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PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY (Continued)

WRITTEN AMONG THE EUGANEAN HILLS, NORTH

THE LOVELINESS OF LOVE

THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY, LORD MACAULAY

THE ARMADA .

A JACOBITE'S EPITAPH

930

930

932

935

935

936

937

938

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SIR WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE AYTOUN

THE REFUSAL OF CHARON

HUGH MILLER

THE BABIE

HELEN SELINA, LADY DUFFERIN

LAMENT OF THE IRISH EMIGRANT

CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER

LETTY'S GLOBE.

SIR SAMUEL FERGUSON

THE FAIR HILLS OF IRELAND

947

294

WILLIAM COLLINS

T

[1720-1759]

FIDELE

O fair Fidele's grassy tomb

Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing Spring.

No wailing ghost shall dare appear
To vex with shrieks this quiet grove;
But shepherds lads assemble here,

And melting virgins own their love.

No wither'd witch shall here be seen,

No goblins lead their nightly crew;
The female fays shall haunt the green,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew.

The redbreast oft at evening hours
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary moss, and gather'd flowers,
To deck the ground where thou art laid.

When howling winds, and beating rain,
In tempests shake thy sylvan cell;
Or 'midst the chase, on every plain,

The tender thought on thee shall dwell;

Each lonely scene shall thee restore,
For thee the tear be duly shed;
Beloved, till life can charm no more;
And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead.

487

295

ODE WRITTEN IN MDCCXLVI

How sleep the Brave, who sink to rest
By all their Country's wishes blest!
When Spring, with dewy fingers cold,
Returns to deck their hallow'd mould,
She there shall dress a sweeter sod
Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.

By fairy hands their knell is rung,
By forms unseen their dirge is sung:
There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray,
To bless the turf that wraps their clay;
And Freedom shall awhile repair
To dwell a weeping hermit there!

296

THE PASSIONS

An Ode for Music

WHEN Music, heavenly maid, was young,
While yet in early Greece she sung,
The Passions oft, to hear her shell,
Throng'd around her magic cell
Exulting, trembling, raging, fainting,
Possest beyond the Muse's painting,
By turns they felt the glowing mind
Disturb'd, delighted, raised, refined:
'Till once, 'tis said, when all were fired,
Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired,
From the supporting myrtles round
They snatch'd her instruments of sound,
And, as they oft had heard apart
Sweet lessons of her forceful art,
Each, for Madness ruled the hour,

Would prove his own expressive power.