RULE BRITANNIA. He sweetly liv'd; yet sweetnesse did not save But after death out of his grave, There sprang twelve stalks of wheat; Which many wondering at, got some of those It prosper'd strangely, and did soon disperse For they that taste it do rehearse, A secret vertue, bringing peace and mirth Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, Make bread of it: and that repose With so much earnestnesse you do pursue 245 RULE BRITANNIA. THOMSON. WHEN Britain first, at Heaven's command, Arose from out the azure main, This was the charter of the land, And guardian angels sung the strain: Rule Britannia, Britannia rules the waves! 246 RULE BRITANNIA. The nations not so blest as thee Still more majestic shalt thou rise, More dreadful from each foreign stroke; Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; To thee belongs the rural reign; Thy cities shall with commerce shine; All shall be subject to the main, And every shore it circles thine, The muses, still with freedom found, Blest isle, with matchless beauty crowned, THE MAID'S LAMENT. 24 THE MAID'S LAMENT. LANDOR. I LOVED him not; and yet, now he is gone, I feel I am alone. I checked him while he spoke; yet could he speak, For reasons not to love him once I sought, To vex myself and him: I now would give Who lately lived for me, and when he found He hid his face amid the shades of death! Who wasted his for me; but mine returns, With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years "Merciful God!" such was his latest prayer, 'These may she never share!" Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold, Where children spell athwart the churchyard gate Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er ye be, 248 ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN. ADDRESS TO THE OCEAN. PROCTER. (BARRY CORNWALL.) O THOU vast Ocean! ever-sounding Sea! Thou thing that windest round the solid world Give answer to the tempest-wakened air; And fearful in thy spleeny humors bent, 1 JEANIE MORRISON. And lovely in repose; thy summer form 249 JEANIE MORRISON. WILLIAM MOTHERWEll. I'VE wandered east, I've wandered west, But never, never can forget The love of life's young day; The fire that's blawn on Beltane e'en, O dear, dear Jeanie Morrison, Still fling their shadows owre my path, As memory idly summons up The blythe blinks o`langsyne. |