Hanging on their velvet heads And let your dogs lie loose without, Or the crafty thievish fox Of our great God. Sweetest slumbers Thus I end my evening's knell. JOHN FLETCHER. THE FUGITIVES. TH I. HE waters are flashing, The white hail is dashing, The lightnings are glancing, The hoar spray is dancing,— Away! And she cried: "Ply the oar; Put off gaily from shore!" As she spoke, bolts of death Mix'd with hail, speck'd their path O'er the sea. And from isle, tower, and rock, From the lee. III. "And fear'st thou, and fear'st thou? And see'st thou, and hear'st thou ? And drive we not free O'er the terrible sea, I and thou?' One boat-cloak did cover While around, the lash'd Ocean, IV. In the court of the fortress Like a bloodhound well beaten The bridegroom stands, eaten On the topmost watch-turret, Stands the grey tyrant father,- And with curses as wild The best, loveliest, and last Of his name. SHELLEY. [TO A DEPARTED FRIEND.] D OST thou look back on what hath been, Whose life in low estate began Who breaks his birth's invidious bar, Who makes by force his merit known And moving up from high to higher, Yet feels as in a pensive dream, The limit of his narrow fate, While yet beside its vocal springs He play'd at counsellors and kings, With one that was his earliest mate; Who ploughs with pain his native lea In Memoriam. 66 SONG. [FROM AS YOU LIKE IT."] U NDER the greenwood tree And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i' the sun; Seeking the food he eats, And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither : Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. SHAKESPEARE. |