These are but gauds: nay, what are lips?
Coral beneath the ocean stream,
Whose brink, when your adventurer slips,
Full oft he perisheth on them.

And what are cheeks but ensigns oft
That wave hot youth to fields of blood?
Did Helen's breast, though ne'er so soft,
Do Greece or Ilium any good?

Eyes can with baleful ardour burn;

Poison can breathe, that erst perfumed; There's many a white hand holds an urn, With lovers' hearts to dust consumed.

For crystal brows there's nought within;
They are but empty cells for pride ;
He who the Syren's hair would win
Is mostly strangled in the tide.

Give me, instead of beauty's bust,
A tender heart, a loyal mind,
Which with temptation I would trust,
Yet never link'd with error find,-

One in whose gentle bosom I

Could pour my secret heart of woes, Like the care-burthen'd honey-fly

That hides his murmurs in the rose,

My earthly comforter! whose love
So indefeasible might be,

That, when my spirit wound above,
Hers could not stay, for sympathy.

THOMAS CARLYLE. 1795-1881

SPEECH OF THE ERDGEIST IN
"FAUST"

In Being's floods, in Action's storm,
I walk, and work, above, beneath,
Work and weave in endless motion !
Birth and Death

An infinite Ocean;

A seizing and giving

The fire of the Living :

'Tis thus at the roaring Loom of Time I ply And weave for God the garment thou seest Him by.

THOMAS HOOD. 1798-1845

THE DEATHBED

We watched her breathing through the night,

Her breathing soft and low,

As in her breast the wave of life
Kept heaving to and fro.

So silently we seemed to speak,
So slowly moved about,

As we had lent her half our powers
To eke her living out.

Our very hopes belied our fears,
Our fears our hopes belied—
We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping when she died.
For when the morn came, dim and sad,
And chill with early showers,
Her quiet eyelids closed-she had
Another morn than ours.

LORD MACAULAY. 1800-1859

THE ARMADA

Attend, all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise;

I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days,

When that great fleet invincible against her bore in vain

The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of Spain.

It was about the lovely close of a warm summer day,

There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Plymouth Bay;

Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet beyond Aurigny's isle

At earliest twilight on the waves lie heaving many a mile.

At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial grace;

And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in chase.

Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the wall;

The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's lofty hall;

Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along the coast,

And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland many a post.

With his white hair unbonneted, the stout old sheriff comes;

Behind him march the halberdiers; before him sound the drums;

His yeomen round the market-cross make clear an ample space;

For there behoves him to set up the standard of Her Grace.

And haughtily the trumpets peal, and gaily dance the bells,

As slow upon the labouring wind the royal blazon swells.

Look how the lion of the sea lifts up his

ancient crown,

And underneath his deadly paw treads the gay lilies down.

So stalked he when he turned to flight, on that famed Picard field,

Bohemia's plume, and Genoa's bow, and Cæsar's eagle shield :

So glared he when at Agincourt in wrath he turned to bay,

And crushed and torn beneath his claws the

princely hunters lay.

Ho strike the flagstaff deep, Sir Knight: ho! scatter flowers, fair maids :

Ho! gunners, fire a loud salute: ho! gallants, draw your blades :

Thou sun, shine on her joyously; ye breezes, waft her wide :

The freshening breeze of eve unfurled that banner's massy fold,

The parting gleam of sunshine kissed that haughty scroll of gold;

Night sank upon the dusky beach, and on the purple sea,

Such night in England ne'er had been, nor e'er again shall be.

From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay,

That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day;

For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly war-flame spread,