Graded Poetry: Seventh Year Part 4

CHILDE HAROLD'S FAREWELL TO ENGLAND

Adieu, adieu! my native sh.o.r.e Fades o'er the waters blue; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea mew.

Yon sun that sets upon the sea, We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native land--Good-night.

A few short hours and he will rise To give the morrow birth; And I shall hail the main and skies, But not my mother earth.

Deserted is my own good hall, Its hearth is desolate; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall; My dog howls at the gate.

"Come hither, hither, my little page!

Why dost thou weep and wail?

Or dost thou dread the billows' rage, Or tremble at the gale?

But dash the tear-drop from thine eye; Our ship is swift and strong; Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly More merrily along."

"Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high, I fear not wave nor wind: Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I Am sorrowful in mind; For I have from my father gone, A mother whom I love, And have no friends, save thee alone, But thee--and One above.

"My father blessed me fervently, Yet did not much complain; But sorely will my mother sigh Till I come back again."-- "Enough, enough, my little lad!

Such tears become thine eye; If I thy guileless bosom had, Mine own would not be dry."

THE NIGHT BEFORE WATERLOO

There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!

Did ye not hear it?--No; 'twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet.

But hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more, As if the clouds its echo would repeat; And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!

Arm! arm! it is--it is--the cannon's opening roar!

Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise!

And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb, Or whispering with white lips--"The foe!

They come! they come!"

Last noon beheld them full of l.u.s.ty life, Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay, The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife, The morn the marshaling in arms--the day Battle's magnificently stern array!

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent The earth is cover'd thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent, Rider and horse--friend, foe--in one red burial blent!

--From "CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE."

HENRY FRANCIS LYTE ENGLAND, 1793-1847

ABIDE WITH ME

Abide with me! Fast falls the eventide; The darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide: When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pa.s.s away; Change and decay in all around I see; O Thou who changest not, abide with me.

I need Thy presence every pa.s.sing hour; What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power?

Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?

Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless: Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.

Where is Death's sting? Where, Grave, thy victory?

I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes, Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies; Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

THOMAS B. MACAULAY ENGLAND, 1800-1859

HORATIUS AT THE BRIDGE

The consul's brow was sad, and the consul's speech was low, And darkly looked he at the wall, and darkly at the foe.

"Their van will be upon us before the bridge goes down; And if they once may win the bridge, what hope to save the town?"

Then out spoke brave Horatius, the captain of the gate: "To every man upon this earth death cometh, soon or late.

Hew down the bridge, Sir Consul, with all the speed ye may; I, with two more to help me, will hold the foe in play.

In yon strait path a thousand may well be stopped by three.

Now who will stand on either hand, and keep the bridge with me?"

Then out spake Spurius Lartius--a Ramnian proud was he-- "Lo! I will stand at thy right hand, and keep the bridge with thee."

And out spake strong Herminius--of t.i.tian blood was he-- "I will abide on thy left side, and keep the bridge with thee."

"Horatius," quoth the consul, "as thou sayest, so let it be."

And straight against that great array, forth went the dauntless three.

Soon all Etruria's n.o.blest felt their hearts sink to see On the earth the b.l.o.o.d.y corpses, in the path the dauntless three.

And from the ghastly entrance, where those bold Romans stood, The bravest shrank like boys who rouse an old bear in the wood.

But meanwhile ax and lever have manfully been plied, And now the bridge hangs tottering above the boiling tide.

"Come back, come back, Horatius!" loud cried the fathers all; "Back, Lartius! back, Herminius! back, ere the ruin fall!"

Back darted Spurius Lartius; Herminius darted back; And, as they pa.s.sed, beneath their feet they felt the timbers crack; But when they turned their faces, and on the farther sh.o.r.e Saw brave Horatius stand alone, they would have crossed once more.

But, with a crash like thunder, fell every loosened beam, And, like a dam, the mighty wreck lay right athwart the stream.

And a long shout of triumph rose from the walls of Rome, As to the highest turret-tops was splashed the yellow foam.

And, like a horse unbroken, when first he feels the rein, The furious river struggled hard, and tossed his tawny mane, And burst the curb, and bounded, rejoicing to be free, And battlement, and plank, and pier whirled headlong to the sea.

Alone stood brave Horatius, but constant still in mind; Thrice thirty thousand foes before, and the broad flood behind.

"Down with him!" cried false s.e.xtus, with a smile on his pale face.

"Now yield thee!" cried Lars Porsena, "now yield thee to our grace!"

Round turned he, as not deigning those craven ranks to see; Nought spake he to Lars Porsena, to s.e.xtus nought spake he; But he saw on Palatinus the white porch of his home, And he spoke to the n.o.ble river that rolls by the towers of Rome: "O Tiber! Father Tiber! to whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, take thou in charge this day!"

So he spake, and, speaking, sheathed the good sword by his side, And, with his harness on his back, plunged headlong in the tide.

No sound of joy or sorrow was heard from either bank; But friends and foes, in dumb surprise, stood gazing where he sank, And when above the surges they saw his crest appear, Rome shouted, and e'en Tuscany could scarce forbear to cheer.

But fiercely ran the current, swollen high by months of rain: And fast his blood was flowing; and he was sore in pain, And heavy with his armor, and spent with changing blows: And oft they thought him sinking--but still again he rose.

Never, I ween, did swimmer, in such an evil case, Struggle through such a raging flood safe to the landing place: But his limbs were borne up bravely by the brave heart within, And our good Father Tiber bare bravely up his chin.

"Curse on him!" quoth false s.e.xtus; "will not the villain drown?