X. I saw pale kings, and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; XI. I saw their starv'd lips in the gloom, XII. And this is why I sojourn here Though the sedge is wither'd from the lake SONNETS ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER (Written 1816) XI. Much have I travell'd in the realms of gold, Then felt I like some watcher of the skies SONNET (June, 1816) To one who has been long in city pent, 'Tis very sweet to look into the fair And open face of heaven,-to breathe a prayer Full in the smile of the blue firmament. Who is more happy, when, with heart's content, Fatigued he sinks into some pleasant lair Of wavy grass, and reads a debonair And gentle tale of love and languishment? Returning home at evening, with an ear Catching the notes of Philomel,—an eye Watching the sailing cloudlets' bright career, He mourns that day so soon has glided by: E'en like the passage of an angel's tear That falls through the clear ether silently. XV. ON THE GRASSHOPPER AND CRICKET (Written December 30th, 1816) The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead; That is the Grasshopper's-he takes the lead In summer luxury,-he has never done With his delights; for when tired out with fun He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed. The poetry of earth is ceasing never: On a lone winter evening, when the frost Has wrought a silence, from the stove there The Cricket's song, in warmth increasing ever, LAST SONNET (Written on a Blank Page in Shakespeare's Poems, Facing "A Lover's Complaint") (Written 1820) Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art— Of snow upon the mountains and the moors- James Henry Leigh hunt 1784-1859 TO THE GRASSHOPPER AND THE CRICKET (1816) Green little vaulter in the sunny grass, And you, warm little housekeeper, who class Oh sweet and tiny cousins, that belong, Both have your sunshine; both, though small, are strong At your clear hearts; and both seem giv'n to earth To sing in thoughtful ears this natural song— In doors and out, summer and winter, Mirth. Walter Savage Landor 1775-1864 MILD IS THE PARTING YEAR, AND SWEET (Collected Works, 1846) Mild is the parting year, and sweet The tear that would have sooth'd it all. AH WHAT AVAILS THE SCEPTERED RACE (From the same) Ah what avails the sceptered race, Ah what the form divine! What every virtue, every grace! Rose Aylmer, all were thine, Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes A night of memories and of sighs YES; I WRITE VERSES (From the same) Yes; I write verses now and then, As rather clever: In the last quarter are my eyes, Or now or never. 'Twas once a lover? I cannot clear the five-bar gate But, trying first its timber's state, To trundle over. Thro' gallopade I cannot swing The entangling blooms of Beauty's spring: I cannot say the tender thing, Be't true or false, And am beginning to opine. Those girls are only half-divine Whose waists yon wicked boys entwine In giddy waltz. I fear that arm above that shoulder, And panting less. The Brave Queen Bess. |