She'll find my garden-tools upon the granary-floor; Let her take 'em; they are hers; I shall never garden more; Good night, sweet mother! call me before the day is born; TENNYSON. 152. THE EAST. [From THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS.] the land where the cypress and myrtle KNOW ye where the done in clime, Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Know ye the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine; Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, 'Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the sun Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell, Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell. LORD BYRON. 153. RESIGNATION. THE wintry west extends his blast, Or the stormy north sends driving forth While, tumbling brown, the burn comes down, The sweeping blast, the sky o'ercast, The tempest's howl, it soothes my soul, My griefs it seems to join; The leafless trees my fancy please; Their fate resembles mine! Thou Pow'r Supreme, whose mighty scheme These woes of mine fulfil; Here firm I rest, they must be best, Because they are Thy will! Then all I want (oh! do Thou grant This one request of mine!) Since to enjoy Thou dost deny, BURNS. 154. THOUGHTS ON TIME. [From NIGHT THOUGHTS.] HE bell strikes one. THE We take no note of time But from its loss: to give it then a tongue Is wise in man. I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours. Where are they? With the years beyond the flood. It is the signal that demands despatch: How much is to be done! My hopes and fears Poor pensioner on the bounties of an hour? O time! than gold more sacred; more a load Than lead to fools; and fools reputed wise! What hour is granted man without account? What years are squandered, wisdom's debt unpaid! Haste, haste, he lies in wait, he's at the door, Insidious Death! should his strong hand arrest, No composition sets the pris'ner free; Eternity's inexorable chain Fast binds; and vengeance claims the full arrear Youth is not rich in time, it may be poor; Part with it as with money, sparing: pay No moment, but in purchase of its worth; And what its worth, ask death beds; they can tell. Part with it as with life, reluctant; big YOUNG. 155. ISLE OF BEAUTY. SHADES of evening! close not o'er us! Morn, alas! will not restore us Yonder dim and distant isle. Sunny spots where friends may dwell; Isle of beauty, fare-thee-well! 'Tis the hour when happy faces And my eye in vain is seeking Some green leaf to rest upon,- T. H. BAYLEY 156. THE EAGLE AND CHILD. THERE was an Eagle, that had long acquir'd Savage, sublime; nor from the hills alone In the south Upward he came, ascending through the clouds, ROGERS. |