AN HORATIAN ODE. 363 Fools! your doublets shone with gold, and | King Charles, and who'll do him right now? your hearts were gay and bold, King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now? When you kissed your lily hands to your le- Give a rouse: here's in Hell's despite now, mans to-day; And to-morrow shall the fox from her cham bers in the rocks King Charles! III. Lead forth her tawny cubs to howl above the To whom used my boy George quaff else, prey. By the old fool's side that begot him? Where be your tongues, that late mocked at While Noll's damned troopers shot him? King Charles, and who'll do him right now? heaven, and hell and fate? And the fingers that once were so busy with King Charles, and who's ripe for fight now? your blades? Give a rouse: here's in Hell's despite now, Your perfumed satin clothes, your catches King Charles! and your oaths? Your stage-plays and your sonnets? your dia monds and your spades? Down! down! for ever down, with the mitre and the crown! With the Belial of the Court, and the Mam mon of the Pope! There is woe in Oxford halls, there is wail in The Jesuit smites his bosom, the Bishop rends his cope. And she of the Seven Hills shall mourn her And tremble when she thinks on the edge of And the Kings of earth in fear shall tremble What the hand of God hath wrought for the THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY. GIVE A ROUSE. I. KING Charles, and who 'll do him right now? II. Who gave me the goods that went since? ROBERT BROWNING. AN HORATIAN ODE, UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND. THE forward youth that would appear, 'Tis time to leave the books in dust, The corslet of the hall. So restless Cromwell could not cease But through adventurous war And like the three-forked lightning, first For 't is all one to courage high, And, with such, to enclose Then burning through the air he went, And Cæsar's head at last CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, And on the neck of crowned fortune proud 365 ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES. I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs: As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny, Which after held the sun and moon in fee. But this is got by casting pearl to hogs, That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood, And still revolt when truth would set them free. License they mean when they cry Liberty; For who loves that must first be wise and good; But from that mark how far they rove we see, For all this waste of wealth, and loss of blood. ΤΟ ΟΥΒΙΛΟ SKINNER. CYRIAC, this three years day these eyes, tho' clear To outward view of blemish or of spot, Hast reared God's trophies, and his work of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the Where Cameron's sword and his Bible are 'Twas the few faithful ones who with Cam seen, eron were lying Engraved on the stone where the heather Concealed 'mong the mist where the heath When in Wellwood's dark valley the stand- Their faces grew pale, and their swords were All bloody and torn, 'mong the heather was But the vengeance that darkened their brow lying. Twas morning; and Summer's young sun from the east Lay in loving repose on the green mountain's was unbreathed; With eyes turned to heaven in calm resigna tion, They sang their last song to the God of Salvation. On Wardlaw and Cairntable the clear shin- The hills with the deep mournful music were breast; Glistened there 'mong the heath bells and The curlew and plover in concert were singing; mountain flowers blue. |