R. B. 12 DECEMBER, 1889 Now dumb is he who waked the world to speak, And voiceless hangs the world beside his bier; Our words are sobs, our cry of praise a tear; We are the smitten mortals, we the weak. We see a spirit on earth's loftiest peak Shine and wing hence the way he makes more clear ; See a great tree of life, that never here Dropped leaf for aught that rage of storms might wreak. Such ending is not death, such living shows What wide illumination brightness sheds From one big heart to conquer man's old foes, The coward and the tyrant and the force Of all these weedy monsters' rising heads, When song is talk from springs of turbid source. GEORGE MEREDITH. Hobert Browning SONG FROM “PARACELSUS” Over the sea our galleys went, A gallant armament: Left leafy and rough as first it grew, But each upbore a stately tent; Where cedar-pales in scented row Kept out the flakes of the dancing brine : And an awning droop'd the mast below, In fold on fold of the purple fine, That neither noontide, nor star-shine, Nor moonlight cold which maketh mad, Might pierce the regal tenement. When the sun dawn'd, oh, gay and glad We set the sail and plied the oar ; But when the night-wind blew like breath, For joy of one day's voyage more, We sang together on the wide sea, Like men at peace on a peaceful shore ; Each sail was loos’d to the wind so free, Each helm made sure by the twilight star, And in a sleep as calm as death, We, the strangers from afar, Lay stretch'd along, each weary crew In a circle round its wondrous tent, Whence gleam'd soft light and curld rich scent, And, with light and perfume, music too: So the stars wheel'd round, and the darkness past, And at morn we started beside the mast, And still each ship was sailing fast ! We shouted, every man of us, and pæan glorious. An hundred shapes of lucid stone ! All day we built a shrine for each A shrine of rock for every one — Nor paus'd we till in the westering sun We sate together on the beach To sing, because our task was done ; When lo ! what shouts and merry songs ! What laughter all the distance stirs ! What raft comes loaded with its throngs Of gentle islanders ? “The isles are just at hand,” they cried ; “ Like cloudlets faint at even sleeping, Our temple-gates are open'd wide, Our olive-groves thick shade are keep ing For the lucid shapes you bring” – they cried. Oh, then we awoke with sudden start From our deep dream ; we knew, too late, How bare the rock, how desolate, To which we had fung our precious freight : Yet we call'd out « Depart ! Our gifts, once given, must here abide : Our work is done ; we have no heart To mar our work, though vain ” — we cried. CAVALIER TUNES I One morn, the land appear’d ! - a speck The shout, restrain the longing eye ! And a statue bright was on every deck ! MARCHING ALONG KENTISH Sir Byng stood for his King, Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing : And, pressing a troop unable to stoop And see the rogues flourish and honest folk droop, Marching along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song. God for King Charles ! Pym and such carles To the Devil that prompts 'em their trea sonous parles ! Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup, Hands from the pasty, nor bite take nor sup Till you ’re (Chorus) Marching along, fifty-score strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song. BOOT AND SADDLE GIVE A ROUSE Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell III Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry as well! England, good cheer! Rupert is near ! Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here, Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! (Chorus) Rescue my castle before the hot day Marching along, fifty-score strong, Brightens to blue from its silvery gray, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song? (Chorus) Boot, saddle, to horse, and away! Then, God for King Charles ! Pym and his snarls Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent say ; carles ! Many's the friend there, will listen and Hold by the right, you double your might ; pray So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the “God's luck to gallants that strike up the fight, lay(Chorus) (Chorus) March we along, fifty-score strong, Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!” Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this song! Forty miles off, like a roebuck at bay, II Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' array: Who laughs, “Good fellows ere this, by my fay, KING CHARLES, and who'll do him right (Chorus) now ? Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!” King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now ? Who? My wife Gertrude ; that, honest Give a rouse : here's, in hell's despite now, Laughs when you talk of surrendering, King Charles ! “ Nay ! I've better counsellors ; what counsel they ? Who gave me the goods that went since ? (Chorus) Who rais'd me the house that sank once ? • Boot, saddle, to horse, and away!'" Who help'd me to gold I spent since ? Who found me in wine you drank once ? (Chorus) MY LAST DUCHESS King Charles, and who 'll do him right now? King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now? That's my last Duchess painted on the Give a rouse : here's, in hell's despite now, wall, King Charles ! Looking as if she were alive. I call That piece a wonder, now : Frà Pandolf's To whom us’d my boy George quaff else, hands By the old fool's side that begot him ? Work'd busily a day, and there she stands. For whom did he cheer and laugh else, Will’t please you sit and look at her? I While Noll's damn'd troopers shot him ? said (Chorus) “ Frà Pandolf” by design : for never read King Charles, and who'll do him right Strangers like you that pictur'd countenow? nance, King Charles, and who's ripe for fight The depth and passion of its earnest glance, now? But to myself they turn'd (since none puts Give a rouse : here's, in hell's despite now, by King Charles ! The curtain I have drawn for you, but I) and gay, FERRARA 345 ay gray, cence s you'd ten and up the av, dheads' Chis, by And seem'd as they would ask me, if they Much the same smile? This grew; I gave durst, commands; How such a glance came there ; so, not the Then all smiles stopp'd together. There first she stands meet The Count your master's known munifi- Of mine for dowry will be disallow'd ; At starting, is my object. Nay, we'll go Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, for me? INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP You know, we French storm'd Ratisbon : As if to balance the prone brow speech, Just as perhaps he mus'd “My plans That soar, to earth may fall, as if she Let once my army leader Lannes Waver at yonder wall,”. and Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect here By just his horse's mane, a boy : (So tight he kept his lips compress'd, Scarce any blood came through) Was all but shot in two. “Well,” cried he, “Emperor, by God's Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smil’d, no grace doubt, We've got you Ratisbon ! The Marshal's in the market-place, And 'll be there anon honest dering, they? on the your will udolf's you miss, She sings my face, your flower, had purs'd She speaks which (say again) no word more ! Since words are only words. Give o'er ! The bee's kiss, now ! gay Unless you call me, all the same, He sings What are we two ? I am a Jew, And carry thee, farther than friends can pursue, To a feast of our tribe; Where they need thee to bribe The devil that blasts them unless he imbibe Thy ... Scatter the vision for ever! And now, As of old, I am I, thou art thou ! |