And now by the side of the Black and the Baltic deep, And deathful-grinning mouths of the fortress, flames The blood-red blossom of war with a heart of fire. 5. Let it flame or fade, and the war roll down like a wind, We have proved we have hearts in a cause, we are noble still, And myself have awaked, as it seems, to the better mind; It is better to fight for the good, than to rail at the ill; I have felt with my native land, I am one with my kind, I embrace the purpose of God, and the doom assign'd. I THE BROOK; AN IDYL. 'HERE, by this brook, we parted; I to the East They flourish'd then or then; but life in him 12 Could scarce be said to flourish, only touch'd On such a time as goes before the leaf, When all the wood stands in a mist of green, And nothing perfect: yet the brook he loved, For which, in branding summers of Bengal, Or ev'n the sweet half-English Neilgherry air, I panted, seems, as I re-listen to it, Prattling the primrose fancies of the boy, To me that loved him; for "O brook," he says, "O babbling brook," says Edmund in his rhyme, "Whence come you?" and the brook, why not? replies. I come from haunts of coot and hern, And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. By thirty hills I hurry down, Or slip between the ridges, Till last by Philip's farm I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, 'Poor lad, he died at Florence, quite worn out, Travelling to Naples. There is Darnley bridge, It has more ivy; there the river; and there Stands Philip's farm where brook and river meet. I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, With many a curve my banks I fret With willow-weed and mallow. I chatter, chatter, as I flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, |