For if I thought with heedless tread

My step profaned their lowly bed,

My breath came gaspingly and thick,

And my crush'd heart fell blind and sick.

XII.

I made a footing in the wall,

It was not therefrom to escape,

For I had buried one and all

315

Once more, upon the mountains high,
The quiet of a loving eye.

330

XIII.

I saw them, and they were the same,

They were not changed like me in frame;
I saw their thousand years of snow

On high-their wide long lake below,
And the blue Rhone in fullest flow;

335

I heard the torrents leap and gush
O'er channell'd rock and broken bush ;

A small green isle, it seem'd no more,

Scarce broader than my dungeon floor,

But in it there was three tall trees,

345

And o'er it blew the mountain breeze,

The eagle rode the rising blast,
Methought he never flew so fast
As then to me he seem'd to fly;

And then new tears came in my eye,
And I felt troubled-and would fain
I had not left my recent chain;
And when I did descend again,
The darkness of my dim abode
Fell on me as a heavy load;
It was as is a new-dug grave,

355

360

Closing o'er one we sought to save,—

And yet my glance, too much opprest,
Had almost need of such a rest.

XIV.

It might be months, or years, or days,
I kept no count, I took no note,

365

I had no hope my eyes to raise,

And clear them of their dreary mote;

At last men came to set me free;

I ask'd not why, and reck'd not where ;

370

It was at length the same to me,

Fetter'd or fetterless to be,

I learn'd to love despair.

And thus when they appear'd at last,

And all my bonds aside were cast,
These heavy walls to me had grown
A hermitage-and all my own!
And half I felt as they were come
To tear me from a second home.
With spiders I had friendship made,

375

380

And watch'd them in their sullen trade,

Had seen the mice by moonlight play,

And why should I feel less than they?

We were all inmates of one place,

And I, the monarch of each race,

Had power to kill—yet, strange to tell!
In quiet we had learn'd to dwell;
My very chains and I grew friends,
So much a long communion tends
To make us what we are :—even I
Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.

LORD BYRON.

385

390

FABLE.

THE LION AND THE CUB.

How fond are men of rule and place,
Who court it from the mean and base!
These cannot bear an equal nigh,

But from superior merit fly.

They love the cellar's vulgar joke,

And lose their hours in ale and smoke.
There o'er some petty club preside;
So poor, so paltry is their pride!

5

Nay, even with fools whole nights will sit,

He caught their manners, looks, and airs;
An ass in everything, but ears!

20

If e'er his highness meant a joke,
They grinn'd applause before he spoke;
But at each word what shouts of praise!
Good gods! how natural he brays!

Elate with flatt'ry and conceit,
He seeks his royal sire's retreat;

25

Forward, and fond to show his parts,
His highness brays; the lion starts.

"Puppy, that cursed vociferation
Betrays thy life and conversation:
Coxcombs, an ever-noisy race,
Are trumpets of their own disgrace."

"Why so severe?" the cub replies;
"Our senate always held me wise."
"How weak is pride!" returns the sire;

All fools are vain, when fools admire!

But know what stupid asses prize,
Lions and noble beasts despise."

30

35

HUMAN PRIDE.

How weak, how vain is human pride!
Dares man upon himself confide?
The wretch who glories in his gain,
Amasses heaps on heaps in vain.
Why lose we life in anxious cares,
To lay in hoards for future years?
Can those (when tortured by disease)
Cheer our sick heart, or purchase ease?
Can those prolong one gasp of breath,
Or calm the troubled hour of death?

What's beauty? Call ye that your own?
A flower that fades as soon as blown.
What's man in all his boast of sway?
Perhaps the tyrant of a day.

GAY.

5

10

Alike the laws of life take place Through every branch of human race, The monarch of long regal line

15

Was raised from dust as frail as mine.

Can he pour health into his veins,
Or cool the fever's restless pains?
Can he (worn down in Nature's course)
New brace his feeble nerves with force?

20

Can he (how vain is mortal power!)
Stretch life beyond the destined hour?

Consider, man ; weigh well thy frame;
The king, the beggar is the same.

Dust forms us all. Each breathes his day,

Then sinks into his native clay.

GAY.

25

GOOD IN EVIL.

IN thorny thickets blow the sweetest roses, Lilies in damp woods droop their snow-white bells,

The yellow primrose 'neath the briar reposes,

The purest water springs from deepest wells.

From common clay are form'd the fairest vessels, 5
The diamond glistens in the darksome mine,
The golden wren in her snug dwelling nestles,
Slung from the branches of the gloomy pine.

ΙΟ

The scarlet sea-weeds wave their trembling tresses
In ocean caves, by human eyes unseen,
And rocks all black and bare the sea-fern dresses
With spiry tufts of never-fading green.

And so from out the gloom and smoke of cities,
Deeds of deep love and meek endurance shine;
In squalid lanes is found the heart that pities,
The soul that hungers after things divine.

15

In stifling courts the steadfast love of woman Maketh oftimes the house of toil seem bright; And princely hearts that beat 'neath garments common,

In midst of wrong are ruled by truth and right. 20

Not men of high degree alone in story,

In nations' hearts and histories are enshrined; The poor and humble have their meed of glory, And wreaths of honour poor men's foreheads bind. GREVILLE JOHN CHESTER.