and ill,

He saw thro' his own soul.

The marvel of the everlasting will,

An open scroll,

Her beautiful bold brow,

When rites and forms before his burning

eyes Melted like snow.

VEX not thou the poet's mind
With thy shallow wit:
Vex not thou the poet's mind;

For thou canst not fathom it. Clear and bright it should be ever,

beams,

Tho' one did fling the fire.

Heaven flow'd upon the soul in many dreams

Of high desire.

Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the world

Like one great garden show'd,

And thro' the wreaths of floating dark upcurl'd,

Rare sunrise flow'd.

Bright as light, and clear as wind.

II.

Dark-brow'd sophist, come not anear; All the place is holy ground; Hollow smile and frozen sneer

Come not here.

Holy water will I pour

Into every spicy flower

Of the laurel-shrubs that hedge it around. The flowers would faint at your cruel

cheer.

It would fall to the ground if you came in.

In the middle leaps a fountain
Like sheet lightning,
Ever brightening

With a low melodious thunder;
All day and all night it is ever drawn
From the brain of the purple mountain
Which stands in the distance yonder :
It springs on a level of bowery lawn,
And the mountain draws it from Heaven
above,

And it sings a song of undying love; And yet, tho' its voice be so clear and full,

You never would hear it; your ears are so dull;

So keep where you are: you are foul with sin;

It would shrink to the earth if you came in.

THE SEA-FAIRIES.

SLOW sail'd the weary mariners and saw, Betwixt the green brink and the running foam,

Sweet faces, rounded arms, and bosoms prest

To little harps of gold; and while they mused

Whispering to each other half in fear, Shrill music reach'd them on the middle

sea.

Whither away, whither away, whither away? fly no more.

Whither away from the high green field, and the happy blossoming shore? Day and night to the billow the fountain calls:

15

Down shower the gambolling waterfalls
From wandering over the lea:
Out of the live-green heart of the dells
They freshen the silvery-crimson shells,
And thick with white bells the clover-hill
swells

High over the full-toned sea:

O hither, come hither and furl your sails,
Come hither to me and to me:
Hither, come hither and frolic and play ;
Here it is only the mew that wails;
We will sing to you all the day:
Mariner, mariner, furl your sails,
For here are the blissful downs and dales,
And merrily, merrily carol the gales,
And the spangle dances in bight and bay,
And the rainbow forms and flies on the
land

Over the islands free;

And the rainbow lives in the curve of the sand;

Hither, come hither and see;
And the rainbow hangs on the poising

wave,

And sweet is the colour of cove and cave, And sweet shall your welcome be :

O hither, come hither, and be our lords, For merry brides are we :

We will kiss sweet kisses, and speak sweet words:

O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten
With pleasure and love and jubilee :
O listen, listen, your eyes shall glisten
When the sharp clear twang of the golden
chords

Runs up the ridged sea.

Who can light on as happy a shore
All the world o'er, all the world o'er?
Whither away? listen and stay: mariner,
mariner, fly no more.

THE DESERTED HOUSE.

I.

LIFE and Thought have gone away
Side by side,

Leaving door and windows wide: Careless tenants they !

II.

All within is dark as night :
In the windows is no light;
And no murmur at the door,
So frequent on its hinge before.

III.

Close the door, the shutters close,
Or thro' the windows we shall see
The nakedness and vacancy

Of the dark deserted house.

IV.

Come away: no more of mirth

Is here or merry-making sound. The house was builded of the earth, And shall fall again to ground.

V.

Come away for Life and Thought
Here no longer dwell;

But in a city glorious

A great and distant city-have bought
A mansion incorruptible.
Would they could have stayed with us!

THE DYING SWAN.

I.

THE plain was grassy, wild and bare, Wide, wild, and open to the air, Which had built up everywhere

An under-roof of doleful gray.
With an inner voice the river ran,
Adown it floated a dying swan,

And loudly did lament.
It was the middle of the day.
Ever the weary wind went on,

And took the reed-tops as it went.

II.

Some blue peaks in the distance rose,
And white against the cold-white sky,
Shone out their crowning snows.

One willow over the river wept,
And shook the wave as the wind did sigh;
Above in the wind was the swallow,

Chasing itself at its own wild will, And far thro' the marish green and still

The tangled water-courses slept, Shot over with purple, and green, and yellow.

III.

The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy

Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full and clear;
And floating about the under-sky,
Prevailing in weakness, the coronach
stole

Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear;
But anon her awful jubilant voice,
With a music strange and manifold,
Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold;
As when a mighty people rejoice
With shawms, and with cymbals, and
harps of gold,

And the tumult of their acclaim is roll'd
Thro' the open gates of the city afar,
To the shepherd who watcheth the even-
ing star.

And the creeping mosses and clambering weeds,

And the willow-branches hoar and dank, And the wavy swell of the soughing reeds,

And the wave-worn horns of the echoing bank,

And the silvery marish - flowers that throng

The desolate creeks and pools among,
Were flooded over with eddying song.

A DIRGE.

I.

Now is done thy long day's work;
Fold thy palms across thy breast,
Fold thine arms, turn to thy rest.
Let them rave.

Shadows of the silver birk
Sweep the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

II.

The balm-cricket carols clear
In the green that folds thy grave.
Let them rave.

LOVE AND DEATH.

17

WHAT time the mighty moon was gathering light

Love paced the thymy plots of Paradise, And all about him roll'd his lustrous eyes; When, turning round a cassia, full in view, Death, walking all alone beneath a yew, And talking to himself, first met his sight:

'You must begone,' said Death, these walks are mine.'

Love wept and spread his sheeny vans for flight;

Yet ere he parted said, 'This hour is thine :

Thou art the shadow of life, and as the

tree

Stands in the sun and shadows all be

neath,

So in the light of great eternity

Life eminent creates the shade of death; The shadow passeth when the tree shall fall,

But I shall reign for ever over all.'

THE BALLAD OF ORIANA.

My heart is wasted with my woe,
Oriana.

There is no rest for me below,
Oriana.

When the long dun wolds are ribb'd with snow,

And loud the Norland whirlwinds blow, Oriana,

Alone I wander to and fro,

Oriana.

Ere the light on dark was growing, Oriana,

At midnight the cock was crowing, Oriana :

C