To God who best taught song by gift of thee, —Never conclude, but taising hand and head In those thy realms of help, that heaven thy home, At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time, When you set your fancies free, Will they pass to where by death; fools think, imprisoned— Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so, —Pity me? Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken! What had I on earth to do With the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly? —Being—who? One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, Never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, Sleep to wake. No, at noonday in the bustle of man's work-time Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be, 682 EMILY BRONTE [1818-1848] LAST LINES No coward soul is mine, No trembler in the world's storm-troubled sphere: And faith shines equal, arming me from fear. O God within my breast, As I—undying Life—have power in Thee! Vain are the thousand creeds That move men's hearts: unutterably vain; Or idlest froth amid the boundless main, To waken doubt in one Holding so fast by Thine infinity; So surely anchor'd on The steadfast rock of immortality. With wide-embracing love Changes, sustains, dissolves, creates, and rears. Though earth and man were gone, There is not room for Death, Nor atom that his might could render void: And what Thou art may never be destroyed. 683 THE OLD STOIC Riches I hold in light esteem, And if I pray, the only prayer Yes, as my swift days near their goal, In life and death a chainless soul 684 ROBERT STEPHEN HAWKER [1804-1875] AND SHALL TRELAWNY DIE? A Good sword and a trusty hand! King James's men shall understand And have they fixed the where and when? Here's twenty thousand Cornish me Out spake their captain brave and bold, 'If London Tower were Michael's hold, 'We'll cross the Tamar, land to land, one and all," and hand in hand, And who shall bid us nay? 'And when we come to London Wall, A pleasant sight to view, Come forth! come forth, ye cowards all, 'Trelawny he's in keep and hold, But here's twenty thousand Cornish bold COVENTRY PATMORE [1823-1896] 685 DEPARTURE It was not like your great and gracious ways! Of how, that July afternoon, You went, With sudden, unintelligible phrase, And frighten'd eye, Upon your journey of so many days I knew, indeed, that you were parting soon; You whispering to me, for your voice was weak, Well, it was well To hear you such things speak, And I could tell What made your eyes a growing gloom of love, And it was like your great and gracious ways To let the laughter flash, Whilst I drew near, Because you spoke so low that I could scarcely hear./ More at the wonder than the loss aghast, With huddled, unintelligible phrase, And frighten'd eye, And go your journey of all days. With not one kiss, or a good-bye, And the only loveless look the look with which you pass'd: 'Twas all unlike your great and gracious ways. WILLIAM (JOHNSON) CORY [1823-1892] 686 HERACLITUS They told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed. I wept as I remember'd how often you and I Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky. And now that thou art lying, my dear old Carian guest, 687 MIMNERMUS IN CHURCH You promise heavens free from strife, Pure truth, and perfect change of will; But sweet, sweet is this human life, So sweet, I fain would breathe it still: |