My joyous gentlemen;
Towards Honour’s heaven to goe, and towards
King Charles his gentlemen!
A LAST WORD ON SHELLEY.
Each great inrolling wave, a league of sound,
All night, all day, the hostile crags confound
To merest snow and smoke. The crags remain.
Smile at the storm for our safe poet’s sake!
Not ever this ordainèd world shall break