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SAMUEL ROGERS. 1763-1855

THE SASSO DI DANTE

On that ancient seat, The seat of stone that runs along the wall, South of the church, east of the belfrytower,

(Thou canst not miss it) in the sultry time
Would Dante sit conversing, and with those
Who little thought that in his hand he held
The balance and assigned at his good pleasure
To each his place in the invisible world,
To some an upper region, some a lower;
Many a transgressor sent to his account,
Long ere in Florence numbered with the dead.

THE NIGHT AND DAY

Nor then forget that Cham er of the Dead
Where the gigantic shapes of Night and Day,
Turned into stone, rest everlastingly;
Yet still are breathing, and shed round at

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noon

A twofold influence-only to be felt

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A light, a darkness, mingling each with each ; Both and yet neither. There, from age to

age,

Two Ghosts are sitting on their sepulchres. That is the Duke Lorenzo-mark him well. He meditates, his head upon his hand. What from beneath his helm-like bonnet scowls ?

Is it a face, or but an eyeless skull ? 'Tis lost in shade; yet, like the basilisk, It fascinates, and is intolerable.

CAROLINA, LADY NAIRNE. 1766-1845

WOULD YOU BE YOUNG AGAIN?

Would you be young again?

So would not I

One tear to memory giv'n,

Onward I'd hie,

Life's dark flood forded o'er,
All but at rest on shore,

Say, would you plunge once more,
With home so nigh?

If you might, would you now
Retrace your way?
Wander through thorny wilds,
Faint and astray?
Night's gloomy watches fled,
Morning all beaming red,
Hope's smiles around us shed,
Heavenward-away.

Where are they gone, of yore

My best delight?

Dear and more dear, tho' now
Hidden from sight.

Where they rejoice to be,
There is the land for me;
Fly, time, fly speedily;
Come life and light.

WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. 1775-1864 ON HIS SEVENTY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY I strove with none, for none was worth my strife,

Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art; I warmed both hands before the fire of life, It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

THE REV. GEORGE CROLY. 1780-1860

PERICLES

This was the ruler of the land,

When Athens was the land of fame; This was the light that led the band, When each was like a living flame; The centre of earth's noblest ring

Of more than men the more than king!

Yet not by fetter, nor by spear,

His sovereignty was held or won :
Feared-but alone as freemen fear,

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