Best fight on well, for we taught him,-strike gallantly, Then let him receive the new knowledge and wait us, 661 HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD O, To be in England Now that April's there, And whoever wakes in England Sees, some morning, unaware, That the lowest boughs and the brushwood sheaf While the chaffinch sings on the orchard bough And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the swallows! Blossoms and dewdrops-at the bent spray's edge- The first fine careless rapture! And though the fields look rough with hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes anew The buttercups, the little children's dower 662 HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM THE SEA NOBLY, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away; Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay; Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay; In the dimmest North-east distance dawn'd Gibraltar grand and gray; 'Here and here did England help me: how can I help ngland?'-say, Who turns as I, this evening, turn to God to praise and pray, While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent over Africa. 663 PARTING AT MORNING ROUND the cape of a sudden came the sea, 664 THE LOST MISTRESS ALL'S over, then: does truth sound bitter Hark, 'tis the sparrows' good-night twitter And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly,. One day more bursts them open fully To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest? Mere friends are we,-well, friends the merest For each glance of the eye so bright and black, Yet I will but say what mere friends say, I will hold your hand but as long as all may, 665 THE LAST RIDE TOGETHER I SAID-Then, dearest, since 'tis so, Since now at length my fate I know, Since all, my life seem'd meant for, fails, Since this was written and needs must be- Your name in pride and thankfulness! -And this beside, if you will not blame; My mistress bent that brow of hers, With life or death in the balance: right! Shall be together, breathe and ride, So, one day more am I deified. Who knows but the world may end to-night? Hush! if you saw some western cloud And moon's and evening-star's at once- Then we began to ride. My soul Freshening and fluttering in the wind. What need to strive with a life awry? Fail I alone, in words and deeds? As the world rush'd by on either side. This present of theirs with the hopeful past! What hand and brain went ever pair'd? What heart alike conceived and dared? What act proved all its thought had been? What will but felt the fleshly screen? We ride and I see her bosom heave. There's many a crown for who can reach. Ten lines, a statesman's life in each! The flag stuck on a heap of bones, A soldier's doing! what atones? They scratch his name on the Abbey-stones. My riding is better, by their leave. What does it all mean, poet? Well, And pace them in rhyme so, side by side. 'Tis something, nay 'tis much: but then, Have you yourself what's best for men? Than we who never have turn'd a rhyme? And you, great sculptor-so, you gave You acquiesce, and shall I repine? Put in music we know how fashions end!' Who knows what's fit for us? Had fate And yet she has not spoke so long! We, fix'd so, ever should so abide? And heaven just prove that I and she Ride, ride together, for ever ride? |