WHAT IS POETRY?

*01.*
The plant and flower of light,

*02.*
Sir Eger said, "If it be so,
Then wot I well I must forego
Love-liking, and manhood, all clean?"
The water rush'd out of his een !


*03.*
Gray-Steel Into his death thus thraws (throes ?)
He waiters (welters, -- throws himself about) and the grass up draws;
*
A little while then lay he still
(Friends that him saw, liked full ill)
And bled into his armour bright.


*04.*
His wonning (dwelling) was full fair upon an heath,
With greeny trees yshadowed was his place.


*05.*
Pray do not mock me :
I am a very foolish fond old man,
Fourscore and upward :
Not an hour more, nor less ; and, to deal plainly,
I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.


*06.*
With that she dash'd her on the lips,
So dyed double red:
Hard was the heart that gave the blow,
Soft were those lips that bled.



*07.*
So the two brothers and their murdered man
Rode towards fair Florence ;


*08.*
Parea che l' erba le fiorisse intorno,
E d' amor ragionasse quella riva!

Orlando Innamorato, canto iii.


*09.*
Quoth Christabel, So let it be !
And as the lady bade, did she.
Her gentle limbs did she undress,
And lay down in her loveliness ;



*10.*
Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
Thy sorrow is in vain;
For violets pluck'd the sweetest showers
Will ne'er make grow again.


*11.*
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass,
Stains the white radiance of eternity.


*12.*
Inferno, canto xxxi. ver. 34 et seq.

I looked again: and as the eye makes out,
By little and little, what the mist conceal'd,
In which, till clearing up, the sky was steep'd;
So, looming through the gross and darksome air,
As we drew nigh, those mighty bulks grew plain,
And error quitted me, and terror join'd:
For in like manner as all round its height
Montereggione crowns itself with towers,
So tower'd above the circuit of that pit,
Though but half out of it, and half within,
The horrible giants that fought Jove, and still
Are threaten'd when he thunders. As we near'd
The foremost, I discern'd his mighty face,
His shoulders, breast, and more than half his trunk,
With both the arms down hanging by the sides.
His face appear'd to me, in length and breadth,
Huge as St. Peter's pinnacle at Rome,
And of a like proportion all his bones.
He open'd, as we went, his dreadful mouth,
Fit for no sweeter psalmody; and shouted
After us, in the words of some strange tongue,
" Rafel ma-ee amech zabee almee!?"
" Dull wretch! " my leader cried, " keep to thine horn,
And so vent better whatsoever rage
Or other passion stuff thee. Feel thy throat
And find the chain upon thee, thou confusion !
Lo ! what a hoop is clench'd about thy gorge."
Then turning to myself, he said, " His howl
Is its own mockery. This is Nimrod, he
Through whose ill thought it was that humankind
Were tongue-confounded. Pass him, and say nought:
For as he speaketh language known of none,
So none can speak save jargon to himself."



*13.*
So horsly and so quick of eye,

*14.*
Sleeping against the sun upon a day,

*15.*
Then grew the visage pale, and deadly wet,
The eyes turn'd in their sockets, drearily;
And all things show'd the villain's sun was set.
His trunk that was in chace, fell from its horse,
And giving the last shudder, was a corse.


*16.*
Iliad, lib. xviii. vv. 203-231.

But up Achilles rose, the lov'd of heaven;
And Pallas on his mighty shoulders cast
The shield of Jove ; and round about his head
She put the glory of a golden mist,
From which there burnt a fiery-flaming light.
And as, when smoke goes heaven-ward from a town,
In some far island which its foes besiege,
Who all day long with dreadful martialness
Have pour'd from their own town; soon as the sun
Has set, thick lifted fires are visible,
Which, rushing upward, make a light in the sky,
And let the neighbours know, who may perhaps
Bring help across the sea; so from the head
Of great Achilles went up an effulgence.

Upon the trench he stood, without the wall,
But mix'd not with the Greeks, for he rever'd
His mother's word; and so, thus standing there,
He shouted ; and Minerva, to his shout,
Added a dreadful cry; and there arose
Among the Trojans an unspeakable tumult.
And as the clear voice of a trumpet, blown
Against a town by spirit-withering foes,
So sprang the clear voice of AEacides.
And when they heard the brazen cry, their hearts
All leap'd within them; and the proud-maned horses
Ran with the chariots round, for they foresaw
Calamity; and the charioteers were smitten,
When they beheld the ever-active fire
Upon the dreadful head of the great-minded one
Burning; for bright-eyed Pallas made it burn.
Thrice o'er the trench divine Achilles shouted;
And thrice the Trojans and their great allies
Roll'd back; and twelve of all their noblest men
Then perish'd, crush'd by their own arms and chariots.


*17.*
Iliad, lib. xxiv. vv. 468-510.

So saying, Mercury vanished up to heaven ;
And Priam then alighted from his chariot,
Leaving Idaeus with it, who remain'd
Holding the mules and horses ; and the old man
Went straight indoors, where the belov'd of Jove
Achilles sat, and found him. In the room
Were others, but apart; and two alone,
The hero Automeclon, and Alcimus,
A branch of Mars, stood by him. They had been
At meals, and had not yet remov'd the board.
Great Priam came, without their seeing him,
And kneeling down, he clasp'd Achilles' knees,
And kiss'd those terrible, homicidal hands,
Which had deprived him of so many sons.
And as a man who is press'd heavily
For having slain another, flies away
To foreign lands, and comes into the honse
Of some great man, and is beheld with wonder,
So did Achilles wonder to see Priam;
And the rest wonder'd, looking at each other.
But Priam, praying to him, spoke these words :
God-like Achilles, think of thine own father !
To the same age have we both come, the same
Weak pass; and though the neighbouring chiefs may vex
Him also, and his borders find no help,
Yet when he hears that thou art still alive,
He gladdens inwardly, and daily hopes
To see his dear son coming back from Troy.

But I, bereav'd old Priam ! I had once
Brave sons in Troy, and now I cannot say
That one is left me. Fifty children had I,
When the Greeks came, nineteen were of one womb;
The rest my women bore me in my house.
The knees of many of these fierce Mars has loosen'd;
And he who had no peer, Troy's prop and theirs,
Him hast thou kill'd now, fighting for his country,
Hector; and for his sake am I come here
To ransom him, bringing a countless ransom.
But thou, Achilles, fear the gods, and think
Of thine own father, and have mercy on me :
For I am much more wretched, and have borne
What never mortal bore, I think, on earth,
To lift unto my lips the hand of him
Who slew my boys."

He ceased ; and there arose
Sharp longing in Achilles for his father;
And taking Priam by the hand, he gently
Put him away; for both shed tears to think
Of other times; the one, most bitter ones
For Hector, and with wilful wretchedness
Lay right before Achilles : and the other,
For his own father now, and now his friend;
And the whole honse might hear them as they moan'd.
But when divine Achilles had refresh'd
His soul with tears, and sharp desire had left
His heart and limbs, he got up from his throne,
And rais'd the old man by the hand, and took
Pity on his grey head and his grey chin.


*18.*
Passion unpitied and successless love
Plant daggers in my breast.


*19.*
I've sounded my Numidians, man by man,
And find them ripe for a revolt.


*20.*
The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex.

*21.*
Mariamne, with superior charms,
Triumphs o'er reason ; in her look she bears
A paradise of ever-blooming sweets;
Fair as the first idea beauty prints
In the young lover's soul; a winning grace
Guides every gesture, and obsequious love
Attends on all her steps.



*22.*
Rouse yourself; and the weak wanton Cupid
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold,
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane,
Be shook to air.

Troilus and Cressida, Act iii. sc. 3.



*23.*
Oh! and I forsooth
In love ! I that have been love's whip !
A very beadle to a humorous sigh ;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy;
This wimpled, winning, purblind, wayward boy ;
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid,
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, &c.

Loves Labours Lost, Act iii. sc. 1.


*24.*
Silent icicles
Quietly shining to the quiet moon.

Coleridge's Frost at Midnight.


*25.*
You are now sailed into the north of my lady's opinion ; where
yon will hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's beard, unless you do
redeem it by some laudable attempt.

Twelfth Night, Act iii. sc. 2.


*26.*
It gives a very echo to the seat,
Where Love is throned.



*27.*
Her waggon-spokes made of long-spinners' legs;
The cover, of the wings of grasshoppers:
The traces of the smallest spider's web;
The collars of the moonshine's watery beams, &c.


*28.*
This palace standeth in the air,
By necromancy placed there,
That it no tempest needs to fear,
Which way soe'er it blow it:
And somewhat southward tow'rd the noon.
Whence lies a way up to the moon,
And thence the Fairy can as soon
Pass to the earth below it.
The walls of spiders' legs are made,
Well mortised and finely laid ;
He was the master of his trade,
It curiously that builded :
The windows of the eyes of cats :

(because they see best at night,)

And for the roof instead of slats
Is cover'd with the skins of bats
With moonshine that are gilded.



*29.*
Of leaves of roses, white and red,
Shall be the covering of the bed;
The curtains, vallens, tester all
Shall be the flower imperial;
And for the fringe it all along
With azure hare-bells shall be hung.
Of lilies shall the pillows be
With down stuft of the butterfly.



*30.*
Her feet beneath her petticoat
Like little mice stole in and out,
As if they feard the light:
But oh ! she dances such a way !
No sun upon an Easter day
Is half so fine a sight.



*31.*
Her lips were red, and one was thin
Compared with that was next her chin,
Some bee had stung it newly.


*32.*
To witch the world with wondrous horsemanship.

*33.*
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds.

Paradise Lost.


*34.*
Behemoth, biggest born of earth, upheav'd
His vastness.

Id.


*35.*
Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks ! rage! blow!
You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks !
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head ! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world!

Lear.


*36.*
Then in the keyhole turns
The intricate wards, and every bolt and bar
Unfastens. On a sudden open fly
With impetuous recoil and jarring sound
The infernal doors, and on their hinges grate
Harsh thunder.

Par. Lost, Book II.


*37.*
Abominable -- unutterable -- and worse
Than fables yet have feigned.

Id.


*38.*
Wallowing unwieldy, enormous in their gait.

Id.


*39.*
But he, my lion, and my noble lord,
How does he find in cruel heart to hate
Her that him lov'd, and ever most ador'd
As the god of my life ? Why hath he me abhorr'd?


*40.*
Only the firmest and the constantest hearts
God sets to act the stoutest and hardest parts.


*41.*
He that hangs or beats out's brains,
The devil's in him if he feigns.


*42.*
With silence (order's help, and mark of care)
They chide that noise which heedless youth affect;
Still course for use, for health they cleanness wear,
And save in well-fix'd arms, all niceness check'd.
They thought, those that, unarm'd, expos'd frail life,
But naked nature valiantly betray'd;
Who was, though naked, safe, till pride made strife,
But made defence must use, now danger's made.


*43.*
And lo ! Silence himself is here;
Methinks I see the midnight god appear.
In all his downy pomp array'd,
Behold the reverend shade.
An ancient sigh he sits upon !!!
Whose memory of sound is long since gone,
And purposely annihilated for his throne!!!

Ode on the singing of Mrs. Arabella Hunt.


*44.*
For ever consecrate the day
To music and Cecilia ;
Music, the greatest good that mortals know,
And all of heaven we have below,
Music can noble hints impart!!!



*45.*
And was admired much of fools, women, and boys,
altered to,
And was admired much of women, fools, and boys,


*46.*
As gentle shepherd in sweet eventide

*47.*
She brusheth oft, and oft doth mar their murmurings.

*48.*
Each smoother seems than each, and each than each seems smoother.

*49.*
My eyes make pictures when they're shut:
I see a fountain, large and fair,
A willow and a ruin'd hut,
And thee and me and Mary there.
O Mary! make thy gentle lap our pillow ;
Bend o'er us, like a bower, my beautiful green willow.



*50.*
I receive your prayers with kindness, and will give success to
your hopes. I have seen, with anger, mankind adore your sister's
beauty and deplore her scorn: which they shall do no more. For
I'll so resent their idolatry, as shall content your wishes to the full.


*51.*
With kindness I your prayers receive,
And to your hopes success will give.
I have, with anger, seen mankind adore
Your sister's beauty and her scorn deplore;
Which they shall do no more.
For their idolatry I'll so resent,
As shall your wishes to the full content!!


*52.*
Yourself how do you find?
Very well, you I thank.


*53.*
A man so various, that he seemed to be
Not one, but all mankind's epitome:
Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong,
Was everything by starts, and nothing long ;
But in the course of one revolving moon
Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon :
Then all for women, rhyming, dancing, drinking,
Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking.
Blest madman ! who could every hour employ
With something new to wish or to enjoy!
Railing and praising were his usual themes,
And both, to show his judgment, in extremes:
So over-violent, or over-civil,
That every man with him was god or devil.
In squandering wealth was his peculiar art;
Nothing went unrewarded, but desert.
Beggar'd by fools, whom still he found too late,
He had his jest, and they had his estate.


*54.*
And much they griev'd to see so nigh their hall
The bird that warn'd St. Peter of Ms fall;
That he should raise his mitred crest on high,
And clap his wings and call his family
To sacred rites; and vex the ethereal powers
With midnight matins at uncivil hours ;
Nay more, his quiet neighbours should molest
Just in the sweetness of their morning rest.

(What a line fall of " another doze " is that!)

Beast of a bird! supinely, when he might
Lie snug and sleep, to rise before the light!
What if his dull forefathers used that cry?
Could he not let a bad example die ?



*55.*
On her white breast -- a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss -- and infidels adore;
Her lively looks -- a sprightly mind disclose,
Quick as her eyes -- and as unfix'd as those
Favours to none -- to all she smiles extends,
Oft she rejects -- but never once offends ;
Bright as the sun -- her eyes the gazers strike,
And like the sun -- they shine on all alike;
Yet graceful ease -- and sweetness void of pride,
Might hide her faults -- if belles had faults to hide ;
If to her share -- some female errors fall,
Look on her face -- and you'll forget them all.



*56.*
It happen'd -- on a summer's holiday,
That to the greenwood shade -- he took his way,
For Cymon shunn'd the church -- and used not much to pray:
His quarter-staff -- which he could ne'er forsake,
Hung half before -- and half behind his back :
He trudg'd along -- not knowing what he sought,
And whistled as he went -- for want of thought.

By chance conducted -- or by thirst constrain'd,
The deep recesses of a grove he gain'd : --
Where -- in a plain defended by a wood,
Crept through the matted grass -- a crystal flood,
By which -- an alabaster fountain stood;
And on the margent of the fount was laid --
Attended by her slaves -- a sleeping maid;
Like Dian and her nymphs -- when, tir'd with sport,
To rest by cool Eurotas they resort. --
The dame herself -- the goddess well express'd,
Not more distinguished by her purple vest --
Than by the charming features of the face --
And e'en in slumber -- a superior grace :
Her comely limbs -- compos'd with decent care,
Her body shaded -- by a light cymarr,
Her bosom to the view -- was only bare;
Where two beginning paps were scarcely spied --
For yet their places were but signified. --
The fanning wind upon her bosom blows --
To meet the fanning wind -- the bosom rose,
The fanning wind -- and purling stream -- continue her repose.


*57.*
Whilst listening to the murmuring leaves he stood --
More than a mile immers'd within the wood --
At once the wind was laid. -- The whispering sound
Was dumb. -- A rising earthquake rock'd the ground.
With deeper brown the grove was overspread --
A sudden horror seiz'd his giddy head --
And his ears tinkled -- and his colour fled.


Nature was in alarm. -- Some danger nigh
Seem'd threaten'd -- though unseen to mortal eye.
Unused to fear -- he summon'd all his soul,
And stood collected in himself -- and whole:
Not long. --


*58.*
There was a place,
Now not -- though Sin -- not Time -- first wrought the change,
Where Tigris -- at the foot of Paradise,
Into a gulf -- shot under ground -- till part
Rose up a foimtain by the Tree of Life.
In with the river sunk -- and with it rose
Satan -- involv'd in rising mist -- then sought
Where to lie hid. -- Sea he had search'd -- and land
From Eden over Pontus -- and the pool
Meaotis -- up beyond the river Ob ;
Downward as far antarctic ; -- and in length
West from Orontes -- to the ocean barr'd
At Darien -- thence to the land where flows
Ganges, and Indus. -- Thus the orb he roam'd
With narrow search; -- and with inspection deep
Consider'd every creature -- which of all
Most opportune might serve his wiles -- and found
The serpent -- subtlest beast of all the field.



*59.*
The wind was high, the window shakes;
With sudden start the miser wakes;
Along the silent room he stalks,

(A miser never " stalks; " but a rhyme was desired for " walks ")

Looks hack, and trembles as he walks :
Each lock and every bolt he tries,
In every creek and corner pries;
Then opes the chest with treasure stor'd,
And stands in rapture o'er his hoard;

("Hoard" and "treasure stor'd" are just made for one another,)

But now, with sudden qualms possess'd,
He wrings his hands, he heats his breast ;
By conscience stung, he wildly stares,
And thus his guilty soul declares.

And so he denouces his gold, as miser never denouced it; and sighs because :

Virtue resides on earth no more!


*60.*
'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock,
And the owls have awaken'd the crowing cock
Tu-whit! Tu-whoo !
And hark, again! the crowing cock,
How drowsily he crew.
Sir Leoline, the baron rich,
Hath a toothless mastiff bitch;
From her kennel beneath the rock
She maketh answer to the clock,
Four for the quarters and twelve for the hour,
Ever and aye, by shine and shower,
Sixteen short howls, not over loud:
Some say, she sees my lady's shroud.


Is the night chilly and dark ?
The night is chilly, but not dark.
The thin grey cloud is spread on high,
It covers, but not hides, the sky.
The moon is behind, and at the full,
And yet she looks both small and dull.
The night is chilly, the cloud is grey;

(These are not superfluities, but mysterious returns of importunate feeling)

'Tis a month before the month of May,
And the spring comes slowly up this way.
The lovely lady, Christabel,
Whom her father loves so well,
What makes her in the wood so late,
A furlong from the castle-gate ?
She had dreams all yesternight
Of her own betrothed knight;
And she in the midnight wood will pray
For the weal of her lover that's far away.

She stole along, she nothing spoke,
The sighs she heav'd were soft and low,
And nought was green npon the oak,
But moss and rarest mistletoe ;
She kneels beneath the huge oak tree,
And in silence prayeth she.

The lady sprang up suddenly,
The lovely lady, Christabel!
It moan'd as near as near can be,
But what it is, she cannot tell.
On the other side it seems to be
Of the huge, broad breasted, old oak tree.

The night is chill, the forest bare ;
Is it the wind that moaneth bleak ?

(This " bleak moaning " is a witch's)

There is not wind enough in the air
To move away the ringlet curl
From the lovely lady's cheek?
There is not wind enough to twirl
The one red leaf, the last of Its clan,
That dances as often as dance it can,
Hanging so light and hanging so high,
On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.

Hush, beating heart of Christabel!
Jesu Maria, shield her well!
She folded her arms beneath her cloak,
And stole to the other side of the oak.
What sees she there?

There she sees a damsel bright,
Drest in a robe of silken white,
That shadowy in the moonlight shone :
The neck that made that white robe wan,
Her stately neck and arms were bare :
Her blue-vein'd feet unsandall'd were;
And wildly glitter'd, here and there,
The gems entangled in her hair.
I guess 'twas frightful there to see
A lady so richly clad as she ,
Beautiful exceedingly.


*61.*
Large was his bounty and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompence as largely send;
He gave to misery all he had, a tear ;
He gain'd from heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.

Gray's Elegy.


*62.*
The fops are proud of scandal; for they cry
At every lewd, low character, "That's I."

Dryden's Prologue to the Pilgrim.



*63.*
What makes all doctrines plain and clear ?
About two hundred pounds a year.
And that which was proved true before,
Prove false again? Two hundred more.

Hudibras



*64.*
Compound for sins they are inclined to,
By damning those they have no mind to.

Id.


*65.*
Stor'd with deletery medicines,
Which whosoever took is dead since.

Id.


*66.*
Win
The women, and make them draw in
The men, as Indians with a female
Tame elephant inveigle the male.

Id..


*67.*
He made an instrument to know
If the moon shines at full or no ;
That would, as soon as e'er she shone, straight
Whether 'twere day or night demonstrate;
Tell what her diameter to an inch is,
And prove that she's not made of green cheese.

Hudibras.



*68.*
But oh ! ye lords of ladies intellectual,
Inform us truly, haven't they hen-peck'd you all?


*69.*
Let our trumpets sound,
And cleave both air and ground
With beating of our drums.
Let every lyre be strung,
Harp, lute, theorbo, sprung
With touch of dainty thumbs.