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PStitle; E408|        POETICAL SKETCHES.   t1019

PStitle; E408|        By W. B.

PScolophon; E408|        London: Printed in the Year MDCCLXXXIII.

PSheader; E408|        MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.

PStitle; E408|        TO SPRING.

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!

PStitle; E409|        TO SUMMER.

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.

PStitle; E409|        TO AUTUMN

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.

PStitle; E410|        TO WINTER.

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.

PStitle-a; E410|        TO THE
PStitle-b; E410|        EVENING STAR.

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.

PStitle; E410|        TO MORNING.

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-ToMorning6;   E411|        O radiant morning, salute the sun,
PS-ToMorning7;   E411|        Rouz'd like a huntsman to the chace; and, with
PS-ToMorning8;   E411|        Thy buskin'd feet, appear upon our hills.

PStitle; E411|        FAIR ELENOR.

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.

PStitle; E412|        SONG.

PS-Song"HowSweet"1;   E412|        How sweet I roam'd from field to field,
PS-Song"HowSweet"2;   E412|        And tasted all the summer's pride,

PS-Song"HowSweet"3;   E413|        'Till I the prince of love beheld,
PS-Song"HowSweet"4;   E413|        Who in the sunny beams did glide!

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.

PStitle; E413|        SONG.

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!

PStitle; E413|        SONG.

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.

PStitle; E414|        SONG.

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.

PStitle; E415|        SONG.

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.

PStitle; E415|        MAD SONG.

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-MadSong22; E416|        From whence comforts have increas'd;
PS-MadSong23; E416|        For light doth seize my brain
PS-MadSong24; E416|        With frantic pain.

PStitle; E416|        SONG.

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.

PStitle; E416|        SONG.

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"15; E417|        I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe,
PS-Song"WhenEarly"16; E417|        That made my love so high, and me so low.

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.

PStitle; E417|        TO THE MUSES.

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!

PStitle; E417|        GWIN, KING OF NORWAY.

PS-Gwin1;   E417|        Come, kings, and listen to my song,
PS-Gwin2;   E417|        When Gwin, the son of Nore,
PS-Gwin3;   E417|        Over the nations of the North
PS-Gwin4;   E417|        His cruel sceptre bore:

PS-Gwin5;   E417|        The Nobles of the land did feed
PS-Gwin6;   E417|        Upon the hungry Poor;
PS-Gwin7;   E417|        They tear the poor man's lamb, and drive
PS-Gwin8;   E417|        The needy from their door!

PS-Gwin9;   E417|        The land is desolate; our wives   t1027
PS-Gwin10; E417|        And children cry for bread;
PS-Gwin11; E417|        Arise, and pull the tyrant down;
PS-Gwin12; E417|        Let Gwin be humbled.

PS-Gwin13; E417|        Gordred the giant rous'd himself
PS-Gwin14; E417|        From sleeping in his cave;

PS-Gwin15; E418|        He shook the hills, and in the clouds
PS-Gwin16; E418|        The troubl'd banners wave.

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-Gwin25; E418|        Their wives and children, weeping loud,
PS-Gwin26; E418|        Follow in wild array,
PS-Gwin27; E418|        Howling like ghosts, furious as wolves
PS-Gwin28; E418|        In the bleak wintry day.

PS-Gwin29; E418|        "Pull down the tyrant to the dust,
PS-Gwin30; E418|        "Let Gwin be humbled,"
PS-Gwin31; E418|        They cry; "and let ten thousand lives
PS-Gwin32; E418|        "Pay for the tyrant's head."

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-Gwin41; E418|        Like reared stones around a grave
PS-Gwin42; E418|        They stand around the King;
PS-Gwin43; E418|        Then suddenly each seiz'd his spear,
PS-Gwin44; E418|        And clashing steel does ring,

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-Gwin49; E418|        The shepherd leaves his mellow pipe,
PS-Gwin50; E418|        And sounds the trumpet shrill;
PS-Gwin51; E418|        The workman throws his hammer down
PS-Gwin52; E418|        To heave the bloody bill.

PS-Gwin53; E418|        Like the tall ghost of Barraton,
PS-Gwin54; E418|        Who sports in stormy sky,

PS-Gwin55; E419|        Gwin leads his host as black as night,
PS-Gwin56; E419|        When pestilence does fly.

PS-Gwin57; E419|        With horses and with chariots--
PS-Gwin58; E419|        And all his spearmen bold,
PS-Gwin59; E419|        March to the sound of mournful song,
PS-Gwin60; E419|        Like clouds around him roll'd.

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-Gwin69; E419|        And now the raging armies rush'd,
PS-Gwin70; E419|        Like warring mighty seas;
PS-Gwin71; E419|        The Heav'ns are shook with roaring war,
PS-Gwin72; E419|        The dust ascends the skies!

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-Gwin77; E419|        And on the verge of this wild sea
PS-Gwin78; E419|        Famine and death doth cry;
PS-Gwin79; E419|        The cries of women and of babes.
PS-Gwin80; E419|        Over the field doth fly.

PS-Gwin81; E419|        The King is seen raging afar;
PS-Gwin82; E419|        With all his men of might;
PS-Gwin83; E419|        Like blazing comets, scattering death
PS-Gwin84; E419|        Thro' the red fev'rous night.

PS-Gwin85; E419|        Beneath his arm like sheep they die,
PS-Gwin86; E419|        And groan upon the plain;
PS-Gwin87; E419|        The battle faints, and bloody men
PS-Gwin88; E419|        Fight upon hills of slain.

PS-Gwin89; E419|        Now death is sick, and riven men
PS-Gwin90; E419|        Labour and toil for life;
PS-Gwin91; E419|        Steed rolls on steed, and shield on shield,
PS-Gwin92; E419|        Sunk in this sea of strife!

PS-Gwin93; E419|        The god of war is drunk with blood,
PS-Gwin94; E419|        The earth doth faint and fail;

PS-Gwin95; E420|        The stench of blood makes sick the heav'ns;
PS-Gwin96; E420|        Ghosts glut the throat of hell!

PS-Gwin97; E420|        O what have Kings to answer for,
PS-Gwin98; E420|        Before that awful throne!
PS-Gwin99; E420|        When thousand deaths for vengeance cry,
PS-Gwin100; E420|        And ghosts accusing groan!

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-Gwin105; E420|        Like these did Gwin and Gordred meet,
PS-Gwin106; E420|        And the first blow decides;
PS-Gwin107; E420|        Down from the brow unto the breast
PS-Gwin108; E420|        Gordred his head divides!

PS-Gwin109; E420|        Gwin fell; the Sons of Norway fled,
PS-Gwin110; E420|        All that remain'd alive;
PS-Gwin111; E420|        The rest did fill the vale of death,
PS-Gwin112; E420|        For them the eagles strive.

PS-Gwin113; E420|        The river Dorman roll'd their blood
PS-Gwin114; E420|        Into the northern sea;
PS-Gwin115; E420|        Who mourn'd his sons, and overwhelm'd
PS-Gwin116; E420|        The pleasant south country.

PStitle-a; E420|        AN
PStitle-b; E420|        IMITATION OF SPEN[S]ER.   t1029

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-AnImitation17; E421|        To sit in council with his modern peers,
PS-AnImitation18; E421|        And judge of tinkling rhimes, and elegances terse.

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?

PStitle; E421|        BLIND-MAN'S BUFF.

PS-BlindMan'sBuff1;   E421|        When silver Snow decks Susan's cloaths,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff2;   E421|        And jewel hangs at th' shepherd's nose,
PS-BlindMan'sBuff3;   E421|        The blushing bank is all my care,

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.

PStitle; E423|        KING EDWARD THE THIRD.

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;   E423|        SCENE [1], The Coast of France, King Edward and Nobles. The Army.
PS-KE3-1;   E423|        King.

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;   E424|        [He here knights the Prince, and other young Nobles.]

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;   E425|        King Edward III SCENE [2], English Court; Lionel, Duke of Clarence;
PS-KE3-2;   E425|        Queen Philippa, Lords, Bishop, &c.
PS-KE3-2;   E425|        Clarence.

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;   E427|        King Edward III SCENE [3], At Cressey. Sir Thomas Dagworth and
PS-KE3-3;   E427|        Lord Audley, meeting.

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;   E428|        Enter Sir John Chandos.

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;   E429|        Enter King Edward and Black Prince.

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;   E434|        King Edward III SCENE [4] in Sir Thomas Dagworth's Tent, Dagworth and William his Man.

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;   E435|        King Edward III SCENE [5], Sir Thomas Dagworth's Tent. Sir Thomas
PS-KE3-5;   E435|        Dagworth--to him.

PS-KE3-5;   E435|        Enter Sir Walter Manny.

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;   E437|        King Edward III SCENE [6],in the Camp. Several of the Warriors
PS-KE3-6;   E437|        met at the King's Tent with a Minstrel, who sings
PS-KE3-6;   E437|        the following Song:

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-KE3-6.25; E437|        Our fathers move in firm array to battle,
PS-KE3-6.26; E437|        The savage monsters rush like roaring fire;

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."

PStitle; E439|        PROLOGUE,

PStitle; E439|        KING EDWARD THE FOURTH.

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!

PStitle; E439|        PROLOGUE TO KING JOHN.

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!

PStitle-a; E440|        A WAR SONG
PStitle-b; E440|        TO ENGLISHMEN.   t1046

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.

PStitle-a; E441|        THE
PStitle-b; E441|        COUCH OF DEATH.

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.

PStitle; E442|        CONTEMPLATION.

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!"

PStitle; E443|        SAMSON.

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."

PS; E445|        THE END.

ED; E446|        [Further Sketches]

ED; E446|        [In a Manuscript Fragment]

ED; E446|        "then She bore Pale desire . . ."   t1050

"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

ED; E448|        "Woe cried the muse .   t1061

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


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