 | To Elizabeth Barrett Browning and other verses |  |
7
TO ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
In Latian verse thy name would I inscribe,But thou hast graven it in adamant
Where Shakespeare and where Milton once wrote theirs.
Browning! if Sappho and Corinna bore
The prize of beauty, they both waft aside
The crown of laurel, now another's due.
Envious all poets are, and I confess
I envy one as women envy thee.
8
ON LEAVING MY VILLA
I gaze with fond regret on you,
My cypresses, so green and tall,
And sweet acacian avenue,
Because I nursed and rear'd you all.
My cypresses, so green and tall,
And sweet acacian avenue,
Because I nursed and rear'd you all.
On you with fond regret I gaze,
My hall, with vine-leaves trelliced o'er,
Because I've seen you many days,
And never am to see you more.
My hall, with vine-leaves trelliced o'er,
Because I've seen you many days,
And never am to see you more.
I gaze on you with fond regret,
My children! for you may be told
That love (like mine, too!) can forget—
Only with death does love lie cold.
My children! for you may be told
That love (like mine, too!) can forget—
Only with death does love lie cold.
9
POET AND MAY
PoetWhy, hurrying by us, dost thou cease
To breathe as thou art wont, O May?
May
Disasterous war, disgraceful peace,
Have taken all my breath away.
Have taken all my breath away.
Let me go on. My eyes are cast
In vain along the village-green;
Its mirth, its youth, its life, is past,
Fever and Famine close the scene.
In vain along the village-green;
Its mirth, its youth, its life, is past,
Fever and Famine close the scene.
This year no crown is mine; I see
None save where drowsy hemlocs grow,
No ribbon save round palsied knee . .
Whistle or weep, but let me go.
None save where drowsy hemlocs grow,
No ribbon save round palsied knee . .
Whistle or weep, but let me go.
May 9, [1856].
10
MY SISTER ELIZABETH
Is there a day or night,
One, when the vision of my earliest friend,
Robed in her own pure light,
Fails on my weary vigils to descend?
One, when the vision of my earliest friend,
Robed in her own pure light,
Fails on my weary vigils to descend?
Sometimes she may appear
Before the expectant schoolroom, when the chimes
Sing blithely “dinner near” . .
And in a darker, sadder scene sometimes.
Before the expectant schoolroom, when the chimes
Sing blithely “dinner near” . .
And in a darker, sadder scene sometimes.
The lonely widow's door
Knows by long use what step is on the sill;
It opens, as before
Year after year . . pain flies, and moans are still.
Knows by long use what step is on the sill;
It opens, as before
Year after year . . pain flies, and moans are still.
And then to walks at home
From age's griefs and childhood's games we pass,
Where, gloom o'erhanging gloom,
The stern old cedar waves away the grass.
From age's griefs and childhood's games we pass,
Where, gloom o'erhanging gloom,
The stern old cedar waves away the grass.
11
Thou, too, my cistus, thou
Whose one day flowers in my best books lie spred,
Deserted, long ere now,
With none to prop thee, side by side, art dead.
Whose one day flowers in my best books lie spred,
Deserted, long ere now,
With none to prop thee, side by side, art dead.
Oct. 1, 1854.
12
TO THE COUNTESS DE MOLANDE ON HER GOING TO PARIS
Again to Paris? Few remain
Who bow'd beneath your gentle reign.
The loyal, and the royal too,
Who turn'd and fix'd their eyes on you,
For ever from their seats are gone,
And Honour leaves a vacant throne.
Who bow'd beneath your gentle reign.
The loyal, and the royal too,
Who turn'd and fix'd their eyes on you,
For ever from their seats are gone,
And Honour leaves a vacant throne.
Where neither Love nor Honour are,
What, O my friend, can you do there?
What, O my friend, can you do there?
13
TO LOUISINE AT PARIS
Listen not to the Frenchman's tongue,
Suspect its falsehood, Louisine!
Not always is suspicion wrong,
Men say not always what they mean.
Suspect its falsehood, Louisine!
Not always is suspicion wrong,
Men say not always what they mean.
But sometimes less and sometimes more,
Take thou the arm, sit down, converse;
Dance, play, run operas o'er and o'er,
Comic and tragic hear rehearse;
Take thou the arm, sit down, converse;
Dance, play, run operas o'er and o'er,
Comic and tragic hear rehearse;
But hear not when the starting vein
And flaming eye too much declare;
Your modest look might all restrain,
But not where foulest things are fair.
And flaming eye too much declare;
Your modest look might all restrain,
But not where foulest things are fair.
14
LINES
Who would believe it e'er could beThat one, erewhile so dear to me,
Who, when she found the first grey hair
Kist it, and sigh'd to find it there;
Who led me thro' that shady park
And lookt what beech had smoothest bark;
Then wrote our names and wisht to write
A little higher if she might;
And then, “O nonsense! let me go!
You tumble me and teaze me so!
If I were sure I should not fall . .
But . . how can I be sure at all?”
Who then found out how wrong it was
(Where there were seats) to sit on grass;
Then suddenly, half-rising, told
How liable she was to cold,
And seem'd extremely discontented
Until such peril were prevented . .
That she who loved that quiet park,
Those glades, nor cared how lone, how dark,
And loved me too a little bit
And chided me for doubting it . .
15
Raises her chin and then her glass,
Stares at me, bows, looks gracious-grand,
Drives on and half uncurls her hand!
We both were younger: I am yet
What tenderer bosoms scarce forget;
She shines, with coronetted pannel
And husband mummified in flannel,
Among the haridans and hacks
Who spread their tanneries at Almack's.
16
TO WILLIAM
Pleasures, as with light wings they go,
Let pining age reprove,
William, on you may Heaven bestow
Fond cares and faithful love.
Let pining age reprove,
William, on you may Heaven bestow
Fond cares and faithful love.
Few friends in foreign lands we find,
Not many more at home,
Some are ungrateful, some unkind,
Time, absence, Death take some.
Not many more at home,
Some are ungrateful, some unkind,
Time, absence, Death take some.
Malice o'erpowers us madly charmed
With dreams of deathless song,
'Tis our prime blessing to have warmed
The heart that holds us long.
With dreams of deathless song,
'Tis our prime blessing to have warmed
The heart that holds us long.
Florence, 16th Oct., 1829.
17
TO GARIBALDI
“O glory of Liguria!” Thus beganMy song to Garibaldi, when the Muse
Seiz'd on the pen, and said, “Liguria boasts
His birth, but Rome asserts another claim.
He marshal'd her true sons in her defence
Against a perjurer to Liberty,
And follow'd her, nor call'd her home in vain.
Let others mount the throne; his seat stands higher;
Therefore shall Rome with solemn jubilee
Sing of him in the voice she sang of old,
When from her gates first skulkt the fraudful Gaul.”
18
KOSSUTH AT BIRMINGHAM
Rave over other lands and other seas,
Ill omen'd black-winged Breeze!
But spare the friendly sails that waft away
Him, who was deem'd the prey
Of despot dark as thou, one sending forth
The tortures of the North
To fix upon his Caucasus once more
The demi-god who bore
To sad humanity Heaven's fire and light,
Whereby shall reunite
In happier bonds, the nations of the earth;
Whose Jove-like brow gave birth
To that high wisdom, whence all blessings flow
On mortals here below.
Ill omen'd black-winged Breeze!
But spare the friendly sails that waft away
Him, who was deem'd the prey
Of despot dark as thou, one sending forth
The tortures of the North
To fix upon his Caucasus once more
The demi-god who bore
To sad humanity Heaven's fire and light,
Whereby shall reunite
In happier bonds, the nations of the earth;
Whose Jove-like brow gave birth
To that high wisdom, whence all blessings flow
On mortals here below.
Rack not, O Boreal Breeze, that labouring breast
On which, half dead, yet rest
The hopes of millions, and rest there alone.
Impiously every throne
Crushes the credulous: none else than he
Can raise and set them free.
O bear him on in safety and in health!
Bear on a freight of wealth
Such as no vessel yet hath ever borne;
Altho' with banner torn
He urges thro' tempestuous waves his way;
Yet shall a brighter day
Shine on him in his own reconquered field;
Relenting Fate shall yield
To constant Virtue. Hungary! no more
Thy saddest loss deplore;
Look to the star-crown'd Genius of the West,
Sole guardian of the opprest.
O! that one only nation dared to save
Kossuth, the true and brave!
On which, half dead, yet rest
The hopes of millions, and rest there alone.
Impiously every throne
Crushes the credulous: none else than he
Can raise and set them free.
19
Bear on a freight of wealth
Such as no vessel yet hath ever borne;
Altho' with banner torn
He urges thro' tempestuous waves his way;
Yet shall a brighter day
Shine on him in his own reconquered field;
Relenting Fate shall yield
To constant Virtue. Hungary! no more
Thy saddest loss deplore;
Look to the star-crown'd Genius of the West,
Sole guardian of the opprest.
O! that one only nation dared to save
Kossuth, the true and brave!
20
LORD DUDLEY STUART
By the grave's coldness palsied is the hand
Of whoso bends to drop into its loose
And humid soil the last memorial flower.
Of whoso bends to drop into its loose
And humid soil the last memorial flower.
While others sing victorious arms, and wounds
Stauncht by the pennon, graspt until the grasp
Of Death was stronger, what for me remains
But languid sorrow and this verse inert?
Yet thine too, Dudley, thine was warfare, thine
Battle throughout not one brief day alone;
'Twas lifelong, more than lifelong; still it burns
In mightier hosts than ever Xerxes led,
Or Gengis, or that prouder one who warred
Against the Elements and Truth and God.
Dudley! what he undid thou wouldst restore.
Stauncht by the pennon, graspt until the grasp
Of Death was stronger, what for me remains
But languid sorrow and this verse inert?
Yet thine too, Dudley, thine was warfare, thine
Battle throughout not one brief day alone;
'Twas lifelong, more than lifelong; still it burns
In mightier hosts than ever Xerxes led,
Or Gengis, or that prouder one who warred
Against the Elements and Truth and God.
Dudley! what he undid thou wouldst restore.
O Scandinavia! thou hast borne erewhere
The bravest of mankind, and mourn'd the best
Of all the kings that ever ruled on earth:
His was pure faith, and valor as unstain'd.
Thus God, whom weak men say they glorify,
By him was glorified. In foren land
He fell; in foren land thou fallest too;
He for his country, thou for all who live.
The bravest of mankind, and mourn'd the best
Of all the kings that ever ruled on earth:
His was pure faith, and valor as unstain'd.
Thus God, whom weak men say they glorify,
21
He fell; in foren land thou fallest too;
He for his country, thou for all who live.
Nov. 22, [1854].
22
EPITAPH OF THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA
So then at last the Emperor Franz,On spindle shanks hath joined Death's dance.
Prythee, good Saint Nepomucene,
Push the pale wretch behind the screen;—
For if your Master's Son should know,
He'd kick him to the gulph below:
Then would the Devil rave and rant,
That Hell has more than Hell can want
Of such exceedingly good men,
And fork him to you back agen.
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