his eye or judgment to discern his faults, since we have spoke and counsel is not heard, I, for my part,-let others as they list,— will leave the court, and leave him to his will, lest with a ruthful eye I should behold his overthrow, which sore I fear is nigh. Dor. Ah father, are you so estranged from love,

from due allegiance to your prince and land,
to leave your king when most he heeds your help?
The thrifty husbandmen are never wont,

that see their lands unfruitful, to forsake them;
but when the mould is barren and unapt,

they toil, they plough, and make the fallow fat:
the pilot in the dangerous seas is known;
in calmer waves the silly seaman strives.

R. GREENE

859

Pol. W

Mer.

P.

P.

M.

POLYPHONTES-MEROPE

HAT mad bewilderment of grief is this?
Thou art bewildered: the sane head is mine.
I pity thee and wish thee calmer mind.

M. Pity thyself; none needs compassion more.
Yet, oh! couldst thou but act as reason bids!
And in my turn I wish the same for thee.
All I could do to soothe thee has been tried.
For that, in this my warning, thou art paid.
Knowst thou then aught, that thus thou sound'st the
alarm?

P.

M.

P.

M. Thy crime: that were enough to make me fear.
P. My deed is of old date, and long atoned.

M. Atoned this very day, perhaps, it is.

P.

M.

P.

M.

P.

M.

P.

M.

My final victory proves the Gods appeased.
O victor, victor, trip not at the goal!

Hatred and passionate envy blind their eyes.

O heaven-abandoned wretch, that envies thee!

Thou hold'st so cheap, then, the Messenian crown?
I think on what the future hath in store.

To-day I reign: the rest I leave to Fate.

For Fate thou wait'st not long; since, in this hourP. What? for so far she hath not proved my foeM. Fate seals my lips and drags to ruin thee.

M. ARNOLD

860

Th.

H

ASTROLOGY

THEKLA-MAX. PICCOLOMINI

ERE six or seven

colossal statues, and all kings, stood round me

in a half-circle. Each one in his hand

a sceptre bore, and on his head a star;

and in the tower no other light was there

but from these stars: all seemed to come from them. 'These are the planets,' said that low old man, 'they govern worldly fates, and for that cause are imaged here as kings. He farthest from you, spiteful and cold, an old man melancholy, with bent and yellow forehead, he is Saturn. He opposite, the king with the red light, an arm'd man for the battle, that is Mars: and both these bring but little luck to man.' But at his side a lovely lady stood, the star upon her head was soft and bright, and that was Venus, the bright star of joy. On the left hand, lo! Mercury with wings. Quite in the middle glittered silver bright a cheerful man, and with a monarch's mien; and this was Jupiter, my father's star: and at his side I saw the Sun and Moon. 861 Max. O never rudely will I blame his faith in the might of stars and angels!—

For fable is Love's world, his home, his birth-place;
delightedly dwells he 'mong fays and talismans,
and spirits, and delightedly believes

divinities, being himself divine.

The intelligible forms of ancient poets,

the fair humanities of old religion,

the power, the beauty, and the majesty

that had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain,

or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,

or chasms and wat'ry depths; all these have vanished:
they live no longer in the faith of reason!
but still the heart doth need a language, still
doth the old instinct bring back the old names,
and to yon starry world they now are gone,
spirits or gods, that used to share this earth
with man as with their friend; and to the lover

862

yonder they move, from yonder visible sky
shoot influence down: and even at this day
'tis Jupiter who gives whate'er is great,
and Venus who brings everything that's fair!

S. T. COLERIDGE from Schiller

PANTHEA TO ASIA

ITH our sea-sister at his feet I slept.

WIT

The mountain mists, condensing at our voice
under the moon, had spread their snowy flakes,
from the keen ice shielding our linked sleep.
Then two dreams came. One, I remember not.
But in the other his pale wound-worn limbs
fell from Prometheus, and the azure night
grew radiant with the glory of that form
which lives unchanged within, and his voice fell
like music which makes giddy the dim brain,
faint with intoxication of keen joy:

'Sister of her whose footsteps pave the world
with loveliness-more fair than aught but her,
whose shadow thou art-lift thine eyes on me.'
I lifted them: the overpowering light

of that immortal shape was shadowed o'er
by love; which, from his soft and flowing limbs,
and passion-parted lips, and keen, faint eyes,
steamed forth like vaporous fire; an atmosphere
which wrapped me in its all-dissolving power,
as the warm ether of the morning sun
wraps ere it drinks some cloud of wandering dew.

P. B. SHELLEY

863 CHATILLON AMBASSADOR To philip king of

FRANCE

HEN turn your forces from this paltry siege,

THE

and stir them up against a mightier task.

England, impatient of your just demands,
hath put himself in arms; the adverse winds,
whose leisure I have stay'd, have given him time
to land his legions all as soon as I;

his marches are expedient to this town,
his forces strong, his soldiers confident.

F. S. III

18

864

With him along is come the mother-queen,
an Até, stirring him to blood and strife;
and all the unsettled humours of the land,—
rash, inconsiderate, fiery voluntaries,

with ladies' faces, and fierce dragons' spleens,—
have sold their fortunes at their native homes,
bearing their birthrights proudly on their backs,
to make a hazard of new fortunes here:

in brief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits,
than now the English bottoms have waft o'er,
did never float upon the swelling tide,
to do offence and scath in Christendom.
The interruption of their churlish drums
cuts off more circumstance: they are at hand.
W. SHAKESPEARE

H

DAVID'S LAMENT OVER ABSALOM

ATH Absalon sustained the stroke of death? die, David, for the death of Absalon,

and make these cursed news the bloody darts,
that through his bowels rip thy wretched breast.
Hence, David, walk the solitary woods,

and in some cedar's shade, the thunder slew,
and fire from heav'n hath made his branches black,
sit mourning the decease of Absalon;

against the body of that blasted plant

in thousand shivers break thy ivory lute,
hanging thy stringless harp upon his boughs,
and through the hollow sapless sounding trunk
bellow the torments that perplex thy soul.
There let the winds sit sighing till they burst;
let tempest, muffled with a cloud of pitch,
threaten the forests with her hellish face,
and, mounted fiercely on her iron wings,
rend up the wretched engine by the roots
that held my dearest Absalon to death.

Then let them toss my broken lute to heaven,
even to his hands that beats me with the strings,
to show how sadly his poor shepherd sings.

G. PEELE

LADY NEUBRUNN-THEKLA

865

Neu.

YOUR

OUR heart, dear lady, is disquieted!

and this is not the way that leads to quiet.

Thek. To a deep quiet, such as he has found,
it draws me on, I know not what to name it,
resistless does it draw me to his grave.

866

There will my heart be eased, my tears will flow.
O hasten, make no further questioning!

there is no rest for me till I have left

these walls-they fall in on me. . . A dim power
drives me from hence.-Oh mercy! what a feeling!
what pale and hollow forms are those! they fill,
they crowd the place! more still! the hideous swarm!
they press on me: they chase me from these walls ..
these hollow, bodiless forms of living men!
His spirit 'tis that calls me: 'tis the troop
of his true followers, who offered up

themselves to avenge his death: and they accuse me
of an ignoble loitering—they would not

forsake their leader even in his death-they died for him!

and shall I live?-

for me too was that laurel-garland twined

that decks his bier.

S. T. COLERIDGE from Schiller

DUKE OF YORK

'HE army of the queen hath got the field:

THE

my uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
and all my followers to the eager foe

turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind,
or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starvéd wolves.
My sons-God knows what hath bechancéd them;
but this I know,-they have demean'd themselves
like men born to renown by life or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane to me;
and thrice cried,-Courage, father! fight it out!
and full as oft came Edward to my side,
with purple falchion, painted to the hilt
in blood of those that had encounter'd him:

and when the hardiest warriors did retire,
Richard cried,-Charge! and give no foot of ground!
and cried,-A crown or else a glorious tomb!
a sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!

With this, we charg'd again: but out, alas!
we bodg'd again; as I have seen a swan