One, he carries a flag up straight, and another a cross with

handles,

And the Duke's guard brings up the rear, for the better prevention

of scandals:

Bang-whang-whang goes the drum, tootle-te-tootle the fife. Oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life! (1855.)

MAY AND DEATH.

I.

I wish that when you died last May,
Charles, there had died along with you
Three parts of spring's delightful things;
Ay, and, for me, the fourth part too.

H.

A foolish thought. and worse, perhaps!
There must be many a pair of friends
Who, arm in arm, deserve the warm
Moon-births and the long evening-ends.

So, for their sake, be May still May!
Let their new time, as mine of old,

Do all it did for me: I bid

Sweet sights and songs throng manifold.

IV.

Only, one little sight, one plant,

Woods have in May, that starts up green
Save a sole streak which, so to speak,

Is spring's blood, spilt its leaves between,-

V.

That, they might spare; a certain wood

Might miss the plant; their loss were small :

But I,-whene'er the leaf grows there,

Its drop comes from my heart, that's all.

(1857.)

PROSPICE.

Fear death?--to feel the fog in my throat,

The mist in my face,

When the snows begin, and the blasts denote
I am nearing the place,

The power of the night, the press of the storm,

The post of the foe;

Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form,
Yet the strong man must go:

For the journey is done and the summit attained,
And the barriers fall,

Though a battle's to fight ere the guerdon be gained,
The reward of it all.

I was ever a fighter, so-one fight more,

The best and the last!

I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forbore, And bade me creep past.

No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers

The heroes of old,

Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears

Of pain, darkness and cold.

For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave,
The black minute's at end,

And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave,

Shall dwindle, shall blend,

Shall change, shall become first a peace out of pain,
Then a light, then thy breast,

O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,

And with God be the rest!

(1861.)

RABBI BEN EZRA.

I.

Grow old along with me!

The best is yet to be,

The last of life, for which the first was made:

Our times are in His hand

Who saith 'A whole I planned,

Youth shows but half; trust God: see all nor be afraid!'

II.

Not that, amassing flowers,

Youth sighed 'Which rose make ours

Which lily leave and then as best recall ?'

Not that, admiring stars,

It yearned 'Nor Jove, nor Mars;

Mine be some figured flame which blends, transcends them all!'

III.

Not for such hopes and fears
Annulling youth's brief years,

Do I remonstrate: folly wide the mark!

Rather I prize the doubt

Low kinds exist without,

Finished and finite clods, untroubled by a spark.

IV.

Poor vaunt of life indeed,

Were man but formed to feed

On joy, to solely seek and find and feast:

Such feasting ended, then

As sure an end to men;

Irks care the crop-full bird? Frets doubt the maw-crammed beast?

Rejoice we are allied

V.

To That which doth provide

And not partake, effect and not receive!

A spark disturbs our clod;

Nearer we hold of God

Who gives, than of His tribes that take, I must believe.

VI.

Then, welcome each rebuff

That turns earth's smoothness rough,

Each sting that bids nor sit nor stand but go!
Be our joys three-parts pain!

Strive, and hold cheap the strain;

Learn, nor account the pang; dare, never grudge the throe!

VII.

For thence, a paradox

Which comforts while it mocks,-

Shall life succeed in that it seems to fail:

What I aspired to be,

And was not, comforts me:

A brute I might have been, but would not sink i' the scale.

VIII.

What is he but a brute

Whose flesh has soul to suit,

Whose spirit works lest arms and legs want play?

To man, propose this test

Thy body at its best,

How far can that project thy soul on its lone way?

IX.

Yet gifts should prove their use:

I own the Past profuse

Of power each side, perfection every turn:

Eyes, ears took in their dole,

Brain treasured up the whole;

Should not the heart beat once 'How good to live and learn?'

X.

Not once beat 'Praise be Thine!

I see the whole design,

I, who saw power, see now love perfect too:

Perfect I call Thy plan:

Thanks that I was a man!

Maker, remake, complete,-I trust what Thou shalt do!'

XI.

For pleasant is this flesh;

Our soul, in its rose-mesh

Pulled ever to the earth, still yearns for rest :
Would we some prize might hold

To match those manifold

Possessions of the brute,-gain most, as we did best!

XII.

Let us not always say

'Spite of this flesh to-day

I strove, made head, gained ground upon the whole !'
As the bird wings and sings,

Let us cry ‘All good things

Are ours, nor soul helps flesh more, now, than flesh helps

soul !'

XIII.

Therefore I summon age

To grant youth's heritage,

Life's struggle having so far reached its term:

Thence shall I pass, approved

A man, for aye removed

From the developed brute; a god though in the germ.

XIV.

And I shall thereupon

Take rest, ere I be gone

Once more on my adventure brave and new:

Fearless and unperplexed,

When I wage battle next,

What weapons to select, what armour to indue.

XV.

Youth ended, I shall try

My gain or loss thereby :

Leave the fire ashes, what survives is gold:

And I shall weigh the same,

Give life its praise or blame :

Young, all lay in dispute; I shall know, being old.