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Fair Nature's book together read,
The hills we climbed, the river seen
Where'er I look, where'er I stray,
O'er lapse of time and change of scene,
COME then, my friend! my genius! come along;
master of the poet, and the song !
Thou lack'st not Friendship's spellword, nor
With these good gifts of God is cast
If, then, a fervent wish for thee
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou
To sound what stop she please : Give me that
But I've in vain essayed it,
And feel I cannot now.
While memory bids me weep thee,
Nor thoughts nor words are free, That finds not here an end ;
The grief is tixed too deeply Were this frail world our only rest,
That mourns a man like thee. Living or dying, none were blest.
The half-seen memories of childish days,
When pains and pleasures lightly came and went; Whose sparks fly upward to expire.
The sympathies of boyhood rashly spent
In fearful wand'rings through forbidden ways; There is a world above,
The vague, but manly wish to tread the maze Where parting is unknown;
Of life to noble ends, — whereon intent, A whole eternity of love,
Asking to know for what man here is sent, Formel for the good alone ;
The bravest heart must often pause, and gaze, And faith beholds the dying here
The firm resolve to seek the chosen end Translated to that happier sphere.
Of manhood's judgment, cautious and mature,
Each of these viewless bonds binds friend to friend Thus star by star declines,
With strength no selfish purpose can secure : Till all are passed away,
My happy lot is this, that all attend As morning high and higher shines, That friendship which first came, and which shall To pure and perfect day;
last endure. Nor sink those stars in empty night;
AUBREY DE VERE. They hide themselves in heaven's own light. JAMES MONTGOMERY.
HAM. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.
As e'er my conversation coped withal.
HOR. O my dear lord — [Died in New York, September, 1820.).
Nay, do not think I flatter : GREEN be the turf above thee,
For what advancement may I hope from thee Friend of my better days !
That no revenue hast but thy good spirits, None knew thee but to love thee,
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor Nor named thee but to praise.
be flattered ?
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pom P, Tears fell, when thou wert dying,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee, From eyes unused to weep,
hear? And long, where thou art lying, Will tears the cold turf steep.
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice,
And could of men distinguish, her election When hearts, whose truth was proven,
Hath sealed thee for herself; for thou hast been Like thine, are laid in earth,
As one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing, There should a wreath be woven
A man that Fortune's buffets and rewards To tell the world their worth ;
those And I, who woke each morrow
That they are not a pipe for Fortune's finger
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear his
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, It should be mine to braid it
As I do thee. Around thy faded brow,
“My eyes are dim with childish tears,
My heart is idly stirred,
Which in those days I heard.
“ Thus fares it still in our decay:
And yet the wiser mind Mourns less for what Age takes away
Than what it leaves behind.
CORIOLANUS." (Aufidius the Volscian to Caius Marcius Coriolanus.] AUF.
O Marcius, Marcius ! Each word thou hast spoke hath weeded from my
heart A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter Should from yond' cloud speak divine things, and
say, “'T is true,"I'd not believe them more than thee, All-noble Marcius. - Let me twine Mine arms about that body, where-against My grainéd ash an hundred times hath broke, And scared the moon with splinters ! Here I clip The anvil of my sword ; and do contest As hotly and as nobly with thy love, As ever in ambitious strength I did Contend against thy valor. Know thou first, I loved the maid I married ; never man Sighed truer breath ; but that I see thee here,
“The blackbird amid leafy trees,
The lark above the hill, Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.
“With Nature never do they wage
A foolish strife; they see A happy youth, and their old age Is beautiful and free:
Thou noble thing ! more dances my rapt heart Few are the hearts that have proved the truth
Be dear in their absence now.
on foot; and I had purpose O, vividly in their faithful breast Once more to hew thy target from thy brawn, Shall the gleam of remembrance play, Or lose mine arm for 't. Thou hast beat me out Like the lingering light of the crimson west, • Twelve several times, and I have nightly since When the sunbeam hath passed away! Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me, We have been down together in my sleep,
Soft be the sleep of their pleasant hours, Unbuckling helms, fisting each other's throat,
And calm be the seas they roam ! And waked half dead with nothing. Worthy May the way they travel be strewed with flowers Marcius,
Till it bring them in safety home! Had we no other quarrel else to Rome, but that And when we whose hearts are o'erflowing thus Thou art thence banished, we would muster all
Ourselves may be doomed to stray, From twelve to seventy; and, pouring war
May some kind orison rise for us, Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome,
When we shall be far away!
HORACE TWISS Like a bold flood o'erbear. O, come! go in, And take our friendly senators by th' hands; Who now are here, taking their leaves of me,
THE MEETING OF THE SHIPS. Who am prepared against your territories, Though not for Rome itself.
" We take each other by the hand, and we exchange a few A thousand welcomes! words and looks of kindness, and we rejoice together for a few
short moments; and then days, months, years intervene, and we And more a friend than e'er an enemy;
see and know nothing of each other." - WASHINGTON IRVING. Yet, Marcius, that was much.
Two baiks met on the deep mid-sea,
When calms had stilled the tide ;
A few bright days of summer glee WHEN TO THE SESSIONS OF SWEET There found them side by side. SILENT THOUGHT.
And voices of the fair and brave
Rose mingling thence in mirth ; When to the sessions of sweet silent thought
And sweetly floated o'er the wave
The melodies of earth.
Moonlight on that lone Indian main
Cloudless and lovely slept ; Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,
While dancing step and festive strain For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,
Each deck in triumph swept. And weep afresh love's long since cancelled woe, And moan th' expense of many a vanished sight. And hands were linked, and answering eyes Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,
With kindly meaning shone ; And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er
O, brief and passing sympathies,
Like leaves together blown !
Over the deep's repose,
Like trumpet music rose.
FRIENDS FAR AWAY.
COUNT not the hours while their silent wings
Thus waft them in fairy flight;
Shall hallow the scene to-night.
And the colors of life are gay,
The Friends who are far away.
And proudly, freely on their way
The parting vessels bore ;
To meet - 0, neverinore !
To aid in hours of woe ;
Such ties are formed below.
S. T. COLERIDGE.
deep mid-sea, ed the tide; nmer glee
e by side.
THE QUARREL OF FRIENDS.
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honors FROM “CHRISTABEL."
For so much trash as may be grasped thus ?
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon,
Than such a Roman.
Brutus, bay not me,
I'll not endure it : you forget yourself,
To hedge me in ; I am a soldier, I,
Older in practice, abler than yourself
To make conditions.
Go to ; you are not, Cassius.
Cas. I am.
Bru, I say you are not.
Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget myself:
Have mind upon your health; tempt me nofurther.
Bru. Away, slight man !
Cas. Is 't possible ?
Hear me, for I will speak. Like cliffs which had been rent asunder;
Must I give way and room to your rash choler ? A dreary sea now flows between,
Shall I be frighted when a madman stares ? But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder
Cas. O ye gods! ye gods ! Must I endure all Shall wholly do away, I ween,
this? The marks of that which once hath been.
BRU. All this $ ay, more : Fret, till your proud
heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are,
And make your bondmen tremble. Must I budge? THE QUARREL OF BRUTUS AND
Must I observe you ? Must I stand and crouch
Under your testy humor? By the gods,
You shall digest the venom of your spleen,
Though it do split you ; for from this day forth Cas. That you have wronged me doth appear I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter, in this :
When you are waspish.
Is it come to this ?
Bru. You say you are a better soldier : Wherein my letters, praying on his side, Let it appear so; make your vaunting true, Because I knew the man, were slighted off. And it shall please me well : For mine own part, Bru. You wronged yourself to write in such a I shall be glad to learn of noble men.
CAs. You wrong me, every way you wrong me,
BRU. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself Did I say, better?
If you did, I care not.
Cas. When Cæsar lived, he durst not thus
have moved me.
Bru. Peace, peace ! you durst not so have
Cas. What! durst not tempt him ?
For your life you durst not.
Cas. Do not presume too much upon my love ; BRU. Remember March, the ides of March re- I may do that I shall be sorry for. member!
BRU. You have done that you should be sorry
shall we now Which I respect not. I did send to you
d brare in mirth; the ware
ndian main pt; estive strain wept.