« ForrigeFortsett »
I have left a good woman who never was here,
The stranger he made reply.
I pray you answer me why.
Șt. Keyne, quoth the countryman, many a time
Drank of this crystal well,
She laid on the water a spell.
If the husband of this gifted Well
Shall drink before his wife, A happy man thenceforth is he
For he shall be master for life.
But if the wife should drink of it first
God help the husband then !
And drank of the waters again,
You drank of the Well I warrant betimes ?
He to the countryman said. But the countryman smil'd as the stranger spake,
And sheepishly shook his head.
I hasten'd as soon as the wedding was done
And left my wife in the porch.
For she took a bottle to church.
R. S. Y.
When Ormuz bade the flooded earth be dry
And for the waters scoop'd their final home, O'er each abyss Ferouers of the sky
Took charge, lest once again the surges roam. On trembling Kaf reposed the throne of flame While the four Spirits wait their destined brides to claim.
The giant sovereign of the Peaceful Main
Arose majestic as his silent flood;
The goddess Pleasure, and her hand bestowed.
The indented shore with airy haste she sought,
To arch the musky wood and roseate bower ; The nightingale from wavering boughs she taught
The warbled luxury of song to pour ;
The humbler Spirit of the Midland Sea
Now bent before the throne his graceful head. Fair Taste approach'd ; the youth arose with glee
Gazed and with transport seiz'd the laurellid Maid. In his pure wave she bathed her willing feet, And round its myrtled brink rear'd many a hallow'd seat.
Soon on the shore she cast a dwelling eye
Where Inspiration oʻer Idumean palms
Thence wandered statelier to Natolian realms,
Slow is her lingering way from Greece, averse,
Till not a winding bay or shaded cape Remains unwatered with the dew of verse.
Twice to Hesperia's coast she bent her step, And saw with rapture o'er its olived height The fore-world's crimson eve, the dawn of modern light.
The Baltic Genius then with sounding stride
Advancing, bow'd before the Lord of power ;
And to his amber'd strand the Virgin bore.
He who the wide Atlantic Ocean binds
Now upwards turn'd a trembling hoping eye,
But gave his last best gift, dear Liberty.