And found the Hamadryad with her head At this sight Down fell the languid brow, both hands fell down, The trunk was riven through. From that day forth Hence milk and honey wonder not, O Guest! JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT. 1784-1859. JAFFAR. (Inscribed to the memory of Shelley.) Shelley! take this to thy dear memory! Jaffar, the Barmecide, the good Vizier, The poor man's hope, the friend without a peer, And guilty Haroun, sullen with mistrust Of what the good and even the bad might say, Ordain'd that no man living from that day Should dare to speak his name, on pain of death. All Araby and Persia held their breath : All but the brave Mondeer. He, proud to show How far for love a grateful soul could go, And facing death for very scorn and grief On all they owed to the divine Jaffàr. "Bring me this man!" the Caliph cried. Was brought, was gazed upon. The man The mutes began To bind his arms; 66 Welcome, brave cords!" cried he,— "From bonds far worse Jaffàr deliver'd me, From wants, from shames, from loveless household fears,— Restored me, loved me, put me on a par Haroun, who felt that on a soul like this He said—“ Let Worth grow frenzied if it will! Go! and since gifts thus move thee, take this gem, And hold the giver as thou deemest fit!" "Gifts!" cried the friend. He took, and holding it High tow'rd the heavens, as though to meet his star, Exclaim'd-" This too I owe to thee, Jaffar!" THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY. THE BATTLE OF NASEBY. (By Obadiah Bind-their-kings-in-chains-and-their-nobles-with-links-of-iron, sergeant in Ireton's regiment.) O wherefore come ye forth in triumph from the North And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout? And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod : It was about the noon of a glorious day of June, Like a servant of the Lord, with his bible and his sword, And hark! like the roar of the billows on the shore, For God! for the Cause !-for the Church! for the Laws!- The furious German comes, with his clarions and his drums, His bravoes of Alsatia and pages of Whitehall; They are bursting on our flanks,-grasp your pikes! close your ranks ! For Rupert never comes but to conquer or to fall. They are here! they rush on! we are broken! we are gone! Whose banner do I see? boys! 'Tis he! thank God, 'tis he, boys! Bear up another minute! brave Oliver is here. Their heads all stooping low, their points all in a row, Fast, fast, the gallants ride, in some safe nook to hide Ho, comrades! scour the plain! and ere ye strip the slain, The tokens of the wanton, the plunder of the poor ! Fools! your doublets shone with gold and your hearts were gay and bold When you kiss'd your lily hands to your lemans to-day! And to-morrow shall the fox from her chambers in the rocks Lead forth her tawny cubs to howl above the prey. Where be your tongues that late mock'd at Heaven and Hell and Fate, And the fingers that once were so busy with your blades, Your perfumed satin clothes, your catches and your oaths, Your stage-plays and your sonnets, your diamonds and your spades? Down! down! forever down with the Mitre and the Crown, With the Belial of the Court and the Mammon of the Pope! There is woe in Oxford halls; there is wail in Durham stalls; The Jesuit smites his bosom, the Bishop rends his cope. And She of the Seven Hills shall mourn her children's ills, And tremble when she thinks on the edge of England's sword; And the kings of earth in fear shall tremble when they hear What the hand of God hath wrought for the Houses and the Word! THOMAS HOOD. 1799-1845. THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM. 'Twas in the prime of summer time, An evening calm and cool, And four and twenty happy boys Came bounding out of school: There were some that ran and some that leapt, Like troutlets in a pool. Away they sped with gamesome minds, And souls untouch'd by sin; To a level mead they came, and there Like sportive deer they coursed about Turning to mirth all things of earth, But the Usher sat remote from all,— His hat was off, his vest apart, To catch heaven's blessed breeze,— For a burning thought was in his brow, And his bosom ill at ease: So he lean'd his head on his hands, and read The book between his knees. Leaf after leaf he turn'd it o'er, Nor ever glanced aside,— For the peace of his soul he read that book In the golden eventide : Much study had made him very lean, And pale, and leaden-eyed. |