« السابقةمتابعة »
O CAPTAIN! MY CAPTAIN !
O CAPTAIN ! my Captain ! our fearful trip is done; The ship has weathered every wrack, the prize we
sought is won; The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exult
ing, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and
O the bleeding drops of red,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells ; Rise up — for you the flag is flung, for you the bugle
trills; For you bouquets and ribboned wreaths, for you the
shores a-crowding; For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces
This arm beneath your head;
You've fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and
still; My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor
The ship is anchored safe and sound, its voyage
closed and done : From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object
But I, with mournful tread,
Fallen cold and dead.
GEORGE NOËL GORDON, LORD BYRON.
From Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto IV, stanzas clxxviii-clxxxiv.
Throughout Childe Harold's Pilgrimage the writer poses as one who has "not loved the world, nor the world him." It was after the publication of the first two cantos of this poem that Byron "woke one morning to find himself famous." He once called himself "the grand Napoleon of the realms of rhyme."
THERE is a pleasure in the pathless woods;
To mingle with the universe, and feel
Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean, roll!
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.
His steps are not upon thy paths ; thy fields
His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth : there let him lay."
The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
1 “This use of lay has caused considerable comment. Byron, whether carelessly or intentionally, employs lay several times in his poems as an intransitive verb. He might find authority for this confusion of lie and lay in writers of the middle English period ; but it must be confessed that no great poet of the language is so careless of his grammar as Byron.” — Byron's Poems, Cambridge Edition.
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.'
Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee:
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow;
Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
And I have loved thee, Ocean ! and my joy
1 Armada, the fleet of Philip II of Spain defeated by Sir Francis Drake.
• Trafalgar, the famous battle in which Lord Nelson de feated Napoleon's navy.
Made them a terror— 't was a pleasing fear,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
PORTIA'S SPEECH ON MERCY.
From the Merchant of Venice, Act iv, Scene 1.
The quality of mercy is not strained;
mercy ; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. · Mane, cf. Scott's lines in The Lay of the Last Minstrel :
“ Each wave was crested with tawny foam,
Like the mane of a chestnut steed."