Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

MORNING SONG.-Cunningham.

OH, come! for the lily
Is white on the lea;
Oh, come! for the wood-doves
Are paired on the tree :
The lark sings with dew

On her wings and her feet;
The thrush pours his ditty,
Loud, varied, and sweet :
So come where the twin-hares
'Mid fragrance have been,
And with flowers I will weave thee
A crown like a queen.

Oh, come! hark the throstle

Invites you aloud;

And wild comes the plover's cry

Down from the cloud:

The stream lifts its voice,

And yon daisy's begun

To part its red lips

And drink dew in the sun.

The sky laughs in light,

Earth rejoices in green

So come, and I'll crown thee
With flowers like a queen!

Oh, haste! hark the shepherd
Hath wakened his pipe,
And led out his lambs

Where the blackberry's ripe :

The bright sun is tasting
The dew on the thyme;

Yon glad maiden's lilting

An old bridal-rhyme..

There's joy in the heaven
And gladness on earth-
So, come to the sunshine,
And mix in the mirth.

MERCY.-Shakspeare.

THE quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes. 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown: His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty,

Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of Kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway;

It is enthroned in the heart of Kings;

It is an attribute to God himself;

And earthly power doth then show likest God's,
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew,
Though justice be thy plea, consider this,—
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy.

LAMENT FOR JAMES, EARL OF
GLENCAIRN.-Burns.

THE wind blew hollow frae the hills,
By fits the sun's departing beam

Looked on the fading yellow woods

That waved o'er Lugar's winding stream:

Beneath a craigy steep, a Bard

Laden with years and meikle pain, In loud lament bewailed his lord, Whom death had all untimely ta’en.

He leaned him to an ancient aik,

Whose trunk was mould'ring down with years; His locks were bleachèd white wi' time! His hoary cheek was wet wi' tears! And as he touched his trembling harp, And as he tuned his doleful sang, The winds, lamenting through their caves, To echo bore the notes alang.

"Ye scattered birds that faintly sing,
The reliques of the vernal choir!
Ye woods that shed on a' the winds
The honours of the aged year!
A few short months, and glad and gay,
Again ye'll charm the ear and e'e;

But nocht in all revolving time

Can gladness bring again to me.

"I am a bending aged tree,

That long has stood the wind and rain : But now has come a cruel blast,

And my last hald of earth is gane : Nae leaf o' mine shall greet the spring, Nae summer sun exalt my bloom;

But I maun lie before the storm,

And ithers plant them in my room.

"I've seen sae mony changefu' years,
On earth I am a stranger grown;
I wander in the ways of men,
Alike unknowing and unknown :

E

Unheard, unpitied, unrelieved,
I bear alane my lade o' care,
For silent, low, on beds of dust,

Lie a' that would my sorrows share.

"And last (the sum of a' my griefs!)
My noble master lies in clay;
The flow'r amang our barons bold,
His country's pride, his country's stay;
In weary being now I pine,

For a' the life of life is dead,
And hope has left my aged ken,
On forward wing for ever fled.

"Awake thy last sad voice, my harp! The voice of woe and wild despair! Awake, resound thy latest lay,

Then sleep in silence evermair! And thou, my last, best, only friend, That fillest an untimely tomb,

Accept this tribute from the Bard

Thou brought from fortune's mirkest gloom.

"In poverty's low barren vale,

Thick mists, obscure, involved me round; Though oft I turned the wistful eye,

No ray of fame was to be found: Thou found'st me, like the morning sun That melts the fogs in limpid air; The friendless Bard and rustic song, Became alike thy fostering care.

"Oh! why has worth so short a date? While villains ripen gray with time! Must thou, the noble, gen'rous, great,

Fall in bold manhood's hardy prime !

Why did I live to see that day?
A day to me so full of woe!
Oh! had I met the mortal shaft
Which laid my benefactor low!

"The bridegroom may forget the bride
Was made his wedded wife yestreen;
The monarch may forget the crown
That on his head an hour has been :
The mother may forget the child

That smiles sae sweetly on her knee;
But I'll remember thee, Glencairn,

And a' that thou hast done for me!"

HAPPINESS DEPENDS ON MAN'S

IGNO

RANCE OF FUTURE EVENTS, AND ON HIS HOPE OF A FUTURE STATE.-Pope.

;

HEAVEN from all creatures hides the book of fate
All but the page prescribed, their present state;
From brutes what men, from men what spirits know;
Or who could suffer being here below?
The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food,
And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
O, blindness to the future! kindly given,
That each may fill the circle marked by Heaven;
Who sees with equal eye, as God of all,
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall;

Atoms or systems into ruin hurled;

And now a bubble burst, and now a world.

Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar
Wait the great teacher, Death, and God adore :
Wait future bliss, he gives not thee to know,
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »