er Savage Landor 3391

m, freed from griefs and years,
gs than tears.

without a single foe:
low!

genius, these are thine;

ou repine?

he lowly walks of men;
what then?

os followed by the eyes
nd wise?

day is over, yet they seek
beak

he roseate light that glows

ennial snows.

the region of the blest

ids thee rest.

Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864]

WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR

[1775-1864]

lower-town, side by side,

ht months bring,

e bridegroom and the bride,

and spring.

nd laughs from sea to sea,

ll of sun;

me back to her, being free;

gs but one.

ender wheaten plot

that were dead d suns revive; but not

blier head.

By this white wandering waste of sea,
Far north, I hear

One face shall never turn to me
As once this year:

Shall never smile and turn and rest

On mine as there,

Nor one most sacred hand be pressed
Upon my hair.

I came as one whose thoughts half linger,
Half run before;

The youngest to the eldest singer
That England bore.

I found him whom I shall not find
Till all grief end,

In holiest age our mightiest mind,
Father and friend.

But thou, if anything endure,

If hope there be,

O spirit that man's life left pure,
Man's death set free,

Not with disdain of days that were
Look earthward now;

Let dreams revive the reverend hair,
The imperial brow;

Come back in sleep, for in the life

Where thou art not

We find none like thee. Time and strife And the world's lot

Move thee no more; but love at least
And reverent heart

May move thee, royal and released
Soul, as thou art.

Forth from its scabbard! How we prayed

That sword might victor be;

And when our triumph was delayed,

And many a heart grew sore afraid,

We still hoped on while gleamed the blade
Of noble Robert Lee.

Forth from its scabbard all in vain
Bright flashed the sword of Lee;
"Tis shrouded now in its sheath again,
It sleeps the sleep of our noble slain,
Defeated, yet without a stain,

Proudly and peacefully.

Abram J. Ryan (1839-1888]

ON THE DEATH OF MR. ROBERT LEVET, A PRACTISER IN PHYSIC

[1701-1782]

CONDEMNED to Hope's delusive mine,

As on we toil from day to day,
By sudden blasts or slow decline
Our social comforts drop away.

Well tried through many a varying year,
See Levet to the grave descend,
Officious, innocent, sincere,

Of every friendless name the friend.

Yet still he fills affection's eye,
Obscurely wise and coarsely kind;
Nor, lettered Arrogance, deny
Thy praise to merit unrefined.

When fainting nature called for aid,

And hovering death prepared the blow,

His vigorous remedy displayed

The power of art without the show.