HomePStitle; E408| POETICAL SKETCHES. t1019Home
PS-ToSpring1; E408| O thou, with dewy locks, who lookest down
PS-ToSpring2; E408| Thro' the clear windows of the morning; turn
PS-ToSpring3; E408| Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
PS-ToSpring4; E408| Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring!
PS-ToSpring5; E408| The hills tell each other, and the list'ning
PS-ToSpring6; E408| Vallies hear; all our longing eyes are turned
PS-ToSpring7; E408| Up to thy bright pavillions: issue forth,
PS-ToSpring8; E408| And let thy holy feet visit our clime.
PS-ToSpring9; E408| Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
PS-ToSpring10; E408| Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste
PS-ToSpring11; E408| Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
PS-ToSpring12; E408| Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.
PS-ToSpring13; E408| O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
PS-ToSpring14; E408| Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
PS-ToSpring15; E408| Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head,
PS-ToSpring16; E408| Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee!
PS-ToSummer1; E409| O thou, who passest thro' our vallies in
PS-ToSummer2; E409| Thy strength, curb thy fierce steeds, allay the heat
PS-ToSummer3; E409| That flames from their large nostrils! thou, O Summer,
PS-ToSummer4; E409| Oft pitched'st here thy golden tent, and oft
PS-ToSummer5; E409| Beneath our oaks hast slept, while we beheld
PS-ToSummer6; E409| With joy, thy ruddy limbs and flourishing hair.
PS-ToSummer7; E409| Beneath our thickest shades we oft have heard
PS-ToSummer8; E409| Thy voice, when noon upon his fervid car
PS-ToSummer9; E409| Rode o'er the deep of heaven; beside our springs
PS-ToSummer10; E409| Sit down, and in our mossy vallies, on
PS-ToSummer11; E409| Some bank beside a river clear, throw thy
PS-ToSummer12; E409| Silk draperies off, and rush into the stream:
PS-ToSummer13; E409| Our vallies love the Summer in his pride.
PS-ToSummer14; E409| Our bards are fam'd who strike the silver wire:
PS-ToSummer15; E409| Our youth are bolder than the southern swains:
PS-ToSummer16; E409| Our maidens fairer in the sprightly dance:
PS-ToSummer17; E409| We lack not songs, nor instruments of joy,
PS-ToSummer18; E409| Nor echoes sweet, nor waters clear as heaven,
PS-ToSummer19; E409| Nor laurel wreaths against the sultry heat.
PS-ToAutumn1; E409| O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stained
PS-ToAutumn2; E409| With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
PS-ToAutumn3; E409| Beneath my shady roof, there thou may'st rest,
PS-ToAutumn4; E409| And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe;
PS-ToAutumn5; E409| And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
PS-ToAutumn6; E409| Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.
PS-ToAutumn7; E409| "The narrow bud opens her beauties to
PS-ToAutumn8; E409| "The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
PS-ToAutumn9; E409| "Blossoms hang round the brows of morning, and
PS-ToAutumn10; E409| "Flourish down the bright cheek of modest eve,
PS-ToAutumn11; E409| "Till clust'ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
PS-ToAutumn12; E409| "And feather'd clouds strew flowers round her head.
PS-ToAutumn13; E409| "The spirits of the air live on the smells
PS-ToAutumn14; E409| "Of fruit; and joy, with pinions light, roves round
PS-ToAutumn15; E409| "The gardens, or sits singing in the trees."
PS-ToAutumn16; E409| Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat,
PS-ToAutumn17; E409| Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak
PS-ToAutumn18; E409| Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.
PS-ToWinter1; E410| O Winter! bar thine adamantine doors:
PS-ToWinter2; E410| The north is thine; there hast thou built thy dark
PS-ToWinter3; E410| Deep-founded habitation. Shake not thy roofs,
PS-ToWinter4; E410| Nor bend thy pillars with thine iron car.
PS-ToWinter5; E410| He hears me not, but o'er the yawning deep
PS-ToWinter6; E410| Rides heavy; his storms are unchain'd; sheathed
PS-ToWinter7; E410| In ribbed steel, I dare not lift mine eyes;
PS-ToWinter8; E410| For he hath rear'd his sceptre o'er the world.
PS-ToWinter9; E410| Lo! now the direful monster, whose skin clings
PS-ToWinter10; E410| To his strong bones, strides o'er the groaning rocks:
PS-ToWinter11; E410| He withers all in silence, and his hand t1020
PS-ToWinter12; E410| Unclothes the earth, and freezes up frail life.
PS-ToWinter13; E410| He takes his seat upon the cliffs, the mariner
PS-ToWinter14; E410| Cries in vain. Poor little wretch! that deal'st
PS-ToWinter15; E410| With storms; till heaven smiles, and the monster
PS-ToWinter16; E410| Is driv'n yelling to his caves beneath mount Hecla.
PS-TotheEveningStar1; E410| Thou fair-hair'd angel of the evening,
PS-TotheEveningStar2; E410| Now, while the sun rests on the mountains, light t1021
PS-TotheEveningStar3; E410| Thy bright torch of love; thy radiant crown
PS-TotheEveningStar4; E410| Put on, and smile upon our evening bed!
PS-TotheEveningStar5; E410| Smile on our loves; and, while thou drawest the
PS-TotheEveningStar6; E410| Blue curtains of the sky, scatter thy silver dew
PS-TotheEveningStar7; E410| On every flower that shuts its sweet eyes
PS-TotheEveningStar8; E410| In timely sleep. Let thy west wind sleep on
PS-TotheEveningStar9; E410| The lake; speak si[l]ence with thy glimmering eyes,
PS-TotheEveningStar10; E410| And wash the dusk with silver. Soon, full soon,
PS-TotheEveningStar11; E410| Dost thou withdraw; then the wolf rages wide,
PS-TotheEveningStar12; E410| And the lion glares thro' the dun forest:
PS-TotheEveningStar13; E410| The fleeces of our flocks are cover'd with
PS-TotheEveningStar14; E410| Thy sacred dew: protect them with thine influence.
PS-ToMorning1; E410| O holy virgin! clad in purest white,
PS-ToMorning2; E410| Unlock heav'n's golden gates, and issue forth;
PS-ToMorning3; E410| Awake the dawn that sleeps in heaven; let light
PS-ToMorning4; E410| Rise from the chambers of the east, and bring
PS-ToMorning5; E410| The honied dew that cometh on waking day.
PS-FairElenor1; E411| The bell struck one, and shook the silent tower;
PS-FairElenor2; E411| The graves give up their dead: fair
PS-FairElenor3; E411| Walk'd by the castle gate, and looked in.
PS-FairElenor4; E411| A hollow groan ran thro' the dreary vaults.
PS-FairElenor5; E411| She shriek'd aloud, and sunk upon the steps
PS-FairElenor6; E411| On the cold stone her pale cheek. Sickly smells t1022
PS-FairElenor7; E411| Of death, issue as from a sepulchre,
PS-FairElenor8; E411| And all is silent but the sighing vaults.
PS-FairElenor9; E411| Chill death withdraws his hand, and she revives;
PS-FairElenor10; E411| Amaz'd, she finds herself upon her feet,
PS-FairElenor11; E411| And, like a ghost, thro' narrow passages
PS-FairElenor12; E411| Walking, feeling the cold walls with her hands.
PS-FairElenor13; E411| Fancy returns, and now she thinks of bones,
PS-FairElenor14; E411| And grinning skulls, and corruptible death,
PS-FairElenor15; E411| Wrap'd in his shroud; and now, fancies she hears
PS-FairElenor16; E411| Deep sighs, and sees pale sickly ghosts gliding.
PS-FairElenor17; E411| At length, no fancy, but reality
PS-FairElenor18; E411| Distracts her. A rushing sound, and the feet
PS-FairElenor19; E411| Of one that fled, approaches--Ellen stood,
PS-FairElenor20; E411| Like a dumb statue, froze to stone with fear.
PS-FairElenor21; E411| The wretch approaches, crying, "The deed is done;
PS-FairElenor22; E411| "Take this, and send it by whom thou wilt send;
PS-FairElenor23; E411| "It is my life--send it to Elenor:--
PS-FairElenor24; E411| "He's dead, and howling after me for blood!
PS-FairElenor25; E411| "Take this," he cry'd; and thrust into her arms
PS-FairElenor26; E411| A wet napkin, wrap'd about; then rush'd
PS-FairElenor27; E411| Past, howling: she receiv'd into her arms
PS-FairElenor28; E411| Pale death, and follow'd on the wings of fear.
PS-FairElenor29; E411| They pass'd swift thro' the outer gate; the wretch,
PS-FairElenor30; E411| Howling, leap'd o'er the wall into the moat,
PS-FairElenor31; E411| Stifling in mud. Fair Ellen pass'd the bridge,
PS-FairElenor32; E411| And heard a gloomy voice cry, "Is it done?"
PS-FairElenor33; E411| As the deer wounded Ellen flew over
PS-FairElenor34; E411| The pathless plain; as the arrows that fly
PS-FairElenor35; E411| By night; destruction flies, and strikes in darkness,
PS-FairElenor36; E411| She fled from fear, till at her house arriv'd.
PS-FairElenor37; E412| Her maids await her; on her bed she falls,
PS-FairElenor38; E412| That bed of joy, where erst her lord hath press'd:
PS-FairElenor39; E412| "Ah, woman's fear!" she cry'd; "Ah, cursed duke!
PS-FairElenor40; E412| "Ah, my dear lord! ah, wretched Elenor!
PS-FairElenor41; E412| "My lord was like a flower upon the brows
PS-FairElenor42; E412| "Of lusty May! Ah, life as frail as flower!
PS-FairElenor43; E412| "O ghastly death! withdraw thy cruel hand,
PS-FairElenor44; E412| "Seek'st thou that flow'r to deck thy horrid temples?
PS-FairElenor45; E412| "My lord was like a star, in highest heav'n
PS-FairElenor46; E412| "Drawn down to earth by spells and wickedness:
PS-FairElenor47; E412| "My lord was like the opening eyes of day,
PS-FairElenor48; E412| "When western winds creep softly o'er the flowers:
PS-FairElenor49; E412| "But he is darken'd; like the summer's noon,
PS-FairElenor50; E412| "Clouded; fall'n like the stately tree, cut down;
PS-FairElenor51; E412| "The breath of heaven dwelt among his leaves.
PS-FairElenor52; E412| "O Elenor, weak woman, fill'd with woe!"
PS-FairElenor53; E412| Thus having spoke, she raised up her head,
PS-FairElenor54; E412| And saw the bloody napkin by her side,
PS-FairElenor55; E412| Which in her arms she brought; and now, tenfold
PS-FairElenor56; E412| More terrified, saw it unfold itself.
PS-FairElenor57; E412| Her eyes were fix'd; the bloody cloth unfolds,
PS-FairElenor58; E412| Disclosing to her sight the murder'd head
PS-FairElenor59; E412| Of her dear lord, all ghastly pale, clotted
PS-FairElenor60; E412| With gory blood; it groan'd, and thus it spake:
PS-FairElenor61; E412| "O Elenor, behold thy husband's head, t1023
PS-FairElenor62; E412| "Who, sleeping on the stones of yonder tower,
PS-FairElenor63; E412| "Was 'reft of life, by the accursed duke!
PS-FairElenor64; E412| "A hired villain turn'd my sleep to death!
PS-FairElenor65; E412| "O Elenor, beware the cursed duke,
PS-FairElenor66; E412| "O give not him thy hand, now I am dead;
PS-FairElenor67; E412| "He seeks thy love; who, coward, in the night,
PS-FairElenor68; E412| "Hired a villain to bereave my life."
PS-FairElenor69; E412| She sat with dead cold limbs, stiffen'd to stone;
PS-FairElenor70; E412| She took the gory head up in her arms;
PS-FairElenor71; E412| She kiss'd the pale lips; she had no tears to shed;
PS-FairElenor72; E412| She hugg'd it to her breast, and groan'd her last.
PS-Song"HowSweet"5; E413| He shew'd me lilies for my hair,
PS-Song"HowSweet"6; E413| And blushing roses for my brow;
PS-Song"HowSweet"7; E413| He led me through his gardens far,
PS-Song"HowSweet"8; E413| Where all his golden pleasures grow,
PS-Song"HowSweet"9; E413| With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
PS-Song"HowSweet"10; E413| And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage;
PS-Song"HowSweet"11; E413| He caught me in his silken net,
PS-Song"HowSweet"12; E413| And shut me in his golden cage.
PS-Song"HowSweet"13; E413| He loves to sit and hear me sing,
PS-Song"HowSweet"14; E413| Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
PS-Song"HowSweet"15; E413| Then stretches out my golden wing,
PS-Song"HowSweet"16; E413| And mocks my loss of liberty.
PS-Song"MySilks"1; E413| My silks and fine array,
PS-Song"MySilks"2; E413| My smiles and languish'd air,
PS-Song"MySilks"3; E413| By love are driv'n away;
PS-Song"MySilks"4; E413| And mournful lean Despair
PS-Song"MySilks"5; E413| Brings me yew to deck my grave:
PS-Song"MySilks"6; E413| Such end true lovers have.
PS-Song"MySilks"7; E413| His face is fair as heav'n,
PS-Song"MySilks"8; E413| When springing buds unfold;
PS-Song"MySilks"9; E413| O why to him wast giv'n,
PS-Song"MySilks"10; E413| Whose heart is wintry cold?
PS-Song"MySilks"11; E413| His breast is love's all worship'd tomb,
PS-Song"MySilks"12; E413| Where all love's pilgrims come,
PS-Song"MySilks"13; E413| Bring me an axe and spade,
PS-Song"MySilks"14; E413| Bring me a winding sheet;
PS-Song"MySilks"15; E413| When I my grave have made,
PS-Song"MySilks"16; E413| Let winds and tempests beat:
PS-Song"MySilks"17; E413| Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay.
PS-Song"MySilks"18; E413| True love doth pass away!
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"1; E413| Love and harmony combine,
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"2; E413| And around our souls intwine,
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"3; E413| While thy branches mix with mine,
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"4; E413| And our roots together join.
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"5; E414| Joys upon our branches sit,
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"6; E414| Chirping loud, and singing sweet;
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"7; E414| Like gentle streams beneath our feet
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"8; E414| Innocence and virtue meet.
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"9; E414| Thou the golden fruit dost bear,
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"10; E414| I am clad in flowers fair;
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"11; E414| Thy sweet boughs perfume the air,
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"12; E414| And the turtle buildeth there.
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"13; E414| There she sits and feeds her young,
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"14; E414| Sweet I hear her mournful song;
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"15; E414| And thy lovely leaves among,
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"16; E414| There is love: I hear his tongue. t1024
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"17; E414| There his charming nest doth lay,
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"18; E414| There he sleeps the night away;
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"19; E414| There he sports along the day,
PS-Song"LoveAndHarmony"20; E414| And doth among our branches play.
PS-Song"ILove"1; E414| I love the jocund dance,
PS-Song"ILove"2; E414| The softly-breathing song,
PS-Song"ILove"3; E414| Where innocent eyes do glance,
PS-Song"ILove"4; E414| And where lisps the maiden's tongue.
PS-Song"ILove"5; E414| I love the laughing vale,
PS-Song"ILove"6; E414| I love the echoing hill,
PS-Song"ILove"7; E414| Where mirth does never fail,
PS-Song"ILove"8; E414| And the jolly swain laughs his fill.
PS-Song"ILove"9; E414| I love the pleasant cot,
PS-Song"ILove"10; E414| I love the innocent bow'r.
PS-Song"ILove"11; E414| Where white and brown is our lot,
PS-Song"ILove"12; E414| Or fruit in the mid-day hour.
PS-Song"ILove"13; E414| I love the oaken seat,
PS-Song"ILove"14; E414| Beneath the oaken tree,
PS-Song"ILove"15; E414| Where all the old villagers meet,
PS-Song"ILove"16; E414| And laugh our sports to see.
PS-Song"ILove"17; E414| I love our neighbours all,
PS-Song"ILove"18; E414| But, Kitty, I better love thee;
PS-Song"ILove"19; E414| And love them I ever shall,
PS-Song"ILove"20; E414| But thou art all to me.
PS-Song"Memory"1; E415| Memory, hither come,
PS-Song"Memory"2; E415| And tune your merry notes;
PS-Song"Memory"3; E415| And, while upon the wind,
PS-Song"Memory"4; E415| Your music floats,
PS-Song"Memory"5; E415| I'll pore upon the stream,
PS-Song"Memory"6; E415| Where sighing lovers dream,
PS-Song"Memory"7; E415| And fish for fancies as they pass
PS-Song"Memory"8; E415| Within the watery glass.
PS-Song"Memory"9; E415| I'll drink of the clear stream,
PS-Song"Memory"10; E415| And hear the linnet's song;
PS-Song"Memory"11; E415| And there I'll lie and dream
PS-Song"Memory"12; E415| The day along:
PS-Song"Memory"13; E415| And, when night comes, I'll go
PS-Song"Memory"14; E415| To places fit for woe;
PS-Song"Memory"15; E415| Walking along the darken'd valley,
PS-Song"Memory"16; E415| With silent Melancholy.
PS-MadSong1; E415| The wild winds weep,
PS-MadSong2; E415| And the night is a-cold;
PS-MadSong3; E415| Come hither, Sleep,
PS-MadSong4; E415| And my griefs infold: t1025
PS-MadSong5; E415| But lo! the morning peeps
PS-MadSong6; E415| Over the eastern steeps,
PS-MadSong7; E415| And the rustling birds of dawn t1026
PS-MadSong8; E415| The earth do scorn.
PS-MadSong9; E415| Lo! to the vault
PS-MadSong10; E415| Of paved heaven,
PS-MadSong11; E415| With sorrow fraught
PS-MadSong12; E415| My notes are driven:
PS-MadSong13; E415| They strike the ear of night,
PS-MadSong14; E415| Make weep the eyes of day;
PS-MadSong15; E415| They make mad the roaring winds,
PS-MadSong16; E415| And with tempests play.
PS-MadSong17; E415| Like a fiend in a cloud
PS-MadSong18; E415| With howling woe,
PS-MadSong19; E415| After night I do croud,
PS-MadSong20; E415| And with night will go;
PS-MadSong21; E415| I turn my back to the east,
PS-Song"FreshFrom"1; E416| Fresh from the dewy hill, the merry year
PS-Song"FreshFrom"2; E416| Smiles on my head, and mounts his flaming car;
PS-Song"FreshFrom"3; E416| Round my young brows the laurel wreathes a shade,
PS-Song"FreshFrom"4; E416| And rising glories beam around my head.
PS-Song"FreshFrom"5; E416| My feet are wing'd, while o'er the dewy lawn,
PS-Song"FreshFrom"6; E416| I meet my maiden, risen like the morn:
PS-Song"FreshFrom"7; E416| Oh bless those holy feet, like angels' feet;
PS-Song"FreshFrom"8; E416| Oh bless those limbs, beaming with heav'nly light!
PS-Song"FreshFrom"9; E416| Like as an angel glitt'ring in the sky,
PS-Song"FreshFrom"10; E416| In times of innocence, and holy joy;
PS-Song"FreshFrom"11; E416| The joyful shepherd stops his grateful song,
PS-Song"FreshFrom"12; E416| To hear the music of an angel's tongue.
PS-Song"FreshFrom"13; E416| So when she speaks, the voice of Heaven I hear
PS-Song"FreshFrom"14; E416| So when we walk, nothing impure comes near;
PS-Song"FreshFrom"15; E416| Each field seems Eden, and each calm retreat;
PS-Song"FreshFrom"16; E416| Each village seems the haunt of holy feet.
PS-Song"FreshFrom"17; E416| But that sweet village where my black-ey'd maid,
PS-Song"FreshFrom"18; E416| Closes her eyes in sleep beneath night's shade:
PS-Song"FreshFrom"19; E416| Whene'er I enter, more than mortal fire
PS-Song"FreshFrom"20; E416| Burns in my soul, and does my song inspire.
PS-Song"WhenEarly"1; E416| When early morn walks forth in sober grey;
PS-Song"WhenEarly"2; E416| Then to my black ey'd maid I haste away,
PS-Song"WhenEarly"3; E416| When evening sits beneath her dusky bow'r,
PS-Song"WhenEarly"4; E416| And gently sighs away the silent hour;
PS-Song"WhenEarly"5; E416| The village bell alarms, away I go;
PS-Song"WhenEarly"6; E416| And the vale darkens at my pensive woe.
PS-Song"WhenEarly"7; E416| To that sweet village, where my black ey'd maid
PS-Song"WhenEarly"8; E416| Doth drop a tear beneath the silent shade,
PS-Song"WhenEarly"9; E416| I turn my eyes; and, pensive as I go,
PS-Song"WhenEarly"10; E416| Curse my black stars, and bless my pleasing woe.
PS-Song"WhenEarly"11; E416| Oft when the summer sleeps among the trees,
PS-Song"WhenEarly"12; E416| Whisp'ring faint murmurs to the scanty breeze,
PS-Song"WhenEarly"13; E416| I walk the village round; if at her side
PS-Song"WhenEarly"14; E416| A youth doth walk in stolen joy and pride,
PS-Song"WhenEarly"17; E417| O should she e'er prove false, his limbs I'd tear,
PS-Song"WhenEarly"18; E417| And throw all pity on the burning air;
PS-Song"WhenEarly"19; E417| I'd curse bright fortune for my mixed lot,
PS-Song"WhenEarly"20; E417| And then I'd die in peace, and be forgot.
PS-ToTheMuses1; E417| Whether on Ida's shady brow,
PS-ToTheMuses2; E417| Or in the chambers of the East,
PS-ToTheMuses3; E417| The chambers of the sun, that now
PS-ToTheMuses4; E417| From antient melody have ceas'd;
PS-ToTheMuses5; E417| Whether in Heav'n ye wander fair,
PS-ToTheMuses6; E417| Or the green corners of the earth,
PS-ToTheMuses7; E417| Or the blue regions of the air,
PS-ToTheMuses8; E417| Where the melodious winds have birth;
PS-ToTheMuses9; E417| Whether on chrystal rocks ye rove,
PS-ToTheMuses10; E417| Beneath the bosom of the sea
PS-ToTheMuses11; E417| Wand'ring in many a coral grove,
PS-ToTheMuses12; E417| Fair Nine, forsaking Poetry!
PS-ToTheMuses13; E417| How have you left the antient love
PS-ToTheMuses14; E417| That bards of old enjoy'd in you!
PS-ToTheMuses15; E417| The languid strings do scarcely move!
PS-ToTheMuses16; E417| The sound is forc'd, the notes are few!
PS-Gwin17; E418| Beneath them roll'd, like tempests black,
PS-Gwin18; E418| The num'rous sons of blood;
PS-Gwin19; E418| Like lions' whelps, roaring abroad,
PS-Gwin20; E418| Seeking their nightly food.
PS-Gwin21; E418| Down Bleron's hills they dreadful rush,
PS-Gwin22; E418| Their cry ascends the clouds;
PS-Gwin23; E418| The trampling horse, and clanging arms
PS-Gwin24; E418| Like rushing mighty floods!
PS-Gwin33; E418| From tow'r to tow'r the watchmen cry,
PS-Gwin34; E418| "O Gwin, the son of Nore,
PS-Gwin35; E418| "Arouse thyself! the nations black,
PS-Gwin36; E418| "Like clouds, come rolling o'er!"
PS-Gwin37; E418| Gwin rear'd his shield, his palace shakes,
PS-Gwin38; E418| His chiefs come rushing round;
PS-Gwin39; E418| Each, like an awful thunder cloud,
PS-Gwin40; E418| With voice of solemn sound.
PS-Gwin45; E418| The husbandman does leave his plow,
PS-Gwin46; E418| To wade thro' fields of gore;
PS-Gwin47; E418| The merchant binds his brows in steel,
PS-Gwin48; E418| And leaves the trading shore:
PS-Gwin61; E419| Gwin lifts his hand--the nations halt;
PS-Gwin62; E419| "Prepare for war," he cries--
PS-Gwin63; E419| Gordred appears!--his frowning brow t1028
PS-Gwin64; E419| Troubles our northern skies.
PS-Gwin65; E419| The armies stand, like balances
PS-Gwin66; E419| Held in th' Almighty's hand;--
PS-Gwin67; E419| "Gwin, thou hast fill'd thy measure up,
PS-Gwin68; E419| "Thou'rt swept from out the land."
PS-Gwin73; E419| Earth smokes with blood, and groans, and shakes,
PS-Gwin74; E419| To drink her childrens' gore,
PS-Gwin75; E419| A sea of blood; nor can the eye
PS-Gwin76; E419| See to the trembling shore!
PS-Gwin101; E420| Like blazing comets in the sky,
PS-Gwin102; E420| That shake the stars of light,
PS-Gwin103; E420| Which drop like fruit unto the earth,
PS-Gwin104; E420| Thro' the fierce burning night;
PS-AnImitation1; E420| Golden Apollo, that thro' heaven wide
PS-AnImitation2; E420| Scatter'st the rays of light, and truth's beams!
PS-AnImitation3; E420| In lucent words my darkling verses dight,
PS-AnImitation4; E420| And wash my earthy mind in thy clear streams,
PS-AnImitation5; E420| That wisdom may descend in fairy dreams:
PS-AnImitation6; E420| All while the jocund hours in thy train
PS-AnImitation7; E420| Scatter their fancies at thy poet's feet;
PS-AnImitation8; E420| And when thou yields to night thy wide domain, t1030
PS-AnImitation9; E420| Let rays of truth enlight his sleeping brain.
PS-AnImitation10; E420| For brutish Pan in vain might thee assay
PS-AnImitation11; E420| With tinkling sounds to dash thy nervous verse,
PS-AnImitation12; E420| Sound without sense; yet in his rude affray,
PS-AnImitation13; E420| (For ignorance is Folly's leesing nurse, t1031
PS-AnImitation14; E420| And love of Folly needs none other curse;) t1032
PS-AnImitation15; E420| Midas the praise hath gain'd of lengthen'd eares, t1033
PS-AnImitation16; E420| For which himself might deem him neer the worse
PS-AnImitation19; E421| And thou, Mercurius, that with winged brow
PS-AnImitation20; E421| Dost mount aloft into the yielding sky,
PS-AnImitation21; E421| And thro' Heav'n's halls thy airy flight dost throw,
PS-AnImitation22; E421| Entering with holy feet to where on high
PS-AnImitation23; E421| Jove weighs the counsel of futurity;
PS-AnImitation24; E421| Then, laden with eternal fate, dost go
PS-AnImitation25; E421| Down, like a falling star, from autumn sky,
PS-AnImitation26; E421| And o'er the surface of the silent deep dost fly.
PS-AnImitation27; E421| If thou arrivest at the sandy shore,
PS-AnImitation28; E421| Where nought but envious hissing adders dwell,
PS-AnImitation29; E421| Thy golden rod, thrown on the dusty floor,
PS-AnImitation30; E421| Can charm to harmony with potent spell;
PS-AnImitation31; E421| Such is sweet Eloquence, that does dispel
PS-AnImitation32; E421| Envy and Hate, that thirst for human gore:
PS-AnImitation33; E421| And cause in sweet society to dwell
PS-AnImitation34; E421| Vile savage minds that lurk in lonely cell.
PS-AnImitation35; E421| O Mercury, assist my lab'ring sense,
PS-AnImitation36; E421| That round the circle of the world wou'd fly!
PS-AnImitation37; E421| As the wing'd eagle scorns the tow'ry fence
PS-AnImitation38; E421| Of Alpine hills round his high aery,
PS-AnImitation39; E421| And searches thro' the corners of the sky,
PS-AnImitation40; E421| Sports in the clouds to hear the thunder's sound,
PS-AnImitation41; E421| And see the winged lightnings as they fly, t1034
PS-AnImitation42; E421| Then, bosom'd in an amber cloud, around
PS-AnImitation43; E421| Plumes his wide wings, and seeks Sol's palace high.
PS-AnImitation44; E421| And thou, O warrior maid, invincible, t1035
PS-AnImitation45; E421| Arm'd with the terrors of Almighty Jove!
PS-AnImitation46; E421| Pallas, Minerva, maiden terrible,
PS-AnImitation47; E421| Lov'st thou to walk the peaceful solemn grove,
PS-AnImitation48; E421| In solemn gloom of branches interwove?
PS-AnImitation49; E421| Or bear'st thy Egis o'er the burning field,
PS-AnImitation50; E421| Where, like the sea, the waves of battle move?
PS-AnImitation51; E421| Or have thy soft piteous eyes beheld
PS-AnImitation52; E421| The weary wanderer thro' the desert rove?
PS-AnImitation53; E421| Or does th' afflicted man thy heav'nly bosom move?
PS-BlindMan'sBuff4; E422| With hearth so red, and walls so fair;
PS-BlindMan'sBuff5; E422| "Heap the sea-coal; come, heap it higher,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff6; E422| "The oaken log lay on the fire:"
PS-BlindMan'sBuff7; E422| The well-wash'd stools, a circling row,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff8; E422| With lad and lass, how fair the show!
PS-BlindMan'sBuff9; E422| The merry can of nut-brown ale,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff10; E422| The laughing jest, the love-sick tale,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff11; E422| 'Till tir'd of chat, the game begins,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff12; E422| The lasses prick the lads with pins;
PS-BlindMan'sBuff13; E422| Roger from Dolly twitch'd the stool,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff14; E422| She falling, kiss'd the ground, poor fool!
PS-BlindMan'sBuff15; E422| She blush'd so red, with side-long glance
PS-BlindMan'sBuff16; E422| At hob-nail Dick, who griev'd the chance.
PS-BlindMan'sBuff17; E422| But now for Blind-man's Buff they call;
PS-BlindMan'sBuff18; E422| Of each incumbrance clear the hall--
PS-BlindMan'sBuff19; E422| Jenny her silken kerchief folds,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff20; E422| And blear-ey'd Will the black lot holds;
PS-BlindMan'sBuff21; E422| Now laughing, stops, with "Silence! hush!"
PS-BlindMan'sBuff22; E422| And Peggy Pout gives Sam a push.--
PS-BlindMan'sBuff23; E422| The Blind-man's arms, extended wide,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff24; E422| Sam slips between;--"O woe betide
PS-BlindMan'sBuff25; E422| Thee, clumsy Will!"--but titt'ring Kate
PS-BlindMan'sBuff26; E422| Is pen'd up in the corner strait!
PS-BlindMan'sBuff27; E422| And now Will's eyes beheld the play,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff28; E422| He thought his face was t'other way.---
PS-BlindMan'sBuff29; E422| "Now, Kitty, now; what chance hast thou,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff30; E422| "Roger so near thee, Trips; I vow!["]
PS-BlindMan'sBuff31; E422| She catches him--then Roger ties
PS-BlindMan'sBuff32; E422| His own head up--but not his eyes;
PS-BlindMan'sBuff33; E422| For thro' the slender cloth he sees,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff34; E422| And runs at Sam, who slips with ease
PS-BlindMan'sBuff35; E422| His clumsy hold; and, dodging round,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff36; E422| Sukey is tumbled on the ground!---
PS-BlindMan'sBuff37; E422| "See what it is to play unfair!
PS-BlindMan'sBuff38; E422| "Where cheating is, there's mischief there."
PS-BlindMan'sBuff39; E422| But Roger still pursues the chace,--
PS-BlindMan'sBuff40; E422| "He sees! he sees!["] cries softly Grace;
PS-BlindMan'sBuff41; E422| "O Roger, thou, unskill'd in art,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff42; E422| "Must, surer bound, go thro' thy part!"
PS-BlindMan'sBuff43; E422| Now Kitty, pert, repeats the rhymes,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff44; E422| And Roger turns him round three times;
PS-BlindMan'sBuff45; E422| Then pauses ere he starts--but Dick
PS-BlindMan'sBuff46; E422| Was mischief bent upon a trick:
PS-BlindMan'sBuff47; E422| Down on his hands and knees he lay,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff48; E422| Directly in the Blind-man's way--
PS-BlindMan'sBuff49; E422| Then cries out, "Hem!" Hodge heard, and ran
PS-BlindMan'sBuff50; E423| With hood-wink'd chance--sure of his man;
PS-BlindMan'sBuff51; E423| But down he came.--Alas, how frail
PS-BlindMan'sBuff52; E423| Our best of hopes, how soon they fail!
PS-BlindMan'sBuff53; E423| With crimson drops he stains the ground,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff54; E423| Confusion startles all around!
PS-BlindMan'sBuff55; E423| Poor piteous Dick supports his head,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff56; E423| And fain would cure the hurt he made;
PS-BlindMan'sBuff57; E423| But Kitty hasted with a key,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff58; E423| And down his back they strait convey
PS-BlindMan'sBuff59; E423| The cold relief--the blood is stay'd,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff60; E423| And Hodge again holds up his head.
PS-BlindMan'sBuff61; E423| Such are the fortunes of the game,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff62; E423| And those who play should stop the same
PS-BlindMan'sBuff63; E423| By wholesome laws; such as[:]all those
PS-BlindMan'sBuff64; E423| Who on the blinded man impose, t1036
PS-BlindMan'sBuff65; E423| Stand in his stead; as long a-gone
PS-BlindMan'sBuff66; E423| When men were first a nation grown;
PS-BlindMan'sBuff67; E423| Lawless they liv'd--till wantonness
PS-BlindMan'sBuff68; E423| And liberty began t' increase;
PS-BlindMan'sBuff69; E423| And one man lay in another's way,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff70; E423| Then laws were made to keep fair play.
PS-KE3; E423| PERSONS.
PS-KE3; E423| King Edward. - Lord Audley.
PS-KE3; E423| The Black Prince. - Lord Percy.
PS-KE3; E423| Queen Philippa. - Bishop.
PS-KE3; E423| Duke of Clarence. - William, Dagworth's Man.
PS-KE3; E423| Sir John Chandos.
PS-KE3; E423| Sir Thomas Dagworth. - Peter Blunt, a common Soldier.
PS-KE3; E423| Sir Walter Manny.
PS-KE3-1.1; E423| O thou, to whose fury the nations are
PS-KE3-1.2; E423| But as dust! maintain thy servant's right.
PS-KE3-1.3; E423| Without thine aid, the twisted mail, and spear,
PS-KE3-1.4; E423| And forged helm, and shield of seven times beaten brass,
PS-KE3-1.5; E424| Are idle trophies of the vanquisher.
PS-KE3-1.6; E424| When confusion rages, when the field is in a flame,
PS-KE3-1.7; E424| When the cries of blood tear horror from heav'n,
PS-KE3-1.8; E424| And yelling death runs up and down the ranks,
PS-KE3-1.9; E424| Let Liberty, the charter'd right of Englishmen,
PS-KE3-1.10; E424| Won by our fathers in many a glorious field,
PS-KE3-1.11; E424| Enerve my soldiers; let Liberty
PS-KE3-1.12; E424| Blaze in each countenance, and fire the battle.
PS-KE3-1.13; E424| The enemy fight in chains, invisible chains, but heavy;
PS-KE3-1.14; E424| Their minds are fetter'd; then how can they be free,
PS-KE3-1.15; E424| While, like the mounting flame,
PS-KE3-1.16; E424| We spring to battle o'er the floods of death?
PS-KE3-1.17; E424| And these fair youths, the flow'r of England,
PS-KE3-1.18; E424| Vent'ring their lives in my most righteous cause,
PS-KE3-1.19; E424| O sheathe their hearts with triple steel, that they
PS-KE3-1.20; E424| May emulate their fathers' virtues.
PS-KE3-1.21; E424| And thou, my son, be strong; thou fightest for a crown
PS-KE3-1.22; E424| That death can never ravish from thy brow,
PS-KE3-1.23; E424| A crown of glory: but from thy very dust
PS-KE3-1.24; E424| Shall beam a radiance, to fire the breasts
PS-KE3-1.25; E424| Of youth unborn! Our names are written equal
PS-KE3-1.26; E424| In fame's wide trophied hall; 'tis ours to gild
PS-KE3-1.27; E424| The letters, and to make them shine with gold
PS-KE3-1.28; E424| That never tarnishes: whether Third Edward,
PS-KE3-1.29; E424| Or the Prince of Wales, or Montacute, or Mortimer,
PS-KE3-1.30; E424| Or ev'n the least by birth, shall gain the brightest fame,
PS-KE3-1.31; E424| Is in his hand to whom all men are equal.
PS-KE3-1.32; E424| The world of men are like the num'rous stars,
PS-KE3-1.33; E424| That beam and twinkle in the depth of night,
PS-KE3-1.34; E424| Each clad in glory according to his sphere;--
PS-KE3-1.35; E424| But we, that wander from our native seats,
PS-KE3-1.36; E424| And beam forth lustre on a darkling world,
PS-KE3-1.37; E424| Grow larger as we advance! and some perhaps
PS-KE3-1.38; E424| The most obscure at home, that scarce were seen
PS-KE3-1.39; E424| To twinkle in their sphere, may so advance,
PS-KE3-1.40; E424| That the astonish'd world, with up-turn'd eyes,
PS-KE3-1.41; E424| Regardless of the moon, and those that once were bright,
PS-KE3-1.42; E424| Stand only for to gaze upon their splendor!
PS-KE3-1.43; E424| Now let us take a just revenge for those
PS-KE3-1.44; E424| Brave Lords, who fell beneath the bloody axe
PS-KE3-1.45; E424| At Paris. Thanks, noble Harcourt, for 'twas
PS-KE3-1.46; E424| By your advice we landed here in Brittany--
PS-KE3-1.47; E424| A country not yet sown with destruction,
PS-KE3-1.48; E424| And where the fiery whirlwind of swift war
PS-KE3-1.49; E425| Has not yet swept its desolating wing.---
PS-KE3-1.50; E425| Into three parties we divide by day,
PS-KE3-1.51; E425| And separate march, but join again at night:
PS-KE3-1.52; E425| Each knows his rank, and Heav'n marshal all. [Exeunt.
PS-KE3-2.1; E425| My Lords, I have, by the advice of her
PS-KE3-2.2; E425| Whom I am doubly bound to obey, my Parent
PS-KE3-2.3; E425| And my Sovereign, call'd you together.
PS-KE3-2.4; E425| My task is great, my burden heavier than
PS-KE3-2.5; E425| My unfledg'd years;
PS-KE3-2.6; E425| Yet, with your kind assistance, Lords, I hope
PS-KE3-2.7; E425| England shall dwell in peace; that while my father
PS-KE3-2.8; E425| Toils in his wars, and turns his eyes on this
PS-KE3-2.9; E425| His native shore, and sees commerce fly round
PS-KE3-2.10; E425| With his white wings, and sees his golden London,
PS-KE3-2.11; E425| And her silver Thames, throng'd with shining spires
PS-KE3-2.12; E425| And corded ships; her merchants buzzing round
PS-KE3-2.13; E425| Like summer bees, and all the golden cities
PS-KE3-2.14; E425| In his land, overflowing with honey,
PS-KE3-2.15; E425| Glory may not be dimm'd with clouds of care.
PS-KE3-2.16; E425| Say, Lords, should not our thoughts be first to commerce?
PS-KE3-2.17; E425| My Lord Bishop, you would recommend us agriculture?
PS-KE3-2.18; E425| Bishop. Sweet Prince! the arts of peace are great,
PS-KE3-2.19; E425| And no less glorious than those of war,
PS-KE3-2.20; E425| Perhaps more glorious in the ph[i]losophic mind.
PS-KE3-2.21; E425| When I sit at my home, a private man,
PS-KE3-2.22; E425| My thoughts are on my gardens, and my fields,
PS-KE3-2.23; E425| How to employ the hand that lacketh bread.
PS-KE3-2.24; E425| If Industry is in my diocese,
PS-KE3-2.25; E425| Religion will flourish; each man's heart
PS-KE3-2.26; E425| Is cultivated, and will bring forth fruit:
PS-KE3-2.27; E425| This is my private duty and my pleasure.
PS-KE3-2.28; E425| But as I sit in council with my prince,
PS-KE3-2.29; E425| My thoughts take in the gen'ral good of the whole,
PS-KE3-2.30; E425| And England is the land favour'd by Commerce;
PS-KE3-2.31; E425| For Commerce, tho' the child of Agriculture,
PS-KE3-2.32; E425| Fosters his parent, who else must sweat and toil,
PS-KE3-2.33; E425| And gain but scanty fare. Then, my dear Lord,
PS-KE3-2.34; E425| Be England's trade our care; and we, as tradesmen,
PS-KE3-2.35; E425| Looking to the gain of this our native land.
PS-KE3-2.36; E426| Clar. O my good Lord, true wisdom drops like honey
PS-KE3-2.37; E426| From your tongue, as from a worship'd oak!
PS-KE3-2.38; E426| Forgive, my Lords, my talkative youth, that speaks
PS-KE3-2.39; E426| Not merely what my narrow observation has
PS-KE3-2.40; E426| Pick'd up, but what I have concluded from your lessons:
PS-KE3-2.41; E426| Now, by the Queen's advice, I ask your leave
PS-KE3-2.42; E426| To dine to-morrow with the Mayor of London:
PS-KE3-2.43; E426| If I obtain your leave, I have another boon
PS-KE3-2.44; E426| To ask, which is, the favour of your company;
PS-KE3-2.45; E426| I fear Lord Percy will not give me leave.
PS-KE3-2.46; E426| Percy. Dear Sir, a prince should always keep his state,
PS-KE3-2.47; E426| And grant his favours with a sparing hand,
PS-KE3-2.48; E426| Or they are never rightly valued.
PS-KE3-2.49; E426| These are my thoughts, yet it were best to go;
PS-KE3-2.50; E426| But keep a proper dignity, for now
PS-KE3-2.51; E426| You represent the sacred person of
PS-KE3-2.52; E426| Your father; 'tis with princes as 'tis with the sun,
PS-KE3-2.53; E426| If not sometimes o'er-clouded, we grow weary
PS-KE3-2.54; E426| Of his officious glory.
PS-KE3-2.55; E426| Clar. Then you will give me leave to shine sometimes,
PS-KE3-2.56; E426| My Lord?
PS-KE3-2.57; E426| Lord. Thou hast a gallant spirit, which I fear
PS-KE3-2.58; E426| Will be imposed on by the closer sort! [Aside.
PS-KE3-2.59; E426| Clar. Well, I'll endeavour to take
PS-KE3-2.60; E426| Lord Percy's advice; I have been used so much
PS-KE3-2.61; E426| To dignity, that I'm sick on't.
PS-KE3-2.62; E426| Queen Phil. Fie, Fie, Lord Clarence; you proceed not to business,
PS-KE3-2.63; E426| But speak of your own pleasures.
PS-KE3-2.64; E426| I hope their Lordships will excuse your giddiness.
PS-KE3-2.65; E426| Clar. My Lords, the French have fitted out many
PS-KE3-2.66; E426| Small ships of war, that, like to ravening wolves,
PS-KE3-2.67; E426| Infest our English seas, devouring all
PS-KE3-2.68; E426| Our burden'd vessels, spoiling our naval flocks.
PS-KE3-2.69; E426| The merchants do complain, and beg our aid.
PS-KE3-2.70; E426| Percy. The merchants are rich enough;
PS-KE3-2.71; E426| Can they not help themselves?
PS-KE3-2.72; E426| Bish. They can, and may; but how to gain their will,
PS-KE3-2.73; E426| Requires our countenance and help.
PS-KE3-2.74; E426| Percy. When that they find they must, my Lord, they will:
PS-KE3-2.75; E426| Let them but suffer awhile, and you shall see
PS-KE3-2.76; E426| They will bestir themselves.
PS-KE3-2.77; E426| Bish. Lord Percy cannot mean that we should suffer
PS-KE3-2.78; E426| This disgrace; if so, we are not sovereigns
PS-KE3-2.79; E426| Of the sea; our right, that Heaven gave
PS-KE3-2.80; E426| To England, when at the birth of nature
PS-KE3-2.81; E426| She was seated in the deep, the Ocean ceas'd
PS-KE3-2.82; E427| His mighty roar; and, fawning, play'd around
PS-KE3-2.83; E427| Her snowy feet, and own'd his awful Queen. t1038
PS-KE3-2.84; E427| Lord Percy, if the heart is sick, the head
PS-KE3-2.85; E427| Must be aggriev'd; if but one member suffer,
PS-KE3-2.86; E427| The heart doth fail. You say, my Lord, the merchants
PS-KE3-2.87; E427| Can, if they will, defend themselves against
PS-KE3-2.88; E427| These rovers: this is a noble scheme,
PS-KE3-2.89; E427| Worthy the brave Lord Percy, and as worthy
PS-KE3-2.90; E427| His generous aid to put it into practice,
PS-KE3-2.91; E427| Percy. Lord Bishop, what was rash in me, is wise
PS-KE3-2.92; E427| In you; I dare not own the plan. 'Tis not
PS-KE3-2.93; E427| Mine. Yet will I, if you please,
PS-KE3-2.94; E427| Quickly to the Lord Mayor, and work him onward
PS-KE3-2.95; E427| To this most glorious voyage, on which cast
PS-KE3-2.96; E427| I'll set my whole estate.
PS-KE3-2.97; E427| But we will bring these Gallic rovers under.
PS-KE3-2.98; E427| Queen Phil. Thanks, brave Lord Percy; you have the thanks
PS-KE3-2.99; E427| Of England's Queen, and will, ere long, of England.
PS-KE3-2; E427| [Exeunt.
PS-KE3-3.1; E427| Aud. Good morrow, brave Sir Thomas; the bright morn
PS-KE3-3.2; E427| Smiles on our army, and the gallant sun
PS-KE3-3.3; E427| Springs from the hills like a young hero
PS-KE3-3.4; E427| Into the battle, shaking his golden locks
PS-KE3-3.5; E427| Exultingly; this is a promising day.
PS-KE3-3.6; E427| Dagw. Why, my Lord Audley, I don't know.
PS-KE3-3.7; E427| Give me your hand, and now I'll tell you what
PS-KE3-3.8; E427| I think you do not know--Edward's afraid of Philip.
PS-KE3-3.9; E427| Aud. Ha, Ha, Sir Thomas! you but joke;
PS-KE3-3.10; E427| Did you e'er see him fear? At Blanchetaque, t1039
PS-KE3-3.11; E427| When almost singly he drove six thousand
PS-KE3-3.12; E427| French from the ford, did he fear then?
PS-KE3-3.13; E427| Dagw. Yes, fear; that made him fight so.
PS-KE3-3.14; E427| Aud. By the same reason I might say, 'tis fear
PS-KE3-3.15; E427| That makes you fight.
PS-KE3-3.16; E427| Dagw. Mayhap you may; look upon Edward's face--
PS-KE3-3.17; E427| No one can say he fears. But when he turns
PS-KE3-3.18; E427| His back, then I will say it to his face,
PS-KE3-3.19; E427| He is afraid; he makes us all afraid.
PS-KE3-3.20; E427| I cannot bear the enemy at my back.
PS-KE3-3.21; E427| Now here we are at Cressy; where, to-morrow,
PS-KE3-3.22; E427| To-morrow we shall know. I say, Lord Audley,
PS-KE3-3.23; E427| That Edward runs away from Philip.
PS-KE3-3.24; E428| Aud. Perhaps you think the Prince too is afraid?
PS-KE3-3.25; E428| Dagw. No; God forbid! I'm sure he is not--
PS-KE3-3.26; E428| He is a young lion. O I have seen him fight,
PS-KE3-3.27; E428| And give command, and lightning has flashed
PS-KE3-3.28; E428| From his eyes across the field; I have seen him
PS-KE3-3.29; E428| Shake hands with death, and strike a bargain for
PS-KE3-3.30; E428| The enemy; he has danc'd in the field
PS-KE3-3.31; E428| Of battle, like the youth at morrice play.
PS-KE3-3.32; E428| I'm sure he's not afraid, nor Warwick, nor none,
PS-KE3-3.33; E428| None of us but me; and I am very much afraid.
PS-KE3-3.34; E428| Aud. Are you afraid too, Sir Thomas?
PS-KE3-3.35; E428| I believe that as much as I believe
PS-KE3-3.36; E428| The King's afraid; but what are you afraid of?
PS-KE3-3.37; E428| Dagw. Of having my back laid open; we turn
PS-KE3-3.38; E428| Our backs to the fire, till we shall burn our skirts.
PS-KE3-3.39; E428| Aud. And this, Sir Thomas, you call fear? Your fear
PS-KE3-3.40; E428| Is of a different kind then from the King's;
PS-KE3-3.41; E428| He fears to turn his face, and you to turn your back.--
PS-KE3-3.42; E428| I do not think, Sir Thomas, you know what fear is.
PS-KE3-3.43; E428| Chand. Good morrow, Generals; I give you joy:
PS-KE3-3.44; E428| Welcome to the fields of Cressy. Here we stop,
PS-KE3-3.45; E428| And wait for Philip.
PS-KE3-3.46; E428| Dagw. I hope so.
PS-KE3-3.47; E428| Aud. There, Sir Thomas; do you call that fear?
PS-KE3-3.48; E428| Dagw. I don't know; perhaps he takes it by fits.
PS-KE3-3.49; E428| Why, noble Chandos, look you here--
PS-KE3-3.50; E428| One rotten sheep spoils the whole flock;
PS-KE3-3.51; E428| And if the bell-weather is tainted, I wish
PS-KE3-3.52; E428| The Prince may not catch the distemper too.
PS-KE3-3.53; E428| Chand. Distemper, Sir Thomas! what distemper?
PS-KE3-3.54; E428| I have not heard.
PS-KE3-3.55; E428| Dagw. Why, Chandos, you are a wise man,
PS-KE3-3.56; E428| I know you understand me; a distemper
PS-KE3-3.57; E428| The King caught here in France of running away.
PS-KE3-3.58; E428| Aud. Sir Thomas, you say, you have caught it too.
PS-KE3-3.59; E428| Dag. And so will the whole army; 'tis very catching,
PS-KE3-3.60; E428| For when the coward runs, the brave man totters.
PS-KE3-3.61; E428| Perhaps the air of the country is the cause.--
PS-KE3-3.62; E428| I feel it coming upon me, so I strive against it;
PS-KE3-3.63; E428| You yet are whole, but after a few more
PS-KE3-3.64; E428| Retreats, we all shall know how to retreat
PS-KE3-3.65; E428| Better than fight.--To be plain, I think retreating
PS-KE3-3.66; E428| Too often, takes away a soldier's courage.
PS-KE3-3.67; E429| Chand. Here comes the King himself; tell him your thoughts
PS-KE3-3.68; E429| Plainly, Sir Thomas.
PS-KE3-3.69; E429| Dagw. I've told him before, but his disorder
PS-KE3-3.70; E429| Makes him deaf.
PS-KE3-3.71; E429| King. Good morrow, Generals; when English courage
PS-KE3-3.72; E429| fails,
PS-KE3-3.73; E429| Down goes our right to France;
PS-KE3-3.74; E429| But we are conquerors every where; nothing
PS-KE3-3.75; E429| Can stand our soldiers; each man is worthy
PS-KE3-3.76; E429| Of a triumph. Such an army of heroes
PS-KE3-3.77; E429| Neer shouted to the Heav'ns, nor shook the field.
PS-KE3-3.78; E429| Edward, my son, thou art
PS-KE3-3.79; E429| Most happy, having such command; the man
PS-KE3-3.80; E429| Were base who were not fir'd to deeds
PS-KE3-3.81; E429| Above heroic, having such examples.
PS-KE3-3.82; E429| Prince. Sire! with respect and deference I look
PS-KE3-3.83; E429| Upon such noble souls, and wish myself
PS-KE3-3.84; E429| Worthy the high command that Heaven and you
PS-KE3-3.85; E429| Have given me. When I have seen the field glow,
PS-KE3-3.86; E429| And in each countenance the soul of war
PS-KE3-3.87; E429| Curb'd by the manliest reason, I have been wing'd
PS-KE3-3.88; E429| With certain victory; and 'tis my boast,
PS-KE3-3.89; E429| And shall be still my glory. I was inspir'd
PS-KE3-3.90; E429| By these brave troops.
PS-KE3-3.91; E429| Dagw. Your Grace had better make
PS-KE3-3.92; E429| Them all Generals.
PS-KE3-3.93; E429| King. Sir Thomas Dagworth, you must have your joke,
PS-KE3-3.94; E429| And shall, while you can fight as you did at
PS-KE3-3.95; E429| The Ford.
PS-KE3-3.96; E429| Dagw. I have a small petition to your Majesty.
PS-KE3-3.97; E429| King. What can Sir Thomas Dagworth ask, that Edward
PS-KE3-3.98; E429| Can refuse?
PS-KE3-3.99; E429| Dagw. I hope your Majesty cannot refuse so great
PS-KE3-3.100; E429| A trifle; I've gilt your cause with my best blood,
PS-KE3-3.101; E429| And would again, were I not forbid
PS-KE3-3.102; E429| By him whom I am bound to obey: my hands
PS-KE3-3.103; E429| Are tied up, my courage shrunk and wither'd,
PS-KE3-3.104; E429| My sinews slacken'd, and my voice scarce heard;
PS-KE3-3.105; E429| Therefore I beg I may return to England.
PS-KE3-3.106; E429| King. I know not what you could have ask'd, Sir Thomas,
PS-KE3-3.107; E429| That I would not have sooner parted with
PS-KE3-3.108; E429| Than such a soldier as you have been, and such a friend;
PS-KE3-3.109; E429| Nay, I will know the most remote particulars
PS-KE3-3.110; E429| Of this your strange petition; that, if I can,
PS-KE3-3.111; E429| I still may keep you here.
PS-KE3-3.112; E430| Dagw. Here on the fields of Cressy we are settled,
PS-KE3-3.113; E430| 'Till Philip springs the tim'rous covey again.
PS-KE3-3.114; E430| The Wolf is hunted down by causeless fear;
PS-KE3-3.115; E430| The Lion flees, and fear usurps his heart;
PS-KE3-3.116; E430| Startled, astonish'd at the clam'rous Cock;
PS-KE3-3.117; E430| The Eagle, that doth gaze upon the sun,
PS-KE3-3.118; E430| Fears the small fire that plays about the fen;
PS-KE3-3.119; E430| If, at this moment of their idle fear,
PS-KE3-3.120; E430| The Dog doth seize the Wolf, the Forester the Lion,
PS-KE3-3.121; E430| The Negro in the crevice of the rock,
PS-KE3-3.122; E430| Doth seize the soaring Eagle; undone by flight,
PS-KE3-3.123; E430| They tame submit: such the effect flight has
PS-KE3-3.124; E430| On noble souls. Now hear its opposite:
PS-KE3-3.125; E430| The tim'rous Stag starts from the thicket wild,
PS-KE3-3.126; E430| The fearful Crane springs from the splashy fen,
PS-KE3-3.127; E430| The shining Snake glides o'er the bending grass,
PS-KE3-3.128; E430| The Stag turns head! and bays the crying Hounds;
PS-KE3-3.129; E430| The Crane o'ertaken, sighteth with the Hawk;
PS-KE3-3.130; E430| The Snake doth turn, and bite the padding foot;
PS-KE3-3.131; E430| And, if your Majesty's afraid of Philip,
PS-KE3-3.132; E430| You are more like a Lion than a Crane:
PS-KE3-3.133; E430| Therefore I beg I may return to England.
PS-KE3-3.134; E430| King. Sir Thomas, now I understand your mirth,
PS-KE3-3.135; E430| Which often plays with Wisdom for its pastime,
PS-KE3-3.136; E430| And brings good counsel from the breast of laughter,
PS-KE3-3.137; E430| I hope you'll stay, and see us fight this battle,
PS-KE3-3.138; E430| And reap rich harvest in the fields of Cressy;
PS-KE3-3.139; E430| Then go to England, tell them how we fight,
PS-KE3-3.140; E430| And set all hearts on fire to be with us.
PS-KE3-3.141; E430| Philip is plum'd, and thinks we flee from him,
PS-KE3-3.142; E430| Else he would never dare to attack us. Now,
PS-KE3-3.143; E430| Now the quarry's set! and Death doth sport
PS-KE3-3.144; E430| In the bright sunshine of this fatal day.
PS-KE3-3.145; E430| Dagw. Now my heart dances, and I am as light
PS-KE3-3.146; E430| As the young bridegroom going to be married.
PS-KE3-3.147; E430| Now must I to my soldiers, get them ready,
PS-KE3-3.148; E430| Furbish our armours bright, new plume our helms,
PS-KE3-3.149; E430| And we will sing, like the young housewives busied
PS-KE3-3.150; E430| In the dairy; my feet are wing'd, but not
PS-KE3-3.151; E430| For flight, an please your grace.
PS-KE3-3.152; E430| King. If all my soldiers are as pleas'd as you,
PS-KE3-3.153; E430| 'Twill be a gallant thing to fight or die;
PS-KE3-3.154; E430| Then I can never be afraid of Philip.
PS-KE3-3.155; E430| Dagw. A raw-bond fellow t'other day pass'd by me;
PS-KE3-3.156; E430| I told him to put off his hungry looks--
PS-KE3-3.157; E430| He answer'd me, "I hunger for another battle."
PS-KE3-3.158; E430| I saw a little Welchman with a fiery face;
PS-KE3-3.159; E431| I told him he look'd like a candle half
PS-KE3-3.160; E431| Burn'd out; he answer'd, he was "pig enough
PS-KE3-3.161; E431| "To light another pattle." Last night, beneath
PS-KE3-3.162; E431| The moon I walk'd abroad, when all had pitch'd
PS-KE3-3.163; E431| Their tents, and all were still,
PS-KE3-3.164; E431| I heard a blooming youth singing a song
PS-KE3-3.165; E431| He had compos'd, and at each pause he wip'd
PS-KE3-3.166; E431| His dropping eyes. The ditty was, "if he
PS-KE3-3.167; E431| "Return'd victorious, he should wed a maiden
PS-KE3-3.168; E431| "Fairer than snow, and rich as midsummer."
PS-KE3-3.169; E431| Another wept, and wish'd health to his father.
PS-KE3-3.170; E431| I chid them both, but gave them noble hopes.
PS-KE3-3.171; E431| These are the minds that glory in the battle,
PS-KE3-3.172; E431| And leap and dance to hear the trumpet sound.
PS-KE3-3.173; E431| King. Sir Thomas Dagworth, be thou near our person;
PS-KE3-3.174; E431| Thy heart is richer than the vales of France:
PS-KE3-3.175; E431| I will not part with such a man as thee.
PS-KE3-3.176; E431| If Philip came arm'd in the ribs of death,
PS-KE3-3.177; E431| And shook his mortal dart against my head,
PS-KE3-3.178; E431| Thoud'st laugh his fury into nerveless shame!
PS-KE3-3.179; E431| Go now, for thou art suited to the work,
PS-KE3-3.180; E431| Throughout the camp; enflame the timorous,
PS-KE3-3.181; E431| Blow up the sluggish into ardour, and
PS-KE3-3.182; E431| Confirm the strong with strength, the weak inspire,
PS-KE3-3.183; E431| And wing their brows with hope and expectation:
PS-KE3-3.184; E431| Then to our tent return, and meet to council. [Exit Dagworth.
PS-KE3-3.185; E431| Chand. That man's a hero in his closet, and more
PS-KE3-3.186; E431| A hero to the servants of his house
PS-KE3-3.187; E431| Then to the gaping world; he carries windows
PS-KE3-3.188; E431| In that enlarged breast of his, that all
PS-KE3-3.189; E431| May see what's done within.
PS-KE3-3.190; E431| Prince. He is a genuine Englishman, my Chandos,
PS-KE3-3.191; E431| And hath the spirit of Liberty within him.
PS-KE3-3.192; E431| Forgive my prejudice, Sir John; I think
PS-KE3-3.193; E431| My Englishmen the bravest people on
PS-KE3-3.194; E431| The face of the earth.
PS-KE3-3.195; E431| Chand. Courage, my Lord, proceeds from self-dependence;
PS-KE3-3.196; E431| Teach man to think he's a free agent,
PS-KE3-3.197; E431| Give but a slave his liberty, he'll shake
PS-KE3-3.198; E431| Off sloth, and build himself a hut, and hedge
PS-KE3-3.199; E431| A spot of ground; this he'll defend; 'tis his
PS-KE3-3.200; E431| By right of nature: thus set in action,
PS-KE3-3.201; E431| He will still move onward to plan conveniences,
PS-KE3-3.202; E431| 'Till glory fires his breast to enlarge his castle,
PS-KE3-3.203; E431| While the poor slave drudges all day, in hope
PS-KE3-3.204; E431| To rest at night.
PS-KE3-3.205; E431| King. O Liberty, how glorious art thou!
PS-KE3-3.206; E432| I see thee hov'ring o'er my army, with
PS-KE3-3.207; E432| Thy wide-stretch'd plumes; I see thee
PS-KE3-3.208; E432| Lead them on to battle;
PS-KE3-3.209; E432| I see thee blow thy golden trumpet, while
PS-KE3-3.210; E432| Thy sons shout the strong shout of victory!
PS-KE3-3.211; E432| O noble Chandos! think thyself a gardener,
PS-KE3-3.212; E432| My son a vine, which I commit unto
PS-KE3-3.213; E432| Thy care; prune all extravagant shoots, and guide
PS-KE3-3.214; E432| Th' ambitious tendrils in the paths of wisdom;
PS-KE3-3.215; E432| Water him with thy advice, and Heav'n
PS-KE3-3.216; E432| Rain fresh'ning dew upon his branches. And,
PS-KE3-3.217; E432| O Edward, my dear son! learn to think lowly of
PS-KE3-3.218; E432| Thyself, as we may all each prefer other--
PS-KE3-3.219; E432| 'Tis the best policy, and 'tis our duty. [Exit King Edward. t1040
PS-KE3-3.220; E432| Prince. And may our duty, Chandos, be our pleasure--
PS-KE3-3.221; E432| Now we are alone, Sir John, I will unburden,
PS-KE3-3.222; E432| And breathe my hopes into the burning air,
PS-KE3-3.223; E432| Where thousand deaths are posting up and down,
PS-KE3-3.224; E432| Commission'd to this fatal field of Cressy;
PS-KE3-3.225; E432| Methinks I see them arm my gallant soldiers,
PS-KE3-3.226; E432| And gird the sword upon each thigh, and fit
PS-KE3-3.227; E432| Each shining helm, and string each stubborn bow,
PS-KE3-3.228; E432| And dance to the neighing of our steeds.
PS-KE3-3.229; E432| Methinks the shout begins, the battle burns;
PS-KE3-3.230; E432| Methinks I see them perch on English crests,
PS-KE3-3.231; E432| And roar the wild flame of fierce war, upon
PS-KE3-3.232; E432| The thronged enemy! In truth, I am too full;
PS-KE3-3.233; E432| It is my sin to love the noise of war.
PS-KE3-3.234; E432| Chandos, thou seest my weakness; strong nature
PS-KE3-3.235; E432| Will bend or break us; my blood, like a springtide,
PS-KE3-3.236; E432| Does rise so high, to overflow all bounds
PS-KE3-3.237; E432| Of moderation; while Reason, in his t1041
PS-KE3-3.238; E432| Frail bark, can see no shore or bound for vast
PS-KE3-3.239; E432| Ambition. Come, take the helm, my Chandos,
PS-KE3-3.240; E432| That my full-blown sails overset me not
PS-KE3-3.241; E432| In the wild tempest; condemn my 'ventrous youth,
PS-KE3-3.242; E432| That plays with danger, as the innocent child,
PS-KE3-3.243; E432| Unthinking, plays upon the viper's den:
PS-KE3-3.244; E432| I am a coward, in my reason, Chandos.
PS-KE3-3.245; E432| Chand. You are a man, my prince, and a brave man,
PS-KE3-3.246; E432| If I can judge of actions; but your heat
PS-KE3-3.247; E432| Is the effect of youth, and want of use;
PS-KE3-3.248; E432| Use makes the armed field and noisy war
PS-KE3-3.249; E432| Pass over as a summer cloud, unregarded,
PS-KE3-3.250; E432| Or but expected as a thing of course.
PS-KE3-3.251; E432| Age is contemplative; each rolling, year
PS-KE3-3.252; E433| Brings forth fruit to the mind's treasure-house;
PS-KE3-3.253; E433| While vacant youth doth crave and seek about
PS-KE3-3.254; E433| Within itself, and findeth discontent:
PS-KE3-3.255; E433| Then, tir'd of thought, impatient takes the wing,
PS-KE3-3.256; E433| Seizes the fruits of time, attacks experience,
PS-KE3-3.257; E433| Roams round vast Nature's forest, where no bounds
PS-KE3-3.258; E433| Are set, the swiftest may have room, the strongest
PS-KE3-3.259; E433| Find prey; till tir'd at length, sated and tired
PS-KE3-3.260; E433| With the changing sameness, old variety,
PS-KE3-3.261; E433| We sit us down, and view our former joys
PS-KE3-3.262; E433| With distaste and dislike.
PS-KE3-3.263; E433| Prince. Then if we must tug for experience,
PS-KE3-3.264; E433| Let us not fear to beat round Nature's wilds,
PS-KE3-3.265; E433| And rouze the strongest prey; then if we fall,
PS-KE3-3.266; E433| We fall with glory; I know the wolf
PS-KE3-3.267; E433| Is dangerous to fight, not good for food,
PS-KE3-3.268; E433| Nor is the hide a comely vestment; so
PS-KE3-3.269; E433| We have our battle for our pains. I know
PS-KE3-3.270; E433| That youth has need of age to point fit prey,
PS-KE3-3.271; E433| And oft the stander-by shall steal the fruit
PS-KE3-3.272; E433| Of th' other's labour. This is philosophy;
PS-KE3-3.273; E433| These are the tricks of the world; but the pure soul
PS-KE3-3.274; E433| Shall mount on native wings, disdaining
PS-KE3-3.275; E433| Little sport, and cut a path into the heaven of glory,
PS-KE3-3.276; E433| Leaving a track of light for men to wonder at.
PS-KE3-3.277; E433| I'm glad my father does not hear me talk;
PS-KE3-3.278; E433| You can find friendly excuses for me, Chandos;
PS-KE3-3.279; E433| But do you not think, Sir John, that if it please
PS-KE3-3.280; E433| Th' Almighty to stretch out my span of life,
PS-KE3-3.281; E433| I shall with pleasure view a glorious action,
PS-KE3-3.282; E433| Which my youth master'd.
PS-KE3-3.283; E433| Chand. Considerate age, my Lord, views motives,
PS-KE3-3.284; E433| And not acts; when neither warbling voice,
PS-KE3-3.285; E433| Nor trilling pipe is heard, nor pleasure sits
PS-KE3-3.286; E433| With trembling age; the voice of Conscience then,
PS-KE3-3.287; E433| Sweeter than music in a summer's eve,
PS-KE3-3.288; E433| Shall warble round the snowy head, and keep
PS-KE3-3.289; E433| Sweet symphony to feather'd angels, sitting
PS-KE3-3.290; E433| As guardians round your chair; then shall the pulse
PS-KE3-3.291; E433| Beat slow, and taste, and touch, and sight, and sound, and smell,
PS-KE3-3.292; E433| That sing and dance round Reason's fine-wrought throne,
PS-KE3-3.293; E433| Shall flee away, and leave him all forlorn; t1042
PS-KE3-3.294; E433| Yet not forlorn if Conscience is his friend. [Exeunt.
PS-KE3-4.1; E434| Dagw. Bring hither my armour, William;
PS-KE3-4.2; E434| Ambition is the growth of ev'ry clime.
PS-KE3-4.3; E434| Will. Does it grow in England, Sir?
PS-KE3-4.4; E434| Dagw. Aye, it grows most in lands most cultivated.
PS-KE3-4.5; E434| Will. Then it grows most in France; the vines here
PS-KE3-4.6; E434| Are finer than any we have in England.
PS-KE3-4.7; E434| Dagw. Aye, but the oaks are not.
PS-KE3-4.8; E434| Will. What is the tree you mentioned? I don't think I ever saw it.
PS-KE3-4.9; E434| Dagw. Ambition.
PS-KE3-4.10; E434| Will. Is it a little creeping root that grows in ditches?
PS-KE3-4.11; E434| Dagw. Thou dost not understand me, William.
PS-KE3-4.12; E434| It is a root that grows in every breast;
PS-KE3-4.13; E434| Ambition is the desire or passion that one man
PS-KE3-4.14; E434| Has to get before another, in any pursuit after glory;
PS-KE3-4.15; E434| But I don't think you have any of it.
PS-KE3-4.16; E434| Will. Yes, I have; I have a great ambition to know
PS-KE3-4.17; E434| every thing, Sir.
PS-KE3-4.18; E434| Dagw. But when our first ideas are wrong, what follows
PS-KE3-4.19; E434| must all be wrong of course; 'tis best to know a little, and to
PS-KE3-4.20; E434| know that little aright.
PS-KE3-4.21; E434| Will. Then, Sir, I should be glad to know if it was not
PS-KE3-4.22; E434| ambition that brought over our King to France to fight for his
PS-KE3-4.23; E434| right?
PS-KE3-4.24; E434| Dagw. Tho' the knowledge of that will not profit thee
PS-KE3-4.25; E434| much, yet I will tell you that it was ambition.
PS-KE3-4.26; E434| Will. Then if ambition is a sin, we are all guilty in
PS-KE3-4.27; E434| coming with him, and in fighting for him.
PS-KE3-4.28; E434| Dagw. Now, William, thou dost thrust the question home;
PS-KE3-4.29; E434| but I must tell you, that guilt being an act of the mind, none
PS-KE3-4.30; E434| are guilty but those whose minds are prompted by that same
PS-KE3-4.31; E434| ambition.
PS-KE3-4.32; E434| Will. Now I always thought, that a man might be guilty
PS-KE3-4.33; E434| of doing wrong, without knowing it was wrong.
PS-KE3-4.34; E434| Dagw. Thou art a natural philosopher, and knowest truth
PS-KE3-4.35; E434| by instinct; while reason runs aground, as we have run our
PS-KE3-4.36; E434| argument. Only remember, William, all have it in their power to
PS-KE3-4.37; E434| know the motives of their own actions, and 'tis a sin to act
PS-KE3-4.38; E434| without some reason.
PS-KE3-4.39; E434| Will. And whoever acts without reason, may do a great
PS-KE3-4.40; E434| deal of harm without knowing it.
PS-KE3-4.41; E434| Dagw. Thou art an endless moralist.
PS-KE3-4.42; E434| Will. Now there's a story come into my head, that I
PS-KE3-4.43; E434| will tell your honour, if you'll give me leave.
PS-KE3-4.44; E434| Dagw. No, William, save it till another time; this is
PS-KE3-4.45; E434| no time for story-telling; but here comes one who is as
PS-KE3-4.46; E434| entertaining as a good story.
PS-KE3-4; E435| Enter Peter Blunt.
PS-KE3-4.47; E435| Peter. Yonder's a musician going to play before the
PS-KE3-4.48; E435| King; it's a new song about the French and English, and the t1043
PS-KE3-4.49; E435| Prince has made the minstrel a 'squire, and given him I don't
PS-KE3-4.50; E435| know what, and I can't tell whether he don't mention us all one
PS-KE3-4.51; E435| by one; and he is to write another about all us that are to t1044
PS-KE3-4.52; E435| die, that we may be remembered in Old England, for all our blood
PS-KE3-4.53; E435| and bones are in France; and a great deal more that we shall all
PS-KE3-4.54; E435| hear by and by; and I came to tell your honour, because you love
PS-KE3-4.55; E435| to hear war-songs.
PS-KE3-4.56; E435| Dagw. And who is this minstrel, Peter, dost know?
PS-KE3-4.57; E435| Peter. O aye, I forgot to tell that; he has got the
PS-KE3-4.58; E435| same name as Sir John Chandos, that the prince is always with--
PS-KE3-4.59; E435| the wise man, that knows us all as well as your honour, only e'nt
PS-KE3-4.60; E435| so good natur'd.
PS-KE3-4.61; E435| Dagw. I thank you, Peter, for your information, but not
PS-KE3-4.62; E435| for your compliment, which is not true; there's as much
PS-KE3-4.63; E435| difference between him and me, as between glittering sand and
PS-KE3-4.64; E435| fruitful mold; or shining glass and a wrought diamond, set in
PS-KE3-4.65; E435| rich gold, and fitted to the finger of an emperor: such is that
PS-KE3-4.66; E435| worthy Chandos.
PS-KE3-4.67; E435| Peter. I know your honour does not think any thing of
PS-KE3-4.68; E435| yourself, but every body else does.
PS-KE3-4.69; E435| Dagw. Go, Peter, get you gone; flattery is delicious,
PS-KE3-4.70; E435| even from the lips of a babbler. [Exit Peter.
PS-KE3-4.71; E435| Will. I never flatter your honour.
PS-KE3-4.72; E435| Dagw. I don't know that.
PS-KE3-4.73; E435| Will. Why you know, Sir, when we were in England, at
PS-KE3-4.74; E435| the tournament at Windsor, and the Earl of Warwick was tumbled
PS-KE3-4.75; E435| over, you ask'd me if he did not look well when he fell? and I
PS-KE3-4.76; E435| said, No, he look'd very foolish; and you was very angry with me
PS-KE3-4.77; E435| for not flattering you.
PS-KE3-4.78; E435| Dagw. You mean that I was angry with you for not
PS-KE3-4.79; E435| flattering the Earl of Warwick. [Exeunt.
PS-KE3-5.1; E435| Sir Walter. Sir Thomas Dagworth, I have been weeping
PS-KE3-5.2; E435| Over the men that are to die to-day.
PS-KE3-5.3; E435| Dagw. Why, brave Sir Walter, you or I may fall.
PS-KE3-5.4; E435| Sir Walter. I know this breathing flesh must lie and
PS-KE3-5.5; E435| rot,
PS-KE3-5.6; E435| Cover'd with silence and forgetfulness.--
PS-KE3-5.7; E435| Death wons in cities' smoke, and in still night,
PS-KE3-5.8; E435| When men sleep in their beds, walketh about!
PS-KE3-5.9; E435| How many in walled cities lie and groan,
PS-KE3-5.10; E435| Turning themselves upon their beds,
PS-KE3-5.11; E436| Talking with death, answering his hard demands!
PS-KE3-5.12; E436| How many walk in darkness, terrors are round
PS-KE3-5.13; E436| The curtains of their beds, destruction is
PS-KE3-5.14; E436| Ready at the door! How many sleep
PS-KE3-5.15; E436| In earth, cover'd with stones and deathy dust,
PS-KE3-5.16; E436| Resting in quietness, whose spirits walk
PS-KE3-5.17; E436| Upon the clouds of heaven, to die no more!
PS-KE3-5.18; E436| Yet death is terrible, tho' borne on angels' wings!
PS-KE3-5.19; E436| How terrible then is the field of death,
PS-KE3-5.20; E436| Where he doth rend the vault of heaven,
PS-KE3-5.21; E436| And shake the gates of hell!
PS-KE3-5.22; E436| O Dagworth, France is sick! the very sky,
PS-KE3-5.23; E436| Tho' sunshine light it, seems to me as pale
PS-KE3-5.24; E436| As the pale fainting man on his death-bed,
PS-KE3-5.25; E436| Whose face is shewn by light of sickly taper!
PS-KE3-5.26; E436| It makes me sad and sick at very heart,
PS-KE3-5.27; E436| Thousands must fall to-day!
PS-KE3-5.28; E436| Dagw. Thousands of souls must leave this prison house,
PS-KE3-5.29; E436| To be exalted to those heavenly fields,
PS-KE3-5.30; E436| Where songs of triumph, palms of victory, t1045
PS-KE3-5.31; E436| Where peace, and joy, and love, and calm content,
PS-KE3-5.32; E436| Sit singing in the azure clouds, and strew
PS-KE3-5.33; E436| Flowers of heaven's growth over the banquet-table:
PS-KE3-5.34; E436| Bind ardent Hope upon your feet like shoes,
PS-KE3-5.35; E436| Put on the robe of preparation,
PS-KE3-5.36; E436| The table is prepar'd in shining heaven,
PS-KE3-5.37; E436| The flowers of immortality are blown;
PS-KE3-5.38; E436| Let those that fight, fight in good stedfastness,
PS-KE3-5.39; E436| And those that fall shall rise in victory.
PS-KE3-5.40; E436| Sir Walter. I've often seen the burning field of war,
PS-KE3-5.41; E436| And often heard the dismal clang of arms;
PS-KE3-5.42; E436| But never, till this fatal day of Cressy,
PS-KE3-5.43; E436| Has my soul fainted with these views of death!
PS-KE3-5.44; E436| I seem to be in one great charnel-house,
PS-KE3-5.45; E436| And seem to scent the rotten carcases!
PS-KE3-5.46; E436| I seem to hear the dismal yells of death,
PS-KE3-5.47; E436| While the black gore drops from his horrid jaws:
PS-KE3-5.48; E436| Yet I not fear the monster in his pride.--
PS-KE3-5.49; E436| But O the souls that are to die to-day!
PS-KE3-5.50; E436| Dagw. Stop, brave Sir Walter; let me drop a tear,
PS-KE3-5.51; E436| Then let the clarion of war begin;
PS-KE3-5.52; E436| I'll fight and weep, 'tis in my country's cause;
PS-KE3-5.53; E436| I'll weep and shout for glorious liberty.
PS-KE3-5.54; E436| Grim war shall laugh and shout, decked in tears,
PS-KE3-5.55; E436| And blood shall flow like streams across the meadows,
PS-KE3-5.56; E436| That murmur down their pebbly channels, and
PS-KE3-5.57; E437| Spend their sweet lives to do their country service:
PS-KE3-5.58; E437| Then shall England's verdure shoot, her fields shall smile,
PS-KE3-5.59; E437| Her ships shall sing across the foaming sea,
PS-KE3-5.60; E437| Her mariners shall use the flute and viol,
PS-KE3-5.61; E437| And rattling guns, and black and dreary war,
PS-KE3-5.62; E437| Shall be no more.
PS-KE3-5.63; E437| Sir Walter. Well; let the trumpet sound, and the drum beat;
PS-KE3-5.64; E437| Let war stain the blue heavens with bloody banners,
PS-KE3-5.65; E437| I'll draw my sword, nor ever sheath it up,
PS-KE3-5.66; E437| 'Till England blow the trump of victory,
PS-KE3-5.67; E437| Or I lay stretch'd upon the field of death!
PS-KE3-5; E437| Exeunt.
PS-KE3-6.1; E437| O sons of Trojan Brutus, cloath'd in war,
PS-KE3-6.2; E437| Whose voices are the thunder of the field,
PS-KE3-6.3; E437| Rolling dark clouds o'er France, muffling the sun
PS-KE3-6.4; E437| In sickly darkness like a dim eclipse,
PS-KE3-6.5; E437| Threatening as the red brow of storms, as fire
PS-KE3-6.6; E437| Burning up nations in your wrath and fury!
PS-KE3-6.7; E437| Your ancestors came from the fires of Troy,
PS-KE3-6.8; E437| (Like lions rouz'd by light'ning from their dens,
PS-KE3-6.9; E437| Whose eyes do glare against the stormy fires)
PS-KE3-6.10; E437| Heated with war, fill'd with the blood of Greeks,
PS-KE3-6.11; E437| With helmets hewn, and shields covered with gore,
PS-KE3-6.12; E437| In navies black, broken with wind and tide!
PS-KE3-6.13; E437| They landed in firm array upon the rocks
PS-KE3-6.14; E437| Of Albion; they kiss'd the rocky shore;
PS-KE3-6.15; E437| "Be thou our mother, and our nurse," they said;
PS-KE3-6.16; E437| "Our children's mother, and thou shalt be our grave;
PS-KE3-6.17; E437| "The sepulchre of ancient Troy, from whence
PS-KE3-6.18; E437| "Shall rise cities, and thrones, and arms, and awful pow'rs.
PS-KE3-6.19; E437| Our fathers swarm from the ships. Giant voices
PS-KE3-6.20; E437| Are heard from the hills, the enormous sons
PS-KE3-6.21; E437| Of Ocean run from rocks and caves: wild men
PS-KE3-6.22; E437| Naked and roaring like lions, hurling rocks,
PS-KE3-6.23; E437| And wielding knotty clubs, like oaks entangled
PS-KE3-6.24; E437| Thick as a forest, ready for the axe.
PS-KE3-6.27; E438| Like as a forest roars with crackling flames,
PS-KE3-6.28; E438| When the red lightning, borne by furious storms,
PS-KE3-6.29; E438| Lights on some woody shore; the parched heavens
PS-KE3-6.30; E438| Rain fire into the molten raging sea!
PS-KE3-6.31; E438| The smoaking trees are strewn upon the shore,
PS-KE3-6.32; E438| Spoil'd of their verdure! O how oft have they
PS-KE3-6.33; E438| Defy'd the storm that howled o'er their heads!
PS-KE3-6.34; E438| Our fathers, sweating, lean on their spears, and view
PS-KE3-6.35; E438| The mighty dead: giant bodies, streaming blood,
PS-KE3-6.36; E438| Dread visages, frowning in silent death!
PS-KE3-6.37; E438| Then Brutus spoke, inspir'd; our fathers sit
PS-KE3-6.38; E438| Attentive on the melancholy shore:--
PS-KE3-6.39; E438| Hear ye the voice of Brutus--"The flowing waves
PS-KE3-6.40; E438| "Of time come rolling o'er my breast," he said;
PS-KE3-6.41; E438| "And my heart labours with futurity:
PS-KE3-6.42; E438| "Our sons shall rule the empire of the sea.
PS-KE3-6.43; E438| "Their mighty wings shall stretch from east to west,
PS-KE3-6.44; E438| "Their nest is in the sea; but they shall roam
PS-KE3-6.45; E438| "Like eagles for the prey; nor shall the young
PS-KE3-6.46; E438| "Crave or be heard; for plenty shall bring forth,
PS-KE3-6.47; E438| "Cities shall sing, and vales in rich array
PS-KE3-6.48; E438| "Shall laugh, whose fruitful laps bend down with fulness.
PS-KE3-6.49; E438| "Our sons shall rise from thrones in joy,
PS-KE3-6.50; E438| "Each one buckling on his armour; Morning
PS-KE3-6.51; E438| "Shall be prevented by their swords gleaming,
PS-KE3-6.52; E438| "And Evening hear their song of victory!
PS-KE3-6.53; E438| "Their towers shall be built upon the rocks,
PS-KE3-6.54; E438| "Their daughters shall sing, surrounded with shining spears!
PS-KE3-6.55; E438| "Liberty shall stand upon the cliffs of Albion,
PS-KE3-6.56; E438| "Casting her blue eyes over the green ocean;
PS-KE3-6.57; E438| "Or, tow'ring, stand upon the roaring waves,
PS-KE3-6.58; E438| "Stretching her mighty spear o'er distant lands;
PS-KE3-6.59; E438| "While, with her eagle wings, she covereth
PS-KE3-6.60; E438| "Fair Albion's shore, and all her families."
PS-KE4.1; E439| O For a voice like thunder, and a tongue
PS-KE4.2; E439| To drown the throat of war!--When the senses
PS-KE4.3; E439| Are shaken, and the soul is driven to madness,
PS-KE4.4; E439| Who can stand? When the souls of the oppressed
PS-KE4.5; E439| Fight in the troubled air that rages, who can stand?
PS-KE4.6; E439| When the whirlwind of fury comes from the
PS-KE4.7; E439| Throne of God, when the frowns of his countenance
PS-KE4.8; E439| Drive the nations together, who can stand?
PS-KE4.9; E439| When Sin claps his broad wings over the battle,
PS-KE4.10; E439| And sails rejoicing in the flood of Death;
PS-KE4.11; E439| When souls are torn to everlasting fire,
PS-KE4.12; E439| And fiends of Hell rejoice upon the slain,
PS-KE4.13; E439| O who can stand? O who hath caused this?
PS-KE4.14; E439| O who can answer at the throne of God?
PS-KE4.15; E439| The Kings and Nobles of the Land have done it!
PS-KE4.16; E439| Hear it not, Heaven, thy Ministers have done it!
PS-ProKJprose.1; E439| Justice hath heaved a sword to plunge in Albion's breast; for
PS-ProKJprose.2; E439| Albion's sins are crimson dy'd, and the red scourge follows her
PS-ProKJprose.3; E439| desolate sons, Then Patriot rose; full oft did Patriot rise, when
PS-ProKJprose.4; E439| Tyranny hath stain'd fair Albion's breast with her own children's
PS-ProKJprose.5; E439| gore. Round his majestic feet deep thunders roll; each heart
PS-ProKJprose.6; E439| does tremble, and each knee grows slack. The stars of heaven
PS-ProKJprose.7; E439| tremble: the roaring voice of war, the trumpet, calls to battle!
PS-ProKJprose.8; E439| Brother in brother's blood must bathe, rivers of death! O land,
PS-ProKJprose.9; E439| most hapless! O beauteous island, how forsaken! Weep from thy
PS-ProKJprose.10; E439| silver fountains; weep from thy gentle rivers! The angel of the
PS-ProKJprose.11; E439| island weeps! Thy widowed virgins weep beneath thy shades! Thy
PS-ProKJprose.12; E439| aged fathers gird themselves for war! The sucking infant lives to
PS-ProKJprose.13; E439| die in battle; the weeping mother feeds him for the slaughter!
PS-ProKJprose.14; E439| The husbandman doth leave his bending harvest! Blood cries afar!
PS-ProKJprose.15; E439| The land doth sow itself! The glittering youth of courts must
PS-ProKJprose.16; E439| gleam in arms! The aged senators their ancient swords assume! The
PS-ProKJprose.17; E439| trembling sinews of old age must work the work of death against
PS-ProKJprose.18; E439| their progeny; for Tyranny hath stretch'd his purple arm, and
PS-ProKJprose.19; E439| "blood," he cries; "the chariots and the horses, the noise of
PS-ProKJprose.20; E439| shout, and dreadful thunder of the battle heard afar!"--Beware, O
PS-ProKJprose.21; E439| Proud! thou shalt be humbled; thy cruel brow, thine iron heart is
PS-ProKJprose.22; E439| smitten, though lingering Fate is slow. O yet may Albion smile
PS-ProKJprose.23; E439| again, and stretch her peaceful arms, and raise her golden head,
PS-ProKJprose.24; E439| exultingly! Her citizens shall throng about her
PS-ProKJprose.25; E440| gates, her mariners shall sing upon the sea, and myriads shall to
PS-ProKJprose.26; E440| her temples crowd! Her sons shall joy as in the morning! Her
PS-ProKJprose.27; E440| daughters sing as to the rising year!
PS-WarSong1; E440| Prepare, prepare, the iron helm of war,
PS-WarSong2; E440| Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb;
PS-WarSong3; E440| Th' Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,
PS-WarSong4; E440| And casts them out upon the darken'd earth!
PS-WarSong5; E440| Prepare, prepare.
PS-WarSong6; E440| Prepare your hearts for Death's cold hand! prepare
PS-WarSong7; E440| Your souls for flight, your bodies for the earth!
PS-WarSong8; E440| Prepare your arms for glorious victory!
PS-WarSong9; E440| Prepare your eyes to meet a holy God!
PS-WarSong10; E440| Prepare, prepare.
PS-WarSong11; E440| Whose fatal scroll is that? Methinks 'tis mine!
PS-WarSong12; E440| Why sinks my heart, why faultereth my tongue?
PS-WarSong13; E440| Had I three lives, I'd die in such a cause,
PS-WarSong14; E440| And rise, with ghosts, over the well-fought field.
PS-WarSong15; E440| Prepare, prepare.
PS-WarSong16; E440| The arrows of Almighty God are drawn!
PS-WarSong17; E440| Angels of Death stand in the low'ring heavens!
PS-WarSong18; E440| Thousands of souls must seek the realms of light,
PS-WarSong19; E440| And walk together on the clouds of heaven!
PS-WarSong20; E440| Prepare, prepare.
PS-WarSong21; E440| Soldiers, prepare! Our cause is Heaven's cause;
PS-WarSong22; E440| Soldiers, prepare! Be worthy of our cause:
PS-WarSong23; E440| Prepare to meet our fathers in the sky:
PS-WarSong24; E440| Prepare, O troops, that are to fall to-day!
PS-WarSong25; E440| Prepare, prepare.
PS-WarSong26; E440| Alfred shall smile, and make his harp rejoice;
PS-WarSong27; E440| The Norman William, and the learned Clerk,
PS-WarSong28; E440| And Lion Heart, and black-brow'd Edward, with
PS-WarSong29; E440| His loyal queen shall rise, and welcome us!
PS-WarSong30; E440| Prepare, prepare.
PS-Couch-prose1; E441| The veiled Evening walked solitary down the western hills, and
PS-Couch-prose2; E441| Silence reposed in the valley; the birds of day were heard in
PS-Couch-prose3; E441| their nests, rustling in brakes and thickets; and the owl and bat
PS-Couch-prose4; E441| flew round the darkening trees: all is silent when Nature takes
PS-Couch-prose5; E441| her repose.--In former times, on such [a]n evening, when the cold
PS-Couch-prose6; E441| clay breathed with life, and our ancestors, who now sleep in
PS-Couch-prose7; E441| their graves, walked on the stedfast globe, the remains of a
PS-Couch-prose8; E441| family of the tribes of Earth, a mother and a sister were
PS-Couch-prose9; E441| gathered to the sick bed of a youth: Sorrow linked them together,
PS-Couch-prose10; E441| leaning on one another's necks alternately--like lilies, dropping
PS-Couch-prose11; E441| tears in each other's bosom, they stood by the bed like reeds
PS-Couch-prose12; E441| bending over a lake, when the evening drops trickle down. His
PS-Couch-prose13; E441| voice was low as the whisperings of the woods when the wind is
PS-Couch-prose14; E441| asleep, and the visions of Heaven unfold their visitation.
PS-Couch-prose15; E441| "Parting is hard, and death is terrible; I seem to walk through a
PS-Couch-prose16; E441| deep valley, far from the light of day, alone and comfortless!
PS-Couch-prose17; E441| The damps of death fall thick upon me! Horrors stare me in the
PS-Couch-prose18; E441| face! I look behind, there is no returning; Death follows after
PS-Couch-prose19; E441| me; I walk in regions of Death, where no tree is; without a
PS-Couch-prose20; E441| lantern to direct my steps, without a staff to support me."--Thus
PS-Couch-prose21; E441| he laments through the still evening, till the curtains of
PS-Couch-prose22; E441| darkness were drawn! Like the sound of a broken pipe, the aged
PS-Couch-prose23; E441| woman raised her voice. "O my son, my son, I know but little of
PS-Couch-prose24; E441| the path thou goest! But lo, there is a God, who made the world;
PS-Couch-prose25; E441| stretch out thy hand to Him." The youth replied, like a voice
PS-Couch-prose26; E441| heard from a sepulchre, "My hand is feeble, how should I stretch
PS-Couch-prose27; E441| it out? My ways are sinful, how should I raise mine eyes? My
PS-Couch-prose28; E441| voice hath used deceit, how should I call on Him who is Truth? My
PS-Couch-prose29; E441| breath is loathsome, how should he not be offended? If I lay my
PS-Couch-prose30; E441| face in the dust, the grave opens its mouth for me; if I lift up
PS-Couch-prose31; E441| my head, sin covers me as a cloak! O my dear friends, pray ye for
PS-Couch-prose32; E441| me! Stretch forth your hands, that my helper may come! Through
PS-Couch-prose33; E441| the void space I walk between the sinful world and eternity!
PS-Couch-prose34; E441| Beneath me burns eternal fire! O for a hand to pluck me forth!"
PS-Couch-prose35; E441| As the voice of an omen heard in the silent valley, when the few
PS-Couch-prose36; E441| inhabitants cling trembling together; as the voice of the Angel
PS-Couch-prose37; E441| of Death, when the thin beams of the moon give a faint light,
PS-Couch-prose38; E441| such was this young man's voice to his friends! Like the bubbling
PS-Couch-prose39; E441| waters of the brook in the dead of night, the aged woman raised
PS-Couch-prose40; E441| her cry, and said, "O Voice, that dwellest in my breast, can I
PS-Couch-prose41; E441| not cry, and lift my eyes to heaven? Thinking of this, my spirit
PS-Couch-prose42; E441| is turned within me into confusion! O my child, my child! is thy
PS-Couch-prose43; E441| breath infected? So is mine. As the deer, wounded by the brooks
PS-Couch-prose44; E441| of water, so the arrows of sin stick in my flesh; the poison hath
PS-Couch-prose45; E441| entered into my marrow."--Like rolling waves, upon a desert
PS-Couch-prose46; E441| shore, sighs succeeded sighs; they covered their faces, and wept!
PS-Couch-prose47; E441| The youth lay silent--his mother's arm was
PS-Couch-prose48; E442| under his head; he was like a cloud tossed by the winds, till the
PS-Couch-prose49; E442| sun shine, and the drops of rain glisten, the yellow harvest
PS-Couch-prose50; E442| breathes, and the thankful eyes of the villagers are turned up in
PS-Couch-prose51; E442| smiles. The traveller that hath taken shelter under an oak, eyes
PS-Couch-prose52; E442| the distant country with joy! Such smiles were seen upon the
PS-Couch-prose53; E442| face of the youth! a visionary hand wiped away his tears, and a
PS-Couch-prose54; E442| ray of light beamed around his head! All was still. The moon
PS-Couch-prose55; E442| hung not out her lamp, and the stars faintly glimmered in the
PS-Couch-prose56; E442| summer sky; the breath of night slept among the leaves of the
PS-Couch-prose57; E442| forest; the bosom of the lofty hill drank in the silent dew,
PS-Couch-prose58; E442| while on his majestic brow the voice of Angels is heard, and
PS-Couch-prose59; E442| stringed sounds ride upon the wings of night. The sorrowful pair
PS-Couch-prose60; E442| lift up their heads, hovering Angels are around them, voices of
PS-Couch-prose61; E442| comfort are heard over the Couch of Death, and the youth breathes
PS-Couch-prose62; E442| out his soul with joy into eternity.
PS-Contemp-prose1; E442| Who is this, that with unerring step dares tempt the wilds, where
PS-Contemp-prose2; E442| only Nature's foot hath trod? 'Tis Contemplation, daughter of the
PS-Contemp-prose3; E442| grey Morning! Majestical she steppeth, and with her pure quill on
PS-Contemp-prose4; E442| every flower writeth Wisdom's name. Now lowly bending, whispers
PS-Contemp-prose5; E442| in mine ear, "O man, how great, how little thou! O man, slave of
PS-Contemp-prose6; E442| each moment, lord of eternity! seest thou where Mirth sits on the
PS-Contemp-prose7; E442| painted cheek? doth it not seem ashamed of such a place, and grow
PS-Contemp-prose8; E442| immoderate to brave it out? O what an humble garb true joy puts
PS-Contemp-prose9; E442| on! Those who want Happiness must stoop to find it; it is a
PS-Contemp-prose10; E442| flower that grows in every vale. Vain foolish man, that roams on
PS-Contemp-prose11; E442| lofty rocks! where, 'cause his garments are swoln with wind, he
PS-Contemp-prose12; E442| fancies he is grown into a giant! Lo then, Humility, take it, and
PS-Contemp-prose13; E442| wear it in thine heart; lord of thyself, thou then art lord of
PS-Contemp-prose14; E442| all. Clamour brawls along the streets, and destruction hovers in
PS-Contemp-prose15; E442| the city's smoak; but on these plains, and in these silent woods,
PS-Contemp-prose16; E442| true joys descend: here build thy nest; here fix thy staff;
PS-Contemp-prose17; E442| delights blossom around; numberless beauties blow; the green
PS-Contemp-prose18; E442| grass springs in joy, and the nimble air kisses the leaves; the
PS-Contemp-prose19; E442| brook stretches its arms along the velvet meadow, its silver
PS-Contemp-prose20; E442| inhabitants sport and play; the youthful sun joys like a hunter
PS-Contemp-prose21; E442| rouzed to the chace: he rushes up the sky, and lays hold on the
PS-Contemp-prose22; E442| immortal coursers of day; the sky glitters with the jingling
PS-Contemp-prose23; E442| trappings! Like a triumph, season follows season, while the airy
PS-Contemp-prose24; E442| music fills the world with joyful sounds." I answered, "Heavenly
PS-Contemp-prose25; E442| goddess! I am wrapped in mortality, my flesh is a prison, my
PS-Contemp-prose26; E442| bones the bars of death, Misery builds over our cottage roofs,
PS-Contemp-prose27; E442| and Discontent runs like a brook. Even in childhood, Sorrow
PS-Contemp-prose28; E442| slept with me in my cradle; he followed me up and down in the
PS-Contemp-prose29; E442| house when I grew up; he was my school-fellow: thus he was in my
PS-Contemp-prose30; E442| steps and in my play, till he became to me as my brother. I
PS-Contemp-prose31; E442| walked through dreary places with him, and in church-yards; and I
PS-Contemp-prose32; E442| oft found myself sitting by Sorrow on a tomb-stone!"
PS-Samson-prose1; E443| Samson, the strongest of the children of men, I sing; how he was
PS-Samson-prose2; E443| foiled by woman's arts, by a false wife brought to the gates of
PS-Samson-prose3; E443| death! O Truth, that shinest with propitious beams, turning our
PS-Samson-prose4; E443| earthly night to heavenly day, from presence of the Almighty
PS-Samson-prose5; E443| Father! thou visitest our darkling world with blessed feet,
PS-Samson-prose6; E443| bringing good news of Sin and Death destroyed! O white-robed
PS-Samson-prose7; E443| Angel, guide my timorous hand to write as on a lofty rock with
PS-Samson-prose8; E443| iron pens the words of truth, that all who pass may read.--Now
PS-Samson-prose9; E443| Night, noon-tide of damned spirits, over the silent earth spreads
PS-Samson-prose10; E443| her pavilion, while in dark council sat Philista's lords; and
PS-Samson-prose11; E443| where strength failed, black thoughts in ambush lay. Their
PS-Samson-prose12; E443| helmed youth and aged warriors in dust together ly, and
PS-Samson-prose13; E443| Desolation spreads his wings over the land of Palestine; from
PS-Samson-prose14; E443| side to side the land groans, her prowess lost, and seeks to hide
PS-Samson-prose15; E443| her bruised head under the mists of night, breeding dark plots,
PS-Samson-prose16; E443| For Dalila's fair arts have long been tried in vain; in vain she
PS-Samson-prose17; E443| wept in many a treacherous tear. "Go on, fair traitress; do thy
PS-Samson-prose18; E443| guileful work; ere once again the changing moon her circuit hath
PS-Samson-prose19; E443| performed, thou shalt overcome, and conquer him by force
PS-Samson-prose20; E443| unconquerable, and wrest his secret from him. Call thine
PS-Samson-prose21; E443| alluring arts and honest-seeming brow, the holy kiss of love, and
PS-Samson-prose22; E443| the transparent tear; put on fair linen, that with the lily vies,
PS-Samson-prose23; E443| purple and silver; neglect thy hair, to seem more lovely in thy
PS-Samson-prose24; E443| loose attire; put on thy country's pride, deceit; and eyes of
PS-Samson-prose25; E443| love decked in mild sorrow, and sell thy Lord for gold."--For
PS-Samson-prose26; E443| now, upon her sumptuous couch reclined, in gorgeous pride, she
PS-Samson-prose27; E443| still intreats, and still she grasps his vigorous knees with her
PS-Samson-prose28; E443| fair arms.--"Thou lov'st me not! thou'rt war, thou art not love!
PS-Samson-prose29; E443| O foolish Dalila! O weak woman! it is death cloathed in flesh
PS-Samson-prose30; E443| thou lovest, and thou hast been incircled in his arms!--Alas, my
PS-Samson-prose31; E443| Lord, what am I calling thee? Thou art my God! To thee I pour
PS-Samson-prose32; E443| my tears for sacrifice morning and evening: My days are covered
PS-Samson-prose33; E443| with sorrow! Shut up; darkened: By night I am deceived! Who says
PS-Samson-prose34; E443| that thou wast born Of mortal kind? Destruction was thy father,
PS-Samson-prose35; E443| a lioness suckled thee, thy young hands tore human limbs, and
PS-Samson-prose36; E443| gorged human flesh! Come hither, Death; art thou not Samson's
PS-Samson-prose37; E443| servant? 'Tis Dalila that calls; thy master's wife; no, stay,
PS-Samson-prose38; E443| and let thy master do the deed: one blow of that strong arm would
PS-Samson-prose39; E443| ease my pain; then should I lay at quiet, and have rest. Pity
PS-Samson-prose40; E443| forsook thee at thy birth! O Dagon furious, and all ye gods of
PS-Samson-prose41; E443| Palestine, withdraw your hand! I am but a weak woman. Alas, I am
PS-Samson-prose42; E443| wedded to your enemy! I will go mad, and tear my crisped hair;
PS-Samson-prose43; E443| I'll run about, and pierce the ears o'th' gods! O Samson, hold
PS-Samson-prose44; E443| me not; thou lovest me not! Look not upon me with those deathful
PS-Samson-prose45; E443| eyes! Thou wouldst my death, and death approaches fast."--Thus,
PS-Samson-prose46; E443| in false tears, she bath'd his feet, and thus she day by day
PS-Samson-prose47; E443| oppressed his soul: he seemed a mountain, his brow among the
PS-Samson-prose48; E443| clouds; she seemed a silver stream, his feet embracing. Dark t1047
PS-Samson-prose49; E443| thoughts rolled to and fro in his mind, like thunder
PS-Samson-prose50; E444| clouds, troubling the sky; his visage was troubled; his soul was
PS-Samson-prose51; E444| distressed.--"Though I should tell her all my heart, what can I
PS-Samson-prose52; E444| fear? Though I should tell this secret of my birth, the utmost
PS-Samson-prose53; E444| may be warded off as well when told as now." She saw him moved,
PS-Samson-prose54; E444| and thus resumes her wiles.--"Samson, I'm thine; do with me what
PS-Samson-prose55; E444| thou wilt; my friends are enemies; my life is death; I am a
PS-Samson-prose56; E444| traitor to my nation, and despised; my joy is given into the
PS-Samson-prose57; E444| hands of him who hates me, using deceit to the wife of his bosom.
PS-Samson-prose58; E444| Thrice hast thou mocked me, and grieved my soul. Didst thou not
PS-Samson-prose59; E444| tell me with green withs to bind thy nervous arms, and after t1048
PS-Samson-prose60; E444| that, when I had found thy falshood, with new ropes to bind thee
PS-Samson-prose61; E444| fast? I knew thou didst but mock me. Alas, when in thy sleep I
PS-Samson-prose62; E444| bound thee with them to try thy truth, I cried, The Philistines
PS-Samson-prose63; E444| be upon thee, Samson! Then did suspicion wake thee; how didst
PS-Samson-prose64; E444| thou rend the feeble ties! Thou fearest nought, what shouldst
PS-Samson-prose65; E444| thou fear? Thy power is more than mortal, none can hurt thee;
PS-Samson-prose66; E444| thy bones are brass, thy sinews are iron! Ten thousand spears
PS-Samson-prose67; E444| are like the summer grass; an army of mighty men are as flocks in
PS-Samson-prose68; E444| the vallies; what canst thou fear? I drink my tears like water;
PS-Samson-prose69; E444| I live upon sorrow! O worse than wolves and tygers, what canst
PS-Samson-prose70; E444| thou give when such a trifle is denied me? But O at last thou
PS-Samson-prose71; E444| mockest me to shame my over-fond inquiry! Thou toldest me to
PS-Samson-prose72; E444| weave thee to the beam by thy strong hair; I did even that to try
PS-Samson-prose73; E444| thy truth: but when I cried, The Philistines be upon thee, then
PS-Samson-prose74; E444| didst thou leave me to bewail that Samson loved me not."--He sat,
PS-Samson-prose75; E444| and inward griev'd, he saw and lov'd the beauteous suppliant, nor
PS-Samson-prose76; E444| could conceal aught that might appease ber; then, leaning on her
PS-Samson-prose77; E444| bosom, thus he spoke: "Hear, O Dalila! doubt no more of Samson's
PS-Samson-prose78; E444| love; for that fair breast was made the ivory palace of my inmost
PS-Samson-prose79; E444| heart, where it shall lie at rest; for sorrow is the lot of all
PS-Samson-prose80; E444| of woman born: for care was I brought forth, and labour is my
PS-Samson-prose81; E444| lot: not matchless might, nor wisdom, nor every gift enjoyed, can
PS-Samson-prose82; E444| from the heart of man hide sorrow.--Twice was my birth foretold
PS-Samson-prose83; E444| from heaven, and twice a sacred vow enjoined me that I should
PS-Samson-prose84; E444| drink no wine, nor eat of any unclean thing, for holy unto
PS-Samson-prose85; E444| Israel's God I am, a Nazarite even from my mother's womb. Twice
PS-Samson-prose86; E444| was it told, that it might not be broken, Grant me a son, kind
PS-Samson-prose87; E444| Heaven, Manoa cried; but Heaven refused! Childless he mourned,
PS-Samson-prose88; E444| but thought his God knew best. In solitude, though not obscure,
PS-Samson-prose89; E444| in Israel he lived, till venerable age came on: his flocks
PS-Samson-prose90; E444| increased, and plenty crowned his board: beloved, revered of man!
PS-Samson-prose91; E444| But God hath other joys in store. Is burdened Israel his grief?
PS-Samson-prose92; E444| The son of his old age shall set it free! The venerable sweetner
PS-Samson-prose93; E444| of his life receives the promise first from Heaven. She saw the
PS-Samson-prose94; E444| maidens play, and blessed their innocent mirth; she blessed each
PS-Samson-prose95; E444| new-joined pair; but from her the long-wished deliverer shall
PS-Samson-prose96; E444| spring. Pensive, alone she sat within the house, when busy day
PS-Samson-prose97; E444| was fading, and calm evening, time for contemplation, rose from
PS-Samson-prose98; E444| the forsaken east, and drew the curtains of heaven; pensive she
PS-Samson-prose99; E444| sat, and thought on Israel's grief,
PS-Samson-prose100; E445| and Silent prayed to Israel's God; when lo, an angel from the
PS-Samson-prose101; E445| fields of light entered the house! His form was manhood in the
PS-Samson-prose102; E445| prime, and from his spacious brow shot terrors through the
PS-Samson-prose103; E445| evening shade! But mild he hailed her--Hail, highly favoured!
PS-Samson-prose104; E445| said he; for lo, thou shalt conceive, and bear a son, and
PS-Samson-prose105; E445| Israel's strength shall be upon his shoulders, and he shall be
PS-Samson-prose106; E445| called Israel's Deliverer! Now therefore drink no wine, and eat
PS-Samson-prose107; E445| not any unclean thing, for he shall be a Nazarite to God.--Then,
PS-Samson-prose108; E445| as a neighbour when his evening tale is told, departs, his
PS-Samson-prose109; E445| blessing leaving; so seemed he to depart: she wondered with
PS-Samson-prose110; E445| exceeding joy, nor knew he was an angel. Manoa left his fields
PS-Samson-prose111; E445| to sit in the house, and take his evening's rest from labour--the
PS-Samson-prose112; E445| sweetest time that God has allotted mortal man. He sat, and
PS-Samson-prose113; E445| heard with joy, and praised God who Israel still doth keep. The
PS-Samson-prose114; E445| time rolled on, and Israel groaned oppressed. The sword was
PS-Samson-prose115; E445| bright, while the plow-share rusted, till hope grew feeble, and
PS-Samson-prose116; E445| was ready to give place to doubting: then prayed Manoa--O Lord,
PS-Samson-prose117; E445| thy flock is scattered on the hills! The wolf teareth them,
PS-Samson-prose118; E445| Oppression stretches his rod over our land, our country is plowed
PS-Samson-prose119; E445| with swords, and reaped in blood! The echoes of slaughter reach
PS-Samson-prose120; E445| from hill to hill! Instead of peaceful pipe, the shepherd bears a
PS-Samson-prose121; E445| sword; the ox goad is turned into a spear! O when shall our
PS-Samson-prose122; E445| Deliverer come? The Philistine riots on our flocks, our vintage
PS-Samson-prose123; E445| is gathered by hands of enemies! Stretch forth thy hand, and
PS-Samson-prose124; E445| save.--Thus prayed Manoa. The aged woman walked into the field,
PS-Samson-prose125; E445| and lo, again the angel came! Clad as a traveller fresh risen on
PS-Samson-prose126; E445| his journey, she ran and called her husband, who came and talked
PS-Samson-prose127; E445| with him.--O man of God, said he, thou comest from far! Let us
PS-Samson-prose128; E445| detain thee while I make ready a kid, that thou mayest sit and
PS-Samson-prose129; E445| eat, and tell us of thy name and warfare; that when thy sayings t1049
PS-Samson-prose130; E445| come to pass, we may honour thee. The Angel answered, My name is
PS-Samson-prose131; E445| wonderful; enquire not after it, seeing it is a secret: but, if
PS-Samson-prose132; E445| thou wilt, offer an offering unto the Lord."
"thenShebore"; E446| PAGE 1
thenShebore-prose1; E446| then She bore Pale desire father of Curiosity a Virgin ever
thenShebore-prose2; E446| young. And after. Leaden Sloth from whom came Ignorance. who
thenShebore-prose3; E446| brought forth wonder. These are the Gods which Came from fear.
thenShebore-prose4; E446| for Gods like these. nor male nor female are but Single Pregnate
thenShebore-prose5; E446| or if they list together mingling bring forth mighty powrs[.] She
thenShebore-prose6; E446| knew them not yet they all war with Shame and Strengthen her weak
thenShebore-prose7; E446| arm. t1051 But Pride awoke nor knew that Joy was born. and taking
thenShebore-prose8; E446| Poisnous Seed from her own Bowels. in the Monster Shame infusd.
thenShebore-prose9; E446| forth Came Ambition Crawling like a toad Pride Bears it in her
thenShebore-prose10; E446| Bosom. and the Gods. all bow to it. So Great its Power. that
thenShebore-prose11; E446| Pride inspird by it Prophetic Saw the Kingdoms of the World & all
thenShebore-prose12; E446| their Glory. Giants of Mighty arm before the flood. Cains City.
thenShebore-prose13; E446| built With Murder. Then Babel mighty Reard him to the Skies.
thenShebore-prose14; E446| Babel with thousand tongues Confusion it was calld. and Givn to
thenShebore-prose15; E446| Shame. this Pride observing t1052 inly Grievd. but knew not that.
thenShebore-prose16; E446| the rest was Givn to Shame as well as this. t1053 Then Nineva &
thenShebore-prose17; E446| Babylon & Costly tyre. And evn Jerusalem was Shewn. the holy
thenShebore-prose18; E446| City. Then Athens Learning & the Pride of Greece. and further
thenShebore-prose19; E446| from [P 2] the Rising Sun. was Rome Seated on Seven hills the
thenShebore-prose20; E446| mistress of the world. Emblem of Pride She Saw the Arts their
thenShebore-prose21; E446| treasures Bring and luxury his bounteous table Spread. but now a
thenShebore-prose22; E446| Cloud oercasts. and back to th'East. to Constantines Great City
thenShebore-prose23; E446| Empire fled, Ere long to bleed & die a Sacrifice done by a
thenShebore-prose24; E446| Priestly hand[.] So once the Sun his. Chariot drew. back. to
thenShebore-prose25; E446| prolong a Good kings life.
thenShebore-prose26; E446| The Cloud oer past & Rome now Shone again Miterd & Crown'd with
thenShebore-prose27; E446| triple crown. Then Pride was better Pleasd She Saw the World fall
thenShebore-prose28; E446| down in Adoration[.] t1054 But now full to the Setting Sun a Sun
thenShebore-prose29; E446| arose out of the Sea. it rose & shed Sweet Influence oer the
thenShebore-prose30; E446| Earth Pride feared for her City, but not long. for looking
thenShebore-prose31; E446| Stedfastly She saw that Pride Reignd here. Now Direful Pains
thenShebore-prose32; E446| accost her. and Still pregnant. so Envy came & Hate. twin progeny
thenShebore-prose33; E446| Envy hath a Serpents head of fearful bulk hissing with hundred
thenShebore-prose34; E446| tongues, her poisnous breath breeds Satire foul Contagion from
thenShebore-prose35; E446| which none are free. oer whelmd by ever During Thirst She
thenShebore-prose36; E446| Swalloweth her own Poison. which consumes her nether Parts.
thenShebore-prose37; E446| from whence a River Springs. Most Black & loathsom through the
thenShebore-prose38; E446| land it Runs Rolling with furious [p 3] Noise. but at the last it
thenShebore-prose39; E446| Settles in a lake called Oblivion. tis at this Rivers fount where
thenShebore-prose40; E446| evry mortals Cup is Mix't My Cup is fill'd with Envy's Rankest
thenShebore-prose41; E446| Draught t1055 a miracle No less can set me Right. Desire Still
thenShebore-prose42; E446| Pines but for
thenShebore-prose43; E447| one Cooling Drop and tis Deny'd, while others in Contentments
thenShebore-prose44; E447| downy Nest do sleep, it is the Cursed thorn wounding my breast
thenShebore-prose45; E447| that makes me sing. however sweet tis Envy that Inspires my Song.
thenShebore-prose46; E447| prickt. by the fame of others how I mourn and my complaints are
thenShebore-prose47; E447| Sweeter than their Joys but O could I at Envy Shake my hands. my
thenShebore-prose48; E447| notes Should Rise to meet the New born Day. Hate Meager hag Sets
thenShebore-prose49; E447| Envy on unable to Do ought herself. but Worn away a Bloodless
thenShebore-prose50; E447| Daemon The Gods all Serve her at her will so great her Power
thenShebore-prose51; E447| is[.] like. fabled hecate She doth bind them to her law. Far in a
thenShebore-prose52; E447| Direful Cave She lives unseen Closd from the Eye of Day. to the
thenShebore-prose53; E447| hard Rock transfixt by fate and here She works her witcheries
thenShebore-prose54; E447| that when She Groans She Shakes the Solid Ground Now Envy She
thenShebore-prose55; E447| controlls with numming trance & Melancholy Sprung from her dark
thenShebore-prose56; E447| womb There is a Melancholy, O how lovely tis whose heaven is in
thenShebore-prose57; E447| the heavenly Mind for she from heaven came, and where She goes
thenShebore-prose58; E447| heaven still doth follow her. She [p 4.] brings t1056 true joy once
thenShebore-prose59; E447| fled. & Contemplation is her Daughter. Sweet Contemplation. She
thenShebore-prose60; E447| brings humility to man Take her She Says & wear her in thine
thenShebore-prose61; E447| heart lord of thy Self thou then art lord of all. t1057 Tis
thenShebore-prose62; E447| Contemplation teacheth knowledge truly how to know. and
thenShebore-prose63; E447| Reinstates him on his throne once lost how lost I'll tell. But
thenShebore-prose64; E447| Stop the motley Song I'll Shew. how Conscience Came from heaven.
thenShebore-prose65; E447| But O who listens to his Voice. T'was Conscience who brought
thenShebore-prose66; E447| Melancholy down Conscience was sent a Guard to Reason. Reason
thenShebore-prose67; E447| once fairer than the light till fould in Knowledges dark Prison
thenShebore-prose68; E447| house. For knowledge drove sweet Innocence away. and Reason would
thenShebore-prose69; E447| have followd but fate sufferd not. Then down Came conscience With
thenShebore-prose70; E447| his lovely band The Eager Song Goes on telling how Pride against
thenShebore-prose71; E447| her father Warrd & Overcame. Down his white Beard the Silver
thenShebore-prose72; E447| torrents Roll. and Swelling Sighs burst forth his Children all in
thenShebore-prose73; E447| arms appear to tear him from his throne Black was the deed. most
thenShebore-prose74; E447| Black. Shame in a Mist Sat Round his troubled bead. & filld him
thenShebore-prose75; E447| with Confusion. Fear as a torrent wild Roard Round his throne the
thenShebore-prose76; E447| mighty pillars shake Now all the Gods in blackning Ranks appear.
thenShebore-prose77; E447| like a tempestuous thunder Cloud Pride leads. them on. Now they
thenShebore-prose78; E447| Surround the God. and bind him fast. Pride bound him, then usurpd
thenShebore-prose79; E447| oer all the Gods. She Rode upon the Swelling wind and Scatterd
thenShebore-prose80; E447| all who durst t'oppose. but Shame opposing fierce and hovering.
thenShebore-prose81; E447| over her in the darkning Storm. She brought forth Rage. t1058 Mean
thenShebore-prose82; E447| while Strife Mighty Prince was born Envy in direful Pains him
thenShebore-prose83; E447| bore. then Envy brought forth Care. Care Sitteth in the wrinkled
thenShebore-prose84; E447| brow. Strife Shapeless Sitteth under thrones of kings. like
thenShebore-prose85; E447| Smouldring fire. or in the Buzz of Cities flies abroad Care
thenShebore-prose86; E447| brought forth Covet Eyeless & prone to th' [p 5] Earth, and
thenShebore-prose87; E447| Strife brought forth Revenge. Hate brooding in her Dismal den
thenShebore-prose88; E447| grew Pregnant & bore t1059 Scorn, & Slander. Scorn waits on Pride.
thenShebore-prose89; E447| but Slander. flies around the World to do the Work of hate her
thenShebore-prose90; E447| drudge & Elf. but Policy doth drudge for hate as well as Slander.
thenShebore-prose91; E447| & oft makes use of her. Policy Son of Shame. Indeed
thenShebore-prose92; E448| hate Controlls all the Gods. at will. Policy brought forth Guile
thenShebore-prose93; E448| & fraud. these Gods last namd live in the Smoke of Cities. on
thenShebore-prose94; E448| Dusky wing breathing forth Clamour & Destruction. alas in Cities
thenShebore-prose95; E448| wheres the man whose face is not a mask unto his heart Pride made
thenShebore-prose96; E448| a Goddess. fair or Image rather till knowledge animated it.
thenShebore-prose97; E448| 'twas Calld Selflove. The Gods admiring loaded her with Gifts as
thenShebore-prose98; E448| once Pandora She 'mongst men was Sent. and worser ills attended
thenShebore-prose99; E448| her by far. She was a Goddess Powerful & bore Conceit and Shame
thenShebore-prose100; E448| bore honour & made league with Pride & Policy doth t1060 dwell with
thenShebore-prose101; E448| her by whom she [had] Mistrust & Suspition. Then bore a Daughter
thenShebore-prose102; E448| called Emulation. who. married. honour these follow her around
thenShebore-prose103; E448| the World[.] Go See the City friends Joind Hand in Hand. Go See.
thenShebore-prose104; E448| the Natural the of flesh & blood. Go See more strong the ties of
thenShebore-prose105; E448| marriage love, thou Scarce Shall find but Self love Stands Between
Woecried; E448| PAGE 6
WoeCried-prose1; E448| Woe cried the muse tears Started at the Sound. Grief perch't
WoeCried-prose2; E448| upon my brow and thought Embracd Her. What does this mean I
WoeCried-prose3; E448| cried. when all around. Summer hath Spre'd her Plumes and tunes
WoeCried-prose4; E448| her t1062 Notes. When Buxom joy doth. fan his wings. & Golden
WoeCried-prose5; E448| Pleasures Beam around my head. why. Grief dost thou accost me.
WoeCried-prose6; E448| The Muse then Struck her Deepest string t1063 & Sympathy Came
WoeCried-prose7; E448| forth. She Spred her awful Wings. & gave me up. my Nerves with
WoeCried-prose8; E448| trembling Curdle all my blood. & ev'ry piece of flesh doth Cry
WoeCried-prose9; E448| out Woe. how soon t1064 the Winds Sing round the Darkning Storm ere
WoeCried-prose10; E448| while so fair. and now they fall & beg the Skies will weep. a Day
WoeCried-prose11; E448| like this laid Elfrid in the Dust. Sweet Elfrid fairer than the
WoeCried-prose12; E448| Beaming Sun O Soon cut off ith t1065 morning of her days. twas the
WoeCried-prose13; E448| Rude thunder Stroke that Closd her Eyes. and laid her lilied
WoeCried-prose14; E448| Beauties on the Green, The dance was broke the Circle just Begun
WoeCried-prose15; E448| the flower was Pluckd & yet it was not blown. But what art thou!
WoeCried-prose16; E448| I could no more. till mute attention Struck my listning t1066 Ear.
WoeCried-prose17; E448| It Spoke I come my friend to take my last farewell. Sunk by. the
WoeCried-prose18; E448| hand of Death in Wat'ry tomb Oer yonder lake swift t1067 as the
WoeCried-prose19; E448| Nightly Blast that Blights the Infant Bud The winds their Sad
WoeCried-prose20; E448| complainings bear. for. Conrade lost untimely lost thy Conrade
WoeCried-prose21; E448| once. When living thee I lovd. ev'n unto Death now Dead. Ill
WoeCried-prose22; E448| guard thee from approaching ill. farewell my time is gone, it
WoeCried-prose23; E448| Said no more. but vanished. ever from my Sight