The horseman-captain
His heralds hither
Each day, unfailing?
Yet hath he horses,
He writes well.
He waiteth Tali,
And Neski knows he
To write with beauty
On silken tablets.
I’d deem him present,
Had I his words.
The sick One will not,
Will not recover
From her sweet sorrow;
She, when she heareth
That her true lover
Grows well, falls sick.
And gave him just my usual fare;He ate his fill of what was there,And for desert my best things swallow’d,Soon as his meal was o’er, what follow’d?Led by the Deuce, to a neighbour he went,And talk’d of my food to his heart’s content:‘The soup might surely have had more spice,The meat was ill-brown’d, and the…
The fruits are they of holy Christmas tide,But baked indeed, for children’s use design’d.I’d fain, in speeches sweet with skill combin’d,Poetic sweetmeats for the feast provide;But why in such frivolities confide?Perish the thought, with flattery to blind!One sweet thing there is still, that from within,Within us speaks,–that may be felt afar;This may be wafted o’er…
And if a master thou wouldst be,The world will view it angrily;And if in status quo thou stay,That thou art but a fool, they’ll say.
And pray don’t entertain the thoughtThat from the dead I e’er learnt aught.’This, if I rightly understand,Means: ‘I’m a blockhead at first hand.’
North and south alike, each landRests within His gentle hand.—–HE, the only righteous one,Wills that right to each be done.‘Mongst His hundred titles, then,Highest praised be this!–Amen.—–ERROR seeketh to deceive me,Thou art able to retrieve me;Both in action and in songKeep my course from going wrong.
