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of sin or legal debt;

for with His own laws He can best dispense.

THE CURSE OF KEHAMA

I CHARM thy life

from the weapons of strife,
from stone and from wood,
from fire and from flood,
from the serpent's tooth,
and the beasts of blood:
from sickness I charm thee,
and Time shall not harm thee,
but Earth which is mine,
its fruits shall deny thee,
and Water shall hear me,

and know thee and fly thee;

and the Winds shall not touch thee

when they pass by thee,

and the Dews shall not wet thee,

when they fall nigh thee:
and thou shalt seek Death
to release thee, in vain;
thou shalt live in thy pain;
and Sleep shall obey me
and visit thee never,

and the Curse shall be on thee

for ever and ever.

J. MILTON

R. SOUTHEY

1193

CHORUS OF DRUIDS

LEEP and Silence reign around;

circle, sons, this holy ground;
circle close in triple row.

And if, masked in vapours drear,

any earth-born spirit dare

to hover round this sacred space,

haste with light spells the murky foe to chase.

Lift your boughs of vervain blue,

dipt in cold September dew;

and dash the moisture chaste and clear,

o'er the ground, and through the air:

now the place is purged and pure.
Brethren! say, for this high hour
are the milk-white steers prepared,
whose necks the rude yoke never scared
to the furrow yet unbroke?

for such must bleed beneath yon oak.

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1195

W. MASON

THE STINGS OF CONSCIENCE

EHOLD what furies still

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torment their tortured brest,
who by their doing ill

haue wrought the world's unrest.
Which when being most distrest,
yet more to vexe their sprite,
the hideous face of sinne
(in formes they most detest)
stands ever in their sight:
their conscience still within

th' eternall larum is,

that ever-barking dog that calles upon their misse. No meanes at all to hide

man from himselfe can finde:

no way to start aside

out from the hell of minde,

but in himselfe confined
he still sees sinne before;
and winged-footed paine,
that swiftly comes behind,
the which is evermore

the sure and certaine gaine

impiety doth get,

and wanton loose respect that doth it selfe forget.

S. DANIEL

MISHAPS OUR DAILY MATES

THE

HE boiling tempest still
makes not sea-waters foam,

nor still the northern blast
disquiets quiet streams,
nor who, his chest to fill,
sails to the morning beams,

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on waves wind tosseth fast,

still keeps his ship from home.

Nor Jove still down doth cast,
inflamed with bloody ire,
on man, on tree, on hill,
his darts of thundering fire:
nor still the heat doth last
on face of parchéd plain,
nor wrinkled cold doth still
on frozen furrows reign.
But still, as long as we
in this low world remain,
mishaps, our daily mates,
our lives do entertain;
and woes, which bear no dates,
still perch upon our heads;
none go, but straight will be
some greater in their steads.

MARY COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE

LOOK

SONG IN ARCADES

OOK nymphs, and shepherds look!
what sudden blaze of majesty

is that which we from hence descry,
too divine to be mistook?

This, this is she

to whom our vows and wishes bend;
here our solemn search hath end.

Fame, that her high worth to raise
seemed erst so lavish and profuse,
we may justly now accuse
of detraction from her praise:
less than half we find expressed,
envy bid conceal the rest.

Mark what radiant state she spreads,
in circle round her shining throne,
shooting her beams like silver threads.
This, this is she alone,

sitting like a goddess bright,
in the centre of her light.

Might she the wise Latona be,
or the towered Cybelé,

of Bacchus ever fair and ever young:

the jolly god in triumph comes;

sound the trumpets; beat the drums;
flushed with a purple grace

he shows his honest face:

now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes. Bacchus, ever fair and young,

drinking joys did first ordain; Bacchus' blessings are a treasure, drinking is the soldier's pleasure: rich the treasure,

sweet the pleasure,

sweet is pleasure after pain.

Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain;

fought all his battles o'er again;

and thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew

the slain.

J. DRYDEN

1201

H

HYMN TO BEAUTY AND VIRTUE

AIL sacred source of heaven and earth!
from thee fair beauty takes her birth:
whate'er in prospect charms the eye,
from thee receives its pleasing dye:
from thee Apollo gilds the ray
that ushers in the new-born day:
from thee, the moon with borrowed light
supplies the silver lamp of night:
from thee fair Iris paints her bow
where all thy varied colours glow:

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curat spernere pontum,

et fluctibus minantem

montis cacumen alti

bibulas vitet arenas.
Illud protervus Auster
totis viribus urget,
hæ pendulum solutæ
pondus ferre recusant.
Fugiens periculosam

sortem sedis amoenæ,
humili domum memento
certus figere saxo.
Quamvis tonet ruinis
miscens æquora ventus,
tu conditus quieti

felix robore valli,

duces serenus ævum,
ridens ætheris iras.

BOETHIVS

INVOCATION OF SABRINA

fair,

SABRINA where thou art sitting

under the glassy, cool, translucent wave,
in twisted braids of lilies knitting
the loose train of thy amber-dropping hair;
listen for dear honour's sake,
goddess of the silver lake,

listen and save!

Listen, and appear to us,

in name of great Oceanus;

by the earth-shaking Neptune's mace,
and Tethys' grave majestic pace,
by hoary Nereus' wrinkled look,
and the Carpathian wizard's hook,
by scaly Triton's winding shell,
and old soothsaying Glaucus' spell,
by Leucothea's lovely hands,
and her son that rules the strands,
by Thetis' tinsel-slippered feet,
and the songs of Sirens sweet,
by dead Parthenopé's dear tomb,
and fair Ligea's golden comb,