I have a king who does not speak
I have a king who does not speak; So, wondering, thro' the hours meek I trudge the day away,-- Half glad when it is night and sleep,
Poems · 105 pieces
राजनीति
I have a king who does not speak; So, wondering, thro' the hours meek I trudge the day away,-- Half glad when it is night and sleep,
Ere the daughter of Brunswick is cold in her grave, And her ashes still float to their home o'er the tide, Lo! George the triumphant speeds over the wave, To the long-cherished Isle which he loved like his--bride.
[VERSES 360 ET SEQ.] And the cloven waters like a chasm of mountains Stood, and received him in its mighty portal And led him through the deep's untrampled fountains
AFAR 1 the illustrious Exile roams, Whom kingdoms on this day should hail; An inmate in the casual shed, On transient pity’s bounty fed,
O the evening's for the fair, bonny lassie O! To meet the cooler air and walk an angel there, With the dark dishevelled hair, Bonny lassie O!
O! call not me to justify the wrong That thy unkindness lays upon my heart; Wound me not with thine eye, but with thy tongue: Use power with power, and slay me not by art,
'Quid vetat et nosmet Lucilî scripta legentes Quaerere, num illius, num rerum dura negârit Versiculos natura magis factos, et euntes Mollius?' HOR. THE SATIRES OF DR JOHN DONNE, DEAN OF ST PAUL'S, VERSIFIED.
THEE for my recitative! Thee in the driving storm, even as now—the snow—the winter-day declining; Thee in thy panoply, thy measured dual throbbing, and thy beat convulsive; Thy black cylindric body, golden brass, and silvery steel;
To such as say thy love I overprize, And do not stick to term my praises folly, Against these folks, that think themselves so wise, I thus oppose my Reason's forces wholly,
'Twas in the year of 1884, and on Saturday the 20th of September, Which the inhabitants of Dundee will long remember The great Liberal Franchise Demonstration, Which filled their minds with admiration.
_(As distinguished by an Italian person of quality.)_ Had I but plenty of money, money enough and to spare, The house for me, no doubt, were a house in the city square; Ah, such a life, such a life, as one leads at the window there!
God is the refuge of his saints, When storms of sharp distress invade; Ere we can offer our complaints, Behold him present with his aid!
Type of the antique Rome! Rich reliquary Of lofty contemplation left to Time By buried centuries of pomp and power! At length--at length--after so many days
'Twas grav'd on the Stone of Destiny, In letters four, and letters three; And ne'er did the King of the Gulls go by But those awful letters scar'd his eye;
I dreamt the Roses one time went To meet and sit in Parliament; The place for these, and for the rest Of flowers, was thy spotless breast.
Freedom, as every schoolboy knows, Once shrieked as Kosciusko fell; On every wind, indeed, that blows I hear her yell.
The big teetotum twirls, And epochs wax and wane As chance subsides or swirls; But of the loss and gain
Of all the gifts Thine hand bestows, Thou Giver of all good! Not heaven itself a richer knows Than my Redeemer's blood.
Now the storm begins to lower, (Haste, the loom of Hell prepares!) Iron-sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles in the darkened air.
When first the fiery-mantled sun His heavenly race begun to run; Round the earth and ocean blue, His children four the Seasons flew.
The ocean said to me once, "Look! Yonder on the shore Is a woman, weeping.
Farewell love and all thy laws forever; Thy baited hooks shall tangle me no more. Senec and Plato call me from thy lore To perfect wealth, my wit for to endeavour.
I cannot spare water or wine, Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose; From the earth-poles to the Line, All between that works or grows,
ALL that we see, about, abroad, What is it all, but nature's God? In meaner works discovered here No less than in the starry sphere.