English

Did Chaos form,—and water, air, and fire,
Rocks, trees, the worm, work toward Humanity,—
That Man at last, beneath the churchyard spire,
Might be once more the worm, the rock, the tree?

A is for [Acland], who'd physic the Masses,
B is for [Brodie], who swears by the gases.
C is for [Conington], constant to Horace.
D is for [Donkin], who integrates for us.
E is for [Evans], with rifle well steadied.
F is for [Freeman], Examiner dreaded!
G's [Goldwin Smith], by the “Saturday” quoted,
H is for [Heurtley], to “Margaret” devoted.
I am the Author, a rhymer erratic—
J is for [Jowett], who lectures in Attic:
K is for [Kitchen], than attic much warmer.
L is for [Liddell], relentless reformer!

Shrieks out of smoke, a flame of dung-straw fire
That is not quenched but hath for only fruit
What writhes and dies not in its rotten root:
Two things made flesh, the visible desire
To match in filth the skunk, the ape in ire,
Mouthing before the mirrors with wild foot
Beyond all feebler footprint of pursuit,
The perfect twanger of the Chinese lyre!
A heart with generous virtues run to seed
In vices making all a jumbled creed:
A soul that knows not love nor trust nor shame,
But cuts itself with knives to bawl and bleed—

Give me, maids, deep draughts of wine
For exhausted with the heat
I am gasping; of flowers sweet
Round my temples fresh wreaths twine.

For the garlands I wear now.
Scorched are by my burning brow.
But Love's fires, O heart, in you
How, ye gods, can I subdue?

——Prithee, say aye or no;
If thou 'lt not have me, tell me so;
———I cannot stay,
——Nor will I wait upon
———A smile or frown.
——If thou wilt have me, say;
Then I am thine, or else I am mine own.

——Be white or black; I hate
Dependence on a checkered fate;
———Let go, or hold;
——Come, either kiss or not:
———Now to be hot,
——And then again as cold,
Is a fantastic fever you have got.

——A tedious woo is base,
And worse by far than a long grace:
———For whilst we stay,

O Sat Guru, make keen my understanding.
When I would dwell at home, I am not suffered there: those of my own house cast me forth.
If I go forth, that witch fastens upon me: she hears and at once would slay my soul.
Make it so keen O my Master, that wherever I strike, it may spear through and through.
On Dharm Das show mercy, O Lord Kabir, Destroyer of all ills.

There is castle by the Eastern Sea
Where once a mirage used to play.
Japanese soldiers came,
Torches were burnt in the forest.

When knights visited this mountain,
The moon marked its westerly course,
And a star was about to sweep a path,
Someone said, “Look, there is a comet!”

Ah, the moon has already departed.
Now, where shall we look for the long-tailed star?

Once on a glorious and resplendent eve,
Through copse and underwood my path I broke;
The shining sun was on the point to leave,
And flash'd through thickets of the pine and oak;
'Twas sweet to see those vari-colour'd rays
Come pouring through the coverts silently;
Through little fluttering loop-holes, set ablaze,
Or blinkt, at will, by shifting of an eye;
That evening's charms were rich and manifold,
Beyond the reach of my best utterance;
'Twas some kind Providence, no common chance,
Which made mine eyes wink at those wells of gold

Sure , hapless Fair, no hearts can ever know,
But banish'd lovers, banish'd lovers' woe!
Ah! Eloiza, ever exil'd maid,
I read thy sorrows, sorrowing as I read:
My sympathetic heart now shares thy grief,
Repeats thy sighs, and wishes thy relief:
But when I hear thee unrelenting boast
Thy tainted virtue, and thy honour lost,
All sense of pity in my bosom dies,
And direful tumults of reproaches rise:
No passions soft, or sadly-pleasing pain,
But rage and madness in thy bosom reign;
Ah! must thy Abelard exalted be,

Ye shepherds of this pleasant vale
Where Yarrow streams along,
Forsake your rural toils, and join
In my triumphant song.
She grants, she yields; one heavenly smile
A tones her long delays,
One happy minute crowns the pains
Of many suffering days.

Raise, raise the victor-notes of joy,
These suffering days are o'er,
Love satiates now his boundless wish
From beauty's boundless store;
No doubtful hopes, no anxious fears
This rising calm destroy,
Now every prospect smiles around
All opening into joy.