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There, at the foot of yonder nodding beech,

That wreathes its old fantastic roots on high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch,

And pore upon the brook that babbles by. Him have we seen the greenwood side along,

While o'er the heath we hied, our labour done, Oft as the woodlark piped her farewell song,

With wistful eyes pursue the setting sun. Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,

Mutt'ring his wayward fancies, he would rove; Now drooping, woful-wan, like one forlorn,

Or craz'd with care, or cross'd in hopeless love.

One morn I miss'd him on the 'custom'd hill,

Along the heath, and near his favourite tree : Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, Nor

up the lawn, nor at the wood was he:

The next, with dirges due, in sad array,
Slow through the churchyard path we saw him

borne : Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay

Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.”

THE EPITAPH.

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth,

A youth to fortune and to fame unknown; Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth,

And Melancholy mark’d him for her own.

108

AN ANGEL IN THE HOUSE.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere

Heaven did a recompense as largely send : He

gave to mis’ry (all he had) a tear; He gain'd from heaven ('twas all he wish’d) a

friend. No farther seek his merits to disclose,

Nor draw his frailties from their dread abode(Where they alike in trembling hope repose)

The bosom of his Father and his God.

GRAY.

AN ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. How sweet it were, if without feeble fright, Or dying of the dreadful beauteous sight, An angel came to us, and we could bear To see him issue from the silent air At evening in our room, and bend on ours His divine eyes,—and bring us from his bowers News of dear friends and children who have never Been dead indeed- as we shall know for ever. Alas! we think not what we daily see About our hearths, angels that are to be, Or

may be if they will, and we prepare Their souls and ours to meet in happy air,– A child, a friend, a wife, whose soft heart sings In unison with ours, waiting for future wings.

L. HUNT.

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Of their egression endlessly ; with ever rising new From forth their sweet nest; as their store, still

as it faded, grew, And never would cease sending forth her clusters

to the spring, They still crowd out so; this flock here, that

there, belabouring The loaded flowers; so from the ships and tents

the army's store Troop'd to these princes, and the court, along th' unmeasur'd shore.

G. CHAPMAN, 1580.

CONSTANCY.

Who is the honest man ? He that doth still and strongly good pursue ; To God, his neighbour, and himself most true :

Whom neither force nor fawning can
Unpin, or wrench from giving all their due.

Whose honesty is not
So loose or easy that a ruffling wind
Can blow away, or, glittering, look it blind.

Who rides his sure and even trot,
While the world now rides by, now lags behind.

Who, when great trials come, Nor seeks nor shuns them, but does calmly stay, Till he the thing and the example weigh ;

112

LITTLE CHILDREN.

All being brought into a sum,
What place or person calls for, he doth pay.

Whom none can work or woo
To use in any thing a trick or sleight,
For above all things he abhors deceit.

His words, and works, and fashions too, All of a piece, and all are clear and straight.

Who never melts or thaws At close temptations. When the day is done His goodness sets not, but in dark can run.

The sun to others writeth laws, And is their virtue. Virtue is his sun.

HERBERT.

LITTLE CHILDREN.

SPORTING through the forest wide;
Playing by the water-side ;
Wandering o'er the heathy fells;
Down within the woodland dells;
All among the mountains wild,
Dwelleth manya little child !
In the baron's hall of pride ;
By the poor man's dull fireside ;
Mid the mighty, mid the mean,
Little children may
Like the flowers that spring up fair,
Bright, and countless, every where !

be seen ;

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S

HOMER.

Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold,

And many goodly states and kingdoms seen:

Round many western islands have I been, Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold. Oft of one wide expanse had I been told That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne ; Yet never did I breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new planet swims into his ken, Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes

He stared at the Pacific—and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmise

Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

KEATS.

FROM CHAPMAN'S TRANSLATION OF HOMER.

ILIAD I.

The Banquet. THE youths crown'd cups with wine Drank off and fill’d to all again: that day was

held divine, Consumed in pæans to the sun ; who heard with

pleased ear; When whose bright chariot stoop'd to sea, and

twilight hid the clear,

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