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Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

To take into the air my quiet breath;
Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

To cease upon the midnight with no pain,
While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

In such an ecstasy!

Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain

To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal bird!
No hungry generations tread thee down;
The voice I hear this passing night was heard
In ancient days by emperor and clown:
Perhaps the self-same song that found a path
Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for
She stood in tears amid the alien corn; [home,
The same that oft-times hath
Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam
Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu ! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu ! adieu ! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music:—do I wake or sleep?

FANCF.

Ever let the Fancy roam, Pleasure never is at home: At a touch sweet Pleasure melteth, Like to bubbles when rain pelteth; Then let winged Fancy wander Through the thought still spread beyond her: Open wide the mind's cage-door, She'll dart forth, and cloudward soar. O sweet Fancy! let her loose; Summer's joys are spoilt by use, And the enjoying of the spring Fades as does its blossoming; Autumn's red-lipp'd fruitage too, Blushing through the mist and dew, Cloys with tasting: what do then 2 Sit thee by the ingle, when The sear faggot blazes bright, Spirit of a winter's night; When the soundless earth is muffled, And the caked snow is shuffled From the ploughboy's heavy shoon; When the Night doth meet the Noon In a dark conspiracy To banish Even from her sky. Sit thee there, and send abroad, With a mind self-overaw'd, Fancy, high-commission'd:—send her! She has vassals to attend her: She will bring, in spite of frost, Beauties that the earth hath lost;

She will bring thee, all together, All delight of summer weather; All the buds and bells of May, From dewy sward or thorny spray; All the heaped Autumn's wealth, With a still, mysterious stealth: She will mix these pleasures up Like three fit wines in a cup, And thou shalt quaff it:—thou shaltheat Distant harvest-carols clear; Rustle of the reaped corn; Sweet birds antheming the morn: And, in the same moment—hark! 'Tis the early April lark, Or the rooks, with busy caw, Foraging for sticks and straw. Thou shalt, at one glance, behold The daisy and the marigold; White-plum'd lilies, and the first Hedge-grown primrose that hathbun, Shaded hyacinth, alway Sapphire queen of the mid-May; And every leaf, and every flower Pearled with the self-same shower. Thou shalt see the field-mouse peep Meagre from its celled sleep; And the snake all winter-thin Cast on sunny bank its skin; Freckled nest-eggs thou shalt see Hatching in the hawthorn-tree, When the hen-bird's wing doth rest Quiet on her mossy nest; Then the hurry and alarm When the bee-hive casts its swarm; Acorns ripe down-pattering, While the autumn breezes sing.

Oh, sweet Fancy! let her loose; Every thing is spoilt by use: where's the cheek that doth not side. Too much gaz'd at? where's the maid Whose lip mature is ever new? Where's the eye, however blue, Doth not weary where's the face One would meet in every place? where's the voice, however soft, One would hear so very oft? At a touch sweet Pleasure me!" Like to bubbles when rain pelo" Let, then, winged Fancy find Thee a mistress to thy mind: Dulcet-eyed as Ceres' daughter, Ere the God of Torment taugh her How to frown and how to chide; with a waist and with a side White as Hebe's, when her” Slipt its golden clasp, and down Fell her kirtle to her feet, t r While she held the goblets* And Jove grew languid—Break the mesh Of the Fancy's silken leashi. Quickly break her prison-st";

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Honour to the Lincoln green!
Honour to the archer keen .
Honour to tight little John,
And the horse he rode upon:
Honour to bold Robin Hood,
Sleeping in the underwood
Honour to maid Marian,
And to all the Sherwood-clan :
Though their days have hurried by,
Let us two a burden try.

From HYPERION.

So ended Saturn; and the God of the Sea, Sophist and sage, from no Athenian grove, But cogitation in his watery shades, Arose, with locks not oozy, and began, In murmurs, which his first-endeavouring tongue Caught insant-like from the far-foamed sands. “O ye, whom wrath consumes who, passion-stung, Writhe at defeat, and nurse your agonies! Shut up your senses, stifle up your ears, My voice is not a bellows unto ire. Yet listen, ye who will, whilst I bring proof How ye, perforce, must be content to stoop: And in the proof much comfort will I give, If ye will take that comfort in its truth. We fall by course of nature's law, not force Of thunder, or of Jove. Great Saturn, thou Hast sifted well the atom-universe; But for this reason, that thou art the king, And only blind from sheer supremacy, One avenue was shaded from thine eyes, Through which I wandered to eternal truth. And first, as thou wast not the first of powers, So art thou not the last; it cannot be: Thou art not the beginning nor the end. From chaos and parental darkness came Light, the first fruits of that intestine broil, That sullen ferment, which for wondrous ends Was ripening in itself. The ripe hour came, And with it light, and light, engendering Upon its own producer, forthwith touch'd The whole enormous matter into life. Upon that very hour, our parentage, The heavens and the earth, were manifest: Then thou first-born, and we the giant-race, Found ourselves ruling new and beauteous realms. Now comes the pain of truth, to whom 'tis pain; O folly! for to bear all naked truths, And to envisage circumstance, all calm, That is the top of sovereignty. Mark well! As heaven and earth are fairer, fairer far Than chaos and blank darkness, though once chiefs; And as we show beyond that heaven and earth In form and shape compact and beautiful, In will, in action free, companionship, And thousand other signs of purer life; So on our heels a fresh perfection treads, A power more strong in beauty, born of us And fated to excel us, as we pass

In glory that old darkness: nor are we

Thereby more conquer'd, than by us the rule
Of shapeless chaos. Say, doth the dull soil
Quarrel with the proud forest it hath fed,
And feedeth still, more comely than itself?
Can it deny the chiefdom of green groves
Or shall the tree be envious of the dove
Because it cooeth, and hath snowy wings
To wander wherewithal and find its joys:
We are such forest-trees, and our fair boughs
Have bred forth, not pale solitary doves,
But eagles golden-feather'd, who do tower
Above us in their beauty, and must reign
In right thereof; for 'tis the eternal law
That first in beauty should be first in might:
Yea, by that law, another race may drive
Our conquerors to mourn as we do now.
Have ye beheld the young God of the Seas,
My dispossessor have ye seen his face?
Have ye beheld his chariot, foam'd along
By noble winged creatures he hath made
I saw him on the calmed waters scud,
With such a glow of beauty in his eyes,
That it enforc'd me to bid sad farewell
To all my empire: farewell sad I took,
And hither came, to see how dolorous fate
Had wrought upon ye; and how I might best
Give consolation in this woe extreme.
Receive the truth, and let it be your balm.”
Whether through poz'd conviction, or disdain,
They guarded silence, when Oceanus
Left murmuring, what deepest thought can tell?
But so it was, none answer'd for a space, -
Save one whom none regarded, Clymene;
And yet she answer'd not, only complain'd,
With hectic lips, and eyes up-looking mild,
Thus wording timidly among the fierce:
“O father, I am here the simplest voice,
And all my knowledge is that joy is gone,
And this thing woe crept in among our hearts,
There to remain for ever, as I fear:

I would not bode of evil, if I thought
So weak a creature could turn off the help
Which by just right should come of mighty go,
Yet let me tell my sorrow, let me tell
Of what I heard, and how it made me weep,
And know that we had parted from all hope.
I stood upon a shore, a pleasant shore,
Where a sweet clime was breathed from also:
Of fragrance, quietness, and trees, and flowen.
Full of calm joy it was, as I of grief;
Too full of joy and soft delicious warmth;
So that I felt a movement in my heart
To chide and to reproach that solitude
With songs of misery, music of our woes;
And sat me down, and took a mouthed she
And murmur'd into it, and made melody-
O melody no more! for while I sang,
And with poor skill let pass into the breer
The dull shell's echo, from a bowery stand
Just opposite, an island of the sea,
There came enchantment with the shifting wind
That did both drown and keep alive myan.
I threw my shell away upon the sand,
And a wave fill'd it, as my sense was fill d
With that new blissful golden melody.
A living death was in each gush of sounds.
Each family of rapturous hurried notes,
That fell, one after one, yet all at once,
Like pearl beads dropping sudden fronto"
And then another, then another strain,
Each like a dove leaving its olive perch
With music wing'd instead of silent plane
To hover round my head, and make me sick
Ofjoy and grief at once. Grief overo
And I was stopping up my franticean. -
When, past alihindrance of my tem"; haos,
A voice came sweeter, sweeter than all"
And still it cried, ‘Apollo! young AP*.
The morning-bright Apollo! youngAF.
I fled, it follow'd me, and cried ‘Apolo

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