English

A voice was needed, sweet and true and fine
As the sad spirit of the evening breeze,
Throbbing with human passion, yet divine
As the wild bird's untutored melodies.
A voice for him 'neath twilight heavens dim,
Who mourneth for his dead, while round him fall
The wan and noiseless leaves. A voice for him
Who sees the first green sprout, who hears the call
Of the first robin on the first spring day.
A voice for all whom Fate hath set apart,
Who, still misprized, must perish by the way,
Longing with love, for that they lack the art

Who shall proclaim the golden fable false
Of Orpheus' miracles? This subtle strain
Above our prose-world's sordid loss and gain
Lightly uplifts us. With the rhythmic waltz,
The lyric prelude, the nocturnal song
Of love and languor, varied visions rise,
That melt and blend to our enchanted eyes.
The Polish poet who sleeps silenced long,
The seraph-souled musician, breathes again
Eternal eloquence, immortal pain.
Revived the exalted face we know so well,
The illuminated eyes, the fragile frame,

A dream of interlinking hands, of feet
Tireless to spin the unseen, fairy woof,
Of the entangling waltz. Bright eyebeams meet,
Gay laughter echoes from the vaulted roof.
Warm perfumes rise; the soft unflickering glow
Of branching lights sets off the changeful charms
Of glancing gems, rich stuffs, dazzling snow
Of necks unkerchieft, and bare, clinging arms.
Hark to the music! How beneath the strain
Of reckless revelry, vibrates and sobs
One fundamental chord of constant pain,
The pulse-beat of the poet's heart that throbs.

In western climes where the bright God of day
Darts on the gladsome earth a warmer ray,
While smiling Spring led on the jocund hours,
And early months bestrew'd the fields with flow'rs,
In bloom of youth Cephisa , lovely maid,
Trac'd the wide lawns, and thro' the forests stray'd;
Not all the nymphs who swell Diana 's train
From Cynthus ' top, when issuing on the plain,
With hound and horn they raise the chearful cry,
And the rocks echo and the floods reply:
Not all their train for beauty could compare

A TALE .

A Prude at morn and ev'ning pray'r,
Had worn her velvet cushion bare;
Upwards she taught her eyes to roll,
As if with them she wing'd her soul;
And when devotion warm'd the croud.
None sung, or smote their breasts, so loud.
Pale Penitence had mark'd her face
With all the meagre signs of grace;
Her mass-book was compleatly lin'd
With painted Saints of ev'ry kind:
But when in ev'ry page she view'd
Fine Ladys who the flesh subdu'd,
As quick her beads she counted o'er,

A TALE .

A N Abbot rich (whose taste was good
Alike in science and in food)
His Bishop had resolv'd to treat;
The Bishop came, the Bishop eat;
'Twas silence, 'till their stomachs fail'd;
And now at Hereticks they rail'd;
What Heresy (the Prelate said)
Is in that Church where Priests may wed!
Do not we take the Church for life?
But those divorce her for a wife,
Like laymen keep her in their houses,
And own the children of their spouses.
Vile practices! the Abbot cry'd,

A TALE

A MAN may lead a happy life,
Without that needful thing, a wife:
This long have lusty Abbots known,
Who ne'er knew spouses — of their town.
What though your house be clean and neat,
With couches, chairs, and beds compleat;
Though you each day invite a friend,
Though he should ev'ry dish commend,
On Bagshot-heath your mutton fed,
Your fowls at Brandford born and bred;
Though purest wine your cellars boast,
Wine worthy of the fairest Toast;

An Answer to the Sompner's Prologue of Chaucer.

In imitation of Chaucer's style .

The Sompner leudly hath his Prologue told,
And saine on the Freers his tale japing and bold;
How that in Hell they searchen near and wide,
And ne one Freer in all thilke place espyde,
But lo! the devil turned his erse about,
And twenty thousand Freers wend in and out.
By which in Jeoffrys rhyming it appears,
The devil's belly is the hive of Freers.
Now listneth lordings! forthwith ye shall hear,

Book X

The Hebrews return with their youngest Brother into Egypt. Joseph treats them with great Kindness and a splendid Entertainment; but still he conceals his Relation to them. At last they are dismiss'd with plentiful Supplies of Corn; but the Steward, as commanded by his Lord, secretly conveys a Silver Cup into Benjamin's Sack. After they are gone out of the City, he pursues and charges them with the pretended Theft; and at last he finds it in Benjamin's Sack. They return with great Consternation, when Joseph discovers himself to them.

Book IX

The seven plenteous Years; with the ensuing Years of Scarcity. Joseph's Character as Regent over the Land of Egypt. Jacob distress'd with the Famine, sends his Sons thither for Corn. Joseph discovers his Brethren, but is unknown of them: Pretends to suspect them as publick Spies, and keeps them three Days in Prison; at last sends them back, with a Charge to bring their younger Brother with them, and detains Simeon as an Hostage till their Return.

The jocund years with smiling plenty crown'd,