Better than all measures
Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!
Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness
From my lips would flow,
The world should listen then, as I am listening now.
(FROM 'CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE,' CANTO II.)
HERE'ER we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground; No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould,
But one vast realm of wonder spreads around, And all the Muse's tales seem truly told, Till the sense aches with gazing to behold The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon : Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold Defies the power which crushed thy temples gone; Age shakes Athena's tower, but spares gray Marathon.
The sun, the soil, but not the slave, the same; Unchanged in all except its foreign lord— Preserves alike its bounds and boundless fame The Battle-field, where Persia's victim horde First bowed beneath the brunt of Hellas' sword, As on the morn to distant glory dear, When Marathon became a magic word; Which uttered, to the hearer's eye appear
The camp, the host, the fight, the conqueror's career,
Gathering Song of Donald the Black.
The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow; The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear; Mountains above, Earth's, Ocean's plain below; Death in the front, Destruction in the rear! Such was the scene-what now remaineth here? What sacred trophy marks the hallowed ground, Recording Freedom's smile and Asia's tear? The rifled urn, the violated mound,
The dust thy courser's hoof, rude stranger! spurns around.
GATHERING SONG OF DONALD THE BLACK.
IBROCH of Donuil Dhu, Pibroch of Donuil,
Wake thy wild voice anew, Summon Clan Conuil.
Come away, come away,
Hark to the summons!
Come in your war-array,
Gentles and commons.
Come from deep glen, and
From mountain so rocky;
The war-pipe and pennon Are at Inverlochy.
Come every hill-plaid, and
True heart that wears one,
Come every steel blade, and Strong hand that bears one.
Leave untended the herd,
The flock without shelter;
Leave the corpse uninterred, The bride at the altar;
Leave the deer, leave the steer, Leave nets and barges ;
Come with your fighting gear, Broadswords and targes.
Come as the winds come, when Forests are rended,
Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded :
Faster come, faster come,
Faster and faster,
Chief, vassal, page and groom, Tenant and master.
Fast they come, fast they come ; See how they gather ! Wide waves the eagle plume
Blended with heather.
Cast your plaids, draw your blades,
Forward each man set!
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu
Knell for the onset !
YRIACK! this three years' day these eyes, though
To outward view of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Comment nough int. ad I no better rude.
Sasa 2-Tie Dust of Tues
F comfort no man speak:
Let's talk of graves, of worms and epi- aphs:
Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the eart Let's choose executors and talk of wils: And yet not so for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our Eves and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground And teil sad stories of the death of kings:
How some have been deposed; some slain in war ; Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed:* Some poisoned by their wives; some sleeping killed; All murdered: for within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court and there the antic sits,
Ghosts they have deposed. Ghosts of those whom they have deposed.
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp, Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchise, be feared and kill with looks, Infusing him with self and vain conceit, As if this flesh which walls about our life Were brass impregnable, and humoured thus Comes at the last and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king! Cover your heads and mock not flesh and blood With solemn reverence: throw away respect, Tradition, form and ceremonious duty, For you have but mistook me all this while : I live with bread like you, feel want, Taste grief, need friends: subjected thus, How can you say to me, I am a king?
SAY to thee, do thou repeat To the first man thou mayest meet In lane, highway, or open street-
That he and we and all men move Under a canopy of love,
As broad as the blue sky above;
That doubt and trouble, fear and pain And anguish, all are shadows vain, That death itself shall not remain ;
That weary deserts we may tread, A dreary labyrinth may thread, Through dark ways underground be led ;
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