And I arose, and I released Like soften'd airs that blowing steal, One walk'd between his wife and child, The prudent partner of his blood And in their double love secure, These three made unity so sweet, I blest them, and they wander'd on: A second voice was at mine ear, As from some blissful neighbourhood, 'I see the end, and know the good.' A little hint to solace woe, Like an Æolian harp that wakes Such seem'd the whisper at my side : 'A hidden hope,' the voice replied: So heavenly-toned, that in that hour To feel, altho' no tongue can prove, And forth into the fields I went, I wonder'd, while I paced along : And all so variously wrought, I marvell'd how the mind was brought And wherefore rather I made choice THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER. I SEE the wealthy miller yet, And full of dealings with the world? In yonder chair I see him sit, Three fingers round the old silver cup— I see his gray eyes twinkle yet At his own jest-gray eyes lit up With summer lightnings of a soul So full of summer warmth, so glad, So healthy, sound, and clear and whole, His memory scarce can make me sad. Yet fill my glass: give me one kiss : There's somewhat flows to us in life, That we may die the self-same day. Have I not found a happy earth? A love-song I had somewhere read, From some odd corner of the brain. With weary sameness in the rhymes, I least should breathe a thought of The phantom of a silent song, pain. Would God renew me from my birth I'd almost live my life again. So sweet it seems with thee to walk, Across the walnuts and the wine To be the long and listless boy Late-left an orphan of the squire, Where this old mansion mounted high Looks down upon the village spire: For even here, where I and you Have lived and loved alone so long, Each morn my sleep was broken thro' By some wild skylark's matin song. And oft I heard the tender dove In firry woodlands making moan; That went and came a thousand times. Then leapt a trout. In lazy mood A glowing arm, a gleaming neck, For you remember, you had set, And you were leaning from the ledge: They met with two so full and bright— Such eyes! I swear to you, my love, That these have never lost their light. I loved, and love dispell'd the fear Before I dream'd that pleasant dream— | For love possess'd the atmosphere, Still hither thither idly sway'd Like those long mosses in the stream. Or from the bridge I lean'd to hear In crystal eddies glance and poise, But, Alice, what an hour was that, And on the slope, an absent fool, And fill'd the breast with purer breath. My mother thought, What ails the boy? For I was alter'd, and began To move about the house with joy, And with the certain step of man. I loved the brimming wave that swam The pool beneath it never still, The very air about the door Made misty with the floating meal. And oft in ramblings on the wold, When April nights began to blow, And April's crescent glimmer'd cold, I saw the village lights below; I knew your taper far away, And full at heart of trembling hope, From off the wold I came, and lay Upon the freshly-flower'd slope. The deep brook groan'd beneath the mill; And by that lamp,' I thought,' she sits!' The white chalk-quarry from the hill Gleam'd to the flying moon by fits. 'O that I were beside her now! O will she answer if I call? Sometimes I saw you sit and spin; At last you rose and moved the light, And all the casement darken'd there. But when at last I dared to speak, The lanes, you know, were white with Your ripe lips moved not, but your cheek And you and I were all alone. And slowly was my mother brought She wish'd me happy, but she thought And down I went to fetch my bride : I knew you could not look but well; And dews, that would have fall'n in tears, I kiss'd away before they fell. I watch'd the little flutterings, The doubt my mother would not see; She spoke at large of many things, And at the last she spoke of me; And turning look'd upon your face, As near this door you sat apart, And rose, and, with a silent grace Approaching, press'd you heart to heart. Ah, well-but sing the foolish song A pensive pair, and you were gay It is the miller's daughter, And she is grown so dear, so dear, That I would be the jewel That trembles in her ear: For hid in ringlets day and night, And I would be the girdle About her dainty dainty waist, And her heart would beat against me, In sorrow and in rest: And I should know if it beat right, I'd clasp it round so close and tight. And I would be the necklace, And all day long to fall and rise Upon her balmy bosom, With her laughter or her sighs, And I would lie so light, so light, I scarce should be unclasp'd at night. A trifle, sweet! which true love spells- For all the spirit is his own. And now those vivid hours are gone, Like mine own life to me thou art, Where Past and Present, wound in one, Do make a garland for the heart : So sing that other song I made, Love that hath us in the net, Many a chance the years beget. Love is hurt with jar and fret. Look thro' mine eyes with thine. True wife, Round my true heart thine arms entwine My other dearer life in life, Look thro' my very soul with thine! Untouch'd with any shade of years, May those kind eyes for ever dwell! They have not shed a many tears, Dear eyes, since first I knew them well. Yet tears they shed: they had their part Of sorrow: for when time was ripe, The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before; Although the loss had brought us pain, That loss but made us love the more, With farther lookings on. The kiss, The woven arms, seem but to be Weak symbols of the settled bliss, The comfort, I have found in thee: But that God bless thee, dear-who wrought Two spirits to one equal mind— With blessings beyond hope or thought, With blessings which no words can find. Arise, and let us wander forth, To yon old mill across the wolds; For look, the sunset, south and north, Winds all the vale in rosy folds, And fires your narrow casement glass, FATIMA. O LOVE, Love, Love! Owithering might! I thirsted for the brooks, the showers: I crush'd them on my breast, my mouth; Last night, when some one spoke his name, From my swift blood that went and came O Love, O fire! once he drew Before he mounts the hill, I know In my dry brain my spirit soon, The wind sounds like a silver wire, Bursts into blossom in his sight. My whole soul waiting silently, Is lily-cradled: I alone awake. My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim, And I am all aweary of my life. 'O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die. Hear me, O Earth, hear me, O Hills, O Caves That house the cold crown'd snake! O mountain brooks, up I am the daughter of a River-God, 'O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida, Came up from reedy Simois all alone. 'O mother Ida, harken ere I die. Far-off the torrent call'd me from the cleft: Far up the solitary morning smote The streaks of virgin snow. With down dropt eyes I sat alone: white-breasted like a star Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard skin Sang to the stillness, till the mountain- Droop'd from his shoulder, but his sunny |