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Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan
Which I new pay as if not paid before.
But if the while I think on thee, dear

All losses are restored, and sorrows end.




FULL many a glorious morning have I seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye,

(green, Kissing with golden face the meadows Gilding paled streams with heavenly al

Anon permit the basest clouds to ride
With ugly rack on his celestial face,
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,
Stealing unseen to west with this disgrace:
Even so my sun one early morn did shine,
With all triumphant splendour on my

(mine, But, out! alack! he was but one hour The regent cloud hath masked him from me now.

eth; Yet him for this my love no whit disdainSuns of the world may stain, when

heaven's sun staineth.

Sweet bird, that sing'st away the early

hours Of winters past or coming, void of care, Well pleased with delights which present

are, Fair seasons, budding sprays, sweet

smelling flowers: To rocks, to springs, to rills, from leafy

bowers Thou thy Creator's goodness dost declare, And what dear gifts on thee He did not

spare: A stain to human sense in sin that lowers. What soul can be so sick, which by thy

songs (Attired in sweetness) sweetly is not driven Quite to forget earth's turmoils, spites, and

wrongs, And lift a reverend eye and thought to

heaven? Sweet artless songster, thou my mind dost

raise To airs of spheres, yes, and to angels' lays.


Look how the flower, which lingeringly
doth fade,

[queen, Music to hear, why hear'st thou music The morning's darling late, the summer's sadly?

[in joy. | Spoiled of that juice which kept it fresh Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights and green,

shead: Why lovest thou that which thou receiv'st As high as it did raise, bows low the not gladly.

Right so the pleasures of my life being Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy? dead, If the true concord of well-tuned sounds, i Or in their contraries but only seen, By unions married, do offend thine ear, With swifter speed declines than erst it They do but sweetly chide thee, who con spread, founds

And (blasted) scarce now shows what it In singleness the parts that thou shouldst hath been. bear.

[another, Therefore, as doth the pilgrim, whom the Mark how one string, sweet husband to night Strikes each in each by mutual ordering; Hastes darkly to imprison on his way, Resembling sire and child and happy. Think on thy home (my soul), and think mother,

aright Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing: Of what's yet left thee of life's wasting day: Whose speechless song, being many, Thy sun posts westward, passèd is thy seeming one,

morn, Sings this to thee, “Thou single wilt And twice it is not given thee to be born. prove none." - :0:


TO MY DEAD LOVE. SLEEP, silence' child, sweet father of soft | I KNOW that all beneath the moon decays, rest,

And what by mortals in this world is brought Prince, whose approach peace to all mor In time's great periods shall return to tals brings,

nought ; Indifferent host to shepherds or to kings, That fairest states have fatal nights and Sole comforter of minds which are op days. pressed.

I know that all the Muses' heavenly lays, Lo!' by thy charming rod all breathing With toil of spright, which are so dearly things

bought, Lie slumbering with forgetfulness pos As idle sounds, of few or none are sought. sessed,

That there is nothing lighter than vain And yet o'er me to spread thy drowsy praise. wings

I know frail beauty's like the purple flower, Thou sparest, alas ! who cannot be thy To which one morn oft birth and death guest.

affords; Since I am thine, oh, come, but with that That love a jarring is of mind's accords, face

Where sense and will bring under reason's To inward light which thou art wont to

power :-show,

Know what I list, this all cannot me move, With feigned solace ease a true-felt woe; But that, alas! I both must write and love. Or if, deaf god, thou do deny that grace, Come as thou wilt, and what thou wilt

bequeath, I long to kiss the image of my death.


1608 -- 1674. TO THE THRUSH.

TO THE NIGHTINGALE. DEAR chorister, who from those shadows O NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy sends,

spray Ere that the blushing morn dare show her Warblest at eve, when all the woods are light,

still, Such sad lamenting strains, that night Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart attends,

dost fill, (Become all ear), stars stay to hear thy While the jolly hours lead on propitious plight;

May If one, whose grief even reach of thought Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, transcends,

First heard before the shallow cuckoo's Who ne'er (not in a dream) did taste de bill, light,

Portend success in love; oh, if Jove's May thee importune, who like case pre will tends,

Have linked that amorous power to thy And seems to joy in woe, in woe's despite; soft lay, Tell me (so may thou fortune milder try, Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate And long, long sing !) for what thou thus Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove complains,

nigh; Since winter 's gone, and sun in dappled As thou from year to year hast sung too sky

late Enamoured smiles on woods and flowery For my relief, yet hadst no reason why: plains ?

Whether the Muse or Love call thee his The bird, as if my questions did her move, mate, With trembling wings, sighed forth, "I Both them I serve, and of their train am

love, I love !"

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1762—1850. TO TIME.

METHOUGHT I saw my late-espoused

saint Brought to me like Alcestis from the

grave, Whom Jove's great son to her glad

husband gave, Rescued from death by force, though pale

and faint. Mine, as whom washed from spot of child.

bed taint Purification in the old law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to

have Full 'sight of her in heav'n without re.

straint, Came vested all in white, pure as her

mind: Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied

sight Love, sweetness, goodness, in her per

son shined So clear, as in no face with more delight.

But oh, as to embrace me she inclined, I waked, she fled, and day brought back

my night.

O TIME, who know'st a lenient hand to lay Softest on sorrow's wounds, and slowly

thence (Lulling to sad repose the weary sense) The faint pang stealest unperceived away; On thee I rest my only hopes at last, And think, when thou hast dried the bitter

tear That flowsin vain o'er all my soul held dear, I may look back on many a sorrow past, And greet life's peaceful evening with a

smileAs some lone bird at day's departing hour | Sings in the sunshine of the transient

shower, | Forgetful though its wings are wet the

while : Yet ah! what ills must that poor heart

endure, which hopes from thee, and thee alone, a

cure !


1618 -1674.

Poet and Saint! to thee alone are given The two most sacred names of earth and

heaven, The hard and rarest union which can be, Next that of Godhead with humanity. Long did the Muses banished slaves abide, And built their pyramids to mortal pride; Like Moses, thou, though spells and

charms withstand, Hast brought them nobly home, back to

their Holy Land. Hail, Bard triumphant, and some care

bestow On us, the poets militant below, Opposed by our old enemy, adverse chance, Attacked by envy and by ignorance. Thou, from low earth in nobler flames

didst rise, And like Elijah mount alive the skies.

DOVER CLIFFS. On these white clifts, that calm above the

flood Uplift their shadowy heads, and at their

feet Scarce hear the surge that has for ages

beat, Sure many a lonely wanderer has stood; And while the distant murmur met his

ear, And o'er the distant billows the still eve Sailed slow, has thought of all his heart

must leave To-morrow; of the friends he loved most

dear; Of social scenes from which he wept to

part. But if, like me, he knew how fruitless

all The thoughts that would full fain the

past recall, Soon would he quell the risings of his

heart, And brave the wild winds and unhearing

tide, The world his country, and his God his





Ever before her, and a wind to blow.
Yet, still I ask, what haven is her mark ?
And, almost as it was when ships were

rare, (From time to time, like pilgrims, here and there

dark, Crossing the waters) doubt, and something Of the old sea some reverential fear, Is with me at thy farewell, joyous bark!


EARTH has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty :
This city now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning ; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples

lie Open unto the fields and to the sky, All bright and glittering in the smokeless

air. Never did sun more beautifully steep In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill; Ne'er saw I, never felt a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will : Dear God I the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still.

The world is too much with us; late and soon,

(powers: Getting and spending, we lay waste our Little we see in nature that is ours, We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!

(moon; This sea that bares her bosom to the The winds that will be howling at all hours,

[flowers; And are up-gathered now like sleeping For this, for everything, we are out of tune; It moves us not. -Great God! I'd rather be A pagan suckled in a creed outworn, So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less

forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea, Or hear old Triton blow his wreathéd



It is a beauteous evening, calm and free;
The holy time is quiet as a nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquility;
The gentleness of heaven is on the sea :
Listen! the mighty being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder-everlastingly.
Dear child! dear girl! that walkest with

me here, If thou appear'st untouched by solemn

thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine: Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the

year, And' worshipp'st at the temple's inner

shrine, God being with thee when we know it not.



LONE flower, hemmed in with snows, and

white as they, But hardier far, once more I see thee bend Thy forehead, as if fearful to offend, Like an unbidden guest. Though day by

(waylay Storms, sallying from the mountain-tops, The rising sun, and on the plains descend; Yet art thou welcome, welcome as a friend Whose zeal outruns his promise! Blue

eyed May Shall soon behold this border thickly set With bright jonquils, their odours lavish

ing On the soft west wind and his frolic peers; Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste snowdrop, venturous harbinger of

spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!


[must go? WHERE lies the land to which yon ship Festively she puts forth her trim array, As vigorous as a lark at break of day: Is she for tropic suns, or polar snow? What boots the inquiry ?-Neither friend

nor foe She cares for: let her travel where she may, She finds familar names, a beaten way

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