XIII.

National hatreds of whole generations, and pigmy spites of the village spire;

Vows that will last to the last death-ruckle, and vows that are snapt in a moment of fire;

XIV.

He that has lived for the lust of the minute, and died in the doing it, flesh without mind;

He that has nail'd all flesh to the Cross, till Self died out in the love of his kind;

XV.

Spring and Summer and Autumn and Winter, and all these old revolutions of earth;

All new-old revolutions of Empire — change of the tide what is all of it worth?

XVI.

What the philosophies, all the sciences, poesy, varying voices of prayer?

All that is noblest, all that is basest, all that is filthy with all that is fair?

XVII.

What is it all, if we all of us end but in being our own corpse-coffins at last,

Swallow'd in Vastness, lost in Silence, drown'd in the deeps of a meaningless Past?

XVIII.

What but a murmur of gnats in the gloom, or a moment's anger of bees in their hive?

Peace, let it be! for I loved him, and love him for ever : the dead are not dead but alive.

ON CAMBridge UNIVERSITY.

THEREFORE your Halls, your ancient Colleges,
Your portals statued with old kings and queens,
Your gardens, myriad-volumed libraries,

Wax-lighted chapels, and rich carven screens,
Your doctors and your proctors, and your deans
Shall not avail you, when the Day beam sports
New-risen o'er awaken'd Albion - No!
Nor yet your solemn organ-pipes that blow
Melodious thunders thro' your vacant courts
At morn and eve- because your manner sorts
Not with this age wherefrom ye stand apart
Because the lips of little children preach
Against you, you that do profess to teach
And teach us nothing, feeding not the heart.

SONNET.

THERE are three things which fill my heart with sighs,
And steep my soul in laughter (when I view

Fair maiden-forms moving like melodies) -
Dimples, roselips, and eyes of any hue.

There are three things beneath the blessed skies
For which I live- black eyes and brown and blue:
I hold them all most dear; but oh! black eyes,

I live and die, and only die in you.

Of late such eyes looked at me while I mused,
At sunset, underneath a shadowy plane,
In old Bayona nigh the southern sea
I saw no more
And dazzled to the heart with glorious pain.

only those eyes - confused

LINES.

HERE often, when a child, I lay reclined,
I took delight in this locality.

Here stood the infant Ilion of the mind,
And here the Grecian ships did seem to be.
And here again I come, and only find

The drain-cut levels of the marshy lea,

Gray sand-banks, and pale sunsets, dreary wind, Dim shores, dense rains, and heavy-clouded sea!

ADDITIONAL VERSES

To" God Save the Queen!" written for the marriage of the Princess Royal of England with the Crown Prince of Prussia, January 25, 1858.

OD bless our Prince and Bride!

GOD

God keep their lands allied,

God save the Queen!

Clothe them with righteousness,

Crown them with happiness,
Them with all blessings bless,
God save the Queen!

Fair fall this hallow'd hour,
Farewell, our England's flower,
God save the Queen!

Farewell, first rose of May!
Let both the peoples say,
God bless thy marriage-day,
God bless the Queen!

THE WAR.*

THERE is a sound of thunder afar,

Storm in the South that darkens the day,

Storm of battle and thunder of war,

Well, if it do not roll our way.
Form! form! Riflemen form!

Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!

Be not deaf to the sound that warns!
Be not gull'd by a despot's plea !
Are figs of thistles, or grapes of thorns?
How should a despot set men free?
Form! form! Riflemen form!
Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!

Let your Reforms for a moment go,
Look to your butts and take good aims.
Better a rotten borough or so,

Than a rotten fleet or a city in flames!
Form! form! Riflemen form!

Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!

Form, be ready to do or die!

Form in Freedom's name and the Queen's! True, that we have a faithful ally,

But only the Devil knows what he means.
Form! form! Riflemen form!

Ready, be ready to meet the storm!
Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen form!

London Times, May 9, 1859.

I

1865–1866.*

STOOD on a tower in the wet,

And New Year and Old Year met, And winds were roaring and blowing; And I said, "O years that meet in tears, Have ye aught that is worth the knowing? Science enough and exploring,

Wanderers coming and going,

Matter enough for deploring,

But aught that is worth the knowing?

Seas at my feet were flowing,

Waves on the shingle pouring,

Old Year roaring and blowing,

And New Year blowing and roaring.

* Good Words, March, 1868.