Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning Sports

still

The rapid line of motion, then at once
Have I, reclining back upon my heels,
Stopped short; yet still the solitary cliffs
Wheeled by me, even as if the earth had rolled
With visible motion her diurnal round.

Behind me did they stretch in solemn train,
Feebler and feebler; and I stood and watched
Till all was tranquil as a summer sea.

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH.

From "The Prelude."

and Pastimes

Reading

We get no good

By being ungenerous, even to a book,

And calculating profits

so much help By so much reading. It is rather when We gloriously forget ourselves and plunge Soul-forward, headlong, into a book's profound, Impassioned for its beauty and salt of truth'Tis then we get the right good from a book. ELIZABETH B. BROWNING.

From "Aurora Leigh."

Sports

and On First Looking Into Chapman's Homer

Pastimes

Much have I travelled in the realms of gold,
And many goodly states and kingdoms seen;
Round many western islands have I been
Which bards in fealty to Apollo hold.
Oft of one wide expanse had I been told
That deep-browed Homer ruled as his demesne:
Yet did I never breathe its pure serene

Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold;
Then felt I like some watcher of the skies
When a new planet swims into his ken;
Or like stout Cortez, when with eagle eyes
He stared at the Pacific-and all his men
Looked at each other with a wild surmise-
Silent, upon a peak in Darien.

JOHN KEATS.

Music's Silver Sound

When griping grief the heart doth wound,
And doleful dump the mind oppress,

Then music, with her silver sound,

With speedy help doth lend redress.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

From "Romeo and Juliet."

The Power of Music

For do but note a wild and wanton herd,
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts,
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing
loud,

Which is the hot condition of their blood;

If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound,
Or air of music touch their ears,

any

You shall perceive them make a mutual stand,
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
By the sweet power of music: therefore the poet
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones and
floods;

Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage,
But music for the time doth change his nature.
The man that hath no music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils;
The motions of his spirit are dull as night,
And his affections dark as Erebus:

Let no such man be trusted.

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.

From "The Merchant of Venice."

Sports and

Pastimes

Sports and

Descend, Ye Nine

Pastimes Descend, ye Nine! descend and sing;

The breathing instruments inspire,
Wake into voice each silent string,
And sweep the sounding lyre!
In a sadly pleasing strain,
Let the warbling lute complain:
Let the loud trumpet sound,
Till the roofs all around

The shrill echoes rebound;

While in more lengthen'd notes and slow,

The deep, majestic, solemn organs blow.

Hark! the numbers soft and clear

Gently steal upon the ear;

Now louder, and yet louder rise,

And fill with spreading sounds the skies: Exulting in triumph now swell the bold notes, In broken air, trembling, the wild music floats; Till, by degrees, remote and small,

The strains decay,

And melt away,

In a dying, dying fall.

By music, minds an equal temper know,
Nor swell too high, nor sink too low.
If in the breast tumultuous joys arise,
Music her soft, assuasive voice applies;

Or, when the soul is press'd with cares,
Exalts her in enlivening airs.

Warriors she fires with animated sounds;
Pours balm into the bleeding lover's wounds:
Melancholy lifts her head,

Morpheus rouses from his bed,
Sloth unfolds her arms and wakes,
Listening Envy drops her snakes;
Intestine war no more our passions wage,

And giddy factions bear away their rage.

ALEXANDER POPE.

From " Ode on St. Cecilia's Day."

Old Song

"Tis a dull sight

To see the year dying,

When winter winds

Set the yellow wood sighing:

Sighing, O sighing!

When such a time cometh

I do retire

Into an old room

Beside a bright fire:

O, pile a bright fire!

'And there I sit

Reading old things,

Of knights and lorn damsels,

While the wind sings-
O, drearily sings!

Sports and Pastimes