The Poetical Works of Robert Southey, Esq. ...: Minor poems

Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1823
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˹ 2 - Two things have I required of thee ; deny me them not before I die: remove far from me vanity and lies: give me neither poverty nor riches; feed me with food convenient for me: lest I be full, and deny thee, and say, "Who is the Lord?" or lest I be poor, and steal, and take the name of my God in vain.
˹ 233 - Train up thy children, England ! in the ways Of righteousness, and feed them with the bread Of wholesome doctrine. Where hast thou thy mines But in their industry ? Thy bulwarks where but in their breasts...
˹ 52 - So, serious should my youth appear among The thoughtless throng, So would I seem, amid the young and gay More grave than they, That in my age as cheerful I might be As the green winter of the Holly Tree.
˹ 56 - We met a young bare-footed child, And she begg'd loud and bold, I ask'd her what she did abroad When the wind it blew so cold; She said her father was at home And he lay sick a-bed, And therefore was it she was sent Abroad to beg for bread. We saw a woman sitting down Upon a stone to rest, She had a baby at her back And another at her breast; I ask'd her why she loiter'd there When the wind it was so chill; She turn'd her head and bade the child That scream 'd behind be still.
˹ 17 - Where my tired mind might rest and call it home. There is a magic in that little word ; It is a mystic circle that surrounds Comforts and virtues never known beyond The hallowed limit.
˹ 50 - Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen Wrinkled and keen ; No grazing cattle through their prickly round Can reach to wound ; But as they grow where nothing is to fear, Smooth and unarm'd the pointless leaves appear.
˹ 219 - France ! for wheresoe'er In peace or war thy banner hath been spread, All forms of human woe have follow'd there : The Living and the Dead Cry out alike against thee ! They who bear, Crouching beneath its weight, thine iron yoke, Join in the bitterness of secret prayer The voice of that innumerable throng Whose slaughtered spirits day and night invoke The everlasting Judge of right and wrong, How long, O Lord! Holy and Just, how long! 6. A...
˹ 104 - tis his clothes, his shell, His bones, the case and armour of his life, And thou shalt do no murder, Nicholas ! It were an easy thing to crack that nut, Or with thy crackers, or thy double teeth, So easily may all things be destroyed ! But 'tis not in the power of mortal man, To mend the fracture of a filbert shell.
˹ 222 - Witness'd, when the torches' light To the assembled murderers show'd Where the blood of Conde flow'd ; By thy murder'd Pichegru's fame ; By murder'd Wright, . . an English name ; By murder'd Palm's atrocious doom ; By murder'd Hofer's martyrdom ; Oh ! by the virtuous blood thus vilely spilt, The Villain's own peculiar private guilt, Open thine eyes ! too long hast thou been blind ! Take vengeance for thyself, and for mankind...
˹ 12 - Then did he set her by that snowy one, Like the true saint beside the image set ; Of both their beauties to make paragone And triall, whether should the honor get. Streightway, so soone as both together met, Th...