And the Cydonian bow (which thou shalt see) Won in my race last Spring from Eutychos. Hamad. Bethink thee what it is to leave a home

Thou never yet hast left, one night, one day.
Rhaicos. No, 'tis not hard to leave it: 'tis not hard
To leave, O maiden, that paternal home

If there be one on earth whom we may love
First, last, for ever; one who says that she
Will love for ever too. To say which word,
Only to say it, surely is enough.

It shows such kindness-if 'twere possible
We at the moment think she would indeed.
Hamad. Who taught thee all this folly at thy age?
Rhaicos. I have seen lovers and have learnt to love.
Hamad. But wilt thou spare the tree?

Rhaicos.

My father wants The bark; the tree may hold its place awhile. Hamad. Awhile? thy father numbers then my days? Rhaicos. Are there no others where the moss beneath

Is quite as tufty? Who would send thee forth
Or ask thee why thou tarriest? Is thy flock
Anywhere near?

Hamad.

I have no flock: I kill
Nothing that breathes, that stirs, that feels the air,
The sun, the dew. Why should the beautiful
(And thou art beautiful) disturb the source

Whence springs all beauty. Hast thou never heard
Of Hamadryads?

Rhaicos.

Heard of them I have:

Tell me some tale about them. May I sit

Beside thy feet? Art thou not tired? The herbs
Are very soft; I will not come too nigh;

Do but sit there, nor tremble so, nor doubt.

Stay, stay an instant : let me first explore

If any acorn of last year be left

Within it; thy thin robe too ill protects

Thy dainty limbs against the harm one small
Acorn may do. Here's none. Another day

Trust me; till then let me sit opposite.

Hamad. I seat me; be thou seated, and content.
Rhaicos. O sight for gods! ye men below! adore
The Aphroditè. Is she there below?

Or sits she here before me? as she sate

Before the shepherd on those heights that shade The Hellespont, and brought his kindred woe. Hamad. Reverence the higher Powers; nor deem amiss Of her who pleads to thee, and would repayAsk not how much-but very much.

Rise not.

No, Rhaicos, no! Without the nuptial vow
Love is unholy. Swear to me that none

Of mortal maids shall ever taste thy kiss,

Then take thou mine; then take it, not before. Rhaicos. Hearken, all Gods above! O Aphrodite, O Herè, let my vow be ratified!

But wilt thou come into my father's house? Hamad. Nay: and of mine I cannot give thee part. Rhaicos. Where is it?

Hamad. In this oak.

Rhaicos.

Ay; now begins

The tale of Hamadryad: tell it through.
Hamad. Pray of thy father never to cut down

My tree; and promise him, as well thou may'st,
That every year he shall receive from me
More honey than will buy him nine fat sheep,
More wax than he will burn to all the Gods.

Why fallest thou upon thy face? Some thorn

May scratch it, rash young man! Rise up; for

shame!

Rhaicos. For shame I cannot rise. O pity me!

I dare not sue for love-but do not hate!

Let me once more behold thee-not once more
But many days: let me love on-unloved!
I aimed too high on my own head the bolt
Falls back, and pierces to the very brain.
Hamad. Go, rather go-than make me say I love.
Rhaicos. If happiness is immortality

(And whence enjoy it else the Gods above?)
I am immortal too: my vow is heard-
Hark! on the left-Nay, turn not from me now,
I claim my kiss.

Hamad.
Do men take first, then claim?
Do thus the seasons run their course with them?
Her lips were seal'd; her head sank on his breast.
'Tis said that laughs were heard within the wood:
But who should hear them? and whose laughs? and
why?

ON HIS SEVENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY

I strove with none, for none was worth my strife,
Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art;

I warmed both hands before the fire of life,
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

THOMAS CAMPBELL.

1777-1844

THE PARROT

The deep affections of the breast,
That Heaven to living things imparts,
Are not exclusively possess'd

By human hearts.

A parrot from the Spanish Main,

Full young, and early caged, came o'er With bright wings, to the bleak domain Of Mulla's shore.

To spicy groves where he had won

His plumage of resplendent hue,
His native fruits, and skies and sun,
He bade Adieu.

For these he changed the smoke of turf,
A heathery land and misty sky,
And turn'd on rocks and raging surf
His golden eye.

But petted in our climate cold

He lived and chatter'd many a day;
Until with age, from green and gold
His wings grew grey.

At last, when blind and seeming dumb,

He scolded, laugh'd, and spoke no more,

A Spanish stranger chanced to come

To Mulla's shore;

He hail'd the bird in Spanish speech,
The bird in Spanish speech replied,
Flapp'd round his cage with joyous screech,
Dropt down and died.

JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT. 1784-1859

CAPTAIN SWORD

Captain Sword got up one day,

Over the hills to march away,

Over the hills and through the towns,

They heard him coming across the downs,

Stepping in music and thunder sweet,

Which his drums sent before him into the street,

And lo! 'twas a beautiful sight in the sun;
For first came his foot, all marching like one,
With tranquil faces, and bristling steel,

And the flag full of honour as though it could feel,
And the officers gentle, the sword that hold
'Gainst the shoulder, heavy with trembling gold,
And the massy tread, that in passing is heard,
Though the drums and the music say never a word.

And then came his horse, a clustering sound,
Of shapely potency forward bound.

Glossy black steeds, and riders tall

Rank after rank, each looking like all;

'Midst moving repose and a threatening calm,
With mortal sharpness at each right arm,
And hues that painters and ladies love,
And ever the small flag blushed above.

And ever and anon the kettledrums beat,
Hasty power 'midst order meet;
And ever and anon the drums and fifes
Came like motion's voice, and life's;
Or into the golden grandeurs fell
Of deeper instruments mingling well,