I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet moan. She found me roots of relish sweet, She took me to her elfin grot, And there she gazed and sighed deep, And there we slumbered on the moss, I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors-death-pale were they all; Who cried, La Belle Dame Sans Mercy Hath thee in thrall!' I saw their starved lips in the gloom, On the cold hill side. And this is why I sojourn here, Though the sedge is withered from the lake, And no birds sing. KEATS. THE CHILD AND THE SNAKE HENRY was every morning fed With a full mess of milk and bread. Which through his mother's orchard ran. Escape his mother's eye, he there Takes his food in th' open air. Through the long grass his heap'd-up mess. When she saw the infant take His bread and milk close to a snake! The least small noise, O have a care- The wily snake will be afraid- If he hear the lightest sound, He will inflict th' envenom'd wound. -She speaks not, moves not, scarce does breathe, As she stands the trees beneath; No sound she utters; and she soon As speaking to familiar mate, 'Keep on your own side, do, Grey Pate:' Tapping the snake, 'Keep further, do; TOM BOWLING HERE, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling, No more he'll hear the tempest howling, His form was of the manliest beauty, His heart was kind and soft, Faithful below he did his duty; But now he's gone aloft. Tom never from his word departed, His virtues were so rare, His friends were many and true-hearted, And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly, Ah, many's the time and oft! But mirth is turn'd to melancholy, For Tom is gone aloft. Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather, Shall give, to call life's crew together, The word to pipe all hands. Thus Death, who kings and tars despatches, For though his body's under hatches, His soul has gone aloft. M. LAMB. C. DIBDIN. |