XCI. Ah, with the Grape my fading life provide, XCII. That e'en my buried Ashes such a snare XCIII. Indeed, the Idols I have loved so long Have done my credit in this World much wrong: Have drowned my Glory in a shallow Cup, And sold my Reputation for a Song. XCIV. Indeed, indeed, Repentance oft before, I swore-but was I sober when I swore? And then and then came Spring, and Rose-in-hand My threadbare Penitence apieces tore. XCV. And much as Wine has played the Infidel, XCVI. Yet Ah, that Spring should vanish with the Rose ! XCVII. Would but the Desert of the Fountain yield To which the fainting Traveller might spring, XCVIII. Would but some wingèd Angel ere too late And make the stern Recorder otherwise XCIX. Ah Love! could you and I with Him conspire Would not we shatter it to bits—and then C. Yon rising Moon that looks for us again— How oft hereafter rising look for us Through this same Garden-and for one in vain! CI. And when like her, O Sákí, you shall pass TIME. AN ENIGMA. EVER eating, never cloying, JONATHAN SWIFT. II. LIFE. THIS LIFE. THIS Life, which seems so fair, Who chase it everywhere And strive who can most motion it bequeath. And though it sometimes seem of its own might And firm to hover in that empty height, -But in that pomp it doth not long appear; For when 't is most admired, in a thought, Because it erst was nought, it turns to nought. WILLIAM DRUMMOND. THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE. How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; And simple truth his utmost skill! Whose passions not his masters are; Not tied unto the world with care Who God doth late and early pray More of his grace than gifts to lend, With a well-chosen book or friend, This man is freed from servile bands SIR HENRY WOTTON. RETRIBUTION. Ὀψὲ θεῶν ἀλέουσι μύλοι, ἀλέουσι δὲ λεπτά. ("The mills of the gods grind late, but they grind fine.") -Greek Poet. THOUGH the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all. From the German of F. VON LOGAU. Translation of H. W. LONGFELLOW. |