CXII.

ONE DEAD.

Is it deep sleep, or is it rather death?
Rest anyhow it is, and sweet is rest:
No more the doubtful blessing of the breath ;
Our God hath said that silence is the best,
And thou art silent as the pale round moon,
And near thee is our birth's great mystery-
Alas, we knew not thou would'st go so soon!
We cannot tell where sky is lost in sea,
But only find life's bark to come and go,
By wondrous Nature's hidden force impelled,—
Then melts the wake in sea, and none shall know

For certain which the course the vessel held ;

The lessening ship by us no more is seen,
And sea and sky are just as they have been.

JEAN INGELOW.

CXIII.

AN ANCIENT CHESS KING.

HAPLY Some Rajah first in ages gone

Amid his languid ladies finger'd thee,
While a black nightingale, sun-swart as he,

Sang his one wife, love's passionate orison:
Haply thou mayst have pleased old Prester John
Among his pastures, when full royally

He sat in tent-grave shepherd at his kneeWhile lamps of balsam winked and glimmered on.

What dost thou here? Thy masters are all dead; My heart is full of ruth and yearning pain

At sight of thee, O king that hast a crown Outlasting theirs, and tells of greatness fled Through cloud-hung nights of unabated rain And murmur of the dark majestic town.

CXIV.

HIGH SUMMER.

I NEVER Wholly feel that summer is high,
However green the trees or loud the birds,
However movelessly eye-winking herds
Stand in field ponds, or under large trees lie,
Till I do climb all cultured pastures by,

That, hedged by hedgerows studiously trim,
Smile like a lady's face with lace laced prim,
And on some moor or hill that seeks the sky
Lonely and nakedly,-utterly lie down,

And feel the sunshine throbbing on body and limb, My drowsy brain in pleasant drunkenness swim, Each rising thought sink back and dreamily drown, Smiles creep o'er my face, and smother my lips,

and cloy,

Each muscle sink to itself, and separately enjoy.

JOHN KEATS.

CXV.

ON FIRST LOOKING INTO CHAPMAN'S HOMER.

MUCH have I travell'd in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.

Oft of one wide expanse had I been told

That deep-brow'd Homer ruled as his demesne:
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold:
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies

When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific-and all his men
Look'd at each other with a wild surmise-
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

CXVI.

TO AILSA ROCK.

HEARKEN, thou craggy ocean pyramid!

Give answer from thy voice, the sea-fowl's screams!
When were thy shoulders mantled in huge streams;
When, from the sun, was thy broad forehead hid?
How long is 't since the mighty power bid

Thee heave to airy sleep from fathom dreams!
Sleep in the lap of thunder or sun-beams,
Or when grey clouds are thy cold cover-lid?
Thou answer'st not, for thou art dead asleep!

Thy life is but two dead eternities

The last in air, the former in the deep;

First with the whales, last with the eagle-skies

Drown'd wast thou till an earthquake made thee steep,
Another cannot wake thy giant size.