« PredošláPokračovať »
CPOETRY.) Selected for the Supremeul ((Doung persons
fuit the Tetion to the Word and the Word to the Setion; with this special observance, that you
oerstep not the Modesty of Nature.
BOOK THE THIRD.
DRAMATIC, CHIEFLY FROM SHAKSPEARE.
Gives us free scope ; only doth backward pull” $1. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull.
SHAKSPEARE. Impossible be strange attempts to those
That weigh their pain in sense, and do suppose
To show her merit, that did miss her love? la manners as in shape; thy blood and virtue
Character of a noble Courtier, by an old Contend for empire in thee, and thy goodness
Cotemporary Share with thy birth-right. Love all; trust a King. I would I had that corporal soundness
now, Do wrong to none; be able for thine enemy As when thy father and myself in friendship Rather in power than use; and keep thy friend First tried our soldiership! 'He did look fur Under thy own life's key; be checkd for si- Into the service of the time, and was lence
Discipled of the bravest. He lasted Jong; But never tax'd for speech. What Heaven But on us both did haggish age steal on, more will,
[down, And wore us out of act. It much repairs me That thee may furnish, and my prayers pluck To talk of your good father. In his youth Fall on thy head !
He had the wit which I can well observe
To day in our young lords ; but they may jest Too ambitious Love.
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted, I am undone; there is no living, none, Ere they can hide their levity in honor : If Bertram be away. It were all one, So like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness That I should love a bright particular star, Were in his pride or sharpness ; if they were, And think to wed it, he is so above me! His equal had awak'd them; and his honor, In his bright radiance and collateral light Clock to itself, knew the true minute when Must I be comforted, not in his sphere, Exception bid him speak; and at that time Th' ambition in my love thus plagues itself : His tongue obey'd his hand. Who were below The hind that would be mated by the lion He us'd as creatures of another place, [him Must die for love. "Twas pretty thu'a plague, And bow'd his imminent top to their low ranks, To see him every hour; to sit and draw Making them proud of his humility, His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In their poor praise he humbled ; such a man lo our heart's table: heart, too capable Might be a copy to these younger times, Of every line and trick of his sweet favor! Which, follow'd well, would demonstrate them But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy But goers backward.
(now Must sanctify his relics.
Would I were with him!-He would always
sayA parasitical vain Coward.
(Methinks I hear him now; his plausive words I know him a notorious liar; He scatter'd not in ears; but grafted them Think him a great way fool, solely a coward; | To grow there, and to bear) • Let me not live' Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him, -Thus his good melancholy oft began, That they take place, when virtue's steely bones on the catastrophe and heel of pastime, Look bleak in the cold wind : withal, full oft When it was out— Let me not live,'quoth he, we see
. After my Aame lacks oil; to be the snuff Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses
* All but new things disdain; whose judgeThe Remedy of Evils generally in ourselves.
[stancies Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, • Mere fathers of their garments; whose conWhich we ascribe to Heaven. The fated sky Expire before their fashions --This he wish'd
(From the Illustrated London News.)
Who fight the glorious fight,
Defenders of the right,
And vengeance they would wreak ?
The glory which they seek;
And pathways fresh with blooms;
We owe the humbler brave,
Like sunlight on the wave,
And see, through clouds afar,
Of Duty's guiding star;
To save a brother's life,
The bravest deeds of strife ?
What shall we give them—souls sublime,
Who in the stormy dark,
And whirl the helpless bark
Amid the fitful gale,
Or dying woman's wail,
Of wild waves tempest-trod,
Or sound of fife and drum;
Or hope of joys to come,
Or nerve their honest hands;
And at its high commands
With calm, untroubled eye;
Ay, these, and something more--
And tribute from their store;
"I would beggar gold to pay,
High gleaming to the day;
Who, mid the foam and swell,
When pitying sighs are borne,
And widows left forlorn.
And heal the wounded heart,
Let England do its part.
May light their household fires;
To imitate their sires.