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ROUD word you never spoke, but you will speak
Over my open volume, you will say,
Walter Savage Landor
RONSARD TO HIS MISTRESS
(IMITATED FROM THE FRENCH)
OME winter night, shut snugly in
Beside the faggot in the hall,
Surrounded by your maidens all.
Old days come back to memory;
A poet sang of me!”.
“Our lady's old and feeble now,"
They'll say: “she once was fresh and fair,
And heartless left him to despair:
The lover lies in silent earth,
No kindly mate the lady cheers;
With threescore and ten years!”
Ah! dreary thoughts and dreams are those,
But wherefore yield me to despair,
While yet the dame is peerless fair!
Requite my passion and my truth,
William Make peace Thackeray
ODE TO CASSANDRA1
EE, Lady, how the selfsame rose,
Which in the morning did disclose
Alas! see how each fitting hour,
1 Translated by William F. Giese.
Nay, heed, oh heed me, Lady mine,
O, lovely rose!
Tell her that wastes her time and
Tell her that's young,
Small is the worth
Then die! that she
My lady comes at last,
And hastening hither,
May Heaven go with her!
Kneel undisturbed, fair Saint!
Meekly and duly;
With thoughts unruly.
But suffer me to pace
Lingering a minute,
William Makepeace Thackeray
ELEN, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicéan barks of yore,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
To the glory that was Greece,
Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Edgar Allan Poe
WEET stream, that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid, -