John William Mackail

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“From D-wks and Ch-tty at my tail You’ll syllogize that I’m M-CK-L; In all I do I score always, In all I say — à l’écossaise.”

“Even as when the maid of PandarusThe greenwood nightingale melodious,Amid the thickening leafage sits and singsWhen the young spring is waving over us:{{pb}}And she with many a note and hurrying trillPours forth her liquid voice, lamenting stillHer own son Itylus, King Zethus' child,Whom long ago her folly made her kill.”

“Saw you perchance before the Trojan wallA sister's husband or wife's father fall,A valiant man? for next one's kin and bloodIs such affinity most close of all:{{pb}}Or one knit close to you in friendship's bands,Gracious of heart and mighty of his hands?Since nowise lesser than a brother bornThe comrade is who wisdom understands.”

“And the sun left the lovely lake and clombUpward across the sky's brass-paven dome,To light the deathless gods, and mortal menThat have the acres of the corn for home.”

“O Muse, instruct me of the man who drewHis changeful course through wanderings not a fewAfter he sacked the holy town of Troy,And saw the cities and the counsel knew{{pb}}Of many men, and many a time at seaWithin his heart he bore calamity,While his own life he laboured to redeemAnd bring his fellows back from jeopardy.”

“The soul beyond her knowing seems to sweep Out of the deep, fire-winged, into the deep.”

“Still . . . fair, though scarce less old than Rome. Now once again at rest from wandering Across the high Alps and the dreadful sea, In utmost England let it find a home.”