British Classical Authors. Select Specimens of the National Literature of England and America, with Biographical Sketches and an Historical Outline of English Literature. Poetry and Prose

115

Judges in very formidable ermine Were there, with brows that did not much invite The accused to think their lordships would determine His cause by leaning much from might to right: Bishops, who had not left a single sermon: Attorneys-general, awful to the sight, As hinting more (unless our judgments warp us)

Of the 'Star Chamber' than of 'Habeas Corpus.' 120

Generals, some all in armour, of the old And iron time, ere lead had ta'en the lead: Others in wigs of Marlborough's martial fold, Huger than twelve of our degenerate breed:

Lordlings with staves of white or keys of gold: 125 Nimrods, whose canvass scarce contain'd the steed; And here and there some stern high patriot stood, Who could not get the place for which he

sued.

But ever and anon, to soothe your vision Fatigued with these hereditary glories, 130 There rose a Carlo Dolce, or a Titian,

Or wilder group of savage Salvatore's: Here danced Albano's boys, and here the

sea shone

In Vernet's ocean lights; and there the stories

Of martyrs awed, as Spagnoletto tainted 135 His brush with all the blood of all the sainted.

Here sweetly spread a landscape of Lorraine;

There Rembrandt made his darkness equal light, Or gloomy Caravaggio's gloomier stain Bronzed o'er some lean and stoic anchorite:140 But, lo! a Teniers woos, and not in vain, Your eyes to revel in a livelier sight: His bell-mouth'd goblet makes me fell quite Danish

Or Dutch with thirst-What, ho! a flask of Rhenish.

Little he said, and now and then he smiled,
As if to win a part from off the weight
He saw increasing on his father's heart,
With the deep deadly thought that they
must part.

And o'er him bent his sire, and never

raised

II.

If that high world, which lies beyond
If there the cherish'd heart be found,
Our own, surviving love endears;
The eye the same, except in tears-
How welcome those untrodden spheres! 5
How sweet this very hour to die!

His eyes from off his face, but wiped the To soar from earth, and find all fears
Lost in thy light-Eternity!

foam

. From his pale lips, and ever on him It must be so: 'tis not for self

gazed:

And when the wished - for shower at

That we so tremble on the brink; 10
And striving to o'erleap the gulph,
Yet cling to Being's severing link.
Oh! in that future let us think

To hold each heart the heart that shares,
With them the immortal waters drink, 15

And soul in soul grow deathless theirs!

And of this, oh, my Father! be sure-
That the blood of thy child is as pure
As the blessing I beg ere it flow,
And the last thought that soothes me below.
Though the virgins of Salem lament,
Be the judge and the hero unbent!
I have won the great battle for thee,
And my Father and Country are free!
When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd,
When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd,
Let my memory still be thy pride,
And forget not I smiled as I died!

VI.

My soul is dark.-Oh! quickly string The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling

Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,

That sound shall charm it forth again; If in these eyes there lurk a tear, "Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain. But bid the strain be wild and deep, Nor let thy notes of joy be first: I tell thee, Minstrel, I must weep, Or else this heavy heart will burst; For it hath been by sorrow nurst,

And ached in sleepless silence long; And now 'tis doom'd to know the worst, 15 And break at once-or yield to song.

VII.

I saw thee weep-the big bright tear
Came o'er that eye of blue;
And then methought it did appear
A violet dropping dew;

The generous blood that flow'd from thee Disdain'd to sink beneath:

Within our veins its currents be,

Thy spirit on our breath!

Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word!

Thy fall, the theme of choral song
From virgin voices pour'd!
To weep would do thy glory wrong!
Thou shalt not be deplored.

IX. Saul.

Thou, whose spell can raise the dead, Bid the prophet's form appear. 'Samuel, raise thy buried head! King, behold the phantom-seer!' 5 Earth yawn'd; he stood the centre of a

cloud:

Is it thou, o King? Behold,
Bloodless are these limbs, and cold:
Such are mine; and such shall be
Thine, to-morrow, when with me:
Ere the coming day is done,
Such shalt thou be, such thy son.
Fare thee well, but for a day;
Then we mix our mouldering clay.
Thou, thy race, lie pale and low,
Pierced by shafts of many a bow:
And the falchion by thy side
To thy heart thy hand shall guide:
Crownless, breathless, headless fall,
Son and sire, the house of Saul!'

While sadly we gazed on the river
Which roll'd on in freedom below,
They demanded the song; but, oh never
That triumph the stranger shall know! 10
May this right hand be wither'd for ever,
Ere it string our high harp for the foe!

On the willow that harp is suspended,
Oh Salem! its sound should be free;
And the hour when thy glories were ended,
But left me that token of thee:

And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended
With the voice of the spoiler by me!

Still thine own its life retaineth-
Still must mine, though bleeding, beat;
And the undying thought which paineth
Is-that we no more may meet.
These are words of deeper sorrow
Than the wail above the dead;
Both shall live, but every morrow
Wake us from a widow'd bed.
And when thou wouldst solace gather,
When our child's first accents flow,
Wilt thou teach her to say 'Father!'
Though his care she must forego?
When her little hands shall press thee,
Think of him whose prayer shall bless
When her lip to thine is prest,
thee,

Think of him thy love had bless'd!

Should her lineaments resemble

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.

PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY, born in Essex in 1792, was educated at Eton, where he suffered the tyranny to which a scholar in an English public school is exposed, and this treatment made a great impression on the sensitive mind of this poet. At Oxford, where his religious opinions developed themselves, he became an adherent of Atheism, and was in consequence ex

(1) Assyria.

pelled from the university. An early marriage, against the wishes of his family, proved unhappy: he therefore lived separated from his wife, and travelled on the Continent. The latter committed suicide, a short time after, and Shelley married a second time, again went abroad with his wife, after publishing in England, The Revolt of Islam,' and passed the remainder of his life in Switzerland and Italy, during which time he produced the greater number of his works. He was accidentally drowned in the gulf of Spezzia

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British Classical Authors. Select Specimens of the National Literature of ...