Now these four things, if thou
Consider, are so bad that none are worse.
First, — among counsellors
To thrust thyself, when not called absolutely.

And in the other three
Many offend by their own evil wit.
When men in council sit,
One talks because he loves not to be still;

And one to have his will;
And one for nothing else but only show.
These rules were well to know,
First for the first, for the others afterward.

Where many are repair'd
And met together, never go with them
Unless thou'rt called by name.

There is a vice which oft
I've heard men praise; and divers forms it has;
And it is this. Whereas
Some, by their wisdom, lordship, or repute,

When tumults are afoot,
Might stifle them, or at the least allay,—
These certain ones will say,
‘The wise man bids thee fly the noise of men.’

One says, ‘Wouldst thou maintain
Worship,—avoid where thou mayst not avail;
And do not breed worse ail
By adding one more voice to strife begun.’

Another, with this one,
Avers, ‘I could but bear a small expense,

I.

Eastrich! Thou featherd Foole, and easie prey,
 That larger sailes to thy broad Vessell needst;
Snakes through thy guttur-neck hisse all the day,
 Then on thy I'ron Messe at supper feedst.

II.

Oh what a glorious transmigration
 From this, to so divine an edifice
Hast thou straight made! neere from a winged stone
 Transform'd into a Bird of Paradice!

III.

Pass and let pass, — this counsel I would give, —
And wrap thy cloak what way the wind may blow;
Who cannot raise himself were wise to know
How best, by dint of stooping, he may thrive.
Take for ensample this: when the winds drive
Against it, how the sapling tree bends low,
And, once being prone, abideth even so
Till the hard harsh wind cease to rend and rive.
Wherefore, when thou behold'st thyself abased,
Be blind, deaf, dumb; yet therewith none the less
Note thou in peace what thou shalt hear and see,

If any one had anything to say
To the Lord Ugolino, because he 's
Not staunch, and never minds his promises,
'Twere hardly courteous, for it is his way.
Courteous it were to say such sayings nay:
As thus: He 's true, sir, only takes his ease
And don't care merely if it plague or please,
And has good thoughts, no doubt, if they would stay.
Now I know he 's so loyal every whit
And altogether worth such a good word
As worst would best and best would worst befit.
He'd love his party with a dear accord

Escorted by two policemen, little doubting
they guard and quiet a ferocious monster,
I arrive, saluted by heart-rending
cries and clutched by epileptic arms.

I halt trembling and speechless on the threshold.
A long thick taper reveals and aggravates
with faint gleam the horrible retreat.
The flame flickers in the draught, slant and yellow. . . .
From the wick it strives to wrench itself
and flee the misery that it slavish lights!

On the wretched and funereal bed,
in a black garment alien of aspect,

MASTER B ERTUCCIO , you are called to account
That you guard Fazio's life from poison ill:
And every man in Florence tells me still
He has no horse that he can safely mount.
A mighty war-horse worth a thousand pound
Stands in Cremona stabled at his will;
Which for his honoured person should fulfil
Its use. Nay, sir, I pray you be not found
So poor a steward. For all fame of yours
Is cared for best, believe me, when I say: —
Our Florence gives Bertuccio charge of one
Who rides her own proud spirit like a horse;

Erewhile , before the world was old,
When violets grew and celandine,
In Cupid's train we were enrolled:
Erewhile!
Your little hands were clasped in mine,
Your head all ruddy and sun-gold
Lay on my breast which was your shrine,
And all the tale of love was told:
Ah, God, that sweet things should decline,
And fires fade out which were not cold,

Though tangled and twisted the course of true love,
 This ditty explains,
No tangle's so tangled it cannot improve
 If the Lover has brains.

Ere the steamer bore him Eastward, Sleary was engaged to marry
An attractive girl at Tunbridge, whom he called “my little Carrie.”
Sleary's pay was very modest; Sleary was the other way.
Who can cook a two-plate dinner on eight poor rupees a day?

Long he pondered o'er the question in his scantly furnished quarters—
Then proposed to Minnie Boffkin, eldest of Judge Boffkin's daughters.

Ere the long roll of the ages end
—And the days of time are done,
The Lord shall unto Erin send
—His own appointed One,
Whose soul must wait the hour of Fate,
—His name be known to none;
But his feet shall stand on the Irish land
—In the rising of the sun.

In darkness of our captive night,
—Whilst storms the watch-tower shake,
Some shall not sleep, but vigil keep
—Until the morning break;
Until through clouds of threatening hate,
—The seas of sorrow o'er,
The first red beam of the sun-burst gleam
—Illumines Erin's shore.