I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from Heaven 566 SIR AUBREY DE VERE [1788-1846] GLENGARIFF I GAZING from each low bulwark of this bridge, Falling to gulfs obscure. The mountain ridge, 567 II A sun-burst on the Bay! Turn and behold! Minstrels have sung. From rock and headland proud The manifold mountain cones, now dark, now bright, Now seen, now lost, alternate from rich light To spectral shade; and each dissolving cloud Reveals new mountains while it floats away. HARTLEY COLERIDGE [1796-1849] SHE IS NOT FAIR SHE is not fair to outward view Her loveliness I never knew Until she smiled on me. O then I saw her eye was bright, But now her looks are coy and cold, And yet I cease not to behold Her very frowns are fairer far Than smiles of other maidens are, 568 JOSEPH BLANCO WHITE TO NIGHT MYSTERIOUS Night! when our first parent knew Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed 569 GEORGE DARLEY [1795-1846] THE LOVELINESS OF LOVE It is not Beauty I demand, A crystal brow, the moon's despair, Tell me not of your starry eyes, Your lips that seem on roses fed, A bloomy pair of vermeil cheeks These are but gauds; nay, what are lips: And what are cheeks but ensigns oft Eyes can with baleful ardour burn; Poison can breathe, than erst perfumed; There's many a white hand holds an urn With lovers' hearts to dust consumed. For crystal brows there's nought within; Give me, instead of Beauty's bust, One in whose gentle bosom I Could pour my secret heart of woes, Like the case-burthen'd honey-fly That hides his murmurs in the rose My earthly Comforter! whose love Hers could not stay, for sympathy. 570 THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY, LORD MACAULAY [1800-1859] THE ARMADA ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise; I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days, When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain Her crew had seen Castile's black fleet beyond Aurigny's isle, At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a mile. At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial grace, And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in chase. Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the wall; The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's lofty hall; Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along the coast, And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland many a post. With his white hair, unbonneted, the stout old sheriff comes; Behind him march the halberdiers; before him sound the drums; His yeomen round the market cross make clear an ample space; For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her Grace. And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells, As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells. Look how the Lion of the sea lifts up his ancient crown, And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down. So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field, Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Caesar's eagle shield. So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned to bay, |