No More Learning

Yet always tempered with an air so mild.
No April suns that e'er so gently smiled ;
No more shall hear that powerful language

charm,
Whose force oft spared the labour of bis arm ;
No more sliall follow where he spent the days
In war, in counsel, or in prayer and praise,
Whose meanest acts he would himvSelf advance.
As ungirt David to the ark did dance.
All, all is gone of oui*s or his delight
In horses fierce, wild deer, or armour bright
Francisca fair can nothing now but weep.
Nor with soft notes shall sing his cares asleep.

I saw him dead: a leaden slumber lies.
And mortal sleep over those wakeful eyes ;
Those gentle rays under the lids were fled.
Which through his looks that piercing sweetness

siied ;
That port, vvliich so majestic was and strong.
Loose, and deprived of vigour, stretched along j



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OF MARVRLL. 165

All withered, all discoloured, pale and wan,
How much another thing, no more that man !
O, human glory vain ! O, Death ! O, wings I
O, worthless world ! O, transitory things !
Yet dwelt that greatness in his shape decayed,
That still though dead, greater than death he laid.
And in his altered face you something feign
That threatens Death, he yet will live again.
Not much unlike the sacred oak, which shoots
To Heaven its branches, and through earth its

roots.
Whose spacious boughs are hung with trophies

round,
And honored wreaths have ofl the victor

crowned.
When angry Jove darts lightning through the air
At mortal sins, nor his own plant will spare,
It groans and bruises all below, that stood
So many years the shelter of the wood,
The tree, erewhile foreshortened to our view,
When fairn shows taller yet than as it grew ;
So shall his praise to after times increase.
When truth shall be allowed, and faction cease ;
And his own shadows with him fall ; the eye
Detracts iVom objects than itself more high ;
But when Death takes them from that envied stuto,
Seeing how little, we confess how great.

Thee, many ages hence, in martial verse
Shall the English soldier, ere he charge, rehearse ;



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166 THE POEMS

Singing of thee, inflame himself to fight,
And, with the name of Cromwell, armies fright.
As long as rivers to the seas shall run,
As long as Cynthia shall relieve the sun,
While stags shall fly unto the forests thick,
While sheep delight the grassy downs to pick.
As long as future time succeeds the past,
Always thy honour, praise and name, shall last !

Thou in a pitch how far beyond the sphere
Of human glory tower'st, and reigning there
Despoiled of mortal robes, in seas of bliss
Plunging, dost bathe, and tread the bright abyss !
There tiiy great soul yet once a world doth see,
Spacious enough and pure enough for thee.
How soon thou Moses hast, and Joshua found.
And Daviti, for the sword and hai-p renowned ;
How straight canst to each happy mansion go,
(Far better known above than here below,)
And in those joys dost spend the endless day.
Which in expressing, we ourselves betray !

For we, since thou art gone, with heavy

doom,
Wander like ghosts about thy loved tomb,
And lost in tears, have neither sight nor mind
To guid»j us upward through this region blind ;
Since thou art gone, who best that way couldst

tracli,
Only our >ighs, perhaps, may thither reach.



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OP MARVELL. .