 257-288; 321-352 
 
 I will go back to the great sweet mother, 
 Mother and lover of men, the sea. 
 
 I will go down to her, I and none other, 
 260 Close with her, kiss her, and mix her with me; 
 
 Cling to her, strive with her, hold her fast ; 
 
 O fair white mother, in days long past 
 
 Born without sister, born without brother, 
 Set free my soul as thy soul is free. 
 
S IVINB URNE 40 5 
 
 265 O fair green-girdled mother of mine, 
 
 Sea, that art clothed with the sun and the rain, 
 Thy sweet hard kisses are strong like wine, 
 
 Thy large embraces are keen like pain. 
 Save me and hide me with all thy waves, 
 270 Find me one grave of thy thousand graves. 
 Those pure cold populous graves of thine, 
 
 Wrought without hand in a world without stain. 
 
 I shall sleep and move with the moving ships. 
 Change as the winds change, veer in the tide ; 
 275 My lips will feast on the foam of thy lips, 
 
 I shall rise with thy rising, with thee subside ; 
 Sleep, and not know if she be, if she were. 
 Filled full with life to the eyes and hair. 
 As a rose is fulfilled to the roseleaf tips 
 280 With splendid summer and perfume and pride. 
 
 This woven raiment of nights and days. 
 
 Were it once cast off and unwound from me, 
 
 Naked and glad would I walk in thy ways, 
 Alive and aware of thy ways and thee ; 
 285 Clear of the whole world, hidden at home, 
 
 Clothed with the green and crowned with the foam, 
 
 A pulse of the life of thy straits and bays, 
 A vein in the heart of the streams of the sea. 
 
 There lived a singer in France of old. 
 By the tideless dolorous midland sea. 
 
 In a land of sand and ruin and gold 
 
 There shone one woman, and none but she. 
 325 And finding life for her love's sake fail. 
 
 Being fain to see her, he bade set sail. 
 
406 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Touched land, and saw her as hfe grew cold, 
 And praised God, seeing ; and so died he. 
 
 Died, praising God for his gift and grace : 
 330 For she bowed down to him weeping, and said 
 " Live ; " and her tears were shed on his face 
 
 Or ever the life in his face was shed. 
 The sharp tears fell through her hair, and stung 
 Once, and her close lips touched him and clung 
 335 Once, and grew one with his lips for a space ; 
 And so drew back, and the man was dead. 
 
 O brother, the gods were good to you. 
 
 Sleep, and be glad while the world endures. 
 Be well content as the years wear through ; 
 340 Give thanks for life, and the loves and lures ; 
 Give thanks for life, O brother, and death, 
 For the sweet last sound of her feet, her breath. 
 For gifts she gave you, gracious and few. 
 
 Tears and kisses, that lady of yours. 
 
 345 Rest, and be glad of the gods ; but I, 
 
 How shall I praise them, or how take rest ? 
 There is not room under all the sky 
 
 For me that know not of worst or best. 
 Dream or desire of the days before, 
 350 Sweet things or bitterness, any more. 
 
 Love will not come to me now though I die, 
 As love came close to you, breast to breast. 
 
 (257-288) What is the central idea expressed by this flow of asso- 
 nance, alliteration, and rime? (321-352) In this acrobatism of metres 
 observe the stanza which contains the normal system. Scan 345-352, 
 and note that the third foot in every line is an anapest. 
 
 Swinburne is not a thinker. His greatness consists in making Eng- 
 lish poetry subject to new metrical systems ; on account of which the 
 
S WINB URNE 40 7 
 
 birth of a dynamic phrase has become impossible. His combination of 
 musical sounds is well nigh perfect and enchants as the rhythmical 
 movements of Duessa enthralled the Red Cross knight, who, in contem- 
 plating the House of Pride, saw similar grace in every movement of its 
 shivering, shifting foundations. The quicksands are Swinburne's 
 metres, and the palace is his thought realm: much exterior, superficial 
 beauty ; but on rambling back to the postern gate one finds behind the 
 paint and gilding only worm-eaten walls wherein ruined spiritual energy 
 dwells. 
 
408 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH FOE TR Y 
 
 DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI 
 
 182S-18S2 
 
 We are charmed by Rossetti's verse, but the burden, the message, is of slight 
 import. Formal beauty is not everything. — Charles F. Johnson. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 The Burden Of Nineveh. 
 Sister Helen. 
 The Sea-Limits. 
 Rose Mary. 
 
 Inclusiveness. [The House Of Life.] 
 Lost Days. [The House Of Life.] 
 A Superscription. [The House Of Life.] 
 The Mono-Chord. [The House Of Life.] 
 
 The Ballad Of Dead Ladies, A Translation From Frangois 
 Villon, 1450. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 Oh ! what is this that knows the road I came, 
 The flame turned cloud, the cloud returned to flame, 
 The lifted shifted steeps and all the way? 
 
 — The Mono-Chord. Sonnet LXXIX. 
 
 SIBYLLA PALMIFERA; OR, SOUL'S BEAUTY 
 
 ( For a Picture) 
 
 Under the arch of Life, where love and death, 
 Terror and mystery, guard her shrine, I saw 
 Beauty enthroned ; and though her gaze struck awe, 
 
 I drew it in as simply as my breath. 
 
ROSSETTI 409 
 
 5 Hers are the eyes which, over and beneath, 
 
 The sky and sea bend on thee, — which can draw, 
 By sea or sky or woman, to one law, 
 The allotted bondman of her palm and wreath. 
 
 This is that Lady Beauty, in whose praise 
 10 Thy voice and hand shake still, — long known to thee 
 By flying hair and fluttering hem, — the beat 
 Following her daily of thy heart and feet, 
 How passionately and irretrievably, 
 In what fond flight, how many ways and days ! 
 
 In this sonnet is felt the rhythmical pursuit of the human heart after 
 beauty which according to Byron is : 
 
 " A chase of idle hopes and fears, 
 Begun in folly, closed in tears." 
 
 LOVESIGHT 
 
 HOUSE OF LIFE IV 
 
 When do I see thee most, beloved one ? 
 When in the light the spirits of mine eyes 
 Before thy face, their altar, solemnize 
 
 The worship of that Love through thee made known ? 
 5 Or when in the dusk hours, ( we two alone,) 
 Close-kissed and eloquent of still replies 
 Thy twilight-hidden glimmering visage lies, 
 
 And my soul only sees thy soul its own ? 
 
 O love, my love ! if I no more should see 
 10 Thyself, nor on the earth the shadow of thee. 
 
 Nor image of thine eyes in any spring, — 
 How then should sound upon Life's darkening slope 
 The ground-whirl of the perished leaves of Hope, 
 
 The wind of Death's imperishable wing ? 
 
4IO ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 What are the rules for the perfect construction of a modern sonnet ; 
 and how does it differ from the Shakesperian and the Miltonic ? Analyse 
 the thought of the sestet. Fine critics place Rossetti at the head of all 
 nineteenth century sonnet writers. What is Pre-Raphaelitism ? Ros- 
 setti is the poet of mediaeval romanticism. 
 
 THE BLESSED DAMOZEL 
 
 The blessed damozel leaned out 
 From the gold bar of Heaven ; 
 
 Her eyes were deeper than the depth 
 Of waters stilled at even ; 
 5 She had three lilies in her hand, 
 
 And the stars in her hair were seven. 
 
 Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem. 
 
 No wrought flowers did adorn, 
 But a white rose of Mary's gift, 
 I o For service meetly worn ; 
 
 Her hair that lay along her back 
 
 Was yellow like ripe corn. 
 
 Her seemed she scarce had been a day 
 
 One of God's choristers ; 
 1 5 The wonder was not yet quite gone 
 
 From that still look of hers ; 
 Albeit, to them she left, her day 
 
 Had counted as ten years. 
 
 (To one, it is ten years of years. 
 20 . . . Yet now, and in this place. 
 Surely she leaned o'er me — her hair 
 
 Fell all about my face 
 Nothing : the autumn fall of leaves. 
 The whole year sets apace.) 
 
ROSSETTI 
 
 25 It was the rampart of God's house 
 That she was standing on ; 
 By God built over the sheer depth 
 
 The which is Space begun ; 
 So high, that looking downward thence 
 30 She scarce could see the sun. 
 
 It lies in Heaven, across the flood 
 
 Of ether, as a bridge. 
 Beneath, the tides of day and night 
 
 With flame and darkness ridge 
 35 The void, as low as where this earth 
 
 Spins like a fretful midge. ' 
 
 Around her, lovers, newly met 
 
 'Mid deathless love's acclaims. 
 Spoke evermore among themselves 
 40 Their heat-remembered names ; 
 And the souls mounting up to God 
 Went by her like thin flames. 
 
 And still she bowed herself and stooped 
 
 Out of the circling charm ; 
 45 Until her bosom must have made 
 
 The bar she leaned on warm, 
 And the lilies lay as if asleep 
 
 Along her bended arm. 
 
 From the fixed place of Heaven she saw 
 50 Time like a pulse shake fierce 
 
 Through all the world. Her gaze still strove 
 
 Within the gulf to pierce 
 Its path ; and now she spoke as when 
 
 The stars sang in their spheres. 
 
 411 
 
412 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 55 The sun was gone now ; the curled moon 
 Was like a little feather 
 Fluttering far down the gulf ; and now 
 She spoke through the still weather. 
 Her voice was like the voice the stars 
 60 Had when they sang together. 
 
 (Ah sweet! Even now, in that bird's song, 
 
 Strove not her accents there. 
 Fain to be barkened ? When those bells 
 
 Possessed the mid-day air, 
 65 Strove not her steps to reach my side 
 
 Down all the echoing stair?) 
 
 ' I wish that he were come to me, 
 
 For he will come,' she said. 
 'Have I not prayed in Heaven ? — on earth, 
 70 Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd ? 
 
 Are not two prayers a perfect strength ? 
 
 And shall I feel afraid ? 
 
 'When round his head the aureole clings. 
 
 And he is clothed in white, 
 75 I'll take his hand and go with him 
 
 To the deep wells of light ; 
 As unto a stream we will step down, 
 
 And bathe there in God's sight. 
 
 ' We two will stand beside that shrine, 
 80 Occult, withheld, untrod. 
 
 Whose lamps are stirred continually 
 
 With prayer sent up to God ; 
 And see our old prayers, granted, melt 
 
 Each like a little cloud, 
 
ROSSETTI 
 
 85 ' We two will lie i' the shadow of 
 That living mystic tree 
 Within whose secret growth the Dove 
 
 Is sometimes felt to be, 
 While every leaf that His plumes touch 
 go Saith His Name audibly. 
 
 ' And I myself will teach to him, 
 
 I myself, lying so, 
 The songs I sing here ; which his voice 
 Shall pause in, hushed and slow, 
 95 And find some knowledge at each pause, 
 Or some new thing to know.' 
 
 (Alas ! We two, we two, thou say'st ! 
 
 Yea, one wast thou with me 
 That once of old. But shall God lift 
 100 To endless unity 
 
 The soul whose likeness with thy soul 
 Was but its love for thee ?) 
 
 ' We two,' she said, ' will seek the groves 
 
 Where the lady Mary is, 
 105 With her five handmaidens, whose names 
 
 x^re five sweet symphonies, 
 Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, 
 
 Margaret and Rosalys. 
 
 ' Circlewise sit they, with bound locks 
 1 10 And foreheads garlanded ; 
 
 Into the fine cloth white like flame 
 
 Weaving the golden thread, 
 To fashion the birth-robes for them 
 
 Who are just born, being dead. 
 
 413 
 
414 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH PQETRY 
 
 115 ' He shall fear, haply, and be dumb: 
 Then will I lay my cheek 
 To his, and tell about our love. 
 Not once abashed or weak : 
 And the dear Mother will approve 
 120 My pride, and let me speak. 
 
 ' Herself shall bring us, hand in hand. 
 To Him round whom all souls 
 
 Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered heads 
 Bowed with their aureoles : 
 125 And angels meeting us shall sing 
 To their citherns and citoles. 
 
 ' There will I ask of Christ the Lord 
 Thus much for him and me : — 
 
 Only to live as once on earth 
 130 With Love, only to be. 
 
 As then awhile, for ever now 
 Together, I and he.' 
 
 She gazed and listened and then said, 
 Less sad of speech than mild, — 
 135 ' All this is when he comes.' She ceased. 
 The light thrilled towards her, fill'd 
 
 With angels in strong level flight. 
 Her eyes prayed, and she smil'd. 
 
 (I saw her smile.) But soon their path 
 140 Was vague in distant spheres : 
 And then she cast her arms along 
 
 The golden barriers. 
 And laid her face between her hands, 
 
 And wept. (I heard her tears.) 
 
ROSSETTI 415 
 
 According to Hall Caine, Poe's " The Raven " caused this poem to 
 be written. Contrast the central idea in " The Raven " with that in 
 this ballad : the power of immortal, human passion vs. the power of 
 mortal, immortal divine love. The sainted maiden Poe's Lenore is 
 seeking to remove the shadow on the floor that will depart nevermore. 
 Compare the damozel's disappointment with the suiprise-sorrow which 
 came to the feminine angel in Hay's " A Woman's Love." 
 
 Like Dante, who humanly loved his Beatrice while spiritually she was 
 translating him to Paradise, is Rossetti who by his blessed damozel 
 would be lifted beside the mystic tree of life and the blazing, smoky 
 mount wherein God's censers are ever burning. Note the keen pathos 
 protrayed by means of wild longings which produce a confessed shame 
 that makes impossible his passing through the ten spheres to the empyr- 
 eal walls of Heaven. " Lost, lost, all lost, between Hell and Heaven ! " 
 
 Rossetti has idealised the fleshly beauty of the madonnas of the 
 cathedral ages ; he has interfused spiritual beauty with the imperfect 
 beauty of the human body so that we may worship it. Cf. Spenser's 
 "An Hymne In Honour Of Beautie " : 
 
 " For of the soule the bodie forme doth take ; 
 For soule is forme, and doth the bodie make." 
 
4 1 6 ANTHOL OGY OF ENGLISH POE TR Y 
 
 WILLIAM MORRIS 
 
 1834-1896 
 
 No writer since Chaucer has displayed so masterly a power of continuous 
 narrative, or has rested his fame so completely upon the arts of simplicity and 
 lucidity. — W. "J. Dawson. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 The Defence Of Guenevere. 
 The Earthly Paradise. 
 The Life And Death Of Jason. 
 The Day Of Days. 
 Drawing Near The Light. 
 The Day Is Coming. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 And underneath his feet the moonlit sea 
 Went shepherding his waves disorderly. . . . 
 
 — The Story Of Cupid And Psyche. 
 
 AN APOLOGY 
 
 (From "The Earthly Paradise") 
 
 Of Heaven or Hell I have no power to sing, 
 I cannot ease the burden of your fears, 
 Or make quick-coming death a little thing, 
 Or bring again the pleasure of past years, 
 5 Nor for my words shall ye forget your tears, 
 Or hope again for aught that I can say, 
 The idle singer of an empty day. 
 
 But rather, when aweary of your mirth, 
 From full hearts still unsatisfied ye sigh, 
 10 And, feeling kindly unto all the earth, 
 
MORRIS 4 1 7 
 
 Grudge every minute as it passes by, 
 
 Made the more mindful that the sweet days die — 
 
 — Remember me a little then I pray, 
 
 The idle singer of an empty day. 
 
 15 The heavy trouble, the bewildering care 
 
 That weighs us down who live and earn our bread, 
 These idle verses have no power to bear ; 
 So let me sing of names remembered, 
 Because they, living not, can ne'er be dead, 
 
 20 Or long time take their memory quite away 
 From us poor singers of an empty day. 
 
 Dreamer of dreams, born out of my due time. 
 Why should I strive to set the crooked straight ? 
 Let it suffice me that my murmuring rhyme 
 25 Beats with light wing against the ivorj' gate, 
 Telling a tale not too importunate 
 To those who in the sleepy region stay, 
 Lulled by the singer of an empty day. 
 
 Folk say, a wizard to a northern king 
 30 At Christmas-tide such wondrous things did show, 
 That through one window men beheld the spring. 
 And through another saw the summer glow, 
 And through a third the fruited vines a-row, 
 While still, unheard, but in its wonted way, 
 35 Piped the drear wind of that December day. 
 
 So with this Earthly Paradise it is. 
 If ye will read aright, and pardon me, 
 Who strive to build a shadowy isle of bliss 
 Midmost the beating of the steely sea, 
 40 Where tossed about all hearts of men must be ; 
 
4l8 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Whose ravening monsters mighty men shall slay, 
 Not the poor singer of an empty day. 
 
 (1-7) These lines refer to the epical singing of Virgil, Dante, and 
 Milton. Herrick lyrically says : 
 
 " I write of hell ; I sing, (and ever shall) 
 Of heaven, and hope to have it after all." 
 
 It is otherwise with Morris, who, throughout his " Apology," expresses 
 the purpose of poetry as consisting of amusement which makes mortals 
 forgetful of Hell and Heaven. In factory frowning cities, the " too 
 much " of fashionable row is as tragical as the " too little " of poverty 
 flat. And, for relief of this ennui " of an empty day," Morris presents 
 his " Earthly Paradise " in the manner of him who during the reign of 
 Richard II. whiles away our time for fifty-six miles on the road to Can- 
 terbury with stories representing the palace of the courtier and the hut 
 of the peasant. (15-28) In 1868 Morris was not fascinated by the 
 hopeless social problem, but in later life all his poetic powers were given 
 to it : this is regrettable, since by it his poetry suffers from the artistic 
 point of view, however much his ear is solicitously placed over the 
 hearts of those " who live and earn our bread," whose times are crooked, 
 and may never be set straight. He is a finer poet when dealing with a 
 hero in myth than he is when portraying the hero of the slums. (25-28) 
 In Spenser's "Faerie Queene," I. i, stanzas 40-41, what explains "the 
 ivory gate " and "the sleepy region".' (29-35) Morris like an enchanter 
 possesses power in the month of December of presenting kaleidoscopi- 
 cally spring, summer, and autumn. (36-42) Morris possesses that power 
 which Shakespere's Gaunt would give his son Bolingbroke, who at the 
 hands of Richard II. is about to tread a path of exile to the continent, 
 — the power of making things as he likes and as you like them in spite 
 of drear wind and steely winter seas. Cf. " Richard II.," Act I. 3 : 
 
 " Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 
 To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st : 
 Suppose the singing-birds musicians, 
 The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, 
 The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more 
 Than a delightful measure or a dance ; 
 For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite 
 The man that mocks at it and sets it light." 
 
MORRIS 
 
 419 
 
 If you would have a world as magicians of old wished and had it, 
 read "Earthly Paradise," and by sheer force of will find your shadowy 
 isle of bliss " Midmost the beating of the steely sea " of modern life. 
 Compare " the steely sea " to Rossetti's " the iron-bosomed sea " in 
 " The Portrait." 
 
 ATALANTA VICTORIOUS 
 
 (From "Atalanta's Race" in "Earthly Paradise") 
 
 I, 7J-I33 
 
 And there two runners did the sign abide 
 Foot set to foot, — a young man slim and fair, 
 Crisp-haired, well-knit, with firm limbs often tried 
 In places where no man his strength may spare ; 
 75 Dainty his thin coat was, and on his hair 
 A golden circlet of renown he wore. 
 And in his hand an olive garland bore. 
 
 But on this day with whom shall he contend ? 
 A maid stood by him like Diana clad 
 80 When in the woods she lists her bow to bend, 
 Too fair for one to look on and be glad. 
 Who scarcely yet has thirty summers had, 
 If he must still behold her form afar - 
 Too fair to let the world live free from war, 
 
 85 She seemed all earthly matters to forget ; 
 
 Of all tormenting lines her face was clear ; 
 
 Her wide gray eyes upon the goal were set 
 
 Calm and unmoved as though no soul were near ; 
 
 But her foe trembled as a man in fear, 
 90 Nor from her loveliness one moment turned 
 
 His anxious face with fierce desire that burned. 
 
420 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Now through the hush there broke the trumpet's clang, 
 Just as the setting sun made eventide. 
 Then from light feet a spurt of dust there sprang, 
 95 And swiftly were they running side by side ; 
 But silent did the thronging folk abide 
 Until the turning-post was reached at last, 
 And round about it still abreast they passed. 
 
 But when the people saw how close they ran, 
 loo When half-way to the starting-point they were, 
 
 A cry of joy broke forth, whereat the man 
 
 Headed the white-foot runner, and drew near 
 
 Unto the very end of all his fear ; 
 
 And scarce his straining feet the ground could feel, 
 105 And bliss unhoped for o'er his heart 'gan steal. 
 
 But midst the loud victorious shouts he heard 
 Her footsteps drawing nearer, and the sound 
 Of fluttering raiment, and thereat afeard 
 His flushed and eager face he turned around, 
 And even then he felt her past him bound 
 Fleet as the wind, but scarcely saw her there 
 Till on the goal she laid her fingers fair. 
 
 There stood she, breathing like a little child 
 Amid some warlike clamor laid asleep, 
 1 1 5 For no victorious joy her red lips smiled. 
 
 Her cheek its wonted freshness did but keep ; 
 No glance lit up her clear gray eyes and deep, 
 Though some divine thought softened all her face, 
 As once more rang the trumpet through the place. 
 
MORRIS 42 i 
 
 120 But her late foe stopped short amidst his course, 
 One moment gazed upon her piteously, 
 Then with a groan his lingering feet did force 
 To leave the spot whence he her eyes could see ; 
 And, changed like one who knows his time must be 
 
 125 But short and bitter, without any word 
 He knelt before the bearer of the sword ; 
 
 Then high rose up the gleaming, deadly blade. 
 Bared of its flowers, and through the crowded place 
 Was silence now, and midst of it the maid 
 130 Went by the poor wretch at a gentle pace. 
 And he to hers upturned his sad white face ; 
 Nor did his eyes behold another sight 
 Ere on his soul there fell eternal night. 
 
 Should the scene be iji Arcadia or Boeotia ? Atalanta kills her lover, 
 according to the legend. Morris has used the Chaucerian stanza. 
 Define such. Define " Rime Royal," and give its history in English 
 poetry. What is the plan of " Earthly Paradise " whereby twenty-four 
 tales are told throughout the year? How many tales are told in the 
 "Canterbury Tales"; and how many would have been told if the orig- 
 inal scheme had been followed ? The pupil, who may be interested 
 as to whether this thoughtlessly cruel Atalanta was conquered, should 
 read IV. of " Atalanta's Race," where Milanion, sei-vant of love, wins 
 by the ruse of the apples of the Hesperides, or rather by the artifice of 
 love. According to a legend used by Edwin Arnold, it is Hippomenes 
 and not Milanion who makes Atalanta succumb to the apples and to 
 love. 
 
 ATALANTA 
 
 Greek Atalanta ! girdled high ; 
 
 Gold-sandalled ; great, majestic Maid ; 
 Her hair bound back with purple tie : 
 
 And in her hand th' Arcadian blade. 
 To doom the suitor who shall choose 
 Challenge her to the race — and lose. 
 
422 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 And at her side Hippomenes ! 
 
 Poised on his foremost foot ; with soul 
 Burning to win — if Pallas please — 
 
 That course so perilous, whose goal 
 Is joy, or Death ! Apples of gold 
 His trembling fingers close enfold. 
 
 Oh, girls ! 'tis English as 'tis Greek ! 
 
 Life is that race ! Train so the soul 
 That, clad with health and strength, it seek 
 
 A swifter still, who touches goal 
 First ; or — for lack of breath outdone — 
 Dies gladly, so such race was won ! 
 
 Yet scorn not, if before your feet 
 
 The golden fruit of life shall roll — 
 Truth, duty, loving service sweet — 
 
 To stoop to grasp them ! So the soul 
 Runs slower in the race, by these : 
 But wins them — and Hippomenes! 
 
 — Edwin Arnold. 
 
KIPLING 
 
 423 
 
 RUDYARD KIPLING 
 
 1865- 
 
 He is the poet of the Imperial idea, of the sense of Imperial responsibilities, 
 of the romance of Imperial expansion. — " Conditions of Great Poetry" Quar- 
 terly, July, igoo. 
 
 Optional Poems 
 
 The English Flag. 
 
 The Coastwise Lights. 
 
 The Song Of The Dead. 
 
 The Deep-Sea Cables. 
 
 The Sea-Wife. 
 
 L'Envoi. [The Seven Seas.] 
 
 Gunga Din. 
 
 Fuzzy-Wuzzy. 
 
 Mandalay. 
 
 Phrases 
 
 . . . the thoughts that burn like irons if you think. 
 
 — The Song Of The Banjo. 
 
 . . . when the order moves the line 
 
 And the lean, locked ranks go roaring down to die. 
 
 — The Song Of The Banjo. 
 
 For the sin ye do by two and two, ye must pay for one by 
 one ! — Tomlinson. 
 
 . . . the lore of men that ha' dealt with men 
 In the new and naked lands. — The Sea-lVife. 
 
 ... no one shall work for money, and no one shall work 
 for fame ; 
 
424 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 But each for the joy of the working, and each, in his separ- 
 ate star, 
 Shall draw the Thing as he sees It for the God of Things 
 as They Are ! — U Envoi \The Seven Seas\. 
 
 RECESSIONAL 
 
 God of our fathers, known of old — 
 Lord of our far-flung battle line — 
 
 Beneath Whose awful hand we hold 
 Dominion over palm and pine — 
 5 Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 
 Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 
 
 The tumult and the shouting dies — 
 The captains and the kings depart — 
 
 Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice, 
 10 An humble and a contrite heart. 
 
 Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 
 Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 
 
 Far-called our navies melt away — 
 
 On dune and headland sinks the fire — 
 15 Lo, all our pomp of yesterday 
 
 Is one with Nineveh and Tyre ! 
 Judge of the Nations, spare us yet, 
 Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 
 
 If, drunk with sight of power, we loose 
 20 Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe 
 Such boasting as the Gentiles use 
 
 Or lesser breeds without the Law — 
 Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet, 
 Lest we forget — lest we forget ! 
 
KIPLING 425 
 
 25 For heathen heart that puts her trust 
 In reeking tube and iron shard — 
 All valiant dust that builds on dust, 
 
 And guarding calls not Thee to guard — 
 For frantic boast and foolish word, 
 30 Thy mercy on Thy people. Lord ! 
 Amen. 
 
 Ascertain the meaning of " recessional." What were the circum- 
 stances connected with the publication of this poem ? What is the 
 reason of its great popularity? Note the form of its verse. (13-18) 
 What sonnet of Milton's breathes forth a warning to a nation " drunk 
 with power"? Analyse the similitudes of the two poems. Compare 
 the " Recessional's " note of Imperialism with that sounded in " The 
 Sea-Wife." Compare Kipling's poetry with Tennyson's. 
 
Index of Authors 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Arnold, Matthew 3^3 
 
 Blake, William 158 
 
 1/ Browning, Elizabeth Barrett 389 
 
 ^ Browning, Robert 375 
 
 Burns, Robert. 160 
 
 Byron, George Gordon 208 
 
 Campbell, Thomas 333 
 
 Campion, Thomas 56 
 
 Chaucer, Geoffrey 15 
 
 Coleridge, Samuel Taylor 246 
 
 Collins, William 126 
 
 CowPER, William 150 
 
 Drayton, Michael 64 
 
 Dryden, John in 
 
 Fletcher, John 71 
 
 Goldsmith, Oliver 135 
 
 Gray, Thomas 129 
 
 Greene, Robert 53 
 
 Herbert, George 72 
 
 Herrick, Robert 81 
 
 Hood, Thomas . 342 
 
 JoNSON, Ben 69 
 
 i Keats, John 278 
 
 Kipling, Rudyard 423 
 
 Lovelace, Richard . * 76 
 
 Lyly, John 52 
 
 Marlowe, Christopher 58 
 
 Milton, John 89 
 
 Moore, Thomas 339 
 
 427 
 
4 2 S ANTHOL G Y OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Morris, William 416 
 
 Nashe, Thomas 62 
 
 Pope, Alexander 118 
 
 Raleigh, Sir Walter 60 
 
 RossETTi, Dante Gabriel 408 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter 233 
 
 Shakespere, William 65 
 
 Shelley, Percy Bysshe 306 
 
 Shirley, James 79 
 
 Sidney, Sir Philip 63 
 
 Southey, Robert 273 
 
 Spenser, Edmund 40 
 
 Suckling, John . . . . . . . -74 
 
 Swinburne, Algernon Charles 404 
 
 Tennyson, Alfred 34^ 
 
 Waller, Edmund 87 
 
 Wordsworth, William 181; 
 
Index of Titles 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Adonais ...... 
 
 Shelley 
 
 307 
 
 Alexander's Feast .... 
 
 Dryden 
 
 I 12 
 
 Apelles' Song 
 
 Lyly 
 
 52 
 
 Apology, An (The Earthly Paradise) . 
 
 Morris 
 
 416 
 
 Atalanta Victorious ( The Earthly 
 
 
 
 Paradise) 
 
 Morris 
 
 419 
 
 Banks Of Doon, The .... 
 
 Burns 
 
 173 
 
 Bard's Epitaph, A . . . . 
 
 Burns 
 
 183 
 
 Battle Of The Baltic .... 
 
 Campbell 
 
 333 
 
 Battle Of Bear An Duine ( The Lady 
 
 
 
 Of The Lake ) . . . . 
 
 Scott 
 
 238 
 
 Beowulf's Fight With Grendel (Beowulf) 
 
 4 
 
 Blessed Damozel, The 
 
 Rossetti 
 
 410 
 
 Break, Break, Break .... 
 
 Tennyson 
 
 361 
 
 Bridge Of Sighs, The . . . ' . 
 
 Hood 
 
 342 
 
 Cascata Del Marmore ( Childe Harold ) 
 
 Byron 
 
 212 
 
 Childe Harold's Pilgrimage ( Selections) 
 
 Byron 
 
 210 
 
 Childe Roland To The Dark Tower 
 
 
 
 Came .... 
 
 Browning 
 
 376 
 
 Coliseum, The (Manfred) . 
 
 Byron 
 
 219 
 
 Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, 
 
 
 
 A Sonnet 
 
 Wordsworth 
 
 205 
 
 Contented Wi' Little And Cantie Wi' 
 
 
 
 Mair 
 
 Burns 
 
 175 
 
 Corinna's Going A-Maying 
 
 Herrick 
 
 81 
 
 Cotter's Saturday Night, The 
 
 Burns 
 
 161 
 
 Crossing The Bar .... 
 
 Tennyson 
 
 373 
 
 Cuckoo Song 
 
 
 . 14 
 
 Curse, The (The Curse of Kehama) . 
 
 Southey 
 
 273 
 
 429 
 
 
 
430 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Days That Are No More, The (The 
 
 Princess) ..... Tennyson 362 
 
 Death, The Leveller ( The Contention 
 
 Of Ajax And Ulysses) . . Shirley 79 
 Deserted Village, The . . . Golds))iith 135 
 Disappointment In Love ( The Tri- 
 umph Of Time ) . . . . Swinburne 404 
 
 Don Juan (Selections) . , . Byron 217, 221 
 
 Dover Beach ..... Arnold 400 
 
 Eleg)' Written In A Country Church- 
 yard ...... Gray 129 
 
 Epilogue ( Asolando ) .... Browning 387 
 
 Epistle To Dr. Arbuthnot (Selection) Pope 121 
 
 Eve Of St. Agnes, The . . . Keats 279 
 
 Faery Queene, The (Selections) . Spenser 41 
 
 Farewell! But Whenever — , . Moore 340 
 
 Farewell To Nancy .... Burns 174 
 
 Forsaken Merman, The . . . Arnold 394 
 
 Fortunati Nimium .... Campion 56 
 
 Go, Lovely Rose .... Waller 87 
 
 Highland Mary ..... Burns 172 
 
 How Do I Love Thee ? A Sonnet 
 
 (Sonnets From The Portuguese) E. B. B?-owning 392 
 
 Hymn To Diana ..... Jonson 70 
 
 I Prithee Send Me Back My Heart . Suckling 74 
 
 I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud . . Wordsworth 203 
 
 II Penseroso ..... Milton 96 
 Isles Of Greece, The ( Don Juan) . Byron 221 
 It Is A Beauteous Evening, A Sonnet Wordsworth 206 
 It Was The Time Of Roses . . Hood 346 
 John Anderson, My Jo . . . Burns 171 
 Kubla Khan ..... Coleridge 270 
 La Belle Dame Sans Merci . . Keats 301 
 Lady Of Shalott, The . . . Tennyson 350 
 
 L' Allegro Milton 91 
 
 Last Sonnet ..... Keats 304 
 
 Light Of Other Days, The . . . Moore 339 
 
INDEX OF TITLES 
 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Lines Composed A Few Miles Above 
 
 
 
 Tintern Abbey 
 
 
 Wordsworth 
 
 187 
 
 Lord Ullin's Daughter 
 
 
 Carnpbell 
 
 337 
 
 Lovesight, A Sonnet . 
 
 '' 
 
 Rossetti 
 
 409 
 
 Lycidas 
 
 
 Milton 
 
 102 
 
 Manfred ( Selections ) 
 
 
 Byron 
 
 218 
 
 Melancholy ..... 
 
 
 Fletcher 
 
 71 
 
 Melrose Abbey ( The Lay Of The Last 
 
 
 
 Minstrel) .... 
 
 
 Scott 
 
 234 
 
 Merlin And The Gleam 
 
 
 Tennyson 
 
 368 
 
 Milton, Sonnet To . . . 
 
 
 Wordsworth 
 
 204 
 
 Mont Blanc .... 
 
 
 Byron 
 
 218 
 
 Musical Instrument, A 
 
 
 E. B. Browning 
 
 390 
 
 Nut-Brown Maid, The 
 
 
 . 
 
 26 
 
 Nymph's Reply, The . 
 
 
 Raleigh 
 
 60 
 
 Ocean, The ( Childe Harold ) 
 
 
 Byro?i 
 
 214 
 
 Ode On A Grecian Urn 
 
 
 Keats 
 
 295 
 
 Ode On The Intimations Of Immor- 
 
 
 
 tality 
 
 
 Wordsworth 
 
 192 
 
 Ode To A Nightingale 
 
 
 Keats 
 
 297 
 
 Ode To Evening 
 
 
 Collins 
 
 126 
 
 On First Looking Into Chapman's 
 
 
 
 Homer .... 
 
 
 Keats 
 
 304 
 
 On His Blindness, A Sonnet 
 
 
 Milton 
 
 no 
 
 On Sleep, A Sonnet . 
 
 
 Sidney 
 
 63 
 
 On The Late Massacre In Piedmont, 
 
 
 
 A Sonnet .... 
 
 
 Milton 
 
 109 
 
 On The Receipt Of My Mother's 
 
 Pic- 
 
 
 
 ture ..... 
 
 
 Cowper 
 
 153 
 
 On This Day I Complete My Thirty- 
 
 
 
 Sixth Year .... 
 
 
 Byron 
 
 230 
 
 Passionate Shepherd To His Love, 
 
 The 
 
 Marlowe 
 
 58 
 
 Patrick Spens, Sir . . . 
 
 
 . 
 
 . 24 
 
 Poplar Field, The 
 
 
 Cowper 
 
 151 
 
 Prioresses Tale, The . 
 
 
 Chajicer 
 
 16 
 
 Prospice 
 
 . 
 
 Browning 
 
 386 
 
 Recessional .... 
 
 . 
 
 Kipling 
 
 424 
 
432 
 
 ANTHOLOGY OF ENGLISH POETRY 
 
 Rime Of The Ancient Mariner, The . 
 
 Coleridge 
 
 246 
 
 Rose, The 
 
 Cowper 
 
 152 
 
 Self-Dependence .... 
 
 Arnold 
 
 402 
 
 Sephestia's Lullaby . . . . 
 
 Greene 
 
 S3 
 
 She Walks In Beauty 
 
 Byron 
 
 227 
 
 Shipwreck, The (Don Juan) 
 
 Byron 
 
 217 
 
 Sibylla Palmifera, A Sonnet 
 
 Rossetti 
 
 408 
 
 Since There's No Help, Come Let Us 
 
 
 
 Kiss And Part .... 
 
 Drayton 
 
 64 
 
 Solitary Reaper, The .... 
 
 Wordsworth 
 
 202 
 
 Song Of The Shepherdess, The . 
 
 Greene 
 
 54 
 
 Sonnets ...... 
 
 Shakespere 
 
 66 
 
 Spring 
 
 NasJie 
 
 62 
 
 Stanzas For Music .... 
 
 Byron 
 
 226 
 
 Stanzas To Augusta .... 
 
 Byron 
 
 228 
 
 Tarn O'Shanter ..... 
 
 Burns 
 
 176 
 
 They Sin Who Tell Us Love Can Die 
 
 
 
 (The Curse Of Kehama) 
 
 Southey 
 
 275 
 
 Tiger, The ..... 
 
 Blake 
 
 158 
 
 To Althea From Prison 
 
 Lovelace 
 
 76 
 
 To A Mountain Daisy 
 
 Burns 
 
 169 
 
 To A Mouse 
 
 Burns 
 
 167 
 
 To A Skylark 
 
 Shelley 
 
 328 
 
 To Celia ...... 
 
 Jonson 
 
 69 
 
 To Daffodils 
 
 Herrick 
 
 86 
 
 To Lucasta, On Going To The Wars 
 
 Lovelace 
 
 76 
 
 To Milton, A Sonnet .... 
 
 Wordsworth 
 
 204 
 
 To Primroses Filled With Morning Dew 
 
 LLerrick 
 
 85 
 
 To Virgil 
 
 Tennyson 
 
 363 
 
 Twa Corbies, The .... 
 
 
 • 38 
 
 Triumph Of Time, The (Selections) . 
 
 Swvtbtirne 
 
 404 
 
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