55

And all I remember is, friends flocking round
As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on the

ground;

And no voice but was praising this Roland of mine, As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine,

Which (the burgesses voted by common consent) Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.

R. BROWNING.

60

THE SHEPHERD IN WINTER.

WHEN red hath set the beamless sun,
Through heavy vapours dark and dun;

When the tired ploughman, dry and warm,
Hears, half-asleep, the rising storm

Hurling the hail, and sleeted rain,

5

Against the casement's tinkling pane;

-The sounds that drive wild deer, and fox,

Oft he looks forth, and hopes, in vain,

The blast may sink in mellowing rain;
Till, dark above, and white below,
Decided drives the flaky snow,

And forth the hardy swain must go.

15

Long, with dejected look and whine,
To leave the hearth his dogs repine;
Whistling and cheering them to aid,
Around his back he wreathes the plaid;
His flock he gathers, and he guides
To open downs, and mountain-sides,
Where fiercest though the tempest blow,
Least deeply lies the drift below.

The blast, that whistles o'er the fells,
Stiffens his locks to icicles;

F

20

25

Oft he looks back, while streaming far
His cottage window seems a star,—
Loses its feeble gleam,—and then

His paths, his landmarks, all unknown,
Close to the hut, no more his own,

35

Close to the aid he sought in vain,

The morn may find the stiffen'd swain :
The widow sees, at dawning pale,

His orphans raise their feeble wail;
And, close beside him, in the snow,
Poor Yarrow, partner of their woe,
Couches upon his master's breast,
And licks his cheek to break his rest.

SIR W. SCOTT.

40

THE DYING GIRL AND FLOWERS.

BEAR them not from grassy dells
Where wild bees have honey-cells;
Not from where sweet water-sounds
Thrill the greenwood to its bounds;
Not to waste their scented breath
On the silent room of Death!

Kindred to the breeze they are,
And the glow-worm's emerald star,
And the bird whose song is free,

5

And the many-whispering tree :

10

Oh! too deep a love, and vain,
They would win to earth again.

Spread them not before the eyes
Closing fast on summer skies!

Woo thou not the spirit back

From its lone and viewless track,

With the bright things which have birth
Wide o'er all the colour'd earth!

With the violet's breath would rise
Thoughts too sad for her who dies;
From the lily's pearl-cup shed,

Dreams too sweet would haunt her bed;
Dreams of youth-of spring-time's eves-
Music-beauty—all she leaves !

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20

Hush! 'tis thou that dreaming art,

25

Calmer is her gentle heart.

Yes! o'er fountain, vale, and grove,

Leaf and flower, hath gush'd her love;
But that passion, deep and true,

Therefore once, and yet again,
Strew them o'er her bed of pain;
From her chamber take the gloom

45

With a light and flush of bloom :
So should one depart, who goes
Where no death can touch the rose !
FELICIA HEMANS.

BLOSSOMS

FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree,

Why do ye fall so fast?

Your date is not so past,

But you may stay yet here a while,
To blush and gently smile,
And go at last.

What! were ye born to be

An hour or half's delight;

And so to bid good-night?

'Twas pity Nature brought you forth
Merely to show your worth,
And lose you quite.

But ye are lovely leaves, where we

May read how soon things have

Their end, though ne'er so brave;

And, after they have shown their pride,
Like you, a while, they glide

Into the grave.

HERRICK.

5

ΙΟ

15

GINEVRA.

IF thou should'st ever come by choice or chance

To Modena,1 where still religiously

Among her ancient trophies is preserved

Bologna's bucket (in its chain it hangs

Within that reverend tower the Guirlandine), 5
Stop at a palace near the Reggio-gate
Dwelt in of old by one of the Orsini.2
Its noble gardens, terrace above terrace,
And rich in fountains, statues, cypresses,

II

Will long detain thee. Through their arched walks
Dim at noonday, discovering many a glimpse
Of knights and dames, such as in old romance,
And lovers, such as in heroic song,

1 A town in the north of Italy.

2 The name of a famous family of Modena.

Perhaps the two,1 for groves were their delight,
That in the spring-time, as alone they sat
Venturing on a tale of love,

Read only part that day-a summer-sun
Sets ere one half is seen; but ere thou go,
Enter the house-pr'ythee, forget it not-
And look awhile upon a picture there.
'Tis of a lady in her earliest youth :-
The very last of that illustrious race,
Done by Zampieri 2—but I care not whom―
He who observes it, ere he passes on,
Gazes his fill, and comes and comes again,
That he may call it up when far away.
She sits, inclining forward as to speak,
Her lips half open, and her finger up,

15

20

25

As though she said, "Beware!"—her vest of gold Broider'd with flowers, and clasp'd from head to

foot

An emerald stone in every golden clasp ;
And on her brow, fairer than alabaster,
A coronet of pearls. But then her face,
So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth,
The overflowings of an innocent heart—
It haunts me still, though many a year has fled,

30

35

Like some wild melody !-Alone it hangs

Over a mouldering heir-loom, its companion,
An oaken chest, half-eaten by the worm.

But richly carved by Antony of Trent,
With scripture-stories from the life of Christ;
A chest that came from Venice, and had held
The ducal robes of some old ancestor,

40

That by the way—it may be true or false—

But don't forget the picture; and thou wilt not, 45
When thou has heard the tale they told me there.

She was an only child; from infancy
The joy, the pride, of an indulgent sire.
Her mother dying of the gift she gave-

That precious gift-what else remain'd to him? 50
1 This alludes to two lovers in a famous Italian romance.
2 A great painter, better known as Domenichino.