She might have hated, - who can tell? Where had I been now if the worst befell? And here we are riding, she and I. 5. Fail I alone, in words and deeds? Why, all men strive and who succeeds? We rode; it seemed my spirit flew, Saw other regions, cities new, As the world rushed by on either side. I thought, All labour, yet no less This present of theirs with the hopeful past! I hoped she would love me. 6. Here we ride. What hand and brain went ever paired? We ride and I see her bosom heave. They scratch his name on the Abbey-stones. 7. What does it all mean, poet? well, What we felt only; you expressed you tell You hold things beautiful the best, And pace them in rhyme so, side by side. "Tis something, nay 'tis much—but then, you yourself what's best for men? Have Are you - poor, sick, old ere your time— Nearer one whit your own sublime Than we who never have turned a rhyme? Sing, riding's a joy! For me, I ride. 8. And you, great sculptor-so you gave To yonder girl that fords the burn! You acquiesce and shall I repine? "But in music we know how fashions end!' I gave my youth — but we ride, in fine. 9. Who knows what's fit for us? Had fate Proposed bliss here should sublimate My being; had. I signed the bond - - Have a bliss to die with, dim-descried. I sink back shuddering from the quest- And yet 10. she has not spoke, so long! Changed not in kind but in degree, The instant made eternity, And Heaven just prove that I and she Ride, ride together, forever ride? THE PATRIOT. AN OLD STORY. 1. Ir was roses, roses, all the way, With myrtle mixed in my path like mad. The house-roofs seemed to heave and sway, The church-spires flamed, such flags they had, A year ago on this very day! 2. The air broke into a mist with bells, The old walls rocked with the crowds and cries. Had I said, "Good folks, mere noise repels But give me your sun from yonder skies!" They had answered, “ And afterward, what else?" 3. Alack, it was I who leaped at the sun, To give it my loving friends to keep. Nought man could do, have I left undone, And you see my harvest, what I reap This very day, now a year is run. 4. There's nobody on the house-tops now I go in the rain, and, more than needs, 6. Thus I entered Brescia, and thus I go ! In such triumphs, people have dropped down dead. "Thou, paid by the World, — what dost thou owe Me?" God might have questioned: but now instead 'Tis God shall requite! I am safer so. |