theer's a craw to pluck wi' tha, Sam yon's parson's 'ouse

Thou'll not marry for munny-thou's sweet upo' parson's lass

Noä-thou 'll marry for luvv

an' we

boäth on us thinks tha an ass.

IV.

Seeä'd her to-daäy goä by-Saäint'sdaay-they was ringing the bells. She's a beauty thou thinks-an' soä is scoors o' gells,

Them as 'as munny an' all-wot's a beauty?-the flower as blaws. But proputty, proputty sticks, an' proputty, proputty graws.

V.

Do'ant be stunt:* taäke time: I knaws what maäkes tha sa mad.

eäther a man or a mouse?

Time to think on it then; for thou 'll be twenty to weeäk.

*

Proputty, proputty-woä then woälet ma 'ear mysén speäk.

III.

Me an' thy muther, Sammy, 'as beän a-talkin' o' thee;

Thou's been talkin' to muther, an' she beän a tellin' it me.

This week.

when I wur a lad?

But I knaw'd a Quaäker feller as often

'as towd ma this:

“Doänt thou marry for munny, but goä wheer munny is !"

VI.

An' I went wheer munny war: an' thy mother coom to 'and,

Wi' lots o' munny laaïd by, an' a nicetish bit o' land.

• Obstinate.

[This poem is founded upon a story in Boccaccio.

A young lover, Julian, whose cousin and foster-sister,

Camilla, has been wedded to his friend and rival, Lionel,

endeavors to narrate the story of his own love for her and the strange sequel of it. He speaks of having been sometimes tolling for a funeral, and at last ringing for a haunted in delirium by visions and the sound of bells, marriage; but he breaks away, overcome, as he ap

proaches the Event, and a witness to it completes the

tale.]

The feebler motion underneath his hand. But when at last his doubts were satisfied, He raised her softly from the sepulchre, And, wrapping her all over with the cloak

Stay then a little," answer'd Julian, here,

And keep yourself, none knowing, to yourself;

And I will do your will. I may not stay, No, not an hour; but send me notice of him

When he returns, and then will I return, And I will make a solemn offering of you To him you love." And faintly she replied, "And I will do your will, and none shall know."

Not know? with such a secret to be known.

them both,

And all the house had known the loves of both;

Had died almost to serve them any way, And all the land was waste and solitary : And then he rode away; but after this, An hour or two, Camilla's travail came Upon her, and that day a boy was born, Heir of his face and land, to Lionel.

A dismal hostel in a dismal land, A flat malarian world of reed and rush! But there from fever and my care of him Sprang up a friendship that may help us yet.

For while we roam'd along the dreary coast,

And waited for her message, piece by piece I learnt the drearier story of his life; And, tho' he loved and honor'd Lionel, Found that the sudden wail his lady made Dwelt in his fancy: did he know her worth, Her beauty even? should he not be taught, Ev'n by the price that others set upon it, The value of that jewel he had to guard?

This love is of the brain, the mind, the soul:

That makes the sequel pure; tho' some of us Beginning at the sequel know no more. Not such am I: and yet I say, the bird That will not hear my call, however sweet, But if my neighbor whistle answers him

What matter? there are others in the wood. Yet when I saw her (and I thought him crazed,

Tho' not with such a craziness as needs A cell and keeper), those dark eyes of hers

Oh! such dark eyes! and not her eyes alone,

But all from these to where she touch'd on earth,

For such a craziness as Julian's seem'd No less than one divine apology.

So sweetly and so modestly she came To greet us, her young hero in her arms! "Kiss him," she said. "You gave me

life again.

He, but for you, had never seen it once. His other father you! Kiss him, and then Forgive him, if his name be Julian too."

Talk of lost hopes and broken heart!

his own

Sent such a flame into his face, I knew Some sudden vivid pleasure hit him there.

But he was all the more resolved to go, And sent at once to Lionel, praying him By that great love they both had borne the dead,

To come and revel for one hour with him Before he left the land for evermore; And then to friends. they were not

many who lived Scatteringly about that lonely land of his, And bade them to a banquet of farewells.

And Julian made a solemn feast: Inever Sat at a costlier; for all round his hall From column on to column, as in a wood, Not such as here an equatorial one, Great garlands swung and blossom'd; and beneath,

Heirlooms, and ancient miracles of Art, Chalice and salver, wines that, Heaven knows when,

Yet glowing in a heart of ruby - cups Where nymph and god ran ever roub in gold

Others of glass as costly-some with ge.n
Movable and resettable at will,
And trebling all the rest in value
Ar
heavens !

Why need I tell you all? -suffice to say
That whatsoever such a house as his,
And his was old, has in it rare or fair
Was brought before the guest: and they,
the guests,

Wonder'd at some strange light in Julian's eyes

(I told you that he had his golden hour), And such a feast, ill-suited as it seem'd To such a time, to Lionel's loss and his, And that resolved self-exile from a land He never would revisit, such a feast So rich, so strange, and stranger ev'n than rich,

But rich as for the nuptials of a king.

And stranger yet, at one end of the hall Two great funereal curtains, looping down, Parted a little ere they met the floor, About a picture of his lady, taken Some years before, and falling hid the frame.

And just above the parting was a lamp : So the sweet figure folded round with night Seem'd stepping out of darkness with a smile.