THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS. KING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, And one day, as his lions fought, sat looking on the court; The nobles fill'd the benches, and the ladies in their pride, And 'mongst them sat the Count de Lorge, with one for whom he sigh'd: And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show, Valour and love, and a king above, and the royal beasts below. [jaws; Ramp'd and roar'd the lions, with horrid laughing They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws; With wallowing might and stifled roar they roll'd on one another, Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous smother; The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the air; Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there." She dropp'd her glove to prove his love, then look'd at him and smiled; [wild: He bow'd, and in a moment leap'd among the lions The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regain'd the place, Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face. "By God!" said Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat; "No love," quoth he, " but vanity, sets love a task like that." AN ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. How sweet it were, if without feeble fright, At evening in our room, and bend on ours A HEAVEN UPON EARTH. For there are two heavens, sweet, Both made of love, -one, inconceivable Even by the other, so divine it is; The other, far on this side of the stars, By men call'd home, when some blest pair are met As we are now; sometimes in happy talk, Sometimes in silence, each at gentle task Of book, or household need, or meditation, By summer-moon, or curtain'd fire in frost; And by degrees there come, -not always come, Yet mostly, other, smaller inmates there, Cherubic-faced, yet growing like those two, Their pride and playmates, not without meek fear, Since God sometimes to his own cherubim Takes those sweet cheeks of earth. And so twixt joy, And love, and tears, and whatsoever pain Man fitly shares with man, these two grow old; And if indeed blest thoroughly, they die In the same spot, and nigh the same good hour, And setting suns look heavenly on their grave. THE RAVENNA PINE FOREST. A HEAVY spot the forest looks at first, Anon the sweet birds, like a sudden throng |