Gone the merry morris din; She would weep, and he would craze; So it is! yet let us sing Honor to the woods unshorn! And to all the Sherwood clan! JOHN KEATS. O! THE PLEASANT DAYS OF OLD! They ruled their serfs right sternly; they took from Jews their gold Above both law and equity were those great lords of old! O! the gallant knights of old, for their valor so renowned! With sword and lance, and armor strong, they scoured the country round; And whenever aught to tempt them they met by wood or wold, By right of sword they seized the prizethose gallant knights of old! O! the gentle dames of old! who, quite free from fear or pain, Could gaze on joust and tournament, and see their champions slain; They lived on good beefsteaks and ale, which made them strong and bold— O more like men than women were those gentle dames of old! O! those mighty towers of old! with their turrets, moat and keep, Their battlements and bastions, their dungeons dark and deep. Full many a baron held his court within the castle hold; And many a captive languished there, in those strong towers of old. O! the troubadours of old! with their gentle minstrelsie Of hope and joy, or deep despair, whiche'er their lot might be For O! THE pleasant days of old, which so often people praise! years they served their ladye-love ere they their passion told O! True, they wanted all the luxuries that grace our modern days: wondrous patience must have had those troubadours of old! THE HAPPY VALLEY. I. r was a valley filled with sweetest sounds; A languid music haunted every where— Like that with which a summer eve abounds, And feed their fragrant mouths with silver showers; Their eyes peeped out from many a green recess, And their fair forms made light the thick-set bowers; The very flowers seemed eager to caress From rustling corn, and song-birds calling Such living sisters; and the boughs, long clear Down sloping uplands, which some wood sur rounds, With tinkling rills just heard, but not too near; And low of cattle on the distant plain, lost again. II. It seemed like Eden's angel-peopled vale, So bright the sky, so soft the streams did flow; Such tones came riding on the musk-winged gale The very air seemed sleepily to blow; And choicest flowers enamelled every dale, Flushed with the richest sunlight's rosy glow: It was a valley drowsy with delight— Such fragrance floated round, such beauty dimmed the sight. III. The golden-belted bees hummed in the air; The tall silk grasses bent and waved along; The trees slept in the steeping sunbeam's glare; The dreamy river chimed its undersong, And took its own free course without a care; Amid the boughs did lute-tongued song sters throng, And the green valley throbbed beneath their She skimmed the wavy flowers, as she passed While echo echo chased through many a With fair and printless feet, like clouds along leafy maze. And shapes were there, like spirits of the One sat alone within a shady nook, flowers, Sent down to see the summer beauties dress, With wild-wood songs the lazy hours beguiling; Or looking at her shadow in the brook, Trying to frown-then at the effort smil-Others went trooping through the wooded Her laughing eyes mocked every serious look; Their kirtles glancing white, like streams in 'T was as if Love stood at himself reviling. She threw in flowers, and watched them float away; sunny valleys. XI. Then at her beauty looked, then sang a They were such forms as, imaged in the sweeter lay. VIII. Others on beds of roses lay reclined, The regal flowers athwart their full lips thrown, And in one fragrance both their sweets com bined, night, Sail in our dreams across the heaven's steep blue, When the closed lid sees visions streaming bright, Too beautiful to meet the naked viewLike faces formed in clouds of silver light. Women they were! such as the angels knew As if they on the self-same stem had Such as the mammoth looked on ere he fled, Scared by the lovers' wings that streamed in grown So close were rose and lip together twined, A double flower that from one bud had blown; Till none could tell, so sweetly were they blended, Where swelled the curving lip, or where the rose-bloom ended. IX. One, half asleep, crushing the twined flowers, They looked like roses on a cloudy day, green The flowers too rough a couch that lovely shape to screen. X. Some lay like Thetis' nymphs along the shore, With ocean-pearl combing their golden locks, And singing to the waves for evermoreSinking, like flowers at eve, beside the rocks, If but a sound above the muffled roar Of the low waves was heard. In little flocks How blithe upon the breezy cliffs At sunny morn I've stood, That Eden where th' immortal brave Ah, dream, too full of saddening truth! THOMAS MOORE, |