The stately-cedar, tamarisks, Graven with emblems of the time XI. With dazed vision unawares From the long alley's latticed shade Right to the carven cedarn doors, After the fashion of the time, XII. The fourscore windows all alight In inmost Bagdat, till there seemed Of night new-risen, that marvellous time, Of good Haroun Alraschid. XIII. Then stole I up, and trancedly XIV. Six columns, three on either side, Throne of the massive ore, from which With inwrought flowers, a cloth of gold. Sole star of all that place and time, TENNYSON. A Bard's Epitaph. Is there a whim-inspired fool, Owre fast for thought, owre fast for rule, And owre this grassy heap sing dool, Is there a bard of rustic song, Who, noteless, steals the crowds among, That weekly this area throng, Oh! pass not by; But with a frater-feeling strong, Here heave a sigh. Is there a man, whose judgment clear Wild as the wave; Here pause-and through the starting tear Survey this grave. The poor inhabitant below Was quick to learn and wise to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And softer flame; But thoughtless follies laid him low, And stained his name. Reader, attend-whether thy soul Know, prudent, cautious, self-control UNDER the greenwood tree And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Here shall he see No enemy, But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun, And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats, And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither: Here shall he see No enemy, But winter and rough weather. BURNS. SHAKSPEARE. |