Quando 'l pianeta che distingue l' ore.

WITH A PRESENT OF FRUIT IN SPRING.


    When the great planet which directs the hours
To dwell with Taurus from the North is borne,
Such virtue rays from each enkindled horn,
Rare beauty instantly all nature dowers;
Nor this alone, which meets our sight, that flowers
Richly the upland and the vale adorn,
But Earth's cold womb, else lustreless and lorn,
Is quick and warm with vivifying powers,
Till herbs and fruits, like these I send, are rife.
--So she, a sun amid her fellow fair,
Shedding the rays of her bright eyes on me,
Thoughts, acts, and words of love wakes into life--
But, ah! for me is no new Spring, nor e'er,
Smile they on whom she will, again can be.

MACGREGOR.


   ...

    In politics if thou would'st mix,
        And mean thy fortunes be;
    Bear this in mind, be deaf and blind;
        Let great folks hear and see.

Wherever the Catholic sun doth shine,
There’s always laughter and good red wine.
At least I’ve always found it so.
Benedicamus Domino!

(CLARISSA HARLOW)


Seek not to calm my grief,
    To stay the falling tear;
Have pity on me, ye my friends,
    The hand of God is here.

She was my only one,
    Oh, then my love how great!
Now she is gone, my heart and home
    Are empty desolate

I thought not, in my love
    That we were doomed to part,
Now I am childless, and my fate
    Falls heavy on my heart

O Thou who gave the gift,
    Who took the gift away,
Who only can heal up the wound,
    Give answer while I pray!

Do Thou send comfort down,
    All goodness as Thou art,
Even in Thy last passion, Thou
    Didst soothe a mother's heart.

I would not take her back,
    From Thee, from Heaven and bliss,
Though yearning for her...

1.
She was an aged woman; and the years
Which she had numbered on her toilsome way
Had bowed her natural powers to decay.
She was an aged woman; yet the ray
Which faintly glimmered through her starting tears,
Pressed into light by silent misery,
Hath soul's imperishable energy.
She was a cripple, and incapable
To add one mite to gold-fed luxury:
And therefore did her spirit dimly feel
That poverty, the crime of tainting stain,
Would merge her in its depths, never to rise again.

2.
One only son's love had supported her.
She long had struggled with infirmity,
Lingering to human life-scenes; for to die,
When fate has spared to rend some mental tie,
Would many wish, and surely fewer dare.
But, when the tyrant's bloodhounds forced the child

The white moon wasteth,
And cold morn hasteth
    Athwart the snow,
The red east burneth
And the tide turneth,
    And thou must go.

Think not, sad rover,
Their story all over
    Who come from far -
Once, in the ages
Won goodly wages
    Led by a star.

Once, for all duly
Guidance doth truly
    Shine as of old,
Opens for me and thee
Once, opportunity
    Her gates of gold.

Enter, thy star is out,
Traverse nor faint nor doubt
    Earth's antres wild,
Thou shalt find good and rest
As found the Magi blest
    That divine Child.

Rose, like dim battlements, the hills and reared
Steep crags into the fading primrose sky;
But in the desolate valleys fell small rain,
Mingled with drifting cloud. I saw one come,
Like the fierce passion of that vacant place,
His face turned glittering to the evening sky;
His eyes, like grey despair, fixed satelessly
On the still, rainy turrets of the storm;
And all his armour in a haze of blue.
He held no sword, bare was his hand and clenched,
As if to hide the inextinguishable blood
Murder had painted there. And his wild mouth
Seemed spouting echoes of deluded thoughts.
Around his head, like vipers all distort,
His locks shook, heavy-laden, at each stride.
If fire may burn invisible to the eye;
O, if despair strive everlastingly;
Then haunted here the ...

In the old wars of the world there were camp followers,
Women of ancient sins who gave themselves for hire,
Women of weak wills and strong desire.
And, like the poison ivy in the woods
That winds itself about tall virile trees
Until it smothers them, so these
Ruined the bodies and the souls of men.
More evil were they than Red War itself,
Or Pestilence, or Famine.    Now in this war -
This last most awful carnage of the world -
All the old wickedness exists as then:

But as a foul stream from a festering fen
Is met and scattered by a mountain brook
Leaping along its beautiful, bright course,
So now the force
Of these new Followers of the camp has come
Straight from God's Source
To cleanse the world and cleanse the minds of men.
Good women, of gr...

Of obedience, faith, adhesiveness;
As I stand aloof and look, there is to me something profoundly affecting in large masses of men, following the lead of those who do not believe in men.

"Go thy way, and when I have a more convenient season I will call for thee."

            *            *            *            *            *

"The harvest is past, the summer is ended, and we are not saved."


Not yet, not yet, O Saviour,
    Although thou callest me
In life's unclouded morning
    Why should I follow thee?
The world and all its pleasures
    Outspread before me lie,
When I have grasped its treasures
    I'll hear thee, by and by.

Not yet, not yet, O Saviour! -
    True, thou hast called me long,
Yet, almost more than ever,
    I love the world's glad song!
Say not the years are hasting
    With rapid footsteps by, -
Say not life's sands are wasting,
    But call me by and by!

Not yet, not yet,...

High stretched upon the swinging yard,
I gather in the sheet;
But it is hard
And stiff, and one cries haste.
Then He that is most dear in my regard
Of all the crew gives aidance meet;
But from His hands, and from His feet,
A glory spreads wherewith the night is starred:
Moreover of a cup most bitter-sweet
With fragrance as of nard,
And myrrh, and cassia spiced,
He proffers me to taste.
Then I to Him: ‘Art Thou the Christ?’
He saith, ‘Thou say’st.’

Like to an ox
That staggers ’neath the mortal blow,
She grinds upon the rocks:
Then straight and low
Leaps forth the levelled line, and in our quarter locks
The cradle’s rigged; with swerving of the blast
We go,
Our Captain last,
Demands
‘Who fired that shot?’ Each silent stan...

eipate toi basilei, xamai pese daidalos aula.
ouketi PHoibos exei kaluban, ou mantida daphnen,
ou pagan laleousan . apesbeto kai lalon udor.

Years have risen and fallen in darkness or in twilight,
Ages waxed and waned that knew not thee nor thine,
While the world sought light by night and sought not thy light,
Since the sad last pilgrim left thy dark mid shrine.
Dark the shrine and dumb the fount of song thence welling,
Save for words more sad than tears of blood, that said:
Tell the king, on earth has fallen the glorious dwelling,
And the watersprings that spake are quenched and dead.
Not a cell is left the God, no roof, no cover
In his hand the prophet laurel flowers no more.
And the great king's high sad heart, thy true last lover,
Felt thine answer pierce and ...

All Afric, winged with death and fire,
Pants in our pleasant English air.
Each blade of grass is tense as wire,
And all the wood’s loose trembling hair
Stark in the broad and breathless glare
Of hours whose touch wastes herb and tree.
This bright sharp death shines everywhere;
Life yearns for solace toward the sea.
Earth seems a corpse upon the pyre;
The sun, a scourge for slaves to bear.
All power to fear, all keen desire,
Lies dead as dreams of days that were
Before the new-born world lay bare
In heaven’s wide eye, whereunder we
Lie breathless till the season spare:
Life yearns for solace toward the sea.
Fierce hours, with ravening fangs that tire
On spirit and sense, divide and share
The throbs of thoughts that scarce respire,
The throes of d...

That whisper takes the voice
Of a Spirit's compassionings
Close, but invisible,
And throws me under a spell
At the kindling vision it brings;
And for a moment I rejoice,
And believe in transcendent things
That would mould from this muddy earth
A spot for the splendid birth
Of everlasting lives,
Whereto no night arrives;
And this gaunt gray gallery
A tabernacle of worth
On this drab-aired afternoon,
When you can barely see
Across its hazed lacune
If opposite aught there be
Of fleshed humanity
Wherewith I may commune;
Or if the voice so near
Be a soul's voice floating here.

    Tomps 'ud allus haf to say
        Somepin' 'bout "his mother's way." -
    He lived hard-like - never jined
    Any church of any kind. -
    "It was Mother's way," says he,
    "To be good enough fer me
    And her too, - and certinly
        Lord has heerd her pray!"
    Propped up on his dyin' bed, -
    "Shore as Heaven's overhead,
    I'm a-goin' there," he said
        "It was Mother's way."

("Dans l'alcôve sombre.")

[XX., November, 1831.]


In the dusky nook,
Near the altar laid,
Sleeps the child in shadow
Of his mother's bed:
Softly he reposes,
And his lid of roses,
Closed to earth, uncloses
On the heaven o'erhead.

Many a dream is with him,
Fresh from fairyland,
Spangled o'er with diamonds
Seems the ocean sand;
Suns are flaming there,
Troops of ladies fair
Souls of infants bear
In each charming hand.

Oh, enchanting vision!
Lo, a rill upsprings,
And from out its bosom
Comes a voice that sings
Lovelier there appear
Sire and sisters dear,
While his mother near
Plumes her new-born wings.

But a brighter vision
Yet his eyes behold;
Roses pied and lilie...

Chi è fermato di menar sua vita.

HE PRAYS GOD TO GUIDE HIS FRAIL BARK TO A SAFE PORT.


    Who is resolved to venture his vain life
On the deceitful wave and 'mid the rocks,
Alone, unfearing death, in little bark,
Can never be far distant from his end:
Therefore betimes he should return to port
While to the helm yet answers his true sail.

The gentle breezes to which helm and sail
I trusted, entering on this amorous life,
And hoping soon to make some better port,
Have led me since amid a thousand rocks,
And the sure causes of my mournful end
Are not alone without, but in my bark.

Long cabin'd and confined in this blind bark,
I wander'd, looking never at the sail,
Which, prematurely, bore me to my end;
Till He was pleased...

Drake in the North Sea grimly prowling,
    Treading his dear Revenge's deck,
Watched, with the sea-dogs round him growling,
    Galleons drifting wreck by wreck.
    "Fetter and Faith for England's neck,
    Faggot and Father, Saint and chain,---
Yonder the Devil and all go howling,
    Devon, O Devon, in wind and rain!

Drake at the last off Nombre lying,
    Knowing the night that toward him crept,
Gave to the sea-dogs round him crying,
    This for a sign before he slept:---
    "Pride of the West! What Devon hath kept
    Devon shall keep on tide or main;
Call to the storm and drive them flying,
    Devon, O Devon, in wind and rain!"

Valour of England gaunt and whitening,
    Far in a South land brought to bay,
Locked in a deat...