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Article YRAN AND JURA. Page 1 of 1 Article THE SOUL. Page 1 of 1
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Yran And Jura.
YRAN AND JURA .
FROM THK TTOKSE . BY E . S . J . AUTHOR OF WILLIAM & ELLKN . YUAN . YON Brian Dell to me is Hell , . Why should I seek him there . ' The owl that flies thrp' midnight skies , Ofl bad him to beware
; . The bullfinch hops ' mong . cheerless drops Which bend the willow bough ; The raven croaks , among the oaks , Or nestles in the yew . Where rests his head , On chilly bed , Beneath the willow shade .
JCKAYoti russet lawn , where oft at dawn , In freshening morning air ; The deepmouth'd hounds , atdistancesound To fright the friendless Hare ; With misty shroud of hanging cloud , The list ' ning meads were clad : — 'Tis there I'll mourn till he return , His absence makes me mad .
Where rests his head , On chilly bed , Beneath " the willow shade . i YUAN . What hope have I to weep and sigh , Beside the root hung pool ; All floating there my careless hair , To tell taleofduler
my _ Vain hope , away , he ' s cold as clay , And still upon the plain ; Where he did light the sturdy Knight , Who hath my lover slain . Where rests his head On chilly bed , Beneath the willow shade .
JUF . A . Oh ! sorrow snd I all dismal clad I Oh ! curse the fatal day ! Oh ! fatal strife I Oh fury rife ! To snatch his life away ! The boding Owl did fright my soul , And told me of his doom ; That he should die , that I should sigh , And mourn my life to come .
Where rests his head , On chilly bed , Beneath the willow shade . MINSTREL . Full high in air , the Fates sat there , And smil'd upon their end ; Among the shades , the weeping maids Their forlorn iresses rend
; Besi- ' e the stream , as in a dream , Stretch'd on the chilly ground , In close embrace , with tear-worn face , They sunk them in and drown'd . Beside the deep , Where they did weep , Beneath the willow shade .
The Soul.
THE SOUL .
BY THE SAME .
T HE dav ? of man are but a span ; Buttheutheso-. il , we cry , Will live eternal—wrapt in bliss . The soul can never die . What is this little thing , the soul ? Or « here its secret court ? 'Tis here and there , and every where ,
And itise men are its sport . In this it is alordling too , ' . To keep so many fools ; . Yet none but fools in this are wise , They seek not for their souls . What is its nature ? Who can tell ? Or in the heart or head ?
Or is it in the pineal gland It makes its little bed ( It is in child as well as man ; What calf asoul has not ? But whether , when the glutton has . Or butcher , cut thy throat ; Or whether , when some doctor rude , in
Just pricks a virg ' s arm , Her sou ! conies sporting thro' the wound ,--No more it keeps her warm . When we upon ourpil ' ow sleep , Thou tak ' st a little nap ; When we lie down on mother earth , Thou noildest on her lap . Why cans't thou not in Bedlam dwell , Willi thos- who once thee had ? Because man is not just the thing , The soul sure can't run mad .
Whyythen there is no soul at . all , We ' ve only learnt to think ; And memory , and all the rest , Began with meat and drink . For when we neither eat nor drink , The soul cries , ' I'll away ; If vou won't give me meat and drink , Hang me if I will stay !'
For all your philosophic clash , The soul is . still at home ; The stomach is its country house , The head it is its town . But yet the head and stomach are , Just like to man and wife ; While they agree , they make a thing ,
And it is called life . A soul , a life , or what you will , In ev ' ry , thing you'll grant , From mighty man , down to a mouse ; 'Tis even in a plant . The life of ma is but a span , The life of dug the same ; When tyrant Death doih come and ca . ll , Each dog doth know his name .
Note: This text has been automatically extracted via Optical Character Recognition (OCR) software.
Yran And Jura.
YRAN AND JURA .
FROM THK TTOKSE . BY E . S . J . AUTHOR OF WILLIAM & ELLKN . YUAN . YON Brian Dell to me is Hell , . Why should I seek him there . ' The owl that flies thrp' midnight skies , Ofl bad him to beware
; . The bullfinch hops ' mong . cheerless drops Which bend the willow bough ; The raven croaks , among the oaks , Or nestles in the yew . Where rests his head , On chilly bed , Beneath the willow shade .
JCKAYoti russet lawn , where oft at dawn , In freshening morning air ; The deepmouth'd hounds , atdistancesound To fright the friendless Hare ; With misty shroud of hanging cloud , The list ' ning meads were clad : — 'Tis there I'll mourn till he return , His absence makes me mad .
Where rests his head , On chilly bed , Beneath " the willow shade . i YUAN . What hope have I to weep and sigh , Beside the root hung pool ; All floating there my careless hair , To tell taleofduler
my _ Vain hope , away , he ' s cold as clay , And still upon the plain ; Where he did light the sturdy Knight , Who hath my lover slain . Where rests his head On chilly bed , Beneath the willow shade .
JUF . A . Oh ! sorrow snd I all dismal clad I Oh ! curse the fatal day ! Oh ! fatal strife I Oh fury rife ! To snatch his life away ! The boding Owl did fright my soul , And told me of his doom ; That he should die , that I should sigh , And mourn my life to come .
Where rests his head , On chilly bed , Beneath the willow shade . MINSTREL . Full high in air , the Fates sat there , And smil'd upon their end ; Among the shades , the weeping maids Their forlorn iresses rend
; Besi- ' e the stream , as in a dream , Stretch'd on the chilly ground , In close embrace , with tear-worn face , They sunk them in and drown'd . Beside the deep , Where they did weep , Beneath the willow shade .
The Soul.
THE SOUL .
BY THE SAME .
T HE dav ? of man are but a span ; Buttheutheso-. il , we cry , Will live eternal—wrapt in bliss . The soul can never die . What is this little thing , the soul ? Or « here its secret court ? 'Tis here and there , and every where ,
And itise men are its sport . In this it is alordling too , ' . To keep so many fools ; . Yet none but fools in this are wise , They seek not for their souls . What is its nature ? Who can tell ? Or in the heart or head ?
Or is it in the pineal gland It makes its little bed ( It is in child as well as man ; What calf asoul has not ? But whether , when the glutton has . Or butcher , cut thy throat ; Or whether , when some doctor rude , in
Just pricks a virg ' s arm , Her sou ! conies sporting thro' the wound ,--No more it keeps her warm . When we upon ourpil ' ow sleep , Thou tak ' st a little nap ; When we lie down on mother earth , Thou noildest on her lap . Why cans't thou not in Bedlam dwell , Willi thos- who once thee had ? Because man is not just the thing , The soul sure can't run mad .
Whyythen there is no soul at . all , We ' ve only learnt to think ; And memory , and all the rest , Began with meat and drink . For when we neither eat nor drink , The soul cries , ' I'll away ; If vou won't give me meat and drink , Hang me if I will stay !'
For all your philosophic clash , The soul is . still at home ; The stomach is its country house , The head it is its town . But yet the head and stomach are , Just like to man and wife ; While they agree , they make a thing ,
And it is called life . A soul , a life , or what you will , In ev ' ry , thing you'll grant , From mighty man , down to a mouse ; 'Tis even in a plant . The life of ma is but a span , The life of dug the same ; When tyrant Death doih come and ca . ll , Each dog doth know his name .