165

Forgetful of her broken vows
when gazing on that form divine,
her injured vassal trembling bows,
nor dares her slave repine.

How

TO THE RAINBOW

LORD LANSDOWNE

OW glorious is thy girdle cast
o'er mountain, tower and town,
or mirrored in the ocean vast,
a thousand fathoms down!
As fresh in yon horizon dark,
as young thy beauties seem,
as when the eagle from the ark
first sported in thy beam.
For, faithful to its sacred page,

Heaven still rebuilds thy span,
nor lets the type grow pale with age
that first spoke peace to man.

T. CAMPBELL

166

ILLUSORY APPEARANCES

167

OT seldom, clad in radiant vest,

not seldom Evening in the west
sinks smilingly forsworn.

The smoothest seas will sometimes prove
to the confiding Bark untrue,

and, if she trusts the stars above,
they can be treacherous too.

The umbrageous Oak, in pomp outspread,
full oft, when storms the welkin rend,
draws lightning down upon the head
it promised to defend.

THY

W. WORDSWORTH

A LOVER'S MISGIVINGS

HYRSIS, when we parted, swore
ere the spring he would return-
ah! what means yon violet flower!
and the bud that decks the thorn!

168

'Twas the lark that upward sprung!
'twas the nightingale that sung!
Idle notes! untimely green!
why this unavailing haste?
western gales and skies serene
speak not always winter past.

Cease, my doubts, my fears to move

spare the honour of my love.

T. GRAY

TROUBADOUR SONG

HEY rear'd no trophy o'er his grave,

Tthey bade no requiem flow;

what left they there to tell the brave
that a warrior sleeps below?

A shiver'd spear, a cloven shield,

a helm with its white plume torn,
and a blood-stain'd turf on the fatal field
where a chief to his rest was borne.

He lies not where his fathers sleep,
but who hath a tomb more proud?
For the Syrian wilds his record keep,
and a banner is his shroud.

F. HEMANS

169

H

THE SLEEP OF THE BRAVE

OW sleep the brave, who sink to rest
by all their country's wishes blest!
When Spring with dewy fingers cold
returns to deck their hallowed mould,
she there shall dress a sweeter sod
than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
By fairy hands their knell is rung;
by forms unseen their dirge is sung;
there Honour comes, a pilgrim gray,
to bless the turf that wraps their clay;
and Freedom shall awhile repair

to dwell a weeping hermit there.

W. COLLINS

170

171

172

INSENSIBILITY TO LOVE

SAY, stranger to that mind,
AY, Myra, why is gentle love

which pity and esteem can move,
which can be just and kind?

Is it because you fear to share
the ills that love molest;
the jealous doubt, the tender care,
that rack the amorous breast?

Alas! by some degree of woe
we every bliss must gain;

the heart can ne'er a transport know,
that never feels a pain.

LORD LYTTELTON

IMPATIENT LOVE

To

him, who in an hour must die, not swifter seems that hour to fly,

than slow the minutes seem to me,

which keep me from the sight of thee.

Not more that trembling wretch would give
another day or year to live,

than I to shorten what remains

of that long hour which thee detains.

O, come to my impatient arms,

O, come with all thy heavenly charms;
at once to justify and pay

the pain I feel from this delay.

JEALOUS LOVE

LORD LYTTELTON

HEN I think on your truth, I doubt you no more

WHEN

I blame all the fears I gave way to before,

I say to my heart 'Be at rest, and believe

that whom once she has chosen, she never will leave.'

But ah! when I think on each ravishing grace
that plays in the smiles of that heavenly face,
my heart beats again; I again apprehend

some fortunate rival in every friend.

173

174

These painful suspicions you cannot remove,

since you neither can lessen your charms nor my love; but doubts caus'd by passion you never can blame, for they are not ill-founded, or you feel the same.

THE POET AND THE NIGHTINGALE

AID a people to a poet 'Go out from among

Sus straightway!

while we are thinking earthly things, thou singest of divine.

There's a little fair brown nightingale, who sitting in the gateway

makes fitter music to our ear, than any song of

thine.'

The poet went out weeping-the nightingale ceased chanting;

'Now wherefore, O thou nightingale, is all thy sweetness done?'

'I cannot sing my earthly things, the heavenly poet wanting,

whose highest harmony includes the lowest under sun.'

The poet went out weeping-and died abroad bereft there,―

the bird flew to his grave and died amid a thousand wails!

yet, when I last came by the place, I swear the music left there

was only of the poet's song, and not the nightingale's.

THE VIOLET

HE violet in her greenwood bower,

THE

where birchen boughs with hazel mingle,

may boast herself the fairest flower

in glen, in copse or forest dingle.

Though fair her gems of azure hue
beneath the dew-drop's weight reclining,
I've seen an eye of lovelier blue,

more sweet through watery lustre shining.

The summer sun that dew shall dry
ere yet the day be past its morrow;-
nor longer in my false love's eye
remained the tear of parting sorrow.

SIR W. SCOTT

175

176

'WOE'S

JEREMIAH

E'S me!' the peaceful prophet cried
'spare me this troubled life;

to stem man's wrath, to school his pride,
to head the sacred strife!

'O, place me in some silent vale

where groves and flowers abound;

nor eyes that grudge, nor tongues that rail,
vex the truth-haunted ground!'

If his meek spirit erred, opprest
that God denied repose,

what sin is ours to whom heaven's rest

I

is pledged to heal earth's woes?

LYRA APOSTOLICA

TO HIS FORSAKEN MISTRESS

DO confesse thou'rt smooth and faire,

and I might have gone near to love thee, had I not found the slightest prayer

that lips could move, had power to move thee; but I can let thee now alone

as worthy to be loved by none.

I do confesse thou'rt sweet; yet find
thee such an unthrift of thy sweets,

thy favours are but like the wind

that kisseth everything it meets.

and since thou canst with more than one,
thou'rt worthy to be kissed by none.

177 The morning rose that untouched stands

armed with her briars, how sweet she smells! but plucked and strained through ruder hands, her sweets no longer with her dwells; but scent and beautie both are gone, and leaves fall from her, one by one.