The minutes flying faster than our feet Piping a ditty, ardent as the sun, My sisters and their maids, with ears subdued, With bosoms panting from the eager dance, Against each other lean'd; as I have seen A graceful tuft of lilies of the vale Oppress'd with rain, upon each other bend, While freshness has stol'n o'er them. Some way off My brothers pitch'd the bar, or plough'd for fame, Each two with their two heifers harness'd fast Unto the shaft, and labor'd till the sweat were no slaves These No villain's sons to rifle passengers. the spoil: Or hide, or feather, or renowned bow, In memory of these so precious hours, And soak'd my pillow thro' the heavy night. Alas! God willing, I'll be patient yet. THE TRIUMPH OF JOSEPH In the royal path Came maidens rob'd in white, enchain'd in flowers, Sweeping the ground with incense-scented palms : Then came the sweetest voices of the land, Sat Pharaoh, whose bare head was girt around By a crown of iron; and his sable hair, Like strakey as a mane, fell where it would, And somewhat hid his glossy sun-brent neck And carcanet of precious sardonyx. His jewell❜d armlets, weighty as a sword, Clasp'd his brown naked arms - a crimson robe, Deep edged with silver, and with golden thread, Upon a bear-skin kirtle deeply blush'd, Whose broad resplendent braid and shieldlike clasps Were boss'd with diamonds large, by rubies fir'd, His feet were resting upon Pharaoh's sword; And (out of love and truth I speak him thus) I never did behold a man less proud, And he but fill'd his fortunes like a man Sir Henry Taplor Up to their natural eminence, and none, Saving the wise, just, eloquent, were great; Where power was of God's gift, to whom he gave Supremacy of merit, the sole means And broad highway to power, that ever then Was meritoriously administer'd, Whilst all its instruments from first to last, The tools of state for service high or low, Were chosen for their aptness to those ends Which virtue meditates. To shake the ground Deep-founded whereupon this structure stood, Was verily a crime; a treason it was, whom wise? But in the cause of nature to stand forth, And turn this frame of things the right side up? For this the hour is come, the sword is drawn, And tell your masters vainly they resist. SONG Down lay in a nook my lady's brach, I cannot follow with the pack And though the horn sounds never so clear Because my feet are sore. The huntsman when he heard the same, SONG Quoth tongue of neither maid nor wife To heart of neither wife nor maid, Lead we not here a jolly life Betwixt the shine and shade? Quoth heart of neither maid nor wife PHILIP VAN ARTEVELDE Dire rebel though he was, Yet with a noble nature and great gifts Was he endow'd, - courage, discretion, wit, An equal temper, and an ample soul, Nothing in soldiership except good fortune. And gently judged for evil and for good. From vain ambition and inordinate care, The cry of battle rises along their charging Then shake from sleeves and pockets their line: broad-pieces and lockets, The tokens of the wanton, the plunder of the poor. Fools! your doublets shone with gold, and your hearts were gay and bold, When you kiss'd your lily hands to your lemans to-day; And to-morrow shall the fox from her chambers in the rocks Lead forth her tawny cubs to howl about the prey. Where be your tongues, that late mock'd at heaven and hell and fate? And the fingers that once were so busy with your blades? Your perfum'd satin clothes, your catches and your oaths ? Your stage-plays and your sonnets, your diamonds and your spades? Down, down, for ever down with the mitre and the crown, With the Belial of the court, and the Mammon of the Pope ! There is woe in Oxford halls, there is wail in Durham's stalls; The Jesuit smites his bosom, the bishop rends his cope. And she of the seven hills shall mourn her children's ills, And tremble when she thinks on the edge of England's sword; |