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MARY QUEEN OF SCOTS

[1542-1587]

WHEN the young hand of Darnley locked in hers
Had knit her to her northern doom-amid

The spousal pomp of flags and trumpeters,
Her fate looked forth and was no longer hid;
A jealous brain beneath a southern crown
Wrought spells upon her; from afar she felt
The waxen image of her fortunes melt

Beneath the Tudor's eye, while the grim frown
Of her own lords o'ermastered her sweet smiles,
And nipped her growing gladness, till she mourned,
And sank, at last, beneath their cruel wiles;
But, ever since, all generous hearts have burned
To clear her fame, yea, very babes have yearned
Over this saddest story of the isles.

Charles Tennyson Turner [1808-1879]

THE ANGELUS

[JEAN FRANÇOIS MILLET, 1814-1875] Nor far from Paris, in fair Fontainebleau, A lovely memory-haunted hamlet lies,

Whose tender spell makes captive, and defies
Forgetfulness. The peasants come and go-
Their backs too used to stoop, and patient sow
The harvest which a narrow want supplies—
Even as when, Earth's pathos in his eyes,
Millet dwelt here, companion of their woe.

Ah, Barbizon! With thorns, not laurels, crowned,
He looked thy sorrows in the face, and found—
Vital as seed warm-nestled in the sod-
The hidden sweetness at the heart of pain;
Trusting thy sun and dew, thy wind and rain-
At home with Nature, and at one with God!
Florence Earle Coates [1850-

In Memory of "Barry Cornwall" 3413

UNDER THE PORTRAIT OF MILTON
IN TONSON'S FOLIO EDITION OF PARADISE LOST, 1688
[1608-1674]

THREE Poets, in three distant ages born,
Greece, Italy, and England did adorn.
The first in loftiness of thought surpassed;
The next in majesty; in both the last.
The force of Nature could no further go:
To make a third she joined the former two.

John Dryden [1631-1700]

IN MEMORY OF "BARRY CORNWALL"

[BRYAN WALLER PROCTER, 1787-1874]

In the garden of death, where the singers whose names are deathless,

One with another make music unheard of men,

Where the dead sweet roses fade not of lips long breathless, And the fair eyes shine that shall weep not or change again,

Who comes now crowned with the blossom of snow-white years?

What music is this that the world of the dead men hears?

Beloved of men, whose words on our lips were honey,

Whose name in our ears and our fathers' ears was sweet, Like summer gone forth of the land his songs made sunny, To the beautiful veiled bright world where the glad ghosts meet,

Child, father, bridegroom and bride, and anguish and rest, No soul shall pass of a singer than this more blest.

Blest for the years' sweet sake that were filled and brightened,

As a forest with birds, with the fruit and the flower of his song;

For the souls' sake blest that heard, and their cares were

lightened,

For the hearts' sake blest that have fostered his name so

long;

By the living and dead lips blest that have loved his name, And clothed with their praise and crowned with their love for fame.

Ah, fair and fragrant his fame as flowers that close not,

That shrink not by day for heat or for cold by night, As a thought in the heart shall increase when the heart's self knows not,

Shall endure in our ears as a sound, in our eyes as a light; Shall wax with the years that wane and the seasons' chime, As a white rose thornless that grows in the garden of time.

The same year calls, and one goes hence with another,

And men sit sad that were glad for their sweet songs' sake; The same year beckons, and elder with younger brother Takes mutely the cup from his hand that we all shall take. They pass ere the leaves be past or the snows be come; And the birds are loud, but the lips that outsang them dumb.

Time takes them home that we loved, fair names and famous, To the soft long sleep, to the broad sweet bosom of death; But the flower of their souls he shall take not away to shame

us,

Nor the lips lack song forever that now lack breath. For with us shall the music and perfume that die not dwell, Though the dead to our dead bid welcome, and we farewell. Algernon Charles Swinburne [1837-1909]

IN MEMORIAM

[LORD RAGLAN, 1788-1855]

Aн, not because our Soldier died before his field was won; Ah, not because life would not last till life's long task were

done,

Wreathe one less leaf, grieve with less grief,—of all our hosts that led

Not last in work and worth approved, Lord Raglan lieth

dead.

In Memoriam

3415

His nobleness he had of none, War's Master taught him

war,

And prouder praise that Master gave than meaner lips can

mar;

Gone to his grave, his duty done; if farther any seek,
He left his life to answer them,-a soldier's,-let it speak!

'Twas his to sway a blunted sword,-to fight a fated field, While idle tongues talked victory, to struggle not to yield; Light task for placeman's ready pen to plan a field for fight,

Hard work and hot with steel and shot to win that field aright.

Tears have been shed for the brave dead; mourn him who mourned for all!

Praise hath been given for strife well striven, praise him who strove o'er all,

Nor count that conquest little, though no banner flaunt it

far,

That under him our English hearts beat Pain and Plague and War.

And if he held those English hearts too good to pave the

path

To idle victories, shall we grudge what noble palm he

hath?

Like ancient Chief he fought a-front, and 'mid his soldiers

seen,

His work was aye as stern as theirs; oh! make his grave as

green.

They know him well,-the Dead who died that Russian wrong should cease,

Where Fortune doth not measure men,—their souls and his

have peace;

Aye! as well spent in sad sick tent as they in bloody strife, For English Homes our English Chief gave what he had

his life.

Edwin Arnold [1832-1904]

TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED MASTER WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, AND

WHAT HE

HATH LEFT US

[1564-1616]

To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name,
Am I thus ample to thy book and fame;

While I confess thy writings to be such

As neither Man, nor Muse, can praise too much.
'Tis true, and all men's suffrage. But these ways
Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise;
For silliest ignorance on these may light,
Which, when it sounds at best, but echoes right;
Or blind affection, which doth ne'er advance
The truth, but gropes, and urgeth all by chance;
Or crafty malice might pretend this praise,
And think to ruin, where it seemed to raise.
These are, as some infamous bawd or whore
Should praise a matron. What could hurt her more?
But thou art proof against them, and, indeed,
Above the ill fortune of them, or the need.

I therefore will begin: Soul of the age!

The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage!
My Shakespeare, rise! I will not lodge thee by
Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie
A little further, to make thee a room:
Thou art a monument without a tomb,
And art alive still while thy book doth live
And we have wits to read and praise to give.
That I not mix thee so, my brain excuses,
I mean with great, but disproportioned Muses;
For if I thought my judgment were of years,
I should commit thee surely with thy peers,
And tell how far thou didst our Lyly outshine,
Or sporting Kyd, or Marlowe's mighty line."
And though thou hadst small Latin and less Greek,
From thence to honor thee, I would not seek
For names; but call forth thundering Eschylus,
Euripides, and Sophocles to us;

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