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That half shut out the beams of Phæbus The nations not so blest as thee, bright,
| Must in their turns to tyrants fall, And made a kind of checkered day and Whilst thou shalt flourish great and free, night.
The dread and envy of them all. 10 Meanwhile, unceasing at the massy | Rule, Britannia, etc.
gate, Beneath a spacious palm, the wicked Still more majestic shalt thou rise, wight?
More dreadful from each foreign stroke; Was placed; and to his lute, of cruel As the loud blast that tears the skies fate
Serves but to root thy native oak. 15 And labor harsh, complained, lamenting Rule, Britannia, etc.
man's estate. Thither continual pilgrims crowded still, Thee haughty tyrants ne'er shall tame; From all the roads of earth that pass | All their attempts to bend thee down there by:
Will but arouse thy generous flame, For, as they chanced to breathe on But work their woe and thy renown. 20 neighboring hill,
Rule, Britannia, etc. The freshness of this valley smote their eye,
To thee belongs the rural reign;
And every shore it circles thine.
The Muses, still with freedom found, And to the trembling chords these tempt
| Shall to thy happy coast repair; ing verses sung
Blest isle, with matchless beauty crowned, “Behold! ye pilgrims of this earth, And manly hearts to guard the fair! 30 behold!
Rule, Britannia, etc. See all but man with unearned pleasure
gay: See her bright robes the butterfly unfold, EDWARD YOUNG (1681–1766) Broke from her wintry tomb in prime of May!
NIGHT THOUGHTS What youthful bride can equal her array?
From NIGHT THE FIRST Who can with her for easy pleasure vie? From mead to mead with gentle wing Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy to stray,
Sleep! From flower to flower on balmy gales to He, like the world, his ready visit pays
80 Where Fortune smiles; the wretched he Is all she has to do beneath the radiant forsakes: sky.”
Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe,
And lights on lids unsullied with a tear. 5 RULE, BRITANNIA
From short (as usual) and disturbed re
pose When Britain first, at Heaven's command, I wake: how happy they who wake no Arose from out the azure main,
more! This was the charter of the land,
Yet that were vain, if dreams infest the And guardian angels sang this strain:
grave. Rule, Britannia, rule the waves! 5 | I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams Britons never will be slaves!
Tumultuous; where my wrecked despond1 person
From wave to wave of fancied misery And from each scene the noblest truths
Teach my best reason, reason; my best
Wisdom to wed, and pay her long arrear. Even in the zenith of her dark domain, Nor let the phial of thy vengeance, Is sunshine to the color of my fate. Night, sable goddess, from her ebon On this devoted head, be poured in vain. throne,
* * * * In rayless majesty, now stretches forth Her leaden scepter o'er a slumbering world. How poor, how rich, how abject, how Silence how dead! and darkness how pro august, found!
21 | How complicate, how wonderful is man! Nor eye nor listening ear an object finds; How passing wonder He who made him Creation sleeps. 'Tis as the general pulse such! Of life stood still, and Nature made a Who centered in our make such strange pause;
extremes, An awful pause! prophetic of her end. 25 From different natures marvellously mixed, And let her prophecy be soon fulfilled: Connection exquisite of distant worlds, Fate! drop the curtain; I can lose no Distinguished link in being's endless chain, more.
Midway from nothing to the Deity! Silence and Darkness! solemn sisters! A beam ethereal, sullied and absorbed, 75 twins
Though sullied and dishonored, still divine, From ancient Night, who nurse the Dim miniature of greatness absolute! tender thought
An heir of glory, a frail child of dust, To reason, and on reason build resolve Helpless immortal, insect infinite, That column of true majesty in man- 31 A worm, a god!—I tremble at myself, 80 Assist me: I will thank you in the grave; | And in myself am lost, at home a stranger. The grave, your kingdom; there this frame | Thought wanders up and down, surprised, shall fall
aghast, A victim sacred to your dreary shrine. And wondering at her own; how reason But what are ye? Thou who didst put to reels! - flight
35 | Oh, what a miracle to man is man, Primeval Silence, when the morning stars, | Triumphantly distressed! What joy, what Exulting, shouted o'er the rising ball;
85 O Thou! whose word from solid darkness | Alternately transported and alarmed! struck
What can preserve my life, or what deThat spark, the sun, strike wisdom from stroy? my soul;
An angel's arm can't snatch me from the My soul which flies to thee, her trust, her grave; treasure,
Legions of angels can't confine me there. As misers to their gold, while others rest. Through this opaque of nature and of soul,
ROBERT BLAIR (1699-1746) This double night, transmit one pitying
From THE GRAVE To lighten and to cheer. Oh, lead my mind
While some affect the sun, and some the A mind that fain would wander from its shade, woe
1 45 Some flee the city, some the hermitage, Lead it through various scenes of life and | Their aims as various as the roads they death,
In journeying through life, the task be Rooked' in the spire, screams loud: the mine
gloomy aisles, To paint the gloomy horrors of the tomb; 5 Black-plastered, and hung round with The appointed place of rendezvous, where shreds of 'scutcheons all
And tattered coats of arms, send back the These travellers meet. Thy succors I sound implore,
Laden with heavier airs, from the low Eternal King! whose potent arm sustains vaults, The keys of hell and death.—The Grave, The mansions of the dead.-Roused from dread thing!
their slumbers, Men shiver when thou'rt named: nature, In grim array the grisly spectres rise, 40 appalled,
10 Grin horrible, and, obstinately sullen, Shakes off her wonted firmness. —Ah, how Pass and repass, hushed as the foot of dark
1 night. Thy long-extended realms, and rueful Again the screech-owl shrieks: ungracious wastes!
sound! Where nought but silence reigns, and I'll hear no more; it makes one's blood night, dark night,
run chill. Dark as was chaos, ere the infant sun
Quite round the pile, a row of reverend Was rolled together, or had tried his beams elms,
45 Athwart the gloom profound.—The sickly (Coeval near with that) all ragged show, taper
Long lashed by the rude winds. Some By glimmering through thy low-browed rift half down misty vaults,
Their branchless trunks; others so thin Furred round with mouldy damps and a-top, ropy slime,
That scarce two crows could lodge in the Lets fall a supernumerary horror,
same tree. And only serves to make thy night more Strange things, the neighbors say, have irksome.
20 happened here: Well do I know thee by thy trusty yew, Wild shrieks have issued from the hollow Cheerless, unsocial plant! that loves to tombs; dwell
Dead men have come again, and walked Midst skulls and coffins, epitaphs and 1 about; worms:
And the great bell has tolled, unrung, unWhere light-heeled ghosts, and visionary touched. shades,
(Such tales their cheer, at wake or gossipBeneath the wan cold moon (as fame re ing, ports)
25 When it draws near the witching time of Embodied, thick, perform their mystic night.)
Oft in the lone church-yard at night I've No other merriment, dull trec! is thine.
seen, See yonder hallowed fane;—the pious | By glimpse of moonshine chequering work
through the trees, Of names once famed, now dubious or The school-boy, with his satchel in his forgot,
hand, And buried midst the wreck of things | Whistling aloud to bear his courage up, which were;
30 And lightly tripping o'er the long flat There lie interred the more illustrious stones, dead.
(With nettles skirted, and with moss o'erThe wind is up: hark! how it howls! Me grown) thinks
That tell in homely phrase who lie below. Till now I never heard a sound so dreary: Sudden he starts, and hears, or thinks he Doors creak, and windows clap, and night's foul bird,
The sound of something purring at his
heels; Full fast he flies, and dares not look behind | WRITTEN IN THE BEGINNING OF him,
THE YEAR 1746 Till out of breath he overtakes his fellows;
How sleep the brave who sink to rest Who gather round, and wonder at the tale | By all their country's wishes blest! Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly, When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, That walks at dead of night, or takes his Returns to deck their hallowed mould, stand:
She there shall dress a sweeter sod O’er some new-opened grave; and (strange Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. to tell!)
By forms unseen their dirge is sung;
To bless the turf that wraps their clay; 10 WILLIAM COLLINS (1721–1769) And Freedom shall awhile repair,
To dwell a weeping hermit there! A SONG FROM SHAKESPEARE'S