ROBERT BRIDGES

840. When "Death to Either shall come

WHEN Death to either shall come,- I pray it be first to me,- Be happy as ever at home, If so, as I wish, it be.

Possess thy heart, my own; And sing to the child on thy knee, Or read to thyself alone The songs that I made for thee.

ANDREW LANG 1844-1912 841. The Odyssey

AS one that for a weary space has lain Lull'd by the song of Circe and her wine In gardens near the pale of Proserpine, Where that AEaean isle forgets the main, And only the low lutes of love complain, And only shadows of wan lovers pine- As such an one were glad to know the brine Salt on his lips, and the large air again- So gladly from the songs of modern speech Men turn, and see the stars, and feel the free Shrill wind beyond the close of heavy flowers, And through the music of the languid hours They hear like Ocean on a western beach The surge and thunder of the Odyssey.

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