But, all his vast heart sherris-warm'd, So mix for ever with the past, Like all good things on earth! Live long, nor feel in head or chest But when he calls, and thou shalt cease For should I prize thee, couldst thou last, And, laying down an unctuous lease At half thy real worth? Of life, shalt earn no more; I hold it good, good things should pass : No carved cross-bones, the types of With time I will not quarrel : It is but yonder empty glass That makes me maudlin-moral. Head-waiter of the chop-house here, To which I most resort, I too must part: I hold thee dear For this good pint of port. For this, thou shalt from all things suck But thou wilt never move from hence, Go down among the pots: In haunts of hungry sinners, Of thirty thousand dinners. We fret, we fume, would shift our skins, Would quarrel with our lot; To serve the hot-and-hot; Live long, ere from thy topmost head The thick-set hazel dies; Death, Shall show thee past to Heaven : LADY CLARE. IT was the time when lilies blow, I trow they did not part in scorn: Lovers long-betroth'd were they : They too will wed the morrow morn : God's blessing on the day! 'He does not love me for my birth, Nor for my lands so broad and fair; He loves me for my own true worth, And that is well,' said Lady Clare. In there came old Alice the nurse, Said, Who was this that went from thee?' 'It was my cousin,' said Lady Clare, 'To-morrow he weds with me.' 'O God be thank'd!' said Alice the nurse, 'That all comes round so just and fair: Lord Ronald is heir of all your lands, And you are not the Lady Clare.' 'Are ye out of your mind, my nurse, my And lay your hand upon my head, nurse?' Said Lady Clare, 'that ye speak so wild?' 'As God's above,' said Alice the nurse, 'I speak the truth: you are my child.' The old Earl's daughter died at my breast; I speak the truth, as I live by bread! I buried her like my own sweet child, And put my child in her stead.' 'Falsely, falsely have ye done, O mother,' she said, if this be true, To keep the best man under the sun So many years from his due.' Nay now, my child,' said Alice the nurse, But keep the secret for your life, And all you have will be Lord Ronald's, When you are man and wife.' 'If I'm a beggar born,' she said, 'I will speak out, for I dare not lie. Pull off, pull off, the brooch of gold, And fling the diamond necklace by.' 'Nay now, my child,' said Alice the nurse, 'But keep the secret all ye can.' She said, 'Not so: but I will know If there be any faith in man.' 'Nay now, what faith?' said Alice the nurse, 'The man will cleave unto his right.' 'And he shall have it,' the lady replied, 'Tho' I should die to-night.' 'Yet give one kiss to your mother dear! Alas, my child, I sinn'd for thee.' 'O mother, mother, mother,' she said, 'So strange it seems to me. 'Yet here's a kiss for my mother dear, My mother dear, if this be so, 130 THE CAPTAIN. A LEGEND OF THE NAVY. HE that only rules by terror Doeth grievous wrong. Deep as Hell I count his error. Let him hear my song. Brave the Captain was: the seamen Made a gallant crew, Gallant sons of English freemen, Sailors bold and true. But they hated his oppression, Doom'd them to the lash. Seem'd the Captain's mood. Wheresoe'er he came. So they past by capes and islands, Many a harbour-mouth, Sailing under palmy highlands Far within the South. On a day when they were going O'er the lone expanse, In the north, her canvas flowing, Rose a ship of France. Then the Captain's colour heighten'd, Joyful came his speech : But a cloudy gladness lighten'd In the eyes of each. 'Chase,' he said: the ship flew forward, And the wind did blow; Till she near'd the foe. Then they look'd at him they hated, Mute with folded arms they waited Not a gun was fired. But they heard the foeman's thunder All the air was torn in sunder, Crashing went the boom, Spars were splinter'd, decks were shatter'd, Bullets fell like rain; Over mast and deck were scatter'd Blood and brains of men. Spars were splinter'd; decks were broken : Every mother's son Down they dropt-no word was spoken Each beside his gun. On the decks as they were lying, Were their faces grim. In their blood, as they lay dying, Did they smile on him. For his noble name, With one smile of still defiance Sold him unto shame. Shame and wrath his heart confounded, Pale he turn'd and red, Till himself was deadly wounded Dismal error! fearful slaughter! Years have wander'd by, Side by side beneath the water Crew and Captain lie; There the sunlit ocean tosses O'er them mouldering, And the lonely seabird crosses THE LORD OF BURLEIGH. IN her ear he whispers gaily, 'If my heart by signs can tell, Maiden, I have watch'd thee daily, And I think thou lov'st me well.' She replies, in accents fainter, And they leave her father's roof. 'I can make no marriage present : Little can I give my wife. Love will make our cottage pleasant, And I love thee more than life.' They by parks and lodges going See the lordly castles stand : Summer woods, about them blowing, Made a murmur in the land. From deep thought himself he rouses, Says to her that loves him well, 'Let us see these handsome houses Where the wealthy nobles dwell.' So she goes by him attended, Hears him lovingly converse, Sees whatever fair and splendid Lay betwixt his home and hers; Parks with oak and chestnut shady, Parks and order'd gardens great, Ancient homes of lord and lady, Built for pleasure and for state. All he shows her makes him dearer : Evermore she seems to gaze On that cottage growing nearer, Many a gallant gay domestic Bows before him at the door. And they speak in gentle murmur, When they answer to his call, While he treads with footstep firmer, Leading on from hall to hall. And, while now she wonders blindly, Nor the meaning can divine, Proudly turns he round and kindly, 'All of this is mine and thine.' Here he lives in state and bounty, Lord of Burleigh, fair and free, Not a lord in all the county Is so great a lord as he. All at once the colour flushes Her sweet face from brow to chin: As it were with shame she blushes, And her spirit changed within. Then her countenance all over Pale again as death did prove: But he clasp'd her like a lover, And he cheer'd her soul with love. So she strove against her weakness, Tho' at times her spirit sank : Shaped her heart with woman's meek ness To all duties of her rank: And a gentle consort made he, And her gentle mind was such That she grew a noble lady, And the people loved her much. Where they twain will spend their But a trouble weigh'd upon her, days. O but she will love him truly! He shall have a cheerful home; She will order all things duly, When beneath his roof they come. Thus her heart rejoices greatly, Till a gateway she discerns With armorial bearings stately, And beneath the gate she turns; Sees a mansion more majestic Than all those she saw before: And perplex'd her, night and morn, With the burthen of an honour Unto which she was not born. Faint she grew, and ever fainter, And she murmur'd, 'Oh, that he Were once more that landscape-painter, Which did win my heart from me!' So she droop'd and droop'd before him, Fading slowly from his side: Three fair children first she bore him, Then before her time she died. |