SONG ON THE WATER.

I.

WILD with passion, sorrow-beladen,
Bend the thought of thy stormy soul

And

On its home, on its heaven, the loved maiden; peace shall come at her eyes' control. Even so night's starry rest possesses

With its gentle spirit these tamed waters, And bids the wave, with weedy tresses Embower the ocean's pavement stilly

Where the sea-girls lie, the mermaid-daughters, Whose eyes, not born to weep,

More palely-lidded sleep,

Than in our fields the lily;

And sighing in their rest

More sweet than is its breath;

And quiet as its death

Upon a lady's breast.

II.

Heart high-beating, triumph-bewreathed,
Search the record of loves gone by,

And borrow the blessings by them bequeathed
To deal from out of thy victory's sky.

Even so, throughout the midnight deep,
The silent moon doth seek the bosoms
Of those dear mermaid-girls asleep,
To feed its dying rays anew,
Like to the bee on earthly blossoms,
Upon their silvery whiteness,
And on the rainbow brightness
Of their eyelashes' dew,

And kisseth their limbs o'er:
Her lips where they do quaff
Strike starry tremors off,

As from the waves our oar.

PEARL-SEED.

T. L. BEDDOES.

SONGS are sung

in my mind

As pearls are formed in the sea, Each thought with thy name entwined Becomes a sweet song in me.

Vague are those songs of mine,
So deeply they lie in me.

12

GEORGE W. CURTIS.

QUEEN MAB'S PALACE.

If solitude hath ever led thy steps
To the wild ocean's echoing shore,
And thou hast lingered there,
Until the sun's broad orb

Seemed resting on the burnished wave,
Thou must have marked the lines
Of purple gold, that motionless

Hung o'er the sinking sphere:

Thou must have marked the billowy clouds Edged with intolerable radiancy,

Towering like rocks of jet

Crowned with a diamond wreath.

And yet there is a moment,

When the sun's highest point

Peeps like a star o'er ocean's western edge, When those far clouds of feathery gold, Shaded with deepest purple, gleam

Like islands on a dark blue sea;

Then has thy fancy soared above the earth, And furled its wearied wing

Within the Fairy's fane.

Yet not the golden islands

Gleaming in yon flood of light,

Nor the feathery curtains

Stretching o'er the sun's bright couch,
Nor the burnished ocean-waves,

Paving that gorgeous dome,

So fair, so wonderful a sight

As Mab's ethereal palace could afford.

Yet likest evening's vault, that fairy hall!
As heaven, low resting on the wave, it spread
Its floors of flashing light,

Its vast and azure dome,

Its fertile golden islands

Floating on a silver sea;

Whilst suns their mingling beamings darted
Through clouds of circumambient darkness,
And pearly battlements around

Looked o'er the immense of heaven.

SHELLEY.

NIGHT AND DEATH.

THE storm-wind is howling
Through old pines afar;
The drear night is falling
Without moon or star.

The roused sea is lashing
The bold shore behind,
And the moan of its ebbing
Keeps time with the wind.

On, on through the darkness,

A spectre, I pass

Where, like moaning of broken hearts, Surges the grass!

I see her lone headstone-
'Tis white as a shroud;
Like a pall hangs above it
The low drooping cloud.