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try glimmer On icy fallow
85 And faded forest, Drew to the valley Named of the shadow, And slowly brightening Out of the glimmer, And slowly moving again to a melody Yearningly tender, Fell on the shadow, No longer a shadow, But clothed with The Gleam. 95
Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me! And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
But such a tide as moving seems asleep, 5
Too full for sound and foam, When that which drew from out the
boundless deep Turns again home.
I. MARCHING ALONG Kentish Sir Byng stood for his King, Bidding the crop-headed Parliament swing: And, pressing a troop unable to stoop And see the rogues
flourish and honest folk droop, Marched them along, fifty-score strong, 5 Great-hearted gentlemen, singing this
song. God for King Charles! Pym and such
carles2 To the Devil that prompts 'em their
treasonous parles! Cavaliers, up! Lips from the cup, Hands from the pasty, nor bite take, nor
sup, Till you're CHORUS.-Marching along, fifty-score
strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, sing
ing this song! Hampden to hell, and his obsequies' knell Serve Hazelrig, Fiennes, and young Harry,
as well! England, good cheer! Rupert is near!
15 Kentish and loyalists, keep we not here, CHO.-Marching along, fifty-score
strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing
this song? Then, God for King Charles! Pym and
his snarls To the Devil that pricks on such pestilent
carles! Hold by the right, you double your might: So, onward to Nottingham, fresh for the
fight, CHO.—March we along, fifty-score
strong, Great-hearted gentlemen, singing
ROBERT BROWNING (1812-1889)
SONG from PIPPA PASSES
The year's at the spring
Who gave me the goods that went since? 5
THE LOST LEADER Who raised me the house that sank once? Who helped me to gold I spent since? Just for a handful of silver he left us, Who found me in wine you drank once? Just for a riband to stick in his coatCHO.-King Charles, and who'll do him Found the one gift of which fortune bereft right now?
us, King Charles, and who's ripe for
Lost all the others she lets us devote; fight now?
They, with the gold to give, doled him out Give a rouse: here's, in hell's de- silver,
5 spite now,
So much was theirs who so little allowed: King Charles!
How all our copper had gone for his serv
ice! To whom used my boy George quaff else, Rags-were they purple, his heart had By the old fool's side that begot him? been proud! For whom did he cheer and laugh else, 15 We that had loved him so, followed him, While Noll's” damned troopers shot him? honored him, Cho.-King Charles, and who'll do him Lived in his mild and magnificent eye, right now?
Learned his great language, caught his King Charles, and who's ripe for
clear accents, fight now?
Made him our pattern to live and to die! Give a rouse: here's, in hell's de- Shakespeare was of us, Milton was for us, spite now,
Burns, Shelley, were with us,-they King Charles!
watch from their graves!
He alone breaks from the van and the freeIII. BOOT AND SADDLE
15 Boot, saddle, to horse and away!
-He alone sinks to the rear and the Rescue my castle before the hot day
slaves! Brightens to blue from its silvery gray. Cho.-Boot, saddle, to horse and away! We shall march prospering, --not through
presence; Ride past the suburbs, asleep as you'd say; Songs may inspirit us, not from his lyre; Many's the friend there, will listen and Deeds will be done,—while he boasts his pray
quiescence, “God's luck to gallants that strike up the Still bidding crouch whom the rest bade lay
aspire; CHO.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and
Blot out his name, then, record one lost away!"
One task more declined, one more footForty miles off, like a roebuck at bay,
path untrod, Flouts Castle Brancepeth the Roundheads' One more devil's-triumph and sorrow for array:
angels, Who laughs, “Good fellows ere this, by One wrong more to man, one more insult my fay,
to God! CHO.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and
Life's night begins: let him never come away!”
back to us!
There would be doubt, hesitation and Who? My wife Gertrude; that, honest pain,
Forced praise on our part-the glimmer of Laughs when you talk of surrendering, twilight, “Nay!
Never glad confident morning again! I've better counsellors; what counsel they? Best fight on well, for we taught himCHO.-Boot, saddle, to horse, and
strike gallantly, away!”
Menace our heart ere we master his 1 supplied me with.
2 Oliver Cromwell's.
Then let him receive the new knowledge with resolute shoulders, each butting and wait us,
away Pardoned in heaven, the first by the The haze, as some bluff river headland its throne!
And his low head and crest, just one sharp ear bent back
25 HOW THEY BROUGHT THE GOOD For my voice, and the other pricked out NEWS FROM GHENT TO AIX
on his track;
And one eye's black intelligence, 4ever I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he;
that glance I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all O'er its white edge at me, his own master, three;
askance! “Good speed!” cried the watch, as the And the thick heavy spume-flakes which gate-bolts undrew;
aye and anon
29 "Speed!" echoed the wall to us galloping His fierce lips shookupwards in galloping on.
through; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank By Hasselt, Dirck groaned; and cried to rest,
Joris, “Stay spur! And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Your Roos galloped bravely, the fault's
not in her. Not a word to each other; we kept the We'll remember at Aix”—for one heard great pace
the quick wheeze Neck by neck, stride by stride, never Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and changing our place;
staggering knees, I turned in my saddle and made its And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the girths tight,
35 Then shortened each stirrup, and set the As down on her haunches she shuddered piquel right,
and sank. Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit,
So, we were left galloping, Joris and I, Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit. Past Looz and past Tongres, no cloud in
the sky; 'Twas moonset at starting; but while The broad sun above laughed a pitiless we drew near
laugh, Lokeren, the cocks crew and twilight 'Neath our feet broke the brittle bright dawned clear;
stubble like chaff;
40 At Boom, a great yellow star came out Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang
15 white, At Düffeld, 'twas morning as plain as And “Gallop,” gasped Joris, “for Aix is in could be;
sight!” And from Mecheln church-steeple we heard the half-chime,
“How they'll greet us!”—and all in a So Joris broke silence with, “Yet there moment his roan is time!”
Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a
stone; At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, And there was my Roland to bear the And against him the cattle stood black whole weight
45 every one,
Of the news which alone could save Aix To stare through the mist at us gallop- from her fate, ing past,
With his nostrils like pits full of blood And I saw my stout galloper Roland at to the brim, last,
And with circles of red for his eye-sockets' peak, pommel.
Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each SOLILOQUY OF THE SPANISH holster let fall,
CLOISTER Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,
50 Gr-r-r—there go, my heart's abhorrence! Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted Water your damned flower-pots, do!
If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence, Called my Roland his pet-name, my God's blood, would not mine kill you! horse without peer;
What? your myrtle-bush wants trimming Clapped my hands, laughed and sang, Oh, that rose has prior claimsany noise, bad or good,
Needs its leaden vase filled brimming? Till at length into Aix Roland galloped Hell dry you up with its flames! and stood.
At the meal we sit together: And all I remember is—friends flocking Salve tibi! I must hear round
55 Wise talk of the kind of weather, As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees on Sort of season, time of year: the ground;
Not a plenteous cork-crop: scarcely And no voice but was praising this Roland Dare we hope oak-galls, I doubt: of mine,
What's the Latin name for " parsley”? 15 As I poured down his throat our last What's the Greek name for Swine's measure of wine,
Snout? Which (the burgesses voted by common consent)
Whew! We'll have our platter burnished, Was no more than his due who brought
Laid with care on our own shelf! good news from Ghent.
With a fire-new spoon we're furnished,
And a goblet for ourself,
Ere 'tis fit to touch our chaps-
Marked with L for our initial!
(He-he! There his lily snaps!)
Saint, forsooth! While brown Dolores 25 In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
Squats outside the Convent bank As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
With Sanchicha, telling stories,
5 And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.
Steeping tresses in the tank,
Blue-black, lustrous, thick like horse-hairs, Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
--Can't I see his dead eye glow, 30 Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
Bright as 'twere a Barbary corsair's?
(That is, if he'd let it show!) A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch And blue spurt of a lighted match, And a voice less loud, through its joys When he finishes refection, and fears,
Knife and fork he never lays Than the two hearts beating each to each! Cross-wise, to my recollection,
Drinking watered orange-pulp-
While he drains his at one gulp.
of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain's Oh, those melons! If he's able rim:
We're to have a feast! so nice! And straight was a path of gold for him, One goes to the Abbot's table, And the need of a world of men for me. All of us get each a slice.