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* The light white cloud swam over us.

Anon We heard the lion roaring from his

I am that Rosamond, whom men call


fair, If what I was I be.

• Would I had been some maiden coarse

Desiring what is mingled with past and poor!

years, O me, that I should ever see the light!

In yearnings that can never be exprest
Those dragon eyes of anger'd Eleanor

By sighs or groans or tears;
Do hunt me, day and night.'

Because all words, tho'cull d with choicest
She ceased in tears, fallen from hope and

art, trust :

Failing to give the bitter of the sweet, To whom the Egyptian: 'Oh, you

Wither beneath the palate, and the heart tamely died !

Faints, faded by its heat.
You should have clung to Fulvia's waist,
and thrust

The dagger thro' her side.'

O BLACKBIRD! sing me something well:
With that sharp sound the white dawn's

While all the neighbours shoot thee creeping beams,

round, Stol'n to my brain, dissolved the mystery

I keep smooth plats of fruitful ground, Of folded sleep. The captain of my

Where thou may'st warble, eat and dwell. dreams Ruled in the eastern sky.

The espaliers and the standards all

Are thine; the range of lawn and Morn broaden'd on the borders of the dark,

park: Ere I saw her, who clasp'd in her last

The unnetted black-hearts ripen dark, trance

All thine, against the garden wall.
Her murder'd father's head, or Joan of

Yet, tho' I spared thee all the spring,
A light of ancient France;

Thy sole delight is, sitting still,

With that gold dagger of thy bill her who knew that Love can vanquish

To fret the summer jenneting.
Who kneeling, with one arm about

A golden bill! the silver tongue,
her king,

Cold February loved, is dry:
Drew forth the poison with her balmy

Plenty corrupts the melody

That made thee famous once, when Sweet as new buds in Spring.

No memory labours longer from the deep

And in the sultry garden-squares;
Gold-mines of thought to list the

Now thy flute-notes are changed to hidden ore

coarse, That glimpses, moving up, than I from

I hear thee not at all, or hoarse sleep

As when a hawker hawks his wares. To gather and tell o'er

Take warning! he that will not sing Each little sound and sight. With what

While yon sun prospers in the blue, dull pain

Shall sing for want, ere leaves are new, Compass'd, how eagerly I sought to

Caught in the frozen palms of Spring. strike Into that wondrous track of dreams again!

But no two dreams are like.

As when a soul laments, which hath been

Full knee-deep lies the winter snow,

And the winter winds are wearily sighblest,


Queen Elinor

In Lan

Step from the corpse, and let him in
That standeth there alone,

And waiteth at the door.
There's a new foot on the floor, my

And a new face at the door, my

A new face at the door.

TO J. S. The wind, that beats the mountain, blows

More softly round the open wold, And gently comes the world to those

That are cast in gentle mould.

And me this knowledge bolder made,

Or else I had not dared to flow In these words toward you, and invade

Even with a verse your holy woe.

Toll ye the church-bell sad and slow
And tread softly and speak low,
For the old year lies a-dying.

Old year, you must not die;
You came to us so readily,
You lived with us so steadily,

Old year, you shall not die.
He lieth still : he doth not move :
He will not see the dawn of day.
He bath no other life above.
He gave me a friend, and a true true-love,
And the New-year will take 'em away.

Old year, you must not go;
So long as you have been with us,
Such joy as you have seen with us,

Old year, you shall not go.
He froth'd his bumpers to the brim;
A jollier year we shall not see.
But tho' his eyes are waxing dim,
And tho' his foes speak ill of him,
He was a friend to me.

Old year, you shall not die;
We did so laugh and cry with you,
I've half a mind to die with you,

Old year, if you must die.
He was full of joke and jest,
But all his merry quips are o'er.
To see him die, across the waste
His son and heir doth ride post-haste,
But he'll be dead before.

Every one for his own.
The night is starry and cold, my

And the New-year blithe and bold,

my friend,

Comes up to take his own.
How hard he breathes ! over the snow
I heard just now the crowing cock.
The shadows flicker to and fro:
The cricket chirps: the light burns low:
Tis nearly twelve o'clock.

Shake hands, before you die.
Old year, we'll dearly rue for you:
What is it we can do for you?

Speak out before you die.
His face is growing sharp and thin.
Alack! our friend is gone.
Close up his eyes: tie up his chin:

'Tis strange that those we lean on most,

Those in whose laps our limbs are

nursed, Fall into shadow, soonest lost :

Those we love first are taken first.

God gives us love. Something to love

Helends us; but, when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve

Falls off, and love is left alone.

This is the curse of time. Alas!

In grief I am not all unlearn'd; Once thro’mine own doors Death'did pass;

One went, who never hath return'd.

He will not smile not speak to me
Once more.

Two years his chair is


Empty before us. That was he

Without whose life I had not been.

Your loss is rarer; for this star

Rose with you thro' a little arc Of heaven, nor having wander'd far

Shot on the sudden into dark.

I knew your brother: his mute dust

I honour and his living worth : A man more pure and bold and just

Was never born into the earth.

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Thro' silence and the trembling stars Comes Faith from tracts no feet have

trod, And Virtue, like a household god

Of old sat Freedom on the heights,

The thunders breaking at her feet: Above her shook the starry lights :

She heard the torrents meet.


Promising empire; such as those

Once heard at dead of night to greet Troy's wandering prince, so that he rose

With sacrifice, while all the fleet
Had rest by stony hills of Crete.

There in her place she did rejoice,

Self-gather'd in her prophet-mind, But fragments of her mighty voice

Came rolling on the wind.

Then stept she down thro' town and


To mingle with the human race, And part by part to men reveal'd

The fullness of her face

Grave mother of majestic works,

From her isle-altar gazing down, Who, God-like, grasps the triple forks,

And, King-like, wears the crown: Her open eyes desire the truth.

The wisdom of a thousand years Is in them. May perpetual youth

Keep dry their light from tears;

You ask me, why, tho’ill at ease,

Within this region I subsist,

Whose spirits falter in the mist,
And languish for the purple seas.
It is the land that freemen till,

That sober-suited Freedom chose,
The land, where girt with friends or

A man may speak the thing he will;
A land of settled government,

A land of just and old renown,
Where Freedom slowly broadens

From precedent to precedent :
Where faction seldom gathers head,

But by degrees to fullness wrought,
The strength of some diffusive

thought Hath time and space to work and spread. Should banded unions persecute

Opinion, and induce a time

When single thought is civil crime, And individual freedom mute;

That her fair form may stand and shine,

Make bright our days and light oui

dreams, Turning to scorn with lips divine

The falsehood of extremes !

LOVE thou thy land, with love far-brought

From out the storied Past, and used

Within the Present, but transfused Thro' future time by power of thought. True love turn'd round on fixed poles,

Love, that endures not sordid ends,

For English natures, freemen, friends, Thy brothers and immortal souls.

Tho' Power should make from land to

land The name of Britain trebly great

Tho' every channel of the State Should fill and choke with golden sand

But pamper not a hasty time,

Nor feed with crude imaginings

The herd, wild hearts and feeble wings That every sophister can lime.

Yet wast me from the harbour-mouth,

Wild wind! I seek a warmer sky,

And I will see before I die
The palms and temples of the South.

Deliver not the tasks of might

To weakness, neither hide the ray From those, not blind, who wait for

day, Tho' sitting girt with doubtful light.

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