And taste of nectar's suckets, At those clear wells Where sweetness dwells, Drawn up by saints in crystal buckets. And when our bottles and all we Then the blessed paths we 'll travel, 'Gainst our souls black verdicts give, To Him that made heaven, earth, and sea, 28 1 Just at the stroke, when my veins start and spread, Set on my soul an everlasting head! Then am I ready, like a palmer fit, To tread those blest paths which before I writ. Of death and judgment, heaven and hell, 1603? 58 A BALLAD OF TREES AND THE MASTER INTO the woods my Master went, Clean forspent, forspent. Into the woods my Master came, Forspent with love and shame. But the olives they were not blind to Him; The little gray leaves were kind to Him; When into the woods He came. Out of the woods my Master went, Out of woods my Master came, 8 1884. 1633. When Death and Shame would woo Him last, From under the trees they drew Him last : 'T was on a tree they slew Him-last, When out of the woods He came. 16 Sidney Lanier. A HYMN DROP, drop, slow tears, And bathe those beauteous feet, The news and Prince of Peace: His mercy to entreat; To cry for vengeance Sin doth never cease: In your deep floods Drown all my faults and fears; See sin, but through my tears. Phineas Fletcher. QUA CURSUM VENTUS As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay Two towers of sail at dawn of day 4 When fell the night, up sprung the breeze, And all the darkling hours they plied, Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas By each was cleaving, side by side: E'en so-but why the tale reveal Astounded, soul from soul estranged? 12 At dead of night their sails were filled, To veer, how vain! On, onward strain, Brave barks! In light, in darkness too, Through winds and tides one compass guides To that, and your own selves, be true. But O blithe breeze; and O great seas, One port, methought, alike they sought, 1849. Arthur Hugh Clough. 8 MY LADY'S GRAVE THE linnet in the rocky dells, The wild deer browse above her breast; And they, her smiles of love caress'd, I ween that when the grave's dark wall 8 They thought their hearts could ne'er recall The light of joy again. They thought the tide of grief would flow But where is all their anguish now, Well, let them fight for honour's breath, Or pleasure's shade pursue The dweller in the land of death Is changed and careless too. 12 16 20 |