Or a hum of bees in the queenly robes of the lime: Or a descant in pairing time Of warbling birds: or watery bells Of rivulets in the hills: Or whether on blazing downs a high lark's hymn Alone in the azure dim: Or a sough of pines, when the midnight wold Is solitary and cold: Or a lapping river-ripple all day chiding The bow of my wherry gliding Down Thames, between his flowery shores Re-echoing to the oars: Or anthem notes, wherever in archèd quires The unheeded music twires, And, centuries by, to the stony shade Flies following and to fade: Or a homely prattle of children's voices gay 'Mong garden joys at play: Or a sundown chaunting of solemn rooks: Or memory of my books, Which hold the words that poets in many a tongue To the irksome world have sung: Or the voice, my happy lover, of thee Now separated from me. A ruby of fire in the burning sleep of my brain Long hid my thought had lain, Forgotten dreams of a thousand days Ingathering to its rays, The light of life in darkness tempering long; Till now a perfect song, A jewel of jewels it leapt above To the coronal of my love. 14 FOUNDER'S DAY. A SECULAR ODE ON THE NINTH JUBILEE OF ETON COLLEGE Christ and his Mother, heavenly maid, Mary, in whose fair name was laid Eton's corner, bless our youth With truth, and purity, mother of truth! O ye, 'neath breezy skies of June, By silver Thames's lulling tune, In shade of willow or oak, who try The golden gates of poesy; Or on the tabled sward all day Match your strength in England's play, Scholars of Henry, giving grace To toil and force in game or race; Exceed the prayer and keep the fame Of him, the sorrowful king, who came Here in his realm a realm to found, Where he might stand for ever crowned. Or whether with naked bodies flashing Ye plunge in the lashing weir; or dashing The oars of cedar skiffs, ye strain Round the rushes and home again;-- Or what pursuit soe'er it be That makes your mingled presence free, When by the schoolgate 'neath the limes Ye muster waiting the lazy chimes; May Peace, that conquereth sin and death, Temper for you her sword of faith; Crown with honour the loving eyes, And touch with mirth the mouth of the wise. Here is eternal spring: for you The very stars of heaven are new; And aged Fame again is born, Fresh as a peeping flower of morn. For you shall Shakespeare's scene unroll, Mozart shall steal your ravished soul, Homer his bardic hymn rehearse, Virgil recite his maiden verse.