The Hundred Best English Poems Part 12

WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.

47. _The Maid's Lament._

I loved him not; and yet now he is gone I feel I am alone.

I check'd him while he spoke; yet could he speak, Alas! I would not check.

For reasons not to love him once I sought, And wearied all my thought To vex myself and him: I now would give My love, could he but live Who lately lived for me, and when he found 'Twas vain, in holy ground He hid his face amid the shades of death.

I waste for him my breath Who wasted his for me: but mine returns, And this lorn bosom burns With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, And waking me to weep Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years Wept he as bitter tears.

_Merciful G.o.d!_ such was his latest prayer, _These may she never share!_ Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold, Than daisies in the mould, Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate, His name and life's brief date.

Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er you be, And oh! pray too for me!

_1868 Edition._

RICHARD LOVELACE.

48. _To Lucasta. Going to the Wars._

Tell me not, (sweet,) I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly.

True: a new Mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a s.h.i.+eld.

Yet this inconstancy is such, As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Lov'd I not Honour more.

_Carew Hazlitt's Text._

JOHN MILTON.

49. _On the Morning of Christ's Nativity._

I.

This is the month, and this the happy morn, Wherein the Son of Heaven's eternal King, Of wedded Maid and Virgin-Mother born, Our great redemption from above did bring; For so the holy sages once did sing, That he our deadly forfeit should release, And with his Father work us a perpetual peace.

II.

That glorious form, that light unsufferable, And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, Wherewith he wont at Heaven's high council-table To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, He laid aside; and, here with us to be, Forsook the courts of everlasting day, And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay.

III.

Say, heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein Afford a present to the Infant G.o.d?

Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, To welcome him to this his new abode, Now, while the heaven, by the Sun's team untrod, Hath took no print of the approaching light, And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright?

IV.

See how from far upon the eastern road The star-led wizards haste with odours sweet!

Oh! run, prevent them with thy humble ode, And lay it lowly at his blessed feet; Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, And join thy voice unto the angel quire, From out his secret altar touched with hallowed fire.

THE HYMN.

I.

It was the winter wild, While the heaven-born child All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies; Nature in awe to him Had doffed her gaudy trim, With her great Master so to sympathize.

It was no season then for her To wanton with the Sun her l.u.s.ty paramour.

II.

Only with speeches fair She woos the gentle air To hide her guilty front with innocent snow, And on her naked shame, Pollute with sinful blame, The saintly veil of maiden-white to throw, Confounded, that her Maker's eyes Should look so near upon her foul deformities.

III.

But he, her fears to cease, Sent down the meek-eyed Peace; She, crowned with olive-green, came softly sliding Down through the turning sphere, His ready harbinger, With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing; And, waving wide her myrtle wand, She strikes an universal peace through sea and land.

IV.

No war or battle's sound Was heard the world around; The idle spear and s.h.i.+eld were high up hung; The hooked chariot stood, Unstained with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.

V.

But peaceful was the night, Wherein the Prince of Light His reign of peace upon the earth began.

The winds, with wonder whist, Smoothly the waters kissed, Whispering new joys to the mild ocean, Who now hath quite forgot to rave, While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave.

VI.

The stars, with deep amaze, Stand fixed in steadfast gaze, Bending one way their precious influence, And will not take their flight, For all the morning-light, Or Lucifer that often warned them thence; But in their glimmering orbs did glow, Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go.

VII.

And, though the shady gloom Had given day her room, The sun himself withheld his wonted speed; And hid his head for shame, As his inferior flame The new-enlightened world no more should need; He saw a greater sun appear Than his bright throne or burning axletree could bear.

VIII.

The shepherds on the lawn, Or ere the point of dawn, Sat simply chatting in a rustic row; Full little thought they than That the mighty Pan Was kindly come to live with them below.

Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, Was all that did their silly thoughts so busy keep.