Short Poems

To Robbers furious, and to Lovers tame,
I pleas'd my Master, and I pleas'd my Dame.

I heard a horseman
Ride over the hill;
The moon shone clear,
The night was still;
His helm was silver,
And pale was he;
And the horse he rode
Was of ivory.

You have taken a drink from a wild fountain
Early in the year;
There is nowhere to go from the top of a mountain
But down, my dear;
And the springs that flow on the floor of the valley
Will never seem fresh or clear
For thinking of the glitter of the mountain water
In the feathery green of the year.

In the jovial age of old
Named from gold,
Gold was none for Danæs shower;
While forever silvery fell
Down in dell
Bridal blossoms from love's bower.

Come hither my boy tell me what thou seest there
A fool tangled in a religious snare

This yearning heart (Love! witness what I say)
Enshrines thy form as purely as it may,
Round which, as to some spirit uttering bliss,
My thoughts all stand ministrant night and day
Like saintly Priests, that dare not think amiss.

All are not born to soar—and ah! how few
In tracks where Wisdom leads their paths pursue!
Contagious when to wit or wealth allied
Folly and Vice diffuse their venom wide.
On Folly every fool his talent tries;
It asks some toil to imitate the wise;
Though few like Fox can speak—like Pitt can think—
Yet all like Fox can game—like Pitt can drink.

If the promise of your coming's true,
And you should live through years of peace,
O son of mine, forget not these,
The sons of man, who died for you.

If hatred of the calm and good,
And quenchless thirst of human blood,
Should rouse a restless race again,
And new Napoleons scour the plain,
Ye arbiters of nations, spare
The land of Rabelais and Molière,
But swing those panthers by the ears
Across the grating of Algiers.

If I am proud, you surely know,
Ianthe! who has made me so,
And only should condemn the pride
That can arise from aught beside.