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304 THE PRIOREss's TALE.

“My throat is cut unto my neckè bone,”
Saidê this childe, “and as by way of kind'
I should have died, yea longè time agone ;
But Jesu Christ, as ye in bookès find,
Will that his glory last and be in mind,
And for the worship of his mother dear,
Yet may I sing O Alma loud and clear.

“This well” of mercy, Christès mother sweet,
I lovèd alway, as after my conning”;
And when that I my life would forlete 4
To me she came, and bade me for to sing
This anthem verily in my dying, -
As ye have heard; and when that I had sung,
Me thought she laid a grain upon my tongue.

“Wherefore I sing, and sing I must certain,
In honour of that blissful maiden free,
Till from my tongue off taken is the grain.
And after that thus saidè she to me :
‘My little child, then will I fetchen thee,
When that the grain is from thy tongue ytake:
Be not aghast, I will thee not forsake.’”

This holy monk, this abbot him mean I,
His tongue out caught, and took away the grain,
And he gave up the ghost full softily.
And when this abbot had this wonder see
His salté tearès trill'd adown as rain,
And groff he fell all plat upon the ground,”
And still he lay as he had been ybound.

! In the course of nature. Spring. 3 Ability. * Forsake. * Flat on the groung.

The convent lay eke on the pavément
Weeping and herying Christès mother dear,
And after that they risen, and forth been went,
And took away this martyr from his bier,
And in a tomb of marble stoněs clear
Enclosen they his little body sweet:
There he is now God lene * us for to meet.

CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WARRIOR. -
Wordsworth.

Who is the happy warrior 2 Who is he
That every man in arms should wish to be 2–
It is the generous spirit, who, when brought
Among the tasks of real life, hath wrought
Upon the plan that pleased his childish thought:
Whose high endeavours are an inward light
That makes the path before him always bright:
Who, with a natural instinct to discern
What knowledge can perform, is diligent to learn,
Abides by this resolve, and stops not there,
But makes his moral being his prime care:
Who, doomed to go in company with Pain,
And Fear, and Bloodshed, miserable train
Turns his necessity to glorious gain;
In face of these doth exercise a power
Which is our human nature’s highest dower;
Controls them and subdues, transmutes, bereaves
Of their bad influence, and their good receives:
By objects which might force the soul to abate
Her feeling, rendered more compassionate;

* Praising. 2 Grant.

306 CHARACTER OF THE HAPPY WAR I. IGR.

Is placable, – because occasions rise So often that demand such sacrifice; More skilful in self-knowledge, even more pure, As tempted more ; more able to endure, As more exposed to suffering and distress; Thence, also, more alive to tenderness. – 'T is he whose law is reason; who depends Upon that law as on the best of friends; Whence, in a state where men are tempted still To evil for a guard against worse ill, And what in quality or act is best Doth seldom on a right foundation rest, He labors good on good to fix, and owes To virtue every triumph that he knows: Who, if he rise to station of command, Rises by open means; and there will stand On honorable terms, or else retire, And in himself possess his own desire: Who comprehends his trust, and to the same Keeps faithful with a singleness of aim ; And therefore does not stoop, nor lie in wait For wealth, or honors, or for worldly state ; Whom they must follow ; on whose head must fall, Like showers of manna, if they come at all: Whose powers shed round him in the common strife, Or mild concerns of ordinary life, A constant influence, a peculiar grace ; But who, if he be called upon to face Some awful moment to which Heaven has joined Great issues, good or bad for human kind, Is happy as a lover, and attired With sudden brightness, like a man inspired; And, through the heat of conflict, keeps the law In calmness made, and sees what he foresaw ; Or, if an unexpected call succeed, Come when it will, is equal to the need :

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He who, though thus endued, as with a sense
And faculty for storm and turbulence,
Is yet a soul whose master-bias leans
To homefelt pleasures and to gentle scenes ;
Sweet images 1 which, wheresoe'er he be,
Are at his heart; and such fidelity
It is his darling passion to approve;
More brave for this, that he hath much to love :
'T is, finally, the man, who, lifted high,
Conspicuous object in a nation's eye,
Or left unthought of in obscurity, -
Who, with a toward or untoward lot,
Prosperous or adverse, to his wish or not, —
Plays, in the many games of life, that one
Where what he most doth value must be won :
Whom neither shape of danger can dismay,
Nor thought of tender happiness betray:
Who, not content that former worth stand fast,
Looks forward, persevering to the last,
From well to better, daily self-surpassed :
Who, whether praise of him must walk the earth
For ever, and to noble deeds give birth,
Or he must fall and sleep without his fame,
And leave a dead, unprofitable name, –
Finds comfort in himself and in his cause ;
And, while the mortal mist is gathering, draws
His breath in confidence of Heaven's applause: –
This is the happy warrior; this is he
Whom every man in arms should wish to be.

—4COMPENSATION. — Trench. WotjLDST thou from each man's coronal select

The choicest leaves with which his brows are decked ; - WV

30S SONNET.

That, all into one chaplet for thy head
Entwined, thou may’st be proudly garlanded ?

Look round thee, – is not every thing content,
Having a share, not all the ornament?

The sweetest nightingale is dusky-brown;
While golden-feathered birds no music own.

The ruby long outlasts the scented rose;
But then the ruby no such fragrance knows

From Egypt Moses did the people lead;
To plant in Canaan must be Joshua’s deed.

David might lay all rich materials by ;
His son first raised the goodly fane on high.

But once and but to One it did compete,
All rays of glory round his head should meet.

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ULysses, sailing by the Sirens’ isle,
Sealed first his comrades’ ears, then bade them fast
Bind him with many a fetter to the mast,
Lest those sweet voices should their souls beguile,
And to their ruin flatter them, the while
Their homeward bark was sailing swiftly past:
And thus the peril they behind them cast,
Though chased by those weird voices many a mile.
But yet a nobler cunning Orpheus used ;
No fetter he put on, nor stopped his ear,
But ever, as he passed, sang high and clear
The blisses of the gods, their holy joys,
And with diviner melody confused
And marred earth's sweetest music to a noise,

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