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SOPHOCLES : Ellipus at Colonas.
A LAS! that thirst of wealth and power
Should pass the bounds by wisdom laid, • And shun contentment's mountain-bower, To chase a false and fleeting shade ! The torrid orb of summer shrouds Its head in darker, stormier clouds Than quenched its vernal glow; And streams, that meet the expanding sea, Resign the peace and purity That marked their infant flow.
Go seek what joys, serene and deep,
Man's happiest lot is not to be :
Age comes, unloved, unsocial age,
“OH, NOSE OF WAX! TRUE SYMBOL OF THE MIND.”
As to the ocean-tempest's rage
“OH, NOSE OF WAX! TRUE SYMBOL OF THE
H, nose of wax ! true symbol of the mind
Which fate and fortune mould in all mankind
(Even as the hand moulds thee) to foul or fairThee good John Bull for his device shall bear, While Sawney Scot the ductile mass shall mould, Bestowing paper and receiving gold. Thy image shrined in studious state severe, Shall grace the pile which Brougham and Campbell rear : Thy name to those scholastic bowers shall pass And rival Oxford's ancient nose of brass.
A GOODLYE BALLADE OF LITTLE JOHN: SHEWINGE HOW HE RAYSED A DYVELL, AND COULDE NOTTE
FYTTE THE FIRST.
ITTLE John he sat in a lonely hall,
Mid spoils of the Church of old :
And he saw a shadowing on the wall,
He saw the dawn of a coming day,
Dim-glimmering through the gloom :
And the mitre it's place resume.
The incense vapour spread;
Receiving their daily bread.
Of sacred sisters three :
For that was Charitie.
And characters he drew,
And a murky fiend came through.
Little John to the fiend he saith : “And let it serve as a signal brand, To rouse the rabble, throughout the land,
Against the Catholic Faith.”
The fiend went joyously out:
To head the rabble rout.
In the train of the muckle black de'il;
Sent forth a yell of zeal.
Each beating its scriptural drum ;
Et omne quod erit in hum.
And in bonfires burned ten thousand Guys,
'Mid shouts of goblin glee,
And hold a Jubilee.
FYTTE THE SECOND.
The devil gave the rabble scope
And they left him not in the lurch : But they went beyond the summoner's hope; For they quickly got tired of bawling “No Pope !"
And bellowed, “No State Church !"
“Ho!" quoth Little John, “this must not be:
The devil leads all amiss :
To the bottomless abyss.”
Again he took down his book from the wall,
And pondered words of might : He muttered a speech, and he scribbled a scrawl : But the only answer to his call Was a glimpse, at the uttermost end of the hall,
Of the devil taking a sight.
And louder and louder grew the clang
As the rabble raged without :
To the tumult and the shout.
The fiendish shade, on the wall portrayed,
Threw somersaults fast and free,
And his task were on the sea.
And cp be toss's bs baze dichiak,
As visosed scribes rose;
He stood a nenaciaz pose.
As the Larisade rests in its steep;
Reine sense dreal and deep.
A little spe!l wido
To carry such spiritings through.
And towers and spires have blazed,
Of the demons he has raised."
FAREWELL TO MEIRION.
Thy mossy rocks and bright cascades,
Thy tangled glens and dingles wild,
And folly shakes her jingling bells.