This rich Marble doth enterr
The honour'd Wife of Winchester,
A Vicounts daughter, an Earls heir,
Besides what her vertues fair
Added to her noble birth,
More then she could own from Earth.
Summers three times eight save one
She had told, alas too soon,
After so short time of breath,
To house with darknes, and with death.
Yet had the number of her days
Bin as compleat as was her praise,
Nature and fate had had no strife
In giving limit to her life.
Her high birth, and her graces sweet,
Quickly found a lover meet;
The Virgin quire for her request
The God that sits at marriage feast;
He at their invoking came
But with a scarce-wel-lighted flame;
And in his Garland as he stood,
Ye might discern a Cipress bud.
Once had the early Matro...

    Auspicious poet, wert thou not my friend,
    How could I envy, what I must commend!
    But since 'tis nature's law, in love and wit,
    That youth should reign, and withering age submit,
    With less regret those laurels I resign,
    Which, dying on my brows, revive on thine.
    With better grace an ancient chief may yield
    The long-contended honours of the field,
    Than venture all his fortune at a cast,
    And fight, like Hannibal, to lose at last.
    Young princes, obstinate to win the prize,
    Though yearly beaten, yearly yet they rise:
    Old monarchs, though successful, still in doubt,
    Catch at a peace, and wisely turn devout.
    Thine be the laurel, then; thy blooming age
    Can best, if any can, support the stage;
    Which so...

Come not, oh LORD, in the dread robe of splendor
    Thou worest on the Mount, in the day of thine ire;
Come veiled in those shadows, deep, awful, but tender,
    Which Mercy flings over thy features of fire!

LORD, thou rememberest the night, when thy Nation[1]
    Stood fronting her Foe by the red-rolling stream;
O'er Egypt thy pillar shed dark desolation,
    While Israel basked all the night in its beam.

So, when the dread clouds of anger enfold Thee,
    From us, in thy mercy, the dark side remove;
While shrouded in terrors the guilty behold Thee,
    Oh, turn upon us the mild light of thy Love!

The following verses were suggested by a touching ceremony which lately took place in the chapel of the Congregation Convent, Notre Dame, Montreal, the beloved Institution in which the happy days of my girlhood were passed. The ceremony in question was the renewal of her vows by the Venerable Mother Superior, just fifty years from the date of her first profession, which was made at the early age of fifteen. In the world, in the few rare instances in which both bride and bridegroom live to witness the fiftieth anniversary of their union, the "golden wedding," as it is usually called, is generally celebrated with great pomp and rejoicing; tis but just, then, that in religion, the faithful spouses of the Saviour should welcome with equal satisfaction the anniversary of the epoch which witnessed the mystical union contracted with their Heaven...

So we settled it all when the storm was done
As comfy as comfy could be;
And I was to wait in the barn, my dears,
Because I was only three.
And Teddy would run to the rainbow's foot
Because he was five and a man,
And that's how it all began, my dears,
And that's how it all began!

Then we brought the lances down, then the trumpets blew,
When we went to Kandahar, ridin' two an' two.
Ridin', ridin', ridin' two an' two!
Ta-ra-ra-ra-ra-ra-a!
All the way to Kandahar,
Ridin' two an' two.

The wolf-cub at even lay hid in the corn,
When the smoke of the cooking hung grey.
He knew where the doe made a couch for her fawn,
And he looked to his strength for his prey.
But the moon swept the smoke-wreaths away;
And he turned from his meal in the vil...

What is song's eternity?
Come and see.
Can it noise and bustle be?
Come and see.
Praises sung or praises said
Can it be?
Wait awhile and these are dead--
Sigh, sigh;
Be they high or lowly bred    They die.

What is song's eternity?
Come and see.
Melodies of earth and sky,
Here they be.
Song once sung to Adam's ears
Can it be?
Ballads of six thousand years
Thrive, thrive;
Songs awaken with the spheres
Alive.

Mighty songs that miss decay,
What are they?
Crowds and cities pass away
Like a day.
Books are out and books are read;
What are they?
Years will lay them with the dead--
Sigh, sigh;
Trifles unto nothing wed,
They die.

Dreamers, mark the honey bee;
Mark the tree
Where...

Dear Sherry, I'm sorry for your bloodsheded sore eye,
And the more I consider your case, still the more I
Regret it, for see how the pain on't has wore ye.
Besides, the good Whigs, who strangely adore ye,
In pity cry out, "He's a poor blinded Tory."
But listen to me, and I'll soon lay before ye
A sovereign cure well attested in Gory.
First wash it with ros, that makes dative rori,
Then send for three leeches, and let them all gore ye;
Then take a cordial dram to restore ye,
Then take Lady Judith, and walk a fine boree,
Then take a glass of good claret ex more,
Then stay as long as you can ab uxore;
And then if friend Dick[1] will but ope your back-door, he
Will quickly dispel the black clouds that hang o'er ye,
And make you so bright, th...

When legislators keep the law,
When banks dispense with bolts and looks,
When berries - whortle, rasp, and straw -
Grow bigger downwards through the box, -

When he that selleth house or land
Shows leak in roof or flaw in right, -
When haberdashers choose the stand
Whose window hath the broadest light, -

When preachers tell us all they think,
And party leaders all they mean, -
When what we pay for, that we drink,
From real grape and coffee-bean, -

When lawyers take what they would give,
And doctors give what they would take, -
When city fathers eat to live,
Save when they fast for conscience' sake, -

When one that hath a horse on sale
Shall bring his merit to the proof,
Without a lie for every nail
That holds the iron on t...

PART I. PRESTO FURIOSO.


Spontaneous Us!
O my Camarados! I have no delicatesse as a diplomat, but I go blind on Libertad!
Give me the flap-flap of the soaring Eagle's pinions!
Give me the tail of the British lion tied in a knot inextricable, not to be solved anyhow!
Give me a standing army (I say 'give me,' because just at present we want one badly, armies being often useful in time of war).

I see our superb fleet (I take it that we are to have a superb fleet built almost immediately);
I observe the crews prospectively; they are constituted of various nationalities, not necessarily American;
I see them sling the slug and chew the plug;
I hear the drum begin to hum;

Both the above rhymes are purely accidental and contrary to my principles.
We shall wipe the floor...

Two genii are there, from thy birth through weary life to guide thee;
Ah, happy when, united both, they stand to aid beside thee?
With gleesome play to cheer the path, the one comes blithe with beauty,
And lighter, leaning on her arm, the destiny and duty.
With jest and sweet discourse she goes unto the rock sublime,
Where halts above the eternal sea [57] the shuddering child of time.
The other here, resolved and mute and solemn, claspeth thee,
And bears thee in her giant arms across the fearful sea.
Never admit the one alone! Give not the gentle guide
Thy honor nor unto the stern thy happiness confide!

        She had looked for his coming as warriors come,
    With the clash of arms and the bugle's call:
        But he came instead with a stealthy tread,
    Which she did not hear at all.

        She had thought how his armor would blaze in the sun,
    As he rode like a prince to claim his bride:
        In the sweet dim light of the falling night
    She found him at her side.

        She had dreamed how the gaze of his strange, bold eye
    Would wake her heart to a sudden glow:
        She found in his face the familiar grace
    Of a friend she used to know.

        She had dreamed how his coming would stir her soul,
    As the ocean is stirred by the wild storm's strife:
        He brought her the balm of a heavenly calm,
    And a peace ...

Pastoral Sung To The King

MON.Bad are the times.    SIL.    And worse than they are we.
MON.Troth, bad are both; worse fruit, and ill the tree:
The feast of shepherds fail.SIL.    None crowns the cup
Of wassail now, or sets the quintel up:
And he, who used to lead the country-round,
Youthful Mirtillo, here he comes, grief-drown'd.
AMBO.Let's cheer him up.    SIL. Behold him weeping-ripe.
MIRT. Ah, Amarillis!farewell mirth and pipe;
Since thou art gone, no more I mean to play
To these smooth lawns, my mirthful roundelay.
Dear Amarillis!MON.    Hark!    SIL.    Mark!    MIRT.    This
earth grew sweet
Where, Amarillis, thou didst set thy feet.
AMBOPoor pitied youth!    MIRT.    And here the breath
of kine
And sheep grew more sweet by that breath of thine.

A little bird sat on the edge of her nest;
    Her yellow-beaks slept as sound as tops;
Day-long she had worked almost without rest,
    And had filled every one of their gibbous crops;
Her own she had filled just over-full,
And she felt like a dead bird stuffed with wool.

"Oh dear!" she sighed, as she sat with her head
    Sunk in her chest, and no neck at all,
Looking like an apple on a feather-bed
    Poked and rounded and fluffed to a ball,
"What's to be done if things don't reform?
I cannot tell where there is one more worm!

"I've had fifteen to-day, and the children five each,
    Besides a few flies, and some very fat spiders:
Who will dare say I don't do as I preach?
    I set an example to all providers!
But what's the use? We want a storm...

    If wishes were horses,
        Beggars would ride;
    If turnips were watches,
        I would wear one by my side.

The days are past, the days are past,
    When we did meet, my love and I;
And youthful joys are fading fast,
    Like radiant angels up the sky;
But still with every dawning day
    Come back the blessed thoughts of old,
Like sunshine in a morn of May,
    To keep the heart from growing cold.

The flowers are gone, the leaves are shed,
    That waved about us as we stray'd;
And many a bird for aye has fled,
    That chaunted to us from the glade;
Yet every leaf and flower that springs
    In beauty round the ripening year,
And every summer carol brings
    New sweetness from the old time dear.

Lightly, Alpine rover,
Tread the mountains over;
Rude is the path thou'st yet to go;
    Snow cliffs hanging o'er thee,
    Fields of ice before thee,
While the hid torrent moans below.
Hark, the deep thunder,
Thro' the vales yonder!
'Tis the huge avalanche downward cast;
    From rock to rock
    Rebounds the shock.
But courage, boy! the danger's past.
    Onward, youthful rover,
    Tread the glacier over,
Safe shalt thou reach thy home at last.
On, ere light forsake thee,
Soon will dusk o'ertake thee:
O'er yon ice-bridge lies thy way!
    Now, for the risk prepare thee;
    Safe it yet may bear thee,
Tho' 'twill melt in morning's ray.

Hark, that dread howling!
'Tis the wolf prowling,--
Scent of thy track the foe hath...

Cherry and pear are white,
Their snows lie sprinkled on the land like light
On darkness shed.
Far off and near
The orchards toss their crowns of delight,
And the sun casts down
Another shining crown.

The wind tears and throws down
Petal by petal the crown
Of cherry and pear till the earth is white,
And all the brightness is shed
In the orchards far off and near,
That tossed by the road and under the green hill;
And the wind is fled.

Far, far off the wind
Has shaken down
A brightness that was as the brightness of cherry or pear
When the orchards shine in the sun.
--Oh there is no more fairness
Since this rareness,
The radiant blossom of English earth--is dead!

To Egypt's king, who ruled beside
The reedy river's flow,
Came God's command, "Release, O king,
And let my people go."

The king's proud heart grew hard apace;
He marked the suppliant throng,
And said, "Nay, they must here abide;
The weak must serve the strong."

Straightway the Lord stretched forth his hand,
And every stream ran blood;
The river swept towards the sea--
A full ensanguined flood.

The haughty king beheld the land,
By plagues afflicted sore,
But, as God's wonders multiplied,
Hardened his heart the more;

Until the angel of the Lord
Came on the wings of Night,
And smote first-born of man and beast,
In his destructive flight.

Throughout all Egypt, not a house
Was spared this crowning woe.
The...