Like Otus some, with giant rage,
But scarcely with a giant's might,
Ossa on Pelion engage
To pile, and scale Parnassus' height!
And some, with subtle nets and slight,
Entangle rhymes exceeding vile,[8]
And wond'rous adjectives unite—
The master's yonder in the Isle!
Alas, the Muse they cannot cage
These poets in a sorry plight!
Vain is the weary war they wage,
In vain they curse the Critic's spite!
While grammar some neglect outright,
While others polish with the file,
The Fates contrive their toil to blight—
The master's yonder in the Isle!
Envoy.
Prince, Arnold's jewel-work is bright,
And Browning, in his iron style,
Doth gold on his rude anvil smite—
The master's yonder in the Isle!
Andrew Lang.
[8] For example 'dawning' and 'warning.'
BALLADE OF THE SOUTHERN CROSS.
Fair islands of the silver fleece,
Hoards of unsunned, uncounted gold,
Whose havens are the haunts of Peace,
Whose boys are in our quarrel bold;
Our bolt is shot, our tale is told,
Our ship of state in storms may toss,
But ye are young if we are old,
Ye Islands of the Southern Cross!
Aye, we must dwindle and decrease,
Such fates the ruthless years unfold;
And yet we shall not wholly cease,
We shall not perish unconsoled;
Nay, still shall Freedom keep her hold
Within the sea's inviolate fosse,
And boast her sons of English mould,
Ye Islands of the Southern Cross!