Time has but half succeeded in his theft- THE JUDGMENT OF THE POETS. Two Nymphs, both nearly of an age, Of numerous charms possessed, A warm dispute once chanced to wage, The worth of each had been complete, And in her humour, when she frowned, The garland that she wore. The other was of gentler cast, From all such frenzy clear, 120 5 ΙΟ Her frowns were seldom known to last, 15 And never proved severe. To poets of renown in song The Nymphs referred the cause, Who, strange to tell, all judged it wrong, 20 And gave misplaced applause. They gentle called, and kind and soft, The flippant and the scold, And though she changed her mood so oft, No judges, sure, were e'er so mad, 25 Or so resolved to err In short, the charms her sister had They lavished all on her. Then thus the god whom fondly they Was heard, one genial summer's day, 'Since thus ye have combined,' he said, 'The minx shall, for your folly's sake, 'Shall make your scribbling fingers ache, 'And pinch your noses blue.' YARDLEY OAK. SURVIVOR sole, and hardly such, of all That once lived here thy brethren! At my birth As now, and with excoriate forks deform, I might with reverence kneel, and worship thee. It seems idolatry with some excuse, When our forefather Druids in their oaks Of amnesty, the meed of blood divine, Loved not the light, but, gloomy, into gloom Of fruit proscribed, as to a refuge, fled. Thou wast a bauble once, a cup and ball 30 135 40 5 10 15 20 Thy yet close-folded latitude of boughs, Thou fellest mature; and, in the loamy clod, 25 30 Didst burst thine egg, as theirs the fabled twins, 35 Now stars; two lobes, protruding, paired exact; And, all the elements thy puny growth Fostering propitious, thou becamest a twig. Who lived when thou wast such? Oh, couldst thou speak, As in Dodona once thy kindred trees, Oracular, I would not curious ask The future, best unknown, but, at thy mouth Inquisitive, the less ambiguous past. By thee I might correct, erroneous oft, 4I 45 Time made thee what thou wast, king of the woods; 50 Thy popularity, and art become 55 Forgotten, as the foliage of thy youth. Then twig; then sapling; and, as century rolled While thus through all the stages thou hast pushed Of treeship-first a seedling, hid in grass; 60 65 Slow after century, a giant bulk Of girth enormous, with moss-cushioned root What exhibitions various hath the world That we account most durable below! 70 Destroys them-skies uncertain, now the heat 75 Now quenching in a boundless sea of clouds- Calm and alternate storm, moisture, and drought, In all that live, plant, animal, and man, And in conclusion mar them. Nature's threads, 80 Fine passing thought, e'en in her coarsest works, The force that agitates not unimpaired; But worn by frequent impulse, to the cause Of their best tone their dissolution owe. Thought cannot spend itself, comparing still Of matchless grandeur, and declension thence, 85 90 Time was when, settling on thy leaf, a fly Could shake thee to the root-and time has been When tempests could not. At thy firmest age Thou hadst within thy bole solid contents That might have ribbed the sides and planked the deck Of some flagged admiral; and tortuous arms, 96 The shipwright's darling treasure, didst present Embowelled now, and of thy ancient self So stands a kingdom, whose foundation yet Stands now, and semblance only of itself! 100 105 IIO 115 120 Thine arms have left thee. Winds have rent them off 125 Long since, and rovers of the forest wild With bow and shaft have burnt them. Some have left A splintered stump bleached to a snowy white; And some memorial none where once they grew. Yet Life still lingers in thee, and puts forth Than yonder upstarts of the neighbouring wood, 130 |