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XCIII.

SONNET.

HE 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 !
This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon,
The winds that will be howling at all hours
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers,
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.-Great God! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn,—
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathéd horn.

W. Wordsworth.

XCIV.

ADDRESS TO SABRINA.

(FROM COMUS.')

ABRINA fair,

Listen where thou art sitting

Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,

In twisted braids of lilies knitting

The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair,
Listen, for dear honour's sake,

Goddess of the silver lake,

Listen and save!

Listen and appear to us

In the name of great Oceanus,

By the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,
And Tethys'1 grave majestic pace,
By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,
And the Carpathian wizard's3 hook,
By scaly Triton's winding shell,
And old sooth-saying Glaucus' spell,
By Leucothea's lovely hands,
And her son that rules the strands,
By Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet,
And the songs of Sirens sweet,
By dead Parthenope's dear tomb,
And fair Ligea's golden comb,
Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks,
Sleeking her soft-alluring locks,
By all the nymphs that nightly dance,
Upon thy streams with wily glance,
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head
From thy coral-paven bed,

And bridle-in thy headlong wave,

Till thou our summons answer'd have :

Listen and save!

F. Milton.

XCV.

REPLY OF SABRINA.

(FROM 'COMUS.')

Y the rushy-fringéd bank,

Where grows the willow and the osier dank,
My sliding chariot stays,

Thick set with agate, and the azure sheen
Of turkois blue and emerald green,

That in the channel strays.

1 Tethys. Wife of Oceanus.

3 Carpathian wizard. Proteus.

Triton.

sea deities.

2 Nereus. Father of the Nereides.

Glaucus. Leucothea and her son' Palamon. Thetis. All

5 Parthenope. A Siren buried in Naples.

Ligea. A Siren.

Whilst from off the waters fleet
Thus I set my printless feet
O'er the cowslip's velvet head,
That bends not as I tread;
Gentle swain, at thy request,
I am here.

ACKNOWLEDGMENT.

Virgin, daughter of Locrine,
Sprung from old Anchises' line,
May thy brimmed waves for this
Their full tribute never miss,
From a thousand petty rills,
That tumble down the snowy hills.
Summer drought or singéd air
Never scorch thy tresses fair,
Nor wet October's torrent flood
Thy molten crystal fill with mud.
May thy billows roll ashore
The beryl and the golden ore;
May thy lofty head be crowned

With many a tower and terrace round,
And here and there thy banks upon

With groves of myrrh and cinnamon.

J. Milton.

Duke

F.

Duke F.

XCVI.

AS YOU LIKE IT.

ACT I. SCENE III.-A room in the Palace.

CELIA and ROSALIND.

Enter DUKE FREDERICK and Lords.

ISTRESS, despatch you with your safest
And get you from our court.

Ros.

[haste

Me, uncle?

You, cousin :

Within these ten days if that thou be'st found

So near our public court as twenty miles,
Thou diest for it.

Ros.

I do beseech your grace,

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with me:
If with myself I hold intelligence

Or have acquaintance with mine own desires,
If that I do not dream or be not frantic,-
As I do trust I am not-then, dear uncle,
Never so much as in a thought unborn
Did I offend your highness.

Duke F.

Thus do all traitors:

If their purgation did consist in words,
They are as innocent as grace itself:

Let it suffice thee that I trust thee not.

Ros.

Yet your mistress cannot make me a traitor : Tell me whereon the likelihood depends.

[enough.

Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter; there's
Ros. So was I when your highness took his dukedom;
So was I when your highness banished him:
Treason is not inherited, my lord;

Or, if we did derive it from our friends,
What's that to me? my father was no traitor :
Then, good my liege, mistake me not so much
To think my poverty is treacherous.

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak.

Duke F. Ay, Celia; we stayed her for your sake, Else had she with her father ranged along.

Cel. I did not then entreat to have her stay;

It was your pleasure and your own remorse :

I was too young that time to value her;

But now I know her: if she be a traitor,

Why so am I; we still have slept together,

Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together,
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans,

Still we went coupled and inseparable.

Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and her smooth

Her very silence and her patience

[ness,

Speak to the people, and they pity her.

Thou art a fool: she robs thee of thy name;

And thou wilt show more bright and seem more virtuous
When she is gone. Then open not thy lips:
Firm and irrevocable is my doom

Which I have passed upon her; she is banished.

Cel. Pronounce that sentence then on me, my liege : I cannot live out of her company.

Duke F. You are a fool. You, niece, provide yourself: If you outstay the time, upon mine honour,

And in the greatness of my word, you die.

[Exeunt Duke Frederick and Lords. Cel. O my poor Rosalind, whither wilt thou go? Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee mine. I charge thee, be not thou more grieved than I am. Ros. I have more cause. Cel.

Thou hast not, cousin ;

Prithee, be cheerful: know'st thou not, the duke

Hath banished me, his daughter?

Ros.

That he hath not.

Cel. No, hath not? Rosalind lacks then the love
Which teacheth thee that thou and I am one :
Shall we be sundered? shall we part, sweet girl?
No let my father seek another heir.
Therefore devise with me how we may fly,
Whither to go and what to bear with us;
And do not seek to take your change upon you,
To bear your griefs yourself and leave me out ;
For, by this heaven, now at our sorrows pale,
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee.
Ros. Why, whither shall we go?

Cel. To seek my uncle in the forest of Arden.
Ros. Alas, what danger will it be to us,
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far!
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.
Cel. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire
And with a kind of umber smirch my face;

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