ROBERT BROWNING THERE is delight in singing, though none hear So varied in discourse. But warmer climes The Siren waits thee, singing song for song. WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. 5 10 THE SEA THE sea! the sea! the open sea! It runneth the earth's wide regions round; I'm on the sea! I'm on the sea! I am where I would ever be; With the blue above, and the blue below, If a storm should come and awake the deep, 10 I love, O, how I love to ride On the fierce, foaming, bursting tide, I never was on the dull, tame shore, The waves were white, and red the morn, 15 20 25 30 I've lived since then, in calm and strife, With wealth to spend and a power to range, BRYAN WALLER PROCTER. 35 THE BATTLE OF NASEBY BY OBADIAH BIND-THEIR-KINGS-IN CHAINS-AND-THEIR-NOBLES-WITH LINKS-OF-IRON, SERGEANT IN OH! wherefore come ye forth in triumph from the north, With your hands, and your feet, and your raiment all red? And wherefore doth your rout send forth a joyous shout? And whence be the grapes of the wine-press that ye tread ? Oh! evil was the root, and bitter was the fruit, And crimson was the juice of the vintage that we trod; For we trampled on the throng of the haughty and the strong, Who sate in the high places and slew the saints of God. It was about the noon of a glorious day of June, shine, And the Man of Blood was there, with his long essenced hair, And Astley, and Sir Marmaduke, and Rupert of the Like a servant of the Lord, with his Bible and his sword, Among the godless horsemen upon the tyrant's right. 5 ΤΟ 15 And hark! like the roar of the billows on the shore, The cry of battle rises along their charging line: For God! for the Cause! for the Church! for the Laws! For Charles, King of England, and Rupert of the Rhine! 20 The furious German comes, with his clarions and his drums, His bravoes of Alsatia and pages of Whitehall; They are bursting on our flanks! Grasp your pikes! For Rupert never comes, but to conquer, or to fall. They are here - they rush on we are broken we are gone 25 Our left is borne before them like stubble on the blast. right! Stand back to back, in God's name! and fight it to the last! Stout Skippon hath a wound the centre hath given ground. Hark! hark! what means the trampling of horsemen on our rear? Whose banner do I see, boys? 'Tis he! thank God! 't is he, boys! Bear up another minute! Brave Oliver is here. Their heads all stooping low, their points all in a row, dikes, 30 Our cuirassiers have burst on the ranks of the Accurst, 35 And at a shock have scatter'd the forest of his pikes. Fast, fast, the gallants ride, in some safe nook to hide, Their coward heads, predestin'd to rot on Temple Bar; And he he turns! he flies! shame on those cruel eyes That bore to look on torture, and dare not look on war! 40 Ho, comrades! scour the plain; and ere you strip the slain, First give another stab to make your search secure; and lockets, The tokens of the wanton, the plunder of the poor. Fools! your doublets shone with gold, and your hearts were gay and bold, When you kissed your lily hands to your lemans to-day; And to-morrow shall the fox from her chamber in the rocks Lead forth her tawny cubs to howl above the prey. Where be your tongues, that late mock'd at heaven and hell and fate? And the fingers that were once so busy with your blades? Your perfum'd satin clothes, your catches and your oaths? Your stage-plays and your sonnets, your diamonds and your spades? Down, down, for ever down with the mitre and the crown, With the Belial of the court, and the Mammon of the Pope ! 45 50 |