1418

So I kissed her and brought her, my Dane, my Dane,
through the waving wonderful crowd;
thousands and thousands, they shouted amain
like mighty thunders and loud.

And they said: 'He is young, the lad we love,
the heir of the Isles is young;

how we deem of his mother, and one gone above,
can neither be said nor sung.

He brings us a pledge-he will do his part

with the best of his race and name:' and I will, for I look to live, sweetheart, as may suit with my mother's fame.

LIK

SAMELA

JEAN INGELOW

IKE to Diana in her summer weed,
girt with a crimson robe of brightest dye,
goes fair Samela;
whiter than be the flocks that straggling feed,
when washed by Arethusa faint they lie,
is fair Samela;

as fair Aurora in her morning grey,
decked with the ruddy glister of her love,
is fair Samela;

like lovely Thetis on a calméd day,
whenas her brightness Neptune's fancy move,
shines fair Samela;

her tresses gold, her eyes like glassy streams,
her teeth are pearl, the breasts are ivory
of fair Samela;

her cheeks, like rose and lily yield forth gleams,
her brows' bright arches framed of ebony;

thus fair Samela;

passeth fair Venus in her bravest hue,
and Juno in the shew of majesty,

for she's Samela;

Pallas in wit, all three, if you will view,
for beauty, wit, and matchless dignity

yield to Samela.

R. GREENE

1419

Now

OW each Creature joys the other,
passing happy days and hours:
one bird reports unto another,

in the fall of silver showers;
whilst the earth, our common mother,
hath her bosom deck'd with flowers:
whilst the greatest torch of Heaven,
with bright rays warms Flora's lap;
making nights and days both even,
chearing plants with fresher sap:
my field of flowers quite bereaven
wants refresh of better hap.
Echo, daughter of the air,

(babbling guest of rocks and hills,)
knows the name of my fierce fair,
and sounds the accents of my ills.
Each thing pities my despair,

whilst that she her lover kills:
whilst that she (O cruel Maid!)
doth me and my love despise ;
my life's flourish is decayed,
that depended on her eyes:
but her will must be obeyed;

and well he ends, for love who dies.

1420

S. DANIEL

THE EXEQUIES

RAW near,

DRA

you Lovers that complain

of Fortune or Disdain,

and to my ashes lend a tear;

melt the hard marble with your groans,
and soften the relentless stones,

whose cold embraces the sad subject hide,
of all Love's cruelties and Beauty's pride!

No verse,

no epicedium bring,

nor peaceful requiem sing,

to charm the terrors of my hearse;

no profane numbers must flow near
the sacred silence that dwells here.
Vast griefs are dumb; softly, oh, softly mourn,
lest you disturb the peace attends my urn.

Yet strew

upon my dismal grave

such offerings as you have,
forsaken cypress and sad yew;

for kinder flowers can take no birth,
or growth, from such unhappy earth.
Weep only o'er my dust, and say, Here lies
to Love and Fate an equal sacrifice.

What shapeless form half lost on high,
half seen against the evening sky,
seems like a ghost to glide,

and watch, from Babel's crumbling heap,
where in her shadow, fast asleep,
lies fall'n imperial Pride?

With half closed eye a lion there
is basking in his noontide lair,
or prowls in twilight gloom.
The golden city's king he seems,
such as in old prophetic dreams
sprang from rough ocean's womb.

But where are now his eagle wings,
that sheltered erst a thousand kings,
hiding the glorious sky

from half the nations, till they own
no holier name, no mightier throne?
That vision is gone by.

J. KEBLE

1422

1423

1424

FOND

TO THE NIGHTINGALE

OND lonely bird, the friend of darkling night, that shunn'st the noise of men,-the sun's bright ray,

at thy soft plaint, enchanted with delight,

the moon's pale car halts in her midnight way; the winds their blustering cease; the bird's glad train crouched in deep silence cease their melody;

while I, attendant on that sweet sad strain,

in fancy hear each Muse, each Grace, in thee.

ON THE DEATH OF LORD BYRON IN GREECE

OT length of life,-not an illustrious birth

NOT

rich with the noblest blood of all the earth; nought can avail, save deeds of high emprize, our mortal being to immortalize.— Sweet child of song, thou sleepest; ne'er again shall swell the notes of thy melodious strain: yet, with thy country wailing o'er thy urn,

Pallas, the Muse, Mars, Greece and Freedom mourn.

ON NAPOLEON

HERE I, who Philip's son surpassed in war,

and harnessed victory, struggling, to my car, Napoleon,-proof of Fortune's fickle turn, lie on this rock, without a friend or urn. Shout, despots, at your triumphs-'Tis but vain : high towers my Eagle yet and scents the slain. What needs a monument?-Pile on my tomb the Pyramids, Vienna, Moscow, Rome.

1425

1426

J427

ON THE STATUE OF APOLLO

TO THE SCULPTOR

F that Prometheus stole the fire divine,

IF

what was his daring when compared with thine?— He did but warm to life the senseless clod,

but thou hast made the marble seem a God;

a present God! as on that form I gaze,

a present God! I cry, in wild amaze:
fresh from the triumph, glorying in his might,
the all-conquering Archer, lord of heat and light,
Apollo's self, confest before our eyes,

bounds on the base, new-lighted from the skies.

ON AN INFANT

4. To the dark and silent tomb

soon I hasted from the womb:
scarce the dawn of life began
ere I measured out my span-
I no smiling pleasures knew;
I no gay delights could view ;
joyless sojourner was I

only born to weep and die. B. Happy infant, early blest!

rest in peaceful slumber, rest;

FRANE