The Hundred Best English Poems
Chapter 1
E-text prepared by Brian Sogard, Diane Monico, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net/)
THE HUNDRED BEST ENGLISH POEMS
Selected by
ADAM L. GOWANS, M.A.
New York Thomas Y. Crowell & Company Publishers Copyright, 1904, By Thomas Y. Crowell & Co.
THIS LITTLE COLLECTION IS DEDICATED TO JAMES FITZMAURICE-KELLY, ESQ. BY THE SELECTOR AS A SLIGHT MARK OF A DEEP ADMIRATION
PREFATORY NOTE.
Let me frankly admit, to begin with, that the attractiveness and probable selling qualities of the title of this little book, "The Hundred Best English Poems," proved, when it had been once thought of, too powerful arguments for it to be abandoned. I am fully conscious of the presumption such a title implies in an unknown selector, but at the same time I submit that only a plebiscite of duly qualified lovers of poetry could make a selection that could claim to deserve this title beyond all question, and such a plebiscite is of course impossible. I can claim no more than that my attempt to realize this title is an honest one, and I can assert, without fear of contradiction, that every one of the poems I have included is a "gem of purest ray serene"; that none can be too often read or too often repeated to one's self; that every one of them should be known by heart by every lover of good literature, so that each may become, as it were, a part of his inner being.
I have not inserted any poems by living authors.
I have taken the greatest care with the texts of the poems. The editions followed have been mentioned in every case. I have scrupulously retained the punctuation of these original editions, and only modernized the spelling of the old copies; while I have not ventured to omit any part of any poem. I have not supplied titles of my own, but have adopted those I found already employed in the editions used as models, or, in some of the cases in which I found none, have merely added a descriptive one, such as "Song from 'Don Juan.'"
In conclusion, my very warmest thanks are due to Messrs. Macmillan & Co., Ltd., for permission to include Tennyson's "Crossing the Bar"; to Mr. D. Nutt for permission to insert W. E. Henley's "To R. T. H. B." and "Margaritæ Sorori"; to Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co. for a like privilege in regard to Browning's "Epilogue," and to Mr. Lloyd Osbourne and Messrs. Chatto & Windus for permission to reproduce Stevenson's "Requiem." Without these poems the volume would have had a much smaller claim to its title than it does possess, slight as that may be. My thanks are also due to the following gentlemen who have kindly allowed me to reproduce copyright texts of non-copyright poems from editions published by them: Messrs. Bickers & Son (Ben Jonson), Messrs. Chapman & Hall, Ltd. (Landor), Messrs. Chatto & Windus (Herrick), Mr. Buxton Forman (Keats and Shelley), Mr. Henry Frowde (Wordsworth), Mr. Alex. Gardner and the Rev. George Henderson, B.D. (Lady Nairne), Messrs. T. C. & E. C. Jack (Burns), Messrs. Macmillan & Co., Ltd. (Clough and Tennyson), Mr. John Murray (Byron), Messrs. Smith, Elder & Co. (Browning), Messrs. Ward, Lock & Co., Ltd. (Coleridge and Hood).
A. L. G.
CONTENTS.
PAGE
ANONYMOUS. 1. Madrigal 1
ARNOLD (1822-1888). 2. The Forsaken Merman 2
BARBAULD (1743-1825). 3. Life 10
BROWNING (1812-1889). 4. Song from "Pippa Passes" 12 5. Song from "Pippa Passes" 12 6. The Lost Mistress 13 7. Home-Thoughts, from the Sea 14 8. Epilogue 15
BURNS (1759-1796). 9. The Silver Tassie 17 10. Of a' the Airts 18 11. John Anderson my Jo 19 12. Ae Fond Kiss 20 13. Ye Flowery Banks 21 14. A Red, Red Rose 22 15. Mary Morison 24
BYRON (1788-1824). 16. She Walks in Beauty 26 17. Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom 27 18. Song from "The Corsair" 28 19. Song from "Don Juan" 29
CAMPBELL (1777-1844). 20. Hohenlinden 35
CLOUGH (1819-1861). 21. Say not the Struggle Nought Availeth 37
COLERIDGE (1772-1834). 22. Youth and Age 38
COLLINS (1721-1759). 23. Written in the Year 1746 41
COWPER (1731-1800). 24. To a Young Lady 42
CUNNINGHAM (1784-1842). 25. A Wet Sheet and a Flowing Sea 43
DAVENANT (1606-1668). 26. Song 45
DRYDEN (1631-1700). 27. A Song for St. Cecilia's Day, 1687 46
GOLDSMITH (1728-1774). 28. Song 50
GRAY (1716-1771). 29. Elegy written in a Country Church-yard 51
HENLEY (1849-1903). 30. To R. T. H. B. 59 31. I. M. Margaritæ Sorori 60
HERBERT (1593-1632). 32. Virtue 62
HERRICK (1591-1674). 33. To the Virgins, to make much of Time 63 34. To Anthea, who may command him anything 64
HOOD (1798-1845). 35. The Death Bed 66 36. The Bridge of Sighs 67 37. I Remember, I Remember 72
JONSON (1573-1637). 38. To Celia 74
KEATS (1795-1821). 39. On first looking into Chapman's Homer 75 40. Ode to a Nightingale 76 41. Ode on a Grecian Urn 80 42. To Autumn 83 43. Ode on Melancholy 85 44. La Belle Dame sans Merci 87 45. Sonnet 90
LAMB (1775-1834). 46. The Old Familiar Faces 92
LANDOR (1775-1864). 47. The Maid's Lament 94
LOVELACE (1618-1658). 48. To Lucasta. Going to the Wars 96
MILTON (1608-1674). 49. On the Morning of Christ's Nativity 97 50. L'Allegro 112 51. Il Penseroso 119 52. Lycidas 127 53. On his Blindness 137
NAIRINE (1766-1845). 54. The Land o' the Leal 138
POPE (1688-1744). 55. Ode on Solitude 140
RALEIGH (1552-1618). 56. The Night before his Death 142
ROGERS (1763-1855). 57. A Wish 143
SHAKESPEARE (1564-1616). 58. Sonnets. XVII. Who will believe my verse? 144 59. XVIII. Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? 145 60. XXX. When to the sessions 145 61. XXXIII. Full many a glorious morning 146 62. LX. Like as the waves 147 63. LXVI. Tired with all these 148 64. LXXI. No longer mourn 149 65. LXXIII. That time of year 149 66. LXXIV. But be contented 150 67. CVI. When in the chronicle 151 68. CXVI. Let me not to the marriage 152 69. Song from "The Tempest" 152 70. Song from "Measure for Measure" 153 71. Song from "Much Ado about Nothing" 153 72. Song from "Cymbeline" 154
SHELLEY (1792-1822). 73. Song from "Prometheus Unbound" 156 74. Ode to the West Wind 157 75. The Cloud 161 76. To a Skylark 165 77. Chorus from "Hellas" 171 78. Stanzas. Written in Dejection, near Naples 173 79. The Indian Serenade 176 80. To ---- 177 81. To Night 178
SHIRLEY (1596-1666). 82. Song from "Ajax and Ulysses" 181
SOUTHEY (1774-1843). 83. Stanzas 183
STEVENSON (1850-1894). 84. Requiem 185
TENNYSON (1809-1892). 85. Song from "The Miller's Daughter" 186 86. St. Agnes' Eve 187 87. Break, break, break 188 88. Song from "The Princess" 189 89. Song from "The Princess" 191 90. Crossing the Bar 192
WALLER (1606-1687). 91. On a Girdle 193 92. Song 194
WORDSWORTH (1770-1850). 93. She dwelt among the untrodden ways 195 94. She was a Phantom of delight 195 95. Sonnets. Part I.--XXXIII. The world is too much with us 197 96. Part II.--XXXVI. Earth has not anything 198 97. To a Highland Girl, at Inversneyde, upon Loch Lomond 198 98. The Solitary Reaper 202 99. Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood 204
WOTTON (1568-1639). 100. On his Mistress, the Queen of Bohemia 215
THE HUNDRED BEST ENGLISH POEMS.
ANONYMOUS.
1. _Madrigal._
Love not me for comely grace, For my pleasing eye or face; Nor for any outward part, No, nor for my constant heart: For those may fail or turn to ill, So thou and I shall sever: Keep therefore a true woman's eye, And love me still, but know not why; So hast thou the same reason still To doat upon me ever.
_1609 Edition._
* * * * *
MATTHEW ARNOLD.
2. _The Forsaken Merman._
Come, dear children, let us away; Down and away below. Now my brothers call from the bay; Now the great winds shorewards blow; Now the salt tides seawards flow; Now the wild white horses play, Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. Children dear, let us away. This way, this way.
Call her once before you go. Call once yet. In a voice that she will know: "Margaret! Margaret!" Children's voices should be dear (Call once more) to a mother's ear: Children's voices, wild with pain. Surely she will come again. Call her once and come away. This way, this way. "Mother dear, we cannot stay." The wild white horses foam and fret. Margaret! Margaret!
Come, dear children, come away down. Call no more. One last look at the white-wall'd town, And the little grey church on the windy shore. Then come down. She will not come though you call all day. Come away, come away.
Children dear, was it yesterday We heard the sweet bells over the bay? In the caverns where we lay, Through the surf and through the swell, The far-off sound of a silver bell? Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, Where the winds are all asleep; Where the spent lights quiver and gleam; Where the salt weed sways in the stream; Where the sea-beasts rang'd all round Feed in the ooze of their pasture-ground; Where the sea-snakes coil and twine, Dry their mail and bask in the brine; Where great whales come sailing by, Sail and sail, with unshut eye, Round the world for ever and aye? When did music come this way? Children dear, was it yesterday?
Children dear, was it yesterday (Call yet once) that she went away? Once she sate with you and me, On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, And the youngest sate on her knee. She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of the far-off bell. She sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea. She said; "I must go, for my kinsfolk pray In the little grey church on the shore to-day. 'Twill be Easter-time in the world--ah me! And I lose my poor soul, Merman, here with thee." I said; "Go up, dear heart, through the waves. Say thy prayer, and come back to the kind sea-caves." She smil'd, she went up through the surf in the bay. Children dear, was it yesterday?
Children dear, were we long alone? "The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan. Long prayers," I said, "in the world they say. Come," I said, and we rose through the surf in the bay. We went up the beach, by the sandy down Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town. Through the narrow pav'd streets, where all was still, To the little grey church on the windy hill. From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, But we stood without in the cold blowing airs. We climb'd on the graves, on the stones, worn with rains, And we gaz'd up the aisle through the small leaded panes. She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear: "Margaret, hist! come quick, we are here. Dear heart," I said, "we are long alone. The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan." But, ah, she gave me never a look, For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book. "Loud prays the priest; shut stands the door." Come away, children, call no more. Come away, come down, call no more.
Down, down, down. Down to the depths of the sea. She sits at her wheel in the humming town, Singing most joyfully. Hark, what she sings: "O joy, O joy, For the humming street, and the child with its toy. For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well. For the wheel where I spun, And the blessed light of the sun." And so she sings her fill, Singing most joyfully, Till the shuttle falls from her hand, And the whizzing wheel stands still.
She steals to the window, and looks at the sand; And over the sand at the sea; And her eyes are set in a stare; And anon there breaks a sigh, And anon there drops a tear, From a sorrow-clouded eye, And a heart sorrow-laden, A long, long sigh. For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden, And the gleam of her golden hair.
Come away, away children. Come children, come down. The hoarse wind blows colder; Lights shine in the town. She will start from her slumber When gusts shake the door; She will hear the winds howling, Will hear the waves roar. We shall see, while above us The waves roar and whirl, A ceiling of amber, A pavement of pearl. Singing, "Here came a mortal, But faithless was she. And alone dwell for ever The kings of the sea."
But, children, at midnight, When soft the winds blow; When clear falls the moonlight; When spring-tides are low: When sweet airs come seaward From heaths starr'd with broom; And high rocks throw mildly On the blanch'd sands a gloom: Up the still, glistening beaches, Up the creeks we will hie; Over banks of bright seaweed The ebb-tide leaves dry. We will gaze, from the sand-hills, At the white, sleeping town; At the church on the hill-side-- And then come back down. Singing, "There dwells a lov'd one, But cruel is she. She left lonely for ever The kings of the sea."
_1857 Edition._
* * * * *
ANNA LÆTITIA BARBAULD.
3. _Life._
_Animula, vagula, blandula._
Life! I know not what thou art, But know that thou and I must part; And when, or how, or where we met, I own to me's a secret yet. But this I know, when thou art fled, Where'er they lay these limbs, this head, No clod so valueless shall be, As all that then remains of me.
O whither, whither dost thou fly, Where bend unseen thy trackless course, And in this strange divorce, Ah tell where I must seek this compound I? To the vast ocean of empyreal flame, From whence thy essence came, Dost thou thy flight pursue, when freed From matter's base encumbering weed? Or dost thou, hid from sight, Wait, like some spell-bound knight, Through blank oblivious years the appointed hour, To break thy trance and reassume thy power? Yet canst thou without thought or feeling be? O say what art thou, when no more thou'rt thee?
Life! we've been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear; Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear; Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time; Say not Good night, but in some brighter clime Bid me Good morning.
_1825 Edition._
* * * * *
ROBERT BROWNING.
4. _Song from "Pippa Passes."_
The year's at the spring And day's at the morn; Morning's at seven; The hill-side's dew-pearled; The lark's on the wing; The snail's on the thorn: God's in his heaven-- All's right with the world!
5. _Song from "Pippa Passes."_
You'll love me yet!--and I can tarry Your love's protracted growing: June reared that bunch of flowers you carry, From seeds of April's sowing.
I plant a heartful now: some seed At least is sure to strike, And yield--what you'll not pluck indeed, Not love, but, may be, like.
You'll look at least on love's remains, A grave's one violet: Your look?--that pays a thousand pains. What's death? You'll love me yet!
6. _The Lost Mistress._
I.
All's over, then: does truth sound bitter As one at first believes? Hark, 'tis the sparrows' good-night twitter About your cottage eaves!
II.
And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly, I noticed that, to-day; One day more bursts them open fully --You know the red turns grey.
III.
To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest? May I take your hand in mine? Mere friends are we,--well, friends the merest Keep much that I resign:
IV.
For each glance of the eye so bright and black, Though I keep with heart's endeavour,-- Your voice, when you wish the snowdrops back, Though it stay in my soul for ever!--
V.
Yet I will but say what mere friends say, Or only a thought stronger; I will hold your hand but as long as all may, Or so very little longer!
7. _Home-Thoughts, from the Sea._
Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-west died away; Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay; Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay; In the dimmest North-east distance dawned Gibraltar grand and grey; "Here and here did England help me: how can I help England?"--say, Whoso turns as I, this evening, turn to God to praise and pray, While Jove's planet rises yonder, silent over Africa.
8. _Epilogue._
At the midnight in the silence of the sleep-time, When you set your fancies free, Will they pass to where--by death, fools think, imprisoned-- Low he lies who once so loved you, whom you loved so, --Pity me?
Oh to love so, be so loved, yet so mistaken! What had I on earth to do With the slothful, with the mawkish, the unmanly? Like the aimless, helpless, hopeless, did I drivel --Being--who?
One who never turned his back but marched breast forward, Never doubted clouds would break, Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph, Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, Sleep to wake.
No, at noonday in the bustle of man's work-time Greet the unseen with a cheer! Bid him forward, breast and back as either should be, "Strive and thrive!" cry "Speed,--fight on, fare ever There as here!"
_1896 Edition._
* * * * *
ROBERT BURNS.
9. _The Silver Tassie._
I.
Go, fetch to me a pint o' wine, And fill it in a silver tassie, That I may drink before I go A service to my bonie lassie! The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith, Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry, The ship rides by the Berwick-Law, And I maun leave my bonie Mary.
II.
The trumpets sound, the banners fly, The glittering spears are rankèd ready, The shouts o' war are heard afar, The battle closes deep and bloody. It's not the roar o' sea or shore Wad mak me langer wish to tarry, Nor shouts o' war that's heard afar: It's leaving thee, my bonie Mary!
10. _Of a' the Airts._
I.
Of a' the airts the wind can blaw I dearly like the west, For there the bonie lassie lives, The lassie I lo'e best. There wild woods grow, and rivers row, And monie a hill between, But day and night my fancy's flight Is ever wi' my Jean.
II.
I see her in the dewy flowers-- I see her sweet and fair. I hear her in the tunefu' birds-- I hear her charm the air. There's not a bonie flower that springs By fountain, shaw, or green, There's not a bonie bird that sings, But minds me o' my Jean.
11. _John Anderson my Jo._
I.
John Anderson my jo, John, When we were first acquent, Your locks were like the raven, Your bonie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw, But blessings on your frosty pow, John Anderson my jo!
II.
John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither, And monie a cantie day, John, We've had wi' ane anither; Now we maun totter down, John, And hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo!
12. _Ae Fond Kiss._
I.
Ae fond kiss, and then we sever! Ae farewell, and then forever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, While the star of hope she leaves him? Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me, Dark despair around benights me.
II.
I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy: Naething could resist my Nancy! But to see her was to love her, Love but her, and love for ever. Had we never lov'd sae kindly, Had we never lov'd sae blindly, Never met--or never parted-- We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
III.
Fare-thee-weel, thou first and fairest! Fare-thee-weel, thou best and dearest! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, Enjoyment, Love, and Pleasure! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever! Ae farewell, alas, for ever! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
13. _Ye Flowery Banks._
I.
Ye flowery banks o' bonie Doon, How can ye blume sae fair? How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae fu' o' care?
II.
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings upon the bough: Thou minds me o' the happy days When my fause Luve was true!
III.
Thou'll break my heart, thou bonie bird, That sings beside thy mate: For sae I sat, and sae I sang, And wist na o' my fate!
IV.
Aft hae I rov'd by bonie Doon To see the woodbine twine, And ilka bird sang o' its luve, And sae did I o' mine.
V.
Wi' lightsome heart I pu'd a rose Frae aff its thorny tree, And my fause luver staw my rose, But left the thorn wi' me.
14. _A Red, Red Rose._
I.
O, my luve is like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June. O, my luve is like the melodie, That's sweetly play'd in tune.
II.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I, And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry.
III.