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The trees' tall summits withered at the

sight; A constant interchange of growth and

blight!

-:0:

“But should suspense permit the foe to cry, • Behold, they tremble !-haughty their

array, Yet of their number no one dares to die!' In soul I swept the indignity away: Old frailties then recurred; but lofty

thought, In act embodied, my deliverance wrought. “And thou, though strong in love, art all

too weak In reason, in self-government too slow; I counsel thee by fortitude to seek Our blest re-union in the shades below. The invisible world with thee hath sympa

thized; Be thy affections raised and solemnized.

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

1774-1843.

THE FUNERAL OF ARVALAN.

Learn by a mortal yearning to ascend Towards a higher object. Love was given, Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that

end;

MIDNIGHT, and yet no eye Thro' all the Imperial City closed in sleep!

Behold her streets ablaze With light that seems to kindle the red sky, Her myriads swarming thro' the crowded

ways! Master and slave, old age and infancy, All, all abroad to gaze ;

House-top and balcony Clustered with women, who threw back

their veils, With unimpeded and insatiate sight To view the funeral pomp which passes by,

As if the mournful rite Were but to them a scene of joyance and

delight.

For this the passion to excess was driven, That self might be annulled-her bondage

prove The fetters of a dream, opposed to love." Aloud she shrieked! for Hermes reappears. Round the dear shade she would have clung—'tis vain.

[been years; The hours are past—too brief had they And him no mortal effort can detain. Swift toward the realms that know not

earthly day, He through the portal takes his silent way, And on the palace floor a lifeless corse she

lay. By no weak pity might the gods be moved : She who thus perished, not without the

crime Of lovers that in reason's spite have loved, Was doomed to wander in a grosser clime, Apart from happy ghosts, that gather

flowers Of blissful quiet 'mid unfading bowers.

Vainly, ye blessed twinklers of the night,

Your feeble beams ye shed, Quenched in the unnatural light which

might outstare Even the broad eye of day; And thou from thy celestial way

Pourest, O Moon, an ineffectual ray! For lo ! ten thousand torches flame and

flare Upon the midnight air, Blotting the lights of heaven

With the portentous glare.
Behold the fragrant smoke in many a fold
Ascending, floats along the fiery sky,

And hangeth visible on high,
A dark and waving canopy.

Yet tears to human suffering are due;
And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown
Are mourned by man,and not by man alone,
As fondly he believes.-Upon the side
Of Hellespont (such faith was entertained)
A knot of spiry trees for ages grew
From out the tomb of him for whom she

[gained And ever, when such stature they had That Ilium's walls were subject to their

view,

Hark! 'tis the funeral trumpet's breath!

'Tis the dirge of death! At once ten thousand drums begin, With one long thunder-peal the ear assail

ing;
Ten thousand voices then join in,
And with one deep and general din

Pour their wild wailing.
The song of praise is drowned
Amid that deafening sound ;

died ;

SOU THEY.

169

You hear no more the trumpet's tone,

You hear no more the mourner's moan, Though the trumpet's breath and the dirge

of death Mingle and swell the funeral yell.

The tambours and the trumpets sound on

high,
And with a last and loudest cry,

They call on Arvalan.

But rising over all in one acclaim
Is heard the echoed and re-echoed name,

CURSE OF KEHAMA.
From all that countless rout:

I CHARM thy life Arvalan! Arvalan !

From the weapons of strife, · Arvalan! Arvalan !

From stone and from wood,
Ten times ten thousand voices in one shout

From fire and from flood,
Call Arvalan! The overpowering sound
From house to house repeated rings about,

From the serpent's tooth,

And the beasts of blood. From tower to tower rolls round.

From sickness I charm thee, The death-procession moves along.

And time shall not harm thee; Their bald heads shining to the torches'

But earth, which is mine, ray, The Brahmins lead the way,

Her fruits shall deny thee.

And the winds shall not touch thee Chanting the funeral song.

When they pass by thee, And now at once they shout,

And the dews shall not wet thee Arvalan! Arvalan!

When they fall nigh thee; With quick rebound of sound,

And thou shalt seek death
All in according cry,

To release thee in vain.
Arvalan! Arvalan !

Thou shalt live in thy pain
The universal multitude reply.

While Kehama shall reign,

With a fire in thy heart Far, far behind, beyond all reach of sight,

And a fire in thy brain ;
In ordered files the torches flow along, And sleep shall obey me,
One ever-lengthening line of gliding light:

And visit thee never,
Far, far behind,

And the curse shall be on thee
Rolls on the undistinguishable clamour

For ever and ever!
Of horn, and trump, and tambour ;

Incessant as the roar
Of streams which down the wintry moun.

ENDURANCE OF THE CURSE.
And louder than the dread commotion
Of stormy billows on a rocky shore, Oh, force of faith! oh, strength of virtuous
When the winds rage o'er the waves,

will ! And ocean to the tempest raves.

Behold him in his endless martyrdom,

Triumphant still ! And now toward the bank they go, The curse still burning in his heart and Where, winding on their way below,

brain, Deep and strong the waters flow.

And yet he doth remain Here doth the funeral pile appear, Patient the while, and tranquil and content: With myrrh and ambergris bestrewed, The pious soul hath framed unto itself And built of precious sandal-wood.

A second nature, to exist in pain They cease their music and their outcry As in its own allotted element !

here;
Gently they rest the bier :
They wet the face of Arvalan-
No sign of life the sprinkled drops excite!

FREEDOM OF THE WILL. They feel his breast,-no motion there !

They feel his lips, --no breath! IDLY, rajah, dost thou reason thus For not with feeble nor with erring hand, Of destiny! for though all other things The stern Avenger dealt the blow of death. Were subject to the starry influences, Then with a doubling peal and deeper blast | And bowed submissive to thy tyranny,

tain pour,

The virtuous heart and resolute mind are

free. Thus, in their wisdom did the gods decree, When they created man. Let come what

will, This is our rock of strength in every ill, – Sorrow, oppression, pain, and agony,The spirit of the good is unsubdued, And, suffer as they may, they triumph still.

Pictured the bliss should welcome his re

turn. In dreams like these he went, (part, And still of every dream Oneiza formed a And hope and memory made a mingled

joy.

10:

SAMUEL T. COLERIDGE.

1772-1834.

THALABA.

CHRISTABEL GIVES SHELTER

TO GERALDINE.

Whose is yon dawning form,
That in the darkness meets
The delegated youth?
Dim as the shadow of a fire at noon,
Or pale reflection on the evening brook
Of glowworm on the bank,
Kindled to guide her winged paramour.
A moment, and the brightening image

shaped His mother's form and features. “Go,"

she cried, To Babylon, and from the angels learn What talisman thy task requires." The spirit hung towards him when she ceased,

[given As though with actual lips she would have A mother's kiss. His arms outstretched; His body bending on;

[speech. His mouth unclosed and trembling into He prest to meet the blessing . . . but the wind

[beheld Played on his cheek; he looked, and he The darkness close. Again ! again!" he cried,

Tdarkness “Let me again behold thee !" From the His mother's voice went forth: " Thou shalt behold me in the hour of

death!"

THEY crossed the moat, and Christabel
Took the key that fitted well ;
A little door she opened straight,
All in the middle of the gate, [out,
The gate that was ironed within and with-
Where an army in battle array had march-

ed out.
The lady sank, belike through pain,
And Christabel with might and main
Lifted her up, a weary weight,
Over the threshold of the gate :
Then the lady rose again,
And moved, as she were not in pain.

So free from danger, free from fear, (were,
They crossed the court: right glad they
And Christabel devoutly cried
To the lady by her side,

'Praise we the Virgin all divine Who hath rescued thee from thy distress." Alas, alas !" said Geraldine,

I cannot speak for weariness." So free from danger, free from fear, They crossed the court: right glad they

were.

Outside her kennel, the mastiff old
Lay fast asleep in moonshine cold.
The mastiff old did not awake,
Yet she an angry moan did make!
And what can ail the mastiff bitch ?
Never till now she uttered yell
Beneath the eye of Christabel:
Perhaps it is the owlet's scritch,
For what can ail the mastiff bitch ?

Day dawns, the twilight gleam dilates,
The sun comes forth, and, like a god,
Rides through rejoicing heaven.
Old Moath and his daughter from their

tent
Beheld the adventurous youth,
Dark moving o'er the sands, (tears.
A lessening image, trembling through their
Visions of high emprize
Beguiled his lonely road ;
And, if sometimes to Moath's tent
Th' involuntary mind recurred,
Fancy, impatient of all painful thoughts,

They passed the hall, that echoes still,
Pass as lightly as you will !
The brands were flat, the brands were dying,
Amid their own white ashes lying ;
But when the lady passed, there came
A tongue of light, a fit of flame;

COLERIDGE.

171

Though thou her guardian spirit be, Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me."

And Christabel saw the lady's eye,
And nothing else saw she thereby, (tall,
Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline
Which hung in a murky old niche in the

wall.
"Oh, softly tread," said Christabel,
“My father seldom sleepeth well."

Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side,
And raised to heaven her eyes so blue :
"Alas !” said she, “this ghastly ride-
Dear lady! it hath withered you !"
The lady wiped her moist cold brow,
And faintly said, "''Tis over now !".

Sweet Chistabel her feet doth bare
And jealous of the list'ning air,
They steal their way from stair to stair,
Now in glimmer and now in gloom,
And now they pass the Baron's room,
As still as death with stifled breath!
And now have reached her chamber door ;
And now doth Geraldine press down
The rushes of the chamber floor.

The moon shines dim in the open air,
And not a moonbeam enters there.
But they without its light can see
The chamber carved so curiously,
Carved with figures strange and sweet,
All made out of the carver's brain,
For a lady's chamber meet:
The lamp with twofold silver chain
Is fastened to an angel's feet.
The silver lamp burns dead and dim ;
But Christabel the lamp will trim.
She trimmed the lamp and made it bright,
And left it swinging to and fro,
While Geraldine in wretched plight
Sank down upon the floor below.

Again the wild-flower wine she drank :
Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright,
And from the floor whereon she sank
The lofty lady stood upright;
She was most beautiful to see,
Like a lady of a far countree.
And thus the lofty lady spake-
“All they who live in the upper sky,
Do love you, holy Christabel !
And you love them, and for their sake
And for the good which me befell,
Even I in my degree will try,
Fair maiden, to requite you well.
But now unrobe yourself; for I
Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie."

Quoth Christabei, “So let it be!" And as the lady bade, did she. Her gentle limbs did she undress, And lay down in her loveliness.

A CHILD.

"O weary lady, Geraldine, I

pray you drink this cordial wine ! It is a wine of virtuous powers ; My mother made it of wild flowers."

"And will your mother pity me,
Who am a maiden most forlorn ?"
Christabel answered— "Woe is me!
She died the hour that I was born.
I have heard the grey-haired friar tell,
How on her death-bed she did say
That she should hear the castle bell
Strike twelve upon my wedding day.
O mother dear! that thou wert here!"
"I would,” said Geraldine, “she were !”.

A LITTLE child, a limber elf,
Singing, dancing to itself,
A fairy thing with red round cheeks,
That always finds and never seeks,
Makes such a vision to the sight
As fills a father's eyes with light ;
And pleasures flow in so thick and fast
Upon his heart, that he at last
Must needs express his love's excess
With words of unmeant bitterness.
Perhaps 'tis pretty to force together
Thoughts so unlike each other ;
To mutter and mock a broken charm,
To dally with wrong that does no harm.
Perhaps 'tis tender too and pretty
At each wild word to feel within
A sweet recoil of love and pity.
And what, if in a world of sin

(true!) (Oh, sorrow and shame should this be Such giddinesss of heart and brain Comes seldom save from rage and pain, So talks as it's most used to do.

But soon with altered voice, said she
'Off, wandering mother ! Peak and pine!
I have power to bid thee flee."
Alas ! what ails pour Geraldine ?
Why stares she with unsettled eye?
Can she the bodiless dead espy?
And why with hollow voice cries she,
"Off, woman, off! this hour is mine-

THE CALM.

MOONLIGHT AND THE

BLESSING.

THE fair breeze blew, the white foam

flew, The furrow followed free: We were the first that ever burst

Into that silent sea.

THE moving Moon went up the sky, .

And nowhere did abide : Softly she was going up,

And a star or two besideHer beams bemocked the sultry main,

Like April hoar-frost spread; But where the ship's huge shadow lay, The charmed water burnt alway,

A still and awful red.

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt

down, 'Twas sad as sad could be ; And we did speak only to break

The silence of the sea !

All in a hot and copper sky

The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand,

No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion, As idle a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, everywhere,

And all the boards did shrink ; Water, water, everywhere,

Nor any drop to drink.

CREATURES OF THE CALM. BEYOND the shadow of the ship

I watched the water-snakes ; They moved in tracks of shining white, And when they reared, the elfish light

Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship

I watched their rich attire;
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track

Was a flash of golden fire.
O happy living things ! no tongue

Their beauty might declare;
A spring of love gushed from my heart,

And I blessed them unaware :
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,

And I blessed them unaware.
The selfsame moment I could pray ;

And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank

Like lead into the sea.

The very deep did rot: 0 Christ !

That ever this should be ! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs

Upon the slimy sea.

About, about, in reel and rout

The death-fires danced at night; The water, like a witch's oils,

Burnt green, and blue, and white.

And some in dreams assured were

Of the spirit that plagued us so: Nine fathom deep he had followed us

From the land of mist and snow.

SLEEP AND THE WIND.

And every tongue, through utter drought,

Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if

We had been choked with soot.

Oh, sleep! it is a gentle thing,

Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given !
She sent the gentle sleep from heaven,

That slid into my soul.
The silly buckets on the deck,

That had so long remained,
I dreamt that they were filled with dew;

And when I awoke-it rained. My lips were wet, my throat was cold,

My garments all were dank; Sure I had drunken in my dreams,

And still my body drank.

Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks

Had I from old and young ! Instead of the cross, the Albatross

About my neck was hung.

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