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    Poems on Travel
    Poems on Travel
    Poems on Travel
    Ebook185 pages1 hour

    Poems on Travel

    By Various Various

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 27, 2013
    Poems on Travel

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      Book preview

      Poems on Travel - Various Various

      The Project Gutenberg EBook of Poems on Travel, by Various

      This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

      almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

      re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

      with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license

      Title: Poems on Travel

      Author: Various

      Release Date: April 21, 2012 [EBook #39496]

      Language: English

      *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK POEMS ON TRAVEL ***

      Produced by Delphine Lettau, Diane Monico, and the Online

      Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

      OXFORD GARLANDS

      POEMS ON TRAVEL

      SELECTED BY

      R. M. LEONARD

      HUMPHREY MILFORD

      OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

      LONDON EDINBURGH GLASGOW NEW YORK

      TORONTO MELBOURNE BOMBAY

      1914

      OXFORD: HORACE HART

      PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY

      INDEX OF AUTHORS

      Arnold, Matthew (1822-88), 12, 13, 35, 38, 79, 95

      Blunt, Wilfrid Scawen (b. 1840), 78

      Bridges, Robert (b. 1844), 11

      Browning, Robert (1812-89), 49, 77, 91

      Butler, Arthur Grey (1831-1909), 29

      Byron, George Gordon, Lord (1788-1824), 25, 47, 53, 56, 60, 80, 87, 88, 96

      Calverley, Charles Stuart (1831-84), 99

      Cleveland, John (1613-58), 121

      Clough, Arthur Hugh (1819-61), 7, 18, 23, 48, 55, 64

      Coleridge, Samuel Taylor (1772-1834), 14, 98

      Cowper, William (1731-1800), 118

      Faber, Frederick William (1814-63), 107

      Godley, Alfred Denis (b. 1856), 26

      Goldsmith, Oliver (1728-74), 8

      Hardy, Thomas (b. 1840), 31, 62

      Hood, Thomas (1799-1845), 97, 99, 116

      Keats, John (1795-1821), 39

      Landor, Walter Savage (1775-1864), 46, 74, 89

      Locker-Lampson, Frederick (1821-95), 56

      Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth (1807-82), 5, 44, 69, 103, 108

      Mangan, James Clarence (1803-49), 120

      Marvell, Andrew (1621-78), 113

      Newman, John Henry (1801-90), 75, 76

      Phillimore, John Swinnerton (b. 1873), 73

      Prior, Matthew (1664-1721,) 114

      Rodd, Sir Rennell (b. 1858), 83, 85

      Rogers, Samuel (1763-1855), 51, 66

      Rossetti, Dante Gabriel (1828-82), 112

      Shelley, Percy Bysshe (1792-1822), 52, 86

      Stevenson, Robert Louis (1850-94), 121

      Symonds, John Addington (1840-93), 38

      Tennyson, Alfred, Lord (1809-92), 7, 20, 21, 22, 40, 81

      Trench, Richard Chenevix (1807-86), 68, 77

      Watts-Dunton, Theodore (1832-1914), 32, 33

      Wordsworth, William (1770-1850), 9, 10, 34, 62, 65, 108

      POEMS ON TRAVEL

      TRAVELS BY THE FIRESIDE

      The ceaseless rain is falling fast,

      And yonder gilded vane,

      Immovable for three days past,

      Points to the misty main.

      It drives me in upon myself5

      And to the fireside gleams,

      To pleasant books that crowd my shelf,

      And still more pleasant dreams.

      I read whatever bards have sung

      Of lands beyond the sea,10

      And the bright days when I was young

      Come thronging back to me.

      In fancy I can hear again

      The Alpine torrent's roar,

      The mule-bells on the hills of Spain,15

      The sea at Elsinore.

      I see the convent's gleaming wall

      Rise from its groves of pine,

      And towers of old cathedrals tall,

      And castles by the Rhine.20

      I journey on by park and spire,

      Beneath centennial trees,

      Through fields with poppies all on fire,

      And gleams of distant seas.

      I fear no more the dust and heat,25

      No more I fear fatigue,

      While journeying with another's feet

      O'er many a lengthening league.

      Let others traverse sea and land,

      And toil through various climes,30

      I turn the world round with my hand

      Reading these poets' rhymes.

      From them I learn whatever lies

      Beneath each changing zone,

      And see, when looking with their eyes,35

      Better than with mine own.

      H. W. Longfellow.

      FANCIES FOR MEMORIES

      Over the great windy waters, and over the clear-crested summits,

      Unto the sun and the sky, and unto the perfecter earth,

      Come, let us go,—to a land wherein gods of the old time wandered,

      Where every breath even now changes to ether divine.

      Come, let us go; though withal a voice whisper, 'The world that we live in,5

      Whithersoever we turn, still is the same narrow crib;

      'Tis but to prove limitation, and measure a cord, that we travel;

      Let who would 'scape and be free go to his chamber and think;

      'Tis but to change idle fancies for memories wilfully falser;

      'Tis but to go and have been.'—Come, little bark! let us go.10

      A. H. Clough.

      THE CRY OF ULYSSES

      I cannot rest from travel: I will drink

      Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed

      Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those

      That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when

      Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades5

      Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;

      For always roaming with a hungry heart

      Much have I seen and known; cities of men,

      And manners, climates, councils, governments,

      Myself not least, but honoured of them all;10

      And drunk delight of battle with my peers,

      Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.

      I am a part of all that I have met;

      Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough

      Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades

      For ever and for ever when I move.16

      Lord Tennyson.

      THE TRAVELLER

      Remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow,

      Or by the lazy Scheldt, or wandering Po;

      Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor

      Against the houseless stranger shuts the door;

      Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies,5

      A weary waste expanding to the skies:

      Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,

      My heart untravelled fondly turns to thee;

      Still to my brother turns with ceaseless pain,

      And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.10

      In all my wanderings round this world of care,

      In all my griefs—and God has given my share—

      I still had hopes my latest hours to crown,

      Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down;

      To husband out life's taper at the close,15

      And keep the flame from wasting by repose.

      I still had hopes, for pride attends us still,

      Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill,

      Around my fire an evening group to draw,

      And tell of all I felt, and all I saw;20

      And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue,

      Pants to the place from whence at first she flew,

      I still had hopes, my long vexations passed,

      Here to return—and die at home at last.

      O. Goldsmith.

      I TRAVELLED AMONG UNKNOWN MEN

      I travelled among unknown men,

      In lands beyond the sea;

      Nor, England! did I know till then

      What love I bore to thee.

      'Tis past, that melancholy dream!5

      Nor will I quit thy shore

      A second time; for still I seem

      To love thee more and more.

      Among thy mountains did I feel

      The joy of my desire;10

      And she I cherished turned her wheel

      Beside an English fire.

      Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed,

      The bowers where Lucy played;

      And thine too is the last green field15

      That Lucy's eyes surveyed.

      W. Wordsworth.

      WHERE LIES THE LAND

      Where lies the land to which yon ship must go?

      Fresh as a lark mounting at break of day,

      Festively she puts forth in trim array;

      Is she for tropic suns, or polar snow?

      What boots the inquiry?—Neither friend nor foe5

      She cares for; let her travel where she may,

      She finds familiar names, a beaten way

      Ever before her, and a wind to blow.

      Yet still I ask, what haven is her mark?

      And, almost as it was when ships were rare,10

      (From time to time, like pilgrims, here and

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