Hemans continued.] The breaking waves dash'd high On a stern and rock-bound coast; And the woods, against a stormy sky, Their giant branches toss'd. The Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers in New England. Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod, They have left unstain'd what there they found, Freedom to worship God. The boy stood on the burning deck, The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead. Ibid. Hope tells a flattering tale,1 Delusive, vain, and hollow, Ah let not Hope prevail, Lest disappointment follow. 1 Hope told a flattering tale, That Joy would soon return; Ah, naught my sighs avail, For love is doomed to mourn. Anon. Vol. i. p. 320.2 2 Air by Giovanni Paisiello (1741 - 1816). FF JOHN KEATS. 1796-1821. A thing of beauty is a joy forever ; Pass into nothingness. Endymion. Line 1. Philosophy will clip an angel's wings. Lamia. Part ii. Music's golden tongue Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor. The Eve of St. Agnes. St. 3. As though a rose should shut, and be a bud Those green-robed senators of mighty woods, Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars, Dream, and so dream all night without a stir. Ibid. Thou foster-child of Silence and slow Time. Ode on a Grecian Urn. Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on; Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd, Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone. Keats continued.] Beauty is truth, truth beauty, that is all Ode on a Grecian Urn. Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings? Addressed to Haydon. 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. On first looking into Chapman's Homer. The poetry of earth is never dead. On the Grasshopper and Cricket. CHARLES WOLFE. 1791-1823. Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, Ibid. We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory! Ibid. HENRY HART MILMAN. And the cold marble leapt to life a god. The Belvidere Apollo. Too fair to worship, too divine to love. Ibid. 500 Milnes. Payne. - Uhland. RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES. But on and up, where Nature's heart Beats strong amid the hills. Tragedy of the Lac de Gaube. St. 2. Great thoughts, great feelings came to them, Like instincts, unawares. The Men of Old. A man's best things are nearest him, Lie close about his feet. The beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. Ibid. I wandered by the Brookside. J. HOWARD PAYNE. 1792 – 1852. Mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble there's no place like home.1 Home, Sweet Home? JOHN LOUIS UHLAND. 1787-1862. Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee; Take, I give it willingly; For, invisible to thee, Spirits twain have cross'd with me. The Passage. 1 "Home is home though it be never so homely" is a proverb, and is found in the collections of the seventeenth century. 2 From The Opera of Clari-the Maid of Milan. THOMAS NOON TALFOURD. 1795-1854. So his life has flowed From its mysterious urn a sacred stream, Ion. Acti. Sc. 1. "T is a little thing To give a cup of water; yet its draught ROBERT POLLOK. 1799 - 1827. He laid his hand upon "the Ocean's mane دو The Course of Time. Book iv. Line 389. He was a man Who stole the livery of the court of Heaven To serve the Devil in. Book viii. Line 616. With one hand he put A penny in the urn of poverty, And with the other took a shilling out. Book viii. Line 632. 1 Cf. Byron, Childe Harold, Canto iv. St. 184. |