Not in our time, nor in our children's time, With that he struck his staff against the rocks And broke it,-James,—you know him,—old, but full Of force and choler, and firm upon his feet, "What stuff is this? Old writers pushed the happy season back,— He spoke; and, high above, I heard them blast The steep slate-quarry, and the great echo flap And buffet round the hills from bluff to bluff. ULYSSES. Ir little profits that an idle king, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed Vext the dim sea: I am become a name; Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough How dull it is to pause, to make an end, Little remains: but every hour is saved Meet adoration to my household gods When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. There lies the port: the vessel puffs her sail : There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads-you and I are old; Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will LOCKSLEY HALL. COMRADES, leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis early morn: Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon the bugle-horn. 'Tis the place, and all around it, as of old, the curlews call. Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley Hall; Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy tracts, And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts. Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went to rest, Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West. Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising through the mellow shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver braid. Here about the beach I wandered, nourishing a youth sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time; When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land reposed; When I clung to all the present for the promise that it closed: When I dipt into the future far as human eye could see; Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be. In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the Robin's breast; In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest; In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the bur nished dove; In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love. Then her cheek was pale and thinner than should be for one so young, And her eyes on all my motions with a mute ob servance hung. And I said, "My cousin Amy, speak, and speak the truth to me, Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being sets to thee." On her pallid cheek and forehead came a color and a light, As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the northern night. And she turned-her bosom shaken with a sudden storm of sighs All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel eyes Saying, "I have hid my feelings, fearing they should do me wrong; Saying, "Dost thou love me, cousin?" weeping, “I have loved thee long." Love took up the glass of Time, and turned it in his glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands. Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight. Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the copses ring, And her whisper thronged my pulses with the fulness of the Spring. |