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558 Great Jove, Laodamia, doth not leave
And something also did my worth obtain:
Thou know'st, the Delphic oracle foretold
that the first Greek who touched the Trojan strand
'Supreme of heroes-bravest, noblest, best!
'HE wished-for wind was given:-I then revolved our future course, upon the silent sea;
and, if no worthier led the way, resolved
that of a thousand vessels mine should be
the foremost prow in pressing to the strand:
mine the first blood that tinged the Trojan sand.
Yet bitter, oft-times bitter, was the pang
the paths which we had trod-these fountains, flowers;
But should suspense permit the foe to cry
MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS
My mind to me a kingdome is;
such perfect joy therein I finde
as farre exceeds all earthly blisse,
Content I live, this is my stay;
I seek no more than may suffice:
I see how plentie surfets oft,
and hastie clymbers soonest fall: I see that such as sit aloft
mishap doth threaten most of all: these get with toile, and keep with feare such cares my mind could never beare.
561 No princely pompe, nor welthie store, no force to winṇe the victorie,
no wylie wit to salve a sore,
no shape to winne a lover's eye; to none of these I yeeld as thrall, for why, my mind dispiseth all.
I laugh not at anothers losse,
I grudge not at anothers gainė;
I fear no foe, nor fawne on friend;
I joy not in no earthly blisse:
I weigh not Cresus' welth a straw; for care, I care, not what it is;
I feare not fortunes fatall law: my mind is such as may not move for beautie bright or force of love.
562 I wish but what I have at will:
I wander not to seeke for more;
in greatest stormes I sitte on shore,
The court ne cart I like ne loath;
extreames are counted worst of all;
My welth is health, and perfect ease;
nor by desert to give offence:
SIR E. DYER
EPARTING Summer hath assumed
an aspect tenderly illumed,
the gentlest look of spring;
that calls from yonder leafy shade
a timely carolling.
No faint and hesitating trill,
clear, loud, and lively is the din
Nor doth the example fail to cheer
ye myrtle wreaths, your fragrance shed
564 COMPOSED IN one of the cATHOLIC CANTONS
as we are our native dust
to wet with many a bitter shower,
it ill befits us to disdain
the altar, to deride the fane,
where simple Sufferers bend, in trust
I love, where spreads the village lawn,
Where'er we roam, along the brink
TO A SKYLARK
ETHEREAL minstrel, pilgrim of the sky!
dost thou despise the earth where cares abound? or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye both with thy nest upon the dewy ground? thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, those quivering wings composed, that music still!
To the last point of vision and beyond
mount, daring warbler! that love-prompted strain, 'twixt thee and thine an everlasting bond, thrills not the less the bosom of the plain : yet thou dost seem-proud privilege!—to sing all independent of the leafy spring.
Leave to the nightingale her shady wood;
a privacy of glorious light is thine;
whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
true to the kindred points of Heaven and Home!
HEN o'er the blasted heath the day declined, and on the scathed oak warred the winter-wind, when not a distant taper's twinkling ray
gleamed o'er the furze to light him on his way;
HOPE THE LIGHT OF HOME
WHERE, doomed to Poverty's sequestered dell,
unpitied by the world, unknown to fame,
their woes, their wishes and their hearts the same;