It might have been a festal scene in some Versailles arcade ; For she was there, the beautiful, the daughter of Mortemart, And her proud eyes flashed the prouder for the roaring of the war, And many a dark-haired rival, who bound her lover's arm With a ribbon, or a ringlet, or a kerchief for a charm, And with an air as dainty, and with a step as light, As they moved among the masquers, they went into the fight. FROM " THE MERCHANTS OF OLD The Land, it boasts its titled hosts,-they could not vie with these, The Merchants of Old England, the Seigneurs of the Seas, In the days of Great Elizabeth, when they sought the Western Main, Maugre and spite the Cæsars' might, and the menaces of Spain. And the richly freighted argosy, and the good galleon went forth, With the bales of Leeds or Lincoln, and the broadcloths of the North; “MERCHANTS OF OLD ENGLAND” ́ ́ 165 And many a veteran mariner would speak 'midst glistening eyes Of the gain of some past voyage, and the hazards of emprize; Or in the long night-watches the wondrous tale was told Of isles of fruit and spices, and fields of waving gold. And the young and buoyant-hearted would oft that tale renew, And dream their dearest dream should be, their wildest hope come true. So with brave hearts and dauntless, they sailed for the Unknown; For each he sought his inmost thought, and a secret of his own. The Land it boasts its titled hosts-they cannot vie with these, The Merchants of Old England, the Seig neurs of the Seas, In the days of Queen Victoria, for they have borne her sway From the far Atlantic islands to the islands of Cathay, And o'er one-sixth of all the earth, and over all the main Like some good Fairy, Freedom marks and blesses her domain. And of the mighty empires that arose, and ruled, and died, Since on the sea, his heritage, the Tyrian looked in pride, Not Carthage, with her Hannibal, not Athens when she bore Her bravest and her best to the Syracusan shore, While the words of Alcibiades yet echoed wide and far, Where are corn-fields, and are olive grounds, the Athenian's limits are." And in each trireme was many a dream of the West and its unknown bliss Of the maidens of Iberia, and the feasts of Sybaris Not in those younger ages, when St. Mark's fair city ran Her race of fame and frailty,—each monarch's courtezan; Not Lusia in her palmier hour, in those commercial days When Vasco sailed for Calicut, and Camöens sang his praise ; Not Spain with all her Indies, the while she seemed to fling Her fetters on the waters, like the Oriental king; Not one among the conquerors that are or ever were, In wealth, or fame, or grandeur with Eng land may compare. A. H. CLOUGH. 1819-1861 EASTER DAY NAPLES, 1849 I Through the great sinful streets of Naples as I passed, With fiercer heat than flamed above my head, My heart was hot within me; till at last My brain was lightened when my tongue had said Christ is not risen! Christ is not risen, no— What though the stone were rolled away, and though The grave found empty there ?— If not there, then elsewhere; If not where Joseph laid him first, why then Where other men Translaid Him after, in some humbler clay. Long ere to-day Corruption that sad perfect work hath done; Which here she scarcely, lightly had begun : The foul engendered worm Feeds on the flesh of the life-giving form Of our most Holy and Anointed One. He is not risen, no He lies and moulders low; What if the women, ere the dawn was grey, Saw one or more great angels, as they say (Angels, or Him Himself)? Yet neither there, nor then, Nor afterwards, nor elsewhere, nor at all, Save in an after Gospel and late Creed, Christ is not risen ! Or, what if e'en, as runs a tale, the Ten Saw, heard, and touched, again and yet again ? What if at Emmaüs' inn, and by Capernaum's Lake, Came One, the bread that brake-Came One that spake as never mortal spake, And with them ate, and drank, and stood, and walked about? " doubt ! Ah! "some" did well to Ah! the true Christ, while these things camne to pass, Nor heard, nor spake, nor walked, nor lived, alas! He was not risen, no He lay and mouldered low; Christ was not risen! 1 |