286. HAME, HAME, HAME HAME, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be, O, hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree! When the flower is i' the bud and the leaf is on the tree, The larks shall sing me hame in my ain countree. Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be, O hame, hame, hame, to my ain countree ! The green leaf o' loyaltie's beginning for to fa', O, there's nocht now frae ruin my country can save, Hame, hame, hame, O hame fain wad I be, A. CUNNINGHAM. 287. THE SUN RISES BRIGHT IN FRANCE THE sun rises bright in France, And fair sets he; But he has tint the blythe blink he had In my ain countree. Oh, it's nae my ain ruin That saddens ay my e'e, But the dear Marie I left behin', Wi' sweet bairnies three. My lanely hearth burned bonnie, The bud comes back to summer, And the blossom to the bee; But I'll win back, oh, never, To my ain countree. Oh, I am leal to high Heaven, A. CUNNINGHAM. 288. CARE-CHARMER SLEEP CARE-CHARMER Sleep, son of the sable Night, 289. LOVE IS A SICKNESS LOVE is a sickness full of woes, All remedies refusing; S. DANIEL. A plant that with most cutting grows, More we enjoy it, more it dies; Love is a torment of the mind, And Jove hath made it of a kind More we enjoy it, more it dies; S. DANIEL (Hymen's Triumph). 290. O BLESSED LETTERS O BLESSED Letters! that combine in one What good is like to this, To do worthy the writing, and to write Worthy the reading, and the world's delight? S. DANIEL (Musophilus). 291. WHEN MEN SHALL FIND THY FLOWER, THY GLORY, PASS WHEN men shall find thy flower, thy glory, pass, A LITTLE cross To rest my head; 292. ROBIN'S CROSS A little tear is all I crave S. DANIEL. I strew thy bed, The cross I raise, With nothing more upon it than— 293. IT IS NOT BEAUTY I DEMAND IT is not Beauty I demand, A crystal brow, the moon's despair, Tell me not of your starry eyes, A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks These are but gauds: nay, what are lips? Whose brink when your adventurer sips And what are cheeks but ensigns oft Give me, instead of Beauty's bust, G. DARLEY. 294. WHEREFORE, UNLAURELLED BOY WHEREFORE, unlaurelled Boy, Whom the contemptuous Muse will not inspire, With a sad kind of joy, Still sing'st thou to thy solitary lyre? The melancholy winds Pour through unnumbered reeds their idle woes, And every Naiad finds A stream to weep her sorrow as it flows. Her sighs unto the air The wood-maid's native oak doth broadly tell, And Echo's fond despair Intelligible rocks re-syllable. Wherefore then should not I, Albeit no haughty Muse my breast inspire, Fated of grief to die, Impart it to a solitary lyre? 295. STEEL HAIL, adamantine Steel! magnetic Lord! G. DARLEY. King of the prow, the ploughshare, and the sword! His steady helm amid the struggling tides; E. DARWIN (The Botanic Garden). 296. THE PAPYRUS PAPYRA, throned upon the banks of Nile, Spread her smooth leaf, and waved her silver style. E. DARWIN (The Botanic Garden). 297. THE SOLDIER GOING TO THE FIELD PRESERVE thy sighs, unthrifty girl, To purify the air! But, first, I'll chide thy cruel theft : Can I in war delight, Thy tears to thread, instead of Who (being of my heart bereft) pearl, On bracelets of thy hair. The trumpet makes the echo hoarse, And wakes the louder drum. Expense of grief gains no remorse, When sorrow should be dumb. For I must go where lazy Peace Will hide her drowsy head, And, for the sport of kings, increase The number of the dead. Can have no heart to fight? Thou knowst, the sacred laws of Ordained a thief should pay, Thy payment shall but double be, 298. SHE NE'ER SAW COURTS, YET COURTS COULD HAVE UNDONE SHE ne'er saw courts, yet courts could have undone, With untaught looks and an unpractised heart; Her nets, the most prepared could never shun ; She never had in busy cities been, Ne'er warmed with hopes, nor e'er allayed with fears; Not seeing punishment, could guess no sin; And sin not seeing, ne'er had use of tears. |