Outspeeding the shark and the sword-fish dark Under the Ocean foam, And up through the rifts of the mountain clifts And now from their fountains in Enna's mountains At sunrise they leap from their cradles steep At noontide they flow through the woods below And at night they sleep in the rocking deep Beneath the Ortygian* shore, Like spirits that lie in the azure sky P. B. Shelley. CLXVIII. HENRY VIII. ACT IV. SCENE II.-Kimbolton. Enter KATHARINE, Dowager, sick; led between GRIFFITH, her gentleman Grif. usher, and PATIENCE, her woman. OW does your grace? Kath. O Griffith, sick to death! My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, Willing to leave their burthen. Reach a chair: So; now, methinks, I feel a little ease. Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, * Arethusa and the Alpheus were said to rise again as a fountain in the island of Ortygia, near Syracuse. Grif. Yes, madam; but I think your grace, Out of the pain you suffered, gave no ear to 't. Kath. Prithee, good Griffith, tell me how he died: If well, he stepped before me, happily For my example. Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam : For after the stout Earl Northumberland Arrested him at York, and brought him forward, He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill He could not sit his mule. Kath. Alas, poor man ! Grif. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, So went to bed; where eagerly his sickness Kath. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, And yet with charity. He was a man His promises were, as he then was, mighty; But his performance, as he is now, nothing : The clergy ill example. Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues To hear me speak his good now? Kath. I were malicious else. Grif. Yes, good Griffith; This cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashioned to much honour from his cradle. Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, Now in his ashes honour: peace be with him! Patience, be near me still; and set me lower : W. Shakespeare. CLXIX. TIMES GO BY TURNS. HE loppéd tree in time may grow again, Most naked plants renew both fruit and flower, The sorriest wight may find release of pain, The driest soil suck in some moistening shower ; Time goes by turns, and chances change by course, From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow; Her tides have equal times to come and go ; No hap so hard but may in time amend. R. Southwell. CLXX. THE QUIET HOPING HEART. HATE'ER my God ordains is right; Howe'er He orders now my cause, He is my God; Though dark my road, He holds me that I shall not fall; Wherefore to Him I leave it all. Whate'er my God ordains is right; He leads me by the proper path, And take content What He hath sent ; His hand can turn my griefs away, Whate'er my God ordains is right; For God is true; And on that changeless truth I build, And all my heart with hope is filled. Whate'er my God ordains is right; Though I the cup must drink That bitter seems to my faint heart, I will not fear nor shrink: Tears pass away With dawn of day, Sweet comfort yet shall fill my heart, Whate'er my God ordains is right; Who cannot will me aught but good; For well I know, In joy or woe, We soon shall see, as sunlight clear, How faithful was our Guardian here. Whate'er my God ordains is right; |