1884.

1633.

A Hymn

When Death and Shame would woo

Him last,

From under the trees they drew Him last: 'T was on a tree they slew Him--last, When out of the woods He came.

16

Sidney Lanier.

A HYMN

DROP, drop, slow tears,

And bathe those beauteous feet,
Which brought from Heaven

The news and Prince of Peace:
Cease not, wet eyes,

His mercy to entreat;

To cry for vengeance

Sin doth never cease:

In your deep floods

Drown all my faults and fears;
Nor let His eye

See sin, but through my tears.

Phineas Fletcher.

QUA CURSUM VENTUS

As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay
With canvas drooping, side by side,

Two towers of sail at dawn of day
Are scarce long leagues apart descried;

4

When fell the night, up sprung the breeze,
And all the darkling hours they plied,
Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas

By each was cleaving, side by side:

E'en so-but why the tale reveal

Of those, whom year by year unchanged, Brief absence joined anew to feel,

Astounded, soul from soul estranged?

8

12

At dead of night their sails were filled,
And onward each rejoicing steered-
Ah, neither blame, for neither willed,
Or wist, what first with dawn appeared! 16

To veer, how vain! On, onward strain,
Brave barks! In light, in darkness too,
Through winds and tides one compass

guides

To that, and your own selves, be true.

But O blithe breeze; and O great seas,
Though ne'er, that earliest parting past,
On your wide plain they join again,

Together lead them home at last.

One port, methought, alike they sought,
One purpose hold where'er they fare,-
O bounding breeze, O rushing seas!

1849.

At last, at last, unite them there!

Arthur Hugh Clough.

20

24

28

MY LADY'S GRAVE

THE linnet in the rocky dells,

The moor-lark in the air,
The bee among the heather bells
That hide my lady fair:

The wild deer browse above her breast;
The wild birds raise their brood;
And they, her smiles of love caress'd,

Have left her solitude!

I ween that when the grave's dark wall
Did first her form retain,

8

They thought their hearts could ne'er recall The light of joy again.

They thought the tide of grief would flow
Uncheck'd through future years;

But where is all their anguish now,
And where are all their tears?

Well, let them fight for honour's breath,
Or pleasure's shade pursue-

The dweller in the land of death

Is changed and careless too.

12

16

20

a. 1848.

And if their eyes should watch and weep
Till sorrow's source were dry,

She would not, in her tranquil sleep,
Return a single sigh!

Blow, west wind, by the lonely mound,

And murmur, summer streams

There is no need of other sound

To soothe my lady's dream.

24

28

BREAK, break, break,

On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!

And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman's boy,

That he shouts with his sister at play!

O well for the sailor lad,

That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on

To their haven under the hill;

But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break,

At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!

But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

1842.

8

I 2

16

Lord Tennyson.

IN THE VALLEY OF CAUTERETZ

ALL along the valley, stream that flashest white, Deepening thy voice with the deepening of the

night,

All along the valley, where thy waters flow,
I walk'd with one I loved two and thirty years

ago.

All along the valley, while I walk'd to-day,

The two and thirty years were a mist that rolls

away;

For all along the valley, down thy rocky bed,
Thy living voice to me was as the voice of the

dead,

And all along the valley, by rock and cave and tree,

The voice of the dead was a living voice to me. 10 Lord Tennyson.

1864.

WAGES

GLORY of warrior, glory of orator, glory of song, Paid with a voice flying by to be lost on an

endless sea