English

ACT II.

Scene I. Milan . The DUKE'S palace .

Enter VALENTINE and SPEED .

Speed. Sir, your glove.
Val. Not mine; my gloves are on.
Speed. Why, then, this may be yours, for this is but one.
Val. Ha! let me see: ay, give it me, it 's mine:
Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine!
Ah, Silvia, Silvia!
Speed. Madam Silvia! Madam Silvia!
Val. How now, sirrah?
Speed. She is not within hearing, sir.
Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her?
Speed. Your worship, sir; or else I mistook.

ACT I.

Scene I. Verona. An open place .

Enter VALENTINE and PROTEUS .

Val. Cease to persuade, my loving Proteus:
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
Were 't not affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honour'd love,
I rather would entreat thy company
To see the wonders of the world abroad
Than, living dully sluggardized at home,
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.
But since thou lovest, love still and thrive therein,
Even as I would when I to love begin.

I

POMONA

(Madison Cawein)

OH, the golden afternoon! —
Like a ripened summer day
That had fallen oversoon
In the weedy orchard-way —
As an apple, ripe in June.

He had left his fishrod leant
O'er the footlog by the spring —
Clomb the hill-path's high ascent,
Whence a voice, down showering,
Lured him, wondering as he went.

Not the voice of bee nor bird,

Our dog Fred
Et the bread.

Our dog Dash
Et the hash.

Our dog Pete
Et the meat.

Our dog Davy
Et the gravy.

Our dog Toffy
Et the coffee.

Our dog Jake
Et the cake.

Our dog Trip
Et the dip.

And — the worst,
From the first, —

Our dog Fi do
Et the pie-dough.

[1869]

I

ONE OF HIS ANIMAL STORIES

NOW, Tudens, you sit on this knee — and 'scuse
It having no side-saddle on; — and, Jeems,
You sit on this — and don't you wobble so
And chug my old shins with your coppertoes; —
And, all the rest of you, range round someway, —
Ride on the rockers and hang to the arms
Of our old-time split-bottom carryall! —
Do anything but squabble for a place,
Or push or shove or scrouge, or breathe out loud ,

PART VII.

But during all this wondrous night
How did Sir Gerald sleep?
Did dreams of new wealth bring delight?
Was his slumber calm and deep?

The night before the funeral
Little I ween he slept;
The first night after, his poignant grief
In sleepless mourning sought relief —
Sir Gerald waked and wept.

Now wearied nature claimed repose:
But he feared to sleep alone;

PART VI.

'T WAS at the time of morning prime:
'Fore the dawn's gray light the shades of night
O'er the western hills began to flee,
And the eastern dim stars drowsily
Were winking at the morn,
When the boat glided over the quiet bay
To the smooth rock, where the live-long day
In sobs and tears the Fisherman lay
Despairing and forlorn.

The mer-maidens left them on that rock,
In the moon-set silvery gray:

PART V.

Hist ! Music with a witching tone
The while is breathing round:
And yet in sooth I could not say
That voice e'er sang so sweet a lay;
O say not that it was a voice,
But call it voiceless sound.

I could not tell the song it sung,
The words were of another tongue —
They sounded soft and low;
As when in sultry summer weather
The air and the sea are whispering together,

PART IV.

All above and around was water now
That had been air before;
It moved to and fro like a living thing,
And made a moan-like murmuring,
Like the rough waves' distant roar
Upon a rocky shore.

The sea-weed hung, swinging and waving,
Swinging and waving green;
And through the tall and bending flags
The coral groves were seen.

PART III.

The boat speeds on! The boat speeds on!
No boat e'er sped so well:
Hark! o'er the still sea, soft and slow,
The Triton winds his shell.

Then swifter sped the pearly barque;
And soon the fisherman wist
That the nearing shore was dimly seen
Through the folds of the rainbow mist.

Sounded again the Triton's shell:
The dome then rising, wide did swell,