And scattering them in fragments underfoot.
o crisp were some, they rattled unevolved,
Others, ere broken off, fell into shells,
for such appear the petals when detached,
Inbending, brittle, lucid, white like snow,
ind like snow not seen thro', by eye or sun:
'et every one her gown received from me
Vas fairer than the first. I thought not so,
ut so she praised them to reward my care.
said, “You find the largest."

“This indeed,"
Cried she, “is large and sweet.” She held one forth,
Vhether for me to look at or to take
he knew not, nor did I; but taking it
Tould best have solved (and this she felt) her doubt.
dared not touch it; for it seemed a part
f her own self; fresh, full, the most mature
'f blossoms, yet a blossom; with a touch
o fall, and yet unfallen. She drew back
he boon she tendered, and then, finding not
he ribbon at her waist to fix it in,
ropped it, as loath to drop it, on the rest.

Walter Savage Landor

The translation is by George Wyndham, and is reprinted with the mission of Macmillan & Co., Ltd.

I give these violets,
These lilies and flow'rets,
And these roses to you,
Roses to wonder on,
Being so newly blown,
And these carnations too.

With breathing sweet and soft,
Blow hither o'er the croft,
Blow hither o'er the lay:
The
weary

while I strain
At winnowing my grain
· Through the white heat of day.

Joachim du Bellay
A MODERN GEORGIC

224

THE STEAM THRESHING-MACHINE

WITH THE STRAW CARRIER

FLUS

LUSH with the pond the lurid furnace burned

At eve, while smoke and vapor filled the yard;
The gloomy winter sky was dimly starred,
The fly-wheel with a mellow murmur turned;
While, ever rising on its mystic stair
In the dim light, from secret chambers borne,
The straw of harvest, severed from the corn,
Climbed, and fell over, in the murky air.
I thought of mind and matter, will and law,
And then of him, who set his stately seal
Of Roman words on all the forms he saw
Of old-world husbandry: I could but feel
With what a rich precision he would draw
The endless ladder, and the booming wheel!

Charles Tennyson-Turner Croft: field

Lay: lea, meadow

225

W ,

HEN icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail;
When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-whit!
Tu-who! A merry note!
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all about the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl--
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-whit!
Tu-who! A merry note!

A
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

William Shakespeare

226

THE GRASSHOPPER 1

HAPPY

APPY insect, what can be

In happiness compared to thee?
Fed with nourishment divine,
The dewy morning's gentle wine!
Nature waits upon thee still,
And thy verdant cup does fill;

'Tis filled wherever thou dost tread,
Nature's self's thy Ganymede.
Thou dost drink and dance and sing,
Happier than the happiest king!
All the fields which thou dost see,
All the plants belong to thee;
All the summer hours produce,
Fertile made with carly juice.
Man for thee does sow and plow,
Farmer he, and landlord thou!
Thou dost innocently enjoy,
Nor does thy luxury destroy.
The shepherd gladly heareth thee,
More harmonious than he.
Thee country hinds with gladness hear,
Prophet of the ripened year!
Thee Phoebus loves, and does inspire;
Phæbus is himself thy sire.
To thee, of all things upon earth,
Life is no longer than thy mirth.
Happy insect, happy thou,
Dost neither age nor winter know;
But when thou'st drunk and danced and sung
Thy fill, the flowery leaves among
(Voluptuous and wise withal,
Epicurean animal!),
Sated with thy summer feast,
Thou retir'st to endless rest.

Anacreon

227

ON A FAVORITE CAT, DROWNED IN A

TUB OF GOLDFISHES

'TW

WAS on a lofty vase's side,

Where China's gayest art had dyed
The azure flowers that blow,
Demurest of the tabby kind,
The pensive Selima, reclined,

Gazed on the lake below.

Her conscious tail her joy declared:
The fair round face, the snowy beard,

The velvet of her paws,
Her coat that with the tortoise vies,
Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes,

She saw; and purred applause.

Still had she gazed, but ’midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide,

The Genii of the stream:
Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue
Through richest purple to the view

Betrayed a golden gleam.

The hapless Nymph with wonder saw:
A whisker first, and then a claw

With many an ardent wish
She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize-
What female heart can gold despise?

What Cat's averse to Fish?

Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again she stretched, again she bent,