TO J: S. THE wind, that beats the mountain, blows Those we love first are taken first. He lends us; but, when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone. This is the curse of time. Alas! In grief I am not all unlearn'd; Without whose life I had not been. I will not tell you not to weep. She loveth her own anguish deep Of Death is blown in every wind;" In all our hearts, as mournful light That broods above the fallen sun, And dwells in heaven half the night. Vain solace! Memory standing near Cast down her eyes, and in her throat Her voice seem'd distant, and a tear Dropt on the letters as I wrote. 1 wrote I know not what. In truth, How should I soothe you anyway, Who miss the brother of your youth? Yet something I did wish to say: For he too was a friend to me; Both are my friends, and my true breast Bleedeth for both; yet it may be That only silence suiteth best. Words weaker than your grief would make Grief more. "Twere better I should cease Although myself could almost take The place of him that sleeps in peace. Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace: Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, While the stars burn, the moons increase.. And the great ages onward roll. Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet. Nothing comes to thee new or strange Sleep full of rest from head to feet; Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. You ask me, why, tho' ill at ease, Whithin this region I subsist, Whose spirits falter in the mist, And languish for the purple seas? It is the land that freemen till, That sober-suited Freedom chose, The land, where girt with friends or foes A man may speak the thing he will; A land of settled government, A land of just and old renown, Where Freedom broadens slowly down From precedent to precedent: Where faction seldom gathers head, But by degrees to fullness wrought, The strength of some diffusive thought Hath time and space to work and spread. Should banded unions persecute Opinion, and induce a time When single thought is civil crime, And individual freedom mute; Tho' Power should make from land to land The name of Britain trebly great Tho' every channel of the State Should almost choke with golden sand Yet waft me from the harbour-mouth, Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky, And I will see before I die The palms and temples of the South. Or old sat Freedom on the heights, The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights: She heard the torrents meet. There in her place she did rejoice, Self-gather'd in her prophet-mind, But fragments of her mighty voice Came rolling on the wind. Then stept she down thro' town and field From her isle-altar gazing down, Turning to scorn with lips divine The falsehood of extremes! LOVE thou thy land, with love far-brought Nor feed with crude imaginings To weakness, neither hide the ray From those, not blind, who wait for day, Tho' sitting girt with doubtful light. Make knowledge circle with the winds; But let her herald, Reverence, fly years: Before her to whatever sky Of pension, neither count on praise: Not master'd by some modern term; fall With Life, that, working strongly, binds Set in all lights by many minds, To close the interests of all. For nature also, cold und warm, And moist und dry, devising long, Thro' many agents making strong, Matures the individual form. Meet is it changes should control Our being, lest we rust in case, So let the change which comes be free For all the past of Time reveals Completion in a painful school; But vague in vapour, hard to mark; Is bodied forth the second whole. A wind to puff your idol-fires, And heap their ashes on the head; To shame the boast so often made, That we are wiser than our sires. Oh yet, if Nature's evil star Drive men in manhood, as in youth, To follow flying steps of Truth Across the brazen bridge of war— If New and Old, disastrous feud, Must ever shock, like armed foes, And this be true, till Time shall close, That Principles are rain'd in blood; Not yet the wise of heart would cease To hold his hope thro' shame and guilt, But with his hand against the hilt Would pace the troubled land, like Peace; Not less, tho' dogs of Faction bay, Would serve his kind in deed and word, Certain, if knowledge bring the sword, That knowledge takes the sword awayWould love the gleams of good that broke From either side, nor veil his eyes: And if some dreadful need should rise Would strike, and firmly, and one stroke: To-morrow yet would reap to-day, As we bear blossoms of the dead; Earn well the thrifty months, nor wed Raw Haste, half-sister to Delay. So sitting, served by man and maid, And hurl'd the pan and kettle. Go, take the goose, and wring her throat, Then yelp'd the cur, and yawl'd the cat; He utter'd words of scorning; The wild wind rang from park and plain, And half the chimneys tumbled. And a whirlwind clear'd the larder: And while on all sides breaking loose Her household fled the danger, Quoth she, The Devil take the goose, And God forget the stranger!" With cutting eights that day upon the pond, Where, three times slipping from the outer (edge, I bump'd the ice into three several stars, And none abroad: there was no anchor, none, To hold by." Francis, laughing, clapt his (hand On Everard's shoulder,with,,I hold by him." "And I," quoth Everard, by the wassail(bowl." "Why yes," I said,,,we knew your gift that (way At college: but another which you had, His epic, his King Arthur, some twelve (books" And then to me demanding why?,,Oh, sir, He thought that nothing new was said, or (else Something so said 'twas nothing (truth that a Looks freshest in the fashion of the day: God knows: he has a mint of reasons: ask. It pleased me well enough." "Nay, nay," (said Hall, "Why take the style of those beroic times? For nature brings not back the Mastodon, Nor we those times; and why should any (man Remodel models? these twelve books of mine Were faint Homeric echoes, nothing-worth, Mere chaff and draff, much better burnt." (,,But I," Said Francis, pick'd the eleventh from this (hearth, And have it: keep a thing, its use will come. For I remember'd Everard's college fame Read, mouthing out his hollow oes and aes, Deep-chested music, and to this result. MORTE D'ARTHUR. So all day long the noise of battle roll'd The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, The goodliest fellowship of famous knights the men I loved. I think Shall never more, at any future time, Delight our souls with talk of knightly (deeds, Walking about the gardens and the halls In those old days, one summer noon, an arm To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere: Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee (word." So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, Old knights, and over them the sea-wind (sang Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, step(ping down By zig-zag paths, and juts of pointed rock, Came on the shining levels of the lake. There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon, Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran (forth And sparkled keen with frost against the (hilt: For all the haft twinkled with diamond (sparks, Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere: " Hast thou perform'd my mission which 1 (gave? What is it thou hast seen? or what hast (heard?" And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: "I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, And the wild water lapping on the crag." To whom replied King Arthur, faint and (pale: Thou hast betray'd thy nature and thy (name, Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd Then went Sir Bedivere the second time Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere; Counting the dewy pebbles, fix'd in thought; But when he saw the wonder of the hilt, How curiously and strangely chased, he (smote His palms together, and he cried aloud. "And if indeed I cast the brand away, Surely a precious thing, one worthy note, Should thus be lost for ever from the earth, Which might have pleased the eyes of many (men. What good should follow this, if this were (done? What harm, undone? deep harm to disobey, What record, or what relic of my lord Some one might show it at a joust of arms, Saying, 'King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the (deeps Upon the hidden bases of the hills.' So might some old man speak in the after(time To all the people, winning reverence. But now much honour and much fame were (lost." So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, And hid Excalibur the second time, And so strode back slow to the wounded (King. Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily: What is it thou hast seen? or what hast (heard ?" And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere: I heard the water lapping on the crag, And the long ripple washing in the reeds." To whom replied King Arthur, much in (wrath : ,,Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, Unknightly, traitor-hearted! Woe is me! Authority forgets a dying king, Laid widow'd of the power in his eye That bow'd the will. I see thee what thou (art, For thou, the latest-left of all my knights, In whom should meet the offices of all; Thou wouldst betray me for the precious (hilt; |