205

206

A FLOWER GARDEN AT COLEORTON HALL

`ELL me, ye Zephyrs! that unfold,

TELL

while fluttering o'er this gay Recess, pinions that fanned the teeming mould of Eden's blissful wilderness,

did only softly-stealing hours

there close the peaceful lives of flowers?
Say, when the moving creatures saw
all kinds commingled without fear,
prevailed a like indulgent law

for the still growths that prosper here?
Did wanton fawn and kid forbear

the half-blown rose, the lily spare?

EPITAPH

W. WORDSWORTH

207

LEEP on, my Love, in thy cold bed,
never to be disquieted!

my last good night! Thou wilt not wake,
till I thy fate shall overtake:

till age or grief or sickness must

marry my body to that dust

it so much loves; and fill the room
my heart keeps empty in thy tomb.
Stay for me there; I will not fail
to meet thee in that hollow vale:
and think not much of my delay;
I am already on the way,

and follow thee with all the speed
desire can make or sorrows breed.

VXOR MORTVA VIDVVM ALLOQVITVR

VISS

VISSA teco son io molti e molt' anni,
consorte!

poi recise il mio fil la giusta morte,
e mi sottrasse alli mondani inganni.
Se lieta io goda ne i beati scanni,
ti giuro che'l morir non mi fù forte;
se non pensando alla tua cruda sorte,
e che sol ti lasciarà in tante affanni.

Ma la virtù che 'n te dal ciel riluce,
al passar questo abisso oscuro e cieco,
spero che ti sarà maestra e duce.

Non pianger piu, ch' io sarò sempre teco,
e belle e viva, al fin della tua luce,
venir vedrai me, e rimenarten meco!

A. S. SANNAZARO

208 ON THE DEATH OF MR RICHARD WEST

N vain to me the smiling mornings shine,

IN

and reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire: the birds in vain their amorous descant join; or cheerful fields resume their green attire: these ears alas! for other notes repine, a different object do these eyes require: my lonely anguish melts no heart but mine, and in my breast the imperfect joys expire. Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer and new-born pleasure brings to happier men: the fields to all their wonted tribute bear; to warm their little loves the birds complain; I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear, and weep the more, because I weep in vain.

T. GRAY

209

THE

THE LAND OF PEACE

HE Warrior here, in arms no more, thinks of the toil, the conflict o'er, here glories in the freedom won

for hearth and shrine, for sire and son,
smiles on the dusky webs that hide

his sleeping sword's remembered pride;
while peace with sunny cheeks of toil
walks o'er the free unlorded soil;
effaces with her splendid share

the drops that war had sprinkled there;
thrice happy land! where he who flies
from the dark ills of other skies,
from scorn or want's unceasing woes,

may shelter him in proud repose.

So glides along the wanton brook

with gentle pace into the main, courting the banks with amorous look he never means to see again.

And so does Fortune use to smile

upon the short-lived favourite's face, whose swelling hopes she doth beguile and always casts him in the race. And so doth the fantastic Boy,

the god of the ill-managed flames,
who ne'er kept word in promised joy
to lover nor to loving dames.

So all alike will constant prove,
both Fortune, running streams and Love.

W. HERBERT

211

TO THE SKYLARK

OUND of vernal showers

SOUN

Soon the twinkling grass,

rain-awakened flowers,

all that ever was

joyous and clear and fresh, thy music doth surpass.

Teach us, sprite or bird,

what sweet thoughts are thine;

I have never heard

praise of love or wine

that panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.

What objects are the fountains

of thy happy strain?

what fields or waves or mountains?

what shapes of sky or plain?

what love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?

P. B. SHELLEY

212 EPISTLE TO GAY WHO HAD CONGRATULATED HIM ON FINISHING HIS HOUSE AND GARDENS

A in vain my structures rise, my gardens grow;

H, friend! 'tis true—this truth you lovers know-

213

in vain fair Thames reflects the double scenes
of hanging mountains and of sloping greens;
joy lives not here to happier seats it flies,
and only dwells where Wortley casts her eyes.
What are the gay parterre, the chequered shade,
the noon-tide bower, the evening colonnade,
but soft recesses of uneasy minds

to sigh unheard in to the passing winds?
So the struck deer in some sequestered part
lies down to die, the arrow at his heart;
he stretched unseen in coverts hid from day
bleeds drop by drop and pants his life away.

A. POPE

DAVID GARRICK

N the stage he was natural, simple, affecting;
was only that when he was off, he was acting:
with no reason on earth to go out of his way,
he turned and he varied full ten times a day:
though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick
if they were not his own by finessing and trick:
he cast off his friends, as a huntsman his pack,
for he knew when he pleased he could whistle them
back.

Of praise a mere glutton, he swallowed what came,
and the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame:
till his relish grown callous almost to disease,
who peppered the highest was surest to please.
But let us be candid and speak out our mind,
if dunces applauded, he paid them in kind.

O. GOLDSMITH

214

THE SWISS MOUNTAINEER

LAS! in every clime a flying ray

ALAS

is all we have to cheer our wintry way;

and here the unwilling mind may more than trace the general sorrows of the human race:

the churlish gales of penury that blow

cold as the north-wind o'er a waste of snow,

to them the gentle group of bliss deny

that on the noon-day bank of leisure lie.

Full oft the father, when his sons have grown
to manhood, seems their title to disown;
and from his nest amid the storms of heaven
drives eagle-like those sons as he was driven;
with stern composure watches to the plain—
and never eagle-like beholds again!

W. WORDSWORTH

215

THE HEROES OF THE PAST

[OT so had those his fancy numbered,

NOT

the chiefs whose dust around him slumbered;

their phalanx marshalled on the plain,

whose bulwarks were not then in vain.
They fell devoted but undying,

the very gale their names seemed sighing;
the waters murmured of their name;
the woods were peopled with their fame;
the silent pillar, lone and grey,

claimed kindred with their sacred clay;
their spirits wrapped the dusky mountain,
their memory sparkled o'er the fountain;
the meanest rill, the mightiest river,
rolled mingling with their fame for ever.

LORD BYRON

216

THE LOVER'S APPEAL

N vain you tell your parting lover

IN

you wish fair winds may waft him over. Alas! what winds can happy prove

that bear me far from what I love?

Alas! what dangers on the main
can equal those that I sustain
from slighted vows and cold disdain?
Be gentle and in pity choose
to wish the wildest tempests loose:
that, thrown again upon the coast

where first my shipwrecked heart was lost,
I may once more repeat my pain;
once more in dying notes complain
of slighted vows and cold disdain.

M. PRIOR