« PredošláPokračovať »
and cries aloud, 'Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk!
Upon these words I came and cheered him up:
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck
He threw his wounded arm and kissed his lips,
The pretty and sweet manner of it forced
Those waters from me which I would have stopped;
And all my mother came into mine eyes,
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
Cant. They of those marches, gracious sovereign,
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
But there's a saying very old and true-
872 ARCHBISHop of CanterbURY AND BISHop of
ELY TO KING HENRY V
stand for your own: unwind your bloody flag; look back unto your mighty ancestors:
go, my dread lord, to your great-grandsire's tomb,
O noble English, that could entertain
with half their forces the full pride of France;
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,
and make His chastisements less bitter to us.
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.
874 THE COUNTESS TERTSKY TO HER NIECE THEKLA,
PRINCESS OF FRIEDLAND, WHO IS IN LOVE WITH
'HOU seest it with a lovelorn maiden's eyes.
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,
meet and disarm necessity by choice,
and what must be, take freely to her heart,
What? he has vanquished all impediment
and in the wilful mood of his own daughter
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
my sad presentiment to certainty.
and it is so!-Not one friend have we here,
This is no theatre, where hope abides:
the dull thick noise of war alone stirs here:
it draws, it pulls me with a god-like power-
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?
Yet, though destruction sweep those lovely plains,
by that dread name, we wave the sword on high!
SEMPRONIUS-PORTIUS SON OF CATO
OOD morrow, Portius! let us once embrace,
To-morrow should we thus express our friendship,
Por. My father has this morning called together
if yet he can oppose the mighty torrent,
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:
they strike with something like religious fear,
to thy friend's vows, I might be blessed indeed!