In after-time, a sage of mickle lore
Yclep’d Typographus, the Giant took,
And did refit his limbs as heretofore,
And made him read in many a learned book,
And into many a lively legend look;
Thereby in goodly themes so training him,
That all his brutishness he quite forsook,
When, meeting Artegall and Talus grim,
COME unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Court’sied when you have, and kiss’d,–
The wild waves whist,–
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
Hark, hark!
Bow, wow,
The watch-dogs bark:
Farewell to the Highlands, farewell to the North,
The birth-place of Valour, the country of Worth;
Wherever I wander, wherever I rove,
The hills of the Highlands for ever I love.
My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart’s in the Highlands
In rainy evenings,
It has happened,
A number of times;
Looking outside
The window for you,
I myself have become,
A window-pane:
Raindrops outside,
A fog inside,
A hapless mind
Strolling futile,
Sheets of tin nailed to posts
driven in the ground
make up the house.
Some rags complete
the intimate landscape.
The sun slanting though cracks
welcomes the owner
After twelve hour of slave
labour.
Gentle breeze is the father of rain,
Soft wind is the father of cloudburst,
Rain will not drench me today;
Rain will pack its belongings and go away.
The antelope is humming,
The buffalo is grumbling,
The pig grunts in its belly.
Words have angered the red monkey,
But today he was given the right words
And his anger will
Thou hast made me, and shall thy work decay?
Repair me now, for now mine end doth haste;
I run to death, and death meets me as fast,
And all my pleasures are like yesterday.
I dare not move my dim eyes any way,
Despair behind, and death before doth cast
Such terror, and my feeble flesh doth waste
By
Now the sprinkled blackthorn snow
Lies along the lover’s lane
Where last year we used to go-
Where we shall not go again.
In the hedge the buds are new,
By our wood the violets peer-
Just like last year’s violets too,
But they have no scent this year.
Every bird has heart to sing
Of its nest, warmed by its breast;<br
Science! true daughter of Old Time thou art!
Who alterest all things with thy peering eyes.
Why preyest thou thus upon the poet’s heart,
Vulture, whose wings are dull realities?
How should he love thee? or how deem thee wise,
Who wouldst not leave him in his wandering
To seek for treasure in the jewelled skies,
Albeit he soared with
OF THE DESERTED MAIDEN TO HER LOVER .
Go! go! thou hast forgotten all
Thine early vows, so false, so vain!
Thy faithless love I’d not recall,
Could one word make thee mine again!
I lov’d thee with the fondest zeal
That ever warm’d a youthful heart;
And still my prayer is for thy weal,
Although so chang’d, so cold thou art.
While
The smile that illumines the features of Beauty,
When kindled by virtue, alluring appears;
But smiles, tho’ alluring, no magic can borrow
To vie with the softness of Beauty in Tears.
The smiles that are sweetest are often deceiving;
Too often a mask that the cold hearted wears:
But a tear is the holiest offspring of Feeling;
And monarchs are weak
You whom I could not save
Listen to me.
Try to understand this simple speech as I would be ashamed of another.
I swear, there is in me no wizardry of words.
I speak to you with silence like a cloud or a tree.
What strengthened me, for you was lethal.
You mixed up farewell to an epoch with the beginning
Where do you live?
I live in ten thousand years of steep mountain
I live in ten thousand years of crag-rock
And your age?
My age is greater than the mountain’s
Greater than the crag-rock’s
A FRAGMENT OF A TRAGEDY
ACT I.
SCENE I. Field of Battle.
Alarum. Enter King STEPHEN, Knights, and Soldiers.
Stephen. If shame can on a soldier’s vein-swoll’n front
Spread deeper crimson than the battle’s toil,
Blush in your casing helmets! for see, see!
Yonder my chivalry, my pride of war,
Wrench’d with an iron hand from firm array,
Are routed
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
One foot in sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so,
But let them go,
And be you blith and bonny,
Converting all your sounds of woe
Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Gentle I go
When her glimpse
Attracted my coming back.
Gentle I laid
Hand round her shoulder
And felt the surrounding with lust.
He who meet beauty and does not look at it will
soon be poor:
Red feathers are the pride of the parrot,
Young leaves are the pride of the palm-tree,
White flower are pride of the leaves,
A well-swept verandah is the pride of the
householder,
A straight tree is the pride of the forest,
The fast deer is the
See the golden Leopard with the spots!
The golden cat of the cliffs!
See the Leopard with the bulging cheeks,
The golden Leopard with the wide face, I-Face-
Nothing,
The particoloured one, I-Climb-Into-A-Small-Tree
I rip off the eyebrows!
Clawer am I, dig my nail in deep,
My enemies I leave behind, saying
`This was not one leopard but ten!`
Mr
It keeps eternal whisperings around
Desolate shores, and with its mighty swell
Gluts twice ten thousand caverns, till the spell
Of Hecate leaves them their old shadowy sound.
Often ’tis in such gentle temper found
That scarcely will the very smallest shell
Be mov’d for days from whence it sometime fell,
When last the winds of heaven were unbound.
Oh
Brave lodgings for one, brave lodgings for one,
A few feet of cold earth, when life is done;
A stone at the head, a stone at the feet;
A rich, juicy meal for the worms to eat;
Rank grass overhead, and damp clay around,
