And Ardennes * waves above them her green Ardennes, the forest

leaves,

Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving, if aught inanimate * e'er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave,-alas!

50 Ere evening to be trodden like the grass,
Which now beneath them, but above shall
In its next verdure; when this fiery mass
Of living valour, rolling on the foe

grow

or wood which lies between Brussels and Waterloo, and extends over portions of France and Rhenish Prussia. Inanimate,

life.

without

And burning with high hope, shall moulder* cold Moulder, to crumble

and low !

55 Last noon beheld them full of lusty life; Last eve in beauty's circle proudly gay;

The midnight brought the signal-sound of strife;

into dust.

The morn the marshalling* in arms; the day Marshalling, arrang-
Battle's magnificently stern array.

60 The thunder-clouds close o'er it-which when

rent,*

The earth is covered thick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and
pent;
Rider and horse, friend, foe, in one red burial blent.*

*

ing

in

order for

battle.

5

10

LINES ADDRESSED TO HIS MOTHER'S PICTURE.

W. Cowper.

OH that those lips * had language! Life hath Those lips. The poet

passed

With me but roughly since I heard thee last.
Those lips are thine; thy own sweet smile I

see,

The same that oft in childhood solaced * me;
Voice only fails, else how distinct they say,

was looking at a picture of his mother which had been sent

to him in 1790, ten
years before hisdeath.
Solaced, cheered,
comforted.

Chase, drive away.
Intelligence, thought-

"Grieve not, my child; chase * all thy fears fulness, understand

away!"

The meek intelligence* of those dear eyes
(Blessed be the art * that can immortalise,*
The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim *

ing.

Art, the art of painting. Immortalise, lasting for ever, here means the lasting property

To quench it!) here shines on me still the of the picture.

same.

Faithful remembrancer* of one so dear!

O welcome guest, though unexpected here!
Who bid'st me honour with an artless song,
Affectionate, a mother lost so long.

Tyrannicclaim, when the hour of a person's death arrives, Time, like a tyrant, will take

no excuse. Remembrancer, some. thing to remind us.

Heard no more, our name is forgotten. Bauble, a gay showy

article, not having much real value.

Pastoral house, the Rectory of Berkhampstead, where Cowper was born; a clergyman's dwelling. Short-lived possession, the poet and his

parents lived there but a short time. Effaced, blotted or worn out.

I will obey, not willingly alone,

But gladly, as the precept* were her own;
And, while that face renews my filial grief,*
Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief,
Shall steep me in Elysian* reverie,*
A momentary dream that thou art she.

My mother! when I learned that thou wast
dead,

*

Say, wast thou conscious* of the tears I shed?
Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son,
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ?
Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss-
Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss:
Ah, that maternal smile, it answers, Yes.
I heard the bell tolled on thy burial-day;
I saw the hearse* that bore thee slow away;
And, turning from my nursery window, drew
A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu.*
But was it such? It was. Where thou art gone
Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown.
May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore,*
The parting word shall pass my lips no more.
Thy maidens,* grieved themselves at my con-

cern,

*

Oft gave me promise of thy quick return:
What ardently I wished, I long believed,
And, disappointed still, was still deceived;
By expectation every day beguiled,
Dupe of to-morrow even from a child.
Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went,
Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent,
I learned at last submission to my lot,'

*

*

15

20

25

30

35

40

But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. 45
Where once we dwelt our name is heard no

more:

*

Children not thine have trod my nursery-floor;
And where the gardener Robin day by day
Drew me to school along the public way,-
Delighted with my bauble* coach, and wrapped 50
In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet-capped,-
'Tis now become a history little known,
That once we called the pastoral house

own.

*

our

Short-lived possession!* but the record fair That memory keeps of all thy kindness there 55 Themes, the subjects Still outlives many a storm that has effaced A thousand other themes * less deeply traced.

a person thinks of or writes about.

*

Thy nightly visits to my chamber made, That thou mightst know me safe* and warmly laid; 60 Thy morning bounties* ere I left my home, The biscuit, or confectionery plum ; * The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestowed By thy own hand, till fresh they shone and glowed:

*

Safe, safely.

Bounties, gifts, pre

sents.

Confectionery plum,
a plum prepared with
sugar.
Fragrant, sweet-
smelling.

Knew no fall, was
always the
never grew less.

same,

a waterfall, making a
great noise and dis-
turbance, as a person
does when giving way
to passion.
Humour, one's whim

All this, and more endearing still than all, 65 Thy constant flow of love, that knew no fall,* Ne'er roughened by those cataracts and breaks Cataracts and breaks, That humour interposed too often makes: All this, still legible* in Memory's page, And still to be so to my latest age, 70 Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay Such honours to thee as my numbers* may; Perhaps a frail * memorial,* but sincereNot scorned in heaven, though little noticed here.

Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the
hours,

75 When, playing with thy vesture's tissued

80

flowers,*

*

The violet, the pink, and jessamine,*

I prick'd them into paper with a pin

(And thou wast happier than myself the while,
Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head, and
smile),-

Could those few pleasant hours again appear,
Might one wish bring them, would I wish

them here?

I would not trust my heart; the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might. But no; what here we call our life is such, 85 So little to be loved, and thou so much,

90

*

*

That I should ill requite* thee to constrain
Thy unbound spirit* into bonds again.
Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's* coast
(The storms all weathered, and the ocean
crossed)

Shoots into port* at some well-favoured isle,
Where spices breathe and brighter seasons
smile,

There sits quiescent* on the floods, that show
Her beauteous form reflected clear below,
While airs impregnated * with incense play

or fancy.
Legible, plain, dis-

tinct.
Numbers, verses,
poetry.

Frail, not strong,

small.

Memorial, something

to assist the memory. Tissued flowers, flowers woven in the dress.

Violet and jessamine,

small flowers which of their sweet smell.

are prized on account

Dear delight, great joy.

Ill requite, badly repay.

To constrain to compel, to force back. Unbound spirit, free from the earthly body. Albion, the name by which England was known in olden times, and so called from its

white chalk cliffs.

Shoots into port,

glides quickly into

the harbour.
Quiescent, quiet, in a
state of repose.

Airs impregnated, the

air was scented with a fragrance as of in

cense.

Streamers gay, brightlooking flags or ban streaming of

ners

95 Around her, fanning light her streamers gay-* flying in the wind.

Thwarting, hinder-
ing, defeating.
Deduce, to draw from.

Pretensions, claims.

Wonted, usual.

meditation.

So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the

shore

"Where tempests never beat nor billows roar;"
And thy loved consort* on the dangerous tide
Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest,
Always from port withheld, always distressed,-
Me howling blasts drive devious,* tempest
tossed,*

Sails ripped, seams opening wide, and com-
pass* lost,

And day by day some current's thwarting *

force

Sets me more distant from a prosp'rous course. 105
Yet, oh! the thought that thou art safe, and

he!

That thought is joy, arrive what may to me.
My boast is not that I deduce * my birth
From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth;
But higher far my proud pretensions* rise 110
The son of parents passed into the skies.

And now, farewell! Time unrevoked has run
His wonted* course, yet what I wished is done.
Contemplation, study, By contemplation's help, not sought in vain,
I seem to have lived my childhood o'er again,— 115
To have renewed the joys that once were mine,
Without the sin of violating* thine;
And, while the wings of Fancy still are free,.
And I can view this mimic show* of thee,
Time has but half succeeded in his theft-
Thyself removed, thy power to soothe me left.

Violating, injuring.

Mimic show, an imitation show, here meaning the picture.

120

EVANGELINE.-Longfellow.

In that delightful land which is washed by the
Delaware's waters,

*

Guarding in sylvan* shades the name of Penn*
the apostle,

Stands on the banks of its beautiful stream
the city he founded.

There from the troubled sea had Evangeline
landed, an exile,*

*

Finding among the children of Penn a home
and a country.

Patience and abnegation of self,* and devotion

to others,*

This was the lesson a life of trial and sorrow
had taught her.

Other hope had she none, nor wish in life, but
to follow

Abnegation of self,
denying herself all
Devotion to others.
pleasure.
After years of fruitless
search for Gabriel,
her lover, Evangeline
settled among

the

Meekly, with reverent steps, the sacred feet of Quakers, and spent

our Saviour.

10 Thus many years she lived as a Sister of

Mercy; frequenting

Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded
lanes of the city.

Night after night, when the world was asleep,

as the watchman repeated

her time in works of love and charity.

Loud, through the gusty* streets, that all was Gusty, windy, stormy

well in the city,

High at some lonely window he saw the light

of her taper.*

15 Then it came to pass that a pestilence * fell on

the city.

Taper, a small wax candle.

Pestilence, a plague, a catching, deadly

Thither, by night and by day, came the Sister sickness

of Mercy.

Thus, on a Sabbath morn, through the streets

deserted and silent,

Wending her quiet way, she entered the door Wending, going.

of the almshouse.

And, with light in her looks, she entered the

chambers of sickness.

20 Many a languid * head, upraised as Evangeline Languid, weak, ex entered,

*

Turned on its pillow of pain to gaze while she
passed, for her presence
Fell on their hearts like a ray of the sun on
the walls of a prison.

Suddenly, as if arrested* by fear or a feeling
of wonder,

Still she stood, with her colourless lips apart,

while a shudder

25 Ran through her frame, and forgotten, the
flowerets dropped from her fingers,

And from her eyes and cheeks the light and
bloom of the morning.

Then there escaped from her lips a cry of such

hausted.

Her presence, &c., she cheered and com

forted the sick in their greatest misery.

Arrested, stopped.

On the pallet before her was stretched the Pallet, a bed of straw.

form of an old man.