Enoch Arden, &c.

    Alcaics.

  O mighty-mouth'd inventor of harmonies,
  O skill'd to sing of Time or Eternity,
      God-gifted organ-voice of England,
          Milton, a name to resound for ages;
  Whose Titan angels, Gabriel, Abdiel,
  Starr'd from Jehovah's gorgeous armouries,
      Tower, as the deep-domed empyrean
          Rings to the roar of an angel onset—
  Me rather all that bowery loneliness,
  The brooks of Eden mazily murmuring,
      And bloom profuse and cedar arches
          Charm, as a wanderer out in ocean,
  Where some refulgent sunset of India
  Streams o'er a rich ambrosial ocean isle,
      And crimson-hued the stately palmwoods
          Whisper in odorous heights of even.

  O you chorus of indolent reviewers,
  Irresponsible, indolent reviewers,
  Look, I come to the test, a tiny poem
  All composed in a metre of Catullus,
  All in quantity, careful of my motion,
  Like the skater on ice that hardly bears him,
  Lest I fall unawares before the people,
  Waking laughter in indolent reviewers.
  Should I flounder awhile without a tumble
  Thro' this metrification of Catullus,
  They should speak to me not without a welcome,
  All that chorus of indolent reviewers.
  Hard, hard, hard is it, only not to tumble,
  So fantastical is the dainty metre.
  Wherefore slight me not wholly, nor believe me
  Too presumptuous, indolent reviewers.
  O blatant Magazines, regard me rather—
  Since I blush to belaud myself a moment—
  As some rare little rose, a piece of inmost
  Horticultural art, or half coquette-like
  Maiden, not to be greeted unbenignly.

  So Hector said, and sea-like roar'd his host;
  Then loosed their sweating horses from the yoke,
  And each beside his chariot bound his own;
  And oxen from the city, and goodly sheep
  In haste they drove, and honey-hearted wine
  And bread from out the houses brought, and heap'd
  Their firewood, and the winds from off the plain
  Roll'd the rich vapor far into the heaven.
  And these all night upon the [1] bridge of war
  Sat glorying; many a fire before them blazed:
  As when in heaven the stars about the moon
  Look beautiful, when all the winds are laid,
  And every height comes out, and jutting peak
  And valley, and the immeasurable heavens
  Break open to their highest, and all the stars
  Shine, and the Shepherd gladdens in his heart:
  So many a fire between the ships and stream
  Of Xanthus blazed before the towers of Troy,
  A thousand on the plain; and close by each
  Sat fifty in the blaze of burning fire;
  And champing golden grain, the horses stood
  Hard by their chariots, waiting for the dawn.[2]
                             Iliad VIII. 542-561.

[1] Or, ridge.

[2]Or more literally—

             And eating hoary grain and pulse the steeds
             Stood by their cars, waiting the throned morn.