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I muse, as in a trance, whene'er
The languors of thy love-deep eyes
Float on to me. I would I were

So tranced, so rapt in ecstacies,

To stand apart, and to adore,
Gazing on thee for evermore,

Serene, imperial Eleänore!

Sometimes, with most intensity

Gazing, I seem to see

Thought folded over thought, smiling asleep,
Slowly awaken'd, grow so full and deep

In thy large eyes, that, overpower'd quite,
I cannot veil, or droop my sight,

But am as nothing in its light:

As though a star, in inmost heaven set,

Ev'n while we gaze on it,

Should slowly round his orb, and slowly grow

To a full face, there like a sun remain

Fix'd-then as slowly fade again,

And draw itself to what it was before;

So full, so deep, so slow,

Thought seems to come and go
In thy large eyes, imperial Eleänore.

As thunder-clouds that, hung on high,

Roof'd the world with doubt and fear,
Floating thro' an evening atmosphere,
Grow golden all about the sky;

In thee all passion becomes passionless,
Touch'd by thy spirit's mellowness,

Losing his fire and active might

In a silent meditation,

Falling into a still delight,

And luxury of contemplation:

As waves that up a quiet cove
Rolling slide, and lying still

VOL. I.

Shadow forth the banks at will ;

Or sometimes they swell and move,
Pressing up against the land,

With motions of the outer sea:

And the self-same influence

Controlleth all the soul and sense

Of Passion gazing upon thee.

7

His bow-string slacken'd, languid Love,
Leaning his cheek upon his hand,

Droops both his wings, regarding thee,
And so would languish evermore,
Serene, imperial Eleanore.

But when I see thee roam, with tresses unconfined, While the amorous, odorous wind

Breathes low between the sunset and the moon,

Or, in a shadowy saloon,

On silken cushions half reclined,

I watch thy grace; and in its place

My heart a charmed slumber keeps,
While I muse upon thy face;

And a languid fire creeps

Thro' my veins to all my frame,

Dissolvingly and slowly soon

From thy rose-red lips My name

Floweth; then, as in a swoon,

With dinning sound my ears are rife,

My tremulous tongue faltereth,

I lose my colour, I lose my breath,

I drink the cup of a costly death,

Brimm'd with delirious draughts of warmest life.

I die with my delight, before

I hear what I would hear from thee;

Yet tell my name again to me,

I would be dying evermore,
So dying ever, Eleänore.

THE MILLER'S DAUGHTER.

I SEE the wealthy miller yet,

His double chin, his portly size, And who that knew him could forget

The busy wrinkles round his eyes ? The slow wise smile that round about His dusty forehead drily curl'd, Seem'd half-within and half-without,

And full of dealings with the world?

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Three fingers round the old silver cup,

I see his gray eyes twinkle yet

At his own jest -gray eyes lit up

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