2 LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, You put strange memories in my head. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, When thus he met his mother's view, She spake some certain truths of you. That scarce is fit for you to hear; Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, There stands a spectre in your hall: You changed a wholesome heart to gall. And slew him with your noble birth. Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere, From yon blue heavens above us bent Kind hearts are more than coronets, I know you, Clara Vere de Vere: You pine among your halls and towers: THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE. The languid light of your proud eyes In glowing health, with boundless wealth, You know so ill to deal with time, You needs must play such pranks as these. Clara, Clara Vere de Vere, If time be heavy on your hands, Are there no beggars at your gate, Nor any poor about your lands? Oh! teach the orphan-boy to read, Or teach the orphan-girl to sew, Pray Heaven for a human heart, And let the foolish yeoman go. Tennyson. 3 THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE. Nor a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, We buried him darkly at dead of night, No useless coffin confined his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; Few and short were the prayers we said, But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 4 YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. We thought as we hollow'd his narrow bed, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring; Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; Wolfe. YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. I. YE mariners of England! That guard our native seas; Whose flag has braved a thousand The battle and the breeze! years, Your glorious standard launch again And sweep through the deep While the stormy winds do blow; YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. II. The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave; For the deck it was their field of fame, III. Britannia needs no bulwark- As they roar on the shore When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. IV. The meteor flag of England Till danger's troubled night depart, Then, then, ye ocean-warriors! When the storm has ceased to blow; Campbell. LINES WRITTEN IN THE CHURCHYARD OF RICHMOND, YORKSHIRE. "It is good for us to be here if thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles; one for thee, and one for Moses, and one for Elias." -Matt. xvii. 4. METHINKS it is good to be here: If thou wilt, let us build-but for whom? But the shadows of eve that encompass the gloom, Shall we build to Ambition? Oh, no! Affrighted he shrinketh away; For, see! they would pin him below, In a small narrow cave and begirt with cold clay, and a prey. To Beauty? Ah, no!—she forgets The skin which but yesterday fools could adore, Shall we build to the purple of PrideThe trappings which dizen the proud? Alas! they are all laid aside— And here's neither dress nor adornment allow'd, Who hid, in their turn have been hid— The treasures are squander'd again— And here in the grave are all metals forbid, But the tinsel that shone on the dark coffin-lid. |