XCIII.

THE DEATH OF MADAME ROLAND.

Genius and Virtue! dismal was the dearth

Ye saw throughout all France when ye lookt down. In the wide waste of blood-besprinkled earth, There was but one great soul, and that had flown.

XCIV.

There are certain blue eyes
Which insist on your sighs,

And the readiest to give them is far the most wise;
An obstinate lout

Resolved to stand out

Cries at last like a criminal under the knout.

XCV.

Death stands above me, whispering low

I know not what into my ear:

Of his strange language all I know
Is, there is not a word of fear.

XCVI.

ROSE AYLMER'S HAIR, GIVEN BY HER SISTER.

Beautiful spoils! borne off from vanquisht death!
Upon my heart's high altar shall ye lie,

Moved but by only one adorer's breath,
Retaining youth, rewarding constancy.

XCVII.

Deserted in our utmost need

Was Peel, and what poor fags succeed!
Lie dead, ye bees! come forth, ye drones!
Malmsburies, Maidstones, Pakingtons!
Hum in the sunshine while ye may,
Tomorrow comes a rainy day.

XCVIII.

A flirt was Belinda! the more she reproved

Her lover for changing his mind.

"Say who," cried the youth, "O my dearly beloved! Can be steady that polks with the wind?"

XCIX.

THE ONE GRAVE.

Though other friends have died in other days,
One grave there is where memory sinks and stays.

C.

HENRY THE EIGHTH.

Thou murderous man! a time there comes, we trust,
When, king's or peasant's, dust springs forth from dust:
Then, when the spirit its own form shall see,
Beauteous or hideous, woe then, wretch, to thee!

CI.

Wearers of rings and chains!
Pray do not take the pains
To set me right.

In vain my faults ye quote;
I write as others wrote
On Sunium's hight.

CII.

Come forth, old lion, from thy den,
Come, be the gaze of idle men,
Old lion, shake thy mane and growl,
Or they will take thee for an owl.

CIII.

Threaten the wretch who rashly comes
To violate these tranquil tombs,
Eglantine! sweet protectress! you
Can threaten him and punish too.

CIV.

Envy ne'er thrust into my hand her torch,
The robe of those who mount up higher to scorch.
On old Greek idols I may fix my eyes
Oftener, and bring them larger sacrifice,
Yet on the altar where are worshipt ours
I light my taper and lay down my flowers.

CV.

Strike with Thor's hammer, strike again The skulking heads of half-form'd men, And every northern God shall smile Upon thy well-aim'd blow, Carlyle!

CVI.

By learned men was England led,
When England follow'd men like these;
His father's speeches One had read,
One, Ovid's Metamorphoses.

CVII.

OLD MAN.

What wouldst thou say,
Autumnal day,

Clothed in a mist akin to rain?

DARK DAY.

Thus I appear,

Because next year,

Perhaps we may not meet again.

CVIII.

Changeful! how little do you know
Of Byron when you call him so!
True as the magnet is to iron
Byron hath ever been to Byron.
His color'd prints, in gilded frames,
Whatever the designs and names,
One image set before the rest,
In shirt with falling collar drest,
And keeping up a rolling fire at
Patriot, conspirator, and pirate.

CIX.

Love, flying out of sight, o'ershadows me, And leaves me cold as cold can be; Farewell alasses! and no-mores! and Sweetest and saddest word, adieu!

you,

CX.

1853.

Sit quiet at your hearthstones while ye may;
Look to your arms; place them within your reach;
Keep dry the powder; throw none on the grate
In idle sport; it might blow up both roof

And door: and then the Bear that growls bursts in.

CXI.

Blind to the future, to what lies before
The future, what our feet now stand upon,
We see not, look not for, nor think about.

CXII.

Ye throw your crumbs of bread into the stream,
And there are fish that rise and swallow them;
Fish too there are that lie along the mud,
And never rise, content to feed on worms.
Thus do we poets; thus the people do.

What sparkles is caught up; what sparkles not
Falls to the bottom mingled with the sludge,
And perishes by its solidity.

The minnows twinkle round and let it pass,
Pursuing some minuter particle,

More practicable for the slender gill.

CXIII.

My yarn in verse is short: I sit among
Our few old women who ne'er learnt to spin.

CXIV.

Treasures of greek has..? In vain I seek 'em, Is all the greek he has worth album græcum ?

CXV.

One lovely name adorns my song,

And, dwelling in the heart,

For ever falters at the tongue,

And trembles to depart.

CXVI.

ON SOUTHEY'S BIRTHDAY, NOV. 4.

No Angel borne on whiter wing
Hath visited the sons of men,
Teaching the song they ought to sing
And guiding right the unsteady pen.
Recorded not on earth alone,

O Southey! is thy natal day,

But there where stands the choral throne
Show us thy light and point the way.

CXVII.

Altho' my soberer ear disdains
The irksome din of tinkling chains,
I pat two steers more sleek than strong
And yoke them to the car of Song.

CXVIII.

O wretched despicable slaves,
Accomplices and dupes of knaves!
The cut-throat uncle laid ye low,
The cut-purse nephew gags ye now.
Behold at last due vengeance come
For the brave men ye slew at Rome.

CXIX.

Penthesileia, bright and bold,
Led forth her Amazons of old,
And every man was fain to yield
Who met her on the Attic field
Save Theseus; by that bosom bare
Undazzled, or that golden hair;
He, without shuddering, dared to twist
Its rings around his stubborn fist.

The times are alter'd: now again
Our Attic virgins scour the plain,
And Pallas is observed to rear
O'er those her Ægis and her spear.

CXX.

There are some tears that only brave men shed, The rest are common to the human race.

The cause of Hungary when Kossuth pled

Such tears as his roll'd down the sternest face.