LORD THURLOW. CCXXVII. THE HARVEST HOME. THE crimson moon, uprising from the sea, To greet the soft appearance of her sphere; CCXXVIII. A DREAM OF EGYPT. "Where's my Serpent of old Nile?" NIGHT sends forth many an eagle-winged dream To where the sunburnt Nile, with opulent stream That Snake whose sting was bliss. Nations did seem But camels for the burden of our joy; Kings were our slaves; our wishes glowed in the air And grew fruition; night grew day, day night, Lest the high bacchanal of our loves should cloy; We reined the tiger, Life, with flower-crowned hair, Abashlessly abandoned to delight. JOHN TODHUNTER. CCXXIX. IN THE LOUVRE. A DINGY picture: others passed it by By ruining Time. There, in a sullen mood, A man was pacing o'er the desolate floor Of weedy marble; and the bitter waves Of the encroaching sea crawled to his feet, Gushing round tumbled blocks. I conned it o'er. Age-mouldering creeds!" said I, "a dread sea raves To whelm the temples of our fond conceit." CCXXX. WITCHES. METHOUGHT I saw three sexless things of storm, Like Macbeth's witches-creatures of the curse Of hovering ills, each than the other worse, Wherein the heart of life is coffined warm. Said the First Witch: "I am Lust, the worm that feeds Upon the buds of love;" the Second said: "I am the tyrant's tyrant, cruel Fear; The Third: "I am the blight of evil deeds, The murrain of sick souls," and in my ear Whispered a name of paralysing dread. ARCHBISHOP TRENCH. CCXXXI. THE HEART'S SACREDNESS. A WRETCHED thing it were to have our heart Till of the heavens it give back no part. But keep thou thine a holy solitude, For He who would walk there would walk alone; He who would drink there must be first endued With single right to call that stream his own; Keep thou thine heart close fastened, unrevealed, A fenced garden and a fountain sealed. |