Burdens of beauty for winds to bear;
And the cymbals kissed in the shining air,
And the trumpets their visible voices rear'd,
Each looking forth with its tapestried beard,
Bidding the heavens and earth make way
For Captain Sword and his battle array.

He, nevertheless, rode indifferent-eyed,

As if pomp were a toy to his manly pride,

Whilst the ladies loved him the more for his scorn,
And thought him the noblest man ever was born,
And tears came into the bravest eyes,

And hearts swell'd after him double their size,

And all that was weak, and all that was strong,

Seem'd to think wrong's self in him could not be wrong,

Such love, though with bosom about to be gored,

Did sympathy get for brave Captain Sword.

So half that night, as he stopped in the town,
'Twas all one dance going merrily down,
With lights in windows and love in eyes
And a constant feeling of sweet surprise;
But all the next morning 'twas tears and sighs,
For the sound of his drums grew less and less,
Walking like carelessness off from distress;
And Captain Sword went whistling gay,
"Over the hills and far away."

THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK. 1785-1866

LOVE AND AGE

I played with you 'mid cowslips blowing,
When I was six and you were four ;
When garlands weaving, flower-balls throwing,
Were pleasures soon to please no more.
Through groves and meads, o'er grass and heather,
With little playmates, to and fro

We wandered hand in hand together;

But that was sixty years ago.

You grew a lovely roseate maiden,

And still our early love was strong;
Still with no care our days were laden,
They glided joyously along;
And I did love you, very dearly,

How dearly words want power to show;
I thought your heart was touched as nearly;
But that was fifty years ago.

Then other lovers came around you,

Your beauty grew from year to year,
And many a splendid circle found you
The centre of its glittering sphere.

I saw you then, first vows forsaking,
On rank and wealth your hand bestow;
Oh, then I thought my heart was breaking;
But that was forty years ago.

And I lived on, to wed another:
No cause she gave me to repine;
And when I heard you were a mother,
I did not wish the children mine,

My own young flock, in fair progression,
Made up a pleasant Christmas row;
My joy in them was past expression;
But that was thirty years ago.

You grew a matron plump and comely,
You dwelt in fashion's brightest blaze;
My earthly lot was far more homely;
But I too had my festal days.

No merrier eyes have ever glistened

Around the hearthstone's wintry glow,
Than when my youngest child was christened :-
But that was twenty years ago.

Time passed. My eldest girl was married,
And I am now a grandsire grey;

One pet of four years old I've carried
Among the wild-flowered meads to play.
In our old fields of childish pleasure,
Where now, as then, the cowslips blow,
She fills her basket's ample measure,—
And that is not ten years ago.

But though first love's impassioned blindness.
Has passed away in colder light,

I still have thought of you with kindness,
And shall do, till our last good-night.

The ever-rolling silent hours.

Will bring a time we shall not know, When our young days of gathering flowers Will be an hundred years ago.

THE REV. RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM.

1788-1845

AS I LAY A-THYNKYNGE

As I lay a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,
Merrie sang the birde as she sat upon the spraye;
There came a noble knyghte,

With his hauberke shynynge bryghte,
And his gallant heart was lyghte,

Free and gaye:

As I lay a-thynkynge, he rode upon his waye.

As I lay a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,
Sadly sang the birde as she sat upon the tree;
There seem'd a crimson'd plain,

Where a gallant knyghte lay slayne,
And a steed with broken rein

Ran free,

As I lay a-thynkynge, most pitiful to see.

As I lay a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,
Merrie sang the birde as she sat upon the boughe;
A lovely mayde came bye,

And a gentil youth was nyghe,
And he breathed many a syghe

And a vowe,

As I lay a-thynkynge, her hearte was gladsome now.

As I lay a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,
Sadly sang the birde as she sat upon the thorne ;
No more a youth was there,
But a maiden rent her haire,
And cried in sad despaire,

"That I was borne !

As I lay a-thynkynge, she perished forlorne.

As I lay a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,
Sweetly sang the birde as she sat upon the briar;
There came a lovely childe,

And his face was meek and milde,
Yet joyously he smiled

On his sire;

As I lay a-thynkynge, a cherub mote admire.

As I lay a-thynkynge, a-thykynge, a-thynkyge,
Sadly sang the birde as it perched upon a bier ;
That joyous smile was gone,

And the face was white and wan,

As the downe upon the swan

Doth appear;

As I lay a-thynkynge-oh! bitter flowed the tear.

As I lay a thynkynge, the golden sun was sinking, O, merrie sang that birde as it glitter'd on her breast; With a thousand gorgeous dyes

While soaring to the skies,

'Mid the stars she seemed to rise
As to her nest;

As I lay a-thynkynge, her meaning was exprest :

"Follow, follow me away,

It boots not to delay,"

'Twas so she seemed to saye,
"Here is rest."