The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang Edited by Mrs. Lang |
 | I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
|
|
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| II. |
| VIII. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| IX. |
|
Ballade of the Three Graces
|
|
|
|
| X. |
| XI. |
| III. |
| XIII. |
|
|
| XIV. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
|
|
| IV. |
| XV. |
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| XVI. |
|
|
|
 | The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang |  |
55
Ballade of the Three Graces
W. G. E. M. G. F.
In the mountains and meadows of Greece,
In the holy, the delicate air,
When Pan was the piper of peace,
When the satyrs were all debonair,
In the days dear to old Lemprière,
The Graces would frolic and bound.
Our Graces are still, we declare,
The best men in England, all round!
In the holy, the delicate air,
When Pan was the piper of peace,
When the satyrs were all debonair,
In the days dear to old Lemprière,
The Graces would frolic and bound.
Our Graces are still, we declare,
The best men in England, all round!
Though the season of midsummer cease
The blossom of Hellas to bear,
Though the critics, a cohort of geese,
Deny that dame Venus is fair,
The Graces, at least are ‘all there’,
And no better bats to be found,
And at point, or at long-leg, or square,
The best men in England, all round!
The blossom of Hellas to bear,
Though the critics, a cohort of geese,
Deny that dame Venus is fair,
The Graces, at least are ‘all there’,
And no better bats to be found,
And at point, or at long-leg, or square,
The best men in England, all round!
56
May Gilbert abide in the crease!
And the bowling of Fred may it scare!
And the slows of the coroner tease
The colonists hugely that dare!
Go smite them, ye brethren, nor spare!
Till the glades of St. John's Wood resound
With the cheers that are surely your share,
The best men in England, all round!
And the bowling of Fred may it scare!
And the slows of the coroner tease
The colonists hugely that dare!
Go smite them, ye brethren, nor spare!
Till the glades of St. John's Wood resound
With the cheers that are surely your share,
The best men in England, all round!
Envoy
Old Glostershire, cast away care,And go in for a new county ground.
Green mother of cricketers rare,
The best men in England, all round!
| The Poetical Works of Andrew Lang | |