Blithesome and cumberless,
Sweet be thy matin o'er moorland and lea!
Emblem of happiness,
Blest is thy dwelling place,--
O to abide in the desert with thee!
Wild is thy lay and loud,
Far in the downy cloud,
Love gives it energy, love gave it birth.
Where on thy dewy wing,
Where art thou journeying?
Thy lay is in heaven, thy love is on earth,
O'er fell and fountain sheen,
O'er moor and mountain green,
O'er the red streamer that heralds the day,
Over the cloudlet dim,
Over the rainbow's rim,
Musical cherub, soar, singing, away!
Then, when the gloaming comes,
Low in the heather blooms,
Sweet will thy welcome and bed of love be!
HELPS TO STUDY.
James Hogg was born in Ettrick, Scotland, in 1770, and was known as "the
Ettrick Shepherd," because he followed the occupation of a shepherd until
he was thirty. The beautiful selection here given was doubtless inspired by
the poet's early communion with Nature.
Notes and Questions.
From this poem what can you tell of the home of the skylark? Of its nature?
Why is the lark called an emblem of happiness? Name something that might be
called an emblem of strength; of sorrow.
What pictures do the following words make to you: "wilderness," "moor,"
"lea," "fell," "heather-bloom"?
What is the "red streamer that heralds the day"?
What does the word "dewy" suggest as to the habits of the bird?
What do "matin" and "gloaming" signify?
In the poem what tells you the nest is near the ground?
Why is "downy" used to describe "cloud"?
What makes lines 13 and 14 so musical?
Indicate the rhythm of the first six lines by writing them in groups as
shown in the following curves:
___________ _____________
/ \/ \
Bird of the wil-der-ness
* * * * *
TO A SKYLARK
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
Hail to thee, blithe Spirit!
Bird thou never wert,
That from Heaven, or near it,
Pourest thy full heart
In profuse strains of unpremeditated art.
Higher still and higher
From the earth thou springest
Like a cloud of fire;
The blue deep thou wingest
And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
In the golden lightning
Of the sunken sun,
O'er which clouds are bright'ning,
Thou dost float and run;
Like an unbodied joy whose race is just begun.
The pale purple even
Melts around thy flight;
Like a star of heaven,
In the broad daylight
Thou art unseen,--but yet I hear thy shrill delight,
Keen as are the arrows
Of that silver sphere,
Whose intense lamp narrows
In the white dawn clear
Until we hardly see--we feel that it is there.
All the earth and air
With thy voice is loud,
As, when Night is bare,
From one lonely cloud
The moon rains out her beams, and Heaven is overflowed.
What thou art we know not;
What is most like thee?
From rainbow clouds there flow not
Drops so bright to see
As from thy presence showers a rain of melody.
Like a Poet hidden
In the light of thought,
Singing hymns unbidden
Till the world is wrought
To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not:
Like a high-born maiden
In a palace tower,
Soothing her love-laden
Soul in secret hour
With music sweet as love,--which overflows her bower:
Like a glow-worm golden
In a dell of dew,
Scattering unbeholden
Its aërial hue
Among the flowers and grass which screen it from the view:
Like a rose embowered
In its own green leaves,
By warm winds deflowered,
Till the scent it give
Makes faint with too much sweet those heavy-winged thieves:
Sound of vernal showers
On the twinkling grass,
Bain-awakened flowers,
All that ever was
Joyous and clear and fresh, thy music doth surpass,
Teach us, Sprite or Bird,
What sweet thoughts are thine;
I have never heard
Praise of love or wine
That panted forth a flood of rapture so divine.
Chorus Hymeneal,
Or triumphal chaunt,
Matched with thine, would be all
But an empty vaunt,
A thing wherein we feel there is some hidden want.
What objects are the fountains
Of thy happy strain?
What fields or waves or mountains?
What shapes of sky or plain?
What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain?
With thy clear keen joyance
Languor cannot be;
Shadow of annoyance
Never came near thee;
Thou lovest--but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
Waking or asleep
Thou of death must deem
Things more true and deep
Than we mortals dream--
Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?
We look before and after,
And pine for what is not;
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Yet if we could scorn
Hate and pride and fear;
If we were things born
Not to shed a tear,
I know not how thy joy we ever should come near.
Better than all measures
Of delightful sound,
Better than all treasures
That in books are found,
Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground!
Teach me half the gladness
That thy brain must know,
Such harmonious madness
From my lips would flow,
The world should listen then--as I am listening now.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Biographical and Historical: Percy Bysshe Shelley was born in 1792. He was
an English poet who traveled much in Europe, and found Italy especially to
his liking. His life was short and full of storm and stress, although he
never allowed his personal sufferings to embitter his spirit. While only
thirty, on a pleasure cruise off the coast of Italy, he was drowned.
"To a Skylark" and "The Cloud" are rare poems because of their wonderful
harmony of sound.
The skylark is found in northern Europe. It is noted for its lofty flights
and wonderful song. Note that Shelley, Wordsworth, and James Hogg have all
written poems about the skylark.
Notes and Questions.
What country is the home of these poets? What does this fact suggest to
you?
Explain the simile in the fifth stanza. In the sixth.
In the seventh stanza what two words are contrasted?
Note the four comparisons--stanzas eight, nine, ten and eleven. Which do
you like best? Why?
In line 86 emphasize the first word and explain the stanza.
In line 95 emphasize the fifth word and explain the stanza.
In line 96 to end, what does Shelley say would be the result if a poet
could feel such joy as the little bird seems to feel?
If we had no dark days do you think we could appreciate the bright days?
If we had no sadness could we appreciate the songs of gladness?
If Shelley had never experienced sadness could he have written this
beautiful poem of gladness?
Explain the following:
"There is no music in the life
That sounds with empty laughter wholly;
There's not a string attuned to mirth
But has its chord in melancholy."
What does the skylark mean to Shelley?
If we think only of being happy shall we be very helpful to others?
Make a list of all the names he gives the skylark.
Enumerate the expressions Shelley uses in characterizing the song.
Which stanza do you like best? Why?
"wert" rhymes with heart. (In England the sound is broad, er=är).
"even"--a contraction of evening.
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"profuse strains"
"panted forth"
"heavy-winged thieves"
"unpremeditated art"
"rain of melody"
"harmonious madness"
"shrill delight"
"flood of rapture"
"float and run"
"rains out"
"triumphant chaunt"
"scattering unbeholden"
* * * * *
THE CLOUD
PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noon-day dreams;
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under;
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
I sift the snow on the mountains below,
And their great pines groan aghast;
And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
While I sleep in the arms of the blast,
Sublime on the towers of my skyey bowers,
Lightning, my pilot, sits;
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,--
It struggles and howls by fits;
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,
This pilot is guiding me,
Lured by the love of the genii that move
In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,
Over the lakes and the plains,
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,
The spirit he loves remains;
And I, all the while, bask in heaven's blue smile,
Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes,
And his burning plumes outspread,
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,
When the morning-star shines dead,
As on the jag of a mountain-crag,
Which an earthquake rocks and swings,
An eagle, alit, one moment may sit,
In the light of its golden wings.
And when sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,
Its ardors of rest and love,
And the crimson pall of eve may fall
From the depth of heaven above,
With wings folded I rest, on mine airy nest,
As still as a brooding dove.
That orbèd Maiden, with white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the Moon,
Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,
By the midnight breezes strewn;
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,
Which only the angels hear,
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,
The stars peep behind her, and peer!
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,
Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,
Till the calm rivers, lakes, and seas,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,
Are each paved with the moon and these.
I bind the sun's throne with a burning zone,
And the moon's with a girdle of pearl;
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,
When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,
Over a torrent of sea,
Sun-beam proof, I hang like a roof,
The mountains its columns be.
The triumphal arch through which I march
With hurricane, fire, and snow,
When the powers of the air are chained to my chair,
Is the million-colored bow;
The sphere-fire above its soft colors wove,
While the moist earth was laughing below.
I am the daughter of earth and water,
And the nursling of the sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I can not die.
For after the rain, when, with never a stain,
The pavilion of heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams, with their convex gleams,
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a sprite from the gloom, like a ghost from the tomb,
I rise and unbuild it again.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Notes and Questions.
In this poem Shelley personifies the Cloud. Why?
What does the second stanza mean to you?
The third stanza relates to the sun; what comparisons are made?
What comparisons are found in the fourth stanza?
Read the last stanza and tell what lesson the poem teaches. What line tells
you?
What pictures do you get from the fifth stanza?
Which stanza is most musical and pleasing?
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"sanguine sunrise"
"pavilion of heaven"
"reel and swim"
"meteor eyes"
"caverns of rain"
"million-colored bow"
"burning plumes"
"fleece-like floor"
"sphere-fire"
"orbed maiden"
"wind-built tent"
"cenotaph"
* * * * *
APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN (From "Childe Harold," Canto IV.)
LORD BYRON
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar;
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean--roll!
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;
Man marks the earth with ruin--his control
Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,
When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths, with bubbling groan--
Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.
His steps are not upon thy paths--thy fields
Are not a spoil for him--thou dost arise
And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields
For earth's destruction thou dost all despise,
Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,
And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray,
And howling to his gods, where haply lies
His petty hope in some near port or bay,
And dashest him again to earth: there let him lay.
The armaments which thunder-strike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,
And monarchs tremble in their capitals,
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator the vain title take
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war:
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Thy shores are empires changed in all save thee--
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?
Thy waters washed them power while they were free,
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
Has dried up realms to deserts; not so thou;
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play.
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow:
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,
Calm or convulsed--in breeze or gale or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime
Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime--
The image of Eternity--the throne
Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime
The monsters of the deep are made; each zone
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy
Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy
I wantoned with thy breakers--they to me
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror--'twas a pleasing fear;
For I was as it were a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane--as I do here.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Biographical and Historical: George Gordon Byron was born in London the
year before the outbreak of the French Revolution. At the age of ten, upon
the death of his grand-uncle he became Lord Byron. He traveled extensively
through Europe, spending much time in Italy. At Pisa he formed a warm
friendship for the poet Shelley. So deeply was he moved by his impulses
toward liberty and freedom that in the summer of 1823 he left Genoa with a
supply of arms, medicines, and money to aid the Greeks in their struggle
for independence. In the following year he became commander-in-chief at
Missolonghi, but he died of a fever before he had an opportunity to
actually engage in battle. Hearing the news, the boy Tennyson, dreaming at
Somersby on poetic greatness, crept away to weep and carve upon sandstone
the words, "Byron is dead."
Notes and Questions.
In the first stanza why "pathless woods" and "lonely shore"?
In the second and third stanzas Byron contrasts the ocean and the earth in
their relation to man.
Line 12--What two words require emphasis?
Line 13--With what is "watery plain" contrasted?
Line 14--With what is "thy" contrasted?
Line 22--What word requires emphasis?
In the fourth stanza what contrast does Byron make?
What does the fifth stanza tell? The sixth?
Which stanza do you like best? Why?
Which lines are the most beautiful?
"The Invincible Armada"--an immense Spanish fleet consisting of one hundred
thirty vessels, sailed from Corunna in 1588 and attacked the English fleet
but suffered defeat. This event furnished Southey the inspiration for a
poem, "The Spanish Armada."
"Trafalgar"--one of Lord Nelson's great sea-fights, occurring off Cape
Trafalgar on the coast of Spain in 1805. Here he defeated the combined
fleets of France and Spain, but was himself killed.
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"unknelled"
"uncoffined"
"unknown"
"playful spray"
"oak leviathans"
"yeast of waves"
"These are thy toys"
"The Armada's pride"
"spoils of Trafalgar"
"rock-built"
"glasses itself"
"fathomless"
* * * * *
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB LORD BYRON
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath flown,
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still!
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And their idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
HELPS TO STUDY.
Historical: Sennacherib was King of Assyria. His army invaded Judea and
besieged Jerusalem but was overthrown; 185,000 of his men were destroyed in
a single night. Sennacherib returned in haste with the remnant to his own
country. For the Bible story of this event read 2 Kings XIX. 6-36.
Notes and Questions.
Find Assyria and Galilee on your map.
Note the development:
1. Brilliant outset of the Assyrian cavalry.
2. Their summer changes to winter.
3. The angel turns their sleep into death.
4. The steed and the rider.
5. The mourning.
6. Their idols powerless to help them.
7. Their religion broken down.
8. Their power "melted like snow."
What two comparisons are found in the first stanza?
Note the movement and rhythm.
Point out the fitness of the two similes in the second stanza.
Find a comparison in the sixth stanza.
"Ashur"--Assyria.
"Baal"--the sun-god worshipped by the Assyrians.
Indicate the rhythm of the four lines of the second stanza by writing them
in groups under curves as on page 47:
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"cohorts"
"sheen"
"host"
"unsmote"
"idols are broke" (broken)
"purple and gold"
"withered and strown"
"rock-beating surf"
* * * * *
THE EVE BEFORE WATERLOO (From "Childe Harold," Canto III.)
LORD BYRON
There was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capital had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,
Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage bell.
But, hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
Did ye not hear, it?--No; 'twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street.
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet!
But, hark! that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat;
And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!
Arm! arm! it is--it is the cannon's opening roar!
Within a windowed niche of that high hall
Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain; he did hear
That sound the first amidst the festival,
And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear;
And when they smiled because he deemed it near,
His heart more truly knew that peal too well
Which stretched his father on a bloody bier,
And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell;
He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell.
Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness;
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated: who could guess
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise!
And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;
And near, the beat of the alarming drum
Roused up the soldier ere the morning star;
While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,
Or whispering with white lips, "The foe! They come! they come!"
And wild and high the "Cameron's Gathering" rose!
The war note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills
Have heard--and heard, too, have her Saxon foes:
How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,
Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills
Their mountain pipe, so fill the mountaineers
With the fierce native daring which instills
The stirring memory of a thousand years,
And Evan's, Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!
And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves,
Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass,
Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,
Over the unreturning brave--alas!
Ere evening to be trodden like the grass
Which now beneath them, but above shall grow
In its next verdure, when this fiery mass
Of living valor, rolling on the foe,
And burning with high hope, shall molder cold and low.
Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay;
The midnight brought the signal sound of strife--
The morn, the marshaling in arms--the day,
Battle's magnificently stern array!
The thunderclouds 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!
HELPS TO STUDY.
Historical: On the evening of June 15, 1815, the Duchess of Richmond gave a
ball at Brussels. Wellington's officers, at his request, were present, his
purpose being to conceal the near approach of battle. Napoleon, the leader
of the French army, was the military genius of the age; Wellington, the
leader of the English forces, had, Tennyson tells us, "gained a hundred
fights nor ever lost an English gun." These two great generals now met for
the first time. The event was of supreme interest to all the world. The
engagement that followed next day was fought at Quatre Bras; the great
battle of Waterloo took place June 18th, Sunday. Read Thackeray's "Vanity
Fair" for description of this night in Brussels. This is a great martial
poem--the greatest inspired by this event.
Note the movement of the poem. The revelry, the beauty and the chivalry,
the music and the merry-making, the alarm, the hurrying to and fro, the
gathering tears, the mounting in hot haste, the whispering with white lips,
the Scotch music, the green leaves of Ardennes, the closing scene.
Notes and Questions.
Find Belgium's capital on your map; also Waterloo, twelve miles away.
What does the first stanza tell? The second stanza?
Note the differences between the fourth and fifth stanzas.
The sixth stanza describes the Scottish martial music--What purpose does
this stanza serve in the poem?
Which lines do you like best? Why?
Which is the most beautiful stanza?
What words seem to be especially appropriate?
Note the rhythm and the change in movement. "Cameron's Gathering"--The
Cameron Highlander's call to arms. "Lochiel"--Donald Cameron of Lochiel was
a famous highland chieftain. Read the poem "Lochiel's Warning."
"Albyn"--name given poetically to northern Scotland, the Highland region.
"Pibroch"--martial music upon the bagpipe.
"Evan's, Donald's fame"--Evan Cameron (another Lochiel) and his grandson,
Donald, were famous Highland chiefs.
"Ardennes"--Arden, a forest on the Meuse river between Brussels and
Waterloo, called Arden by Shakespeare in "As You Like It."
"car"--a cart.
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"voluptuous swell"
"rising knell"
"glowing hours"
"opening roar"
"terror dumb"
"noon of night"
"stirring memory"
"revelry"
"chivalry"
"mustering squadron"
"clattering car"
"pouring forward"
"impetuous speed"
"unreturning brave"
"rolling on the foe"
"magnificently stern"
"clansman"
"inanimate"
"verdure"
"blent"
* * * * *
SONG OF THE GREEK BARD (From "Don Juan," Canto-III.)
LORD BYRON
The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece!
Where burning Sappho loved and sung,
Where grew the arts of war and peace,
Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung!
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set.
The Scian and the Teian muse,
The hero's harp, the lover's lute,
Have found the fame your shores refuse;
Their place of birth alone is mute
To sounds which echo further west
Than your sires' "Islands of the Blest."
The mountains look on Marathon--
And Marathon looks on the sea;
And musing there an hour alone,
I dreamed that Greece might still be free:
For, standing on the Persian's grave,
I could not deem myself a slave.
A king sat on the rocky brow
Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis;
And ships by thousands lay below,
And men in nations;--all were his!
He counted them at break of day--
And when the sun set, where were they?
And where are they? and where art thou
My country? On thy voiceless shore
The heroic lay is tuneless now--
The heroic bosom beats no more.
And must thy lyre, so long divine,
Degenerate into hands like mine?
'Tis something in the dearth of fame,
Though linked among a fettered race,
To feel at least a patriot's shame,
Even as I sing, suffuse my face;
For what is left the poet here?
For Greeks a blush--for Greece a tear.
Must we but weep o'er days more blest?
Must we but blush?--Our fathers bled.
Earth, render back from out thy breast
A remnant of our Spartan dead!
Of the three hundred grant but three,
To make a new Thermopylæ!
What, silent still? and silent all?
Ah, no; the voices of the dead
Sound like a distant torrent's fall,
And answer, "Let one living head,
But one, arise--we come, we come!"
'Tis but the living who are dumb.
In vain--in vain: strike other chords;
Fill high the cup with Samian wine!
Leave battles to the Turkish hordes,
And shed the blood of Scio's vine!
Hark! rising to the ignoble call--
How answers each bold bacchanal!
You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet--
Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone?
Of two such lessons, why forget
The nobler and the manlier one?
You have the letters Cadmus gave--
Think you he meant them for a slave?
The tyrant of the Chersonese
Was freedom's best and bravest friend;
That tyrant was Miltiades!
O that the present hour would lend
Another despot of the kind!
Such chains as his were sure to bind.
Trust not for freedom to the Franks--
They have a king who buys and sells--
In native swords and native ranks
The only hope of courage dwells;
But Turkish force and Latin fraud
Would break your shield, however broad.
Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where nothing, save the waves and I
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
There, swan-like, let me sing and die;
A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine--
Dash down yon cup of Samian wine!
HELPS TO STUDY.
Historical: The decline of Greece is the theme of this poem. Byron
represents a Greek poet as contrasting ancient and modern Greece, showing
that, in modern Greece, "all except their sun is set."
Notes and Questions.
What does the first stanza tell?
What are "the arts of war and peace"?
What nation is meant by the Franks?
"I could not deem myself a slave." Why?
Line 19--relates to Xerxes.
Lines 23, 24. Explain these lines,
Explain lines 67, 70.
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"Sappho"
"Delos"
"Phoebus"
"Marathon"
"Persian's grave"
"Salamis"
"eternal summer"
"rocky brow"
"voiceless shore"
"heroic lay"
"fettered race"
"dearth of fame"
"Of the three hundred grant but three,
To make a new Thermopylæ"
* * * * *
MARCO BOZZARIS
FITZ-GREENE HALLECK
At midnight, in his guarded tent,
The Turk was dreaming of the hour
When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent,
Should tremble at his power.
In dreams, through camp and court he bore
The trophies of a conqueror;
In dreams, his song of triumph heard;
Then wore his monarch's signet-ring;
Then pressed that monarch's throne--a king:
As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing,
As Eden's garden-bird.
At midnight, in the forest shades,
Bozzaris ranged his Suliote band,
True as the steel of their tried blades,
Heroes in heart and hand.
There had the Persian's thousands stood,
There had the glad earth drunk their blood,
On old Platæa's day:
And now there breathed that haunted air,
The sons of sires who conquered there,
With arms to strike, and soul to dare,
As quick, as far as they.
An hour passed on--the Turk awoke;
That bright dream was his last:
He woke--to hear his sentries shriek,
"To arms! they come! the Greek! the Greek!"
He woke--to die mid flames and smoke,
And shout and groan, and sabre-stroke,
And death-shots falling thick and fast
As lightnings from the mountain-cloud;
And heard, with voice as trumpet loud,
Bozzaris cheer his band:
"Strike!--till the last armed foe expires;
Strike!--for your altars and your fires;
Strike!--for the green graves of your sires;
God--and your native land!"
They fought--like brave men, long and well;
They piled the ground with Moslem slain;
They conquered--but Bozzaris fell,
Bleeding at every vein.
His few surviving comrades saw
His smile, when rang their proud--"Hurrah,"
And the red field was won:
Then saw in death his eyelids close,
Calmly as to a night's response,
Like flowers at set of sun.
But to the hero, when his sword
Has won the battle for the free,
Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word,
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of millions yet to be.
Bozzaris! with, the storied brave
Greece nurtured in her glory's time,
Rest thee--there is no prouder grave,
Even in her own proud clime.
We tell thy doom without a sigh;
For thou art Freedom's now, and Fame's--
One of the few, the immortal names
That were not born to die.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Biographical and Historical: Fitz-Greene Halleck was born in Connecticut,
July 8, 1790, and died November 19, 1867. Of his poems, "Marco Bozzaris" is
probably the best known. Marco Bozzaris, leader of the Greek revolution,
was, killed August 20, 1823, in an attack upon the Turks near Missolonghi,
a Greek town. His last words were: "To die for liberty is a pleasure, not a
pain."
Notes and Questions.
Over whom did the Turk dream he gained a victory?
What might be the "trophies of a conqueror"?
Upon whom would a monarch confer the privilege of wearing his signet ring?
Trace the successive steps by which the Turk in his dream rises to the
summit of his ambition.
What other "immortal names" do you know?
"Suliote"--natives of Suli, a mountainous district in Albania (European
Turkey).
"Platæa's day" refers to the victory of the Greeks over the Persians on
this field 479 B. C.
"Moslem"--Mohammedans--name given the Turks.
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"tried blades"
"haunted air"
"storied brave"
* * * * *
THE BURIAL OF SIR JOHN MOORE
CHARLES WOLFE
Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
At his corse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning,
By the struggling moonbeams' misty light,
And the lantern dimly burning.
No useless coffin inclosed his breast,
Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spike not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed,
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,
And we far away on the billow.
Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;
But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
But half of our heavy task was done
When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.
Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, we raised not a stone,
But we left him alone with his glory.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Charles Wolfe, a British clergyman, was born at Dublin, December 14, 1791,
and died at Cork, February 21, 1823. His poem, "The Burial of Sir John
Moore," is the only one of his works now widely read.
Historical: Sir John Moore, an English general, was killed (January 16,
1809) in an engagement between the English and the army of Napoleon at
Corunna, in Spain. In accordance with an expressed wish, he was buried at
night on the battlefield. In St. Paul's Cathedral, London, a monument was
erected to his memory, and a stone also marks the spot where he was buried
on the ramparts, at Corunna. Note that it was from this port that the
Spanish Armada sailed.
Notes and Questions.
Who tells the story of the poem?
What is the narrator's feeling for Sir John Moore? How do you know?
What impressions of Sir John Moore do you get from reading this poem?
Which stanza or stanzas do you like best? Why?
Select the lines that seem to you most beautiful and memorize them.
Which is the greater memorial, a monument of stone or bronze, or such a
poem as this? Why?
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"corse"
"upbraid"
"rampart"
"random"
"bayonets"
"sullenly"
"shroud"
"rock"
"spirit"
"struggling"
"Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot"
"The struggling moonbeam"
"We bitterly thought of the morrow"
* * * * *
ABSALOM
NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS
The waters slept. Night's silvery veil hung low
On Jordan's bosom, and the eddies curled
Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still,
Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse.
The reeds bent down the stream; the willow leaves,
With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide,
Forgot the lifting winds; and the long stems,
Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse,
Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way,
And leaned in graceful attitudes to rest.
How strikingly the course of nature tells,
By its light heed of human suffering,
That it was fashioned for a happier world!
King David's limbs were weary. He had fled
From far Jerusalem; and now he stood,
With his faint people, for a little rest,
Upon the shore of Jordan. The light wind
Of morn was stirring, and he bared his brow
To its refreshing breath; for he had worn
The mourner's covering, and he had not felt
That he could see his people until now.
They gathered round him on the fresh green bank,
And spoke their kindly words; and as the sun
Rose up in heaven, he knelt among them there,
And bowed his head upon his hands to pray.
Oh, when the heart is full--when bitter thoughts
Come crowding thickly up for utterance,
And the poor, common words of courtesy
Are such an empty mockery--how much
The bursting heart may pour itself in prayer!
He prayed for Israel; and his voice went up
Strongly and fervently. He prayed for those
Whose love had been his shield; and his deep tones.
Grew tremulous. But oh! for Absalom--
For his estranged, misguided Absalom--
The proud, bright being who had burst away
In all his princely beauty, to defy
The heart that cherished him--for him he poured,
In agony that would not be controlled,
Strong supplication, and forgave him there,
Before his God, for his deep sinfulness.
The pall was settled. He who slept beneath
Was straightened for the grave; and as the folds
Sunk to the still proportions, they betrayed
The matchless symmetry of Absalom.
His hair was yet unshorn, and silken curls
Were floating round the tassels as they swayed
To the admitted air, as glossy now
As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing
The snowy fingers of Judea's daughters.
His helm was at his feet; his banner, soiled
With trailing through Jerusalem, was laid,
Reversed, beside him; and the jeweled hilt,
Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade,
Rested, like mockery, on his covered brow.
The soldiers of the king trod to and fro,
Clad in the garb of battle; and their chief,
The mighty Joab, stood beside the bier,
And gazed upon the dark pall steadfastly,
As if he feared the slumberer might stir.
A slow step startled him. He grasped his blade
As if a trumpet rang; but the bent form
Of David entered, and he gave command,
In a low tone, to his few followers,
And left him with his dead. The King stood still
Till the last echo died; then, throwing off
The sackcloth from his brow, and laying back
The pall from the still features of his child,
He bowed his head upon him, and broke forth
In the resistless eloquence of woe:
"Alas, my noble boy, that thou shouldst die!
Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair!
That death should settle in thy glorious eye,
And leave his stillness in this clustering hair!
How could he mark thee for the silent tomb,
My proud boy, Absalom?
"Cold is thy brow, my son, and I am chill
As to my bosom I have tried to press thee!
How I was wont to feel my pulses thrill,
Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee,
And hear thy sweet '_My father!_' from these dumb
And cold lips, Absalom!
"But death is on thee. I shall hear the gush
Of music, and the voices of the young;
And life will pass me in the mantling blush,
And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung--
But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come
To meet me, Absalom!
"And oh! when I am stricken, and my heart,
Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken,
How will its love for thee, as I depart,
Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token!
It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom,
To see thee, Absalom!
"And now, farewell! 'Tis hard to give thee up,
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee;
And thy dark sin! Oh, I could drink the cup,
If from this woe its bitterness had won thee.
May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home,
My lost boy, Absalom!"
He covered up his face, and bowed himself
A moment on his child; then, giving him
A look of melting tenderness, he clasped
His hands convulsively, as if in prayer;
And, as if strength were given him of God,
He rose up calmly, and composed the pall
Firmly and decently, and left him there,
As if his rest had been a breathing sleep.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Nathaniel Parker Willis was born in Maine in 1806. He was a graduate of
Yale and was an early contributor to various periodicals, including the
"Youths' Companion," which magazine had been founded by his father. The
selection here given is regarded as the poet's masterpiece.
Historical: Absalom, the son of David, King of Israel, rebelled against his
father. David sent his army to put down the rebellion, but said to his
captains, "Deal gently for my sake with the young man, even with Absalom."
In spite of this entreaty, Absalom was slain by Joab, a captain in David's
army. The first forty-one lines relate to events preceding the battle, the
remainder to events following the battle. Read 2 Samuel XVIII.
Notes and Questions.
Find the Jordan on your map.
Locate the Dead Sea; the wood of Ephraim where Absalom was killed.
Describe the picture you see when you read the first stanza.
What do we call such expressions as "Night's silvery veil"?
What is night's silvery veil?
"The willow leaves with a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, Forgot the
lifting winds"--What does this mean? Why "lulling tide"?
What flowers does the poet mean in the eighth line? Is the poet true to
nature in what he says of them? Show why.
Select two words or expressions that seem to you to be especially beautiful
or fit, and tell why. Do you like the selection? Why?
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"waters slept"
"melting tenderness"
"fashioned for a happier world"
"lifting winds"
"mantling blush"
"straightened for the grave"
"estranged"
"breathing sleep"
"resistless eloquence"
"bruised reed"
"still proportions"
"Whose diamonds lit the passage of his blade"
* * * * *
LOCHINVAR (From "Marmion.")
SIR WALTER SCOTT
O, young Lochinvar is come out of the West,--
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And, save his good broadsword, he weapons had none,--
He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
He stayed not for brake, and he stopped not for stone,
He swam the Esk river, where ford there was none;
But ere he alighted at Netherby gate,
The bride had consented, the gallant came late:
For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,
Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
So boldly he entered the Netherby hall,
'Mong bridesmen, and kinsmen, and brothers, and all:
Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword
(For the poor, craven bridegroom said never a word),
"O, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,
Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?"
"I long wooed your daughter,--my suit you denied;--
Love swells like the Selway, but ebbs like its tide;
And now am I come, with this lost love of mine,
To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.
There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,
That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar!"
The bride kissed the goblet; the knight took it up,
He quaffed off the wine, and he threw down the cup.
She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh,
With a smile on her lips, and a tear in her eye.
He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,--
"Now tread we a measure!" said young Lochinvar.
So stately his form, and so lovely her face,
That never a hall such a galliard did grace;
While her mother did fret, and her father did fume,
And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume,
And the bridemaidens whispered, "'Twere better, by far,
To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar."
One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,
When they reached the hall-door, and the charger stood near,
So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,
So light to the saddle before her he sprung!
"She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;
They'll have fleet steeds that follow," quoth young Lochinvar.
There was mounting 'mong Græmes of the Netherby clan;
Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode, and they ran;
There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,
But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see.
So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,
Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
HELPS TO STUDY.
Biographical and Historical: Walter Scott was born in Edinburgh, in 1771.
He loved the romance of Scotland's history and legends. A collection of
legendary ballads, songs, and traditions, published by him early in life
met with such immediate success that it confirmed him in his resolution to
devote himself to literary pursuits. The two selections here given, are
taken from his second metrical romance, "Marmion." Later Scott turned his
attention to prose and became the creator of the historical novel, of which
"Ivanhoe," "Kenilworth," and "Woodstock" are conspicuous examples. He died
in 1832, and lies buried in one of the most beautiful ruins in Scotland,
Dryburgh Abbey.
Notes and Questions.
Find Esk River and Solway Firth on your map.
Scott describes the tides of Solway Firth in Chapter IV of his novel,
"Redgauntlet." Compare the rhythm with that in "How They Brought the Good
News."
What impression of Lochinvar do the opening stanzas give you?
What purpose does the fourth stanza serve?
Line 20--Explain this line.
Line 46--What was the result?
What picture does the sixth stanza give you?
Which stanza do you like best?
Which lines are most pleasing?
"galliard"--a gay dance.
"scaur"--steep bank of river.
"clan"--a group of related families.
Translate into your own words: "'They'll have fleet steeds that follow,'
quoth young Lochinvar."
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"laggard"
"brake"
"bar"
"charger"
"craven"
"bonnet and plume"
"dastard"
"gallant"
* * * * *
THE PARTING OF MARMION AND DOUGLAS (From "Marmion.")
SIR WALTER SCOTT
Not far advanced was morning day,
When Marmion did his troop array,
To Surrey's camp to ride;
He had safe conduct for his band,
Beneath the royal seal and hand,
And Douglas gave a guide.
The train from out the castle drew,
But Marmion stopped to bid adieu:
"Though something I might 'plain," he said,
"Of cold respect to stranger guest,
Sent hither by your king's behest,
While in Tantallon's towers I staid;
Part we in friendship from your land,
And, noble Earl, receive my hand."
But Douglas round him drew his cloak,
Folded his arms, and thus he spoke:
"My manors, halls, and bowers shall still
Be open, at my sovereign's will,
To each one whom he lists, howe'er
Unmeet to be the owner's peer.
My castles are my king's alone,
From turret to foundation stone;
The hand of Douglas is his own;
And never shall, in friendly grasp,
The hand of such as Marmion clasp."
Burned Marmion's swarthy cheek like fire,
And shook his very frame for ire;
And "This to me," he said;
"An 'twere not for thy hoary beard,
Such hand as Marmion's had not spared
To cleave the Douglas' head!
And, first, I tell thee, haughty peer,
He, who does England's message here,
Although the meanest in her state,
May well, proud Angus, be thy mate:
And, Douglas, more, I tell thee here,
Even in thy pitch of pride--
Here, in thy hold, thy vassals near,
I tell thee, thou'rt defied!
And if thou said'st, I am not peer
To any lord in Scotland here,
Lowland or Highland, far or near,
Lord Angus, thou hast lied!"
On the Earl's cheek, the flush of rage
O'ercame the ashen hue of age:
Fierce he broke forth; "And dar'st thou then
To beard the lion in his den,
The Douglas in his hall?
And hopest thou hence unscathed to go?
No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no!
Up draw-bridge, grooms,--what, warder, ho!
Let the portcullis fall."
Lord Marmion turned,--well was his need,
And dashed the rowels in his steed,
Like arrow through the archway sprung;
The ponderous grate behind him rung:
To pass there was such scanty room,
The bars, descending, razed his plume.
The steed along the draw-bridge flies,
Just as it trembled on the rise;
Nor lighter does the swallow skim
Along the smooth lake's level brim;
And when Lord Marmion reached his band
He halts, and turns with clinched hand
And shout of loud defiance pours,
And shook his gauntlet at the towers.
"Horse! horse!" the Douglas cried, "and chase!"
But soon he reined his fury's pace:
"A royal messenger he came,
Though most unworthy of the name.
Saint Mary mend my fiery mood!
Old age ne'er cools the Douglas' blood;
I thought to slay him where he stood.
'Tis pity of him, too," he cried;
"Bold he can speak, and fairly ride--
I warrant him a warrior tried."
With this his mandate he recalls,
And slowly seeks his castle halls.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Historical: Marmion, an English nobleman, is sent as an envoy by Henry the
Eighth, King of England, to James the Fourth, King of Scotland. The two
countries are on the eve of war with each other. Arriving in Edinburgh,
Marmion is entrusted by King James to the care and hospitality of Douglas,
Earl of Angus, who, taking him to his castle at Tantallon, treats him with
the respect due his position as representative of the king, but at the same
time dislikes him. The war approaching, Marmion leaves to join the English
camp. This sketch describes the leave-taking.
Notes and Questions.
In what part of the castle does this conversation take place? What tells
you?
Where are Marmion's followers during this time? Where are Douglas's
soldiery and servants? What lines tell you?
Notice how simply Marmion reminds Douglas of the claim he had upon
hospitality, while in Scotland. Lines 9 to 12.
Note the claims that have always been allowed the stranger: "And stranger
is a holy name, Guidance and rest and food and fire, In vain he never must
require."
What part of Marmion's claim does Douglas recognize? Which lines show this?
What claim does Marmion make for one "who does England's message"?
What do we call one "who do England's message" at Washington?
Is this Marmion's personal pride or pride of country (patriotism)? Read the
lines in which Marmion's personal pride shows itself in resentment of
Douglas's insults.
What does Douglas forget when he threatens Marmion? Line 69.
Which man appears to greater advantage in this scene?
"train"--procession.
"'plain"--complain.
"Tantal'lon"--Douglas's castle.
"warder"--guard.
"peer"--equal.
"peer"--a nobleman.
"Saint Bride"--a saint belonging to the house of Douglas,
"rowel"--wheel of a spur.
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"pitch of pride"
"ponderous grate"
"swarthy cheek"
"flush of rage"
"level brim"
"haughty peer"
"ire"
"vassals"
"gauntlet"
"unmeet"
"hold"
* * * * *
FOR A' THAT AND A' THAT
ROBERT BURNS
Is there, for honest poverty,
That hangs his head, and a' that?
The coward-slave, we pass him by;
We dare be poor for a' that!
For a' that, and a' that,
Our toils obscure, and a' that;
The rank is but the guinea stamp,
The man's the gowd for a' that.
What though on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hodden-gray, an a' that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A man's a man for a' that!
For a' that, and a' that,
Their tinsel show, and a' that;
The honest man, though e'er sae poor,
Is king o' men for a' that.
Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,
Wha struts, and stares, and a' that;
Though hundreds worship at his word,
He's but a coof for a' that;
For a' that, and a' that,
His ribband, star, and a' that;
The man of independent mind,
He looks and laughs at a' that.
A prince can make a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, and a' that;
But an honest man's aboon his might,
Guid faith, he maunna fa' that!
For a' that, and a' that;
Their dignities, and a' that;
The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth,
Are higher rank than a' that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a' that,
That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth,
Shall bear the gree, and a' that.
For a' that, and a' that,
It's comin' yet, for a' that,
That man to man, the warld o'er
Shall brothers be for a' that.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Biographical: Robert Burns was born in Ayrshire, Scotland, in 1759. His
life was short and full of poverty and privation; but he saw poetry in all
the commonplace occurrences of every-day life. His sympathy went out to all
human kind and, as the above selection shows, he had a high regard for the
real worth of man.
Notes and Questions.
Does birth or station in life determine the man?
Lines 7, 8. Explain these lines.
Lines 29-40. What do these lines mean?
In the following what is omitted? Man's (27); It's (38); o'er (39).
Why did Burns use the word "coward-slave"?
Does the poet say a man is "king of men" because he is poor?
What makes a man a king among his fellowmen?
Scotch words and their English equivalents: a'--all; wha--who; gowd--gold;
hamely--homely; hodden--gray--coarse gray cloth; gie--give; sae--so;
birkie--clever fellow; ca'd--called; coof--dunce; aboon--above; guid--good;
maunna fa'--must not try; gree--prize.
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"toils obscure"
"pith o' sense"
"guinea stamp"
"ribband"
"star"
"belted knight"
* * * * *
SELECTIONS FROM SHAKESPEARE
1. MERCY
MERCHANT OF VENICE, ACT IV., SCENE I.
The quality of mercy is not strained;
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed;
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes.
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The thronéd monarch better than his crown;
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power,
The attribute to awe and majesty,
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings:
But mercy is above the sceptred sway:
It is enthronéd in the hearts of kings,
It is an attribute of God himself:
And earthly power doth then show likest God's,
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore,
Jew, though justice be thy plea, consider this,--
That, in the course of justice, none of us
Should see salvation; we do pray for mercy;
And that same prayer doth teach us all to render
The deeds of mercy.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Biographical and Historical: William Shakespeare, the greatest of English
poets, indeed one of the greatest of the world's poets, was born in 1564 at
Stratford-on-Avon. As a young man of twenty-two, after his marriage with
Anne Hathaway, he went up to London, where he became connected with
theaters, first, tradition says, by holding horses at the doors. The next
twenty years he spent in London as an actor, and in writing poems and
plays, later becoming a shareholder as well as an actor. The last ten years
of his life were spent at Stratford, where he died at the age of fifty-two.
This was the time of Queen Elizabeth and is known as the Elizabethan Age.
It was the age richest in genius of all kinds, but especially in the
creation of dramatic literature.
In the foregoing selection, Portia, disguised as a lawyer, makes this
famous speech in pleading the cause of Antonio against Shylock.
Notes
"strained"--restrained "shows"--is the emblem of
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"temporal power"
"sceptered sway"
"Earthly power doth then show likest
God's When mercy seasons justice"
* * * * *
2. THE SEVEN AGES OF MAN
AS YOU LIKE IT, ACT II, SCENE 7.
ALL the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms;
Then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the Justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,--
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slippered pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side;
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Notes
"Mewling"--squalling.
"sudden"--impetuous.
"sans"--without.
"his"--its, which was just coming into use at this time.
"formal cut"--trim, near--not shaggy as that of the soldier's,
"wise saws"--wise sayings.
"modern instances"--everyday examples, illustrations.
"strange oaths"--soldiers are proverbially profane--probably satirical
reference to the affectation of foreign oaths by soldiers who have been
abroad.
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
Comparisons:
"creeping like snail"
"sighing like furnace"
"bearded like the pard"
"eyes severe"
"woeful ballad"
"mere oblivion"
"Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth"
* * * * *
3. POLONIUS'S ADVICE
HAMLET, ACT I, SCENE 3.
Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioned thought his act.
Be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar:
The friends thou hast, and their adoption tried,
Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel;
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment
Of each new-hatched, unfledged comrade. Beware
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in,
Bear it, that the opposed may beware of thee.
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice:
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy,
But not expressed in fancy; rich, not gaudy:
For the apparel oft proclaims the man.
Neither a borrower nor a lender be:
For loan oft loses both itself and friend;
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry.
This above all,--to thine own self be true;
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Notes and Questions.
"unproportioned"--not worthy or fitting the occasion.
"familiar"--courteous, friendly.
"vulgar"-unduly familiar.
"their adoption tried"--tested by long acquaintance.
"dull thy palm"--lose discrimination.
"censure"--opinion.
"expressed in fancy"--loud, ostentatious.
"husbandry"--thrift.
Put in your own words:
"Give thy thoughts no tongue,
Nor any unproportioned thought his act."
"Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice."
"The apparel oft proclaims the man."
"Borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry."
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"hoops of steel"
* * * * *
4. MAN
HAMLET, ACT II, SCENE 2.
What a piece of work is man!
How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties!
In form and movement, how express and admirable!
In action, how like an angel! In apprehension, how like a god!
The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals!
HELPS TO STUDY.
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"express"
"paragon"
"infinite"
"apprehension"
* * * * *
5. HAMLET'S SOLILOQUY
HAMLET, ACT III, SCENE 1.
To be or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them. To die; to sleep;
No more; and, by a sleep to say we end
The heartache, and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to. 'Tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep;
To sleep? Perchance to dream! ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiseover'd country, from whose bourn
No traveler returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment,
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Notes
"coil"--turmoil.
"respect"--consideration.
"fardels"--burdens.
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"shuffled off this mortal coil"
"puzzles the will"
"native hue of resolution"
"pale cast of thought"
"great pitch and moment"
* * * * *
6. REPUTATION
OTHELLO, ACT III, SCENE 3.
Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse, steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he, that filches from me my good name,
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.
HELPS TO STUDY.
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"immediate jewel of their souls"
"Who steals my purse steals trash"
* * * * *
7. WOLSEY AND CROMWELL
KING HENRY VIII, ACT III, SCENE 2.
WOLSEY: Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness!
This is the state of man: Today he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope; tomorrow blossoms,
And bears his blushing honors thick upon him;
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost,
And--when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
His greatness is a-ripening--nips his root;
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers, in a sea of glory;
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me.
Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.--
Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear
In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me,
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman.
Let's dry our eyes; and thus far hear me, Cromwell;
And--when I am forgotten, as I shall be,
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention
Of me more must be heard of--say, I taught thee;
Say, Wolsey--that once trod the ways of glory,
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor--
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in;
A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it.
Mark but my fall, and that that ruined me.
Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition:
By that sin fell the angels: how can man, then,
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't?
Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee;
Corruption wins not more than honesty:
Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace,
To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not.
Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's,
Thy God's, and truth's; then, if thou fall'st, O Cromwell,
Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! Serve the king;
And--Prithee, lead me in:
There take an inventory of all I have,
To the last penny; 'tis the king's; my robe,
And my integrity to Heaven, is all
I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies!
HELPS TO STUDY.
Notes
"This many summers"--this nineteen years.
"Like Lucifer"--See Isaiah XIV, 12.
"To play the woman"--to shed tears.
* * * * *
8. CASSIO AND IAGO
OTHELLO. ACT II. SCENE III.
_Iago_. What, are you hurt, lieutenant?
_Cassio_. Ay, past all surgery.
_Iago_. Marry, heaven forbid!
_Cas_. Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my
reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is
bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation!
_Iago_. As I am an honest man, I thought you had received some bodily
wound; there is more sense in that than in reputation. Reputation is an
idle and most false imposition; oft got without merit, and lost without
deserving: you have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself
such a loser. What, man! there are ways to recover the general again: you
are but now cast in his mood, a punishment more in policy than in malice;
even so as one would beat his offenceless dog to affright an imperious
lion: sue to him again, and he's yours.
_Cas_. I will rather sue to be despised than to deceive so good a
commander with so slight, so drunken, and so indiscreet an officer. Drunk?
and speak parrot? and squabble? swagger? swear? and discourse fustian with
one's own shadow? O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to
be known by, let us call thee devil!
_Iago_. What was he that you followed with your sword? What had he
done to you?
_Cas_. I know not.
_Iago_. Is't possible?
_Cas_. I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel,
but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths
to steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance, revel, and
applause, transform ourselves into beasts!
_Iago_. Why, but you are now well enough: how came you thus recovered?
_Cas_. It hath pleased the devil drunkenness to give place to the
devil wrath: one unperfectness shows me another, to make me frankly despise
myself.
_Iago_. Come, you are too severe a moraler: as the time, the place,
and the condition of this country stands, I could heartily wish this had
not befallen; but, since it is as it is, mend it for your own good.
_Cas_. I will ask him for my place again; he shall tell me I am a
drunkard! Had I as many mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop them
all. To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast! O
strange! Every inordinate cup is unblessed and the ingredient is a devil.
_Iago_. Come, come, good wine is a good familiar creature, if it be
well used: exclaim no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I think you
think I love you.
_Cas_. I have well approved it, sir. I drunk!
_Iago_. You or any man living may be drunk at a time, man. I'll tell
you what you shall do. Our general's wife is now the general: I may say so
in this respect, for that he hath devoted and given up himself to the
contemplation, mark, and denotement of her parts and graces: confess
yourself freely to her: importune her help to put you in your place again:
she is of so free, so kind, so apt, so blessed a disposition, she holds it
a vice in her goodness not to do more than she is requested: this broken
joint between you and her husband entreat her to splinter; and my fortunes
against any lay worth naming, this crack of your love shall grow stronger
than it was before.
_Cas_. You advise me well.
_Iago_. I protest in the sincerity of love and honest kindness.
_Cas_. I think it freely; and betimes in the morning I will beseech
the virtuous Desdemona to undertake for me: I am desperate of my fortunes
if they check me here.
_Iago_. You are in the right. Good night, lieutenant; I must to the
watch.
_Cas_. Good night, honest Iago.
HELPS TO STUDY. Notes
"marry"--an exclamation--indeed!
"cast"--dismissed.
"fustian"--empty phrasing,
"pleasance"--merriment.
"moraler"--moralizer
Words and Phrases for Discussion.
"immortal part of myself"
"repute yourself"
"as many mouths as Hydra"
"crack of your love"
"false imposition"
"speak parrot"
"denotement"
"must to the watch"
* * * * *