"FAREWELL, RENOWN!" FAREWELL, Renown! Too fleeting flower, That grows a year to last an hour; Prize of the race's dust and heat, Too often trodden under feet, Why should I court your "barren dower "? Nay; had I Dryden's angry power, The thews of Ben, - the wind of Gower, Farewell! Because the Muses' bower Is filled with rival brows that lower; Because, howe'er his pipe be sweet, The Bard, that "pays," must please the street;But most... because the grapes are sour, Farewell, Renown! "MORE POETS YET!" (To J. L. W.) "MORE Poets yet!"— I hear him say, Arming his heavy hand to slay; 64 Despite my skill and swashing blow,' They seem to sprout where'er I go; — I killed a host but yesterday!" Slash on, O Hercules! You may. Too arrogant ! For who shall stay Who? There will rise, till Time decay, More Poets yet! "WITH PIPE AND FLUTE.” (To E. G.) WITH pipe and flute the rustic Pan Of old made music sweet for man; And wonder hushed the warbling bird, And closer drew the calm-eyed herd, The rolling river slowlier ran. Ah! would, ah! would, a little span, This age of ours, too seldom stirred But now for gold we plot and plan ; Or find the night-jar's note preferred; – Not so it fared, when time began, With pipe and flute ! O TO A JUNE ROSE. (To A. P.) ROYAL Rose! the Roman dress'd His feast with thee; thy petals press'd Augustan brows; thine odour fine, Mix'd with the three-times-mingled wine, Lent the long Thracian draught its zest. What marvel then, if host and guest, And yet and yet O royal Rose! I love thee best In our old gardens of the West. Whether about my thatch thou twine, Or Hers, that brown-eyed maid of mine, Who lulls thee on her lawny breast, O royal Rose ! TO DAFFODILS. (To A. J. M.) YELLOW flowers that HERRICK Sung! O yellow flowers that danced and swung In WORDSWORTH'S verse, and now to me, Unworthy, from this "pleasant lea," Laugh back, unchanged and ever young; Ah, what a text to us o'erstrung, We, by the Age's oestrus stung, Vexed ever with the Old, but ye, |