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Four Songs
From “ As You Like It"
From “King John”
From “Macbeth”
From “Julius Cæsar”

From “Henry VIII.”

"Lines,” and “Evening"

From “Adonais

From “The Faery Queene”

From “ Golden Grove” Sermons

The Song of the Brook
From “ In Memoriam
“ Home they brought her Warrior dead
The Lotos-Eaters
“Of old sat Freedom on the Heights"
Sir Galahad
“ The Days that are no more
Morte d'Arthur

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NOTE.—The criticisms of the writers, as apart from their writings here selected,
are prefixed to their most important, or most thoroughly characteristic works.

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CHARLES KINGSLEY : : 1819–1875.

The Sands ó' Dee. From Alton Locke."
See p. 95.

“Alton Locke is a novel on the subject of the “Chartist movement of 1849. The hero, a tailor and a poet, sets the following words to a wild melody he once heard.

Oh, Mary, go and call the home,

And call the cattle home,
And call the cattle home,

Across the sands o' Dee!”
The western wind was wild and dank wi' foam,

And all alone went she.
The creeping tide came up along the sand,

And o’er and o'er the sand,
And round and round the sand,

As far as eye could see:
The blinding mist came down, and hid the land :-

And never home came she.
Oh! is it weed, or fish, or floating hair-

A tress of golden hair,
O’drowned maiden's hair,

Above the nets at sea ?
Was never salmon yet that shone so fair,

Among the stakes on Dee.”
They row'd her in across the rolling foam,

The cruel crawling foam,
The cruel hungry foam,

To her grave beside the sea.
But still the boatmen hear her call the cattle home,

Across the sands o' Dee.


The Three Fishers.

See p. 95.

THREE fishers went sailing out into the west,

Away to the west as the sun went down ;
Each thought of the woman who loved him the best,
And the children stood watching them out of the town.

For men must work and women must weep,
And there's little to earn,


many to keep, Though the harbour bar be moaning. Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower,

And trimm'd the lamps as the sun went down ;
And they look'd at the squall, and they look'd at the shower,
While the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown;

But men must work and women must weep,
Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,

And the harbour bar be moaning.
Three corpses lie out on the shining sands

In the morning gleam, as the tide goes down,
And the women are weeping and wringing their hands,
For those who will never come home to the town.

But men must work and women must weep,
And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep,
And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.


The Homes of England.

See p. II.
THE stately homes of England !

How beautiful they stand,
Amidst their tall ancestral trees,

O’er all the pleasant land !
The deer across their greensward bound

Through shade and sunny gleam,
And the swan glides past them with the sound

Of some rejoicing stream.

The merry homes of England !

Around their hearths by night,
What gladsome looks of household love

Meet in the ruddy light!
There woman's voice flows forth in song,

Or childhood's tale is told,
Or lips move tunefully along

Some glorious page of old.
The blessed homes of England !

How softly on their bowers
Is laid the holy quietness

That breathes from Sabbath hours !
Solemn, yet sweet, the church bell's chime

Floats through their woods at morn ;
All other sounds, in that still time,

Of breeze and leaf are born.
The cottage homes of England !

By thousands on her plains,
They are smiling o'er the silvery brooks,

And round the hamlet fanes. *
Through glowing orchards forth they peep,

Each from its nook of leaves,
And fearless there the lowly sleep,

As the bird beneath their eaves.
The free, fair homes of England !

Long, long, in hut and hall,
May hearts of native prooft be reared

To guard each hallow'd wall.
And green for ever be the groves,

And bright the flowery sod,
Where first the child's glad spirit loves

Its country and its God.

* Consecrated spots, churches. Lat. fanum. Hamlet = diminutive of A.S. ham, or hom, a dwelling-place, a village.

+ Armour (which has been proved).


Four Songs. William Shakspere was born at Stratford-on-Avon—the world's wonder, her greatest dramatist, and largest-minded man. The first song is a dirge uttered over the supposed dead body of Imogen, taken from the play of “Cymbeline ;" the next two from As You Like It," and the last from Love's Labour's Lost."

FEAR no more the heat o' the sun,

Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone and ta’en thy wages :
Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
Fear no more the frown o' the great,

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ;
Care no more to clothe, and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, * must

All follow this, and come to dust.
Fear no more the lightning flash,

Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ;
Fear not slander, censure rash ;

Thou hast finish'd joy and moan :
All lovers young, all lovers must

Consignt to thee, and come to dust.

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* The art of physic-put for those who practise it.

+ Sign a common bond with thee; submit to the same terms; come to the same state.

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