"THERE SEEMS A LOVE IN HAIR, THOUGH IT BE DEAD-IT IS THE GENTLEST, YET THE STRONGEST THREAD,
ALAS! WE THINK NOT WHAT WE DAILY SEE-LEIGH HUNT
And the far ships, lifting their sails of white
Like joyful hands, come up with scattered light;
Come gleaming up-true to the wished-for day-
And chase the whistling brine, and swirl into the bay.
[From "The Story of Rimini," canto i.]
OF OUR FRAIL PLANT-A BLOSSOM FROM THE TREE, SURVIVING THE PROUD TRUNK."-JAMES H. LEIGH HUNT.
A GARDEN FOR A POET.
NOBLE range it was, of many a rood,
Walled and tree-girt, and ending in a wood.
A small sweet house o'erlooked it from a nest
Of pines ;-all wood and garden was the rest,
Lawn, and green lane, and covert; and it had
A winding stream about it, clear and glad,
With here and there a swan, the creature born
To be the only graceful shape of scorn.
The flower-beds were all liberal of delight:
Roses in heaps were there, both red and white,
Lilies angelical, and gorgeous glooms
Of wall-flowers, and blue hyacinths, and blooms
Hanging thick clusters from light boughs ;-in short,
All the sweet cups to which the bees resort,
With plots of grass, and leafier walks between
Of red geraniums, and of jessamine,
And orange, whose warm leaves so finely suit,
And look as if they shade a golden fruit ;
And 'midst the flowers, turfed round beneath a shade
Of darksome pines, a babbling fountain played,
And 'twixt their shafts you saw the water bright,
Which through the tops glimmered with showering light.
So now you stood to think what odours best
Made the air happy in that lovely nest;
And now you went beside the flowers with eyes
Earnest as bees, restless as butterflies;
ABOUT OUR HEARTHS, ANGELS, THAT ARE TO BE."-HUNT.
"PLACES OF NESTLING GREEN, FOR POETS MADE."-HUNT.
And then turned off into a shadier walk,
Close and continuous, fit for lovers' talk;
And then pursued the stream, and as you trod
Onward and onward o'er the velvet sod,
Felt on your face an air, watery and sweet,
And a new sense in your soft-lighting feet.
At last you entered shades indeed, the wood,
Broken with glens and pits, and glades far-viewed,
Through which the distant palace, now and then,
Looked lordly forth with many-windowed ken;
"THERE ARE TWO HEAVENS, SWEET, BOTH MADE OF LOVE-ONE, INCONCEIVABLE, E'EN BY THE OTHER,
SO DIVINE IT IS; THE OTHER, FAR ON THIS SIDE OF THE STARS, BY MEN CALLED HOME."-LEIGH HUNT.
["Where, at her drink, you startled the shy deer.")
A land of trees, which, reaching round about
In shady blessing, stretched their old arms out;
With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks
To lie and read in, sloping into brooks,
Where, at her drink, you startled the shy deer,
Retreating lightly, with a lovely fear.
And all about, the birds kept leafy house,
And sung, and darted in and out the boughs;
And all about, a lovely sky of blue
Clearly was felt, or down the leaves laughed through;
"A FRESH WOODLAND ALLEY NEVER-ENDING."-HUNT.
I KNOW THAT POOR MEN LOSE, AND RICH MEN GAIN,
THOUGH OF TH' UNSEEN ADJUSTS THE SEEMING MEASURE;
"I KNOW THAT THERE IS FEAR, AND GRIEF, AND PAIN,
And here and there, in every part, were seats,
Some in the open walks, some in retreats,
With bowering leaves o'erhead, to which the eye
Looked up half sweetly and half awfully—
Places of nestling green, for poets made,
Where, when the sunshine struck a yellow shade,
The rugged trunks, to inward peeping sight,
Thronged in dark pillars up the gold green light.
But 'twixt the woods and flowery walks half-way,
And formed of both, the loveliest portion lay
A spot, that struck you like enchanted ground :-
It was a shallow dell, set in a mound
Of sloping orchards,—fig and almond trees,
Cherry and pine, with some few cypresses;
Down by whose roots, descending darkling still
(You saw it not, but heard), there gushed a rill,
Whose low sweet talking seemed as if it said
Something eternal to that happy shade.
The ground within was lawn, with fruits and flowers
Heaped toward the centre, half of citron bowers;
And in the middle of those golden trees,
Half seen amidst the globy oranges,
Lurked a rare summer-house, a lovely sight,—
Small, marble, well-proportioned, creamy white,
Its top with vine-leaves sprinkled—but no more--
And a young bay-tree either side the door.
The door was to the wood, forward and square,
The rest was domed at top, and circular;
And through the dome the only light came in,
Tinged as it entered by the vine-leaves thin.
[From "The Story of Rimini." This should be compared with Cowley's
poem, "The Garden;" and the reader should also turn to Lord Bacon's
fine essay on the same subject.]
STRANGE FOES, THOUGH STRANGER FRIENDS, OF PLEASURE;
I KNOW THAT GUILE MAY TEACH, WHILE TRUTH MUST BOW, OR BEAR CONTEMPT ON HIS BENIGNANT BROW."-HUNT.
"NOW CAME THE SPRING, WHEN FREE-BORN LOVE CALLS UP NATURE IN FOREST AND GROVE, LEIGH HUNT)
TO ADMIRATION DEEP TH' AMAZEMENT TURNS,-(LEIGH HUNT)
Horne, hear a theme that should have had its dues
From thine own passionate and thoughtful muse.
HERE came a man, making his hasty moan
Before the Sultan Mahmoud on his throne,
And crying out, "My sorrow is my right;
And I will see the Sultan, and to-night."
"Sorrow," said Mahmoud, "is a reverend thing:
I recognize its right, as king with king.
Speak on." "A fiend has got into my house,"
Exclaimed the staring man, "and tortures us:
One of thine officers; he comes, the abhorred,
And takes possession of my house, my board,
My bed. I have two daughters and a wife;
And the wild villain comes, and makes me mad
"Is he there now?" said Mahmoud.
The house when I did, of my wits bereft ;
And laughed me down the street, because I vowed
I'd bring the prince himself to lay him in his shroud.
I'm mad with want--I'm mad with misery;
And oh, thou Sultan Mahmoud, God cries out with
thee!"
The Sultan comforted the man, and said,
"Go home; and I will send thee wine and bread"
(For he was poor), "and other comforts.
And should the wretch return, let Sultan Mahmoud
know."
* The author of "Orion," and other poems.
THE DUMBNESS TO DISCOURSE, WHICH DEEPLY BURNS."-HUNT.
AND MAKES EACH THING LEAP FORTH, AND BE LOVING, AND LOVELY, AND BLITHE AS HE."-LEIGH HUNT.
"CUSTOM HAD MADE HIM NOT CARE FOR WEALTH, SINCERE WAS HIS MIRTH AT PRIDE;
"LET ME BUT FEEL ME BUCKLED FOR THe right,-(hunt)
In three days' time, with haggard eyes and beard,
And shaken voice, the suitor re-appeared,
And said, " He's come." Mahmoud said not a word,
But rose and took four slaves, each with a sword,
And went with the vexed man. They reach the place,
And hear a voice, and see a woman's face,
That to the window fluttered in affright.
"Go in," said Mahmoud, "and put out the light;
But tell the females first to leave the room:
And when the drunkard follows them, we come."
The man went in. There was a cry; and hark!
A table falls; the window is struck dark;
Forth rush the breathless women; and behind,
With curses, comes the fiend in desperate mind.
In vain the sabres soon cut short the strife,
And chop the shrieking wretch, and drink his bloody
life.
"Now light the light," the Sultan cried aloud.
'Twas done he took it in his hand, and bowed
Over the corpse, and looked upon the face;
Then turned, and knelt, and to the throne of grace
Put up a prayer, and from his lips there crept
Some gentle words of pleasure, and he wept.
In reverent silence the beholders wait,
Then bring him, at his call, both wine and meat;
And when he had refreshed his noble heart,
He bade his host be blessed, and rose up to depart.
The man amazed, all mildness now, and tears,
Fell at the Sultan's feet, with many prayers,
And begged him to vouchsafe to tell his slave
The reason, first, of that command he gave
AND COME A WORLD IN ARMS, I'M STILL A KNIGHT.”—HUNT.
HE HAD YOUTH, AND STRENGTH, AND HEALTH, AND ENOUGH FOR ONE BESIDE."-HUNT.
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