And his hand forbore to smite the ore, And bared his strong right arm for work, 'Not alone for the blade was the bright steel made,' And he fashioned the first ploughshare. And men, taught wisdom from the past, Hung the sword in the hall, the spear on the wall, And sang-Hurra for Tubal Cain! Our stanch good friend is he; And for the ploughshare and the plough But while oppression lifts its head, Or a tyrant would be lord, Though we may thank him for the Plough, We'll not forget the Sword!' C. Mackay CCCLXXVII QUA CURSUM VENTUS As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay When fell the night, upsprung the breeze, E'en so-but why the tale reveal Of those, whom year by year unchanged, Brief absence joined anew to feel, Astounded, soul from soul estranged? At dead of night their sails were filled, To veer, how vain! On, onward strain, But O blithe breeze! and O great seas, One port, methought, alike they sought A. H. Clough CCCLXXVIII Where lies the land to which the ship would go? And where the land she travels from? Away, On sunny noons upon the deck's smooth face, On stormy nights when wild north-westers rave, The dripping sailor on the reeling mast Exults to bear, and scorns to wish it past. Where lies the land to which the ship would go? And where the land she travels from? Away, A. H. Clough CCCLXXIX 'O MAY I JOIN THE CHOIR INVISIBLE' Longum illud tempus, quum non ero, magis me movet, quam hoc exiguum.-CICERO, ad Att. xii. 18. O may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence: live In pulses stirred to generosity, In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn For miserable aims that end with self, In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, And with their mild persistence urge man's search To vaster issues. So to live is heaven: To make undying music in the world, For which we struggled, failed, and agonized That sobbed religiously in yearning song, That watched to ease the burthen of the world, Laboriously tracing what must be, To higher reverence more mixed with love- This is life to come, Which martyred men have made more glorious Whose music is the gladness of the world. George Eliot CCCLXXX AIRLY BEACON Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon; Oh the pleasant sight to see Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon; Deep in fern on Airly Beacon, Courting through the summer's day! Airly Beacon, Airly Beacon; All alone on Airly Beacon C. Kingsley CCCLXXXI THE SANDS OF DEE 'O Mary, go and call the cattle home, And call the cattle home, And call the cattle home Across the sands of Dee'; The western wind was wild and dank with foam, The western tide crept up along the sand, And o'er and o'er the sand, And round and round the sand, As far as eye could see. The rolling mist came down and hid the land: 'Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair— A tress of golden hair, A drownéd maiden's hair Was never salmon yet that shone so fair They rowed her in across the rolling foam, The cruel crawling foam, The cruel hungry foam, To her grave beside the sea: But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home Across the sands of Dee. C. Kingsley CCCLXXXII YOUNG AND OLD When all the world is young, lad, And all the trees are green; And every goose a swan, lad, And every lass a queen; |