The Vale of Tempe had in vain been fair,
Green Ida never deemed the nurse of Jove;
Each fabled stream, beneath its covert grove,
Had idly murmured to the idle air;
The shaggy wolf had kept his horrid lair
In Delphi’s cell, and old Trophonius’ cave,
And the wild wailing of the Ionian wave
Had never blended with the sweet despair
Of...
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Ever let the Fancy roam,
Pleasure never is at home:
At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth,
Like to bubbles when rain pelteth;
Then let wingèd Fancy wander
Through the thought still spread beyond her:
Open wide the mind’s cage-door,
She ’ll dart forth, and cloudward soar.O sweet Fancy! let her loose;
Summer’s joys are spoilt... -
Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren’t go a hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl’s feather!Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,—
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
... -
The Summer sun was sinking
With a mild light, calm and mellow;
It shone on my little boy’s bonnie cheeks,
And his loose locks of yellow.The robin was singing sweetly,
And his song was sad and tender;
And my little boy’s eyes, while he heard the song,
Smiled with a sweet, soft splendor.My little boy lay on my bosom...
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From the French from Fraser’s Magazine
“Tu domines notre âge; ange ou démon, qu’importe!”ANGEL or demon! thou—whether of light
The minister, or darkness—still dost sway
This age of ours; thine eagle’s soaring flight
Bears us, all breathless, after it away.
The eye that from thy presence fain would stray
Shuns thee in... -
Italia, mother of the souls of men,
Mother divine,
Of all that served thee best with sword or pen,
All sons of thine,Thou knowest that here the likeness of the best
Before thee stands:
The head most high, the heart found faithfulest,
The purest hands.Above the fume and foam of...
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Foully Assassinated April 14, 1865 1
YOU lay a wreath on murdered Lincoln’s bier,
You, who with mocking pencil wont to trace,
Broad for the self-complacent British sneer,
His length of shambling limb, his furrowed face,His gaunt, gnarled hands, his unkempt, bristling hair,
His garb uncouth, his bearing ill at ease,
His lack of all... -
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weathered every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,... -
From “The White Company”
WHAT of the bow?
The bow was made in England:
Of true wood, of yew wood,
The wood of English bows;
So men who are free
Love the old yew-tree
And the land where the yew-tree grows.What of the cord?
The cord was made in England:
A rough cord, a tough cord,
A... -
He tripped up the steps with a bow and a smile,
Offering snuff to the chaplain the while,
A rose at his button-hole that afternoon—
’T was the tenth of the month, and the month it was June.Then shrugging his shoulders, he looked at the man
With the mask and the axe, and a murmuring ran
Through the crowd, who below, were all pushing to see...