5 10 15 20 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH ENGLAND, 1770-1850 The Solitary Reaper Behold her, single in the field, No nightingale did ever chant A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard Will no one tell me what she sings? Or is it some more humble lay, Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, Whate'er the theme, the maiden sang And o'er the sickle bending. Long after it was heard no more. 10 15 Sonnet Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802 Earth has not anything to show more fair: This city now doth like a garment wear In his first splendor valley, rock, or hill; Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; WALTER SCOTT SCOTLAND, 1771-1832 "Soldier, Rest!" Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking; Days of danger, nights of waking, In our isle's enchanted hall, Hands unseen thy couch are strewing, Fairy strains of music fall, Every sense in slumber dewing. Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows no breaking; Dream of battle-fields no more, Morn of toil, nor night of waking. No rude sound shall reach thine ear, At the daybreak from the fallow, "SOLDIER, REST!" And the bittern sound his drum, Booming from the sedgy shallow. 29 Guards nor warders challenge here; Here's no war-steed's neigh and champing, 5 Shouting clans or squadrons stamping. Huntsman, rest.! thy chase is done; While our slumb'rous spells assail ye, Bugles here shall sound reveille. Sleep! thy hounds are by thee lying; Sleep! the deer is in his den; Sleep! nor dream in yonder glen, How thy gallant steed lay dying. Here no bugle sounds reveille. 10 15 Lochinvar Oh, young Lochinvar is come out of the west; There never was knight like the young Lochinvar. He stayed not for brake, and he stopp'd not for stone, He swam the Eske River where ford there was none; But ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late; 5 For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar. So boldly he enter'd the Netherby Hall, Among bride's-men, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all : Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword, 10 (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) "O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war, Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar ?" "I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied; Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide 15 And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar." The bride kiss'd the goblet: the knight took it up, 20 He quaff'd off the wine, and he threw down the cup. She look'd down to blush, and she look'd up to sigh, With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar, "Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar. |