« PředchozíPokračovat »
O Helen fair, beyond compare !
Until the day I die.
O that I were where Helen lies!
Says, 'Haste and come to me!'
O Helen fair ! O Helen chaste !
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish my grave were growing green,
On fair Kirconnell lea.
I wish I were where Helen lies :
THE TWA CORBIES.
As I was walking all alane
'-In behint yon auld fail dyke,
"His hound is to the hunting gane,
“Ye'll sit on his white hause-bane,
‘Mony a one for him makes mane,
ON THE DEATH OF MR. WILLIAM HERVEY.
It was a dismal and a fearful night,-
By something liker death possest.
5 And on my soul hung the dull weight
Of some intolerable fate.
My sweet companion, and my gentle peer,
O thou hast left me all alone!
Besieged around thy noble heart,
Did not with more reluctance part
Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say,
The love betwixt us two ?
Or your sad branches thicker join,
And into darksome shades combine,
Large was his soul; as large a soul as e'er
25 Submitted to inform a body here ; High as the place 'twas shortly in Heaven to have,
But low and humble as his grave;
As to the chiefest seat
Conspicuous, and great ;
Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught,
In such a short mortality.
Still did the notions throng
About his eloquent tongue ;
His mirth was the pure spirits of various wit,
Retired, and gave to them their due.
Though his own searching mind before
Was so with notions written o'er,
With as much zeal, devotion, piety,
Weeping all debts out ere he slept.
Like the sun's laborious light,
Which still in water sets at night,
FRIENDS IN PARADISE.
They are all gone into the world of light!
And I alone sit lingering here ; Their very memory is fair and bright,
And my sad thoughts doth clear :
It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast,
Like stars upon some gloomy grove,
After the sun's remove.
I see them walking in an air of glory,
Whose light doth trample on my days :
Mere glimmering and decays.
O holy Hope ! and high Humility,
High as the heavens above ! These are your walks, and you have shew'd them me, To kindle my cold love.
Dear, beauteous Death ! the jewel of the just,
Shining no where, but in the dark ; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust,
Could man outlook that mark !
He that hath found some fledged bird's nest, may know
At first sight, if the bird be flown;
That is to him unknown.
25 And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams
Call to the soul, when man doth sleep; So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep.