And Oh! may Heaven their simple lives prevent Then, howe'er crowns and coronets be rent, A virtuous populace may rise the while, And stand a wall of fire around their much-lov'd Isle. XXI O Thou! who pour'd the patriotic tide That stream'd thro' Wallace's undaunted heart, Or nobly die, the second glorious part, In bright succession raise, her ornament and guard! · Robert Burns BELIEVE ME, IF ALL THOSE ENDEARING YOUNG CHARMS Believe me, if all those endearing young charms, Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms, Like fairy-gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art; Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still. It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, That the fervor and faith of a soul may be known, As the sunflower turns to her god when he sets OFT IN THE STILLY NIGHT Oft in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me: The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken! Thus in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. When I remember all The friends so link'd together I've seen around me fall Like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose garlands dead, And all but him departed! Thus in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me. Ζώη μοῦ, σὰς ἀγαπῶ Maid of Athens, ere we part, By those tresses unconfined, By that lip I long to taste; At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep The song and oar of Adria's gondolier, By distance mellowed, o'er the waters sweep; 'T is sweet to see the evening star appear; 'T is sweet to listen as the night-winds creep From leaf to leaf; 't is sweet to view on high The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky. CXXIII 'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark 'T is sweet to be awakened by the lark, Or lulled by falling waters; sweet the hum Of bees, the voice of girls, the song of birds, The lisp of children, and their earliest words. ( CXXIV Sweet is the vintage, when the showering grapes Sweet to the miser are his glittering heaps; Sweet to the father is his first-born's birth; Sweet is revenge- especially to women Pillage to soldiers, prize-money to seamen. George Gordon Byron STANZAS WRITTEN ON THE ROAD BETWEEN FLORENCE AND PISA in story; Oh, talk not to me of a name great What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled? There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee; |