VAIN HOPE THAT PUTS ITS TRUST IN HUMAN LIFE!"-SOUTHEY. THE FUNERAL PROCESSION. 419 99.66 It is for this reason that, as a poet, he is nowadays little read; and that, in spite of great and rare gifts of description, sentiment, and pathos, his works are mostly relegated to the bookshelves of the student and the critic. Yet the reader will find much to interest him, and much to call forth his admiration, in his epic poems of " The Curse of Kehama," "Thalaba,' Joan of Arc," "Madoc," "A Tale of Paraguay;" and his last and finest, "Roderick, the Last of the Goths," a work abounding in lofty thoughts and splendid imagery. Many of his minor poems are gracefully written; some of his ballads are spirited; and in his Eclogues runs a vein of quiet humour which is very diverting. Southey was a man of great and varied learning, and of extraordinary industry. His whole life, till clouded over in old age with the dark shade of mental disease, was devoted to literary labour. He loved work for its own sake, and poured out book upon book with astonishing profusionespecially astonishing when we remember their uniform excellence. His lives of "John Wesley" and "Lord Nelson" are model biographies. In the latter, says Mr. Hannay, the tale of that hero's doings is told "with infinite clearness and grace, in a beautiful yet simple English style, glowing all over with noble feeling." His semi-fictitious colloquial narrative, "The Doctor," abounds in quaint erudition, genial philosophy, and admirable portraiture of character. Robert Southey was born at Bristol, August 12, 1774; was educated at Westminster School, and afterwards at Baliol College, Oxford. He commenced authorship in 1794. His later years were spent at Greta Hall, Keswick, among the beautiful scenery of the Lakes. Here he died, March 21, 1843. He had held the office of poet-laureate from the year 1813.] "ALL THAT HE WILLS IS RIGHT; AND DOUBT NOT THOU, HOWE'ER OUR FEEBLE SCOPE OF SIGHT THE FUNERAL PROCESSION. IN |IDNIGHT, and yet no eye Through all the imperial city closed in Behold her streets ablaze With light that seems to kindle the red sky, Clustered with women, who throw back their veils LET THE FUTURE FOR THE PAST ATONE."-ROBERT SOUTHEY. MAY FAIL US NOW, HIS RIGHTEOUS WILL IN ALL THINGS MUST BE DONE."-ROBERT SOUTHEY. "THE LIGHT OF FAITH HATH RISEN TO US: THE VANQUISHED GRAVE TO US THE GREAT 66 MAN CREATES THE EVIL HE ENDURES."-ROBERT SOUTHEY. ROBERT SOUTHEY. With unimpeded and insatiate sight To view the funeral pomp which passes by, As if the mournful rite Were but to them a scene of joyaunce and delight. Vainly, ye blessed twinklers of the night, Your feeble beams ye shed, Quenched in the unnatural light which might outstare Even the broad eye of day; And thou from thy celestial way Pourest, O Moon, an ineffectual ray! * Upon the midnight air, With one portentous glare. Behold the fragrant smoke in many a fold A dark and waving canopy. Hark! 'tis the funeral trumpet's breath! At once ten thousand drums begin, And with one deep and general din You hear no more the trumpet's tone, Swell with commingled force the funeral yell. *Imitated from Milton. THE WICKED WORK THE RIGHTEOUS WILL OF HEAVEN."-IBID. CONSOLATORY TRUTH PROCLAIMED THAT HE WHO WOUNDS WILL HEAL."-R. SOUTHEY. "HOW BEAUTIFUL IS NIGHT! A DEWY FRESHNESS FILLS THE SILENT AIR;-(ROBERT SOUTHEY) 66 behold the FRAUDFUL ARTS, THE COVERT STRIFE,SOUTHEY) THE FUNERAL PROCESSION. 421 But rising over all in one acclaim Is heard the re-echoed and re-echoed name, From all that countless rout: Arvalan! Arvalan! Arvalan! Arvalan! Ten times ten thousand voices in one shout The death-procession moves along; With quick rebound of sound, The universal multitude reply. In vain ye thunder on his ear the name; Would ye awake the dead? A glow is on his face.. a lively red; ... It is the crimson canopy Which o'er his cheek a reddening shade hath shed; But the motion comes from the bearers' tread, Sways with the impulse of its own dead weight. Far, far behind, beyond all reach of sight, THE JARRING INTERESTS THAT ENGROSS MANKIND."-SOUTHEY. NO MIST OBSCURES, NOR CLOUD, NOR SPECK, NOR STAIN, BREAKS THE SERENE OF HEAVEN."-SOUTHEY. "LOOK ROUND THE WORLD, AND SEE WHERE, OVER ALL, INJURIOUS PASSIONS HOLD STUDIES THAT WEARY AND CONTRACT THE MIND,-(SOUTHEY) ROBERT SOUTHEY. One ever-lengthening line of gilding light; Rolls on the undistinguishable clamour Of horn, and trump, and tambour; Incessant as the roar Of streams which down the wintry mountain pour, And louder than the dread commotion Of breakers on a rocky shore, And Ocean to the tempest raves. And now toward the bank they go, They wet the face of Arvalan, No sign of life the sprinkled drops excite; They feel his lips. . . . no breath; [From "The Curse of Kehama."-" Notwithstanding the wildness, the THAT BRING NO JOY, AND LEAVE NO PEACE BEHIND."-SOUTHEY. MANKIND IN THRALL; HOW BARBAROUS FORCE ASSERTS A RUTHLESS REIGN."-SOUTHEY. LOVE, FRIENDSHIP, GRATEFUL DUTY IN ITS HEIGHT; MEEKNESS AND TRUTH, THAT KEEP ALL STRIFE APART, A SCENE IN THE DESERT. Settled the moveless mist. The timid antelope, that heard their steps, Young Thalaba lay down; The morning came, and not one guiding ray Through the thick mist was visible, The same deep, moveless mist that mantled all. Oh, for the vulture's scream, Who haunts for prey the abode of human-kind! Oh, for the plover's pleasant cry To tell of water near! Oh, for the camel-driver's song! As in his dreams he heard The sound of rushing winds, Started the anxious youth, and looked abroad, The water-skin was drained; For there was motion in the air! That scattered the thick mist, WAS THEIRS; SIMPLICITY THAT KNOWS NO ART; 423 AND FAITH AND HOPE WHICH ELEVATE THE HEART UPON ITS HEAVENLY HERITAGE INTENT."-ROBERT SOUTHEY. |