And still they rowed amidst the roar For, sore dismayed, through storm and shade One lovely hand she stretched for aid, And one was round her lover. "Come back! come back!" he cried in grief, And I'll forgive your Highland chief, 'Twas vain; the loud waves lashed the shore, Return or aid preventing; The waters wild went o'er his child, And he was left lamenting. Thomas Campbell. TO HIS LOVE. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, But thy eternal summer shall not fade Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest; So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, * 192* BREAK, BREAK, BREAK. Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O sea! O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play. That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To the haven under the hill; But oh for the touch of a vanished hand, Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, oh sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Alfred Tennyson. .193. THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide, But through them there rolled not the breath of his pride; And there lay the rider, distorted and pale, And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, Byron. .194. HYMN. ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. It was the winter wild While the heaven-born child All meanly wrapped in the rude manger lies ; Had doffed her gaudy trim, With her great Master so to sympathize : To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. Only with speeches fair She woos the gentle air To hide her guilty front with innocent snow; Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden white to throw; Confounded that her Maker's eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities. But he, her fears to cease, Sent down the meek-eyed Peace; She crown'd with olive green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere His ready harbinger, With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing; And waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around; The idle spear and shield were high up hung; The hooked chariot stood Unstained with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by. But peaceful was the night Wherein the Prince of light His reign of peace upon the earth began; Smoothly the waters kissed Whispering new joys to the mild ocean Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmèd wave. The stars with deep amaze, Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, Bending one way their precious influence; And will not take their flight For all the morning light, Or Lucifer that often warned them thence; But in their glimmering orbs did glow Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. And though the shady gloom Had given day her room, The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame, As his inferior flame The new-enlightened world no more should need; He saw a greater sun appear Than his bright throne, or burning axletree, could bear. The shepherds on the lawn Or ere the point of dawn Sate simply chatting in a rustic row; Full little thought they then That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below; |