Additional Poems From the “Quarterly Review.”
I. The Age of Owen Glendower
One thousand four hundred, no less and no more,
Was the date of the rising of Owen Glendower;
Till fifteen were added with courage ne’er cold
Liv’d Owen, though latterly Owen was old.
II. The Spider
From out its womb it weaves with care
Its web beneath the roof;
Its wintry web it spreadeth there—
Wires of ice its woof.
And doth it weave against the wall
Thin ropes of ice on high?
And must its little liver all
The wondrous stuff supply?
III. The Seven Drunkards
O WHERE are there seven beneath the sky
Who with these seven for thirst can vie?
But the best for good ale these seven among
Are the jolly divine and the son of song.