Obrázky na stránke
PDF
ePub

892

893

His tongue and heart did not turn backs; but went
one way, and kept one course with what he meant.
He us'd no mask at all, but ever ware
his honest inclination open-faced:

the friendships that he vow'd most constant were,
and with great judgment and discretion plac'd.

ADVERSITY THE TRIAL OF MAN

N the reproof of chance

INN

S. DANIEL

lies the true proof of men: the sea being smooth, how many shallow bauble boats dare sail

upon her patient breast, making their way
with those of nobler bulk!

but let the ruffian Boreas once enrage

the gentle Thetis, and, anon, behold

the strong-ribb'd bark through liquid mountains cut,
bounding between the two moist elements,

like Perseus' horse: where's then the saucy boat
whose weak untimbered sides but even now
co-rivall'd greatness? either to harbour fled,
or made a toast for Neptune. Even so
doth valour's show and valour's worth divide
in storms of fortune: for in her day and brightness
the herd hath more annoyance by the breese
than by the tiger: but when the splitting wind
makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks,

and flies fled under shade, why, then the thing of

courage,

as roused with rage, with rage doth sympathise,

and with an accent tuned in selfsame key,

retorts to chiding fortune.

W. SHAKESPEARE

CARDINAL WOLSEY'S LAMENT

AREWELL! a long farewell, to all my greatness!

FAREWELL! a long to all my

the tender leaves of hope; to-morrow blossoms,
and bears his blushing honours thick upon him:
the third day, comes a frost, a killing frost,
and,-when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
his greatness is a-ripening,-nips his root,

and then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd,
like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
this many summers in a sea of glory:

but far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
at length broke under me; and now has left me,
weary and old with service, to the mercy

of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye;
I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched
is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
There is betwixt that smile he would aspire to,
that sweet aspéct of princes, and their ruin,
more pangs and fears than wars or women have;
and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,

never to hope again.

W. SHAKESPEARE

894 THE CONJUNCTION OF JUPiter and venuS

HAPLESS Greece!

enough of blood has wet thy rocks, and stained
thy rivers: deep enough thy chains have worn
their links into thy flesh: the sacrifice

of thy pure maidens, and thy innocent babes,
and reverend priests, has expiated all
thy crimes of old. In yonder mingling lights
there is an omen of good days for thee.
Thou shalt arise from midst the dust and sit
again among the nations: thine own arm
shall yet redeem thee. Not in wars like thine
the world takes part. Be it a strife of kings-
despot with despot battling for a throne-

and Europe shall be stirred throughout her realms,
nations shall put on harness, and shall fall
upon each other, and in all their bounds
the wailings of the childless shall not cease.
Thine is a war for liberty, and thou

must fight it single-handed. Yet thy wrongs
shall put new strength into thy heart and hand,
and God and thy good sword shall yet work out
for thee a terrible deliverance.

W. C. BRYANT

895 CHARALOIS VIEWING THE FUNERAL PROCESSION

896

OF HIS FATHER THE MARSHAL OF BURGUNDY
WHOSE DEAD BODY HAD BEEN DENIED BURIAL
BY HIS CREDITORS

OW like a silent stream shaded with night,

How

and gliding softly with our windy sighs,
moves the whole frame of this solemnity!

stay here awhile.-Rest, rest in peace, dear earth!
thou that brought'st rest to their unthankful lives,
whose cruelty denied thee rest in death!
here stands thy poor executor, thy son,

that makes his life prisoner to bail thy death;
who gladlier puts on this captivity,

than virgins, long in love, their wedding weeds.
Of all that ever thou hast done good to,
these only have good memories; for they
remember best, forget not gratitude.

I thank you for this last and friendly love.
And though this country, like a viperous mother,
not only hath eat up ungratefully

all means of thee, her son, but last thyself,
leaving thy heir so bare and indigent,
he cannot raise thee a poor monument,
such as a flatterer or a usurer hath;

thy worth in every honest breast builds one,
making their friendly hearts thy funeral stone.
P. MASSINGER

TIME

BEHOLD, the world

rests, and her tired inhabitants have paused
from trouble and turmoil. The widow now
has ceased to weep, and her twin orphans lie
locked in each arm, partakers of her rest.
The man of sorrow has forgot his woes;
the outcast that his head is shelterless,
his griefs unshared. The mother tends no more
her daughter's dying slumbers, but surprised
with heaviness and sunk upon her couch,
dreams of her bridals. E'en the hectic, lulled
on Death's lean arm to rest, in visions wrapped,

897

crowning with Hope's bland wreath his shuddering

nurse,

poor victim! smiles. Silence and deep repose
reign o'er the nations; and the warning voice
of Nature utters audibly within

the general moral; tells us, that repose,
deathlike as this, but of far longer span,
is coming on us; that the weary crowds,
who now enjoy a temporary calm,

shall soon taste lasting quiet, wrapped around
with graveclothes.

H. K. WHITE

OLIVER TO ROSALIND AND CELIA

WHEN

HEN last the young Orlando parted from you,
he left a promise to return again

within an hour; and, pacing through the forest,
chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
lo! what befel! he threw his eye aside,

and, mark, what object did present itself:

under an old oak, whose boughs were moss'd with age,
and high top bald with dry antiquity,

a wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair,
lay sleeping on his back: about his neck

a green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself,
who with her head, nimble in threats, approach'd
the opening of his mouth; but suddenly
seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself,
and with indented glides did slip away
into a bush: under which bush's shade

a lioness, with udders all drawn dry,

lay couching, head on ground, with catlike watch,
when that the sleeping man should stir; for 'tis
the royal disposition of that beast

to prey on nothing that doth seem as dead:
this seen, Orlando did approach the man,

and found it was his brother, his elder brother.

W. SHAKESPEARE

898 CARDINAL BEAUFORT-DUKE of suffolk-quEEN

Car.

MARGARET-HUMPHREY DUKE OF GLOSTER-DUKE
OF BUCKINGHAM

Myths that care to keep your royal person

Y liege, his railing is intolerable:

from treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage,
be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at,

and the offender granted scope of speech,
'twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.
Suf. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here

with ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd, as if she had subornéd some to swear

false allegations to o'erthrow his state?

Q. M. But I can give the loser leave to chide. Glou. Far truer spoke than meant: I lose, indeed;— beshrew the winners, for they played me false! and well such losers may have leave to speak. Buck. He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all day:lord cardinal, he is your prisoner.

Car. Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him sure.
Glou. Ah, thus King Henry throws away his crutch,
before his legs be firm to bear his body:

thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side,
and wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first.
Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were!
for, good King Henry, thy decay I fear.

W. SHAKESPEARE

899

Ant.

ANTONY-VENTIDIUS

IE there, the shadow of an emperor;

LIE

the place thou pressest on thy mother earth is all thy empire now: now it contains thee:

some few days hence, and then 'twill be too large, when thou'rt contracted in thy narrow urn,

shrunk to a few cold ashes; then Octavia,

(for Cleopatra will not live to see it)

Octavia then will have thee all her own,

and bear thee in her widowed hand to Cæsar;
Cæsar will weep, the crocodile will weep,

to see his rival of the universe

lie still and peaceful there.—

I'm now turned wild, a commoner of nature;

of all forsaken, and forsaking all;

live in a shady forest's sylvan scene,

stretch'd at my length beneath some blasted oak,

I lean my head upon the mossy bark,

« PredošláPokračovať »