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Elfin court 'twould seem ;
And taught, perchance, that dream Which the old Greek mountain dreamt, upon nights divine.
To expound such wonder
Human speech avails not ; Yet there dies no poorest weed, that such a glory exhales not.
Think of all these treasures,
Matchless works and pleasures, Every one a marvel, more than thought can say ;
Then think in what bright show'rs
We thicken fields and bow'rs, And with what heaps of sweetness half stifle wanton May:
Think of the mossy forests
By the bee-birds haunted,
Trees themselves are ours ;
Fruits are born of flowers;
The lusty bee knows well
The news, and comes pell-mell, And dances in the bloomy thicks with darksome antheming.
Beneath the very burthen
Of planet-pressing ocean, We wash our smiling cheeks in peace, –a thought for meek
Tears of Phoebus,--missings
Of Cytherea's kissings,
Drooping grace unfurls
Still Hyacinthus' curls,
Thy red lip, Adonis,
Still is wet with morning;
Oh! true things are fables,
Fit for sagest tables,
Fables were not more
Bright, nor loved of yore, Yet they grew not, like the flow'rs, by every old pathway:
Grossest hand can test us;
Fools may prize us never ;-
Who shall say, that flowers
Dress not heaven's own bowers ?
Who shall even dare
To say, we sprang not there,And came not down that Love might bring one piece of heav'n the more ?
Oh! pray believe that angels
From those blue dominions, Brought us in their white laps down, 'twixt their golden pinions.
TO A CHILD, DURING SICKNESS.
Sleep breathes at last from out thee,
My little, patient boy;
Smooths off the day's annoy.
Of all thy winning ways;
That I had less to praise.
Thy thanks to all that aid,
Of fancied faults afraid ;
That wipes thy quiet tears,-
I will not think of now;
Have wasted with dry brow:
And pat my stooping head,
The tears are in their bed.
Ah! firstborn of thy mother,
When life and hope were new ;
Thy sister, father, too :
My bird when prison bound, -
My prayers shall hold thee round.
“ His voice,"-" his face,”—“ is
Yet feel we must bear on :
To whisper of such woe,
That it will not be so.
This silence too the while-
Seem whispering us a smile :-
Seems going by one's ear,
say, “ We've finish'd here."
THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS.
King Francis was a hearty king, and lov'd a royal sport,
he sigh'd :
With wallowing might and stifled roar, they roll'don one another, Till all the pit, with sand and mane, was in a thunderous smother; The bloody foam above the bars came whizzing through the air : Said Francis, then, “ Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than
De Lorge's love o'erheard the king, a beauteous, lively dame, With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seem'd
the same; She thought, The count, my lover, is brave as brave can beHe surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me : King, ladies, lovers, all look on; the occasion is divine,I'll drop my glove, to prove his love ; great glory will be mine. She dropp'd her glove, to prove his love, then look'd at him
and smil'd; He bow'd, and in a moment leap'd among the lions wild : The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regain'd the place, Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face. “ By God !” cried Francis, “rightly done !” and he rose from
where he sat; No love,” quoth he,“ but vanity, sets love a task like that!”
THE FISH, THE MAN, AND THE SPIRIT.
You strange, astonish'd-looking, angle-fac'd,
Dreary-mouth'd, gaping wretches of the sea,
Gulping salt water everlastingly,
And you, all shapes beside, that fishy be,
Some round, some flat, some long, all devilry,
What is't ye do? What life lead ? eh, dull goggles ?
How pass your Sundays ? Are ye still but joggles In ceaseless wash? Still nought but gapes, and bites,
And drinks, and stares, diversified with boggles ?
A PISH ANSWERS.
Amazing monster! that, for aught I know,
With the first sight of thee didst make our race
For ever stare! O flat and shocking face,
With a split body, and most ridiculous pace
Prong after prong, disgracer of all grace,
O breather of unbreathable, sword-sharp air,
How canst exist! How bear thyself, thou dry And dreary sloth ? What particle canst share
Of the only blessed life, the watery ? I sometimes see of ye an actual pair
Go by ! link'd fin by fin! most odiously.
TIE FISI TURNS INTO A MAN, AND THEN INTO A SPIRIT, AND AGAIN SPEAKS.
Indulge thy smiling scorn, if smiling still,
O man! and loathe, but with a sort of love ;
For difference must itself by difference prove, And, with sweet clang, the spheres with music fill. One of the spirits am I, that at their will
Live in whate'er has life-fish, eagle, dove
No hate, no pride, beneath nought, nor above, A visiter of the rounds of God's sweet skill.
Man's life is warm, glad, sad, 'twixt loves and graves,
Boundless in hope, honour'd with pangs austere, Heaven-gazing ; and his angel-wings he craves :
The fish is swift, small-needing, vague yet clear, A cold sweet silver life, wrapp'd in round waves,
Quicken'd with touches of transporting fear.
ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL.
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !)
, writing in a book of gold ;
Adhem bold : And to the presence in the room he said, “ What writest thou ?” The vision rais'd its head,
And, with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answer'd, “ The names of those who love the Lord.” “ And is mine one?” said Abou.“ Nay, not so ;"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
The angel wrote and vanish’d. The next night