And should my future lot be cast
With much resemblance of the past,

50 Thy worn-out heart will break at lastMy Mary !

W. COWPER.

163

THE DYING MAN IN HIS GARDEN

Why, Damon, with the forward day
Dost thou thy little spot survey,
From tree to tree, with doubtful cheer,
Observe the progress of the year,
What winds arise, what rains descend,
When thou before that year shalt end ?

5

What do thy noonday walks avail,
To clear the leaf, and pick the snail
Then wantonly to death decree
An insect usefuller than thee ?
Thou and the worm are brother-kind,
As low, as earthy, and as blind.

10

15

Vain wretch ! canst thou expect to see
The downy peach make court to thee ?
Or that thy sense shall ever meet
The bean-flower's deep-embosom'd sweet
Exhaling with an evening's blast ?
Thy evenings then will all be past !

20

Thy narrow pride, thy fancied green
(For vanity's in little seen),
All must be left when Death appears,
In spite of wishes, groans, and tears ;
Nor one of all thy plants that grow
But Rosemary will with thee go.

G. SEWELL.

164

TO-MORROW

In the downhill of life, when I find I'm declining,

May my lot no less fortunate be Than a snug elbow-chair can afford for reclining,

And a cot that o'erlooks the wide sea; With an ambling pad-pony to pace o'er the lawn, While I carol away idle sorrow,

6 And blithe as the lark that each day hails the dawn

Look forward with hope for to-morrow. With a porch at my door, both for shelter and shade

too, As the sunshine or rain may prevail ;

10 And a small spot of ground for the use of the spade

too, With a barn for the use of the flail : A cow for my dairy, a dog for my game,

And a purse when a friend wants to borrow ; I'll envy no nabob his riches or fame,

15 Nor what honours await him to-morrow.

From the bleak northern blast may my cot be

completely Secured by a neighbouring hill ; And at night may repose steal upon me more sweetly By the sound of a murmuring rill :

20 And while peace and plenty I find at my board,

With a heart free from sickness and sorrow, With my friends may I share what to-day may

afford, And let them spread the table to-morrow. 24 And when

I at last must throw off this frail covering Which I've worn for three-score years and ten, On the brink of the grave I'll not seek to keep

hovering,
Nor my thread wish to spin o'er again :

But my face in the glass I'll serenely survey, 29

And with smiles count each wrinkle and furrow; As this old worn-out stuff, which is threadbare

to-day, May become everlasting to-morrow.

J. COLLINS.

165

Life! I know not what thou art,
But know that thou and I must part ;
And when, or how, or where we met
I own to me 's a secret yet.
Life! we've been long together

5 Through pleasant and through cloudy weather ; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dearPerhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear ; -Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time;

10 Say not Good Night,—but in some brighter clime Bid me Good Morning.

A. L. BARBAULD.

THE GOLDEN TREASURY

BOOK FOURTH

166 ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S

HOMER
Much have I travell’d in the realms of gold

And many goodly states and kingdoms seen ;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told

5 That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne ;

Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold : Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new planet swims into his ken; 10 Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes

He stared at the Pacific, and all his men Look'd at each other with a wild surmiseSilent, upon a peak in Darien.

J. KEATS.

167
ODE ON THE POETS
Bards of Passion and of Mirth
Ye have left your souls on earth!
Have ye souls in heaven too,
Double-lived in regions new ?

169

133

Ga

5

10

Yes, and those of heaven commune
With the spheres of sun and moon ;
With the noise of fountains wond'rous
And the parle of voices thund'rous ;
With the whisper of heaven's trees
And one another, in soft ease
Seated on Elysian lawns
Brows'd by none but Dian's fawns ;
Underneath large blue-bells tented,
Where the daisies are rose-scented,
And the rose herself has got
Perfume which on earth is not ;
Where the nightingale doth sing
Not a senseless, trancéd thing,
But divine melodious truth;
Philosophic numbers smooth ;
Tales and golden histories
Of heaven and its mysteries.

15

20

25

Thus ye live on high, and then
On the earth ye live again ;
And the souls ye left behind you
Teach us, here, the way to find you,
Where your other souls are joying,
Never slumber'd, never cloying.
Here, your earth-born souls still speak
To mortals, of their little week;
Of their sorrows and delights ;
Of their passions and their spites ;
Of their glory and their shame ;
What doth strengthen and what maim :-
Thus ye teach us, every day,
Wisdom, though fled far away.

30

35

Bards of Passion and of Mirth Ye have left your souls on earth! Ye have souls in heaven too, Double-lived in regions new !

40 J. KEATS.