LXVII. O rock upon thy towery top All grass LXVIII. of silky feather grow And while he sinks or swells The full south-breeze around thee blow The sound of minster bells. LXIX. The fat earth feed thy branchy root, That under deeply strikes! The northern morning o'er thee shoot, High up, in silver spikes! LXX. Nor ever lightning char thy grain, But, rolling as in sleep, Low thunders bring the mellow rain, That makes thee broad and deep! LXXI. And hear me swear a solemn oath, That only by thy side Will I to Olive plight my troth, And gain her for my bride. LXXII. And when my marriage-morn may fall, She, Dryad-like, shall wear Alternate leaf and acorn-ball In wreath about her hair. LXXIII. And I will work in prose and rhyme, And praise thee more in both Than bard has honored beech or lime, Or that Thessalian growth LXXIV. In which the swarthy ringdove sat, And more than England honors that, LXXV. Wherein the younger Charles abode And far below the Roundhead rode, And hummed a surly hymn. 300 LOVE AND DUTY. Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts? Not so. If this were thus, if this, indeed, were all, The long mechanic pacings to and fro, But am I not the nobler through thy love? O three times less unworthy! likewise thou Will some one say, then why not ill for good? But then most Godlike being most a man. So let me think 't is well for thee and me Ill-fated that I am, what lot is mine Whose foresight preaches peace, my heart so slow When eyes, love-languid through half-tears, would dwell Then not to dare to see! when thy low voice, My own full-tuned, — hold passion in a leash, And not leap forth and fall about thy neck, |