577. WELL I REMEMBER HOW YOU SMILED To see me write your name upon I have since written what no tide 578. WHY REPINE? WHY, why repine, my pensive friend, Some the stern Fates will never lend, I see the rainbow in the sky, With folded arms I linger not To call them back; 'twere vain; 579. THE CHILD OF MISERY W. S. LANDOR. W. S. LANDOR. COLD on Canadian hills or Minden's plain, J. LANGHORNE (The Country Justice). 580. UNCONSCIOUS CEREBRATION SAY not that the past is dead. Though the Autumn leaves are shed, Though the day's last flush has Though the lute has lost its tone- Lending bias, force, and hue Strange! how aimless looks or Sometimes wake forgotten chords, From a long unbroken sleep. 581. THE LIBERTY OF THE IMPRISONED ROYALIST Which renders what I have not, mine. And though Rebellion do my body bind, I am that bird, which they combine Who, though they do my corpse confine And, though immured, yet can I chirp and sing, 583. WHEN YOUTHFUL FAITH HATH FLED WHEN youthful faith hath fled, Sweet modest flowers of spring, How fleet your balmy day! And man's brief year can bring No secondary May, No earthly burst again Of gladness out of gloom, Fond hope and vision vain, Ungrateful to the tomb. But 'tis an old belief That on some solemn shore, more. Beyond the sphere of time, And Sin and Fate's control, Of body and of soul. J. G. LOCKHART 584. TO LOVE LOVE guards the roses of thy lips, Love in thine eyes doth build his bower, And from their orbs shoot shafts divine. Love, let me cull her choicest flowers, 585. LOVE, IN MY LOVE, in my bosom, like a bee, Doth suck his sweet. Now with his wings he plays with me, Now with his feet. Within mine eyes he makes his nest, And if I sleep, then percheth he, He music plays if so I sing, 586. TO My Phyllis hath the morning sun, Her risings for to honour. That smile when she treads on them; T. LODGE. BOSOM, LIKE A BEE Else I with roses every day For your offence. I'll shut mine eyes to keep you in; -Alas! what hereby shall I win, He will repay me with annoy Then sit thou safely on my knee; PHYLLIS And Phyllis hath a gallant flock That leap, since she doth own But Phyllis hath so hard a heart, 587. TO THE CUCKOO HAIL, beauteous stranger of the grove! Now Heaven repairs thy rural seat, What time the daisy decks the green, And hear the sound of music sweet The schoolboy, wandering through the wood Starts, the new voice of Spring to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom, Thou fliest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Sweet bird! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, Oh, could I fly, I'd fly with thee! J. LOGAN. 588. THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS A MIST was driving down the British Channel, The day was just begun, And through the window-panes, on floor and panel, It glanced on flowing flag and rippling pennon, And, from the frowning rampart, the black cannon Sandwich and Romney, Hastings, Hythe, and Dover To see the French war-steamers speeding over, When the fog cleared away. LIBRARY OF THE CALIFORNIA Sullen and silent, and like couchant lions, Holding their breath, had watched, in grim defiance, And now they roared at drum-beat from their stations Each answering each, with morning salutations, And down the coast, all taking up the burden, As if to summon from his sleep the Warden Him shall no sunshine from the fields of azure, No morning gun from the black fort's embrasure, No more, surveying with an eye impartial Shall the gaunt figure of the old Field Marshal For in the night, unseen, a single warrior, Dreaded of man, and surnamed the Destroyer, He passed into the chamber of the sleeper, And as he entered, darker grew, and deeper, He did not pause to parley or dissemble, Ah! what a blow! that made all England tremble, Meanwhile, without, the surly cannon waited, Nothing in Nature's aspect intimated H. W. LONGFELLOW. 589. THE SLAVE'S DREAM BESIDE the ungathered rice he lay, His breast was bare, his matted hair Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, |