Here he lives in state and bounty,
Lord of Burleigh, fair and free,
Not a lord in all the county

Is so great a lord as he.
All at once the colour flushes

Her sweet face from brow to chin: As it were with shame she blushes, And her spirit changed within. Then her countenance all over

Pale again as death did prove: But he clasp'd her like a lover,

And he cheer'd her soul with love. So she strove against her weakness,

Tho' at times her spirit sank: Shaped her heart with woman's meekness To all duties of her rank: And a gentle consort made he,

And her gentle mind was such
That she grew a noble lady,

And the people loved her much.
But a trouble weigh'd upon her,
And perplex'd her, night and morn,
With the burthen of an honour

Unto which she was not born.
Faint she grew, and ever fainter,

And she murmur'd, 'Oh, that he Were once more that landscape-painter, Which did win my heart from me!' So she droop'd and droop'd before him, Fading slowly from his side: Three fair children first she bore him, Then before her time she died. Weeping, weeping late and early,

How fresh was every sight and sound On open main or winding shore! We knew the merry world was round, And we might sail for evermore.

II.

Warm broke the breeze against the brow, Dry sang the tackle, sang the sail : The Lady's-head upon the prow

Caught the shrill salt, and sheer'd the gale.

The broad seas swell'd to meet the keel, And swept behind; so quick the run, We felt the good ship shake and reel, We seem'd to sail into the Sun!

III.

How oft we saw the Sun retire,
And burn the threshold of the night,
Fall from his Ocean-lane of fire,

And sleep beneath his pillar'd light! How oft the purple-skirted robe

Of twilight slowly downward drawn, As thro' the slumber of the globe Again we dash'd into the dawn!

IV.

New stars all night above the brim
Of waters lighten'd into view;
They climb'd as quickly, for the rim

Changed every moment as we flew. Far ran the naked moon across

The houseless ocean's heaving field, Or flying shone, the silver boss

Of her own halo's dusky shield;

V.

The peaky islet shifted shapes,

High towns on hills were dimly seen, We past long lines of Northern capes

And dewy Northern meadows green. We came to warmer waves, and deep

Across the boundless east we drove, Where those long swells of breaker sweep The nutmeg rocks and isles of clove.

VI.

By peaks that flamed, or, all in shade, Gloom'd the low coast and quivering brine

With ashy rains, that spreading made
Fantastic plume or sable pine;

By sands and steaming flats, and floods Of mighty mouth, we scudded fast, And hills and scarlet-mingled woods Glow'd for a moment as we past.

VII.

O hundred shores of happy climes,
How swiftly stream'd ye by the bark!
At times the whole sea burn'd, at times
With wakes of fire we tore the dark;
At times a carven craft would shoot
From havens hid in fairy bowers,
With naked limbs and flowers and fruit,
But we nor paused for fruit nor flowers.

VIII.

For one fair Vision ever fled

Down the waste waters day and night, And still we follow'd where she led, In hope to gain upon her flight. Her face was evermore unseen, And fixt upon the far sea-line; But each man murmur'd, 'O my Queen, I follow till I make thee mine.'

IX.

And now we lost her, now she gleam'd
Like Fancy made of golden air,
Now nearer to the prow she seem'd

Like Virtue firm, like Knowledge fair, Now high on waves that idly burst

Like Heavenly Hope she crown'd the

sea,

And now, the bloodless point reversed, She bore the blade of Liberty.

X.

And only one among us - him We pleased not- he was seldom pleased:

He saw not far: his eyes were dim:

But ours he swore were all diseased. 'A ship of fools,' he shriek'd in spite, 'A ship of fools,' he sneer'd and wept.

And overboard one stormy night

He cast his body, and on we swept.

XI.

And never sail of ours was furl'd,

Nor anchor dropt at eve or morn;

We lov'd the glories of the world,

But laws of nature were our scorn.
For blasts would rise and rave and cease,
But whence were those that drove the
sail

Across the whirlwind's heart of peace,
And to and thro' the counter gale?

XII.

Again to colder climes we came,

For still we follow'd where she led : Now mate is blind and captain lame, And half the crew are sick or dead; But, blind or lame or sick or sound,

We follow that which flies before: We know the merry world is round, And we may sail for evermore.

SIR LAUNCELOT AND QUEEN

GUINEVERE.

A FRAGMENT.

LIKE souls that balance joy and pain,
With tears and smiles from heaven again
The maiden Spring upon the plain
Came in a sun-lit fall of rain.

In crystal vapour everywhere
Blue isles of heaven laugh'd between,
And far, in forest-deeps unseen,
The topmost elm-tree gather'd green
From draughts of balmy air.

Sometimes the linnet piped his song:
Sometimes the throstle whistled strong:
Sometimes the sparhawk, wheel'd along,
Hush'd all the groves from fear of wrong:

By grassy capes with fuller sound
In curves the yellowing river ran,
And drooping chestnut-buds began
To spread into the perfect fan,

Above the teeming ground.

Then, in the boyhood of the year,
Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere
Rode thro' the coverts of the deer,
With blissful treble ringing clear.

She seem'd a part of joyous Spring
A gown of grass-green silk she wore,
Buckled with golden clasps before;
A light-green tuft of plumes she bore
Closed in a golden ring.

V.

'Thro' slander, meanest spawn of Hell-
And women's slander is the worst,
And you, whom once I lov'd so well,
Thro' you, my life will be accurst,'
I spoke with heart, and heat and force,
I shook her breast with vague alarms-
Like torrents from a mountain source
We rush'd into each other's arms.

VI.

We parted: sweetly gleam'd the stars,
And sweet the vapour-braided blue,
Low breezes fann'd the belfry bars,

As homeward by the church I drew.
The very graves appear'd to smile,

So fresh they rose in shadow'd swells. 'Dark porch,' I said, and silent aisle, There comes a sound of marriage bells.'

THE VISION OF SIN.

I.

I HAD a vision when the night was late: A youth came riding toward a palace-gate. He rode a horse with wings, that would have flown,

But that his heavy rider kept him down. And from the palace came a child of sin, And took him by the curls, and led him in, Where sat a company with heated eyes, Expecting when a fountain should arise: A sleepy light upon their brows and lipsAs when the sun, a crescent of eclipse, Dreams over lake and lawn, and isles and

capes

Suffused them, sitting, lying, languid shapes,

By heaps of gourds, and skins of wine, and piles of grapes.

II.

Then methought I heard a mellow sound, Gathering up from all the lower ground; Narrowing in to where they sat assembled Low voluptuous music winding trembled, Wov'n in circles: they that heard it sigh'd, Panted hand-in-hand with faces pale, Swung themselves, and in low tones replied;

Till the fountain spouted, showering wide Sleet of diamond-drift and pearly hail; Then the music touch'd the gates and died;

Rose again from where it seem'd to fail, Storm'd in orbs of song, a growing gale; Till thronging in and in, to where they waited,

As 'twere a hundred-throated nightingale, The strong tempestuous treble throbb'd and palpitated;

Ran into its giddiest whirl of sound,
Caught the sparkles, and in circles,
Purple gauzes, golden hazes, liquid mazes,
Flung the torrent rainbow round:
Then they started from their places,
Moved with violence, changed in hue,
Caught each other with wild grimaces,
Half-invisible to the view,
Wheeling with precipitate paces
To the melody, till they flew,
Hair, and eyes, and limbs, and faces,
Twisted hard in fierce embraces,
Like to Furies, like to Graces,
Dash'd together in blinding dew:
Till, kill'd with some luxurious agony
The nerve-dissolving melody
Flutter'd headlong from the sky.

III.

And then I look'd up toward a mountaintract,

That girt the region with high cliff and

lawn:

I saw that every morning, far withdrawn Beyond the darkness and the cataract, God made Himself an awful rose of

dawn,

Unheeded and detaching, fold by fold, From those stiil heights, and, slowly drawing near,

A vapour heavy, hueless, formless, cold, Came floating on for many a month and

year,

Unheeded: and I thought I would have spoken,

And warn'd that madman ere it grew too late:

But, as in dreams, I could not. Mine was broken,

When that cold vapour touch'd the palace gate,

And link'd again. I saw within my head

A gray and gap-tooth'd man as lean as death,

Who slowly rode across a wither'd heath, And lighted at a ruin'd inn, and said:

IV.

'Wrinkled ostler, grim and thin! Here is custom come your way; Take my brute, and lead him in, Stuff his ribs with mouldy hay.

'Bitter barmaid, waning fast!

See that sheets are on my bed; What! the flower of life is past : It is long before you wed.

'Slip-shod waiter, lank and sour, At the Dragon on the heath! Let us have a quiet hour,

Let us hob-and-nob with Death.

'I am old, but let me drink; Bring me spices, bring me wine; I remember, when I think,

That my youth was half divine.

'Wine is good for shrivell'd lips,

When a blanket wraps the day, When the rotten woodland drips,

And the leaf is stamp'd in clay.

'Sit thee down, and have no shame, Cheek by jowl, and knee by knee: What care I for any name?

What for order or degree?

'Let me screw thee up a peg:

Let me loose thy tongue with wine: Callest thou that thing a leg?

Which is thinnest? thine or mine?

'Thou shalt not be saved by works: Thou hast been a sinner too: Ruin'd trunks on wither'd forks, Empty scarecrows, I and you!

Fill the cup, and fill the can: Have a rouse before the morn: Every moment dies a man, Every moment one is born.