Page images

But that kind Christian love hath taught the

lesson That they who merit most contempt and hate Do most deserve our pity

Old Play.

Now, hoist the anchor, mates - and let the

sails Give their broad bosom to the buxom wind, Like lass that woos a lover.


He was a fellow in a peasant's garb;
Yet one could censure you a woodcock's cary.

Like any courtier at the ordinary.

The Ordinary.

MARRY, come up, sir, with your gentle blood ! Here's a red stream beneath this coarse blue

doublet That warms the heart as kindly as if drawn From the far source of old Assyrian kings, Who first made mankind subject to their sway.

Old Play. We are not worse at once the course of evil Begins so slowly and from such slight source, An infant's hand might stem its breach with

clay; But let the stream get deeper, and philosophy Ay, and religion too – shall strive in vain To turn the headlong torrent.

Old Play.


We meet, as men see phantoms in a dream, Which glide and sigh and sign and move their

lips, But make no sound; or, if they utter voice, 'Tis but a low and undistinguished moaning, Which has nor word nor sense of uttered sound.

The Chieftain
The course of human life is changeful still
As is the fickle wind and wandering rill :
Or, like the light dance which the wild-breeze
Amidst the faded race of fallen leaves ;
Which now its breath bears down, now tosses

Beats to the earth, or wafts to middle sky.
Such, and so varied, the precarious play
Of fate with man, frail tenant of a day !

NECESSITY thou best of peacemakers,
As well as surest prompter of invention –
Help us to composition !


From Peveril of the Peak Why then, we will have bellowing of beeves, Broaching of barrels, brandishing of spigots; Blood shall flow freely, but it shall be gore Of herds and flocks and venison and poultry, Joined to the brave heart's-blood of John-aBarleycorn!

Old Play. No, sir, I will not pledge - I'm one of those Who think good wine needs neither bush nor

preface To make it welcome. If you doubt my word, Fill the quart-cup, and see if I will choke on 't.

Old Play. You shall have no worse prison than my cham

ber, Nor jailer than myself.

The Captain Ascasto.

Can she not speak ? Oswald. If speech be only in accented sounds, Framed by the tongue and lips, the maiden 's But if by quick and apprehensive look, By motion, sign, and glance, to give each mean

ing, Express as clothed in language, be termed

speech, She hath that wondrous faculty ; for her eyes, Like the bright stars of heaven, can hold dis

course, Though it be mute and soundless.

Old Play.


This is some creature of the elements
Most like your sea-gull. He can wheel and

whistle His screaming song, e'en when the storm is

loudest Take for his sheeted couch the restless foam Of the wild wave-crest - slumber in the calm, And dally with the storm. Yet 't is a gull, An arrant gull, with all this.

The Chieftain. I FEAR the devil worst when gown and cas

sock, Or in the lack of them, old Calvin's cloak, Conceals his cloven hoof.

Anonymous. 'Tis the black ban-dog of our jail

on him, But at a wary distance rouse him not He bays not till he worries.

The Black Dog of Newgate. SPEAK not of niceness, when there's chance of

wreck, The captain said, as ladies writhed their

neck To see the dying dolphin flap the deck: 'If we go down, on us these gentry sup; We dine upon them, if we haul them up.

pray look

[ocr errors]

This is a love meeting ? See the maiden mourns, And the sad suitor bends his looks on earth. There's more hath passed between them than

belongs To Love's sweet sorrows.

Old Play.

Wise men applaud us when we eat the eaters, As the devil laughs when keen folks cheat the cheaters.'

The Sea Voyage.

CONTENTIONS fierce, Ardent, and dire, spring from no petty cause.


HE came amongst them like a new-raised spirit, To speak of dreadful judgments that impend, And of the wrath to come.

The Reformer.

And glossy raven-locks. But, favored France,
Thou hast had many a tale of woe to tell,
In ancient times as now.

He was a son of Egypt, as he told me,
And one descended from those dread magicians
Who waged rash war, when Israel dwelt in

Goshen, With Israel and her Prophet — matching rod With his the son of Levi's - and encounter

ing Jehovah's miracles with incantations, Till upon Egypt came the Avenging Angel, And those proud sages wept for their first

born, As wept the unlettered peasant.

Anonymous. RESCUE or none, Sir Knight, I am your captive; Deal with me what your nobleness suggests Thinking the chance of war may one day place

you Where I must now be reckoned-i' the roll Of melancholy prisoners.


[blocks in formation]

HIGH feasting was there there the gilded

roofs Rung to the wassail-health – the dancer's step Sprung to the chord responsive the gay game

ster To fate's disposal flung his heap of gold, And laughed alike when it increased or les

sened : Such virtue hath court-air to teach us patience Which schoolmen preach in vain.

Why come ye not to Court? HERE stand I tight and trim, Quick of eye, though little of limb; He who denieth the word I have spoken, Betwixt him and me shall lances be broken.

Lay of the Little John de Saintré.

No human quality is so well wove
In warp and woof but there's some flaw in it;
I've known a brave man fly a shepherd's cur,
A wise man so demean him drivelling idiocy
Had wellnigh been ashamed on’t. For your

crafty, Your worldly-wise man, he, above the rest, Weaves his own snares so fine he's often caught in them.

Old Play. WHEN Princes meet, astrologers may mark it An ominous conjunction, full of boding, Like that of Mars with Saturn.

Old Play.

eyes ?

[blocks in formation]

From Quentin Durward PAINTERS show Cupid blind hath Hymen Or is his sight warped by those spectacles Which parents, guardians, and advisers lend

him That he may look through them on lands and

On jewels, gold, and all such rich donations,
And see their value ten times magnified ? -
Methinks 't will brook a question.

The Miseries of Enforced Marriage.
This is a lecturer so skilled in policy
That - no disparagement to Satan's cunning –
He well might read a lesson to the devil,
And teach the old seducer new temptations.

Old Play. I SEE thee yet, fair France - thou favored

land Of art and nature thou art still before me; Thy sons, to whom their labor is a sport, So well thy grateful soil returns its tribute; Thy sun-burnt daughters, with their laughing


OUR counsels waver like the unsteady bark, That reels amid the strife of meeting currents.

Old Play.

Hold fast thy truth, young soldier. - Gentle

maiden, Keep you your promise plight - leave age its

subtleties, And gray-haired policy its maze of falsehood; But be you candid as the morning sky, Ere the high sun sucks vapors up to stain it.

The Trial,

Steep crags and headlong lins may court the

pencil Like sudden haps, dark plots, and strange ad

ventures ; But who would paint the dull and fog-wrapt

moor In its long tract of sterile desolation ?

Old Play.

From Saint Ronan's Well
Quis novus hic hospes ?

Dido apud Virgilium. CH'M-MAID! - The Gen'man in the front parlor!

Boots's free Translation of the Æneid. THERE must be government in all society Bees have their Queen, and stag herds have

their leader; Rome had her Consuls, Athens had her Archons, And we, sir, have our Managing Committee.

The Album of Saint Ronan's. COME, let me have thy counsel, for I need it ; Thou art of those, who better help their friends With sage advice, than usurers with gold, Or brawlers with their swords -- I'll trust to

thee, For I ask only from thee words, not deeds.

The Devil hath met his Match.

From The Betrothed
In Madoc's tent the clarion sounds,

With rapid clangor hurried far;
Each hill and dale the note rebounds,

But when return the sons of war?
Thou, born of stern Necessity,
Dull Peace! the valley yields to thee,
And owns thy melancholy sway;

Welsh Poem.

0, SADLY shines the morning sun

On leaguered castle wall,
When bastion, tower, and battlement
Seem nodding to their fall.

Old Ballad.

NEAREST of blood should still be next in love;
And when I see these happy children playing,
While William gathers flowers for Ellen's ring-

And Ellen dresses flies for William's angle,
I scarce can think that in advancing life
Coldness, unkindness, interest, or suspicion
Will e'er divide that anity so sacred,
Which Nature bound at birth.


Now, all ye ladies of fair Scotland,
And ladies of England that happy would

Marry never for houses, nor marry for land,
Nor marry for nothing but only

love. Family Quarrels.

Oh! you would be a vestal maid, I warrant, The bride of Heaven Come

we may shake your purpose: For here I bring in hand a jolly suitor Hath ta'en degrees in the seven sciences That ladies love best He is young and noble, Handsome and valiant, gay and rich, and liberal.

The Nun.

Too much rest is rust,

There's ever cheer in changing ;
We tyne by too much trust,
So we'll be up and ranging.

Old Song.

I's comes - it wrings me in my parting hour, The long-hid crime — the well-disguised guilt. Bring me some holy priest to lay the spectre !

old Play.

Ring out the merry bells, the bride approaches. The blush upon her cheek has shamed the

morning, For that is dawning palely. Grant, good saints, These clouds betoken naught of evil omen!

Old Play. Julia.

Gentle sir, You are our captive - but we 'll use you so, That you shall think your prison joys may

match Whate'er your liberty hath known of pleaRoderick. No, fairest, we have trifled here

too long : And, lingering to see your roses blossom, I've let my laurels wither.

Old Play.


Sedet post equitem atra cura
Still though the headlong cavalier,
O'er rough and smooth, in wild career,

Seems racing with the wind;
His sad companion -- ghastly pale,
And darksome as a widow's veil,
CARE — keeps her seat behind.


What sheeted ghost is wandering through the

storm ? For never did a maid of middle earth Choose such a time or spot to vent her sorrows.

Old Play.

From The Talisman This is the Prince of Leeches ; fever, plague, Cold rheum, and hot podagra, do but look on

him, And quit their grasp upon the tortured sinews.


HERE come we to our close — for that which

follows Is but the tale of dull, unvaried misery.

ONE thing is certain in our Northern land,
Allow that birth or valor, wealth or wit,
Give each precedence to their possessor,
Envy, that follows on such eminence
As comes the lyme-hound on the roebuck's

Shall pull them down each one.

Sir David Lindsay.

Will sway it from the truth and wreck the

argosy. Even this small cause of anger and disgust Will break the bonds of amity 'mongst princes And wreck their noblest purposes.

The Crusade.

THE tears I shed must ever fall!

I weep not for an absent swain, For time may happier hours recall,

And parted lovers meet again. I weep not for the silent dead,

Their pains are past, their sorrows o'er, And those that loved their steps must tread,

When death shall join to part no more. But worse than absence, worse than death,

She wept her lover's sullied fame, And, fired with all the pride of birth, She wept a soldier's injured name.


From Woodstock

You talk of Gayety and Innocence ! The moment when the fatal fruit was eaten, They parted ne'er to meet again ; and Malice Has ever since been playmate to light Gayety From the first moment when the smiling in

fant Destroys the flower or butterfly he toys with, To the last chuckle of the dying miser, Who on his death-bed laughs his last to hear His wealthy neighbor has become a bankrupt.

Old Play. 'Tis not her sense — for sure, in that

There's nothing more than common;
And all her wit is only chat,
Like any other woman.

WERE every hair upon his head a life,
And every life were to be supplicated
By numbers equal to those hairs quadrupled,
Life after life should out like waning stars
Before the daybreak - or as festive lamps,
Which have lent lustre to the midnight revel,
Each after each are quenched when guests

Old Play. Must we then sheath our still victorious sword ; Turn back our forward step, which ever trode O’er foemen's necks the onward path of glory ; Unclasp the mail, which with a solemn vow In God's own house we hung upon our shoul

ders; That vow, as unaccomplished as the promise Which village nurses make to still their chil

dren, And after think no more of ?

The Crusade, a Tragedy. WHEN beauty leads the lion in her toils, Such are her charms he dare not raise his mane, Far less expand the terror of his fangs; So great Alcides made his club a distaff, And spun to please fair Omphale.


COME forth, old man thy daughter's side

Is now the fitting place for thee : When Time hath quelled the oak's bold pride, The youthful tendril yet may hide

The ruins of the parent tree. Now, ye wild blades, that make loose inns your

stage, To vapor forth the acts of this sad age, Stout Edgehill fight, the Newberries and the

West, And northern clashes, where you still fought

best; Your strange escapes, your dangers void of

fear, When bullets flew between the head and ear, Whether you fought by Damme or the Spirit, Of you I speak.

Legend of Captain Jones.

Yon path of greensward Winds round by sparry grot and gay pavilion; There is no fint to gall thy tender foot, There's ready shelter from each breeze or

shower. But Duty guides not that way - see her stand, With wand entwined with amaranth, near yon

cliffs. Oft where she leads thy blood must mark thy

footsteps, Oft where she leads thy head must bear the

storm, And thy shrunk form endure heat, cold, and

hunger; But she will guide thee up to noble heights, Which he who gains seems native of the sky. While earthly things lie stretched beneath his

feet, Diminished, shrunk, and valueless —


[blocks in formation]
[blocks in formation]

From Anne of Geierstein CURSED be the gold and silver which persuade Weak man to follow far fatiguing trade. The lily, peace, outshines the silver store, And life is dearer than the golden ore. Yet money tempts us o'er the desert brown To every distant mart and wealthy town.

Hassan, or the Camel-Driver.

From Chronicles of the Canongate WERE ever such two loving friends!

How could they disagree ? 0, Thus it was: he loved him dear,

And thought but to requite him; And, having no friend left but he, He did resolve to fight him.

Duke upon Duke.

THERE are times When Fancy plays her gambols, in despite Even of our watchful senses, when in sooth Substance seems shadow, shadow substance When the broad, palpable, and marked parti

tion Twixt that which is and is not, seems dissolved, As if the mental eye gained power to gaze

I was one Who loved the greenwood bank and lowing

herd, The russet prize, the lowly peasant's life, Seasoned with sweet content, more than the

halls Where revellers feast to fever-height. Believe

me; There ne'er was poison mixed in maple bowl.

Anonymous. WHEN we two meet, we meet like rushing tor

rents ; Like warring winds, like flames from various

points, That mate each other's fury - there is naught Of elemental strife, were fiends to guide it, Can match the wrath of man.



« PreviousContinue »