Then Money came; and, chinking still "What tune is this, poor man?” said he; "I heard in music you had skill." But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Then came brave Glory puffing by, In silks, that whistled- "Who but he?" He scarce allowed me half an eye. But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Then came quick Wit and Conversation; And he would needs a comfort be, And, to be short, make an oration. But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me. Yet, when the hour of thy design To answer these fine things shall come, Speak not at large; say I am thine; And then they have their answer home. HERBERT. ETON COLLEGE. YE distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the watery glade, Where grateful Science still adores Her Henry's holy shade; And ye, that from the stately brow Of Windsor's heights the expanse below Of grove, of lawn, of mead, survey, Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among Wanders the hoary Thames along His silver-winding way: Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade! A stranger yet to pain! I feel the gales that from ye blow As waving fresh their gladsome wing, My weary soul they seem to soothe, And, redolent of joy and youth, To breathe a second spring. Their murmuring labors ply 'Gainst graver hours that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain Still as they run they look behind, Gay hope is theirs by fancy fed, The sunshine of the breast: And lively cheer, of vigor born; The thoughtless day, the easy night, The spirits pure, the slumbers light, That fly the approach of morn. Alas! regardless of their doom, The little victims play; No sense have they of ills to come, And black Misfortune's baleful train! Ah, show them where in ambush stand, To seize their prey, the murth❜rous band! Ah, tell them, they are men! These shall the fury Passions tear, The vultures of the mind, Disdainful Anger, pallid Fear, And Shame that skulks behind; Or pining Love shall waste their youth, Or Jealousy, with rankling tooth, arms: And then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel, And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school: and then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow: then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth: and then the justice In fair round belly, with good capon lined, With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern in SUN-DIAL. THE shadow on the dial's face, This shadow, which, in every clime, It is the scythe of Time. Can yet the lease of my true love control, Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom. The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured, And the sad augurs mock their own presage; Incertainties now crown themselves assured, And peace proclaims olives of endless age. Now with the drops of this most balmy time My love looks fresh, and Death to me subscribes, Since spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme, While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes. And thou in this shalt find thy monument, When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent. SHAKSPEARE. SHAKSPEARE. GOOD OMENS. NOT mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul Of the wide world dreaming on things to come, DESTINY. THE Destiny, Minister General, So strong it is, that though the world had sworn |