Standing about the charméd root.
Round about all is mute,

As the snowfield on the mountain-peaks,
As the sandfield at the mountain-foot.
Crocodiles in briny creeks
Sleep and stir not: all is mute.

If ye sing not, if ye make false measure,
We shall lose eternal pleasure,
Worth eternal want of rest.

Laugh not loudly: watch the treasure
Of the wisdom of the West.

In a corner wisdom whispers. Five and three

(Let it not be preach'd abroad) make an awful mystery:

For the blossom unto threefold music bloweth;

Evermore it is born anew,

And the sap to threefold music floweth, From the root,

Father Hesper, Father Hesper, Watch, watch, ever and aye,

Looking under silver hair with a silver eye.

Father, twinkle not thy stedfast sight: Kingdoms lapse, and climates change, and races die;

Honour comes with mystery;
Hoarded wisdom brings delight.
Number, tell them over, and number
How many the mystic fruit-tree holds,
Lest the red-comb'd dragon slumber
Roll'd together in purple folds.

Look to him, father, lest he wink, and the
golden apple be stol'n away,
For his ancient heart is drunk with over-
watchings night and day
Round about the hallow'd fruit-tree
curl'd-

Sing away, sing aloúd evermore in the wind without stóp, (Anapen

Lest his sealed eyelid drop,
For he is older than the world.
If he waken, wé waken,

Rapidly levelling eager eyes.
If he sleep, wé sleep,

Dropping the eyelid over our eyes.
If the golden apple be taken
The world will be overwise.
Five links, a golden chain are we,
Hesper, the Dragon, and Sisters three
Bound about the golden tree.

III.

Father Hesper, Father Hesper, Watch, watch, night and day,

Lest the old wound of the world be
healéd,
The glory unsealed,

The golden apple stol'n away,
And the ancient secret revealed.
Look from West to East along:
Father, old Himala weakens, Caucasus is
bold and strong.

Wandering waters unto wandering waters call;

Let them clash together, foam and fall
Out of watchings, out of wiles,
Comes the bliss of secret smiles.
All things are not told to all,
Half-round the mantling night is drawn
Purplefringed with even and dawn
Hesper hateth Phosphor, evening hateth

morn.

IV.

Every flower and every fruit the redolent breath

Of the warm seawind ripeneth,

Arching the billow in his sleep: But the land-wind wandereth, Broken by the highland steep, Two streams upon the violet deep. For the Western Sun, and the Wester Star,

And the low west-wind, breathing af The end of day and beginning of night,

Keep the apple Holy and Bright: Holy and Bright, round and full, bright and blest,

That little garden was her pride,
With yellow groundsel grown!
Those holly-thickets only hide
Her grave a simple stone!

*Copyright, 1897, by The Macmillan Com

pany.

THE ANTE-CHAMBER.*

THAT is his portrait painted by himself. Look on those manly curls so glossy dark, Those thoughtful furrows in the swarthy cheek;

Admire that stalwart shape, those ample brows,

And that large table of the breast dispread,

Between low shoulders; how demure a smile,

How full of wisest humour and of love, With some half-consciousness of inward

power,

Sleeps round those quiet lips; not quite a smile;

And look you. what an arch the brain has built

Above the ear! and what a settled mind, Mature, harbour'd from change, contemplative,

Tempers the peaceful light of hazel eyes, Observing all things. This is he I loved, This is the man of whom you heard me speak.

My fancy was the more luxurious, But his was minted in a deeper mould, And took in more of Nature than mine

own:

Nor proved I such delight as he, to mark The humours of the polling and the wake,

The hubbub of the market and the booths:

How this one smiled, that other waved his arms,

These careful and those candid brows, how each

Down to his slightest turns and atti

tudes

Was something that another could not be, How every brake and flower spread and

rose,

A various world! which he compell'd

once more

Thro' his own nature, with well mingled hues,

Into another shape, born of the first,
As beautiful, but yet another world.

All this so stirr'd him in his hour of joy, Mix'd with the phantom of his coming fame,

That once he spake: "I lift the eyes of thought,

I look thro' all my glimmering life, I see At the end, as 'twere athwart a colour's cloud,

O'er the bow'd shoulder of a bland old Age,

The face of placid Death." Long, Eustace, long

May my strong wish, transgressing the low bound

Of mortal hope, act on Eternity To keep thee here amongst us! Yet he lives;

His and my friendship have not suffer'd loss,

His fame is equal to his years: his praise

Is neither overdealt, nor idly won.

Step thro' these doors, and I will show

to you

Another countenance, one yet more dear, More dear, for what is lost is made more dear;

"More dear" I will not say, but rather bless

The All-perfect Framer, Him, who made the heart,

Forethinking its twinfold necessity, Thro' one whole life an overflowing 1, Capacious both of Friendship and Love.

*Copyright, 1897, by The Macmillan Com

pany.

THREE POEMS OMITTED FROM "IN MEMORIAM."

THE GRAVE (Originally No. LVII.).*

I.

I KEEP no more a lone distress,

The crowd have come to see thy grave, Small thanks or credit shall I have, But these shall see it none the less.

We quarrel here at home, and they plot against us yonder,

They will not let an honest Briton sit at home at ease:

Up, Jack Tars, my hearties!

and the

d-l take the parties! Up and save the pride of the Mistress of the Seas!

Up, Jack Tars, and save us!

The whole world shall not brave us! Up and save the pride of the Mistress of the Seas!

The lasses and the little ones, Jack Tars, they look to you!

The despots over yonder, let 'em do whate'er they please!

God bless the little isle where a man may still be true!

God bless the noble isle that is Mistress of the Seas!

Up, Jack Tars, and save us!

The whole world shall not brave us! If you will save the pride of the Mistress of the Seas.