As the leaves that were withering and sere, And I cried-" It was surely October, Was this very night of last year, That I journey'd—I journey'd down here— Well I know now the dank tarn of Auber, EDGAR A. POE. I LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING. 1798. HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts To her fair works did Nature link And much it grieved my heart to think Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopp'd and play'd, Their thoughts I cannot measure :— The budding twigs spread out their fan, And I must think, do all I can, If this belief from heaven be sent, WORDSWORTH. I THE MAID'S LAMENT. LOVED him not; and yet now he is gone I check'd him while he spoke; yet could he speak, For reasons not to love him once I sought, To vex myself and him: I now would give Who lately lived for me, and when he found He hid his face amid the shades of death. Who wasted his for me: but mine returns, And this lorn bosom burns With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, And making me to weep Tears that had melted his soft heart: for Wept he as bitter tears. Merciful God! such was his latest prayer, These may she never share! Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold years Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate, His name and life's brief date. Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe’er you be, And oh! pray too for me! W. S. LANDOR. 66 FAIRY SONG. [FROM THE MAID'S METAMORPHOSIS."] B Y the moon we sport and play, Two by two, and three by three, And about go we, and about go we! JOHN LYLY. L [EVENING.] OW-FLOWING breezes are roaming the broad valley dimm'd in the gloaming: Thorough the black-stemm'd pines only the far river shines. Creeping through blossomy rushes and bowers of rose-blowing bushes, Down by the poplars tall rivulets babble and fall. Barketh the shepherd-dog cheerly; the grasshopper carolleth clearly; Deeply the turtle coos; shrilly the owlet halloos; Winds creep; dews fall chilly; in her first sleep earth breathes stilly: Over the pools in the burn watergnats murmur and mourn. Sadly the far kine loweth: the glimmering water out-floweth : Twin peaks shadow'd with pine slope to the dark hyaline. Low-throned Hesper is stayed between the two peaks; but the Naiad, Throbbing in mild unrest, holds him beneath in her breast. The ancient poetess singeth that Hesperus all things bringeth, Soothing the wearied mind. Bring me my love, Rosalind! Thou comest morning and even; she cometh not morning or even. False-eyed Hesper, unkind, where is my sweet Rosalind ? TENNYSON. EDOM O' GORDON. [OLD BALLAD.] T fell about the Martinmas, IT When the wind blew shrill and cauld, Said Edom o' Gordon to his men, "We maun draw to a hauld. "And whatna hauld sall we draw to, We will gae to the house of the Rodes, The ladye stood on her castle wa', There she was avare of a host of men "O see ye not, my merry men a'? She ween'd it had been her luvely lord, It was the traitor, Edom o' Gordon, She had nae sooner buskit hersell Till Edom o' Gordon an' his men They had nae sooner supper set, The ladye ran up to her tower-head, To see if by her fair speeches "Come doun to me, ye ladye gay, Come doun, come doun to me; This night sall ye lig within mine armes, To-morrow my bride sall be." "I winna come down, ye fause Gordon, I winna come down to thee; 1 Toun (town), an enclosed place. |