LII. O Helen fair, beyond compare ! O that I were where Helen lies! Says, 'Haste and come to me!' O Helen fair! O Helen chaste! I wish my grave were growing green, On fair Kirconnell lea. I wish I were where Helen lies: Anon. THE TWA CORBIES. As I was walking all alane I heard twa corbies making a mane; 'Where sall we gang and dine to-day?' CXXXVI. LIII. -In behint yon auld fail dyke, 5 But his hawk, his hound, and lady fair. 'His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk to fetch the wild-fowl hame, 10 O'er his white banes, when they are bare, 20 Anon. CXXXVII. ON THE DEATH OF MR. WILLIAM HERVEY. It was a dismal and a fearful night,— My eyes with tears did uncommanded flow, And on my soul hung the dull weight Of some intolerable fate. What bell was that? Ah me! Too much I know! 5 My sweet companion, and my gentle peer, O thou hast left me all alone! Ye fields of Cambridge, our dear Cambridge, say, Was there a tree about which did not know The love betwixt us two? Henceforth, ye gentle trees, for ever fade, Dark as the grave wherein my friend is laid. Large was his soul; as large a soul as e'er 25 30 High as the place 'twas shortly in Heaven to have, But low and humble as his grave; So high that all the virtues there did come As to the chiefest seat Conspicuous, and great; So low that for me too it made a room. Knowledge he only sought, and so soon caught, Whene'er the skilful youth discoursed or writ, About his eloquent tongue; Nor could his ink flow faster than his wit. 335 40 LIV. His mirth was the pure spirits of various wit, As if wise Nature had made that her book. With as much zeal, devotion, piety, Weeping all debts out ere he slept. 45 50 55 A. Cowley. CXXXVIII. FRIENDS IN PARADISE. THEY are all gone into the world of light! Their very memory is fair and bright, And my sad thoughts doth clear:— It glows and glitters in my cloudy breast, Or those faint beams in which this hill is drest, I see them walking in an air of glory, Whose light doth trample on my days: My days, which are at best but dull and hoary, 5 10 O holy Hope! and high Humility, High as the heavens above! These are your walks, and you have shew'd them me, To kindle my cold love. Dear, beauteous Death! the jewel of the just, Shining no where, but in the dark; What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, Could man outlook that mark! 16 20 He that hath found some fledged bird's nest, may know At first sight, if the bird be flown; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, And yet, as Angels in some brighter dreams 25 So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, And into glory peep. |