Sidor som bilder


That in the Roman Forum was never And Rome may bear the pride of him of such a din.

whom herself is proud. The wailing, hooting, cursing, the howls But evermore a Claudius shrinks from a of grief and hate,

stricken field, Were heard beyond the Pincian Hill, And changes colour like a maid at sight beyond the Latin Gate.

of sword and shield. But close around the body, where stood The Claudian triumphs all were won the little train

within the city towers ; of them that were the nearest and The Claudian yoke was never pressed on dearest to the slain,

any necks but ours. No cries were there, but teeth set fast, A Cossus, like a wild cat, springs ever low whispers, and black frowns,

at the face ; And breaking up of benches, and girding A Fabius rushes like a boar against the up of gowns.

shouting chase ; 'Twas well the lictors might not pierce to But the vile Claudian litter, raging with where the maiden lay,

currish spite, Else surely had they been all twelve torn Still yelps and snaps at those who run, limb from limb that day.

still runs from those who smite. Right glad they were to struggle back, So now 't was seen of Appius. When

blood streaming from their heads, stones began to fly, With axes all in splinters, and raiment He shook, and crouched, and wrung his all in shreds.

hands, and smote upon his thigh. Then Appius Claudius gnawed his lip, “Kind clients, honest lictors, stand by and the blood left his cheek ;

me in this fray! And thrice he beckoned with his hand, Must I be torn in pieces? Home, home, and thrice he strove to speak;

the nearest way!” And thrice the tossing Forum set up a While yet he spake, and looked around frightful yell ;

with a bewildered stare, “See, see, thou dog! what thou hast Four sturdy lictors put their necks be

done; and hide thy shame in hell ! neath the curule chair ; Thou that would'st make our maidens And fourscore clients on the left, and

slaves must first make slaves of men. fourscore on the right, Tribunes ! Hurrah for Tribunes ! Down Arrayed themselves with swords and with the wicked Ten!”

staves, and loins girt up for fight. And straightway, thick as hailstones, But, though without or staff or sword, so

came whizzing through the air furious was the throng, Pebbles, and bricks, and potsherds, all That scarce the train with might and round the curule chair;

main could bring their lord along. And upon Appius Claudius great fear Twelve times the crowd made at him; and trembling came ;

five times they seized his gown ; For never was a Claudius yet brave Small chance was his to rise again, if against aught but shame.

once they got him down: Though the great houses love us not, we And sharper came the pelting; and everown, to do them right,

more the yellThat the great houses, all save one, have " Tribunes ! we will have Tribunes !"borne them well in fight.

rose with a louder swell: Still Caius of Corioli, his triumphs, and And the chair tossed as tosses a bark his wrongs,

with tattered sail His vengeance, and his mercy, live in When raves the Adriatic beneath an our camp-fire songs.

eastern gale, Beneath the yoke of Furius oft have Gaul When the Calabrian sea-marks are lost and Tuscan bowed ;

in clouds of spume,




And the great Thunder-Cape has donned Blood-red and purple, green and blue, his veil of inky gloom.

The great eyes of her rings. One stone hit Appius in the mouth, and one beneath the ear;

Whom plays she with? With thee, who

lov'st And ere he reached Mount Palatine, he

Those gems upon her hand, swooned with pain and fear. His cursed head, that he was wont to With me, who search her secret brow;

With all men, bless'd or bawn'd, hold so high with pride,

We play together, she and me, Now, like a drunken man's, hung down,

Within a bain strange land : and swayed from side to side; And when his stout retainers had brought a land without any order,– him to his door,

Day even as night, (one saith) His face and neck were all one cake of Where who lieth down ariseth not, filth and clotted gore.

Nor the sleeper awakeneth ; As Appius Claudius was that day, so may A land of darkness as darkness itself his grandson be.

And of the shadow of death. God send Rome one such other night, and send me there to see !

What be her cards, you ask? Even

there :-
The heart that doth but crave
More, having fed ; the diamond,

Skilled to make base seem brave;

The club for smiting in the dark ;

The spade to dig a grave.

And do you ask what game she plays ? COULD you not drink her gaze like With me 'tis lost or won ; wine ?

With thee it is playing still ; with him Yet though its splendour swoon

It is not well begun ; Into the silence languidly

But 'tis a game she plays with all
As a tune into a tune,

Beneath the sway o' the Sun.
Those eyes unravel the coiled night
And know the stars at noon.

Tho' seest the card that falls—she knows

The card that followeth The gold that's heaped beside her hand, Her game in thy tongue is called Life, In truth rich prize it were ;

As ebbs thy daily breath; And rich the dreams that wreathe her when she shall speak, thou’lt learn her brow

tongue, With magic stillness there;

And know she calls it Death.
And he were rich who should unwind
That woven golden hair.

(By permission of Messrs. Ellis and Elvey.) Around her, where she sits, the dance Now breathes its eager heat ;

And not more lightly or more true
Fall there, the dancer's feet

A SONNET is a moment's monumentThan fall her cards on the bright board

Memorial from the soul's eternity As 'twere a heart that beat.

To one deathless hour. Look that it be,

Whether for lustral rite or dire portent, Her fingers let them softly through, Or its own arduous fulness reverent :

Smooth, polished, silent things; Carve it in ivory or in ebony, And each one as it falls reflects

As day or night may rule : and let Time The swift light shadowings,



Its flowering crest impearled and


The blessed damozel leaned out A Sonnet is a coin: it's face reveals

From the gold bar of Heaven ; The soul ; its converse, to what Power Her eyes were deeper than the depth 'tis due:

Of waters still at even ; Whether for tribute to the August She had three lilies in her hand, appeals

And the stars in her hair were seven. Of Life, or dower in Love's high retinue It serve ; or, 'mid the dark wharf's Her robe, ungirt from clasp to hem, cavernous breath,

No wrought flowers did adorn, The Charon's palm it pay one toll to But a white rose of Mary's gift, Death.

For service meetly worn;

Her hair that lay along her back (By permission of Messrs. Ellis and Elvey.),

Was yellow like ripe corn.
Her seemed she scarce had been a day

One of God's Choristers;
ON THE SIGHT OF A MULBERRY The wonder was not yet quite gone

From that still look of hers;

Albeit, to them she left, her day

Had counted as ten years. PLANTED BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE ;

(To one, it is ten years of years, FELLED BY THE REV. F. GASTRELL.

Yet now, and in this place, This tree, here fallen, no common birth Surely she leaned o'er me--her hair or death

Fell all about my face. Shared with its kind. The world's en. Nothing: the autumn-fall of leaves franchised son,

The whole year sets apace). Who found the trees of Life and Knowledge one,

It was the rampart of God's house Here set it, frailer than his laurel-wreath,

That she was standing on ; Shall not the wretch whose hand it fell By God built over the sheer depth beneath

The which is Space begun ; Rank also singly—the supreme unhung ? So high, that looking downward thence Lo! Sheppard, Turpin, pleading with

She scarce could see the sun. black tongue

It lies in Heaven, across the flood
This viler thief's suffocated breath !

Of ether, as a bridge.
We'll search thy glossary, Shakespeare ! Beneath, the tides of day and night

With flame and darkness ridge whence almost, And whence alone some name shall be The void, as low as where this earth

Spins like a fretful midge. revealed For this deaf drudge, to whom no length Around her, lovers, newly met of ears

'Mid deathless love's acclaims, Sufficed to catch the music of the Spoke evermore among themselves spheres ;

Their heart-remembered names; Whose soul is carrion now—too mean to And the souls mounting up to God yield

Went by her like thin flames. Some Starveling's ninth allotment of a

And still she bowed herself and stooped ghost.

Out of the circling charm ; (By permission of Messrs. Ellis and Elvey.)

Until her bosom must have made

The bar she leaned on warm,



And the lilies lay as if asleep

Within whose secret growth the Dove Along her bended arm.

Is sometimes felt to be,

While every leaf that His plumes touch From the fixed place of Heaven she saw Saith His Name audibly.

Time like a pulse shake fierce, Through all the Worlds. Her gaze still “ And I myself will teach to him, strove

I myself, lying so, Within the gulf to pierce

The songs I sing here ; which his voice Its path ; and now she spoke as when Shall pause in, hushed and slow, The stars sang in their spheres. And find some knowledge at each

pause, The sun was gone now; the curled

Or some new thing to know." Was like a little feather

(Alas! we two, we two, thou say'st ! Fluttering far down the gulf; and now Yea, one wast thou with me She spoke through the still weather.

That once of old. But shall God lift Her voice was like the voice the stars To endless unity, Had when they sang together. The soul whose likeness with thy soul

Was but its love for thee?) (Ah, sweet! Even now, in that bird's song,

“We two," she said, “will seek the Strove not her accents there,

groves Fain to be hearkened? When those

Where the Lady Mary is, bells

With her five handmaidens, whose Possessed the midday air,

names Strove not her steps to reach my side Are five sweet symphoniesDown all the echoing stair ?)

Cecily, Gertrude, Magdalen, “I wish that he were come to me,

Margaret and Rosalys. For he will come,” she said.

“Circlewise sit they, with bound locks “Have I not prayed in Heaven? on And foreheads garlanded ; earth,

Into the fine cloth, white like flame,
Lord, Lord, has he not pray'd ? Weaving the golden thread,
Are not two prayers a perfect strength? To fashion the birth-robes for them
And shall I feel afraid ?

Who are just born, being dead. “When round his head the aureole “He shall fear, haply, and be dumb; clings,

Then will I lay my cheek And he is clothed in white,

To his, and tell about our love, I'll take his hand and go with him

Not once abashed or weak: To the deep wells of light;

And the dear Mother will approve As unto a stream we will step down,

My pride, and let me speak. And bathe there in God's sight.

“Herself shall bring us, hand in hand, “We two will stand beside that shrine, To Him round whom all souls Occult, withheld, untrod,

Kneel, the clear-ranged unnumbered Whose lamps are stirred continually

heads With prayers sent up to God ;

Bowed with their aureoles : And see our old prayers, granted, melt And angels meeting us shall sing Each like a little cloud.

To their citherns and citoles.

“ We two will lie i' the shadow of

That living mystic tree,

“There will I ask of Christ the Lord

Thus much for him and me :

Only to live,'as once on earth,

With angels in strong level flight. With Love, -only to be,

Her eyes prayed, and she smil'd. As then awhile, for ever now Together, I and he.”

(I saw her smile.) But soon their path

Was vague in distant spheres : She gazed and listened, and then said, And then she cast her arms along Less sad of speech than mild,

The golden barriers, "All this is when he comes." She And laid her face between her hands ceased,

And wept. (I heard her tears.) The light thrilled towards her, fill'd (By permission of Messrs. Ellis and Elvey.)

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