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From under rose a muffled moan

floods;
I sat beneath a solitude of snow;
There no one came, the turf was fre

the woods
Plunged gulf on gulf thro' all th

vales below.
I saw beyond their silent tops
The steaming marshes of the scal

cranes,
The slant seas leaning on the mangro

copse,
And summer basking in the sul

plains
About a land of canes;

eyes,
I hear a charm of song thro' all the
land.

VII.
is glad

"Then from my vapour-girdle soari To roll her North below thy deepening

forth
dome,

I scaled the buoyant highway of t
But ere thy maiden birk be wholly clad,

birds,
And these low bushes dip their twigs And drank the dews and drizzle of t|
in foam,

North,
Make all true hearths thy home.

That I might mix with men, and he

their words
V.

On pathway'd plains; for -- whilen
Across my garden! and the thicket stirs, hand exults

The fountain pulses high in sunnier jets, Within the bloodless heart of low
The blackcap warbles, and the turtle purrs,

flowers
The starling claps his tiny castanets. To work old laws of Love to fres
Still round her forehead wheels the

results,
woodland dove,

Thro' manifold effect of simple powers-
And scatters on her throat the sparks I too would teach the man
of dew,

Beyond the darker hour to see the

bright,
Broaden the glowing isles of vernal That his fresh life may close as it began
blue.

The still-fulfilling promise of a light
Hail ample presence of a Queen,
Bountiful
, beautiful, apparell'd gay,

Narrowing the bounds of night.

VIII.
green,
Hies back in fragrant breezes to display So wed thee with my soul, that I may
A tunic white as May!

mark
The coming year's great good and

varied ills,
She whispers, 'From the South I bring

And new developments, whatever spark

Be struck from out the clash of warring
you balm,
For on a tropic mountain was I born,

wills;
While some dark dweller by the coco-

Or whether, since our nature cannot rest palm

The smoke of war's volcano burs my far meadow zoned with From høary deeps that belt the changefu

again West,

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IV.

he floats across the hamlet. Heaven

lours, But in the tearful splendour of her

smiles see the slowly-thickening chestnut

towers Fill out the spaces by the barren tiles. Now past her feet the swallow circling flies, A ciamorous cuckoo stoops to meet

her hand; Her light makes rainbows in my closing

eyes, I hear a charm of song thro' all the

land. Come, Spring! She comes, and Earth

is glad To roll her North below thy deepening

dome, But ere thy maiden birk be wholly clad, And these low bushes dip their twigs

in foam, Make all true hearths thy home.

From under rose a muffled moan of

floods; I sat beneath a solitude of snow; There no one came, the turf was fresh,

the woods Plunged gulf on gulf thro' all their

vales below. I saw beyond their silent tops The steaming marshes of the scarlet

cranes, The slant seas leaning on the mangrove

copse, And summer basking in the sultry

plains About a land of canes;

VII.

V.

Across my garden! and the thicket stirs,

The fountain pulses high in sunnier jets, The blackcap warbles, and the turtle purrs,

The starling claps his tiny castanets. Still round her forehead wheels the

woodland dove, And scatters on her throat the sparks

of dew, The kingcup fills her footprint, and above Broaden the glowing isles of vernal

blue. Hail ample presence of a Queen,

Bountiful, beautiful, apparell'd gay, Whose mantle, every shade of glancing

green, Flies back in fragrant breezes to display A tunic white as May!

•Then from my vapour-girdle soaring

forth I scaled the buoyant highway of the

birds, And drank the dews and drizzle of the

North,
That I might mix with men, and hear

their words On pathway'd plains; for --- while my

hand exults Within the bloodless heart of lowly

flowers To work old laws of Love to fresh

results, Thro'manifold effect of simple powersI too would teach the man Beyond the darker hour to see the

bright, That his fresh life may close as it began,

The still-fulfilling promise of a light
Narrowing the bounds of night.'

VIII.

VI.

She whispers, ' From the South I bring

you balm, For on a tropic mountain was I born, While some dark dweller by the coco

palm Watch'd

my far meadow zoned with airy morn;

So wed thee with my soul, that I may

mark The coming year's great good and

varied ills, And new developments, whatever spark Be struck from out the clash of warring

wills; Or whether, since our nature cannot rest, The smoke of war's volcano burst

again From hoary deeps that belt the changeful

West,

Old Empires, dwellings of the kings

of men; Or should those fail, that hold the helm, While the long day of knowledge

grows and warms, And in the heart of this most ancient

realm A hateful voice be utter'd and alarms Sounding ‘To arms! to arms!'

Great the Master,
And sweet the Magic,
When over the valley,
In early summers,
Over the mountain,
On human faces,
And all around me,
Moving to melody,
Floated The Gleam.

IX.

III.

A simpler, saner lesson might he learn Who reads thy gradual process, Holy

Spring Thy leaves possess the season in their

turn, And in their time thy warblers rise on

wing. How surely glidest thou from March to

May, And changest, breathing it, the sullen

wind, Thy scope of operation, day by day,

Larger and fuller, like the human mind! Thy warmths from bud to bud Accomplish that blind model in the

seed, And men have hopes, which race the

restless blood, That after many changes may succeed Life, which is Life indeed.

Once at the croak of a Raven

who crost it,
A barbarous people,
Blind to the magic,
And deaf to the melody,
Snarl'd at and cursed me.
A demon vext me,
The light retreated,
The landskip darkend,
The melody deaden'd,
The Master whisper'd,
* Follow The Gleam.'

IV.

Then to the melody,
Over a wilderness
Gliding, and glancing at
Elf of the woodland,
Gnome of the cavern,
Griffin and Giant,
And dancing of Fairies
In desolate hollows,
And wraiths of the mountain,
And rolling of dragons
By warble of water,
Or cataract music
Of falling torrents,
Flitted The Gleam.

MERLIN AND THE GLEAM.

I.

V.

() YOUNG Mariner,
You from the haven
Under the sea-cliff,
You that are watching
The gray Magician
With eyes of wonder,
I am Merlin,
And I am dying,
I am Merlin
Who follow The Gleam.

Down from the mountain
And over the level,
And streaming and shining on
Silent river,
Silvery willow,
Pasture and plowland,
Innocent maidens,
Garrulous children,
Homestead and harvest,
Reaper and gleaner,
And rough-ruddy faces

II.

Mighty the Wizard
Who found me at sunrise
Sleeping, and woke me
And learn'd me Magic!

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Not of the sunlight,
Not of the moonlight,
Not of the starlight!
O young Mariner,
Down to the haven,
Call your companions,
Launch your vessel,
And crowd your canvas,
And, ere it vanishes
Over the margin,
After it, follow it,
Follow The Gleam.

Clouds and darkness
Closed upon Camelot;
Arthur had vanish'd
I knew not whither,
The king who loved me,
And cannot die;
For out of the darkness
Silent and slowly
The Gleam, that had waned to a

wintry glimmer
On icy fallow
And faded forest,
Drew to the valley
Named of the shadow,
And slowly brightening
Out of the glimmer,
And slowly moving again to a

melody
Yearningly tender,
Fell on the shadow,
No longer a shadow,
But clothed with The Gleam.

ROMNEY'S REMORSE.

'I read Hayley's Life of Romney the other day - Romney wanted but education and reading to make him a very fine painter; but his ideal was not high nor fixed. How touching is the close of his life! He married at nineteen, and because Sir Joshua and others had said that marriage spoilt an artist almost immediately left his wife in the North and scarce saw her till the end of his life; when old, nearly mad, and quite desolate, he went back to her and she received him and nursed him till he died. This quiet act of hers is worth all Romney's pictures! even as a matter of Art, I am sure (Letters and Literary Remains of Edward Fitzgerald, vol. i.)

VIII.

And broader and brighter
The Gleam flying onward,
Wed to the melody,
Sang thro' the world;
And slower and fainter,
Old and weary,
But eager to follow,
I saw, whenever
In passing it glanced upon

*BEAT, little heart - I give you this and

this,' Who are you? What! the Lady

Hamilton?

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blow,

And find the white heather wheres heart.

you go, I had been among the hills, and brought A length of staghorn-moss, and this you Ah, my white heather only blooms twined

heaven About her cap. I see the picture yet, With Milton's amaranth. There, then Mother and child. A sound from far away, there! a child

Falls flat before your least unwillingness. You watch'd not I, she did not gre Good, I am never weary painting you.

And lured me from the household it still would you—if it please you — sit
To sit once more? Cassandra, Hebe,

earth.
to me?

she died.
Joan,

To you my days have been a life-long I dream'd last night of that clear Father and Mother will watch
Or spinning at your wheel beside the Grafted on half a truth; and thoʻ yons

summer noon,
vine -
* Take comfort, you have won the Pi when seated on a rock

, and foot to foot Bacchante, what you will; and if I fail

fame,
With your own shadow in the placid lake,

And gather the roses whenever th
To conjure and concentrate into form
The best in me that sees the worst is You claspt our infant daughter

, heart to And colour all you are, the fault is less

And groans to see it, finds no com In me than Art. What Artist ever yet

there. Could make pure light live on the canvas?

What fame? I am not Raphics
you down

My sweet.
Art!

Titian - no
Why should I so disrelish that short Nor even a Sir Joshua, some will cry

word?
Where am I? snow on all the hills !

Blown into glittering by the poor No louder than a bee among the flowers, Had shamed me at it - Down, you id

, so hot, So fever'd! never colt would more de

breath, light

May float awhile beneath the sun, To roll himself in meadow grass than I

roll To wallow in that winter of the hills. The rainbow hues of heaven about it. Before the great Madonna-masterpieces Not one stroke firm. This Art, th: Nurse, were you hired? or came of

your own will To wait on one so broken, so forlorn?

abyss Have I not met you somewhere long ago?

Of Darkness, utter Lethe. I am all but sure I have — in Kendal

church — O yes! I hired you for a season there,

Her sad eyes plead for And then we parted; but you look so

with me
kind

To make it dearer.
That you will not deny my sultry throat
One draught of icy water. There — you
spill

To flame along another dreary day.

Your band. How bright you keep Fou'Beat upon mine, little heart! beat, Than all the myriad lies, that blacken round The drops upon my forehead. Your hand shakes.

marriage-ring! I am ashamed. I am a trouble to you,

Raise me. I thank you. Could kneel for your forgiveness. Are

they tears? For me --- they do me too much grace

Bred this black mood? or am I consciva for me?

more O Mary, Mary! Vexing you with words !

between Words only, born of fever, or the fumes Of that dark opiate dose you gave me,

And suffering cloud the height I stand Sleep, little blossom, my honey, my Thro' earth, and all her graves, if He

of Age — words, Wild babble. I have stumbled back again

Even from myself? stand? stood ...For I give you this, and I give you this!

upon
Into the common day, the sounder self.
God stay me there, if only for your sake,

no more.
The truest, kindliest, noblest-hearted wife
That ever wore a Christian marriage-ring.
My curse upon the Master's apothegm,

you
That wife and children drag an Artist
down!

One favour? 'I am bankrupt of all claim This seem'd my lodestar in the Heaven of Art,

wish

tools,
A fall of the noon asleep,
You still'd it for the moment with a song Stampt into dust – tremulous, all awry,
Which often echo'd in me, while I stood Blurr'd like a landskip in a ruffled pool,
Of ancient

harlot-like
Mary, my crayons ! if I can, I will. Seduced me from you, leaves me harlo
You should have been - I might have like,
made you once,

Who love her still

, and whimper, im Had I but known you as I know you potent now

To win her back before I die---an The true Alcestis of the time. Your then song

Then, in the loud world's bastard judg Sit , listen! I remember it, a proof

ment-day, That I even I-at times remember'd One truth will damn me with the mind you.

less mob,

no touch of , beat!

The corpse of every man that gains a Beat upon mine! you are mine, my name; sweet!

*This model husband, this fine Artist'! All mine from your pretty blue

eyes

Fool, to your feet,

What matters? Six foot deep of burial My sweet.

mould Less profile! turn to me--three-quarter

Will dull their comments! Ay, but when face.

the shout Of His descending peals from Heaven,

and throbs

bliss !

should ask, And I blind your pretty blue eyes with "Why left you wife and children? for a kiss!

Sleep!' According to my word?' and I replied,

"Nay, Lord, for Art, why, that would Too early blinded by the kiss of death

sound so mean Father and Mother will watch you

That all the dead, who wait the doom of

Hell grow'

For bolder sins than mine, adulteries,

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