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'That ever with a frolic welcome took
COMRADES, leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis
early morn : Leave me here, and when you want me, sound upon
the bugle horn.
'Tis the place, and all around it, as of old, the curlews
Dreary gleams about the moorland flying over Locksley
Locksley Hall, that in the distance overlooks the sandy
tracts, And the hollow ocean-ridges roaring into cataracts.
Many a night from yonder ivied casement, ere I went
.. to rest, Did I look on great Orion sloping slowly to the West.
Many a night I saw the Pleiads, rising thro' the mellow
shade, Glitter like a swarm of fire-flies tangled in a silver
Here about the beach I wander'd, nourishing a youth
sublime With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of
When the centuries behind me like a fruitful land
reposed; When I clung to all the present for the promise that
it closed :
When I dipt into the future far as human eye could
see; Saw the Vision of the world, and all the wonder that
In the Spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's
breast; In the Spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another
In the Spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd
dove ; In the Spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to
thoughts of love.
Then her check was pale and thinner than should be
for one so young, And her eyes on all my motions with a mute observance
And I said, “My cousin Amy, speak, and speak the
truth to me, Trust me, cousin, all the current of my being sets to
On her pallid cheek and forehead came a colour and a
light, As I have seen the rosy red flushing in the northeru
And she turn'd-her bosom shaken with a sudde?
storm of sighs— . All the spirit deeply dawning in the dark of hazel
Saying, “I have hid my feelings, fearing they should
do me wrong ;" Saying, “Dost thou love me, cousin ?” weeping, “I
have loved thee long."
Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his
glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the
chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass’d in
music out of sight.
Many a morning on the moorland did we hear the
copses ring, And her whisper throng’d my pulses with the fullness
of the Spring
Many an evening by the waters did we watch the
stately ships, And our spirits rush'd together at the touching of the
O my cousin, shallow-hearted ! O my Amy, mine no
more ! O the dreary, dreary moorland ! 0 the barren, barren
Falser than all fancy fathoms, falser than all songs
have sung, Puppet to a father's threat, and servile to a shrewish
Is it well to wish thee happy ?-having known me-to
decline On a range of lower feelings and a narrower heart than