Speak, if there be a priest, a man of God, Among you there, and let him presently Approach, and lean a ladder on the shaft, And climbing up into my airy home, Deliver me the blessed sacrament; For by the warning of the Holy Ghost, I prophesy that I shall die to-night, A quarter before twelve. But thou, O Lord, Aid all this foolish people; let them take Example, pattern: lead them to thy light. THE TALKING OAK. I. ONCE more the gate behind me falls Once more before my face I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls, That stand within the chace. ; II. Beyond the lodge the city lies, Beneath its drift of smoke ; III. For when my passion first began, The love, that makes me thrice a man, IV. To yonder oak within the field. V. For oft I talk'd with him apart, And answer'd with a voice. VI. Tho' what he whisper'd, under Heaven None else could understand; I found him garrulously given, A babbler in the land. VII. But since I heard him make reply 'Twere well to question him, and try If yet he keeps the power. VIII. Hail, hidden to the knees in fern, Broad Oak of Sumner-chace, Whose topmost branches can discern The roofs of Sumner-place! IX. Say thou, whereon I carved her name, If ever maid or spouse, As fair as my Olivia, came To rest beneath thy boughs. 66 X. O Walter, I have shelter'd here Whatever maiden grace The good old Summers, year by year, XI. "Old Summers, when the monk was fat, 66 XII. Ere yet, in scorn of Peter's-pence, XIII. "And I have seen some score of those Fresh faces, that would thrive When his man-minded offset rose To chase the deer at five; R XIV. 66 And all that from the town would stroll, Till that wild wind made work In which the gloomy brewer's soul XV. "The slight she-slips of loyal blood, XVI. "And I have shadow'd many a group Of beauties, that were born In teacup-times of hood and hoop, XVII. And, leg and arm with love-knots gay, About me leap'd and laugh'd The modish Cupid of the day, And shrill'd his tinsel shaft. V XVIII. 66 'I swear (and else may insects prick Each leaf into a gall) This girl, for whom your heart is sick, Is three times worth them all ; |