The Jubilee Of A Magazine

William Dewy, Tranter Reuben, Farmer Ledlow late at plough,
Robert's kin, and John's, and Ned's,
And the Squire, and Lady Susan, lie in Mellstock churchyard now!

"Gone," I call them, gone for good, that group of local hearts and heads;
Yet at mothy curfew-tide,
And at midnight when the noon-heat breathes it back from walls and leads,

They've a way of whispering to me fellow-wight who yet abide -
In the muted, measured note
Of a ripple under archways, or a lone cave's stillicide:

"We have triumphed: this achievement turns the bane to antidote,
Unsuccesses to success,
- Many thought-worn eves and morrows to a morrow free of thought.

"No more need we corn and clothing, feel of old terrestrial stress;
Chill detraction stirs no sigh;
Fear of death has...

It was at the very date to which we have come,
In the month of the matching name,
When, at a like minute, the sun had upswum,
Its couch-time at night being the same.
And the same path stretched here that people now follow,
And the same stile crossed their way,
And beyond the same green hillock and hollow
The same horizon lay;
And the same man pilgrims now hereby who pilgrimed here that day.

Let so much be said of the date-day's sameness;
But the tree that neighbours the track,
And stoops like a pedlar afflicted with lameness,
Knew of no sogged wound or windcrack.
And the joints of that wall were not enshrouded
With mosses of many tones,
And the garth up afar was not overcrowded
With a multitude of white stones,
And the man's eyes then were not so su...

I

I bent in the deep of night
Over a pedigree the chronicler gave
As mine; and as I bent there, half-unrobed,
The uncurtained panes of my window-square let in the watery light
Of the moon in its old age:
And green-rheumed clouds were hurrying past where mute and cold it
globed
Like a drifting dolphin's eye seen through a lapping wave.

II

So, scanning my sire-sown tree,
And the hieroglyphs of this spouse tied to that,
With offspring mapped below in lineage,
Till the tangles troubled me,
The branches seemed to twist into a seared and cynic face
Which winked and tokened towards the window like a Mage
Enchanting me to gaze again thereat.

III

It was a mirror now,
And in it a long perspective I could trace
Of my bege...

I.

Fifty times the rose has flower’d and faded,
Fifty times the golden harvest fallen,
Since our Queen assumed the globe, the sceptre.



II.

She beloved for a kindliness
Rare in fable or history,
Queen, and Empress of India,
Crown’d so long with a diadem
Never worn by a worthier,
Now with prosperous auguries
Comes at last to the bounteous
Crowning year of her Jubilee.


III.

Nothing of the lawless, of the despot,
Nothing of the vulgar, or vainglorious,
All is gracious, gentle, great and queenly.



IV.

You then joyfully, all of you,
Set the mountain aflame to-night,
Shoot your stars to the firmament,
Deck your houses, illuminate
All your towns for a festival,
An...

Wanted--Authors of all-work to job for the season,
    No matter which party, so faithful to neither;
Good hacks who, if posed for a rhyme or a reason.
    Can manage, like ******, to do without either.

If in jail, all the better for out-o'-door topics;
    Your jail is for travellers a charming retreat;
They can take a day's rule for a trip to the Tropics,
    And sail round the world at their ease in the Fleet.

For a dramatist too the most useful of schools--
    He can study high life in the King's Bench community;
Aristotle could scarce keep him more within rules,
    And of place he at least must adhere to the unity.

Any lady or gentleman, come to an age
    To have good "Reminiscences" (three-score or higher)
Will meet with e...

STANZAS ENCLOSED.


TO MY SHADOW; OR, WHY?--WHAT?--HOW?

Dark comrade of my path! while earth and sky
    Thus wed their charms, in bridal light arrayed,
Why in this bright hour, walkst thou ever nigh;
    Blackening my footsteps, with thy length of shade--
                                Dark comrade, WHY?

Thou mimic Shape that, mid these flowery scenes,
    Glidest beside me o'er each sunny spot,
Saddening them as thou goest--say, what means
    So dark an adjunct to so bright a lot--
                                Grim goblin, WHAT?

Still, as to pluck sweet flowers I bend my brow,
    Thou bendest, too--then risest when I rise;--
Say, mute, mysterious Thing! how is't that thou
    Thus comest between me and those blessed skies--
...