Part 34 (2/2)

PHILOMEL.

Lo, as a minstrel at the court of Love, The nightingale, who knows his mate is nigh, Thrills into rapture; and the stars above Look down, affrighted, as they would reply.

There is contagion, and I know not why, In all this clamour, all this fierce delight, As if the sunset, when the day did swoon, Had drawn some wild confession from the moon.

Have wrongs been done? Have crimes enacted been To shame the weird retirement of the night?

O clamourous bird! O sad; sweet nightingale!

Withhold thy voice, and blame not Beauty's queen.

She may be pure, though dumb: and she is pale, And wears a radiance on her brow serene.

XXIV.

THE SONNET KING.

O Petrarch! I am here. I bow to thee, Great king of sonnets, throned long ago And lover-like, as Love enjoineth me, And miser-like, enamoured of my woe, I reckon up my teardrops as they flow.

I would not lose the power to shed a tear For all the wealth of Plutus and his reign.

I would not be so base as not complain When she I love is absent from my sight.

No, not for all the marvels of the night, And all the varying splendours of the year.

Do thou a.s.sist me, thou! that art the light Of all true lovers' souls, in all the sphere, To make a May-time of my sorrows slain.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

XXV.

TOKEN FLOWERS.

Oh, not the daisy, for the love of G.o.d!

Take not the daisy; let it bloom apace Untouch'd alike by splendour or disgrace Of party feud. Its stem is not a rod; And no one fears, or hates it, on the sod.

It laughs, exultant, in the Morning's face, And everywhere doth fill a lowly place, Though fraught with favours for the darkest clod.

'Tis said the primrose is a party flower, And means coercion, and the coy renown Of one who toil'd for country and for crown.

This may be so! But, in my Lady's bower, It means content,--a hope,--a golden hour.

Primroses smile; and daisies cannot frown!

XXVI.

A PRAYER FOR ENGLAND.

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