Erect in grief, in trust erect, and gave His deathless dead a deathless life even here Where day bears down on day as wave on wave And not man's smile fades faster than his tear. Albeit this gift be given not me to give, Nor power be mine to break time's silent spell, Not less shall love that dies not while I live Bid thee, beloved in life and death, farewell. NEW YEAR'S DAY New Year, be good to England. Bid her name Shine sunlike as of old on all the sea: Make strong her soul: set all her spirit free: Bind fast her homeborn foes with links of shame More strong than iron and more keen than flame: Seal up their lips for shame's sake: so shall she Who was the light that lightened freedom be, For all false tongues, in all men's eyes the same. O last-born child of Time, earth's eldest lord, God undiscrowned of godhead, who for man Begets all good and evil things that live, Do thou, his new-begotten son, implored Of hearts that hope and fear not, make thy span Bright with such light as history bids thee give. _Jan. 1, 1889._ TO SIR RICHARD F. BURTON (ON HIS TRANSLATION OF "THE ARABIAN NIGHTS") Westward the sun sinks, grave and glad; but far Eastward, with laughter and tempestuous tears, Cloud, rain, and splendour as of orient spears, Keen as the sea's thrill toward a kindling star, The sundawn breaks the barren twilight's bar And fires the mist and slays it. Years on years Vanish, but he that hearkens eastward hears Bright music from the world where shadows are. Where shadows are not shadows. Hand in hand A man's word bids them rise and smile and stand And triumph. All that glorious orient glows Defiant of the dusk. Our twilight land Trembles; but all the heaven is all one rose, Whence laughing love dissolves her frosts and snows. NELL GWYN Sweet heart, that no taint of the throne or the stage Could touch with unclean transformation, or alter To the likeness of courtiers whose consciences falter At the smile or the frown, at the mirth or the rage, Of a master whom chance could inflame or assuage, Our Lady of Laughter, invoked in no psalter, Adored of no faithful that cringe and that palter, Praise be with thee yet from a hag-ridden age. Our Lady of Pity thou wast: and to thee All England, whose sons are the sons of the sea, Gives thanks, and will hear not if history snarls When the name of the friend of her sailors is spoken; And thy lover she cannot but love--by the token That thy name was the last on the lips of King Charles. CALIBAN ON ARIEL "_His backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract_"