and cries aloud, 'Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly a-breast;
As, in this glorious and well-foughten field,
We kept together in our chivalry!'

Upon these words I came and cheered him up:
He smiled me in the face, raught me his hand,—
And with a feeble gripe, says, 'Dear my Lord,
Commend my service to my sovereign!'

So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck

He threw his wounded arm and kissed his lips,
And so, espoused to death, with blood he sealed
A testament of noble-ending love.

The pretty and sweet manner of it forced

Those waters from me which I would have stopped;
But I had not so much of man in me,

And all my mother came into mine eyes,
And gave me up to tears.

W. SHAKESPEARE

871 KING HENRY V—ARCHBISHop of canterbury—

EARL OF WESTMORELAND

K. H. W but lay down our proportions to defend

E must not only arm to invade the French,

against the Scots who will make road upon us
with all advantage.

Cant. They of those marches, gracious sovereign,
shall be a wall sufficient to defend

our island from the pilfering borderers. K. H. We do not mean the coursing snatchers only, but fear the main intendment of the Scot, who hath been still a giddy neighbour to us; for you shall read that my great-grandfather never went with his forces into France, but that the Scot on his unfurnished kingdom came pouring, like the tide into a breach, with ample and brim fulness of his force; galling the gleanéd land with hot assays, girding with grievous siege castles and towns; that England, being empty of defence,

hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbourhood. Cant. She hath been then more feared than harmed, my

liege.

W.

But there's a saying very old and true-
If that you will France win,
then with Scotland first begin.

W. SHAKESPEARE

872 ARCHBISHop of CanterbURY AND BISHop of

Cant.

Ely.

873

ELY TO KING HENRY V

GRACIOUS Lord,

stand for your own: unwind your bloody flag; look back unto your mighty ancestors:

go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb,
from whom you claim; invoke his warlike spirit,
and your great uncle's, Edward the black prince,
who on the French ground played a tragedy,
making defeat on the full power of France,
whiles his most mighty father on a hill
stood smiling to behold his lion's whelp
forage in blood of French nobility.

O noble English, that could entertain

with half their forces the full pride of France;
and let another half stand laughing by,
all out of work and cold for action!
Awake remembrance of these valiant dead,
and with your puissant arm renew their feats:
you are their heir, you sit upon their throne;
the blood and courage, that renowned them,
runs in your veins: and my thrice-puissant liege
is in the very May-morn of his youth,
ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises.

W. SHAKESPEARE

DIVERS PROVIDENCES

HAD we no winter, summer would be thought

not half so pleasing: and, if tempests were not, such comforts could not by a calm be brought; for things save by their opposites appear not, both health and wealth is tasteless unto some, and so is ease and every other pleasure; till poor or sick or grievéd they become;

and then they relish these in ampler measure.

God, therefore, full as kind, as He is wise,
so tempereth all the favours He will do us,
that we His bounties may the better prize:

and make His chastisements less bitter to us.
One while, a scorching indignation burns

the flowers and blossoms of our hopes away, which into scarcity our plenty turns,

and changeth new-mown grass to parchéd hay; anon His fruitful showers and pleasing dews,

commixed with cheerful rays, He sendeth down; and then the barren earth her crop renews, which with rich harvests hills and valleys crown; for as, to relish joys, He sorrow sends, so comfort on temptation still attends.

G. WITHER

874 THE COUNTESS TERTSKY TO HER NIECE THEKLA,

PRINCESS OF FRIEDLAND, WHO IS IN LOVE WITH
MAX. PICCOLOMINI

'HOU seest it with a lovelorn maiden's eyes.

Coun. Th

Cast thine eye round, bethink thee who thou art. Into no house of joyance hast thou stepped, for no espousals dost thou find the walls deck'd out, no guests the nuptial garland wearing. Here is no splendour but of arms. Or think'st thou that all these thousands are here congregated to lead up the long dances at thy wedding? Thou seest thy father's forehead full of thought, thy mother's eye in tears: upon the balance lies the great destiny of all our house. Leave now the puny wish, the girlish feeling, O thrust it far behind thee! Give thou proof, thou'rt the daughter of the Mighty-his who where he moves creates the wonderful. Not to herself the woman must belong,

annexed and bound to alien destinies.

But she performs the best part, she the wisest,
who can transmute the alien into self;

meet and disarm necessity by choice,

and what must be, take freely to her heart,
and bear and foster it with mother's love.

875

What? he has vanquished all impediment

and in the wilful mood of his own daughter
shall a new struggle rise for him? Child! Child!
as yet thou hast seen thy father's smiles alone;
the eye of his rage thou hast not seen. Dear child,
I will not frighten thee. To that extreme,
I trust, it ne'er shall come. His will is yet
unknown to me: 'tis possible his aims
may have the same direction as thy wish.
But this can never, never be his will

that thou, the daughter of his haughty fortunes, shouldst e'er demean thee as a love-sick maiden; and like some poor cost-nothing, fling thyself toward the man, who, if that high prize ever be destined to await him, yet, with sacrifices the highest love can bring, must pay for it. 876 Thek. I thank thee for the hint. It turns

877

my sad presentiment to certainty.

and it is so!-Not one friend have we here,
not one true heart! we've nothing but ourselves!
O she said rightly-no auspicious signs
beam on this covenant of our affections.

This is no theatre, where hope abides:

the dull thick noise of war alone stirs here:
and love himself, as he were armed in steel,
steps forth, and girds him for the strife of death.-
There's a dark spirit walking in our house,
and swiftly will the Destiny close on us.
It drove me hither from my calm asylum,
it mocks my soul with charming witchery,
it lures me forward in a seraph's shape,
I see it near, I see it nearer floating,

it draws, it pulls me with a god-like power-
and lo! the abyss-and thither am I moving-
I have no power within me not to move!

W

S. T. COLERIDGE from Schiller

WARSAW'S LAST CHAMPION

WARSAW'S last champion from her height surveyed,

wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid,—

O, Heaven! he cried, my bleeding country save!is there no hand on high to shield the brave?

878

Sem.

Yet, though destruction sweep those lovely plains,
rise, fellow-men! our country yet remains!

by that dread name, we wave the sword on high!
and swear for her to live!-with her to die!
He said, and on the rampart-heights array'd
his trusty warriors, few, but undismay'd;
firm-paced and slow, a horrid front they form,
still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;
low murmuring sounds along their banners fly,
revenge, or death, the watch-word and reply;
then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm,
and the loud tocsin toll'd their last alarm!-
In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few!
from rank to rank your volley'd thunder flew:—
O, bloodiest picture in the book of Time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime;
found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,
strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe!

T. CAMPBELL

SEMPRONIUS-PORTIUS SON OF CATO

OOD morrow, Portius! let us once embrace,

To-morrow should we thus express our friendship,
each might receive a slave into his arms:
this sun, perhaps, this morning sun's the last
that e'er shall rise on Roman liberty.

Por. My father has this morning called together
to this poor hall his little Roman senate,
(the leavings of Pharsalia) to consult

if yet he can oppose the mighty torrent,

free.

that bears down Rome, and all her gods, before it, or must at length give up the world to Cæsar. Sem. Not all the pomp and majesty of Rome

can raise her senate more than Cato's presence:
his virtues render our assembly awful,

they strike with something like religious fear,
and make even Cæsar tremble at the head
of armies flushed with conquest: O my Portius!
could I but call that wondrous man my father,
would but thy sister Marcia be propitious

to thy friend's vows, I might be blessed indeed!
J. ADDISON