200 Day and night my toils redouble, night and day, I feel the trouble W. WORDSWORTH CALM AFTER A STORM IN ASIA H the stilly hour, when storms are gone; OW calm, how beautiful comes on when warring winds have died away, T. MOORE 201 SHEE SONG OF THE PRIEST OF PAN HEPHERDS, rise and shake off sleep! gilding all the vales below with its rising flames, which grow 202 203 by the cold scrutiny of wit the treasury where Thou lock'st up the wind? What majesty of princes can a tempest awe, when the distracted ocean swells to sedition, and obeys no law? How wretched doth the tyrant stand without a boast, when his rich fleet even touching land he by some storm in his own port sees lost! Vain pomp of life! what narrow bound ambition is circled with! How false a ground hath human pride to build its triumphs on! W. HABINGTON REQVIESCAT TREW on her roses, roses, STRE but never a spray of yew: in silence she reposes, ah! would that I did too. Her mirth the world required, she bathed it in smiles and glee: Her cabined, ample Spirit, it fluttered and failed for breath: to-night it doth inherit the vasty Hall of Death. M. ARNOLD 204 205 A MOTHER'S DIRGE OVER HER CHILD BRING ORING me flowers all young and sweet, No more, my baby, shalt thou lie, The grave must be thy cradle now, No taint of earth, no thought of sin, D. M. MOIR IN MEMORIAM ALM is the morn without a sound, CALM calm as to suit a calmer grief, and only through the faded leaf the chesnut pattering to the ground: calm and deep peace on this high wold, that twinkle into green and gold: calm and still light on yon great plain to mingle with the bounding main: calm and deep peace in this wide air, F. S. II. 6 206 207 calm on the seas, and silver sleep, A. TENNYSON VICTOR THE LAST CONQUEROR ICTORIOUS men of earth, no more though you bind in every shore, and your triumphs reach as far yet you, proud monarchs, must obey, Devouring Famine, Plague, and War, more quaint and subtle ways to kill; SONNET J. SHIRLEY TRU RUST not, sweet soul, those curled waves of gold nor temples spread with flakes of virgin snow, nor voice whose sounds more strange effects do show look to this dying lily, fading rose, dark hyacinth, of late whose blushing beams made all the neighbouring herbs and grass rejoice, W. DRUMMOND 208 209 FLO A FAREWELL LOW down, cold rivulet, to the sea, no more by thee my steps shall be, Flow, softly flow, by lawn and lea, no where by thee my steps shall be, But here will sigh thine alder tree, A thousand suns will stream on thee, IN A. TENNYSON LITANY OF THE HOLY SPIRIT N the hour of my distress, When I lie within my bed, sweet Spirit, comfort me! When the house doth sigh and weep, When the Judgment is revealed, sweet Spirit, comfort me! R. HERRICK |