If those, who sit at shepherd's board, art; They take what Nature's gifts afford, If those who drain the shepherd's bowl, No high and sparkling wines can boast, With wholesome cups they cheer the soul, And crown them with the village If those who join in shepherd's sport, RULE, BRITANNIA! WHEN Britain first, at Heaven's Arose from out the azure main, Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves. The nations, not so blessed as thee, Must, in their turns, to tyrants fall; While thou shalt flourish great and free, The dread and envy of them all. Still more majestic shalt thou rise, stroke; As the loud blast that tears the skies Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame: All their attempts to bend thee down All hail, my love, good cheer! Shall mourn or sigh. The few days that remain Yea, old like Abraham, when he went, Let us make merry- let us laugh! With head down bent, And mantle rent, In dole for her who lay in death, The silver shekels gave For Mamre's gloomy cave, To be her grave; · Or, older still, like him Upclimbed, with staff in hand, For now at length we quaff What though the groaning world declare That life is but a load of care? "The spirit and the body part, Yet love abideth, heart to heart. "O silent comrade of my rest, "Love's dust, Whatever grave it fill, With hands here crossed upon thy Though buried deep, is deathless still! breast, I know thee who thou art! O marble brow, Here pillowed next to mine, I know the soul divine That tenanted thy shrine! "For, though above us, green and high, The yew-trees grow, And churchyard ravens fly, And mourners come and go, Yet thou and I, Who dust to dust lie here below, "Yea, thee I know it still is thou; The same old love between us still! "The gloomy grave hath frosts that kill, But love is chilled not with their chill. "Love's flame Consuming, unconsumed In breasts that breathe in hearts entombed Is fed by life and death the same! Love hath no death, and cannot die! This love is ours, as here we lie, Thou and I!" THE FOUR SEASONS. IN the balmy April weather, My love, you know, - When the corn began to grow, In the golden summer weather, When the mowers went to mow, While the skies were all aglow! In the rainy autumn weather, When the winds began to blow, When we laid our darlings low! |