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And an eye shall vex thee, looking ancient | Can I but re-live in sadness? I will turn kindness on thy pain. that earlier page. Turn thee, turn thee on thy pillow: get thee Hide me from my deep emotion, O thou to thy rest again. wondrous Mother-Age!

Nay, but Nature brings thee solace; for a Make me feel the wild pulsation that I felt tender voice will cry. before the strife, "Tis a purer life than thine; a lip to drain When I heard my days before me, and the thy trouble dry. tumult of my life;

Baby lips will laugh me down: my latest Yearning for the large excitement that the rival brings thee rest. coming years would yield,

Baby fingers, waxen touches, press me Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves from the mother's breast.

Oh, the child too clothes the father with a dearness not his due.

his father's field,

And at night along the dusky highway near and nearer drawn,

Half is thine and half is his: it will be Sees in heaven the light of London flaring worthy of the two. like a dreary dawn;

Oh, I see thee old and formal, fitted to thy And his spirit leaps within him to be gone

petty part,

With a little hoard of maxims preaching

down a daughter's heart.

before him then,

Underneath the light he looks at, in among the throngs of men:

Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new;

"They were dangerous guides the feelings -she herself was not exempt— Truly, she herself had suffer'd "-Perish in That which they have done but earnest of thy self-contempt! the things that they shall do;

Overlive it-lower yet-be happy! where- For I dipt into the future, far as human fore should I care? eye could see,

I myself must mix with action, lest I Saw the vision of the world, and all the wither by despair. wonder that would be;

What is that which I should turn to, light- Saw the heavens fill with commerce, argoing upon days like these? sies of magic sails,

Every door is barr'd with gold, and opens Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping but to golden keys. down with costly bales;

Every gate is throng'd with suitors, all the Heard the heavens fill with shouting, and markets overflow. there rain'd a ghastly dew

I have but an angry fancy: what is that From the nations' airy navies grappling in which I should do? the central blue;

I had been content to perish, falling on the Far along the world-wide whisper of the foeman's ground,

When the ranks are roll'd in vapour, and

the winds are laid with sound.

south wind rushing warm,

With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the thunderstorm;

But the jingling of the guinea helps the Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and hurt that Honor feels,

the battle-flags were furl'd

And the nations do but murmur, snarling In the Parliament of man, the Federation

at each other's heels.

of the world.

There the common sense of most shall Woman is the lesser man, and all thy pashold a fretful realm in awe, sions, match'd with mine,

And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt Are as moonlight unto sunlight, and as in universal law. water unto wine

So I triumph'd ere my passion sweeping Here at least, where Nature sickens, noththro' me left me dry, ing. Ah, for some retreat Left me with the palsied heart, and left Deep in yonder shining Orient, where my me with the jaundiced eye; life began to beat;

Eye, to which all order festers, all things Where in wild Mahratta-battle fell my here are out of joint; father evil-starr'd;Science moves, but slowly, slowly, creep- I was left a trampled orphan, and a selfish ing on from point to point; uncle's ward.

Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion Or to burst all links of habit-there to creeping nigher, wander far away, Glares at one that nods and winks behind On from island unto island at the gateways a slowly dying fire. of the day.

Yet I doubt not thro' the ages one increas- Larger constellations burning, mellow ing purpose runs, moons and happy skies, And the thoughts of men are widen'd with Breadths of tropic shade and palms in the process of the suns. cluster, knots of Paradise.

What is that to him that reaps not harvest Never comes the trader, never floats an of his youthful joys, European flag,

Tho' the deep heart of existence beat for Slides the bird o'er lustrous woodland, ever like a boy's? swings the trailer from the crag;

Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers, and Droops the heavy-blossom'd bower, hangs I linger on the shore, the heavy-fruited treeAnd the individual withers, and the world Summer isles of Eden lying in dark-purple is more and more. spheres of sea.

Knowledge comes but wisdom lingers, and There methinks would be enjoyment more he bears a laden breast, than in this march of mind,

Full of sad experience, moving toward the In the steamship, in the railway, in the stillness of his rest. thoughts that shake mankind.

Hark! my merry comrades call me, sound- There the passions cramp'd no longer shall ing on the bugle-horn, have scope and breathing-space,

They to whom my foolish passion were a I will take some savage woman, she shall target for their scorn;

rear my dusky race.

Shall it not be scorn to me to harp on such Iron-jointed, supple-sinew'd, they shall a moulder'd string? dive, and they shall run,

I am shamed thro' all my nature to have Catch the wild-goat by the hair, and hurl loved so slight a thing.

Weakness to be wroth with weakness!

woman's pleasure, woman's pain,

their lances in the sun;

Whistle back the parrot's call, and leap the rainbows of the brooks,

Nature made them blinder motions bound- Not with blinded eyesight poring over

ed in a shallower brain;

miserable books

Fool, again the dream, the fancy! but I

know my words are wild,

But I count the gray barbarian lower than the Christian child.

I, to herd with narrow foreheads, vacant of our glorious gains,

Like a beast with lower pleasures, like a beast with lower pains!

Mated with a squalid savage-what to me were sun or clime?

THE STEADFAST SHEPHERD. HENCE away, thou Syren; leave me

Pish unclasp those wanton arms; Sugred words shall ne'er deceive me-→ Though thou prove a thousand charms. Fie, fie, forbear; no common snare

Can ever my affection chain:
Your painted baits, and poor deceits,
Are all bestow'd on me in vain.

I'm no slave to such as you be; Neither shall a snowy breast,

I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost Wanton eye, or lip of ruby,

files of time

I that rather held it better men should perish one by one,

Than that earth should stand at gaze like Joshua's moon in Ajalon!

Not in vain the distance beacons. Forward, forward let us range,

Ever rob me of my rest.
Go, go, display your beauty's ray

To some o'er-soon enamor'd swain: Those common wiles, of sighs and smiles, Are all bestow'd on me in vain.

I have elsewhere vow'd my duty;
Turn away your tempting eyes;
Show not me a naked beauty;
Those impostures I despise:

Let the great world spin for ever down the My spirit loathes where gaudy clothes

ringing grooves of change.

Thro' the shadow of the globe we sweep

into the younger day:

And feigned oaths may love obtain : I love her so whose look swears no, That all your labors will be vain.

Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle Can he prize the tainted posies,

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I do scorn to vow a duty,

Where each lustful lad may woo;
Give me her whose sunlike beauty
Buzzards dare not soar unto:
She, she it is affords that bliss,

For which I would refuse no pain;
But such as you, fond fools, adieu,

You seek to captive me in vain.
She, that's proud in the beginning,
And disdains each looker-on,
If a coy one in the winning,

Proves a true one, being won.
Whate'er betide, she'll ne'er divide
The favor she to one doth deign;
But your fond love will fickle prove,
And all, that trust in you, are vain.
Therefore know, when I enjoy one,
And for love employ my breath,
She I court shall be a coy one
Though I win her with my breath.
A favor there few aim at dare;
And if, perhaps, some lover plain,
She is not won, nor I undone

By placing of my love in vain.

Leave me, then, thou Syren, leave me; Take away these charmed arms; Crafty wiles cannot deceive me,

I am proof 'gainst women's charms: You labor may to lead astray

The heart, that constant must remain; And I the while will sit and smile To see you spend your time in vain.

GEORGE WITHER.

FAREWELL TO NANCY.

AE fond kiss and then we sever!
Ae farewell, and then for ever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee;
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Who shall say that Fortune grieves him,
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerful twinkle lights me;
Dark despair around benights me.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy-
Naething could resist my Nancy:
But to see her was to love her,
Love but her and love for ever.
Had we never loved sae kindly,
Had we never loved sae blindly,
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,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever!
Ae farewell, alas! for ever!

Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee;
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.

ROBERT BURNS.

A PRAISE OF HIS LOVE. GIVE place, ye lovers, here before That spent your boasts and brags in vain;

My lady's beauty passeth more

The best of yours, I dare well sayen,
Than doth the sun the candlelight,
Or brightest day the darkest night;
And thereto hath a troth as just

As had Penelope the fair;
For what she saith ye may it trust,

As it by writing sealed were ;-
And virtues hath she many mo'
Than I with pen have skill to show.
I could rehearse, if that I would,

The whole effect of Nature's plaint, When she had lost the perfect mould,

The like to whom she could not paint. With wringing hands, how did she cry! And what she said, I know it aye.

I know she swore, with raging mind,
Her kingdom only set apart,
There was no loss by law of kind

That could have gone so near her heart;

And this was chiefly all her pain-
"She could not make the like again."

Sith Nature thus gave her the praise

To be the chiefest work she wrought, In faith, methink, some better ways

On your behalf might well be sought, Than to compare, as ye have done, To match the candle with the sun.

HENRY HOWARD (Earl of Surrey).

SWEET ARE THE CHARMS. SWEET are the charms of her I love: More fragrant than the damask rose, Soft as the down of turtle dove,

Gentle as air when Zephyr blows, Refreshing as descending rains To sunburnt climes and thirsty plains.

True as the needle to the pole,

Or as the dial to the sun; Constant as gliding waters roll,

Whose swelling tides obey the moonFrom every other charmer free, My life and love shall follow thee.

The lamb the flowery thyme devours,
The dam the tender kid pursues;
Sweet Philomel in shady bowers

Of verdant spring her note renews:
All follow what they most admire,
As I pursue my soul's desire.

Nature must change her beauteous face,
And vary as the seasons rise,

As winter to the spring gives place,
Summer th' approach of autumn flies:
No change on love the seasons bring,—
Love only knows perpetual spring.

Devouring Time with stealing pace,
Makes lofty oaks and cedars bow;
And marble towers and gates of brass
In his rude march he levels low;
But Time, destroying far and wide,
Love from the soul can ne'er divide.

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When sinking low the sufferer wan Beholds no hand outstretch'd to save; Fair as the bosom of the swan

That rises graceful o'er the wave, I've seen your breast with pity heave, And therefore love I you, sweet Genevieve.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.

THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER.

IT is the miller's daughter,

And she is grown so dear, so dear, That I would be the jewel

That trembles in her ear; For hid in ringlets day and night, I'd touch her neck so warm and white. And I would be the girdle

About her dainty dainty waist,
And her heart would beat against me,
In sorrow and in rest;

And I should know if it beat right,
I'd clasp it round so close and tight.

And I would be the necklace,

And all day long to fall and rise Upon her balmy bosom,

With her laughter or her sighs, And I would lie so light, so light, I scarce should be unclasp'd at night.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

THE LASS OF PATIE'S MILL.

THE lass of Patie's mill,

Sae bonnie, blithe, and gay, In spite of all my skill

She stole my heart away. When tedding of the hay,

Bareheaded on the green,
Love 'midst her locks did play,
And wanton'd in her een.

Her arms white, round, and smooth;
Breasts rising in their dawn;
To age it would give youth
To press them with his hand.
Through all my spirits ran

An ecstasy of bliss,
When I such sweetness fand
Wrapt in a balmy kiss.

Without the help of art,

Like flow'rs which grace the wild,

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