SONNET. ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER. MUCH UCH have I travell'd in the realms of gold, seen; Round many western islands have I been Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled 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, 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 surmiseSilent, upon a peak in Darien. KEATS. TH THE APOLOGY. HINK me not unkind or rude, I go to the god of the wood, To fetch his word to men. Tax not my sloth that I Fold my arms beside the brook; Each cloud that floated in the sky Writes a letter in my book. Chide me not, laborious band, Goes home loaded with a thought. There was never mystery But 'tis figured in the flowers, Was never secret history, But birds tell it in the bowers. One harvest from thy field Homeward brought the oxen strong; A second crop thine acres yield, Which I gather in a song. EMERSON. O 66 TIBBIE. TUNE INVERCAULD'S REEL.' TIBBIE, I hae seen the day Yestreen I met you on the moor, Chorus. O Tibbie, &c. I doubtna, lass, but ye may think, 1 Stoure, a whirl of dust. That ye can please me at a wink, But sorrow tak him that's sae mean, That looks sae proud and high! Although a lad were ne'er sae smart, But if he hae the name o' gear But Tibbie, lass, tak my advice,— There lives a lass in yonder park, Chorus. O Tibbie, I hae seen the day For laik o' gear ye lightly me;- BURNS. CHORAL SONG OF ILLYRIAN U PEASANTS. [FROM "ZAPOLYA."] P! up! ye dames, ye lasses gay! 'Tis must tend the flocks this morn, And scare the small birds from the corn. For the shepherds must go With lance and bow To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day. Leave the hearth and leave the house With lance and bow To hunt the wolf in the woods to-day. COLERIDGE. Ο THE RAVEN. NCE upon a midnight dreary, while İ Over many a quaint and curious volume of for gotten lore, G While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. ""Tis some visitor," I mutter'd, "tapping at my chamber door Only this, and nothing more.” Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wish'd the morrow;-vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow-sorrow for the lost Lenore For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrill'd me-fill'd me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating ""Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door ; This it is, and nothing more." Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, "Sir," said I," or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; |