And asses in plenty I see at a glance, Who, one time in twenty, Succeed by mere chance. YRIART The Enchcape Rock. No stir in the air, no stir in the sea, Without either sign or sound of their shock The Abbot of Aberbrothok Had placed that bell in the Inchcape Rock; On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung, And over the waves its warning rung. When the Rock was hid by the surge's swell, The sun in heaven was shining gay, The sea-birds scream'd as they wheel'd around, And there was joyaunce in their sound. The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen He felt the cheering power of spring, But the Rover's mirth was wickedness. His eye was on the Inchcape float; The boat is lower'd, the boatmen row, Sir Ralph bent over from the boat, And he cut the Bell from the Inchcape float. Down sunk the Bell with a gurgling sound, Quoth Sir Ralph, "The next who comes to the Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok." Sir Ralph the Rover sail'd away, So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky On the deck the Rover takes his stand, Quoth Sir Ralph, "It will be lighter soon, "Canst hear," said one, "the breakers roar? For methinks we should be near the shore." "Now where we are I cannot tell, But I wish I could hear the Inchcape Bell." They hear no sound, the swell is strong; Though the wind hath fallen they drift along, Till the vessel strikes with a shivering shock,"Oh, Christ, it is the Inchcape Rock!" Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair; But even in his dying fear One dreadful sound could the Rover hear, SOUTHEY. A Fragment from the "Birds" of Aristophanes. The Hoopoe summons the rest of the birds to a general assembly to hear Peisthetærus expound his plan for building a Bird-City. PEISTHETERUS. How will you call them hither ? I'll go at once to yonder copse, and rouse But prithee speed thy quickest to the copse- HOOPOE. Come, partner mine, cease slumbering now, And let thy holiest music flow; The strains that through thy lips divine Thou pour'st for loss of mine and thine, Itys, bewail'd with many a tear, The pure strain speeds through leafy grove Where Phoebus with the golden hair, His lyre, inlaid with ivory fair, Responsive strikes to plaining love, PEISTHETERUS. O royal Jove! how ravishing that bird's note It bathes the copse with richly honied strain. EUELPIDES. I say. PEISTHETERUS. What now? EUELPIDES. Won't you be quiet? EUELPIDES. The Hoopoe seems about to sing again. HOOPOE. Come away! Come away ! Come away! Come away! Come hither my comrades of every feather, Come hither all ye who in flocks fly together; And Who, fast as ye flit, A soft warble emit : ye who in flocks seek the furrow And caw with delight as ye burrow, And soberly plod O'er each mouldering clod With a twit-twit-twitter, I twitter my lay, Come away from the fields, come away, come away! Come ye who seek the marshy flats, Intent to swallow stinging gnats; |