English

The fairest pearls that Northern seas do breed,
For precious stones from Eastern coasts are sold;
Nought yields the earth that from exchange is freed,
Gold values all, and all things value gold:
Where goodness wants an equal change to make,
There greatness serves, or number place doth take.

No mortal thing can bear so high a price,
But that with mortal thing it may be bought;
The corn of Sicil buys the Western spice;
French wine of us, of them our cloth is sought:
No pearls, no gold, no stones, no corn, no spice,

Blow ye the trumpet, blow! —
The gladly solemn sound!
Let all the nations know,
To earth's remotest bound:
The year of Jubilee is come;
Return, ye ransom'd sinners! home.

Extol the Lamb of God,
Who takes away our shame;
Redemption in his blood
Throughout the world proclaim:
The year of Jubilee is come;
Return, ye ransom'd sinners! home.

Ye, who have sold for nought
Your heritage above!
Shall have it back unbought,
The gift of Jesus' love:
The year of jubilee is come;

Ah! what an azure day!
Beneath the granite gray
The sulky ferox lay
And waved a fin;
Above his surly head
The amber river sped,
Shrunk in its summer bed,
Limpid and thin.

We heard the eddies lisp;
Deep in the heather crisp
We lay to watch Canisp
And Suilven blue;
Between their crags, behold,
A sheet of polished gold,
Where Fewn drew fold by fold
Her waters through.

" Hopeless the gray fly's wiles!
Our dusky ferox smiles;
We have trudged for miles and miles

Ye who in bondage pine,
Shut out from light divine,
Bereft of hope!
Whose limbs are worn with chains,
Whose tears bedew our plains,
Whose blood our glory stains,
In gloom who grope!

Shout! for the hour draws nigh,
That gives you liberty;
And, from the dust,—
So long your vile embrace,—
Uprising, take your place
Among earth's noblest race,
'Tis right and just.

The night—the long dark night
Of infamy and slight,
Shame and disgrace,
Of slavery—worse than e'er

Fain would I learn of thee, thou murd'ring eye,
Whether thy glance be fire, or else a dart:
For with thy look in flames thou mak'st me fry,
And with the same thou strik'st me to the heart:
Pierced with thy looks I burn in fire,
And yet those looks I still desire.

The fly, that buzzeth round about the flame,
Knows not, poor soul, she gets her death thereby;
I see my death, and seeing, seek the same,
And seeking, find, and finding, choose to die,
That when thy looks my life have slain,
Thy looks may give me life again.

I too was in Arcadia born,
And Nature, watching o'er my bed,
To grant me happiness had sworn;
Yes, I was in Arcadia born,
Yet tears throughout my youth were shed.

Youth blossoms once, but never more;
And mine has ripened to decay.
The silent God (whose aid implore)
My lamp of life has shrouded o'er,
And my illusion melts away.

Upon thy dismal border line,
Dreaded Eternity, I stand;
Thy fair credentials I resign
Inviolate; behold them thine;
No happiness can I command.

It comes, it comes — the haughty Southern fleet,
(The very ocean 'neath its weight complains)
Bearing a brand-new God, who has his seat
'Mid thousand thunders and the clank of chains.
Of frowning citadels a floating host,
(Its equal never stemmed the ocean's tides)
Invincible men call it, as it glides
Over the frighted waters toward the coast.
Terror gives meaning to the boastful name,
Terror its mien and attitude proclaim.
Onward in slow and stately guise it pressed,
(And Neptune staggering his burden bore)

Let Mammon hold, while Mammon can,
The bones and blood of living man;
Let despots scorn, while despots dare,
The shrieks and writhings of despair; —

The end will come , it will not wait,
Bonds, yokes, and scourges have their date;
Slavery itself must pass away,
And be a tale of yesterday.

A JEWEL, BEING A SUN SHINING UPON THE MARIGOLD CLOSED IN A HEART OF GOLD, SENT TO HIS MISTRESS, NAMED MARY

The sun doth make the marigold to flourish,
The sun's departure mades it droop again;
So golden Mary's sight my joys do nourish,
But by her absence all my joys are slain.
The sun the marigold makes live and die,
By her the sun shines brighter, so may I.
Her smiles do glad the sun, and light the air,
Revive my heart, and clear the cloudy sky;
Her frowns the air make dark, the sun to lower,

Why check youth's ardour with thy dull advice,
And teach that love is labour thrown away?
Thou shiverst there amid the Winter's ice
And speakst, contemptuous, of Golden May.

Time was when thou didst storm the maidens' charms,—
A hero of the waltzing crowd, forsooth—
Carried a heaven-born burden in thine arms,
And sippedst nectar from the lips of youth.

If at that moment this terrestrial ball
From its accustomed axis had been thrown,
'Tis likely thou wouldst ne'er have heard it fall,