"YEA, AND WILL FORTUNE PICK OUT, NOW AND THEN, THE NOBLEST FOR THE ANVIL OF HER BLOWS!"-MORRIS. "THOUGH ON NEW ROSEBUDS THE NEW SUN SHALL SMILE,-(MORRIS) "THE HAPPY ARE THE MASTERS OF THE EARTH, WHICH EVER GIVE SMALL HEED TO HAPLESS WORTH."-MORRIS. ["And heavy measured beating of the oars: so left the Argo the Thessalian shores."] Glorious with gold, and shining in the sun. Now silent sat the heroes by the oar, Hearkening the sounds borne from the lessening shore; CAN WE REGAIN WHAT WE HAVE LOST MEANWHILE?"-W. MORRIS. life flitteth FAST, AND While it still ABIDES,-(MORRIS) A FAIR LANDSCAPE. The lowing of the doomed and flower-crowned beasts, Mingled with blare of trumpets, and the sound So sat they pondering much and silently, And, midmost now of the green sunny bay, [From "The Life and Death of Jason,” book iv.] "DRAG ON, LONG NIGHT OF WINTER, IN WHOSE HEART, NURSE OF REGRET, THE DEAD SPRING YET HAS PART! 323 DRAG ON, O NIGHT OF DREAMS! O NIGHT OF FEARS! FED BY THE SUMMERS OF THE BYGONE YEARS!"-MORRIS. A FAIR LANDSCAPE. H, the sweet valley of deep grass, pass, In chain of shallow, and still pool, Behind her, on the dewy flowers, OUR FOLLY MANY A GOOD THING FROM US HIDES."-W. MORRIS. IS IT PERCHANCE LEST MEN SHOULD COME TO TELL EACH UNTO OTHER WHAT A PAIN IT IS, WILLIAM MORRIS) ["And every hollow of the hills with echoing songs the mavis fills."] Her homespun woollen raiment lies, UNHOLPEN, WITH HIS PAIN UNNAMEABLE!-(MORRIS) HOW LITTLE BALANCED BY THE SULLIED BLISS THEY WON FOR SOME FEW MINUTES OF THEIR LIFE?"-MORRIS. 66 A WORD OF PRAISE, PERCHANCE OF BLAME;-(MOTHERWELL) THE SWORD CHANT OF THORSTEIN RAUDI, 325 William Motherwell. [WILLIAM MOTHERWELL was born at Glasgow in 1797. He received a legal education, and in 1818 was appointed to the office of sheriff-clerkdepute of the county of Renfrew, which he held until 1829. He then became editor of a Glasgow newspaper, and entering with too much ardour into the political warfare which preceded and attended the enactment of the great Reform measure of 1832, wore out his mental and physical strength, and eventually succumbed to an attack of apoplexy, on the 1st of November 1835. His scattered poetical compositions, which evidence a remarkable command of spirited versification, and an undercurrent of tender and pathetic feeling, have been collected in one small volume.] "GREEN LIE THOSE THICKLY-TIMBERED SHORES FAIR-SLOPING TO THE SEA:-(w. MOTHERWELL) THEY'RE CUMBERED WITH THE HARVEST-STORES THAT WAVE BUT FOR THE FREE."-MOTHERWELL. THE SWORD CHANT OF THORSTEIN RAUDI. IS not the gray hawk's flight 'Tis not the fleet hound's course 'Tis not the light hoof-print I challenge as mine;— And numbers define. Dull builders of house, I owned at my birth; AY, THIS IS GLORY, THIS IS FAME!"-WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. "I'VE WANDERED EAST, I'VE WANDERED WEST, THROUGH MONY A WEARY WAY-MOTHERWELL) 326 "WHAT IS GLORY? WHAT IS FAME?-(MOTHerwell) WILLIAM MOTHER Well. But the pale fools wax mute Shouting, "There am I Lord!" Hill, valley, and stream, When the star that rules Fate is I've heard great harps sounding In brave bower and hall, The music I love is The shout of the brave, The yell of the dying, Far isles of the ocean THE ECHO OF A LONG-LOST NAME. -MOTHERWELL. BUT NEVER, NEVER CAN FORGET THE LUVE O' LIFE'S YOUNG DAY!"-WILLIAM MOTHERWELL. |