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No MQRE CRYING
CHANCELLOR’S PRIZE POEMS:
THE TOWER OF LONDON
CÆSAR'S INVASION OF BRITAIN .
THE TWO BROTHERS.
Εύδουσα γαρ φρών όμμασιν λαμπρύνεται. .
ARE the embers smouldering, brother? Think not to re
vive their light. Brother, I've a tale to tell thee I can better tell at night: And their faint dun glow will glimmer till, perchance, my
tale is done. List! that dull and heavy sound - it is the church-bell
pealing “one.” Strangely through the sere elm forests come the fitful gusts
of wind, Strangely on the casement beats the hollow drifting rain
behind; Night broods round, a wall of darkness, such as moonThirteen summers have waved round us, thirteen winters
beams cannot scale, And the blessed stars are blunted like a shaft from coat of
shower'd their snows, Thirteen springs danced by, and thirteen autumns pass'd
like music's close, Since I witness'd gloom like this, wherein the stoutest
heart would melt: Thick close darkness on our eyelids weighing - darkness
that is felt. Oh, the memory of that midnight, spectre-like, within me
sleeps; If I only gaze, it rises dimly from my spirit's deeps Rises with the sere elm forests struck by fitful gusts of
wind, And the hollow drifting raindrops on the casement close
behind : Every wind-moan finds an echo in my moaning heart within, And the rain is not as dewdrops to a soul once scarr'd with
Brother, thou wert ever to me as a young and golden mist Floating through blue liquid heavens, with the morning
sunlight kiss'd; Which the eye looks up and blesses, lingering on its track