But lift the proud mantle which hides from thy view The things thou shouldst gaze on, the sad and true ; Nor fear to survey what its folds conceal,— So must thy spirit be taught to feel! F. Hemans. CX. A CONTRAST. HY love thou sentest oft to me, And still as oft I thrust it back; Pride held his hand before mine eyes, Nor dreamed thy love would knock for years, Yet, when I sent my love to thee, Thou with a smile didst take it in, And entertain❜dst it royally, Though grimed with earth, with hunger thin, Now every day thy love I meet, As o'er the earth it wanders wide, J. R. Lowell. CXI. TO A MOUSE. ON TURNING HER UP IN HER NEST WITH THE PLOUGH. ZEE,1 sleekit, cow'rin',3 timorous beastie,* Wi' bickerin' brattle ! 5 I wad be laith to rin7 an' chase thee, Wi' murderin' pattle.8 I'm truly sorry man's dominion Has broken Nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An' fellow-mortal. live! I doubt na, whiles' but thou may thieve; 'S a sma'13 I'll get a blessing wi' the lave,14 1 Little. request: And never miss't. Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin! Its silly wa's the win's are strewin'! 15 2 Sleek. Diminutives of 'beast' and 'breast.' 5 With scudding fury. 7 Run. 9 Sometimes. 12 A double shock. 3 Cowering. 6 Would (should) be loth. 8 With murderous ploughstaff. 11 An occasional ear of corn. 14 Remainder. 10 Must. 13 Is a small. 15 Its weak walls the winds are strewing. An' naething, now, to big a new ane,1 O' foggage2 green! An' bleak December's win's ensuin', Baith snell3 and keen! Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste, An' cozie1 here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, Till, crash! the cruel coulter past Out thro' thy cell. 5 That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble, To thole the winter's sleety dribble, An cranreuch cauld !9 But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane 10 An' leave us nought but grief and pain, Still thou art blest, compared wi' me! 12 But, och! I backward cast my ee,12 An' forward, tho' I canna see, I guess an' fear. CXII. ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. BOU Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase) And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, The angel wrote and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. Leigh Hunt. CXIII. BERNARDO AND ALPHONSO. ITH some good ten of his chosen men, Bernardo Before them all in the Palace hall, the lying * The king Alonzo, or Alphonso, of Spain, had promised to Bernardo his father's liberation, but the son received only his father's corpse, which had been arrayed in armour and set on horseback. With cap in hand and eye on ground, he came in reverend guise, But ever and anon he frowned and flame broke from his eyes. 'A curse upon thee,' cries the King, 'who com'st unbid to me; But what from traitor's blood should spring, save traitors like to thee? His sire, Lords, had a traitor's heart; perchance our Champion brave May think it were a pious part to share Don Sancho's grave.' 'Whoever told this tale the King hath rashness to repeat,' Cries Bernard, 'Here my gage I fling before THE LIAR'S feet! No treason was in Sancho's blood, no stain in mine doth lie Below the throne what knight will own the coward calumny? The blood that I like water shed, when Roland* did advance, By secret traitors hired and led, to make us slaves of France ; The life of King Alphonso I saved at Roncesval,— Your words, Lord King, are recompense abundant for it all. 'Your horse was down-your hope was flown-I saw the faulchion shine, That soon had drank your royal blood, had I not ventured mine; * The tradition is, that Roland, or Orlando, the celebrated peer of Charlemagne, fell by the hand of Bernardo in the battle of Roncesvalles. |