The Ontario Readers: The High School Reader, 1886 Part 51

XCV. AMOR MUNDI.

CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI.--1830-

"O where are you going with your love-locks flowing, On the west wind blowing along this valley track?"

"The down-hill path is easy, come with me an it please ye, We shall escape the up-hill by never turning back."

So they two went together in glowing August weather, The honey-breathing heather lay to their left and right; And dear she was to doat on, her swift feet seem'd to float on The air like soft twin pigeons too sportive to alight.

"Oh, what is that in heaven where grey cloud-flakes are seven, Where blackest clouds hang riven just at the rainy skirt?"

"Oh, that's a meteor sent us, a message dumb, portentous, An undecipher'd solemn signal of help or hurt."

"Oh, what is that glides quickly where velvet flowers grow thickly, Their scent comes rich and sickly?" "A scaled and hooded worm."

"Oh, what's that in the hollow, so pale I quake to follow?"

"Oh, that's a thin dead body which waits the eternal term."

"Turn again, O my sweetest,--turn again, false and fleetest: This beaten way thou beatest, I fear is h.e.l.l's own track."

"Nay, too steep for hill mounting; nay, too late for cost counting: This down-hill path is easy, but there's no turning back."

XCVI. TOUJOURS AMOUR.

EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN.--1833-

Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin, At what age does love begin?

Your blue eyes have scarcely seen Summers three, my fairy queen, But a miracle of sweets, Soft approaches, sly retreats, Show the little archer there, Hidden in your pretty hair; When didst learn a heart to win?

Prithee tell me, Dimple-Chin!

"Oh!" the rosy lips reply, "I can't tell you if I try.

Tis so long I can't remember: Ask some younger la.s.s than I."

Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face, Do your heart and head keep pace?

When does h.o.a.ry Love expire, When do frosts put out the fire?

Can its embers burn below All that chill December snow?

Care you still soft hands to press, Bonny heads to smooth and bless?

When does Love give up the chase?

Tell, O tell me, Grizzled-Face!

"Ah!" the wise old lips reply, "Youth may pa.s.s and strength may die; But of Love I can't foretoken: Ask some older sage than I!"

XCVII. ENGLAND.

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.--1836-

While men pay reverence to mighty things, They must revere thee, thou blue-cinctured isle Of England--not to-day, but this long while In the front of nations, Mother of great kings, Soldiers, and poets. Round thee the Sea flings His steel-bright arm, and shields thee from the guile And hurt of France. Secure, with august smile, Thou sittest, and the East its tribute brings.

Some say thy old-time power is on the wane, Thy moon of grandeur fill'd, contracts at length-- They see it darkening down from less to less.

Let but a hostile hand make threat again, And they shall see thee in thy ancient strength, Each iron sinew quivering, lioness!

_Such kings of shreds have woo'd and won her, Such crafty knaves her laurel own'd, It has become almost an honor Not to be crown'd._

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.

_On Popularity._

XCVIII. ROCOCO.

THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.

By studying my lady's eyes I've grown so learned day by day, So Machiavelian in this wise, That when I send her flowers, I say

To each small flower (no matter what, Geranium, pink, or tuberose, Syringa, or forget-me-not, Or violet) before it goes:

"Be not triumphant, little flower, When on her haughty heart you lie, But modestly enjoy your hour: She'll weary of you by-and-by."

XCIX. KINGS OF MEN.

JOHN READE.--1837-

As hills seem Alps, when veil'd in misty shroud, Some men seem kings, through mists of ignorance; Must we have darkness, then, and cloud on cloud, To give our hills and pigmy kings a chance?

Must we conspire to curse the humbling light, Lest some one, at whose feet our fathers bow'd, Should suddenly appear, full length, in sight, Scaring to laughter the adoring crowd?

Oh, no! G.o.d send us light!--Who loses then?

The king of slaves and not the king of men.

True kings are kings for ever, crown'd of G.o.d, The King of Kings,--we need not fear for them.

'Tis only the usurper's diadem That shakes at touch of light, revealing fraud.

C. THALATTA! THALATTA!

JOHN READE.