Louder, louder chant the lay-- Waken, lords and ladies gay! Tell them youth and mirth and glee Run a course as well as we; Time, stern huntsman! who can baulk, Staunch as hound and fleet as hawk; Think of this, and rise with day, Gentle lords and ladies gay! (SCOTT: _Hunting Song_.) Larger constellations burning, mellow moons and happy skies, Breadths of tropic shade and palms in cluster, knots of Paradise. (TENNYSON: _Locksley Hall_.) Wild April, enkindled to laughter and storm by the kiss of the wildest of winds that blow, Calls loud on his brother for witness; his hands that were laden with blossom are sprinkled with snow. (SWINBURNE: _March_.) ii. _Verse showing irregular intervals between accents_ Gegrētte ðā gumena gehwylcne, hwate helm-berend, hindeman sīðe, swǣse gesīðas: "Nolde ic sweord beran, wǣpen tō wyrme, gif ic wiste hū wið ðām āglǣcean elles meahte gylpe wiðgrīpan, swā ic gīo wið Grendle dyde; ac ic ðǣr heaðu-fȳres hātes wēne, oreðes ond attres; forðon ic mē on hafu bord ond byrnan. Nelle ic beorges weard oferflēon fōtes trem, ac unc sceal weorðan æt wealle, swā unc wyrd getēoð, Metod manna gehwæs. Ic eom on mōde from, þæt ic wið þone gūð-flogan gylp ofersitte. (_Beowulf_, ll. 2516-2528. ab. 700.) Ich herde men upo mold make muche mon, hou he beþ itened of here tilyynge: gode yeres & corn boþe beþ agon, ne kepeþ here no sawe ne no song synge. Nou we mote worche, nis þer non oþer won, mai ich no lengore lyue wiþ mi lesinge. Yet þer is a bitterore bit to þe bon, for euer þe furþe peni mot to þe kynge.[4] (_The Farmer's Complaint_, ab. 1300; in Böddeker's _Altenglische Dichtungen_, p. 102, and Wright's _Political Songs_, p. 149.) I will speake out aloude, I care not who heare it: Sirs, see that my harnesse, my tergat and my shield Be made as bright now as when I was last in fielde, As white as I shoulde to warre againe to-morrowe; For sicke shall I be but I worke some folke sorow. Therefore see that all shine as bright as Sainct George, Or as doth a key newly come from the smiths forge. (N. UDALL: _Ralph Roister Doister_, IV. iii. 13-19. 1566.) To this, this Oake cast him to replie Well as he couth; but his enemie Had kindled such coles of displeasure, That the good man noulde stay his leasure, But home him hasted with furious heate, Encreasing his wrath with many a threat: His harmefull Hatchet he hent in hand, (Alas! that it so ready should stand!) And to the field alone he speedeth, (Aye little helpe to harme there needeth!) Anger nould let him speake to the tree, Enaunter his rage mought cooled bee; But to the roote bent his sturdie stroake, And made many wounds in the waste Oake. (SPENSER: _Shepherd's Calendar, February_. 1579.)