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C. BROOKE.

- ARCEDEACON HARE.

339

I care not for eyes of blue;

Soul-stirring recollections, I loved truth and thought it you;

With hopes, their bright reflections. If you charm but to deceive, Rush to my troubled heart at thought of All your charms I well can leave.

thee,

My own illustrious, injured Italy.
Ah, my once well-loved one;
Do no more as thou hast done;

Dear queen of snowy mountains,
She that makes true hearts to ache, And consecrated fountains,
Last of all her own will break. Within whose rocky, heaven-aspiring pale

Beauty has fixed a dwelling

All others so excelling
To praise it right, thine own sweet tones

would fail ;
C. BROOKE.

Hail to thee! hail !

How rich art thou in lakes to poet A CYCLE.

dear,

And those broad pines amid the sunniest If he had come in the early dawn,

glade When the sunrise flushed the earth,

So reigning through the year, I would have given hiin all my heart,

Within the magic circle of their shade Whatever the heart was worth.

No sunbeam may appear!

How fair thy double sea!
If he had come at the noontide hour,

In blue celestially
He would not have come too late;
I would have given liim patient faith,

Glittering and circling! but I may not

dwell For then I had learned to wait.

On gifts, which, decking thee too

well, If he had come in the afterglow, Allured the spoiler. Let me fix my ken In the peace of the eventide,

Rather upon thy godlike men, I would have given him hands and brain, The good, the wise, the valiant, and the And worked for him till I died.

free,

On history's pillars towering gloriously, If he comes now the sun has set,

A trophy reared on high upon thy strand, And the light has died away,

That every people, every clime I will not give him a broken life

May mark and understand, • But will turn and say him, “Nay." What memorable courses may be run,

What golden never-failing treasures won,

From time,
In spite of chance,

And worser ignorance,
ARCHDEACON HARE. If men be ruled by Duty's firm decree,

And wisdom hold her paramount mas.

tery. ITALY. A PROPHECY.

What art thou now? Alas! Alas!

Woe, woe! STRIKE the loved harp; let the prelude That strength and virtue thus should pass he,

From men below!
Italy! Italy !

That so divine, so beautiful a Maid Thatchorlagain, again that note of glee,- Should in the withering dust be laid, Italy! Italy !

As one that -- Hush! who dares with Italy! 0 Italy! the very sound it charm

impious breath eth:

To speak of death? Italy! O Italy! the name my bosom The fool alone and unbeliever weepeth. warmeth.

We know she only sleepieth; High thought of self-devotions,

And from the dust, Compassionate emotions,

At the end of dier correction,

1818.

1

Truth hath decreed her joyous resurrec- | There are who for thy last, long sleep
tion :

Shall sleep as sweetly nevermore,
She shall arise, she must.

Shall
weep

because thou canst not Weep,
For can it be that wickedness hath power Aud grieve that all thy griefs are o'er.
To undermine or topple down the tower
Of virtue's editice?

Sad thrift of love ! the loving breast
And yet that vice

On which the aching head was thrown,
Should be allowed on sacred ground to Gave up the weary head to rest,
plant

But kept the aching for its own.
A rock of adamant?

It is of ice,
That rock soon destined to dissolve away
Before the righteous sun's returning ray.
But who shall bear the dazzling radiancy,

FREDERICK TENNYSON.
When first the royal Maid awaking
Darteth around her wild indignant eye,

THE BLACKBIRD.
When first her bright spear shaking,
Fixing her feet on earth, her looks on sky, How sweet the harmonies of afternoon!
She standeth like the Archangel prompt The Blackbird sings along the sunny
to vanquish,

breeze
Yet still imploring succor from on high? His ancient song of leaves, and summer
0 days of weary hope and passionate boon;
anguish,

Rich breath of hayfields streams
When will ye end !

through whispering trees; Until that end be come, until I hear

And birds of morning trim their bustling
The Alps their mighty voices blend,

wings,
To swell and echo back the sound most And listen fondly, while the Blackbird
dear

sings.
To patriot hearts, the cry of Liberty,
I must live on. But when the glorious How soft the lovelight of the west re-

Queen
As erst is canopied with Freedom's sheen,

poses
When I have prest, with salutation meet, On the trim cottage with its sereen of

On this green valley's cheery solitude,
With reverent love to kiss her honored

roses,
feet,
I then may die,

On the grav belfry with its iry hood,
Die how well satisfied !

And murmuring mill-race, and the wheel

that flings Conscious that I have watched the second birth

Its bubbling freshness — while the Black.
Of her I've loved the most upon the

bird sings.
earth,
Conscious beside

The very dial on the village church
That no more beauteous sight can here

Seems as 't were dreaming in a dozy be given :

rest;
Sublimer visions are reserved for heaven. The scribbled benches underneath the

porch
Bask' in the kindly welcome of the

west:
T. K. HERVEY.

But the broad casements of the old Three

Kings
EPITAPH.

Blaze like a furnace — while the Black

bird sings. FAREWELL! since never more for thee

The sun comes up our eastern skies, And there beneath the immemorial elm Less bright henceforth shall sunshine be Three rosy revellers round a table

To some fond hearts and saddened eyes. sit,

FREDERICK TENNYSON.

341

mer, steals

dens green,

And through gray clouds give laws unto | A little while—and lo! the charm is the realm,

heard; Curse good and great, but worship their A youth, whose life has been all sum

own wit, And roar of tights, and fairs, and junket. Forth from the noisy guests around the ings,

board, Corn, colts, and curs - the while the Creeps by her softly; at her footstool Blackbird sings.

kneels; And, when she pauses, murmurs tender

things Before her home, in her accustomed

Into her fond ear - while the Blackbird seat,

sings. The tidy grandam spins beneath the shade

The smoke-wreaths from the chimneys Of the old honeysuckle, at her feet

curl up higher, The dreaming pug, and purring tabby

And dizzy things of eve begin to float laid; To her low chair a little maiden clings,

Upon the light; the breeze begins to

tire, And spells in silence -- while the Blackbird sinys.

Half-way to sunset with a drowsy note The ancient clock from out the valley

swings; Sometimes the shadow of a lazy cloud The grandam nods—and still the Black

Breathes o'er the hamlet with its gar bird sings. While the far fields with sunlight over- Far shouts and laughter from the farmflowed

stead peal, Like golden shores of Fairyland are Where the great stack is piling in the seen;

sun; Again the sunshine on the shadow Through narrow gates o'erladen wagons springs,

reel, And fires the thicket - where the Black And barking curs into the tumult run; bird sings.

While the inconstant wind bears off, and

brings The woods, the lawn, the peakéd manor

The merry tempest- and the Blackbird

sings. house, With its peach-covered walls, and

On the high wold the last look of the sun rookery loud,

Burns, like a beacon, over dale and The trim, quaint garden-alleys, screened with boughs,

stream; The lion-healed gates, so grim and The shouts have ceased, the laughter and

the fun; proud, The mossy fountain with its murmur

The grandam sleeps, and peaceful be

her dream; ings, Lie in warm sunshine-while the Black. Only a hammer on an anvil rings; bird sings.

The day is dying-still the Blackbird

sings. The ring of silver voices, and the sheen Now the good vicar passes from his gate,

Of festal garments, – and my lady Serene, with long white hair; and in With her gay court across the garden Burns the clear spirit that hath conquered green;

Fate, Some laugh, and dance, some whisper And felt the wings of immortality; their love-dreams;

His heart is thronged with great imaginAnd one calls for a little page; he strings ings, Her lute beside her - while the Black And tender mercies - while the Black. sings.

bird sings.

streams

his eye

Down by the brook he bends his steps, Two golden stars, like tokens from the and through

blest, A lowly wicket; and at last he Strike on his dim orbs from the setting stands

sun; Awful beside the bed of one who grew His sinking hands seem pointing to the From boyhood with him, — who with west; lifted hands

He smiles as though he said, “Thy And eyes seems listening to far welcom

will be done!” ings

His eyes, they see not those illuminings; And sweeter music-than the Blackbird His ears, they hear not what the sings.

Blackbird sings.

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

.... 139

290

Page

Page
Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase !) 144 A weary lot is thine, fair maid ..

105
Above the pines the moon was slowly dritt A wet sheet and a flowing sea ....... 14+
ing

301
A calın and lovely paradise.

172 Beat on, proud billows; Boreas, blow..... 39
A chieftain, to the Highlands bound

Beautiful Evelyn Hope is dead!

203
A cloud lay crailled near the setting sun .. 146 Begone dull care...
A face that should content me wondrous

Beneath an Indian palm a girl

ISI
well

Beneath the moonlight and the snow ..... 214
A floating, a floating...
250 Better trust all and be deceived

173
A flock of sheep that leisurely pass by
103 Blow, blow, thou winter wind

'16
Again, how can she but immortal be.. 11

Blue gulf all around us....

261
A happy hit hame this auld world would be 184 Bonny Kilmeny zaed up the glen

121
Ah! County Guy, the hour is nigh.. 105 Bonny Tibbie Inglis!

181
Alas, 't is true, I have gone here and there 18 Break, break, break...

193
A light is out in Italy
304 Bright image of the early years

176
All before us lies the way

202

Busk ye, busk ye, my bonny bunny bride. 53
All powers of the sea and air.
202 By Nelo's lonely mountain..

237
All the rivers run into the sea.

306 By the flow of the inland river........ 328
All thonghts, all passions, all delights 108
All worldly shapes shall melt in gloom 138 Calm me, my God, and keep me calm...... 247
Alone I walk the morning street..
325 Calm on the listening ear of night

233
Along the rainparts which surround the

Can angel spirits need repose....

133
town

288 Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake. 126
Although I enter not...

193
Close beside the meeting waters

273
A man there came, whence none could tell 217 Close his eyes; his work is done!
Among so many, can He care?

277
Come into the garden, Maud.

198
And are ye sure the news is true?.

71

Come live with me, and be my love...
And I shall sleep : anil on thy side

190 Come, see the Dolphin's anchor forged; 't is
In is the swallow gone?....

182
at a white heat now

170
And is there care in heaven? And is there Come, Sleep, 0 Sleep, the certain knot of
love

7 peace..
And 0, the longing, burning eyes !.. 333 Comes something down with eventide. 238
And thou hast walked about -- how strange

Come to me, dearest, I'm lonely without
a story!....

141
thee....

330
A parisli priest was of the pilgrim train.. 48 Come with a smile, when come thou inust. 313
A sentinel an el sitting high in glory 305

Condemned to hope's delusive mine.

59
A silver javelin which the hills.

Consider the sea's listless chime

295
As I stood by yon roofless tower..

83 Cooper, whose name is with his country's
A soldier of the Legion lay dying in Algiers 173

woven..

166
A song of a boat..

282

Could ye come back to me, Douglas, Doug.
A Sower went forth to sow...

329
las

2.50
As ships becalmed at eve, that lay
244 Creep into thy narrow bed..

206
A stillness crept about the house..

310
At daybreak in the fresh light, joyfully

Day-stars ! that ope your eyes with morn,
295
to twinkle.

140
A thousand years shall come and go

253
At noon, within the dusty town

Dear friend of old, whom memory links... 319
A traveller through a dusty road strewed

Dear Friend! whose presence in the house 246
Dear is my little native vale ..

81
Alorns on the lea

218

Dim as the borrowed beams of moon and
At the close of the day, when the hainlet

stars'.
is still..

72
At the king's gate the subtle noon.

Do not cheat thy heart, and tell her.. 278

294
At the mid hour of night, when stars are

Dost thou think I captive lie...

339

Down below, the wild November whistling 247
weeping. I fly..

124

Drawn out, like lingering bees, to share... 302
At the spring of an arch in the great north
tower....

319 Earl Gawain wooed the Lady Barbara. .... 204
Awake, my soul, and with the sun........ 46 Earth with its dark and dreadful ills...... 255

262

315

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