Till over by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang white, And "Gallop," gasped Joris, "for Aix is in sight." And with circles of red for his eye-socket's rim. Then I cast loose my buff-coat, each holster let fall, "How they'll greet us!" and all in a moment Shook off my jack-boots, let go belt and all, his roan Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his ear, Of the news which alone could save Aix from Till at length into Aix Roland galloped and her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, stood. And all I remember is friends flocking round, As I sate with his head 'twixt my knees on the Which, the burgesses voted by common con ground; sent, And no voice but was praising this Roland of Was no more than his due who brought good mine, As I poured down his throat our last measure of wine, news from Ghent. ROBERT BROWNING. Then I cast loose my briff cout, each holster let full, shook off both my jack boots, it go belt and all, stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted his car, Roland his pet name, Called nay y horse without fear, hands, Inuighed and sany, any noise, bad or good. sill at length into wix Roland galloped and slood. Cupped my and all I remember is, prend thecking round As I sate with his head twith my knees on the ground, And no voice but was pressing this Roland of mine. as I poured down his throat our last measure of which ( The burgesses voted by common consent ) hobos no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent Robert Browning I humbly thank his grace; and from these Macb. Methought, I heard a voice cry, Sleep shoulders, Cromwell, I charge thee fling away ambition; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king. And,-pr'ythee, lead me in: There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny: 'tis the king's my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. O, Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies. WILLIAM SHAKSPERE. FEAR.. (From Macbeth, Act II., Scene 2.) ACB. There's one did laugh in his sleep, and one cried, murder! That they did wake each other; I stood and heard them: no more! THE SHIPWRECK. (From Don Juan," Canto II.) THE THEN rose from sea to sky the wild fare- And strives to strangle him before he die. well Then shriek'd the timid, and stood still the brave,Then some leap'd overboard with dreadful yell, And first one universal shriek there rush'd, "And the sea yawn'd around her like a hell, As eager to anticipate their grave; wave, Like one who grapples with his enemy, 0 Of billows; but at intervals there gush'd, THE DREAM OF CLIRENCE. LAR. Methought, that I had broken from And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; Who from my cabin tempted me to walk And cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster Clarence is come,—false, fleeting, perjur'd Clar rence, That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury ; Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments! falling, With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Struck me, that thought to stay him, over- Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears board, Into the tumbling billows of the main. Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, O Lord! methought, what pain it was to Could not believe but that I was in hell; drown! What dreadful noise of water in mine ears! Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mocked the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. Such terrible impression made my dream. you; I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. That now give evidence against my soul,- me: O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds, O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor child ren! I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me; Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. death, To gaze upon these secrets of the deep? Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I strive To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore Brak. I will, my lord; God give your grace good rest! [Cla. reposes himself on a chair. Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night. Princes have but their titles for their glories, They often feel a world of restless cares: Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthened after There's nothing differs but the outward fame. life; O, then began the tempest to my soul; I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, of, Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned War- Or close the wall up with our English dead! wick, Who cry'd aloud,-What scourge for perjury A shadow like an angel, with bright hair |