Rondel*

Long ago to thee I gave
Body, soul, and all I have---
    Nothing in the world I keep:

All that in return I crave
Is that thou accept the slave
Long ago to thee I gave---
Body, soul, and all I have.

Had I more to share or save,
I would give as give the brave,
    Stooping not to part the heap;
Long ago to thee I gave
Body, soul, and all I have---
    Nothing in the world I keep.

Henry John Newbolt

Sir Henry John Newbolt was an English poet and author, famous for his ballads such as 'Vitaï Lampada'. He graduated from Oxford and was called to the bar, but he is better remembered for his literary contributions than his legal career. Newbolt served as a government advisor on military and naval literature during World War I. He was knighted in 1915 for his services to literature. Newbolt's work often reflected themes of patriotism and duty.

Henry John Newbolt

The Non-Combatant

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

To a River in the South

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

Pereunt Et Imputantur

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

A Sower

Henry John Newbolt, Simple Poetry

English

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Rondel*

Though I wander far-off ways,
    Dearest, never doubt thou me:

Mine is not the love that strays,
Though I wander far-off ways:

Faithfully for all my days
    I have vowed myself to thee:
Though I wander far-off ways,
    Dearest, never doubt thou me.

Henry John Newbolt

Sir Hugh the Palmer

    I

    He kneeled among a waste of sands
        Before the Mother-Maid,
    But on the far green forest-lands
        His steadfast eyes were stayed,
    And like a knight of stone his hands
        He straightened while he prayed.

    "Lady, beyond all women fair,
        Beyond all saints benign,
    Whose living heart through life I bear
        In mystery divine,
    Hear thou and grant me this my prayer,
        Or grant no prayer of mine.

    "The fever of my spirit's pain
        Heal thou with heavenly scorn;
    The dust that but of dust is fain
        Leave thou in dust forlorn;
    Yea! bury love to rise again
        Meet for eternal morn.

    "So by thy grace my inward eyes
        Thy beauty still ...

Henry John Newbolt

Amore Altiero

    Since thou and I have wandered from the highway
        And found with hearts reborn
    This swift and unimaginable byway
        Unto the hills of morn,
    Shall not our love disdain the unworthy uses
        Of the old time outworn?

    I'll not entreat thy half unwilling graces
        With humbly folded palms,
    Nor seek to shake thy proud defended places
        With noise of vague alarms,
    Nor ask against my fortune's grim pursuing
        The refuge of thy arms.

    Thou'lt not withhold for pleasure vain and cruel
        That which has long been mine,
    Nor overheap with briefly burning fuel
        A fire of flame divine,
    Nor yield the key for life's profaner voices
        To brawl within the shrine.

Henry John Newbolt

Rondel

These many years since we began to be,
What have the gods done with us? what with me,
What with my love? they have shown me fates and fears,
Harsh springs, and fountains bitterer than the sea,
Grief a fixed star, and joy a vane that veers,
These many years.

With her, my love, with her have they done well?
But who shall answer for her? who shall tell
Sweet things or sad, such things as no man hears?
May no tears fall, if no tears ever fell,
From eyes more dear to me than starriest spheres
These many years!

But if tears ever touched, for any grief,
Those eyelids folded like a white-rose leaf,
Deep double shells wherethrough the eye-flower peers,
Let them weep once more only, sweet and brief,
Brief tears and bright, for one who gave her tears
The...

Algernon Charles Swinburne

Rondel

Heart, thou must learn to do without--
    That is the riches of the poor,
    Their liberty is to endure;
Wrap thou thine old cloak thee about,
And carol loud and carol stout;
    Let thy rags fly, nor wish them fewer;
Thou too must learn to do without,
    Must earn the riches of the poor!

Why should'st thou only wear no clout?
    Thou only walk in love-robes pure?
    Why should thy step alone be sure?
Thou only free of fortune's flout?
Nay, nay! but learn to go without,
    And so be humbly, richly poor.

George MacDonald

A Song.

    High state and honours to others impart,
        But give me your heart:
    That treasure, that treasure alone,
        I beg for my own.

    So gentle a love, so fervent a fire,
        My soul does inspire;
    That treasure, that treasure alone,
        I beg for my own.
    Your love let me crave;
            Give me in possessing
        So matchless a blessing;
    That empire is all I would have.
            Love's my petition,
                All my ambition;
            If e'er you discover
            So faithful a lover,
            So real a flame,
            I'll die, I'll die,
            So give up my game.

John Dryden