The genii of the stream: Through richest purple, to the view The hapless Nymph with wonder saw : She stretch'd in vain to reach the prize; Presumptuous maid! with looks intent Eight times emerging from the flood No dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd, A favourite has no friend! T. Gray LXXXV THE FOX AT THE POINT OF DEATH A FOX, in life's extreme decay, Weak, sick and faint, expiring lay; 'Ah, sons, from evil ways depart; 'Where, sir, is all this dainty cheer? 'O, gluttons,' says the drooping sire, 'Restrain inordinate desire, Your liquorish taste you shall deplore, And gins and guns destroy our race? And never feel the quiet hour. Old age (which few of us shall know) Now puts a period to my woe. Would you true happiness attain, And the good name you lost, redeem.' We shall be thought to share the feast. 'Nay then,' replies the feeble fox, LXXXVI F. Gay THE OLD MAN'S COMFORTS, AND HOW HE GAINED THEM 'You are old, Father William,' the young man cried, 'The few locks which are left you are gray; You are hale, Father William, a hearty old man, Now tell me the reason, I pray." 'In the days of my youth,' Father William replied, 'I remember'd that youth would fly fast, And abused not my health and my vigour at first, That I never might need them at last.' 'You are old, Father William,' the young man cried, 'And pleasures with youth pass away; And yet you lament not the days that are gone, 'In the days of my youth,' Father William replied, 'I remember'd that youth could not last; I thought of the future whatever I did, That I never might grieve for the past.' 'You are old, Father William,' the young man cried, 'And life must be hastening away; You are cheerful, and love to converse upon death, Now tell me the reason, I pray.' 'I am cheerful, young man,' Father William replied, 'Let the cause thy attention engage; In the days of my youth I remember'd my God, LXXXVII THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE I HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. 2 'Forward, the Light Brigade!' Some one had blunder'd. 3 Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Rode the six hundred. |