Merged in completion? Would you learn at (full

How passion rose thro' circumstantial (grades

Beyond all grades develop'd? and indeed
I had not staid so long to tell you all,
But while I mused came Memory with sad
(eyes,

Holding the folded annals of my youth; And while I mused, Love with knit brows (went by,

And with a flying finger swept my lips,
And spake,,,Be wise: not easily forgiven
Are those, who setting wide the doors, that
(bar

The secret bridal chambers of the heart, Let in the day" Here, then, my words have (end.

Yet might I tell of meetings, of farewellsOf that which came between, more sweet (than each,

In whispers, like the whispers of the leaves That tremble round a nightingale-in sighs Which perfect Joy, perplex'd for utterance, Stole from her sister Sorrow. Might I not tell Of difference, reconcilement, pledges given, And vows, where there was never need of (vows,

And kisses, where the heart on one wild leap Hung tranced from all pulsation, as above The heavens between their fairy fleeces pale Sow'd all their mystic gulfs with fleeting (stars;

Or while the balmy glooming, crescent-lit, Spread the light haze along the river-shores, And in the hollows; or as once we met Unheedful, tho' beneath a whispering rain Night slid down one long stream of sighing (wind,

And in her bosom bore the baby, Sleep.

But this whole hour your eyes have been (intent

On that veil'd picture — veil'd, for what it (holds

May not be dwelt on by the common day. This prelude has prepared thee. Raise thy (soul:

Make thine heart ready with thine eyes: the (time

Is come to raise the veil.

Behold her there, As I beheld her ere she knew my heart, My first, last love; the idol of my youth, The darling of my manhood, and, alas!

Now the most blessed memory of mine age. DORA.

WITH farmer Allan at the farm abode William and Dora. William was his son, And she his niece. He often look'd at them, And often thought, I'll make them man (and wife."

Now Dora felt her uncle's will in all,
And yearn'd towards William; but the
(youth, because

He had been always with her in the house,
Thought not of Dora.
Then there came a day
When Allan call'd his son, and said,.,My son:
I married late, but I would wish to see
My grandchild on my knees before I die:
And I have set my heart upon a match.
Now therefore look to Dora; she is well
To look to; thrifty too beyond her age.
She is my brother's daughter: he and I
Had once hard words, and parted, and hedied
In foreign lands; but for his sake I bred
His daughter Dora: take her for your wife;
For I have wish'd this marriage, night and,
(day,

For many years," But William answer'd (short:

I cannot marry Dora; by my life,

I will not marry Dora." Then the old man Was wroth, and doubled up his hands, and (said:

You will not, boy! you dare to answer thus! But in my time a father's word was law, And so it shall be now for me. Look to it; Consider, William: take a month to think, And let me have an answer to my wish; Or, by the Lord that made me, you shall pack, And never more darken my doors again." But William answer'd madly; bit his lips, And broke away. The more he look'd at her The less he liked her; and his ways were (harsh;

But Dora bore them meekly. Then before. The month was out he left his father's (house,

And hired himself to work within the fields; And half in love, half spite, he woo'd and (wed

A labourer's daughter, Mary Morrison,

Then, when the bells were ringing, Allan (call'd

His niece and said: My girl, I love you well; But if you speak with him that was my son,

Who thrust him in the hollows of his arm, And clapt him on the hands and on the (cheeks,

Like one that loved him: and the lad (stretch'd out

And babbled for the golden seal, that hung FromAllan's watch,and sparkled by the fire. Then they came in: but when the boy beheld His mother, he cried out to come to her: And Allan set him down, and Mary said:

O Father!-if you let me call you soI never came a-begging for myself, Or William, or this child; but now I come For Dora: take her back; she loves you well. O Sir, when William died, he died at peace With all men; for I ask'd him, and he said, He could not ever rue his marrying me I had been a patient wife: but, Sir, he said That he was wrong to cross his father thus: 'God bless him!' he said, 'and may he never (know

The troubles I have gone thro'!' Then he (turn'd

His face and pass'd — unhappy that I am! But now, Sir, let me have my boy, for you Will make him hard, and he will learn to (slight

His father's memory; and take Dora back, And let all this be as it was before."

So Mary said, and Dora hid her face By Mary. There was silence in the room; And all at once the old man burst in sobs:I have been to blame - to blame. I have (kill'd my son

but I loved him

I have kill'd him my (dear son. MayGod forgive me!-I have been to blame. Kiss me, my children."

Then they clung about

The old man's neck, and kiss'd him many (times.

And all the man was broken with remorse; And all his love came back a hundred fold; And for three hours he sobb'd o'erWilliam's (child,

Thinking of William.

So those four abode Within one house together; and as years Went forward, Mary took another mate; But Dora lived unmarried till her death.

AUDLEY COURT. THE Bull, the Fleece are cramm'd, and not (a room

For love or money. Let us picnic there At Audley Court."

I spoke, while Audley feast Humm'd like a hive all round the narrow (quay,

To Francis, with a basket on his arm,
To Francis just alighted from the boat,
And breathing of the sea. "With all my
(heart,"

Said Francis. Then we shoulder'd thro' the (swarm,

And rounded by the stillness of the beach To where the bay runs up its latest horn.

We left the dying ebb that faintly lipp'd The flat red granite; so by many a sweep Of meadow smooth from aftermath we (reach'd

The griffin-guarded gates, and pass'd thro' all The pillar'd dusk of sounding sycamores, And cross'd the garden to the gardener's (lodge,

With all its casements bedded, and its walls And chimneys muffled in the leafy vine.

There, on a slope of orchard, Francis laid A damask napkin wrought with horse and (hound,

Brought out a dusky loaf that smelt of home,
And, half-cut-down, a pasty costly made,
Where quail and pigeon,lark and leveret lay,
Like fossils of the rock, with golden yolks
Imbedded and injellied; last, with these,
A flask of cider from his father's vats,
Prime, which I knew; and so we sat and eat
And talk'd old matters over; who was dead,
Who married, who was like to be, and how
The races went,and who would rent the hall:
Then touch'd
upon the game, how scarce it

(was

This season; glancing thence, discuss'd the (farm,

The fourfield system, and the price of grain; And struck upon the corn-laws, where we (split,

And came again together on the king
With heated faces; till he laugh'd aloud;
And, while the blackbird on the pippin hung
To hear him, clapt his hand in mine and
(sang

"Oh! who would fight and march and (countermarch,

Be shot for sixpence in a battle-field,
And shovell'd up into a bloody trench
Where no one knows? but let me live my life.
"Oh! who would cast and balance at a desk,

Perch'd like a crow upon a three-legg'd (stool,

Till all his juice is dried, and all his joints Are full of chalk? but let me live my life. Who'd serve the state? for if I carved my (name

Upon the cliffs that guard my native land, I might as well have traced it in the sands; The sea wastes all: but let me live my life. Oh! who would love? I woo'd a woman (once,

But she was sharper than an eastern wind, And all my heart turn'd from her, as a thorn Turns from the sea; but let me live my life." He sang his song, and I replied with mine: I found it in a volume, all of songs, Knock'd down to me, when old Sir Robert's (pride,

His books the more the pity, so I said Came to the hammer here in March and (this

I set the words, and added names I knew.
Sleep, Ellen Aubrey, sleep, and dream of me:
Sleep, Ellen, folded in thy sister's arm,
And sleeping, haply dream her arm is mine.
,,Sleep, Ellen, folded in Emilia's arm;
Emilia, fairer than all else that is.
For thou art fairer than all else that is.

Sleep, breathing health and peace upon
(her breast:

Sleep, breathing love and trust against her (lip:

I go to-night: I come to-morrow morn.

"I go, but I return: I would I were
The pilot of the darkness and the dream.
Sleep, Ellen Aubrey, love, and dream of me."
So sang we each to either, Francis Hale,
The farmer's son, who lived across the bay,
My friend; and I, that having wherewithal,
And in the fallow leisure of my life
A rolling stone of here and everywhere,
Did what I would; but ere the night we rose
And saunter'd home beneath a moon, that,
(just

In crescent, dimly rain'd about the leaf
Twilights of airy silver, till we reach'd
The limit of the hills; and as we sank
From rock to rock upon the glooming quay,
The town was hush'd beneath us:lower down
The bay was oily calm; the harbour-buoy,
Sole star of phosphorescence in the calm,
With one green sparkle ever and anon
Dipt by itself, and we were glad at heart.

There by the humpback'd willow; half (stands up

And bristles, half has fall'n and made a (bridge;

And there he caught the younker tickling (troutCaught in flagrante what's the Latin (word? Dilecto: but his house, for so they say, Was haunted with a jolly ghost, that shool The curtains, whined in lobbies, tapt a (doors,

And rummaged like a rat: no servant stay'd The farmer vext pack sup his beds and chairs, And all his household stuff; and with his boy Betwixt his knees, his wife upon the tilt, Sets out, and meets a friend who hails him (What!

You're flitting!" "Yes, we're flitting," says (the ghost

(For they had pack'd the thing among the (beds,)

Oh well," says he, you flitting with us (too

Jack, turn the horses' heads and home (again."

John. He left his wife behind; for so I heard. James. He left her, yes. I met my lady once: A woman like a butt, and harsh as crabs. John. Oh yet but I remember, ten years (back

'Tis now at least ten years and then she
(was
You could not light upon a sweeter thing:
A body slight and round, and like a pear
In growing, modest eyes, a hand, a foot
Lessening in perfect cadence, and a skin
As clean and white as privet when it flowers.
James. Ay, ay, the blossom fades, and
(they that loved

At first like dove and dove were cat and dog.
She was the daughter of a cottager,
Out of her sphere. What betwixt shame and
(pride,

New things and old, himself and her, she (sour'd

To what she is: a nature never kind! Like men, like manners: like breeds like, (they say.

Kind nature is the best: those manners next That fit us like a nature second-hand ; Which are indeed the manners of the great.

John. But I had heard it was this bill that (past,

And fear of change at home, that drove him (hence.

James. That was the last drop in the
(of gall.

cup

I once was near him, when his bailiff brought A Chartist pike. You should have seen him (wince

As from a venomous thing: he thought him(self

A mark for all, and shudder'd, lest a cry Should break his sleep by night, and his (nice eyes

Should see the raw mechanic's bloody (thumbs

Sweat on his blazon'd chairs; but, sir, you (know

That these two parties still divide the (world

Of those that want, and those that have: (and still

The same old sore breaks out from age to age With much the same result. Now I myself, A Tory to the quick, was as a boy Destructive, when I had not what I would. I was at school -- a college in the South: There lived a flayflint near; we stole his fruit, His hens, his eggs; but there was law for us; We paid in person. He had a sow, sir. She, With meditative grunts of much content, Lay great with pig, wallowing in sun and (mud

By night we dragg'd her to the college tower From her warm bed, and up the corkscrew (stair

With hand and rope we haled the groaning (sow,

And on the leads we kept her till she pigg'd.
Large range of prospect had the mother sow,
And but for daily loss of one she loved,
As one by one we took them-but for this-
As never sow was higher in this world --
Might have been happy: but what lot is pure?
We took them all, till she was left alone
Upon her tower, the Niobe of swine
And so return'd unfarrow'd to her sty.
John. They found you out?
James.
John.

Not they.
Well after all-
What know we of the secret of a man?
His nerves were wrong. What ails us,
(are sound,

who

That we should mimic this raw fool the (world,

Which charts us all in its coarse blacks or (whites,

As ruthless as a baby with a worm,
As cruel as a schoolboy ere he grows
To Pity more from ignorance than will.

But put your best foot forward, or I fear That we shall miss the mail: and here it (comes

With five at top: as quaint a four-in-hand As you shall see-three pyebalds and a roan.

EDWIN MORRIS.

OR, THE LAKE.

O ME, my pleasant rambles by the lake,
My sweet, wild, fresh three quarters of a
(year,

My one Oasis in the dust and drouth
Of city life! I was a sketcher then: