THE TWO ARMIES. 7. Ring out old shapes of foul disease, Ring out the narrowing lust of gold; The larger heart, the kindlier hand; ALFRED TENNYSON. 1. AS 187. THE TWO ARMIES. S Life's unending column pours, 2. One marches to the drum-beat's roll, 3. One moves in silence by the stream, 4. Along its front no sabers shine, 5. For those no death-bed's lingering shade; With knitted brows and lifted blade, 6. For these no clashing falchions bright, 1 Clarion (klår' e on), a kind of trumpet, of a shrill, clear tone. 2 Falchion (fal' chun), a short, crooked sword. 427 The bloodless stabber calls by night— 7. For those the sculptor's marble bust, The anthems pealing o'er their dust 8. For these the blossom-sprinkled turf, When Spring rolls in her sea-green surf, 9. Two paths lead upward from below, Who count each burning life-drop's flow, 10. Though from the Hero's bleeding breast 11. While Valor's haughty champions wait Love walks unchallenged through the gate, DEATH OF THE OLD YEAR. He hath no other life above. He gave me a friend and a true, true love, So long as you have been with us, 3. He frothed his bumpers to the brim; Old year, you shall not die; We did so laugh and cry with you, 4. He was full of joke and jest; Every one for his own. The night is starry and cold, my friends, And the new year, blithe and bold, my friends, 5. How hard he breathes! o'er the snow I heard just now the crowing cock. The shadows flitter to and fro: The cricket chirps-the light burns low'Tis nearly twelve o'clock. Shake hands before you die! Old year, we'll dearly rue for you. 6. His face is growing sharp and thin;- 429 Close up his eyes-tie up his chin- And waiteth at the door. There's a new foot on the floor, my friends, And a new face at the door, my friends, The new year's at the door. ALFRED TENNYSON 1. 189. THE CLOSING SCENE. WITHIN this sober realm of leafless trees, The russet' year inhaled the dreamy air, When all the fields are lying brown and bare. On the dull thunder of alternate' flails. 3. All sights were mellow'd and all sounds subdued, 4. The embattled forests, erewhile arm'd in gold, 5. On slumberous wings the vulture tried his flight; The village church-vane seem'd to pale and faint. 6. The sentinel cock upon the hill-side crewCrew thrice, and all was stiller than before 1 Růs' set, of a reddish-brown color.-2 Al tårn' ate, by turns; one After another. THE CLOSING SCENE. Silent till some replying wanderer blew His alien' horn, and then was heard no more. 7. Where erst the jay within the elm's tall crest, Made garrulous trouble round the unfledged young; By every light wind like a censer swung : 8. Where sang the noisy masons of the eaves, The busy swallows circling ever near, Foreboding, as the rustic mind believes, An early harvest and a plenteous year, 9. Where every bird which charm'd the vernal feast Shook the sweet slumber from its wings at morn, To warn the reapers of the rosy east,— All now was songless, empty, and forlorn. 10. Alone, from out the stubble piped the quail, 431 And croak'd the crow through all the dreamy gloom, 11. There was no bud, no bloom upon the bowers; 12. Amid all this, in this most cheerless air, And where the woodbine sheds upon the porch 13. Amid all this, the center of the scene, The white-hair'd matron, with monotonous tread, 1 Alien (ål' yen), foreign; distant; belonging to another country.—Går' ru loůs, talkative; prating continually. Drům' ming, the pheas ant is a bird similar to the partridge; and the latter bird, at certain seasons of the year, makes a drumming noise, which is heard at a great distance. In poetry, the partridge is frequently called a pheasant.-In vêrt' ed, turned upside down. |