Cuthbert! whose father first in all our land Sate in calm judgment on poetic peer, Whom hatred never, friendship seldom, warpt.. Again I read his page and hear his voice; I heard it ere I knew it, ere I saw Who utter'd it, each then to each unknown. Twelve years had past when upon Avon's cliff, Hard-by his birth-place, first our hands were join'd; After three more he visited my home. Along Lantony's ruin'd aisles we walkt And woods then pathless, over verdant hill And ruddy mountain, and aside the stream Of sparkling Hondy. Just at close of day There by the comet's light we saw the fox Rush from the alders, nor relax in speed Until he trod the pathway of his sires Under the hoary crag of Comioy. Then both were happy. War had paused: the Loire Invited me; again burst forth fierce War. I minded not his fury: there I staid, Sole of my countrymen, and foes abstain'd (Tho' sore and bleeding) from my house alone. But female fear impell'd me past the Alps, Where, loveliest of all lakes, the Lario sleeps Under the walls of Como. There he came Again to see me; there again our walks We recommenced..less pleasant than before. Grief had swept over him; days darken'd round: Bellagio, Valintelvi, smiled in vain, And Monterosa from Helvetia far Advanced to meet us, mild in majesty Above the glittering crests of giant sons Station'd around..in vain too! all in vain! Perhaps the hour may come when others, taught By him to read, may read my page aright And find what lies within it; time enough Is there before us in the world of thought. The favour I may need I scorn to ask. What sovran is there able to reprieve, How then to grant, the life of the condemn'd By Justice, where the Muses take their seat? Never was I impatient to receive What any man could give me: when a friend Gave me my due, I took it, and no more.. Serenely glad because that friend was pleas'd. I seek not many, many seek not me, If there are few now seated at my board, I pull no children's hair because they munch Gilt gingerbread, the figured and the sweet, Or wallow in the innocence of whey; Give @3me@1 wild-boar, the buck's broad haunch give @3me@1, And wine that time has mellow'd, even as time Mellows the warrior hermit in his cell. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BACON'S EPITAPH, MADE BY HIS MAN by JOHN COTTON (1640-1699) AN EARNEST SUIT [TO HIS UNKIND MISTRESS NOT TO FORESAKE HIM] by THOMAS WYATT ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 12. TO SIR FRANCIS HENRY DRAKE, BARONET by MARK AKENSIDE THE SPIRIT AND THE CUP by A. E. ANDERSON THE LIFE-POWER by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON TO S-----D (2) by WILLIAM BLAKE THE PATRIOT by GEORGE BUBB DODINGTON |