THOMAS LOVE PEACOCK
Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl ?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.
And your ballast is old wine.
BRYAN WALLER PROCTER
604 For a Fountain
��K 7 ,ST' This little Fountain runs Thus for aye It never stays For the look of summer suns,
Nor the cold of winter days. Whosoe'er shall wander near,
When the Syrian heat is worst, Let him hither come, nor fear
Lest he may not slake his thirst: He will find this little river Running still, as bright as ever. Let him drink, and onward hie, Bearing but in thought, that I, EROTAS, bade the Naiad fall, And thank the great god Pan for all '
GEORGE GORDON BYRON, LORD BYRON
��W!
��605 When we Two farted
rHEN we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years,
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