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TO H. F. BROWN
(Written during a dangerous sickness)
SIT and wait a pair of oars
On cis-Elysian river-shores.
Where the immortal dead have sate,
Without remorse, without regret;
And lo, as my serener soul
1Life on the Lagoons, by H. F. Brown, originally burned in the fire at Messrs. Kegan Paul, Trench & Co.'s.
Whereon, despite my frowning fate,
That all my fancies fled away
Now, thanks to your triumphant care, Your pages clear as April air,
The sails, the bells, the birds, I know, And the far-off Friulan snow;
The land and sea, the sun and shade,
For this, for these, for all, O friend,
Perchance, reviving, yet may I
TO ANDREW LANG
EAR Andrew, with the brindled hair, Who glory to have thrown in air, High over arm, the trembling reed, By Ale and Kail, by Till and Tweed: An equal craft of hand you show The pen to guide, the fly to throw: I count you happy starred: for God, When he with inkpot and with rod Endowed you, bade your fortune lead Forever by the crooks of Tweed, Forever by the woods of song And lands that to the Muse belong; Or if in peopled streets, or in The abhorred pedantic sanhedrim, It should be yours to wander, still Airs of the morn, airs of the hill, The plovery Forest and the seas That break about the Hebrides, Should follow over field and plain And find you at the window pane;
And you again see hill and peel,
With sound of happy mirth and sheen
Still like a brook your page has shone,
ET TU IN ARCADIA VIXISTI
(TO R. A. M. S.)
N ancient tales, O friend, thy spirit dwelt;
There, from of old, thy childhood passed; and there
High expectation, high delights and deeds, Thy fluttering heart with hope and terror moved.
And thou hast heard of yore the Blatant Beast,
And Roland's horn, and that war-scattering shout
Of all-unarmed Achilles, ægis-crowned.
And perilous lands thou sawest, sounding shores
And seas and forests drear, island and dale And mountain dark. For thou with Tris
Or Bedevere, in farthest Lyonesse.
Thou hadst a booth in Samarcand, whereat