Old armor, prints, pictures, pipes, china (all cracked), Old rickety tables, and chairs broken-backed; No better divan need the Sultan require, That praying-rug came from a Turcoman's camp; Long, long, through the hours, and the night, and the chimes, Here we talk of old books, and old friends, and old times; As we sit in a fog made of rich Latakie But of all the cheap treasures that garnish my nest, There's one that I love and I cherish the best: For the finest of couches that's padded with hair I never would change thee, my cane-bottomed chair. 'Tis a bandy-legged, high-shouldered, wormeaten seat, With a creaking old back, and twisted old feet; But since the fair morning when Fanny sat there, I bless thee and love thee, old cane-bottomed chair. If chairs have but feeling, in holding such charms, A thrill must have passed through your withered old arms; 427 I looked, and I longed, and I wished in despair; I wished myself turned to a cane-bottomed chair. It was but a moment she sat in this place, She'd a scarf on her neck, and a smile on her face! A smile on her face, and a rose in her hair, And she sat there, and bloomed in my cane-bottomed chair. And so I have valued my chair ever since, Saint Fanny, my patroness sweet I declare, chair. When the candles burn low, and the company's gone, In the silence of night as I sit here alone- She comes from the past and revisits my room; RONSARD TO HIS MISTRESS. "Quand vous serez bien vieille, le soir à la chandelle Assise auprès du feu devisant et filant, Direz, chantant mes vers en vous esmerveillant, Ronsard m'a célébrée du temps que j'étois belle." SOME winter night, shut snugly in I think I see you sit and spin, Surrounded by your maidens all. There's not a maiden in your hall, Of lady cold and lover true, And sighs and envies you! "Our lady's old and feeble now," They'll say; "she once was fresh and fair, And yet she spurned her lover's vow, And heartless left him to despair: The lover lies in silent earth, No kindly mate the lady cheers; She sits beside a lonely hearth, With threescore and ten years!" Ah! dreary thoughts and dreams are those, While yet the dame is peerless fair! AT THE CHURCH GATE. ALTHOUGH I enter not, Yet round about the spot Ofttimes I hover: And near the sacred gate, With longing eyes I wait, Expectant of her. The Minster bell tolls out And noise and humming: She's coming, she's coming! My lady comes at last, And hastening hither, With modest eyes downcast: She comes-she's here-she 's passed- Kneel, undisturbed, fair Saint! I will not enter there, But suffer me to pace THE AGE OF WISDOM. Ho, pretty page, with the dimpled chin, All your wish is woman to win, Curly gold locks cover foolish brains, Billing and cooing is all your cheer; Sighing and singing of midnight strains, Under Bonnybell's window-panes Wait till you come to Forty Year. Forty times over let Michaelmas pass, Once you have come to Forty Year. Pledge me round, I bid ye declare, All good fellows whose beards are gray, Did not the fairest of the fair Common grow and wearisome ere Ever a month was passed away? The reddest lips that ever have kissed, The brightest eyes that ever have shone, May pray and whisper, and we not list, WHEN MOONLIKE ORE THE HAZURE SEAS. WHEN moonlike ore the hazure seas Has lapt your soal in dreems, Dost thou remember Jeames? I mark thee in the Marble All, My soul, in desolate eclipse, With recollection teems And then I hask, with weeping lips, Dost thou remember Jeames? Away! I may not tell thee hall This soughring heart enduresThere is a lonely sperrit-call That Sorrow never cures; There is a little, little Star, That still above me beams; It is the Star of Hope-but ar! Dost thou remember, Jeames? KING CANUTE. KING CANUTE was weary-hearted; he had reigned for years a score, Battling, struggling, pushing, fighting, killing much and robbing more; And he thought upon his actions, walking by the wild sea-shore. Twixt the Chancellor and Bishop walked the King with steps sedate, Chamberlains and grooms came after, silversticks and goldsticks great, Chaplains, aides-de-camp, and pages-all the officers of state. Sliding after like his shadow, pausing when he chose to pause, If a frown his face contracted, straight the courtiers dropped their jaws; If to laugh the King was minded, out they burst in loud hee-haws. |