Speak, if there be a priest, a man of God, Among you there, and let him presently Approach, and lean a ladder on the shaft, And climbing up into my airy home, Deliver me the blessed sacrament; For by the warning of the Holy Ghost, I prophesy that I shall die to-night, A quarter before twelve. But thou, O Lord, Aid all this foolish people; let them take THE TALKING OAK. ONCE more the gate behind me falls; Beyond the lodge the city lies, For when my passion first began, To yonder oak within the field For oft I talk'd with him apart, And answer'd with a voice. Tho' what he whisper'd, under Heaven But since I heard him make reply Hail, hidden to the knees in fern, Say thou, whereon I carved her name, If ever maid or spouse, As fair as my Olivia, came To rest beneath thy boughs.— “O Walter, I have shelter'd here Whatever maiden grace The good old Summers, year by year, Made ripe in Sumner-chace : "Old Summers, when the monk was fat, And, issuing shorn and sleek, Would twist his girdle tight, and pat The girls upon the cheek, "Ere yet, in scorn of Peter's-pence, "And I have seen some score of those To chase the deer at five; "And all that from the town would stroll, "The slight she-slips of loyal blood, "And I have shadow'd many a group Of beauties, that were born Or while the patch was worn; And, leg and arm with love-knots gay, About me leap'd and laugh'd The modish Cupid of the day, And shrill'd his tinsel shaft. "I swear (and else may insects prick This girl, for whom your heart is sick, "For those and theirs, by Nature's law, Have faded long ago; But in these latter springs I saw Your own Olivia blow, "From when she gamboll'd on the greens, A baby-germ, to when The maiden blossoms of her teens Could number five from ten. "I swear, by leaf, and wind, and rain, 'Yet, since I first could cast a shade, Did never creature pass So slightly, musically made, So light upon the grass: |