Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters! altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart:
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life's common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay.
William Wordsworth.
THE CAVALIER.
While the dawn on the mountain was misty and gray,
My truelove has mounted his steed, and away
Over hill, over valley, o'er dale, and o'er down,—
Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the crown!
He has doffed the silk doublet the breastplate to bear,
He has placed the steel cap o'er his long-flowing hair,
From his belt to his stirrup his broadsword hangs down,—
Heaven shield the brave gallant that fights for the crown!
For the rights of fair England that broadsword he draws;
Her King is his leader, her church is his cause;
His watchward is honor, his pay is renown,—
God strike with the gallant that strikes for the crown!
They may boast of their Fairfax, their Waller, and all
The roundheaded rebels of Westminster Hall;
But tell these bold traitors of London's proud town,
That the spears of the North have encircled the crown.
There's Derby and Cavendish, dread of their foes;
There's Erin's high Ormond, and Scotland's Montrose!
Would you match the base Skippon, and Massey, and Brown
With the Barons of England, that fight for the crown?